23rd June 1990, night before the Third Task
Harry paused cursing Hermione and Ron for their assistance. They were truly devoted to him not just surviving but winning. But, he didn't need the help. They meant well and he simply couldn't explain that he didn't need the assistance. Idly turning his body to dodge a curse from Ron, he smoothly levitated a book into the way of one from Hermione before letting fly two stunners with a mutter.
"Harry!" screamed Hermione as her spell ripped the book apart.
"Hermione!" Harry replied mockingly, pausing in the en garde position.
"You didn't have to use that book." she accused.
"No, but your reaction is amusing." he responded; "Come on, I'm tired of duelling, I need a walk."
"But-" she began.
"Leave it 'Mione." Ron warned.
"I just need some fresh air and some peace and quiet for a few hours." Harry stated, summoning his fleece; "Head to bed you two, it'll be a while before I clear my mind."
The two looked slightly dubious, but helpless as Harry pocketed the Marauder's Map and slipped his invisibility cloak over his shoulders before flipping up the hood. Underneath, he smirked for a moment before walking out, silencing his footsteps with a silent flick of his wand.
Moving with long strides, Harry deftly avoided human contact until he reached the statue of the one-eyed witch. Entering the passage hidden underneath, he pulled off his cloak and broke into a run. His friends' insistence had delayed him. However, hidden beneath the baggy robes and several-sizes-too-big school uniform he normally wore, he was not as stick-like, but had a dancer's lithe build.
Lending all his strength to the dash, he turned what was usually an hour-long walk into a twenty-minute dash. Stopping underneath the village's confectionery, Harry once more swept his cloak over his shoulders and climbed out from the tunnel and slipped through the shop.
Breaking into a fast lope under the cloak, he quickly left the village and swept said cloak off. He once more went into a sprint until he was on the side of the glen blind to the village below the castle. Drawing his wand, Harry let off a couple of light charms before sheltering in the lee of some rocks as a soft whistle broke the silence.
Descending out of the darkness came a Lynx helicopter of the British Army, nearly silent. One of the airborne vehicles of MI5's top secret Section Five. Harry broke a couple of cyalume chem-light sticks that he kept in an enlarged pocket and tossed them around in front of the descending helicopter.
As soon as the machine touched the grass, he summoned them to him and vanished them before snapping open the co-pilot's door of the aircraft. As expected there was only one pilot.
"What kept you so long?" asked John Bearson, a squib in the employ of the Security Service.
"People." Harry replied easily, grabbing a headset and pulling it over his ears; "London and step on it."
As it was closed, nobody noticed a dark shape detach itself from the evening sky and silently descend into the gardens at the back of Buckingham Palace before lifting off again and vanishing into the darkening heavens. The figure it left behind was wearing simple black slacks and a black overcoat which reached down to his shins.
He moved with slightly tense purpose towards where a classic Rover P5 sat, waiting. An elderly woman with grey curls stepped out of the vehicle, moving to meet him. Harry greeted her with a respectful bow and brushing his lips to the back of her hand before standing, silent, eyeing the man in the suit who was one of two in the car and had climbed out with her. It was only paranoia if they weren't out to get you.
"You are ready sir?" she asked formally.
"If I am not, Your Majesty, then I shall make myself scarce and return again, more hell bent than ever before." Harry said calmly but with steel in his tone.
"And you prepared for what you must do?" the Queen repeated.
"Each corporal agent to this terrible deed." he quoted cynically.
She looked at him disapprovingly for a moment before nodding silently and gesturing him to the car.
"Simon, take this young man to Thames House, the home of Our Security Service." she instructed.
Harry glanced at his watch and observed he had half-an-hour until he was due there.
"But first convey me to Westminster Cathedral, I have time to spare." he added.
"As he wishes." the Queen said.
Harry wasn't a great believer. Being a natural cynic combined with, initially, a crap upbringing and a realistic view of the world around him didn't endear his mind to the idea of an all-seeing benevolent being. However, the idea there was something out there lent him a little hope. There were things inexplicable simply with magic and science. What caused the 'Big Bang'. What created whatever caused the 'Big Bang'. And simpler things. The beauty of such beings as his snow-white Harpy Eagle Hedwig, something he couldn't just explain away as nothing but evolution.
Silently rising from one of the side chapels of the incredible Byzantine-style cathedral, Harry muttered a last prayer before turning his back on the altar and striding out into the main body of the cathedral, purposeful and with a new steel entering his eyes.
"It is unusual to see young people, such as yourself here for anything but tourism." said a soft voice behind him.
Harry spun around, his eyes falling on a distinguished figure, short silver hair, wearing a long black vestment with scarlet piping and a scarlet sash.
"Indeed Your Eminence." he replied with a slight bow; "I can appreciate the material interest in such a building which inspires tourism. I suspect that lessening faith in modern times is because people expect evidence, evidence which has been somewhat obscured by thousands of years."
"Yes, but yet, here you are." Cardinal Hume stated.
"Faith is difficult for me. There are things which no science can explain, but there are events around the world, terrible events which I feel no benevolent all-seeing being would allow." Harry countered smoothly; "It is a balance between evidence, lack of evidence, beliefs and true knowledge. As for me being here, there are times that you would like to have an edge which faith sometimes brings."
"Ah." the last part of his explanation explained very little.
"You must excuse me..." continued Harry, glancing at the watch on his wrist; "My family await me."
Hopefully he wouldn't have to meet them in the next twenty-four hours.
"Go with God." was the simple reply from the cardinal.
"Enter." came the bark from the far side of the door.
Harry kicked the door open and strode in, his long coat billowing about him in a menacing fashion, adopted from one Severus Snape. He'd grown to be by far the most physically and mentally mature members of his year at Hogwarts, allowing him to pull off the look.
"Good evening Harry." said the person on the far side of the table from him.
"Director Walker." he replied with an amicable nod before turning to the two other men in the room with a slightly more friendly greeting; "Sirius, not looking like crap any more. Remus, having fun keeping the mutt in check?"
"Oh, it has been... interesting." said the werewolf, a grin lighting up his face.
Sirius was nearly bouncing in his chair in excitement, looking far healthier than Harry had ever seen him before. The skeletal look was gone and his waxy skin was beginning to regain some colour and substance.
"Your Director-General has been arranging me to try some non-magical sports. One good one which I've been enjoying is fencing. Course my parents drilled me in it, but with sharp smallswords." Sirius added.
"On a more serious note gentlemen, have you dealt with the school's security leak?" asked the Director-General, tapping the desk with a fountain pen.
"Yes, our fake Alastor Moody placed the portkey cup in the maze this afternoon. I restrained him in his office, interrogated him with some stolen Veritaserum and then locked him in the same trunk as the real Moody." Harry nodded; "I've got no idea of where the cup goes because Tom apparently didn't want that part of his plan compromised."
All four of them made a face. One of displeasure. There were plans to have an entire squadron of the SAS on call to deal with the problem, but if they didn't have the location, then there was no point.
"Damn damn damn. Call the bloody mission off." cursed Walker.
"No. We've invested too much in this, and even if I fail to put down the bastard, we'll have resurrected him in controlled conditions. If one of the other champions is subjected to the ritual, we have no idea if they'll escape alive. And we have four people, one of whom will end up involved. It's best if it's me. Besides, I've got the equipment and some of the training to deal with this." Harry contradicted immediately.
He strode over to the corner of the room where a beautifully carved casket-like chest lay. Made in Persia, painted with beautiful golds, yellows, oranges and blues, it looked like it was made of jewels. Removing a Swiss Army multitool from his pocket, Harry snapped open the knife-blade, and without so much as drawing a pained breath, drew a thin cut on the pad of his left index finger with the razor-sharp edge.
After letting several drops of blood fall onto the casket, Harry had Remus heal the wound.
He then opened the chest. Inside was a beautifully curved Arabian scimitar, with a cross-guard, a slightly weighted head, fashioned from Damascus steel hundreds of years before.
"Riddle, you have no fucking idea who's coming after you. I ain't going to leave any of you and your merry band of terrorists alive." Harry whispered, picking up the sword, swinging it in his right hand in easy figures of eight, always keeping the cutting edge forward on the extension of the strokes.