Author's Note: Well, getting this posted later in the day than I would have preferred, but still the day I promised none-the-less. And on the plus side, I spent tons of time with my little sisters AND all of my gifts are wrapped and under the tree, so if nothing else I got major big-sibling points today.

On an entirely unrelated note, but one I think some of you will be able to sympathize with me on... last night I asked my mother where I might find a copy of the fourth Harry Potter book in the house (since I am strongly considering working on a sequel to this story and wanted to re-read it, at least starting after the champions are chosen). After a moment of thoughtful contemplation, she informed me it was possible that it was one of the books holding up my parents' bed frame. After a rescue mission crawling around on my stomach under their bed to retrieve not one but three Harry Potter books, I can honestly say that a little piece of me died inside. It was just wrong, on so many levels... -shudder-

Only two more chapters left! And Harry, at least, now knows who his pen-pal is! What do you guys think? Are you anxious for the ending...?

Thanks for reading!

-Emmette

CHAPTER TEN

Harry looked around at the crowd of students awaiting the arrival of the foreign schools one more time before pulling Shadow's last letter out of his robes and reading it again.

Dear Survivor,

Karkaroff announced it today; we will arrive at Hogwarts on the 30th of October. It is hardly more than a week away now, and I am sure you will receive this letter with only a few days to spare. I am not a nervous man, my friend; I do not get anxious like this, ever, and yet I can hardly keep still to write to you, such are my nerves over our meeting. You have an uncanny ability to keep me on my toes. I am counting on it being a pleasant distraction during a year without Quidditch.

My best friend will indeed by joining me. He is not the spotlight type, and though he has repeatedly denied it, I am quite sure he is only entering into the tournament so that he can accompany me to Hogwarts. He is a brave and loyal friend, who has been by my side since we were children. He is fierce in his determination to look out for me, but somehow I doubt it will take you long to win him over.

It is maddening, I'll have you know, trying to figure out who you might be. A boy of fourteen at Hogwarts, this is all you have given me. Who are you, that you felt the need to conceal your identity in an exchange of letters with a foreign school? As for your question, I am not in the least disappointed you are male. Relieved, actually, would be the appropriate word. I had assumed—perhaps hoped—from your correspondence, but did not wish to make you uncomfortable were I mistaken. I am not terribly at ease interacting with women; it is far too much work, and most often unsatisfying.

I am honored by your trust, my friend, in sharing your story with me. I wonder if you've any idea how remarkable you are, not to have grown bitter and resentful with the luck (of lack of) you have had in life. I hope you know that whatever happens with this friendship, the secrets you have shared are safe with me.

I tried to choose a story of my own to share with you, but there is not one with the right meaning, the right exchange. Instead, I offer you this: When the Durmstrang students arrive at Hogwarts, we will be in full formal uniform, including—for those of us training in martial arts—our staffs. Mine will have a red feather tied to the top, in honor of the phoenix who healed you. I will let you choose whether or not to reveal yourself to me. Give me a red feather of your own to add to mine, and I will know you are truly my little survivor. You have the power here, little friend. I return your trust.

May our next words be shared off of parchment, at last.

Faithfully,

Shadow

Harry sighed and shifted restlessly. He had been standing outside in the throng of students for an hour now, and there hadn't been a single sign yet of either rival school. A childhood in a cupboard hadn't prepared him for crowds, and on top of his anxiety over meeting his pen-pal for the first time and his nerves after the note from his godfather that morning, he was quickly reaching the end of his control. Therefore, he was rather proud of himself when George came away with only a slight bloody nose after swinging an arm around Harry's shoulders from behind with no warning.

"Shit, sorry, I'm sorry!" Harry babbled, dabbing at the small drip of blood on George's lip with his sleeve.

"So sneaking up on you, not one of our better ideas," Fred mused mildly, looking torn between laughing at his twin and giving him a sympathetic look.

"Apparently not," Harry grimaced. I'm really, really, s—"

"You albeady dold be you're thorry," George mumbled through his bleeding nose, waving his free hand to emphasize to his young friend that there were no hard feelings.

"Feeling a little stressed, then?" Fred cut in smoothly, tentatively placing his own arm around Harry's shoulders, careful to let the smaller boy see exactly what he was doing this time.

"You have no idea," Harry sighed, leaning against the red-head just a little, basking in the warmth and comfort as much as he would allow himself. Fred just smiled down at him and tightened his grip.

"So dell us," George encouraged, "Amd you, fith thith!" He snapped as Fred started chuckling again.

"Yeah yeah, I'll fix it. C'mere." He began waving his wand around his twin's nose while Harry, thankful that they weren't focused solely on him, answered quietly.

"I think… Snuffles… is coming back."

"Back? Wait, back here, like to Scotland? Is he mental, why?!"

"I think he's worried about me, or angry, or… I dunno. I was stupid, said some things in my last letter, and he… he just said 'we need to talk' and I haven't heard from him since then." Harry was still looking anywhere but at his friends while he spoke, and by the end his arms had wrapped around himself in a protective way.

"What did you say to him?"

"…Harry?" Both twins were watching him with concerned expressions, their little seeker friend staring down at his feet now with a pained expression.

"You might as well tell us…"

"…or we'll just trick it out of you…"

"…if you try to be difficult." Harry tried to scowl at them, but it dropped quickly back into a forlorn look. Slowly, silently, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the note that Sirius had sent back to him through their boxes.

Dear Sirius,

I overheard a strange conversation the other day, and it left me wondering
some things about the wizarding world. The person I heard talking had found
out that one of their friends was, er, gay. He didn't seem very happy about it.
He also made it sound like it would be even worse if his friend was in an actual
relationship with another man, instead of just… well, sleeping with one. I
guess I didn't really understand that. Mind you, they're both purebloods, so
maybe it's just a weird pureblood thing? The whole thing just made me realize
I've never actually heard anyone in the wizarding world talk about their opinion
on wizards and wizards or witches and witches being together. It's not a big
deal or anything, I'm just curious. You know, curious about the wizarding
world thinks about it. And… what you think about it. Just out of curiosity.
Miss you!

-Harry

And, scribbled on the bottom of the page in Sirius's hand-writing, "We need to talk."

Fred and George exchanged a knowing look then each took one of Harr's arms and started dragging him away to a corner of the courtyard.

"Now now…"

"…no use in struggling…"

"…it won't work, first of all…"

"…and we'll make sure you're back…"

"…for Durmstrang arriving." The twins tutted at him as he tried to twist free from their grip, hissing under his breath for them to let him go. When they finally had him blocked into a secluded alcove, They stepped shoulder-to-shoulder and crossed their arms with uncharacteristically serious expressions.

"Okay Harry, where is all this coming from?"

"Did that Durmstrang 'friend' of yours tell you this?" Harry could only stare at them. He had heard the twins nervous, even skeptical about Shadow, but this was the first time their tones had turned hostile.

"What? No, Shadow had nothing to do with… I mean, would it be so bad if he did?" He crossed his own arms, trying to sound nonchalant even as his heart hammered.

"Of course it—"

"—would be a problem, Harry!"

"Look, we're not going to tell you—"

"—who you can be friends with, but—"

"—don't expect us to be happy about it—"

"—if you're pals with someone like that."

"Right, I get it, gay is bad, keep the gay away from you, noted!" Harry snarled suddenly, and went to shove past the twins. He managed to knock their arms out of the way and take a couple of steps, but his shoulders were quickly caught and he was steered back into the little nook they were standing in.

"Whoa, Harry…"

"…that's not it, mate."

"We don't have a problem with someone being gay…"

"…we have a problem with someone judging other people…"

"…for being gay," they explained quickly.

"We should have explained better."

"We didn't mean to upset you." Harry looked from one earnest expression to the other and back again, then finally slumped back against the wall, all the fight draining out of him.

"It wasn't Shadow," he repeated stubbornly, looking down at a loose thread on his robes and picking at it distractedly.

"Okay, Harry…"

"…we believe you. Want to tell us…"

"…who brought this all up then?"

"Malfoy," Harry said quietly, and repeated the conversation he had heard at the pitch. "…and I realized I had no idea if things were different here than in the muggle world. My uncle… well, he's never had anything positive to say on the topic, that's for sure." Fred and George had shifted around to lean comfortably against the wall on either side of him while he was talking, and George reached over to rub his back while Fred turned to look at him seriously.

"There's nothing wrong with it, Harry. Some of the pureblood families still get bent out of shape over it, mostly because they don't want to risk not having a blood heir for the family, and obviously two men or two women can't have a kid together. But the rest of our world doesn't care. Hell, same-sex bonding—"

"—that's like marriages in the muggle world—" George added,

"—have been legally accepted for hundreds of years."

"Harry… is there any reason you were so curious about the subject?" George asked quietly, and immediately all the good Fred's explanation had done for Harry's nerves was wiped away as he suddenly found himself tensing up all over again, not at all prepared to tell Fred and George about his new confusing thoughts… even if they did seem like they may not mind…

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Fred said gently, the silence having stretched on longer than Harry realized. "You tell us when you're ready."

"And in the mean time…" George added, voice chipper and full of mischief once again.

"…why don't you let is on your plan…"

"…to figure out who this Shadow character is!"

xXxXxXxXx

The Beauxbatons students had just disappeared inside the castle, Hagrid was seeing to the giant winged horses with obvious delight, and Harry's nerves nearly had him trembling.

Ron and Hermione had come out and joined them just before Madame Maxine's carriage flew through the sky ("Really, Harry," Hermione had huffed with an affectionate eye-roll. "The notice said they would be arriving at six o'clock, why you insisted on spending half the afternoon out here…), and Hermione was currently reciting facts Harry recognized from the Magically Elite book she had gotten him for his birthday. Ron was rolling his eyes and generally ignoring her. Despite his friends' presence, however, Fred and George were never far away. Each time Harry thought he might buckle under the anxiety, there'd be a playful elbow to the ribs, a grin, and a wink.

Harry glanced back at the enormous, powder-blue carriage. He remembered Mr. Weasley explaining at the World Cup how magic folk couldn't help but show off when they got together. It seemed rather silly to Harry; surely a portkey would have been much more convenient. Besides, the giant horses and giant carriage were hardly necessary to impress the students of Hogwarts: the headmistress herself would have done a fine job of it all on her own. Matched in size only by Hagrid, carrying herself with a regal air and draped in black satin and gleaming opals, her transportation was dim in comparison. Once the applause had started for her and her dozen shivering pupils, however, the spell had been broken and Harry had lost interest in favor of searching grounds and skies alike in anticipation for Durmstrang's arrival.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was likely a mere ten minutes later, the students' attention was drawn as one towards an eerie squelching sound from the Black Lake, which quickly grew in volume and developed into a sloshing, rumbling tempest of noise. All it once, it died down to reveal what harry could only describe as a pirate ship rising out of a whirlpool at the edge of the lake. With one last splash and a forceful surge, the ship was left fully emerged, bobbing gently on the surface of the lake. There was a gentle gliding motion while the ship approached the bank, before a plop announced an anchor being cast and a long, thin plank was being lowered onto the shore. Within moments, roughly twenty, fur-clad men and women were descending from the ship and approaching the waiting students, all of whom appeared older than even the seventh-years at Hogwarts, though Harry reasoned that this could have something to do with the added bulk that the thick furs gave them, or the serious expressions that rested on all of their faces.

"Dumbledore!" A man in silvery furs who was leading the silent procession broke the silence, raising his arms in greeting as the two headmasters reached one another. Harry didn't pay much attention to their conversation, too busy straining his eyes for any details from the students, all of them hanging back slightly from the school leaders and staying huddled in a close group. It wasn't until he gestured one of the students forward into the light from the castle doors that Harry tuned back in again.

"…good old Hogwarts… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…" A dark, solemn youth whom Harry recognized from the World Cup approached with obvious reluctance, followed immediately by a slim, relaxed companion. Karkaroff frowned slightly at the second boy, but he gave no indication that he had noticed his headmaster's disapproval, and when Krum scowled in response, the man quickly turned away without comment. Beside Harry, he could hear Ron freaking out and whispering furiously with Hermione. Harry, though, didn't need Ron's pointed nudge to recognize the amazing quidditch player in front of him. Besides, Harry had bigger things on his mind than whether or not he thought Krum would find it insulting to sign one of Ron's Chudley Cannons posters: tied securely to the seeker's sturdy staff, fluttering in the breeze, was a bright red feather.

Shadow was Viktor Krum.

"Blimey Harry…" George whispered weakly from one side.

"…you don't do things by halves, do you?" Fred finished in awe, a hand resting supportively on his other shoulder, even as both twins looked down at him with matching shocked expressions. Harry buried his face in his hands and groaned.