Harry Potter felt tired now. He wondered why, but the big full belly told him why. He ate too much, too much junk. Usually he ate fruits and vegetables, and nothing else. Just pure minerals and nutrients, not this cooked garbage. It helped him physically, because he did have a vigorous training routine. He decided that tomorrow he would go to the house elves and order them to make him a REAL breakfast, one with lots of fruits like mangos, apples, and oranges, and lots of vegetables like carrots, peas, and lettuce. That was good for training.

Behind him, he felt someone tap his shoulder. Normally his reflexes would grab the arm, twist it, and snap. But now all he was good for was just grabbing the hand. It felt warm and silky almost, like a girl's.

"Hey Harry," Rose said. It was his sister. He let go, also letting go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. He turned around and while he did so, he caught sight of the other students. Some had their heads stuck in their meals, some were still eating like Ron Weasley, and some were talking amongst each other, and mingling with the other houses.

"Rose," Harry said.

"How come you weren't there yesterday? Back at our house? Dad came hoe, he looked like he had seen a basilisk or something." Rose said with a chuckle.

Harry cracked a smile. "I decided to stay here. Got caught up with death eaters that night…"

Rose gaped. "It was you? The papers said that somebody single handedly took out all the death eaters!"

"No, not me. I was there though, I saw it." Harry lied. "It was…"

"Who? Who was it?" Rose asked eagerly.

"It was Moody," Harry said and instantly kicked himself for it. Why should he give that plastic eye ball freak the credit? But he didn't want to let her know, because that meant letting others know-

"Moody? He was the one who killed five death eaters at the world cup? I heard about it in the papers!" Someone said beside him. He had short black hair and brown eyes, a big nose that looked like a pig, and a big mouth as well. He was a bit on the chubby side.

"And Harry saw," Rose gushed.

Uh, oh. Not good. Harry thought as he saw Moody looking his way, eyes narrowed in what seemed like anger. Not good at all.

"I didn't see most of it, I was just stumbling around when I heard some people dueling." Harry said. "Then I saw all the death eaters down for the count and Moody looking tired and I thought…"

The rumours spread. Harry did the only thing he could think of.

"I'll be right back. I need to go to the restroom." He said urgently.

----

Later that night.

----

Moody was alone in his office. He had already unpacked and his office was filled with various dark art artifacts and tools to capture death eaters. In his hip flask he had the vile substance called polyjuice potion and with great reluctance he took a big gulp. He had to, he couldn't risk some student walking in here and seeing him for what he truly was.

He sat down in front of the fireplace and muttered a charm with his wand that would make it secure and private. No eavesdroppers. He tossed in a big handful of floo powder and said clearly in a voice reminiscent to a growl, "Little Hangleton, Riddle Manor." The fire glowed green and a head appeared.

It was Peter Petigrew.

"B-barty Crouch," Peter stammered.

"Get me the dark lord, Pettigrew," Moody said, jeering. He hated Peter's guts.

"Baaarty…" A hissing voice said. Moody's insides froze. Voldemort's shriveled head appeared in the fireplace. "What is it?"

"I have some news about… Harry Potter."

"Why should I caaaaaaare for him?" Voldemort said, in boredom.

"He killed five death eaters on his own at the quidditch world cup." Moody said.

Voldemort's red eyes rose up. "Indeed?"

"Yes, he is much more powerful than Neville or even… well not as powerful as Dumbledore but he is just in fourth year and the curses he was doing… ridiculous for his level." Moody said.

"What month was he born? Do you know?" Voldeort asked him.

"Hold on I have the student roster here somewhere." He shuffled around in his desk drawers and pulled out a long piece of parchment. It had names, addresses, and birthdays. "Harry Potter, Number 3 Godric's Hollow, July 31st."

"Hmm…" Voldemort said. "Okay fine, he will do."

"Instead of Neville?"

"Neville will be significantly harder, true and it would be practical to get his blood. I'm sure you can do it in one of your defence against the dark arts classes. You will get his blood, and you will put Potter in the tournament. We will mix the blood together."

"I see." Moody said. "That will work?"

"It will," Voldemort said calmly. "I have business to attend to." The fire blared a deep green, then turned normal colour. Voldemort was gone.

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