Harry Potter characters do not belong to me but to J.K. Rowling.
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In Terms of a Name
By Taliya
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Chapter XII: Duty to the Light
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Stifling a laugh and committing the scene to memory, Harry remarked, "Why Severus, I hadn't realized you enjoyed manual labor."
If looks could kill, the glare that Snape leveled at Harry would have killed him faster than a Basilisk's gaze.
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"What do you want, Hamilton?" the Potions Master growled from his position on the floor.
Harry leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed casually across his chest. Although his countenance was a study of blankness, his eyes danced with a hidden mirth that shone just enough for Severus to know that his younger colleague was finding amusement in his situation.
"I was curious as to whether or not you'd be interested in judging in a tournament with me."
The statement rang loudly in the space between the two men. Harry had planned on recruiting not only Snape, but McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick as well. He'd simply started with the Potions Master.
Snape eyed the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with dark, intense eyes. "And what, pray tell, made you think that I'd be interested in something of that nature?"
Harry noted a sourness to his already biting tone, and stifled a wince and a smirk at the recollection of Professor Lockhart's Dueling Club in his Second Year.
"I've heard the tales of one Gilderoy Lockhart and his Dueling Club," Harry began, his expression revealing little of his mirth. "I don't intend to do anything like that. My idea is to have different teams of all Years creating battle tactics to wipe out the other team—to train them for the coming war. I would like to enlist your help in refereeing. Would you be interested?"
The Potions Master studied him beadily. "Who else will be judging?"
"I plan on asking Minerva, Pomona, and Filius to judge as well, in addition to myself. Albus will simply be put on ceremonial duty."
"I'll think about it," Snape replied with a lot less vitriol after a moment of deliberation.
"I appreciate it," Harry said has he eased himself off the doorframe. "I would like to have a small meeting to discuss this in more detail when the tournament draws near. I hope to see you there. Goodbye, Severus." Harry turned and swept out of the Slytherin's sight.
The Potions Master resumed his chore, commencing the grumbling about addlepated twits and obtuse dunderheads.
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Harry hummed low enough for surrounding people to not hear him. Filius, Pomona, and Minerva had agreed to help judge in his tournament. Albus, the sly old codger, had somehow gotten wind of what role he was to play, and accepted the position before a word had come out of Harry's mouth. They had then discussed the specifics concerning the tournament, such as the rules and possible locations.
The former student was currently ensconced in a rather comfortable chair facing the aged Headmaster. Both were sipping tea.
"Albus," Harry began, "I have another piece of information to tell that requires your silence."
Dumbledore smiled indulgently and leaned back into his chair, eyes glittering. "I won't tell a soul, dear boy. Now, what did you wish to impart to me?" he asked after setting up silencing wards.
"What do you know of Horcruxes?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore's white brows furrowed in thought as he absently stroked his beard. "You are inquiring about Lord Voldemort's soul pieces, I believe?"
Harry nodded in confirmation.
"Well, I can tell you with absolute surety that one of them no longer exists," the Headmaster replied, holding up his charred, blackened hand.
The Defense professor exhaled. "So that's where you encountered that curse," he muttered. "What item did you destroy?"
Dumbledore reached into a side drawer of his desk and deposited on its surface a gold ring bearing a large gem. The gem was charred and black, and displayed a single vertical fracture down its center.
Dumbledore launched into a tale of the history of the ring. "This ring belonged to the head of the Gaunt family. The Gaunts descend from a long, pureblooded lineage, tracing all the way back to Salazar Slytherin himself. The Gaunts were a very proud, narrow-minded family who believed that they were superior to all non-magical people, as well as magical creatures. The name was once affiliated with affluence; however, as time passed their money dwindled. Yet, they did not curb their habit of spending. The last living descendent of Salazar Slytherin is Tom Marvolo Riddle, whom you know as Lord Voldemort."
Harry leaned back into his chair as he digested the new information. "I destroyed the diary in Second Year. That was a Horcrux as well."
Dumbledore nodded, "I believe he has a total of seven Horcruxes if one counts himself as one. So far we've destroyed two: the diary and the ring. Research into Tom's life revealed that he had a penchant for keeping souvenirs—items of value to the owner—he had been doing so before I encountered him at the orphanage he lived in.
"My guess is that he used items important to Hogwarts: it is a place that he most likely once considered home. I'm almost certain he was able to obtain items cherished by the founders themselves. To date, the only relics left are Gryffindor's sword, which you found, Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, and Ravenclaw's diadem. The last item disappeared during Rowena's lifetime; there have been tales that it still exists, and I'm positive Tom sought it out."
"What would the last two be?" Harry asked, realizing the answer even as he spoke the question.
"One would most likely be his familiar, the snake Nagini. The other—and this is only a guess, mind—would be you, Harry."
Both instructors looked at each other, an aged weariness dully shining in their eyes.
"Maybe we should get Snape to poison the snake," Harry mumbled, deep in thought. An idea popped into his mind and the Defense professor nearly jumped in surprise. "We'll poison it," he breathed.
Albus shot Harry a puzzled, inquiring look. "I'm sorry? I didn't quite hear you, dear boy."
"My contacts," Harry explained, thinking of his Dementor subjects, "I can ask them to administer a poison to Nagini."
Dumbledore's brows furrowed once more. "Do you trust them that much?"
"I trust them with my life, Albus," Harry replied with conviction.
The older man studied Harry intently for a few moments, searching for any wavering of his confidence. He found none.
"Very well," the Headmaster acquiesced, "I leave the task in your capable hands. While you work on that situation, I will do what I can to find the remaining Horcruxes, as well as figuring out how to remove the soul shard within you, if that so happens to be the case."
"Thank you, Albus," Harry said sincerely as he swept out of the Headmaster's office.
---
I'm just glad that blasted Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets is still here and not rotted all away. I never knew they took such a long time to decompose. Lucky for me, I guess—it's a good way to bribe Severus. Rare Basilisk parts—I know Potions Masters the world over would kill for this stuff. But, great heavens above! Why does it have to smell so putrid?
The dead Basilisk lay in the same position as it had died after Harry had shoved a sword through the roof of its mouth, and consequently, its brain. The stench of the beginning to rot flesh made the Defense professor want to empty the contents of his stomach. So far, only the tissue in the mouth had begun to decompose. The skin was still intact.
Currently, the Azkaban escapee and ex-hero of the Wizarding world was pulling apart the dead animal with the help of a rather large sword, complete with a long handle for extra leverage. The sword was embedded into the side of the creature, and Harry, with his superhuman strength, was pushing the sword along, cleaving the dead beast in half along its length. Pieces of cold flesh and blood fell in chunks onto the flagstone.
The stench was horrendous.
"Snape had better make me that damned poison," Harry muttered as he pulled the sword along. "All this just to make sure he does it—I sure as hell can't make something like that."
After a few hours of slicing and collecting pieces of the Basilisk's skin, stomach, liver, kidney, spleen, heart, muscle tissue, and rib bones, Harry turned to the skull. One of the long upper fangs was broken and gone.
That's the one that went into my arm.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Harry conjured and donned corrosion-resistant dragon hide gloves and proceeded to carefully snap off the other upper fang and the two shorter but still dreadfully long lower fangs. Looking into the mouth, there were still rows upon rows of smaller sharp triangular teeth, all pointed down its throat—much like that of the constrictor family, such as pythons, boas, and anacondas.
Good thing I didn't end up down in there.
Hefting his sword again, Harry rammed the weapon through both eye sockets and pushed against the broad side of the sword. The frontal braincase of the skull snapped off with a sickening crunch, and Harry lay down the sword. Scrambling atop the broken skull, he could see the newly exposed brains and, his targets, the venom glands. Conjuring up a large corrosion-resistant jar, he punctured a venom gland and directed the expelled venom into the jar using wandless magic. He repeated the action with the other venom gland. The jar now full, he screwed the cap on tight and spelled it with an unbreakable charm.
Stowing his goods in a bag made of the same material as his gloves, he shrunk the bag and tucked it away in his pocket. Now, it was time for a much-needed shower.
---
"What now, Hamilton?" the man snarled as he scrubbed away at the ceiling, teetering on a wobbly, rickety ladder and dodging falling gobs of soap and fouled-up potions.
The Potions Master, Harry reflected, is not in a good mood.
"I've come to ask for your assistance in a project of sorts of mine," Harry explained.
"Not interested," came the succinct reply.
"I'd like for you to brew me a poison," Harry carried on, blithely ignoring the other man's refusal. "Something highly illegal, completely untraceable, and potent enough to take out a man-eating snake."
Harry had noticed that although Snape had not once turned to look at him save when he entered the Potions classroom, the man had stopped scrubbing at the ceiling, listening, enticed.
Lowering the brush, Severus turned to lock gazes with Harry. "Should I produce this poison for you, what do I get in return?"
Ah, ever the Slytherin, Harry chuckled mentally.
"Well, my gratitude, and possibly the Wizarding world's as well, for one. You would be aiding in the destruction of something Voldemort holds dear to him: his slithering companion, Nagini. Secondly, from me you'd get a large sample of Basilisk venom, as well as Basilisk parts, such as skin, teeth, several different organs, and bones." Harry tilted his head, an eyebrow arching upwards. "Is that not enough compensation for brewing a poison for me?"
The Defense professor watched as the gears turned inside the other man's head, weighing his options and studying the situation from all angles. He suddenly straightened and stared suspiciously at the younger man.
"How do you know about the snake's name?" he hissed softly. That piece of information was not well known by the public, much less someone not affiliated with either the Order or the Death Eaters.
Harry raised the sleeve of his left arm up to his elbow, exposing the clean, unmarred skin of his forearm. "I bear no mark, Severus," he said quietly, "and I was given this task by Albus."
The Potions Master snorted as he lowered himself down the ladder and swept behind his desk, planting his hands on the smooth surface. "And how do you intend on getting close enough to that blasted snake to administer this poison? The Dark Lord is rather protective of his pet." The last word was spat out with revulsion.
Harry smiled secretively. "I have my ways. And don't worry," he added, "You won't be anywhere near the snake when it dies, if it all goes to plan. There will be no evidence that will indicate your involvement."
The secretive tone that Faustus employed was unnerving to Severus. The Potions Master was once again hit with that sensation that there was so much more to this man—something lethal, dangerous about him that warned him to tread carefully.
"I'll make you this poison in exchange for the Basilisk venom and parts, and an honest answer from you."
Harry raised a brow. "And what would that answer be?"
"Who are you? No fancy words, I want a name. Faustus Hamilton is not your name, is it?" the Slytherin Head hissed, his inability to gain an answer to his curiosity over the duration of the school year irritating him more than words could express.
Harry pondered whether or not he could trust the man with this sort of information. That man knows how valuable information such as this is. I don't know for sure which side he supports. His role as a spy is to blend in, and he does a damn good job of it.
"Before I give you my answer, I want to ask a question that you must truthfully answer," Harry responded.
Snape sneered. "And why is that?"
"Because this information will determine whether or not I die sometime in the near future," was the simple, seemingly resigned response.
The Potions Master blinked, not expecting such an explanation. Drawing himself up to his full, regal height, Severus replied, "And why should I tell you my affiliations? Do you not think that simply being here, I am aligned with Albus?"
Harry shook his head. "Albus told me you are, essentially, a triple agent. Your job is to blend in with both sides as a spy for the other. All things considered, it's almost necessary that I ask my question."
Snape glowered before answering. "If I were to choose a side, it would be the winning side. And right now, it seems as if the Dark Lord is winning."
"I see. Well, what if hypothetically Harry Potter was still alive and in hiding, training his magic to become stronger than Albus Dumbledore's? Which side would you pick then?" asked the Defense teacher.
Snape hesitated. "If that were so, then perhaps the Light stands a chance," he revealed grudgingly. "I'd be inclined to choose Albus' side."
Harry's eyes slid shut. "I see."
The Potions Master maintained his stare on the DADA professor. "So? Are you going to answer my question?" he snapped testily.
Icy blue locked with obsidian. "I'm sorry," Harry said softly as he shook his head, "The information you want could potentially jeopardize your position as a spy, and I won't risk your life for a tidbit of trivial information." Looking back up at the other man, he continued. "You are correct in that this is not my true name. But that is all I can give you. Maybe, when the war is over and if both you and I are still alive, I'll tell you then."
The Potions Master regarded the younger professor sourly. "I'll hold you to it," he conceded after thinking about the offer.
Harry's lips twitched with a weak smile. "So, are you still willing to brew me that poison?"
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"There will be eight teams participating in this tournament, and there will be two battles between two teams every weekend. Each battle will be two hours long. You will need to plan how to move about and tend to your teammates, all the while taking out your opponents.
"This will be a no fatalities competition; it will be understood that anyone who throws a curse with the intention of spilling blood will be expelled immediately. I've arranged for the Sorting Hat to randomly select the teams. Each team will consist of roughly thirty-two students from all Houses.
"The battles will consist of teams on separate ends of a sectioned-off area of Hogwarts. Each team will make their way through the hallways to get to their opponents' base while picking off your opposition. The first one to reach their goal will be declared the winners of that round."
The entire MAW class, as well as assorted professors, had gathered in the Great Hall that Friday evening for Professor Hamilton's announcement. Excited whispers broke out as the instructor paused for a breath.
"Here are the team rosters. Everyone please take one sheet; there should be enough for all." A flick of his wand and several bound "books" of parchment appeared and adhered themselves to the walls of the Great Hall in strategic locations. The students huddled around the lists, tearing off the top piece of parchment, each of which detailed the personages comprising each team. There was a mix of disgruntled groans and enthusiastic cheers as peers discovered with whom they would be working with.
Harry smiled softly to himself as he watched his former schoolmates. This was the promise of a unified school, one that did not frown upon any one house. This was the promise of a better future, with people of all different types and backgrounds working together.
He clapped his hands twice for their divided attention. "Please, I have a little more to say before we go."
The student body settled down.
"As you can see, all of the teams have roughly the same percentages of people from different Houses. The victors and secondary winners of this tournament will receive prizes; ones that reward not only the team, but also the House they hail from. The individual winners of this competition will receive fifty House points each. The runners up will receive twenty-five House points each.
"I suppose that I have given you all enough to think about for tonight. Have a good evening." With a last small, crooked smile, nodded his head at the chattering students and stepped off the temporarily conjured stage, stealthily avoiding his fellow professors by losing himself in the crowds of students.
---
The Gryffindor Quartet had congregated in a quiet circle near the roaring fireplace on the floor. It had been several days since Professor Hamilton's announcement, and the enthusiastic chatter of their peers had calmed down since.
"Why was I teamed up with Malfoy of all people?" bemoaned Ron for the thousandth time since the lists were posted.
Ginny sighed in exasperation, Neville shook his head, and Hermione gave a quiet scoff. "Oh, do hush up, Ron, it was a randomized listing. Professor Hamilton assured it." She tapped a quill on her own straight parchment of lists, on which her team had been neatly highlighted.
Ron's parchment was hardly as crisp as Hermione's. It was wrinkled and creased in places, and Draco Malfoy's name had been vigorously scribbled on until nothing but a ragged hole in said parchment remained of his name's existence in the lists.
"You realize that if Malfoy's on your team, you're going to have to work with him. Although, seeing the state of your parchment..." Ginny eyed Ron's parchment dubiously, "I don't think you two will work it out."
Hermione and Neville had been fortuitously teamed up, and the girl's mind had already begun pondering what skills her friend could bring to help her team obtain victory. Ginny and Ron were both on separate teams; while Ron complained about having Malfoy on his team, he was silently thankful that Luna Lovegood was also going to be there.
Ron, however much he outwardly objected, could not help but be grudgingly and silently grateful that Malfoy was assigned with him. The detentions they had served with Professor Hamilton had honed their skills and had given them a better understanding of how the other person reacted and thought in a battle situation. His analytical mind was already beginning to assimilate their individual strengths and weaknesses to better create a winning strategy. Looking at the rest of his teammates, a small grin crept across the redhead's lips. With practice, they could win.
---
"Wormtail."
A mousy-looking man bowed and scraped as he approached the other man ensconced in a chair situated before a lit fireplace.
"Y-yes, milord?" asked the prostrate servant.
"Have you confirmed those that side with me?" asked the Dark Lord as he stroked the head of his reptilian companion.
From within his ragged black robes, Wormtail produced a roll of parchment. Unrolling it, he read, "A d-dozen of the giants have agreed to j-join our cause, as well as a score of v-vampires and werewolves each. The D-Dementors, of course, have an agreement with you. The goblins wish to m-maintain neutrality. The others… th-they side against you."
Glowing red eyes narrowed maliciously. "Well then. They will learn what it means to defy Lord Voldemort." The Dark Lord chuckled insidiously. "Wormtail, we will strike the first day of examinations at Hogwarts, mid afternoon. They will be made examples of to the whole of Great Britain and to the world."
"Y-yes, my lord," the shivering Peter Pettigrew responded, bowing.
"Inform the Dementors of the date, and be gone."
"Yes, m-milord."
---
"Yes, my faithful? You called?" asked Harry as he materialized in the Fortress of Dark.
"The Evil One has set a strike date. He intends for Hogwarts to fall the first day of their end-of-term examinations during the afternoon. He has a few giants, vampires, and werewolves on his side. The goblins have proclaimed neutrality, and anybody else has sided with his opposition," a Dementor dutifully reported.
"Thank you. You have been most helpful to me." Harry smiled softly at his subject.
The Dementor bowed and sunk into its own shadow, Slipping back to where it had been before.
Perhaps I should visit Dad in the Potter vaults to let him know of the impending events. I would like to talk to him anyhow. I might also need to visit the Black vault and the other one as well. I also need to do some "practice" on some spell work that might be helpful later on.
Course of action decided, Harry Slipped back into his quarters at Hogwarts.
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Classes continued as normal at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The days grew longer as winter's hold loosened and spring pushed its way into the Scottish highlands, bringing the rains.
The beginning of the MAW Tournament drew closer as May approached. The students of each team worked hard, training to become the best team in the competition. The extracurricular classes that Harry had set up had been abandoned, and in their stead the two hours were split up between different teams for coaching. These training sessions included tactics, healing, and fighting techniques. Harry taught each team the same skills but they varied depending on who was assigned what within each team. Each team had already created a variety of specialties for each of their members: strategists, charms specialists, potions specialists, offensive specialists, defensive specialists, and healers, to name a few.
"All right, that's good enough for tonight," Harry announced after working with one of the teams for an hour. The students quietly chattered amongst themselves as they cleaned up the practice area. Harry himself waited until all of the students had left the room before snuffing the lights and heading to his quarters.
After freshening up, Harry settled into his study area, ordering tea and biscuits for five. As a house elf popped out of his quarters, a knock sounded at his door.
Right on time, Harry thought as he stood to open the door for his guests. Professors Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout filed in, settling themselves in the various pieces of furniture in his living room.
"Thank you all for coming," Harry welcomed after each had been served tea. "I have asked all of you here to help come up with different places for the tournament to take place. I have here a map of Hogwarts, courtesy of Albus, with sketched in areas of where I think the 'battles' should be." Here the DADA professor pointed at the large crosshatched areas on the map that ringed the centrally located moving stairways. Pointing to the shaded corners of the castle, he explained, "These classrooms are to be the bases from which the each team will operate from. Since there are eight teams, the tournament will take place over two floors: the second and third floors, with the battling teams doing their best to infiltrate their opponents' base. I suppose it is like the game 'Capture the Flag'."
His allusion to the Muggle game was met with blank stares. Scratching the back of his head, Harry continued. "Anyway, I would like each of you to be stationed at opposite corridors of the team bases. Once the team in your site begins to move away, you may follow them as long as you do not help them. You all are to be the judges for this competition; I will be the final authority on the results. Albus will be the one to award the prizes. Any questions?"
"Hamilton, how are you going to determine the final result when you can only see a portion of the tournament at any given time? Even we don't expect to see everything," Snape asked, trying to find loopholes in Harry's set of rules.
The MAW instructor snorted softly. "I have enlisted the help of the house elves. They will be my silent, invisible eyes and ears for this tournament. That way, I will know each and every little thing that happens if I asked."
"A rather well thought out plan, I must say," remarked Dumbledore genially. "I do look forwards to handing out the awards."
"Faustus, where will the other students and faculty be while the tournament is taking place?" asked Pomona.
The Ravenclaw Head of House answered. "The Great Hall. Faustus and I will charm a wall so that they can see parts of the action. It will be both entertaining as well as enlightening to the students to see how other people react in these types of situations."
The young professor's lips twitched with a frown. "Merlin, they are all so young…"
Minerva patted his shoulder. "We know, Faustus. But nonetheless, what you are doing is to help them survive the coming war against You-Know-Who."
Harry gave his judges and master of ceremonies a tired smile. Finishing their tea, they bid each other a good evening and filed out of Harry's quarters, leaving him alone to think about the war and its approaching dangers.
---
"How are you this day, Master?" purred the panther as Harry's fingers gently scratched behind its ear.
"Tiring, stressful, but well worth it to see the students succeed," answered Harry as he leaned on the dragon's hind flank. The four winged beasts were crowded around their Lord, basking in his presence. It had been a while since he had visited them and the Lands of Eternal Night, and had immediately apologized for his recent lack of visitations.
"It does not matter," the stallion had replied, "We are simply pleased that you are here now." The other three creatures had murmured their agreement, and the matter was closed.
Harry sighed contentedly as he watched several Dementors roam about the valley in a leisurely manner. While there was no outward evidence to the contrary, Harry could feel the contentment that radiated off of their black-cloaked figures.
"In the near future I will call on all of you to aid me in destroying Lord Voldemort," Harry abruptly announced to the four creatures. "I need you all to be ready."
"We live to serve, my Liege," the wolf replied instantly, standing up to stretch its wings. "Perhaps in the intervening time, we will spar against one another to perfect our skills."
"A wonderful idea," the stallion agreed as it also stood. "But a warm up is needed."
Without further ado, the two creatures began a slow trot down the length of the valley, gradually increasing their pace until they were sprinting. Midway through the panther had removed itself from Harry's pleasurable fingers to finish the warm up with them. The dragon was content to remain as Harry's backrest even though the youth had offered to sit up.
Both dragon and master watched as the three beasts squared off against each other in a three-way battle. As the land thundered with their respective elements and war cries, Harry sighed in satisfaction and snuggled up further against the black reptilian behind him.
---
The entire student body, as well as the faculty, was gathered in the Great Hall. There was a palpable tension in the air. Tonight was the beginning of the Martial Arts and Weaponry Tournament. While there were to be no weapons allowed aside from wands, the students were allowed to use what they learned in their respective martial arts classes to fend off and disable their opponents. Now, they were waiting on the last and probably most important missing person, Professor Hamilton.
The tables had been rearranged so that there were nine sections, one for each team and one for students that were not participating in the competition.
A hush descended over the Great Hall as the DADA professor entered, his navy silk robes whispering as he strode to the Head Table. Clutched in his hand was the ratty Sorting Hat. Settling himself into his usual chair, he placed the Hat on the High Table and waited for Dumbledore to begin.
The aged man stood from his seat. "Welcome," he intoned, raising his arms with palms facing the enchanted ceiling. "Welcome to the commencement of the Martial Arts and Weaponry Tournament!"
Thunderous cheers flooded the room.
Albus waited for the noise to die down before continuing. "Tonight is the beginning of the first tournament of its kind to be held at Hogwarts, one which I hope will one day be a favorite pastime of our future students."
Again the students cheered, excitement electrifying the mood of the Great Hall.
"Without further ado, I present to you the founder of this tournament, Professor Faustus Hamilton." As the students applauded loudly, Dumbledore sat down while Harry stood up.
"Over the course of the next few weeks, eight teams will battle for first place. While I have gone over the rules with you, it does not hurt to go over them again.
"There will be no spell work used with the intention of harming someone. The use of additional weaponry and the Unforgivables are prohibited on pain of disqualification. The worst you can do to your opponent is to stun them. Your objective as a team is to reach a glowing sphere planted in the base of your opponent. The first team to touch the sphere is declared the winner of that game. The winners of the first round will then compete with each other; elimination continues until there is one last team. That team will then be declared the winner.
"The winners of this competition will receive fifty House points per person, while the runners up will receive twenty-five House points per person. I've also decided to add a plaque with the winning team members' names, to be added to the trophy collection here at Hogwarts.
"With that out of the way, allow me to introduce to you the judges of this event: Professor Filius Flitwick; Professor Minerva McGonagall; Professor Pomona Sprout; and Professor Severus Snape. I, myself, will fill the role as the Grand Adjudicator.
"The first teams to go will be picked by the Sorting Hat. Those not competing will be able to watch the action here via a charmed wall. If you please, Professor, Sorting Hat?" Harry asked.
Filius stood and together, the two professors charmed the wall behind the High Table to become a screen from which they could see the empty hallways.
The Sorting Hat opened the rip that served as its mouth and announced, "Team Chimera and Team Vipertooth!"
---
The professors had already left for their respective "stations." The two picked teams stood before Harry as he explained where they were to start and where they were to head towards.
"Vipertooth, your base is in the southwestern corner of the second floor. Chimera, yours will be on the northwest corner of the third floor. You are not allowed to knock anyone off the moving staircases. That is grounds for instant disqualification. Clear?"
The group of students before him chorused their affirmative reply.
"Good. The door to your base must be closed in order to begin the round. The sphere in your base will turn green when to let you know you can start moving out. Good luck, you lot. Now, get to your starting stations."
The students quickly dispersed, stampeding through the doors of the Great Hall. Harry himself made his way across the Great Hall in a leisurely manner, Slipping the moment he was out of sight from the occupants of the Great Hall. Remaining in the shadows, he would be able to move about instantaneously without being seen.
The people that remained in the Great Hall watched the enchanted wall with rapt attention as the scene switched back and forth to reveal the two teams scurrying down the corridors to their bases.
Team Vipertooth passed a scowling Potions Master in the southern second floor corridor, while Team Chimera passed a watchful Transfigurations Mistress in the western third floor corridor. The students sequestered themselves in their appointed classrooms, staring in awe at the softly glowing white orb of light that gently bobbed midair in the center of the classroom. After the last student had entered, the door to the classroom was closed and all eyes turned to the luminescent sphere.
After nearly a minute of anxious anticipation, the sphere finally changed from the soft white to a gentle sea foam green.
The tournament had begun.
---
I hope you enjoyed it and please, review. I am indeed back after a super long hiatus. My most sincere apologies! Grad school is kicking my ass—I have to propose my research thesis this semester as well as work on a project for a competition, so updates will still be sluggish. But anyhow, I'm sure you've noticed that I have gone back and re-edited the chapters. I've tweaked a few minor things, such as the use of Veritaserum in Harry's trial and increasing Faustus' age to twenty-two. I think that's about it, aside from some spelling and grammar issues. Things are beginning to pick up!
-Tal.
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Completed: 1.22.09
Edited: 1.22.09
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