The Time Ship.

Unmasking a Death Eater.

Harry wasn't impressed with the newspaper article that came out in the aftermath of the Second Task, but then he hadn't been holding out much hope for an unbiased article which told the truth and nothing but the truth either. It was like there was a shroud over the magical world which prevented people from seeing there was more to life outside their barren philosophy. The person who wrote it was clearly biased when it came to magical people and magical means, as opposed to the 'unknown muggle means' that Harry had used. If Harry had been someone who gave a damn about magical beliefs he'd be worried about how the magical world viewed him and his methods. Wait till they saw what he did next, and in the Third Task.

Harry shook his head to focus on the rest of the article. Cedric Diggory and Viktor Krum, the pretty boy of Hogwarts and the grump of Durmstrang respectively were praised for their successful rescue of their hostages. Possibly because they're purebloods, Harry thought distastefully. Really, the stupid arse who'd written this article certainly knew how to milk how purebloods were brilliant at everything with just a few well chosen words into nicely voiced sentences. The pureblood supremacists must be loving this. If that was true then Diggory and Krum would've come up with something a little bit more practical and imaginative than a bubble head charm. Sure it worked, but uppose the damn spell had failed under a hundred feet of water, they wouldn't be able to reach the surface in time, and even if they did they would suffer from the bends, Harry didn't think the magical world had a clue of decompression chamber technology.

He had to sneer at the description of the 'Beauxbaton champion's failure'; clearly they were ignoring the fact Veela depended on fire to fuel their powers, and fire and water was hardly a good combination unless it was in a steam engine. The blatant racism didn't surprise Harry in the least, and he doubted Fleur would be either, though she had never experienced anything like it in France, though she had faced a low level form of bigotry from her normal human friends because she exuded an allure over males.

It would be different in Britain where rampant magical racism was abundant. In that foul magical country, Fleur would only be referred to as ' the Veela', or the ' Beauxbatons champion.'

Harry had a laugh when the magicals blatantly repeated themselves when they went on to describe his own conduct in the tournament. They commented heavily on the patches, hence the ' unknown muggle means' although they clearly had no idea what they were and it was clear by the indifference in the article as though the possibilities of muggle technology was beneath them, but in this case their ignorance was bliss. The less they knew about him and the technology they used, the better.

Harry was a little bit worried, however, when he noticed the lack of comment about his arrival by alien ship. He'd thought it would've been commented upon at least; too many people had seen the damn thing after all, seen him be teleported down to the pier. In the muggle world, major events were always reported, and anything surprising was always touched upon. In the magical world the reality was different, in fact there was nothing in the newspaper about it. The article glossed over how Harry had faded from public view and was even now out of the public's eye, though it had been noted and commented upon by sources in Hogwarts who'd leaked it to the press, but there was nothing about it now. It was like the magical world was deliberately forcing itself to forget the pertinent details, that worried Harry most of all. The vision of the future where magical kind would be fighting against their counterparts looked more real, but Harry had no intention of stopping it. He'd seen it, it had happened, it was in the future, and it was in the past. Magical kind on the whole in some European countries with exceptions like Italy, and to a minor degree France, were stagnant, and they enjoyed ignoring the world around them. That was dangerous; it may protect them and their existence from the muggles, who only remembered magic in myths and legends, but the magical world remembered the horror of the witch hunts though it had been extraordinary rare for witches or wizards to be caught. Harry often wondered how illogical the magical mindset was; instead of realising the magical world was outmanned against the non magical, they were letting scum like Voldemort run amok, claiming the muggles were inferior.

Voldemort had been raised in the muggle world, and this was what Harry was unable to comprehend, why the stupid bastard deliberately seemed to forget how dangerous the muggles were. Harry wondered if he or any other wizard or witch would keep thinking that if a muggle soldier did what a spell could not, and put a bullet in their heads.

His frown grew when he noted the rest of the article. The writer redeemed himself, partially, by writing how he'd saved little Gabrielle Delacour, but the rest of the article became a murky mess of criticism. Did it never occur to these people he'd saved the life of a girl? More to the point, what on Earth in the the local group of galaxies had they been thinking when they'd decided to use little Gabrielle as a hostage? She wasn't a full blooded Veela, nor was she old enough to control her powers. If the roles had been reversed, and she and Fleur had been the same age, then the results would possibly be less dangerous to contemplate. Dumbledore and the fools running the tournament may have claimed the thing was safe, but they were not the ones participating. Harry had rescued the girl, but he hadn't realised the longer a Veela was submerged, the quicker her powers would be sapped. It wasn't until he'd gone through the events of the task in his mind that he remembered the panicked expression on Fleur's face, how desperate she'd been to get to Gabrielle. Harry had assumed at first she'd been afraid because Gabrielle was her sister, and it was the truth, she had. But Fleur had been afraid because her sister could really, truly die.

That made Harry unrepentant in his actions.

If the magicals hated it, that was their problem.

He had bigger fish to fry.

He hadn't meant to go near the Beauxbaton's carriage, ostentatious as it was, but something had drawn him there. Harry didn't like Hogwarts, but that didn't mean he could say the same thing for the surrounding countryside. He'd found restive meditation places close to the lake, and the edge of said lake was perfect if you wanted a long jog.

Today he simply wanted a walk.

Harry wrapped the scarf around his neck to keep out the cold, and he couldn't help but wonder how the Beauxbatons students were coping. From what he knew of the school, the founder had been someone who wanted equality and comfort to join harmoniously with hard work. Unlike Hogwarts, which had lost its path from what the Founders had set up, Beauxbatons didn't have a four house system which complicated everything. There was nothing wrong with a little competition since Harry had seen schools in the muggle world play off in sports matches, but Hogwarts took that competition, and turned it into a twisted shadow of the word.

Harry was so caught up in his musings he didn't notice he'd been seen.

But he certainly noticed it when a blond blur in blue slammed into him, knocking the wind out of his chest.

" Arry!" Little Gabrielle cried into his chest. The force of the impact threatened to send both of them to the ground, so Harry wrapped his arms around her in reflex to stop her hurting herself. He wasn't worried about himself, except for the possibility of her squeezing his lungs.

" Hello Gabrielle," he greeted her; mentally he kicked himself for not being good with girls.

The little girl loosened the hold she had and peered at him, long silvery blond hair fluttering like gold entwined with silver with crystal blue eyes blinking at him with admiration.

" Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere with you with my sister. She wants to personally thank you for saving me."

Harry chuckled, though he mentally wondered how Fleur intended to thank him. When it came to Veela, being thanked came in a wide variety of possibilities.

" Answering your question, I've been around," sweet as Gabrielle was Harry had no intention of telling anyone about the TARDIS, " so where is Fleur?" A voice answered his question. Fleur had been looking for her sister when she'd noticed the door to the carriage was open, so she'd gone to investigate. Her heart had warmed up when she'd seen her sister with Harry Potter, and she didn't interrupt the moment. She was content just to watch them, content to watch him.

He was certainly attractive, strong. There was something certainly magnetic about him, but there was something...dangerous about him, he was hostile to those who attacked him, and he had a disdain for his parents. Fleur understood that, she sympathised with him; how could two people follow a delusional old man who had power issues and abandon their own child?

Contrary to what Dumbledore thought, he wasn't completely respected by those outside Britain, but only just. Dumbledore's power was waning fast, it was only a matter of time before someone else, someone with common sense took his place.

Shaking her head out of those thoughts, Fleur said softly, " There you are Gabrielle."

At the sound of her sister's voice, Gabrielle jumped out of Harry's embrace, and beamed at her sister. " I was just saying hello to Harry," she said happily.

Fleur smiled at her sister, and her eyes turned up at Harry. There was a smile on his face as he watched their conversation, not just that there was something else there.

Longing.

Turning back down to Gabrielle, the older half Veela suggested she go back into the carriage whilst she spoke to Harry. The little girl huffed and pouted adorably, but Harry added softly without sounding patronising he wanted to speak to Fleur personally.

" You're good with children, 'Arry," Fleur commented as the two of them went on a walk close to the lake. She wondered if he had children of his own, was that why he was lonely? He missed them?

" It's just something that comes to me," Harry replied before unknowingly putting Fleur's assumption straight. " I don't have any kids, my life's too dangerous I can't bring any children into the world. Worse, the way I was brought up...," he shrugged as his deep set loathing of his parents threatened to overwhelm him before his iron self control came back. " I can't see myself having children. Whose to say I won't abuse them behind closed doors? Whose to say even if I didn't hurt them they wouldn't turn out to be the self serving fools that my parents are?"

Fleur watched as Harry tried controlling his emotions. She wanted to wrap him in a hug, but his body language was brimming with anger, hatred for the people who'd ruined his life, and those types of emotions were like a knife for Veela, who were passionate creatures.

" I don't think you would do zat, 'Arry," she said softly.

Harry looked at her with sad eyes. " How do you know that? I have been on my own for so long I don't think I can change." He sighed, the loneliness of the years he'd set travelling, running, hiding, and fighting threatening to overwhelm him briefly.

Fleur watched him struggle. For all his strengths, his kindness, he was a deeply lonely and troubled man. And she wanted nothing more than to introduce him to her mother, she'd smother him with enough love for eight families.

After saying goodbye to Fleur, and getting a lovely hug from Gabrielle whilst noticing the looks he was getting from the Beauxbatons students, Harry walked up through the gates into Hogwarts castle. He checked his watch; if he'd timed this right then his target would be leaving the classroom in just a few moments.

He was right. Alastor Moody, the 'famous' auror was leaving amid a chattering mass of First year students. Some of them were chatting openly to each other, whilst some of them were ignoring everything else. The stereotyping of the houses had clearly set in the minds of these impressionable young kids. At the sight of him, most of them shied away from him as he walked over to Moody, who was busy locking the door to his classroom. If anyone who'd known Moody so well saw what Harry was doing, they would shake their heads, and in their shoes, as they waited for the inevitable explosion. Moody was well known for his paranoia, he was famous for it. Veteran aurors always became paranoid, years of fighting the dark had that effect though no one knew why. No one except aurors.

Moody, somehow, didn't seem to notice his approach. He did notice however when Harry knocked into him, hard, in the chest. No one was in the corridor to see this event, and if anyone had they would assume Potter was clumsy.

" Look where you're going!" the ex auror growled angrily before he noticed who it was. " Oh, it's you."

Harry quirked a brow. " Or hello, as they say," he said as friendly as he could manage. " Sorry," he added before moving off. Moody's eyes followed him as he left, muttering under his breath before going on his way. It was almost lunch, and then he would take another sip from his flask on the hour.

What he didn't know was that Harry was holding said hip flask in his hand as he turned the corner. He only had ten minutes.

Like all meals at Hogwarts, the students were chatting amongst each other. On this occasion, however, they had entertainment in the form of Cornelius Fudge and Amelia Bones. It was unusual to see the Minister for magic in the school, though everyone knew how inept the man was. It was an open secret in the magical world Dumbledore held all the cards in the government, that Fudge constantly sent Dumbledore letters asking for advice about this or that.

Amelia Bones, on the other hand, was a totally different person, and the complete opposite of Fudge. Many people in Hogwarts hated her, the children of the Death eaters to be more precise. Bones had been one of the few people on the light who had called for the Death eaters to be tried; only their connections had saved them in time, but it was a close call, and quite a few people had not been so lucky, and some of their children were attending Hogwarts today. Surprisingly Dumbledore, with his never ending second chances, had proven to be a help inspite of being Leader of the Light. It never failed to amaze the children of the Death eaters they could literally get away of anything short of murder, and the old fool would still let them off, claiming they could be redeemed.

Bones was not like that.

At the Hufflepuff table Susan Bones watched as her aunt spoke quietly with Dumbledore, and a few of the other teachers. She knew her aunt wanted to speak to Harry Potter, but the mysterious wizard only appeared when it suited him.

Everyone's eyes were on the table, but ironically no one had noticed Mad eye Moody. The ex auror was frantically searching through his pockets trying to find something, but he wasn't having much luck.

Fudge hated work, which was why he had a veritable army of staff to do the work for him. Unfortunately Fudge was too stupid to realise and to see people could see his stupidity. In his arrogance he saw himself as a great leader, but to those working for him, the more intelligent ones could see and 'misinterpret' Fudge's orders anyway they could to increase their own power bases. Fudge wouldn't know, he did the minimum amount of work in the whole Ministry with the exceptions of people like Umbridge.

The only reasons Fudge was presently in Hogwarts was twofold; firstly he had to be seen doing something when it was learnt merpeople had been killed in the Second Task. Like many other people with prejudices towards magical beings, Fudge didn't care about merpeople; he was of the opinion all half breeds should be rounded up and slaughtered. But this was an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss.

Which led to the second reason. Harry Potter. Fudge was desperate to meet him.

" How is it he killed them, Dumbledore?" he hissed towards the headmaster.

Dumbledore had his head in his hands. He wished desperately to take this to the privacy of his office, but unfortunately Fudge refused him on the grounds Harry Potter might attend this lunch session. Dumbledore doubted it since the boy hadn't made any effort to arrive to breakfast, lunch, or dinner since he'd arrived. Dumbledore hoped somehow to cast a compulsion charm so then he would sit with the Gryffindors so he could open up to them, but no such luck. Potter scared him when he'd kidnapped him, the fact he could do so in Hogwarts wards was frightening enough, but he could disappear whenever he wanted.

" He was trying to rescue Miss Delacour's sister from the lake," Dumbledore tried to say. " The merpeople took the task to protect the hostages seriously, albeit a little overzealously. I agree he didn't need to kill them, but-"

" The hostages could've been placed in a totally different situation for the champions to rescue them, Albus," Amelia interrupted at that point, not wanting to hear Dumbledore's excuses. " I am also more worried about why you happened to place an eight year old child at the bottom of a lake, surrounded by merpeople, who happened to be the daughter of someone high up in the French Ministry of Magic."

Fortunately for Dumbledore at the moment he was saved from any further interrogation by the surprising arrival of Harry Potter himself. Potter walked calmly through the hall, past the gossiping students, towards the head table. Dumbledore seized his chance.

" Ah, Harry my dear boy," the headmaster greeted happily, though he was happy to see Harry so then he could take the strain off this interrogation. " If you would be so kind and speak to the Minister, he would like to speak to you."

Harry ignored him. Amelia frowned; as an auror, she had trained herself to notice things like body language. Young Potter's eyes were narrowed as he stared at the table, but he wasn't looking at his parents or Dumbledore. He wasn't even looking at her or Fudge. In fact, if she could describe his present appearance, she would say the word predatory.

She frowned as she followed the direction of his gaze, and she was shocked when she saw his gaze locked on Alastor Moody. What had attracted Potter to him? Amelia had wanted to catch up with her old friend after she was finished dealing with Dumbledore.

" Is something wrong, Professor Moody?" Potter asked innocently; Amelia's frown grew.

Moody looked straight at Potter, his eyes fixed on his face, both of them. The electric blue eye set in the stony mask only made the stare sinister.

" Wrong? Nothing's wrong."

" It's as though you are searching for something," Potter remarked quietly, his voice freezing everyone in the hall. The smirk on his face reminded Amelia of the proverbial cat and the canary. " Aren't you?"

Moody did something that made Bones reach for her wand. He started denying what Potter was saying. The Moody she knew would never be caught off guard like that, so what had changed? By now she was convinced something was terribly wrong. " I am not searching for anything," he denied hastily.

Potter said nothing, he let his actions speak next. He pulled something from his pocket. Bones's eyes shot open as she immediately identified the hip flask Moody was famous for. How was it possible this young man had managed to pick Moody's pocket? Alastor Moody was getting old, yes, but old aurors did not let themselves lose their skills, or their gut instincts. Even if one of them ended up in a hospital bed, you wouldn't be able to relinquish the wand, or even a weapon if the need called for it.

" How did you get that, boy?" Moody hissed angrily.

" I took it when I bumped into you, Did it not strike you as odd I happened to be there when I have avoided contact with every person in this school, the useless fools sitting close to the puppet master especially?" Harry replied. He unscrewed the top of the flask and poured the liquid onto the floor. A thick, glutinous liquid. Now Amelia really did whip out her wand, recognising a potion when she saw it, and she pointed it at Moody, freezing him at once. But why would Moody need to take it like that? She could see at once it wasn't a normal potion, but something different.

Harry took advantage of Moody's sudden shock, and went over to Amelia. " Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE I presume?"

" Yes, Mr Potter," Amelia replied.

Harry smiled. " Good," he said before checking his watch. " In a few seconds, you'll find the man who put my name inside that goblet."

" But, Dumbledore said you'd done that," Amelia protested.

Harry slowly looked up from his watch, and pinned the old wizard to the ridiculous throne he was sitting on. " Did he now?" he whispered dangerously, but everyone in the hall heard him. " Telling porkies about me, have ya? Then again it doesn't surprise me, you wouldn't tell the truth even if someone threatened to decapitate you with a katana."

Moody started coughing, and then he grunted in pain as the transformation kicked in. Within moments instead of a scarred cripple, a man with straw colored hair appeared. Fudge gasped in disbelief, Harry smirked as Bones identified him as Barty Crouch Jnr.

Crouch looked left and right, trying to find a way of escaping, and he tried to make a break for it since he knew how slow his own people were when it came to surprises, even with Bones there. Unfortunately he failed to realise Harry was prepared for such a move; before the Death Eater could move too far, Harry had punched Crouch in the head by reaching over, but he wasn't finished. He leaned over, bodily picked the Death Eater off his feet, and brought him over to his side of the head table. Without giving his enemy the chance to fight back, Harry grabbed Crouch's right wrist, enclosing over it and his fist.

Crouch's eyes widened in agony, and his mouth opened in a silent scream of pain as Harry crushed his wrist and hand, and the hall didn't do anything as they heard the sickening sound of crushing bone. A dribble of blood had started trickling down the enclosed two hands, onto the flagstones of the hall.

Fudge felt queasy just looking at the scene of barbarity. Only muggles practiced such savagery; but this was a wizard, where was his pride?

" Uh, Harry, my dear boy," Fudge spoke up to try and put an end to what he was seeing, well mostly him. " You've proven your point-"

" Stay out of this, Fudge," the threat in Harry's clipped, cold voice, spoken as a breath of icy wind scraped over a whetstone was enough to shut Fudge up. " I haven't proven my point; in fact I haven't dealt with this piece of scum, yet."

Dumbledore tried his best without using magic. He knew Harry had abilities beyond his comprehension, and so he didn't want to try his luck, and lose. He'd felt threatened when Harry had glared at him, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Harry turned to McGonagall; the Scottish teacher was looking at him with horror, and that pleased him. " You have a seat for sorting, go get it. I need to interrogate him."

" That's why Madame Bones is there," she tried to say, but Harry wasn't in the mood for his orders being questioned. " I don't care about Amelia Bones," Harry retorted, but then he saw the stupid woman wasn't going to budge. " Okay, so be it," he said. Like a father, Harry picked Crouch up, who was holding onto his crushed wrist in shock, and slammed him right in front of Dumbledore. " Remember, what happens next," Harry warned the Transfiguration professor darkly, " you did this."

Harry turned to Crouch, and wondered if he'd made a mistake in crushing Crouch's wrist. He'd wanted to do so much worse to the bastard; it was this subhuman's fault he was here. Harry sighed and dug through his pocket and brought out what looked like a silver rod to all the witches and wizards in the room. Dumbledore managed to see it past Crouch's shivering body, and he was just about to stand and stop Harry, but he needn't have worried.

The tube in Harry's hand glowed at the end, and there was a humming sound. Crouch's bent and shivering body suddenly stiffened.

" You will answer my questions. Why did you put my name in the Goblet of Fire?"

" My master ordered me to do it."

Fudge demonstrated he had a brain. " Your master is dead."

Harry shook his head at the Minister's arrogance. " Then why is he here," Harry asked pointedly. " Crouch came into the castle under disguise, and besides the key," he held up the rod, " has opened his mind up for me. So your sorry excuse for a master is still alive?" he addressed Crouch.

" Yes." Crouch's answer made everyone scream, and it brought Fudge's world crashing down.

Harry ignored them, and got on with the interrogation. " Get on with it, Crouch. Tell me what Voldemort is planning."

Crouch laid the whole plan, well as much as he knew which wasn't a lot, and it made Harry shake his head about how predictable Voldemort was; Crouch was saying how much he was Voldemort's most loyal servant, and yet the bastard hadn't trusted him with the full details of the plan. No matter. Harry knew he would have to be careful, and it didn't change his mind.

He turned to Bones, and nodded. " Do you have any questions for him?"

Bones nodded, and glared at Crouch. " Tell us how you escaped Azkaban? Where have you all these years?"

Crouch, still under the effects of the key, told them how Crouch senior had taken his dying wife to exchange them, using copious amounts of polyjuice potion. Harry felt sorry for the poor cow, but he couldn't feel pity for her. It was a shame the stupid tart hadn't taken it into her empty skull this piece of filth was scum. Harry had to listen as Crouch told them how his daddy had hidden him under an invisibility cloak, with nothing but a house elf for company.

Putting the key back into his pocket, Harry regarded Crouch. " Do you mind if I kill the bastard?" he asked Bones.

Bones shot him a look. " Yes, I do mind."

" Tough," Harry replied. " This thing is the reason I have to participate in this tournament, and he's a Death Eater. In short, he deserves to die."

" That's not how we do things," Bones replied; knowing she would have to tread very carefully, she spoke carefully, knowing as well that Harry hated magical people from what she'd learnt. She spoke to Harry, telling him she was not planning on letting Crouch talk his way out of trouble. He could hardly claim the Imperious curse, unless of course the caster happened to be Barty Crouch senior.

Harry didn't move, and his unyielding posture didn't change; good thing too, otherwise they would have seen his resolve crumble. He hated to admit it but Harry was starting to like Amelia Bones.

Finally he said to her, " Alright," he said quietly, " you can take him, but if the bastard gets out because of some moron, then there will be trouble."

With a flash of light, Harry left the room. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Author's note.

You know, I'm starting to wonder if I should bother to use this site, especially with the people on this site who probably haven't written a story in their lives. Yeah, I admit the beginning of this story was short, but its improved. Even those who have no imagination should have the eyes and brain power to admit that to themselves. Frankly I am getting sick and tired of opening my inbox, open a review and find some know it all telling me how to write. Don't. If you have something useful to say to me, sign on, stop putting yourself up as 'Guest' its getting pretty old, and start writing yourself, if you're so good. People come onto this site to write and be reviewed, and I appreciate my reviews when THEY ARE USEFUL!

For the people who have liked and enjoyed this story, thank you.