He opened his eyes, but could find nothing but pitch-blackness. His whole body reeked of pain and tiredness. He tried moving his hands, but it seemed they were locked in some kind of bind. He felt some kind of bracelet on his hands. He tried to channel his magic through it, but his magic refused to work. It was then that the realization shot through him.

Magic-suppressing bracelets.

Damn! Why do I keep on finding myself in such situations?

"We did not want you to be uncomfortable, but it was necessary, I am afraid."

Harry just gritted his teeth, concentrating on his magical senses. The bracelets would not allow him to cast any magic. Then again, this wasn't the first time the dark lord Potter had found himself in such circumstances. The magic suppression bracelets worked on one simple principle—they were a combination of a lock and a sink. The more a person tried to break through and use his magic, the more his magic would feed the sink. In turn, the sink would power the lock, making the lock more and more powerful, hindering the person from exercising his magic. Given enough time, it would turn the prisoner into a temporary squib. However, unlike other magical artifacts, they had a simple flaw.

They were not sentient by any means.

There was one simple way to get rid of them, but then something wild appeared in his mind.

Time to test the powers of the Hallows...


"Why am I here?"

"You are here, because you have been interfering in the laws of time and continuity." A rough voice resounded from outside. He mused he was inside some kind of... black box, unable to see the outside.

Some kind of interrogation chamber I guess. I need more time...

"What do you mean?"

"Surely you jest, Mr. Potter. You time-travel across space and time into our world from the future. You destroy the entire horde of Dementors stationed at Hogwarts. You kill of ten of the Pureblood elites of our world... And you say that you do not know what I mean?"

Harry paled. How in the world did they know it?

"As you can understand, Mr. Potter. We at the Department of Mysteries do not take very well with someone changing the time stream. And that brings us both here..." The pitch-blackness faded off as the dimly lit chamber came into view.

"Who are you, and what do you want, Mr. Potter?" The gray robed hooded figure asked him.

Just a few more minutes...

"I am here... to prevent the destruction of our world at Voldemort's hands..."

"Voldemort is dead. His dead body was found at Godric's Hollow in 1981." That set harry off, who began to laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" Another hooded figure questioned him sternly.

Harry laughed. "You Unspeakables. You figure everything about me and yet, you don't know about Voldemort? Figures." He sneered.

"The dark lord is just a wraith. One that will vanish with time." One of the Unspeakables spoke out in anger. Harry immediately looked up at the new person as realization stuck him. Fighting against Voldemort for all those years had given him some sharp skills, one of them being to notice wordings. Only one type of wizards who described Voldemort as the 'dark lord'. Death eaters. The only one to do so in the Department of Mysteries itself would be...

"Rookwood, is that you?" Harry's voice rang through the Chamber. "Augustus Rookwood, is it?"

The man stiffened for a moment, as realization stuck him; his wand held tightly in his palm. "How do you know my name?"

"Seriously?" harry taunted, while inwardly smirking at the way the situation had changed. "Augustus Rookwood, member of Voldemort's inner circle. Member of the Chronomantic Division of the Department of Mysteries. Responsible for the deaths of the McKinnon family in the first wizarding war, and the assassination of Rufus Scrimgeour and Augusta Longbottom in 1998. Not to mention the hundreds of Muggleborns he killed using Fiendfyre during the raids."

In an instant, a sickeningly purple spell shot out from Rookwood's wand towards Harry Potter. That very moment, several things changed.

Harry saw the spell racing towards him. The cruel strands of the magic that embodied the entrails-expelling curse raced towards him. He chanced a look at Rookwood and sensed a cruel smile beneath the hood.

Then, it happened. His body glowed with a gray tinge as his physical body suddenly turned ethereal, almost akin to a Patronus, only that the color was gray instead of dazzling silver. The spell flew through him, as if his body had turned to smoke. Just as the spell passed through successfully, he moved forwards, his ethereal body releasing itself out of the bindings, as it turned corporeal back again.

Ever since Harry had received the powers of the Hallows, he had researched them extensively, trying to discover the power of the three artifacts of Death. He had started with the cloak, since it was both a family heirloom as well as a Hallow. It was after searching through the one of the journals of one Lord Nathaniel Potter, that he had found something interesting.

The Potter Invisibility Cloak, perhaps the most prized of all Potter heirlooms was brought into the family when my grandfather Lord Edmund Potter married Edwina Peverell of the Ancient family of Peverell. Being the last of her family, and having no other surviving heirs, the Peverell treasury Vault fell to the Potters. The heirloom Vault though, one, which is supposed to contain the sought-after Peverell Grimoire, stands unclaimed so far. It has almost been a tradition for Pureblood men of age to come and try for the Peverell inheritance, and then go on to fail and convulse in pain. Hundreds of families have tried so far, but none successful yet. However, I digress.

The three legendary Peverell brothers of old, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus- the three mages who are associated with the creation of the Hallows blessed by Death himself. It is believed that the invisibility cloak is none other than The Cloak himself.

Speculated to provide impenetrable invisibility, the cloak has stayed in the family for three generations and it is still to show one single taint of age in it. The cloak is as silky and supple as it was from the moment I first laid my eyes on it, and I am a hundred and fifty seven as of now.

Edwina Peverell's journal does describe the way the cloak is to be used, though a strange line is documented, something which I have not been able to decipher as of yet. Perhaps some one of my generation will be able to decipher its meaning, and I quote-

'No spell can touch the one who walks in both worlds.'

Harry had researched about that particular line. Death had told him that he would have to discover the power of the Hallows by himself and that had made him toil harder and harder, until one day, when he discovered it. When joined with the two other hallows, the cloak gave the wielder the power to enter in Death's own realm as well as the mortal realm. This power, it enabled him to completely ignore the limits of the mortal world and transcend into the higher realms—something which enabled him to break through things like wards very easily.

"What- what?" Rookwood could only stutter, before a crimson spell shot out of the other Unspeakables and shot him in the chest, rendering him unconscious. Harry smirked, his body turning smoky once again, popped away in a flash.

"What just happened?" asked one of the hooded figures in the room.

"I believe,-" Croaker answered, his hood still covering his face, "We just found ourselves in one complicated situation. However," he strode up, levitated the fallen body of Augustus Rookwood, and bound him, throwing him inside the interrogation chamber as the bindings activated once again. "—Harry Potter has indeed helped us in a very significant way. We had a death-eater amidst one of our own and we were ignorant of it. It is quite... Ominous."

Clemens spoke up. "What are we going to do about Harry Potter, Director?"

Croaker rubbed his forehead. "Harry Potter is a... peculiar case. While I would not allow anyone with future knowledge to stay here and try to deviate the timeline, Harry Potter is also a subject of a True Prophecy. Hindering him, might have unwanted results... Besides, he also helped us in... Improving our security, shall we say? I think I will let him have a freebie for the moment. If he does anything too drastic once again, we will capture him back."

"He could break out of our interrogation trap. I wonder how he did that smoke thing... Even our technologies don't have anything closely similar to that." Lawrence spoke up.

Croaker just nodded, his mind racing with thoughts centered on one single person who might prove very interesting in the near future.

Harry Potter.


A flash of gray light appeared out of nowhere near Hogsmeade station, and a tired Harry Potter stepped on the wet grassy soil. Travelling using the Hallows felt quite tiring, despite their obvious advantages. He would have to get familiar with the method quickly.

With a quick tempus, he checked the time.

35 minutes late. They must have had me unconscious for long.

He checked his robes. His trunk and moleskin pouch were still there. Waving his hand in a circular arc over his head, he checked himself for tracking spells.

None. They must have had great faith in their interrogation chamber. I need to watch my back, in case they attack me again.

He took out the time turner out of his pouch. A good thing he had put blood-based protections along with indestructibility runes carved over the pouch. Taking the gold chain out of it, he quickly wore it round his neck.

One turn should do it again.


Meanwhile on the train.

Daphne Greengrass, fourth-year Slytherin— notoriously known as the Ice Queen of Slytherin because of her ice-cold expressionless demeanor coupled with her complete abstinence of male company as well as her wicked way with ice-based spells; was strolling through the corridor of the train back to her compartment. She had been to the restrooms and was returning to her usual compartment, where her friend Tracy Davis was waiting for her. The raven-haired blue-eyed girl was almost busy in her own thoughts, so busy that she almost missed the sounds of confrontations that radiated out of a specific compartment. She stood still and tried to understand what was being said, after all- information was power. Knowing who the inmates of the compartment were, it was more than reason enough for her to overhear it. Yes, overhear—not eavesdrop. After all, if the conversation was private, then they should have put on privacy wards for that.

A quick disillusionment and silencing charm later, she slowly edged towards the door of the compartment, enough to hear what was being said but hidden enough not to let the others know of her presence. Her hand went up to her left ear, and twisted the earring in an arc. It was an old family heirloom gifted to her on her previous birthday. Her father Jonathan Greengrass had presented it to her, knowing how talented she was when it came to gathering information. For someone who led the neutral faction of the Wizengamot, information was everything, and he had trained his eldest daughter perfectly to suit his aims. Daphne pressed her ear on the door, the artifact on her ear enabling her to listen quite vividly, whatever was being spoken inside the compartment.

"The old families' horde magic for a reason, Hermione. Being an old family doesn't always mean money and wealth. There is a bigger responsibility on our shoulders... Responsibilities, which some, have chosen to forget." Potter was saying.

"That is new. Potter taking the stance of the Purebloods. And I thought he was Dumbledore's golden boy." Daphne mused.

"Oh darn it Harry, stop behaving like damned Malfoy, will you?" Weasley snarled.

"Ronald Weasley, just because your family was stripped off from its wealth and stature doesn't make the entire old family framework wrong."

"Stop it Harry, you are just behaving like Malfoy now."

Daphne almost smirked. The history of the Weasleys was quite an open secret among the old families. It all started in 1734 when Atticus Wesley had openly betrayed the oaths of the Ancient families, and refused to act his stand. He had handed over the secret tomes of the Wizengamot to the King of Spain in return for lands and power. Before the ancient tomes could be delivered properly, Atticus was caught red-handed by Perseus Malfoy, who was the then Chief Warlock of Wizengamot. Atticus was tried before the Wizengamot, proved guilty and flung through the veil. The lands and vaults of the Ancient family of Weasley conscripted and retained by the Wizengamot, except the lone trust Vault of his son William Wesley. The name 'Wesley' had become synonymous to 'shame' and hence William decided to change it to 'Weasley', declaring war against House Malfoy. Since the newly formed 'Weasley' was a new House, it could not qualify for a House War, so the oath shifted into a House enmity, something that continued to this day. Was it any coincidence that Weasleys and Malfoys hated each other on principle?

Her thoughts shoved aside, she heard Weasley snarl in anger and bang the door hard. It was only her quick reflexes that saved her face from being hit by the door. Ready to leave, she was almost about to discard the disillusionment charm when she heard something... odd.

"You know, you are quite different than what I expected!"

A man's voice. Odd. Potter normally stayed with his two henchmen.

"Who are you?" Potter snarled, and Daphne suddenly turned curious, at what was going on. Someone unknown was inside; someone whom Potter sensed as dangerous.

"It is not important." The man spoke in a rather gravelly voice.

"It is not important to you." Potter shot back.

The unspeakable sighed. "I am from the Department of Mysteries, Mr. Potter, and I wish to ask you about the recent happenings."

Department of Mysteries? A bloody Unspeakable? What the hell was Potter dealing with?

"What recent happenings?" Potter asked. Daphne could sense the wariness in his voice.

"Oh I was going to explain that. You see, I was talking about the chronomantic-" A pop occurred and everything was silent. Daphne waited for a few minutes, before deciding to open the door. Worst-case scenario, she would be caught, but then again, she did have a good alibi and excuse ready. She opened the door slowly. No sounds. With a snail's pace, she entered into the compartment.

It was empty.

"Homenum revelio."

Still nothing.

"Potter?" her voice resonated throughout the empty compartment.


The train was nearing Hogsmeade station as it gave out a whistle, its wheels slowing down, indicating that the destination was close. With a long-drawn-out whistle and steam puffed out extensively, the Hogwarts' express slowed down to a halt at Hogsmeade station. Daphne almost ran out of the train, keeping her mannerisms as intact as she could. Potter, she had to know what had happened to him. She had even used the 'Point-Me' spell, a fifth-year spell that was used to point out the location of something or someone within a given radius; said radius usually dependent upon the caster's power and skill. Daphne was by no means a mage, but she had enough power to cast it over a reasonable radius.

The inference had been crystal-clear. Harry Potter was not on the train.

Daphne stood outside, her senses on keen alert as everyone stepped down the train. Harry Potter was someone on whom she had her eyes on since first year. The Boy-who-lived, scion and heir to the Potter fortune, a seat in the Wizengamot and the only person to survive the killing curse. It was guaranteed that in the future, Potter was going to have a significant say in the affairs of the nation. She was excited about what Potter would be like. Instead, Potter was nothing like what she expected. He wore rags when not in classes; his hair scruffy and messy- his behavior nothing like the spoiled prince of Gryffindor she had expected, and yet there was something about him.

Potter became the youngest seeker in the century.

Potter defeater Professor Quirrel and saved the Philosopher's stone.

Potter supposedly discovered the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, fought a big bad basilisk, and saved Ginny Weasley.

Potter supposedly fought against several Dementors.

Potter was an enigma. One whom Daphne was hell-bent on solving. Hence, a shocked Daphne Greengrass stood gaping when she saw Potter walk out of the train nonchalantly. His expression, it was different from what she had seen all these years. The adamant Gryffindor was gone, and in his stead, a different person walked in his stead. The way he moved... it was as if he was stalking, like a predator. Her instincts flared and she instinctively knew that something had changed.

She waved her wand and whispered. "Point me, Harry Potter," sure in her confidence that this was some imposter. It was to her utter incomprehension when the wand pointed straight towards Harry Potter, proving his identity.

Fuck!


The Great Hall, Hogwarts.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in
midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Harry walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

"Hiya, Harry!" A voice surprised him from the opposite end. It was Colin Creevey, a third year who regarded Harry as something of a Hero. The excitable boy had perished in the battle of Hogwarts in Harry's seventh year—a war which had taken nearly everything from Harry. After the war, only Harry and a couple of Order members had remained alive among those who were fighting. The rest had perished. The trouble was, Voldemort was still alive and kicking, and importantly, the entire thing had resulted to nothing. Voldemort was alive, the demons were still there and Harry had nearly lost everyone in his team. That was before he had stopped being defensive and declared an all-out offensive on the Death-eaters.

"Hi, Colin," said Harry warily.

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother is starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Err — well," said Harry. He did not want to think of the corpse of the young Dennis Creevey even before the boy was sorted to Gryffindor.

This time it will be different.


Daphne observed with a sharp eye at the proceedings, and importantly one green-eyed Gryffindor wizard who had supposedly taken the mickey out of her. That, or else something way beyond normal was happening at Hogwarts, and no one knew it save her.

"What's so special about Potter Daph? You seem to be undressing him with your eyes!" Tracy commented saucily from beside her.

Daphne's face shifted into a scowl as she regarded her best friend. Beneath the casual happy-go-lucky attitude, she knew that a highly intelligent and cunning girl lurked deep inside Tracy Davis. The exterior was only a deception... a mask to prevent others from taking her seriously. Being a half blood, Tracy had to endure a lot many pains to stay in Slytherin House; something, which Daphne was not ignorant about. It was ironic how one of the most Slytherin girls was treated in Slytherin.

"Nothing like that. Just a hunch I am testing."

Uhuh, so you say. However, I wouldn't mind having him close inside a broom closet. Just look at-" Daphne tuned out Tracy's ministrations and refocused on Potter. Beside them, Malfoy was grieving to whoever would listen about how he couldn't find Potter on the train and antagonize him. She almost felt sorry for the pale blonde- the overgrown monkey behaved like a five-year old and pretended that he was some sort of 'Silver Prince of Slytherin'. Four years and she had yet to see Malfoy demonstrating even one of Slytherin values in his character, and couldn't help but wonder how in the world had the Hat decided that Malfoy was a Slytherin.

The sorting had just finished and Albus Dumbledore had risen from his chair and was apparently going to deliver a speech. It was the same as last year, about the forbidden forest and Argus Filch, and of course, the four hundred and thirty seven items on Filch's 'forbidden' list should anyone be interested to check it out.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Daphne's lips twisted. This was interesting. The rising amounts of groans and horrifying expressions across the four tables demonstrated a united front about how the students felt about Dumbledore's decision.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

There was a rumbling sound of thunder as the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

Harry watched in shock as Mad-eye-Moody walked in through the door, just like in his previous lifetime. He knew very well that it could not be Barty Crouch Junior, since he had personally obliterated the man. Either Barty Crouch Junior must have been an exceptional actor or something else was at play. Moody walked slowly, his electric-blue eye scanning everyone and everything as he walked, until he reached the staff table, muttered a couple of words and then moved on Dumbledore's side to acquire his seat.

"May I introduce our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him. Harry quickly took out the Marauder's map and checked it. To his great elation, it was indeed mad-eye Moody.

Funny are the ways of the Time line.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Err — but maybe this is not the time... no...," said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament ... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and
Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, her hands turning white.

Harry rolled his eyes. At least, he would not be participating in the Tournament this year. He had much more important works to do, like fending against Unspeakables, hunting the remaining horcruxes, killing off Voldy and importantly, getting Fleur back. However, he mused, being the Hogwarts Champion would definitely bring him into Fleur's interest. But then again, she already knew him from the world cup anyway.

Dumbledore was continuing his speech. "The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Harry closed his eyes, eager to ignore the voices of everyone around him boasting how they would be selected. Ron Weasley was yelling out to whoever would listen how he would be selected and would become the champion. Harry could not help but smirk at that.

It was then that Dumbledore announced the rule preventing students less than seventeen years of age from participating.

The furious yells from the male Weasleys to the annoyance of the Hufflepuffs, none whatsoever had any effect on the Headmaster, who simply looked amused and continued, "I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

With the Weasley twins planning to develop an ageing potion to get through the selection process, Ron's mutterings about the unfairness of the situation and Hermione's chants about House elves and 'slave labor' (with the additional look of scorn at Harry whenever someone mentioned anything about elves), the Gryffindor House left for their dormitories.


On the way back, Harry was sudden caught in the middle by professor Mcgonagall who presented him a tiny piece of parchment, and informing him to visit the Headmaster's office as soon as possible, and was almost about to leave when Harry called her back from behind.

"Yes Potter?"

"I was wondering if I could change my electives. Divination is a waste of time, and personally, I am not that interested in Magical creatures anymore." Harry ignored the look of shock on Ron's face and the one of surprise on Hermione's.

"Where shall I put you then, Mr. Potter?" Mcgonagall asked in a no-nonsense tone.

"I was thinking Runes and Arithmancy. I fiddled a bit with those subjects in the summer and IO would like to try them."

Minerva Mcgonagall looked oddly at him. From the first year, Harry Potter had always appeared to be a happy-go-lucky child, one who never really tried his best at studies. Now that he was taking an interest...

"I will have to talk to Professor Vector and Babbling about putting you in the third-year classes then, Potter."

"But professor, can I just sit directly with the fourth-years? I assure you I studied the entire third-year subject matter during the summer."

Mcgonagall raised her eyebrows. "That is... new, Potter. I am not really sure if you can manage it."

"I am ready for a test, if you think that is necessary, professor."

Mcgonagall sighed. "Very well. I will do likewise. Good night, Potter."

"Good night Professor." Harry wished, as he saw the departing figure of Professor Mcgonagall move away towards her own office.

"I will see you guys later." A scowl forming on his face, he headed upstairs for the Headmaster's office, not at all eager for the confrontation that lay ahead.


In the Dungeons...

"What's with you and Potter, Daph?"

Daphne turned towards her only friend and associate in school Tracy Davis with an annoyed look. "Don't tell me you did not see any difference in him."

"Of course I did!" Tracy began indignantly, her expression dead serious before she continued, "He is grown muscles. I bet he would be quite good in-"

"Damn it, Davis. I am being serious." Daphne yelled indignantly.

"Okay, Okay! Don't get your knickers in a twist Greengrass. Yes, I saw. Potter's attitude seems changed. Nevertheless, that is almost natural. Why are you so obsessed with him?"

Daphne weighed the situation. Telling Tracy would be beneficial, as she would get another eye to observe her new interest. But then again, if she let out the news, it would not spell well for her.

"Okay, but I need an oath of silence."

"Alright Greengrass." Tracy's demeanor changed almost instantly, "You got my attention."


### The second chapter for the day. I am not sure if I am going to update any more chapters today but I will try. nevertheless, hope this chapter answers some questions of the last chapter (and raises some more too :D ). Also, nearly 600 followers in just ten days? Definitely flattering. Anyways, reviews please.