FOURTH CHAMPION FOR A TRI-WIZARD?

The previous night of Halloween was selected as the moment for the choosing of the Champions for the prestigious Triwizard Tournament, centered at Hogwarts this year. This tournament, revived after almost six hundred years since its cancelation, was a big step made by the Ministry of Magic to promote international cooperation and establish friendly ties with the other nations. Durmstrang Institute of Bulgaria, Beauxbatons Academy of France and Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry are the three contesting schools for what is possibly, the biggest event of the decade. The previous night, the Champions were chosen by what was termed as 'an impartial judge', precisely, the Goblet of Fire.

Created by Circe, one of the most legendary witches of all time, this goblet has been stored safely by the ICW all these years until this very year when the tournament was revived. The tournament was cancelled because of the 'death toll'- the last time the tournament was hosted, a cockatrice went out of control and killed all of the Champions and almost fifty guests, causing mayhem and ultimately closure of the tournament. Whether a similar fate awaits this time is subject to speculation.

The Bulgarian seeker Victor Krum is the Champion for Durmstrang, while Fleur Delacour, winner of this years' Under-19 Dueling tournament is the Champion for Beauxbatons. Cedric Diggory, Prefect and seventh-year Hufflepuff, is selected as Hogwarts Champion. The surprising fact though, is that the goblet selected one more Champion, Harry Potter.

How did this anomaly happen? Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief warlock, had personally guaranteed that he would make sure that no one under the age of seventeen would be able to pass through his restrictions and put his name into the goblet. Yet somehow, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter was able to put his name, and somehow be selected as Fourth Champion for the tournament of three. How did he manage to confound the goblet? What are the intentions of Harry Potter, who has been notorious for being a Parselmouth as well? How did Dumbledore allow it to happen? Did he want Hogwarts to get an extra bite of the apple, perhaps? If that were so, why not someone from the seniors? Why Harry Potter? Or is some larger game afoot?

Me, attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations, am going to personally cover the events at Hogwarts for my dear readers. The first of many events to come, the Weighing of the wands is to be held today. Stay tuned for more updates of the tournament and the mysteries surrounding it.

The general view of Harry Potter continued to stay the same for the next two days since Halloween, that is to say- Disappointment, anger, fury and of course, jealousy. The newspaper article had not helped matters either way. The students, who had all been disappointed at the fact that their own Headmaster had stopped anyone below the age of seventeen, had not intervened when Harry Potter, the fourteen-year-old fourth-year Gryffindor was selected as the Champions. The feelings were quite diversified, but the reaction was unified- hate and coldness towards Harry Potter.

Not that it mattered to Harry. The previous time, he had been rendered confused, angry and apoplectic by the behavior of his schoolmates. After all, he was just a little brat with very less magical education and even less knowledge of the wizarding world and its hypocrisies. He had barely managed to stay afloat in the tide of the media storm that never seemed to leave him. One week he was heralded as their savior, the next week he was the upcoming dark lord in training.

Not this time.

This time however, people were afraid to approach him directly, knowing how powerful the reclusive Potter was. Some of the Slytherins had tried to show a brave face and bully him, but before they could even attempt, the wrath of the Ice Queen made them back down. For some reason, the Ice Queen believed in him, something that the rest of the students did not understand.

The general belief was that becoming a Champion of the prestigious Triwizard meant a direct entry into the world of fame and limelight, something every kid in school wanted to achieve. The tournament had been sponsored by many reputed companies and organizations and would be directly broadcasted by various news agencies all across the globe. Being the Champion meant access to the excellent comforts provided to the Champions, plus the fame of being one. It was almost a direct ticket for a high-paying job out of school. A number of Broom manufacturing companies had already approached Diggory for endorsement, and both Tutshil Tornadoes and Willeborne Wasps had sent scouts to convince him to be the brand for their leagues. Cosmetic companies, trying to convince her to endorse their products, had surrounded Fleur Delacour. Victor Krum, well he was Victor Krum. The international magazines were interviewing the Champions, and of course, the fact that the Champions did not have to attend any classes at all just sweetened the deal. In short, becoming a Champion meant becoming a celebrity overnight.

The Ravenclaws had been the most silent out of the four houses—their inquisitive minds busy trying to figure out how Harry Potter did the trick. Speculation was high among the Claws with the occasional Slytherin or Hufflepuff joining them in their analysis. The Slytherins led by Malfoy, had taken to wearing badges supporting Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts Champion while the badges would flash 'Potter stinks' whenever Potter was near. It was neat for an amateur, but Malfoy boasted on it as if it were an achievement. The Hufflepuffs were enraged and most vindictive of the lot. The House of the Commons never had any great achievements, so when one of their own was selected as Hogwarts Champion, it seemed there was no end to their glory. Then Harry Potter, the boy who had been famous before he could walk, had to just go and snatch the glory from their faces. As if he needed more glory and fame than he already had. It was an atrocity. A group led by Zacharias Smith, had openly attacked Harry, trying to impress upon him the severity of his actions. Of course, the fact that Smith and his associates had been let out from the Hospital wing a week later demonstrated that the message did not go as well as intended.

The worst reaction had come from the Gryffindors. Angelina had downright accused him to be a traitor to the House, seconded by none other than Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Neville had stayed silent, knowing that he had no representation in the House of the Rowdy, but let Harry know privately that he believed him. The twins also had demonstrated faith in him, though they let him know that publicly, they would not demonstrate support since after all, Angelina was Fred's girlfriend and Alicia was George's. The funny thing was- Harry had taken it all in good sport.


Daphne had watched him since Halloween. Potter...Harry was indeed a mystery. He kept to himself, never trying to even defend himself from the derogatory remarks from the rest of the school. However, if any physical attack were made to his person, he would come down on the attackers with overwhelming force. The little fights in the corridors were almost scary at times. Enraged students would go in groups trying to belittle and hex him, and would then have to be taken away by more students to the Hospital Wing. Sometimes it was even funny. She had even tried to ask him about his behavior, leading to one of those interesting conversations.

FLASHBACK

"You know, you could give a magical oath in public, stating that you did not-"

"Enter my name in the goblet?" Harry took the words out of her mouth, "to what end? For these people?-" he sneered, "these sheep, who just believe whatever anyone with the biggest mouth shouts at them? I don't think so."

Daphne stayed silent. "You are angry with them, and not just for the tournament."

Harry glanced at her. Of all the annoying precociousness that the elder Greengrass displayed, an immense amount of perception was the most distinct. Amazing perception, cool head and raw cunning, add up some talent with the wand. It was no surprise, that she had grown up to become the fearsome witch she knew.

"When I was first introduced to the Wizarding world, I was surrounded by a group of people, who mobbed me, all the while thanking me for something I had no idea about. Even before I reached school, they tried to mold me into the various political factions—light by Weasley and Hagrid, and dark by Malfoy. These people—they all see me as the Boy-who-lived, their savior from Voldemort, and expect so much more from me, but whenever they see something unexpected, they have no problem vilifying me. I am heralded as a savior one week, a dark lord the next." -Daphne actually laughed at that- "They hear about me speaking Parseltongue and have no problem vilifying me as the heir of Slytherin. I did refute back quite loudly then, why didn't they believe me?"

"You never took an oath!" She tried, playing the devil's advocate in this case.

Harry fixed her with a blank stare. "I was a little brat with a year of magical education. I did not know anything about oaths. The senior students, the teachers- they all knew yet none of them came forward to actually ask me if I did it. No, they were all happy in their mental image that I was the culprit. It took me killing a sixty feet long basilisk to prove my innocence. And now again, they have no problem vilifying me, trying to shove up their frustrations at being 'normal' at me—the famous freak in town." He sneered.

Daphne just stood silently, hearing all that he had to say. "They do not hate me because I apparently fooled the goblet and became the Champion. They hate me because they could not do the same. They lack the power, the skill, the sentiment, the ability, and just because they need someone to shove their frustrations on, they use me. Their punching bag- the boy-who-lived. Their answer for all of their problems."

Harry paused for a while and then looked directly in her eyes. "You say that I should state an oath in public? I challenge you—wait for the tasks. If my performance goes spectacular, then these very people will come down on their knees-asking me to share my glory with them. They will not even care for the oath. These Gryffindors," Daphne was sure she had sensed an enormity of disdain for the House, - "they will beg me to return back, just to have a chance to enjoy the glory of having a Champion in their House."

"You are mightily confident of yourself, Potter. I know you are very powerful and talented. But-" a desperation filled her eyes, -"this tournament has a 'death toll' associated with it. People have died here..."

Harry cast a strange look at her. "You have seen what I can do, Greengrass; and I assure you, you still do not know anything."

For some reason, Daphne believed him. "Just be safe."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Why Greengrass, I didn't know you cared!" Daphne fought a blush from forming on her cheeks, as she retorted heatedly. "If you die, my contract would still be unbroken. Make sure you don't die, Potter." She glared.

Harry just smirked.

END OF FLASHBACK


Being a champion had its benefits; Harry had to hand it over to the organizers. The previous time, he was too confused dazzled with the turn of events to actually make use of the perks. This time however, he was using it completely to his benefit. Since he was underage, the Triwizard Committee had handed him an official document declaring him as temporarily emancipated until the end of school term. Since the school ended by the end of May, it covered almost the whole year. He had wasted no time in sending the document to Grimjaw, asking him to check if it would hasten the process of his acquiring his Wizengamot seats. Besides, each Champion was given the offer to have one single person as a helper or tutor for the course of the tournament. Said helper would also enjoy the comforts offered to the Champions themselves, one of which included free and unlimited access to the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. Daphne had been overjoyed when Harry had asked her to be his official helper for the tournament. Cedric had asked Flitwick to be his helper, while Krum had chosen professor Ivanov, the dueling Master of Durmstrang. Fleur had sought advice from her teacher and Master, Madame Thibeaux.

The time for the Weighing of the Wands had finally arrived. The location was still the same. It was a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to Rita Skeeter.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. She had done her best to avoid talking to him since Halloween, not that it was difficult since he had spent a majority of time in the Chamber or in the Room of Requirement. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye. Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, and the rest of the judges will be here in a moment—"

"Harry—where were you?" Cedric asked in a soft tone.

"Here and there," he shrugged, as Daphne came behind him, and stood there.

"Now come on, quick Mr. Potter. The others are still waiting." Ludo called out quickly and Harry moved in to stand beside Fleur.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Harry looked up toward the man who had given him his first wand. Voldemort had killed Ollivander personally before the battle of Hogwarts. The eccentric old man had given him a surprising show by raising some very obscure wards, holding the death eaters at bay for a couple of hours.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible, rosewood and containing... dear me... is this Veela hair?"

"From my Grandmother!" Fleur countered proudly.

"Excellent! Excellent! All though I never used Veela hair core for my wands, very temperamental, however to each his own..." He whispered, "Orchideous!"

A bunch of roses fell out of the tip of the wand. "Excellent! Excellent!" He returned Fleur her wand, who pocketed it.

"Mr. Diggory? You are next." Cedric smiled proudly and submitted his wand to Ollivander who inspected it. "Yes, I remember it well. This is one of mine. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn, must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches, ash, pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition."

You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

"As you should!" Ollivander winked. Harry wondered if the old man was being a pervert over the sexual innuendo of the situation.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied.

"And now, Mr. Krum."

"Hornbeam and Dragon Heartstring. Ah! This is a Gregorovitch creation, is it not?" Krum nodded stiffly. "Rather thicker than one usually sees, quite rigid, ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

A blast and a number of tiny twittering birds flew out of the wand. "Excellent! Excellent! And now, Mr. Potter."

This is going to be interesting...

Harry smiled and extended his wand towards the old man, who touched it for a second before removing his hand away. The reaction made everyone curious about it.

"What is wrong, Mr. Ollivander?" Skeeter asked, her quill poised in hope of getting a juicy story out of it.

Ollivander scrunched up his face for a while before tentatively touching the wand again, and on Harry's nod, he took the wand in his hand. The propensity to throw it away was quite strong but the powerful mental defenses of the old wand maker allowed him to hold it and study it for a bit.

"Holly, thirteen and half inches, one that I do not recognize. Very carefully crafted like your original wand, but... oh Merlin! A liquid core? Powerful... is that blood?"

"BLOOD?" Skeeter all but shouted out, her quill scratching the surface of her notepad. Ollivander cleared his throat and continued, "Yes. Ingenious! Blood as a liquid core, the liquid heart of a wand. This wand is an extension of you, Mr. Potter."

Harry simply nodded. Rita Skeeter seemed too excited. "The fourth champion is using an illegal wand, this will be sensational." Ollivander interrupted her, "No Miss Skeeter, this is not illegal. Just that I did not recognize this as my own."

"But you said-" She tried, her quill scratching the already written lines to write again. Ollivander shook his head, "this wand is not crafted by me. Very crude, but yet very versatile. Very interesting considering its core. I assume you had this crafted privately?"

Harry nodded. "I did."

Ollivander thrust the wand in an anticlockwise arc and whispered, "Pyros..." A tiny amount of flames burst out of the wand, forming a dragon before dispersing away. "It is in perfect condition. Did you check this wand in with the Ministry?"

"I am emancipated, sir."

"Oh, of course. Very well." He returned the wand to Harry who sent it back to the holster.

"Very well, now that we are done, everyone please return back!" Dumbledore began, only to be cut off by the reporter, "Photos! Dumbledore, Photos!"

The four Champions were then made to stand in groups, singles, in duos and what nots. After an excruciating torture of thirty minutes, the photographer was done with them.

"Mr. Potter!" Skeeter's voice reverberated. "Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet." Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I was wondering if I could have a few words..."

"Sure. Not interested. There, you have your two words." With a smirk on his face, he walked away with Daphne, leaving the perplexed reporter behind.


"That was a good show, Potter." Daphne commented, making him look at her with an amused smile. "Yes, it was." Harry returned, before lying down on a conjured bed in the Room of Requirement. He closed his eyes, thinking about his possible moves in the future.

"Introspective much?"

Harry opened his eyes and looked at her, an amused smile on his face. "Not introspective, just planning for the future. Did Lucius give a date and time?"

Daphne sighed. She hated talking about the contract. "Yes, he did. It is on November 26, two days after the first task. Apparently, he was amused that someone had decided to fight for us."

"He should be. Even I am amused." Harry teased. Daphne hit him on the shoulder. "Stop being a prat." She sat on the bed beside him, her eyes dazed in contemplation. "You have no idea how thankful I am for whatever you are doing for me."

"Oh." Harry deadpanned, "well if you are really feeling that grateful, you could do something for me in return." Daphne looked at him, surprised. "And what would that be?"

"Well I am quite tired and all, but if you could get me some chocolate from the kitchens, it would be great." Daphne sat silent for two seconds as the statement made sense, before she began to laugh. "Only you, Potter. Only you!"

Harry just smirked. "What is the reaction from Slytherin House regarding my selection?"

"Mixed. Some people think you are innocent. However, that faction is quite small. Most just believe that you are some kind of glory-hound."

"Of course." Harry snapped, before asking, "Who believed me innocent?"

"Well Tracy for one. We had a talk and she told me that she believes you. Then there is Nott and Zabini and someone called Smith from sixth year, but I do not know him. Why do you ask?"

"Just... was thinking of extending my circles."

"Tired of me, Potter?"

"You wish." Harry retorted. Daphne maturely stuck out her tongue. Harry chortled.


And he did extend his circles. The very next day, Daphne introduced him to Nott and Zabini in the library. Harry was inwardly jumping with joy at the prospect of finally meeting his greatest friends, although they did not know him yet. Not personally anyway. Theo Nott, ever the silent bookworm and Blaise Zabini—perhaps the most suave boy in Hogwarts. While Nott's father was a death eater, he had taught him to think for himself and then decide. It wasn't a surprise that when the dark lord returned in 1995, he had killed Nott Senior because the man did not agree with the dark lord on matters of his son. His body was sent home mutilated and in pieces.

"So Potter, excited about the first task?" Theo asked him over the library table. Harry had raised an obscure privacy ward, enabling them to converse without having to suffer the wrath of Madam Pince. The three boys had become fast friends, or at least... good acquaintances since friends was a bit premature word in Slytherin, though Harry was optimistic.

"Almost. Greengrass does the worrying. I just do."

Blaise laughed aloud at the statement while Daphne swatted his leg from under the table, fixing him with an odd stare. "You should know, Potter. The whole school still wonders how you managed to get the Ice Queen go all soft with you. Tell me, when are you going on an official date?"

Harry sucked in his breath, something that was very well noticed by Theo and Daphne. Ignoring it, Daphne replied. "We are not dating. Potter and I, we have a..." her eyes darted towards his for a moment-"agreement."

"She is right!" Harry quickly added, too quickly in his opinion. Blaise shook his head. "That may be, but for the rest of the school, you are dating."

Harry just sat silent, his mind lost in contemplation.


"I don't know what to do, Tracy. It's a mess." Daphne complained. The two friends sat inside their dorm, deciding on the best way to deal with the sudden complication. Ever since Blaise had let out the 'dating comment', Potter had become quite... reserved in his dealings with her. Of course, their dueling sessions continued, but his behavior was a tad more formal than previously. On the third day of the same annoying repetition of his changed behavior, Daphne lost it completely.

FLASHBACK

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Potter?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Whatever do you mean?" Daphne stood up and glared at her friend and tutor. One who had slowly been turning more and more distant in his dealings with her.

"You. You are all closed and reserved. What is wrong with you? Is this about that comment? I assure you it is all right!" Daphne ignored the sick feeling within her as she fessed up in front of him. Harry stood up, and looked away. "Nothing is wrong, Greengrass. I am just a bit...busy about something, that's all."

"Really? It doesn't seem so." She snapped. "I think you are just being a coward, running away from your own emotions." Harry whirled back and looked at her dangerously. "Take that back." He hissed.

"NO I WON'T." Daphne returned, "Not until you tell me what is wrong?" -she could not help herself. -"I—I like you, and I like you a lot. What is so wrong in that? Why are you being so distant ever since then?"

"It's'—it's personal." Harry muttered, his hands shaking. "I need to stay alone. Please, let me stay alone."

"You know what? I will give you that. Stay alone." She yelled, before stomping away.

END OF FLASHBACK

"I don't know how to face him. Something is troubling him deeply, and he just won't tell it to me at all." Daphne confessed, her mind driven by a turbulent rush of emotions. Tracy sat silently on her bed as she muttered, "I don't know Daph. He never showed an interest in me, despite me being so forward." She looked at her and continued, "Do you think he likes someone? Maybe that's why he doesn't want to be with you in that way?"

Daphne sighed. "I don't know. He has always been with Weasel and Granger until this year, and then with me. I have never heard him interested in anyone."

"Perhaps someone is interested in him, and he wants to reciprocate it?"

"I don't know!"


Two nights later...

"I swear I am just going to talk to you about the tournament... I swear I am sorry for my behavior that day. I-" Daphne stopped muttering to herself, as she stood in front of the Room of Requirement. All through the way, she had been muttering to herself what she planned to say to him. The door opened noiselessly as she walked in. Harry had previously figured out a way to set a password for the Room, such that it would only work for him and Daphne. It had taken a lot of tinkering with the ancient wards of the castle, but after a week's of nasty work, it had worked like a charm. Now only he and Daphne had access to the finest room in the castle.

In front of her, lying down on the bed, thrashing in his sleep, was Harry Potter.

Daphne rushed towards him, ready to hold him and wake him up when she realized he was saying something. His face was a scrunched mess, his hairs unkempt as he kept on thrashing his hands and legs, muttering something incoherently. Daphne held her breath and tried to get close and hear what he was saying in his sleep.

"Will not- will not—I—will—will not—I will kill you- I will—kill—you!"

What?

Daphne's mind went on an overdrive. Harry was muttering about killing someone in his sleep. She was just about to wake him up when a strange thought flitted through her mind. Something about Legilimency that her father had taught her. A secret spell from her family library.

Waving her wand and placing it near his temple, Daphne whispered, "Legilimens mentis."

She drove into his subconscious dream world.

It was a half-destroyed street. She could see the hazy forms of ghosts in some of the burnt out husks of buildings that remained. On closer analysis, it became clear where she was. The shops, the buildings, the white edifice in the center.

Is this Diagon Alley? What happened to this place?

Then, she heard a voice. One she was intimately familiar with. The voice belonged to the one person on earth she had feelings for, beside her family. Harry Potter. She ran all the way to a narrow alley, only to jump to her side as a crimson spell sped past her.

I am in a dream. The spells will not hurt me.

Reminding herself of the reality, she walked towards the gray-robed man standing a few yards away from her. Gray robes, which she had seen almost a month ago. Harry had worn them. She had seen it from the cupboard, but had discarded it as her imagination.

Then, she heard his voice.

"It's over Raven. You have killed the last person you will ever kill in this life. I will end you today, for now and forever." Harry shouted. His voice was almost the same, except that it was a tad more heavy than usual. There was another person standing opposite him, a woman from what it seemed. She wore purple robes, with a hood covering her face. Then she spoke. For some reason, he voice was intimately familiar to her.

"Give it up Potter. You do not have it in you to kill me. My bosses will love it, when they know that Longbottom is dead. Bones is captured. You may have defeated the ICW but Inferno Corp. will get you."

Raven? What is this? Harry defeated the ICW? Inferno Corp.? Is this from...?

Daphne shivered as the thought came to her.

The future?

She just watched him get even more infuriated and throw out powerful spells. Lethal curses, exploding hexes and dark curses in quick succession. The female dodged the attacks and returned fire with cutting hexes and exploding spells. Daphne could almost guess her movements. A quick dodge, a high jump, and double exploding hex and now...

A severing-hex spell chain.

The words had barely formed in her mind when the figure did the same. Harry had showed her some of the flaws of that particular dueling technique. Now, she was seeing that single flaw being demonstrated once again.

Potter quickly created an illusion and side stepped her attacks, catching her by surprise. The powerful bludgeoner that hit her head-on threw off her hood, revealing the very familiar raven-haired blue-eyed angelic face under the hood.

Is that... Me?

Daphne watched with shock and awe as Harry narrowed his wide-area attacks on her, forcing her to shift from offense to defense. Harry was coming down upon the woman...with overwhelming force... hexes, spells flew, and then with one sudden attack, her wand was disarmed away from her.

No! What is happening? Why Harry is... why is he fighting me?

"You should not have killed Neville. You should not have helped them capture Susan." Harry sneered, the bitterness of his voice distinct as he cast spell after spell at the fallen form in front of him. The girl looked up at him with a familiar cruel sneer and laughed. "It was fun to kill them, Potter. It was fun to-"

Silence. Something had happened. Harry had cast a spell so fast that the girl had not seen it coming. Slowly she felt a strange pain flick across her neck. A thin red line materialized on her neck, the drops of fresh blood glistening in the dirt and sweat on her skin.

Her head rolled off.

"NO!" Daphne yelled loudly, losing control over her spell as she was thrown out of Harry's mind. She opened her eyes to find a very deadly and dangerous Harry Potter staring back at her; his eyes cold and vengeful.


### Well that's it for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. And of course, please review. It works wonders for my muse, especially when I have to work so fast.