.

~~(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)~~

Standard Disclaimer:
"WAKE UP, MR. STONE!" cried Emily King as she pounded Thorber with a big hamster-shaped pillow.

"UNF!" Thorber raised a hand to clumsily fend of the diminutive girl's relentless assault. "Stop that, you crazy carrot!"

"Good morning!" said Emily and she handed the man a big mug of ice-cold Pepsi.

"I love you, Ms. King," replied Thorber and he quaffed the soda.

Emily simply preened under the affection, then straightened up, hands clasped behind her. "Did you see the reviews for the last chapter?"

"Of course I did." said Thorber, "I've already sent a thank you card to each of them, except…"

"...the mysterious guest!" Emily interrupted, "And they had an interesting question too!"

"Right," Thorber rose from the bed and looked at the Guest. "Océane Fournier's French...so don't ask me what works for her, even though we're her creators, technically speaking, and as for how Jean-Paul could still cast the disarming spell after being bound, keep in mind, he still held his wand, and unlike a first year, he's been a duellist for some years, and it's been shown in the books I believe how Death Eaters could still cast spells even after being bound by conjured ropes or silenced."

"We hope that answers your question," said Emily, "and next time, don't be so shy or obscure! We want to send you cookies!"

Thorber looked over at Emily. "The ones you bake, or the ones I bake?"

"Mine, of course," replied the redhead.

Thorber shuddered, considering that he used Emily's last batch of cookies as slingshot ammo, and they were able to kill off the rat infestation around Triage, Inc., some were even decapitated by the circular biscuits.

"Right," said Thorber, "in the meantime, did we forget to do something?"

"Oh, quite...Triage, Inc. does not own Harry Potter or anything associated with the franchise. That still belongs to J. K. Rowling at the moment." Emily looked at Thorber. "That's about it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, come on then!" the tiny redhead dragged the much taller Thorber out of the room, heading for the kitchens. "Let's bake some cookies and just owl them to the guest!"

Cringing, Thorber looked towards the Guest if they were reading this and said, "Save yourself! Those things are as solid as titanium! Enjoy the story, folks!"

Author's Notes: I honestly didn't expect any or much interest in Jean-Paul and Océane, but thanks to all of you who read and reviewed. This next chapter is based on Harry's point of view and explores what kind of character he will be due to some changed circumstances.

Fleur Delacour and the Secret of the Teardrop
By Triage
Chapter 2: Cool, Calm, Collected

The first rays of sunlight was still almost an hour away from gracing the Burrow. Found near the town of Ottery St. Catchpole, it was the rural home of the well-established Weasley family, closest friends of one Harry Potter, the infamous Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of Voldemort, owner of knobbly knees, notorious for fairly horrid eyesight, and currently the first person awake in the household.

He was sharing the room with his best friend, Ron, as usual. The red-haired boy's snoring was quite potent. Fortunately, Harry knew how to put a good silencing charm on his friend. Back in Hogwarts, Seamus, Dean and Neville were eternally grateful to him for it. Although the school rules forbade wizards and witches under seventeen from casting spells, it was impossible for the Ministry to identify who exactly was casting spells in a magical household. The Trace had its limits. Something which Harry was glad to know about through his mentor and pseudo-parent, Blacklock.

Rising from his bed in the corner of the cramped room, Harry stretched himself, then silently crept to the restroom. After that, he returned to the bedroom and dressed in some Muggle exercise clothing. It was still summertime, so the weather was still warm even in the darkness before the dawn, and he was approaching his Fourth year, along with Ron and Hermione. Mindful of the creaky step on the stairway, Harry made his way down and exited the home.

He took a familiar circuit from the Burrow, that went close to the Rook-shaped house of the Lovegoods, and then around the pond, giving about a few kilometres that he jogged around three times. Blacklock had emphasized the importance of fitness and exercise. Although the seemingly undead man was of a Pureblood or Half-Blood heritage, he was no longer capable of doing magic and thus was left with only physical prowess being his main ability. It still amused Harry that Blacklock was both deeply intrigued as well as intimidated by Muggle television.

Figuring out how to get electronics to work in Blacklock's mobile home took some doing, especially when Harry was just ten years old at the time.

He had been close to nine years old when his life changed, in many ways for the better. He remembered being jolted awake right as he'd been falling asleep that night. The Dursleys had been particularly foul. He'd accidentally apparated to the top of the school roof in an effort to escape Dudley and his friends. And he'd turned his teacher's hair, and Dudley's…blue. The beating he got left him sore and bruised all over. Vernon and Petunia unleashed hell on the boy. As for what made him come back to consciousness, he'd heard a loud explosion, and from what little he could see, pieces of the front door were scattered across the living room.

Aunt Petunia's not going to like that, thought young Harry.

Uncle Vernon had been all bluster and fury trundling down the stairs, followed by his wife, and to Harry's surprise, even Dudley. As for how he knew they'd all come down the stairs, well, Blacklock's assault on the door had shaken the foundations sufficiently to loosen the latch of the door to the cupboard under the stairs, through which he'd just stepped out.

What followed was a scene of absolute violence never before seen by Harry in his life until then. When his uncle fully registered the living nightmare standing upon the threshold of his house, bright green eyes shining from out of a black skull, tattered dark coat concealing a darker, skeletal body, he had squealed loudly and tried to run over his own wife to get away, and a heavy clawed hand fell upon the man's head, crushing it like a melon. Aunt Petunia's screams were all Harry could hear as she was up the staircase, but her cries cut off abruptly after a sickening wet thud.

Harry himself had been frozen stiff in fear. Dudley ran screaming past Blacklock, trying to get around him and out the door. A swinging arm moving at impossible speeds struck and sent the plump boy flying into the kitchen and through the drawers. The upper half of his body was an unrecognizable pulpy mess. Of course, Harry hadn't known his name at that point. The big half-skeletal man stepped forward, his heavy footfalls were metallic and resounding in the ensuing silence after the initial violence. He'd gazed down upon Harry with an unreadable expression.

Harry had thought his end was coming when Blacklock raised a fist high, but no pain or harm came. The skeletal man was looking down upon him thoughtfully. And when he spoke, his voice was hollow, metallic, like someone dragging a steel pipe over a grate, and it rattled, "You're not afraid of dying?"

He boggled at the big man, and finally, replied, "Yes…I am...b-but, if I tried to run, would it make a difference?"

The skeletal being turned to look at the grisly remains of Dudley, and then back at Harry, and he'd said, "Probably not."

He turned and walked away, every step thudding heavily and damaging the ground, pausing at the door to look back. "Come, you have nothing more here, and the Muggle law enforcers are on their way. You have no answers to give them that they would believe."

He'd extended a hand towards Harry in invitation. To be honest, the only delay on Harry's part had been his being given a choice to make. Go with the scary seemingly undead stranger who'd just killed his three primary bullies in his young life, or wait for the bobbies, whom his now-dead uncle Vernon always said would take him away to a home that is far worse than the one he had presently. As the black skeleton said, if he'd tried to run from him, it wouldn't have made a difference, so he took a chance and followed him into the night.

And that was how he found himself in Blacklock's mobile home. It was impossibly larger on the inside than it was on the outside. Which was his first introduction to magic, not to mention Blacklock's subtle outrage that Harry had no idea about magic until then.

Harry smiled as he remembered how Blacklock took almost an hour trying to figure out how to educate Harry and introduce him to the Wizarding World. He'd completed his jog as his reminiscing concluded simultaneously, and he found his way back through the front door of the Burrow. Casting a silencing charm on himself, he simply banished himself up the stairs, both as a short-cut and also to keep practicing his spellcasting. After another quick wash, he returned to the room he shared with Ron, he canceled his silencing spell and grabbed a pillow from his bed and began to hit Ron repeatedly with it.

"Ron, the Chudley Cannons are about to lose, you need to block the quaffle!" said Harry.

"NO THEY WON'T LOSE!" roared Ron as he shot to his feet, arms reaching to block a non-existent quaffle.

He wore only an old pair of pajama pants in the summers as it was too warm otherwise even with cooling charms. When the tall redheaded boy blinked the last bits of sleep from his eyes, he glared at Harry. "Oy, mate, that wasn't very nice."

"Probably." Harry didn't sound apologetic at all. "But it's got you up first, so you can have a shower. It's the Quidditch World Cup!"

That brightened Ron's expression tremendously, and without another word, he grabbed a towel hanging on the door and shot into the bathroom.

That was Ron taken care of, now for the twin terrors. Grabbing some enchanted cracker fireworks, which Harry had enchanted himself under Blacklock's guidance, they had all the lights and noises, but absolutely none of the destruction or damage that Muggle fireworks were capable of. After he'd been shown the number of accidents and critical injuries that could stem from fireworks, Blacklock had seen fit to teach Harry every number of healing spells and protections he could think of. Even more so after he'd heard about the Weasley Twins and their precocious antics.

Harry tip-toed over to the twins' room, quietly pushed the door open. They were dozing soundly in their beds. Perfect. Harry lit the cracker with the tip of his wand and tossed the cracker inside, between the two, and closed the door. A moment later, there was a loud whizzing noise, followed by a rapid series of snaps, crackles and pops, causing the two boys within to yell and shout, one of them apparently falling out of his bed. Harry was safely back in his own room, in the midst of dressing, when he heard other doors opening, and Molly Weasley was calling even as she advanced on the twins' room, "YOU TWO HAD BETTER NOT BE TAKING ANY OF THOSE THINGS WITH YOU!"

The rest of her words were muffled, but Harry could guess the gist of what her morning lecture was. The best part was that it was entirely plausible that the twins had something like that in the works. And it was quite possible any number of their strange items could have suddenly decided to explode right about then. They had no real way of tracing it back to Harry. Also, Harry had charmed the cracker to completely obliterate itself once it was spent, leaving no trace and therefore, no way for the twins to see any evidence. That was how a good prank was pulled. Sirius ought to be satisfied.

Since Harry had managed to get Sirius cleared of his crimes with the help of his friends, Remus, Dumbledore and Minister Fudge, Sirius had been in recovery, and seeing a mind-healer while he stayed in St. Mungo's. It was only too bad that Pettigrew managed to escape while in mid-transport to Azkaban, but at least Sirius was a free man now. The irascible man tried to make up for lost time with Harry by teaching him all he could about pranking and having fun. Harry indulged him, but only just. He had spent far too many years around Blacklock to ever be as care-free as Sirius would have preferred.

"We can't have everything," Harry muttered to himself, and adjusted his glasses as Ron came back in.

While hardly normal, most of the household attributed Ron and Harry being the first to be ready and the most chipper looking to Harry. Plus, and Harry guessed that Molly would never ever admit it aloud, especially where the twins might hear, but when the children learned they could do magic within the household, a certain amount of mischief increased, but so did the speed of packing. Especially now, when Ron just had anything he fancied taking banished into his magically expanded backpack. That bit of spellwork was thanks to Hermione, of course. The downside was Molly had no way of knowing if the twins managed to smuggle some of their products into their own packs.

The family was down early enough to have a quick breakfast. Molly had made some porridge to eat now. Ron put sugar in his, and Ginny took butter with hers. When the butter plopped into her bowl, she glanced at Harry and blushed. Harry guessed she was recalling her embarrassing moment three years ago, when she'd planted her elbow in the butter whilst sitting right next to Harry. He tried to assuage her awkwardness with a quick smile before he concentrated on his breakfast.

"Did you have enough, Harry?" asked Molly, as she bustled over.

"I certainly did, Mrs. Weasley," replied Harry, "and it was delicious as always."

"Don't be shy about having seconds now, you hear?" she said with a smile.

As the rest finished, she'd packed sandwiches and bottles of juice for everyone to take. They were on their way to the arranged portkey when Harry said, "Hold on…"

Hermione glanced over at him, as did Ginny, when he quickly jogged towards the Rookery, where a diminutive girl with long, straggly dirty-blonde hair stood waiting by the window. When she saw Harry approaching the house, she moved away from the window, and reappeared shortly at the door. She stepped out, with a small sling-bag hanging off her left shoulder. If she was anything like Hermione, it too was enchanted to hold far more than it looked.

"Hi Luna," greeted Harry, "ready to go?"

"Yes," Luna answered placidly, "I do hope the catch-nosed gluttersnaps won't be hovering around the portkey today. They do ever make the journey quite difficult."

"I don't think we'd have to worry about that, Luna," Harry assured.

"Yes, certainly not with Harry about," came a voice within the house. A moment later, Xenophilius Lovegood emerged, and he looked Harry straight in the eyes. "After all, with the Boy-Who-Lived there, more likely, a hidebehind conspiracist would emerge first."

"Oh don't be silly, dear," came a feminine voice, and Pandora Lovegood joined her husband, wrapping her arms around Xenophilius' middle. "Hidebehinds are only found in America."

"Well, any number of them could have since found their way here now, couldn't they?" Xenophilius retorted as he locked eyes with his wife, who returned the gaze evenly.

Luna's dreamy smile had vanished when both her parents appeared and she quickly made her way to Harry's side. "We had best be going, yes?"

Harry didn't miss the hint of urgency in the younger girl's voice as she looked pleadingly at him. "Right, Mr. Weasley has an appointment with the Diggory family, I think. Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Lovegood. Luna will be well cared for."

"We know. Goodbye, young man," the couple bid as Harry led Luna by the hand, rather quickly.

"Good morning, Ms. Lovegood," greeted Arthur, "how did you manage to procure tickets for the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Father had tickets," replied the girl, "But he didn't feel like going, so he gave it to me…"

"Ah, all right. A shame, though. I hear it's going to be quite exciting today."

"Quite right," said George, "Ireland beat Peru in the semi-finals. It's going to be them and Bulgaria tonight."

"Should be plenty of bets going on, I think, eh, brother mine?" said Fred.

"Right you are, brother Fred!"

"You're not thinking of making bets, are you?" asked Ginny after a moment.

"With what money, anyway?" George replied with a grin.

Ginny just rolled her eyes and moved to talk to Luna.

Harry was glad Luna managed to make it. He knew most people were still mystified by his friendship with the tiny blonde. Since his second year, when he'd met her, he'd taken to Luna and her quirky nature. She seemed quite vulnerable however, despite her seeming carefree and airy behaviour. Something only he noticed. But no one dared question or argue her presence at the Gryffindor table during meals, not when Harry always had her seated right next to him, and especially not after whatever he'd said or done to have Marietta Edgecombe and a small group of other Ravenclaws so frightened they'd withdrawn themselves from Hogwarts and were now home-schooled.

He'd only become all the more protective and attached to her when this summer, she spent far more time outside or away from her own home than she did in it. She'd already stayed over at the Burrow on more than one occasion. Molly always liked Luna, and it gave Ginny and Hermione another friend for company. But it did make Harry question why she was becoming so afraid of her own home. He certainly didn't miss the way her smile had dropped when both her parents appeared to see her off.

Harry, Hermione, Luna and the Weasleys all met up with Amos and Cedric Diggory. The teens were already familiar with Cedric, especially Harry, who was a rival Seeker to Cedric, and they all greeted each other amicably, though it was a first time for some of them in meeting Cedric's father. The man was jovial and chatty, though he was more engaged with Arthur for the most part.

"Lovely, here we are, everyone," said Arthur as they surrounded an old tortoise shell with spikes. "All of you, gather close, you all need to put at least one finger on it. Best hold on to each other too."

Everyone obeyed Arthur's instructions, with Harry wrapping his free hand around Luna's waist while his other hand touched the portkey by the finger. A moment later, he felt a tug behind his navel and soon the entire group was spinning through a maelstrom of magical winds and energy.

"All right, children," Arthur shouted, "let go! Now!"

Harry took his finger off but held on to Luna as they were released. The world flashed white and bright around him, but this wasn't his first time using a portkey, so he was able to find his footing easily as the magic slowed his descent at the last moment. It was still a bit closer to the ground than he'd liked, but Blacklock and even Sirius assured him he'd get better with time. As he had such a firm hold on Luna, she too did not fall. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the twins and even Percy weren't quite as lucky. Arthur, Amos and Cedric by far had the most graceful landing of them all.

"Mate how in the hell did you keep your feet?" Ron demanded.

"Practice…mostly, and a bit of luck," Harry replied as he held a hand out to help his friend up. "With time, you'll get better."

"Assuming I want to travel by portkey that often," Ron grumbled as he dusted himself off.

"No wands until we're past the groundsman, kids," Arthur ordered.

Some of them began to munch on the sandwiches provided by Molly as they walked to the campsite, and shared cookies Luna had packed. As delicious as it tasted, no one had the courage to ask what it was made of. Not even Harry, after the last time they'd asked.

Everyone was still unsure if Luna really included flobberworm fritters in her version of crumpets.

The camp grounds was surrounded by a misty moor, and as it was still very early in the morning, there was really not much to see, though everyone moved at a cautious pace, as there were quite a fair few people around, and sometimes they emerged right out of the mist, almost missing bumping into the group.

Mr. Roberts was a Muggle man, and he was renting out the grounds to visitors, though he couldn't for the life of him understand the exact reason for their gathering. Nor would he ever. It wasn't like this place was known for fetes or anything of that sort. Harry wondered idly how many times he was going to be obliviated, and how much of it would eventually cause some kind of brain damage to the poor man.

After payment was made, which was somewhat delayed by Arthur taking more time to admire the pound notes with great fascination, they found their assigned campsite, though the sign read: WEEZLY.

Arthur had originally been planning on borrowing a spare tent from a friend in the Ministry of Magic, but Harry had offered his own magical tent, which he described as on permanent loan to the Weasleys, given his lack of real need for one personally. It was large enough to house almost twenty people quite comfortably, and had a large living room, a kitchen, a second floor, about seven bedrooms, with one acting as a master bedroom, three restrooms, and a dining area. There was also an entertainment lounge with all manner of magical games to keep everyone occupied. There was also a bookshelf, and naturally, Hermione was already standing in front of it, perusing the books, which she personally helped select or recommend to Harry.

Ginny had led Luna upstairs to check out the rooms. No doubt some would want to have a room to themselves. There was enough space to accommodate such a notion if any desired. But Harry personally thought he'd rather room with Ron, he was already used to such arrangements after all.

They all met downstairs once again after rooming arrangements had been made. The girls all claimed the master bedroom. Arthur and Percy each took a room of their own, the twins shared a room, as did Harry and Ron. They spent the day outside, checking out various merchandise and memorabilia being sold by merchants scattered through the camp grounds. Harry had withdrawn a fair bit of galleons for this event, and bought omnioculars for himself, Ron, Hermione and Luna. Ginny had declined, as did the twins, since they either wanted to get them on their own or just weren't bothered, in Ginny's case.

Ron, as it turned out, was quite a cook, and he joked that he was paying for his omnioculars by serving meals for the family. Luna had joined in with the cooking, though, and Ron was initially worried about her ingredients or dishes clashing, but it was found she complemented his work beautifully.

Everybody still opted not to ask what Luna's ingredients were.

That evening, a large population of people began the twenty-minute trek through the nearby woods, the paths lit with lanterns to guide them. Harry marvelled at the numbers. Even with the limited amount of travel he'd made with Blacklock over the years, he'd never ever seen such a gathering of magicals, though he knew the stadium was built to hold over a hundred thousand spectators, it still awed him to witness the crowds.

They had some incredible seats, thanks to Arthur's position and Luna shared the space with them since reporters had a good view for the sake of being able to see everything. He was about to sit down next to Ron, when he saw the British Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, approaching him, followed closely by another man. "Harry Potter! How are you doing today, dear boy?" he asked in way of greeting.

"Fine, sir. How do you do?" replied Harry politely, shaking the man's hand.

"Oh, fine fettle, fine fettle, lad," said Cornelius as he took off his bowler hat. "Oh, right, Harry, meet Mr. Oblansk, my Bulgarian counterpart."

"Mr. Potter," said Oblansk, his accent quite thick, "Ewen in Bulgaria, you are most vell known. It is an honour to meet you."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, shaking his hand too.

"Well, we won't take any more of your time, my dear boy," said Cornelius a moment later, "Enjoy the match, Mr. Oblansk is very adamant his people are set to win the cup!"

"It is for certain," Oblansk said as they both excused themselves to take their seats.

"Think you can ask the Minister of Bulgaria to arrange for Viktor Krum to give me an autograph?" Ron asked Harry.

"Maybe, mate," Harry replied, "you want it that badly?"

Music began to play through the stadium, interrupting Ron's reply. An Irish tune began to play, signifying the players of Ireland were arriving. Their mascots, the leprechauns flew out, forming into a group, taking on the shape of a leprechaun, only so much bigger, doing a comical imitation of the Irish jig. Then they made the appearance of an emerald shamrock, before bursting and flying over the crowds, dispensing a hail of gold coins.

"Cor, blimey!" cried Ron, as he reached out with both hands to get as much of the gold coins as he could. Many of the youngsters were doing the same, though Arthur, Amos and Harry were the only ones making no attempts. Arthur and Amos were laughing and shaking their heads as they spoke to each other.

"Here, Harry!" said Ron, giving him ten pieces of gold, "that's for the omnioculars."

He looked so happy that Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that the leprechaun gold would disappear after a while.

The players emerged after a while, and did a sweep around the stadium, waving to the cheering crowds.

"Here comes the Bulgarians next!" said Ron.

His excitement was palpable, and even the announcer, Ludo Bagman, barely contained his energy to introduce the Bulgarians. But before that, their mascots came out.

Harry felt...something odd. Like a pull on his mind, and when he turned to look, he saw George, Fred and Ron almost partway out of their seats already. Even Arthur looked slightly strained. Luna said something about 'wrackspurts.'

Harry though, suspected it was the Veela Allure, which Blacklock had mentioned to him in passing. But it felt more irritating than attractive to him. Since he was right next to Ron, he'd reached out to stop his best friend from trying to vault the barriers, like a few other wizards were trying to do. Fortunately, there were charms or wizards in place who'd anticipated such an occurrence, and no harm took place as many were either stunned briefly or levitated back to their seats and held there until they regained control of themselves.

But Harry still wondered why he felt more irritated than anything else. He felt no real urge to get closer. The women certainly looked beautiful, and their dance was very seductive. He shrugged it off and joined his friends in cheering the players as they arrived, but more so when Viktor Krum appeared. The stadium was charmed to reflect the players in the seats across so the Bulgarian Seeker was magnified, making it easier for all to see.

Then it was time for the matches to begin.

~ O ~

"Blimey, that was unbelievable!" said Ron as they reached their tent. "A shame the Bulgarians couldn't win, but that was the best match I'd ever seen!"

He glanced down at his omnioculars. "So glad I caught that last bit with these. Never gonna forget!"

Harry just smiled and listened to all the conversations as they flowed around him. Luna had snacks prepared and shared around with everyone, and when they'd all finally drifted to bed, Harry snuck out. There was still plenty of revelry going on in the various tents and around the camp grounds, so he wasn't truly alone. He'd double checked to make sure he still had his wand after he felt something trying to pull his wand loose during the match. It might have been someone miscasting by mistake. Heaven knows there was enough magic in the stadium to warrant it happening, but Harry was nothing if not paranoid. He lived with Blacklock long enough to know how to be extremely cautious.

He was enjoying the cool night air, as he strolled about, and that was how he was the first to notice it.

It looked like an accident, but a small gout of flame had launched in the distance, and a tent caught on fire.

Eyes widening, Harry started wandering over at a brisk pace, but he was accosted by a large black figure wearing a familiar mask. "Well, what do we have here?" The man's voice sounded familiar to Harry as well, so he allowed himself to be led roughly between the various tents. "That's right, Potter, come along nice and quiet."

Now he knew, and he dug his heels into the ground when they reached a large clearing, the nearest tent was fifty feet away. Though he was still much smaller in size compared to the man, the sudden action caused the man to stumble and he twisted his body about in effort to compensate for the sudden movement. Unfortunately for him, Harry had practiced a certain move he'd watched on TV with Blacklock, and together they practiced the martial arts they'd witnessed until they could perfectly imitate the motions.

When the masked man tried to adjust his grip on Harry's arm, the boy had wrapped the man's arm in a quick lock and then twisted in the wrong direction for an arm, hard, quickly dislocating the man's arm, causing him to cry out. Harry then grabbed the mask and pulled it off, confirming that he was indeed facing none other than Walden Macnair.

Harry's face contorted in rage as he remembered how Buckbeak had nearly died at the hands of this man.

"I KNOW YOU!" shouted Harry as he grasped Walden's face with his arm and tackled the man to the ground.

Walden cried out in alarm.

Harry knew the big man wasn't expecting to be assaulted, and he didn't waste time. Once Walden was flat on his back, Harry drew a dagger with his left hand, and while still crouched on top of the Death Eater, drove the blade into the man's side, hoping he got the move right, and he'd successfully avoided any vital organs. He didn't want Walden to die…yet.

Walden roared in pain, and struggled to throw Harry off of him. Harry for his part, drew the dagger out roughly, then danced to his feet and away, wand in hand. Blood dripped down from his blade, and he pointed his wand, quickly swiping in the motions to make a star pattern in the air, as he incanted, "Ferventi Sanguine!"

Shock registered on the barely recovered Walden before he fell once more to the ground, crying out repeatedly. The Blood-Boiling Curse was a brutal tool of murder, though of course, Harry again had no intentions of letting the man die. He watched impassively as Walden lost his grip on his wand, and writhed on the ground, struggling to form coherent words through his screams of pain. He did a quick check on his wrist watch, and decided the man had reached the point before it'd be too late to save him. Pointing his wand at the prone man, he cast, "Immobulus Maxima!"

The overpowered freezing charm did its work of rapidly cooling the man's blood and body temperature, but the speed of it, and the potency Harry had used sent him into a serious shock, and he passed out. Approaching him cautiously, he placed the tip of his dagger over the man's heart whilst he used two fingers of his wand hand to feel his pulse.

Still alive. Good.

He realized belatedly that he'd not even bothered to use a silencing charm to mask the man's cries, and then he understood why no one had happened upon him sooner. Now that the adrenaline and excitement wore out a bit, he heard the screams and panicked cries as multiple tents were on fire. There had to be more than a few Death Eaters moving through the camps, attacking at random and sewing confusion amongst the revellers. People were running away in all directions. A few had seen him, but seeing the bloody dagger in his hand and a wounded man, he could have easily been mistaken for one of the attackers.

This also meant playtime was almost over. Time to leave a message the Death Eaters wouldn't forget. This was also the only time he spared the life of one. He didn't forget his mistake with Peter Pettigrew.

He grabbed Walden's wand and put it in his pocket. Next, he placed the man's feet together, then spread his arms apart in either direction. Then he locked him in position. After dispelling all traces of the Blood-Boiling Curse and Freezing Charm, he cast, "Rennervate!"

Walden Macnair awoke with a harsh gasp, eyes wide and mouth agape, but his expression quickly turned to a frown as he found he couldn't move.

"Hello Macnair," said Harry, drawing the man's attention to himself. "I wish we had more time, but we don't, so you're going to deliver a message for me, okay?"

"To blazes with you, Potter! When the rest of us find you-!"

He stopped mid-rant when Harry pocketed his own wand, then drew out Walden's, and he held it on either end with both hands.

"W-wait. What are you…"

Snap!

"NO!" Walden cried out.

"Sorry, were you particularly attached to this wand?" taunted Harry. "You can just buy a new one, you know?"

Walden swore loudly at Harry, cursing him loudly, until Harry stabbed him first in his right palm, then his left, using the splintered ends of his broken wand to nail him to the ground.

"I'll...GNGH! I'll get you for this, boy!" Walden swore.

"Funny," said Harry, "my uncle Vernon used to say that to me all the time. He's dead now."

He finished that statement with a sweet smile, and this unnerved Walden more than anything else. Drawing out his dagger once more, Harry looked at the man pointedly.

"Now this message I want you to deliver," he said, "you don't need to memorize the words or anything. But just so you know...this dagger? It's got some serious enchantments on it. Let's just say that no matter what you wear, your kind will be able to see my words."

He began to very roughly carve letters on Walden Macnair's chest, heedless of the man's screams. This time though, he'd cast a silencing charm. No point getting interrupted whilst he was in the middle of his work.

Walden eventually passed out again before the last three letters.

When Harry was finished carving his message, he began to conjure the flammable matter that he painted on the ground all around Walden's unconscious form. People on brooms would see the symbol quite clearly.

~ O ~

Harry had hidden himself under his cloak, and then climbed a tree as he waited for Walden's friends to come looking for him. He'd seen the group as they terrorized their way through the camp. He was only sorry he didn't have time to warn the Weasleys and his other friends, but Ron, Hermione and even Luna knew how to form a far greater defense than any adult would expect from young teenagers like them, which would buy them time to escape as necessary.

Death Eaters. They had the audacity to attack so close to the campsite, which had magicals from all over the world. They were either supremely confident in themselves, or stupid, or both.

Either way, they were near enough, so Harry conjured a small bolt of fire, which he sent towards the ground near the prone Walden.

The ground lit up in a bright flame that took on the distinct shape of a phoenix with wings outstretched, all around a naked Walden, his arms crucified to the ground and his palms pierced with stakes made from the remnants of his own shattered wand. Using a knife, Harry had carved the words, "YOU'RE NEXT" onto the man's torso.

The other Death Eaters surrounded Walden's form, their murmurings sounded alarmed to Harry, who was near enough to detect the intonation. As expected, they opted to stop their attack, plucked the still living man free from the ground and apparated away, leaving only the burning symbol of the phoenix on the ground. But when Harry looked up, he saw that the Dark Mark had been cast into the sky. He supposed it created an interesting contrast with the phoenix facing the serpent moving amongst the skull in the sky.

But he knew now that Blacklock's predictions were on the mark once again: Voldemort was making his moves, and his followers knew it.

"It's almost time," he said quietly to himself.

~ O ~

Arthur and his friends had found him later in the woods. He'd pretended to have been caught up in the turmoil and panic and got lost in the ensuing chaos.

"Well, at least you're in one piece and none the worse for wear," said Arthur with more than a hint of relief in his voice.

"God, we were so worried!" cried Hermione as she glomped on Harry.

A moment later, Luna had joined in the hug, and a little more awkwardly by Ron. Harry noted though, how he could feel Luna's tremble, though she'd stayed quiet.

"I'm okay, guys," he said when they all let go, he smiled at them, and let Luna stay attached to him.

"Of course you are," said Fred, who just put an arm around Harry opposite of Luna. "You're Harry Potter. Quidditch Seeker extraordinaire."

"How is that relevant to me turning out okay in a Death Eater attack?" asked Harry.

"It isn't," said Fred, smirking.

"Wait a moment, Harry," said Arthur, "are you certain it was Death Eaters?"

Harry just pointed at the sky where the Dark Mark remained.

"Ah…yes. Quite." Arthur looked sheepish. "Well, let's not tarry. Best we pack the tent and get back...no portkey this time. Mr. Diggory, Percy and I will side-along apparate the lot of you. Now, Hermione, I'd best take you through a few things about apparating before we go. Are you familiar with it, Harry?"

"Yes, sir, I am," replied Harry.

"All right, then."

A quiet, subdued group returned to the camp grounds, as did many others, almost all of whom were in the midst of pulling down their tents and packing up. Harry and his group did the same, and Arthur soon had him, his children, Luna and Hermione all apparated home. Despite his preparation for them, Hermione, Luna and the twins still sicked up.

"Here you go, dears," said Molly, who'd been waiting outside for them, and she had some broth for the ones who got ill.

Arthur himself looked quite tired out from transporting so many people at once, put his arm around Molly when she'd finished caring for the teenagers and she helped him up to their room, "You lot best get to bed right away. I'll have something nice for you to eat in the morning, okay?"

She didn't wait for a response, but some of them gave a half-hearted reply all the same.

"C'mon, mate," said Ron tiredly, "I think I'm going to need the remainder of the hols to recover."

"You'll be all right tomorrow, Ron," said Harry, "your stomach wouldn't allow you longer than that."

"Heh."

They all trudged up the stairs to their rooms, bade each other good night, and turned in. Ron was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but Harry took longer. Despite the excitement and his first real unassisted encounter with a Death Eater. He hadn't choked, he hadn't panicked. But he still counted himself as truly lucky. Walden Macnair, now that he thought about it, had been more than a little drunk, and expected little to no trouble from anybody.

"Lucky," said Harry softly, "bloody lucky. Can't count on it all the time. Can't count on it at all. I need to get better."

He turned on his side and finally allowed sleep to come.

~ O ~

September came by quickly, and the family was hastily packed and ready in record time, the only delay being Molly Weasley checking the twins' luggage as best as she could to prevent more mischief if she could help it.

"We're thinking of opening a joke shop," said George.

"And we need to practice coming up with products," added Fred, "Stuff you won't find in Zonko's!"

"Like this, for example!" George fished out a candy from his pocket. "Nosebleed Nougat. A bit self-explanatory."

"Have you tested out the potency of the nosebleeds?" asked Harry, looking at the candy George just put in his hand.

"We're fairly confident we have it worked out," replied Fred, but he didn't sound too convincing.

"Right," said Harry, though he pocketed the candy nonetheless. It might come in handy.

The journey to King's Cross Station had been arranged. Evidently, after the incident at the Quidditch World Cup, Minister Fudge was concerned about Harry's, and by extension the Weasleys' and Lovegoods' safety. He'd personally arranged for luxury vehicles to take the entourage to the train with hidden Auror escorts.

"Awful nice of Minister Fudge, eh, Fred?"

"Quite right, George." The twins shared grins.

"Maybe he's trying to cover for the Rotfang Conspiracy," said Luna. "After all, gum disease is such a serious issue."

Ginny giggled and Hermione arched an eyebrow, but said nothing more. Luna had always been spouting strange things from day one, this was hardly anything exceptional.

Percy had gotten a job at the Ministry and seemed to be in the know about something that was coming up this year in Hogwarts. He'd followed them to the station, though he was going to apparate to the Ministry right after. He dropped a major clue when he said he'd be seeing his siblings in school soon.

"Reckon you know what he's going on about?" asked Ron.

"I might…" said Harry, "...but don't hold me to it. It's just something I heard Minister Fudge mentioning to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, something about a competition or other."

"When'd you hear that?" Ron wondered.

"When they were leaving us," replied Harry, "but like I said, don't hold me to it, I couldn't really hear them for the crowds, you know."

"Right."

They dragged their luggages into the train and picked an empty carriage, which promptly filled up with Harry, Ron, Luna, Hermione, Ginny, and a short while later, Neville, joining in. They all took turns to stick out the window to bid goodbye. Harry didn't bother, though he did wave at the Weasleys as the train began to depart. He smiled when he caught a quick glimpse of a skeletal figure in a tattered trenchcoat and hat standing just by the tracks. The glowing green eyes gave him away. So Blacklock came to see him off after all.

Sirius wouldn't have, though. He was still visiting a mind-healer and spent far more time in St. Mungo's than anywhere else.

Harry and the others spent their time catching up with Neville, enjoying the snacks sold by the old lady, and playing some games of exploding snap. Though most of the conversation was taken up about what might be going on in Hogwarts this year.

"As long as it's not Dementors stationed at the school again," said Harry.

Ginny nodded emphatically at that.

"Don't think it is, mate," said Ron, "it's not like last year, everyone's runnin' scared. This year, everyone in the know's all smirks and veiled hints."

"Well, Percy knows about it, and he sounds pretty happy," said Ginny, "it's probably all right."

"Just wish I knew what all the big secret was," said Ron frustratedly, imitating Harry's habit of running a hand through his hair.

"Don't fret it, Ron, you know how it makes you," said Harry, "I think we'll know soon enough."

They fell silent after that. The train's steady rhythm as it chugged it's way across England to Scotland letting everyone fall into a sort of unconscious meditation of thought and pondering.

"Have I told you about the theory on the Heliopath Conspiracy going on in the Ministry of Magic?" asked Luna abruptly.

There was a moment of silence, before everyone burst into laughter, except for Luna herself, who merely tilted her head to watch her friends with idle curiosity. She ended up regaling them all with her curious ideas, and the trips she'd made with her parents.

Most of them took a short nap or went to visit other cabins with friends until the time came to arrive at Hogsmeade. The girls took the first turn to get their uniforms and robes on, then the boys took over. As a group, they all exited, nearly the last of the lot, greeted Hagrid, before walking a short distance to the multitude of carriages.

Of the six, Harry, Luna and Neville could see and hear the Thestrals that pulled the carriages. Ron had been unnerved when Harry guided his hand to feel the creature's leathery wings. Hermione struggled to accept that there was actually something solid there, yet could not be seen or heard. That had been in their second year.

A hollow honking whistle attracted Harry's attention, and he looked at the very last carriage where a familiar Thestral was looking right at him. It's skull was a bit oddly shaped, giving an appearance of a cap. Harry walked over to the winged skeletal horse. He gently stroked its face, as he greeted it, "Hey Rembrandt."

Luna joined him a moment later in petting it and giving it a small piece of raw meat. Of course she carried raw meat in her pocket.

"Oy, c'mon, mate," Ron urged. "Play with the invisible ponies later."

"I almost envy him, not being able to see what Thestrals look like," said Harry.

"Rembrandt likes it," said Luna, "it amuses him."

"He tell you that?" asked Harry.

"Yes," answered Luna placidly.

They bid Rembrandt farewell, and then boarded the coach. The journey felt shorter and shorter each new year that Harry took it. He didn't know why, but perhaps he really was perceiving time moving more quickly the older he got.

He smiled at the sight of the iron-wrought gates, and the flanking stone columns with the winged boar statues atop them. Rembrandt picked up his pace as he pulled the carriage along the sloping drive up to the castle. The turrets and towers drew nearer, and soon, they were entering the main courtyard. Set in a circle around a fountain surrounded by trimmed hedges and shrubs, the carriages took turns moving to the path leading to the great oak doors of the Main Entrance.

The six students stepped out and marched hurriedly to Entrance Hall, and began the long trek through stairs, corridors and courtyards before they finally arrived at the Great Hall. Near the hall, Harry saw the first years who came in by the boats, and smiled as he saw Professor McGonagall ushering them into the Waiting Room. He quickly took his place at the Gryffindor table. He didn't miss Luna looking longingly at the Gryffindor table, but the Sorting Feast were some of the only times when students were required to be seated at their own assigned tables.

The first years were led in a short while later, and they were quickly Sorted to applause for each house. Harry didn't recall the Sorting being so hurried, but there seemed to be an air of haste to the procedure.

"I think everyone knows something's up, but not what," Ron whispered to Harry.

"Sure seems that way," said Harry.

All murmurings and hushed conversations stopped at the sound of sparks, pops and crackles that followed a trail of sparkling lights and bubbles trailing in from the entrance of the Great Hall, along and over the tables, causing a few students to lean away or even jump up in surprise.

"Here he comes," said George in amusement.

The popping and crackling lights and bubbles stopped near the Headmaster's podium, coalescing into a humanoid form, and eventually burst outwards in a shower of lights of multiple hues, and there stood Albus Dumbledore, hands clasped behind him.

Smiling, the elderly wizard stretched out his palms to the ceiling. "Good evening and welcome to another magnificent year at Hogwarts!"

The students, primarily the first years, after getting over the initial shock of the Headmaster's arrival, excitedly cheered and applauded.

"Always makes an entrance, he does!" said Fred.

"Thank you, thank you one, and thank you all," said Dumbledore, "now settle down, settle down. Before we start our scrumptious feast, I have a most important announcement to make."

He clasped his hands together, and the hush within the hall was palpable.

"I know you've all been hearing some hints and whispers around. Some of you might even be in the know already. But so that everyone will be made aware; Hogwarts has been chosen to host a most legendary event!"

"Well, that makes sense now," whispered Ron.

"For the first time in centuries, the Triwizard Tournament has been revived!"

In time to his momentous announcement, lightning flashed and the follow-up thunder deafened the entire hall, causing a few younger students to scream in fright.

"Calm, calm!" said Dumbledore, "It's only a little lightning. Now, for those of you who don't know, the Triwizard tournament brings together three schools, where one student from each school will participate in a series of magical contests."

He leaned against the podium. "Now I should state in all seriousness, that if you are chosen, you stand alone, and the contests are not for the faint of heart. But more of that later. For now, please be informed, that a week from now, Hogwarts will be home not only to you, but also to a delegation of professors and students from the magical schools of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The purpose of the tournament is not only for glory and prestige to the winning school, but also to grow the spirit of camaraderie and knowledge between our magical communities."

He clapped his palms together, and colourful sparks shot out, bouncing around the tables without pause or in specific direction. "Now I've spoken enough, and I would like to say; tuck in!"

At that, the sparks all vanished and food magically appeared all over the tables. Ron was barely able to hold back before he was seizing food and filling his plate.

"D'you reckon mum doesn't feed him enough?" asked George.

"Bugger off," said Ron.

The sound of excited chatter, rain and eating was hushed once more by another flash of lightning, an extremely loud thunderclap, and the enchanted candles all suddenly going out, plunging the Great Hall into darkness. Panicked screams ensued once more, and then the doors to the Great Hall blew wide open, with an ominous flash of lightning silhouetting a stocky figure with a peg leg, messy long hair, and a gnarled wooden staff standing there.

"Terribly sorry, everyone," said Dumbledore, "I introduce this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts' Professor, Alastor Moody."

With a wave of his hands, the candles relit themselves, and the brutally scarred man clomped his way to the teacher's table, taking a sip from a flask, which he then attached to his hip.

"Back to your meals, everyone, I'll have some more announcements to make before you go off to bed. I'm sure there is much excitement to be had in the coming days." said Dumbledore.

Nobody needed telling twice, especially Ron.

"Blimey, a tournament that hasn't been seen in centuries," said Ron between mouthfuls, "Harry, reckon you want to give it a go?"

"Whatever for, Ron?" asked Harry.

"Y'know…with the way your luck works, you'd probably end up in it before long, might as well get ahead, know what I mean?"

"Oh don't be silly, Ron!" scolded Hermione.

"No, actually, he's got a point," said Harry.

"He does?" asked Hermione.

"I do?" asked Ron.

"I mean, not to sound so self-centred, but things really do tend to happen around me, chances are I'd probably get roped into this even if I didn't want to. So I might as well just jump in with both feet this time."

Hermione looked thoughtfully at Harry, then sighed and finally said, "Well, I hope you don't come to regret it, Harry."

"Oh, don't worry," said Harry, "I've every confidence I will."

AN: Winged boar, prime ribs, comments, pretty please?