He's Not Dead Yet

Thanks for all your comments, favs, and follows. I've had a number of very helpful suggestions from my readers, especially Darth Void Sage of the Force, and I just wanted the opportunity to express my gratitude to you all, even the people who feel it is necessary to point out plot-holes (if Rowling can have plot-holes and get away with it, so can I).

I deeply apologize for the delay. I'm back in school and, consequently, have a lot of work I need to do.

Also, if you have read the fanfic "Harry Potter and the Champion's Champion" you will recognize a plot-device which I have borrowed to make the story interesting.

Don't own Harry Potter, blah, blah, blah…blah.

Salad Days

It was the morning of the first task, and Harry had never been so relieved that he wasn't going to be facing the dragon. He had tried, several times, to convince Ron that there were dragons, but the arrogant ponce wouldn't listen; therefore, Harry decided, it was on Ron's own head if he got roasted. Malfoy had been looking paler than usual all morning and seemed to be muttering things under his breath.

Breakfast passed relatively quietly, though something occurred to Harry as he and his friends chatted about the upcoming event. Daphne, who was sitting at Gryffindor table that morning with Harry's group, kept shooting glares in the direction of Fleur Delacour; nothing instantly noticeable, of course, merely a narrowed gaze and a dark expression.

"Any particular reason you don't like the Beauxbatons champion?" Harry asked her quietly.

"No," Daphne replied evenly. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

"You keep looking at her like she ate your kitten or something."

Daphne shot a quick glance at Tracey, who looked down at her breakfast as if she were studying a particularly interesting Arithmancy problem.

"It's nothing, Harry, really," Daphne denied.

"Daph, you know you can tell me anything, right? We're all friends here."

"I know," she said quietly.

Harry decided not to get involved. It was obvious Daphne was hiding something and Tracey knew about it, but Harry wisely chose not to pry into other people's business. They all quickly finished up breakfast, went to their morning classes, and then returned for lunch when they noticed McGonagall ordering Weasley and Malfoy out to the grounds where the first task would take place.

"Hey, Harry," said Fred and George as the two sat down.

"We were wondering-" said Fred.

"Just an inkling, really-" George added.

"If you'd be interested in our betting pool?"

"You two have a betting pool going?" Harry asked.

"Certainly, my dear Lord Potter."

"We're fairly certain Cedric will have the best marks."

"Though Krum and the Beauxbatons champion could get pretty close."

"However, the biggest wager going about-"

"Is who will get creamed worse-"

"Malfoy or our dear little brother."

Harry and Hermione exchanged uncertain looks.

"You'd really bet on how severely injured your own brother is going to be?" said Hermione.

"Don't worry, Granger," said Fred dismissively. "I'm sure the Ministry has some safeguards in place for the champions."

"Yeah, they wouldn't want a repeat of the massacres that happened in the old tournaments," George added.

"Attention, students!" came an announcement. Everyone looked up to see McGonagall. "The first task is about to begin. Please finish up your meals and make your way down to the stadium."

"Stadium?" Neville inquired as they all rose from their seats. "Since when do we have a stadium?"

"They set it up for the first task," Harry explained. "As the owner of Hogwarts, I had to give my consent to it being constructed."

They all made their way down towards the forest where the large stadium had been erected. It wasn't anywhere near as big as the World Cup stadium, but it would certainly accommodate all of Hogwarts, and then some. Harry and his friends had just found a row of benches to themselves when they were stopped by a familiar and unwelcome voice.

"Hello, Harry dear." It was Molly Weasley, accompanied by Ginny.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"I came out here to cheer on my little ronnikins. I am so terribly worried he might hurt himself."

"Yes that would be such a…tragedy." The sarcasm in his statement flew right over the woman's head.

"Anyway, Harry dear, why don't you take a seat here next to Ginny."

"Actually, Mrs. Weasley, I was going to seat between Hermione and Neville. No offence, but they are closer friends of mine than Ginny."

Mrs. Weasley looked incredibly put out. Ginny had written to her at least once a week since school started to let her know that all her attempts at giving Harry a love potion had failed. Molly was of the mind that the 'dear boy' just needed a little push in the right direction, one that would lead to Harry falling irrevocably in love with Ginny.

Harry, however, had been on to the plot since before the year even began.

"I certainly hope this task doesn't go on for too long," Harry said calmly as he sat in between his friends. "I have to attend a Wizengamot meeting later today."

"Oh, Harry dear, I don't see why you need to be so involved with politics at such a young age," Molly stated. "I'm sure there are plenty of trustworthy and reliable people you could have represent you there instead." Harry suspected she was referring to Dumbledore.

"I'm afraid that this particular meeting is one I have to be at in person. I am putting forth a bill that will officially make love potions illegal."

Molly and Ginny appeared about ready to start choking.

"Harry," Ginny said nervously, "why would you want to do that?"

"Love potions are basically the magical version of what Muggles call 'date-rape drugs,'" he explained. "I intend to see to it that nobody ever has to be put through something like that and that those who would do such a thing are punished. Severely."

Mother and daughter both went silent and stared blankly down into the arena below, oblivious to the satisfied smirk on Harry's face.

Meanwhile, down in the champions' tent…

The champions were all waiting nervously for the task to start. Well, all the champions except for Ron; he was just casually reading a Quidditch magazine and eating some snacks he had pilfered from the twins' trunk (unaware that they were actually experimental prank sweets which would not take effect until a particular moment in time). Ron looked up from his magazine at the sound of an argument outside the tent.

"…endangering a whole generation of dragons," a woman said. Ron realized that it was the weird girl that Charlie had invited to the World Cup during the summer; the one who told him he needed to learn some table-manners. Hmph, what does she know? Ron sneered mentally as he stuffed another snack in his mouth.

"I assure you that the dragon eggs will be perfectly safe," Ludo Bagman replied to the irate woman. "Besides, they lend authenticity and-"

"Lord Potter specifically informed me that the real dragon eggs will not be allowed anywhere near this match on the grounds that they could get damaged," Red snapped. "Charlie, back me up here."

"She makes a valid argument, Mr. Bagman," Charlie Weasley agreed. "The golden eggs that the champions will be retrieving will be the only eggs in this task."

"But-but…" the man sputtered.

"Honestly, they'll make anyone a department head these days," Red muttered as she and Charlie walked away. "Anyway, good luck keeping those dragons under control, Charlie."

"I'll need it. That Hungarian Horntail and Manchurian Man-Eater are real tough pieces of work. I really pity the poor saps who have to go up against them."

"Well, here's to a hopefully successful tournament," Red concluded, giving the young man a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you after the task; we can go out for a butterbeer."

While Charlie grinned and waved goodbye to his date, the champions were being called to attention. Mr. Bagman strolled into the tent to address the champions.

"Well, now we're all here – time to fill you in," he said. "The audience has assembled outside in the stadium and now I am going to pass around this bag to each of you. From it you will remove a model of the thing you are about to face. There are different – er – varieties, you see. Your task is to retrieve the golden egg." He turned to Fleur. "Ladies first."

Fleur reached into the bag and pulled out a small, moving replica of a Welsh Green. After her, Krum stepped forward and withdrew a Chinese Fireball. Then Cedric reached in and was given the Swedish Short-Snout. Shaking, Malfoy stepped up an pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, almost causing the boy to faint.

"Mr. Weasley, your turn," said Bagman.

"Huh? Oh, right." Ron reached into the bag and gave a cry of "OUCH!" as the miniature Manchurian Man-Eater bit at his fingers. "Little bastard," Ron growled at the tiny dragon. Wait, what did he say we were doing this for again? Ah, well, it's probably not important. I wonder what the first task's going to be. Probably something worthy of a champion of my skills like another giant chess set.

"Well, then, Mr. Diggory, it seems you will be going first," said Bagman. "You will simply enter the enclosure when you hear the sound of the whistle. Best of luck to you all!"

"You know something?" Harry said. "This is really stupid."

"I agree," said Susan from the seat behind Harry. "How exactly is something akin to gladiatorial combat supposed to strengthen international magical cooperation?"

"Oh, well, there's that, but I was referring to the concept of having students fighting dragons. It really doesn't say much about an establishment if this is how we take a student's safety."

"Oh, look, it's Malfoy's turn," said Luna, pointing distractedly at the arena.

Malfoy froze in terror as he locked gazes with the giant monster he was supposed to be facing. That paralysis lasted all of about thirty seconds before he screamed and started running, the Horntail hot on his heels. Harry had to fight back joining in the laughter that echoed from the stands. The dragon-handlers, realizing that things were going wrong, attempted to intervene and save the frantic teenager; unfortunately, there was something they didn't count on. Whatever product it was that Malfoy put in his hair had some ingredient that bore a particular scent, undetectable to humans, that was distinctly similar to the pheromones of the Hungarian Horntail's favorite food: sheep.

The Horntail was not acting in defense of the golden egg, it was acting out of a desire for its midday meal. A curious thing about the Hungarian Horntails' feeding habit is that they like to toss their prey into the air, send a small blast of fire to roast them, and let them drop to the ground before devouring them. Unfortunately for Draco, that's just what this particular Horntail was starting to do. It had grabbed the youth by the back of his clothes, tossed him into the air, and had sent out a blast of fire. By sheer quick-thinking, one of the dragon-handlers managed to send a spell that redirected the flames away from Draco and placed a Cushioning Charm on the rock he was about to crash into. By a strange sequence of events, the dragon's fire had instead impacted with the golden egg, which Draco had grabbed during his descent.

It took the young Slytherin a few moments before he realized how hot the object he was holding was and let out the most girlish scream anyone had ever heard from a boy in the history of the world. All things considered, Malfoy didn't score as horribly as he could have. Madam Maxime gave him a five, Bagman a six, the representative for Durmstrang (as Karkaroff still couldn't enter the grounds) gave him a four, Dumbledore a seven, and Mrs. Crump from the ICW gave him another five.

"Well, that was…interesting," said Harry. He knew Draco was a coward, but seeing the ferret run and scream like that was just embarrassing. Harry was definitely grateful that he hadn't ever really recognized Draco as his real arch-nemesis, reserving that title for old Moldyshorts, as considering Draco as more than an annoyance would be absolutely humiliating.

"This task has just gotten disgraceful," said Neville. "I could be back at the Founders' Quarters doing more research on that project of mine."

"Let's just wait and see if Ron makes it out in one piece," said Harry. "Then we can leave."

After the handlers had removed the Horntail, they brought out the Manchurian Man-Eater. It was considerably bigger than the Horntail, and looked a lot meaner; it might not have had the large spikes, but the demonic grin and piercing red eyes boded ill for Ronald Weasley.

Ronald, however, was not in the least bit concerned as he heard the whistle and walked out into the arena. He glanced around, grinning, searching for the giant chess set he was expecting to see when he heard a soft grunt above him and a wave of hot air hit the top of his head. He slowly raised his head until he locked eyes with the Manchurian Man-Eater as it smiled wickedly at the ginger. Ron decided that now would be the perfect time to scarf down what remained of the snacks he had nicked from the twins, triggering the effects that had, until that point, remained dormant.

"Fred?"

"Yes, George?"

"Isn't that our bag of experimental prank-sweets that Ron's eating?"

"I think it is, oh twin of mine."

The two exchanged nervous looks.

"That moron!" they said together.

You see, during the summer, the twins had been working on pranking objects using some suggestions that Harry had given them. One of the sweets was designed based on the Muggle joy-buzzer, though they hadn't worked out the kink in it that caused the eater to sprout tentacles. Another of the sweets was based on a spell Harry had told them about that could turn a person into a penguin for an extended period of time. A combination of these sweets with several others the twins had been working on led to a peculiar reaction in their younger brother.

Before the entirety of Hogwarts and in front of several Ministry officials and news reporters, Ronald Weasley transformed into a giant, electric penguin with long, green tentacles.

"BRAK!" Ron screeched, flailing his arms…wings…tentacles? In his panic, he ended up striking the Manchurian Man-Eater, enraging it as the ends of the tentacles seemed to have stingers.

The dragon lunged for Ron, biting down into one of his wings and causing the boy…bird…whatever to freak out even more.

"Ronnie!" Molly Weasley shouted, attempting to leap out into the arena to help her son.

"Don't worry, Mum," Charlie assured her from the sidelines. "I'll handle it!"

Charlie might not have been particularly close with his youngest brother, he might not even have liked him a whole lot, but he was still a Weasley and they look after their family. So it was that the young dragon-handler jumped onto the back of the Manchurian and tried to wrestle it off his brother.

"Easy there, Mary," he said to the dragon. "Settle down, girl!"

It was only by sheer happenstance that this particular dragon happened to have been hand-reared specifically by Charlie since she was an egg and that she would only ever calm down if it was Charlie who handled her. Reluctantly, Mary the Manchurian Man-Eater relinquished her flailing prey and nuzzled her black, scaly head against her favorite human.

"Good girl," Charlie said.

Ron, on the other hand, was still running about frantically as blood shot out of the bite wound. Everyone stared, never expecting something as bizarre as that to happen; it almost looked as though the blood were shooting out in slow motion, making a "PSSSH" sound as it did so. It goes without saying that Ron's scores were decidedly lower than Draco's, with only Dumbledore scoring him a very generous score of four points.

As the Aurors managed to subdue Ron and cart him off to the hospital wing, Charlie exchanged a look with the dragon.

"I don't see what the big deal is," he said. "It was only a flesh wound after all."

The Wizengamot was called to order once the Lords and Ladies had taken their seats. Harry, as the one hoping to enact his new bill, was the first one to the floor. He threw a nervous look up at Hermione, Neville, and Luna who were seated in the guest section and they all smiled at him reassuringly.

"Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot," he began. "I would like to start off by thanking you for permitting me this chance to speak and put forward a bill to end what I believe is a serious threat to our society. I refer, of course, to those vile substances known as 'love potions.'"

There were some confused murmurs amongst the Wizengamot.

"Lord Potter, I fail to see how love potions are harmful," said one of the Lords. "They seem innocent enough."

"Harmless, Lord Jenkins? Let me put forward a question, then. Why is the Imperius Curse illegal?"

"Because it removes a person's free will, forcing them under the control of another."

"And what does a love potion do?"

The man stopped to think for a moment and his eyes widened in shock.

"I see," he said quietly. "You make a valid argument, Lord Potter."

"I still don't see what the problem is," a rather nasty-looking witch sneered. "Love potions have never been considered harmful and many people use them in arranged marriages when no prior feelings existed."

"You do realize that such a thing is already deemed illegal?" Harry said. "Like it or not, the magical community is still subject to the laws of Great Britain. Forcing someone to engage in the type of actions that love potions induce is considered rape." Harry paused for a moment. "You say that love potions aren't harmful, let me prove otherwise."

Harry slowly began to walk around the room, looking intently at the Lords and Ladies.

"The year is 1925. An unwary young man by the name of Tom Riddle happens to meet an impoverished witch by the name of Merope Gaunt. Merope offers him a drink and he accepts, unaware that it contains a powerful dosage of a Class A love potion, one of the most extreme categories that includes Amortentia and Tears of Venus (both of which are deemed legal). The young man became ensnared by the potion and was driven, against his will, to elope with Merope and to abandon his future, his family, and his own fiancée.

"During the course of the year, Merope became pregnant and stopped administering the love potion as she believed that Tom had genuinely fallen in love with her, or else would stay for the sake of their child. However, when Tom awoke from the potion-induced delirium, he was shocked and horrified to discover what had been done to him. He had lost just about everything he cared about and he remembered everything that he had done with Merope.

"What would you have done in the circumstances? Stay with your rapist whose very presence repulses you, or leave at once and try to find at least some part of your old life that can be salvaged?" Harry noticed that the room had gone incredibly quiet. "You want to know what happened because one woman thought it was acceptable to use a mind-altering substance on an unwitting man? Lord Voldemort was the result, that's what!

"I ask you now; do you still think love potions are harmless?"

There was a moment of silence before the vote was called in. The decision was nearly unanimous. Love potions were now and forever illegal to use, sell, buy, or brew.

"That…was satisfying," Harry said once he and his friends were in the common room of the Founders' Quarters.

"You've done a great thing, Harry," Hermione said with a proud smile. "Really, what were they thinking? Allowing love potions to go unchecked for centuries. You've probably saved countless innocent people." If there was one thing Hermione admired more than anything else, it was someone who corrected injustice in a backwards and prejudiced society. That's why she had campaigned so strongly for house-elf rights in the old timeline.

Thinking back to the subject of house-elves caused Harry to remember Winky. She had been fired by Mr. Crouch in the last timeline, had that stayed the same in this timeline as well? Curious, Harry stood up and headed out, ignoring his friends' questions of where he was going. It took him only a few minutes to reach the school kitchens, Harry suspected that Hogwarts had realized his objective and magically altered herself to accommodate him.

Harry soon reached the familiar painting of the bowl of fruit that guarded the entrance to the kitchen. He tickled the image of the pear and the door swung open. Harry hadn't made it two paces into the kitchen when he was greeted by a swarm of delighted house-elves.

"Lord of Hoggywarts has come to see us!" one of the elves squeaked giddily.

"Anything we can be doing for Master Hoggywarts sir?" another added.

"Uhm, some tea would be fine," Harry said uncertainly and Harry thought there was going to be some sort of war over who would have the honor of bringing Harry his tea. Luckily, Harry was rescued by the sudden appearance of a more familiar elf.

"Dobby will be getting Master Harry Potter sir his tea," Dobby said firmly to the other elves. "Dobby is Master's personal elf!"

The other house-elves pouted in clear envy that Dobby had first call on serving the Lord of Hogwarts, but they all seemed to know better than to protest. Harry took a seat at a nearby table and Dobby brought him a full tea-service.

"Thanks, Dobby."

"Anything for Master Harry Potter sir."

"Dobby, I was wondering, have any new elves joined Hogwarts lately?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"There is one, Master Harry Potter sir."

"Who?"

Dobby directed Harry's attention towards the fireplace where the very recognizable figure of Winky was huddled up sorrowfully drinking from a bottle of butterbeer.

"Dobby is bringing Winky to Hogwarts after bad man Mr. Crouch is giving her clothes. Dobby thinks Winky not happy serving school, though." Dobby threw a concerned look at Winky. "Winky is family elf and needs to bond with a master or mistress, or else Dobby thinks she will not get better, sir."

Harry slowly walked over to Winky and knelt down beside the little elf.

"Hello, Winky," he said calmly.

"You is Mister Harry Potter sir," she said. "Dobby is always talking 'bout how happy he is working for yous."

"I certainly hope he's happy working for me. How are you doing, Winky?"

"Winky misses having master," the elf sobbed. "Winky is a bad elf! She let down Master Crouch!"

"Winky, you are not a bad elf. You are a very good elf and I think it was wrong of Mr. Crouch to dismiss you."

"Winky doesn't like working at school. Winky wants a master or mistress to serve."

Harry thought for a moment about who needed a personal elf. He already had Dobby, and Winky clearly wanted to be a personal elf to her own master or mistress. That's when the thought struck him and he silently prayed that Hermione would forgive him for what he was about to do.

"I think I know a witch who is in need of a house-elf," Harry said.

Winky's large eyes lit up with hope.

"Please, Hermione," Harry begged quietly.

"Harry, I have some qualms about this," the brightest witch of her age replied. "If I accept Winky as my house-elf, what will she be getting in return? If I don't compensate her for her help, that is considered slavery."

"Hermione, you know I would never endorse something like slavery. House-elves control their magic through a bond with a master or mistress. The Hogwarts house-elves have developed a way to do that with the students, but Winky doesn't have that ability as it was created over centuries. Look at her." He nodded towards the house-elf who was looking up at Hermione with a pleading expression. "If she doesn't bond then her magic will fade and she could end up dying. Please, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at the little elf and felt her heart breaking a bit. Hermione, though she would never admit it, was a softie for the downtrodden and hopeless. Harry had assured her that, though there were some cruel wizards who abused their house-elves, the connection between wizard and elf was not slavery in and of itself. It was a symbiotic relationship that helped both.

"Winky," Hermione said after a moment, "if you want, I would be happy to take you on as my house-elf."

The look of absolute joy on the little elf's face would have warmed even one of the most frozen of hearts. Hermione joined hands with Winky and the two initiated the bond. Almost instantly, Winky looked ten times healthier than before.

"What can Winky be doing for Mistress Hermy?"