AN: Alright, so first off I would like to thank everybody for their support on the first chapter, it means a lot to me, especially as this is my first fanfic. Secondly, this is a short chapter and I apologize for that. But I feel that if I was try and belt out longer chapters, then the quality would suffer as a result of me just trying to hit a word quota. Not a lot going on in this chapter either. Its just kind of a filler chapter to help set up future work.

(*, *) = Taken directly from the book

"REDUCTO!" Harry watched in satisfaction as one of the desks in the abandoned classroom was reduced to a pile of ash and splinters. Its was his fourth attempt at the spell and he had mastered it; granted it was one of the easier spells in his book.

He took a seat on top of what was formerly the teachers desk at the head of the classroom and idly flipped through his defense book, scanning the pages for anything that could help him survive the tournament that he was through headlong into.

'Little boy!' It was an unfair statement. Sure, his knowledge was lacking in the spells and theory department, but he knew for a fact that he had far more experience than any of the other contestants. He wasn't a little boy. That aspect of his life had been taken from him at an early age, and he'd prove that he was just as much a competent wizard as the rest of them.

He didn't care what the others said about him running off, he knew what he was doing. He had run to the Gryffindor tower and emptied his trunk, sifting through his books until he found the book requested by Moody, his invisibility cloak, and the Marauder's Map. He through the cloak on before he left his dorm, not wanting to be disturbed on the way out like he was on the way in, and used the map to find an empty classroom where he could practice. As an afterthought, he had a sinking feeling that by running like he did he had proven Fleur right, regardless of his reasons for doing so.

He didn't know why he should care what she thought; its not like he'd never received negative attention before, but coming from the blue-eyed blonde it felt more personal. He would prove her wrong though.

Shaking the thoughts from his head he returned back to the task at hand and found a spell in the second half of the book that seemed extremely useful. "Stupefy," he read under his breath. Useful and easy, requiring only a flick of the wand.

Harry had given up on practicing spells shortly after getting the stunning spell down. As his anger and indignation dissipated, so too did his drive and determination. Were that not good enough reason to call it a day, he felt as though there was too much going on in his head to properly focus on the task at hand, anyways.

He found himself wandering the corridors under his cloak until just before curfew, hoping that by the time he returned to Gryffindor tower, most of the occupants would be asleep. He knew how most of them would react. Other than Fred and George Weasley who would probably be ecstatic that Harry had been chosen, he guessed that most of the upper year students would be disappointed in him. They weren't who he was worried about though. Harry's long-time best-friend Ron Weasley had always has a problem with jealousy, and this would undoubtedly cause it to flare up again, while Hermione was more of a wild-card. He was sure she would stick by him whether she believed him or not; that was something he could at least be thankful for.

When he made his way through the portrait of the Fat Lady, he thanked whatever God was watching over him that his prayers were answered and the common room was blessedly empty. He lingered for just a second, debating on whether or not to ink out a letter to Sirius before deciding better of it. 'No reason to worry him. He'll probably just barge into the great hall and demand answers, and get himself chucked back in Azkaban...or kissed.'

Harry was ruthlessly pulled from his thoughts as he was overcome by a sudden wave of exhaustion. He wearily made his way up the stairs to the boys dormitory, fighting every step like it was Voldemort itself. He quietly entered the room, careful to not let the door slam behind him and threw himself onto his bed, not even bothering to undress. He was out the second his head hit the pillow.

True to his thoughts, the next couple of weeks passed agonizingly slow, when most of the Gryffindors, Ron included, turned their back on Harry. Hermione on the other hand split her time between Harry and Ron, not wanting to ostracize either of her closest friends, for which Harry couldn't really blame her for. Her constant pestering him to talk to Ron quickly wore thin though, and she was forced to drop the subject after Harry finally blew up at her. He quickly apologized, but Ron wasn't brought up again.

November thirteenth found Harry following Colin Creevy out of Potions, much to the chagrin of Snape and earning him another failed assignment. In Harry's opinion, the fail was worth not having to deal with Snape since the man's attitude had only become worse towards Harry since the night that his name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire. After a short walk, Colin directed Harry through a nondescript door and took his leave.

He warily squeezed through the door, trying as hard as he could to escape the occupants' notice but he realized that his attempts were in vain as six pairs of eyes were on him. He noticed Ludo Bagman, looking garish as ever in his old Wasps uniform, a blonde curly-haired woman dressed in magenta robes and holding a smile that screamed 'evil', Mr. Ollivander, and the other three champions. Doing his best to ignore the sudden attention directed at him he fixed his eyes on the floor and made his way into the corner just to the right of the door, as far away from everybody else as he could get. He took a deep, calming breath and raised his eyes. To his relief, it seemed that everybody else had returned to what they were previously doing before his appearance and the staring had stopped, save for one person. The witch he had noticed earlier hadn't taken her eyes off of him, and still held the same unsettling smile. She gave Harry a bad feeling, and he resolved to keep his contact with her to a minimum.

(*"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know. . . to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is - if Harry has no objection?"

"Er -" said Harry. *)

She quickly moved towards where Harry had been leaning against the wall and roughly grabbed his arm, taloned fingers, digging into his robes and skin. She tried pulling Harry towards the door, but Harry jerked his arm out of her grasp, which was a task that took a surprising amount of strength to accomplish.

"Er-sorry, I'd rather just get this over with so I don't get in trouble for missing too much of class..." He said, forcing his voice into an apologetic tone. It was a lie, of course. There was no way he'd be going back to potions class after the showing of getting him out of it. In an attempt to save face he quickly added, "Maybe another time, though?"

The woman readjusted her jeweled spectacles and gave Harry a half-scathing, half-triumphant look, which almost had him more worried that the deceitful smile she had fixed on him earlier. Harry saw her preparing to say something, but to his relief she was cut off as the door was thrown open and Dumbledore, closely followed by Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Mr. Crouch entered the room.

A worried look flashed across the old Hogwart's Headmaster's face as he glanced between Harry, and the reporter who was still standing uncomfortable close to Harry. "Wonderful! We appear to all be here, so let's get started!" He said, clapping his hands and steering Harry over next to the other Champions. He directed Harry to a chair directly to the left of where the Beauxbaton's champion was sitting. He fought the urge to look into her startling blue eyes, and instead focused on Bagman, who was busy explaining the Weighing of the Wands.

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

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmm..." he said.

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 chose to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches. . . inflexible.. rosewood.. . and containing. . . dear me. . ."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."*)

Veela? Professor Lupin lightly touched on the subject of Veela in his Defense classes last year. He didn't tell them much other than they possess ethereal beauty and give off an aura that, if your mind isn't guarded against, can lull men into a stupor or drive them to impress them. Also, as he saw at the World Cup during break, they have the ability to shift into a terrifying avian form; but Fleur said the hair was her grandmother's, and he didn't feel the need to impress her, so he assumed she must not be full-blooded Veela herself. Still, it made him wonder if his fascination with her was the result of the natural aura that Veela give off, or if it came from somewhere else.

Harry watched Krum and Cedric get their wands inspected by the old wand-maker, one of the first people he met after joining the wizarding world, before it was his turn. He noticed that Ollivander took a bit longer with his wand than the others, but he said nothing. After his wand was returned to him, he quickly tried to escape the room but was stopped as Bagman laid a hand on his shoulder and called for photos.

Harry inwardly groaned and allowed himself to be pulled in with the other champions. Cedric was in the back due to being much taller than the others, and Krum was in the back too apparently trying to hide from the cameras. Fleur was unhappily talked into standing in front of Krum, and he was pushed in front of Cedric. Being pushed maybe a little harder than was necessary, Harry stumbled and brushed the French witch's shoulder with his own.

"Sorry," he said, fully apologetic but not allowing himself to look at her.

"Non," she murmured, turning her head slightly to look at the younger boy. "I am sorry" and upon seeing his confusion added "not for today. For earlier."

And that's it! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, even if it was fairly dull and short. Also, to clarify before anybody starts ranting in the reviews about "another veela-bond cliche story", its not. Magic gave them the desire to seek love out. It didn't make them love each other. If I need to, I'll go back and make that a little more clear, but hopefully this end-note will suffice.