A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

-You might feel the intense need to reach through your screen, grab Harry by the shoulders, and shake some sense into him. I feel you. However, plot progression.

-Feels. Stupidity. A certain amount of face-palming go follow, I'm sure. Just keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter!

-Still sick, so I voice typed this because I'm not doing best at typing right now.

The person that decided that having the giant squid pull a large boat full of Hogwarts graduates across the Black Lake, needed to be smacked. As usual in these sort of adventures, something went wrong.

What was supposed to be a celebratory last time across the lake, turned out to be completely ridiculous. Things went to hell when Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas fell off the boat. And then the giant squid itself had actually lifted both of them out of the water and decided to just hold onto them until they reached the other side of the lake. Then some people had decided they wanted to set off some fireworks that they had procured from Fred and George's owl ordering business. It did not in fact go very well.

Seamus Finnigan ended up exploding one of his fireworks in his own face, which lost him his eyebrows a good portion of his hair, and burnt off half of his left cheek. Thankfully, Harry had already attained a Healing Mastery and was able to fix him right then and there.

However, he had not wanted this life experience so quickly after graduating. That was not what he had signed up for.

On another note, someone decided to mention how they'd all basically be seeing one another all the time at some point come September, and the good mood kind of receded after that. Harry wasn't looking forward to seeing all of them every day or at least multiple times a week.

Going to Hogwarts was great and all, and it was nice to use magic, but not everybody liked each other. And they all knew that the magical society of Great Britain was not very large. Meaning that they would all still be in pretty close quarters even though they had just graduated and would be going off to pursue their own careers.

Harry was especially unhappy, knowing that he would most likely be having to deal with most of these people again in the future. And most of them annoyed him to no end!

It wasn't that he hated any of them, it was just that he just really didn't like people. He didn't like to be around them, and he didn't like to cater to them, and he really didn't like associating with them if he didn't have to. The bare minimum was necessary for his job. Mostly he would just be handling animals and some creatures.

He almost considered holding off the opening of his business, just so he would not have to deal with people. But then again, he had to think about all the animals and creatures he could be helping. He couldn't be so selfish.

Sometimes he had to do what was best for others, not just himself. At least he would do so for his friends and family, or animals. Not other people. If he could help it at least.

Neville intended to go for the Mastery exams in Herbology so that he could eventually become a Potions Master. Potions Masters had to fulfill many Masteries, not just mainly Potions. Neville's desired career had shocked many as well.

Hermione was going into the Ministry, and had already procured a job for herself in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She actually had her sights on a high-paying, Head position in the Ministry. Even going so far as to imagine herself as the Minister some day in the near future.

Harry knew that such ambition would take years, but who was he to deny her dreams?

The one downside to graduating, was not being able to see Luna or Rigel every day. He would simply have to resort to sending them letters come September. Harry never really realized how much he didn't like writing letters, until the idea that he was going to have to be writing a lot of letters in the future, came to mind.

Being an adult came with duties and responsibilities that sucked.

It just really blowed.

"Lily, everything's going to be fine. He's going to pass the exams, and he's going to come home with his scroll. You don't need to pace with so much frustration."

Of course James' words had no impact. She was still pacing and still mumbling to herself. And he could understand. As parents, they wanted their son to succeed. More than anything they wanted him to realise his dreams, but they could do it in a much more calm attitude.

Sirius and Remus has already resorted to chess in hopes of keeping themselves occupied. They both had taken off, much like James and Lily had, in order to be home to support Harry when he finally got his results.

James had been listening to the radio, just relaxing on the sofa. He wasn't worried. His son was brilliant and had a bright future ahead of him. And even if he somehow failed today, he would just be back at it against the next time. So really, there was no reason for him to panic alongside his wife.

The door opened then, causing all of them to look over. Harry walked in, hair disheveled, and singed on the left side. Lily was beside him in an instant, checking him over and asking questions about if he was well and if he needed any potions or a Healer.

Harry took her fretting with a calm demeanour, and smiled when she offered to regrow his hair.

"Mum, I think I'm going for a new hairstyle. I think it looks pretty good when short."

Lily's lips pursed along with James'. Harry had been dealing with shoulder length hair and a fringe swept to the right, for nearly four years. A new hairstyle was sudden. A change none of them expected.

"How were the exams?" she asked, drawing attention away from her son's half-ruined locks and to the reason they had all congregated.

"Interesting," Harry said, a small tilt to his lips. "They put us right in the middle of the action, after having us take a theoretical exam of course. I got extra points on the practical for being an Orator. I connect better with the animals and creatures that way."

Harry reached into his robes and withdrew a red scroll that they all had been waiting for. Red meant that he had passed. Red meant a Mastery.

Lily whooped loudly and drew Harry into a hug.

Not often did they breach his personal space, but occasions like this were permitted. Harry was not a child who longed for physical contact often, which had both annoyed and frustrated them all, but they had learned to deal with it. Because they didn't' want to push him away.

Harry accepted the squeezing of his mother, and allowed James, Remus, and Sirius to join in. Crowding around him in a group hug.

"We're going to have to frame this," Lily stated, taking the red scroll. "Right alongside your Healing scroll! My baby is a Vet!"

The teen rolled his eyes, hand trailing through burned hair. He winced. "I'm going to need that hair cut soon. This smells terrible."

"I'll take you!" Lily volunteered before either Sirius or James could.

Both men pouted and she stuck her tongue out.

"For all I know, he'll come back drunk, with a woman tattooed across his shoulder and his tongue pierced, if he went with either of you."

Harry winced once more and shook his head. "No liquor, please. And I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet, sorry."

Not fair! Sirius' piercing had been wicked!

When Voldemort saw Harry Potter next, he hadn't expected the sudden shift in the young man's appearance. But there he was, hair sheared down at the sides, with the hair at the crown of his head remaining a few inches longer, artfully tousled to the side. One lock of hair dangled over his brow, slightly wavy. Almost like a bolt of lightning.

It looked good. He'd seen such a style on many young men these days, but never had he actually thought it looked good on someone. It really fit Harry's jawline actually.

It was the first of July, and he had set an announcement five days previous that the conclusion to the Tournament would be on the first, and the victor would be announced at the Ministry of Magic.

The event was open to the public, and a lot of people were expected to attend. The remaining three contestants most of all. Though only two would be coming, and one would not make it home after the proceedings.

Voldemort hadn't felt this accomplished in years. The one he'd been most interested in, was the winner. Frankly, this had to show just how intelligent he was as a Dark Lord, managing to choose the best from the very beginning. His pride had been properly stroked.

He gazed out at the gathered crowd of people who were eagerly awaiting his revelations about the tournament.

Honestly, life couldn't be going any better for him at the moment.

He would be marrying an attractive and talented young man who would not bring shame to the Slytherin Line. He would have intellectual conversations with him, and they'd actually have interesting duels.

Honestly, life was good.

Harry smiled calmly, though inside he was unable to cease the rapid questions going through his brain. Where had Zabini gone? Why wasn't she there? The woman certainly thought highly enough of herself and wouldn't miss this for anything. So what had happened?

"Unfortunately, it seems as if Madam Zabini had gone missing and she was last seen arranging a Portkey to Italy. Nothing of her whereabouts have been brought forth, and a 'missing' status has been placed on her name. Anyone who has any information will present themselves to the Auror Office immediately."

Well that solved his confusion, though it didn't not make everything fine.

The woman just up and went missing? It sounded suspicious to Harry. Especially since Nagini didn't like her and had bad mouthed her to Harry during his last week at school.

He had a feeling that Voldemort was involved in her sudden 'missing' status. But what did she do to earn his ire? It couldn't have been anything she did to Nagini. Nagini hated her for her reputation and nothing more. Maybe it was the reputation that made him target her.

Harry already knew who had won. Between he and Matsuri, who had practically violated the man's familiar, it wasn't a tough decision. For a moment, he was in awe of how such a grueling tournament that ended with the two of them.

Matsuri wasn't exactly the best opponent Harry had ever had. She had nothing on Hermione or even Zabini. Some people had been blessed with the luck of the draw obviously.

Voldemort adjusted the vintage microphone to be closer to his mouth. As if he even needed the thing. There was a perfectly wonderful spell he could use. But maybe he was just saving their eardrums because they were in an enclosed space in the Ministry.

"Many of you may be curious as to what the Seventh Task was, as we never announced it. The fact is, the Seventh Task was a secret and was administered without any of the competitors being aware of it."

Harry couldn't help but share a look of confusion with Matsuri. What the bloody hell was he on about?

"Some time in the month of June, the final three competitors were confronted by me personally, under a special disguise. None of them knew it was me, and I judged their actions and characters once faced with my particular form."

Harry felt a cold trickle trail down his back, just as Matsuri stiffened suddenly.

"The individual reactions were interesting to say the least, though only one person stood out from the three. In fact, this person's character was admirable and much more desireable than the other two.

"As Consort Slytherin, it wouldn't do to be hardheaded, nor selfish. Being a good example for others as well as the eventual children they will have, is most important. My decision was quite easy to make actually. Therefore, I am pleased to inform you all of the victor of the Consort Tournament."

The audience leaned closer, their interest properly caught.

But Harry didn't care about that. Voldemort had admitted to using a 'disguise'. Meaning that whatever sob story he'd thought up when he'd pretended to be someone he wasn't, and talked to Harry in the Dark Forest, was all fake.

And Harry was suddenly so very angry.

What was the point in the serpentine figure then? Why did he have to turn into a snake/human hybrid in order to speak with Harry? Why couldn't he have just turned into an old man who needed help carrying his groceries?

Harry felt as if he'd been mocked. As if the man and his ridiculous dislike of dangerous creatures, was mocking him for adoring animals and creatures more than people.

And deep inside, an ugly feeling festered. He didn't like it. It made him feel ill. As if he might throw up every meal he'd ever consumed.

Suddenly, his desire to deny the Dark Lord reared up, proving that it was alive and that it wanted to happen! That this would be more than just a revenge. So much more!

From his seat, Harry had a perfect view of the stage and the Dark Lord's profile. The Dark Twat had a smirk on his face, so proud of himself. So happy with the result of his ridiculous Tournament. He might as well have cheated for Harry to push him ahead.

For the first time in his life, Harry wanted to utterly crush someone's feelings. Usually he just wanted to avoid and ignore people, but this once, he wanted Voldemort's hopes and feelings to be so utterly dashed that there was no way to recover.

Whatever emotions the man had decided to invest in his 'relationship' with Harry would be irrevocably destroyed. Or as ruined as Harry could make it.

This was the consequence of angering someone. You never knew what they would do to you in return.

"Harry Potter!" Voldemort announced, waving a slender arm in Harry's direction.

As expected, the room burst into applause. Harry could see his parents share a look of worry with Remus and Sirius. Snape was stood directly next to Lily, and the man's arms were so tightly clenched together, he could have been a statue.

And it was then that Harry was certain that the other man knew about Harry's plan. Which meant his mum must have said something.

Damn.

Though with how ill the man appeared to be, it didn't seem as if he'd told Voldemort.

Harry stood, affecting a pleasant demeanour of vague amusement. Voldemort couldn't suspect for even a moment that something was off. Harry's Slytherin was showing.

The teen nodded to the man in passing, and stood at the podium, sort of sure of what he wanted to say. He just had to phrase it all carefully.

"I'm pleasantly surprised," Harry lied easily. He really wasn't.

"To think that I would be good enough to compete against several hundred others who were just as skilled, and talented, still amazes me. I thank my fellow competitors for offering such an interesting learning experience in this tournament. In fact, I think you all deserve a round of applause yourselves."

The audience complied easily, and the clapping grew almost thunderous. Harry waited calmly, waiting to built the tensions higher and higher.

He had a minute flair for the dramatic. Small. Almost unnoticeable.

"I'd like to thank my friends and family for supporting me throughout this venture. And most of all, to Lord Voldemort, I'd like to thank him for the pleasure of his hand in marriage. It is truly an honour."

He could tell that Voldemort thought nothing of his words. Other than reveling in his own genius perhaps.

He could see Snape stiffening even further if it was possible. Merlin, the man needed to just relax.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

And just like that, it was dead silent in the room, and Harry could see wide eyed, gaping faces in every direction. Most of all, when he peeked to the side, Voldemort was also staring at him, though more in horrified confusion than shock at his audacity.

"Yes," Harry confirmed with a nod. "I will not be taking our Lord's offer. I don't feel that I'm ready for any kind of relationship right now, or any time soon."

Casting a burning look the man's way, Harry said, "I'm looking for something very specific though. I want a genuine, heartfelt relationship, with a marriage that is meaningful to me. I don't think our Lord is capable of giving me that." With a laugh more fake than Remus' shoes, he added, "I suppose that if I had been a willing participant in this tournament, my answer would be different."

And just then, realisation entered the man's crimson gaze, which snapped up to meet Harry's Avada eyes.

Leaning especially close to the microphone, Harry finished with, "Perhaps you shouldn't have entered me without my permission, my Lord."

With a smile that could fell angels, Harry cheekily nodded in the man's direction and swept off the opposite side of the stage. And the crowd parted for him as he sauntered away.

He'd just made bloody history.

And it was glorious!

Harry came out the victor in more ways than one today.

And it was delightful!

Severus couldn't believe that the brat had actually gone through with his ridiculous plan. And what was even more shocking, was that neither Potter not Black were laughing at the Dark Lord's misfortune. Severus had expected them to loudly point out how embarrassing the situation was. It seemed that both were a lot smarter than he'd previously assumed.

Cameras were flashing and Lucius was on stage, trying to direct the sudden influx of questions from the reporters. Trying to make it sound as if their Lord had not fixed the entire competition. Lying and saying that the man had entered the names of several people whom he'd considered to be interesting enough to compete.

The Dark Lord was standing off to the side, and was just staring off into space. As if he could not understand what had just occurred.

Severus could see Rita Skeeter, her acid green robes standing out amidst the group of journalists. Her quill and notepad levitated above her blonde head and was writing a mile a minute. He could only imagine the various stories she had come up with thanks to Potter's actions.

If she was alive tomorrow morning, Severus would be shocked.

Suddenly, the Dark Lord disappeared in a plume of black smoke that flew out the open door.

This was bad.

Severus sighed, realising that he was going to be going through hell later on.

Lily grabbed his hand and started pulling him along. "Come on, we're going to see if Harry went home. He's going to need much more than solitude after this. I could see it the moment I saw the look on his face when he left."

Reluctant and absolutely annoyed, Severus followed, ignoring Potter and Black's pouting.

Lily knocked on her son's bedroom door. As she'd expected, Harry had locked himself in his room, though she didn't fully understand why. He'd finally gotten what he wanted. He'd done as he had planned and had enacted a rather brilliant revenge plan on the Dark Lord of all people.

So why was he hurting?

The door clicked, and she was able to push it open.

The redhead slipped inside quietly, not wanting to impose any more than she already was.

Harry lay face down on his bed. She was unsure of what to do. He'd never done this before.

Her boy was different than other teenagers. He didn't start trouble or get into rows with other children. He was quiet and reserved and he didn't cause problems growing up. Lily had never actually had to come in and console him on something other than the murder of their Kneazle when he was seven.

And that had happened over in the graveyard. Not in his room.

"Harry, what's the matter, love?"

The teen didn't answer right away. In fact, Lily found herself sitting on his bed for several moments, until he turned to stare at her, eyes slightly glassy and puffy.

"It was the Seventh Task," he mumbled.

"What about it? What exactly happened?" she asked, worry building within. And how could she not worry? Her son was being strangely emotional for a reason that she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

"He turned into this… creature. This strangely human-like, snake creature. He pretended to be sad about his body, and claimed Magical Transmutation had caused it. He kept trying to get me to tell him that I found him disgusting."

Harry's eyes, which were so much more striking than her own, were downcast.

"I had liked him. He called himself, 'Tom'. And I had believed him."

Lily frowned. "His name is Tom."

At Harry's confused look, she added, "Albus told everyone in the Order his real name. Tom Marvolo Riddle. The son of a near-Squib and a Muggle aristocrat."

And It seemed that she had only added onto her son's confusion now.

"So he lied about his body, but not his name? But he's technically lying to Great Britain about his name. Why hide it?"

Lily shrugged. "All I know is that Albus said that Tom Riddle was very much against boring things. That he had a habit of shunning the ordinary. He hated that he was no longer special when he found out that he was a wizard. He hated that his name was so common. He hated how his Slytherin Housemates treated him like a Mudblood. So he fashioned a new name for himself, in hopes of pushing all of that away.

"I don't know much else."

"I'm still angry," Harry said. "He pretended to be something he wasn't, all to mock me. And I don't appreciate it."

And Lily was left in confusion over why he was so insulted. He'd never cared about anyone's opinion before.

"Could it be that you had finally found someone interesting?" she hedged, hoping that she wasn't ruining his sharing mood. "He was interesting, and now you feel like you've been betrayed?"

"Why would I be betrayed?" Harry asked. "That implies expectation," the teen added, frowning at the wall.

She didn't know. And she couldn't answer for him. It wasn't her heart that had taken a beating this day.

LORD VOLDEMORT FIXES TOURNAMENT?

The first of July was supposed to be the grand revelation of the winner of the Consort Tournament.

The day when our Lord's future consort would be revealed to Magical Britain.

People gathered at the Ministry, excited to witness the conclusion of an almost year long event.

And the victor was announced. Harry Potter, Heir to both Potter and Black Lines,

was unsurprisingly the one to earn the right to Lord Voldemort's hand in marriage.

Though there seemed to be more to the champion than meets the eye.

Enough that the Dark Lord himself apparently entered Heir Potter against his will.

Yes, dear readers, it seems that the very person who had won the tournament,

was the only person in Britain who did not want to be a part of it. And why was Heir Potter even involved?

The Dark Lord forced his entry.

As Heir Potter stated clearly, in front of nearly three thousand spectators,

he had not entered willingly and felt that Lord Voldemort was incapable of providing him with what he desired.

That he 'was not ready' for a relationship.

Now, our questions stem from several areas. If Heir Potter did not wish to compete,

why did he remain in the tournament? Was there some sort of secret desire for attention, or perhaps bragging rights?

Was he threatened into staying? Did he perhaps decide that he would win, just so he may deny the Dark Lord publicly?

Did his family force him to compete? Did they hope to form unbreakable ties with the Slytherin Line?

Perhaps so the Potters could regain their old status in the Sacred Twenty-Eight?

All of our theories are possible. Unfortunately, Heir Potter is not available for comment.

Lord Voldemort is very much the same.

Lord Lucius Malfoy insists that the Dark Lord personally entered several people into the Tournament,

though Heir Potter was the only one to not enter himself. Still, this is suspicious behavior.

The tournament was incredibly dangerous, so why take away someone's rights?

Does the Dark Lord think he is above the law?

If so, what could this spell out for Magical Britain's future?

Me, Myself, and I shall endeavour to find out!

Rita Skeeter.

He supposed that he should have expected this. Though really, he never would have thought the the boy had it in him. This was devious. Cunning. And an absolutely perfect way to get out of a marriage that he didn't want.

It was never stated that the winner had to marry Voldemort, just that they had won the right to marry him. He'd double checked the rules just to be sure. And Harry's plan was foolproof.

And Voldemort had been found wanting in the young man's eyes. Harry didn't feel that Voldemort could provide whatever it was that he wanted. He wanted a 'meaningful marriage' and a 'heartfelt relationship'. And Voldemort was not able to provide either apparently.

Voldemort could be meaningful. Heartfelt was another story however. But he could be meaningful!

He was just so shocked that he had been denied! No one had ever denied him before! It was horrifying to even consider!

Harry didn't want him. It wasn't right. It was embarrassing. Humiliating.

§What is wrong?§ Nagini asked, curling up and around his shoulders in order to hiss into his ear. Not that he wouldn't have heard her from across the room or anything. His hearing was impeccable after all.

§He denied me,§ said Voldemort.

§What?§

§Harry denied me. He won, and then refused me outright.§

The serpent was quiet for a moment. §Maybe he needs reassurance that you are the best mate available?§

§I'm the Dark Lord, Nagini. He doesn't need any reassurances of my strength.§

Nagini sighed in his ear and shook her head, sending him the serpent's equivalent of a glower. §Strong does not always mean 'best', foolish master. Many serpents win by being cunning and sneaky, not because they are stronger. I said you haven't proven that you are the 'best mate available'. Being a good mate requires more than strength.§

Voldemort frowned. §Did you not say that anyone would be lucky to have me as a mate?§

§Yes,§ her head bobbed in agreement. §He will be lucky to have you. But he doesn't know how lucky he is to have your attention. You need to make him realise it. He needs to know that he is special. That there is a reason that he has your attention. More so than your followers or the other two-leggers around here. Right now you are no different than any of the other potential mates he has, because you haven't done anything to capture his attention.§

He'd taken over a magical community and said community was thriving thanks to him!

How much more could Harry want?

§Can you provide him what he needs?§ asked Nagini, which brought him all the way back to the 'provisions' that Harry required.

What were they and how did he prove that he could 'provide' them?

What a great help Nagini was. Not.

It was a great day. Not something that was common around Nurmengard. Albus Dumbledore could actually look up at the sky, and see blue for miles. He could see thick, puffy clouds, and the sun shining off in the distance. And it was a beautiful day, despite the fact that he was not particularly happy.

He hadn't planned to leave when this day came. He had wanted to stay in the prison with Gellert. But Gellert had succumbed to one of the most simple ailments of the human body. A heart attack.

Of all the things to finish off the former Dark Lord, nobody had ever expected something like that to be the end of him. Albus certainly hadn't.

Of all the people waiting to greet him, he did not expect to see Tom Riddle. Tom was in his glamoured form like always, and was looking only slightly displeased. His face was usually a lot more pinched whenever he was around Albus, and the old wizard had to wonder what had made the man's attitude lighter.

"Dumbledore," Tom said, nodding his head slightly.

Not only did Tom make eye contact, but he even nodded in Dumbledore's direction. Whatever this was, Albus was shocked.

"Hello, Tom. Are you here to escort an old man home?"

Tom looked as if he desperately wanted to say something, but had instead decided to hold himself back. The man pulled something from the sleeve of his cloak, and handed it over.

It was Albus' original wand. Said wand hummed at being reunited with its old friend.

"Somebody has been waiting to see you for years," Tom said, voice carefully blank and empty.

As if on cue, a burst of flames appeared on Albus' right shoulder, and when they died down, a beautiful bird bedecked with red and gold feathers looked back at him. It was Fawkes.

This day that had been so lacklustre, had suddenly gotten better. At least some of his old friends still remained.

With a smile, the old man reached up to pat the silken feathers, and Fawkes crooned in his ear in response. A melody of welcome and joy at the rekindling of an old friendship. It soothed Albus' old bones and made him feel better.

He was eternally grateful.

Tom proceeded to hand over a file. "Those are copies of your records. Everything that happened to you while you were imprisoned. Requests, menu changes, and even timetables."

Tom snapped his fingers, and almost at once, a large carriage pulled by four Thestrals, touched down in front of them on the cold, stone walkway of the prison. Tom waved a hand, making the door open silently.

Albus was given the 'go ahead' gesture, and with a sigh, the old man entered first. Tom quickly entered behind him and shut the door.

A whistle a moment later, and they were off.

And Albus couldn't help but appreciate this strange method of transportation. This way he was able to see perfect sky for the next few hours and the revelation of his freedom was heightened.

What did time have for him now?

A/N: Another is done!

-Feelings are hurt now. We need conversation!

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CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.