Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. I wanted to apologize for taking so long to update, but I'm sure you can guess why. I took off some time for the Christmas holidays. My family and I were incredibly lucky, because we were able to see each other for Christmas because we honestly hadn't done anything for a long time beforehand so that we could keep ourselves safe from Covid. This year has been a year like no other and we were very grateful to have Christmas together. My heart goes out to everyone who had a rough time of it during the year. Let's all hope for a better 2021, yeah? I really hope everyone had a wonderful holiday as well.

Anyway, one of my readers said they were wondering whether there will be some kind of twist where Harry will end up taking part in the Triwizard Tournament despite everything that's happened. I obviously won't spoil too much of the story, but I can tell you now that no, he won't be. The Triwizard Tournament will obviously still be happening around him, but in this universe it'll be a true "Tri" wizard Tournament. Three schools, three champions. I hope you like the direction I do take Harry in.

As for the whole "Sliding Doors" reference, I take your point. Maybe the analogy wasn't quite accurate. I do think that because Harry was way more suspicious of "Moody" in this universe, it led to his capture, plus the different timing of Neville's "tea" with him played a large part as well. But since Harry's character is a little different in this story than in canon, that was the thing that led him to not laugh at Malfoy's humiliation. That woman missing the train in "Sliding Doors" was not because her character was different. So you're right that it doesn't quite match up. I'm glad you're still enjoying the story, though, and that you liked that movie. It's one of those that no matter how many years pass, I can't forget about it.

As for Snape, there are so many different ways of interpreting him. So many readers of the books have different opinions on whether what Snape felt for Lily was actually love, or whether it was obsession. I understand that the complete shift in his character over the last couple of chapters is a bit jarring, but I think Snape is a very complex character. Because of how things worked out in canon, I don't think he was ever able to truly see "Harry" until the moment he lay dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. His "look at me" line, I thought, was very profound. I hope to allow him to shine in this story in a way that he wasn't able to in the original. And no, Snape isn't Rickman. Believe me, I know that, although of course I thought Rickman played Snape amazingly well. He stole the show whenever he was on screen.

Okay, onto the next chapter. We've had Harry's and Severus's points of view several times, but our third main character hasn't had a say in quite some time. Let's see what he's up to, shall we?

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One of the worst things about Hogwarts, Draco decided, was how early classes began. He often felt like the moment he got into bed and fell asleep, the alarm was telling him it was time for another day of worthless classes and incompetent teachers, and the infestation of Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers that roamed the hallways like the wizarding world belonged to them always made him livid, as he was forced to breathe the same air as all of them. His father had not been happy about his beloved son coming to this school, but in the end Narcissa had gotten her way and Draco had had no choice in the matter.

At least it's Saturday today, Draco thought as he rolled out of bed at ten in the morning. He heard the unmistakable sounds of Crabbe and Goyle snoring, and his lips formed into a sneer when he thought about having to be the one to rouse them from their slumber. After all, those two lumps could do nothing without their leader, Draco Malfoy. At first, Draco had taken full advantage of this; telling the two goons to do something as simple as getting up in the morning gave him a malicious pleasure. But now, they were getting tiresome - they never gave him any scintillating conversation. As a matter of fact, they barely talked at all, and when they did, it was nothing worth hearing.

As Draco got ready for the day, he was dismayed to discover that he was still experiencing aches and pains from the brutal treatment he'd been subjected to at the beginning of the week by that foul ogre, the new so-called Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The bruise balm Snape had given him went a long way towards helping, and he'd used it every day. But it still wasn't enough to take away the soreness that seemed to echo through his entire being.

As he performed his morning routine, he thought again about the week that had passed. Nothing ever changed at Hogwarts, did it? Whether it was that old bat McGonagall looking down her nose at him, as though his wealth and status didn't matter, or how about that oaf Hagrid demanding that the students take those Blast-Ended Skrewts for a WALK, of all things - for a WALK! What did he think they were, cute little puppy dogs? Did he expect them to suddenly say "woof, woof"? And the nerve of that giant - fancy bringing up Moody's punishment in order to get him to comply! Looking back, Draco wished he hadn't given Hagrid exactly what he'd asked for. He'd backed off, hadn't he? He'd ended up doing as he was told, and he hated himself for it.

The only class Draco truly enjoyed at this school was Potions. After all, Potter was far from Snape's little darling. Snape seemed to be the only teacher in this whole blasted school that saw the boy for what he was - a bigheaded, arrogant arsehole who thought the sun rose and set on him. Everyone else fawned all over him, thinking that his ugly, disfiguring scar was the best thing since sliced bread and that he could do no wrong.

But as he snapped at Crabbe and Goyle to get their arses out of bed, he couldn't forget the warning the Potions Master had given him several days earlier. It was very difficult not to feel angry and betrayed by the advice to be careful around the boy. Draco's pride, which felt even more wounded than his body, had not been able to endure Snape telling him something he'd known already - that he'd shown himself up in front of his worst enemy, giving Moody a chance to truly hurt him. And even though his logic tried to tell him otherwise, there was a large part of him that wanted to do nothing more than scream at Snape, So you're sticking up for Potter now, are you?

But the thing Draco despised over everything else was the niggling little voice that plagued him, reminding him that Potter didn't laugh when the majority of the other Gryffindors had. No, he'd told Moody to stop, his green eyes blazing with something that Draco struggled to come to terms with.

Draco straightened up, realizing that he'd better stop this train of thought while he still could. It was time for breakfast, and then he'd take his broomstick and go for a fly on the Quidditch pitch. The season was canceled this year, but that didn't mean Draco was going to neglect one of his favorite things to do. "Come on, you two," he said shortly to Crabbe and Goyle. Both boys nodded, one on either side of him as they made their way out of their dormitory.

When they arrived in the Great Hall, Draco immediately realized that there seemed to be more people attending the meal than usual. On Saturdays and Sundays, meals tended to be a lot more relaxed. Students would come in at different times of the morning, depending on when they roused themselves from bed.

But this morning, it seemed as though the whole school was there. There was an intensity in the room that instantly perked up Draco's ears; something was definitely going on. What's happened now? Draco thought as he filled his plate with food. He shot a sharp sneer at Crabbe and Goyle, whose plates were so full that five people could have eaten each of their meals. The two hulking boys paid him no attention, however; the ravenous looks on their faces said all too plainly that food was the only thing on their minds right now - food, and lots and lots of it.

Draco looked at Blaise Zabini, who was sitting across from him and drinking a cup of tea. "What's going on?" he demanded. "What's got everyone's knickers in a twist this morning?"

"Potter, who else?" Blaise snorted as he ate a mouthful of crispy potatoes. "There's been rumors going around today that everyone's interested in speculating on. I suppose the early risers heard them first, and roused all of their little friends to come in here and start gossiping."

"What's Potter done now?" asked Theodore Nott, who was sitting next to Blaise. Draco had grown up with the other boy his entire life, but he couldn't say they were on the best of terms. Nott often kept to himself, wanting no part of the talk in the common room, and he didn't participate in any of the study groups the Slytherins had devised.

"Apparently, Weasley and Granger were both in a right state when they came to breakfast this morning," said Pansy Parkinson, who was a few seats down from Draco. She sneered as she spoke; she didn't like Harry Potter any more than Draco did. "They were spouting some sort of nonsense about Moody not being Moody, and some jibberish about the Triwizard Tournament. They've felt it their duty to go spewing it everywhere. They're furious on Potter's behalf." She smirked, not an ounce of compassion in her eyes, only derision. "I swear, he's got those two wrapped around his skinny little finger."

"What do you mean, Moody isn't Moody? And what's the Triwizard Tournament got to do with anything?" Draco scowled. For a reason unbeknownst to him, he suddenly felt on edge.

"Beats me, Draco," Blaise said. "We're only relaying what we've heard. You know how rumors fly in this school."

"Yeah." Draco tried his best to make his face a blank mask. Gossip and rumors. Draco knew about those only too well. After all, how long had the "bouncing ferret" incident been talked about in the corridors? How many times had other students stared at him, laughed, and walked away like they'd just done the best thing in the world?

"Well, I think it's bullshit," Draco said viciously as he stabbed a sausage with his fork with more force than necessary. "Anything for Potter to get attention."

"Bloody hell, Draco, that sausage didn't do anything to you. You don't need to murder it, you know," Nott said with a slight smirk on his face.

"Shut up, Nott," Draco snarled. "No one asked for your opinion."

"Touchy," Nott shot back, not looking the slightest bit impressed.

By the time Draco had finished his breakfast, he was disgusted with the whole scene. The noise in the Great Hall only seemed to get louder, and Draco's gray eyes wandered around the room, staring at all the students as they speculated on what was true and what wasn't. Who cares? Draco snarled to himself. All Potter needs to do is take another breath, and everyone will talk about it.

But as he left the Great Hall, he couldn't help but notice that Potter was nowhere in sight, and neither were Weasley and Granger. They weren't soaking up any of this attention. But the instant Draco thought this, his mind found a reason for it to be the case. After all, those three loved causing a stir, didn't they? And what would be better than starting a bunch of rumors and then walking away, letting the entire school try to piece it all together? Potter could then watch from the sidelines as the fireworks exploded, and Draco sneered at the sheer idiocy of it all.

But as Draco made his way onto the Quidditch pitch for a morning fly, he couldn't stop that niggling little voice that had become an annoying constant ever since the incident with Moody. The voice was telling him that something had indeed happened since dinner last night, and something big. And no matter how Draco tried to outfly the voice, it kept chasing him, like a Bludger that was all too willing to maintain its pursuit.

And as the morning progressed, it only got worse. By the time it was noon, Draco could barely concentrate. Furious with the entire situation, he dismounted from his broom and began to make his way back to the castle.

And as he walked in through the doors, his mind never stopped whirring with the thoughts that flowed through it. The one he tried to latch onto, however, was a familiar one, one that was almost a comfort to his churning mind.

His morning had, once again, been ruined by Harry Bloody Potter.