Another late chapter, but the final wave of college applications has kept me busy. On the plus side, it's a longer chapter than usual. Pay attention to the scene near the end (you'll know which when you read it). If you look closely enough, it will reveal a lot about what's to come . . .

I've started a Discord. I intend for it to be a small, relaxed server - nothing too fancy or grand. If you have any questions about my writing, want to discuss my work, or simply want to hang out, you're more than welcome to join. The link is in my profile.

Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.

The next chapter will be published the next Saturday.


Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate

The Desolations of Destiny

V. In the Eye of the Beholder

Swoosh.

Harry stepped through the emerald flames, his head ringing as a world of colour swirled to life. Hundreds of families hurried about Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Beyond them, the Hogwarts Express gleamed in all its scarlet glory.

Harry eyed the sea of people suspiciously. The inky black headline of Rita Skeeter's headline swam through his skull:

'Boy-Who-Lived Faces Fiendfyre in Forbidden Forest!'

Frowning, Harry tossed his hood over his head.

I'm not in the mood for stares right now.

"Attollereos," he muttered, eying his reflection in the train window. His cheekbones burned slightly as they shifted upwards. Harry nodded, satisfied, as he pulled his glasses from his face. His reflection turned into a blurry mess.

I want to see.

Harry felt a familiar pain in his chest as his magic strained itself. His vision returned slowly. The window's scarlet frame became clear, but not quite as it had been when Harry's glasses were on. Harry sighed in frustration.

I've got to figure out a more permanent solution.

"At least Dumbledore will be impressed," Harry decided, "This is more impressive than anything I've managed before."

Wandlessly, anyway.

Harry tore his eyes away from the window - having made sure that his scar was buried beneath locks of jet-black hair - and stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. The halls between corridors were packed with students. Harry squirmed past them, his trunk swaying aimlessly in his left hand. He glanced into each compartment as he passed, hoping to catch a hint of braided blonde hair. When he finally did, Harry almost sighed with relief -

Cold grey eyes stared at him through the compartment glass. They narrowed slightly, slipping along his features and down the green hem of his Slytherin robes.

Sixth year. Grace Weitts, or something like that.

Harry frowned at his own uncertainty.

Dumbledore might be right about needing to meet more people.

The other students in the compartment roared with laughter - someone must've said something funny. Grace didn't seem particularly interested. Her eyes lingered on Harry as he stepped past the compartment and out of sight.

At long last, a pair of familiar faces sat beyond the glass. Harry tore through the wards cast upon the door, swinging it open with a grateful sigh.

"You could've just walked in, you know," snapped Nott irritably, "The wards probably would've let you in. Now I've got to cast them again."

"What a tragedy." Harry sniggered. He pointed his wand at his trunk, watching as it rose to the overhead racks with a simple flick of his wrist. Harry took the window seat beside Nott, who was now hunched over the compartment door.

Across from him, Daphne leaned closer.

"You look different," she noted, her eyes combing over his features.

"That's the point of a disguise, Daphne -" Harry started, pausing, "Wait. How'd you lot know it was me?"

"No one else would be inconsiderate enough to rip my wards to bits." Nott started from the compartment door.

"Aside from that, you donut -"

"Your eyes make it obvious," added Daphne, "They're like emeralds. No one else's are quite like them."

Harry groaned, studying his reflection in the window.

"I forgot to change the colour," he murmured to himself, "For fuck's sake -"

"Your cheekbones are higher, too." Daphne observed, "And you haven't got your glasses."

"Wait, what?" Nott spun around, "How'd you manage that?"

"What, the cheekbones?"

"The glasses, idiot."

"Magic," Harry answered, grinning, "It's only temporary, mind you. It'll probably wear off in a minute or two."

"When did you cast it?" asked Nott.

Harry shrugged.

"A few minutes ago."

"You should use a potion instead," said Daphne, "I don't know what spell you've used, but a potion's effects would probably last a lot longer."

"I'm not asking Snape to teach me how to brew a cure for blindness."

Daphne shrugged, sinking back into her seat.

"It'd serve you well." she acknowledged, her eyes slipping across his face again, "You look good without your glasses."

Harry felt his heart singing in his chest.

"Never mind that," said Nott, straightening up. He shut the compartment door behind him, "We've more important things to talk about."

Nott waved his wand at the glass wall. Pale brown blinds unfurled to reach the floor, the Hogwarts logo coating each of them. Satisfied, Theo turned around, pulling a blurry roll of parchment from his robes. Harry pulled out his glasses, pressing them against his nose before leaning closer.

"Skeeter's article," he said, recognizing the image of golden flames beneath the title.

"Not just that," Nott murmured, pulling a second one from behind the former. The Dark Mark coated the page, floating up in the sky. It bathed the campgrounds in a ghostly green glow.

"I heard father talking about it with his friends," he said simply, "None of them cast it."

Daphne frowned.

"That makes sense." she whispered, "From the way the article's written, it sounds like the mark scared the Death Eaters away."

"Maybe it was someone else?" Harry suggested, "Someone trying to scare off the Death Eaters?"

"I don't think so," Nott frowned, "From what my father's friends were saying, you've got to be a Death Eater to cast it. Only they can cast it - aside from the Dark Lady herself, obviously."

"How do you make it so a spell can only be cast by certain people?" asked Daphne incredulously.

"Blood magic," Harry whispered. Nott glanced at him curiously.

"There's probably more to being a Death Eater than just the name," Nott said, still watching Harry, "But there's a good chance it's a branch of blood magic, yes."

Daphne glanced from Harry to Nott. Her eyes narrowed.

"Are either of you planning on explaining?"

"What, what blood magic is?" Harry asked.

"And more."

"It's more or less what it sounds like," Nott offered, "Good for magic meant to alter the body. Stuff like healing and rituals."

Daphne's head turned sharply to Harry.

"I'm not doing any rituals," he said quickly, "I just used a bit to patch myself up after the Quidditch World Cup. That's all."

Daphne frowned.

"And how do you know about it?" she asked Nott, her eyes occasionally drifting back to Harry.

"Family Library," said Nott simply, "I've only ever read about it, though. Grandfather won't let me near any of the books that actually explain how to use it."

Daphne nodded slowly.

"We're moving off-topic, though," Nott continued, "Father reckons whoever cast the mark did it to scare the Death Eaters who are still free. The ones who decided they would rather live their lives than go to Azkaban."

"Do they think you-know-who's still alive?" asked Daphne.

"They must," said Harry, "They'd have nothing to be worried about, otherwise."

"It's all a mess." Nott sighed, "Especially with the Fiendfyre stuff you got yourself wrapped up in last year -"

"Maybe that's it!" Harry straightened up, "What if they think it was Voldemort who cast the Fiendfyre, not m - er -"

He sputtered off. Nott slowly shook his head.

"Grandfather says her Fiendfyre looks like red wine," he explained, "Blood red. If he knew, I can't imagine my father not knowing."

Harry sighed in defeat.

The Scottish fields rolled past them. Harry buried himself in the book on dueling he'd got from Borgin, only looking up as the Trolley Witch passed. To Nott's irritation, she had managed to get through his wards in about five seconds.

"Ooh, I've never managed to break wards quite so easily before!" she had told them cheerfully, her wand clenched between both hands. Nott looked positively furious.

"'Ooh, I've never managed to break wards so easily before!'" Nott imitated her high voice after she'd left, "She could've at least pretended to struggle, the miserable hag -"

At long last, the Hogwarts Express finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Harry, Nott, and Daphne rose to their feet, clambering out of the train with hundreds of others. Even this early in the year, sparse bits of snow sat atop the station's cobbled walkway.

"Firs' years, right this way!" called a gruff, familiar voice from the end of the station. Harry smiled as a small herd of younger students waddled toward Hagrid, their eyes as wide as galleons.

"Come on," Daphne whispered, dragging him through the sea of students. They found Nott by the stables. Leaning along the gates, Theodore curiously inspected the skeletal horses that pulled the carriages up to the castle -

Skeletal hor - thestrals?

Harry paused. Beside him, Nott was smirking.

"Never seen them before?" he surmised, "Odd. I'd have thought you'd seen someone die before."

"See what?" Daphne asked, frowning.

"Thestrals," Harry told her. He turned back to Nott, "Is that why we can see them, then? Because we've seen death?"

Nott nodded.

"Father got into a fight with some no-name Death Eater years ago, back home." he whispered, allowing only Harry to hear him, "It went south pretty quickly. It's why I usually find somewhere to go whenever he's got his friends about."

"I reckon it was Lupin for me," said Harry, "I haven't technically seen anyone else die before. Not really."

Baker was already dead, and Emily wasn't alive enough to die.

"I'd have thought your mum and dad would've counted," said Nott carefully.

Harry shrugged.

"Clearly not," he sighed, "Besides, I barely remembered it until the dementors -"

"Hello, Harry," a dreamy voice called from behind him. He, Nott, and Daphne turned to find Luna Lovegood standing with a vacant expression. Beside her, Astoria was staring pointedly at the ground.

"Hey Luna," Harry smiled. He felt the eyes of dozens pressing uncomfortably against his skin, "Want to join us in a carriage?"

"Ooh yes, that'd be lovely."

Harry smiled, leading the four others towards one of the carriages near the front. The crowd parted as he opened the carriage, and the two thestrals at the front neighed loudly as the door swung shut.

"You and Astoria haven't been getting into any trouble, have you?"

"Not at all," said Luna, "Not since you told us off. Astoria took your words very seriously, you know."

"Smart of her," said Harry, glancing at Astoria. The girl had suddenly gone a bright shade of red.

"Yes, she can be quite clever, can't she?" Luna beamed. She slowly turned to face Daphne.

"You're Daphne," she said knowingly.

"I'm aware," said Daphne cooly, "You're Astoria's friend, Luna."

Luna nodded.

"She's my best friend, really," said Luna, "It's awfully sad she isn't in Ravenclaw. It would have been nice to be in the same house."

"Beggars can't be choosers," Harry said, shrugging, "Not unless they're prepared to starve."

"I suppose not." agreed Luna. She fell into a peaceful silence for several moments, her eyes slipping from Harry's head down to his toes.

"Astoria was right," she said finally, "You have grown taller."

Astoria blushed furiously. Across from her, Daphne was staring at Luna as though she'd grown a second head.

"Anything else either of you have noticed about his looks?" asked Nott, sniggering. He ignored the dirty looks both Daphne and Harry sent his way.

"Pale skin," Luna murmured, "And a lot less Wrackspurts than last year."

"Wrackspurts," Harry repeated as Daphne let out a heavy sigh, "Those aren't the same as Nargles, are they?"

"Oh no, they're quite different," said Luna seriously, "They're these tiny invisible creatures that float inside your head and make everything go fuzzy -"

"If you've got them it means you're uncertain or lost." Astoria added quickly, "She's saying you seem a lot more sure of yourself now."

Daphne stared at her. The youngest Greengrass squirmed under her sister's glare.

"Er - Luna likes her metaphors."

"I noticed," said Daphne, her eyes narrowed.

"You've got pretty eyes, too," Luna added cheerfully, her eyes still on Harry. She leaned in a bit too close as she held his gaze, "Not because of the color - they've got this sort of magical glow to them. I used to think it was because of your glasses."

Harry frowned as the others all turned to look at him.

"That's not a bad thing, is it?"

"No, they're quite lovely, I think," Luna smiled, "They're not nearly as twinkly as Dumbledore's, which is nice."

"Not a fan, are you?" asked Nott.

"I don't quite like the twinkle," she answered, "It's a bit unsettling. Everyone likes Harry's more."

"Everyone?" Harry and Daphne asked together. Harry blushed.

"The six people I've heard talking about eyes in the Ravenclaw common room," Luna specified, "They're all girls if that helps."

Harry laughed.

"Thanks, Luna." he said, "That helps loads -"

Suddenly, the carriage came to a stop. The door creaked as an invisible hand pulled it open, the cobbled path to Hogwarts sitting opposite them.

"Hurry up, we're on a schedule!" Professor Flitwick squeaked along the edge of the carriage track, "Dumbledore's got quite the speech to give, and we haven't much time -"

"'Course he's got a speech," Nott frowned as they hurried along the path to the castle, "It's the start of term. What's so special about that?"

Harry stared at him.

"The tournament, you muppet -"

"Tournament?" repeated Daphne sharply, "What tournament?"

"The Tri -'' Harry began. Realization enveloped him, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips, "Oh, I forgot you lot wouldn't know."

"Know what?" asked Nott irritably, "Just tell us already -"

"There's no fun in that," Harry grinned, "Besides, Dumbledore will probably mention it during the feast anyway."

"Daddy's told me about this," Luna said happily, "Only it isn't really a tournament. It's actually a Ministry plot to overthrow the Smigglesmorts that have taken over the castle -"

"Smigglesmorts?" Nott said, sniggering, "What are they like?"

"A bit like gnomes," Luna sniffled, "Only a couple inches tall. They've got blue skin, and wear white pants and hats -"

"You mean Smurfs?" asked Harry, confused. Luna stared blankly at him.

"Er - they've got round blue tails, haven't they?" he continued, trying not to go red, "And they're led by a Smurf - sorry, Smigglesmort that wears all red, right?"

"White stained red by the blood of his enemies -"

"Er - right, and they're enemies with the balding wizard with the cat, aren't they?" Harry finished lamely.

This might be the dumbest conversation I've ever been a part of.

"That's what Daddy says," agreed Luna.

"The balding wizard with the cat wouldn't happen to be Filch and Mrs. Norris, would it?" asked Nott curiously.

"I thought so too," Luna murmured, "But either they aren't or Mr. Filch is a very good liar."

Harry frowned to himself.

"Luna, have you ever heard of the Smurfs?"

"The show on the muggle box?"

"On the television, yes."

"Yes, mummy used to watch it when I was younger."

"Used to?" Daphne repeated softly.

"Used to," agreed Luna, "She's gone now."

An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Harry felt Daphne's hand wrap tightly around his arm.

"She's in a better place, I reckon," he muttered softly, "Somewhere where the Wrackspurts can't bother her anymore."

"Yes, I think mummy would like that," said Luna dreamily.

Daphne's tight grip lessened into something more comfortable. Harry watched as Astoria's eyes slipped to their hands.

"Either way, I don't think the tournament's got anything to do with Smurfs or Smigglesmorts," Harry continued, "It's more of a competition between schools, I reckon."

"How do you know?" Astoria asked, confused.

"Dumbledore," murmured Daphne. She turned to Harry, "Did he tell you when he dropped you off at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"That was the first time he brought it up," Harry frowned, "I still can't believe he didn't pick me, mind you -"

"Pick you?"

"You'll understand soon enough," Harry murmured, "Anyway, he reckons I've got to earn my spot."

He's probably right. It'd mean a lot more to me.

"Is it normal for Dumbledore to visit students often?" Astoria whispered.

"Nah," Nott yawned, "Harry's special."

"Coming from you, that feels like an insult."

"Good, it is."

The stone slabs they strode across grew more uniform. Before them, nearly a hundred students crowded around a small outhouse that led up to the castle. Professor McGonagall stood along the side, a stack of parchment in her hands. They watched as she shouted down several nearby students.

"Yes Weasleys, I'm quite serious!" she shouted. Her head swiveled in their direction as they drew nearer, "Miss Lovegood and the younger Miss Greengrass if you please -"

"Yes, Professor?" Astoria murmured uncertainly.

"This is for you," Professor McGonagall held out two sheets of parchment, one each for Luna and Astoria, "You're to have them signed by your parents in a month's time if you wish to participate -"

"'Academic Delegation'?" Fred read aloud. Clenched within his palms was a similar permission slip, "Us? Have you gone mad?"

"I'll have Percy executed." hissed George irritably, "That miserable little cockroach . . . Bill and Charlie too, come to think of it. Got us worked up for nothing."

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" snapped Professor McGonagall, "I imagine you'll be thanking them by the end of the Welcoming Feast -"

"Fat chance," Fred snorted. Harry watched as he and George stalked off, their permission slips clenched tightly in their palms.

"Envious, Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"A little," he admitted, "It'd be nice to just kick back and relax rather than fight to be chosen."

"I imagine the reward tastes far sweeter if earned," McGonagall nodded stiffly, "Now, hurry along. Miss Greengrass - the younger one - Professor Snape will have a word with you after the feast regarding any safety concerns you may have as a potential delegate -"

"Wait," Harry interrupted suddenly, "Astoria's going?"

"If she and her parents are all in agreement?" McGonall's eyebrow rose, "Then yes, Mr. Potter, she may go."

"Go where?" asked Daphne sharply.

"I imagine you'll find out in just a few moments, Miss Greengrass -"

"No, I'm her sister, I'll find out now -"

"We'll be seeing you, Professor," Harry said loudly, dragging Daphne forward. The stern professor sent a disapproving glance at the back of the blonde's braided hair.

"Let go of me!" Daphne hissed. She tried unsuccessfully to pry herself from Harry's grip, "I'm going back there right this instant -"

"To ask her something I already know the answer to?" Harry snapped irritably, "Think for a moment, Daph."

Daphne stopped struggling.

"Are you going to tell me, then?"

"Maybe," Harry said thoughtfully, "Though McGonagall might be right. It wouldn't hurt to learn a bit of patience."

"I'm going to hex you, Harry."

"It isn't anything bad," Harry assured her as they followed the others through the Entrance Hall and into the Great Hall, "Honestly, she'll probably love it."

"But I won't be able to see her," Daphne surmised quietly.

"No, I don't think you will."

"Find your seat!" Professor Sprout called from the staff table, "The first years will be arriving shortly!"

Harry, Nott, and Daphne made their way towards the Slytherin table, the latter watching carefully as her sister waved Luna goodbye. Harry sank slowly into a seat with its back to the wall, his eyes skimming the hundreds of faces that littered the hall.

"Looking for someone?" Nott asked, confused.

Harry shook his head.

"Do you ever get the feeling we haven't branched out enough?" he asked slowly.

"No," said Nott stubbornly. Harry sighed.

"You might have been the wrong person to ask," Harry admitted, "But Dumbledore reckons it would be useful to know more people."

"Finally started using your brain, have you?" said Daphne, sliding into the seat on Harry's right, "I was wondering when the 'cunning' part of Slytherin would show itself."

"Funny," said Harry dryly, "I doubt I'll be much good at it, anyway. I could probably count the number of people I like talking to on one hand."

"It's a useful skill," Daphne said seriously, "Mother's been trying to drill charisma into Astoria and me for years now -"

"It hasn't been working, clearly," Nott grinned. Daphne glared at him.

"Your mum's pretty charming," Harry remembered, "In a bit of an unnerving way -"

"She was toying with you. She does that to people she finds intriguing."

"Does she?" Harry asked curiously, "How'd she get so good at it?"

"Practice," answered Daphne, "Most Pureblood girls spend ages learning to weave words. She used to practice with grandmother when she was younger."

Harry sighed, turning to Nott. The boy stared blankly back at him.

"You're not practicing charisma on me, you donut."

"I wasn't going to ask!" Harry snapped, "Besides, charming people is more Emily's thing. I doubt I'd be any good at it if I tried."

"Emily?" Nott frowned.

"Voldemort."

Nott shifted uncomfortably.

"Still dealing with her, are you?"

"Occasionally," Harry admitted, "But I don't think I really want to kill her anymore. So long as she stays out of my life."

"Is that likely?"

Harry snorted.

"Probably not," he laughed, "But it doesn't matter either way. I won't let the past control me anymore."

"Wise," Nott remarked, nodding, "Sounds like the sort of horse shite Dumbledore would say."

"It does, doesn't it?" Harry grinned.

Daphne stared at them, nonplussed.

"You two are idiots," she whispered, more to herself than anything.

The grand oak doors banged open before they could retaliate, and Professor McGonagall strode forward, two dozen first years in tow. Harry could practically feel the nerves rolling off them as they made their way towards the Sorting Hat, which now sat atop the three-legged stool.

"Were we that small when we were their age?" asked Nott curiously.

"I might've been," Harry whispered, "The Dursleys used to think I'd get too energetic if I had anything more to eat than an apple or two -"

Nott swore furiously under his breath. Harry and Daphne both turned sharply.

"What?"

"In the chair on Dumbledore's right!"

"Who, Sprout?" asked Harry, bewildered.

"Dumbledore's right, idiot, not yours -"

Harry froze. Seated within the plain wooden seat was the most disfigured man Harry had ever seen. He looked as though his face had been carved by someone with only the vaguest idea of what human faces were supposed to look like, someone none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. Just above it, an electric blue eye swiveled wildly in its socket. Harry watched as it jumped across the room, eventually landing on him.

"He looks charming," Harry remarked.

"He's Mad-Eye Moody," whispered Daphne.

"The Auror?" Harry frowned, "What's he doing here?"

"Teaching I imagine," said Nott, "Unless it's got something to do with the tournament -"

"He's sitting in the Defense Professor's seat," interrupted Daphne, "He's definitely teaching."

"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Harry, confused, "We'll be learning from the best."

"It might be a good thing for you," Nott grimaced, "Not for everyone, though. Moody fought my father during the war, nearly took his arm off. He got a fair few others, too. I bet you anything he won't be playing favorites with Slytherins."

Harry nodded, glancing up and down the Slytherin table. Sure enough, many of the older students were staring up at the disfigured Auror with poorly disguised loathing.

"When I call your name," Professor McGonagall called from the front of the hall, "You are to come up and place the sorting hat on your head . . ."

Harry drifted off, watching blankly as the new students were sorted into their new houses. After what felt like ages, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment, picked up the hat and the stool, and took her seat at Dumbledore's left. Harry quickly piled his plate with food, tore through his dessert, and watched carefully as the final remnants of food vanished from the hundreds of plates.

"Now that our tummies are filled, I have a few start-of-term announcements to make!" Dumbledore called as he rose behind his lectern. The hall quieted at once, "As is customary, I must remind you that Mr. Filch's list of banned items has grown once again. It now comprises four-hundred and thirty-seven items, unless I am mistaken. If you wish to view them all, they are posted just outside our caretaker's office.

"The Forbidden Forest, I remind you all, has been given its name for a reason. I must also ask you all to refrain from provoking the Whomping Willow, who has recently taken a liking to punting those nearby as far as it can. The record, I believe, is a Ministry official, who reached just three meters shy of the Astronomy tower.

"Visits to Hogsmeade are available for third-years and above with signed permission slips." he continued, "And, regrettably, I must inform you all that this year's Inter-House Quidditch Cup has been canceled."

Shouts tore through the hall. Harry watched as either Fred or George - no one could ever be quite sure who - slammed the Gryffindor table furiously. Golden goblets toppled to the floor.

"This," Dumbledore called loudly, "is largely due to the Triwizard Tournament, which will be taking place during the upcoming school year.

A stunned silence overcame the Great Hall.

"Though the Tournament has been canceled for centuries, the respective Ministries of Magic for Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts, all agree that it is time to start anew. Members of each school have been selected to join their school's delegations. These selected students will be spending several months at each school -"

"YES!" two voices shouted in unison from the Gryffindor table. Harry watched, laughing, as the Weasley twins jumped onto their table and began dancing, waving their permission forms high above their heads, "WE'RE FREE, OFF TO VOYAGE THE SEVEN SEAS -"

"Get down from there this instant!" Professor McGonagall shrieked. The students all watched as she dragged the twins down from the table and out of the hall "A week's worth of detentions for the both of you! I'll be coming for your permission forms next!"

The Hogwarts students booed loudly as the large oak doors clattered shut behind the cheerful twins and the Scottish professor.

"As I was saying," Professor Dumbledore chuckled, "The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang Delegations will arrive at Hogwarts on September 30th. They, along with all Hogwarts students above the age of fourteen, will be permitted to enter their name into the tournament -"

Shouts broke out again, only to be silenced with a quick wave from Dumbledore's wand.

"- as the heads of the participating schools and their respective ministries all agree that the tasks are far too challenging for those below their fourth year. This is already a step down from the initial agreed age of seventeen."

Harry caught Dumbledore's eye. The headmaster gave him a quick wink before looking away.

"The three champions - one student selected from each school - will accompany their delegations to the other schools. They will compete in three tasks, with the winner gaining glory, a thousand galleons, and the Triwizard Cup!

"For those interested in learning more about the tournament, note that information has been posted in the common rooms of all four houses. Your heads of house would also be more than willing to answer any further inquiries. Now, off to bed! A long day of learning awaits us all!"

A sea of students rose slowly to their feet, heading their separate ways as sleep overtook them all.

-(xXx)-

Harry glanced around the Slytherin table. Golden light trickled through the windows, casting the dark wood in an incandescent glow. The hundreds of plates glimmered as mounds of food were piled atop them. Harry reached for his own, taking a bite from his hashbrown.

"You wouldn't happen to know how the champions are selected, would you?" Nott asked from his right.

Harry shook his head.

"Dumbledore didn't mention it," he began, swallowing, "and I never bothered to ask."

Nott groaned.

"Well, have a bit more forethought next time -"

"There won't be a next time," Harry and Nott looked up as Daphne slid into the seat opposite them. She pulled a piece of toast from the nearest rack, buttering it generously, "The Tournament used to take place once every five years. We'll be out of Hogwarts by then."

"Yeah, I know," Nott murmured, "I figured out as much in the library. It took ages - there are hardly any books on the tournament to begin with."

Daphne nodded, her lips thinned. Harry watched as she took a bite from her toast, chewing it as though it tasted of mold.

"You look cheerful," Harry remarked. He ignored the pointed look Daphne sent his way, "Knut for your thoughts?"

"Astoria," said Daphne simply. Harry nodded.

"Has she sent the permission slip to your parents yet?"

"Yes. Mother's trying to convince our father to let her go."

Harry nodded.

"Knowing her, she'll probably succeed."

"Probably."

Harry winced as the girl skewered a hashbrown with her fork, raising it to her lips.

"That's probably in her best interests," he said carefully, "Dumbledore's going. I can't see him letting anything bad happen to her."

"Madam Pomfrey isn't," Daphne snapped, "She's a better healer than Dumbledore. And more importantly, I'm not going."

"You could always try for Champion," Nott shrugged, "I mean, you'd probably die in the tasks, but at least you'd be able to go -"

"The tasks are that dangerous?" Harry frowned.

"Oh, yeah," Nott swallowed a spoonful of beans, "Most tournaments used to end without a winner because they'd all died. They've made it easier, obviously, but it's still far from a cakewalk."

Harry felt the hairs on his arms straighten slightly. Beside him, Nott laughed.

"Rethinking joining the tournament, are you?" asked Nott. Daphne lowered her toast, watching them both very closely.

Harry slowly shook his head.

"No, not really," Harry murmured.

If anything, that makes it more exciting.

Harry frowned at the thought.

"It's not really anything new, is it?" He said slowly, "They'll have a hard time topping Voldemort, Basilisks, and hoards of Dementors."

"Don't tempt them," Daphne murmured. There was a serious edge to her voice, "Most magicals have a very loose understanding of safety."

"I know, I know," Harry assured her, "I'm not. But it would be nice to do something dangerous because I chose to, rather than being forced into it."

Daphne shook her head, frustrated.

"That's the worst reasoning you've ever given," she hissed.

"I can watch over Astoria if I go -"

"So can Dumbledore," Daphne snapped, "And he doesn't need to risk his life to do it.

"Not that she really needs it, of course," she continued, her voice lower now, "Astoria's not in any more danger there than she'd be here . . . but still . . ."

"You won't be able to see her."

Daphne's lips thinned further.

"It's hardly a pressing issue," she decided at last, "Besides, she might not even be allowed to go at all. Mum might not manage to convince father."

Harry could tell from her tone that Daphne didn't believe it.

-(xXx)-

Creak.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins all listened as Mad-Eye Moody made his way to the front of the classroom. Harry doubted he had ever been in a class so quiet.

Snape's going to be jealous.

"Put those books away," Moody barked at the students near the front, "You won't be needing them."

Hermione Granger replaced her copy of 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection' in her bag, looking thoroughly disappointed. Beside her, Ron was nearly bouncing with excitement.

"You haven't heard anything 'bout Moody's lessons, have you?" Harry whispered to Nott. The boy shrugged.

"Bad things from the older Slytherins, but that's to be expected."

Harry nodded, turning back to the front. Moody was pacing back and forth across the classroom, talking more to himself than anyone in particular.

"Basic defensive magic in your first year," he murmured, "A load of horse shite in the second . . . and a fair bit on magical creatures in the third. Lupin managed to make up for a good amount of Lockhart's rubbish, but not enough . . ."

The ex-auror growled, waving his wand. A large silver basin floated out from several stacks of parchment.

"You've no appreciation for magic," Moody snarled, "No understanding of what it can do -"

Wham.

Hermione shrieked as the basin slammed loudly into the surface of her desk. Behind her, several Slytherins sniggered. The sound of their chuckles slipped to nothingness as Moody glared irritably in their direction.

"Grindelwald. Dumbledore. Voldemort," he began sharply. The class went suddenly still, "I've met them all. Not at some worthless gala or a pathetic ministry party. I've seen them. On the battlefield. They slaughtered by the hundreds. It didn't matter if you sent a squadron or an entire army. The only thing that changed was the number of wizards you had to bury."

Moody pulled a chair toward him, raising the cloth that covered his peg leg. Petrified wood stared back at them all.

"See this?" Moody called out as he tapped his leg, "Voldemort gave me that. She was fighting six of us at once - McGonagall and I, the Prewett twins, and Lily and James Potter."

Harry swallowed. He ignored the eyes of his peers, instead focusing on the look in Moody.

"They were incredible," Moody breathed, his eyes latched firmly onto Harry's, "Never met anyone like them. Lily's charms were second only to Dumbledore and Flitwick. As for James, I reckon he could've replaced McGonagall one day."

He nodded seriously, replacing the cloth over his leg.

"Voldemort took us out within minutes. If it weren't for Dumbledore, we'd probably have died," Moody paused, frowning, "Not that it mattered. Voldemort caught up to most of us, in the end."

He brushed the chair aside with a wave of his wand. Harry watched as it slid across the room.

"There's no other life form quite like us," Moody whispered to a silent room, "Witches and wizards possess a variation in power not seen in any other magical species. You've got to know what they're capable of. Know what a real wizard can do. Because if you don't, you'll try to play hero, and then you're fucking dead."

Moody nodded to himself again, turning to face the basin that sat on Hermione's desk. Harry stared at it. A strange liquid whirled leisurely within, swimming in silvery-grey patterns that matched the bowl's colour.

"Fudge says you're too young to know. Amelia does, too. Dumbledore though," Moody smirked darkly, "He gets it. Knows what they can do. Knows what he could do, if he really wanted to."

What I could do, one day.

Harry felt his heart beating loudly in his chest. He leaned closer, his ears perked desperately as he waited for what the grizzled old auror would say next -

"Get up."

Harry froze. The others did, too.

"I said, GET UP!" Moody roared. Several students flinched, "You're going to see . . . you're going to know what it's like to meet them . . . to face them . . ."

Mooy tapped his wand against his forehead, pulling a thin trail of silvery wisp from his skull. Harry watched as he lowered it into the basin. The surface shimmered. Vague faces swam in and out of focus, dispelled as the liquid continued to whirl. Moody nodded as they all gathered around, pointing at the silver basin.

"Any of you know what this is?" he asked curiously.

"A Pensieve," Daphne muttered quietly.

"A Pensieve," Moody grinned, "Used to store memories, or, in this case, show them."

Moody prodded the basin. The silvery surface rippled as it grew. By the time it sputtered to a stop, it spanned several desks.

"I can't make you watch it," Moody snarled, "Amelia put her foot down there. But if you want to know . . . the answer is sitting right in front of you."

The students stirred. Their eyes jumped from one another, all waiting to see who would move first.

I want to know.

Harry stepped forward. Moody nodded, his lips curved into a thin-lipped grin.

"Head in the basin, Potter," he snarled, "Go on."

The air stirred as others stepped forward. Harry ignored them, and with a deep breath, he lowered his head into the silver basin.

-(xXx)-

White marble stretched across a ruined foyer. Harry studied the ornate silver inlay, his eyes combing carefully over the patterned blue walls. He'd never seen a place so luxurious in his life.

"Episkey," whispered a gruff voice. Harry turned, his eyes falling upon what could only be a younger Mad-Eye Moody.

It was unsettling how human he looked. Gone were the scars and his many injuries, replaced instead with an air of naivety Harry would have never expected from the auror. His light brown hair glimmered as he straightened up, gazing past the balcony's railing at something on the floor below.

"Merlin's beard," a dark-skinned man whispered from Moody's right, "What the fuck is he doing here?"

Who on Earth are they talking about -

"Gone back to killing muggles, have you?"

Harry jumped. The voice was familiar, so very familiar, and yet -

An auburn bead appeared from the shadows of the lower floor. Harry stared as the man stalked angrily toward a fountain near the center of the floor below.

Dumbledore?

A soft laugh echoed from the shadows. Harry shivered as a golden chalice rolled out from the darkened hall. Drenched in blood, it stained the marble floors scarlet.

"I'm not a fan of muggles, I admit," said a warm voice, "But I am no hunter."

The man stepped out of the darkness. Harry froze at the sight of platinum blonde hair and heterochromatic eyes.

Grindelwald. Gellert fucking Grindelwald.

The auburn-haired man laughed darkly.

"You?" he barked, "Not a hunter, eh? What a load of rubbish."

"How little you see, Aberforth," Grindelwald murmured indifferently, "Glimpsing the weapons in my hands but not the chains around my wrists -"

"Is that what you think?" the man, Aberforth, said loudly, "That you're some kind of bloody saint?"

"A saint?" Grindelwald laughed, "No, no . . . a servant. Little more than a pawn in a greater game."

"Greater game, greater good," Aberforth spat, "You and Albus always had delusions of grandeur. What fairy tale are you chasing now?"

Grindelwald sighed. Harry watched as the blonde-haired man stepped towards a fountain below. The water arced into intricate patterns, wilting at his touch.

"A world without disease," he whispered softly, "One without war or poverty. One where witches and wizards no longer hide out of fear -"

"Better men than you have tried," Aberforth growled, "You won't do it. You can't."

"Oh, I know," Grindelwald smiled, "I used to think otherwise. Years ago, when I remained trapped in naivety. But I see clearly now . . ."

The Dark Lord turned, his wand spinning leisurely in his hands.

"One of three," he whispered, "A piece of the puzzle, the very first. But no matter . . . I shall guide the others into place . . ."

Grindelwald straightened up. Harry watched as he fished something out of his pocket.

"You know, I had hoped Albus would be the one to show," Gellert admitted, "He would've found my most recent project fascinating -"

He pulled his fingers away from the insides of his robes, revealing a glimmering sapphire. Harry could barely make out the strange silver pattern inlaid upon its surface: a circle split in two by a long line, a large triangle encasing them both.

"- though, now that I'm thinking about it, I imagine you'll want it just as dearly." Grindelwald finished with a charming smile. Aberforth growled.

"It's an imperfect copy, I'm afraid," Gellert frowned, "Only capable of showing its maker. A shame, really. I had hoped to recreate the stone's true power . . ."

He trailed off. Aberforth stared determinedly at the glowing sapphire, his face cast in a blue glow from its light.

"Another one of your many failures," he muttered eventually.

"Failure?" the Dark Lord shook his head, "Not quite. Simply the discovery of another way that doesn't quite work."

Grindelwald curved his hand. The shining sapphire slipped from his palms, skittering across the marble floor below.

"But who knows?" Gellert called. His eyes were latched upon the stone, "There's a saying those muggles have, you know. One man's trash is another's treasure -"

Bang!

The world shattered as Grindelwald flicked his wrist. Harry watched as the glimmering stone sunk deep into the earth, buried beneath mounds of dirt and cracked marble.

"It'll find someone, I'm sure," Grindelwald yawned, "I wonder just how much they'll treasure it. But, for now . . ."

Bright blue flames soared from the tip of his wand, and the ornate palace crumbled to ash.

-(xXx)-

Harry pulled himself from the Pensieve, breathing heavily. By the time he had steadied himself, most of his classmates were out, too. Harry was somewhat comforted to see that they looked about as horrified as he felt.

"I still remember that day," Moody drawled from behind his desk, "The fire killed hundreds. Burned the skin right off my back. I've still no idea how Aberforth managed to survive. Dumb luck, I reckon . . . perhaps Grindelwald felt sentimental, too -"

Moody straightened up.

"I can't show Voldemort," he said, sounding disappointed, "Amelia - that's Madam Bones to you - reckons it's a tad too sensitive. Especially consider who all Voldemort was fighting -"

Moody glanced at Harry.

"I understand that," Moody admitted slowly, "I don't think I need to tell any of you just how dangerous Lady Voldemort could be."

The class nodded quietly.

"Good," said Moody sternly, "Now you understand. Knowing is the first step in preparing for what's to come. And something will come, eventually. They're all the same, witches and wizards like that. They always want something. And whatever that something is, they'll shatter the world in their pursuit of it."

Harry frowned, watching as Moody edged closer.

"You've got to be prepared. You've got to be ready. You've got to have CONSTANT VIGALANCE!" Moody roared. The class jumped in unison.

"Because if you don't," the ex-auror whispered with a hint of sadness, "You will lose everything."

The Pensive vanished, and Mad-Eye Moody stalked out of sight.