"Focus your mind."

Harry had his eyes closed, trying his best to control his breathing. He'd been instructed to keep it steady by the boy sitting in front of him. It was just that Harry hadn't really thought about his breathing too often up to that point, viewing it as something that was supposed to come naturally. That wasn't even the hardest part. By fixating on keeping his breaths regular and slow, it occupied a large part of his priorities when the main task was meant to be keeping his mind quiet. Hermione had made it sound easy, though had admitted that it had still taken some time to truly master.

How many times had he been in this position now? A blank room, perfect for what they were trying to do. Two seats in the middle of the small space were the only form of decoration, facing one another, forcing the boys to look at their friend. When Harry didn't have his eyes closed, that was. He could still sense that Matthew was looking at him. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice, with the scarce entertainment the room provided. But therein lied the problem. Harry wasn't supposed to be acknowledging Matthew's presence. He was supposed to be retreating into his own mind, coming to better understand who he was and giving him a better chance of accessing his unbridled powers. After making such a big deal of being involved the previous year, the last thing Harry wanted was to fail at this.

"How am I supposed to concentrate with what's going on around us?" he grumbled.

"There's literally nothing happening around us. You're not going to find a quieter room."

Harry could practically hear Matthew roll his eyes. "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

After the Second Task, Harry had expected things to carry on going in an upward trend. It was the least he deserved, to his reckoning, after surviving back-to-back encounters with dragons and merpeople. And, for a short period of time, there was a relative calm that descended around the school. The other students were no longer insulting him. In fact, they were congratulating him on his show of bravery during the task, as pointless as it had invariably been. Whilst the Durmstrang contingent continued to pay him little regard (something he wasn't too fussed about), the Beauxbatons collective had become increasingly warm towards him. Fleur must have put in a good word, added to the fact that Margot had openly shown him affection. Harry's cheek was still warm and tingly from the kiss.

A main factor behind the calm was that, for a while, neither he nor Hermione had to think too much about the third and final task. There were no clues to solve, no eggs to hatch this time. Meaning they could put it to the back of their minds until it was eventually looming over them. Sure, they still discussed it occasionally, wondering what spells would help in the unknown challenge, but it wasn't done with the same feverish panic that had consumed them right before their date with the lake. All they had to do was survive one more deadly outing. After what they'd been through, it almost felt like the likely outcome now, though they weren't going to let themselves get cocky.

Not thinking about the tournament allowed them to realign their focus back on actual school work, something Hermione was desperate to keep up to a high standard. Harry truly didn't know how she did it. But he was also glad that he was now able to pay attention in class, instead of considering the next thing that would try to kill him. It felt like an eternity since he'd properly listened to one of Lupin's demonstrations or one of McGonagall's lectures. And, added to that, he'd been granted the time to dive into his introductory training with Matthew, which was moving at a much slower pace than Harry would have liked. At least he had the time to take things easy, an operating speed that he really wasn't used to.

But when had his life ever gone that smoothly for a sustained period of time? His luck was doomed to run out eventually, and it had come crashing down one morning with the arrival of the Daily Prophet. Rita Skeeter, the journalist he had scorned at least twice now, had chosen to go a different route in her articles. Probably because his relatively calm survival thus far wasn't as entertaining as him getting eaten or caught in weeds and drowning. Harry might have been fine with the gossip (after all, it was something he had put up with since he'd stepped through the doors at Hogwarts) if it hadn't involved his friends. That was when she had crossed the line.

For some reason, it had made frontpage news, as if the Prophet had become nothing better than the frivolous and teen-orientated magazine 'Witch Weekly'. Why anyone was interested in his love life , Harry would never know. Sirius had initially laughed when it had been brought up, conversing through a fireplace, telling his godson that, as the last remaining Potter, he was likely the most eligible bachelor in the country. At such a young age, Harry felt that was premature overkill. But there it had been in writing, with a massive headline to boot. A thousand words on how he had been rejected by one girl, a bookish friend who he always spent his time with, only to fall into the arms of a curious foreigner. He couldn't believe the piece had been published with its casual xenophobia and unfounded distrust of Margot, let alone the fact that it simply wasn't based in actual truth.

He heard Matthew sigh and the sound of his chair scraping slightly against the floor as he stood up. "I suppose we'll give up on the session for today."

Harry's eyes snapped open. "What? No! Come on! I can do this! I just need more time!"

"We've been here for nearly half an hour and you haven't stopped fidgeting once."

"I thought it was supposed to be a hard process. Wouldn't it be strange if I managed it straight away?"

"Yes, it certainly would. But you're also not making it easy for yourself. There's too much crashing around in that head of yours."

"Can you blame me?"

"No, not really." Matthew gave him a soft smile. "Maybe I'm expecting too much from you, given the circumstances."

"You didn't underestimate Hermione like this." Harry was feeling fed up with the double standards on display.

Matthew bristled at the insinuations. "If you think there's favouritism going on, then you're very much mistaken. When Hermione started with her training, she wasn't doing it whilst this bleeding tournament was going on. She didn't have that playing on her mind. I can't expect you to push that to one side. Maybe…once this is over…we can pick it up again."

Harry stood up, not wanting this to end. As little progress as he'd made, it was like he could still get a sense of something being there. Something waiting to be unchained. "I don't want to wait any longer! I'm already a year behind Hermione. She's producing some of that magic now, without even thinking about it. She did it during the task!"

That gave Matthew pause. "She did?" He scratched his chin, frowning. "She hasn't mentioned it to me. Why would she keep that to herself? It's…amazing!"

"Maybe she didn't understand what was happening at the time. She was getting attacked by grindylows when it happened."

"Yes, well, the less I know about the dangers you were put through down there, the better. Otherwise I'll be marching to Dumbledore's office and throwing him in the Great Lake to see how he likes it."

Harry had no doubt that he'd at least try to do that. "Whatever happened…whether or not I'm right in what I saw…it shows that I need to keep practising. I can't help you and Hermione if I don't have the same sort of power."

"Do you think this is what it's about?" Matthew stepped closer to him, holding him by the shoulders. "It isn't about you helping us? Why would we need help? It's about you helping yourself . You have an untapped ability waiting to be let out. Why shouldn't you learn to harness it? But it's not something you can force. That's why it's died out across the generations. People just don't have the patience to master it, to learn how to control it. If you don't have that ability to wait for something to click, then it's never going to happen." He let go, instead choosing to lean on the chair. "I understand that I must be sounding awful right now but it's the hard truth. I told Hermione the same thing. But…more than else…you can't view this as a competition between the both of you. You're friends, not rivals. You can help each other. As much as she's accomplished, she's got a long way to go. And so do you, obviously. You can talk to one another, give each other tips. I like to claim I do but I don't know everything, even about this. I'm sure that it's going to be slightly different for both of you."

"I wasn't…competing against her," Harry replied sullenly, feeling as if he was getting a telling-off from a teacher.

Matthew arched an eyebrow. "Sure. There's nothing to be ashamed about. It's a natural reaction. It's like how she gets in classes. She doesn't need to outperform everyone else, but she wants to. That sort of edge is going to drive you towards the finishing line, but it also has the potential to distract you. And the last thing you need are more distractions."

"It isn't even the tournament that's bugging me." Harry flopped back into his seat. It was squishy and soft, making it difficult to appear as stern as he wanted to be. "Loads of things are just niggling away at me. You saw what they were saying in the paper."

"I thought I told you not to read that rubbish."

"It's rather difficult when everyone is talking about it. I'm not even bothered about them gossiping about me. I'm used to it by now. But they're taking it out on Hermione and Margot. Hermione's putting on a brave face but it's like she's betrayed the 'Boy Who Lived' by not accepting my advances. Advances that didn't even come!"

"You spend a lot of time together. People will latch onto that sort of thing."

"Everyone saw you two together at the Yule Ball. They're dragging your name through the mud just as much in the Prophet. You don't seem bothered by it."

"They're not as interested in me. You two, on the other hand, are Champions. That gets the readers' attention. If they do talk about me…well, words aren't going to hurt me, Harry."

"But they're hurting Hermione! She's started getting letters! From random people who have never met her!"

"You do realise that I was there when the post came, right?" Matthew's expression was dark as he thought back on it. "Why people think they have the right to say that sort of stuff to her when they don't know her…when they don't know how amazing she is…it just dumbfounds me. And that wasn't even the worst of it. I got rid of most of them once she'd gone through a few. She doesn't need that. I've spoken to Dumbledore as well. He's willing to monitor the post a bit more, until this blows over. It should stop her from getting anymore hate mail."

Harry nodded his head in relief. "Good. That's one thing off my mind. Though the other students are going to keep on saying things to her."

"Let them. And see how they react when me and you teach them to keep their mouths shut."

"We'll end up getting quite a few detentions if we go down that route."

"I'm willing to suffer through that to defend her, not that she really needs protecting. If someone's stupid enough to believe that bilge in the paper, then she's ten times the person they are. And I'm sure McGonagall might turn a bline eye every now and then if we were to accidentally trip people up."

"It's not just Hermione I'm worried about," Harry admitted. "Margot's taken the brunt force of the attention. I think she's been trying to keep her distance from me ever since."

During lunch the day just gone, Harry had attempted to go up to her in the Great Hall. The prospect of going up to the Beauxbatons table had been a daunting one at an earlier point, but their increased warmth towards him had made it slightly easier. All eyes had still been on him as he'd approached Margot, some of the other girls crowding around her, seemingly comforting her. When she'd looked up, her eyes had been red, obviously as a result of crying. The Daily Prophet had been lying in front of her, along with a copious amount of letters, most of them opened. Rushing out his words, Harry had wondered whether she wanted to spend some time with him, perhaps taking a walk around the Lake whilst the weather turned more pleasant. She had come up with some lame excuse about having homework to finish and that had been the last time he'd seen her.

"Ah." Matthew copied his action, sitting back down. "Girl trouble. The one thing I can't really help you with."

"You've done alright with Hermione."

"That's more down to luck than anything. And her having a lot of patience with me. I still don't know where we truly stand, because I daren't push my luck too much. I'm pretty much making it up as I go along. But we're happy at the moment."

Harry gave him a half-hearted smile. "It's just that…I'm worried that this is going to ruin any chance I had with her. I've barely spent any time with her, and she's already being subjected to the media scrutiny. It's been dialled up to ten pretty quickly for her. No wonder she wants to stay away."

"It'll all blow over."

"You can't know that for sure."

"Maybe her reaction is just down to the shock of it happening. She would have known about your fame and the caveats that come with that, especially if you were to start…you know…dating." It wasn't very normal for them to be talking openly about a topic like this. Matthew was starting to squirm in his chair. He could explain the complexities of the origins of magic any day of the week, but this was almost a step too far for him. "She'll come around."

"And if she doesn't?" Harry asked nervously.

"Then she probably wasn't right for you in the first place. You need someone who's going to understand and accept every part of you."

"Not asking for a lot there."

Matthew smirked. "Give it time." He reached over, slapping Harry on the knee. "Have patience . See, it works for more things than just harnessing your magic."

"I'm guessing this has all been a part of your lesson plan then…"

"Not at all. Like I said just before, I'm making things up as I go along. You need to stop overestimating how much I actually know. At least ninety percent of the performance is confidence and bravado."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. "At least you now know why I haven't been able to concentrate on all this. Not to mention the fact that I've been trying to make sense of what Snape and Karkaroff were talking about the other day."

It had happened during one of their many potions lessons, right towards the end of it. As much as the newspapers and magazines had been troubling them, Matthew's intervention had allowed them to forget about it for a short period of time, meaning they'd been able to concentrate on the class. It made for a rather dull experience, neatly slicing ingredients to their precise measurements, stirring the contents of their cauldron in the perfect direction lest they wanted it to explode. A mundane part of the lesson, unless you were Neville, who sadly stirred the wrong way.

The intriguing part came when Karkaroff had arrived, standing outside the dungeon doors as their class had ended. He'd been pale, his eyes darting from side to side as if he were looking out for someone. He'd basically barged through the flow of exiting students to get to Snape, barking at him in hushed whispers. Harry, as interested as one would be when people were acting so strangely, had attempted to slow down the process of packing away in the hopes of listening into their conversation. Karkaroff had been pointing to his right arm, forcing Snape to look at it. Whatever had been there, it was certainly troubling him, but the Potions Master had ordered Harry to leave before they had properly discussed the matter.

"You never know," Matthew said. "He might have just had a bad rash that needed treating. Snape would be the one to have the necessary potions."

"Surely it would have been easier for him to go to Madam Pomfrey. She has everything and more."

"Maybe it was an embarrassing rash."

"The last person I would want to show that sort of thing to is Snape." He shivered at the thought. It was an image that would likely keep him up during the night.

"Well, they do seem to know one another. There could be a level of trust there that we've just never seen Snape provide. He might have been a different, kinder man back in the day." Matthew could barely keep a straight face as he said it. Some people could definitely change. Snape was not one of them.

"Why aren't you taking this seriously? Karkaroff was reduced to a bumbling wreck because of whatever was going on. You've seen what he's normally like, all tough and steely. What could possibly make a man like that nervous?"

"All I'm trying to do is trivialise it so that you can move on. If you start considering these conspiracy theories, then you're never going to be focused enough on the training. You won't have a calm mind if you're suspecting Karkaroff of foul play."

"So you think there's foul play involved?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "That's not what I'm saying and you know it."

"What if he's nervous for a particular reason? What if…he's the one who put me and Hermione in the goblet?"

"Something you've suggested from the very start. But we don't have any proof! Or motive!"

"This is the proof we were looking for! His erratic behaviour. You just have to think what Moody said the night our names were produced. He seemed to be heavily implying Karkaroff would want me out of the picture. He said outright that he had a history with dark magic."

"That could have been Moody putting the doubt in our heads when he's actually the person behind it," Matthew suggested.

"That sounds ridiculous! Moody's already had my back once. If he wanted me out of the picture, he could have done so by now. But Karkaroff…he wouldn't be able to move so brazenly because of the suspicion already on him. If he's used dark magic in the past…then we know who that likely connects him to."

"Plenty of people from Durmstrang practise dark magic and have no link to Voldemort." In the safety of the Tardis, it was fine to say the dreaded name without someone nearby practically fainting.

Harry wasn't appreciating how uncooperative his friend was being. "You have to admit that it's weird what he was doing. Maybe he's regretting what he's done and wants out of it, but the goblet's contact has bound him as much as me and Hermione."

"We'll keep a close eye on him then, if that keeps you from going on about this. Don't you think it seems too obvious to be Karkaroff? It wouldn't make a good ending to a story. Everyone would predict it."

"If you haven't noticed, this isn't a story, Matthew."

"Huh…and here I was, thinking the opposite all along."

"If it was a story, I'd be able to do this bloody training already."

"Well, characters always need a bit of struggle."

"Not this much," Harry groaned. "I'm sorry. I've barely improved today. My head's all over the place. If I'm not thinking about Skeeter or Karkaroff, then I haven't been able to move on from what Sirius told us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night after the Second Task

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Celebrations were in order in Gryffindor Tower, with most of the Lions already absorbed in the party atmosphere. If their fellow housemates had been happy after the opening leg of the tournament, then it was on a completely different level this time. Hermione found it rather absurd. They were celebrating her . She had come first in the task, a feat that no one had expected her to accomplish (even herself), and now everyone was wanting to come up to her, asking her questions, shaking her hand, not giving her a single moment to think. They had barely paid her any attention for years. Besides her academic achievements, she was the part of their trio that people tended to overlook. Harry was as famous as they came, and it was pretty hard to ignore Matthew with his outlandish personality. Only now, as the spotlight shone on her, did they want to give her the time of day.

Which was why, instead of staying for the majority of the party, they had chosen to leave the warmth of the castle. Clad in their thickest jumpers and clothes, they ventured outside, seeking to celebrate with those they cared about. Sirius and Lupin were already waiting for them by the time they arrived, a picnic blanket set out, with food and drink set aside in a basket. Harry could spot a few bottles of butterbeer and was already glad of the decision they'd made. If the cold might have put them off coming outside, then the offered drinks would deal with keeping them heated.

"Look who it is!" Sirius called out, cupping his hands to make his voice louder. "Our fabulous Champions who live to see another day!"

"Sirius," Lupin groaned. "Try to keep it down a little bit. We don't want people complaining, otherwise you won't be allowed back. Really, I shouldn't be out here anyway…it'll look like I'm showing favouritism towards a small group of my students."

"If people haven't already cottoned onto the fact that you like them more than the rest, then that's not my fault. Now sit! You're normally very good at listening to the orders I give you."

"Since when has that ever been the case?" Lupin asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I was hoping that, by putting it out into the world, I might finally make it happen."

The children smiled at the bickering adults. If Harry hadn't known any better, he might have described them as an old married couple, with the way they playfully taunted one another. He wouldn't have been opposed to that actually being the case. They were already basically his father figures. He looked around at the setting for their evening, noting the tree they were using for cover (the same they had taken their photograph with back in their Second Year, so long ago now) and the Great Lake beyond. It was shimmering as it reflected the moon up high and Harry could barely grasp that he had been swimming in it only a few hours previous. The stands had been dismantled by now, giving them an unobstructed view of the gorgeous landscape.

"You really didn't need to go to all this effort," Hermione said as they sat down, getting comfortable on the rug. Matthew almost fell over, losing his balance, and she giggled at his inherent clumsiness.

"Nonsense!" Sirius argued. "This is a big achievement for you all. Well, besides you, Matthew…no offence."

The boy in question was too busy rifling through the selection of pies to really care. "None taken. It's not as if I ever wanted to be a Champion."

"You won, Hermione! You proved everyone wrong today, besides those who truly know you. And Harry…my boy…you really were like your dad today. He would have done something just as stupid as wanting to save everyone . The papers have used a lot of words in the past to describe how much of a hero you are - you don't need to be adding fuel to the fire."

"I'd rather forget how embarrassed I was when you told me that little tidbit after I came out of the water," Harry commented bitterly, trying to select which sandwich to have.

"Oh, come on! I don't think you were at all embarrassed when that pretty French girl was giving you a kiss."

His face went brilliantly red. "Only on the cheek."

"That's how it starts."

"It was definitely the strangest part of the day. It beats merpeople and grindylows."

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I think the strangest part was when Crouch came up to congratulate me. I think it's the first time he's ever interacted with me. I've always found him so…passive and emotionless. Today, it was like he was appraising me when he looked at me."

"You can't really blame him for being weird after what he's been through," Lupin remarked.

Harry perked up at that. "What does that mean? Do you know him?"

"I certainly do," Sirius growled. "He was the one who put me in Azkaban."

"What?" Whatever Harry had been expecting, it hadn't been that.

"Yep. He used to be the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was supposed to do even more than that really. They reckoned he would be Minister one day. He's extremely powerful with a wand, surprisingly so, but even hungrier for a different sort of power, of the political persuasion. His rise came at the time Voldemort was at his height. Just imagine the utter terror that was spreading through the community at the time. He felt that the Ministry had to fight fire with fire. And that's exactly what he chose to do."

Harry leaned forward. "You're not stopping there, are you?"

Sirius was reaching for a bottle. "Let a man drink, would you?" He shook his head, taking a long swig, making it purposefully longer just to annoy them. "Anyway…I wasn't the only one sent to Azkaban without trial thanks to the increased strictness of the Ministry. Aurors were giving more power, the ability to use unforgivable curses, that sort of thing. And, despite the aggressiveness, he had his supporters. It was only a matter of time before he got the top job, especially once Voldemort was gone."

"Until something rather unfortunate happened to Crouch," Lupin continued, taking up the mantle. "His own son was caught with a known group of Death Eaters who had managed to wrangle themselves out of a stay in Azkaban. A particularly nasty shock, I must say."

"He should have spent more time at home than the office, shouldn't he?"

"Did Crouch try to help his son?" Hermione asked.

Sirius barked with laughter. "Crouch? Help his son? He had a reputation to uphold and a stain like that would ruin any chances he had of getting a pay rise. Handed over him to the dementors himself once the farce of a trial was conducted. He happened to have a cell near me, not that he was in it long. It was only a year before he was dead."

Harry was engrossed by the tale. "He's dead?"

"It's not that surprising. Azkaban has the canny ability to drain you of the will to survive. People go mad, they stop eating…he looked weak even when he was led in the first time. I remember Crouch visiting the day before he died, along with his wife."

"She didn't last much longer either," Lupin noted. "They always said it was grief that claimed her in the end."

"You could feel sorry for him, I suppose. He lost everything, not just his family. Any chances he had of getting a promotion died with them. He's never been the same since. When I was released, the first time I saw a photo of him, I couldn't believe it was the same man." He took another sip. "Why are we even banging on about him though? This isn't how we're supposed to be celebrating! Tuck in, tuck in! Remus has paid for all of it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present Day. The Tardis. Unidentified Room

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why are you so bothered about Crouch?" Matthew wondered.

"I don't know," Harry responded. "It's just a sad story, what happened to him. Even if he was partly responsible for what happened to Sirius. You never know…he spent so much time around Death Eaters…maybe he became one after everything happened and this has been his way of getting to me."

"He would have unbridled access to the tournament and the goblet."

"You actually sound like you're considering one of my theories for once."

"A broken clock is right twice a day."

"You'd never talk to Hermione like this."

"If you want to start giving me hugs and kisses, then maybe I'll start treating you the same."

"What happened to there being no favouritism?"

"A white lie to keep you motivated in your training." Matthew gave him a sickly sweet smile.

"Hold on…" Harry's eyes danced with mirth. "Did you just say that Hermione's kissed you?"

Matthew's eyes went wide. "Would you look at the time!" There was neither a clock on the wall nor a watch on his wrist. "I think it's time we head back to the common room!" He was already standing up, hurriedly tripping up over the leg of the chair. It didn't slow him down. "And if you say anything to her about this, you'll have more than Karkaroff or Crouch to worry about."