"Talking/Dialogue"

"Special Dialogue"

"Special Dialogue"

Thoughts/Spells

'Quotes'

Writing/Text

Tense Conversations

Entrance Hall, Hogwarts

Friday

November 13th, 1994

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, Colin. I know where I need to go," Harry told the third-year confidently.

The younger boy nodding hesitantly after a second before making his way to whatever class he had at the moment, giving him a small wave goodbye as he left.

Harry returned the wave before sighing softly once he disappeared from view.

It's getting easier to keep myself composed, at least. Harry thought after having had to shake the image of the boy's lifeless body from his mind.

It wasn't the first time the memory of somebody's death had popped up in his head, and he doubted it would be the last.

The first time it happened was when he encountered a smiling Fred Weasley, who, after noticing the distress on Harry's face, joked that the tournament's pressure was already taking a toll on him.

Lavender Brown had been another instance. She had asked him a simple question during Herbology, and that had been all it had taken for him to remember the sight of her mauled body.

It had even occurred when he had walked into potions and Snape, who had proceeded to dock him points for 'standing there like an idiot.'

Each time it happened left him slightly shaken, but it also served to bolster his determination.

That's why I decided to come back, isn't it? To do everything I can to prevent their deaths. Harry thought resolutely as he neared the classroom where the Weighing of the Wands was due to take place.

He didn't bother knocking on the door, simply opening it before making his way inside. Immediately, he noticed that he was still the last of the four champions to arrive despite leaving his potion class earlier than last time.

The first one he noticed was Viktor, who he wasn't surprised to see leaning against one of the walls with his arms crossed, away from everybody else. His face was set into a stern frown as he stared at the floor, likely deep in thought.

Harry's attention then shifted to another corner of the room, landing on the slim figure of Fleur, who was currently the focus of attention for Ludo Bagman.

She looks like she's a second away from charming his mouth shut. He thought with amusement.

The ex-quidditch star was rather animated in the one-sided conversation and appeared to be making a great effort to win over the French champion. However, the way her expression grew increasingly annoyed made it clear that his attempts were only moments away from failing.

Eventually, she leaned closer to the rotund man with narrowed eyes and whispered something to him, making the man flush in embarrassment.

Harry was too far away to even catch a hint of what was said, but whatever the words were was enough to get the man to scamper away to the otherside of the room where Rita Skeeter, the woman whom Harry was less than enthusiastic to see, was currently chatting with Cedric.

The Hufflepuff didn't seem all that bothered being interviewed by her, judging by the pleasant grin on his boyish face.

I wonder if he has any idea of the amount of liberties she will be taking with his words. Harry thought once he caught sight of the Quick-Quotes Quill darting behind the reporter.

While he could intervene, he found himself unwilling to do so, not after witnessing the head boy make no attempts to discourage his housemates from wearing the badges Draco had made.

Harry continued to make his way over to one of the farthest corners of the room, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. He had begun to think he had succeeded until he caught sight of the French champion making her way over to him.

It's like she enjoys bothering me.

While he did become good friends with the French witch in his previous life, that had been with the older version of the woman. One that wasn't as arrogant and vain as this one currently was.

A smirk danced across Fleur's pink lips, unbothered by the small sigh that left him once she stopped before him.

"How's the advanced charm work coming along?"

"Fine," he said, not wanting to hint that he had barely covered the textbook. His magic still wasn't at the proper level for him to attempt some of the spells written in the book.

"Is that so?" she asked with a knowing look. "Because from what I've heard, your performances in classes have been rather poor recently. If you're not able to even perform fourth-year material, then what reason do I have to believe you might be able to do something far more difficult?"

Harry shrugged, not surprised that word had gotten around that castle that he had been struggling to cast spells properly.

Evidently, that information had also reached Fleur's ears.

"I simply don't feel the need to put so much effort in class. Not when it is better spent making sure I'm as prepared as possible for the tournament."

"Hmm…if you say so," Fleur hummed pleasantly. "You have a lot of ground to cover since you are the youngest and most inexperienced of the four champions."

Harry resisted the urge to laugh at her words, instead settling for a mischievous smile that had Fleur raising an eyebrow.

"That couldn't be further from the truth."

His words were met with a disbelieving scoff, but before she could say anything further, a large flash from the otherside of the room grabbed the pair's attention.

They turned to see Rita giggle at something Cedric said to her before posing to take another photo with the young man.

A small frown made its way onto Harry's face before looking at the woman beside him with a curious expression when he noticed she had the same look of displeasure.

"I arrived here before anyone else and had the misfortune of speaking to that woman," Fleur explained after catching his look, an ugly scowl marring her face. "She asked some inappropriate and insulting questions, and it was only after I threatened to curse her that she stopped."

Having been around the reporter, Harry could relate to that, but knew better than most that would only get a response. He turned to look at the girl beside him with a serious gaze.

"I'd be careful in antagonizing her... She can get quite nasty in her writing."

"I don't care," Fleur muttered as she crossed her arms across her chest, her expression growing venomous once she saw the reporter approaching them.

Even Harry couldn't quite stop his body from tensing up at the sight of the woman approaching.

"Well, if it isn't Harry Potter. Just the person I wanted to see…Rita Skeeter, star reporter for the Daily Prophet," She introduced herself gleefully as she batted her long eyelashes in his direction, utterly ignoring the presence of the girl beside him. "I was hoping to speak with you before the ceremony began."

"Perhaps in a moment. I was discussing something rather important with Fleur," He told her amicably, hoping to avoid being stuffed inside a broom closet with her again.

Not surprisingly, Rita pressed on.

"She won't mind if I pry you away for a quick chat, I'm sure."

"I very much would," Fleur responded instantly, throwing a scowl in the reporter's direction.

A faux smile stretched across the older woman's red lips as she finally glanced in the other girl's direction.

"Is that so?" Rita said coldly before glancing between them. "Already looking to sink your claws into him, are you? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, considering what you are."

" Ferme ta gueule, salope." Fleur hissed, making the other woman coo in response.

"Now, my French isn't the best, but it's still enough to know that you shouldn't be speaking to a reporter in such a foul way. Especially one who has exclusivity in covering this tournament. What's stopping me from writing some rather…unflattering things about you?"

"Go ahead. I couldn't care less."

"Oh, but you should care," Rita told her before taking a step further, unbothered by the fact that Fleur had a couple of inches on her. "My readers very much take my words as gospel, and a few aren't shy in taking action."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the older woman's words, the memory of Hermione's hands covered in large yellow boils flashing through his mind. All because of the poor excuse of a reporter in front of him who had written an article full of lies.

Knowing how nasty things could get in the future for the girl if something weren't done, Harry took a step closer to the reporter before speaking in a tone that only the three of them could hear.

"I suggest you don't follow through with that threat, Miss Skeeter."

"Oh, and why should I not?" she asked, not an ounce of concern in her voice.

"Because if you do," he continued, staring firmly into her eyes as he whispered his next words. "I'll let the Ministry know that you're an unregistered animagus."

A sharp gasp left her mouth and Fleur's as well, her prior look of mocking amusement turning into shock at his knowledge of her secret ability. It soon turned into one of fear once she caught sight of the vindictive smile that began to appear on the Veela's face.

"An unregistered animagus? How interesting," Fleur said before stepping to stand beside him. "Such a thing is illegal in my country, and judging by your reaction, it must be the same here."

"A year in Azkaban is the minimum sentence," Harry stated, ignoring his satisfaction at having wiped away the reporter's smug look. "If you're lucky, that's how much time you'll get, but I have a feeling you won't be…and you know that as well. Don't you?"

In his previous life, Hermione had forced the reporter to stay quiet for an entire year under threat of exposure. The fact that Rita had agreed to the condition with only minor resistance meant she was aware the alternative was a prolonged stay at the magical prison.

Something she knows here, as well.

Rita stared at him silently for a moment, checking to see if he was serious about following through before nodding slowly once she saw his conviction.

She glared venomously at him and Fleur as she did so, but the tiny trace of fear in her eyes could not be hidden.

"…Okay. I won't write any articles that attack either of you," she mumbled.

"Or our families and friends," Fleur added, getting a nod of agreement from him.

The reporter huffed but made no argument before retreating to the long table at the back of the room. Her assistant gave her a curious look as she sat down ungracefully, to which she responded with a shake of the head.

"Not that I'm ungrateful, but why did you intervene?" Fleur asked quietly after a moment had passed in silence.

"To stop her from writing nasty articles about you," Harry told her honestly. "If I hadn't done something, you would have been constantly receiving mail with who knows what types of curses."

"I believe I would have managed. I'm no stranger to receiving such letters."

"You could have, yes, but you didn't need to," Harry said simply before throwing her a small grin. "Besides, I'd rather not have you use that as an excuse for when I beat you in the tournament."

Fleur scoffed at his words.

"As if that'll happen," Fleur said with a scoff, but a hint of a soft smile appeared on her lips.

His grin grew larger at the sight before he gestured to the entrance, where the tournament organizers filed in alongside Olivander.

"Come on. The ceremony is about to start."

Library, Hogwarts

Monday

November 16th, 1994

Hermione leaned back into her chair, taking a moment to stretch the tense muscles in her back. A sound of content left her lips before she quickly smothered it when she noticed the ghostly form of the Grey Lady float across her table.

Thankfully, the spirit passed without comment, but a small blush still made its way to Hermione's cheeks at having been heard making such a sound.

At least the library was mostly empty. She thought, consoling herself with the fact that only the most diligent of students still remained, working their assignments despite the late hour. She was no exception to that as she tried her best to finish her rune assignment.

There was no Harry to keep her company at the moment, something she had grown accustomed to ever since his name had come out of the goblet. He was somewhere in the castle, practicing spells and preparing for the first task, and while she was proud her friend was taking the tournament seriously, she wanted to be there helping him.

The only reason she wasn't was because Harry had been quite stubborn in his stance that she take the time to focus on her studies and not completely on him.

As if I'm not capable of doing both. Hermione thought, huffing at the mere idea of it.

She had tried her best to convince him of that but to no avail. Of course, that hadn't stopped her from trying again soon after, only to receive the same answer.

It was only after he reminded her of how stressed out she had been the previous year when she had used a time-turner to take all the electives that she finally backed down, though not without managing a compromise.

If she was free of schoolwork and well-rested, then she could accompany him. If not, Harry would practice alone, like he did today.

I just hope he's being careful. Hermione thought before noticing movement on the other side of the table.

She looked up to see Ron taking a seat across from her, making her look at him in surprise.

Ever since the night the champions for the tournament had been chosen, the boy had done everything to avoid interacting with her and Harry. To weeks without a single word to them or even a look of acknowledgment.

So, for him to suddenly come and sit with her as if everything was normal was surprising.

Maybe he's finally gotten over Harry being chosen as champion. Hermione thought, a smidgen of hope blossoming within her that the trio would be back together.

That feeling dampened slightly a second later when he pulled out their potion textbook and a blank piece of parchment paper.

"I…uh…need some help with our potions assignment. The one about antidotes," Ron said with a hesitant smile.

Why am I not surprised?

Hermione couldn't help but tighten her lips together in displeasure.

"We had an entire week to do that assignment, and you've only decided to start it the day before it's due?"

"I tried to do it by myself. I really did, but I got…distracted," Ron said. "Look, just tell me where I should start, and I'll leave you to do whatever you're doing. Please?"

A huff left her before she begrudgingly relented. She even pulled out her finished assignment, rolling her eyes at how the boy's face lit up in eagerness.

"Only use it as a reference, understand?" Hermione told him sternly, giving him a pointed look before sliding the parchment over to him.

Quiet descended upon the pair as they focused on their tasks, and the annoyance that had welled inside her was soon washed away as she lost herself in her studies.

However, it didn't take long for Ron to suddenly break the silence, and it took every ounce of control she had not to glare at him.

"How can you brush it off?"

"…Brush what off?" Hermione asked, a pit growing in her stomach at the icy look on his face.

"The fact that Harry entered himself into the tournament without telling us," Ron's clarified. "He could have at least given us a chance to put our name in the goblet."

Whatever small bit of hope she had held onto that her two friends would reconcile soon took another hit after hearing the sheer amount of spite lacing his words.

"I had no interest in entering myself at all."

"Well, I did." His expression darkened. "And it pisses me off that he kept the way in how he entered a secret…I thought we were friends."

Hermione, for a brief moment, considered telling him the truth of what had happened before remembering Harry's concerns over potentially making things worse. The heavy glower adorning the redhead's face only gave credence to those worries.

I think…the chance to tell him the truth has already passed…if there had ever been one. I guess we'll just have to wait until he comes to his senses, whenever that is.

"You are friends," she said as calmly as she could.

"Then why didn't he tell me," Ron slammed a hand on the table in anger, ignoring the resulting glare from the bushy-haired girl. "I had a chance for fame and glory. A chance to win a thousand galleons. That's life-changing money right there."

"And a good chance of getting yourself killed. Don't forget that detail," Hermione said acidly, not at all pleased with his outburst. A scoff of disbelief left her when he utterly dismissed her words.

"Maybe that's why he didn't tell me…wanted to make sure he had the best chance of getting chosen. Selfish git."

No longer willing to tolerate his foul mood, she grabbed her belongings and stuffed them back into her bag before standing up.

"You're being a massive idiot, Ron," she whispered harshly before reaching over to grab the assignment she had lent him, ignoring his sounds of protest. "And I don't appreciate you speaking of Harry like that in front of me."

Hermione flung the bookbag over her shoulder before leaving the library, sending one final glare toward Ron when he pleaded for her to lend him the assignment, which she easily snubbed.

Unbelievable…not a hint of shame at all. Hermione thought as she practically stomped back to her common room, her night of studying thoroughly ruined.

Vaulting over a boulder to take cover behind it, Harry took a moment to wipe away the sweat from his forehead with his shirt, only to tsk in annoyance when it didn't help at all. The clothing was already drenched due to the sweltering heat that had enveloped the Room of Requirement.

Enduring the burning in his eyes, Harry peeked around his cover, scanning the familiar mountainous terrain that had been created on his request.

On a whim, he asked it to create the same arena that had hosted the first task and had been elated to find out that the room was capable of making it.

Harry considered asking for one resembling the dragon before discarding it quickly. Even if the room could produce such a thing, it was too reckless even for him.

So, he had settled for a wooden dummy resembling the ones Dumbledore's Army had used during his fifth year, and it was proving to be more than enough. Especially after he became aware that the figure could cast a single spell before devising a way to mimic the first task as best he could.

A blast of fire beside his head brought him out of his thoughts, making him yelp. Knowing it was time to move, he dashed to another boulder, narrowly escaping another blast sent by the wooden figure.

Harry leaned slightly over the top of his newest source of cover to take a peek, only to instantly duck back down again as he narrowly avoided another wave of flames.

"That was close," he muttered before dashing over to another rock, breathing heavily.

What had once been an even contest had grown one-sided as time passed, and exhaustion began to seep into his body. The constant need to dodge and sprint was only accelerating it, and it had gotten to the point where his body was protesting every step he took.

Harry was more than willing to endure it, as long as it meant he was better prepared to face a dragon.

Desperate to create some distance, he sprinted to the otherside of the arena despite how heavy his legs felt.

The sound of crackling fire soon reached his ears, and it was instinct more than anything that made him drop to the ground. A hiss of pain left his mouth as the sharp, jagged edges of the rocks covering the floor dug into his skin, which he ignored as best he could as he staggered back onto his feet.

Before he started running to seek cover again, he glanced backward, and it was fortunate that he did so, as he quickly had to defend himself from another attack.

" Glacius," Harry yelled, pointing his wand toward a narrow stream of fire heading in his direction.

The icy-cold air struck the incoming element head-on, and while it did not turn it into ice, it successfully extinguished the flames.

Undeterred, the dummy sent another, much larger wave of flames toward him, making Harry resort to a different spell.

" Aguamenti!"

At the end of his incantation, water rapidly launched out of his wand, its size amplified by the sheer amount of magic he poured into it.

Harry might have been lacking control but he certainly had enough power to compensate in moments like these.

Steam immediately engulfed the room as soon as the two forces collided against one another. The vapor spread so rapidly that he only had a split second to hastily cast a spell to protect himself.

" Protego Circum!" Harry cried out, and a light blue dome rapidly formed around him.

A growl of pain slipped through his gritted teeth when even his seeker reflexes could not prevent any injury from happening.

"Merlin, that fucking stings," Harry snarled, wincing at the sight of the blistering red marks covering his right hand and even extending to parts of his forearm. The result of having the skin burned off by the scorching steam.

Again, he forced himself to ignore the pain as best he could, keeping his focus on keeping the magical dome up, waiting for the vapor hanging around the room to dissipate.

"There's no way I can let myself stay in one spot for so long…not when I'll have a dragon hunting me down," Harry muttered in frustration when he noticed how long the air had taken to clear.

Resolving to find a solution to this new problem, Harry called for the room to stop the dummy from attacking again, knowing it would be reckless to continue now that he was nursing a wound.

Aware that he had to get the burns treated before doing anything else, he left the room and began making his way to the Hospital Wing, doing his best not to jostle his injured arm.

"Oh, dear!" Madam Pomfrey called out when she saw him walk into the empty infirmary. She hurried over as quickly as she could, her heels clicking along the floor before guiding him gently toward a bed. "What happened?"

"I…uh…burned my hand."

"I can see that," she said dryly before sighing as she drew her wand to cast what he recognized as a diagnostic spell. "Sit still while I see the extent of the damage."

Harry did as he was told, watching silently as the older woman inspected the damage, her face one of total concentration.

Not even the sudden opening of the doors was enough to snap her focus, nor the cheerful voice that rang out an instant later.

"I'm here, Madam Pomprey!"

"Just a moment, Miss Greengrass," Madam Pomfrey responded, still keeping her eyes on the task at hand.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to have a patient at this hour," the girl responded sheepishly. Her light-brown eyes widened slightly once she saw him on the bed and his condition.

The raven-haired boy watched curiously as the newcomer suddenly darted to his side, raising an eyebrow once he noticed that her focus was solely on the burns he had suffered.

"Wicked," she breathed out before flushing in embarrassment after remembering that she was staring at a stranger's wounded arm.

A mixture of a cough and a chuckle left Harry's mouth at the unexpected comment, a reaction not shared by Madam Pomfrey as she gave the girl a reproachful look.

Miss Greengrass quickly tried to backtrack her casual remark.

"I mean not wicked. Nope. Not at all. I am so sorry that you have suffered these very, very serious burns," The brown-haired girl said as she turned to look at him before her eyes widened in shock once she realized who she was speaking to.

To her credit, she regained her composure swiftly.

"Nice to meet you, Harry Potter. I'm Astoria Greengrass."

The girl extended her hand for a shake before stopping once she remembered the current state of his hand.

A hint of redness once again entered her cheeks as a result of her small slip-up, her embarrassment growing even further when she saw the growing grin on his face.

"Now that you've introduced yourself, perhaps you'll explain why you've waited until now to stop by?" The matron asked the girl, who rubbed sheepishly at the back of her head. "You were supposed to come by in the morning."

"I forgot."

Madam Pomfrey let out an exasperated sigh before returning her attention to his injury, casting a spell that instantly numbed his arm.

Harry let out a sigh of relief as the stinging pain he had been feeling vanished.

"I'll begin repairing your skin in just a moment, Mister Potter. I just need to give Miss Greengrass what she needs."

He looked on curiously as another wave of her wand in the direction of her office made a small wooden box fly gently into the hands of Astoria.

"Now, remember to take these every other day. Understood? And stop by for the other batch next Tuesday immediately after dinner."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Astoria grumbled as she hugged the box close to her chest. "I still don't understand why I have to come up here when I can just get them from Professor Snape."

"As I've told you many times before, I am much more capable of brewing this particular potion than he is. Something even he will admit," The matron said before looking at the girl seriously. "Now, Remember not to miss a dosage, Miss Greengrass. We don't need a repeat of what happened last year, do we?"

Astoria pursed her lip but nodded once the older lady gave her a pointed look. The girl turned to leave but not before giving both of them a wave goodbye, which they returned.

Madam Pomfrey sighed quietly while staring at the departing girl before turning towards him, raising her wand to his arm again.

"On to the final part. Keep your arm still as I mend the skin."

Harry nodded before watching silently as the woman began to heal the skin on his arm. After several minutes, he sighed in relief at the sight of the limb completely unscathed.

"Good as new," Madam Pomfrey announced proudly, waving her wand one final time to return the feeling in his arm. "Now, please try to avoid any more injuries, Mister Potter."

"No promises," Harry said with a grin, thanking the matron before exiting the hospital wing and heading toward the dungeon floor.

For a moment, he considered just heading up to his common room to rest before deciding against it in the end.

I still have a lot of training to do before I'm ready for the first task

.

London, England

Wednesday

November 18th, 1994

The streets were quiet, barren of any activity at this late hour, something Sirus was more than grateful for as he made his way down the streets of Islington.

He had just arrived an hour ago and hadn't wasted any time heading to London. He was doing so alone, having left Buckbeak somewhere hidden in the far outskirts of the city, knowing that bringing a hippogriff into the city was not an option.

Although, leaving him alone is hardly any better. Sirius admitted to himself, shivering when a strong gust of icy air swept past, prompting him to tug his coat tighter around himself.

Continuing down the dimly lit street, his expression began to harden as the urge to leave developed deep inside him, growing stronger with every step he took toward his ancestral home.

Only his desire to help his godson pushed him forward until he found himself standing just in front of the entrance that had appeared from the depths of the building.

Sirius stared at the silver knocker on the battered front door, taking a moment to steel his nerves before taking a deep breath. Raising his hand stiffly, he placed it on the door, only for his eyes to widen in shock when he felt a familiar jerk behind his navel.

A Portkey?!

A startled gasp barely managed to escape his lips before Sirius found himself yanked into an endless stream of vibrant colors, traveling through them for what seemed like an eternity before exiting, landing roughly on a pristine white marble floor.

Sirius gritted his teeth at the sharp pain shooting up his spine after landing on his back before forcing himself to stand up, his wand instantly making its way to his hand.

"Who the fuck placed a Portkey?" he muttered as he began to scan the ornate office he found himself, his face scrunching up in confusion when he began to get a sense of familiarity from it.

It wasn't until he caught sight of the portraits of goblins lining the marble walls along with numerous different types of weapons overhead that it dawned on him exactly where he was.

Gringotts. Sirius voiced in his head before going over to the single desk in the room. He let out a grumble of annoyance once he saw the name written on the gold plaque in the center of the table, recognizing it instantly.

Ugnast.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

"So, she finally got the position," Sirius whispered to himself before turning sharply with his wand raised as the doors were suddenly flung open.

The grip he had on his wand tightened further when a pair of goblin commanders came to a halt at the doorway, their crimson-red uniforms covered by a heavy set of armor.

Both of them held their axes in front of them and were eyeing him harshly, clearly not taking kindly to the fact that his wand was drawn.

"It seems fortune favors me today," A rough yet feminine voice called out from behind the goblin commanders before the owner revealed herself once they parted to the side. "I was beginning to think you would never return to Grimmauld Place and that I had simply wasted my time placing a charm on your doorway."

A female goblin with short black hair and wearing a suit began making her way over to him, unperturbed by the sight of the wand being aimed at her.

"If you have any hint of self-preservation still in that head of yours, you'll hand your wand over now," She said, stopping in front of him and holding out her hand. "Of course, you can attack me if you wish, but that would only end up with you being sent down to the mines below."

Sirius pursed his lips together at her words before laying his wand on her palm, eyeing her warily as he did so.

"I've just escaped one hellhole…I'm not particularly itching to find myself in another one," Sirius told the goblin, glancing at the ugly claw marks on her neck, which she noticed. "Those are new, Ugnast."

A wicked grin stretched across her face as she rubbed at the scars proudly.

"Courtesy of Furknas. I dueled him for the right to handle the Black Family account. These scars that you see are the last wound he managed to inflict upon me before I drove a dagger into his skull," Ugnast said before making her way to sit at her desk. "Take a seat, Sirius. We much to discuss."

The sound of doors slamming shut let him know he had no choice in the matter. He sighed before turning around to sit in front of the rather eager-looking goblin.

I have a feeling I won't like what she has to say.

A/N: More groundwork being laid for future events, and we draw nearer to the first task.

The next chapter will have the important conversation between Sirius and Ugnast concerning family matters.

That conversation will also have an explanation as to why it happened in this new timeline instead of the previous one.

Peace.