Not that it mattered much to Harry, but he did find his popularity to be on the rise within the castle after the Second Task. Word must have spread about what he did for Fleur in the lake, as well as his confrontation with the Slytherins and Durmstrang students a few weeks prior. Most no longer regarded him with open hostility, and he even received some nods and smiles of encouragement from other students in the hallways.

At least it was no longer a nightmare dealing with his own House, and Harry didn't feel accosted by angry glares and muttered gossip every time he passed through the common room. His old Quidditch teammates remained rather frosty around him, but his classmates were back to their old selves and people didn't shy away from him when he sat down at the Great Hall for meals anymore. Harry was far from a social butterfly of course, but it was nice to no longer be treated like he had the plague.

Harry's focus remained on the future, however, with several key events on the horizon. First was his upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, for which he'd accidentally double-booked himself. He had a date with Katie Bell, which he had no intentions of backing out of and was quite looking forward to. But he also intended to sneak off and Apparate to Little Hangleton before the day was up. He had unfinished business in the sleepy village, namely the cemetery, before the Third Task came around.

There was also the upcoming Quidditch match scheduled for the second week of March. He felt a particular drive to perform well against his old team, especially considering that Roger Davies remained one of his biggest detractors in the castle. It would be a far more difficult match-up than their first, and they only faced an even tougher foe if they somehow advanced to the finals. The team hadn't been able to practice much due to weather conditions and hectic schedules, so it would be a difficult task.

There wasn't much point in fretting over things outside his control, so Harry just put his head down and went about his routine as usual. Students left him be for the most part, and he was fully prepared to do nothing but eat, sleep and study until Saturday rolled around. But an unexpected disruption came on Thursday, as Harry followed his classmates up towards their afternoon Arithmancy lesson, and an airy voice called out after him.

"'Arry? 'Arry Potter!"

Harry turned; Fleur Delacour was marching down the corridor towards him. Everyone turned to stare; aside from the natural attention Fleur attracted from the male population of Hogwarts, it was rare to see two Triwizard Champions interacting in the castle at all.

"Hello, Fleur," Harry greeted her neutrally, masking his surprise at being approached.

"Can we speak?" she asked. "Privately?"

"Certainly," Harry shrugged. He led the way to an empty classroom and opened the door for her, closing it shut behind them.

Fleur turned and crossed her arms, scrutinizing Harry closely. "I 'ave come to offer my apology," she said after a moment's silence.

"For what?" asked Harry, bewildered. "I didn't think I needed one…"

"For calling you a leetle boy at our first meeting," said Fleur. "It 'as become clear that I was mistaken. You are no boy, and you are far more capable than you appeared at first blush."

"Oh," said Harry. "Erm...thanks, Fleur."

"I believe that you are 'iding something," Fleur continued, still scrutinizing him from behind her closed body language. "It eez most curious. I 'ave not decided why, though, because I do not theenk you wish to hurt anybody."

"I'm just trying to survive this tournament," said Harry. "And help Neville Longbottom survive as well."

"And myself?" Fleur asked, arching an eyebrow. "Why 'elp me in the lake? I am a competitor."

"I'm not trying to win," Harry insisted. "You are not my competitor. We're both in this together, do you understand?"

"I do not," Fleur muttered. "Explain."

Harry sighed, wondering how much to divulge with Fleur. This was similar to Bill Weasley's confrontation back at the Quidditch World Cup, except Fleur was not angry with him, merely curious. He believed she could be trusted, but didn't want to give up all of his secrets so easily.

"You know our country had a Dark Lord recently," he began slowly. "Voldemort."

"I 'ave heard, of course," Fleur huffed. "Ze Longbottom boy killed him. So what?"

"He's not dead," Harry corrected her. "He's in hiding, regaining his strength. He's the reason Neville got entered into the Tournament, and possibly why I was as well. Can you think of a reason why he would do such a thing?"

Fleur contemplated this. "You think zis Dark Lord was 'oping you and Longbottom would die in ze Tournament?" she deduced.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "But there's more to it than that. He's planning something big, for the Third Task. He's preparing to come out into the open, and to use Neville to make a statement."

"'Ow can you know all of this?" Fleur demanded.

"Call it intuition," Harry shrugged. "I'm asking you to trust me. War is coming, and when it does, all this school rivalry bullshit will mean nothing. Can we please work together instead of against one another?"

Fleur considered this thoughtfully. "I 'ave asked many of ze students about you," she remarked. "Zey are afraid of you. Zey think you are dangerous and untrustworthy."

"Does 'they' include Roger Davies?" Harry asked with a knowing smile.

"Merde, 'e was a terrible date," Fleur lamented. "So full of 'imself, and eet was not just my allure causing it either." Harry chuckled good-naturedly at her plight.

"So do you think 'they' have a point?" Harry asked pointedly.

To his astonishment, Fleur smiled. "You saved my life, 'Arry Potter," she said. "I do not take zis lightly. I may not understand ze game you are playing, but I feel compelled to trust you anyway."

"Thank you," Harry nodded gratefully. "The third task is a maze, and someone is going to try to sabotage the other Champions so that Neville reaches the end first and walks into a trap. So stay sharp, and keep an eye on threats beyond the task itself."

"I will," Fleur nodded. "And do you think Krum can be trusted as well?"

"I believe so," said Harry. "Tell him the same if you get the chance. Whoever is behind this might try to get us to turn against one another in that maze, so don't let your guard down for a second. Even with me or Krum."

"Very well," Fleur smiled. She stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Be careful, 'Arry Potter."

"You too," Harry stammered as Fleur left the room. Even with his Occlumency blocking her passive allure, she remained a striking presence, and he lightly touched his cheek, savoring the simple gesture.

But Fleur was more than just a pretty face to him. He felt – hoped – that she could be a powerful ally in the future, which he was in dire need of. He'd relied heavily on Saul Croaker for support over the past few years, and knew he would need to extend his circle of trust eventually to win this war. Perhaps he could fulfill Dumbledore's original wish for the Triwizard Tournament: establishing alliances with the other school Champions to form a united front against Voldemort.

Either way, it was nice to no longer be the mortal enemy of an entire school. Much of the Beauxbatons crowd was following Fleur's lead and treating him more respectfully, some even sitting near him at the Ravenclaw table during meals. Harry even spotted Dahlia chatting with Fleur's friend Isabelle one morning at breakfast, suggesting that the Potter name no longer carried so much baggage for his sister as well.

Saturday soon arrived, and Harry woke up feeling nearly as nervous as he had the day of the First Task. He had things he wanted to accomplish in Little Hangleton today, but he was mostly stressed about his upcoming date with Katie. What would they talk about? Would they even get along outside the context of their shared love of Quidditch? What if he said something foolish that made her dislike him? What if this proved to be as disastrous as his first date with Cho in his last timeline?

Stop that, Harry chastised himself as he got dressed and headed down to the Entrance Hall. Katie's not as high-maintenance as Cho was. At worst, it'll just be two friends having a nice time in the village. Still though, his heart hammered hard as ever as he descended the many steps from Ravenclaw Tower, anxious to see how the day would progress.

Katie was waiting for him downstairs. She wore a plain, checkered Muggle overcoat, jeans, and red-and-gold winter boots that matched the scarf tied around her neck. She spotted Harry descending towards her and beamed radiantly at him. He smiled back – that easy smile of hers never failed to warm his heart.

"You look nice," Harry remarked as he took her arm and led her out the front doors once Filch waved them through. "Sorry I'm late."

"Oh no, I'm the one that's early," Katie said quickly. "I've always been an early morning person. Eager to start the day, you know?"

"I get that," Harry chuckled. He was more inclined to sleep in whenever possible, but he knew Katie had a competitive drive to improve herself every day with early workouts and admired her dedication.

Harry helped Katie up into a thestral-drawn carriage, which whisked them down the path to Hogsmeade Village. He made light conversation along the way, asking about her classes, discussing the upcoming Quidditch match. She answered with short, concise responses, rarely leading the conversation with questions of her own.

Harry was no expert with women, but he knew Katie well enough to deduce that something was off. She was usually the chatterbox, always full of energy and eager to talk about whatever sprang into her mind. She seemed attentive and energetic now, but was uncharacteristically muted in conversation. Was she just nervous about the date? Or was something else weighing on her?

The carriage deposited them in the village, and Harry led the way to the Three Broomsticks, a popular starting point to the day for students to warm themselves up from the cold with Butterbeer and warm food. Harry ordered drinks for both of them as they settled into a corner booth. He waited a few more minutes for Katie to speak her mind, and when she didn't, he decided to address things head-on.

"You alright, Katie?" Harry frowned. "You're awfully quiet today."

"Hmm? Am I?" Katie said nonchalantly, taking a deep swill of her Butterbeer. "Just a bit nervous, is all."

"Uh huh," Harry hummed, not altogether convinced. His senses were screaming at him that something was awry, something he needed to address here and now. "Seriously, Bell, what's up? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, of course not," Katie muttered. Then, after a moment's awkward silence, she blurted out, "What happened with you and Fleur Delacour two days ago?"

"Fleur?" repeated Harry, surprised. "Oh, that? It was nothing. She just wanted to thank me for helping her in the lake and apologize for some of the rude things she'd said about me before."

"Oh," Katie said softly, frowning to herself. "Because there were rumors going around that you and her snuck off to an empty classroom to...I dunno, snog or something."

Harry cursed under his breath. He should have realized what their private conversation might've looked like, especially after the rumors surrounding him and Hermione the year before.

"I don't think I'd have a chance in hell of getting Fleur Delacour's attention in that way," Harry chuckled. Then, seeing the perplexed look on Katie's face, he quickly added, "Not that I'd want it, mind. She's far too judgmental and full of herself."

"But you must admit she's quite beautiful," said Katie, searching his face. "More beautiful than I am."

"I wouldn't agree with that," said Harry carefully, knowing he was treading through a minefield. "She's attractive on the outside, sure, but it's what's inside that matters most to me. You're ten times more enjoyable to spend time with, and I find you quite attractive as well."

That seemed to help Katie relax somewhat. "Fleur acts like she's above everyone else in the castle," she scoffed. "Like nothing could ever live up to her oh-so-lofty standards."

"She sure seemed to be having a blast with Roger Davies at the Yule Ball," Harry said sardonically. "I could practically hear her swoon every time he bragged about how many Quaffles he could juggle with one hand."

That drew a snort of surprised laughter from Katie, effectively breaking the awkward tension between them. They spent a few more minutes ribbing the Beauxbatons Champion, whom Harry now realized had been a major source of self-consciousness for Katie. He was all too happy to assuage her fears by bashing the part-Veela, even if he didn't fully believe some of the things he said to knock her down a peg.

Conversation turned elsewhere as Katie gradually returned to her normal, cheerful self. "So what are your parents like?" she asked. "I've heard a lot about your dad and what he's done, but what is he like outside of all that?"

"He's a good man," Harry said thoughtfully. "A bit strict and over-protective, but he means well."

"He really was one of the best professors we ever had," Katie sighed. "Him and Lupin both. I'm glad to hear he's not secretly some sort of monster."

"My mum would be the first to set him straight if he was," Harry chuckled.

"What's she like?" asked Katie.

"She's brilliant," Harry grinned. "She's Muggle-born, so she always had to work hard to get what she wanted. She just achieved her Potions Mastery a couple months ago."

"Really? Good for her!" Katie beamed. "Father was just telling me that Britain doesn't have nearly enough of those to go around."

"What does your dad do?" asked Harry, realizing he knew very little about Katie's personal life.

"He's a breeder," Katie explained. "Raises magical creatures on our farm and sells them to pet stores and the like. He has a side business selling feathers and eggs and other ingredients to potioneers – Professor Snape is one of our steadiest customers."

"Perhaps my mum will become another one for you," Harry grinned.

"Hope she won't need too much," Katie grimaced. "Dad keeps saying if demand continues to grow, I might need to come home and help tend to the farm. He and my brother can barely manage it on their own."

"You have a brother?"

"Colin," Katie nodded. "He's five years older than me. Joined the family business as soon as he graduated three years ago."

"And I take it that isn't in your plans?" Harry surmised.

Katie sighed sadly at this remark. "My dad seems to expect me to," she muttered. "I help out every summer when I'm at home. But I want to try my luck with Quidditch first – see if I can go pro. I write to Oliver Wood sometimes, and he thinks I can do it if I keep training hard."

"Good for you," said Harry. "And what does your mum think about all this?"

"Dunno," Katie shrugged glumly. "She died when I was three."

"Oh, hell. I'm sorry," Harry said, suppressing a wince. Leave it to him to trample indelicately around a sensitive issue. But to his relief, Katie just smiled at him.

"It's alright; it was a long time ago," she said cheerily. "I know she would encourage me to follow my dreams. I hope Father understands when the time comes."

"Me too, then," said Harry. "Let me know if you need a big, scary guy to help straighten him out."

"Yeah? Do you know of anyone like that?" Katie asked sarcastically, looking around the room exaggeratedly as though searching for someone with that description, causing Harry to snort with laughter.

"Maybe I shouldn't be threatening your dad on our first date," Harry chuckled with a wry grin.

"Don't worry, he's a big softie," Katie giggled. "It's Colin you have to worry about. If he found out that his baby sister was snogging some guy—"

"Have you been snogging someone I don't know about?" Harry quipped, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

"Oops...I may have been getting ahead of myself there," Katie smirked, face reddening slightly. Harry felt a shiver of excitement run down his spine, and smiled in spite of himself, his face no doubt turning a similar shade of scarlet.

They sat and chatted for a while longer, their glasses long emptied of Butterbeer but the conversation sustaining them nonetheless. Harry was pleased to find that he could talk to Katie about anything, from Quidditch to her family's farm to their classes to how unpleasant they both found Professor Snape to be. Eventually they stood to leave the pub, emerging on the frosty main road of the village.

"Wanna check out Zonko's?" Katie suggested.

"Sure," Harry shrugged. Anywhere warm where they could continue chatting sounded nice to him.

"C'mon, I know a shortcut," said Katie, grabbing his hand and leading him down a side alleyway. They wove through the back channels of the village, eventually turning into a small alcove and finding themselves up against a solid brick wall.

"Erm, Katie? I think this is a dead end," Harry remarked, looking around the secluded spot.

"I know," said Katie breathlessly. Then before Harry could register what was happening, she pushed him back against the wall and kissed him. And this was no chaste peck on the lips – she smashed her face into his, leaning into him with a vigor he hadn't expected. Harry responded in kind, pulling her close and returning the kiss eagerly. Neither of them really knew what they were doing, but they were united by mutual desire and clumsy curiosity.

I could get used to this, Harry thought to himself as he succumbed to the blissful pleasure of the moment.


All in all, Harry's date with Katie was one of the best days he'd ever had.

It wasn't just the stolen moments hidden away in back alleys (though those would endure happily in his memory forever). It was the simple pleasures of mutual connection, of experiencing the joys of life with another person. Walking down High Street hand in hand, laughing at whatever silly jokes popped into their heads. Gossiping about classmates. Sharing their hopes and fears of the future. Such intimate conversations that Harry never thought he could have with another person – a catharsis he never dreamed possible.

The hours seemed to melt away as Harry's anxiety disappeared and he was able to fully relax at Katie's side. Visiting from storefront to storefront, with no particular aim in mind but to live each new experience through the eyes of the other. Sitting side by side in Madam Puddifoot's, once the site of Harry's most unpleasant dating experience, now spent in blissful silence, cozied up close for warmth and comfort. It just felt...natural, like he and Katie had fallen into perfect sync and could effortlessly co-exist as one.

Is this what life could be? Harry thought to himself in amazement. No worries in the world? Just peace and companionship? In all the tumult of his efforts over the past three and a half years, he'd forgotten that this was what he was fighting for in the end. A life free of Voldemort. A life where he could discard such worries and simply enjoy his time with the people he cared about. It was all he'd ever wanted and more, and he didn't want this day to ever end.

But the sun was drifting lower and lower in the sky, and Harry knew his time was running short. He yearned for this not to be the case, wishing he could just wile away the weekend with Katie. They could return to the castle together, enjoy a warm meal...perhaps steal away somewhere private and continue where they left off in the alley…

It took all of Harry's self-control to tamp down on this desire and do what he needed to do. "Hey, Katie?" he said as they exited the Hogsmeade pet supplies shop (which was apparently one of her family's clients). "I hate to say this, but...I actually have plans for this evening."

"Oh," said Katie, sounding somewhat crestfallen. "What kind of plans?"

"My godfather Sirius is in town," Harry fibbed. "I promised him I would meet him for dinner and drinks at the Hog's Head."

"I see," said Katie. "Well, I wouldn't mind meeting him!"

"Well...I dunno how much time he has," Harry said, awkwardly rubbing his neck. "And I haven't seen him in a while—"

"Okay, I get it," Katie nodded, still looking a bit put-out. "See you back at the castle?"

"Definitely," Harry grinned. "If you're free tomorrow, maybe we can study together or something."

"I'd like that," said Katie. And Harry leaned in for another tender kiss, jolts of pleasure rippling through him from the simple touch. Once again he was sorely tempted to throw his plans to the wind and see where the rest of the day might take him. But Voldemort loomed large on the horizon, and he knew he could not delay, so he regretfully said his goodbyes and they went their separate ways.

Harry backtracked through the winding back alleys that hours before had been the site of one of the most pleasurable moments of his life. But now, he had far different aims. He double-checked to ensure nobody was around to see him before turning on the spot and Apparating away from the village.

He emerged on the outskirts of Little Hangleton, close to where he'd appeared the last time he came here. To the east lay the small downtown area, with the run-down neighborhoods beyond containing the Gaunt shack. But he turned and headed in the opposite direction, towards the more affluent side of town, where the former Riddle family had once resided.

Harry felt a sense of foreboding as he approached the town's cemetery, flanked by an imposing iron-wrought fence. He was unsure if his unease came from the bad memories of this place in his previous timeline, or lingering Dark magic from whatever preparations had already been made here. Harry stopped at the entrance, suddenly hesitant to enter the site of so many nightmares that had plagued his dreams. But he took a deep breath and crept in anyway, knowing what must be done.

"Hominem revelio," Harry whispered. His wand sent a small pulse of magic through the graveyard, telling him that there was nobody else with him here. "Specialis revelio." Another pulse shot out that would alert him to any magical traps or enchantments set here, perhaps in case Voldemort had expected any unwanted visitors. But he detected nothing, and continued creeping forward, despite his senses screaming at him to run the other way and never return.

Eventually he arrived at his destination: a large statue of the Angel of Death, looming large over the spooky scene. Below it lay a marble headstone reading TOM RIDDLE, which he knew stood at the plot of land containing the remains of Voldemort's Muggle father. Remains which could not stay here any longer.

With a quick glance around to ensure he was still alone, Harry got to work. He began gouging deep chunks out of the ground with his wand, levitating the loose earth and setting it off to the side of the grave. He kept at it for several minutes, emptying the plot of land until he could see the wooden coffin resting six feet below the surface.

Harry carefully levitated the box up and out of the ground, setting it on the grass before him. He felt dirty for performing such a crude act as defiling a dead body, but surely this paled in comparison to what Voldemort would do to it if given the chance. So Harry set his qualms aside and carefully removed the lid of the coffin, recoiling from the rancid stench that wafted out of the box.

There was not much left of Tom Riddle Sr. some fifty-odd years after his murder – just a decaying skeleton tucked within a frayed old Muggle suit. "Sorry, Mr. Riddle," Harry muttered regretfully as he pointed his wand at the remains and Vanished them, leaving the coffin empty before re-sealing it.

Part one of his plan was complete. Now came the second part: ensuring that Voldemort did not become suspicious of any tampering with his father's grave. Harry could have conjured fake bones or some other means of magical trickery, but didn't believe the Dark Lord would be so easily fooled. No, he would have to resort to a more banal form of subversion.

Harry located another tombstone a couple rows down, bearing the name 'Stephanie Chapman', who had died about five years before Riddle Sr. did. He hated to defile more than one gravesite, but hoped that this Ms. Chapman would understand, given the circumstances. Harry began the painstaking process of excavating her grave, once again removing the dirt from above her coffin and setting it off to one side.

Finally, Harry managed to reach her coffin and levitate it out of the ground. Fortunately, he would not have to disturb Stephanie Chapman's remains, as he simply brought the coffin over to Tom Riddle's grave and lowered her down into the already dug-out site. He brought Riddle's now-empty coffin over to Ms. Chapman's grave and did the same, before dumping the dirt back into the holes and carefully smoothing the mounds. For good measure, he cast a subtle Fertilization Charm to ensure the grass grew back over the freshly-filled graves and blended in with the rest of the overgrown locale.

The switch was complete, and despite the grisly nature of the act, Harry felt relieved. If things did progress to the point they had in his last timeline, Voldemort would be in for a rude surprise when the 'bone of the father' turned out to be someone he shared no relation with. From what Harry knew about sacrificial blood rituals, such a mistake could produce disastrous results, and with a little luck the ritual might fail completely, if not backfire in spectacular fashion.

This was not all Harry had planned, however. He reached into his robes and pulled out a small shrunken bag, which he then enlarged to full size. Inside were three metallic objects, shaped like miniature discs with cones facing outwards from the center. Harry doubted any wizard would be able to recognize the device (and he was counting on it). Muggles referred to them as "claxons".

Harry had gotten the idea from the Weasley twins, in fact, in his previous timeline. While experimenting with products for their joke shop, they had once released a prototype 'Decoy Detonator' in the Gryffindor common room, causing a tremendous ruckus and scaring the entire House half to death. In researching the Muggle equivalent of such devices, Harry had come across the loud noise-makers, once used during the wars as a means of warning British citizens of incoming warplanes.

Nowadays, they were sometimes sold as aftermarket additions to automobiles, allowing Harry to locate and purchase them in Godric's Hollow at a Muggle automotive supplies shop over Christmas break. There was nothing magical about them – they operated with a simple mechanical switch, powered by batteries. If Voldemort or anyone else used a detection charm to search for magical traps in the graveyard, they would not find these claxons. If things went south and the resurrection ritual went underway, Harry wanted a backup plan to draw as much attention to the graveyard as possible.

Harry buried each of the three claxons around the perimeter of the graveyard, placing small rubber balls over the entrance of the horns under a thin layer of dirt. Each of these balls was tied to a string, with the other end connected to the mechanical switch that powered on the claxon. If Harry summoned the balls to him from the graveyard, they would lift the dirt off of the horn and flip the switch, activating the noisy machine. That would ensure that the entire valley would be flooded with the deafening noise of the claxons until they were found and deactivated, hopefully causing Voldemort and the Death Eaters to flee.

It wasn't a foolproof plan, but it was the best Harry could come up with for now. He of course had no intention of letting the graveyard plot proceed as planned, and would have additional backups in place in case the worst happened to him or Neville. But it gave him some small measure of comfort that things would not all go according to plan for Voldemort this time around, and he'd taken proactive measures to slow his progress.

By now the sun had dipped below the horizon and the sky was rapidly dimming from its golden glow to cool darkness. Harry checked his watch; it was half past six, meaning he still had roughly thirty minutes to return to Hogsmeade and make his way back to the castle before curfew. He headed for the graveyard exit, his mind drifting back to Katie, wondering if perhaps he could meet her after dinner...if they could sneak off and continue their escapades elsewhere in the castle…

Harry took one last glance back as he exited the graveyard. Behind it he could see the upward slope leading to Riddle Manor, sitting atop the hillside, vacant for decades as a lasting reminder of what had happened there. He turned away from the sight, only to do a double-take as his brain registered that something was awry.

The lights of the manor were on.

How odd, Harry thought. The home was vacant, wasn't it? But then he remembered with a jolt that Voldemort and Wormtail had briefly used the home as a hiding spot the previous summer. Was it possible that they had returned? Heart hammering, his instincts once again telling him to flee, Harry turned and began to steal his way up the slope towards the illuminated house to investigate.

Harry reached the low brick wall surrounding the property and paused, unsure how to proceed. He considered casting another Revelio to check his surroundings, but the last thing he wanted to do was alert Voldemort to the presence of another wizard. After weighing his options, he settled on a course of action, backing down the hill a ways to enact his plan.

Harry cast Disillusionment and Noise-Canceling Charms on himself before closing his eyes to focus. "Homunculi speculo," he muttered, and after the brief and unpleasant sensation of his mind being torn in two, he found himself staring through the eyes of his mirror projection, which was also invisible and sound-proofed. Harry guided the apparition forward to scout out the area.

His clone, which was not made of anything tangible, walked straight through the brick wall and crept across the unkempt lawn to the manor. The light seemed to be coming from the second floor, meaning he should be safe to discreetly enter the house without attracting any attention. Harry directed his clone straight through the back door, once again unwilling to draw any attention by opening or closing any entrances that oughtn't be disturbed.

Harry found himself in a dusty old kitchen, listening intently to the ancient creaks and groans of the old house. He stole forward towards the hallway, keeping his eyes and ears out for any sign of movement. For all he knew, Nagini could be lurking nearby, and he didn't want to risk the snake sensing a presence that shouldn't be there.

Harry located the main stairwell and began ascending slowly. His footsteps may be muffled, but he still felt a strong sense of unease, not wishing to take any chances. He reached the landing and began to climb the second set of steps when a high, chilling voice made him freeze in place.

"My potion, Wormtail."

The voice was coming from a room at the end of the hall on the second floor, which Harry could distantly see over the top step. He dared not move any closer, not now that he had confirmation of precisely who was present ahead of him.

"Yes, my Lord," came the stammering voice of Peter Pettigrew. Harry heard the man quite clearly now, shuffling across the room towards his master. There was a brief silence and the sound of liquid sloshing in a bottle as Voldemort (in whatever horrific form he now found himself in) drank its contents.

"You've done well all these months, Wormtail," Voldemort remarked. "Our journey is nearly at an end. Soon I will be back at my full strength, and you will no longer need to perform such ministrations for me."

"Forgive me, my Lord," said Peter shakily, "but why not perform the ritual now? We have the diadem you requested, and all of the other ingredients are ready—"

"No!" Voldemort said sharply, and Harry could practically see Peter flinching in response to the harsh rebuke. "I require the Longbottom boy's blood; I have told you this. I will not have a repeat of your failure to apprehend him like three years ago."

Briefly, Harry had a mad idea to rush into the house and overpower Wormtail here and now. He would have the element of surprise, and he doubted Voldemort would be able to muster much of a defense in his current vulnerable state. It was crazy, suicidal even, but the thought of terminating the threat here and now was an enticing one.

But then, to Harry's amazement, a third voice chimed in: Peter and Voldemort were not alone. "Allow me, my Lord," said the voice, a male's. It was vaguely familiar to Harry, but he could not quite place it. "I can easily capture Longbottom within the castle and obtain his blood for you."

"Your eagerness is duly noted, my faithful friend," said Voldemort thoughtfully, "but his death must appear to be an accident. The Tournament provides a perfect cover for his demise, such that our hand is not tipped to Dumbledore or to the Ministry."

"What of the Potter boy, my Lord?" asked the mysterious man. "I still do not understand why you requested his name be entered."

"My reasons are my own," said Voldemort evenly. "I admit that I did not expect him to survive the first two tasks unassisted, and he has proven more competent than I envisioned. But it is no matter – Longbottom must be the one to reach the Cup first."

"I will see to it, my Lord," said the man.

"What other reports do you have from Hogwarts?" asked Voldemort.

"It has been difficult to move freely through the castle," the man said bitterly. "The Auror Moody is suspicious of everyone, and I dare not risk drawing his attention. But I believe that no one suspects my disguise as of yet."

"Good," said Voldemort. "Are you certain that Longbottom is prepared for the maze?"

"I will find a way to ensure he knows what is coming," said the man. "He is stubborn and wishes to figure it out on his own, but I have managed to manipulate the oaf Hagrid to give him hints in the past."

"Very well," said Voldemort. "Use extreme caution, and do remember the primary task I have set for you. If the opportunity presents itself, I expect you to obtain that which I seek above all else."

"Yes, my Lord," said the man. "It has been elusive thus far, but I will manage."

"I also have it on good authority that another of my targets will come out into the open soon," Voldemort continued. "I do not need him alive. Do what you can to eliminate him, and make it look like an accident if possible – we do not want a repeat of the Rita Skeeter fiasco."

"It will be done, my Lord."

"Now, take me downstairs, Wormtail," Voldemort ordered. "We must continue training our new recruit, and there is much for him to learn in so little time."

It was time to go. Harry released the Body-Mirroring Charm, causing his clone to vanish and his mind to return to his body on the hillside. He dared not Apparate from here, lest he tip off Voldemort that a wizard had been lurking nearby. He crept backwards down the hill, then turned and ran down the winding road that led back to the main village. He waited until a lone car rounded the bend out of sight before closing his eyes and twisting on the spot, Apparating away.

He reappeared in the same spot he'd disappeared from in Hogsmeade earlier that day. It was dark now, as only the shopkeepers remained in the streets, closing up their store fronts. Harry hustled down the path towards Hogwarts, hoping his late return would not draw too much attention to himself. He could not see any students ahead of him; they must have all returned from the village by now.

The bright lights of the Entrance Hall spilled out across the grounds as Harry hustled up to the castle. He could not hear any voices coming from the Great Hall beyond – dinner must be long over, and the students had returned to their common rooms. Harry felt badly that he would not get to see Katie again before bed, and hoped that she didn't feel that he'd ditched her completely.

Harry slipped through the great oak doors into the silent Hall, hoping to reach Ravenclaw Tower undetected. Unfortunately, he barely made it up the first staircase before he was spotted by Filch, who reprimanded him for returning past curfew. Luckily he was let off with just a warning...perhaps Harry defending him from Malfoy and the Durmstrang boys' taunts had endeared him to the Squib somewhat.

Harry managed to slip through the Ravenclaw common room without drawing further attention to himself and hurried to bed, closing himself within his four-poster. He had a number of urgent owls to send off in the morning – one to Saul informing him of what he'd heard, and another to the Auror office, providing an anonymous tip as to where Peter Pettigrew might be found.

But that could wait until tomorrow. Harry sat wide awake, thinking about what he'd learned. There was indeed an impostor in the castle, and it certainly wasn't Moody (or Hagrid for that matter). He continued to wrack his brain for why the voice had sounded so familiar, but just could not place it to save his life. He would inform Moody about what he'd learned the following day, now that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was innocent.

Voldemort desired another "prize" from within the castle, but it didn't sound like someone he wanted dead. Another Horcrux, perhaps? It seemed unlikely for there to be multiple in the castle, but he couldn't think what else that could mean. And who was this "target" Voldemort wanted dead, and how did he plan to get him out into the open?

But the most important thing was knowing the main plot was still underway. Voldemort still planned to kidnap Neville via Portkey during the Third Task for his resurrection ritual. He wanted Harry dead in the Tournament, and whoever the impostor was would likely make his life in the maze difficult. Was that why he'd entered Harry to begin with? In the hopes of offing another dangerous future enemy? Or were there more complex motives at play that not even Voldemort's followers were privy to?

Harry would have three long months to mull this over before the Third Task. Hopefully when the time came he would have a more concrete plan in place to thwart Voldemort's plans. Until then, he would continue to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.