Hidden Inhumanity

by ShadowedAuthor

Sequel to Silent Humanity – Into his second year in a strange world, Gaara struggles more than ever to maintain his sanity and wellbeing. The dangers are mounting all around, both to and from the displaced Jinchūriki.

8. Chapter 8: Same Old Evasions

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction. I will also add that any sections or phrases in this chapter that bear resemblance to works by either author or from movies based on works of said authors is recreated in the same spirit of free usage and is not for profit.

A/N: Another slower-than-ideal update. What can I say? Writer's block is a curse. I hope this update, longer than the last chapter by a fair bit, will suffice as an apology for the continual delays.

As I have in the past, I want to thank my readers for their continued support and reviews that have helped to reinvigorate me and my writing. Spiral of Destiny and the Soul Siblings in particular have helped coach me through this latest block with patience and generosity.

To avoid rambling too much, I think I will just leave you with the chapter and wish you all a Happy New Year (belatedly).

I hope you enjoy.

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(Last Time)

Draco looked up at the head of the room, his focus having been on Gaara for the past minute or two, and he realised that Dumbledore was about to commence the ceremony. Gaara silently took his seat at Draco's side and the platinum blond let out his impotent breath and tried to quell the rage-induced headache he could feel coming on.

Screaming at Gaara would have to wait until this was over, since. While Draco was content to let Slytherin hear Gaara's bollocking, he was not yet ready to air their dirty laundry in front of the collected British press.

Draco couldn't be sure, but he was beginning to think that Gaara had somehow timed his entry to coincide with the arrival of the reporters and Minister Fudge.

With the ensuing ruckus, Draco's attention was reluctantly called to proceedings happening at the end of the Hall, but the thought still remained in the back of his mind: Gaara lied to him again.

He would have to make sure Gaara did not sneak away at the end of the ceremony.

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The press gathered in the Great Hall seemed to be even more populous than the night before. Evidently the selection of the Champions promised even greater public interest and wider circulation than the opening ceremony had.

From the reporters' good behaviour, it was apparent that they knew just how profitable these events were for their papers and that getting evicted would be disastrous for their careers. That said… that didn't stop one of them pushing boundaries and trying to sneak back into the castle.

Whatever he had been looking to find, his expulsion from the event served to remind the rest themselves.

Proceedings began with less pomp than the previous night, Fudge taking to the stage with less fanfare, only to grandly declare, "Now, I would like to welcome all of you here tonight and remind you that I, like you, am only here to watch tonight's selection ceremony. The Minister for Magic has no official function for this part of the Tournament, so please pay me no mind and focus your attentions on our hosts, the wonderful staff of Hogwarts."

The self-importance of Fudge's statement was not lost on anybody, nor was his lingering on the stage for every second he could manage before ceding it to Dumbledore.

Every photograph taken while he was still in pride of place was worth the humiliation of the obvious publicity manoeuvre. The pictures would show him in charge, controlling events, and nobody would care it was in appearance only.

Dumbledore didn't bother politely clapping as Cornelius left the stage. The charade was difficult enough to maintain without applauding the man that was causing all of this.

Ludo Bagman joined him on the stage, and between them they reiterated the course of the Tournament and the specifics of tonight's proceedings. The press, those who had not been present the night before, scribbled down this information before Dumbledore finished and kicked the event off officially.

Gone were the speeches and levity, what little there was to be found of it last night, and instead Albus checked his fob watch and at the strike of the twenty-fourth hour since the opening ceremony, he stepped back and watched.

At that precise moment, the Goblet flared to life with blue flames burning upwards until they burst, and from the flare fell a scorched scrap of parchment. Dumbledore snatched it out of the air with agility belying his years, read the name scrawled upon it, and called out: "The first Champion for Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Fleur Delacour."

A young witch of some renown, Albus had high hopes for her. If all of the Champions were as strong as she was purported to be, he might finally get a full night's sleep.

The applause rose as the Beauxbatons students and a great many Hogwarts denizens celebrated the first selection. Albus wryly noted that the majority of the Hogwarts celebrants were males, presumably encouraged by Miss Delacour's beauty and magical lineage. Minerva was already sneering at her lions' lack of restraint.

Fleur thanked those closest to her for their immediate support and approached the head of the Hall. Her path to the back entrance was briefly impeded by the writhing mass of reporters, all fighting for the opportunity to ask her the first question.

Fortunately, she was more than capable of dodging her way through them. She wondered if this might be the first test, as she shoulder-checked a reporter who asked her a rude question and barged her way onto the stage.

Fudge likewise pushed his way to the front of the stage to stand beside Dumbledore and be featured in the first pictures of the first Champion. The photo opportunity lasted only a moment before Fleur was guided to the back entrance and she disappeared from view.

The reporters, having failed to get any of their questions answered, commenced interrogating the adults on stage, particularly Madam Maxine even though she was ignoring the clamour and still politely clapping for her pupil.

The Goblet sparked up again, reminding the Hall who or what was truly running the event, and the din died down again to hear the next name. Just like before, a piece of parchment was spat out of the fire and caught by Dumbledore.

The newspapers over the next week would dissect this evening, particularly this moment, with such scrutiny that Albus Dumbledore's fast reflexes in catching the parchment would prompt no fewer than six separate articles discussing his history as a Quidditch player and fan. This was despite the salient fact that he had never actually played Quidditch for a team and had rarely if ever spoken publically about his support for the sport.

All in all, they were still not the least substantial articles to be published that November.

Dumbledore lifted the scrap into view, his aged eyes requiring close proximity in the dim light, and after a pause to double-check the name before him, called out, "The Champion for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be… Gaara!"

The immediate celebratory applause for the Champion representing the host school was even more rapturous than the first Champion's had been. The majority of the student body were not surprised by this selection, having seen just how powerful the redhead was during the attack last year.

Even Harry, Hermione and Ron weren't totally shocked, beyond the fact that he had entered in the first place. Ron might have said something along the lines of no Slytherin being brave enough to be a Champion, even one as strong as Gaara, but his voice was lost in the noise.

Unlike Madam Maxine's demure smile when Fleur had been selected, Dumbledore's face betrayed no happiness at all. Luckily, cameras and eyes were not on the headmaster at that moment, instead they were all on Gaara as he stood. His blank face contrasted quite comically against Draco's gaping mouth in a number of the photos that made it into the papers the next day.

For once in his life, Draco was less concerned about his appearance, in the international press, no less.

In fact, at that moment, Draco was not concerned about anything at all. Such a series of shocks to his system had left him so aghast, all of his higher functions were on standby for the time being.

Gaara glanced back to check on his friend before proceeding to the waiting room. When Draco recovered his senses, he was going be angrier than Temari the time Kankuro had convinced him to steal the contents of a bank when they were passing through southern Hi no Kuni. Kankuro had told him it was a mission requirement to gather all of the money.

When Temari found out, a factor Kankuro had not anticipated, she was livid at the puppeteer and they had to return all of it to the bank before Konoha dispatched shinobi to hunt them down. Gaara had broken Kankuro's arm and would have gone further had Baki not intervened.

He had learned on that early mission never to listen to Kankuro. Kankuro had learned not to try to use his little brother to get rich quick.

Temari had learned not to leave her two idiot little brothers alone together.

Gaara gave the table a wide birth as he circled around them, trying to avoid the excited back-slaps a few were trying to give him. The noise was bad enough without the overzealous physical contact.

Dodging through the contemptible gaggle of reporters was easier for him that it had been for the comparably taller Fleur. Gaara had seldom needed to dart his way through a tight-knit crowd of civilians before; as a matter of fact, he was more used to crowds parting as soon as he walked towards them.

As he broke through to the other side, he was thankful he had brought only the smallest quantity of sand; his cumbersome, full gourd would have made that manoeuvre so much more difficult.

Gaara was blocked from walking straight to the back entrance by Ludo Bagman, who corralled him to the front of the stage for a couple of pictures of his scowling face next to Dumbledore's uncharacteristically sombre one.

Fudge did not force his way into any pictures this time, instead staying well back until Gaara was released to join Fleur.

It was clear that Gaara was eager to escape the stage and that made many onlookers wonder what could have possessed someone so averse to the limelight to enter into a tournament that ensured fame and public scrutiny. Then again, nobody knew much of anything about Gaara, not even his surname, so this latest peculiarity was dismissed as another of his quirks.

It was only as Gaara's bright red head finally disappeared into the trophy room that the concerned compatriots around Draco were able to rouse him from his stupor. They had watched his quiet meltdown impotently, never normally feeling confident enough to interject in the dealings between the unusually close friends.

After his gaping mouth snapped shut and he came back to senses, they heard him make a loud groan and watched as he scrunched his eyes shut in dire consternation.

Draco was developing a terrible stomach ache. He rubbed his eyes to try and ease some of the intense anger he was feeling. It didn't work.

"Are you alright?" Someone to his left said.

He didn't bother checking who had spoken, nor could he bring himself to respond beyond an aggrieved "I'm fine." He had absolutely no intention of talking about his feelings, especially not those stemming from Gaara's latest betrayal.

As his stomach pains were joined by a throbbing headache, no doubt exacerbated by the continuing loud celebrations from all around the Hall, Draco wished dearly that there were a way for him to subtly excuse himself. Instead, he would have to endure the entire evening before he could go and lie down.

Gaara could hear the overlong applause quieten from inside the Trophy Room. The Delacour girl had been pacing when he entered and had yet to pause. Beyond that, Gaara was happy to ignore her. They were in competition, after all, so he did not wish to become too familiar with her or the Durmstrang contender.

Now that he was in closer proximity, Gaara thought he understood a little better why Draco (and almost every other boy in Hogwarts) had been making such a fuss over the blonde-haired girl after she arrived yesterday. She was indeed rather attractive, by most conventional standards of beauty that Gaara understood.

With this positive assessment, Gaara began to wonder if this meant he was attracted to her.

After a few moments of consideration, outside of the objective aesthetic appreciation, he decided he did not feel anything about her at all. Certainly nothing approaching either of the vague (and vastly divergent) descriptions of attraction that his siblings had furnished him with when the subject had come up.

Having someone like Temari around would have been very helpful in these circumstances. Kankuro would have just teased him or ogled Miss Delacour until she was forced to leave the room.

The door slammed open at the top of the stairs and down came Viktor Krum, who offered only nods to his fellow Champions. Considering how confident and sociable the pair of older students had seemed before then, Gaara assumed this current stand-off was the result of nerves or competitiveness.

While Gaara was still dwelling on the behaviour of his fellow Champions without looking at either of them, Fleur had swerved out of her pacing and marched over to Krum to properly introduce herself.

They exchanged shallow pleasantries and together approached Gaara. It was only after they stood all together that the age (and height) difference became entirely apparent.

"I did not think we would be meeting again so soon." Krum said by way of a greeting.

"We have not been properly introduced. I am Fleur Delacour. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She said in even more heavily accented English than Krum's. She offered her hand to Gaara and he looked at it. It was in the same position as Narcissa's was, so he was supposed to kiss the knuckle for some reason.

Expert at this manoeuvre now, Gaara waited until the hand was retracted and then nodded his greeting. "Gaara."

"You were quite the sensation this summer. We heard all about you in France." She spoke with a gentle smile that Gaara assumed was supposed to be reassuring or encouraging.

"Yes, despite your age, I believe Hogwarts has selected a worthy Champion." Krum added.

Gaara hoped this friendliness did not last too much longer. He was unaccustomed to competition, particularly those with friendly rivalries. Truth be told, right now, he would be more comfortable if somebody would threaten to kill him.

Or at least do something so he could threaten to kill them.

The Champions heard a loud but muffled shout from the Hall and then more commotion.

"I wonder what we are missing." Fleur said, distracted from Gaara's rudeness.

"Probably your Minister again trying to draw attention to himself." Krum said with a wry smile.

"He is not my Minister. This is not my country." Gaara said irritably.

"I have heard this but not where you come from." Krum continued.

"Our newspapers made many guesses but I do not know this either." Fleur agreed.

The much taller pair loomed over Gaara expectantly but it was thanks to the door opening again that Gaara did not have to resort to even less polite methods to avoid answering the familiar questions.

Down the stairs came Harry Potter, looking almost as pale as Gaara, and decidedly queasier. Fleur was quick to ask what message Harry had been sent to deliver, but Gaara knew Harry well enough by now to see how out of sorts he looked.

Fleur asked the question again and then Viktor gave it a try, both becoming snappish when the fifteen year-old failed to respond. Before Gaara could interrupt the interrogation to ascertain why Harry was really there, if only to allay the concern already mounting within him, a group of adults barged in to the trophy room in a less than dignified manner.

The ruckus the grown men and women caused as they stormed in made Gaara wonder whether the true curse of the Jinchūriki was not the demon inside of them, or the persecution resulting, but the inevitable drama that followed them, to different worlds, no less. Even something as convoluted as a deadly tournament for schoolchildren had somehow been subverted and become more troublesome.

The specifics of this subversion weren't clear to Gaara or the two older Champions with him. There was perhaps an obvious conclusion to be drawn but it seemed so ludicrous, that an event with three in the title could have a fourth participant…

Fudge was visibly furious as he marched erratically around the room, ranting about how things had already gone awry.

Even as he glared at Harry and circled around him, he maintained a respectable distance from the apparent cause of his fury. This was not in appreciation of Harry being but a boy or most likely blameless in whatever had happened, it was because Fudge did not want to get any closer to Gaara than he was already, and Gaara happened to be stood right next to Harry.

"How did you do it!? That's what I want to know. And how did he get it past your professors, Dumbledore!?" Fudge ranted. "That is, if he wasn't helped by those so-called guards."

"We both know that wasn't the case, Cornelius. And I'm afraid Mr Potter would not know where to begin to confound an artefact as ancient and powerful as the Goblet." Dumbledore reasoned calmly.

Harry did not appreciate being called ignorant by his headmaster, but the last thing he wanted to do now was draw attention to himself by defending his intellect. Especially because his ignorance was apparently his best defence against the accusations being levelled at him.

"Surely we cannot be expected to take you at you word, Headmaster Dumblydore?" Madam Maxine argued, her face pulled in such a way as to express her composed displeasure.

"Agreed. This will benefit only your school. You are the only one with motive to do this." Karakoff added.

Gaara had cottoned on to what had happened and what deeply concerned. He looked to Dumbledore for answers, searching for some sign of deceit on his wrinkled face. Had Dumbledore made another deal with Potter? Then again, why would he? The whole purpose of entering Gaara had supposedly been to prevent other students from entering and getting hurt, as Potter likely would if he was allowed in.

"We do not yet know precisely what has been done, but Headmaster Karakoff does raise an important point. Who might have motive to force Mr Potter into the Tournament?" Dumbledore said.

"Force?"

Eyes that had been locked on each other, the adult population of the room and the other Champions, all turned to look at Gaara.

"What?" Fudge asked.

"He said forced. Potter could just quit." Gaara said. Sure, it was concerning that somebody had tried to sabotage the Tournament but no actual harm had been done yet.

"Yes, I want to quit." Harry piped up, still looking ashen but with a glimpse of hope.

"It is a magically binding contract. Mr Potter's name has been entered into the Triwizard Tournament and he is magically bound to participate." Crouch said.

"This is ridiculous." Fudge declared, and most of the room agreed.

"I didn't enter!" Harry asserted but few of the adults seemed to believe him.

"Regardless, I'm afraid Bartemius is correct. The Goblet has accepted Harry's name so it must believe it is he who entered, regardless of the true circumstances of that entry." Dumbledore said gravely. "I fully believe that Mr Potter did not have any part in entering his name into the Goblet, but the magic of the Goblet is powerful and not to be trifled with. That someone else has already manipulated it makes this situation all the more perilous. Trying to break the contract would be very dangerous, and for none more than Mr Potter."

"Disqualify him, then!" Karakoff demanded.

Gaara did not like the Dumrstrang headmaster, but he had to admit he liked the idea.

"Not on your life! Disqualifying him would shame him in our society for life. All over the world!" McGongall said. Harry had not even realised she was in here. The wall of adults in front of him was so densely packed together, deciding his future (or lack thereof) that he did not know who else was in the Trophy Room.

"Better shamed than dead, surely." Maxine said and Harry again found himself in agreement with the people calling him a liar.

"And make a mockery of this Tournament?" Fudge said.

"More of a mockery than it is already?" Karakoff asked.

The bickering continued without any further input from Harry or from Gaara, and Fleur and Viktor continued to watch the drama unfold.

The adults all shouted and argued away, and they all huddled together to face one another, so that left Harry and Gaara alone.

"Sirius is going to be really upset with us." Harry whispered, sounding miserable.

Gaara nodded, imagining the tantrum Sirius would throw. Bad enough Gaara had lied to him, now Potter was wrapped up in it too.

"Gaara, you have to believe me. I didn't put my name in." Harry turned to Gaara, desperate to convince someone of his total innocence.

"I did not think you had." Gaara said simply, only glancing at Harry before continuing to concentrate on the ongoing debate.

"What? Really?"

Gaara did not turn to see Harry's appreciation, nor did he answer. Harry was many (annoying things) but he did not seek attention enough to have entered the Tournament.

"He believes very easily." Fleur all but whispered to Viktor beside her.

"He is young." Viktor said. "And they might be working together."

"I did not get that impression."

Harry glanced over at older pair and they stopped talking. This tournament, their opportunity for fame and fortune beyond their wildest dreams, was not turning out to be everything they were promised.

After a few more minutes of listening in to the arguments of the adults, eventually the huddle broke and the Champions were all drawn together and told the verdict.

"Okay, so it's been decided," Ludo Bagman began, "that Mr Potter, you will compete in the Tournament as a second Champion for Hogwarts."

Crouch added, "The Goblet's decision will not be ignored."

"This is over our strong objections." Maxine interjected.

"Yes, we heard you the first time." Snape muttered loudly enough for the whole room to hear.

His snark did not go unnoticed, but nobody wanted to dignify it with a response.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Hermione had spent the last five minutes convincing Ron not to try storming the Trophy Room to rescue Harry. Truth be told, she wanted to go down and there and find out what was going on just as much as he did, but she (unlike Ron) recognised the futility of rushing the stage when there were dozens of reporters and many Aurors between them and that door.

People had tried pressing Ron and her for answers, about why Harry had cheated the Goblet, and when he entered since nobody saw. When they received only the same 'he didn't', they went back to baseless speculation.

It became immediately apparent, from what they could overhear in the Hall, that everyone seemed to believe Harry was the cheat and that Gaara was the true Champion. I was a remarkable change from the hostility and suspicion Gaara had been regarded with up until the end of last year.

Of course, Harry's allies tried arguing his cause, but none knew what was happening, they could not convince anyone of Harry's innocence.

As one would expect, the Slytherins were not helping. They were quick to boast their enigmatic housemate's virtues and slander Harry with all kinds of lies. A number of snakes claimed to have witnessed him confound the Goblet or any number of other underhanded things to gain entrance into the Tournament.

Usually Draco's would have been the loudest voice among them, deriding Potter while elevating Gaara. Win win.

Except, right now, the last thing Draco wanted to be doing was celebrating Gaara and his entrance into the Tournament. He had half a mind to side with the Gryffindors, if he was being perfectly honest.

As he bit his tongue, figuratively speaking, he focussed on not throwing up the dinner he had managed to eat before Gaara's dramatic entrance earlier. From stomach ache to nausea… all he needed now was to be photographed throwing up by the international press and this truly would be… actually, his mother and father would have to be there to witness it in person. That would be the worst evening.

After what might have been ten minutes, the mob all directed their attention to the front of the Hall again, directing Draco's gaze there too. The door was opening and out poured the adults that had followed Potter into the trophy room. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Professor Snape, Fudge, Ludo Bagman, Crouch, two Ministry flunkies Draco did not know the names of (and he knew all of the important movers in the Ministry).

Then followed the Champions, all four of them. Viktor Krum stepped out to applause and basked in it for a moment before he moved aside so Fleur Delacour could receive the same adulation. The press were already pushing and shoving to reach the front and demand answers. Sadly, for Fudge, the majority of those questions regarded the irregularity that occurred earlier.

Then, a few beats after the elder two Champions emerged, out stepped Gaara and Harry. They stayed close together, quashing some of the predictions of a brutal Hogwarts rivalry, but that was where any sign of camaraderie ended.

Fudge stepped up to the podium again but Crouch approached from behind and said something inaudible to him. Fudge reluctantly stepped away from the microphone and let the men who were actually supposed to be running the event take over the announcement.

Whether from this rejection or from the situation itself, Fudge looked about as angry as anybody since the time the Weasley twins in their second year found out when Snape's birthday was and organised a huge party for him the Great Hall, including balloons and cakes that bore his face that appeared on all the tables with their meals. He had disliked them from the moment they met but he hated them after that day.

Having everyone write insulting, anonymous birthday messages in dozens of cards that kept arriving all through the day had been the final nail.

If the look on the twins faces now were any kind of indicator, Fudge might be receiving his own cards in the near future.

Contrary to assumption, Crouch did not seem at all happy to have taken Fudge's place at that moment. There had been a time in his life he would have relished stealing the stage from Cornelius but now it seemed like a poisoned apple.

"Thank you for being patient. The Triwizard Tournament is an ancient contest… but this does not mean it cannot and does not change with time. The Golbet of Fire, which has been used to select the Triwizard Champions since the first Tournament over seven-hundred years ago, has seen fit to select a fourth Champion for the first time and so we have decided to innovate and make changes to this historic contest.

"Both Harry Potter and Gaara," Crouch seemed to stumble over the lack of a surname, "will represent Hogwarts separately. They will be competing against each other, as they will compete against the venerable Champions selected from our sister schools.

And so, without further ado, I am proud to introduce the four Champions for the 1995 Triwizard Tournament: Viktor Krum of the Durmstrang Institute," Cheers rose from a number of places, "Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic," the French contingent and half of the pubescent boys in the hall cheered, "And representing our very own Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we have Gaara and Harry Potter!"

The cheers were noticeably louder for the 'native' Champions, who entirely lacked the pride and showmanship of the elder Champions, who had stepped forwards and presented themselves to their adoring public with gusto. Gaara didn't so much as flinch when his name was yelled out and Harry looked about ready to run back into the trophy room if the Ministry workers and professors cleared the way.

That might have been why Professors Moody and Snape stood in front of the door. McGonagall noticed this placement and wondered whether she should applaud their supporting Harry or chastise them for tormenting the poor boy. In any case, she would have to look into revising her syllabus in the near future to include more presentations.

If a young Gryffindor like Harry was cowed by something like this, she needed to encourage her lions to appear in front of crowds and stand tall.

Although, he might also be cowed by the looming spectre of death, but there wasn't much she could reasonably do to prepare her precious students for that. She wouldn't want to, anyhow.

Realising she was just trying to distract herself from the worrisome reality in front of her, she grit her teeth and refocused her attention on the continuing speech. Crouch had continued speaking to reiterate the dates of the Tasks and the rule of the Tournament, including that professors (including her) may not intervene or aid the Champions in preparing for their Tasks beyond the scope of their duties in teaching their subjects as normal.

She would definitely be making a number of impromptu revisions to her lesson plans over the coming months, then.

She had vowed, the moment Harry's name was announced, that she would do everything she could to help the boy. That was more than could be said about their Minister for Magic, who had so far only insisted on Gaara and Harry splitting their allotted guest tickets between them. Ridiculous man.

Minerva had overridden the bumbling idiot and declared that the boys could share their family tickets, seeing as they technically shared the same guardian, but that they would be allowed to have their friends come and watch them. She did not leave room for argument, and she would continue to exercise what little influence she could muster as long as this farce continued, even if it only amounted to token gestured like this.

Fudge fumed at the back of the stage.

He was furious beyond words by this point. Where was the respect he was owed! He was the Minister for Magic, for Merlin's sake!

When he said that Potter malcontent should be ousted, they should have leapt at his words. Instead, they will have to reorganise everything. They only just managed to get the first Task ready in time using Bagman's and Barty's underwhelming plans. Now they would have to find another dragon on short notice!

Of all the nights for Henrick to leave him alone… Whatever emergency he was working on at the Ministry, Fudge would be hearing all about it, secrecy or not.

A right ruddy disaster, this whole mess.

"And five days before the first Task, all of the Champions and everyone else will be told the nature of the first Task." Bagman continued, having taken over from Crouch a couple of minutes ago.

That was another concession he had made to Dumbledore. The old meddler had demanded – demanded! – that the participants be told ahead of time what they would be facing. As if this tournament weren't changing enough already.

"Now, I'm sure the men and women of the press here will have a few questions for our Champions, so I think it's only fair we give them a chance. Remember, please, that in order to maintain the Champions' education over the course of this year, as well as maintaining the integrity of the Tournament, the press will not be allowed to contact, directly or indirectly, any of the Champions. You may only talk to them during official events, and they may only contact you at these times too." Bagman continued smiling, as if the dire danger and drama of this evening had role off of him like water on a duck's back.

Ludo rounded on the Champions and beckoned them to the front of the stage. Viktor and Fleur stepped forwards with practiced ease, oozing confidence, like they had been born to this kind of prominence. Gaara hesitated a moment, eyeing the press gathered in front of the stage and considering whether he would indeed be breaking his deal with Dumbledore if he disappeared.

If he didn't already know the answer to that question, he wouldn't have appeared on the stage in the first place.

Harry was the last to step forward, and if he had a constitution any weaker than he had, he looked like he might have fainted. He was supposed to be amongst the teeming crowd below, watching the suicidal Champions make fools out of themselves. Instead, here he was…

Seeing as they were still children, Bagman was more than happy to guide the press interrogation rather than leave the boys and girl to fend for themselves. The vultures were not circling overhead, they had already landed and were about to dig in. He pointed to the first reporter he saw and wished he was as familiar with the various faces as some of his media-savvy colleagues.

"The Goblet of Fire has never selected a fourth Champion in the history of the Triwizard Tournament, is it believed that it was charmed? And, will there be an official inquiry into any malfunction or interference with the Goblet of Fire."

Crouch jumped in before any of the teenagers did anything stupid like trying to answer that one themselves. "I must remind everyone gathered here tonight that this press conference regards only the Champions. Any questions about the administration of the Tournament or other external matters may be directed to the Ministry of Magic later on. We will be happy to answers any questions like that at the next Ministry press briefing."

The reporter did not look satisfied and already had his hand back in the air. No one present expected him to be graced with another chance to ask a question after having jumped right into the heaviest subject right off the bat. Ludo pointed to the next journalist.

"Mr Potter, when did you enter into the Tournament?" Clearly this one was being more circumspect about asking the same question.

Harry, perpetual deer in the headlights, took his time after an audible gulp, "Erm, I didn't, really…" When more was expected of him, he added, "I'm not really sure what happened."

Next came, "My question is for Viktor Krum. Are you at all concerned that the two Hogwarts Champions may collude and gain an unfair advantage over you and Miss Delacour?"

Viktor took a sidelong glance at Harry and Gaara and smiled, "I am not concerned. I believe they are both honourable and would not behave so dishonestly. And besides that, they are both young and inexperienced. I do not fear them, together or apart."

That eased some of the tension in the Great Hall, but the gathered reporters did not take that as an excuse to cease their assault.

"Gaara, is the occurrence of an additional Champion in any way related to yours and Harry Potter's shared guardian, Sirius Black, and known critic of the Ministry of Magic?"

All eyes turned to Gaara but his expression did not change. "No." He answered calmly and softly.

Everybody waited a second for more to come but when it became apparent Gaara was done, the next question was asked, again of Gaara.

"After you came to the public's attention over the summer due to your actions during the dementor attack on Hogwarts and then again with the riot at the Quidditch World Cup, neither you nor the Ministry have disclosed any information regarding your background to the press, including your full name, which is not even included in the registry here at Hogwarts."

"Is there a question somewhere in there?" Ludo interjected.

"What secrets are the Ministry helping you to hide? And is it possible that you are in fact the additional Champion, recognised by the Goblet as outside of Hogwarts?"

"None, and no." Gaara again said. He had none of the showmanship or flare that Viktor had, nor the open vulnerability that Harry displayed.

The press conference went on and on, with almost every journalist present getting at least one chance to ask a question of the Champions. After it became obvious that Gaara would not be giving any full or insightful answers, the majority of the questions bypassed him for Harry or the other two Champion, who were all too happy to answer.

When the questions about the peculiarity of Harry's selection finally dried up, when it became clear that Harry could offer no answers because he himself either didn't know or wasn't willing to admit knowing anything, the press moved on to some more palatable questions about the Champions themselves and their feelings on the impending Tournament.

One asked how each felt about being famous. Fleur gave an inspirational speech about acting with dignity and grace, to make a fitting example for the people of Britain and her home. Viktor chuckled and said he already knew a little about being famous, so this would not affect him. Harry struggled not to stare at his feet and only managed to say that he hoped the Tournament would go fast.

Gaara didn't answer, he just continued to stare into space.

A few people in the hall laughed at Gaara's antics. No matter if he was staring down Snape or the world's press, the small redhead never changed.

Gaara, who had long since perfected the art avoiding the awkwardness of staring at people by finding a blank space on which to let his gaze linger, was purposefully avoiding looking at anybody right now. He had made the mistake of looking around the Great Hall earlier in the press conference and was not ready to make the same mistake again.

At the Gryffindor table, he had found the Twins waving and doing everything in their power to get Harry's attention on them, at which point they gave exaggerated thumbs-ups and mimed congratulations to him. Gaara had not looked to Harry at that moment, but he imagined Harry was anything but encouraged by the behaviour.

The two thirds of the Golden Trio sat at the table were visibly worried. It was painful to look at the pair as they anguished over Harry's absence, worse when Granger made eye contact with Gaara and she made a face at him as if she were trying to signal something. Considering Gaara had difficulty deciphering a number of standard, everyday facial expressions, the hope that he would be able to work out this complex facial message was entirely forlorn.

Turning away, he ended up looking for and then at someone else. Luna was not in conversation with any of her housemates, she was sitting apart from them as those closest to her had turned to chat with people on their other sides. In spite of this continual isolation, Luna smiled and waved excitedly at him when he glanced at her.

Her total obliviousness to the situation at hand and intense familiarity with him sent him looking away again.

And then he mistakenly let his eyes wander to familiar territory and had to quickly avert his gaze after an instant of Draco's most piercing glare yet. After all he had put his friend through in the last couple of weeks and months, Gaara wondered if Draco would ever be able to forgive him.

A darker part of Gaara's mind, deeper than even Shukaku's voice, questioned whether Gaara should expect Draco to keep forgiving him. Monsters cannot change their behaviour any more than the sky can stop being blue. Clouds can cover it, the setting or rising sun can tint it, but it always reverts eventually to its true colours.

Rasa has said something to that affect once in Gaara's life when he had, in his childhood naiveté, asked if he could ever stop hurting the people around him.

It was quite possibly the last time Rasa has spoken to him outside of issuing mission directives, over a year before the man's timely death.

So, with all of this flying around in his head like so much sand, Gaara's focus was not on the press asking him questions or Harry, who was trying in vain to get Gaara to answer them.

The questions, a quarter of which were unanswered, went on longer than anyone really thought necessary. The Hogwarts staff were the ones to break up the conference, to the relief of many.

Enough had been disclosed that night to write full biographies of Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour. In fact, full sections of those biographies would appear in many papers the next day. Voldemort might have resurrected that night and he would have been pushed to the bottom of page eight, such was the ubiquitous coverage of the Triwizard Tournament in magical Europe.

While not nearly enough to counterbalance the horror of the evening, there was one small upside to Harry's (forced) involvement. Always one to shy away from public attention, no matter how hard it sought him out, Harry had been made aware of a number of inaccuracies in his personal history reported in at least four books (that Hermione had read).

He was trained personally by Nicholas Flamel for the first ten years of his life. He was hidden in Australia with a powerful society of wizards and witches, who used dark rituals to make him more powerful than anybody his age (Hermione had actually laughed aloud as she recounted that one). His accidental magic had been so potent and destructive that he levelled a small village in Cornwall and Dumbledore had to cover it up.

Ron had found these so funny, he actually went and read two of the more outlandish accounts of Harry's life. Those two books were still being passed around the Weasley clan, all of whom quite enjoyed their fantastical tales – they were exceedingly well written, even if they had no connection to reality. Hermione had postulated that at least one of them had been written by Gilderoy Lockhart under a penname. The only Weasley to refuse the books had been Molly, who didn't like stories without a whirlwind romance.

Ginny, it turned out, already had creased copies of both under her bed, though she swore she hadn't so much as opened them since meeting Harry two years ago.

The press interview uncovered a number of facts about Harry's upbringing (missing out some of the more discomfiting details of the Dursley's 'care' of him) that would serve to dispel many of the myths that had sprung up in his absence from the magical world those ten years.

The reporters, despite having each filled notebooks, had to be shepherded out of the Great Hall in the same manner as last night, all still trying and failing to get their last question answered. The students, who had been excited to begin with, were almost all flagging by the end.

Fudge, who was still pretending to be there only as a spectator, hurried after the wall of reporters to give a final 'informal' press conference outside the castle. The majority of his staff and attendants. Including Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagan, trailed after him, and suddenly the bustle that had pervaded the hall for the past couple of hours fell silent.

Dumbledore took centre stage one last time that evening.

"And with that, I believe we can call it a night. The events of this evening will surely be cause for much discussion, but please remember that breakfast will not wait and those who sleep after their alarms may have to go hungry until lunch." This might have seemed like an attempt to lighten the lethargic mood but for the sombre note in the old man's voice marking it as a sincere piece of advice.

"Now, please join me in another round of applause for our gathered Triwizard Champions as they exit the hall." He said, starting a round of applause that belied everyone's eagerness to go to bed, or at least retire to their dormitories to discuss the evening's events.

Not needing any further prompting, happy to be leaving at last, Harry and Gaara led the way for Viktor and Fleur down the centre aisle. Both boys walked fast and avoiding looking to either side at the clapping and cheering crowds while Fleur and Viktor hung back and waved to their adoring public.

They exited the Great Hall and the professor waited a minute or two before trying to organise a civilised departure from the hall for all of the collected students. It was like herding cranky felines.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sirius sat with his mouth agape and his eye vacant as Remus proceeded to clear up the bear his friend had absently spilled five minutes before. Kreacher had not appeared so Remus felt compelled to try and clean a little. It was better than sitting around and listening to more of the radio's commentary.

…both of them…

Both of them had entered the Triwizard Tournament and somehow, contrary to luck, logic, and the ancient laws of the Tournament itself, both of the boys had been chosen to represent Hogwarts.

Sirius could not process it. Both of them had gone behind his back. He wasn't a stuffed shirt. He was the fun one, the one they were supposed to come to with girl problems, or advice on pranking, or whatever Gaara might want to come to him for…

Instead, they had both not only elected to enter into the Tournament, they had lied to him about it. He just couldn't understand it. And now they were in a terrible danger from which Sirius could not help them.

Despite circumstances, it annoyed Remus that Sirius only seemed to recover from his shock after the mess had been cleaned up, but he supposed now was not the time to lambast the layabout. Plus, telling him off had never stopped him from shirking chores before now.

Sirius exhaled heavily and sat back in his chair, glaring at his empty bottle and considering calling on Kreacher to bring him another. He wasn't sure whether getting drunk right now would help or hurt.

"I'm sure there's more to it than we know." Remus said, sitting back down.

"What's there to know? They entered, they didn't tell me. In fact, they told me they weren't going to enter."

"I'm sure they'll have some sort of reason for that. Can you imagine Gaara just deciding to get rich and famous from performing in a Tournament? And Harry, do you think for a second that he wants more attention?"

"Then why-"

"I don't know. I doubt anybody does. You know what it's like being a teenager. You're practically still one yourself."

Sirius smirked in spite on himself.

"Do you seriously think we wouldn't have done something as bad if not worse if the same opportunities presented themselves when we were at Hogwarts. You and James would have challenged each other to duels for the right to take part in the Triwizard Tournament. As a matter of fact, I recall James actually wishing he had the chance to participate in the Tournament when Lily brought it up in a conversation about the silly things wizards do to each other."

"I don't remember that."

"Really? You said James wouldn't make it past the first round and then he slapped you around the back of the head and you fell out of the boat."

"We were in a boat?"

"You really don't remember any of this? You splashed around until you realised you were only in two feet of water, and then you pretended to be drowning as loudly as you could, screaming that James Potter had murdered the eldest son of the House of Black and declared a blood feud. Cost us 20 house points, too."

"I can't believe I don't remember that."

"Well, to be fair, you declared blood feuds with James quite regularly that year. You only stopped because Regulus overheard you that one time, mistook you for serious and tried cursing James."

"Now that I remember." Sirius smirked, sadder now, remembering Regulus.

"What I'm getting at is: teenagers do dumb things. All the time. I'd thought for a long time that it was just us, that we were worse than everyone else, but having taught at Hogwarts, I can say for sure that we were just staying true to form."

"No, we were exceptional." Sirius defended.

Remus was not going to debate this. "And teenagers also like to keep secrets. Especially about the dumb stuff they get up to. Gaara and Harry are far from normal, I don't think anybody can deny that, but in this, they are pretty typical."

"You know, their stepmother saying that they're abnormal will only hurt their self-esteem."

"I'm not their stepmother." Remus said, wondering where this was going.

"Well, I'm certainly not the mother. I'm the stepfather." Sirius said, aghast.

"Sirius, we're not together." Remus said, having heard this or similar jokes before.

Sirius pretended to tear up. "Why won't you love me?!"

"Oh, for goodness sake. This is why you're a teenager." Remus said, rubbing his eyelids.

Sirius chuckled to himself briefly before the mirth dried up and they were back to listening to the radio in silence. The commentary was a little erratic as the presenter scrambled to say something in the wake of the fourth Champion's announcement and the disappearance of anybody in power to explain it.

The number of times the radio host asked rhetorical questions about the situation or when the Minister, the Headmaster or one of the Champions would come back out from the Trophy Room made both the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place wonder if they couldn't find any more competent presenters.

And then everyone re-emerged and the reporting could continue properly.

The moment that it was announced that both Harry and Gaara would be allowed to compete against one another and the other two Champions was the moment Sirius lost hope that they would be able to avoid this mess entirely.

Then came the interview and Harry's claims of innocence. Sirius was quick to believe in his godson, but that made his forced participation all the worse. It also raised the question of why on God's Earth Gaara had entered, since Gaara was not forthcoming with any explanation during the interview.

Sirius wanted to storm the Ministry of Magic that evening, after he had finished his second beer, and demand they release at least Harry from the Tournament, if not both of the boys.

Remus, ever the voice of reason, had tried to avoid the probable arrest by explaining that there was little hope that the Minister would back down now that they had endorsed both boys competing. Certainly, it would be best to wait until tomorrow when tempers had cooled and the alcohol, which would most definitely be increasing before then, had left Sirius' system.

"It was supposed to be a simple year. No mass murderer after them, no dementors. Maybe watch the Tournament, but nothing dangerous!" Sirius lamented.

"There's no such thing as a boring year at Hogwarts, especially for Harry. And Merlin only knows what Gaara's been through in the years before now. We've only seen and heard the tip of the iceberg. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that, but that makes it even more important that they get at least one year without nearly being killed, Moony!"

"I'm not exactly on Death's side here, but what I'm saying is that it's happening whether we like it or not."

Sirius paused, "…so we need to figure out a way to help them…"

"Exactly. Gaara is incredibly strong but he will need as much help as he can get in terms of magic. And while Harry is powerful, he's also young. They will both need our guidance. Your guidance. With any luck, they'll help each other out a bit too."

Sirius snorted, taking a swig of his third beer, "Fat chance!"

"Well, hopefully at least Gaara won't go out of his way to take Harry out of the running."

"It'll depend on his mood or how he's feeling about Harry that day, I expect."

"You're not wrong there."

Sirius turned off the radio when the press conference was over and Fudge was trying to steal the limelight again. Neither of the men wanted to hear his self-aggrandisement this evening. In the unlikely event that he said anything of worth, they would catch it in tomorrow's paper.

No doubt there would be no shortage of coverage, come the morning.

"This will make the adoption harder, won't it?" Sirius asked, wondering if he could find a cigarette somewhere in the house. He hadn't smoked since before his arrest, since before Lily announced her pregnancy, as a matter of fact, but tonight he could really do with a fag.

"I don't know." Remus said. "If Fudge doesn't hear about it, it should be fine, I think. If you'd waited until after tonight, it probably would have been harder, with their increased notoriety, but nobody can accuse you of chasing fame."

"Fame chased me. I've got the scars to prove it."

"As do the boys."

"You're right there."

"The child services department's been good so far, kept everything confidential. I can't think why they would change that now."

"I hope you're right. Regardless of whether they're legally mine or not, I'll be having words with both of them."

"'Having words', Sirius?" Remus asked, choking on a laugh.

"I thought that was the right way to say it. The adult way of saying I'm gonna give them a right bollocking."

"Did you even start that parenting book I got you?"

"I'm still stuck picking out baby names. I mean, sure, Bandit and Prongslet are good, but I need middle names for them."

"I think they're rather attached to the names they've got."

"You can never have too many names. I've got six. I can't remember two of them and I don't like another one of them but I've got them if I ever needed them."

"The only reason you don't like the name Canopus is because it ruins your S.O.B. joke. And last time you complained about names, you said you only had five."

"Ah, that time I'd honestly forgotten one of them."

"So what are these two other names?"

"I shan't say."

"You shan't?"

"Indeed. Some things are between me and my hairdresser."

Remus saw that Sirius, whose tolerance for alcohol was never as legendary as the man claimed, was descending into silliness. Maybe that was a good thing; a chance for him to blow off some steam before whatever was to happen tomorrow.

With that in mind, Remus climbed to his feet and poured himself a small sherry. As long as he wasn't as hungover as Sirius in the morning, everything would be fine.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Draco sat alone in their room, exhausted but a long way from sleeping.

Gaara, total coward that he was, had disappeared by the time the rest of the student body had been let out of the Great Hall. Where Krum and Delacour had stood their ground and even welcomed the wave of congratulations from the hundreds of teenagers rushing towards them, Gaara was nowhere to be seen and Potter had been seen fleeing up the stairs to his dormitory.

Draco was in no mood to be caught in the midst of the crowd for any longer than he absolutely needed to be, so he headed straight to the Dungeons, knowing that Gaara wouldn't be waiting for him there. Gaara liked to hide in times like these.

Bloody coward.

Draco's dark mood was only worsened by the proxy-congratulations he was given to pass along to his friend. Every Slytherin he passed suddenly seemed thrilled that Gaara was in their House, and wanted him to pass along messages for them. Whether this was because Gaara was nowhere to be seen or because he still intimidated most of Hogwarts would remain to be seen.

There were only a few other Slytherins who were heading straight to the Dungeons, and most of the others were tired firsties in need of sleep. Draco beat them all there and then he rushed to his room, definitely not hoping to find Gaara in the room. He knew there was no hope of that.

He sighed when he opened the door on his dark room and then slammed it shut behind him and settled on his bed. His mind was swimming, his anger growing, and he didn't know what to do with it. He wished he could distract himself with a book or some homework, but three separate and aborted attempts to read his book, and one attempt at going to sleep, told him there was no escape to be found from this feeling tonight.

The only thing that might save him would be letting it all out, but the only target for such a tirade was gone.

He did end up cursing the wall a few times, which made him feel marginally better. His father was right about one thing, curses did make you feel better at times like these. The darker the better.

He only stopped casting because a deep crack had formed in the wall and he did not want to flood the dorms with the Black Lake.

After the blasting had ceased, his room was silent for a while. What little noise might have been caused outside of his room was hushed by the obvious signs of rage within. The first years must have been skittering about in terror at the sounds of battle.

The reverie ended when the bulk of the Slytherin finally returned to the House and the partying could begin. Hogwarts (true) Champions was from their House, so the glory would be theirs.

Despite being just after midnight, music began to play and sounds of dancing and drinking drifted even into the reaches of Draco's room from the Common Room. One person, whose identity would remain unknown, tried to call on Draco (and possibly Gaara) but, after knocking and getting no response, the individual tried to open the door, to which Draco set an overpowered charm to slam it back shut and seal it.

The intruder had not made it even one step into the room but the force sent him flying back and bouncing off of the far wall.

Nobody was entirely sure what was going on with Draco, or Gaara and Draco, but they knew better than to ask by now and left them both alone for the night.

Similar to Sirius' complaints elsewhere, Draco bemoaned that Gaara had lied to him. Betrayed him.

Again.

But why? Gaara pulled stunts all the time, even if this was more serious than his usual nonsense, so why would he lie and say he wouldn't enter. Potter claimed not to enter and even if he was telling the truth, Draco knew Gaara had no such excuse.

During the ceremonies earlier, he had refused to make eye contact with Draco even once. He was ashamed, as he should be.

So why?

Clearly Gaara was still keeping secrets from him, after everything. After everything they had been through. Draco's continuing nightmares about the full moon were testament to that fact.

But what more could Gaara be hiding from him. What could the assassin from another world have left to hide from him?

Remembering that night last month, Draco almost didn't want to know. But he did. He had to know.

Draco's Dreamwalker Potion project would continue. No more secrets. No more lies.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Albus had been hoping to get a full night's sleep tonight. He hadn't hoped for a good night's rest, he hadn't had one of those in many years, but with Gaara entered into the Tournament and the inevitable chaos and destruction at least limited, he might have been able to get a few hours. Instead, this…

Instead of his bed, he was sat in his office again, facing down almost every member of his staff and Henrick Morbidus.

Morbidus had shown up shortly after this meeting was called. He gave no indication of where he had been that evening that was so important he had not been present for the Minister's latest humiliation, nor did he care to mention what Fudge had said to him to get him there so promptly. Henrick had simply appeared and requested to sit in on the meeting and confer with the professors about what they knew of matters.

Apparently, there would be some sort of investigation into the selection of two Champions from Hogwarts. Albus could feel his skin further wrinkling with joy.

The professors, whose contempt for the Tournament that had been forced upon them, were up in arms at this betrayal. It was bad enough that one child had to be taken as a sacrificial lamb to further the Minister's career, but for two of their charges to be taken instead, it was unthinkable.

Henrick stayed back and did not offer any defence on behalf of the Ministry, meaning he was only there to observe and report back on what was said. Even knowing this, as most his learned colleagues surely did, Albus heard almost every one of them say (or shout) mutinous words against the Ministry.

Snape was quieter, as expected, but even he looked angry at this turn of events. Albus wondered, as he often did, what must be running through the young Potions master's head. He had been keeping a much stricter eye on Severus lately, particularly with regard to his treatment of Gaara after he was forced to return to Potions lessons.

Severus' hatred of the boy may only have dimmed slightly, but next to his concern over Harry's welfare, it must have seemed incidental. Snape looked weary, which was saying something considering the weight the young man carried on his shoulders these past fifteen years.

"While I cannot fathom the stupidity that drove him to it, nor how he might have accomplished such a feat with his current level of skill, I have no doubt in my mind that Potter cheated the Goblet and should still be disqualified. Surely if not you alone, the Wizengamot you head must be able to remove him from the Tournament, Headmaster."

"Alas, if only that were the case. In this matter, I'm afraid, there is not higher authority than the Minister. I, like all of you, wish it were not the case, but my hands are well and truly tired and there is nothing I can do to stop either boy from competing, as much as I would dearly like to." Albus said, trying to sound convincing and not as tired with the situation as he felt. These were arguments he'd had with his professors and with himself many times over the past few weeks. The addition of Harry into the equation did not do anything ease his weariness.

"There are many boys and girls, from the older years, much more qualified to take part than Potter." Minerva said. She had been at the front of the protesting staff but by her waning anger, she must have sensed the resignation with which her long-time superior and friend was speaking.

"As I have said, despite that important fact, there is not contravening the Goblet's selection."

"Beyond what has already been done to work around the Tournament's traditions." Severus unhelpfully added.

"Yes, beyond that." Albus noticed, how could he not, that few of the arguments made that evening had been against Gaara's involvement. It was widely known by now that in spite of the 'exchange student's' magical difficulties, he was exceptionally powerful with his sand. It made Albus hopeful that at least that part of his plan might succeed.

It seemed that was the only facet of the plan to succeed. Harry was taking part, Fudge was furious with him and the school because it was apparently Hogwarts' collective fault, and now they would have to endure further scrutiny from Morbidus.

"If we cannot stop this travesty, then we will simply have to prepare the boys for whatever might be thrown at them."

"I'm sorry to say that is also forbidden." Albus said. He really wished he had held one of the straggling Ministry officials back so they could be the bearer of all of this bad news.

"What?" Minerva demanded.

Albus levelled his eyes at her, "As you will recall, we are not allowed to directly interfere with the Champions or offer them special help outside the confine of their regular lessons. Any actions contrary to this will result in dismissal, by order of the Minister and the Board of Governors."

"Then are we supposed to send those boys to their deaths?!" Pomona asked.

"I trust that the educations that we have provided both Harry and Gaara before now and before the first Task will be all they will need to prepare them." That was as close to a hint as Albus could risk with Henrick so close. Truly, there was precious little that could be taught to the boys before the first Task that might help them, but anything that could be slipped into the curriculum between then and now would definitely be worth the effort.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but might I ask, before this goes any further, what were the specific security arrangements surrounding the Goblet of Fire over the twenty-four-hour period it was accepting entrees?" Henrick finally spoke up. The man did not act without purpose, so Albus had to wonder why he chose to speak now. What had he been waiting to hear, or what was he trying to avoid being said?

That would keep Albus up tonight if his staff didn't.

"Yes, I would be more than happy to discuss that with you, Inspector, but I expect that Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout had better check on their respective Houses and enforce Hogwarts' much ignored curfew. It would be best if not everyone shows up to breakfast tomorrow looking as tired as we are all sure to feel. Could you stay behind with us, Septima, Aurora? I'm sure we will be all that are needed to answer any questions."

"Yes, that will be fine. Thank you for humouring me." Humour sounded like an alien concept coming from Henrick Morbidus.

What followed for Albus was an hour of discussing, in extreme detail, the uneventful happenings of the night before, and then two hours of discussing the intricate magics involved in the Goblets and the age line Albus had set up. He envied Aurora and Septima for only have to endure that first hour.

By the end, Albus was acutely feeling his age and would most likely be needing a little something from Poppy tomorrow.

If things had been different, if dark lords had not risen, and foolish tournaments had not been planned, Albus wondered if he might have been retired by now. Sitting in the English countryside, sipping brandy next to whatever friends he still had that had managed to fight off the ravages of time.

That painful thought helped to remind Albus on the mistakes he had made and the price he paid to remedy them, as best he could.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It had not taken the skills of Sybil Trelawney to predict that the inhabitants of Hogwarts, both foreign and domestic, would show up to breakfast the morning after the selection looking less lively than the castle ghosts. The chatter was still pervasive but the whispered tones came out of teens and preteens fighting to keep their faces out of their porridge

The older students, who were more accustomed to sleep deprivation, were more preoccupied shuffling through the assortment of different newspapers making their way around the Hall. Dozens of copies of the Daily Prophet had been delivered that morning, along with papers from a number of other European magical communities, ordered by Ravenclaws keen on espousing the dangers of getting all of one's news from a single source.

Along with the paper came unheard of amounts of mail from the owls that had been detained by the Ministry for a full day. Most of it was now irrelevant, parents warning their children not to enter the Tournament and other such messages.

One memorable letter came in the form of a howler from Molly Weasley to her twin sons.

Howlers become louder the longer they are ignored and this one had been hidden away by the Ministry for a full twenty-four hours. When they opened it, their usual defiant good cheer turning to cold sweats, the entire Hall could hear Mrs Weasley's screaming at them for entering despite her warnings. It was very embarrassing for all of the Weasleys present in the Hall. It even spared a breath to tell Ginny she was in trouble as well for not telling her about their entry before Ron had.

Ron's smugness lost to his shame as he ducked his head.

After the howler finished promising them punishments the likes of which they had never seen, it tore itself up and the Hall returned to quiet murmurs and the rustling of paper. Ron could be thankful that his teasing would be lessened by the greatly diminished energy of everyone there to witness it.

Harry wanted to put a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder but his best friend had been strangely moody since last night. Granted, Harry hadn't exactly been cheerful after the selection, even with all of the celebrations, but Ron had been off. Still, Harry had to remind himself, he had bigger problems than Ron's family drama or whatever had preceded it.

Ron stormed off when the snickers directed at him didn't dissipate within sixty seconds like Hermione had assured him they would.

Hedwig arrived with a squawk, looking upset with him and acting very demanding (it took almost all of his bacon to get her to stop snapping at him, which she almost never did). Only after he had paid her the appropriate tribute and apologised profusely, drawing some odd looks from his dining companions, that she let him take his letters.

While he stared at the foreboding envelope, Hedwig ate the rest of his breakfast, gave him a disgruntled hoot and took flight. She was evidently giving him the cold shoulder.

She wasn't the only one.

Still, Harry could only hope Sirius' letter wouldn't be like that. He'd rather his godfather rip him a new one with a howler than ignore him or act like he didn't care. He didn't dare to hope that Sirius would believe him, though.

'Prongslet,

I'm sorry I can't be there with you right now. I'm sure it must be difficult but please know that Moony and I are on your side. I spent this morning telling Fudge's assistant what I think of what they are doing to you but I couldn't get to the man himself. I would recount what I told them to tell Fudge but Moony told me not to teach you any more swear words.

I've been asked never to return to the Minister's office so I think my message will be conveyed.

I also sent letters to Fudge, Crouch and Bagman to reiterate my complaints and demanded answers.

Anyway, I believe you. I know you wouldn't enter into that tournament on your own, so I will make sure they find out what went on. If I can prove someone else entered your name, they'll be forced to let you out.

Do you have any idea what happened with Gaara? He didn't deny entering like you did but I can't imagine he would volunteer either. Maybe someone is targeting the two of you. Be careful and don't trust anyone you don't know.

I will get you out of this but Moony says you need to prepare anyway. Might be worth cracking a book between now and the first round.

They still won't let me visit the school but I'll keep at it.

Please write back as soon as you can. Skip your lessons if you need to. It's okay, you have a responsible adult's permission.

I'm going to stop now before Moony reads this.

Your illustrious and spectacularly manly godfather,

Padfoot

P.s. Please try and make contact with Gaara if you can. He never writes back to me and I doubt this will be the exception.'

Normally one of Sirius' letters was enough to alleviate even the worst moods, but this morning it did little to ease his worries.

Harry didn't have much hope that the investigation would get him out of participating in the Tournament, but he appreciated everything that Sirius had said and done. The trust Sirius had in him and the fury with which he defended Harry was a little unfamiliar but it felt good.

Harry also found attached another letter from Sirius from yesterday, probably the reason for Hedwig being turned away and being upset with him.

The second letter meant little to him now, just giving final warnings not to enter the Tournament and to try to enjoy the spectacle in spite of everything.

He dropped the parchment to the table and continued the project he began in his mind the night before – Operation: Get Myself Out of Life-Threatening Trouble.

So far, nothing.

The Minister and professors last night had made it clear that he was powerless to escape this latest threat to his health. His only hope, it seemed, was Sirius.

Sirius who was anything but a crafty political operator. Sirius who, if Professor Lupin was to be believed, had to be kept away from hard liquor for most of the week. Sirius who had woken Harry up half the nights he stayed at Grimmauld Place to make sure he 'didn't need anything like a glass of water or the talk about the birds and the bees'.

No doubt, Sirius would do everything he could to help Harry, but Harry sadly did not believe it would be enough.

Draco had watched the latest Weasley spectacle with a scoff. Even before he had revised parts of his opinions regarding the vital importance of blood purity in their culture (coincidentally after the arrival of Gaara into his life), the Weasleys had been the greatest argument against the virtues of uninterrupted pureblood lines.

Funnily enough, the best thing the Weasleys had done in the last decade to open the eyes of the overwhelmingly racist Slytherin student body was to be themselves. Of course, the other powerful argument against keeping the lines clean was the inbreeding so popular amongst certain families.

That argument had been left unsaid in Slytherin for the past few years after one oblivious Slytherin second year had made a crass joke to the scion of the venerable Malfoy line about the inbred Blacks, and the madness that came with them.

The boy had moved back on to solid food after a week, Draco had been released from detention after a month, Slytherins would know not to disparage any Black (particularly the women) until after Draco left Hogwarts, and his mother would never admit how proud she had been of the distinctly Gryffindorish moment her boy had exhibited in her defence.

After Draco watched Potter first stooge storm out of the Great Hall, his eyes wandered around. He had sat apart from his friends this morning as he was still no in the mood to socialise. Even watching the people around the Hall wasn't diverting his attention the way it usually would. How often would he have the chance to watch Viktor Krum eat breakfast at the same table as him?

Well… the answer was many times over the coming year, but still…

Instead, he ignored the many Durmstrang students, and the Slytherins who suddenly found Draco (and his close association with a Champion) very interesting.

Seeing a fellow platinum blonde walking towards the exit, Draco practically leapt to his feet to catch her before she left the hall and he lost sight of her.

"Lovegood." He said, carefully avoiding any raise in his voice and sounding like he was calling out to her. She turned to him but he continued walking right past her and out of the Hall. Turned around the wrong way and missed him as he passed her. She looked back his speed walking had taken him right past her.

Draco looked to his side, expecting to find she had fallen in step with him. Instead, she was stood at the entrance to the Hall look around her like a simpleton.

For Merlin's sake…

"Lovegood, over here." She finally registered who had addressed her and made her way over at a sedate pace.

"Good morning, Draco. How are you?"

"In no mood for small talk." Draco said.

"That's a pity. Big talk can be a bit hard in the mornings. Too many nargles around." She seemed to be getting lost in her train of thought so Draco had to move quickly before she was gone.

"Did you know he would enter?" There was no need to clarify whom, since there was only one person they had in common.

"No, I was quite surprised. He doesn't seem like the sort to volunteer for that sort of thing."

"No, he doesn't."

"I wondered if he might have been controlled by-"

"I really don't have time to listen your crackpot theories."

"Then why did you start talking to me?" Luna asked with pure curiosity, as if she accepted that her deeply held beliefs were crackpot theories in the eyes of others.

Draco stopped short of saying anything unnecessarily cruel in response. He was working on being less mean to Luna since, as far he could remember, she had never said a word against him. She was still daft and annoying, but that would describe his best friend too.

Draco sighed. "Do you know where he is?"

"Right now? No, I don't. He terribly difficult to pin down." She said. "Sorry."

"Just as well. I'm not sure whether or not I'll hex him when I see him."

"I wouldn't recommend it. Professor Snape didn't fare too well when he tried cursing him."

Draco thought back to that incident last year. Snape had been known to cast spells at his students from time to time, despite directives from the board of governors telling him not to. What had made that instance memorable to those who witnessed it was that the target had been a Slytherin for a change, and unlike every other time it had happened, the target had fought back.

"Yes, well…" Draco wasn't sure how to answer that. Professor Snape was a legendary duellist while Draco's own fighting skills were never worth boasting about. Not that he didn't try.

"I don't think you should try to curse Gaara. It would hurt his feelings."

Draco looked at her for only a moment before he realised, like Gaara, she wouldn't react to his visible bafflement. His glance backward at her did bring to his attention the people closing in. He did not move in the same illustrious circles he once did but he would still prefer not to be seen in Lovegood's company any more than absolutely necessary.

He guided her by the shoulders and dragged her around the corner to a quieter spot. She let out a squeak at the sudden manhandling but went along without any struggle. She understood Draco did not want to be seen with her. It was a common sentiment.

"Have you read this morning's newspapers?" She asked when they were safely secluded.

"I skimmed the Prophet but there wasn't anything worth reading in there."

"They took a lot of creative liberties."

"That's one way of saying they made up half of what they wrote."

"Did you only read the Prophet?"

"Yes, why?"

"There were lots of interesting articles in other papers."

"Other papers?" Draco asked, wondering what other British publications she was referring to. Sadly, the Daily Prophet had something of a monopoly on British journalism.

"From abroad. The French and the German papers were the most interesting."

"You can read them?"

"Yes, I speak multiple languages." Luna said.

Draco nodded, pretending not to be impressed. He was somewhat fluent in French, 'as all well accoutred young men should be,' his mother said, but he did not have a flair for languages and had never bothered to learn any others.

"I read seventeen newspapers this morning and ours was the worst."

"Seventeen…"

"Yes, though I did only skim the Austrian, American and Italian ones. They did not have much to say about the Tournament and that's what I wanted to read about."

"That makes sense, I suppose." Draco didn't think that made much sense but this had been a civil conversation so far and he wanted to save his aggression for Gaara. "What are people saying?"

"Lots of things. Many of them are curious about Gaara. He is very mysterious."

"Don't I know it…"

"And about why Hogwarts had two Champions. Many politicians are calling Britain cheaters."

"Where do you stand?" Draco asked.

Luna looked down at her feet. "Right here."

Draco knew she was messing with him. How could she not be? "You know what I meant."

"You want to know if I believe that Harry Potter or Gaara cheated to become a Champion." Draco wasn't sure if he heard a question in that. He hoped not. "I do not think so. Harry doesn't seem like the sort to cheat."

"And Gaara?"

"Oh, he seems like he might cheat. But I don't think he did this time."

"That's pretty much what I thought. So what do you think happened?"

"I'm not sure. With someone like Gaara involved, maybe the Goblet became confused and classified him as from another school. Or his own magic interfered with the Goblet's and confused it. Maybe someone else wanted him to take part."

"Any of those could be true." Draco admitted, feeling unsatisfied.

"Or he might have cheated."

"That still doesn't answer why."

"Neither of us know Gaara well enough to know why he would enter. Not without asking him first."

That hurt Draco a little. He prided himself, secretly, on the fact that he was the foremost Gaara expert (except Mr Black) probably. He didn't like to think that, after everything they had been through together, Gaara could still be this much of a mystery to him. Though recent events had been making him reassess that more and more.

Draco was quiet for a moment as he mulled this over. Eventually he asked, "What do you think I should do?"

"I'm not sure. Asking him about it would probably be best. I hope you won't start a fight with him. I've noticed boys do that a lot when they're confused."

"Gryffindors maybe."

"Not just them. The only ones who don't do it that much are Hufflepuffs."

"That's because they're wimps."

"I think they're just too friendly for it." Luna almost sounded disapproving.

"Well, I certainly don't intend to try punching Gaara when he shows himself."

"I'm glad. I wouldn't like to see you hurt yourself." Luna said, her mind obviously wandering. "The Daily Prophet mentioned you, you know."

"I remember. That Skeeter woman's article referred to me by name. My father's solicitor has already been in contact with the Prophet." Draco had not appreciated the pictures of his gormless face nor the speculation of his precise association with Gaara, beyond their rooming situation. Somehow, they had even found out that he and Gaara weren't actually assigned to live together this year and that Gaara had taken it upon himself to switch.

"Some of the other foreign papers seemed more interested by what the Champions were wearing."

"That's hardly surprising. They're all celebrities now. Besides, what was there to say? Harry Potter was wearing rags and Viktor Krum was wearing fur?"

"They did mention that Mr Potter looked ragged, and Mr Krum was wearing fur." Luna admitted, "But, they spent a while on Gaara because he's so… distinctive looking."

"What did they say?" Draco wondered if his father would be willing to pursue another suit on Gaara's behalf.

"They wondered why he dyed his hair, wore makeup, shaved his eyebrows, and painted an Asian character on his forehead. They also dwelled on his height and his behaviour. They said he looked contemptuous. I think they were right about that part."

Draco held back a snigger about this latest misunderstanding about Gaara's appearance. Sadly, even the denizens of Hogwarts would no longer believe his assurances that Gaara wasn't wearing makeup. They all thought Draco was covering for him.

"He'll be livid when he reads that one." Draco said.

"I don't think Gaara can read Spanish." Luna reasoned.

"Probably not. Hopefully the other papers won't start on that sort of tabloid rubbish."

"The Quibbler certainly won't."

"Thank goodness…" Draco said, knowing that the circulation of that particular magazine was lower than some internal Ministry memos.

They lapsed into silence again and Luna looked like she wanted to leave but didn't want to offend him. If she weren't a Ravenclaw, it wouldn't surprise him if she'd been sorted into Hufflepuff.

"You can go." Draco hadn't really meant to sound so imperious, but now it happened, he could live with it.

"Okay." Luna said before turning on her heal and heading off.

"Oh, before you go, what does that symbol on Gaara's face mean? I've asked him a couple times but he's never told me."

Luna turned back to him. "No, I suppose he wouldn't. It means 'love'."

"He's got 'love' tattooed on his forehead?" Draco couldn't believe it. Of all the things for someone like Gaara to have on his face. He'd always assumed it meant war or strength or something. "Why on Earth does he have that?"

"I imagine Gaara's he only person in the world who knows the answer to that." Luna said before turning again and leaving.

Draco wondered at the implications of that statement. It was almost certainly true.

Beyond that very pertinent question, Draco then wondered why it was in a foreign language when Gaara spoke and wrote in English, and didn't seem to need to be taught the language. He didn't come from Japan, so why was he also apparently fluent in their language? Or, why had Gaara's language been translated when he came to this world but not the writing on his face?

Despite it still being the morning and having just eaten breakfast, Draco felt weary.

The nightmares had yet to abate and these lies and secrets seemed to be growing every day. It felt like there was no respite from the pressure at the moment. Not even the escape he might find in friendship, evidently.

He tried to shake off his sleep-deprived headache and remember with which lessons he was supposed to be starting the day.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Once again, Gaara had somehow managed to surprise him, even after Draco told himself he would no longer make any assumptions about his roommate's behaviour.

Gaara had actually shown up to their first lesson.

Draco had been one of the first to arrive and take his seat, and with the addition of a handful of Durmstrang visitors auditing the lesson, he didn't immediately notice his distinctive friend standing in the back. To be perfectly honest, it hadn't even occurred to him to look.

Upon finally sighting him, Draco struggled greatly with how to react.

The immense feelings of rage at the betrayal and relief that Gaara was here were at war within him. He wanted to jump up and curse or punch Gaara's porcelain face or maybe invite him to sit or hug him.

Not willing to embarrass himself with any of those actions, and certainly not willing to let Gaara off the hook, he settled for turning back to the front of the room and ignoring him. Someone else had already taken Gaara's usual seat so he could pretend the redhead actually wasn't there and get on with his day.

Arse.

Gaara noticed the cold shoulder he was receiving and was grateful. It was better than outright hatred right now. He knew to expect one or the other.

He had been avoiding confrontations a lot since he arrived in this world and last night had been no different. He'd hidden out overnight and spent the early morning sifting through no less than thirty-six letters that arrived with the morning post. Normally he would have needed to sit for breakfast in the Great Hall or go and get his post from the owlery directly, but apparently there was a limit to the number of letters they would hold for him.

So, he had sat outside in the November chill, reading through three dozen letters. Or, sifting through the vast majority of letters sent from perfect strangers and actually reading the four letters that came from people he knew. The strangers all wanted interviews, or information, or something else from him. One offered to give him money in exchange for him endorsing some product of theirs.

Gaara had put it with the rest of the pile to be discarded. He had no need of money, he had Sirius (and maybe Draco would stay with him a little longer.) Or he could just steal money. Either way, he did not need to sell himself.

Of the remaining four pertinent letters, Gaara started with the one he recognised as having come from Dumbledore, bearing the Hogwarts seal on the back. That was probably quite important.

'Dear Gaara,

Without unduly disclosing details better left obscured in remote communications like this, I would first like to offer my sincere gratitude to you for honouring our regrettable deal. However, in spite of this, I am afraid I must ask further of you in light of last night's surprising turn. I do not have anything beyond what I have already promised as part of our first deal to offer you, but I hope you will humour this latest request and the moral impetus it serves.

The surprise entry is not as prepared as you will be for the upcoming challenges. So, please do whatever is within your considerable power to protect him as well as the others.

I can only hope you will acquiesce to my last selfish request of you but I will not ask for a response on this matter. Either you will or will not, there is nothing more I can do or say to change how the Tournament will proceed.

Any unofficial communications between us now will have to pass through letters like this. Meeting in private as we have before will draw suspicion of collusion at best. I'm sure you will understand.

I am sorry for the burdensome failures of the adults in the world.

Yours in good faith,

-'

Gaara didn't know what was more laughable, what this world considered to be secretive communications or Dumbledore's promise that this would be the last request. Gaara knew people like the old man would continue to ask of him until he had nothing more to give. For that reason, he wanted to outright refuse and leave Potter to his fate in the Tournament.

The reason he couldn't do that, other than the irksome morality of it all, was that Sirius would be crushed if Potter were hurt or killed. For Sirius' sake and not Dumbledore's, he would do what he could to keep Potter alive.

In a sour mood, Gaara stood and turned back towards the castle. It had been a freezing cold night and he had a good reason (beyond the heating) to return to the castle. He left the pile of irrelevant letters and cards on the damp forest floor, safe in the knowledge that the parchment would soon turn to mulch if it rained latter this afternoon as Trelawney had predicted. She was hopeless at most predictions but she could at least be relied upon to predict the weather two days in advance.

While his charmed robes did keep him from suffering the worst of the Scottish Autumnal chill, it was still much more comfortable inside the castle. As he passed the first torch he saw, he called his sand out to drop Dumbledore's letter in the flames. Standard protocol for secret letters.

He still had the remaining three letters in his pocket but he knew who they were from and he knew he wanted to deal with Draco personally before any of them. Besides, he could pretty much guess what Narcissa Malfoy, Molly Weasley and Sirius (and likely Remus) had to say. In fact, they would all likely be saying the same things.

He had sadly already missed breakfast so he skipped the circus in the Great Hall and headed straight to his first lesson of the day. He wasn't too sure of the time when he arrived so he was disappointed to find the class was already mostly full and almost ready to start. He had even missed his opportunity to take the seat next to Draco, so he would have to suffer the tension of waiting until after this lesson to have it out with his friend.

He stood in the back and soon found himself surrounded by the much larger visiting Durmstrang students who he understood were going to be watching the Hogwarts lessons for the rest of the year. Gaara thought it was hugely disruptive to learning, but clearly that wasn't the Ministry's priority for this school. The visitors all seemed friendly, a few of them even quietly introducing themselves to him but he was saved from reciprocating when the professor entered and began the lesson.

"Yes, yes, it's all very exciting. Please would everyone remain quiet. I will transfigure extra desks and chairs for those of you who arrived too late to finds seats." McGonagall said snappishly before turning to her chalkboard and starting the lesson.

Draco looked at him once throughout the entire lesson.

Other than the demonstration of how to create office and classroom furniture from transfiguring pencils, Gaara didn't take much notice of anything that was said or done during the first lesson of the day.

When the lesson came to an end, Gaara stood and walked directly to Draco, heedless of their classmates all vying for his attention. Draco turned to the exit and, seeing Gaara approaching, diverted and walked the other way around the desks to avoid him. Gaara was about to give chase when he heard, "Gaara, wait there a moment."

Turning, McGonagall was looking right at him. Experience told him that she would not appreciate if he ignored her and continued what he was doing. He was trying to defuse tensions and avoid conflict, so best not get the angry Scotswoman baying for blood.

"Come here." She beckoned him over while the last of the students who had been waiting to interact with Gaara realised they would have to do so later and filed out.

Gaara approached her, wondering why she had interrupted his plan.

"Gaara, I am forbidden by a Ministry decree from offering you any special help with your upcoming Tasks, but if you happened to have any suggestions about what you think would be generally helpful to the class, I am more than happy to update my syllabus." She said it with the barest hint of a smile. "And if you have any suggestions for any of your other lessons, please bring it to our attentions and we will do everything we can to accommodate you."

"Thank you for your kind offer." Gaara said, truly meaning it. "But I do not believe my chances will be improved by a month of learning magic. I will use my strengths. You should all focus on Potter."

"Yes, well, we will be making the same offer to Mr Potter, you can rest assured. But you shouldn't be worrying about another Champion's abilities." She scolded him. He thought it was an ironic position to be taking after having read her superior's letter just this morning.

"Thank you again. I have to get to my next lesson."

"Tell Professor Hagrid I detained you. He should understand but if you have any trouble, I will speak with him this evening."

Gaara nodded and left. He thought about running to catch up but he doubted he could intercept Draco before he reached Hagrid's teaching area anyway.

He walked out, safe in the knowledge that most students had already reached their next lessons so he could walk to Care of Magical Creatures in peace. He had a feeling such moments might become a rarity from now on and they ought to be treasured even more than before.

When he arrived, Hagrid was already giving his talk on the proper method for preparing Pegasus feed and did not spare him a second glance. Gaara did not fully understand Hagrid but he appreciated the giant man's attitude to things like tardiness. He hoped that would extend to this next discourtesy.

Gaara could not stand around and pretend to listen to a CoMC lesson while waiting for the opportunity to talk to Draco at the end. He had a nasty feeling in his gut that he wanted rid of now.

Skirting around the edges of the gathered pupils, Gaara approached Draco from behind and knew he had been noticed by the bunching of Draco's shoulders. Sliding through the crowd until he was next to him, he said, "I need to talk to you."

"Not now!" Draco whispered back, glancing around at the people who had obviously noticed the disruption.

"Yes, now." Gaara said obstinately, not bothering to whisper.

Draco saw that even Hagrid had noticed but was trying to continue his lesson regardless because the great oaf didn't want the trouble that came with interacting with a Malfoy or Gaara. "Go away."

"Yes." Gaara said. He grabbed Draco by the wrist and then dragged him back through the crowd. Draco blushed at the presumption and embarrassing spectacle they must be making, especially in front of the visiting Durmstrang students. It was in the hope of avoiding further humiliation that he ceased his struggled and followed more willingly away from the lesson.

Hagrid watched them go and tried to remember what Professors Sprout and McGonagall had said to do if his students dragged one another away from his class. Nothing came to mind, and the advice for truanting students didn't feel like it would work here. He also didn't want to spend an evening detention with either Draco Malfoy or Gaara; the former for obvious reasons and the latter because he didn't understand the boy and didn't want the tiny redhead claiming any more of Hagrid's pets as his own.

He'd deduct House points, for what they were worth, if the boys didn't come back before the end.

The other students barely batted a collective eyelid as they watched the latest drama between the pair. It was an accepted fact of Hogwarts life by now that Gaara and Draco had a peculiar and close friendship and it was best if everybody (except that one Ravenclaw girl) did their best to ignore it.

The Dumstrang students present didn't know what to think about it but started making discreet enquiries about Hogwarts' first Champion and the pureblood boy.

Draco gave up trying to wrest his arm out of Gaara's grasp (not for the first time) and let himself be led away. If they were going to have this out, better they create some distance. Draco wanted to be able to shout.

When they were far enough away that only Gaara's presence offered any reassurance against the dangers of the Dark Forest, Draco yanked his arm free and began.

"You utter pillock! What were you thinking?"

Gaara turned in time to see Draco explode at him. It wasn't pretty. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"Tell me?! How about not entering the bloody thing to begin with?! How about not keeping everything a secret from me just because you have to be so bloody mysterious?"

Gaara waited, not wanting to interrupt.

"And while we're on it, why in Merlin's name did you put your bloody name in that bloody Goblet?!" Gaara was beginning to wonder if bloody was the only swearword Draco knew. "You stupid arse!" Maybe not.

"It is simply something I have to do." Gaara did not want to jeopardise his deal with the Headmaster by disclosing it, even to Draco.

"Why?" Draco looked at him like he was expecting that Gaara could not provide a suitable answer.

"I can't explain it."

"Can't or won't explain? You're always pulling bollocks like this and I'm sick and tired of it. We might as well be strangers."

"I only hide what-"

"Shut up! Tell me now why you entered or-" He faltered, "or we're done. I'll change rooms and you can spend all your time listening to Looney Lovegood and her ridiculous stories."

Gaara's face betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. Draco was beginning to worry that Gaara might call his bluff. If it even was a bluff. Was he bluffing? Draco wasn't really sure. He was tempted, in this temporary silence, to dart over and kick Gaara square in the shin.

"I had to enter to fulfil a bargain with the Headmaster."

"Wait, what? What are you on about?" Draco did a double-take.

"In return for help in finding my home, I agreed to enter."

"Why does Dumbledore want you in the Tournament?" It made no sense.

"I am stronger than anyone else here. If I entered, it would save someone else being hurt."

"Well that worked out well, didn't it." Draco drawled. Looking at Gaara, his gormless face, he felt his rage evaporate in an instant. His best friend in the world was the biggest idiot in the world too.

"It hasn't gone precisely to plan."

"So Dumbledore's blackmailing you to make you risk your life instead of someone else?"

"Essentially, yes." Gaara thought that sounded about right.

"And you didn't think of asking me about it? It didn't occur to tell me what he was making you do?"

"He hasn't forced me. It is a deal, nothing more." In fact, in Gaara's mind, it was somewhat like a mission.

"And that's seems okay to you. For a man like Dumbledore to make deals with students?"

Gaara did not quite understand the objection Draco was making.

"And why didn't you tell me? Is it so hard to mention, 'oh, Dumbledore's making me enter the Tournament tomorrow, what do you think, Draco?'"

"He told me to keep it a secret."

"And you thought I just wouldn't notice?! Did alarm bells not go off when the old man starting trying to make you keep secrets?" Honestly, it was as if Gaara had never had a positive adult role model tell him fundamental facts of life.

"I deemed it a reasonable request and accepted the deal."

"You're an idiot. You know that, right? You an abso-bloody-lutely stupid person."

Gaara did not think he was supposed to respond to these insults.

"I can't believe you entered the Triwizard Tournament…" Draco finally said. He turned away and massaged his head again. He brought his hands back down from his temples and recalled what an upper year had told him recently when he saw this common stress-response. Draco dearly wanted not to lose his hair before he turned 20 so he stopped rubbing his scalp.

"It is not ideal, I agree."

Draco twisted back to look at his friend. "Not ideal? That's the understatement of the year. Still, at least you've got a better chance of surviving than Potter does."

"I intend to help him survive too."

"Well, that seems like a wasted effort but there's no helping some things." Draco joked. He hadn't made a dead-Potter joke in a while and it dead a fair bit to lift his spirits. "Well, if you're going to enter, you'd better at least win."

"Yes, that was also part of the deal. I have to win in order to receive Dumbledore's help." Gaara said this as if it would be the simplest thing in the world to win the Triwizard Tournament despite being the youngest (and shortest by a wide margin) of those competing, as well as being easily the least capable magic user.

"You also have to win? Is there anything else about that deal you've not mentioned?" Draco was unamused by the omission.

"Not that I recall. And do not mention it to anyone."

"Of course I won't. You don't have to go around spilling all of your secrets in the open, but you have to start telling me things."

"I already do."

"Not everything, you don't."

"No, not everything." Gaara said, meeting Draco's eyes and refusing to waver in the moment.

"Let's get back. Even that giant half-wit will notice if we miss the entire lesson."

"He saw us leave."

"You two have a lot in common, you know." Draco said, not finished insulting his friend yet.

Gaara considered the strange interest the animals of this world had in him and Hagrid's own famous animal magnitude and agreed with the assessment, even if that were the only similarity between them.

They started back towards where the lesson was probably still going on.

"How did Dumbledore know for sure that you would be the one to be picked for the Tournament? I know you're really strong but surely that's not the only thing."

"I don't know."

"You don't think he did something to make sure you were the one the Goblet picked, do you?"

"It wouldn't surprise me."

"Nor me. How funny would it be if that was what cause Potter to be picked too. All of this and Potter gets stuck in the Tournament too because that meddlesome old man couldn't keep his nose out."

"I don't think it is funny. He is in danger."

Draco chewed on that. Sure, he liked joking about Potter's death and once upon a time he would have felt little more than joy if it were to actually happen (plus there was the time he set a poisonous snake on him in a duel…) but now it actually seemed to be in poor taste to make such jokes.

He would have to restrict himself to maiming jokes from now one, then. Something about getting more scars for the collection. He would work on that one.

Draco let them fall into silence for a respectable moment before he spoke again more seriously, "Will you tell me the rest of whatever you're hiding at some point?"

Gaara stopped walking but didn't look at him. "No, I have secrets I would like to keep from you."

Draco did not understand how Gaara could say that to him. Sure, Draco's usual friends kept secrets from him and vice versa, but that was just part of being a Slytherin. Gaara and he shared more than that. What could Gaara possibly still be hiding, considering the crazy things Draco already knew about him?

Turns into a were-something-fluffy, is from another world(!), used to be a paid mercenary. How much worse could it get? Something told him, probably the screaming and laughter he heard in his nightmares, that whatever this big secret was, it was related to the last full moon.

He so dearly wished that night had never happened.

Gaara had already started walking again so Draco jogged to catch up.

Upon returning to the class, someone (whose face Draco committed to memory and to his list of enemies) piped up, "Kiss and made up, have we?"

The soft laughter that bubbled up and quickly died made Draco blush but did not stop his retort. "Not everyone is so interested in kissing boys as you are."

This caused a round of childish 'ooohs' but nothing more came of it. Still, Draco's blush stayed. He knew there had been a couple of rumours running amok about the nature of his and Gaara's relationship but this was the first time anything had been said in front of him. He needed to find a girlfriend soon or else everyone would think it was true.

He looked to see if Gaara had been at all affected by the crude joke but the moronic redhead was currently being harassed by the Beauxbaton Pegasi that Hagrid had brought out to show the class.

As Gaara ducked the horse faces that were trying to greet him, he was reminded that while he had apparently sorted his issues with Draco for the moment, he still had the three remaining letters in his pocket to deal with.

And it wasn't even noon.

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A/N: A bit of slow chapter, but I hope it was satisfying for some of you.

I'll try (as ever) to get the next one out faster.

Thank you for reading, and drop a review if you have a moment. I've never stopped enjoying reading them.