HARRY POTTER: THE ENCHANTER

by ravious light

During 3rd year harry realizes he has feelings for Hermione and during time heist, after defeating the dementors he proposes her but she rejects him and reveals that she has been dating ron in secret for a few months. Left heartbroken harry turns his pain into strength by focusing on his studies and learning magic. Be prepared to read a harry who has had his potential unleashed.

6. Chapter 6

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive, the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Harry could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak — ARRGH!"

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped — narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry's feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks. People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. Harry looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch — sorry, Miss Granger —"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves —"

Harry quickly pointed his wand at the incoming water bomb, casting the Waddiwasi spell with precision. The spell sent the water bomb hurtling back towards Peeves, who yelped in surprise as it splashed him.

"Ha!" Harry exclaimed, a grin on his face.

Peeves, now soaked, made an indignant exit, fleeing away from the entrance hall. The students cheered, and Professor McGonagall couldn't hide a small smile as she approached Harry.

"Well done, Mr. Potter," she said, her stern expression softening. "Quick thinking, indeed."

In her heart she started to think "finally Lilly's expertise in charms is showing through.."

Harry nodded, grateful for the praise. He then performed a quick drying charm, casting the Hot Air Charm to dry his and his friends' clothes.

"calidum aerem" he incanted, and warm gusts of air enveloped them, leaving them dry and comfortable. The other students who had been caught in the crossfire of Peeves' water bombs watched in amazement.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said, smiling.

Ron added, "Yeah, that was brilliant."

Professor McGonagall nodded her approval as the students continued into the Great Hall, their mood now much brighter. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville exchanged satisfied looks, grateful for a little magic to brighten their day.

The Great Hall was as magnificent as ever, adorned for the beginning-of-term banquet. Shimmering golden plates and goblets reflected the light of numerous candles suspended in midair above the tables. The four lengthy House tables were bustling with students engaged in animated conversations. Positioned at the head of the Hall, the faculty sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their eager students. The atmosphere inside was noticeably warmer. Harry, Ron, and Hermione passed by the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, taking their seats with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far end of the Hall, beside Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Nick, with his pearly white and semi-transparent form, was attired in his usual doublet, but he sported an exceptionally large ruff that served both to enhance the festive spirit and to prevent his head from wobbling too much on his partially severed neck.

"Good evening," he greeted them with a warm smile.

"Same to you Nick" responded Harry "I hope they hurry with the Sorting. I'm absolutely famished."

The Sorting of the new students into Houses was a tradition that occurred at the commencement of each school year. Unfortunately, due to a series of unfortunate events, Harry had not witnessed one since his own Sorting. He was eagerly anticipating the ceremony. Just then, an enthusiastic and breathless voice called out from further down the table.

"Hello there, Harry!"

It was Colin Creevey, a third-year student for whom Harry was a bit of a hero.

"Hi, Colin," Harry responded cautiously.

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Er, that's great," Harry said.

"He's so excited!" Colin exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat. "I really hope he gets into Gryffindor. Cross your fingers for him, Harry!"

"Sure, I'll do that," Harry replied. He turned back to Hermione, Ron, and Nearly Headless Nick. "Don't brothers and sisters usually end up in the same Houses?" he asked, thinking of the Weasley siblings, all of whom were in Gryffindor.

Hermione replied, "Not always. Parvati Patil's twin is in Ravenclaw, even though they're identical. You'd think they'd be together, but it doesn't always work out that way."

Harry nodded finally relieved that he and Hermione were able to hold a normal conversation again.

He glanced at the staff table and noticed that there were more empty seats than usual. Hagrid was still on his way with the first-year students, and Professor McGonagall was likely overseeing the drying of the entrance hall. However, there was an additional empty chair, and Harry understood it was for the DADA position.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Hermione wondered aloud, also looking at the teachers.

They had yet to have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who lasted more than three terms. Harry's favorite, Professor Lupin, had resigned the previous year, and as he scanned the staff table, he couldn't spot a new face.

"Perhaps they couldn't find anyone," Hermione suggested with a hint of concern.

Harry took a closer look at the table. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, sat on a pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, whose hat was slightly askew, and Professor Sinistra from the Astronomy department. Next to Professor Sinistra was Severus Snape, the Potions master with his sallow face, hook-nose, and greasy hair, who happened to be Harry's least favorite person at Hogwarts. Harry's disdain for Snape was reciprocated, and their mutual enmity had only grown, especially after Harry had helped Sirius escape right under Snape's nose.

There was an empty seat next to Snape, which Harry assumed belonged to Professor McGonagall. In the center of the table, Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat with his long silver hair and beard gleaming in the candlelight, adorned in deep green robes adorned with celestial motifs. Dumbledore rested his chin on his fingers, gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles.

Harry, following Dumbledore's gaze, observed the enchanted ceiling, mimicking the stormy weather outside with swirling black and purple clouds, accompanied by flashes of lightning and peals of thunder.

"Could they hurry up?" Ron complained. "I'm starving, I could eat a hippogriff."

Just as Ron uttered these words, the doors of the Great Hall swung open, and the room fell silent. Professor McGonagall led a procession of first-year students to the front of the Hall. The first-year students looked like they had swum across the lake rather than sailed. Shivering from the cold and nerves, they lined up along the staff table, except for the smallest among them, a boy with mousy hair bundled up in Hagrid's enormous moleskin overcoat. The coat engulfed him, making him appear as if he were wearing a furry black circus tent. His small face peeked out from the collar, radiating an almost painful excitement. As he joined his apprehensive peers in the line, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, flashed a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, "I fell in the lake!" He seemed positively thrilled about it.

Professor McGonagall placed a three-legged stool in front of the first-year students and set an ancient, tattered wizard's hat atop it. The first-year students and everyone else in the Hall stared at the hat in anticipation. After a brief moment of silence, a long tear near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing:

*sorting hats song from goblet of fire*

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," said Harry, clapping along with everyone else.

"Sings a different one every year," said Ron. "It's got to be a

pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year

making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of

parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on

the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your

House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot,

picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

Thus the sorting continued…..After a few minutes

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said

Nearly Headless Nick as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

" 'Course it is, if you're dead," snapped Ron.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch,"

said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!"

joined the Gryffindor table. "We don't want to break our winning

streak, do we?"

Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship for the last

three years in a row. When Harry thought about it he realized that winning the house cup has not given him any advantages. He came to a realization that the points system was a way to instill discipline into students by peer pressure. He made a decision that he would start working more towards personal accomplishments.

And with the sorting of "Whitby, Kevin!" into Hufflepuff, Professor McGonagall took the hat and stool away.

"Finally," Ron exclaimed, picking up his knife and fork and eagerly eyeing his now-filled golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet, a warm smile on his face as he welcomed the students with open arms. "I have just two words for you," he announced, his resonant voice filling the hall. "Dig in."

"Cheers!" Harry and Ron chimed in loudly, and their empty plates were instantly laden with food.

Nearly Headless Nick watched the trio as they piled food onto their plates.

"Aah, that's better," Ron said with his mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"You should consider yourselves lucky to have a feast tonight," Nearly Headless Nick interjected. "There was quite a commotion in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? What happened?" Harry asked, with a substantial portion of steak in his mouth.

"Peeves, naturally," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled precariously. He adjusted his ruff to keep it in place. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to join the feast, but that was completely out of the question. You know what he's like, utterly uncivilized and can't resist throwing food. We had a ghost's council to discuss it. The Fat Friar was in favor of allowing him, but, wisely in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

The Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost, was a silent and gaunt specter covered in silver bloodstains. He was the only one at Hogwarts who could truly control Peeves.

"Yeah, Peeves did seem rather upset about something," Ron added darkly. "So, what did he do in the kitchens?"

"The usual," Nearly Headless Nick replied, shrugging. "He caused chaos and mayhem—pots and pans everywhere, the place was swimming in soup. He terrified the house-elves out of their wits."

Clang.

Hermione accidentally knocked over her golden goblet, causing pumpkin juice to spill over the tablecloth and stain several feet of white linen. But she paid no heed to the mess.

"We have house-elves here?" Hermione asked, a look of horror on her face. "At Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," Nearly Headless Nick replied, seeming surprised by her reaction. "I believe there are more house-elves here than in any other residence in Britain. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen during the day, do they?" Nearly Headless Nick explained. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning, tend to the fires, and so on. I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, that you don't even know it's there."

Hermione stared at him, her curiosity piqued.

"But they get paid?" she asked. "They have holidays, right? And sick leave, pensions, and all that?"

Nearly Headless Nick found her question amusing, and he chortled so hard that his ruff slipped, and his head dangled by the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still connected it to his neck.

"Sick leave and pensions?" he chuckled, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it with his ruff. "House-elves have no use for sick leave and pensions!"

"Oh come on, Hermione," said Ron, inadvertently spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops, sorry, Harry. You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

"Slave labor," Hermione muttered, her voice strained. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor."

And with that, she refused to take another bite. Harry himself thought about his house elves, Winky and Dobby and how that came about to be. A few days after the world cup fiasco he called winky to finalize the details of her employment and to his shock Dobby tagged along and all but demanded that he too be taken as his elf. Harry while amused found no reason to object. That was when he learnt the symbiotic relationship between house elves and wizards. House elves needed to be bonded either to a wizard or a magically powerful enough place. Otherwise they slowly lost sanity and then magic. He knew it was no use in arguing with Hermione when she was in such a mood and decided to let her know about it later.

The rain continued to drum against the high, dark windows. Another clap of thunder rattled the panes, and the stormy ceiling above flashed, momentarily illuminating the golden plates as they were cleared and replaced with desserts.

"Treacle tart, Hermione!" Ron said, playfully wafting the scent her way. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"

But Hermione shot him a stern look reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, and Ron relented.

After the desserts had been devoured and the last crumbs disappeared from the plates, leaving them spotlessly clean, Albus Dumbledore rose once more. The buzzing chatter in the Hall ceased abruptly, leaving only the sounds of howling wind and pounding rain.

"So," Dumbledore began, smiling at the students. "Now that we are all fed and watered," he added, with a knowing look at Hermione's previous comment, "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to inform you that the list of prohibited objects within the castle has been expanded this year to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list contains some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office if anyone wishes to review it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, and he continued, "As always, I must remind you that the forest on the grounds is off-limits to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade for those below the third year.

"I also regret to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" Harry gasped, looking around at Fred and George, fellow members of the Quidditch team, who were silently mouthing words at Dumbledore, apparently too horrified to speak.

Dumbledore pressed on, "This is due to an event that will begin in October and continue throughout the school year, consuming a significant portion of the teachers' time and energy. However, I am confident that you will all thoroughly enjoy it. I am pleased to announce that this year at Hogwarts—"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, and the doors to the Great Hall swung open.

In the doorway stood a man, leaning on a long staff, draped in a black traveling cloak. All eyes in the Great Hall turned toward the stranger, who was brilliantly illuminated by a bolt of lightning that streaked across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, revealing a head unlike any Harry had ever seen. It appeared as though it had been carved out of rugged wood by someone with only a vague understanding of what a human face should look like, and limited skill with a chisel. Scars covered every inch of his skin. His mouth resembled a diagonal gash, and a substantial portion of his nose was missing. But what made him truly terrifying were his eyes.

One eye was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and an electrifying, vivid blue. The blue eye moved ceaselessly, without pause, rolling in all directions, entirely independent of the other eye. Then, without warning, it rolled over completely, pointing backward into the man's head, leaving only whiteness in its wake.

The stranger made his way to Dumbledore, extending a scarred hand to him. They shook hands, muttering words too faint for Harry to hear. Dumbledore seemed to be inquiring about something, and the man responded tersely, in a hushed tone. Dumbledore nodded, gesturing for the man to take an empty seat at his right-hand side.

The stranger settled into the chair, pushing his tangled gray mane of hair out of his face, and helping himself to a plate of sausages. His face remained impassive, and his normal eye was fixed on the sausages. The blue eye, however, continued its restless movement, scanning the Great Hall and its occupants.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore announced with a warm smile, addressing the stunned students. "Professor Moody."

It was customary for new faculty members to be welcomed with applause, but only Dumbledore and Hagrid joined in, clapping their hands together. The sound echoed oddly in the silence and quickly died down. The majority of the audience seemed too mesmerized by Moody's strange appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Moody?" Harry whispered to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad was helping this morning?"

"That must be him," Ron responded in a hushed, awed tone. "What happened to his face? What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Hermione murmured. "But something happened to his face."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to the front of the Hall. "As I was saying," he continued, smiling at the students, who were still staring at Moody, "we will be hosting a very exciting event this year, one that has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will take place at Hogwarts."

"You've got to be kidding!" Fred Weasley exclaimed loudly, breaking the tension. Laughter rippled through the Hall, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking," Dumbledore replied, with a glimmer in his eye. "Though, now that you mention it, I did hear a particularly amusing joke over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who walked into a bar…"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat pointedly. "Er, but perhaps now is not the time for that," Dumbledore added, chuckling. "Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament."

Dumbledore then proceeded to explain the history of the Triwizard Tournament, its purpose, and the tasks that champions would undertake. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be visiting Hogwarts, and the selection of champions would occur on Halloween. An impartial judge would make the final decision on the students chosen to compete for the Triwizard Cup and the thousand Galleons prize money.

"I'm going to give it a shot!" Fred Weasley whispered excitedly to George.

Hermione, however, seemed concerned. "But people died, didn't they?" she murmured.

The majority of students appeared more intrigued by the tournament than worried about deaths from centuries past. They were chatting excitedly among themselves. As Dumbledore continued, students pondered the possibility of participating, despite an age restriction that had been put in place this year. Only students who were seventeen or older could enter the tournament. Dumbledore warned against underage students trying to deceive the impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champions.

"We'll have to find out how to get around Dumbledore, won't we?" Fred said. "Fancy entering?"

"Should we go for it?" Ron asked Harry. "It could be cool, but they might prefer older students. I'm not sure if we've learned enough."

"I haven't," Neville chimed in gloomily from behind Fred and George.

"My grandmother would want me to try," he continued, "She's always telling me to uphold the family honor. I just have to— oops…"

Neville's foot slipped right through a step on the staircase. Many such trick stairs were scattered throughout Hogwarts, and Neville had a terrible memory. Harry, Ron, and Neville helped him out. A suit of armor by the top of the stairs chuckled at their predicament.

"Shut it," Ron grumbled, knocking the helmeted head as they passed by.

The trio headed to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, concealed behind a large portrait of a corpulent lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she inquired as they approached.

"Balderdash," George answered. "That's what a prefect told me."

The portrait swung open to reveal a doorway into the tower, leading to the common room. Hermione appeared somewhat irritated by the crackling fire, and as she bid them good night, she muttered something about "slave labor."

Harry, Ron, and Neville donned their pajamas and settled into their beds, each of which had been fitted with warming pans. Lying in the cozy beds, they listened to the storm outside.

"I might just go for it, you know," Ron said sleepily in the dark. "If Fred and George figure out how to do it... the tournament... who knows, right?"

"Maybe we should," Harry replied, smiling into his pillow. "It would be pretty cool to enter. But I guess they might prefer older students... I don't know if we're ready yet..."

Harry rolled over, his mind filled with vivid images. He had somehow convinced the impartial judge that he was seventeen, become the Hogwarts champion, and stood in front of the entire school with arms raised in victory, a roaring crowd applauding him. Among the faces in the crowd, Hermione's stood out, her eyes gleaming with admiration and love.

Harry grinned into his pillow, grateful that Ron couldn't see the vivid images he could conjure.

The storm had subsided by the following morning, although the ceiling in the Great Hall retained a gloomy aspect, with heavy pewter gray clouds swirling overhead as Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their freshly received class schedules during breakfast. A few seats down, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were engrossed in discussions regarding the magical methods of aging themselves and feigning their way into the Triwizard Tournament. Harry on the other hand was going through his ancient runes notes preparing for his up coming exam.

"Today's schedule isn't too bad. We'll be outside in the morning," Ron remarked as he ran his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures. But we're still stuck with the Slytherins."

"Double Divination this afternoon," Ron grinned while glancing at his schedule. Divination ranked as his favorite subject. Professor Trelawney had an annoying habit of predicting Harry's demise but he just had to make up stories and could easily get his assignments done.

"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" Hermione interjected, spreading jam on her toast. "Then you'd be studying something sensible, like Arithmancy."

"I see you're eating again," Ron tried to divert, noting Hermione's generous application of jam to her toast.

"I've decided there are better ways to make a stand about elf rights," Hermione retorted with an air of dignity.

"Yeah, and you were hungry," Ron said, grinning. This by play between Ron and Hermione caused Harry to frown but he controlled his emotions and concentrated on his notes.

A sudden rustling noise from above drew their attention, as a multitude of owls descended through the open windows, delivering the morning mail. Harry instinctively looked up, but there was no sign of a white owl amidst the swarm of brown and gray. The owls circled the tables, searching for the recipients of their letters and packages. A large tawny owl dropped a package into Neville Longbottom's lap, as Neville had a tendency to forget something. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy's eagle owl landed on his shoulder, bearing what appeared to be his customary supply of sweets and treats from home. Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment in his stomach. Had something happened to Hedwig? Had Sirius even received his letter?

Harry's thoughts stayed with him as they crossed the soggy vegetable patch on their way to greenhouse three. However, they were soon captivated by Professor Sprout, who was introducing the class to the ugliest plants Harry had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than

thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each

was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings

upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need

squeezing. You will collect the pus —".

"The what?" Seamus Finnigan asked, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Finnigan, pus," replied Professor Sprout. "It's quite valuable, so don't waste it. Wear your dragon-hide gloves, as undiluted bubotuber pus can do strange things to your skin."

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting but strangely satisfying. Each time a swelling was popped, it released a thick yellowish-green liquid with a strong smell of petrol. They collected it in the bottles provided by Professor Sprout, amassing several pints by the end of the lesson.

"This will keep Madam Pomfrey happy," Professor Sprout noted while corking the last bottle. "Bubotuber pus is an excellent remedy for stubborn forms of acne. It should prevent students from resorting to desperate measures to get rid of pimples."

A resounding bell chimed from the castle, signaling the end of the lesson. The class dispersed, with the Hufflepuffs making their way up the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors descending the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's cozy wooden cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid stood outside his hut, holding onto the collar of his massive black boarhound, Fang. Several open wooden crates lay at his feet, and Fang was whining and pulling at his collar, eager to investigate the crate contents more closely. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached, they heard a peculiar rattling sound coming from the crates, accompanied by minor explosions.

"Good morning!" Hagrid greeted them with a wide grin. "You'd better wait for the Slytherins; they wouldn't want to miss this. Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"Come again?" Ron asked, looking puzzled.

Hagrid gestured toward the crates. "Eurgh!" Lavender Brown exclaimed, taking a step back. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"

Hagrid enthusiastically explained, "Some of 'em have stingers. I reckon they're the males. The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies, and I think they might be for sucking blood."

"Why would we want to raise them?" Draco Malfoy's cold voice inquired. "What's the point?"

Hagrid seemed momentarily stumped by the question. "I mean, what do they do? What's the point of them?"

Hermione chimed in, "Just because they're not very attractive doesn't mean they're not useful. Dragon blood is incredibly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon as a pet, would you?"

Harry and Ron shared a knowing glance with Hagrid, who offered a discreet smile from behind his bushy beard. Hagrid had an affinity for monstrous creatures, the more dangerous, the better. They were all too familiar with this, as he had briefly owned a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon named Norbert during their first year.

"Well, at least the skrewts are small for now," Ron remarked as they headed back to the castle for lunch an hour later.

"They are presently," Hermione replied in an exasperated tone, "but once Hagrid figures out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."

"Well, that won't matter if they end up curing seasickness or something, will it?" Ron teased with a sly grin.

"You know very well I only said that to silence Malfoy," Hermione responded. "As a matter of fact, I think he's correct. The best approach would be to stamp out the lot of them before they start attacking us."

They took their seats at the Gryffindor table, helping themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began eating so rapidly that Harry and Ron stared in astonishment.

"Is this the new approach to elf rights?" Ron quipped. "Are you trying to make yourself sick?"

"No," Hermione answered, her mouth stuffed with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."

"What?" Ron exclaimed, baffled. "Hermione, it's the first day back! We don't even have homework yet!"

Hermione shrugged and continued to devour her food as if she hadn't eaten for days. Then, she leaped to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and hurried off at full speed.

Harry wanted to stop her but he knew there was no use and moreover he had the upcoming runes exam to prepare for. Eating fast he said good bye to Ron and rushed to the ancient runes class.

Harry soon entered ancient runes classroom and found that he was the only person there. He was waiting for 5 minutes before a slender woman with blonde hair entered the room. As soon as she came in Professor Sinestra greeted harry "Oh…you are here Mr. Potter. I thought you would have given up by now. After all many students change from Ancient runes to other electives not from other electives into ancient runes."

Harry smiled and replied "well professor I am not most students."

Professor Sinestra smiled back and took out a few papers from a nearby desk and handed it to Harry. You have one hour to answer these questions Mr. Potter. Then we will evaluate them and see if you can join the other fourth years. Please sit in that corner. Ill make sure no one else disturbs you.

Once Harry sat down and started writing other fourth years started trickling down into class for their regular class of ancient runes. Harry was fully immersed in answering the questions and didn't even check who was in the room. He finished all the questions in just 40 minutes and after going over his answers once again decided to hand over the paper. Seeing Professor was immersed in her lecture he just signaled her that he was done. Compared to the work he did in the summer the questions in the paper felt easy to answer. What he did not realize was that he had a instinctive grasp of runes. Like Lilly Potter who was a prodigy in charms and potions and James Potter who was a prodigy in transfiguration, Harry was a prodigy in runes. If he wouldn't have attended the class no one would have ever realized this. But professor Sinestra who was going through Harry's answers was shocked. The answers were spot on and the explanations and examples were well thought out. She understood that she now had an unpolished gem in her hands. She asked him to stay back and after dismissing rest of the class she said "Mr. Potter your answers are excellent. How did you think about the examples you provided regarding practical applications of runes?"

Harry was now grinning thinking he can quit divination and answered "That was easy professor. Whenever I study a rune, I start thinking what use it has in day-to-day life and what other runes can be combined to form a matrix to give results."

Professor Sinestra was further shocked when she heard harry talking about rune matrixes. That was the topic to cover at the end of 4th year and was a O.W.L level topic. She did not want to disclose that to Harry and decided to see where he would be in a few months' time. She took out the assignment which she gave to the class that just left and gave it as home work for him and told him she would speak with Professor McGonagall about change in his schedule.

Harry was happy and went straight to library as he did not have any other classes for that day and wanted to finish the assignment and get ahead in his studies. He picked up some books from the runes section and started working on the assignment. Finishing it just within 30 minutes Harry thought it must be one of the easier ones and started reading ahead. Soon it was time for dinner and as he felt many students leaving, he followed them after putting back the runes text. He decided to pick up some potions work after dinner so that snape wouldn't have a chance to give him detentions or dock points in his next potions class. He soon met Ron on the stair case who immediately started complaining about homework.

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will. . . ."

"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily. They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?" said Ron shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special

Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches and attack by unknown dark wizard, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office." Malfoy looked up. "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed. Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved

in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house — if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him. "Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon, Ron. . . ." "Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?" Normally Harry would just leave but bringing "Molly Weasley" into the picture was a line Malfoy shouldn't have crossed. She was so far the only mother figure in Harry's life and he defended her fiercely.

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter." "oh really? What will you do? Run to your daddy dearest? Did he even come home from St. Mungos? Is your Pureblood Mom taking care of him or is she too busy in keeping the minister happy now that your father can't bend over for him?" Harry feeling this would be enough to get the reaction he wanted turned back while discreetly pulling out his wand.

BANG!

Several people screamed — Harry who was prepared cast a shield charm to defend himself. Before he could retaliate another BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing. There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry —at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was

pointing into the back of his head. "Good reaction time POTTER, Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly. "No," said Harry.

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and

could see out of the back of his head. Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons. "I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again — it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do. . . ."

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never — do — that — again —" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice. Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase

with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What — what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach — Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall weakly. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock —"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy. . . . You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son . . . you tell him that from me. . . . Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. . . . Come on, you. . . ."

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and was marching him off toward the dungeons when Harry interrupted.

"Professor McGonagall, many times in the past Malfoy verbally abused me, Ron, Hermione and our families. Today he went as far as to use magic in the corridors, that too when my back was turned. What grantee do I have that he and his friends wont ambush me or my friends? I would like to lodge a formal complaint and press charges against Draco Malfoy."

Professor McGonagall stood shocked for a few moments then replied "Ill discuss the matter with Headmaster Dumbledore Mr. Potter and get back to you.", then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened.

"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret . . ."

Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates.

"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it —"

"Hermione!" said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again,

"you're ruining the best moment of my life!"

Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed again.

"Are you going back to the library this evening?" asked Harry, watching her.

"Got to," said Hermione thickly. "Loads to do."

"But you told us Professor Vector —"

"It's not schoolwork," she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.

"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," said George, sitting down opposite Fred.

"Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Harry and Ron.

"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly wanting to know the one professor who had no qualms of going against rules to defend his students.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning. "Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.

"He knows, man," said Lee.

"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.

"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George impressively.

"Doing what?" said Harry.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.

"He's seen it all," said George.

" 'Mazing," said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.

"We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice. Harry though was finally relieved. His first two years of DADA classes left a lot to be desired.

The next two days went by without any significant incidents, unless you counted Neville's sixth cauldron melting in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have become more vindictive over the summer, punished Neville with detention, during which Neville had to deal with a barrel full of horned toads, a task that left him in a state of nervous exhaustion. Snape tried his very best to get Harry but Harry who was prepared this time gave a perfect potion souring snapes mood further. Neville returned from detention in a pitiful state, having been forced to disembowel the toads.

"You know why Snape's so cranky, don't you?" Ron said to Harry as they watched Hermione teach Neville a Scouring Charm to remove frog guts from under his fingernails.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Moody."

It was common knowledge that Snape was keen on the Dark Arts position and had failed to secure it for the fourth year in a row. Snape had never been fond of their previous Dark Arts teachers, and it seemed he was particularly cautious about showing overt animosity towards Mad-Eye Moody. Harry had noticed that whenever Moody and Snape were in the same vicinity, Snape actively avoided eye contact with Moody, whether magical or natural.

"I think Snape's a bit wary of him," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a ferret," Ron said, grinning, his eyes misting over. "And bounced him all around the castle..."

The Gryffindor fourth years were eagerly awaiting Moody's first lesson, and they arrived early outside his classroom. The only person missing was Hermione, who arrived just in time for the lesson.

"Been in the—"

"Library," Harry completed Hermione's sentence. "Come on, let's get good seats."

They settled in three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, took out their copies of "The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection," and waited in uncharacteristic silence. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps approaching, and he entered the room, looking as unsettling and frightening as ever. They could see his clawed, wooden leg peeking out from under his robes.

"Put those books away," he growled. "You won't need them."

Reluctantly, they put the books back in their bags, and Ron seemed excited. Moody took out a register, his wild gray hair falling over his scarred face, and began calling out names. While his normal eye checked the list, his magical eye roamed around, focusing on each student as they responded.

"Alright," Moody began, "I received a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. It appears you've had a thorough grounding in dealing with dark creatures – boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves. Is that correct?"

A general murmur of agreement passed through the class.

"But you're behind—very behind—on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to handle Dark—"

"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled—the first time Harry had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore. One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So—straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

Harry was immediately fascinated with the eye. He wanted to study the runes and charms work on it and decided it would be one of his projects but right then focused on the class.

"So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron's and Hermione's. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

"Er," said Ron tentatively, "my dad told me about one. . . . Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Harry felt Ron recoil slightly next to him—Ron hated spiders.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing—everyone except Moody and Harry. Harry who was studying the tactics death eaters used in the last war knew how dangerous this curse was. In fact he was of a personal belief that this was the most dangerous of the three curses. Put someone under this curse and tell me act like themselves until a specific phrase was said in their presence and then back stab your comrades. Sleeper cells, that's what muggles called them but muggles required many years for such a planted sleeper agent to grow. Here all you need was a single curse and you can turn a member of family against them.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats. . . ."

Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped. This was new to harry. He thought it was impossible to fight against these curses but hearing from a expert that it can be fought against he felt relieved.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air again and so, to Harry's slight surprise, did Neville's. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology, which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

"There's one—the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently—

"Stop it!" Hermione said shrilly.

Harry looked around at her. She was looking, not at the spider, but at Neville, and Harry, following her gaze, saw that Neville's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.

Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. . . . That one was very popular once too.

"Right. . . anyone know any others?"

Harry looked around. From the looks on everyone's faces, he guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. He knew what was going to happen and was about to volunteer to say it when surprisingly Hermione's hand shook slightly as, for the third time, she raised it into the air.

"Yes?" said Moody, looking at her.

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered.

Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra . . . the Killing Curse."

Harry interjected "The worst? I beg to disagree professor"

Moody was shocked but then he said "Potter is it? Then tell me which do you think is the worst?"

"The imperius" Harry replied unflinchingly at moodys gaze and elobrated "with the killing curse you can only kill the person in front of you but if you use imperius curse on a person and tell them to poison the family…you take out the whole lot of them"

Moody gave an impressive smile and replied "Well done Mr. Potter, finally someone who understands the dangers these curses posses. Anyway I have to disagree with you boy and you will see the reason soon enough."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared. There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as

though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air — instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him. Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Harry felt his face redden as Moody's eyes (both of them) looked into his own. He could feel everyone else looking around at him too. Harry stared at the blank blackboard as though fascinated by

it, but not really seeing it at all. . . .So that was how his parents had died . . . exactly like that spider. Had they been unblemished and unmarked too? Had they simply seen the flash of green light and heard the rush of speeding death, before life was wiped from their bodies? Harry had been picturing his parents' deaths over and over again for three years now, ever since he'd found out they had been murdered, ever since he'd found out what had happened that night: Wormtail had betrayed his parents' whereabouts to Voldemort, who had come to find them at their cottage. How Voldemort had killed Harry's father first. How James Potter had tried to hold him off, while he shouted at his wife to take Harry and run . . . Voldemort had advanced on Lily Potter, told her to move aside so that he could kill Harry . . . how she had begged him to kill her instead, refused to stop shielding her son . . . and so Voldemort had murdered her too, before turning his wand on Harry. . . .Harry knew these details because he had heard his parents' voices when he had fought the dementors last year — for that was the terrible power of the dementors: to force their victims to relive the worst memories of their lives, and drown, powerless, in their own despair. . . . but what irked Harry was why…why did he want to kill a 15 months old baby? Because he was ready to spare my mom, who is a muggle born. So the target was definitely me. If it was my dad he would have left from the main door itself after killing him but he came in to the nursery, he asked mom to move aside. If he wanted to end the line of potters then why spare mom? And how did I survive? Harry had no answers. His research showed him nothing. He put it aside for now.

Moody was speaking again, from a great distance, it seemed to Harry. With a massive effort, he pulled himself back to the present and listened to what Moody was saying.

"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it — you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.

"Now, if there's no counter-curse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again. Harry liked that mantra "constant vigilance" indeed.

"now you know Mr. Potter why I consider this the worst? The Imperious curse can be fought with enough will power, The Cruciatus curse can be overcome by fighting through pain but this…the killing curse is instant death. You don't have a way of fighting against it."

"Now . . . those three curses — Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus — are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills . . . copy this down. . . ."

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang — but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices — "Did you see it twitch?" "— and when he killed it — just like that!"

They were talking about the lesson, Harry thought, as though it had been some sort of spectacular show, and while he found it to be very educational and enlightening, he hadn't found it very entertaining — and nor, it seemed, had Hermione.

"Hurry up," she said tensely to Harry and Ron.

"Not the ruddy library again?" said Ron.

"No," said Hermione curtly, pointing up a side passage. "Neville."

Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse.

"Neville?" Hermione said gently.

Neville looked around.

"Oh hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm — I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Neville, are you all right?" said Hermione.

"Oh yes, I'm fine," Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner — I mean lesson — what's for eating?"

Ron gave Harry a startled look.

"Neville, what — ?"

But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard.

"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on . . . we can have a cup of tea. . . ."

Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry.

"You all right, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry, almost defiantly.

Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending . . . well . . . come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."

Neville looked pleadingly at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but they didn't say anything, so Neville had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder.

"What was that about?" said Ron, watching Neville and Moody turn the corner.

"I don't know," said Hermione, looking pensive.

"Some lesson, though, eh?" said Ron to Harry as they set off for the Great Hall. "Fred and George were right, weren't they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did AvadaKedavra, the way that spider just died, just snuffed it right —"

But Ron fell suddenly silent at the look on Harry's face and didn't speak again until they reached the Great Hall, when he said he supposed they had better make a start on Professor Trelawney's

predictions tonight, since they would take hours. Harry said "but Ron. I passed the runes exam. Ill be taking ancient runes from now on."

Hermione did not join in with Harry and Ron's conversation during dinner, but ate furiously fast, and then left for the library again. Harry and Ron walked back to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry, who had been thinking of nothing else all through dinner, now raised the subject of the Unforgivable Curses himself.

"Wouldn't Moody and Dumbledore be in trouble with the Ministry if they knew we'd seen the curses?" Harry asked as they approached the Fat Lady. "Yeah, probably," said Ron. "But Dumbledore's always done things his way, hasn't he, and Moody's been getting in trouble for years, I reckon. Attacks first and asks questions later — look at his dustbins. Balderdash."

The Fat Lady swung forward to reveal the entrance hole, and they climbed into the Gryffindor common room, which was crowded and noisy.

They went up to the dormitory to fetch their books and charts, to find Neville there alone, sitting on his bed, reading. He looked a good deal calmer than at the end of Moody's lesson, though still

not entirely normal. His eyes were rather red.

"You all right, Neville?" Harry asked him.

"Oh yes," said Neville, "I'm fine, thanks. Just reading this book Professor Moody lent me. . . ."

He held up the book: Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean.

"Apparently, Professor Sprout told Professor Moody I'm really good at Herbology," Neville said. There was a faint note of pride in his voice that Harry had rarely heard there before. "He thought I'd

like this." Telling Neville what Professor Sprout had said, Harry thought, had been a very tactful way of cheering Neville up, for Neville very rarely heard that he was good at anything. It was the sort of thing Professor Lupin would have done.

Harry picked up a few books and left again leaving Ron to his homework and went to a empty class rom to experiment and further progress his rune grenades.

Almost after two hours Hermione climbed into the common room carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box whose contents rattled as she walked in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purring.

"Hello," she said, "I've just finished!"

"So have I!" said Ron triumphantly, throwing down his quill.

Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron's predictions toward her.

"Not going to have a very good month, are you?" she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.

"Ah well, at least I'm forewarned," Ron yawned then moved next to Hermione and started running his hand through her hair.

"You seem to be drowning twice," said Hermione as she relaxed int Ron's touch.

"Oh am I?" said Ron, peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff."

"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" said Hermione smiling.

"How dare you!" said Ron, in mock outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's just an expression," said Ron hastily.

They were kissing as it was only two of them in the common room when suddenly the Portrait swung open and Harry entered. Seeing Hermione almost sitting in Rons lap made the ugly head of jealousy raise its head in his heart but he forcefully suppressed it and said "Hey you two..get a room will ya."

"What's in the box?" he asked, pointing at it.

"Funny you should ask," said Hermione, with a nasty look at Harry for interrupting them and the room comment. Rons face was still red. She took off the lid and showed them the contents. Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

" 'Spew'?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it.

"What's this about?"

"Not spew," said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," said Ron.

"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione briskly, "I've only just started it."

"Yeah?" said Ron in mild surprise. "How many members have you got?"

"Well — if you two join — three," said Hermione.

"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew,' do you?" said Ron.

"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status — but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."

She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them.

"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione — open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!"

"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our longterm aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked while he was gleeful on the inside about the spat between Ron and Hermione which he was sure would happen knowing their tempers.

"We start by recruiting members," said Hermione happily. "I thought two Sickles to join — that buys a badge — and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron — I've got you a collecting tin upstairs — and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting."

There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at the pair of them, and Harry sat, torn between exasperation at Hermione and amusement at the look on Ron's face. The silence was broken, not by Ron, who in any case looked as though he was temporarily dumbstruck, but by a soft tap, tap on the window. Harry looked across the now empty common room and saw, illuminated by the moonlight, a snowy owl perched on the windowsill.

"Hedwig!" he shouted, and he launched himself out of his chair and across the room to pull open the window. Hedwig flew inside, soared across the room, and landed on the table on top of Ron's predictions.

"About time!" said Harry, hurrying after her.

"She's got an answer!" said Ron excitedly, pointing at the grubby piece of parchment tied to Hedwig's leg.

Harry hastily untied it and sat down to read, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

The letter was very short, and looked as though it had been

scrawled in a great hurry. Harry read it aloud:

Harry —

I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is

the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me

here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore — they're

saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's

reading the signs, even if no one else is.

I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep

your eyes open, Harry. -

Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione, who stared back at him. "He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "He's coming back?"

"Dumbledore's reading what signs?" said Ron, looking perplexed. "Harry — what's up?"

For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap.

"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry said furiously.

"What are you on about?" said Ron in surprise.

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" said Harry, now slamming his fist on the table so that Hedwig landed on the back of Ron's chair, hooting indignantly. "Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," Harry snapped at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak expectantly, "you'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took off for

the open window, cuffing him around the head with her outstretched wing as she went.

"Harry," Hermione began, in a pacifying sort of voice…

"NOT NOW HERMIONE" harry barked and immediately rushed to his dorm and picked up his journal in which he wrote about the dream and ran out of the door to McGonagall's office. He knew Dumbledore would be able to help him and he didn't know why he has not told him till today. He thought he would inform the headmaster as soon as he came back to Hogwarts but other things have occupied his mind. Now though he did not want Sirius to risk his life coming back.

Knocking on the office door of McGonagall he said "professor its me Harry."

McGonagall opened the door and said in a stern voice " I hope you have a very good reason to come out at this hour Mr. Potter. It's almost curfew."

Harry nodded and said "yes professor. I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore urgently. Its about…."

McGonagall quickly asked "what's it about?"

Harry lied "Its about what happened at the end of last year. Please its urgent."

McGonagall sighed and replied fine come with me….soon they reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's chambers and McGonagall said "lemon drops"

The gargoyle spun open and McGonagall asked harry to wait and went into his office. She came back a few minutes later and said "you can go in now"

Dumbledore was wearing a night cap and a gown and seemed ready to retire for bed.

Harry said "sorry to disturb you at this hour sir."

Dumbledore smiled genially and said "never mind harry. My door is always open for students. Now what is it that you want to talk about?"

Harry smiled but quickly opened the journal and narrated in great detail the dream he had in the summer.

Dumbledore after hearing it came to same conclusions as Harry then said "it's a good thing you brought this to me harry. This proves that Peter has met with Voldemort and they are on the move. Inform me if you have anymore dreams. I'll tell professor McGonagall to give you the password to my chambers. No need to disturb her at odd hours. Harry nodded then showed Sirius's letter. Dumbledore sighed and replied "don't worry. Ill take care of that."

Harry relaxed and went back to his dorm accompanied by McGonagall who was waiting for him. Ron and Hermione were waiting and Harry apologized for his abrupt departure and told them what happened. They decided to call it a night and went to sleep.

Early next morning, Harry woke and after finishing his morning work out he quickly penned a letter to Sirius

-Dear Sirius,

There's no point in telling you not to come back as I know you wouldn't listen. Everything's fine here at the moment. Don't worry about me. Contact the headmaster as soon as you arrive here. I am sending my house elf to you. Keep her with you at all times.

Harry-

He then called winky and told her to deliver the letter to Sirius Black, his god father. In the last few weeks he learnt a lot about house elves and one of the interesting things he learnt was how they can find almost any person. There were a few exceptional charms that can stop house elves from finding a person but those were rarely used these days.

Harry thought how foolish wizards were considering how most of the pureblood families had multiple house elves.

Six weeks passed in the blink of an eye for Harry. He was so heavily focused on his studies and projects that when the announcement was made regarding arrival of guests he was a little shocked. While the arrival was with a lot of pomp and show and Ron was ogling Victor Kurm, Harry was focused on his studies. He got a letter from Sirius confirming his arrival in the country and subsequent contract with Dumbledore which eased Harry's mind a lot.

In two days it would be Halloween and Harry was dreading it. That day always bode ill for him after coming to Hogwarts. First year a troll was let into the castle and almost killed Hermione. Second year the chamber of secrets has been re-opened. His third year was comparatively tame but still caused a lot of fright at that time as Sirius has come into the castle searching for wormtail.

That evening after donner Dumbledore announced about how the champions will be chosen.

The atmosphere in the hall was charged with anticipation. Harry felt a thrill of excitement, curious about what was to come. Fred and George, a few seats away, were leaning forward, their attention fixed on Dumbledore.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore announced, smiling at the attentive crowd. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin. But before we unveil the casket—"

"What casket?" Harry muttered.

Ron shrugged.

"—let me introduce Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Dumbledore continued, receiving a polite applause, "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

A considerably more enthusiastic round of applause greeted Bagman compared to Crouch, possibly due to his renown as a Beater or simply because of his more amiable appearance. He acknowledged it with a cheerful wave. On the other hand, Bartemius Crouch did not exhibit a smile or a wave when his name was declared. Reflecting on his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry found him to look peculiar in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and rigid parting seemed out of place next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have dedicated extensive efforts over the past few months to organize the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued. "They will be joining Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and myself on the panel responsible for evaluating the champions' performances."

At the mention of the term "champions," the attentiveness of the students listening appeared to intensify. Perhaps Dumbledore noted their abrupt stillness, as he smiled while saying, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lingering inconspicuously in a distant corner of the hall, approached Dumbledore, carrying a sizable wooden chest adorned with jewels, appearing remarkably ancient. The watching students erupted into an excited murmur; Dennis Creevey, in his attempt to get a proper view, stood on his chair, though his tiny stature barely lifted his head above the others.

"The instructions for this year's tasks, which the champions will face, have already undergone scrutiny by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore announced as Filch carefully placed the chest on the table before him. "They have made the necessary preparations for each challenge. Throughout the school year, there will be three tasks, designed to evaluate the champions in various ways – testing their magical prowess, daring, powers of deduction, and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At the mention of the last word, a profound silence filled the hall, so absolute that it seemed as if nobody was breathing.

"As you are aware, three champions from different schools will compete in the tournament," Dumbledore continued calmly. "They will be judged on their performance in each task, and the champion with the highest total after the third task will claim the Triwizard Cup. The impartial selector for the champions is the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore then drew his wand and tapped the top of the casket three times. The lid slowly creaked open, and from within, he pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely ordinary if not for being filled to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore sealed the casket and positioned the goblet carefully atop it, ensuring its visibility to everyone in the Hall.

"If anyone wishes to present themselves as a champion, they must inscribe their name and school clearly on a slip of parchment and deposit it into the goblet," Dumbledore instructed. "Potential champions have a twenty-four-hour window to enter their names. By tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will reveal the three names it deems most worthy to represent their schools. Tonight, the goblet will be situated in the entrance hall, accessible to all contenders.

"To prevent underage students from succumbing to temptation," Dumbledore added, "I will draw an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it's in the entrance hall. No one under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Lastly, I want to emphasize to those considering participation that this tournament should not be taken lightly. Once the Goblet of Fire selects a champion, they are bound by a magical contract to see the tournament through. Placing your name in the goblet is a commitment. There is no room for a change of heart once you become a champion. Therefore, be absolutely certain that you are fully prepared to compete before submitting your name. Now, it's time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" remarked Fred Weasley, eyes gleaming, as they exited the Hall toward the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing—it can't discern whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," Hermione commented. "We just haven't learned enough."

"Speak for yourself," retorted George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

Harry spoke in a deadpan tone "and why would I do that? I have faced enough life threatening situations in the last three years. I wouldn't put myself in the harms way if I can avoid it."

Hermione beamed at harry and harry felt like he won a hundred tournaments on seeing that smile directed at him. Deep in his heart he understood that he would forever love her but that doesn't mean he cant move on. He knew it was time to move on. Well Ron and Hermione had their love. He had his studies. All of them were happy. He didn't want to change the dynamics.

The next day was Saturday, a day when most students would typically have a leisurely breakfast, Ron and Hermione found themselves among the early risers. As they descended into the entrance hall, approximately twenty individuals were already present, some munching on toast, all fixated on the Goblet of Fire. It occupied the central spot, where the Sorting Hat usually sat. A delicate golden line marked a circle with a ten-foot radius around it.

"Anyone tossed their name in yet?" Ron inquired eagerly of a third-year girl.

"All the Durmstrang bunch," she responded. "But no one from Hogwarts so far."

"I bet some of them did it last night after we all turned in," Harry speculated coming back from his morning workout. Ron replied " yeah mate I would've if it were me... wouldn't want an audience. What if the goblet just spat you right back out?"

A laugh echoed behind Harry. He turned to see Fred, George, and Lee Jordan descending the stairs, all three bubbling with excitement.

"We did it," Fred whispered triumphantly to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Just took it."

"What?" queried Ron.

"The Aging Potion, you dung brains," Fred retorted.

"One drop each," added George, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We'll divide the thousand Galleons among the three of us if one of us wins," Lee chimed in, grinning widely.

"I'm not convinced this will work," Hermione cautioned. "I'm sure Dumbledore has considered this."

Fred, George, and Lee paid no heed to her concerns.

"Ready?" Fred asked the other two, brimming with excitement. "Come on, then—I'll go first."

Harry observed with fascination as Fred extracted a slip of parchment from his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley—Hogwarts. Fred approached the edge of the line, poised like a diver preparing for a significant plunge. Then, with all eyes in the entrance hall fixed on him, he took a deep breath and stepped over the line.

For a fleeting moment, Harry thought it had succeeded—George certainly believed so, as he let out a triumphant yell and followed Fred. However, the next instant brought a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were propelled out of the golden circle as if propelled by an unseen shot-putter. They landed painfully ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add to the humiliation, a loud popping noise ensued, and both sprouted identical long white beards.

Laughter resonated in the entrance hall. Even Fred and George joined in once they had risen and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," a deep, amused voice said, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore emerging from the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Mr. Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a bit too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is as impressive as yours."

Accompanied by Lee, who was still laughing uproariously, Fred and George headed for the hospital wing. Before he could leave Harry called out but professor Dumbledore what if I do this, saying it he took a blank parchment and showing that there was no name on it charmed it into a paper butterfly which flew and fell into the goblet.

When nothing happened and the goblet accepted the slip everyone present in the hall were shocked and Dumbledore immediately understood the flaw in the security. He said "50 points to Gryffindor Mr. Potter for pointing out such a glaring flaw in our security."

He immediately started to cast more charms to avoid further such flaws.

After breakfast harry freshened up in his room and went to see Hagrid along with Ron and Hermione. After spending a couple of hours with Hagrid harry went back to the castle and spent the remaining day studying. He was much ahead in most of the subjects and started to give Hermione a run for her money in theory. In practical applications he was beyond even most adult wizards. He understood that a war was soon to come and started to practice the spell chains he created. Though he had no actual opponents his rune matrices helped him in that regard. He practiced in a abandoned class room.

That night at dinner as it was their second feast in two consecutive days, Harry found himself less enthusiastic about the meticulously prepared food than he might have been under different circumstances. Like everyone else in the hall, judging by the constant craning of necks, impatient expressions, fidgeting, and the intermittent standing to check if Dumbledore had finished eating, Harry simply wished for the plates to clear and to learn who had been chosen as champions.

Finally, the golden plates returned to their pristine state, prompting a sharp increase in the noise level within the hall. It hushed almost instantly as Dumbledore rose to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime appeared tense and expectant, while Ludo Bagman beamed and winked at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, seemed disinterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," announced Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. When the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and proceed into the next chamber" — he gestured toward the door behind the staff table — "where they will receive their first instructions."

Dumbledore produced his wand and executed a sweeping wave, extinguishing all candles except those inside the carved pumpkins, casting them into semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now glowed brighter than anything else in the hall, its sparkling, bright, blue-white flames almost painful to the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting, with a few individuals checking their watches.

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered two seats away from Harry.

The flames inside the goblet abruptly turned red again. Sparks flew, and a tongue of flame shot into the air, carrying a charred piece of parchment. The entire room gasped. Dumbledore caught the parchment, holding it at arm's length to read it by the light of the flames, which had reverted to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, his voice strong and clear, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" Ron yelled as applause and cheering erupted in the hall. Harry saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and make his way toward Dumbledore. He turned right, walked along the staff table, and vanished through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, his voice audible over the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The applause and chatter subsided. All attention returned to the goblet, which turned red again seconds later. A second piece of parchment shot out, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," announced Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Harry!" Ron shouted as the girl, resembling a veela, gracefully rose, shook back her silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione observed over the noise, nodding toward the rest of the Beauxbatons party.

"Disappointed" was an understatement, Harry thought. Two of the girls not selected had dissolved into tears, sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again. This time, it was a stiff silence charged with excitement, almost tangible. The Hogwarts champion was next...

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; a flame shot high into the air, and from its tip, Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" exclaimed Ron loudly, but his protest went unheard amid the uproar from the next table. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to their feet, screaming and stamping as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. The applause for Cedric continued so long that it took some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed happily as the tumult finally subsided. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

Dumbledore abruptly stopped speaking, and it became evident to everyone what had diverted his attention.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks flew from it, and a long flame shot into the air, carrying another piece of parchment.

Almost instinctively, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. Holding it out, he stared at the name written upon it. There was a lengthy pause during which Dumbledore examined the slip in his hands, and the entire room fixated on him. Then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out —

"Harry Potter."

Seated there, Harry felt the weight of every gaze in the Great Hall turning toward him. He was shocked for a second but then composed himself. Rather than being stupefied, he maintained a composed awareness. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; surely, this had to be a dream. There was an absence of applause, but a buzz, akin to the hum of angry bees, started to fill the hall. Some students stood up to get a better look at Harry, who remained poised in his seat.

Professor McGonagall had risen from the top table and quickly made her way past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore. The latter bent his ear toward her, a slight frown etched on his face. Turning to Ron and Hermione, Harry calmly stated, "I didn't put my name in. You know I didn't."

Both Ron and Hermione met his gaze, their expressions not matching his. Rons glare had an accusatory feel to it while Hermione had a look of disbelief and disappointment.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall. "Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a nudge.

Harry gracefully got to his feet, expertly avoiding any mishaps with the hem of his robes. He confidently walked up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The top table, though seemingly distant, didn't faze him, and he could feel hundreds of eyes on him, each one a spotlight. The buzzing noise grew louder, but Harry remained unfazed.

" Its just like second year" he thought to himself.

After what felt like a leisurely stroll, he stood right in front of Dumbledore, meeting the gaze of all the teachers with calm assurance.

"Well... through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. His smile was absent, but Harry maintained his composed demeanor.

Harry proceeded along the teachers' table, noticing Hagrid seated at the end. While there were no customary winks or waves from Hagrid, who looked astonished like everyone else, Harry carried himself with an air of confidence. Passing through the door out of the Great Hall, he found himself in a smaller room adorned with paintings of witches and wizards. A warm fire roared in the fireplace opposite him.

The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. Observing a wizened witch flit out of the frame into the adjacent one, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache, Harry remained unfazed. The wizened witch began whispering to him.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were gathered around the fire, appearing imposing against the flames. Krum, brooding and hunched-up, leaned against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the others. Cedric stood with his hands behind his back, gazing into the fire. Fleur Delacour turned around when Harry walked in, throwing back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

"What is it?" she inquired. "Do they want us back in the Hall?"

She assumed Harry had come to deliver a message. Harry, exuding confidence, didn't hesitate to explain what had just happened. He stood there, looking at the three champions with the assurance of someone who knew he belonged.

The sound of hurried footsteps behind him signaled Ludo Bagman's entrance. Bagman took Harry by the arm and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" Bagman muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen... lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the fourth Triwizard champion?"

Viktor Krum straightened up, his surly expression darkening as he scrutinized Harry. Cedric looked bewildered, glancing from Bagman to Harry and back, as if sure he must have misheard. Fleur Delacour tossed her hair, smiling, and remarked, "Oh, very funny joke, Monsieur Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows furrowed slightly, and Cedric still looked politely confused. Fleur frowned.

"But evidently there has been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "He cannot compete. He is too young."

"Well... it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet... I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage... It's down in the rules; you're obliged... Harry will just have to do the best he—"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people entered: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of hundreds of students on the other side of the wall before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" exclaimed Fleur immediately, striding over to her headmistress. "They are saying that this little boy is to compete also!"

Somewhere beneath Harry's numbed disbelief, a ripple of anger stirred. Little boy?

Madame Maxime had elevated herself to her full and considerable height. The top of her elegant head brushed the chandelier filled with candles, and her vast black-satin bosom swelled.

"What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" she demanded imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff, wearing a steely smile, his blue eyes as cold as ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He let out a short and nasty laugh.

"It's impossible," declared Madame Maxime, her enormous hand with its many superb opals resting on Fleur's shoulder. "Hogwarts cannot have two champions. It is most unjust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," added Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," interjected Snape softly, his black eyes gleaming with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here —"

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly. Snape fell silent, though his eyes still gleamed malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair. This was finally his chance to have the boy expelled.

Dumbledore shifted his focus to Harry, who stared back, trying to discern the expression behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"No," Harry responded. He felt the weight of everyone's eyes on him. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows but harry continued "I did not professor and I neither used any other methods to put my name in the Goblet of fire".

"Ah, but of course, he is lying!" exclaimed Madame Maxime. Snape shook his head, his lip curling.

Harry calmly replied controlling his anger " I know that it is used only in courts but I am ready to submit myself to a viretaserum test to prove my innocence."

"There is no need for that Mr. Potter and as Harry could not have crossed the age line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!" McGonagall replied as if it was end of the matter.

She shot an angry look at Professor Snape.

"Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman," Karkaroff interjected, his voice once again unctuous, "you are our — um — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman wiped his round face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, standing in the shadowy half-light. Mr. Crouch appeared slightly eerie, the darkness emphasizing his age and giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, it was in his usual curt voice.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

Harry shouted "what bullshit rule is that? If I put the name of a person who has graduated from this school and the goblet spits out his name will he be made to compete?"

Others in the room were stunned by Harry's logic and while angry at the situation McGonagall's lips almost curled up as her favorite student took the adults to class.

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," Bagman stammered, turning to Crouch for support.

When Crouch insisted that Harry had to compete, harry started feeling a little dread.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," Karkaroff declared. His tone had lost its unctuousness, and his face wore a very ugly look. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," Bagman explained. "The Goblet of Fire has just gone out — it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament —"

"— in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff exploded. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice near the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Moody had entered the room, his limp echoing with a loud clunk on every right step.

"Convenient?" Karkaroff sneered. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

Harry sensed Karkaroff's attempt to sound disdainful, but his balled fists betrayed him.

"Don't you?" Moody said quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet, knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone who wished to give Hogwarts two bites at the apple!" Madame Maxime remarked.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," Karkaroff said, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards —"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," Moody growled, "but... funny thing... I don't hear him saying a word..."

"Why should he complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. "He has the chance to compete, hasn't he? We have all been hoping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! The honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money — this is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl.

"A thousand Galleons? That's bloody change compared to what I have in my trust vault. So stop making it seem like I want to compete."

An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, looking anxious, bounced nervously on his feet.

"Moody, old man... what a thing to say!" Bagman exclaimed.

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," Karkaroff loudly remarked. "Apparently, he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet..."

"Ah, what evidence is there of that?" Madame Maxime asked, throwing up her huge hands.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" Moody explained. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament... I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," Karkaroff said coldly. "And a very ingenious theory it is — though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted menacingly. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff — as you ought to remember..."

"Alastor!" Dumbledore warned. Harry wondered for a moment whom he was speaking to, but then realized "Mad-Eye" could hardly be Moody's real first name. Moody fell silent, still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction. Karkaroff's face was burning.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," Dumbledore addressed everyone in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr—"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak; she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" Bagman said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes . . . the first task. . ."

He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor. "So we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard. . . very important. . .

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.

"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment. . . . I've left young Weatherby in charge. . . . Very enthusiastic . . . a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told. . . ."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience. "Professor Karkaroff—Madame Maxime—a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.

Harry looked at Dumbledore and said " headmaster, if you don't mind may I see the slip on which my name was written?"

Though it was an odd request McGonagall and Snape were waiting to see what harry would say as Dumbledore handed the slip to Harry.

Harry thoroughly examined it and said "Its either someone from the staff or someone has access to where the professor's have the homework records"

McGonagall's eyes widened at how much Harry deduced from a simple slip of parchment

Snape snorted and said "why don't you say that its me Potter. That's what you are getting at. Just like your father—"

"That's enough Severus. Harry explain how you reached at this conclusion"

"Its definitely from one of my homework's submitted, that too from last year. I have considerably improved my hand writing this year and have stopped using parchment for my notes." Harry replied.

McGonagall exclaimed "Excellent."

Harry couldn't help himself and said "Elementary."

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them and taking the slip back from Harry. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left together. The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.

"So," said Cedric, with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other again!"

"I suppose," said Harry. He really couldn't think of anything to say. The inside of his head seemed to be in complete disarray, as though his brain had been ransacked.

"So . . . tell me . . ." said Cedric as they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire. "How did you get your name in?"

"I didn't," said Harry, staring up at him. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."

"Ah . . . okay," said Cedric. Harry could tell Cedric didn't believe him. "Well . . . see you, then."

Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric headed for a door to its right. Harry stood listening to him going down the stone steps beyond it, then, slowly, he started to climb the marble ones. Was anyone except Ron and Hermione going to believe him, or would they all think he'd put himself in for the tournament? Yet how could anyone think that when he was facing competitors who'd had three years' more magical education than he had—when he was now facing tasks that not only sounded very dangerous, but which were to be performed in front of hundreds of people? Yes, he'd thought about it . . . he'd fantasized about it . . . but it had been a joke, really, an idle sort of dream . . . he'd never really, seriously considered entering. . . .

But someone else had considered it . . . someone else had wanted him in the tournament, and had made sure he was entered. Why? To give him a treat? He didn't think so, somehow. . . . To see him make a fool of himself? To get him killed? Was Moody just being his usual paranoid self? Couldn't someone have put Harry's name in the goblet as a trick, a practical joke? Did anyone really want him dead? Harry was able to answer that at once. Yes, someone wanted him dead, someone had wanted him dead ever since he had been a year old. . . . Lord Voldemort. But how could Voldemort have ensured that Harry's name got into the Goblet of Fire? Voldemort was supposed to be far away, in some distant country, in hiding, alone. . . . feeble and powerless. . . . Yet in that dream he had had, just before he had awoken with his scar hurting, Voldemort had not been alone. . . . he had been talking to Wormtail. . . . plotting Harry's murder. . . . Harry got a shock to find himself facing the Fat Lady already. He had barely noticed where his feet were carrying him. It was also a surprise to see that she was not alone in her frame. The wizened witch who had flitted into her neighbor's painting when he had joined the champions downstairs was now sitting smugly beside the Fat Lady. She must have dashed through every picture lining seven staircases to reach here before him. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at him with the keenest interest.

"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"

"Balderdash," said Harry dully.

"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.

"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Harry into the common room.

The blast of noise that met Harry's ears when the portrait opened almost knocked him backward. Next thing he knew, he was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.

"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.

"I didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how—"

But Angelina had now swooped down upon him. "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor—"

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.

"We've got food, Harry, come and have some—"

"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast—"

But nobody wanted to hear that he wasn't hungry; nobody wanted to hear that he hadn't put his name in the goblet; not one single person seemed to have noticed that he wasn't at all in the mood to celebrate. . . . Lee Jordan had unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it around Harry like a cloak. Harry couldn't get away; whenever he tried to sidle over to the staircase up to the dormitories, the crowd around him closed ranks, forcing another butterbeer on him, stuffing crisps and peanuts into his hands. . . . Everyone wanted to know how he had done it, how he had tricked Dumbledore's Age Line and managed to get his name into the goblet. . . .

"I didn't," he said, over and over again, "I don't know how it happened."

But for all the notice anyone took, he might just as well not have answered at all.

He took his wand out and gave a loud bang making everyone go silent.

"I did not enter myself and whoever entered my name wants me to die or loose my magic by not participating. So if you guys are done celebrating I'm tired!" he bellowed finally, after nearly half an hour.

He wanted more than anything to find Ron and Hermione, to find a bit of sanity, but neither of them seemed to be in the common room. Insisting that he needed to sleep, and almost flattening the little Creevey brothers as they attempted to waylay him at the foot of the stairs, Harry managed to shake everyone off and climb up to the dormitory as fast as he could.

To his great relief, he found Ron was lying on his bed in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind him.

"Where've you been?" Harry said.

"Oh hello," said Ron.

He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin. Harry suddenly became aware that he was still wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee had tied around him. He hastened to take it off, but it was knotted very tightly. Ron lay on the bed without moving, watching Harry struggle to remove it.

"So," he said, when Harry had finally removed the banner and thrown it into a corner. "Congratulations."

"What do you mean, congratulations?" said Harry, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling: It was more like a grimace.

"Well . . . no one else got across the Age Line," said Ron. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use—the Invisibility Cloak?"

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got me over that line," said Harry slowly.

"Oh right," said Ron. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak . . . because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"

"Listen," said Harry, "I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"What would they do that for?"

"I don't know," said Harry. He felt it would sound very melodramatic to say, "To kill me."

Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair.

"It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth," he said. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either. . . ."

"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" said Harry, starting to feel angry.

"Yeah, okay," said Ron, in exactly the same skeptical tone as Cedric. "Only you agreed with me this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would've seen you. . . . I'm not stupid, you know."

"You're doing a really good impression of it," Harry snapped.

"Yeah?" said Ron, and there was no trace of a grin, forced or otherwise, on his face now. "You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."

He wrenched the hangings shut around his four-poster, leaving Harry standing there by the door, staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him.

Harry knew he would get no sleep but he knew he would need his rest to tackle this situation. He needed a plan of action. He took out a notebook and started making a rudimentary plan of action.

1) Survive the tournament

• Find out what the tasks may involve and prepare accordingly.

• Check in the library about previous tournament records

2) Find out who is the agent of Voldemort this time and what their actual plan is

With this done he decided he would hit the library the next day and get started. Maybe Hermione would help him in his research. She was better at this data collection than him.

When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, it took him a moment to remember why he felt so miserable and worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled over him. He sat up and pulled back the curtains of his own four-poster, intending to talk to Ron and convince him but deciding not to wake up the red head so early he went for his morning run. After coming back from his longer than usual run which helped him clear his mind and freshening up Harry quickly dressed and made his way down the spiral staircase into the common room. The moment he appeared, those who had already finished breakfast broke into applause again. The idea of facing the rest of the Gryffindors, all treating him like a hero, was not appealing, but it was that or stay in the common room and be cornered by the Creevey brothers, who were both beckoning frantically for him to join them.

Harry walked over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out, and found himself face-to-face with Hermione.

"Hello," she greeted, holding up a stack of toast in a napkin. "I brought you this. Want to go for a walk?"

"Good idea," said Harry gratefully.

They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking into the Great Hall, and soon found themselves striding across the lawn toward the lake. The Durmstrang ship was moored there, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching on their toast as Harry recounted the events of the previous night. To his immense relief, Hermione accepted his story without question.

"Well, of course, I knew you hadn't entered yourself," she said when he finished telling her about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody's right, Harry... I don't think any student could have done it... they'd never be able to fool the Goblet or get over Dumbledore's —"

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione hesitated. "Erm... yes... he was at breakfast."

"Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Well... no, I don't think so... not really," said Hermione awkwardly.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"

"Oh, Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"

"Jealous?" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it... but — well — you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous — he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many..."

"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it... People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go..."

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."

"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said loudly, causing several owls in a nearby tree to take flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or —"

"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked extremely anxious. "Harry, I've been thinking — you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the —"

"Write to Sirius. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts... It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me —"

"You are right," said Harry, looking around to check that they couldn't be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. "He is back in the country. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if he finds out someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament —"

After sending a letter to Sirius through Dobby and assuring Hermione that he was paying Dobby, harry and Hermione headed to library. On the way they were met by Hagrid

"So —yer competin', Harry. In the tournament. School champion."

"One of the champions," Harry corrected him.

Hagrid's beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild

eyebrows.

"No idea who put yeh in fer it, Harry?"

"You believe I didn't do it, then?" said Harry, concealing with difficulty the rush of gratitude he felt at Hagrid's words.

" 'Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh — an' Dumbledore believes yer, an' all."

"Wish I knew who did do it," said Harry bitterly.

After saying farewell to Hagrid they went to library and started the research. While harry started with oldest available news articles about the tournaments Hermione started searching for any books available about the tournament. Harry only got information about the last 9 tournaments and the daily prophet was started in 1743 and the last tournament was held in 1792.

The news papers were very old but well preserved due to magic and Harry carefully took out the papers that contained information about the tournaments. By lunch he was only able to take out the news papers having articles about the first two tournaments.

They left for lunch and found Ron sitting at the Gryffindor table. On seeing Hermione with Harry he burst out and pulled her away and started furiously arguing with her. After a few minutes Hermione came back with a solemn face and Harry knew what she wanted to say. Harry gave a watery smile and said " its ok Hermione. Ill manage."

Saying he left without eating anything. Hermione choosing Ron over him even in a life and death situation really showed him that the only person he could depend on now was himself. He went back to library and continued with his research.

The next few days passed for Harry swiftly. Whatever free moment he had he researched the tournament. Finally by 8th of November he came to certain conclusions. One of the tasks generally involved fighting a creature of some kind, varying from a cockatrice to dementors and dragons. Another task definitely involved fighting his opponents in either a duel or something similar. Third one involved a tressure hunt. Sometimes the tasks were mixed up but this was what he found from the previous tasks records.

Now he started noting down what all he knew about this tournament. Harry started thinking "It was first mentioned by Mr. Weasley. He would know because ministry was involved. But Charlie and bill also mentioned visiting us this year but Charlie is normally in Romania and Bill is in Egypt. So One of the tasks involves Dragons and another may involve the creatures from Egypt or some of the curses from the tombs. No they cant expect students to break curses which require a lot of training. It definitely involves creatures. "

Thinking Harry went to creatures section and took out the books on dragons and Egyptian creatures. Knowing he had little time before potions class and not wanting to give snape a chance he used the "Gemino" charm to make copies of the books and left from library. Harry never got any books issued as his gemino charm lasted fore more than a week.

Double Potions was consistently an unpleasant experience, but recently, it had transformed into a form of torture. Being confined in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all seemingly determined to make Harry pay for becoming the school champion, was the epitome of unpleasantness. Harry had already endured one Friday's torment, with no one sitting beside him, quietly urging himself, "ignore them, ignore them, ignore them," and he couldn't fathom why today would be any different.

As Harry entered Snape's dungeon after lunch, he encountered the Slytherins waiting outside, each adorned with a large badge on their robes. For a fleeting moment, Harry thought they might be S.P.E.W. badges, but he soon realized they all displayed the same message, in bright red letters that glowed vividly in the dimly lit underground passage:

"support CEDRIC DIGGORY-The REAL Hogwarts Champion"

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy taunted loudly as Harry approached. "And this isn't all they do — look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, causing the message to vanish, replaced by another one that gleamed green. The Slytherins erupted in laughter. Each of them pressed their badges, and the message "POTTER STINKS" illuminated the surroundings. Heat surged in Harry's face and neck.

"Oh, very funny," Hermione retorted sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her group of Slytherin girls, who were laughing uproariously. "Really witty."

Harry controlled himself and said " well Malfoy took you long enough to have something like this made. How much did you have to pay? I know that's what you are capable of after all. Had to buy yourself into quidditch team with brooms after all"

Malfoys face turned red from anger and embarrassment but he replied "Shut it POTTER."

"Want one, Granger?" Malfoy offered a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

A surge of anger, accumulated over the past few days, seemed to break through a dam in Harry's chest but he controlled himself. He replied "at least her dad is not lying in a bed in St. Mungos while her mom is offering herself as a cheep whore to minister."

Malfoy saw red and acted.

"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.

Harry expecting something like that dodged as his training kicked in. What he did not anticipate was the curse to bounce of the wall and hit Hermione.

Harry now angry flicked his wand and whispered a spell chain "expelliarmus…..flippendo" and catching Malfoys wand in his hand and flinging away Malfoy and Goyle.

Goyle hit the wall and broke his hand.

Goyle bellowed and put his hand on the other, which was hanging limply— Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!"

Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Harry turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth — already larger than average — were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin — panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said,

"Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir —"

"— and he hit Goyle — look —"

Snape examined Goyle, seeing his arm broken.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth — she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she was about to turn on her heel and run but harry stopped her, holding her hand.

"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

Harry calmly said "Is that all professor?"

Snape looked angrily and said "a WEEK'S detentions for you potter."

Harry said "I am taking Hermione to headmaster and I also have Mr. Malfoys wand. I also have my memory and now have enough reason to launch a formal complaint against him for harming a fellow student and also you for blatant disregard of rules."

Harry pulled Hermione with him Ron accompanying them as harry went directly to headmaster's office.

Harry used the password provided to him by Professor McGonagall and directly entered Dumbledore's office. Before he could knock he heard "Enter harry"

Harry entered along with Hermione and narrated the whole incident.

Dumbledore replied " Mr. Weasley please escort Ms. Granger to hospital wing."

After they left he continued "Harry for some reasons I cant disclose to you I have to ask you to refrain from launching a formal complaint against Professor Snape."

Seeing angry look on Harry's face he continued "neither you nor Mr. Weasley need to serve detentions with Professor Snpe and ill ensure action is taken against Mr. Malfoy."

Harry calmed down a little and replied "this is the last time professor. Next time he pulls his wand on me ill use lethal force." He left Malfoys wand on Dumbledore's desk and was about to leave when Dumbledore said "wait Harry. You have already missed most of your lesson and there is a weighing of wands ceremony which will start in few minutes. We can leave together for it."

Harry waited and after a few minutes he left along with Dumbledore, Crouch and Bagman for the room arranged for weighing of wands. After that ceremony Harry started to focus on learning as many spells and runes to tackle different types of creatures. Perfecting his disillusionment charm and learning scent cancellation charm took most of his time.

He started taking his food in kitchens and that's how he found out about room of requirement from the elves. The room was a lot of help during training.

As it is he received a letter from Hagrid on evening of a Hogsmeade weekend, asking him to meet him at midnight and to wear his invisibility cloak. Harry knowing Hagrid did not ignore his summons and went to meet him.

Waiting under disillusionment charm for someone to open the door from outside he got lucky when Hermione returned from library and leaving before the door can close he set off through the castle.

The grounds were very dark. Harry walked down the lawn toward the lights shining in Hagrid's cabin. The inside of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was also lit up; Harry could hear Madame Maxime talking in.

"You there, Harry?" Hagrid whispered, opening the door and looking around.

"Yeah," said Harry, slipping inside the cabin and cancelling the disillusionment charm. "What's up?"

"Got summat ter show yeh," said Hagrid.

There was an air of enormous excitement about Hagrid. He was wearing a flower that resembled an oversized artichoke in his buttonhole. It looked as though he had abandoned the use of axle grease, but he had certainly attempted to comb his hair — Harry could see the comb's broken teeth tangled in it.

Harry asked "Hagrid….do you have a date?"

The blush on Hagrid was all he needed to confirm and Harry said "This wont do Hagrid. Time for a make over."

Before Hagrid could protest harry pulled out his wand and started casting. He learnt selfcare charms to reduce the time taken in bathroom. He quickly cleaned Hagrid's teeth and made sure his breath smelled like mints. He then gave a good combing to Hagrid's hair and beard making him look presentable. He transfigured Hagrid's clothes into a proper three piece suite.

Hagrid beamed at the change and crushed Harry in a hug "you became good with Magic Harry", he said almost crying.

It was then Harry asked "What're you showing me?" wondering if the skrewts had laid eggs, or Hagrid had managed to buy another giant three-headed dog off a stranger in a pub.

"Come with me, keep quiet, an' keep yerself hidden" said Hagrid. "We won' take Fang, he won' like it. . . ."

Hagrid did not even listen to Harry's reply; he was opening the cabin door and striding off into the night. Harry hurried to follow and found, to his great surprise, that Hagrid was leading him to the Beauxbatons

carriage.

"Hagrid, what — ?"

"Shhh!" said Hagrid, and he knocked three times on the door bearing the crossed golden wands. Madame Maxime opened it. She was wearing a silk shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She smiled when she saw Hagrid.

"Ah, 'Agrid . . . it is time?"

"Bong-sewer," said Hagrid, beaming at her, and holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps.

Madame Maxime closed the door behind her, and Hagrid offered her his arm. They set off around the edge of the paddock that housed Madame Maxime's giant winged horses. Harry, feeling utterly bewildered, hurried to keep up with them. He wondered if Hagrid had intended to show Madame Maxime the creatures, but he could observe her anytime he wanted, considering she was quite hard to miss.

Madame Maxime, playfully, asked, "Where is it you are taking me, 'Agrid?"

"Yeh'll enjoy this," said Hagrid gruffly, "worth seein', trust me. On'y — don' go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know."

"Of course not," replied Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes. As they walked, Harry became increasingly irritated, checking his watch now and then. Hagrid seemed to have some harebrained plan that might make Harry miss talking to Sirius. If they didn't hurry, he contemplated turning back to the castle and leaving Hagrid to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Madame Maxime.

However, as they circled the forest's perimeter, the castle and lake disappearing from view, Harry heard commotion up ahead. Men were shouting, and a deafening roar echoed. Hagrid led them around a clump of trees, and there, Harry's mouth fell open.

Dragons.

Four massive, fully grown dragons reared onto their hind legs within an enclosure, enclosed by thick wooden planks. They roared and snorted, unleashing torrents of fire into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, reaching fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. Among them was a silvery-blue dragon with long, pointed horns, a smooth-scaled green one writhing and stamping, a red one with a peculiar fringe of fine gold spikes shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds, and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like, situated closest to them.

Approximately thirty wizards, seven or eight per dragon, struggled to control the creatures, tugging on chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry gazed upward, noticing the black dragon's eyes with vertical pupils resembling a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage — a horrible yowling, screeching scream pierced the air.

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" shouted a wizard near the fence, straining on the chain he held. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

"Is'n' it beautiful?" Hagrid murmured softly.

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

Each dragon keeper brandished their wands, shouting, "Stupefy!" in unison. The Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides.

Harry observed the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its hind legs, its jaws wide in a silent howl, nostrils suddenly devoid of flame though still smoking. Slowly, it fell, hitting the ground with a thud that Harry thought made the trees behind him quake.

The dragon keepers lowered their wands, approaching their fallen charges, each the size of a small hill. They hastened to tighten the chains, securing them to iron pegs forced deep into the ground with their wands.

"Wan' a closer look?" Hagrid eagerly asked Madame Maxime. The two of them moved toward the fence, and Harry followed. The wizard who had cautioned Hagrid not to come closer turned out to be Charlie Weasley.

"All right, Hagrid?" panted Charlie, approaching to talk. "They should be okay now — we put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here. Thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and quiet — but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all —"

"What breeds you got here, Charlie?" Hagrid asked, looking with reverence at the closest dragon, the black Hungarian Horntail. Its eyes were still open, revealing a strip of gleaming yellow beneath its wrinkled black eyelid.

"This is a Hungarian Horntail," explained Charlie. "There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one — a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray — and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red."

Charlie surveyed the area, noticing that Madame Maxime was strolling away, exploring the stunned dragons.

"I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid," Charlie remarked, frowning. "The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming — she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?"

"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em," Hagrid shrugged, still captivated by the dragons.

"Really romantic date, Hagrid," Charlie commented, shaking his head. "Four..." said Hagrid, "so it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do — fight 'em?"

"Just get past them, I think," Charlie explained. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why... but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."

Charlie pointed toward the Horntail's tail, revealing long, bronze-colored spikes protruding every few inches.

Five of Charlie's fellow keepers approached the Horntail, carrying a clutch of huge granite-gray eggs between them in a blanket. Placing them carefully at the Horntail's side, Hagrid let out a moan of longing.

"I've got them counted, Hagrid," said Charlie sternly. Changing the subject, he asked, "How's Harry?"

"Fine," replied Hagrid, still gazing at the eggs.

"Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot," Charlie said grimly, looking out over the dragons' enclosure. "I didn't dare tell Mum what he's got to do for the first task; she's already having kittens about him..." Charlie mimicked his mother's anxious voice. "'How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit!' She was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him being the youngest champion.

Having had enough, Harry trusted that Hagrid wouldn't miss him with the attractions of four dragons and Madame Maxime. He turned silently and walked away, back to the castle. Unsure whether he was glad he'd seen what was coming, the first shock was over. He was going to be armed with his wand — which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood — against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike-ridden, fire-breathing dragon. And he had to get past it. With everyone watching. How? He needed a plan.

As he was leaving he saw Krakoff and understood it would be only Cedric who might face the unknown.

"I have to inform him somehow."

The next day When harry saw Cedric with his sixth years going to class he quickly cast the severing hex "diffindo" at his bag. As Cedric was picking up his things harry quickly approached him and gave him the information about dragons.

Just as he was about to leave moody called him and took him into his office. After speaking with moody and discarding his indirect suggestion about outflying a dragon, Harry decided to play to his strengths.

He started thinking "So I need to restrain the dragon. I can use the adamantine sealing chains runic matrix but it takes too long to inscribe. So I need a spell to protect myself from the dragon till then if I get found out."

Forming a plan to face the dragon he went to room of requirement and started practicing. He didn't even go for lunch and by dinner time he was sure he was ready.

The next day morning, harry controlled his nervousness and was eating break fast in great hall when McGonagall approached him.

"Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now. . . . You have to get ready for your first task."

"Okay," said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.

He left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem herself either. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head. . . . We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand. . . . The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you. . . . Are you all right?"

"Yes," Harry heard himself say. "Yes, I'm fine and professor I might just surprise you."

McGonagall smiled seeing his confidence.

She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.

"You're to go in here with the other champions," said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there . . . he'll be telling you the — the procedure. . . . Good luck."

"Thanks," said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. She left him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside.

Fleur Delacour occupied a corner on a low wooden stool, appearing less composed than usual, pale and clammy. Viktor Krum, surlier than ever, betrayed nervousness through his demeanor. Cedric paced nervously, and upon Harry's entrance, Cedric managed a small smile, which Harry reciprocated with a forced effort, his facial muscles seemingly unfamiliar with the task.

"Harry! Good-o!" exclaimed Bagman cheerfully, scanning the champions. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Bagman, amidst the pale-faced champions, resembled a slightly exaggerated cartoon figure in his old Wasp robes.

"Now that we're all here, time to fill you in!" Bagman announced brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'll be offering each of you this bag" — he held up a small sack of purple silk — "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too . . . ah, yes . . . your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Cedric gave a small smile upon understanding Bagman's words, and Harry felt his own facial muscles strain with effort. Bagman proceeded to explain further.

"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now . . . Harry . . . could I have a quick word? Outside?"

"Er . . . yes," said Harry blankly, following Bagman outside the tent. Bagman wore a fatherly expression as he spoke.

"Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?"

Harry, confused, responded, "What? I — no, nothing."

"Got a plan?" Bagman asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean, you're the underdog here, Harry. . . . Anything I can do to help . . ."

"No," replied Harry quickly, realizing his tone might have been rude. "I know what I'm going to do, thanks."

A whistle sounded suddenly. "Good lord, I've got to run!" exclaimed Bagman, rushing off.

Harry returned to the tent, seeing Cedric emerge, looking greener than ever. He attempted to wish Cedric luck, but it came out as a hoarse grunt. Inside the tent, Fleur and Krum awaited their turns. The roar of the crowd signaled Cedric's success in facing the Swedish Short-Snout.

"Very good indeed!" Bagman shouted. "And now the marks from the judges!"

After Cedric's successful attempt, the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, if you please!" Bagman announced.

Fleur, trembling, left the tent with determination. Harry and Krum, avoiding each other's gaze, were left alone.

The process began again as they heard Bagman's commentary. "Oh, I'm not sure that was wise!" he shouted gleefully. "Oh . . . nearly! Careful now . . . good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

Applause erupted, indicating Fleur's success. Once more, the whistle sounded.

"And here comes Mr. Krum!" Bagman exclaimed. Krum slouched out, leaving Harry alone.

Harry became acutely aware of his body, feeling his heart pumping fast and his fingers tingling with fear. Despite feeling like he was outside himself, he saw the walls of the tent and heard the crowd as if from a distance.

"Very daring!" Bagman yelled. Harry heard the Chinese Fireball's roaring shriek. "That's some nerve he's showing — and — yes, he's got the egg!"

Applause shattered the air; Krum had finished. Now it was Harry's turn. He stood up, determined. He saw the crowd, the Horntail at the other end of the enclosure, and the dragon's menacing presence. The roar of the crowd became a distant noise. It was time to focus entirely on his task.

Raising his wand, Harry prepared to face the Hungarian Horntail.

Quickly casting a disillusionment and sound and scent cancelling charms on himself harry transfigured a nearby rock into a GOLEM. He quickly started inscribing durability, sustainability and power rune matrices on it. By The mark of 3 minutes harry had the golem ready. He quickly cast "Engrigo Maximus"

The golem started growing and quickly reached the size of 30 foot Giant. Harry Then cast "Priortotam Locomotor" animating the golem and tasking it to attack the dragon. He knew the golem was slow and may not be able to defeat the dragon. So as the golem was fighting the Dragon, Harry ran around invisible in the stadium and started inscribing runes at various points on the stadium ground. By 8 minutes he finished inscribing the runes he needed and activated them. Golden chains made out of magic sprung from 8 cardinal directions and swiftly under harry's direction wrapped around the Dragon restraining it. In a matter od seconds the Horntail was fully restrained. Harry approached the nest right in front of its eyes and picked up the golden egg. He was the youngest champion but also quickest to finish the task. It was only now harry started hearing the commentary in the background.

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail but there was no need, and, over at the entrance to the enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid hurrying to meet him, all of them waving him toward them, their smiles evident even from this distance. His heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. . . . He had got through the first task, he had survived. . . .

"That was excellent, Potter!" cried Professor McGonagall as he came near her — which from her was extravagant praise. He noticed that her hand shook as she pointed at him. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score. . . . Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already. . . ."

"Yeh did it, Harry!" said Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' —"

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry loudly, so that Hagrid wouldn't blunder on and reveal that he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand.

Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket.

"Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," he growled.

"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please . . ." said Professor McGonagall.

Harry walked out of the enclosure, still panting, and saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried.

"Dragons!" she said, in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; he could make out Cedric's shadow through the canvas, but Cedric didn't seem to be badly injured; he was sitting up, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry, talking furiously all the while. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You're very lucky . . . to not have any injuries though your core is pretty much running on fumes. No heavy magic till tomorrow." She gave him a potion for better recovery.

"Now, just sit quietly for a minute — sit! And then you can go and get your score."

Harry was content. He knew whatever the scores may be that he as a single wizard was able to subdue the dragon.

AN: Guys I know I was away for a little bit but I was writing this extra long chapter. Now This is where the story diverges. You guys can have Harry/Hermione pairing or RON/Hermione. It wont be a bashing fic. But do give votes in the poll. You have till 15th of NOV. Next chapter will be released on 18th or 19th of NOV.