Note - I clearly own none of the below. Playing in JK's playground. Reviews would be hugely appreciated, thanks.

Chapter Eleven: Dangers Seen

The passage of time seemed to blur as Harry found himself increasingly drawn into the depths of his lessons with Dumbledore. It had been three sessions now, but each lesson felt as though he was confronting something intangible—a gap between what he was learning and what he could feel within himself. He had made significant progress, especially in conjuring shields, but control remained elusive.

The principles seemed straightforward enough: make the connection to the raw magic, and from there, feeling and intent would guide the result. Dumbledore had explained it time and time again with his characteristic calm. But for Harry, it was as if the more he reached for that raw magic, the more it slipped through his fingers. The power was there, undeniable, but it was like holding a wand that wouldn't stay steady in his grasp. He had managed to generate more powerful shields—stronger than he'd ever thought possible—but each attempt felt like wrestling with something wild inside him.

During his last lesson, Dumbledore had noticed Harry's frustration. The old wizard had taken a seat beside him, robes gently brushing the floor, and offered some advice that still echoed in Harry's mind: "Magic, Harry, is like the heart—it can be pushed, guided, and encouraged, but never forced. Let it find its own rhythm."

But how? How did you just let something like magic find its rhythm when every fibre of your being was screaming for control?

The next morning, Harry walked into the Great Hall, still lost in thought. His mind was occupied with the recent lesson he had with Dumbledore, where his attempts to harness raw magic felt like a never-ending struggle. But as soon as he stepped inside the hall, he felt a shift in the air. The usual buzz of conversation had dimmed to a low murmur, and he could feel eyes on him, more than usual.

Students turned their heads as he passed by, whispering to one another in hushed tones. The silence followed him like a wave, growing louder in its intensity as he made his way toward the Gryffindor table. His heart sank a little—he had been here before, the centre of attention for reasons he didn't want.

Harry scanned the room, his eyes landing on Hermione and Neville, both sitting together at the table, their expressions uneasy. Hermione had a copy of The Daily Prophet spread out in front of her, the headline glaring up at her, and Neville was frowning deeply, looking as though he had just read something troubling. Neither of them looked up until Harry sat down.

The usual light in Hermione's eyes was dimmed, replaced by worry. "What's going on?" Harry asked, his voice low as he glanced between them.

Hermione bit her lip, then pushed the Prophet across the table toward him. "You're not going to like this," she said softly.

Harry's eyes dropped to the headline:

Lucius Malfoy Arrested for Entering Harry Potter's Name into Triwizard Tournament—Held in France Pending Trial

His stomach dropped. He snatched up the paper and quickly skimmed the article, the words blurring together in his haste. It detailed how Malfoy had been apprehended after an investigation into the tampering of the Goblet of Fire. A magical signature had been detected, and the French authorities—acting on behalf of the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW)—had taken Malfoy into custody after a lead pointed to him. He was being held in France, of all places, until his trial, given the complicated political situation with the British Ministry.

Harry set the paper down slowly, his mind racing. "They arrested Malfoy?" he muttered, almost to himself. "Lucius Malfoy did this?"

"It seems like it," Hermione said quietly. "But... Harry, he's innocent until proven guilty, remember."

"Come off it, Hermione," Neville said darkly. "The Malfoys are rotten to the core. Everyone knows it."

Harry glanced over his shoulder instinctively toward the Slytherin table, searching for Draco Malfoy. He wasn't in his usual place. Instead, an empty space at the table marked where he should have been.

The absence made Harry feel uneasy. He could feel his temper rising, a hot flash of anger surging through his veins. Why hadn't anyone told him about this? Why was he learning about it from the Prophet, like the rest of the school?

"Why wasn't I told about this?" Harry demanded, his voice growing sharper as he looked back at Hermione. "Why wasn't Sirius involved?"

Hermione leaned in. "Sirius probably knows. Maybe he didn't want to worry you right before the next task. He could have been trying to protect you."

Harry's hands clenched into fists under the table. He wasn't so sure about that. It felt like more and more decisions were being made for him, not with him.

"I'm going to talk to him," Harry muttered, standing abruptly. His chair scraped loudly against the floor, drawing even more attention. He was about to storm out when a voice called out to him.

"'Arry! Wait!"

He turned to see Fleur Delacour striding toward him, her silver-blonde hair flowing behind her. Right behind her was Cedric Diggory, both of them looking concerned. They had clearly noticed the change in atmosphere, too. The hall was now almost completely silent, all eyes shifting between Harry and the two champions approaching him.

"You alright, mate?" Cedric asked, his voice filled with genuine concern as he reached Harry. He glanced at the Prophet on the table and seemed to immediately understand. "I saw the article... didn't know if you'd seen it yet."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "I've seen it."

Fleur stepped closer. "We 'eard the news this morning as well. It's a complicated situation, but we wanted to make sure you were okay." She placed a hand on Harry's arm gently.

"I just don't understand why I had to find out like this. It's about me. This whole thing is about me," he said bitterly. "And I'm the last to know."

Cedric exchanged a glance with Fleur before nodding. "I get it, Harry. It's not right. You should've been told straight away. But maybe… maybe they're still trying to figure things out. I'm sure Sirius is on it. He's not going to let anything happen without making sure you're protected."

Fleur nodded, her hand still resting gently on his arm. "Cedric's right. Your godfather 'as been fighting for you all along, non?"

Harry clenched his jaw, his frustration boiling just below the surface, but Fleur's words echoed in his mind. Sirius had always been overprotective, especially since the tournament had started. Maybe this was just another attempt to shield him. But the weight of being kept in the dark—it gnawed at him, leaving him feeling powerless.

"Maybe," Harry muttered. "But I'm still going to talk to him."

Cedric gave him a supportive nod. "Good idea. I'll cover for you in class if you need some time. It's double transfiguration this morning. Just… don't let this get in your head too much, alright? You've got a lot on your plate with the tournament."

"Thanks, Cedric," Harry replied, his voice softening a bit. He looked at Fleur, who gave him a small, encouraging smile.

"Take care of yourself, 'Arry," she said, squeezing his arm gently before stepping back.

Harry nodded, grateful for their support, but the storm in his mind was far from quiet. He gave them a quick nod of thanks before heading toward the doors, his mind already on the conversation he was about to have with Sirius.

As he left the Great Hall, the whispers began to rise again behind him, but this time, Harry didn't care. He was going to get answers, one way or another.

Later that morning, Harry found Sirius in one of the unused classrooms they had commandeered for training. The moment he stepped inside, Sirius glanced up from the table where he'd been poring over a map of the Black Lake, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Ah, Harry, I've been working on some—"

"Why wasn't I told about Lucius Malfoy?" Harry interrupted, his voice tight with frustration. "The Prophet knew before I did. Merlin, everyone knew before I did."

Sirius blinked, clearly taken aback by Harry's tone. Slowly, he put down the map and folded his arms, his gaze steady but wary. "I didn't want you distracted."

"Distracted?" Harry scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Sirius, this is about me. Malfoy—"

"I know it's about you," Sirius cut in, his voice firm, but not unkind. "But you've got enough on your plate. The tournament, the training, everything else. I didn't see the point in telling you until we were sure of what was happening."

Harry clenched his fists, feeling the familiar surge of anger rising again. "So I'm just supposed to be kept in the dark? Didn't you used to complain about Dumbledore doing that during the war?"

Sirius flinched at the comparison, and his expression softened, regret flickering in his eyes. "It's not like that, Harry. I didn't mean to keep things from you. I just thought—I wanted to protect you. Lucius is dangerous, and the last thing you need right now is more to worry about."

Harry looked away, his frustration simmering but slowly cooling as he absorbed Sirius's words. He understood the reasoning, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.

"We wanted to make sure we had him before we told you," Sirius continued, his voice gentler now. "It all happened so fast—late last night. We thought the story wouldn't break until tomorrow, and I planned to tell you this morning."

Harry remained silent, his anger subsiding but not entirely gone.

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Harry. Truly."

Harry let out a long breath. "Alright. But I'm pissed, Sirius. I don't want to be kept in the dark like this. I'm not a kid anymore."

Sirius nodded. "I know. And I'll do better."

They stood in silence for a moment before Sirius cleared his throat, shifting gears. "Dumbledore and I are going to speak with Lucius tonight. As much as this is a legal matter, it's also personal. He's committed a crime against the House of Black, and on top of that, he violated his betrothal contract with Narcissa. Because of those factors, the ICW has agreed to let us speak to him before the trial."

"I want to come," Harry said immediately.

"No," Sirius replied, his voice firm.

"Sirius, this is my fight," Harry pressed, stepping closer. "This is why you've been training me, isn't it?"

"Lucius was one of Voldemort's inner circle, Harry. There's no telling what we'll uncover in that conversation. It's not going to be pretty."

"I know that," Harry shot back, his jaw clenched. "But he's also committed a crime against the House of Potter. I have a right to be there."

Sirius looked at Harry for a long moment, then sighed heavily. "Fine... But you'll be there to observe only. Dumbledore and I will lead the discussion."

"Deal," Harry agreed, feeling a flicker of satisfaction despite the tension that still hung between them.

Sirius nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he continued, "Speaking of things you might not want to hear... The second task is being changed."

"Wait, what?" Harry frowned, taken off guard. "Why?"

"And you're the first to know," Sirius added, a small smirk forming. "The other champions won't hear about it until the briefing this afternoon."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."

Sirius sighed. "Amelia Bones finished investigating the first task. Her conclusion is that it could have been avoided—there wasn't enough immediate help on hand when Krum needed it because of the wards around the arena. That was a mistake."

Harry nodded, remembering the chaos of Krum's death and how helpless everyone had felt in those critical moments.

"The second task was going to be even more isolated," Sirius explained, his tone serious. "The lake, the depths, the wards—if something went wrong down there, it would have been worse than the first task. So, Amelia suggested a change to Albus. He's working on getting it past Madame Maxime, but I doubt she'll object."

"So what's the new task?" Harry asked.

Sirius grinned, his mischievous glint returning. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course."

The dungeon classroom was as cold and unwelcoming as ever, the damp air filled with the faint scent of herbs and stone. Shadows danced on the walls from the low, flickering flames under the cauldrons. Harry made his way to his usual spot, still thinking about the conversation he'd had with Sirius that morning. He barely had time to sit down before noticing Draco Malfoy at the far end of the room. Malfoy looked awful—his normally pale skin was sickly, and dark bags under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept in days.

Snape swept into the room like a cold wind, his robes billowing, eyes sharp and unwelcoming. As usual, his gaze lingered on Harry for a second too long, his lip curling ever so slightly.

"Today," Snape began, his voice cold, "we will be brewing a Swelling Solution. Simple enough for even the most mediocre among you." His eyes flicked to Harry, the insult subtle but pointed. "Instructions are on the board. You have ninety minutes. Begin."

Harry rolled his eyes but said nothing, turning to copy down the instructions. Daphne Greengrass, who was sharing his table today, was already scribbling down notes, her quill moving with quiet precision. She didn't speak, her focus completely on the potion.

Next to them, Hermione was meticulously arranging her ingredients, while Neville fumbled nervously with his bag. Harry gathered his own supplies, glancing back at Draco. Malfoy hadn't even started preparing his cauldron, his eyes distant and unfocused.

"Miss Greengrass," Harry said quietly, offering his hand. "I'm Harry Potter."

Daphne glanced up briefly, her gray eyes cool but not hostile. "Daphne is fine," she replied, shaking his hand. "I know who you are."

Harry gave a small nod, unsure how to continue. "Have you brewed this before?"

"Once," she said, her tone polite but distant. "It's straightforward."

They worked in silence, the bubbling of cauldrons and occasional mutterings filling the room. Harry could sense Snape hovering around the classroom like a storm cloud, ready to pounce on any mistake. His footsteps approached.

"Potter," Snape drawled, his voice dripping with condescension, "I trust you'll manage not to destroy the classroom today?"

Harry suppressed a sigh. "I think I've got it under control, sir," he said evenly, not rising to the bait.

Snape gave him a disdainful look before moving on. Daphne, still focused on her potion, smirked slightly. "I think that's the nicest thing he's ever said to you," she whispered.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, he must be in a good mood. Maybe he got a new cauldron for Christmas."

Her lips quirked up briefly before she returned her attention to the potion. Minutes passed, and Harry noticed Draco again, still barely moving. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on with him.

Daphne broke the silence again, her voice lower this time. "You're not going to do anything about him, are you?"

Harry shook his head, surprised by the question. "To Draco? No. He's not his father."

Daphne stirred her potion, her expression unreadable. "That's admirable. But he won't see it that way."

Harry frowned. "That's his choice. I'm not looking for a fight."

Daphne gave a small shrug. "Maybe. Just be careful."

They worked in silence for a few more minutes before Harry spoke again, glancing at her. "I also wanted to thank your father. Sirius said he helped rally the neutral families in the Wizengamot."

Daphne didn't look up from her cauldron. "My father doesn't usually get involved in such matters."

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued but said nothing more.

At the next table, Hermione was quietly coaching Neville through the steps, her voice calm and steady. "Stir counterclockwise, Neville. Gently." Neville's hands shook slightly, but he seemed more confident with Hermione's help. Harry gave him an encouraging nod when he caught his eye, and Hermione flashed a quick smile before returning to her work.

As their potions began to change colour, signalling they were almost finished, Daphne finally looked up from her cauldron. "You're… better at this than I expected," she said, sounding a little surprised.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect much from 'the famous Harry Potter?'"

Daphne gave a small, reluctant smile. "Let's just say you have a reputation for being… less refined when it comes to potions."

Harry shrugged. "I've been working on it. I got tired of Snape using me as target practice."

"I can see why. He's brutal to anyone not in Slytherin. Even some of us."

The conversation felt unexpectedly easy. Daphne, though reserved, wasn't as icy as Harry had thought. She was quiet but not unfriendly, and Harry found himself enjoying the rare, calm exchange.

When Snape prowled around the classroom to inspect their work, he stopped at their table, his dark eyes flicking between their cauldrons.

"Acceptable," he said curtly before moving on.

Daphne muttered under her breath, "High praise, coming from him."

Harry snorted. "We should frame that."

As Snape approached Draco's table, Harry watched closely. Draco stiffened under Snape's gaze, but instead of berating him, Snape merely looked at the half-finished potion before glancing at Draco's face. For a moment, something passed between them—an unspoken understanding—before Snape moved on without a word.

The class ended soon after, with Snape assigning more reading and practice for their next lesson. As they packed up their things, Hermione and Neville exchanged glances with Harry, clearly picking up on things as well.

Daphne lingered as the class emptied, giving Harry a final glance. "Watch your back, Potter," she said quietly.

Harry looked at her curiously but nodded. "Thanks."

Without another word, she joined the other Slytherins heading out. Harry watched her go, his mind swirling with thoughts about Draco, the tournament, and whatever else was brewing beneath the surface at Hogwarts.

The chamber where Lucius Malfoy was held was cold, the air thick with tension. Harry watched from outside, his gaze fixed on the enchanted mirror that showed the scene within. Inside, Lucius sat bound to a single chair, his usual arrogance replaced with a brittle defiance. His disheveled blond hair and wrinkled robes only heightened the vulnerability beneath his sneer. Dumbledore and Sirius stood opposite him, their expressions unreadable. The soft clink of metal echoed as Sirius placed a vial of clear liquid—Veritaserum—on the table.

Lucius eyed the vial with a mixture of contempt and fear. His blond hair, once immaculate, was dishevelled, and his robes, usually pristine, were wrinkled. He tried to maintain his usual haughty demeanour, but there was an edge of desperation in his eyes.

"We're going to make this quick, Lucius," Sirius said coldly, pacing in front of him. "The Veritaserum is a formality. You don't have a choice."

Dumbledore stepped forward, his calm yet powerful presence filling the room. "We already know what you've done, Lucius. Tampering with the Goblet of Fire, endangering Harry Potter's life. The ICW has allowed us this meeting before your trial, so you would do well to cooperate."

Lucius sneered but said nothing as Sirius stepped closer, pulling the cork from the vial. With a swift motion, he tilted Lucius's head back and forced three drops of the Veritaserum down his throat. Lucius grimaced but swallowed, the magic of the truth serum already taking hold.

Sirius folded his arms, standing beside Dumbledore, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and anticipation. "Now, Lucius. Did you put Harry's name into the Goblet?"

"Yes,"

"Did someone order you to put Harry's name into the Goblet?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

For a moment, Lucius's mouth moved silently, as if he were trying to resist. But the Veritaserum took control, and his voice came out in a flat, emotionless tone.

"Bellatrix," he muttered. "Bellatrix Lestrange."

Sirius's face tightened at the mention of his cousin, but he said nothing, letting Dumbledore continue.

"She threatened you?" Dumbledore asked.

Lucius nodded, his pale eyes glassy under the influence of the serum. "She… she told me it was my duty to the Dark Lord. That if I didn't… she'd make sure the Dark Lord knew of my hesitation. She… threatened my family. Threatened Draco."

Sirius leaned forward, his voice a low growl. "And you were too much of a coward to stand up to her. So, you endangered Harry. You put a child's life at risk to save your own skin."

Lucius's jaw tightened, but he couldn't stop the truth from spilling out. "Yes."

"What was her objective? Why Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"She said... she said it was part of the Dark Lord's plan. She told me that Potter needed to be part of the Tournament for the ritual. To bring the Dark Lord back to full strength."

Sirius exchanged a look with Dumbledore, his expression grim. They'd suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a chill through the room.

"Do you know anything else about those plans?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Lucius replied.

Dumbledore and Sirius shared a frustrated glance.

Sirius's tone hardened as he stepped forward. "Lucius, you know the limitations of Veritaserum as well as anyone."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "But let me be clear: if Harry pulls out of the Tournament now, the Goblet will strip you of your magic. You'll be nothing. Azkaban would be the least of your worries. Without your magic, your fate will be far worse."

Lucius's face paled as the gravity of Sirius's words struck him. His eyes flicked nervously between Sirius and Dumbledore, desperation creeping into his voice. "Wait, okay. There's... there's something else."

Sirius furrowed his brow. "Go on,"

"I can offer you something," Lucius said quickly, leaning forward as much as his restraints would allow. "…The Dark Lord's most prized possessions."

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, and Sirius narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What possessions?"

Lucius swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Dark Lord's Horcruxes."

Sirius's eyes widened, and Dumbledore took a step closer. "What do you know of them?"

"A diary," Lucius rasped, his breath quickening. "I was given it to protect... He didn't know I knew, but it was one of his Horcruxes."

Sirius's heart pounded in his chest.

"One of them?" Dumbledore asked.

"There's... a cup," Lucius continued, sweat beading on his forehead. "Helga Hufflepuff's cup. It was given to Bellatrix. She handed it to me when she went into hiding…"

Sirius and Dumbledore exchanged a glance, their expressions deadly serious.

"Are there more?" Dumbledore asked, his voice calm but laced with urgency.

Lucius's eyes flickered as he seemed to struggle, the Veritaserum and his own fear battling within him. "I... I don't know. I only know of those two. But Bellatrix… she's mad. She worships him. If anyone knows more, it would be her."

Sirius's expression darkened, but he forced himself to stay calm. He knew just how dangerous and obsessed Bellatrix was.

"Where are they?" Sirius asked.

"I can't tell you. The location is under the Fidelius Charm. I'm not the Secret Keeper."

"Who is?" Dumbledore pressed.

"The Dark Lord."

"Who else knows of the location?" Sirius asked, his voice tight with frustration.

"Me. Bellatrix. Maybe others, but I'm not certain," Lucius replied, hesitating, his voice trembling. "I can get them for you, but only if you both take an Unbreakable Vow. I need protection."

Sirius's expression hardened. "Protection? You're in no position to make demands, Malfoy."

Lucius shook his head. "I think you'll find that I am. I'm the only person who can get them for you."

Sirius and Dumbledore remained silent.

Lucius continued, "You don't understand. The Dark Lord's reach... it's everywhere. If I give you what you want, I need guarantees—my life, my family. Assurances from both of you."

"What would you require in the Vow?" Dumbledore asked.

Lucius frowned, distrust flickering in his eyes. "Your word that what we discuss will remain unknown to all but us. That you won't proceed with the charges. And, that Harry will continue in the Tournament. I will require that from Harry himself."

Sirius gave a curt nod, his jaw tightening. "I'll vow to help protect you. And that the charges will be dropped. That's all you're getting. Harry isn't giving anyone a vow."

Lucius fell silent, contemplating the terms.

"Okay," Lucius agreed.

"Your vow will require you to successfully hand the Horcruxes over to us. Both of them."

Lucius nodded.

"Very well."

Sirius raised his wand, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. Lucius, still bound to the chair, looked both uneasy and resolute. As they conducted the Unbreakable Vow, an intense silence filled the room, the air thick with the weight of their agreement. Sirius focused on Lucius, knowing this vow was crucial for uncovering the truth and ensuring Harry's safety in the Tournament. The magic swirled around them, binding their fates in a way that could not be undone.

Lucius nodded, some of his usual arrogance returning. "Get someone to remove these chains. I will require my wand back immediately."

Sirius stepped forward, his gaze piercing as he addressed Lucius one last time. "It will take some time, Lucius. But understand this—if you endanger Harry again, a trial will be the least of your worries."

If you're enjoying this story, all i ask is for a chapter review. Genuinely makes writing it far more enjoyable. Thank you