September 25th, 1994

"Welcome to the first full VATIC meeting of the year!" Dean greeted the group. He went through an opening spiel about the purpose and goals of VATIC, introduced each member of the group for the newbies' sake, and then opened up the floor for ideas.

Astoria raised one hand, with another holding a sheet of parchment. "Annabel and I have been doing some research," she gestured to the other girl, "of Valentine's Day traditions in other countries. Since we will be having students from other schools, we want to include ideas that the foreign students will find familiar." She glanced down at her notes. "France is very much the centre of original Valentine's Day traditions. Red roses, romantic dinners, picnics in magical forests, and such. They don't do celebrations with children, as we've done, but it's a good start. As for Russia and the Scandinavian countries, we've discovered that Valentine's Day is more of a new holiday for them, so they're still trying out different ideas. That said, we found a couple nice ones. In Denmark they give presses of snowdrop flowers and write silly or romantic poems that are left unsigned, so the receiver has to guess who sent the poem; and in Finland they have a friendship day instead of a Valentine's day."

"The poems are a great idea," Byron commented.

"True, but we already did that," Melly added.

"We did?" Stephen asked. "When?"

It took half a moment for Melly to realize her error, "Oh, in my second year. We wrote poems to each student on the backs of paper butterflies and had them fly to each person."

Stephen considered that for a moment, "So only the NEWT students would remember that."

"I guess you're right."

"If we want to make things traditional," Luna said, "we can give everyone five bay leaves to put on their pillow, or carve spoons from wood as gifts."

Everyone politely ignored the suggestion.

"Back to the international idea," Parvati said loudly, "we can do a combination of things. Like the flower presses with snowdrops and red roses."

"Red roses have a specifically romantic connotation, though," Astoria said, "and the French do prefer only celebrating as adults."

"Still better than the Bulgarian idea," Annabel said teasingly, "they all celebrate with wine."

"Okay, but why even bother with what the other schools might like?" Byron asked. "If you ask me, we shouldn't even include them in all this. That would be way too much work, and it's not like they're part of our school, right?"

A pause fell over the group. Confused exchanges were shared all around. Harry was the first to speak, "But that's the point of us, isn't it? We don't exclude others from the holiday."

"Exactly," Melly nodded. She gave an amused smile and nodded to the fourth years. "Hell, these guys tried to do that a couple years ago, but they all realized how much of a problem that would have been, right guys?"

"They put you in the infirmary," Dean said pointedly.

"And…" Melly made a silent gesture at the teenagers. Harry figured it said, Are you forgetting what happened to them with Cipher? "That was taken care of with Serpageddon," she answered, instead. "Valentine's Day is Valentine's Day. VATIC makes no exceptions."

Byron scoffed, "Even for Death Eater scum?" The remark garnered shocked expressions. "What? Everyone knows that Durmstrang students study the dark arts, and their Headmaster is a Death Eater. The only reason he's not in prison is because he's also a coward who outed other members to the Wizengamot."

"You…" Melly floundered for words, "How have you survived a full year in Slytherin? Do you not know who all is in our House?"

"You mean with those kids whose dads got arrested this summer?" Byron rolled his eyes. "I hardly associate myself with junior Death Eaters, and they're in Tracey's year, anyways."

"Which I'd rather you not talk about here or ever," Tracey snapped. "Let's get back on track, starting with a quick vote about our receivers. Do we stick with Hogwarts students and staff, or do we also include the foreigners coming for the tournament?"

Byron and Jamie voted for Hogwarts, Ben and Dean abstained, and the rest voted to include the incoming students and staff; sweeping an easy victory for the latter group.

Now all that was left was to find a compromise between an avalanche of ideas…

Friday October 14th, 1994

During an unseasonably warm afternoon, Melly stole Harry away for a hangout after classes. They flew across the lake, only stopping once they got to a field of late-blooming wildflowers. On seeing her produce a picnic basket full of his favourite treats, Harry couldn't help but laugh, "What, is it my birthday?"

"Can't a girl spoil her little brother?" She said teasingly.

"Right, because how often does that happen?" Harry fired back.

"Ah, touché. Well consider this me righting a great wrong, then," she made a comical face, eliciting another laugh out of him. "Or… we could bring Malfoy here and claim we're celebrating his cousin's first month?"

It took a moment before Harry caught on to her meaning. "How do you even know Phoenix is one month old today?"

She gave a very exaggerated deadpan before answering, "Like Malfoy hasn't shown you that photo collection he got from his mum at lunch?"

With a snort, he answered, "Yeah, fair. Professor Snape had to practically order him to put them away when class started."

"Well he had no holdbacks during lunch, trust me." She gave a headshake, despite a look of obvious amusement. "He's a cute baby, don't get me wrong, but Malfoy needs to be more careful as a Slytherin about cooing over babies in public."

"Ah, like you were careful this summer with Luca Salvatore?"

She gave him a side-eye. "...No comment."

Harry laughed, ribbing Melly over her hypocrisy. The witch, meanwhile, set up the rest of the picnic. As they started on their meals a thought crossed his mind. "I just realized something. Phoenix was born September 14th, Hope was born May 14th, and Uncle Sirius and Aunt Chiara are expecting for mid-April. What are the odds that the baby will also be born on the 14th?"

"Hmm," she hummed while chewing away. After a swallow she responded, "That's an interesting idea. It'd be a hell of a coincidence." After a beat, she added, "Wanna wager on it?"

Harry took the bait. "You're on. Mid-April is also Easter weekend. If they're born on the 14th, you have to wear the jester hat when you visit my place to meet them."

"I'll take that wager; and if the baby's not born on the 14th, you have to wear that hat in front of Lord Arcturus."

Harry's eyes popped out of his skull, "That's evil!"

"Do you accept?"

"Hell no! I'm only betting for one day, and that punishment's way worse than mine!"

Melly snickered, "Alright, fair point." She clicked her fingers. "How about this, take a magical photo of you holding the baby while wearing the hat, maybe embellish it with more Easter things, and you convince Sirius to put it on display in Grimmauld Place?"

"I'd barely have to convince him if I do that," Harry pointed out, "but, sure, that works for me."

"Perfect!" They shook on it, for good measure. "Either way, since we're now both heading home, we should do something big for our Friendaversary."

"Works for me. We can plan something closer to the date, especially once I win."

"'Once you win'? Sure, Harry."

They took a break from teasing each other to actually eat their picnic. Conversations moved on to talk about their classes. Harry listened with interest as Melly described what she was learning in her NEWT classes. In Charms they were learning to do non-verbal spells and, according to her classmates, the same was being done for Transfiguration. The concepts she was learning in Arithmancy was far beyond what Harry's learned so far, but it was cool to hear that she was learning meteorology in class. She waxed poetic about her new history class, of all things; mainly because of out-of-class research she was doing involving music-based magic because of course she was looking into something like that. Divination, meanwhile, was talked about with boredom as it was mainly a review of their previous studies. Then things got interesting again when she talked about Potions class; though he had to do a double-take when it finally clicked that she was taking two double-potions classes!

"That's so many!"

"Yeah, but think of it this way," she said, "complicated potions take time to complete, compared to theory classes that we can study outside of class time. So that class needs more time slots to get everything done. It's also why we have them on Tuesdays and Thursdays, for the ones that need a few days to finish up."

"I suppose. Snape mentioned that this year we'll have potions that need two days to complete."

"Right, I remember that from fourth year." Melly then giggled, "Like the ageing potion. You cocked that up for my class to set up for Serpageddon."

"Oh, right. Pierce had mentioned you were working on a two-day potion." He winced a little, "In that case, I'm half-sorry about that."

"It's all good. You were in Honey Badger mode, so I can't blame you too badly for it." She stuck her tongue out teasingly. "Now, enough about me, how have your classes been going?"

Harry launched into that prompt easily. He talked about all of his classes, getting nostalgic or helpful commentary from Melly as she shared her own experiences in those classes. Knowing she didn't take the class, he was able to surprise her with the latest updates about his class' assignment of looking after Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"...Are you sure these things are real animals? They aren't just some creepy Frankenstein project Hagrid cooked up?"

"Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if they are," Harry agreed.

The only thing more horrifying than skrewts, as it turns out, is when he mentioned what happened in DADA yesterday.

"Sorry, you wanna run that by me again?"

"We practiced throwing off the imperius curse," Harry repeated.

Her eyes went wide, looking down and blinking hard in bewilderment. "Okay, I didn't mishear you. Wow. Uhh… that's very illegal, you realize, right?"

Harry nodded. "Hermione said the same thing. Professor Moody says he got Dumbledore's permission, though, so it was alright."

Her next words came out in a breath, "The fuuuuuuck?"

"If it makes you feel better, I threw it off, no problem."

Her head snapped up. "You did?!"

"Mhmm," Harry smiled proudly. "I felt really relaxed, and my mind kind of fell into my occlumency. When Professor Moody told me to jump on the desk, I was able to tell him 'No thanks' and just sat down."

Her response was a wide-eyed, "Ho-ly shit, kid. You really are something."

"I mean," proud as Harry was of his accomplishment, he couldn't help but blush and aim for humility, "it's probably just because I know occlumency. I bet if you try it with Professor Moody, you'll be able to throw it off, too."

"Fuck that," she huffed, sounding oddly agitated by the suggested.

Harry opted to tease her for it. "What, do you think you won't be as good as me to throw it off?"

"No idea, but aside from it being, again, highly illegal, we can both agree that my mind's been possessed enough for one lifetime."

Oh. Harry flushed with shame. "Right, sorry, I didn't think about that."

"Yeah." Melly gave a shudder. "Now I'm doubly glad I didn't sign up for DADA this year. If I had to go through that again… actually, I should warn the Ravenclaw-Slytherin class before their Monday class. Give them some mental prep or a chance to back out."

"I can tell the Ravenclaws tomorrow," Harry offered.

"Sweet. I appreciate that, Harry."

Feeling a break in conversation, Harry glanced over their devoured picnic. "We have about an hour until the sun sets. What do you want to do until then?"

Ever the prepared one, Melly answered with, "I brought a deck of cards with me, if that's good with you?"

"Bril! I'll clean up here while you shuffle."

A few rounds of card games later, the two stopped playing to watch the sunset. The sky was a mix of orange, gold, magenta, and purple. The sunset-cooled breeze played with their hair and carried autumn leaves in the wind. In opposition to this coolness, the two sat side by side, wrapping each other in one-armed hugs. It was calming, peaceful. His mind soothed, nestled in the gentle senses of evening.

"This is nice."

"It is," Melly agreed.

Minutes passed in silence. Only the sounds of birds and breezes filled the void. The lull was only broken when Melly made an odd hum of disapproval.

"What is it?"

"Just had a vision, I think."

Harry glanced sideways, seeing a concerned expression on her face. "What was it about?"

"Me, being an absolute arse to you."

Now it was his turn to be concerned, slowly stressing the question, "Why?"

"Can't say. Though it looks like it will happen soon… That said, no matter what justification I try to give for it at that moment, I apologize in advance for how I'm going to act."

Harry considered the odd apology for a long moment. "I think I forgive you in advance?"

She gave a snort, "How about you wait until whatever this is passes? Also, I'm going to write you an IOU of Honeydukes sweets as repayment. Does that work?"

"Bribery, how very Slytherin of you," Harry teased. The two teased each other over that remark before he finally conceded, "Alright, fine, I accept your bribe, so long as I write the quantity after the arsehole moment."

"Works for me. I'll deserve it."

Odd and ominous visions aside, Harry actually found the whole thing funny. Especially as she was willing to hand him a blank check for sweets, of all things, for something that might not even happen. Satisfied with the idea that it's not actually that big of a deal, Harry decided to dismiss the conversation. Instead, he kept Melly in her spot and the two continued to watch the sunset until they were well and ready to return to the castle.

Sunday October 16th, 1994

During breakfast Harry found his attention diverted between two owls. There was Magdalene, with letters from Sirius and Arcturus; and there was Hootini, bearing a letter from Uncle John. It wasn't rare for Jeff's family to write him letters, but it was strange to see a large envelope with two other envelopes inside it. The first was clearly Uncle John's. The second, however, had handwriting which gave him pause. He read over Uncle John's first, confirming his suspicions, before opening up the second.

Dear Harry,

I hope this letter gets to you. I'm going to ask Jeff Bennett's parents if they know how to forward mail to your kind. If not, well, if you're reading this then I must have figured something out.

Anyways, what I'm trying to say is, thank you. I mean, it was you, wasn't it? Netherne Hospital suddenly has all of mum's paperwork in order. They say it just turned up like magic. So that's gotta be you, right? Aunt Marge still won't let mum stay with us, but with all of this paperwork around we can at least move her to the community home near us. It'll be nice to not have to travel hours to see her.

I know things weren't great for you back when we lived in Little Whinging. I don't know, I guess I'm just surprised. With how mum and dad treated you, and I guess how I treated you, too, I never would have thought you'd do something so nice. It doesn't really make sense, but I appreciate it. So, yeah, thanks Harry.

If you want to write back, you can send a letter to me at Smeltings. I got in, just like my dad always wanted. I'm in the boxing club, and I'm trying my best at school. It's tough, but if I want mum to move in with me after I graduate I have to get a good job, right? I've been getting help with all that, so hopefully I'll get better before the exams. Anyways, how have you been?

All the best,

Dudley

The letter finished, leaving Harry with confused feelings. Dudley was right, Harry had done something to help. Right at the end of summer he'd gone to the Ministry's Muggle Liaison Office to ask about his aunt's paperwork. It had been a mess, and they only promised to "talk it over with the boss", but- lo and behold- here was the proof that something had actually been done about it! That said, he never expected anything to come of it. He just wanted to do something to assuage his small bit of guilt and then move on with his life as if nothing had ever happened. Never in a million years did he expect Dudley to write to him- let alone want Harry to write back!

Not knowing how to feel about it, he eventually shared his confusion to his Hufflepuff friends while they were lounging in the courtyard.

"Isn't this the cousin that used to beat you up?" Kevin asked.

Wayne huffed, "Cousin of the year, that one."

"Still," Hannah said softly, "it's nice that he's willing to write to you and thank you. Maybe this is a chance for you two to start acting like a real family?"

"I mean, maybe?" Harry looked over at the last paragraph of the letter. "He did ask how I'm doing, but he might have just tacked that on to be polite."

Kevin gave a small hum of thought, "You said he was always just a dumb bully, right? Maybe… I don't know, maybe he's just not used to acting like a decent person? It could be genuine, but he just forgot to ask after you until the end?"

A slew of short chuckles followed that comment. "Yeah," Harry laughed, "that would make sense coming from Dudley. It's still weird to see him actually act nice, though."

"Three years is a long time," Hannah said.

Harry considered that, "Plus he's been living with Aunt Marge. In some ways she's worse than Uncle Vernon, but she's probably raised him differently than his parents did."

"Heh," Wayne laughed, "and them going to Azkaban for child abuse probably made an impression on him and his aunt, too. Wouldn't want their kid to end up like his parents, right?"

Awkward and nervous expressions changed amongst the others for Harry's sake. That said, Harry did haltingly concede to his point.

*SMACK!*

Words escaped Harry as he was hit upside the head from behind. "OW! What was that?!"

He turned to shout at whomever hit him, only to find a finger pointing between his eyes. He went briefly crosseyed before focusing on the furious face of Melly bearing down on him. "DON'T you FUCKING DARE enter the tournament!" she raged. Every face in the courtyard turned to the sudden altercation. "I swear on every angel and demon in existence, if you even TRY to enter this tournament I will hex you into a coma, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

"What?! I'm not going for the tournament!"

"NO?! Then what the hell did I just see, huh?!" she waved dramatically in the air. "A whole crowd of people cheering you on while your life's at risk, that's all just for a laugh, right?!"

Confusion lanced through him. More so as a blur of green streaks ran through the courtyard, making a beeline for Melly. He finally identified them as Soros and Flinton practically tackled her into a wall, and Pucey followed behind asking, "Potter, are you alright?"

"I'm- maybe? What's going on?!"

"I don't know!" Pucey said. "Mel spaced out while we were in the library. When she broke out of it she asked me a couple questions about broom sports, then stormed off saying she was going to kill you!"

The courtyard gasped at his explanation. Harry, too, was bewildered and scared over the sudden attack and explanation. Meanwhile, the other Slytherins struggled as Melly was shouting at them. "It was just a figure of speech! God! I'm fine! Let me go!" She ripped her arm away from Soros, raising a clawed hand and taking in a slow, angry breath. The breath released with the hand thrown down. Then she twisted over to Harry and his friends, pointing in an arc at Hannah, Wayne, and Kevin. "You three, keep Harry away from the Champion Selector! I want you on him like a hawk to make sure he doesn't end up in the tournament! Do you understand me?"

"...Yes?" They each answered.

"Good!" She turned back to Harry. "And you, Houdini, you're not going to try and enter the Triwizard Tournament, right?"

Harry gave a nervous swallow. "I won't."

"Excellent," her expression was of a disturbingly angry smile. It only normalised as the smile dropped and she glared at Flinton. "I'm done. They've been warned. You can let me go now."

Flinton drew her wand with one hand, then let Melly go from the other. Satisfied, Melly stormed off into the building, leaving the entire courtyard reeling in her wake.

"It doesn't make sense!" Harry stormed through the Chamber of Secrets. "I've hardly thought about joining the big fight (tournament!) Why is she convinced that I'm going to be in it?"

"She must have seen it in the future," Kevin said. "That must be what Pucey meant about her spacing out, yes?"

"It still doesn't make sense! If I have no desire to join, why would she see me join?"

A grand hiss came from Caireen, "Perhaps you do not ask to join, you merely fight."

"That's not possible," said Harry.

"Why?"

"The one who chooses the fighters will choose by the rules. Only the oldest and strongest will be chosen."

"Are you not strong, Harry? Did you not defeat my previous master when you were a new hatchling? The one who chooses the fighters may decide you are most worthy to fight."

Both boys gave an uncomfortable exchange. "She has a point. We don't know who the one who chooses will be. They can be an admirer."

Harry groaned at the possibility, "True, but it's dangerous! Wouldn't they want to not risk my life going against older hatchlings and winding dangerous paths (tasks)?"

"Perhaps it will not be an admirer," Caireen considered. "An enemy could want you dead."

Somehow that was even worse.

"So either an admirer wants to see you fight, or an enemy wants you dead," Kevin surmised. "Unless you are lying and plan to join the fight?"

"I'm NOT lying!" Harry shouted.

"Alright! Alright! Relax, Harry!"

"Sorry, I just-" He facepalmed, "This is so confusing. Lissa has never struck me before. That she would strike when I haven't done something wrong or plan to do something wrong- none of it makes sense! It's even worse to think that I might be forced to fight against my will."

"But they're the only things that make sense," Kevin said apologetically. "Why else would she be certain of you joining the fight so soon before we pick a champion, unless it will happen?"

…So soon before we pick a champion? …Soon.

Something about that word twinged in Harry's mind.

'A vision. … Me, being an absolute arse to you. … it looks like it will happen soon…'

That, and… thinking about it, she had made him promise under the name Houdini, hadn't she? Another thought, a memory, emerged…

'Are you willing to warn me right before things go wrong?'

'Of course. As much as I'm able to.'

"Oh. Oh, no." She hadn't been trying to hurt him, Melody was trying to WARN him! "I think I know why. Sorry, I have to go. It was good talking to you, Caireen! Kevin, I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?!"

"I have to see Dumbledore! Right now!"

"I can assure you, Mister Potter, our selector for the Triwizard Tournament is perfectly impartial."

Harry shook his head at the Headmaster. "I'm not so sure about that. Melody's convinced that I'm going to end up in the tournament. Someone's going to bribe the judge to make sure I enter."

Dumbledore gave a short chuckle. He only stopped at seeing Harry's frustrated expression. "I'm sorry, my boy, it's just that the one who selects the champions cannot be bribed. They cannot be convinced or bribed or swayed in any way. They are not emotional, nor political, none can persuade our impartial judge, as you will understand when you see them on the 30th."

"But something must go wrong, right? A seer doesn't get visions over nothing!"

Dumbledore's amused expression continued. "Has your friend never been wrong? Is she truly so all-knowing that her predictions come true every time, without question?"

"...Well…" No, not always.

"You will find, Mister Potter, that divination is a woolly subject at the best of times. Even prophecy, the most powerful form of divination, can pass unfulfilled. As you said, what happened today was merely a vision, something far less powerful than prophecy. I understand your concerns, but I can assure you that you, nor any other underage student, can be entered in the Triwizard Tournament, willingly or otherwise."

Harry mulled over the Headmaster's speech with frustration. Sure, Melody isn't infallible, but she wouldn't have done something so dramatic as hitting him without good reason! Voldemort's making his move, and Harry's life's on the line! So what, now? Is he supposed to sit back and let Voldemort get away with this and get him to die in the tournament?! Heh, the Master of Death dying in a student competition, how perfectly ironic!

The Master of Death…

His eyes narrowed at Dumbledore, allowing his heart to attune with the aura of Death, feeling it trail towards the man ahead of him. "Let's say you're wrong, and the judge chooses me after all, I'll be forced into a competition where older, stronger students are facing deadly challenges. Things that will be even harder for someone my age. If that happens, then I want your assurance that I'll be protected as best as I'm able to be."

Dumbledore considered that for a moment. "I can certainly speak to the organisers about implementing safeguards, if that were the case. However, the tournament rules also state that we professors cannot help the champions."

"I don't need extra help from the rest of the professors," Harry said dismissively, "I'd only need my wands. The one I have here with me, and the one that's mine by right of conquest."

Dumbledore's eyes flew wide. "You cannot mean- Surely- Harry, dear boy- what you are asking for is dangerous! I cannot allow you to-"

"I've let you keep the Elder Wand this whole time, purposefully," said Harry. He enjoyed the look of shock on Dumbledore's face. "I have been perfectly fine with you keeping it up until now. In fact, I was willing to wait until I graduate; but, if my life is suddenly at risk by being in the tournament, then I'll need every advantage at my disposal, and that includes both of my wands."

Dumbledore was starting to squirm. His hand touched the wand, flinching as a sudden spark of black lightning struck his hand. The wand is Harry's, and it's only obeyed Dumbledore begrudgingly because of Harry's previous nonchalance. Now, though, it was responding to its Master's will; a fact both Harry and Dumbledore were now painfully aware of.

His hand moved away from the wand. "If you do not enter the tournament," he said slowly, "are you willing to wait until the end of your seventh year?"

"I am."

"...Do you have any intention to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"No." Harry said sternly. "None whatsoever."

Dumbledore's face was at war with itself. It only ended with another threatening spark at his side, and a weary sigh. "Very well. Should you be forced into the tournament against your will, I will give you the Elder Wand."

Harry gave a breath of relief. "That's all I needed to hear, sir."

"However, know this… the Elder Wand is no mere tool, Mister Potter. It is a dangerous weapon, one that has claimed many lives over the centuries, both from its Masters' enemies and from its Masters. Tread carefully, young Harry. Do not claim that which you do not understand."

"I understand perfectly, Professor," Harry said solemnly. "I will do only what is right and best for me," as the Master of Death.