The Aftermath

He had taken a few turns around the grounds in an attempt to clear his mind; to no avail.

The anger continued to fester, and the speculation of what was behind the decision to have him entered into the tournament would not shift.

Was someone hoping he would simply die during one of the tasks?

Whomever had devised and implemented such a plan would be sorely disappointed. Though he had admittedly been lucky, Harry Potter did not die easily.

Still, there had to be a reason beyond desiring to witness him perish. At first, Harry had considered that perhaps it was Lucius Malfoy that had orchestrated the plan, but it wouldn't make sense.

For Malfoy, it would be much simpler to make a similar attempt to the one in the forest. No, he would not wish to risk potentially heaping more plaudits on Harry. It would not be his style to do so.

Malfoy was a scumbag, and one that would wish for Harry to meet his end in a filthy alleyway with no lasting glory to be had.

That did, however, beg the question as to whom had taken the liberty of submitting his name?

Harry could only think of one other, and from what he knew of the person Tom Riddle had been, it would be something the man would do. He would wish to see Harry stuffer publicly, to see him struggle to cling on to his own life through trial and tribulation.

It would certainly fit the Dark Lord's profile.

Nonetheless, the knowledge of who was behind it did nothing to assuage Harry's concerns.

The tournament was a dangerous undertaking, and one he did not feel wholly prepared for. Despite this, Harry was as competitive as they came, and he had a penchant for doing the seemingly impossible when it came to surviving against the odds.

As ever, he would do that now. Not only would he live, but he would also be damned if he did not win the tournament, even if only to spite Voldemort and those that did not believe he could.

Releasing a deep, calming breath, he stood before the portrait of the Fat Lady, anticipating the reception he would receive from his housemates.

"Balderdash," he muttered.

The Fat Lady offered him an unreadable look as she swung forward to admit him, and immediately, the Common Room fell eerily quiet upon his entry.

Harry did not smile as his housemates burst into cheers, nor did he offer any answer as to how he had been selected as an additional champion when pressed by Fred and George.

He simply waited for noise to die down so that he could speak.

"I didn't enter my name," he said bluntly.

"You must have," Seamus called. "Why would anyone else enter it?"

"Because they want Harry dead," one of the twins mused darkly aloud. "Bugger."

The mood within the room shifted.

"Come off it, who would want Harry dead?" Alicia questioned, her eyes widening as she realised her blunder. "It can't be him. He is dead."

'Little do they know,' Harry sighed internally.

"The Death Eaters aren't," Neville pointed out. "There's some of them still out there."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said dismissively, not wanting to discuss them or anything else pertaining to what had shaped his life to be what it was.

Fate truly was a cruel mistress, and Harry was pleased he did not put any faith in her. Death was the one who had guided him thus far, and who Harry chose to follow.

"I just wanted to make it known that I did not enter myself. I'd rather have nothing to do with any of this, but I don't have a choice. I have to compete."

"You know, you probably don't have to try to win," Hermione said thoughtfully. "As long as you take part, it should be enough. Just do what you have to so that you're not in any real danger."

The other Gryffindors were not pleased by the suggestion and vocalised that very sentiment.

"Or he could just bloody win it," one of the twins suggested. "He can stuff Diggory like he does in Quidditch and add Krum and Delacour to that list. Imagine if little Harry did win. The would show them."

His housemates whispered amongst themselves excitedly.

"That's exactly what I am going to do," Harry declared.

That would show Delacour for calling him a little boy. Krum had said nothing on him being entered, and Harry had nothing personal against Cedric. Still, it would be nice to beat them, to prove to everyone that he was no little boy.

Harry worked harder than anyone else he knew when it came to his magic, and he certainly had a few tricks up his sleeve that could prove useful.

However, there was always much more that he could do, and between now and the first task, he would be doing just that.

"It won't be so easy," Hermione sighed. "The tournament is hard and the other champions have to be really good to have been chosen by the goblet."

The Gryffindors began murmuring amongst themselves.

"But the goblet chose Harry too," Angelina countered.

Hermione seemed to be almost as uneasy about the entire situation as Harry, and it showed.

The girl was worried for him, and rightfully so, but Harry would come through it.

He would not cower, and he would not take the easy way out. He never had, so why would he do so now.

"You'll do great, Harry," Angelina assured him, pulling him tightly into her arms.

"You're not angry?"

The girl shook her head.

"Honestly, I only entered myself because we don't have Quidditch this year. It's best if I focus on my NEWTs instead of the tournament," she explained.

Harry nodded his understanding and cursed under his breath as Katie and Alicia joined in the embrace.

"I can't breathe!" he protested as they all but squeezed the life from him.

"Be quiet, Harry," Alicia sighed. "You're so dramatic."

"Yeah, what are you complaining about, Harry?" one of the twins goaded. "You are being crushed between three stunning ladies. I'll wait patiently for my turn."

"Shut up, Fred," Angelina huffed.

"I'm George!"

"I am not playing this game with you, you prat. Whichever one you are, just shut up."

"Bloody charming," the twin replied.

Harry chuckled at his antics.

The twins always managed to lighten any maudlin mood he felt.

Glad that his housemates seemed to believe him, Harry extracted himself from the three girls before heading to where Ron was seated by the fire.

"So, you have to be a champion?" the redhead asked.

Harry nodded and Ron stood.

"Well, at least someone from Gryffindor got chosen," he sighed, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he leaned in. "You'd better win. I put five galleons on you with the twins already. I haven't got five galleons, Harry."

Harry snorted amusedly.

"I'll do my best."

Ron nodded.

"What's the first task?"

Harry shrugged.

"We will be told just before we have to do it."

"That's dangerous," Hermione murmured as she joined them. "Going by past tournaments, it will involve a creature of some sort, and not anything friendly."

"Great," Harry replied sarcastically. "Maybe it will be kind enough to eat me quickly."

"You're being dramatic again, Harry," Angelina interjected. "Can't you just use the spell you did on that snake Malfoy conjured?"

"Can't you just use the spell on Malfoy?" Ron requested.

Harry shook his head.

"It won't work on anything much bigger than that snake," he explained. "What creature do you think it will likely be?"

"It could be anything," Hermione said gravely. "They've used cockatrice, griffins, sphynxes, dragons, and even graphorns before."

"Oh, nothing too deadly then. Well, maybe they've saved a Nundu for this time around?"

"No, they wouldn't," Hermione assured him. "They would never be allowed to have one in a contained area with so many people."

Harry hummed uncertainly.

With how his luck had been throughout his life, he wouldn't be surprised if a nundu was introduced just for him.

"Do you think you could compile a list of the creatures that have been used?" he asked Hermione.

The girl nodded and Harry offered her an appreciative smile.

He was exhausted, but he knew he would be unable to sleep. With the tournament now hanging over him and the rest of the school to face come morning, it would be a restless night at best, and one that would be better spent doing something productive.

"I think I'll go for a walk," he decided. "I need to just get my head around all this."

With that, he took his leave of the Common Room once more. Harry had no intention of going for a walk.

If truth be told, he knew he needed to blow off some steam.

Although he had accepted Fate's intervention into his affairs, seemingly not for the first time, he still wished to be alone with his thoughts and maybe break some things.

It would do nothing to better his situation, but perhaps it would make him feel a little better about what was to come.

Harry knew it was unlikely.

There was nothing that would assuage his concern or anger at being entered into the tournament against his will.

"Harry?"

He paused as his name was called and turned to find Katie exiting the portrait hole behind him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Not really," he answered honestly, "but there's no point complaining about it. Nothing will change and I will still have to compete. At least I haven't got to worry about having my showers cut short this year."

"I can still arrange for that to happen," Katie warned with a smirk. "We can't have you getting complacent, can we?"

"I need to find a hidden place to shower," Harry muttered in reply.

Of course, he already had. The room did provide that luxury, after all.

Katie laughed humourlessly.

"Well, if you need anything, you just need to ask. You're not alone in this. All of us are supporting you."

"Do you fancy facing a dangerous creature for me? I bet you'd be able to scare it off."

"Am I so terrifying?" Katie asked amusedly.

"Not really," Harry conceded.

"Then I suppose I need to try harder," Katie mused aloud. "Face your own dangerous creature."

"I thought as much," Harry chuckled. "Thanks."

Katie nodded before wrapping her arms around him once more.

"You know, it was easier during your first year when you were just little Harry."

It was.

Harry's only concerns was homework and Quidditch; days that seemed so far away.

"Because you could bully me?"

"You're being dramatic again, Harry."

Harry laughed with her as she released her hold on him.

"Why did you follow me?" he asked curiously.

Katie shrugged and smiled sadly.

"I don't know. You looked a little lost."

She wasn't wrong. Harry did feel lost, and he truly did not know where to begin his preparations for the tournament. When Hermione provided her list, he would have something at the very least, but until then, Harry did feel out of his depth.

Nonetheless, it was a feeling he had become accustomed to over the years.

He tournament would be fraught with unknow dangers throughout, yet somehow, Harry seemed to thrive when facing such adversity.

"I'll be fine," he assured the girl. "You should probably go back in before someone comes. You don't want a rumour going around about us being caught alone after curfew."

Katie's cheeks reddened slightly.

"That probably wouldn't be good," she agreed. "What about you, won't you get caught?"

Harry shook his head.

"I've not been caught yet and I'm always sneaking out," he revealed with a grin, turning, and heading down the corridor.

Rounding the corner, he waved his wand and covered himself with the cloak, just as Katie followed and looked around confusedly.

"Harry?" she called.

Seemingly, there was nowhere for him to go from this stretch of hallway. There were no doors nor any nooks and crannies he could slip into it, and it amused Harry greatly to see the girl in such a state at his disappearance.

He did not allow his laughter to escape his lips until he was safely within the confines of the room, and then, any joviality he had felt only a moment prior all but vanished.

It was time to get to work.

Where he would begin, he didn't know. What Harry did know, however, was that he needed to do something.

"Do you have any books on how to combat creatures?" he asked the room.

A single tome slammed heavily into the ground a few feet away. It was old, the pages yellowed with the musty smell of aged parchment wafting from it.

It was a start, and right now, it was the best that Harry could hope for.

(Break)

It was not often that Nicholas lost his temper. Yes, he would occasionally become angry and rant and rave when his work proved reach a frustrating juncture he was struggling to navigate, but he never truly lost all composure.

Albus waited as the alchemist processed the news he had broken to him.

Nicholas remained silent for some time, his nostrils flared and his eyes devoid of any emotion.

For a moment, Albus thought the man may have taken leave of his senses, but then he spoke in a dark, foreboding voice.

"You are a fool, Albus," he whispered. "With what you know is coming, you risked reviving a tournament that you truly have little control over. What the hell were you thinking? How? How did his name end up in the goblet?"

Albus swallowed and released a deep breath.

"It appears that someone managed to confound it into choosing an additional competitor," he explained. "I believe that Harry's name was entered under the banner of another school."

"He is fourteen," Nicholas said simply. "He should not have been able to be selected."

"He should not," Albus agreed, "and the goblet would not have done so if it did not believe him worthy, Nicholas. Despite whomever submitting his name having taken the steps they believed necessary, the goblet would not have allowed him to compete if it did not deem him able."

The magic of the artefact was indeed exceptional.

Albus believed he had taken all necessary precautions with it, and yet, they had been circumnavigated.

He would not pretend that he was not surprised by Harry's selection.

Even if one were to trawl through the archive of past tournaments, none at his age that had entered themselves had been chosen. It was quite the exceptional feat that Harry had been selected at all.

"How much danger is he in?" Nicholas demanded.

"Measures have been put in place to ensure the safety of the champions without compromising on the nature of the competition," Albus answered.

"Measures were damned well put in place to avoid anyone of age being able to enter in the first place!" Nicholas snapped. "How much danger is he in, Albus?"

The headmaster shook his head.

"That is dependent on how he performs," he admitted. "There is a considerable element of risk."

Nicholas grunted as he stood and began pacing back and forth.

"And you are certain there is no way of withdrawing him."

"There is not," Albus confirmed.

He had consulted the rules from cover to cover. Short of dying or being physically unable to continue, Harry would indeed have to compete.

The goblet was no easy artefact to trick, and with the contracts now in place, Albus dared not attempt such a thing.

The repercussions for all beholden to the terms could be catastrophic.

"What are the tasks?" Perenelle interjected.

Again, Albus swallowed, this time, nervously.

It was one thing to be faced with a furious Nicholas, but Perenelle was another matter entirely.

She had grown exceedingly fond of Harry, more so than she had ever been of Albus.

"The first task will involve retrieving a golden egg from a nesting mother dragon," he revealed, and braced himself for the response.

As expected, it was quite spectacular.

Perenelle cursed venomously in her native tongue, and verbally tore strips off Albus for several minutes. When she was done, her breathing was laboured.

"Does he know?"

Albus shook his head.

"The champions are to be informed of the task shortly before it takes place. However, traditionally speaking, they will find a way of knowing much sooner than intended."

"Oh, he will know," Perenelle assured him. "I will not have him unprepared for this."

"It's him, isn't it?" Nicholas cut in. "He's the one who had Harry's name entered."

"That is my own thoughts," Albus sighed.

"To what end? He cannot put so much faith in Harry being killed during one of the tasks, not unless he plans on having them sabotaged."

"I will not allow that," Albus said firmly. "I will personally oversee the preparations and will be present at every moment. If there is even an inkling of interference, it will be dealt with accordingly."

"No," Nicholas returned firmly. "I will oversee the tasks myself. Something is afoot, Albus, and I will not have Harry put in any more danger. I wish to inspect the goblet and I want a copy of the contract. If there is a way to free him from it, I will find it. Pack some bags, my dear. It appears as though we will be spending some time in Scotland."

Perenelle simply nodded and left the room.

"Are you sure about this?" Albus questioned.

"Oh, I'm sure," Nicholas replied. "Someone is trying to hurt that boy, and I will do all I can to prevent it. He is my ward until he comes of age or decides he no longer wishes to be. It seems to me that there is no other looking out for him, and if it means that I have to openly claim him as such, I will do so. Mark my words, Albus, I take Harry's safety seriously and I will not see him unduly harmed."

Albus nodded his understanding.

"Will you be residing within the castle?"

Nicholas shook his head.

"No. No one is to know we are nearby unless necessary. We will speak with Harry in our own time. For now, I want to look into this myself. I do not like it, Albus, not one bit. Whoever is responsible is close enough to one of the judges or an organiser that they were able to interfere with the goblet. That means there is a strong chance that they are at Hogwarts, right under your nose."

Albus conceded that it could well be true.

With so many strangers within the grounds this year, Nicholas could well be right.

If so, who could it be?

Albus did not know, but he too would be looking into it, discreetly of course.

It was a concerning matter, after all, and raised many questions.

Why would Tom wish to enter Harry into the tournament?

It was a perplexing thing to consider, and though Albus was familiar with the man, he could not fathom why he would do such a thing.

It was a risky move, and the Dark Lord must be aware that Albus would know it was him behind Harry's entry.

Such an observation only made the situation more dangerous.

Just what was Tom playing at now? What was he hoping to achieve with this convoluted plan, and more importantly, who was acting on his behalf?

(Break)

The Great Hall fell deathly silent as Harry entered, and Harry ignored the ensuing whispers that followed upon taking his seat at the Gryffindor table.

He'd expected nothing less from the other students who would have varying theories of speculation as to how found himself as a champion.

Without a word, Hermione offered him a look of worry as she slid the morning edition of The Daily Prophet towards him.

Harry Potter: The Other Champion

By Rita Skeeter

It was my intention today to merely break the exciting news that the Triwizard Tournament has been reinstated after it had been discontinued more than three centuries ago.

That in itself would be a worthy headline, but already, the tournament has fallen into disarray after the selection of the champions representing each of the schools last night.

In a shocking twist, Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, became a surprise additional champion after The Goblet of Fire had chosen three competitors: Cedric Diggory (Hogwarts), Fleur Delacour (Beauxbatons), and World Cup Quidditch star, Viktor Krum (Durmstrang).

What this means is that instead of the traditional three champions, there will now be four.

How this occurred is not yet known, but I have reached out to several sources for an explanation.

In what was supposed to be a competition for students of-age only, it begs the question as to what gave the right for Harry Potter to enter himself into the fray?

How did a mere fourteen-year-old boy hood-wink an ancient artefact into choosing him along with the other three champions?

This reporter has made it her personal mission to uncover the truth.

"And so it begins," Harry muttered, already planning on how he would deal with the Skeeter woman.

"Ignore her, Harry," Ron urged. "Mum always says Skeeter is a nosy old cow who likes to make-up lies."

"She does," Ginny agreed. "Everything she prints is crap."

"But there are idiots who believe it," one of the twins pointed out.

"Like the idiots here," Harry said loudly enough so that he could be heard.

"Just like this one," Ron grumbled, nodding over Harry's shoulder.

Hermione placed a firm hand on Ron's wrist to prevent him standing, and Harry did not need a second guess to know who had approached.

"Do you like them?" Malfoy asked with a smirk, pointing to a badge he had pinned to his chest.

"Potter stinks," Harry snorted amusedly as he read it.

Malfoy nodded proudly, gesturing around the hall to several others who were sporting them. With a tap of his wand the wording changed.

Support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts champion

"Bloody hell, Draco, are you five?" Harry asked. "Honestly, what a pathetic attempt."

"Entering yourself into the tournament is pathetic," Draco returned. "What, is the fame you have not enough for you now, Potter? Do you have to steal everyone else's?"

The Slytherins surrounding him guffawed stupidly and Harry stood, causing Malfoy to take a cautious step backwards..

"You know, you're very amusing, Dragon," he murmured, "but I'm going to give you some advice."

Draco scoffed.

"I don't need any advice from you, Potter!"

"Oh, you'll want to listen to this," Harry replied with a grin. "I advise you to collect up all of those badges by the time I finish my breakfast."

"Or what?" Malfoy snorted.

"Well, every badge I see, I'm going to take it, and ram it straight up your arse, and I don't mean that figuratively, Draco. I will shove every single one of them so far where the sun doesn't shine, that I'll be able to pull them out of your bastard nose."

The students that could hear the exchange gasped at Harry threat and Draco looked around nervously.

"If you lay a finger on me…"

"You'll do what?" Harry asked. "You'll run to your father? I f I were you, I'd get collecting those badges up. I'm a fast eater, and I'm not in the mood to hang around here all morning. Now, get away from me before I lose my appetite."

Draco was taken aback by Harry's cold demeanour, and he looked to his housemates for support.

He got none.

The other Slytherins shifted uncomfortably as they looked anywhere but at Harry.

Thinking better of provoking the situation further, an embarrassed Draco stormed away from the Gryffindor table and to his own.

Harry watched as he began gathering the badges from his fellow Slytherins, before making his way towards the Ravenclaw table whilst those he had not seen the exchange looked on in confusion.

"Bloody hell, did it get cold in here?" one of the twins asked.

Harry said nothing as he retook his seat, ignoring the surprised stares of the other Gryffindors.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron declared.

"That was terrifying," Hermione added. "Harry, you'll get in trouble…"

Harry cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"I couldn't give a shite," he muttered, still channelling his inner Peverell.

That was where he'd gotten the inspiration for the threat in the first place.

Both Arthur and Gawain were excellent at intimidation when a situation required it, and Harry silently thanked them for the inadvertent lessons they had given him in the art.

"Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you," one of the twins murmured. "Even my arse cheeks clenched up."

"Mine too," the other twin agreed. "I thought he was going to wet himself."

"Would you blame him?" Angelina asked as she looked almost worriedly at Harry. "I could have done without the image."

"Ha, just imagine the little git limping around after our Harry is done with him."

"He'd deserve it," Ron broke in. "Why didn't anyone stop him?"

"McGonagall and Dumbledore aren't here," Alicia pointed out, "and Snape won't stop someone in his own house being a prat. He doesn't look happy now though."

Harry chanced a glance at the Potions Master who looked decidedly irritated. Whether that was with Malfoy or Harry, he couldn't be sure. Not that he cared.

It wasn't as though the man could punish him for what he'd done. That would mean having to admit that he was aware of the badges and did nothing to prevent Draco from handing them out to the other students.

Still, Harry took note of all of those he saw with one of them pinned to their robes.

Oddly, within only moments, there was no longer a single one in sight.

"Merlin, it's tense in here. How's it going, Harry?" Cedric asked as he took the seat next to him.

Once more, the students within the hall began whispering amongst themselves.

"Well, you know how it is," Harry replied.

"I do," Cedric chuckled as he helped himself to a few slices of toast and began buttering them, watched by a thoroughly confused gathering of students. "So, has it had time to sink in yet?"

"Not really," Harry answered honestly.

Cedric chuckled and clapped him smartly on the shoulder.

"Well, you'd best get your head around it. I want you at your best. I still owe you for beating me to the Snitch last year."

"I'll be ready," Harry assured him.

"Good," Cedric chuckled as he stood. "Enjoy the rest of your breakfast. You'll need to keep your strength up. Thanks for the toast," he added cheerily before heading towards his own table.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Ron asked.

"Cedric was letting everyone know that he doesn't believe what Skeeter wrote in the article," Hermione explained. "That was nice of him."

"It was," one of the twins agreed, "but you'd better still win, Harry. You'll bring shame to us all if you lose."

"I'll bear that in mind," Harry replied dryly, frowning as an unfamiliar owl landed in front of him.

Relieving it of the letter it carried, he tore it open and read the short note that had been penned in French.

Harry,

We have been made aware of what is happening and will arrive in Britain shortly.

I will let you know where we are staying in due course.

Perenelle is beside herself with worry. It makes a change from the DRAGON she can often be.

Nicholas

Harry's frown deepened as he read the letter again.

Why had the word 'dragon' been capitalized?

His heart sunk in realisation after only a few seconds of pondering the question.

"Well, that's just bloody great!" he huffed irritably.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head as he rose from his seat and checked that there was indeed none of the badges in sight.

There wasn't, and with what he would face now occupying his thoughts, he took his leave of the Great Hall, wondering just how it was he could defeat one of the most dangerous creatures known to man.

(Break)

"You honestly don't believe Potter, do you, Cedric?" Zacharias Smith asked as Cedric past the fourth years of his house.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Come off it. Malfoy is right. Potter's just looking for more fame."

Cedric's expression darkened as he turned to face the boy and his year-mates.

"How many times have you spoken to Harry?" he returned. "Do you know him?"

"Not really."

"Then what gives you the right to accuse him of entering himself?" Cedric bit back. "I have spoken with him several times, and I was with him in that room last night. I would bet my life that he didn't enter himself, and I won't have any of you prats sullying our house by believing otherwise. I promise you now, if I see a single one of those badges or hear a bad word about Harry outside of us competing with one another, I will come down on all of you like a rampaging Hippogriff. Understood?"

The Entire table had fallen silent as he spoke, and each student nodded. Some more reluctantly than others.

"What makes you so sure?" Smith pressed.

It was not as though Cedric could reveal all he had witnessed pertaining to Harry to his housemates.

"Because Harry did everything he could to get out of it," he explained. "He even offered himself up to be questioned under Veritaserum to prove he had nothing to do with it. Any idiot could see he was telling the truth, so maybe you need to get it into your head that he is a victim in this. He now has to attempt to compete with students three years older than him in tasks that could well kill us. Do better, Smith, and the rest of you. Harry is my friend and I will not have lies spoken about him as I wouldn't any of you."

With a shake of his head, Cedric took his leave of the Great Hall.

He didn't feel much like eating now, not when he was reliving the harrowing experience of what he had seen the night of the World Cup.

There were people out to kill Harry, dangerous people, and Cedric would not know how to cope if he found himself in such a position.

(Break)

"Can you bloody well believe this?" Sirius snapped as he brandished the morning newspaper.

Remus could not deny that he was concerned by the development. There was not an interaction he'd ever had with Harry that would suggest the boy would wish to have any part of the Triwizard Tournament.

No, someone else must have entered his name, but who?

"What is happening, Moony?" Sirius asked worriedly. "Dumbledore can't allow him to participate."

Remus shook his head.

"I do not think he has a choice," he sighed. "Would you like me to speak with him to see what his thoughts are?"

Sirius nodded.

Being on the run was taking its toll on the already struggling man. He spent his days worrying for Harry and peering out of the curtain of Grimmauld Place to see if the Dementors or anyone who could be deemed magical was watching the house.

Not that they could see it, of course. Grimmauld Place was likely one of the most protected buildings in the entire country, and yet, Sirius struggled day in and day out being here.

He was trapped within the four walls, after all, and it was pushing him to his very limits.

The latest revelation regarding Harry would not help and Remus truly began to worry that his oldest friend would do something foolish.

He would mention it to Dumbledore. Maybe the man would have a suggestion to keep Sirius busy beyond spending hours in the library every day reading up on the magic of his family.

(Break)

A dragon's vulnerabilities vary from breed to breed. I use the word 'vulnerabilities' purposely instead of weakness because such a beast truly has none.

Their hide is highly resistant to magic, and even to subdue one takes a combined effort of several wizards using a Stunning Charm. It would be ill-advised to attempt this alone.

Dragons are creatures of fire, so they can be slower in a colder climate, but not so slow that it would be much of an advantage. No, there is no advantage to any single witch or wizard if faced with any dragon, though some are considered deadlier than others.

My advice would always be to flee.

A relationship can be formed with a hatchling, and will carry through to maturity, though this is rare and takes considerable dedication.

Should you find yourself in a life-or-death situation and unable to flee to safety, then a last resort would be to aim for the eyes with a debilitating spell.

It will serve more of a distraction than give you victory, however. Every breed of dragon possesses and excellent sense of smell, can fly faster than all known methods used by magical folk, and have the advantage of considerable range with their flames.

"Bloody hell," Harry groaned as he discarded the book the room had provided.

It was a little dated, but he would not rely on the slim possibility that he could outfly a dragon, even on his Firebolt. No, he needed to come up with a way to subdue the creature.

He doubted that he would be expected to kill a dragon, but subduing it was certainly within the remit of what a champion could be asked to do.

How? How could he possibly subdue a dragon if his spells would have little to no effect on one?

He needed to think and remaining within the room was currently not helping him.

Firebolt!

It had been a number of days gone by since he'd flown, and right now with so much burdening him, he could certainly the escape.

Checking the map after he had wrapped himself in the cloak, he saw that most of the students were in their Common Rooms, waiting for dinner to be served.

That was still two hours away, which gave Harry plenty of time to take to the sky.

Exiting the room on the seventh floor, he die his utmost to forget about what was to come and made his way towards the Quidditch pitch.

Without the season going ahead this year, it would be empty, and he would have the place to himself to mull over just how he would tackle the latest problem that had been presented to him.

(Break)

Viktor was rather fascinated by Hogwarts. Every fire in the castle was lit at all times, and it felt welcoming, much more so than Durmstrang ever had. His own school resembled more a fortress than a place of education, and it was often a cold, dreary establishment.

Still, it was his home away from home, and Viktor would have it no other way.

Already, he had visited the library, and wandered through the halls of the castle until he had gotten quite lost.

Fortunately, a friendly enough ghost guided him back to the Entrance Hall.

It was in the library that he overheard some of the students discussing the selection of the champions, and Viktor learned more about his most curious competitor.

It had been rather simple to change his features enough that he wouldn't be recognised by the young Hogwarts students before he approached them.

They had been friendly enough, if a little cautious of him, but Viktor had managed to coax some rather interesting information out of them.

Potter, according to the students, was an excellent flyer, much better than anyone else in the school and had been selected to play for his house team in his first year as a Seeker.

Moreover, he had yet to fail to catch the Snitch even once, besting students much older and more experienced than himself.

'He jumped from his broom from hundreds of feet in the air, caught the Snitch, and then landed back on his broom before he hit the ground!'

Viktor had chuckled amusedly at the fanciful tale.

It was clear that Potter was popular, though it seemed that he kept to himself for the most part.

'No one really sees him outside of class or away from the Quidditch,' one of the students had explained.

Potter was turning out to be quite interesting.

Diggory had spoken highly enough of him too.

Viktor did not know what to make of the Hogwarts Champions. Delacour was easy enough to understand. Her family were well-known in France. Her father was a highly respected figure in the French Ministry who had married a veela.

The girl would possess certain advantages throughout the tournament, but Veela had their weaknesses too.

Viktor would play on them if and when the opportunity presented itself.

He shook his head and turned away from where he was looking across the lake and paused as he caught sight of a figure atop a broom in the distance.

Whomever it was flew excellently and Viktor disembarked the ship to move closer for a better look.

With the speed the person was flying, they could only be riding a Firebolt, and the Bulgarian was reminded that it had been well over a week since he had taken to the sky on his own.

Perhaps he would make time to do so when he knew he would not be inundated with spectators.

He paused before he reached the entrance and simply watched, nodding appreciatively at the skill on display.

It wasn't until the rider climbed to a height that would make even some of the most seasoned fliers wince that Viktor realised who it was he was observing.

Potter, the very boy who had been occupying his thoughts.

He looked on with interest as the boy became little more than a speck high above, quirking an eyebrow as he deduced what Potter was intending on doing.

Viktor cursed under his breath as the boy dived, his form growing larger and large as he rocketed towards the ground, pulling up with only the merest of inches to spare.

He hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath in anticipation, and not wanting to be caught snooping, he turned, only to bump into a wide-eyed Fleur Delacour.

"He must have a death wish," she gasped.

"Da," Viktor agreed. "I do not know many with the guts to do that. He is interesting, no?"

"He was rude to me."

Viktor shook his head.

"They speak highly of him here. He is a talented student from what I have learned."

Delacour pursed her lips.

"Not as talented as me," she replied.

Viktor frowned at the girl.

It was that level of ignorance that would see her lose the tournament. Viktor did not doubt that she was talented, but she lacked humility. The tournament would teach her that before it came to an end. Of that, he had no doubt.

"I think he will surprise us all," he murmured.

"Maybe," Delacour conceded reluctantly.

"And maybe you should apologise to him," Viktor urged. "You were rude to him before he was rude to you. Where I come from, that makes you wrong."

"I did nothing wrong!"

Viktor shook his head.

"You called him a little boy, and it is you acting like a little girl," he pointed out before making his way back towards the ship.

Viktor had met many girls just like her.

Delacour was spoiled and used to getting her own way without facing any consequences.

That would indeed change in the coming months.

With what he had learned of the tournament, the one thing Viktor Krum was certain of was that it would change them all in their own ways.