A/N: A bit of a plot-light, character-centric chapter this week...I originally intended both halves to be added onto the previous and subsequent chapters, but ended up enjoying it so much that I left everything in as a standalone unit. Enjoy!

It took a few weeks for Luna to respond to Harry's letter, and when she finally did, it came with excited ramblings about her visit to Algeria, along with an enclosed feather that she swore came off the back of a Blibbering Humdinger. (Though Lily was fairly certain it was a common Fwooper feather.) Luna invited Harry to come stay at his earliest convenience, as she would be home for the remainder of the summer.

"She lives in Ottery St. Catchpole?" said Dahlia excitedly when Harry brought up the topic over dinner one evening. "Ooh, Daddy, Ginny lives not far from there! Can I go visit her too?"

"That's a thought," James mused. "I believe the Weasley's and Diggory's are attending the World Cup next month as well...maybe we can sync up our schedules and join them for the Portkey journey."

So owls were sent and arrangements were made: Harry and Ginny would depart for the Lovegood and Weasley homes, respectively, three days prior to the match. They would then meet at the Burrow on the final evening and take the Portkey to the event all together.

Harry was eager to visit Luna, despite Dahlia's constant teasing about his 'third girlfriend in as many months' and James and Lily's not-so-subtle questions about his relationship with the girl. If they met her, they'd know our relationship was nothing like that, Harry thought irritably. Though after the mishap with Hermione the previous year, perhaps he ought to tread lightly with his female friendships, lest anyone get the wrong idea.

On the day of the trip, Harry packed a bag with all the essentials he would need for the next week and stepped through the fireplace into an unfamiliar living room. He was just getting his bearings when he saw a blur of platinum-blonde hair and was nearly bowled over by a running hug from Luna.

"You made it!" she said excitedly. "Daddy is so excited to meet you, come along Harry!"

Luna took Harry's hand and guided him into the kitchen, where a tall, eccentric man with frizzy shoulder-length hair was chopping vegetables. He beamed at the sight of Harry walking through the door.

"You must be Harry Potter," said the man, extending an orange-stained hand to shake. "Xenophilius Lovegood. I've heard so much about you from my Luna."

"Likewise," said Harry, shaking the hand. "Thank you for inviting me into your home."

"Oh, it's our pleasure!" Xenophilius smiled. "Luna has never brought a friend home before. I always worried that she wasn't getting along with the other children at Hogwarts."

"I'm honored," Harry chuckled awkwardly. Luna didn't appear bothered by her father's blunt remark; if anything, she was more excited than Harry had ever seen her.

"I have so much to show you!" she said, guiding him back into the living room. "Look at what we caught in Algeria: Daddy just mounted it last night! A Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn!"

She pointed at the wall, where a large, gray spiral horn had been prominently affixed for all to see. Harry got a foreboding feeling from the horn, though he could not say why. He politely listened as Luna pointed out other odd objects of interest decorating the room, describing the various far-flung trips she and her father had taken to retrieve them. Harry couldn't be certain, but over half of the creatures she claimed to have hunted sounded made-up.

Luna led him upstairs next, and Harry took in the framed pictures on the wall as she chattered away. Childhood photos of Luna, and a few family shots of her with her mother and father. Luna's mother was quite pretty but seemed rather reserved in the photographs, often shrinking beside her husband and smiling sadly at the camera, if she smiled at all.

"Daddy's room is upstairs in the loft," Luna explained. "My room is in here – I just finished cleaning it for your visit." Luna's room looked like a tornado had recently passed through, with clothes and papers strewn all over the space. She kicked a large pile of books aside to clear a path to her desk, where she showed Harry a drawing she'd completed during her trip.

"You see? This is a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!" she said. "I sketched it just before Daddy harvested its horn."

"Huh, neat," said Harry, though to him the picture looked nothing like the horn he'd seen downstairs. The one in the drawing was bright red and had little spikes protruding from its base.

"I'll show you to your room," said Luna, guiding him back into the hallway to another room on the same level. "This is where Mother used to do her...well, anyway, this room doesn't get used much anymore."

Harry noted the awkward pause in Luna's excited speech at the mention of her mother. "This is lovely," he said to break the tension, dropping his bag onto the spare bed and peering out the window. "Is that a garden I see in the backyard?"

"Ooh, yes!" Luna beamed; Harry's distraction had proven successful. "Come, let us pick some fresh flowers for your room...it's good luck for visitors, you know!"

Harry spent the remainder of the day struggling to keep up with Luna as she excitedly dragged him from place to place, explaining the significance of each and every decoration of the Lovegood home and surrounding area. It was clear that Xenophilius had raised Luna with a strong sense of family history, as she knew what every single item in her house meant and where it came from – or at least, where she believed it to be from.

By the end of the day, he was thoroughly worn out, and was grateful when Luna announced that she was retiring to her room. Harry returned to his own guest room, which he'd gathered was once a workshop where Pandora Lovegood had conducted her own experiments. He knew she'd died during a freak spell-crafting incident, and was curious to see if the room contained anything that would tell him more about who she was as a person.

After ensuring his door was closed, Harry moved to the small desk in the corner and began rifling through it, careful not to move anything out of place. Many of the drawers were filled with scribbles in foreign languages Harry didn't recognize, and some sketches of various magical animals, many of them birds. She obviously shared her husband's love of creatures, though the ones he saw in her notes appeared to actually exist at least.

Harry also located a small wooden box at the bottom of a cabinet, decorated with flower pins and bird stickers. An engraving at the base of the wood read, 'Property of Pandora Addams-Lovegood'. Harry could hear small items rattling about inside the box, though he could discern no way to open it. It appeared completely sealed from the inside, with no seams or latches indicating a lid or opening.

"Alohomora," Harry whispered, tapping the tip of his wand to the box, but nothing happened. He tried a variety of different charms, including a Revelio to search for hidden enchantments, but nothing happened. He was burning with curiosity about what might be inside, and almost considered breaking it open by force, but didn't want to intrude that heavily into an unknown woman's belongings. He returned the box to its rightful place and went to bed imagining what secrets might lay within.

Harry awoke early the next morning to the sound of heavy clacking and whirring machinery from elsewhere in the house. He got dressed and wandered downstairs, where he found Xenophilius toiling away over what looked like a large printing press.

"Hope I didn't wake you," said Xenophilius apologetically. "Just finishing up some last-minute copies of The Quibbler...we're running a special double-edition for wrackspurt mating season!"

"No problem," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "I was getting up anyway."

"I'll fix you some coffee," said Xenophilius, leading the way into the kitchen. "I imagine Luna will be sleeping in...I haven't seen her with that much energy in ages."

"Yes, she was quite eager to show me around," Harry chuckled. His feet were still sore from trying to keep up with the bubbly girl from place to place the previous day.

Minutes later, Harry and Xenophilius sat around the kitchen table sipping from their mugs. Harry realized this might be a good time to broach a topic he'd wanted to spare Luna from.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking," said Harry cautiously, "I wanted to ask you about Luna's mother."

A brief look of sadness overcame Xenophilius at this mention, but he smiled sadly at him. "Ah, yes," he said wistfully. "Pandora was a wonderful woman...I am certain she would have loved to meet you."

"And I her," Harry nodded. "What was she like?"

"She was a kindhearted soul," Xenophilius smiled. "I met her many years ago, at a meeting for the P.A.M.C.C."

"The what?"

"The Preservation and Appreciation of Magical Creatures Conference," Xenophilius explained. "Pandora was there advocating against the forced capture and de-feathering of Jobberknolls. I was looking for partners in my ongoing research project on the relationship between Diricawls and Gulping Plimpies. It was love at first sight."

"Did she ever make...erm, predictions?" Harry asked awkwardly. "About the future, I mean?"

Xenophilius frowned slightly at this question. "She was full of all kinds of odd sayings and bits of wisdom," he said. "Mostly they were harmless...though they got rather morbid towards the end."

"In what way?"

"Just gloom and doom about a lot of things," Xenophilius shrugged. "Pessimism can be healthy in small doses, but it overwhelmed her in her later years. I also noticed her avoiding young Luna in the last few weeks of her life – I'm sure it wasn't intentional, and I hope Luna didn't internalize it."

Maybe she foresaw her own death and wanted to spare Luna from witnessing it, Harry realized. "Do you believe it's possible she was a Seer?" he asked.

Xenophilius actually laughed at this. "You are not the first to suggest such a thing about my Pandora," he said. "But no, I think not. I've long considered Divination to be a fool's errand...I could never get those blasted tea leaves to reveal any deeper truths to me. I did my best to discourage such ways of thinking, and will do the same for my Luna."

Harry remembered the framed photos on the wall upstairs – the sad look on Pandora's face standing beside her family. Had she felt smothered by her husband's stubborn refusal to accept Divination as a legitimate branch of magic? Why would a man with such eccentric views be so quick to dismiss such a phenomenon so quickly?

"Sir, if I may," said Harry carefully, "I believe Luna may have Seer qualities herself. If that is the case, perhaps we ought to encourage her to study the subject."

"What, let her enroll in classes with the fool Trelawney woman?" Xenophilius scoffed. "She and Pandora were friends at Hogwarts, believe it or not. Why Dumbledore allowed that fraud to teach his students is beyond me."

"She is a legitimate Seer as well," said Harry. "I know you may not believe in that stuff, Mr. Lovegood, but Dumbledore wouldn't allow it to be taught if it wasn't real magic."

Xenophilius considered this dubiously. "Dumbledore is correct more often than not," he acknowledged. "Though I still believe he was misguided in supporting the Goblin Rights Act of '74...Gringotts is operating an underground basilisk breeding program, I'm certain of it!"

"Just let her decide for herself, that's all I'm asking," Harry said diplomatically. "Luna's very passionate about so many things, and I'd hate to see that passion stifled."

Xenophilius smiled softly at this. Before he could respond, Luna skipped into the kitchen, her hair a wild mess but looking chipper and ready for the day. "Finish your coffee quickly, Harry," she instructed. "Mornings are the best time to catch nargles at the creek!"

"Will do," Harry laughed. He and Luna spent the subsequent hours splashing about in the creek, diving after gnomes that were always just out of reach. Harry had fond memories of hunting gnomes at the Burrow, though these were much more elusive, perhaps because they were in their native environment rather than intruding upon the Weasleys' garden. Luna got close enough to one to earn herself a nasty bite on the finger, though she was delighted by this outcome.

"Gnome saliva brings good luck, you know!" she said excitedly as she wrapped up the wound with conjured gauze.

"Was that something your mother used to say?" Harry asked.

"Mother used to take me down here all the time," said Luna cheerily. "She loved chasing nargles, even though we never managed to catch any."

"I learned about your 'nargles' in Divination last year," said Harry.. "Will you be taking the subject yourself next year?"

"Oh, certainly not," Luna said, shaking her head. "Daddy says it's a rubbish subject for frauds and liars."

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss it," Harry offered gently. "It has a lot of useful techniques to hone your mental abilities. It isn't all rubbish."

"Yeah, maybe," Luna shrugged. Harry decided to drop the topic, sensing her clear disinterest but hoping to convince her another time. He would hate to see her neglect an entire branch of magic that could help her get more in tune with her abilities – and with her own mother.

Another tiring day followed as Luna showed Harry all around the surrounding village at the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Many of the local Muggles seemed to recognize Luna, waving and smiling at her as she skipped past. They returned home for dinner with Xenophilius, then retired upstairs to bed early, with Harry marveling that Luna had not collapsed from sheer exhaustion yet.

While waiting for his turn to shower, Harry wandered back over to the desk in Pandora's workshop. He pulled the locked box towards him, having noticed a scribbled note on a scrap of parchment crammed in one of the desk drawers. It read, 'Hint: save the J's'. Remembering his conversation with Xenophilius earlier that day, Harry pulled out his wand and tapped it to the locked box, whispering, "Jobberknoll."

That seemed to be the missing password, as the box swung open with a gentle click. Curious, Harry lifted its lid, pulling out the contents from within. He found what looked like an ornate wedding ring, inset with a gaudy orange gem he did not recognize. It rested atop a small leather diary, which he opted to leave closed, not wishing to pry into another woman's personal writings.

There was also a small stack of photographs in the box, featuring more candid shots of Xenophilius and Pandora together in their youth. Harry noticed how much happier she looked in these photos, laughing riotously and looking adoringly up at her husband.

Harry also found a few photos that appeared to depict Luna's birth. It was an intimate home affair, with a young medi-witch assisting Pandora in a bathtub with her labor. Harry set aside some of the more graphic photos and located one where Pandora clutched a newborn Luna to her chest, silent tears of joy streaming down her face and a broad smile on her face.

"You opened it."

Harry wheeled around to see Luna standing in the doorway dressed in a nightgown, hair dripping wet. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I was just curious—"

"Father and I have been trying to open it for years," said Luna, entering the room to examine the box with wide eyes. "Glad someone's finally managed it."

Luna froze at the sight of the photos in Harry's hand. She took them from him and rifled through them one by one, saying nothing, rooted to the spot. She paused at the one of her mother holding her close to her chest, staring blankly at it for some time as Harry awkwardly stared at his shoes.

"I've never seen her look so happy," Luna breathed quietly. Harry looked up at Luna to see her blue eyes watering and her face twitching softly in the attempt not to cry.

Harry stood and wrapped Luna in a hug, which she eagerly accepted. She buried her face in his chest and sniffled softly as he patted her back. "She really must have loved you, to treasure these photos so much," he said.

Luna held him tight for a few moments before pulling away and wiping her eyes hastily. "Thank you," she said softly, collecting the box and the remainder of the photos before retreating to her own bedroom and shutting the door.

Harry hoped that he had not imposed by going through Pandora's things without permission. But Luna had seemed grateful, and apparently had never had success with opening the treasure box herself. He went to bed soon after, hoping he'd succeeded in setting both Luna and her father on a more productive path forward.

The following day was Harry's last at Luna's home, and to his relief Luna was content to spend it indoors, perhaps finally feeling the toll of her exerted energy. They did not discuss the box or its contents, but Harry did sense Luna to be in a good mood, which he hoped meant she wasn't cross with him for snooping. They played Gobstones and Exploding Snap in the living room (with Harry ensuring that they did the latter far away from the mounted horn on the wall), until Lily arrived to collect Harry in the early afternoon.

"You must be Luna," she smiled at the girl when she walked into the house. "Harry speaks very highly of you."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Potter," said Luna, shaking the woman's hand eagerly. "Does Harry get his green eyes from you? It is a sign that your ancestors were blessed by the wrackspurt demigods."

Lily chuckled awkwardly at this, looking quizzically at Harry (who could only shrug in response). They bade farewell to the Lovegoods soon after, taking the Floo directly to the Burrow. At once it was far more chaotic and noisy than the previous few days; the house was packed with both Weasleys and visitors.

"Hiya, Harry!" Ron greeted him from the sofa; he was seated across from Neville and Hermione, a chessboard set up between them. "Fancy a game or two? These lot don't want to play with me anymore."

"Sure," Harry grinned, taking Neville's seat; Hermione said a polite hello before excusing herself upstairs. Harry hated that things were still awkward between them, and hoped that they could go back to being friends soon.

After being thrashed soundly by Ron a few times, Harry excused himself to say hello to the other Weasleys. It occurred to him that this was his first time meeting Molly in this timeline, as she merely shook his hand warmly rather than stifle him with a hug like she would normally do. It turned out that the entire Weasley clan was in town for the Quidditch World Cup, contributing to the hectic environment; Harry eagerly shook hands with both Bill and Charlie, remembering both to be good men in his last lifetime.

Ron invited Harry out to fly in the back pasture later that afternoon, and they were joined by Ginny, Fred, George, and surprisingly Charlie, who was eager to get back on a broom after years of inactivity. Harry had a blast chasing Snitches with the elder Weasley, knowing that he had been Gryffindor's Seeker for many years before Harry attended Hogwarts. He managed to beat Charlie to four out of five Snitches before they called it a day.

"Damn, Potter, you're a helluva flier," Charlie admitted when they landed. "I'm a bit out of practice, but I would've loved to face you in my prime."

"Oh, save your excuses, old-timer!" Fred ribbed his older brother. "Harry beat you fair and square."

"Yeah, old man Charlie, too feeble to avoid a Bludger at half speed!" George chimed in, hearkening back to Charlie nearly falling off his broom from a well-placed Bludger hit. Charlie rolled his eyes at the twins, giving Harry an appreciative pat on the back as they stored their brooms back in the storage closet.

After a hearty meal with the dozen-plus attendees crammed into the kitchen, the group retired to the living room, sharing stories and catching up. Harry sensed that this was the first time in a while that all the Weasleys were all in one place at the same time, as Molly and Arthur were especially keen to hear how their eldest children were doing and the siblings swapped childhood memories and laughed raucously.

"Well, we'd best all get off to bed," Arthur eventually sighed, glancing up at the clock. "We have to be out the door by four-thirty to make it to our Portkey in time."

"C'mon, Potters," announced James, standing from his seat. "We're camping out in the back yard."

"Absolutely not!" retorted Molly. "We won't have our guests sleeping outdoors when we have beds available!"

"Mum, the house is crowded enough as it is!" Ron protested.

"Nonsense; we'll manage," said Molly, glancing around the packed living room. "Let's see...myself and Arthur will take the master bedroom. James and Lily can stay in Charlie's old room; Charlie, you'll stay with Percy—"

"Just like old times, eh, Perce?" grinned Charlie, jokingly grabbing Percy around the neck (which the younger Weasley flinched away from).

"The twins have their own room, Ron and Neville are together," Molly continued. "We can squeeze in Dahlia with Ginny and Hermione—"

"Ginny and I can share a bed," Dahlia agreed readily, draping her leg jokingly across Ginny's lap.

"And that leaves Harry with Bill," said Molly. "That alright with you, dear?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged, receiving a polite nod from the eldest Weasley sibling. He had never gotten to know Bill that well in his last timeline, but he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and Ron always spoke highly of him.

Bill showed Harry up to his old bedroom and helped him set up his cot for the night. "I've heard a bit about you before, Harry," Bill remarked. "Ronald tells me you're one of the top students in his class."

"I've heard about you, too," Harry admitted. "Ron told me you're a curse-breaker in Egypt. Do you enjoy it?"

"Oh, very much," said Bill with a grin. "Challenging, but highly rewarding work. The goblins aren't the friendliest of coworkers, but they aren't so bad once you get to know and understand them."

"What is it exactly that you do as a curse-breaker?" Harry asked.

"A number of different things," said Bill. "Egypt, for example, is littered with old crypts and grave sites of wealthy men and women who chose to have their riches buried with them. When Gringotts purchases one of these sites to plunder said riches, they send in us first to make sure there are no magical traps set to protect them."

"Fascinating," Harry said, and he meant it. "How often are these places warded?"

"Depends on the level of wealth we're talking about," Bill grinned. "Last winter we discovered the tomb of an ancient pharaoh who happened to be a wizard. Took us the better part of two months to deactivate all the nasty traps left behind to maim or kill anyone who stuck their noses in. Got a nice bonus from that haul."

"And do you ever have to remove curses from the treasure itself?" Harry pressed. "Were any individual items protected that way?"

"Oh, all the time," Bill nodded. "Bloke I used to work with lost a hand to a nasty Withering Curse that had been placed on a silver chalice. Trust me, I've seen some things that would knock your socks off."

"Did you ever encounter a horcrux?" Harry asked innocently.

Bill's expression shifted instantly to one of shock and horror. "How on earth do you know of the existence of horcruxes?" he asked in a low voice.

"Erm...I overheard my dad talking about them at work once," Harry lied. "But he didn't say what they did."

"Nor should you worry yourself with the particulars," said Bill sternly. "As a matter of fact, I did encounter one once, in an old sarcophagus inside of a pyramid. I was not permitted to handle it; we had to call in a supervisor to transport it back to Gringotts to be disposed of discreetly."

"But you know how to identify them?" asked Harry.

"There are ways," Bill confirmed grimly. "Magic that dark always leaves traces. But enough about such things. It's best we get some sleep; we have an early morning."

"Right," Harry agreed, and minutes later he was tucked into bed, listening to Bill's light snores. He wondered if Saul would know how to destroy one of Voldemort's horcruxes if they managed to find one – he'd never thought to ask. Though he figured the most important part was locating them in the first place, not to mention determining how many there were. He could worry about destroying them when they got to that point.

Harry didn't get much sleep that night, mind still preoccupied by horcruxes. By the looks of things the next morning, he was not alone: aside from Arthur and James, everyone else was bleary-eyed and surly as they departed the Burrow at pre-dawn and headed down the road.

He heard a hushed, urgent-sounding conversation ahead of him, and quickened his pace to catch up with Ron and Neville. "I'm telling you, mate, these things might mean something," Ron was saying to Neville.

"Leave it, Ron," Neville muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"I'm serious!" Ron insisted. "You should write to Dumbledore, or at least tell—"

"What's going on?" Harry asked. Both boys turned to look at him.

"Oh, it's nothing, Harry, I'm fine," Neville said quickly.

"Neville's been having strange dreams lately," blurted out Ron, drawing a reproachful glare from Neville. "I think he should talk about them with somebody, because they're way too specific to not mean anything—"

"They're just dreams, Ron!" Neville huffed. "Everyone has them."

"Take it from me, Neville," said Harry helpfully. "Dreams are more important than people realize. Even if you don't think they mean anything, they could contain crucial information."

Neville surveyed Harry for a moment, as though remembering that the boy was supposedly a Seer. "Swear you won't tell anyone?" he asked. "Not even Dumbledore?"

"On my life," Harry agreed.

Neville glanced around once more to ensure no one else could overhear. Then he leaned in closer and said, "I had a dream about You-Know-Who last night."

"Voldemort?" said Harry, drawing a wince of discomfort from Ron. "What about him?"

"He was with Wormtail," said Neville. "They were plotting something...something about me. I don't know what, but they definitely mentioned my name."

"Did they say when?" Harry asked.

"Pettigrew wanted to do it soon, but You-Know-Who wants to wait...a few months, he said...and he mentioned torturing someone named Bertha Jorkins for information…"

That confirms the Triwizard Tournament plot is happening again, Harry thought to himself. "What else did he say?" he asked.

"You-Know-Who said something about a 'devoted follower' at Hogwarts," Neville continued. "Who d'you reckon that could mean? Snape, maybe?"

"I always thought he was secretly a Death Eater," Ron said darkly. "He sure seems to love the Dark Arts, doesn't he?"

"He was a Death Eater before," Harry confirmed, to Ron and Neville's astonishment. "But I don't think that's who Voldemort was talking about. I have an idea, though, and might know a way to stop him."

"How?" asked Neville, bewildered.

"We'll see in just a couple days," said Harry cryptically. "I'd best talk to my dad about this."

"But you promised you wouldn't tell!" Neville protested.

"I won't say a word about your dream," Harry promised. "Just my own suspicions. And believe me, my dad is no fan of Dumbledore's, so he wouldn't say a word anyway."

Neville looked marginally more relaxed now. "Thanks, Harry," he breathed. "You seem to understand this stuff a lot better than I do."

If you only knew how true that was, Harry thought sadly. He was perhaps the only person (besides Saul) who knew the true nature of Neville's scar and its implications for Voldemort's immortality. He silently prayed that Saul would be able to find a solution that could save Neville's life.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the hills as the group reached the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Arthur located their Portkey soon after: an old car tire, leaned up against a fence on the side of the road.

"Gather round, everyone!" he announced, beckoning the group to form a circle around the tire. "And leave some room on that side, for the Diggory's...they should be here shortly."

Sure enough, Cedric and his father soon arrived, waltzing down the street towards the group. And to Harry's shock, they were not alone: a third person walked excitedly at Cedric's side.

"Damian?" Harry gasped.

"Hey, cousin," Damian Dursley said with a sneer. "Surprised to see me?"

"I heard Damian would be home all summer, so I asked my father, and he was able to get an extra ticket for him," Cedric explained with a grin. "Hope that was alright."

"That's so kind of you, Amos!" said Lily, hugging Mr. Diggory before doing the same for her nephew. "So good to see you, Damian dear."

"You too, Auntie Lily," said Damian, returning the hug. "Hello, Professor." He nodded curtly to James, who did the same in return – it was clear to Harry that Damian held Lily in much higher regard than the other Potters. Perhaps that had to do with Lily being the only family member who bothered to keep in touch with the Dursleys…

"Less than a minute now!" Arthur warned, checking his pocket watch. "Everyone get a hand on the tire!"

The group crowded around the Portkey, straining to get a hand or at least a finger on it. Harry was squeezed very tightly between his father and Mr. Diggory, as Damian and Dahlia had to resort to climbing onto others' backs to reach it with their shorter arms.

"Here we go!" said Arthur. "Five, four, three, two, one—"

The Portkey activated, and Harry felt himself pulled from behind the navel and yanked towards some far-away destination. At least it's not Apparition, Harry thought as he awkwardly jostled between bodies with only two fingers glued to the tire. Finally they were deposited on a grassy hill, with many in the group toppling over from the rough landing and close quarters.

"Good, we all made it!" announced Arthur cheerfully after doing a quick head count. "Let's make our way to the camp site!"

The group wove their way through the throng of gathered witches and wizards, visiting from all around the world. Many sported the green-and-gold of the Irish squad, with Harry spotting a few Adrian Lynch jerseys in the crowd. But the vast majority seemed to be rooting for Bulgaria, with Viktor Krum's name appearing more than any other on posters and various team paraphernalia.

"Can't wait to see Krum play in person!" Ron said excitedly to anyone who would listen. "Seems like a scary bloke, but I hear he's a real demon on a broom."

"I'm sure he's terrifying," Harry chuckled, remembering Krum as a rather mild-mannered and surly individual in his last timeline. He wondered if the young man would once again be selected to represent Durmstrang in the Triwizard Tournament...but that thought reminded him of Voldemort's plot and the true reason he was here at the World Cup, and he snapped back into focus.

The Potter's, Weasley's and Diggory's all pitched their tents next to one another, and after much cajoling from the younger members, revised sleeping arrangements were made. One tent would comprise the younger boys (Harry, Ron, Neville, Damian, the twins, and Cedric), another would house the girls (Dahlia, Ginny, Hermione, and Lily), while the older men took the last (Arthur, James, Amos, and the three eldest Weasley boys).

That certainly contributed to a festive evening as Harry's tent stayed up late into the evening, excitedly discussing the upcoming match. Harry listened in on the fun and laughed along with the others, though his mind remained elsewhere. He waited until Damian nodded off in his cot (prompting Cedric to urge the others to sleep as well), then excused himself and headed out to the common area between the tents.

Harry found his father seated beside the campfire with Arthur Weasley and Amos Diggory, discussing their jobs and goings-on at the Ministry. Harry sat beside his father and waited until the latter two men excused themselves to bed before broaching the topic that had been on his mind all day long.

"Dad, can I talk to you about something?" said Harry.

"Sure, Harry, what's up?" said James with a big yawn and stretch.

"It's kinda important," Harry said. "I had another vision last night."

James' demeanor shifted at once to a serious one, and he shifted to sit closer to his son. "What kind of vision?" he asked.

"Something bad is going to happen tomorrow night, after the Cup," said Harry. "Death Eaters are going to attack the campsite."

"Death Eaters?" James scoffed. "They haven't been active since the last war."

"They're rebuilding," said Harry sternly. "Please believe me."

"I didn't say I don't believe you," said James softly. "Tell me more."

"They're going to humiliate the local Muggles and terrorize the magical community in a march," Harry went on. "And one of them will set off the Dark Mark."

James nodded slowly at this information. "I will pass along your concerns to the Aurors on duty," he promised. "But don't you worry about a thing. I'm certain that security is strong and we'll all be safe—"

Harry grabbed his father's arm and looked him firmly in the eyes. "I'm going to catch the man responsible for the Dark Mark," he said determinedly. "I know who he is, and where he's going to be."

"Harry, you cannot keep running off into danger like this," James said warningly. "Your visions are not always reliable, and you can cause more harm than good—"

"Then come with me," Harry insisted. "I'll prove it. The perpetrator is Barty Crouch's son."

James looked utterly shocked at this statement. "Mr. Crouch sentenced his son to Azkaban over a decade ago," he said. "He died soon afterwards. You shouldn't spread such dangerous rumors—"

"He faked his death, Dad!" Harry pleaded. "He's alive, and he's working for Voldemort!"

"Okay, Harry," James sighed heavily, standing to leave. "If you say so."

"I'm going tomorrow, whether or not you believe me," said Harry stubbornly. "And if he gets away, then it's your fault."

James snapped his gaze back over to his son with an expression of mingled frustration and anger. "Do not speak to your father that way!" he said in a harsh undertone. "Do you realize how difficult you've made my job recently? People talk about you at the Ministry, Harry...the boy who can't stay out of trouble. And I'm seen as some sort of failure for being unable to keep you out of it."

"I'm just trying to do the right thing!" Harry retorted. "Like you always taught me to do! Are you seriously blaming me for Fudge's incompetence and corruption?"

James' chest heaved with emotion as he considered Harry's words. Then, finally, he deflated. "Of course I'm not," he sighed. "And I'm sorry, I didn't mean all of that. I don't blame you for any of it. I just...I just wish you could have a normal childhood."

"We're well past that point," Harry said grimly. "The least you can do is trust me, and help me stay ahead of the trouble I can see coming."

"Of course I trust you, Harry," said James, giving his son a hug. Harry returned it gratefully, glad that his father was not upset with him. "Just promise you'll be careful, alright? I'll help you tomorrow if I can, but if you find yourself in danger, you back off and let me handle it, okay?"

"I will, Dad," Harry nodded. Though in reality, he had no intentions of backing off if he got Barty Crouch Jr. in his cross-hairs. He held onto that determination as he drifted off to sleep that night, sick of making mistakes and failing to capitalize on his foreknowledge of events.

Small doubts did continue to nag at his brain, as he wondered what the repercussions of his actions tomorrow might be. Would he cause unintended ripple effects by stopping the man in his tracks? How might Voldemort respond to one of his valued followers being caught in the act? What kind of Pandora's Box might he be opening by deviating from the well-worn path they were walking now?

But Harry decided it didn't matter. He would not let another dangerous weapon fall into Voldemort's hands if he could help it.

A/N: I want to briefly address a common concern I've seen in the comments recently: people are asking why Voldemort doesn't just use the Time-Turner to go back weeks, months or years to change everything that has happened thus far, including the attack on Neville. That isn't how Time-Turners work in my story – it can be used to travel back a maximum of 3-4 hours and then the sand must replenish itself, so you can't go back farther than that or repeatedly abuse it. Go back and re-read the second half of Ch. 21 for a more detailed example of how that can still be used to powerful effect!