Amid the games of war, shadows moved with purpose, shaping a design unseen—yet were they guiding fate or merely deepening the darkness?

The Order meeting was tenser than usual. With the news of Harry's dreams and the implications of Voldemort's return hanging over them, the conversation quickly turned serious.

"We can't ignore this," Sirius said, pacing restlessly across the kitchen. "Harry's dreams weren't just random nightmares—he witnessed something real. And if his scar hurt, that means there's a connection. Dumbledore, you know what this means."

Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled in contemplation. His expression was calm, but his blue eyes held a grave sharpness. "Yes, I do. But acting in haste will not serve us. We must be cautious."

"Cautious?" Sirius scoffed. "We should be preparing for the worst. Voldemort isn't going to sit around twiddling his thumbs, is he?"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "The issue at hand is how we proceed with Harry. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is indeed growing stronger, then the connection through the scar may become more… intrusive." She glanced at Snape, who had remained silent in the shadows. "Severus, you are the only one among us with experience in this matter."

Snape did not immediately react. Then, with deliberate slowness, he turned to Dumbledore. "You wish for me to teach the boy Occlumency."

Dumbledore gave a slow nod. "If it becomes necessary."

Snape's expression remained unreadable. His black eyes flickered toward Dumbledore, assessing. "You will inform me when you have made your final decision."

With that, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, as if dismissing the matter entirely.

Dumbledore sighed, his gaze sweeping across the tense faces in the room. "There is a reason we must tread carefully," he said, his voice calm but firm. "At this moment, Voldemort does not appear to be aware of the connection between himself and Harry."

Sirius stopped pacing. "Are you sure?"

"Not certain," Dumbledore admitted. "But if he knew, I believe he would have used it more deliberately by now." He glanced toward Snape, as if expecting confirmation, but Snape's expression remained unreadable, his arms crossed tightly.

McGonagall pursed her lips, her expression taut with concern. "And if he does become aware?"

"Then Harry will be in far greater danger than he already is," Dumbledore said simply. "Which is why we must not tip our hand too soon. If Voldemort is still regaining his strength, the last thing we want is to alert him to a weapon he does not yet know he possesses."

Remus frowned. "So we do nothing?"

"We observe," Dumbledore corrected gently. "We prepare. And should it become necessary, we will act."

Snape exhaled sharply, his stance rigid. "And in the meantime, the boy remains ignorant."

Dumbledore turned to him with a meaningful look. "For now, yes. But should it come to it, he may need instruction."

Something unreadable flickered across Snape's face before he gave a curt nod. "As you wish."

Moody, who had been listening with a scowl, huffed. "That's one problem. The other is the bloody Triwizard Tournament." He slammed his fist against the table loudly, making several people jump. "With all this going on, why in Merlin's name are we still going forward with it?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "The Ministry insists it will foster international unity."

"They also insist Voldemort is dead and I am a massive murderer," Sirius muttered darkly.

Kingsley, silent until now, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "Canceling the tournament now would raise too many questions. If we start making drastic changes, it'll only make Fudge more suspicious. He already doubts Dumbledore."

"But Hogwarts will be crawling with outsiders," Remus pointed out. "That means less control over security. More opportunities for something to go wrong."

"We will have protections in place," Dumbledore assured them. "I will personally oversee the security measures."

Sirius shook his head, his voice tight with worry and frustration. "It's still a risk."

"A risk we must take," Dumbledore said firmly. "Canceling the tournament would only draw unwanted attention. The Ministry does not share our concerns. It's not ideal, but it might work to our advantage. If they believe the world is safe, Voldemort may believe the same."

Kingsley nodded in understanding. "So we let them keep their illusions while we prepare for what's coming."

"Precisely."

A heavy silence settled over the room. None of them liked it, but they understood. The game had already begun, and for now, they had no choice but to play along.

When the door to the meeting room finally opened, Harry was already waiting—arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floor. Sirius was the first to step out, followed by Remus and the rest of the Order members. Their expressions were grim, revealing nothing. That was answer enough.

"So?" Harry demanded, trying to keep his frustration in check. "What did you decide?"

Dumbledore met his gaze with that same infuriating calm. "For now, I only ask that you continue to tell me if you have any more dreams like this."

Harry scowled. That's it? "That's not an answer," he said sharply. "You were in there talking about me. About my dreams. About Voldemort possibly plotting to kill someone—which, let's be honest, is probably me. And yet, I don't even get to know what you're planning?"

Dumbledore exhaled, as if he had anticipated this reaction. "Harry—"

"I'm in the middle of this whether you like it or not," Harry cut in. "It's my mind Voldemort is invading. I should have a say in what's going on!"

A tense silence stretched between them. Remus looked sympathetic, Sirius furious on his behalf, but neither spoke. Snape, who had been lingering near the back, only regarded Harry with his usual unreadable expression.

Dumbledore's voice was gentle but firm. "I understand your frustration, Harry. But there are things we are not yet certain of. Acting too soon—revealing too much—could do more harm than good."

Harry clenched his fists. He didn't want to understand—he wanted answers, a plan. Instead, he got another vague reassurance, another meaningless wait-and-see.

He shook his head, letting out a harsh breath. "Fine," he muttered, shoving past them as he stalked up the stairs to his room.

Sirius turned to Dumbledore, his frown deepening. "You're losing him, you know."

Dumbledore watched the spot where Harry had disappeared, his expression unreadable. "I know," he said quietly.

Later that night, as Harry brooded in the sitting room, Remus and Sirius approached him cautiously.

Remus spoke gently, as if approaching a cornered animal. "Harry, we know you don't like being kept in the dark. Sirius and I discussed, " He shot Sirius a resigned look, "And we think there's something you should be prepared for."

Harry tensed. "What?"

Remus exchanged a look with Sirius, then sighed. "If these dreams continue… Dumbledore might want you to learn Occlumency."

Harry frowned. "Occlumency?"

"It's a way to protect your mind," Sirius explained, voice tense. "If he is getting into your head, you need to learn how to shut him out."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. But before he could ask more, another thought occurred to him.

"Wait," he said slowly. "If I have to learn Occlumency… who's going to teach me?"

A heavy silence fell.

And then, as if summoned by the weight of the question, the answer settled in the room like a lead weight.

Harry's stomach twisted.

"No," he said flatly. "Not him."

Sirius's expression darkened. "Believe me, I hate it too."

Remus sighed. "We don't know for certain yet. It might not even come to that. But if anyone is capable…"

Harry groaned and let his forehead drop onto the table with a dull thud.

Snape. It had to be Snape.

The train buzzed with familiar chatter as students caught up after the summer, filling Harry with a sense of normalcy—at least, as much normalcy as he could hope for after the summer he'd had.

"I swear, Percy's gotten even worse," Ron was saying. "He keeps going on about how important his work at the Ministry is, how many major decisions his boss trusts him with, like he's the bloody Minister himself."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, it is an important job. Being relied upon by the head of a department is a huge responsibility."

Ron shot her a look. "Yeah, but does he have to be so smug about it?"

He had just told them he'd had the best summer ever, and on the surface, it was true—most of it had been spent with Sirius and Remus, people who genuinely cared for him, who made him feel wanted. And it was the first summer that he had ever felt like this. They even had a small birthday party for him. It was just the three of them, but Sirius's enthusiasm was enough to fill the whole room. For the first time in his life, someone had truly celebrated his birthday with him.

Yet, even as he spoke, his mind wandered back to that confrontation. The one where he finally understood Snape's hatred—where he learned things about his father that no one had ever told him before. He had spent years resenting Snape's treatment of him, never really questioning why it ran so deep. Now he knew.

And Snape…

Something had changed, though Harry wasn't sure if it was real or just his imagination. Snape had been less openly hostile lately, but that could just be because he was occupied with Order business, always the last to arrive at meetings and the first to leave, barely speaking to anyone. And if something had changed, maybe it only applied outside of school, when Snape didn't have to see him in a Gryffindor uniform and be reminded of James Potter every second. Would Snape go right back to sneering at him in the corridors, taking points from Gryffindor for the smallest infractions, treating him like nothing had shifted at all?

Harry kept these thoughts to himself, letting them swirl in the background as Ron and Hermione continued talking.

"Malfoy was acting all smug again before he left," Ron grumbled. "'Big things are happening this year,' like he knows something we don't."

Hermione sighed. "He probably does. His father still has connections, doesn't he?"

Ron scowled. "Yeah, well, so does my dad, and he won't tell me a thing. He and Mum kept whispering about something all summer, and the second I walked in, they went quiet." He turned to Harry. "I bet you know what that's like."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "Yeah. Sirius and Remus do it too. There was this meeting right before I left for school, but when I asked about it, they just said 'not yet.' Like they were not in there talking about me. Like I'm not the one Voldemort wants dead."

Ron groaned. "I hate it when adults do that. When is the right time, then?"

Harry didn't answer. He wasn't even sure what he would say. His mind was still stuck on Snape, on what had changed—or if it had.

Harry's frustration with being kept in the dark hadn't faded, and his thoughts circled back to something else—something he had been trying not to think about too much. If Voldemort really was in his head, if his dreams meant something, then at some point, he might have to learn Occlumency. And if Dumbledore thought Snape was the one to teach him…

He didn't want to be unprepared for that. He refused to let it turn into another disaster like his first Potions class, or any Potions class after that.

So he hesitated for only a second before saying, "I've been having these weird dreams."

Ron and Hermione immediately turned to him, their conversation forgotten.

"What do you mean, weird?" Hermione asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "They don't feel like normal dreams. More like… when I saw Voldemort in first year." He glanced at their expectant faces and sighed. "I told Sirius and Remus about it, and they wrote to Dumbledore. He showed up before the next meeting."

Ron frowned. "What did he say?"

Harry hesitated again. He wasn't sure why, but he found himself leaving out the part about Snape being there. "Not much. Just that I should tell him if I have another one."

Hermione studied him closely. "You think there's more to it than that."

Harry exhaled. "I know there's more to it. But no one will tell me anything." He frowned. "There's something called Occlumency that might help, but Dumbledore doesn't think it's time for me to learn it yet."

"Occlumency?" Hermione straightened. "That's to block someone from reading your mind."

Harry nodded. "I don't know much about it, but I want to be ready if I do have to learn it." He hesitated, then added, "Dumbledore keeps saying it's not time yet, but if he won't tell me anything, I have to figure things out on my own."

Hermione's brow furrowed in thought. "Occlumency is really advanced. It takes years to master—"

"Well, I don't have years, do I?" Harry said impatiently. "If it can help, I want to at least try."

Ron gave him a wary look. "You really think Dumbledore's keeping things from you on purpose?"

Harry let out a bitter scoff. "Of course he is. They all are." He leaned back against his seat, arms crossed. "That's why I need to take the initiative myself."

Hermione pursed her lips, already deep in thought. "I'll see what I can find."

As the golden plates cleared and the chatter in the Great Hall began to settle, Dumbledore rose from his seat, spreading his arms wide in a gesture for silence. The room quieted almost instantly, students turning their attention to the headmaster with curiosity.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts!" he began, his blue eyes twinkling as they scanned the hall. "I trust you have all enjoyed your summer and are eager to begin your studies once again. However, before we turn to the usual announcements, I have some particularly exciting news to share with you all."

Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione. This must be what everyone had been whispering about—whatever big event was happening at Hogwarts this year.

"This year, Hogwarts has the great honor of hosting a most distinguished and thrilling event," Dumbledore continued. "After much deliberation, it has been decided that the Triwizard Tournament shall take place once again."

The hall erupted into excited murmurs, gasps, and exclamations. Some seemed to recognize the name, while the others looked around in confusion.

Dumbledore smiled, allowing the excitement to ripple through the crowd before raising a hand for quiet. "For those unfamiliar, the Triwizard Tournament is a legendary competition between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. It is a test of skill, courage, and intelligence, where a single champion from each school competes in a series of challenges for the glory of their institution."

Ron's eyes were wide with amazement. "Blimey," he muttered. "That's brilliant—"

"However," Dumbledore continued, his tone turning somber, "it is also a tournament of great peril. In the past, champions have faced considerable dangers, and as such, new safety precautions have been implemented. This year, only students who are of age—seventeen and above—will be permitted to submit their names for selection."

A wave of disappointed groans spread through the Hall. A few seats down, Fred and George exchanged glances before leaning in, already plotting ways to bypass the age restriction.

Harry, however, wasn't focused on the tournament itself. His mind was still on the Order's meeting, on the whispered discussions about his dreams and the rising tension in the wizarding world. Why would they bring back a dangerous competition now, when Voldemort was lurking in the shadows? He glanced up at the staff table. Snape's face was unreadable as always, but Harry could tell he wasn't thrilled by the announcement.

Hermione seemed to be having similar thoughts. She leaned in, whispering, "Why now? With everything happening? This seems… reckless."

Harry nodded, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut.

Notes:

Yep, Sirius went behind Dumbledore's back the first chance he got, and Remus, being Remus, disapproved but went along with it anyway lol
Oh, and don't worry, Occlumency lesson won't happen anytime soon, Voldemort might not be sitting around twiddling his thumbs, but we know someone else is. :)