“Harreeeeey. HARREEEEY!! WAKE UP!!!”

Someone shook Harry violently, wrenching Hedwig from her sound sleep in the crook of his neck. She hissed and snapped at one of the hands shaking her master, eyes still half-closed in sleep.

“Hed!”

“You again,” hissed the snake in an irritable voice as Harold Jamison Snape – know as Potter to the outside world – opened his eyes. The first sight he saw was the one he had seen since summer had begun.

It was the face of one of his best friends and fellow Slytherin, Niamh O’Feir. The dark-haired, blue-eyed, sharp-tempered girl was staying with him and his father in the small cottage that had once been used by the groundskeeper for the now destroyed Ashdeir Fierion, the ancient manor that had been the Snape home for centuries. Now the manor house was nothing but overgrown ruins and a few crumbling walls and the cottage itself had been made larger inside by magic. Where there should only have been four rooms, there was a grand total of twelve.

But neither the nature of the grounds nor that of the cottage was on Harry’s mind at the moment. In fact, he was greatly considering hitting Niamh with a Freezing Charm so he could get some more sleep.

“Come on,” said Niamh, shaking his shoulder fiercely. “Snape sent me up here to get you up. Remember? Diagon Alley? Presents?”

Ah. Now that was a different broomstick altogether. Today, the day before Harry’s fourteenth birthday, was the day the three of them were going to go to Diagon Alley so Niamh could buy Harry’s birthday present. Harry had a hope that they might venture out into London. It had been three years since he had seen the city he had grown up in and he was eager to do so. Not that Argil would have been a welcome sight on the streets, but the black-eyed, blond-haired countenance that was his friend Tyls would be a very welcome sight.

“Harreeeeey….”

“I’m up, I’m up… Gods, Ni, do you have to shake me?”

Niamh grinned at her friend, who had pushed himself up onto his elbows, glaring at her out of bleary eyes and from under a fringe of dark, silky locks.

“Well…it is the only way you’ll wake up…”

Harry sighed, reaching up to brush his shoulder length hair back from his face with a faintly scarred hand. He shook his head at her in amusement then sat up, his sheets falling to his waist. Unlike some other fourteen-year-old girl who would have been swooning at the sight of a shirtless boy (let alone the Harry Potter), Niamh did not as much as bat an eyelash. She had seen him on several occasions without a shirt (along with scarce – and unwanted – glimpses of his dormmates) and still had no shame of barging into his room – be it at his and his father’s cottage, the Burrow, or Hogwarts and waking him up by various means.

Harry clambered out of his bed and over to the dresser, sliding open a drawer and pulling out a loose long-sleeved shirt of a thin, Slytherin green material. As he pulled it over his head, he noticed Niamh eyeing his back in the mirror above the dresser.

“Anything interesting to see back there?” asked the boy with a grin. Most of the Cockney accent he had grown up using was already gone from his voice and he sounded like a normal English-born boy.

“Huh? Oh – I was just looking at the scars on your back. The one’s from your aunt.”

“Particularly brutal beating, that was,” said Harry absently as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Why didn’t you ever turn her over to the police?”

Harry smiled thinly at his friend in the mirror and replied in a rather bitter tone, “Not that Uncle Vernon and Dudley wouldn’t be better off without her, I thought it best to leave her grudges against me where they lie. Y’know, the old saying ‘Let sleeping dogs lie?’”

“Yeah. I get it.”

Harry turned to his friend, a wide grin spreading across his features. “Come on then,” he said loudly, “I’m starved.

Niamh laughed merrily and slid down off the bed, picking up Hedwig and handing her to Harry as they walked out of his room.

“You’re always starved!”

“You must be confusion me with Ron.”

“Hmmm…no.”

“Uh-huh,” said Harry skeptically. By now they had reached the downstairs hall and in two more steps, the kitchen. Severus Snape sat inside at the circular oak table, the morning’s copy of the Daily Prophet spread out in front of him. He had a mug of what appeared to be coffee in his hand. Behind him, Marly the house-elf bustled about, squealing in joy when she saw Harry and Niamh enter.

“Master Harry! Miss Niamh! You are awake!”

Harry smiled warmly at the house-elf and said, “Yes, Marly. We’re here.”

“About time,” mumbled Severus, his dark eyes scanning a column by Rita Skeeter in the Prophet. He added in an even lower growl, “Stupid cow.”

Harry craned his neck as he sat down to see what his father was reading and wrinkled his nose in distaste when he saw what it was.

“How can they publish that trash?”

Severus took a sip from his mug and flipped the page over with a contemptuous snort. He looked up at his son and grumbled, “You’d be surprised at what some people consider ‘good reading material.’”

“How true,” muttered Niamh darkly.

“Breakfast, Master Harry? Miss Niamh?”

“Yes, Marly,” chorused the two teenagers, their thoughts turning from Skeeter to food.

“Marly get it!” cried the house-elf, bouncing around the kitchen. Severus watched her antics with amusement, dark eyes twinkling.

“You know,” he mused, “since you two have been here, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

“Surely she is happy with you, professor,” said Niamh.

“Professor is for school, Niamh. You have no need to call me that while you are here.”

“I know. But Mr. Snape just sounds too weird.”

Harry laughed and Severus chuckled, ignoring Marly as she bounced off his head.

“And I do so hate to be called that. Most leave off the ‘e’ and call me Mr. Snap.”

Niamh burst out laughing, choking out, “You – you’re joking!!”

“I am not,” said Severus seriously.

Niamh laughed for a few minutes longer, her laughter extending when Marly asked if she was okay. The confused house-elf turned to Harry, blue eyes wide. He chuckled and waved a hand at her, saying, “Don’t worry, Marly. Ni’s fine.”

“Yes, sir. Marly is happy for that,” said the house-elf sincerely, bobbing her head. She continued, “Marly get Master Harry and Miss Niamh’s breakfast now.”

As few seconds later a plate of pancakes smothered in syrup appeared in front of the still laughing Niamh and a plate containing a simple cheese-on-toast and some bacon appeared in front of Harry.

“Cheese toast again?” said Severus, quirking an eyebrow at his son. The younger Snape shrugged, taking a bite out of the sandwich.

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said, though it came out sounding like, “Mrothin mrong mri mrat.”

Severus continued to arch an eyebrow, watching in amusement as the two teenagers practically inhaled their breakfasts.

Severus stood in front of the fireplace in the center of the rather large library; its shelves were stocked with volumes of rare potions and dark arts books along with a good many Muggle books.  The Muggle books in the library would have shocked any student at Hogwarts had they seen the collection.

Of course, the books were of no consequence to Severus at this moment.  He scowled at the bust of a dragon on one of the shelves, tapping his foot against the floor.  After a few moments of this he stalked to the door, threw it open, and yelled up the stairs.

“IF YOU TWO DO NOT GET YOUR LEGS DOWN THIS STAIRCASE IN TWO SECONDS I WILL PERSONALLY MAKE SURE GRYFFINDOR WINS THE HOUSE CUP THIS YEAR!”

There was a moment of shocked input from upstairs then Harry came barreling down them, his hair bouncing against his neck in a ponytail.  He was wearing the same shirt from earlier, a pair of blue jeans with worn sneakers, and Hedwig around his left wrist.  Niamh leapt down the stairs a moment later, skidding to a stop beside Harry in blue jeans shorts, some sandals, and a sleeveless top.

Severus took a moment to eye the two teenagers then growled, “We’re late.”

“Harry couldn’t find his shoes,” said Niamh.

“Ah.  But now we are even later.  Move!”

“Yes, sir!” barked Harry, giving a sharp salute as he strode past his scowling father to the fireplace.  He took a pinch of Floo powder from a pot on the mantle and threw it in, calling out, “The Leaky Cauldron!”  The flames in the fireplace roared green and Harry stepped into them, followed by Niamh and Severus a few second later.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry, covered in soot and coughing, emerged from the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, nearly running headlong into a mannish looking woman carrying an alligator skin handbag.  She sneered down at him and snapped, “Watch where you’re going!”

Harry scowled in response at her and spat something rather rude in Elven.  The woman gave him a long similar to one Draco often gave Harry (the you’re-nothing-but-a-piece-of-dirt-on-my-shoe look) and turned away from him in a huff.  Harry resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out after her and began to make and attempt to loose some of the soot from his clothes and hair.

Niamh appeared a few moments later, tumbling to the floor in a coughing fit.  She choked out, “I…hate…hack…Floo!”

Severus appeared a moment later, cleaning the soot from his clothes and there’s with a wave of his wand.  Harry noticed at his stone-like mask slid into place; the mask was his father’s response to how the wizarding world treated him.  In reality he was the man the Slytherin knew as his father, a rather gentle man well versed in hexes and curses and with a sharp-temper that rarely showed itself.

He jerked Niamh to her feet roughly and growled, “Let’s go.  Can’t believe Dumbledore would stick me with the two of you over the summer.”

Niamh looked askance at Harry, who shrugged.  He then noticed his father was glaring coldly at the woman whom he had run into coming out of the fireplace.  She was watching them in interest now.  Her eyes flicked up to Harry’s forehead and her eyes widened.  Immediately Harry began to head towards the door that would let them out into the back alley.  If there was anything he hated more than Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, or Voldemort, it was people staring at his scar.  Harry would do anything to erase his past and just become Harold Snape.  But as Time did not obey his whims, it was not to be.

Severus ushered the two of them out into the alley, glaring over his shoulder as the woman rose to follow them.  He muttered something rather unsavory that not even Harry had heard in his time on the streets and hurriedly tapped out the pattern on the brick wall for entrance into Diagon Alley.  The archway opened and the three of them stepped through, Severus leaning the two teenagers after issuing a few terse comments.

“I am going to buy some supplies, so you two are on your own.  Don’t get into any trouble and meet me back here in three hours.”

Harry and Niamh glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes.  Plenty of time for Niamh to find Harry’s present and for them to sneak out into London…

“Now off with you!”

The two teenagers hurried off and Severus stood there for a moment, watching them until they vanished into the crowds.  He then turned to face their tail, smiling coldly.

“Hello, Rita.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Severus,” purred Rita Skeeter.  She looked after Niamh and Harry then back to him.

“Babysitting now, are you?”

Severus snorted and spat, “Dumbledore’s the reason for all this.”

Skeeter spat on the ground and sneered, “Children.  I despise them.  So…filthy.  I don’t see how you teach them.”

You haven’t changed a bit, Rita, thought Severus.  He shrugged slightly, growling, “You get used to them after a while.”

“Eurgh.  I couldn’t do it, Severus.  I tell you, I couldn’t.”

And you’re telling me this, why?

“You know, Severus,” purred Rita, sidling close to him.  “I’ve always liked you.  Even if you were a nasty little bastard in school.”

Severus fought down the urge to back away from her in revulsion and kept a calm expression on his face.  He thought, I, a nasty little bastard?  After Lily left me, yes.  But before I believe you filled that role quite well.  Or was that a nasty little whore?  Ah, I can’t remember.  Severus smirked mentally and added, Though I believe that you are one now, if not then.  I do pity the fool that falls for your tricks.

“Perhaps we can…get together sometime?”

Over my bloody and battered body.

“I don’t think so, Rita.”

Rita’s face hardened and she took a step back, scowling.

“That Mudblood bitch changed you.”

For the better, if I don’t mistake myself.

“Yes,” said Severus.  “She did.”

“I can’t believe you chose her over me.”

You think you can compare to Lily, Rita?  Let us see you sacrifice your own life for that of your son.  The son that you knew was fathered not by your husband, but by the man you ran away from because he was a Death Eater.  Would you have the courage to do that?  I think not.  You only love yourself, Rita.  Severus smirked inwardly.  Oh, how I’d so enjoy seeing your face if you knew what I was thinking.

“Well, I did.  Though you do hold a grudge for a rather long time.  Almost fourteen years now, I believe.  Now – if you will excuse me.  I have some errands to run.”

Severus turned on his heel and walked away from Rita, who glared after him, color rising to her face.  As he walked, she yelled, “Damn you, Severus!”

He waved jovially over his shoulder, smirking as he called back, “Good day, Rita!”

As he vanished around a corner, Rita cussed venomously and stalked back off into the Leaky Cauldron.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry let out a sigh and peered through a bookshelf in Flourish & Blott’s, looking for Niamh.  He looked at his watch and growled, looking for Niamh again before he finally simply yelled at her.

“NI!  WE’VE GOT AN HOUR AND A HALF LEFT!”

The witch at the counter frowned at him and he aimed his fiercest scowl at her.  She fluttered for a moment then vanished into the doorway behind the counter, peeking around the frame at him.  Harry growled in frustration and got set to yell again when Niamh appeared.  He let out a hiss of breath through his teeth and she frowned at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Problem, mate?”

“Yeah.  You.  Come on!  You want to get out in London, right?”

Niamh nodded vigorously and Harry grabbed her arm.

“Then let’s go!!”

The two of them sprinted out of Flourish & Blott’s, rushing past the other stores and up the cobblestone road.  They dashed through the alley behind the Cauldron and then through the Cauldron itself.  The door was just looming in front of them when the mannish-looking woman Harry had plowed into coming out of the Floo Network, stepped in front of them.  Harry came to a complete stop and Niamh plowed into his back, not being as fast on her feet as he was.

“Excuse us,” said Harry politely, moving to head past the woman.  She threw out an arm and smiled down at him.

“Mr. Potter, I believe?”

Harry took a step back, pulling himself up to his full height of almost 5’9 and towering over the woman.

“Who’s asking?”

The woman held out her hand and replied, “Rita Skeeter.  Reporter for the Dail…”

“I know who you are,” growled Harry darkly.  “You write half-truth’s about people for prophet.  You twist their words to your benefit.  And you won’t have the chance to do that to me.  Now…if you will excuse us, my friend and I were about to head into London.  Good day, Ms. Skeeter.”

“But…” began Rita.

“I said, good day, Ms. Skeeter,” spat Harry in a half-growl, his words nearly flowing into Parseltongue in his anger at the woman in front of him.  Niamh prodded him in the back hard, sensing the anger in his voice and wanting to get him out of there before he did some serious damage to something.  Or someone.

“Good day, Mr. Potter,” said Rita, stepping aside.

Harry gave her no acknowledgment, only walked briskly out into the thriving streets of midday London.  Niamh paused only to glare fiercely at Rita, before following him, the door slamming shut in her wake.  Rita looked after them for a moment then pulled a sheet of paper and an acid green quill from her bag.  Smiling in a sadistic sort of way, she wandered over to an empty booth, paper and quill in hand.

“Freedom at last!”

Niamh spun in a circle, arms outstretched.  Harry stopped her spinning as she was catching attention he did not want.  His eyes darted immediately to the jacket pocket of a man walking by them and he mentally slapped himself.  Back on the streets again, his thief instincts had come back in full force.

“Harry, what’s up with you?”

“Thief instincts,” replied Harry, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets to keep his nimble fingers from stitching anyone’s wallet.

Niamh blinked then her eyes widened.

“Ooohhhh…”

“Yeah…”

“So,” said Niamh.  “You’re telling me you find no urge to steal wizarding money yet you get sticky fingers when Muggle money’s around?”

Harry groaned, “It’s a habit, Ni.  I had to steal to survive remember?”

“I remember.  Hey, let’s go over there!”

“Where?”

“There!”

“The record store?  But, Ni…electronics don’t work at Hogwarts.  You know that.”

“Surely my brilliant friend can think up something.”

“Who?  Hermione?”

Niamh punched him in the arm and spat, “No!  You, silly!”

“Me?”

“Yes, goose.”

“Y’know, I resent being called poultry.”

“Oh, finally caught on, have you?”

“Sod off on the sarcasm and let’s go to the store.  You want me to make an attempt at getting a CD player to work at Hogwarts, fine.  I’ll come back to haunt you after I blow myself up in the effort.”

Niamh punched Harry again, this time gentler than before.

“Fruitcake,” she growled good-naturedly.

“Fruit bar.”

“Fruit punch.”

“Fruit beer.”

“Oh, joy.  I’m drunk!”

“You’re a drunk bar,” said Harry with a chuckle, earning another punch on the arm.

“Come on,” hissed Niamh, dragging him across the road to the record store.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Ni, how much stuff did you buy?”

“Oh…just a few things.”

“Few things, my ass.  Ni, this bag weighs a bloody ton!”

Harry looked into the bag and his jaw dropped.

“Hell’s bells, Ni.  Did you buy the whole store??”

“No,” replied Niamh with a wry smile.  “Just half of it.”

“Gods!”

“Hey, you offered to carry it.”

“Well, I didn’t know it weighed a bloody ton and a half, now did I?”

“It was just a ton a minute ago.”

“Bugger a minute ago.”

“Yeah, yeah…  I still have to buy your present…hey!  Where’d my money go?”

Niamh dug into her pockets while Harry looked around, eyes darting instinctively to the shadowed nooks around them.  As Niamh dug into her pockets, he saw someone slink out of one of these nooks into an alley.

Ah-ha.

“Hold this,” he growled, shoving the bag at Niamh before sprinting after the shadowy figure.  He ignored Niamh’s surprised cry after him, leaping over a downed trashcan.  The thief noticed that they were being followed and sped up, knocking things over as they ran.

But Harry knew the London back alley’s as well as he knew each scar on his body.  He had not navigated them for three years but once the same pavement was racing away until his sneakers, he knew them again.

The thief scrambled up a wire fence and tumbled down the other side.  Harry knew climbing the fence would take too much time so he improvised.  Leaping up onto a trashcan, he jumped up onto a Dumpster and ran the length of it, making a flying leap at the end.  He cleared the fence and hit the ground running.  The thief in front of him gasped for breath.  Harry smirked.  He almost had him.

Another trashcan knocked down by the thief.  Harry cleared it easily, stretching out one hand to grab the thief.  His fingers brushed greasy hair and dirty clothes but did not catch.

Suddenly he tripped over a cat that had suddenly run out in front of him.  The thief sprinted on as Harry picked himself up.  He hissed in annoyance and sprinted after the thief again.  But now the thief had a good lead and Harry, who was now tiring, couldn’t catch up.

Then he saw a way to catch the thief.

Scrambling up the side of another Dumpster, he leapt onto the one adjacent to it then made a jump for the bottom rung of a ladder leading up to a fire escape.  The ladder stuck, which was just what Harry had hoped it would do.  He swung twice then let go, letting his momentum take him forward and down.

Straight towards the thief.

He struck the thief hard, sending both of them crashing to the pavement.  The thief was the first to recover from the blow, trying to throw Harry off.  But Harry held on tightly, shoving his knee down hard into the thief’s solar plexus[1].

“Give me back my friends money, you braggart.  Or I’ll turn you into the police.”

There was a gasp from the thief and then a voice that struck a chord in Harry’s memory gasped, “Harry?”

Harry blinked and pulled back from the thief.  He dragged the both of them to their feet, moving them into the light.

“Tyls.”

“Tyls.”

“Harry,” breathed the blond boy, dark eyes wide in pure surprise.  He then looked down at the scarred hand gripping his grimy shirt then back up at his old friend.  Harry followed his gaze and grimaced, dropping his hands and stepping back.

“Sorry.”

“S’alrigh’, ‘Arry,” said Tyls, rubbing at his shoulder.  The gesture caught Harry’s attention – which had been focused on his shoes – and made him frown.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Oh…s’nothin’, mate.  We’ve ‘ad worse from Argil, remember?”

Harry nodded and looked down at his shoes again, shuffling one foot nervously.  He mumbled, “Yeah.  I remember.  So…so he’s still around?”  Hell’s bells, why in Slytherin’s name was he so bloody nervous!  This was Tyls, for Merlin’s sake!

“’Round, alive, an’ still takin’ in orphans.”

“And your…?”

“Still pickin’ pockets fer ‘im?”

Harry nodded and Tyls did so in return.

“Yeh.”  Tyls eyed Harry’s clothes and well-groomed appearance and said in a slightly bitter voice, “I see ye found a good home after ye ran off withou’ me.”

Harry winced, remembering the morning when he had set off onto the London streets without Tyls, rushing to get back to the Leaky Cauldron.  He felt a twinge of guilt that he had not thought to find his friends before going to the Burrow with the Weasley’s three years ago.

“I’m sorry, mate.  I – I should’ve told you.”

“Bloody righ’ ye should ‘ave.  Three years, ‘Arry.  Three years.  Y’know wha’ Argil did ter me when ye did’na come ba’?  Can ye guess?”

Harry did not meet his friend’s eyes.  He knew well enough what Argil had done to Tyls.

“’E did’na jus’ beat me,” continued Tyls, eyes burning brightly.  “’E did tha’ an’ more.  Ye know wha’ its like ter be raped, ‘Arry?  Well I do.  I know i’ all too well.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock at the unexpected omission.  He had expected the beatings but…rape?  RAPE?!  And he’d hardly have expected Tyls, his friend or not, to admit that!

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Harry.  He finally lifted his head to look at his friend and continued, “Merlin’s beard, Tyls, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry any of this happened to you.”

Tyls frowned at his friend for a moment then asked in a low, concerned voice, “’Arry…do ye thin’ I blame ye?”

“Well, you sort of made it seem that way.”

“Heckering sod, ‘Arry, are ye mad?  I’m glad ye got out o’ tha’ ruddy place ‘fore Argil got a ‘old on ye.”

Harry blinked.

“Me?”

“Yeh.  Tha’s all ‘e talks abou’ sometimes.  Ye.  ‘E’s always sayin’ tha’ ye were ‘is favorite.”

Harry’s stomach twisted and he was sure he turned a lovely shade of green.  What Tyls had just described wasn’t…hell, it just wasn’t right!

 Anger flared suddenly and green fire leapt into Harry’s eyes.  His hands clenched convulsively as he growled, “We can’t let him keep doing this.”

Tyls frowned at the angry boy and asked, “How are we going ter do tha’?  I’ve tried ter ge’ away from ‘im.  ‘E knows this city better than me.”

“But not me,” growled Harry.  He scowled at a garbage can and hissed, “He’ll pay.  I’ll make sure of it.”

“’Arry,” said Tyls in a warning tone, “ye can’na kill ‘im.”

“Whoever said I was?” asked Harry with a feral grin.

“Well, wha’ are ye gonna do?  Turn ‘im in ter the Yardies?”

“After I’m done with him, I will.”

“’Arry…”

Harry snarled, “I’m not going to kill him, Tyls!!”

Tyls took a step back from the other boy.  Harry could say that, but the dark glimmer Tyls saw in his eyes said otherwise.  He didn’t know if Harry even knew it was there.  That look made the rather gentle but hot-tempered boy he had befriended even further away than he remembered.  The Harry of then was long gone.  And the Harry of now scared Tyls stiff; not for his friend but for whoever got in his way.

“HAROLD JAMISON POTTER!!”

Harry’s head snapped around at the loud female voice, the dark gleam vanishing from his eyes.  Tyls was surprised by the voice as well – it sound oddly familiar…

“Aw crap,” muttered Harry, causing Tyls to let out a bark of laughter.  Harry’s head snapped around to glower at him but the other boy didn’t notice through his laughter.

Harry arched an eyebrow and asked in a condensing tone, “Is there something amusing you?”

Tyls managed to condense his laughter into a low chuckle then said, “Yer very eloquen’ when yer surprised.”

Harry snorted at the remark and made an attempt to scowl but failed miserably.  He sighed heavily and called out, “I’m down here, Ni!”

“Ni?” said Tyls in confusion.  He then paled and gasped out, “Little Niamh??  Tha’ was ‘er wallet I grabbed?”

Harry nodded solemnly and said in a sing-song voice, “She’s gonna kill you.”

“No, she’s na.”

“Yes, she is.”

“No, she’s na.”

“Yes, she is.”

“No, she’s na.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Yer still as bloody annoyin’ as I remember.”

Harry smiled and bowed mockingly.

“Why thank you.”

“Tha’ was’n a complimen’.”

“Is it my fault that I took it as one?”

Tyls looked thoughtfully upwards at the sky.  “Le’ me thin’,” he said.  “Yes.  I’ is.”

“I love you too.”

“Wha’ does tha’ ‘ave ter do wi’ anything?”

Harry shrugged, palms upwards, just as Niamh came barreling around the corner, eyes burning with the fury of a small sun.  Her gave settled on Tyls and she let out a savage snarl, causing the other teen to take a step back.

Harry quickly stepped forward, slipping Niamh’s wallet from where he had tucked it up his sleeve.  Tyls made an odd fluttering sound as Niamh grabbed the object from Harry, scowling.

She snapped, “You took it, Harry?!”

“Na,” said Tyls, taking a step forward in his friend’s defense.  “ I di’.  ‘Arry ‘ere snitched it ba’ off o’ me, bloody too-good-fer-is-own-good thief tha’ ‘e is.”  Here he scowled jokingly at Harry, who quirked a smile in response.

Niamh scowled at Tyls for a moment, blinked, then asked, “Do I know you?”  The question caused Harry to break into a half smile.

Tyls shrugged one should and casually said, “Per’aps.”

The dark-haired girl frowned at him for a moment then let out a squeal as she threw herself bodily onto him.

“Tyls!”

Tyls grinned and patted Niamh on the back.  Laughing slightly, he said, “Nice ter see ye too, Little Niamh.”  Looking up at Harry, he frowned.

“How’d ye two meet?”

“Long story,” replied Harry.  He glanced at his watch and added, “One we don’t have time to tell.”

“Huh?”  Niamh turned and looked at Harry in surprise.

Harry tapped the face of his watch and said, “Ten minutes to get back.”

“Ba’ where?” asked Tyls.

“To my da,” replied Harry.  “He’s probably waiting for us by now.”

“Yer da?  Did’n ye say ‘e was de’?”

“Long story.”

Niamh suddenly frowned and said, “Uh, Harry…”

“What?”

“Didn’t you tell me yesterday that your watch was ten minutes slow/”

Harry blinked then proved how truly eloquent he was in stressful situations.

“Bloody hell.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Severus was mad.

No, he was beyond mad.  He was crazed.  HE had arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron to find neither Niamh nor Harry anywhere in sight, outside or inside.

However, he did get a good clue from Rita’s sadistic smirk that she knew where they were.  Striding over to her table, the pouch of potions ingredients bouncing against his hip, he leaned on the table and growled, “Where.  Are.  They?”

Rita looked up at him in surprise.

“Why, Severus…  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.  Where are they, Rita?  I can tell from your smirk that you’ve seen them.”

Rita’s eyes hardened and she said firmly, “One night.”

Severus wasn’t sure if he should reel back in disgust or laugh at her.  Instead he settled for curling his lip in distaste.

“I am not going to sleep with you, Rita.”

“Then you won’t know where they are.”

“Ah,” said Severus with a half-smile, “so you do know where they are?”

Rita’s cheeks flushed pink and she hissed, “You bastard.”

Severus smirked.

“I am a Slytherin, you know.  Now, be a good lass and tell me where my students are so I can be on my way.”

Rita looked ready to object but froze when Severus leaned down and whispered, “Or else there shall be very…ah – dire consequences.”

Severus was playing a card here, running on old fears and memories.  Rita played right into it, too.  Her eyes flicked to his left arm and he had the satisfaction of seeing fear blossom in her eyes.

Rita sighed and pointed towards the Cauldron’s front door.  Severus smiled in a cruel sort of way and strode off, transfiguring his cloak into a Muggle jacket as he opened the door and stepped out into the bustling streets of London.

“Okay, so we go and find Professor Snape, apologize…”

“And die.”

Niamh glared at Harry and snapped, “Will you get off the dying thing?  He’s not gonna kill us.”

Harry laughed at her and said, “Ni, you’ve been staying with us since term ended.  Do you really think my da won’t string the both of us up by our toes from an oak tree and let the raven’s pick our eyes out?”

“Well…I don’t think he’ll go quite that far, Harry.”

“I still doan understan’ why ‘e’d kill the two o’ ye.”

“Because Harry’s a bloody superstar,” muttered Niamh.

“Wha’?!” exclaimed Tyls, looking at Harry in surprise.  The dark-haired boy glared at Niamh then turned to his friend.

“Well…to make a really long story short – we’re wizards.”

“Wizards?”

“Well, wizard and witch to be exact.  We go to a school where they teach magic.  My father is one of the professors there and head of me and Ni’s House.”

“Wizards,” breathed Tyls, eyes wide on Harry and Niamh.  He gave a little shake then asked, “Can I come wi’ ye?  Please?  ‘Arry, ye know wha’ i’s like ‘ere.  I jus’ can’ take i‘ anymore.”

Tyls shook his head then suddenly began to cough and Harry rushed to his side, grasping the other boy’s thin shoulders.  He frowned when he noticed that they were far too thin, even for him.  They were almost skeletal thin.

And then Tyls began to cough up blood.  Niamh gasped and Harry looked on in horror.  He then looked at Niamh and growled, “Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” yelled Niamh after him as he broke into a sprint.

“To find my da!”

Niamh watched Harry until he zipped around a corner then looked at Tyls, who had stopped coughing but had collapsed onto the street, shivering uncontrollably.  She sat down beside him and hugged him close, silently praying to any deity who would listen to not let her friend die.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Da!”

Severus had just turned a corner when Harry burst out of an alleyway in front of him, dirt on his jeans and shirt and a leaf in his hair.  His eyes were wide and wild looking and Severus immediately knew something was wrong.

“Where’s Niamh?  What happened?”

Harry shook his head, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“No Ni.  Tyls.”

“Who?”

“Nevermind who.  He needs help.  Now.”

“Harry…”

“Da!  He’s my friend”

Severus looked into his son’s eyes then nodded.

“Let’s go.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

When they arrived back at the place where Harry had left Niamh and Tyls, there was only a crumpled figure with dark hair lying there.  And no sign of Tyls but the blood he had coughed up onto the ground.  Harry rushed to Niamh’s side and lifted up her head, tapping her cheek lightly.

“Ni.  Ni.  Ni, wake up.”

Blue eyes opened and looked around blearily before focusing on him.  Niamh licked her lips and mumbled, “Harry?”

“Yeah.  Where’s Tyls,  What happened?”

Niamh looked confused for a moment then whispered, “Something hit me from behind, shoved me away from Tyls.  I – I think he called out a name…”

“What, Ni?” asked Harry.

“A – Abram, I think.  I didn’t…didn’t see…”

“Shh, Ni.  We’ll find Tyls.  Don’t ye worry.”

Niamh nodded and closed her eyes, slumping against Harry as he pulled her up into a sitting position.  Severus knelt down beside him and asked, “Who’s Abram?”

Harry glared coldly off into space as he growled, “Abram Baxter.  Thirteen-year-old Argil took in when Tyls and me were ten.  The bastard tried to get snug up close to Argil.  Son of a bitch.  I’ll kill him if I see him again.”

Severus placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and said, “We’ll find him.  Do you remember where you using to…ah – live?”

Harry gave his father a stern look that clearly read ‘Are you an idiot?’ and Severus chuckled softly.

“Of course you do.  Stupid question.”

“What about Ni?”

“I’ll go back to the Cauldron and Floo Molly.  We can leave Niamh with Tom until she arrives and go look for this Tyls.”

“Sounds good.  Can I kill Abram when we get there?”

Severus frowned at his son and said, “We’ll see.  Are you going to be here when I get back?”

Harry nodded and Severus looked skeptically down at the boy who had inherited his jump-not-slide into situations point of view.  The dark-haired teen crossed his hand over his heart and smiled innocently up at his father.

“Yes, I truly believe that,” said Severus in a skeptical but warm tone.

Harry rolled his eyes as Severus picked up Niamh and set off down the alley with her.  Harry watched his father until he was gone, settling back on his heels with a sigh.  He checked for his wand in the holster at his hip then slipped up his sleeve to make sure Hedwig was still there.  The black snake looped up in surprise, blinking her eyes blearily.

“Harry?  Is something wrong?”

Harry sighed and replied, “Trouble’s a foot, Hed.  I don’t know if you’ll be sake on my wrist.  Or anywhere on me to be exact.”

“Trouble?”

“With a capital ‘T’.  I found an old friend of mine but he’s been nabbed.  As soon as Da gets back, we’re going to find him.

“And I am not safe on you?”

“No.”

“So where am I to go?”

Harry frowned and looked about the alley.

“I haven’t the foggiest.  If Jar were here I’d let him take you.”

“I refuse to be carried by that creature!” exclaimed Hedwig.  “He eats my kind for lunch!”

Harry rolled his eyes and said in a stressed tone, “I said if he was here, Hed.  And besides, Jar knows your mine.  He wouldn’t eat you for a snack, much less lunch.”

Hedwig looked sullenly at him and hissed, “Well, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Harry shook his head and looked around the alley again.  He let out a hiss of breath and muttered, “Da’s taking too long.  I’ll have to go on my own.  You stay here, Hed.”

“You can’t just leave me here!!”

“You’ll be fine,” admonished Harry as he wrestled the snake from his wrist.  Hedwig wrapped her trail tightly in its place and scratched him with her fangs as she tried to latch onto his wrist (which made Harry grateful that she wasn’t poisonous) but the teen moved with the same striking fast speed as she did, closing his nimble fingers around the back of her head.  He pulled her from his wrist and set her on the ground, saying, “And besides, Da’ll be back soon and someone has to tell him where I went.”

“He can’t speak Parseltongue!”

“But he can understand it!  Just tell him where I went.”

“Where ARE you going?”

“After the friend I was talking about.  Wish me luck.”

Hedwig muttered something that sounded oddly like, “I’ll wish you luck if you succeed,” as Harry rose from his crouch.  He looked about the alley for a moment the scrambled up a dumpster with cat-like agility, leaping over a wooden fence into the next alley and landing hard before sprinting off.

“Harry?”

Severus returned to the alley after leaving the still unconscious Niamh with Tom and contacting Molly Weasley via Floo.  He had actually gotten a hold of Bill Weasley instead of Molly and had told his old student to come keep an eye on Niamh.  That had cost him a few minutes of explaining and by the time he returned to the alley, Harry was gone.

Cursing fluently in several different languages, he looked around, wondering where Harry could have gone when something hissed at his feet.  Looking down, he recognized the look – and voice – of the snake Niamh had sent his son for his last birthday.

Severus scowled and grumbled, “Damn you, Father.  You could have at least let Mum live long enough to teach me how to speak Parseltongue, not just understand a few words of it.”

“About time!”

Severus picked up Hedwig and the tiny snake curled her tail about his hand, laying her wedge-shaped head with its gleaming onyx eyes on his thumb.  She flicked her tongue out at him and Severus could have sworn she was glaring too.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, once again cursing his father for not letting his mother live long enough to teach him Parseltongue.

“He went looking for his friend, he said.  Said I wouldn’t be safe with him.”

That’s what Hedwig said.  What Severus translated from that was missing a few words.

“He – looking – friend.  Said I – safe – him.”

Severus cursed again.  Harry had gone in search of his missing friend without him and knew that it was going to be dangerous because he had left Hedwig behind.

“Now what?” asked Hedwig.

Severus scowled at her and placed the snake in one of his pockets, making sure to place an Unbreakable Charm on the reptile.  This done, he eyed the dumpster that had footprints going up the side.

Ah-ha…

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry crept like a shadow through the battered hulks of buildings that made up the neighborhood he had grown up in.  Drunks, bums, and stoned out Muggles were lying in the streets, even more so than Harry remembered.  He wrinkled his nose as he passed a pile of garbage.  And now they were just leaving the dead lying about.  Jeez, didn’t anyone give a damn about the slums?

“Stupid question,” muttered Harry to himself as he stepped over an old man clutching an empty bottle.

Suddenly something came at him out of the dark and Harry sidestepped, reaching out with lightning fast reflexes and grabbing what felt like a wrist.  He hauled downward with all his strength and whoever had lunged at him let out a cry and went down.  Harry settled atop them, placing one sneaker against their throat and pressing down on their windpipe, casually breaking one of their fingers as he did so.

“Look, you stupid son of a bitch,” he hissed in a tight voice, “I haven’t got the time for this.  Now, why don’t you go your way and I’ll go mine?  Hmm?”

Whoever it was nodded vigorously in the dark and Harry let them up, watching with a satisfied smirk and a flash of his green eyes as they took off like a light.

Turning about again, he found the building he had been looking for.

Approaching the old place slowly, he found it was just as he remembered it.  The windows were still boarded up, there was a worn No Trespassing sign nailed on the rickety door, and the sparrows still built their nests in the eaves.  Harry reached for the doorknob, feeling the cool metal under his palm for a moment before opening it and entering, eyes darting back and forth.

Nothing moved in the room as Harry slinked inside, closing the door behind him gently.  He moved across the floor with well-honed practice, going around objects he knew were there in the dark and avoiding the creaky floorboards.  The stairs loomed up ahead of him and he peered up them, seeing a dim light blossoming at the top.  Cautiously, he began to ascend.

By the time Harry reached the top of the stairs, he had begun to hear voices.  One he recognized as Abram’s, which was a rich bass for such a despicable person.  And the other he recognized as the sharp, stinging tones of Argil, the ratty man who had raised him and several other children to be pickpockets and – as Harry now knew – raped the older one’s.

“I found him, Argil,” said Abram’s voice.  “Just like you told me too.”

“Good, good.  Very good.”  Argil laughed in a way that reminded Harry of Voldemort, high-pitched and like a cackle.  He scowled as he imagined the ratty man wringing his hands in glee.  “Yes, very good.  You’ll get a fine reward for this, my boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Yes, yes.  Now, Tyls, my lad…you haven’t be going around telling people anything, have you?  Talking to any Yardies?”

The next voice that spoke was choked with pain and anguish and Harry’s fists clenched convulsively as he recognized it.

“Na…no, sir.  I’d na tell any Yardies.  Na tell nobody.”

“Abram here says he saw your talking to somebody.  A girl.  Pretty thing, he said.  Got yourself a lady, my lad?  Hmm?”

“D-doan ye touch ‘er!”

There was the stinging sound of flesh hitting flesh and Argil yelled, “I’ll do what I want, boy!  Now, tell me…where’s your lady friend live?  I’d like to have…a little chat with her.”  The man chuckled evilly.

Harry heard a soft moan then Tyls’ voice growled faintly, “Doan – doan ye touch ‘er.  I’ll – I’ll…”

“You’ll what?  Kill me?  You can’t even defend yourself!”

The door leading into the room flew open and the three occupants looked up to see Harry framed in it, his face all shadows and his eyes gleaming bright green.

“Maybe he can’t defend himself,” growled the teen, glaring at the shell-shocked Argil.  “But I can.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Severus found himself in the slums of London, stepping over drunks as he made his way down the street.  He looked about the place with disdain, wondering if this was the place where his son had grown up.  The orphanage where he had grown up had been bad – but this?  This was worse.

Suddenly there was a cry from the end of the street.  Severus whirled and saw flames licking the roof of an old building with an aged No Trespassing sign on the door.  As he ran towards it, the door burst open and children from the ages of seven to fifteen stumbled out, taking off down the street and vanishing down side streets or into other buildings.

It couldn’t be…  Could it?

Severus looked up at the building then charged in.  He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Harry!  Harry!  Harry, answer me!”

“Da!”

Severus rushed towards his son, who had just stumbled down the stairs.  He half-carried, half-dragged him out of the burning building and made it outside just as the place collapsed.  The two of them slumped to the ground, Severus pulling his son into his arms in a tight hug at the close call.

“Are you alright?” he asked into Harry’s hair.

The teen nodded numbly and burrowed into his father’s arms, letting out a soft whimper.  Severus pulled back and saw his son’s tear-streaked face for the first time.

“Harry…what happened in there?”

The boy shook violently then gasped, “Argil…he – he killed Tyls.  He…killed him.  HE KILLED HIM!”

Severus pulled his son back into his arms, feeling the boy tremble.  Harry buried his face in his father’s neck and Severus barely heard the next words.

“And then I killed him.”

Two weeks before start of term…

“Hey, Harry.  You’ve got an owl.”

No answer.

Niamh sighed and trudged upstairs to Harry’s room, where the teen was lying on his bed with his face towards the fall.  Hedwig was curled up at the end of the bed and Jardin was perched on the mantle of the fireplace in the room.  Niamh looked at the raven and said to him, He’s thinking about it again, isn’t he?

The raven nodded, pale eyes dull.

< Aye, young one.  He thinks of it often.  Almost two months ago and his grief is still as great as it was the day after. >

You can feel it?

< I can sense it.  We are bound, remember?  Who is the owl from, by the by? >

Niamh shrugged.

I don’t recognize the owl.  And I don’t open Harry’s letters.

< I never suggested you did, fledgling. >

Niamh shook her head at the raven then walked over to Harry’s bed, pulling herself up onto it and settling down beside him.  She leaned over on him, resting one arm along his broadening shoulders and placing her chin on it.  He did not even glance at her.

“Harry, mate.  Letter.”

“From who?” asked Harry in a dull voice.

“I’m not going to open it for you, goose.  C’mon.  Up ye get.  Or I’ll set the insane little owl that delivered the letter on you.”

Harry grunted and tilted his head to look at her, grief displayed clearly in his eyes.  Two months since Tyls’ death and he still blamed himself.  He had never said it but Niamh knew he felt that way.  She could just…sense it.

“Alright.  Give it here.”

Niamh handed the letter over and Harry opened it, eyes brightening slightly and a smile quirking at his lips.

“Who’s it from?” asked the girl, curious as to who had gotten her friend to perk up a little when she hadn’t done that in two months.

“Sirius,” replied Harry.

Niamh nodded.  Sirius Black had been revealed to them last year to be Harry’s godfather.  He was also an escapee of Azkaban, the wizard prison, and an illegal Animagus.  At the end of last year, Harry and Niamh had taken on the dementors who had been surrounding Sirius but had been saved (as Harry later informed Niamh) by the Darcorn that resided in the Forbidden Forest, a creature that was continually coming to Harry’s rescue, just before they themselves had almost been beaten.

“What’s he say?”

Harry looked up at Niamh then began to read the letter.

Harry,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write.  Hard to find an owl around here.  I finally had to go to Moony to get one.  He told me that he had resigned from the Defense position because of that night.  Too bad.  Then I could keep an eye on you and that slimy git.

“Doesn’t he remember that that’s your father he’s talking about?”

“Its Sirius,” replied Harry as if that explained all.

I just wanted to check in with you, let you know that I’m still out here and alive.  Oh, and send the owl that brought this to your friend Ron.  Compliments of me losing him his rat.

I’ll send post later.

Sirius

P.S.  If you ever want to talk, remember…I’m here.

“Sweet devil, isn’t he?” said Niamh.

Harry folded the letter with a chuckle, turning to look up at Niamh with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Y’know, Ni, if I didn’t know better…I’d say you have a crush on my godfather.”

“Harold Jamison Snape!  How dare you!”

“I dare many things, my dear Lady Hex.  Many things indeed.”

Niamh laughed and smiled down at her friend.

“So, there you are at last.”

Harry nodded slightly and gave a half-shrug.

“Have to get over it.  Grief can only last so long.”

The two sat in silence for a moment until Niamh spoke in a soft voice.

“I miss him too, y’know.”

Harry nodded numbly.

“I know.  But…I was there, Ni.  I was there and I couldn’t save him.  I couldn’t save my best friend and now he’s gone.”

“I know, I know,” whispered Niamh, hugging her friend tightly.  She rested his head against his shoulder and said again, “I feel that way too.  I should have been watching out in the alley.  I should have…”

Harry placed a finger over her lips, stopping her.  He shook his head, eyes sad as he said, “We can’t do this to ourselves, Ni.  He – he wouldn’t want us to.”

“I know.  But…”

“We feel…”

“…responsible.”

“Yeah.”

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

Niamh sighed and closed her eyes, shifting slightly.  Harry wrapped an arm about her shoulders and the two lay there for a long while, lost in their thoughts of their lost friend.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Next day…

“Owl!”

“Who’s it from this time?” asked Harry as he entered the kitchen where Niamh was untying a letter from a rough looking horned owl.  The creature swiveled its head to look at Harry and he saw one of its eyes had been clawed out.  Ouch, he thought, before his attention turned to the happily bouncing Marly.

Niamh watched as the owl flew off then ripped open the letter.

“Its from Mika!”

Harry leaned over Niamh’s shoulder, quickly reading the letter from their friend.

Harry (and Niamh, if your still there),

Guess bloody what?  I’m being sent to Durmstrang this term!  How whacked is that?  My mum finally gave over to my da.  Oh, and guess what else?  The old wolf is going to be teaching at Hog this term.  I think that’s why I’m being shipped off to the frozen north (Durmstrang’s blisteringly cold).  Completely unfair, no?  I won’t get to see you guys.  Or Gin.  Dammit.  Couldn’t she have waited until next year to give in?  Hell abounds.

Write me.  Please.  I’m going to die without you guys.

Mika

Niamh reread the letter twice to make sure she had read right then looked up at Harry.

“That leaves us to the Slytherin Trio instead of the Slytherin Four.”

Harry groaned, “We really need to make up a name for ourselves.  And what’s that about Mika’s da coming to teach?  Teach what?”

“What’s the only empty position?”

“Defense?”

“Perfect place for an Auror, don’t you think?”

Harry shrugged and plucked the letter from Niamh’s hand.  He read it again then growled, “Something feels wrong about this year.”

“You’re just saying that because we had a bad start.”

Harry glared at Niamh and she shrugged.

“You are.”

“No.  No…I don’t think so.  Something’s gonna happen this year, Ni.  Something big…”

Harry,

Dad got us tickets for the World Cup!  Isn’t that great?  Bulgaria vs. Ireland!

You and Niamh want to come?

Ron

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Ron,

So do we.  That was my Christmas present last year from my da.

See you there!

Harry

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Last year?  Wow.  How’d he get a hold of them THAT early?

Ron

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Who knows?  Oh, have you heard about Mika?  He’s being sent to Durmstrang this year.

Harry

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Durmstrang?  Its supposed to be really cold up there.

Percy’s looking for Hermes now.  See you are the Cup!

Ron

P.S. Hermione’s coming too.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry gave Hermes a pat as the owl delivered Ron’s last letter then flew out the kitchen window.  Niamh entered the room at just about the same time and saw the two other letters lying on the table.

“Who’re those from?”

“Ron,” replied Harry, scooping up the letters and folding them.

“All of them?”

“Yep.”

“Couldn’t he have come by Floo easier?  I mean, Errol can’t fly that fast.”

“He used Hermes,” said Harry with a smirk.

“Who?”

“Percy’s owl.”

Niamh laughed and crowed, “Oh, how I wish I could see his face!”

“Why?”

“Because he turns redder than Ron when he’s angry,” replied the girl before vanishing out of the kitchen.

Harry looked oddly after her then began to laugh.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

That night as Harry slept, he found himself having a very odd dream.

He was in a room; an old, dusty looking room that reminded him of the building he had grown up in.  There was a fire burning behind the grate and a chair tucked up close to it to his left.

“Wormtail.  Wormtail!” hissed a high-pitched voice from the chair.

A short, balding man in a black cloak rushed into the room, watery blue eyes wide.  He flinched as he walked over to stand beside the chair.

“There you are, Wormtail.  Move me closer to the fire.”

There was a scraping sound as the chair moved then the voice asked, “Where is Nagini?”

The man made a sign with his hands and the thing in the chair laughed.

“Exploring the house, you say.  A pity you can’t speak.  I am sure we would have – ah, WONDERFUL conversations.  And make sure you milk Nagini before we retire.  This journey had tired me.”

The man made another sign with his hands as the voice laughed in a high-pitched cackle.

“How long are we here?  Is that your question?”

The man called Wormtail nodded.

“A week.  Perhaps longer.  The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet.  It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over.”

Wormtail frowned and made a motion at a cup sitting nearby.

“We wait because wizards are pouring into the country at this very moment, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities.  They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything.  So we wait.”

Wormtail frowned for a moment then made another sign in the air – this one in the shape of a lightning bolt.  He then shook his head.

“Do this without Harry Potter?  I see…  You are – ah – CONCERNED for the boy.”

Wormtail shook his head vigorously and the voice snapped, “DO NOT LIE TO ME!  You find the task of nursing me wearisome, do you not?  Enough that you would find me a substitute instead of Harry Potter?”

There was a pause then the voice continued, “I COULD use another witch or wizard…  Harry Potter will be very hard to lay hands on. But – we shall manage.  Yesss.”  This last came out in a snake-like hiss.

Wormtail made another sign and the voice spoke with sudden menace.

“I have waited thirteen years for this moment, Wormtail.  A few months will make no difference.  The protections on the boy can be easily broken.”  There was a hiss of breath then, “And I have my own reasons for using the boy.”

Wormtail flinched then hurriedly made more signals with his hands.

“Only one more death, my dear Wormtail.  One more and our path to Harry Potter will be clear.  By then my FAITHFUL servant shall have rejoined us -”

Wormtail made another sign, pointing at himself and bowing, making the voice laugh mirthlessly.

“You?  LOYAL?  My dear Wormtail, I need someone with brains, someone who’s loyalty has never wavered – you fit neither requirement.”

“Though,” continued the voice with a touch of amusement, “you were quite fortunate to run into poor Bertha Jorkins.  Without her information I could not have formed our plan.  And you will be rewarded.  Yesss – you may find you will be just as useful to me as she was.”

Wormtail paled severely and made a slicing motion across his throat.  The voice laughed mirthlessly again.

“Kill you?  No, Wormtail, I am not going to kill you.  I killed Bertha because I had to.  You – you I may still use.”

There was another laugh.

“MODIFIED HER MEMORY?  A powerful wizard can break a Memory Charm, as I proved when I questioned her.  Silence your whimpering, Wormtail.  I think I hear Nagini…”

The voice began making hissing noises without drawing breath and a moment later an emerald green snake slid into the room, its undulating body at least twelve feet in length.

“Nagini has an interesting story,” said the voice, switching over to English.  “She says there is an old Muggle outside the door, listening to us.”

Footsteps crossed the room and the door was flung open, revealing an old man leaning heavily on a cane.  His eyes widened at being discovered.

“Where are you manners, Wormtail?  Invite our guest in.”

Wormtail made a motion with his hands and the old man entered, his eyes flicking to the chair by the fire and the snake curled up on the rotted hearthrug like a horrid mockery of a dog.

“You heard everything, Muggle?” hissed the voice.

“What’s that?” said the man defiantly.

“Muggle,” replied the voice acidly.  “It means you are not a wizard.”

“I don’t know what you mean by wizard but I do know that I ought to call the police.  You’ve done murder and you’re planning more.  And my wife knows I’m up here, so if I don’t come back -”

“You have no wife.  No one knows you are here.  Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Muggle, for he knows…  he always knows…”

“Is that right?  Lord, is it?  Well I don’t think much of your manners, MY LORD.  Turn ‘round and face me like a man, why don’t you?”

Wormtail looked frightfully at the man as the voice cackled again.

“But I am not a man, Muggle.  I am much, much more than a man.  However…why not?  I will face you…  Wormtail, come turn my chair around.”

Wormtail whimpered.

“You heard me, Wormtail.”

Wormtail shuffled over to the chair, flinching as he placed his hands on it.  The snake lifted its head and hissed softly as the chair turned.

Then the chair faced the Muggle and he gasped.  His cane fell to the ground with a clatter as he screamed.  The figure in the chair lifted a wand and spoke two words.  Green light flooded the room and the old man fell, dead before he hit the dusty floor.  A high-pitched cackle filled the room, making Wormtail flinch once more.

Miles away in a small cottage located near Dublin, Ireland, Harold Jamison Snape awoke.

Harry sat up like a bolt of lightning, barely keeping himself from letting out a scream of terror.  It was not Voldemort or Wormtail that caused this reaction, but the vision of the green light of the Killing Curse.  It was a reaction born of old, when he had awoke from a nightmare filled with the green light.  Though he now knew the nature of the light and the source of that old nightmare, the reaction of screaming at the sight of it was sealed to his soul.

However, some sound must have come out as Niamh, who’s room was next to his, came rushing in, blue eyes wide, short-cropped hair in wild spikes, and baggy t-shirt askew about her neck, showing one narrow shoulder.  His father appeared a moment later, dark eyes alert despite it being almost three in the morning according to Harry’s glowing watch face.  The Dark Mark glowered at Harry from where it burned darkly under the Potion’s Masters pale skin and he turned away from it.

“Harry?” said Severus, frowning at his son.

“A dream,” replied Harry.  “Go back to sleep.  I’m sorry I woke you two.”

Severus and Niamh exchanged glances then looked back at Harry.

“You didn’t wake us up…” said Niamh

“Jardin did,” finished Severus.

Harry cursed mentally.  If his dream had been strong enough, Jardin could have sensed it through their bond.  Or would have sensed Harry’s turmoil and investigated.  Sometimes being bound to an Altair Raven (for that is what Jardin was) could be a very bad thing.

“Dammit,” he cursed.

Severus moved into the room and asked, “Harry, what was the dream about?”

Harry sighed and looked up his father and his friend, both of whom were watching him intently.

“Voldemort.”

Niamh let out a little gasp while Severus’ eyebrows flew up into his hair.  Neither of them had been expecting that response.

“Him and Wormtail.  They killed an old Muggle.  Just killed him.”  Harry said this in an impassive sort of voice, the events from two months ago replaying in his mind.  He shook them off and continued, “They’re planning something.  But they didn’t say what.”

“Did they say when?” asked Severus, his right hand moving to unconsciously cover the Mark.

“Not until after the World Cup.”

Severus frowned for a moment, chewing on his lip then shook his head.  He smiled at his son – a smile that looked forced – then said, “Alright.  I’m not sure how you saw…that monster…but I think I rather have an idea.  I suggest the three of us try and get back to sleep.”  He turned to leave, adding, “What we can get, that is,” as he left.

Niamh then turned to her friend and growled, “Alright…what didn’t you tell him?”

Harry simply arched an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ni.”

“You know very what I mean, Harry.  You didn’t tell him something.  I can feel it.”

“Another of your feelings?”

Niamh’s eyes narrowed as she hissed, “Don’t make light of me!  What didn’t you tell him?”

Harry sighed.

“Voldemort’s plan has something to do with me.”

Niamh blinked then walked into the room, sinking down onto Harry’s bed.

“Oh shit.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Yes, my dear Lady.”

The next day the three of them, plus Hedwig on Harry’s wrist and Jardin flying overhead, walked to the village just down from the wooded area where Ashdeir Fierion once stood.  Harry looked at his father expectantly and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Down to Naas.  Apparently the portkey is located on a hill there.”

“Naas?!” exclaimed Harry, looking at his father in surprise.  “Da, that’s over a half-mile away!”

Severus scowled at his son, only having to tilt his head slightly as the fourteen-year-old was almost as tall as he was now.

“I know.  I’ve lived here longer than you, remember?”

Harry shot the man a half-scowl as Severus pulled a pocketwatch from his jacket.  All three of them were dressed in Muggle clothes, as there was the chance that they’d be looked at oddly for walking around in robes and cloaks.

“Short range portkey,” he explained.  “It should drop us off at the bottom of the hill.  And what are you complaining about?  If there wasn’t a pair of wizards in Naas going to the Cup, we’d be heading to Clonmel by broom.”

Harry winced.  Clonmel was fairly well populated by wizards and the first time they had gone there, he had gotten a fairly good trouncing from a rambunctious group of sloshed wizards and then had been chased up and down several streets by a gaggle of fan girls.  Since then he had been hiding his scar beneath his long fringe of dark hair.

“Shouldn’t we use the portkey?” asked Niamh as the tiny village – aptly called Snapeshire – got closer.

Severus shook his head and replied, “We can’t use it until we’re under a half-mile…”  He looked about them, then held out the watch.  “Which is right now.  Grab hold…  Its set to activate at ten to five.”

Harry and Niamh grabbed the watch second before it activated.  There was the customary tug at their navels and then they were standing at the base of a small hill.  Niamh weaved dangerously but Harry steadied her so she could get back her bearings.

“I hate portkeys,” muttered the girl.

“Well, we’re about to use another one,” said Harry, his hand still on her shoulder.  “So hold onto your breakfast for a little longer, ay?  You look a little green.”

“Oh bugger off.”

Harry chuckled then lead the girl up the hill, following his father.  Two wizards stood at the top of the hill already, both of them dressed in an off assortment of Muggle clothes that didn’t match.  Niamh started to chortle at their appearance but was stopped when Harry gave her a sharp tap between the shoulder blades.  She glared at him and he scowled in return.

“Don’t do that too much,” whispered the girl before they got in hearing of the other two wizards,  “Someone might realize you and our dear professor are related.  As is, it’s not hard to tell.  You’ve got his bloody cheekbones and your hair doesn’t help any.”

Harry scowled fiercely at her now and gave her another sharp tap as she started to laugh at him.

“Very amusing, Lady Hex,” he hissed as he leaned down so his mouth was near her ear.  “But not something I’m going to allow to happen.”  He then pulled back and his face shifted into a grin.

Niamh shook her head at him then turned to Severus and the two wizards but not before asking, “Hey…where’s Jardin?”

“Still at Snapeshire probably.  I’ll see if he can hear me from this far away.”

Jar?

No response came, so Harry shrugged at Niamh then turned to look at the two wizards.

One, scowling darkly, spat, “Snape,” in such a tone that it made Harry and Niamh bristle.  It was the same tone McGonagall used on Slytherins.  His eyes, bright blue but dark with contempt, swept over the two teens.  He then turned back to the Potions Master and said, “Stuck as babysitter?”

Severus sniffed disdainfully and replied, “Two of my Slytherins.  They were unable to get to the Cup without aid.”

“And you thought I expected them to be Gryffindors?”

“Hardly,” replied Severus curtly.  “You know better than that, Macnair.  Now…when does this damned portkey activate?”

“What – no hello for me, Severus?” asked the other wizard in a false hurt tone.

Severus glanced at him and said gruffly, “Hello, Bole.  Where is David?”  Harry and Niamh blinked at the mention of the now graduated Slytherin Beater.

“With his mother,” replied Bole angrily.  “You didn’t hear?  That bastard Fudge awarded her custody.”

“Probably because he knows you were a Death Eater,” growled Macnair.  He scowled at Harry and Niamh and barked, “You two!  Names!”

“Don’t trust him,” hissed Hedwig from Harry’s wrist.  He glanced down at her for a half second then looked back at Macnair.

“Neville Longbottom,” he replied, making Severus arch an eyebrow in surprise.

Macnair then looked at Niamh, who bared her teeth at him, and spat, “Lavender Brown,” taking a name from a Gryffindor fourth year as Harry had.

Macnair snorted at them then look at Bole, who nodded.  He then picked up an old boot and growled, “Grab.”  Bole and Severus took hold of it immediately, the professor motioning Harry and Niamh forward.  Just as the two teens grabbed a hold of the worn leather, the portkey activated.  Harry had just enough time to call out to Jardin again.

Jar!  We’re going to the Cup!  Meet us there if you can!

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

They hit the ground so hard that even Harry, who was quite used to portkeys from frequent usage and already steady on his feet from years of learning how to stay up after being punched, staggered.  He did, however, manage to get his balance back in time to catch the collapsing Niamh.

“Thanks,” she wheezed as a voice suddenly spoke.

“One past five from Lynch Vale,” proclaimed the voice.

Macnair picked up the boot and chucked it at two grumpy-looking wizard standing nearby on the misty moor.  He then stalked off, followed swiftly by Bole.  One of the wizards – dressed in a kilt and a poncho – caught the boot and tossed it into a box with other used portkeys.  He then sighed heavily and said, “Good morning, Severus, Harry, young lady.”

“Basil,” said Severus with a nod.  He eyes his cousin’s off attire then added; “The Ministry had you on duty?  What about the shop?”

Basil nodded, sea green eyes weary.  He pushed his wire spectacles up his nose as they had slipped down then replied, “On duty until everyone cleans out of here.  Been here since three.  And Issa’s minding the shop.  Not that anyone will be buying.  Half of England’s here.  Oh, and you might want to move back a bit. There’s a party coming in from Stoatshead Hill…”

“That’s near Ottery St. Catchpole!” breathed Niamh.

“Seven after five from Stoatshead Hill,” declared the other wizard, jotting it down on a scroll as the group appeared.  It didn’t take long to figure out who was in the group from the several sets of flaming red hair.

“Hello, Arthur,” said Basil, taking another worn boot from Mr. Weasley.  “You too, Amos.”

The other man standing with the Weasley’s nodded and Harry recognized the boy with him as Cedric Diggory, seventh year Hufflepuff and Captain/Seeker for their team.  The gray-eyed teen recognized him and grinned, striding over to them as the Weasley’s conversed with Basil.

“Harry!  Fancy seeing you here.”

“’Lo, Cedric,” said Harry, taking the hand the older teen extended.

“Heard you were staying the summer with Professor Snape, Harry.  You and someone – ah, I don’t believe I caught your name.”  Cedric smiled charmingly at Niamh, who scowled slightly at him.

“Niamh O’Feir,” she growled.

Cedric grinned and grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips.  He murmured around it, “A lovely name for a lovely lady.”

Niamh flushed and disengaged her hand from Cedric’s.  Inadvertently, Harry felt something well up inside him at the sight of Cedric kissing Niamh’s hand but smothered it after a moment of confusion.

“Th-thank you.”

“Cedric!  What are you doing…ah, hello.”  The man Basil had called Amos strode over to them and they could now see the resemblance between him and Cedric.  He looked at Cedric and asked, “Who are these two?”

“Dad, meet Harry Potter, Slytherin’s Seeker, and Niamh O’Feir.”  Cedric peered at Niamh and added, “Going to be a Chaser this year, right?”

Niamh nodded numbly as Amos eyed her and Harry.  “Harry Potter,” he murmured, reminding Harry of the way Voldemort had said it when he’d gone after the Sorcerer’s Stone.

“Yes, sir.”

“Slytherin Seeker?  Never would have thought…with your parents…”

Harry smirked slightly and stated, “Can’t always judge a child by their parents.”

Amos peered at him for a moment then laughed uproariously, clapping Harry hard enough on the shoulder that he staggered.

“Well said!” roared Amos as Harry regained his balance.  “Can’t judge Slytherin either.  You Slytherin too, girl?”  When Niamh nodded Amos grinned and said, “Odd thing.  Muggleborn?  Wife’s Muggleborn.  Slytherin too!”

“Dad,” said Cedric in an exasperated tone, rolling his eyes at Harry and Niamh.  He gently grabbed his father’s arm and tugged.  “C’mon, Dad.  Let’s go find our spot.”

“Eh?  Ah, yes, our spot.  Be seeing you two later!”

As they watched the two walk off Niamh said, “well.  That was…”

“…interesting.”

“Yeah.”

“Harry!  Niamh!”

A whirlwind of bushy brown hair squirmed out from the gaggle of Weasley’s and hurled itself onto the two other teens.  There was squeal and then Ginny, hair bouncing in a short braid, ran and leapt on Harry with enough force to send the much taller Slytherin to the grass.

“Sorry,” murmured the girl as she saw what she had done.  Harry simply laughed and told her that the grass was quite springy and much better than landing on something hard.

“But,” he added, “perhaps we should get up.”

“Good idea,” said Ginny with a grin.  She rose first then extended a hand to Harry, pulling him to his feet with one good pull.  Harry grinned at her as he brushed grass off the back of his jeans.

“Good arm there, Gin.”

Ginny flushed slightly then asked, “Have you heard from Mika?”

“Yeah.  He didn’t owl you?”

Ginny shook her head.

“Is something wrong?”

“Remember when he told us his dad wanted him to go to Durmstrang but his mum insisted he go to Hogwarts?”

“Oh, no…” moaned Ginny.

“Yeah.”

“So…he’s not going to be here.”

Harry shook his head.

“The Slytherin Four has now become the Slytherin Trio.  Oh, and guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“His dad is coming to teach.”

Ginny blinked.

“DADA?”

“Yep.”

“Which means we’ll finally get a teacher that’s not an idiot or evil,” proclaimed Niamh as she slung her arms over both of their shoulders, having to stretch slightly to get to Harry’s.  Hermione came around to stand by Ginny as she said that and frowned.

“Professor Lupin wasn’t evil.”

“Ah, yes.  Let me rephrase that.  A teacher that’s not an idiot, evil, or a werewolf.”

“So, Professor Lupin left?  Why?”

“Incident at the end of last year,” said Ron as he strode over to them.  He looked at Harry and blinked when he found himself looking straight into his friend’s eyes.  Harry grinned at him and Ron laughed.

“You five!  Come on!”

The four fourth years and one third year looked up to see Severus waving at him.  They all looked at each other then chorused, “Yes, Professor Snape!”

Severus rolled his eyes then scowled at Basil as he said something.  Grunting a goodbye to his cousin, he stalked off after the retreating backs of the Weasley’s.

Harry waved to Basil as the five of them followed swiftly.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Erm, Professor?  What are we doing?”

Severus looked down at Niamh as he watched the Weasley twins and Ron

“Apparently we are rooming with this bunch.”

“Sir??”

Severus sighed and waved a hand, muttering something that sounded like, “Molly insisted.”

Niamh frowned at him then hurried to help Hermione, Harry, and Ginny with their tent.  The thing had been about to collapse but she deftly grabbed the tilting front pole and held it as they got the other one’s in the ground and tied down.  Harry came around to the front to check that pole and grinned at her.

“Thank, Ni.”

“Always welcome, mate,” replied Niamh with a smile, not knowing her cheeks had flushed slightly.  Harry noticed but didn’t say anything.

“Oh!”

Everyone turned to look as Mr. Weasley got a few sparks as he tried to light the fire with matches but dropped it in his surprise.  Hermione was about to move forward but Severus beat her to it.  He knelt down by the other man and grabbed the box from him.

“Give me that, Arthur.  Now, look…  Not at me, man, the matches!  The matches!”

A minute or so later the fire was going and Arthur was clapping Severus on the back as though they were old friends.

“Well done, Severus!  Where’d you learn how to do that?”

Severus muttered something and Mr. Weasley frowned slightly.

“Ah, yes,” he said.  “I forgot about that.  What do you say to some tea?”

“I’d say it’d be welcome,” replied Severus.

The two men entered the tent then twins and Ron put up, not noticing the stares they were getting from child and student.

“Er…” said Ron as he walked over to Harry, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the tent.  “What was that?”

Harry frowned slightly then Niamh said, “Apparently they know each other.”

“How?” asked the twins in unison.

“Well…hey, he knows you all’s mum too!  Remember, Harry, when he went to the Burrow last year?  They seemed like they knew each other.”

Harry scowled down at her and she blanched, as did everyone else.  Their stay at the Burrow last year had not been the best.

“Anyway,” continued Niamh.  “Maybe Mr. Weasley and Professor Snape know each other too.”

“How?” asked the twins again.

Niamh rolled her eyes and growled something under her breath.

Hermione took his chance to say something.

“Well…maybe they were in school together.”

The twins looked at each other then Ron said, “Our Dad older than Snape.”

“So?  Maybe your dad was a seventh year and Professor Snape was a second year.”

“More like a first year,” said Harry.

“Okay, first year.  And if your mum was a seventh year too, perhaps they knew each other.”

The twins looked at each other and shrugged while Ron frowned slightly.  Ginny made no remark, just looked interested.

“Or,” suddenly said the youngest Weasley, “perhaps Mum was a Slytherin like Professor Snape.”

The three older Weasley’s looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“Mum?”

“A Slytherin?”

“Gin, that’s nuts.”

“Mum?”

“Hey,” exclaimed the girl, glaring at her three older brothers.  “I’m a Slytherin!”

“But…” said Ron.

“This is Mum,” said George.

“SO?!”  The youngest Weasley glared at her older brothers.  She had just opened her mouth to say something else when Mr. Weasley and Severus emerged from the best, crouching down by the fire and busying themselves with the tea.  Mr. Weasley grabbed a pot and tossed it to them.  Harry caught it just before it would have hit Ginny in the forehead.

“Would one of you go get some water?”

“Sure,” chorused five voices and then they were off.  They walked past tents in odd shapes and colors and wizards trying to light fires with matches or stealthily using wands to do so.  A Ministry wizard rushed by them to catch two girls riding about on toy broomsticks, muttering to himself.

“Is it me, or had everything gone green?” asked Ron and Niamh as the same time.

Indeed everything had gone green.  The tents all around them were covered in shamrocks, making them look like tiny hills in themselves.

“Ron!  Hermione!”

The five of them turned to see sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan waving at them from in front of his own shamrock-covered tent.  His best friend Dean Thomas sat beside him, also waving.

Harry felt a pang as he saw the sandy hair.  Tyls…

An arm slipped around his waist and he looked down to see Niamh smiling sadly up at him.  Harry smiled in response, thinking, What is this girl, physic?

“Hey, Seamus,” said Ron as they approached, Niamh pulling away from Harry as they did so.

“Hey.  Like our decorations?  The Ministry’s not to happy.”

“Why shouldn’t you show your colors?” asked Harry.

Seamus shrugged as Dean, laughing, said, “You should see what the Bulgarians have all over their tents!”

Seamus nodded then looked up at the five of them.

“You lot are supporting Ireland, right?”

Harry grinned in response and said, “Of course,” while the other four’s responses were less enthusiastic.  As they walked away Ron muttered, “As though we’d say anything else around that lot.”

“Hey,” remarked Harry, “I was being serious.”

“Odd – you didn’t look like Sirius.”

Harry scowled at Niamh, who chortled.  He gave the girl and slight shove then said to Ron, “Anyway, Ireland’s supposed to be a fair shot better than Bulgaria.”

“But Bulgaria’s got Krum!”

“Irish team has Firebolt’s.  Krum’s got a Nimbus 2001.”

“But still!  They have Krum!”

Harry opened his mouth to say something else but Ginny reached up and snapped her hand over it.  Hermione did the same to Ron.

“Enough Quidditch talk,” remarked the bushy-haired Gryffindor, the red-haired Slytherin echoing her with a nod.  “We’ve got to get that water.”

The five of them continued on through the Bulgarian section and saw that their tents were plastered with posters of a surly face with heavy black eyebrows.  It blinked and scowled at them as they past and Niamh remarked to Harry and Ginny, “He looks like a relation to Hagrid with that face.”

When they finally reach the queue in a corner of the field, a rather odd site greeted them.  An old wizard in a long flowery nightgown was in a heated argument with a Ministry wizard holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers.

“Just put them on, Archie.  You can’t walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate’s already suspicious.”

“I bought this in a Muggle shop.  Muggle’s wear them.”

“Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these.”  The Ministry wizard brandished the pinstriped trousers as he said this.

“I’m not putting them on.  I like a healthy breeze ‘round my privates.”

Niamh, Ginny, and Hermione were overcome with giggles and had to duck of the queue, only returning when Archie had collected his water and moved away.

On their return trip, the five of them spotted more faces they knew.  Ron was dragged off momentarily by Oliver Wood then returned as Ernie Macmillan, the Hufflepuff fourth year who had compared all Slytherins to Malfoy in their second year but apologized later, hailed Harry.  Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, waved at them and Harry scowled at her.  The girl seemed more like a Slytherin than a Ravenclaw to him.

“Harry, don’t you know better than to scowl at pretty girls?” remarked Ron as Cho stormed off in a huff.

“She may be pretty,” replied Harry, “but she’s got more Slytherin traits than Malfoy does.”

Niamh snorted.  “Malfoy doesn’t have any Slytherin traits.”

“Alright.  Pratish traits,” amended Harry.

“Now, that’s more like it.”

Ron rolled his eyes at them and Hermione whacked him on the back of the head.

“Hey, who are they?” asked Niamh suddenly, pointing at a group of teenagers that they had never seen before.

“Probably foreign students,” said Hermione.

“Foreign?”

“Yeah,” replied Harry, “other wizarding schools.  Durmstrang, where Mika has vanished off to, is one of them.  I think its in Russia or somewhere up in that area…”

“Oh.”

By the time they returned to the Weasleys’ tents, Percy and two others were there.  Mr. Weasley introduced them as Bill, the oldest, and Charlie, the one that the twins had told Harry had been the best Seeker Gryffindor ever had.

“Hiya, Harry,” said Charlie, extending a hand that Harry took.  “Heard you play Seeker for Slytherin.  Fred and George kept telling me that you could probably beat me.”

Harry glared at the twins, who whistled innocently and didn’t meet his eyes, before grinning at Charlie.

“I’m willing to try and see.”

Charlie laughed and said, “Alright then!  We’ll see.  Don’t know when, but we’ll see.  Here, have a seat.  And what about the rest of our introductions?”

Harry was introduced to Bill, who had hair as long as he did and an earring with a fang on it, then he and Ron introduced Hermione and Niamh.

Bill suddenly exclaimed, “Professor Snape!  What are you doing here?!”

Severus smiled from where he sat by Mr. Weasley and said smoothly, “I see you do remember some things better than most.  Such as potions ingredients?”

Bill winced and Severus said, “But as to why I am here – Mr. Potter and Miss O’Feir needed transportation.  I gave it and Arthur here has insisted I stay with you lot instead of my original plan.”

“Which was?” asked Charlie.

“To sleep under a cloak propped up by sticks,” replied Severus with a smirk.

The twins burst out laughing immediately and Harry, Niamh, and Ginny followed.  Everyone else joined in a few moments later, even Percy.

“You couldn’t do that, professor,” said Fred.

“We wouldn’t allow it,” continued George.

Severus eyed the two and growled, “And you two had better not try anything.  I’ll remember to take points from Gryffindor if you do.”

“C’mon, professor,” said Niamh, “leave the poor Gryff’s alone.  They lose enough points one their own.”

“Oy!” exclaimed both twins.

“Well, its true,” said the girl, sticking her tongue out at them.

“And what about you and Harry?” shot back George.

“Yes,” echoed Fred.  “Don’t the Lord and Lady Hex lose points too?”

“Of course,” said Harry.  “More than you two have done in three years.”

“Ha!” said both twins.

“You want to bet on that?” growled Harry and Niamh.

“Sure!  Two Galleons says we’ll lose more points than you two this year!”

“Deal!”

Harry grasped Fred’s hand while Niamh gripped George’s.  It appeared they were trying to break each other’s hands.

“Stop that,” snapped Mr. Weasley.  “Tea’s done.”

Cups were handed out and they all listened as Mr. Weasley pointed out Ministry officials rushing back and forth in front of the tents.

After having a conversation with Ludo Bagman, who had gotten the Weasley’s their tickets, and Barty Crouch, for whom Percy worked.  Everyone except for Mr. Weasley, Severus, and Bill snorted into their tea as Crouch had called Percy Weatherby after Percy asked him if he’d like a cup of tea.  All the way up to the pitch, the twins were teasing Percy while Ron continually asked his father about the upcoming event at Hogwarts that the two Ministry officials had been talking about.

“C’mon, Dad, tell me!”

“Ron, you’ll find out soon enough.  Won’t he, Severus?”

Severus looked surprised for a moment then nodded sharply.

“Indeed he will, Arthur.  All of them will.”

Ron looked murderous but calmed down when Niamh threatened to hex him.

“Look!  Omnioculars!”

Niamh dashed up to the cart piled high with brass binoculars covered in odd knobs and dials.

“Ten Galleons each, Miss,” said the saleswizard as Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry followed her.  “One for all of you?”

Three of them nodded while Harry flourished a worn looking set.  The saleswizard peered at them and said, “Those look pretty battered, son.  Sure you don’t want a new pair?”

“Absolutely,” replied Harry, tucking the pair of Omnioculars into his pocket and walking a little ways off.  He waited patiently as Ron bought a miniature Krum and a green rosette that squeaked the names of the Irish players.  The miniature Krum strode across Ron’s hand, scowling at the green rosette and Niamh as she peered at him.

When they finally set towards the pitch again, Ginny asked, “Why didn’t you buy a new pair of Omnioculars, Harry?  That pair you have looks pretty old.”

“They are,” said Harry, pulling out the pair and handing them to the redhead.  She took them gingerly, turning them over and gasped.  Niamh peered over her shoulder then glanced sharply at Harry.  Hermione poked her head over Ginny’s other shoulder and let out a hiss of breath.

“What is it?” asked Ron, shoving the little Krum into his pocket.

Niamh moved back and Ron peered over his sister’s shoulder at the binoculars.  The pair was definitely old, the bronze worn in some places and slightly rusty on one knob.  But you could well see the significance of them.  Inscribed on the underside of one of the tubes was the name Lily Evans.

“They were your mum’s?” said Ginny.

Harry nodded and took the pair of Omnioculars from the younger Slytherin.  “Yeah,” he replied.  “Da said she gave them to him as a birthday present one year.  I still can’t believe that he’s trusting me with them!”

“That’s cause he trusts you,” said Hermione warmly.

“He just about trusts every Slytherin,” remarked Ginny.

“With the exception of Malfoy and his cronies,” Niamh declared in a defiant tone.

“And bloody good of him to,” said Ron.

“COME ON, YOU LOT!  THE GAME’S ABOUT TO START!”

The five of them looked at each other at Fred’s bellow then dashed off to join the group that had begun to walk down the lighted trail to the pitch.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“That’s a bloody big bowl.”

So remarked Niamh as they stood in the shadow of the gigantic, golden walled stadium.

“Took five hundred Ministry workers all year to finish it.  Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it.  They all remember urgent appointments and dash off when they get near,” said Arthur as they headed for one of the entrances.

“Prime seats!  Top Box!” declared the Ministry witch as she checked the Weasley’s tickets.  “Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go.”

Harry watched as the Weasley’s moved on without them upstairs then looked to see his father handing over their three tickets to the witch.

“Alright then, Severus – yes, I remember you – follow Arthur there.  Move along now!”

“Who was that?” asked Niamh as they began to ascend the stairs.

“Amanda Harbrook,” replied Severus.  “Ravenclaw who had a crush on me when we were third years.”

Harry chuckled and said, “She never had a chance.”

“Not in the world,” confirmed Severus, flicking a half-smile at his son.

By the time they got up the stairs, the Weasley’s and Hermione were already situated, so they settled in the row behind them.  Harry was surprised to find himself sitting beside a familiar looking creature…

“Dobby?”

Ron, Hermione, Niamh, and Ginny turned to look as the creature looked up.  Harry instantly knew it wasn’t Dobby because the eyes were brown and a nose the size and shape of a tomato.

“Did sir just call me Dobby?” question the house-elf, its voice higher it pitch than Dobby’s.

“Sorry.  I thought you were someone I knew.”

“But I knows Dobby too, sir!  My name is Winky, sir – an you, sir – you is surely Harry Potter!”

Harry brushed a lock of hair over his scar as a witch a few rows below them turned to stare up at him.

“Yeah, that would be me.”

“Dobby talked of you all the time, sir!  Before he took job at Hogwarts.”

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Niamh all looked at each other then at Harry.  He shrugged at them then turned back to Winky.

“Yes, I know.  He seems quite happy.”

“He said he was – that he wanted pay for work, sir.”

“I know.  S’not a bad thing…”

“But it is, sir!” exclaimed Winky.  “House-elves is not paid!  House-elves does what they is told!  I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter, but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir.”  Here she covered her eyes with her hands.

“Why’d he send you up here if he knows you don’t like heights?” asked Hermione.

Winky peered down at the girl through her fingers and replied, “Master wants me to save him a seat, miss.  Winky is wishing she was back in master’s tent but Winky does what she is told.  Winky is good house-elf.”

With that the tiny house-elf covered her eyes again and shrunk down into her seat.

“So that’s a house-elf?” remarked Ron quietly.  “Weird things.”

Harry leaned forward and replied, “Dobby was weirder.  You should meet him.”

“Guess I will.  He’s at Hogwarts.”

“In the kitchens.”

“How do you know that?”

Harry simply smiled smugly and leaned back in his seat.

“Just do.”

Niamh suddenly said, “So that’s how you got that hot chocolate last year.”

“So it wasn’t welcome?”

“I didn’t say that, goose.”

“I told you I resent being referred to as poultry.”

“Get used to it.”

Harry snorted then leaned over Hermione’s shoulder as she flipped through the program she had picked up.

“What’s it says first?”

“’A display from the team mascots will precede the match’,” she read, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“That’s always worth watching.  Teams bring creatures from their native lands to put on a bit of a show,” said Mr. Weasley.  “What do you think Ireland has this year, Severus?”

“Arthur,” said Severus, leaning forward.  “You know very well that the last National game I went to was over fifteen years ago.”

“Yes, with me and Molly.”

“No, that was the year before – England versus Albania.  The game I’m talking about was the Ireland/Wales game in my seventh year.”

“Ah, we were there, I remember.  Who were you with?”

“Lily Evans.”

“Oh, yes.  You two were still going out then, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Severus rather darkly, ending the conversation with a glance to Harry as he leaned back in his seat and a glare at the staring Weasley children who knew nothing of Harry’s real parentage.  Although everyone but Harry was shocked as none of the other knew that Severus and Lily had dated.

Harry pointedly ignored their looks and watched the other people file into the box.  He was rather shocked when Cornelius Fudge strode up and, reaching over his father and Niamh, shook his hand with enough vigor to knock the arm off.

“Harry Potter!  Pleasure to meet you!”

Niamh scowled at him.  She, Harry, and Mika had been in the Leaky Cauldron and had heard the conversation that had revealed Sirius Black as Harry’s godfather between Fudge, Flitwick, Hagrid, and McGonagall.  Fudge had clearly said that he thought Harry was a troublemaker.  Yet, here he was, shaking his hand and smiling brightly.  Harry hated when people said one thing then acted another.  Despite the fact that Fudge disliked him, he would rather have the man act normal about him than this extremely stupid act.

“Hello, Arthur!” exclaimed the man, stepping down to the first row in the Top Box to shake Arthur’s hand in the same manner that he had shook Harry’s.

“Hello, Cornelius,” said Mr. Weasley, his voice quavering slightly as his arm was tossed up and down.

“This is the Bulgarian minister.  Doesn’t understand a word of English –“ here the minister began to babble excitedly, pointing at Harry’s once again revealed scar “Ah, knew we’d get the point off eventually,” remarked Fudge.  “And here’s Lucius!”

Edging into the three empty seats beside Winky and her empty chair was Lucius Malfoy; his son, Draco; and a woman who was undoubtedly Draco’s mother from her blond hair and the sneer on her face.  Draco sneered at Harry and the taller of the two Slytherins clenched the arm of his chair tightly, fighting not to reach for his wand.  Niamh put her hand over his just to ensure that nothing happened despite the fact that she looked just about as ready to hex Draco as Harry did.

“Ah, Fudge,” said Lucius, reaching over George’s head to shake Fudge’s hand.  “How are you?  I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa?  Or our son, Draco?”

“How do you do, how do you do?  And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk – Obalonsk – Mr. – well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can’t understand a word I’m saying.  Let’s see – you know Arthur Weasley, I’m sure?”

Gray eyes met blue and the day two years ago in Flourish & Blott’s flashed in the minds of everyone who had been there.  Arms tensed as Malfoy’s eyes swept over the first row then up to their own.

“Good lord, Arthur.  What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box?  Surely your house didn’t fetch this much?”

Ron bristled and Hermione laid hold of his arm to keep him from jumping over his chair.

“And Severus…what on earth are you doing sitting here?  Come and sit with us.”

All eyes turned to Severus, who was looked at Malfoy with a stony countenance, jet eyes blank.  He smiled blandly and crossed one leg over the other.

“I’m quite fine where I am, Lucius.  And there are no more seats.”

“We can make room…”

“I’m fine where I am, Lucius,” growled Severus, his eyes flashing from blank to cold as ice.  Malfoy frowned at him for a moment then nodded.

“As you wish, Severus.  But stay a moment after the match…  I want to have a talk with you.”

Severus leaned back in his chair, turning his face away from Malfoy to the pitch as he replied, “Perhaps, Lucius.  Perhaps.”

Malfoy bristled and sat down.  Fudge looked between the two in confusion then moved on up with the Bulgarian minister.

“Everyone ready?  Minister?” asked Ludo Bagman as he charged into the box.

“Ready when you are, Ludo,” replied Fudge.

“Sonorus!  Ladies and gentlemen…welcome!   Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

Spectators screamed and clapped, waving flags that played their national anthem.  The huge blackboard that had been listing ad after ad cleared and showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce…the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

The right-hand stands roared their approval.

“I wonder what they brought,” remarked Mr. Weasley.  He then said loudly, “Ah!  Veela!”

Harry blinked and instantly took the same position as his father had.  He covered his ears and closed his eyes.

When angry roars echoed through the stands and Niamh tugged at his arm, he reopened his eyes to find Ron, Fred, and George all standing up, looking to be about to dive off a springboard.

Harry watched as the veela strode off to one side of the field then reached forward and jerked the twins down into their seats at the same time Hermione and Niamh pulled Ron down.  Harry then reached over and grabbed the green rosette out of Ron’s hand.  The ginger-haired boy had been shredding it.

“You’ll be wanting that,” remarked Mr. Weasley as Ron turned to glare at Harry.  “Especially after the Irish have their say.”

“What?  Why?”

“You’ll see.”

Ron snorted and grabbed the rosette back from Harry, who smirked and pointed skyward.

Everyone in the stadium looked up as a green-and-gold comet zoomed into the stadium.  It did one circuit then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts.  The crowed oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display.  A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light before fading away as the balls of light reunited and merged, forming a great shimmering shamrock in the sky.  It rose up into the sky and then golden rain began to fall…

Harry grabbed a gold coin out of the air as one fell past him and peered at it.  His father growled something that sounded like, “Idiots,” as he watched people scrambling out of their seats after the falling coins.

“Leprechauns!” yelled Ginny suddenly pointing up at the shamrock as it zoomed over them, raining down more coins.  Harry peered up at it and indeed there they were, tiny little bearded men in red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

The shamrock dissolved and the leprechauns drifted down onto the field, settling down onto the side opposite the veela to watch the match.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch team!  I give you – Dimitrov!  Ivanova!  Zograf!  Levski!  Vulchanov!  Volkov!  Aaaaaaaaand – Krum!”

Harry pulled out his mother’s Omnioculars and focused on Victor Krum.  He was dark, thin, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows.  Hard to believe he was only eighteen.

“He looks like an overgrown bird of prey,” muttered Niamh as she peered through her own Omnioculars.

“And now, please greet – the Irish National Quidditch Team!  Presenting – Connolly!  Ryan!  Troy!  Mullet!  Moran!  Quigley!  Aaaaaaaaand – Lynch!”

Harry put the Omnioculars down on his knee as he watched the seven green blurs sweep onto the field.

“And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!”

A small, skinny wizard – bald but with a rather large mustache – strode out onto the field.  His robes were gold to match the stadium and a silver whistle was poking out of his mouth, just visible under the mustache.  He held a very familiar box under one arm that he set on the ground.  One end bucked as he mounted his broom then kicked it open.  The Quaffle soared into the air, the two Bludgers taking off in opposite directions, and the Snitch, which zigzags before spinning away out of sight.  Mostafa blew sharply on his whistle and rose into the air.

“Theeeeeeeeey’re OFF!  And it’s Mullet!  Troy!  Moran!  Dimitrov!  Back to Mullet!  Troy!  Levski!  Moran!”

Now this is Quidditch, thought Harry as he watched the green and red blurs zip up and down the field.  Bagman only had time to call out their names, they threw the Quaffle so fast.  And a few moments later…

“TROY SCORES!  Ten zero to Ireland!”

“What?!” exclaimed Ron, bringing down his Omnioculars.

“If you’re not going to watch at normal speed, you’re going to miss things, Ron!” shouted Hermione, who was dancing up and down with Ginny, as Troy did a lap of honor around the field.  At one side of the field, the leprechauns reformed the giant shamrock.  The veela on the other side watched sulkily.

Harry only used his Omnioculars a few times, perfectly fine to watch the match without him.  It was much easier to watch with eyes unhampered.  And besides that, Harry had much sharper eyes than normal people.

The game suddenly turned more brutal after Ireland scored twice more.  Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers.  They were starting to prevent some of the well-honed teams best moves; twice forcing them to scatter, and then making sure Ivanova broke through their ranks to score Bulgaria’s first goal.

“Fingers in your ears!” roared Severus in such a tone that half the people around them complied as well.  Harry had already been ready, eyes closed, ears stopped.  When he opened his eyes, the veela had stopped dancing and Bulgaria was in possession of the Quaffle.

“Dimitrov!  Levski!  Dimitrov!  Levski!  Ivanova! – oh I say!”

The two Seekers – Krum and Lynch – were diving through the Chasers, so fast that it appeared that they had leapt from airplanes without parachutes.  Harry couldn’t see the Snitch anywhere below them.  In fact…it was on the other side of the pitch by that glint of gold…

“They’re going to crash!” screamed Ginny.

“No!” yelled Harry.  “Lynch is!”

At the last moment Krum pulled out of the dive but Lynch didn’t make it, hitting the ground with a dull thud that could be heard around the stadium.

“Fool!” yelled Mr. Weasley.  “Krum was feinting!

“It’s time-out!  As trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!”

“He’ll be okay.  He only got ploughed.  Which is what Krum was after, of course…” said Charlie to Ginny, who was hanging over the box, which her Omnioculars pressed to her face.

Niamh hit replay and play-by-play on her Omnioculars then looked at Harry.  She waved the binoculars at him and said, “Have a look.  You might want to use it.”

“Against who?” asked Harry.  “Ron’s still Seeker for the Gryff’s.”

“Hufflepuff?”

“Cedric?”

“Okay, Ravenclaw.”

“Now there’s an idea…”

Niamh laughed and waved the Omnioculars again.  Harry waved her off and said, “I’ll look at it later.”

Turning back to the game, Harry saw Lynch mounting his Firebolt and kicking off.  Krum was at the other end of the field, looking for the Snitch if Harry guessed correctly.  The Irish cheered as Mostafa blew his whistle and the Chasers moved into action swiftly.

Fifteen minutes later, Ireland had scored ten more goals.  They were leading one hundred and thirty points to ten know and game play had gotten even dirtier.  Seeing this, you couldn’t think a Gryffindor/Slytherin match was bad.

As Mullet shot toward the goal posts again, clutching the Quaffle under one arm, the Bulgarian Keeper Zograf, flew out to meet her.  Harry didn’t see what happened but he guessed it was a foul from the scream of rage from the Irish and Mostafa’s long, shrill whistle.

“And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing – excessive used of elbows!  And – yes, it’s a penalty for Ireland!”

The leprechauns rose to form the words “HA, HA, HA!” as the veela leapt to their feet, tossing their hair angrily, and began to dance again.

The Weasley’s, Harry, and Severus plugged their ears but soon unplugged them as they saw the referee landing in front of the dancing veela, flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache.

“Now, we can’t have that!  Somebody slap the referee!”

A mediwizard tore across the field, fingers in his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins.  Mostafa seemed to come to himself then began to shout at the veela, who had stopped dancing and her looking mutinous.

“And unless I’m much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!  Now there’s something we haven’t seen before…Oh this could turn nasty…”

The Bulgarian Beaters landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had formed the words “HEE, HEE, HEE.”  Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarian’s arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again.  When they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

“Two penalties for Ireland!  And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms…yes…there they go…and Troy takes the Quaffle…”

Play had become the fiercest anyone had ever seen.  The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air.  Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

“Foul!” came the cry from the Irish.

“Foul!  Dimitrov skins Moran – deliberately flying to collide there – and it’s got to be another penalty – yes, there’s the whistle!”

The leprechauns rose into the air again, forming a giant hand making a very rude sign towards the veela.  Instead of dancing, the veela launched themselves onto the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire.  And now they didn’t look even remotely beautiful…  Their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders –

“And that, boys,” yelled Mr. Weasley over the crowd, “is why you should never go for looks alone!”

“Damn right!” agreed Niamh.

Ministry wizards flooded onto the field to separate the battling veela and leprechauns with little success.  But the battle on the field was nothing compared to the battle being waged in the air.

“Evshi – Dimitrov – Moran – Troy – Mullet – Ivanova – Moran again – Moran – MORAN SCORES!”

The Irish cheers were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts issuing from the Ministry wizards’ wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians.  The game began again immediately; Levski had the Quaffle, then Dimitrov –

The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, hitting it as hard as possible towards Krum, who didn’t duck quickly enough.  The Bludger hit him full it the face, brining a gout of blood and more roars from the Bulgarians.

 The Bulgarians were waving at Mostafa but the referee was presently occupied.  A veela had thrown a handful of fire and set the tail of his broom on fire.

Ron was gesticulating as wildly as the Bulgarians, yelling at Mostafa.  Beside him, Hermione looked murderous and so did Ginny on his other side.

“Time-out, you stupid git!  He can’t play like that, lookit him – ” bellowed Ron.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other around him then both reached up and grabbed onto Ron’s shirt, pulling him down into his seat as hard as he could.  There was a loud thump as he hit his seat and yelled, “Bloody hell!”

“Look at Lynch!” bellowed Harry as the Irish Seeker went into a dive.

“What?” asked Niamh loudly and excitedly, rising anxiously to stand beside Harry.

“He’s seen the Snitch!  He’s seen it!  Look at him go!”

Half the Irish were on their feet, realizing what was going on and cheering loudly…but Krum was on his tail.  How he could see was a mystery; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again –

“They’re going to crash!” screamed Hermione.

“They’re not!” roared Ron and Ginny.

“Lynch is!” yelled Harry and Niamh.

And they were right – Lynch ploughed into the ground for a second time and was stampeded by the angry veela.

“The Snitch, where’s the Snitch?” bellowed Charlie, half rising out of his seat.

Harry and Niamh shouted back, “He’s got it – Krum’s got it – it’s all over!”

Krum, red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard flashed BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn’t seem to realized what had happened.  When they did, the screams from Ireland continually rose higher and higher.

“IRELAND WINS!” shouted Bagman.  “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH – BUT IRELAND WINS – good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”

“What did he catch the Snitch for?” bellowed Ron angrily.  “He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!”

“He knew they were never going to catch up!” shouted Harry back over the noise.  “The Irish Chasers were too good…he wanted to end it on his terms, that’s all…”  Harry then got leapt upon by Niamh and was nearly deafened as she shrieked happily into his ear.

“He was very brave, wasn’t he?” said Hermione as she leaned forward to watch Krum land, a swarm of mediwizards blasting a path through the still battling leprechauns and veela to get to him.  “He looks a terrible mess…”

Harry pulled Niamh’s Omnioculars out of her hand – she was still shrieking happily in his ear and hugging his neck – and managed to focus them on Krum as the girl beside him began to jump up and down happily.  It was also hard to see as the leprechauns kept zooming across the field.  But he could see Krum, who looked surlier than ever and refused to let the mediwizards mop him up.  His team mates were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; away a bit, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold from their mascots.  The veela had retreated to their usual, beautiful selves, looking dispirited and forlorn.

As he pulled the Omnioculars away from his face and wondered idly how long it would take Niamh to stop shrieking in his ear, he heard a voice behind him.

“Vell, ve fought bravely,” said the Bulgarian minister in a gloomy voice.

“You can speak English!” cried a voice that Harry recognized as Fudge.  “And you’ve been letting me mime everything all day!”

“Vell, it vos very funny.”

Harry chortled at that then focused on the task of prying Niamh off of him and stopping her shrieking.

“And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself I brought into the Top Box!”

Harry didn’t have to worry about Niamh actually – a blinding white light lit the Top Box, causing the girl to drop into her seat in surprise.  Harry, squinting, could see two wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge.  The Minister was looking very disgruntled that he’d been using sign language all day for nothing.

“Let’s have a really loud hand for the gallant losers – Bulgaria!” shouted Bagman.

And up the stairs into the box they came.  They filed between the rows of seats and Bagman called out the names of each as they shook hands with their own ministry then with Fudge.  Krum, who was last in line, looked a mess.  He was still holding the Snitch and two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face.  And Harry saw that Krum was less agile on the group than he was in the air.  He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered.  But when his name was announced, the entire stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.  Hermione joined in with such an earsplitting shriek that Ron stared at her until she blushed furiously.

Then came the Irish team.  Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused.  But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd thundered it approval.  Harry clapped his hands despite the fact that they were already numb from that occupation.

At last, the Irish team left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly’s broom, clutching hard about his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, “Quietus.”

“They’ll be talking about this one for years,” he said hoarsely, “a really unexpected twist, that…shame it couldn’t have lasted longer…Ah yes…yes, I owe you…how much?”

Fred and George had scrambled out of their seats and were standing in front of Bagman, hands outstretched.  Harry shook his head in amusement.  Trust the twins to make a bet that actually won them something.

As they walked back to where the Weasley’s tents were set up, Mr. Weasley warned the twins not to let their mother know they’d been gambling.  The twins grinned widely and Niamh whispered to Harry, “’Course they’re not going to let Mrs. Weasley know.  She’d confiscate it.”

Harry laughed at that and Ron said, “Too right.”

“Severus!”

All of them turned to see Lucius Malfoy striding towards them, his gray eyes focusing on the Weasley’s, Hermione, and Niamh with contempt.

“Ah, yes,” said Severus.  “You wanted to talk to me, didn’t you, Lucius?”

“Yes.”

“Could it wait?”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed and he growled, “No, it cannot.”

Severus sighed and turned to Mr. Weasley, saying, “Head on, Arthur.  I’ll be at the tents when I can.”

Mr. Weasley nodded and then Severus walked off with Malfoy.  Harry looked after his father, narrowing his eyes at Malfoy.  From his wrist Hedwig hissed, “Not good.  Not good at all.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Later that night, Harry was awoken by Mr. Weasley shouting into his ear.

“Get up!  Ron – Harry – come one now, get up, this is urgent!”

Harry sat up abruptly as Hedwig hissed something about evil humans and frowned down at Mr. Weasley from where his head was hitting the canvas.

“What’s wrong?” asked the teen as he slid down from the top bunk, catching the sounds of screams and running feet from outside.

“No time,” replied Mr. Weasley.  “Hurry and get outside – NOW!”

Harry did so, running out with Ron on his heels.  Outside he ran into Niamh, Ginny, and Hermione, who were all standing outside their tent staring at the scene before them.

People were fleeing into the woods, the lights of the still going fires barely making them visible in the dark.  They seemed to be running from something – something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.  Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting towards them.  Then came a brilliant green light that illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards was marching across the field, wands pointed skyward.  Their faces were hooded and masked and they were laughing.  Laughing at the four struggling figures being contorted into grotesque shapes above them.  Two of the figures were very small.

Harry’s stomach lurched as more wizards joined the marching group, laughing and pointing at the floating bodies.  Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled, some of the tents catching fire as they were blasted out of the way.  More screams began to rise.

Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and Percy suddenly appeared, sleeves rolled up and wands in hands.

“We’re going to go help the Ministry,” said Mr. Weasley.  “You lot get into the woods and stick together!  I’ll come after you when we’ve sorted this out.”

As they sprinted off, Harry hissed, “Run?  He wants us to run!?”

“Harry, we have to go!” cried Hermione.  “They’re coming closer!”

Harry scowled at the oncoming Death Eaters – for he had a deep-set feeling that that is what they were – and snarled, “Run.  Run from a fight.”

“A fight that’s not ours, Harry!” snapped Niamh, grabbing her friend’s arm and tugging.  “Come on!  Don’t go Gryffindor on me!”

Ron, Hermione, and the nearby twins didn’t have the urge to make any say on that remark.

Harry scowled at Niamh then looked back at the still closer Death Eaters.  Blowing out hard through his nose, he snarled, “Fine,” and walked stiffly towards the woods.  The rest followed him.

Harry turned once to look through the trees at the crowd of wizards.  Ministry wizards were trying to push their way through the crowd to get to the hooded figures in the center.  They looked as though they were afraid to do magic as that might make the four Muggles spinning in the sky fall.

It was dark in the woods and Harry kept getting shoved this way and that by people running by, but he had been in situations like this before.  This panicked crowd was nothing compared to the full-out brawls in the slums.  He simply held tight to Niamh’s hand and ran as she kept urging him to do.  Until he heard Ron yell out suddenly.

“What happened?” asked Niamh as they stopped.

“Ron?  Ron, where are you?” called Hermione before muttering, “Oh this is stupid – lumos!”

Her wand illuminated and the light from it fell over Ron, who was sprawled on the ground.

“Tripped over a tree root,” he grumbled angrily as he got to his feet.

“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” said a drawling voice.

The four of them turned sharply, noting that Ginny, Fred, and George had been lost in the crowd.  But there was Draco Malfoy, standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree and looking utterly relaxed.  His arms were crossed as he watched the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

“Go to hell, Malfoy,” spat Ron.

“Language, Weasley,” said Draco.  “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along?  You wouldn’t want them spotted, now would you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Hermione.

“Their after Muggles,” said Niamh bitterly.  “He means that those bastards out there’ll get us because we’re Muggleborn.”

“Your both witches,” said Harry sharply.

“Have it your way, Potter,” said Draco with a cruel smile.  “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay here.”

“You watch your mouth!” shouted Ron as Harry’s hands clenched convulsively, eyes glittering.  Niamh grabbed his arm and turned him towards her, hissing, “This is NOT the time, Harry!”

Hermione tugged on Ron’s arm to restrain him.  “Nevermind, Ron,” she said.

A bang on the other side of the trees set people to screaming and Draco smirked.

“Scare easily, don’t they?”  He looked at Ron and continued, “I suppose your daddy told you all to hide?  What’s he up to – trying to rescue the Muggles?”

“Where’re your parents?” spat Harry, glaring at the other Slytherin.  “Are they out there wearing masks?”

“You’ll never know,” said Draco with a smile.  “Though I’d daresay that Professor Snape is.  I saw him myself.  Having a grand time he is.”

Niamh paled considerably and dragged Harry off before he would fling himself on Draco.  Eyes flashing, he jerked his arm out of Niamh’s grip and stormed off.  Hermione, Ron, and Niamh followed him, only pausing once to restrain Ron when Draco called out after them.

“Keep that bushy head down, Granger.  And don’t let them see your eyes, O’Feir.”

“Go fuck yourself, Malfoy,” spat Niamh, dragging Ron after Harry.  When they finally caught up with him, he was throwing punches at a tree.  As they approached, he whirled to face them, eyes burning brightly.  Niamh swore she saw his eyes go completely black for a moment but shook it off.

“He’s not out there,” spat Harry savagely.  “Malfoy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  M – Snape’s not out there.”

“We believe you, mate,” said Niamh, echoed by Ron and Hermione’s nods.

Harry let out a breath through his teeth then looked around them.  Nearby, but not close enough to hear, were groups of people, all looking back over shoulders at the campsite.

Ron suddenly spat, “I bet his dad is one of that masked lot.”

Hermione suddenly turned to Harry and asked, “Why would Professor Snape be out there, Harry?  Is there something you haven’t told us?”  Her brown eyes suddenly lit up and she added, “Like what you told me when I told you Neville knew.  You said it was dangerous for anyone to know.”

Ron and Hermione were now watching Harry expectantly, who now looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.  Niamh had also paled considerably then said, “We can talk about this later.  What’s more important is…”

“Où est Madame Maxime?  Nous l’avons perdue – ”

“Eh?”  Niamh turned to face a curly haired girl in pajamas who was standing behind her.

The girls nose wrinkled and she said, “’Ogwarts,” before walking away.

“Beauxbatons,” muttered Hermione and Harry at the same time.

“Eh?” said Niamh again.

“Beauxbatons Academy of Magic,” replied Harry.  “Its in France.”

“Oh…really?” said Ron and Niamh in uninterested tones, causing Harry to glare at them.

“Come on,” said Hermione.  “We need to find Fred, George, and Ginny.”  She held up her illuminated wand and began to walk off, away from the clustered groups of teens and adults.  Ron lit his own hand as Harry pushed up the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt to pull his wand out of its holster, which he had modified to strap to his forearm.  Niamh reached into her jacket for her own and cursed violently.

“What?” hissed the other three, staring at her for her vehemence.

Niamh dropped to her knees and began to run her hands over the dark ground.

“I lost my wand!”

Harry leaned over her, holding his wand high to shed light over the ground.  Ron and Hermione followed his example but after a few minutes of searching, none of them found the length of ebony that was Niamh’s wand.

“It must have fallen out of your pocket when we were running,” said Hermione.

“Yeah.  Dammit, why did I have to lose it now when I really need it?”

Harry gave Niamh’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze then began to walk forward.

“How come you get to lead?” asked Ron.

“Because he’s got better reflexes than the three of us combined and tripled,” replied Niamh, scowling.

“Oh.  Right.”

Harry frowned over his shoulder at them then whirled, pointing his wand at a bush as it rustled.  Winky the house-elf suddenly fought her way out of the bush, going past them in a peculiar fashion, leaning forward as she ran as though something was trying to pull her back.

“There is bad wizards about!  People high – high in the air!  Winky is getting out of the way!”

As she vanished into the trees on the other side of the path, she was still fighting the invisible force that seemed to be restraining her.

“What was that?” asked Ron.

“She probably didn’t asked permission to hide,” replied Harry, looking after the elf and remembering Dobby.  “Every time Dobby tried to tell me something the Malfoy’s wouldn’t like, he had to beat himself up.”

“Hold on.  A house-elf of the Malfoy’s helped you?”

“Yeah.”

“Weird.”

“Y’know,” said Hermione suddenly.  “House-elves get a very raw deal!  It’s slavery, that’s what it is!  That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the stadium, and she was terrified, and he’s got her bewitched so she can’t run when they start trampling tents!  Why doesn’t anyone do something about it?”

“Well, the elves are happy, aren’t they?” asked Ron, earning a fierce glare form Hermione.

“It’s people like you, Ron, who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to – ”

Another loud bang rang out from the edge of the wood.

“Alright, Mister and Misses Let’s-Scream-Our-Heads-Off-At-Each-Other-While-Strange-Cloaked-Figures-Create-Havoc…  Enough!” snapped Niamh.

Harry sighed and said, “Let’s keep moving.”  He caught Ron’s eyes flicking to Hermione and his own moved to hover on Niamh for a moment.  The same feeling that had come onto him when Cedric had kissed Niamh’s hand came upon him and a voice in his head hissed darkly, They try and touch her and I’ll kill them.  Where had that come from?

But it was true.  They had to keep moving.  Niamh and Hermione were in more danger than he and Ron if they got caught.

Moving deeper into the woods, they kept an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny, only pausing once to frown at the group of goblins cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtly won betting on the match.  As they moved past a trio of tall, beautiful veela standing in a clearing, they actually stopped.  The three veela were surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of them talking loudly.

“I pull down about a hundred sacks of Galleons a year!” one shouted.  “I’m a dragon killer for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.”

“No, you’re not!” yelled his friend.  “You’re a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron…but I’m a vampire hunter, I’ve killed about ninety so far – ”

A third young wizard, pimples just visible in the dim light coming from the veela, declared, “I’m about to become the youngest ever Minister of Magic, I am.”

Harry snorted with laughter and Niamh joined him.  But both of them grew louder when Ron suddenly declared, “Did I tell you I’ve invented a broomstick that’ll reach Jupiter?”

“Honestly!” said Hermione, dragging Ron off with Harry and Niamh trailing her, both still laughing.  By the time the sounds of the veela and their admirers had faded away, Harry and Niamh’s laughter had as well.  They were in the heart of the wood now and it was as quiet as Death.

“We could wait here,” said Hermione.  “We’ll hear anyone coming a mile off.”

The words were just out of her mouth when Ludo Bagman appeared from behind a tree right in front of them.

Harry was the only one to extinguish his wand, automatically beginning to mouth to Stunning Charm before he recognized Bagman.  The man no longer looked buoyant and rosy-faced.  In fact, he looked very white and strained.

“Who’s that?  What are you doing in here, all alone?”

“Well,” said Ron, “There’s sort of a riot going on.”

Bagman blinked.

“What?”

“At the campsite…some people have got hold of a family of Muggles…”

“Damn them!” said Bagman, looking distracted then Disapparating with a small pop!

“No on top of things, is he?” asked Niamh.

“He was a great Beater though,” said Ron.  “The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them.”

The ginger-haired boy sat down then, fishing his miniature Krum out of his pocket and sat it down, watching it walk around.  Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered.  Harry watched it for a moment then looked off towards where the campsite was.  He could hear anything now.  Perhaps the riot was over…

“Not so easy,” hissed Hedwig and Harry frowned.

“What does that mean?” he asked the snake, receiving no reply.  Growling something unsavory under his breath, Harry sighed, leaning against a tree.

“I hope the others are okay,” said Hermione suddenly.

“They’re fine,” assured Niamh.

“I just hope my dad catches Lucius Malfoy,” said Ron.  “He’s been trying to get something on him for years.”

“That’d wipe that smirk off Malfoy’s face nicely,” remarked Niamh with a smirk.

“But those poor Muggles.  What if they can’t get them down?”  Hermione looked terrified at the thought.

“They will,” said Ron reassuringly.

“Somebody has to be mad, though, to do something with all the Ministry out here tonight,” said Niamh.

Snap.

A stick cracked somewhere to their right and all of them froze except for Harry, who was stepping away from the tree he had been leaning against, wand held at ready.  The four of them listened as someone staggered toward their clearing then stopped.

“Who’s there?” called Harry, his voice sharp.

No one answered by Harry could sense somebody there, just out of his vision.

“I said, who’s there?”

Without warning, a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood cried out, not in a panicked shout but in a spell.

“MORSMORDRE!”

A vast, green, and glittering thing erupted from a patch of darkness.  Harry aimed and let loose a Stunning Spell in that direction, cursing as he heard whoever it was crashing through the brush.  He’d missed!

“What the…” said Ron.

Harry turned and looked up into the sky.  Above him was a colossal skull, comprised of what appeared to be emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue.  As the four of them watched, it rose higher and higher, etched in the black sky like a constellation.

Harry suddenly went rigid.  He knew that symbol.  That was like the mark on his father’s arm.  The Dark Mark!  Voldemort’s Mark!

The wood about them erupted in screams at the sight of the Mark.  Niamh looked around in confusion but Ron and Hermione did not.  Hermione seized Harry’s arm and said, “Harry, come on, move!  It’s the Dark Mark!  You-Know-Who’s sign!”

“Voldemort??” breathed Niamh, staring up at the symbol.

Harry stumbled as Hermione pulled him then caught his balance.  She released his arm, yelling at Ron – who was scooping up his miniature Krum – before the four of them took off across the clearing.  They only took a few hurried steps when a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, each of them with their wands pointed at the four of them.

“DOWN!” he yelled to his friends, lifting his wand as the other wizards fired.

“STUPEFY!” roared twenty voices while Harry’s one howled, “TEGO TEXI INEXPUGNABILIS!”  A light blue bubble formed around Harry, Niamh, Ron, and Hermione, causing the throw hexes to bounce back at their casters.  The spells were banished and then the twenty wizards approached the bubble.  The wizards lifted their wands again, this time for probably a stronger spell, when a voice cried out.

“Stop!  STOP!  That’s my son!”

Harry turned to see Mr. Weasley running towards them, his own father right behind him, face haggard and drawn.

“Ron – Harry – Hermione – Niamh,” said Mr. Weasley, eyeing them through the shimmering shield.  “Are you all right?”

“Out of the way, Arthur,” said a cold, curt voice.

“Crouch,” growled Severus, “don’t be an idiot.  These children couldn’t have conjured the Dark Mark.”

“No,” snapped Mr. Crouch, glaring at Severus.  “But you could have!”

“Barty!” cried a woman in a long woolen dressing gown.  “Severus was proven Not Guilty of those charges!”

Mr. Crouch growled and pointed at the four teens behind the shield.

“They’re at the scene of the crime!”

“That doesn’t mean they conjured that damned thing!” roared Severus.

“Where did the Mark come from, you four?” asked Mr. Weasley through the shield.

“Over there,” said Niamh, pointing.  “Harry shot a Stunning Spell at them but they got away.  They shouted an incantation…”

“Stood over there, did they?” said Mr. Crouch disbelievingly.  “Said an incantation, did they?  You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy – ”

“Don’t speak to one of my students that way, Crouch,” growled Severus.

“Are you threatening me, Snape?”

“Do you see it as one?”

“Yes!”

“Then no, I’m not.  Now get your damned head out of your ass!”

Niamh cheered silently for her professor while Ron and Hermione gaped in awe at him.  Harry grunted, still trying to hold the shield together, just incase the Ministry wizards got any ideas.  But from the looks on their faces – besides Crouch’s – none of them seemed to believe that he or his friends had conjured the Mark.  As he let the shield spell fall apart, the wizards turned to aim their wands in the direction Niamh had indicated.

“We’re too late,” said the witch in the woolen dressing gown.  “They’ll have Disapparated.

“I don’t think so,” said Amos Diggory.  “The girl said Harry shot off a Stunner at them.  There’s a good chance he got them…”

“Amos, be careful!” yelled a few of the wizards as Mr. Diggory marched forward into the trees, wand held before him.  As he did, Harry swooned suddenly and collapsed.

“HARRY!”

Niamh, Hermione, and Ron scrambled to catch their friend, along with Mr. Weasley.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked one Ministry wizard as they gathered around.

“Boy used a major shielding spell.  Must’ve taken a lot out of him.”

“Severus!  You got any potions with you?”

“What do you think, Harper?  Shove off, you lot, and let me through!”

Severus shoved his way through the crowd and knelt by Harry.  He pulled a small vial from a pouch inside the leather jacket he wore and poured its contents into Harry’s mouth.  The teen jerked then blinked, sitting up slowly.  Niamh helped him to halfway then nearly dropped him with Mr. Diggory shouted.

“Yes!  He got them!  There’s someone here!  Unconscious!  It’s – but – blimey…”

“You’ve got someone?” shouted Mr. Crouch in a disbelieving tone.  “Who?  Who is it?”

There was a snapping of leaves and twigs and then Mr. Diggory reappeared, a tiny, limp figured in his arms.  Hermione gasped.

It was Winky.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet.  The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch, who remained transfixed on the elf at his feet for a few seconds before snapping back.

“This – cannot – be.  No –”

He moved around Mr. Diggory and headed for the spot where Winky had been found.

“No use, Mr. Crouch.  There’s no one else there.”

Mr. Crouch ignored him and they heard him snapping leaves as he walked.

“Bit embarrassing,” said Mr. Diggory.  “Barty Crouch’s house-elf…I mean to say…”

“Come off it, Amos,” said Mr. Weasley, rising from Harry’s side.  “You don’t seriously think it was the elf?  The Dark Mark’s a wizard’s sign.  It requires a wand.”

“Yeah.  And she had a wand.”

“What?”

“Here, look.”  Mr. Diggory held up a dark wand and showed it to Mr. Weasley and the other wizards.  “Had it in her hand.  So that’s clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start.  No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand.”

Suddenly there was another pop, and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley.  He spun on the sport, goggling at the emerald-green skull.

“The Dark Mark!  Who did it?  Did you get them?  Barty?  What’s going on?”

Mr. Crouch had returned, pale and empty handed.

“Where have you been, Barty?  Why weren’t you at the match?  Your elf was saving you a seat too – gulping gargoyles!  What happened to her?”  Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet.

“I have been busy, Ludo.  And my elf has been stunned,” replied Mr. Crouch.

“Stunned?  By you lot, you mean?  But why – ?”

“Not by us,” said Mr. Diggory.  “By Harry there.”  But Bagman didn’t hear him as he finally got it.

“No!  Winky?  Conjure the Dark Mark?  She wouldn’t know how!  She’d need a wand, for a start!”

“And she had one,” said Mr. Diggory.  “I found her holding one, Ludo.  If it’s all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she’s got to say for herself.”

Mr. Crouch said nothing but Mr. Diggory took his silence for assent.  He pointed his own wand and Winky and said, “Ennervate!”

Winky stirred feebly, opening her great brown eyes and blinking.  She lifted herself to a sitting position and caught sight of Mr. Diggory’s feet, lifting her eyes to stare into his face before turning skyward.  She saw the floating skull and broke into terrified sobs.

“Elf!” said Mr. Diggory sternly.  “Do you know who I am?  I’m a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!”

Winky began to rock back and forth on the ground, breath coming in sharp bursts.

“As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while sago.  And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it!  An explanation, if you please!”

“I – I – I is not doing it, sir!  I is not knowing how, sir!”

“You were found with a wand in your hand!” barked Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her.  Niamh and Ron were helping Harry to his feet when Niamh suddenly cried out.

“That’s my wand!”

All eyes turned to her and she stiffened.  Harry lifted his head, his body automatically entering fight or flight mode at the stony looks on their faces.  His arm tightened around Niamh’s shoulders while his other patted the shaking Ron’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Excuse me?” said Mr. Diggory, eying her coldly.

“I said, that’s my wand.  I dropped it.”

“You dropped it?  Is this a confession?  You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?”

“She didn’t!” cried Harry.

“And how do you know that…Slytherin?”  This was from a grizzled old wizard, who had spotted the Slytherin crest Niamh had sewn on Harry’s dark green sweater.  Several wizards around them narrowed their eyes at him.

“Because – she was with me.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you?” spat the grizzled wizard.

Ron suddenly snapped, “Well, if you don’t believe a Slytherin, will you believe a Gryffindor?  Niamh was with us the whole time.”

The grizzled wizard grumbled something and Niamh scowled at him and Mr. Diggory.

“I didn’t drop it there, anyway,” she said.  “It was just after we’d entered the wood.”

“So,” said Mr. Diggory, turning back to Winky.  “You found this wand, eh, elf?  And you picked it up and thought you’d have some fun with it, did you?”

“I is not doing magic with it, sir!  I is…I is…I is picking it up, sir!  I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not know how!”

“It wasn’t her!  Winky’s got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was deeper!”  Hermione looked at Harry, Ron, and Niamh, who all nodded.

“It was a human voice,” said Harry.

“Well, we’ll soon see.  There’s a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?”

Winky trembled and shook her head as Mr. Diggory placed the tip of his wand against Niamh’s.

“Prior Incantato!”

A gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from where the two wands met but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them.

“Deletrius!”

The skull vanished in a wisp of smoke and Mr. Diggory turned on the quivering Winky.

“I is not doing it!  I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how!  I is a good elf, I isn’t using wands, I isn’t know how!”

“You’ve been caught red-handed, elf!  Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!”

“Amos, think about it…precious few wizards know how to do that spell…Where would she have learned it?” said Mr. Weasley.

“Perhaps Amos is suggesting that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?”  Mr. Crouch glared at Mr. Diggory, who looked flabbergasted.

“Mr. Crouch…not…not at all…”

“You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure the Mark!  Myself and a girl.”

“A girl who’s the friend of Harry Potter, no less,” muttered a wizard.

Harry groaned as all eyes fastened on his forehead and fully visible scar.

“I correct myself.  Myself and a girl who is friend with Harry Potter himself.  Surely you know his story?”

“Of course – everyone knows – ”

“And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?”

“Mr. Crouch I – I never suggested you had anything to do with it!”

“If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!  Where else would she have learned to conjure it?”

“She – she might’ve pick it up anywhere – ”

“Precisely, Amos.  She might have picked it up anywhere…Winky?  Where exactly did you the girl’s wand?”

“I – I is find it…finding it there, sir…there…in the trees, sir…”

“You see, Amos?  Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they’d done it, leaving the girl’s wand behind.  A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them.  And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up.”

“But then, she’d have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!  Elf?  Did you see anyone?”

Winky began to tremble.

“I is seeing no one, sir…no one…”

“Amos, I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning.  I ask you, however, to allow me to real with her.  You may rest assured that she will be punished.”

“M-m-master…  M-m-master, p-p-please…”

Mr. Crouch ignored the elf pointedly.

“Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possibly.  I told her to remain in the tent.  I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble.  And I find that she disobeyed me.  This means clothes.”

“No!  No, master!  Not clothes, not clothes!”

“What’s the significance of clothes?” asked Niamh, tilting her head back as Winky sobbed.

“When a house-elf is given clothes by their master, they’re set free.  In Dobby’s case, that’s a good thing.  In Winky’s…”  Harry trailed off, his eyes settling on the sobbing elf.  “It’s probably not going to be for the best.

“But she was frightened!” cried Hermione.  “Your elf’s scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people!  You can’t blame her for wanting to get out of their way!”

Mr. Crouch stepped back from Winky, who’s sobbing had become louder.

“I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me.  I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master’s reputation.”

There was a moment of stunned silence where Mr. Crouch and Hermione battled gazes.  But that was broken when Mr. Weasley suddenly said, “Well, I think I’ll take my lot back to the ten, if nobody’s got any objections.  Amos, that wand’s told us all it can – if Niamh could have it back, please – ”

Mr. Diggory handed Niamh her wand and she pocketed it, not relinquishing her grip on Harry.

“Come on, you four.  Severus, would you mind going to see if the boy’s are back at the tent?”

“Of course, Arthur.  Good night, ladies, gentlemen.”  With that he strode off, looking up once at the shimmering green skull.

“Hermione!”

Hermione was looking at Winky but turned away at Mr. Weasley’s bark.  As they left the clearing, she asked, “What’s going to happen to Winky?”

“I don’t know.”

“The way they were treating her!  Mr. Diggory, calling her ‘elf’ all the time…and Mr. crouch!  He knows she didn’t do it and he’s still going to sack her!  He didn’t care how frightened she’d been, or how upset she was – it was like she wasn’t even human!”

“Well, she’s not,” said Ron, shifting Harry’s arm across his shoulder as the other boy grumbled, “I can stand perfectly fine, thank you two.”

“That doesn’t mean she hasn’t got feelings, Ron!”

“Hermione,” said Mr. Weasley, “I agree with you, but now if not the time to discuss elf rights.  I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can.  Severus may get there and find the others not there.”

“We lost them in the dark,” said Harry, pulling himself away from Niamh and Ron.  He nearly fell but caught himself and scowled at them as they tried to grab him again.  “For Slytherin’s sake, I’m not dying!”

“Dad,” said Ron, moving a few paces away from the fuming Harry. “Why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?”

Mr. Weasley started to reply but Harry got there first.

“It was Voldemort’s symbol when he was in power.  People feared it because every time it was seen over a house or village or anything, that meant his Death Eater’s had struck and everyone inside was dead.”

Mr. Weasley stared at him for a moment then said, “You’re absolutely right, Harry.  How’d you know that?”

“Book.”

“Ah.  Hold on, hold on – one person at a time, please!”

As they emerged from the wood, a crowd of frightened witches and wizards converged on them, all yelling questions at Mr. Weasley.

“Wha’ts going on in there?”

“Who conjured it?”

“Arthur – it’s not – Him?”

“Of course it’s not Him,” said Mr. Weasley in a sharp tone.  “We don’t know who it was; it look like they Disapparated.  Now excuse me, please, I want to get to bed.”

The five of them moved through the crowd and back to the campsite.  There was no sign of the masked wizards but a few tents were still smoking.

Charlie’s head was poking out of the boy’s tent.

“Dad, what’s going on?  Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others…”

“I’ve got them here.”

“Well, Professor Snape came charging down the hill looking ready to murder somebody.  He also looked hurt but wouldn’t let me do anything to it before he took off again.  Said he was going to have a chat with someone.”

“Did he say who?”

“No, he didn’t.  Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s alright.  Is everyone inside?”

“Yep.”

They entered the tent and saw everyone except for Severus there.  Bill was holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding, while Percy was sporting a bloody nose but none of the others were hurt – shaken but unhurt.  Aside from the fact that Charlie had a rip in his shirt.

“Did you get them, Dad?” asked Bill.  “The person who conjured the Mark?”

“No.  We found Barty Crouch’s elf holding Niamh’s wand, but we’re none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark.

“What?” cried Bill, Charlie, and Percy.

“Niamh’s wand?”

“Mr. Crouch’s elf?” gasped Percy.

Mr. Weasley, Harry, Ron, Niamh, and Hermione told the entire story and at the end Percy swelled indignantly.

“Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!  Running away when he’d expressly told her not to…embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry…how would that have looked, if she’d been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control – ”

“She didn’t do anything – she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!” snapped Hermione at Percy.

“Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch’s position can’t afford a house-elf who’s going to run amok with a wand!”

“She didn’t run amok!  She just picked it up off the ground!”

“Can someone explain what that skull was?” asked Ginny.  “Why’s it such a big deal?”

“Like I told Harry and Ron, its You-Know-Who’s symbol.  I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.  And Harry seems to know a good deal about it.”  Hermione eyed Harry, who was staring stonily ahead.

“And it hasn’t been seen for thirteen years,” said Mr. Weasley.  “Of course people panicked.  It was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again.”

“It’s still just a shape in the sky,” said Ginny.

“Gin, Voldemort (everyone at the table winced beside Niamh) – sorry – You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Mark into the air wherever they killed.”  Harry shook his head and said, “From all I’ve read about it in what I could actually find on the time, it was horrible.  People didn’t know who to trust anymore.  They kept seeing Death Eaters everywhere.  And if they were to come home with the Dark Mark over their house?  That must’ve been the worst…”  Mr. Weasley nodded slowly as Harry spoke.

“Death Eaters?”

“That’s what You-Know-Who’s supporters called themselves,” explained Bill.  “I think we saw what’s left of them tonight – the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway.”

“We can’t prove it was them, Bill.”  Mr. Weasley added hopelessly, “Though it probably was.”

“I bet it was!  We met Draco Malfoy in the woods and he good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks!  And we all know the Malfoy’s were right in with You-Know-Who.”

“Why did the Death Eaters run when they saw the Mark?” asked Ginny.

Mr. Weasley shrugged.

“Well,” said Bill, “if they were really Death Eaters, they worked very hard to stay out of Azkaban after You-Know-Who fell.  They told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people.  They’d probably be even more frightened than us to see him come back.  He probably wouldn’t be very happy with them.”

“So…whoever conjured the Dark Mark was showing support for the Death Eaters?  Or were they doing it to scare them away?”

Mr. Weasley sighed.  “Your guess is as good as mine, Hermione.  But, I’ll tell you this – only Death Eaters know how to conjure it.  I’d be very surprised if the person who did it hadn’t been a Death Eater once, even if they’re not now…”

Niamh looked sharply at Harry at that but he kept his eyes away from hers.

“Now, it’s very late, and if your mother hears what’s happened she’ll be worried sick.  We’ll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early portkey out of here.  Harry, Niamh…let’s just hope Severus gets back soon.”

Harry climbed back into his bunk, wide-awake and worried.  Last night he had dreamed about Voldemort and now his Mark had appeared in the air again.  Now his father had disappeared to Merlin knows where and Niamh suddenly – if Harry judged the look she’d given him right – thought that his father had conjured the Mark.

And where the hell was Jardin?

Harry woke up in the early morning as something landed with a heavy flapping on his chest.  Eyes snapping open and hand reaching for his wand, he propped himself up on his elbow and scowled at the drenched raven perching on his ribcage.  He opened his mouth to berate the bird but after a loud snore from Ron, decided against it.

Where.  Have.  You.  Been?

Jardin fluffed his feathers, shaking off water onto his bond, then replied in a sullen mental tone, < Flying.  I have to fly all the way from Snapeshire.  IN THE RAIN.  It’s not all roses and daises, y’know. >

Yeah.  Well, you missed everything.

< I don’t care about Quidditch, > snapped Jardin, bending his head to run his beak through the inner feathers on an extended wing.  He then blinked and turned his pale eyes on Harry.  < But you weren’t talking about Quidditch, were you? >

Harry rolled his eyes and replied, Hardly.  He quickly went over what had happened earlier, not missing telling the raven anything.  When he was done, Jardin looked very worried – as worried as a raven can look that is.

< Death Eaters, you say.  Come back when their master is still as spirity and non-existent as he was when you met him two years ago. >

One, if you count second year.

< Good point.  But why would they risk it? >

Because they knew people would flee in terror? Questioned Harry.

Jardin fluffed his feathers again and set to preening a wing before he answered.

< Another good point.  So you did look into the Dark Years like I suggested. >

But I didn’t find much more beyond what you’d already told me.  There’s not much info on those years really.  And what there is really isn’t what I was looking for.

< What were you looked for? > questioned Jardin.  < A way to destroy Voldemort? >

Harry was silent.

Jardin closed his wings an turned pale, worried eyes on his bond’s face as he hopped down to the mattress.

< You were, weren’t you?  Surely if there was one, someone would have gone through with it by now. >

Harry sighed and rolled over onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms.

I’m just worried, Jar, thought the teen.  Worried that Voldemort might somehow return with all his powers intact and…  He stopped.

< And take Severus away from you, > said Jardin, taking a step closer to his bond.

Harry nodded slightly and closed his eyes.

I don’t want to lose him, Jar.

< And you won’t.  He’s like a snake, that man.  He had the same street sense as you do, so he knows when its time to get out of a room or a situation. >  Jardin sidled up against Harry’s shoulder, spreading a wing over the teen’s back and laying his head against the teen’s neck.  < Don’t you worry now, my dear dominus. >

Harry lifted his head and tilted it so his cheek was resting against the raven’s still damp but warm feathers.  Jardin let out a deep sigh as he sensed his bond’s swirling emotions slow down and settle.

You still haven’t told me what that word means, mumbled Harry in a sleepy mental voice.

< Lord or master, > replied Jardin.  Sensing Harry’s surprise and slight distaste, he continued, < Like it or not, that is what you are.  My dear lord and master.  And I shall do anything to make sure you remain as such until such time as you are to leave me. >

Harry chuckled softly as Ron snored below him.

I know I’m safe with you, Jar.  And thanks for that rather morbid thought, too.

Jardin laughed and settled down against Harry’s shoulder, tucking his head under a wing.

< And I shall be here for you when all others are not.  Always. >

“Me too,” hissing Hedwig sleepily as she slithered across the pillow to wind her surprisingly warm coils about Harry’s hand.

The teen was filled with warmth at these remarks from two creatures he loved.  As he laid his head down on his arms, a warm presence, a sense of someone else filled him as he slipped into sleep.

In the girl’s tent, Niamh rolled onto her side, a small smile twitching at her lips as her mind unconsciously reached out to soothe the troubled presence of her best friend with a gift she was ignorant of.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

In the morning, Mr. Weasley came to Harry and Niamh with a note.  It had apparently been left pinned to one of the tents in the night.

Harry peered at his name scrawled on the front in his father’s familiar hand then ripped it open, pulling out the letter into the envelope.  It read as such:

Harry,

Lucius insisted I march with them last night.  Yes, he is a Death Eater and young Draco is well set to follow in his footsteps.  But do not worry.  I refused Lucius’ request, though it may have cost me my connections with those Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban with their lies.

I fear now that Lucius will have his eye on me and cast someone near our home to watch me.  It is no longer safe for you or Niamh to be there.  Should the Death Eaters find out you are my son…the consequences would be immense.  And I will not allow you to be put in that kind of danger.

Go to the Burrow with Arthur.  You things will be brought there by Marly soon.

I’ll see you again at Hogwarts.

Your father

And don’t allow those twins to get you in trouble with only a week left before term starts!

“Worried, is he?” said Niamh as she read the letter over her friend’s shoulder.

Harry frowned up at her from where he had taken a seat on the ground and growled, “And you seemed awful worried last night that he had been one of those marchers.”

Niamh flinched, cheeks flushing pink.

“I’m sorry, mate.  I should have known better having spent all summer with him and you.”

“Yeah,” said Harry in a slightly bitter tone.  “You should have.”  He sent her a hurt look as he added, “I thought you’d know better, Ni.”

Niamh looked abashed, ducking her head and mumbling, “I know.  I couldn’t help but think it.  But only for a minute, mate, I swear.”

Harry frowned up at her for a moment then pulled himself up and gave her a quick hug.

“S’human nature to think something like that, Ni.  Now come on.  Let’s go tell everyone the news.”

Niamh grinned and grabbed his hand as both of them ran to find Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

“To Hogwarts we go.  To Hogwarts we go!  Hi-ho, the dereooo – to Hogwarts we go!”

“Stop that silly racket, you infernal human.”

Harry laughed at Hedwig’s remark, causing those around him to blink at him.

“What’s so funny, Harry?” asked Fred.

Harry – still laughing – pointed at his wrist then at the happily skipping Niamh.  The twins and Ron frowned but Ginny and Hermione grinned.

“What’d Hedwig say?” asked Ginny, nudging Harry in the side.

Jardin chortled and cried, < ‘Stop that silly racket, you infernal human’! >

“I heard that, Jardin!” yelled Niamh over her shoulder, causing everyone behind her to burst out laughing.  They only laughed more when she turned around and asked, “What’s so funny?”  When no one answered her, she scowled at them then vanished through the wall hiding Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

Harry, still chuckling madly, followed quickly, catching an arm about her shoulders and pulling her close.

“Come on, Ni.  Don’t be like that.”

“Well, what was so funny?”

“You.  And Hed.  Hed mostly.”

Niamh nodded slowly and said even slower, “I see.”

Harry chuckled and, placing a Levitation Charm on his trunk, stacked it on top of Niamh’s.  Then, placing the same charm on both trunks, he steered them onto the luggage car as he steered Niamh towards one of the passenger cars.

They found an unoccupied cab and settled there, waiting.  Soon enough, Ron and Hermione appeared, Ginny, in tow.  The two Gryffindors sat on the other side of the car as Ginny plunked herself down besides Niamh.

The dark-haired girl grinned at her friends then broke into song again.

“To Hogwarts we go!  To – ”

Hermione mercily put an end to that quickly by placing a Silencing Charm on Niamh, who sat sullenly in her seat until Harry and Ginny began to tickle her, whereupon she fell out of her seat onto the floor, causing more laughter.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

< It’s raining.  Again. >

Jardin sat sullenly in Harry’s arms, feathers fluffed up and eyes closed to slits.  Harry watched rain pour off the brim of his hat in rivulets and said to the raven, Well, at least its not sleet.

< Shut up. >

“Hey, at least you’ve got some cover,” complained Niamh.  Water ran down her cheeks and into her eyes and her short, dark hair was plastered to her skull.  “I don’t even have a hat.”

“Serves you right for trying to charm it to catch alight when placed on Malfoy’s head,” said Ginny.

“I was trying to figure out how to charm his hat to do that.  I didn’t know I’d burn mine in the process!”

“Oh stop complaining, the lot of you,” scolded Hermione.  A muffled meow came from her cloak and Crookshanks poked out his flattened face to look hungrily at Jardin.  The raven fluffed his feathers again and glared at the cat.

< I am not your next meal, fuzz ball, so don’t get any thoughts. >

Harry rolled his eyes as Niamh waved at the massive shape of Hagrid through the rain.  Ron grumbled something, holding Pigwidgeon’s still robe-covered cage out in front of him as he headed for one of the carriages.  As they scrambled inside, Neville dashed by them, looking even more soaked than they were.

“Trevor!”

Harry, being the last one to get in, handed Jardin over to Niamh, then looked down to see a toad trying to hop up his leg.  He picked up the creature then called out to its owner.

“Oy, Neville!  Here his is!”

Neville turned and ran back to Harry, grinning brightly as he took the toad.

“Thanks, Harry.  I can’t see him in this muck.”

“Your welcome, Nev.  C’mon.  You can ride with us.”

Neville peered beyond Harry at the crowd in the carriage.

“Er…you think we’ll all fit?”

“Sure!  You should be more worried about if the carriage can carry us all in this mess than if we’ll all fit.”  As Neville looked alarmed, he laughed.  “I’m kidding.  Now, get on.  It’s colder than a bloody block of ice out here.”

Neville nodded and scrambled into the carriage, followed by Harry.  As soon as he was inside, the door snapped shut, and the carried jolted forward.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

As soon as their carriage stopped before the stone steps that led up to the massive oak front doors, the six human occupants of the carriage gathered up their various animals and dashed up the steps, only looking up when they’d reached the cavernous warmth of the entrance hall.

“If this keeps up, the lake’s going to overflow,” remarked Niamh.

“Yeah” said Ron.  “And I’m soak – ARRGH!”

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron’s head and exploded.  Sputtering, Ron staggered into Niamh just as a second balloon dropped – this one exploding at Harry’s feet and causing a wave of chilling water to run over his sneakers into his socks.  Around them, other students shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire.  Harry scanned the room, then looked up and saw Peeves the Poltergeist hovering twenty feet above them.  The little man grinned maliciously as he took aim again.  Harry’s eyes narrowed as Niamh growled under her breath, “I should have known…”

“PEEVES!  Peeves, come down here at ONCE!”

Professor McGonagall dashed out of the Great Hall and skidded, nearly decapitating Hermione as she grabbed the girl about the neck to regain her balance.  Crookshanks issued a complaint and hissed at the professor.

“Ouch – sorry, Miss Granger - ”

“That’s all right, Professor!”

“Wish she’d fallen right on her ass,” hissed Niamh to Harry.  “That’d’ve set her right.”

“I doubt that,” remarked Harry, fingering his wand in its holster strapped to his forearm and eyes Peeves.  “Say, what do you think of summoning up the Baron?”

“Hmmm.  Nah, let’s leave Peeves for McGonagall to deal with.”

“Right-o.”

“Peeves, get down here NOW!”

Peeves shook his head and cackled, “Not doing nothing!  Already wet, aren’t they?  Little squirts!  Wheeeeeeeee!”  He lobbed another balloon at a group of second years who’d just dashed in.  Harry drew his wand and stopped the balloon before it hit the younger students.  He then took aim…

“I shall call the headmaster!  I’m warning you, Peeves - ”

A water balloon suddenly struck McGonagall in the back of the head and she whirled to glare at the students still standing about as Peeves threw the last of his water bombs at her then flew off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

Hermione eyed Harry while the teen looked about innocently, avoiding McGonagall’s gaze by quickly walking into the Great Hall and heading for the Slytherin table.  Niamh and Ginny followed, quickly saying goodbye to Hermione and Ron as they headed for the Gryffindor table.

The three Slytherins were apparently having bad luck being as they ended up with Draco sitting right across from them.

“Well, well,” drawled the blond.  “Back again, are we?”

Harry pointedly ignored him and set to emptying his sneakers.  Deliberately doing it over Draco’s under the table.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

“TEN POINTS FOR LANGUAGE, MR. MALFOY!” bellowed Sprout as she entered the Hall, looking like she’d come in from the greenhouses the way she was soaked.  Draco scowled at Harry as the other Slytherin put his sneakers back on and the other Slyth’s glared down at him.

“You’ll pay for that, Potter.”

“I haven’t the foggiest of what you are talking about, Malfoy.”

“Say, where’s the Dark Arts professor?” asked Niamh, nodding at the other empty chair at the Head Table besides McGonagall’s empty one of the left side of Dumbledore.

“Well,” said Ginny. “We know they got someone.”

“How do you know that, Weasel?” sneered Draco.

Ginny glared at him and replied, “Because its Mika’s father.”

“Oh, joy.  An Auror.  Won’t we learn so much?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” spat Niamh as the soaked first years filed in.  Harry noted that the smallest one of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, was wrapped in Hagrid’s moleskin overcoat.  His jaw dropped when he saw the boy catch eyes with Colin Creevey at the Gryffindor table and give him a thumbs up as he mouthed what looked like I fell in the lake!

“Please don’t tell me that’s another Creevey,” groaned Harry.

“What?” said Niamh.

“Nothing,” mumbled Harry, watching as the Sorting Hat twitched and opened the tear near its brim.

“A thousand years or more ago,

When I was newly sewn,

There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still well known:

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,

They hatched a daring plan

To educate young sorcerers

Thus Hogwarts School began.

Now each of these four founders

Formed their own house, for each

Did value different virtues

In the ones they had to teach.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest;

For Ravenclaw, the cleverest

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

And power-hungry Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

While still alive they did divide

Their favorites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones

When they were dead and gone?

‘Twas Gryffindor who found the way,

He whipped me off his head

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead!

Now slip me snug about your ears,

I’ve never yet been wrong,

I’ll have a look inside your mind

And tell where you belong!”

Applause followed the hat’s song and Harry looked at Ginny as the girl said, “That’s not the song it sang when it Sorted me.”

“Sings a different one, every year,” said Harry.  “Hope she goes fast.”

“When I call out your name, you will pit on the hat and sit on the stool.  When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

“Ackerley, Stewart!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Baddock, Malcolm!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

Harry, Niamh, and Ginny applauded as Baddock walked over to join them.

“Branstone, Eleanor!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Cauldwell, Owen!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Creevey, Dennis!”

Harry groaned and let his head hit the table.  “Not another one!”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“At least he’s not with us,” said Niamh.

“How true,” remarked Ginny, shaking her head sadly as Hagrid sidled into the Hall through one of the door’s behind the teacher’s table.

“Dobbs, Emma!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

And it went onnnnn…

“Madley, Laura!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“McDonald, Natalie!”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Pritchard, Graham!”

“SLYTHERINS!”

“Quirke, Orla!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Whitby, Kevin!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

As McGonagall carried away the hat and stool, Dumbledore stood.

“I have only two words to say to you.  Tuck in.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Ron loudly from the Gryffindor table as the empty dishes filled themselves.

“Mu’ be’er,” said Niamh as she piled her plate high.

“You eat like a pig, O’Feir,” remarked Draco.

“And you eat like stork, Malfoy.”

Harry sighed and shook his head.  As long as they didn’t kill each other and Malfoy made no remarks that pissed him off, he could tolerate the other Slytherin’s presence.  Almost.

Clang.

Harry and Ginny peered over at the Gryffindor table to see Hermione turn pale and gape at Nearly Headless Nick.  She said something but neither of them could tell what it was.

“What do you thinks going on?” asked Ginny as she shoveled a mound of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

“No idea,” replied Harry.  “But we’ll probably be hearing about it soon enough.”  He then turned back to his plate and dug in.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“So!” said Dumbledore after everyone was done eating.  “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.”

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle had this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-Yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs.  The full lists comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”

“Like anyone will,” remarked Niamh quietly.

“As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.”

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

“WHAT?!” shrieked Niamh at the same time as Fred and George.  Harry looked at Dumbledore in surprise as Niamh went on to rant, “And this was my year!  I was gonna be Chaser this year!”

“This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely.  I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts – ”

Before he could finish, the doors of the Great Hall banged open and a man shrouded in a black traveling cloak entered.  Every head turned towards him as a fork of sudden lightning illuminated the Hall.  He threw back his hood, shook back a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up towards the Head Table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step.  He reached the end of the top table, turned, and limped heavily towards Dumbledore.  Another flash of lightning made half the Hall gasp.

The flash threw the man’s face into sharp relief.  The face looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces were supposed to look like and had been none too skilled with a chisel.  Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred, the mouth was a diagonal gash, and there was a large chunk missing from the nose.

Then there were the eyes.

One eyes was small, dark, and beady, whilst the other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue.  The blue eye roved endlessly, without blinking, seemingly quite independent of the other eye.

The man reached Dumbledore and reached out with a hand as scarred as his face.  The two exchanged words no one could hear before Dumbledore gestured at the empty seat at the end of the table.  As the man turned, his eyes lit on Snape, who stiffened and scowled.  They both glared at each other for a few moments before the man limped down to the end of the table, sat heavily down, and continued to scowl down at Snape, who was now pointedly ignoring him.

While most of everyone was staring in fear at the man, Niamh and Harry were staring in shock.  They looked at each other and instantly the same thought passed through their minds just as Dumbledore spoke again.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers?  Professor Moody.”

Niamh fell out of her chair and Ginny’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.  She gasped, “Mika’s.  Dad.  Is.  Moody?”

“Davids?” spat Draco, earning a sharp glare from Harry.

“Moody,” breathed Niamh as she climbed back into her chair.  “The Mad-Eye Moody.  The bloody Auror himself.  Teaching us.  US!  Bloody hell.  And Mik’s da?  Sheesh.  Whatta twist, aye, Harry?”

Harry nodded slightly then listened as Dumbledore began to speak again.

“As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century.  It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” exclaimed Fred loudly.

Nearly everyone in the Hall laughed, breaking the tense silence that had fallen after Moody had entered.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley.  Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…”

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

“Er – but maybe this is not the time…no…where was I?  Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.”

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.  A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks.  The schools took it in turns to host the tournament every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nations – until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which has been very successful.  However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt.  We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.”

“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween.  An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year.  Only students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen years or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration.  This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them.  I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.  I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself you are under seventeen.”

“Fred and George are going for it,” said Ginny, looking at her brothers.

“Let’s just hope they don’t kill anyone,” remarked Niamh.

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year.  I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give you whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected.  And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning.  Bedtime!  Chop chop!”

Harry, Niamh, and Ginny rose and left, meeting up with Ron, Hermione, and a plotting pair of twins when they got reached the door.  Niamh and Ginny shook their heads at their planning while Hermione went through the ways it wouldn’t work.

They all said goodnight as they reached the point where the three Slytherins had to separate from the group.  The twins were still plotting how to get past the judge when Harry and Niamh helped a suddenly very tired Ginny to her feet.

“Sorry…” mumbled the younger girl as Harry nearly bent double to get her arm about his shoulder.

“S’alright, Gin,” said Harry.  “Your tired.  Now look, this isn’t going to work.  Ni, you let her go and I’ll carry her.”

Niamh let go and Harry swept the ginger-haired girl up into his arms, striding down to the dungeons with Niamh behind him.  They were one of the first few in the common room, so there was no one to say anything about Harry carrying Ginny into her dorm.  He quickly laid her on her bed, said goodnight to both girls, then quickly left.  Niamh stayed long enough to take off the younger girl’s shoes and cover her before she retreated to her own dormitory and the warm bed awaiting her.

“What’s first?” asked Niamh as she plunked herself down next to Harry at breakfast the next morning, snagging a piece of toast that was teetering on the edge of his plate.

“Divination, followed by Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryff’s,” replied Harry, schedule in one hand and a goblet of pumpkin juice in the other.  “Double Potions in the afternoon.  Alone for once.”

“Wish we had Moody today.  I’d like to see what Mik’s dad can throw out.”

“I can tell you that at lunch,” said Ginny as she sat down across from them.  “I’ve got him second.”

“Cool.  So, Harry, how do you think Trelawney will predict your death this year?”  Niamh grinned at her friend, who scowled in response.

“I couldn’t say.  I just wished I’d dropped it like Mione.”

“Hermione dropped Divination?” gasped Ginny, dropping the piece of toast she’d picked up.

Niamh looked delighted.

“Oh, you were never told?  It was amazing – not that I saw it, but I heard loads about it.  Apparently Hermione walked right out on Trelawney.”

Ginny’s eyes widened.  “Hermione?”

“Yep,” said Niamh proudly, nodding.  “I like to think it’s our good influence.”

“Others would say it’s our bad influence,” said Harry.

“But they don’t have the pleasure of our company, now do they?” asked Niamh with a grin, causing Harry to laugh.

He said, “Too true, Ni, too true.  Speaking of the horrors of the misty tower, let’s get going.  We’ll have to go the long route.  Rowena’s been refusing to let me through he portrait since the twins found the tunnel and almost set her on fire.”

“Ouch.  Remember to tell us about Moody’s class, Gin,” said Niamh as she and Harry rose.

“I will.”

Niamh grinned at her then they headed for Trelawney’s tower.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Well… if that wasn’t the most idiocy I’ve ever heard, I’m Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Harry looked down at the girl beside him and reached up to ruffle her dark hair.  “You’d look good as a blond,” he said in a teasing tone.

“Shut up, you prat.”

“Bint.”

“Git.”

“Prat.”

“Jerk.”

“Idiot.”

“Prat.”

“Are we repeating ourselves now?”

“Ass.”

“Jackass.”

“Fool.”

“Idiot fool.”

“Dummy.”

“Bint.”

“Now you’re repeating yourself.”

“Makes us even, doesn’t it?”

Niamh snorted then said, “Hey, there’s Ron and Hermione.  Ron!  Mione!”

“Hey, you two,” said Ron.

“Where’d you guys come from?” asked Niamh.

“Herbology.  You get to squeeze…what was it?”

“Bubotuber pus,” said Hermione, frowning at Ron.

“Isn’t that a cure for acne?” asked Harry.

“Yes.”

“What do we do in Divination?  I have it double after lunch.”

Niamh blanched at Ron’s words.

“Poor you.  We’ve got charts trying to locate the position of the planet’s at our birth.  Harry got two Neptune’s.”

“Which is impossible,” said Harry.

“Ahhh,” said Ron, lifting a hand and taking on a misty tone, “when two Neptune’s appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a Parselmouth shall be born…”

Niamh chuckled while Hermione cried, “You shouldn’t joke about that, Ron!”

“S’alright, Herm,” said Harry.  “After all…Ni got four Venus’ on hers.”

Ron continued in his misty tone, “When four Venus’ appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a Lady called Hex shall be born…”

“Shut up, you,” growled Niamh and gave Ron a shove out onto the grounds.  “We’ve got Hagrid with you guys again.”

“Don’t they just love to keep pairing our Houses together?”

“What?” said Harry with a wry grin.  “Don’t like our company?  I’m hurt.”

“Oh, nothing wrong with you guys.  It’s Malfoy I could lose.”

“Couldn’t we all,” sighed Niamh.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Later at dinner, the four of them met up again, joined by Ginny, and stood in the line of people trying to get into the Hall.  They had just joined the line when a familiar voice rang out behind them.

“Hey, Weasley!”

They turned and all glared as Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle walked up to them, Draco brandishing a paper.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” growled Ron.

“Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley!  Listen to this!”

Further Mistakes at the Ministry

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic’s trouble

Are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special

Correspondent.  Recently…

Harry cut Draco off by grabbing the paper and setting it on fire, his eyes glinting.  No one noticed he did this wandless as they all took a nervous step back.  Everyone in the school knew of the two Slytherin’s rivalry.

“Hey!” Draco cried.  “I was reading that!”

“Not anymore,” snarled Harry.  “Everything Skeeter writes is trash and I don’t want to hear it.  So why don’t you and Idiots One and Two do hang yourselves and save the rest of us a lot of misery and pain?”

Draco glared at him then looked at Ron again.

“Y’know it included a picture of your parents, Weasley.  Outside that thing you call a ‘house’.  Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”

Ron clenched his fists in fury.  You could almost hear his bared teeth grating against each other.

“And what about your mother, Malfoy?” retorted Niamh, shoving her way between Harry and Ron and glaring.  “That expressions she’s got, like there’s something nasty under her nose?  Is that always there or was it just because you were with her?”

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink as his gray eyes glittered with rage.

“Don’t insult m mother, O’Feir.”

“Then don’t insult ours!” snapped Ginny, trying to get her wand arm (and her wand) free from Hermione’s grip.

Harry sneered at the blonde and had just turned away when something white-hot shot past his face.  He whirled, drawing his wand and shooting off a Stunning Spell just as there was a loud bang and a roar echoed through the entrance hall.

“OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!”

Moody was limping down the marble staircase, his wand out and pointing at a pure white ferret that was now shivering on the floor in the place where Draco had been.

A terrified silence filled the hall.  Moody limped over to them and looked at Harry’s still drawn wand.  He grunted, “Good reflexes,” then asked, “Did he get you?”

“No, sir,” replied Harry, sheathing his wand.  “Malfoy couldn’t hit me if I stood right in front of him with a large, flashing neon sign that said ‘Hit Me’.”

“LEAVE IT!” Moody suddenly shouted.

“Leave what?” asked Niamh.

“Not you, him.”  Moody pointed over his shoulder at Crabbe.  The boy had frozen, about to pick up the ferret, which let out a terrified squeak and made for the dungeons.  Harry eyes Moody’s blue eye, which was rolled back into his head.  It must see through everything, he thought.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again – it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack on the floor, then bounced upwards once more.

“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned.  Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…”  The ferret bounced higher, squealing in pain.

“Think he’ll break something?” asked Niamh in a whisper, her eyes following the bouncing ferret.

“I hope so,” growled Ginny darkly.

“Never – do – that – again,” said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

“Professor Moody!”

McGonagall came done the marble staircase now, her arms full of books and her eyes wide behind her square-rimmed glasses.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, as thought they were talking over tea.  The ferret bounced still higher.

“What – what are you doing?” asked McGonagall, eyes following the ferret as it hit the floor again and bounced.

“Teaching.”

“Teach – Moody, is that a student?”

“Yep.”

“No!”  McGonagall ran down the stairs and drew her wand; a moment later, Draco reappeared in a heap on the floor, hair all over his now pink face.  As he rose, wincing, Niamh moaned softly, “And I was enjoying that!”

“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!  Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?”

“He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” said Moody, looking unconcerned.  “But I thought a good sharp shock…”

“We give detentions, Moody!  Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!”

“I’ll do that then.”

Moody looked at Draco, who was looking up malevolently at the professor.  He muttered something that had “my father” somewhere in it and Moody limped toward him, leaning down slightly.

“Your father?  Well, I happen to know your father of old, boy…  You tell him Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me.  Now, your Head of House’ll be Snape, right?”

“Yes,” spat Malfoy.

“Another old friend.  I’ve been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…  Come on, you…”

Moody seized Draco by the arm and marched him off towards the dungeons as McGonagall retrieved her books with her wand and walked off.

“Don’t talk to me,” said Ron as the five of them entered the Great Hall a few moments later.

“Why not?” asked Hermione.

“Because I want to fix that in my memory forever.  Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret…”

Niamh lifted her hand in the air as if to give a toast and cried, “Here, here!”

“He could have really hurt Malfoy though,” said Hermione.

“Who cares?” deadpanned the other four.  Hermione frowned at them then went off in a huff to the Gryffindor table.

“What’s with her?” asked Niamh.

Ron sighed and shook his head.  “Something in the library.  She’d been eating five minutes then heading off there.  See you lot later.”

They separated now, Ron heading for the Gryff’s table, and Harry, Ginny, and Niamh heading for the Slyth’s.  As they sat down, Niamh asked, “So, Gin – how was Moody’s class?”

Ginny beamed and replied, “Great!  Even better that Professor Lupin!”

“Really” said Harry in surprise.  “Lupin’s the best we’ve ever had.”

“It’s amazing.  Professor Lupin was good, but Professor Moody was an Auror (“Snape was an Auror,” said Niamh, earning an elbow in the ribs from Harry).  He’s actually been out there doing what he teaches!”

Niamh rubbed her hand together gleefully.

“I can’t wait.  When’ve we got him, Harry?”

Harry reached into his bag for his schedule.

“Friday,” he said in a surprised voice.

Niamh’s head hit the table with a loud thump.

Three days passed and then Niamh and Harry were heading for Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Niamh was practically – and literally – bouncing.

“What’s with her?” asked Thomas Ymber, eyes followed Niamh as he sidled up next to Harry in the corridor.

“Moody’s her favorite subject to study beside hexes,” replied Harry, “Now she gets to be taught by him.  The child is thrilled.”

“I am not a child!” cried Niamh over her shoulder.

“August the 15th,” said Harry in a singsong voice.

Niamh snorted then dashed on ahead to the Defense classroom.

“I bet she’s getting the front row seat,” said Thomas.

Harry grinned at the brown-haired boy and said, “I know for a fact that she is.”

They made it into the room in enough time for Harry to snag the seat beside Niamh (as if anyone else would try to grab that seat) and Thomas grabbed the seat behind them, which would have been occupied by Mika.  When Draco entered, both Harry and Niamh hissed, “Ferret!”  The blonde glared at them as he settled into his seat, not knowing his ears had turned pink.

Then the distinctive clunking footsteps of Moody sounded outside the door and al fell quiet.  As he entered, all of them could see his clawed wooden foot protruding out from under his robes.

“You can put those away,” he growled at the few who had taken out their books.  “You won’t need them.”

Niamh was practically on the edge of her seat now.

Moody took out a register and began to call out names, his normal eye moving straight down the list while his magical one swiveled to stare at whoever answered.

“Right then,” he said when all was done.  “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin abou this class.  Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in Dark creatures – you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

Several grumbled in assent while Niamh nodded furiously.

“But you’re behind – very behind – on dealing with curses (Harry and Niamh grinned at each other here).  So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other.  I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark –”

“You aren’t staying?” said Niamh, looking rather defeated.

Moody’s magical eye swiveled to land on her; Niamh flinched away as most did under its gaze.  His normal eyes looked down at the register then both eyes turned on her, and he smiled.  The effect made his heavily scarred face look more twisted, but it was good to know that he could smile.

“You’ll be Niamh O’Feir, won’t you?”  When she nodded, he continued, “My son has told me quiet a lot about you, O’Feir…  Yeah, I’m staying just the one year.  Special favor to Dumbledore…  One year, then back to my quiet retirement.”

“So – straight into it,” he said, clapping his gnarled hands together.  “Curses.  They come in many strength and forms.  Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you counter curses and leave it at that.  I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year.  You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then.  But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better.  How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen?  A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do.  He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face.  You need to be prepared.  You need to be alert and watchful.”

“So…do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”

Several hands raised, including Niamh’s.  Moody pointed at Millicent Bulstrode.

“The Imperius Curse.”

“Ah, yes – the Imperius Curse.”

Moody clunked behind his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a glass jar.  Three large black spiders scuttled around inside, causing Pansy to let out a little shriek.

Niamh leaned over to Harry and whispered, “I bet Ron hated this part.”

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in his hand so they all could see it as he pointed his wand at it.

“Imperio!”

The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing back and forth as though on a trapeze.  It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel.  With a jerked of Moody’s wand, the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Moody looked around the room as if he expected them to be laughing.  No one was.

“Ah.  I expected as much from the Slytherins.  Gryffindors seemed to think it was awfully funny.”  Moody looked down at the spider, which had balled itself up and began to roll over and over.  “Total control.  I could make it jump out the window, drown itself, throw itself down on of your throats…”

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody, his magical eyes roving over those in the room.  “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act and who was acting of their own free will.”

“The Imperius Curse can be fought and I’ll be teach you how, but it takes real strength of character and not everyone’s got it.  Better avoid being hit with it if you can.  CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, causing everyone but Harry to jump.

Moody eyed them calculatingly then picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

“Anyone else know one?  Another illegal curse?”

Hands threw up agains and this time Moody pointed at Amanda Brethel.

The blonde girl blinked her blue eyes in surprise then stammered, “The – the Cruciatus Curse, sir.”

“Your name’s Brethel?”

Amanda nodded.

Moody made no comment after that, simply reached into the jar for the next spider.  The creature quivered on the desk, apparently too scared to move.  Harry could sympathize with the poor creature.

“The Cruciatus Curse.  It needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea.  Engorgio!”

The spider swelled, now just about the same size as a small terrier.  Pansy shrieked again and tumbled over backwards in her chair.

“Crucio!”

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side.  No sound came from it, but Harry was certain – certain in the way he was certain that the majestic Darcorn understood him – that is it had a voice, it would be screaming.  Moody did not move his wand and the spider began to shudder and jerk more violently…

“Stop it!” screamed Niamh suddenly.

Harry turned to look beyond Niamh to see Amanda’s eyes wide on the twitching spider, hands clenched on her desk as her mouth worked, no sound coming out.

Moody lifted his wand and the spider’s exertions stopped.

“Reducio,” said Moody, placing the spider back in the jar as it returned to its normal size.  He then turned to the class.  “Pain.  You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone…  This one was very popular once too.”

“Right then…anyone know any others?”

Moody looked at Draco this time as the hands raised.  The blonde locked eyes with Harry as all eyes turned on him.

“Yes, Malfoy?”

Draco, eyes still locked on Harry’s face, said, “Avada Kedavra.”  If Draco had been expecting Harry to lunge across the room for saying the name of the spell that had killed his parents, he didn’t get it.  Harry simply locked eyes lazily with the other boy and stared him down.

“Ah, yes,” muttered Moody.  “The last and worst.  Avada Kedavra…the Killing Curse.”

The third spider came form the jar and began to scuttle frantically across the desk.

“Avada Kedavra!”

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound rolled over the spider and it rolled over onto it back, unblemished but most definitely dead.  Only a few students cried out as Moody swept the spider off of his desk.

“Not nice.  Not pleasant.  And there’s no counter curse.  There’s no blocking it.  Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.”

All eyes – including Moody’s – turned on Harry who stared defiantly back at Moody.

He, in all his interest of hexes and curses, had never wanted to know more about these three curses.  Heard of them: of course, what Slytherin hadn’t?  Sought to find how they worked?  Not he.  He remembered that image of green light and his mother’s scream as her life was taken away, as she was taken away from him, cursing him to a life in the streets.  Never had he wanted to ever learn more about that light that haunted his dreams at oft times.

“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it – all of you could get out your wands and point them at me, say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed.  But I’m not here to teach you that.”

“Why am I showing it to you if there’s no counter curse?  Because you’ve got to know.  You’ve got to know what the worst it.  You don’t want yourself in a situation where you’re facing it.  CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!”

“Now…those three curses are known as the Unforgivable Curses.  Any one of them used on a fellow human being can earn you a life sentence in Azkaban.  That’s what your up against.  You need preparing and I’m here to teach you how to fight.  No get out yours quills and copy this down…”

The remainder of the class was spent taking notes on each of the Unforgivables.  No one – not even Draco – spoke until the bell rang.  But by the time they were out in the corridor, most of them were discussing it.

“Hey, Amanda!” yelled Niamh, running after the girl.  “Are you okay?  You looked…bad.”

Amanda nodded as Harry jogged up, looking worriedly at her too.

“You alright?”

The blonde girl looked up at him, having to tilt her head almost completely back.  She was the shortest girl in their class and barely came up to Niamh’s shoulder.  And Niamh wasn’t tall.

“Yeah.  I’m…okay.”

“Your sure?” asked Niamh.

Amanda nodded and turned to walk off.  Niamh looked after her then began to walk towards the Great Hall and Harry followed her.  They had almost made it there when Malfoy’s voice rang out suddenly.

“Hey, Potter!  Did you get scared?  Of that last curse?  I heard you were scared shitless of it.”

Niamh whirled and snarled, “You bastard!”  She made to lunge at Draco but an arm across the chest made her stop.  Turning her head, she looked at Harry.  The teen’s face looked like stone, it was so cold looking.

He stepped forward, towards Draco, stalking towards him with slow, calculated steps.  Draco paled but stood defiantly, grey eyes gleaming.

They stood there for a long moment, Harry (being the taller one) looking down at Draco calmly, as the other boy lifted his chin and glared.

Then Harry moved, his bag dropping to the floor, as his hands whipped out, grabbing Draco by the collar and slinging him to the floor.  Harry settled atop the other boy, his wand against the pale throat and his green eyes gleaming brightly.

Niamh gasped.  She had even seen Harry move to draw his wand!

“Y’know, Malfoy,” spat Harry.  “I’ve heard enough of your mouth.  Enough of it to last me through my life and all through eternity.  And you know what?  I’m tired of hearing it.  So…let’s get one thing straight, shall we?”

Harry jabbed the tip of his wand against Draco’s throat, the tip giving off silver sparks as he demanded, “Are you listening, Malfoy?”

Draco nodded and Harry smiled cruelly.

“Good.  Listen really well, ‘cause I’m not going to repeat myself.  I’d like to not see your ferrety face anymore, but as we’re in the same school I can’t really do anything about that.  Unless of course, I turn it into a bloody pulp but then Madam Pomfrey’d just fix it…”  He waved his other hand casually and laughed.  “But I digress.  See, I’m tired of you, Malfoy.  Tired of your jibes, your words…hell, I’m tired of the sight of you.  So, here’s the deal.  You – and your lackey’s – stay away from me and my friends, and I won’t be forced to do something drastic.  Like make your head explode, for example.  I’m sure Filch doesn’t want to clean up your hideous and completely useless brain matter, so maybe I’d just find some spell that’d make you burn up from the inside.  Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“So,” added Harry, “do we understand each other?”

Draco nodded and Harry jabbed him with his wand again.

“I want a spoken answer, Malfoy.  Do you understand me?”

“Y – yes,” hissed Draco.

“Good.”

Harry rose in one fluid motion and jerked Draco to his feet.  He straightened his robes, tucking his wand away as he picked up his bag.  Turning towards Niamh, he began to walk towards the Hall again.

“Oh, and Draco?”

Draco glared at the back of his head and growled sullenly, “What is it, Potter?”

“How was it to be in your natural form?”

Several people in the entrance hall burst out laughing at that and Draco’s cheeks burned pink with embarrassment as Harry strode off, Niamh following him.

Harry practically ran up the stairs to the Owlery after dinner, causing several owls to take off from their perches.  For a fleeting moment he wished Hedwig was still alive.

< Harry? >

Harry looked up and saw the pale gold eyes of his raven peering down at him from the third row of perches.

“Hey, Jar.”

< What are you doing up here? >

Harry gave a sort of crooked grin and asked, “Can’t a guy send a letter?”

< Harry, the more we are together, the closer we get.  I can sense your emotions, now, and they’re troubled.  What happened? >

Harry shook his head then snapped his eyes up to the raven as he felt a gentle probing in his mind.  He quickly closed it off, locking it up tighter than the Tower of London.

Jardin winced visibly.  He’d been caught.

“Now, apparently, as we are getting closer, you can’t search my mind as easily as you could,” spat Harry, scowling at the bird.  “So, don’t try and find out what I don’t want you to know!”

< Alright, Harry.  I won’t. >

“Good.”

Harry leaned his head back against the cold stone of the owlery and closed his eyes.  Green light flashed across his eyelids and a woman’s scream made his eyes fly open.  Despite his words to Malfoy, seeing that curse had disturbed him.

Hands shaking slightly, he reached into his bag for parchment, quill, and ink.

Sirius,

How are you?  I’m fine…pretty much.  I – I saw the curse that killed mum today.  Our new professor, Professor Moody, showed us the Unforgivables.  I keep seeing it in my mind, over and over.  And hearing her scream.

Y’know, seeing it in your mind is nothing to actually seeing it.

Ha ha.  Now this is funny.  I just met you last year and I can talk to you better than I can talk to anyone – even my Dad.  Please don’t tell him that.  Don’t gloat.  I don’t know why I can’t talk to him.  Maybe its because…oh, hell, I don’t know why.  Maybe its just easier to put words down on paper than to say them.

Hope you’re well,

Harry

Harry did not read over the letter, just rolled it up and got out another piece of paper and dipped his quill in the inkpot.

Mika,

How are you doing in the frozen north, mate?

It’s the same old things here.  Well…perhaps not.  Second day back, your dad turned Malfoy into a ferret and bouncing him around the entrance hall.  It was priceless.

Your dad had a good lesson today.  The Unforgivables.  I bet half the class already knew what they were.  Best part: Pansy fell out of her chair.  She fears spiders even more than Ron.

Anyway, just writing to say hi.  Ni and Gin say hello.  We can’t wait till you get back and the Slytherin Four is together again.  Damn, we really need a better name than that.

Harry

Oh, and why is your last name Davids if Moody is your dad?  Just curious…

Harry rolled up this letter as well then called to Jardin.  The raven fluttered down to his knee and Harry tied the letter to Sirius onto his leg.

“This one goes to Sirius and the other one goes to Mika.

< Ooo, a trip to the frozen north.  I’ve always wanted to vacation there. >

Harry shook his head at the bird and tied Mika’s letter to his leg.  Jardin nipped at his ear as Hedwig used to do then launched himself out the window.

Harry stood, staring out after him until he vanished from sight, a black speck fading into the setting sun.  Harry then, with a sigh, turned and hefted his bag onto his shoulder, heading down the stairs.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Amanda?”

Amanda whirled in her chair, blinking when she saw Harry standing behind her, clad in only black pants with a plaid shirt in one hand.  Her eyes flicked to his scarred torso and arms, taking in the silver Basilisk pendant, then up to his face.

“H – hi, Harry. A – aren’t you c – cold?

Harry blinked and looked down at himself, taking in his bare chest and feet. He then looked back up and shrugged.

“Not really.”

“O – okay.”  Amanda turned back around in her chair to face the fire.

Harry frowned at her and walked around to sit in the chair close to hers, pulling on his shirt as he did so.

“Are you okay, Amanda?”

Amanda looked up in surprise and started to nod then sighed and shook her head.

“No.  No, I’m not.”

“Was it something about Moody’s class today?” asked Harry, remembering her reaction to the Cruciatus Curse and how distraught she’d looked after the class.

Amanda nodded, eyes closed.  Then she leaned close to Harry, eyes darting about the room as if looking for some other Slytherin out of bed in the wee hours of the morning, spying on them.  She lowered her voice to a whisper now.

“Can I tell you something, Harry?  And trust you not to tell anyone else?  You’re the only one I think I could tell.  The other girls wouldn’t.”

Harry remembered Niamh shared her dorm with Amanda.

“Niamh would.”

“No.  Niamh’s never seen what I’ve seen.”  Amanda shivered and Harry laid his hand on top of hers.

“You can trust me, Amanda.  No one will ever know.  Not Ni, not Gin, no one.”

Amanda nodded, smiling at him.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“You see, my parents used to be good friend with the Longbottom’s – Neville’s parents.  They were all Aurors together.  Sometimes, my parents would leave me with them whenever they went somewhere and the Longbottom’s weren’t out with them.  Sometimes even then with the babysitter who took care of Neville.”

“It was just one such night when the Longbottom’s weren’t with them when I was four.  Sometime during the night I heard loud noises and woke up when Mrs. Longbottom, clad in her nightgown, her hair all in disarray, and her wand in her wand had rushed into the nursery.  She scooped up Neville and me and ran out.  On the landing, Mr. Longbottom was fighting a Death Eater.”

Amanda was no longer talking to Harry now – not really anyway.  She was back on that night.  Harry laced his fingers through hers, eyes locked on her face as he listened intently.

“There were four of them; one on the landing with Mr. Longbottom, two on the stairs, one more below us on the first floor.  Mrs. Longbottom shot a curse at one of the men on the stairs and he froze in place.  His companion began to immediately fire curses at us.”  A tear ran down Amanda’s cheek now.  “He fired Cruciatus at us.  Mrs. Longbottom took the curse herself, using her body to shield us.  I still remember her screams and the Death Eater’s laughter.”

“They put the curse on both of them eventually.  They though they knew where Voldemort was.  They were trying to get the information out of them.”

“They never did.  The Longbottom’s didn’t know anything, or they never told.  By the time the Death Eater’s realized this, it was too late.”

Amanda looked at Harry now and asked, “Did you know that if your put under Cruciatus long enough, you’ll go insane?”

Harry shook his head.  Again, he had never sought to know more about the Unforgivables.

“That’s what happened.  The Longbottom’s went insane.  After that, the Death Eater’s turned towards us.  That’s when the Aurors finally showed up.  They didn’t capture any of them.  They were too scared to try.  So the Death Eaters all escaped and the Longbottom’s were taken to St. Mungo’s.  They’re still there now.  I go with Neville and his grandmother sometimes to see them.”

Another tear ran down Amanda’s cheek.

“And then that idiot Lockhart came.  He said he could make us forget what had happened.  Before anyone could stop him, he’d Obliviated Neville.”

“Y’know, Neville never used to be afraid of anything.  When we were little, we used to explore everywhere.  I was the one that was always afraid.  And Neville…Neville was sort of like you, Harry.  He was always looking out for people, even at four.  And then Lockhart took that all away.  He didn’t Obliviate the memory of that night; he Obliviated everything that made Neville Neville.  They stopped him before he could do the same to me and threw him out of the Ministry.  But it was too late to undo the change.  Too damn late.”

More tears cascaded down Amanda’s cheeks and Harry felt one drop onto the back of his hand.  But he stayed.  He held onto Amanda’s hand, watching her as she cried, his heart aching for her as well as the Neville that had been lost.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The next morning, a tawny owl delivered a message to Harry during lunch.  Niamh, as she generally did, tried to peer over his shoulder but Harry looked sharply at her and she ceased.  If he guessed right, he knew who had sent it.

And this matter was between them.

And he was right.

Harry,

Thank you for listening last night.  I – I’m glad I could tell someone.  And thank you for not thinking I’m just some silly girl who needs to get over it.

Many thanks,

Amanda

Harry put the letter in his pocket them looked down the table at Amanda.  They locked eyes for a moment and Harry smiled.  Amanda beamed at him, eyes glittering, then turned back to her friends.

“What was that about?” asked Niamh as Harry turned back to his plate and picked up his fork.

“Nothing, Ni,” replied Harry, his eyes moving to land on Neville at the Gryffindor table.

“Nothing at all.”

A few weeks later Moody announced to them that he would be placing the Imperius Curse on each of them.

“But – you said it was illegal, professor.”

Moody’s magical eyes swiveled to land on Thomas as he cleared away the desks with a wave of his wand.

“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like.  If you’d rather learn the hard way – leave.  You’re excused.”

Thomas turned red and mumbled, “I didn’t mean I wanted to leave, sir.”  Moody eyed him for a moment then grunted.

He then began to beckon students forward and Harry and Niamh had a time watching them.  Millicent Bulstrode ran in circles yelling gibberish.  Pansy tried to fly.  Draco imitated a ferret, which sent Niamh into hysterics.  It also made Moody choose her next.  She skipped around the room singing a song by U2.  Out of all of them, only Niamh had managed to fight the curse, later telling Harry Moody had been trying to make her sing the national anthem.  But none of them recovered until Moody released them.

“Potter, you next.”

Harry walked past Niamh as she head back to where they’d been standing, giving him a wink.  As soon as Harry was in the center of the cleared area, Moody lifted his wand.

“Imperio!”

Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head faded into the background, leaving only a vague happiness.  He stood there, feeling immensely relaxed.

Then he heard Moody’s voice in his head…

Jump onto the desk…

Why? Said a voice in his head.  Stupid thing to do really…

Jump onto the desk…

No, I don’t think I will, thanks, said the voice…no, I really don’t want to…

Jump!  NOW!

The next thing Harry knew he was lying spread-eagled on the floor.  Judging from the pain in his back and tailbone, he had thrown himself backwards.

“Now, that’s more like it!  Look at that, you lot…Potter fought!  He fought it, and he beat it!  Very good, Potter, very good!  They’ll have a hell of a time trying to control you!”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Can’t believe you beat that curse, mate,” said Ron later as they were walking towards the Hall for dinner.

“Ron was skipping on every alternate step yesterday,” said Hermione with a smile.  “Oh, and Harry, Niamh, Ginny…I wanted to ask you if you wanted to join S.P.E.W.”

“Spew?” said Niamh in surprise.

“S – P – E – W!  Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”

“Uh, Mione,” said Niamh. “You’re my friend and I love you for your braininess but…house-elves like working.”

“How do you know that?  Did you ask one?”  Hermione narrowed her eyes at Niamh.

“Being as I spent most of the summer with a house- elf, I’d think I’d know.”

Hermione turned on Harry now.

“You own a house-elf?!”

Harry glared at Niamh, who whistled innocently, then looked down at the practically spitting Hermione.

“She’s Da’s.  An Ni’s right, Mione.  House-elves enjoy working.  Even Dobby does!  Just not for the Malfoy’s.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because Dobby’s been working in the kitchens here since third year.  And, yes, he does get pay.  And…”  Harry said this loudly as Hermione opened her mouth “…I asked the other house-elves if they would consider taking pay.  They won’t.  They’re happy here, Mione.  As if Dumbledore would mistreat a house-elf.”

Hermione glared at him then stormed off in a huff.

“Well,” said Ron, looking after her, “that went well.”

Ginny rolled her eyes as Niamh whispered to Harry, “Were you being serious or do you not want to join Spew because you’re probably some distant relation to house-elves?”

Harry gave her an odd look and replied, “I was being serious.  And I’m as a distant relation to house-elves as you are to Ron.  Now let’s go get some food.  I’m starved.”

Some time later, the five of them entered the entrance hall to find a large crowd of students milling around a sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase.  Harry and Ron, being the tallest, peered at the sign and read it to the others.

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of October.  Lessons will end a half hour early –

“Yes!” cried Niamh.  “Binns is last on Friday!”

Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

“Only a week away!” said Ernie Macmillan.  “I wonder if Cedric knows?  You think he does, Harry?”

Harry shrugged and Ernie ran off, Ron peering after him.

“Who’s Cedric?”

“Diggory.  Hufflepuff Seeker,” replied Harry.  “He must be entering the tournament.”  He didn’t notice Niamh flush slightly.

“That idiot, Hogwarts champion?”

“That idiot beat you in Quidditch,” said Ginny.

“And he’s not an idiot.  I’ve heard he’s a really good student – and he’s a prefect,” declared Hermione.

“You just like him because he’s handsome,” said Ron.

“I do not like people because they’re handsome!”

Ron and Harry both made false coughs that sounded suspiciously like “Lockhart!”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry –

I’m perfectly fine, if you must know.  I won’t say where I am, of course.  This letter might get intercepted and then where would we be?

And you know me well for someone who just met me.  I won’t gloat to Snape either (I want to, but since you asked…).

Ah, the Killing Curse.  I remember it from sixth year.  I saw it a lot in my days as an Auror.  But, remember, you survived it.  And I for one am glad of it – Snape’s son or not.

By the way, where did you get an Altair Raven?  They’re supposedly extinct.

Sirius

Harry folded Sirius’ letter and put it in his pocket before turning to Jardin.

So…revealed yourself, did you?

Jardin fluffed his feathers and said gruffly, < What else could I do when he kept firing curses at me?  Be glad I have had such practice dodging them or that man would be eating raven. >

Harry chuckled softly then reached for the other letter the raven had brought.

Harry,

Sod off, you cheeky bastard.  It’s colder than Hell here!  Well…  Perhaps not, as Hell’s not cold…

Malfoy a ferret?  And I missed it?  DAMN!

Oh, good on the old wolf.  He put me through those.  Bet he placed Imperius on the lot of you.  I keep missing things!  I hope Parkinson split open her head, the little whore.

As to the names, what about you?  Joke.  I know that reason.  Ah – my parents are separated.  Mum’s got me till I move out, the old wolf gets me during the last two weeks of summer hols.  She went back to her maiden name and changed min too.  I mean, Mika Moody?  My name really sucked.

Mika

Harry chortled, laughing uproariously at Mika’s letter.  A Hufflepuff passing by the alcove he sat in hurried on, causing him to laugh even more.  Jardin tilted his head and peered at his bond.

< Is it really that funny? >

“Probably not,” replied Harry, brushing laugh-tears from his eyes.  “But I thought it was.”

< Ah.  Well, I’m off. >

“Tired?”

< Immensely, > replied the raven, opening his wings and launching himself out of the alcove.  Harry looked after the bird for a moment then hopped down, tucking the letter into his pocket as he grabbed his bag and headed for Transfiguration.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Once Binns class was cut short, Niamh and Harry hurried down to Arx Serpens, dumped their stuff in the Hexer’s Corner, and grabbed cloaks and scarves before hurrying back upstairs.  They paused long enough to wait for Ginny then ran up, Harry leading them through a secret passageway that opened out behind the marble staircase.

When they got there the Heads of Houses were ordering their students into line.

“Weasley, straighten your hat,” snapped McGonagall.  “Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair.”

“O’Feir!  Where’s your hat?”

“Minerva, if you wouldn’t mind leaving my students to me.”

McGonagall glared at Snape, who arched an eyebrow in response.  Harry meanwhile pulled Mika’s letter from his pocket and tapped it with his wand.  Instantly it became a hat and he shoved it onto Niamh’s head.

“Next Hogsmeade trip,” he hissed, “get a new hat.”

Niamh grinned at him then chuckled at McGonagall’s flabbergasted expression.

Snape clapped his hands and said, “Come on…down the steps…first years in front…Mister Goyle, are you a fist year?  I thought not…back with your year.”

Niamh snickered as Goyle walked numbly back to stand beside Crabbe and Draco.  She then turned to Harry and asked, “How do you think they’re coming?  The train?”

“Probably not.”

“Broomsticks?”

“Not from that far away.”

“Portkey?  Apparate?”

“You can’t Apparate onto the Hogwarts grounds or inside them, Ni.  Don’t you ever listen to Mione?”

“Generally?  No.”

“Aha!” said Dumbledore from the back row suddenly.  “Unless I am very much mistake, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

“Where?” cried several voices.

“There!” yelled Harry, his sharp Seeker’s eyes picking out a shape over the forest.

“It’s a dragon!”

“A dragon?” screamed Niamh as though the idea was ludicrous (which it was as dragons were untamable).  “Don’t be a bloody bint!  It’s a carriage!”

And she was absolutely right.  It was a gigantic, powder-blue carriage drawn through the air by a dozen winged horses, each a palomino the size of an elephant.

As the carriage landed, the horses dinner plate size hooves making the ground shake slightly, the first three rows jumped back.  Harry scowled down at a third year Hufflepuff who’d landed on his foot and jabbed him in the ribs at the same time.  He then had time to see the coat of arms (two crossed golden wands emitting three stars each) on the carriage door before it was thrown open and a boy in pale blue robes leapt out.  The boy turned back to the carriage, bending to release a set of golden steps before springing back.

A shiny, high-heeled black shoe the size of a child’s sled emerged from the carriage, followed by the largest woman Harry had ever seen.  The only person who could possibly make her height would be Hagrid.

As she stepped into the light spreading out from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have an olive-skinned face, black eyes that seemed like liquid, and a rather beaky nose.  Her hair was drawn back into a shining knob at the base of her neck and she was dress from head to doe in black satin with brilliant opals gleaming at her throat and fingers.

Dumbledore began to clap and the students followed.  The woman smiled and walked towards Dumbledore, extending a hand.  The old wizard, tall as he himself was, barely had to bend to kiss it.

“My dear Madame Maxime.  Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dorr (Niamh coughed and gasped, “Dumbly-dorr?!”  Harry promptly jabbed an elbow in her ribs).  I ‘ope I find you well?” said Madame Maxime.

“In excellent form, I thank you.”

“My pupils.”  Madame Maxime waved one of her hands behind her.

Now standing outside of the carriage were a dozen boys and girls, all in their late teens, shivering.

“Serves them right for wearing silk,” said Niamh scornfully.  “Didn’t they think to see what the weather was like?”

“’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” asked Madame Maxime.

“He should be here any moment,” replied Dumbledore.  “Would you like to wait and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?”

“Warm up, I think.  But ze ‘orses – ”

“Our Care of Magical Creatures professor will be delighted to see to them.  At the moment he is dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other – ah – charges.”

“My steeds require – forceful ‘andling.  Zey are very strong…”

“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job.”

“Very well.  Will you please inform zis ‘Agrid zat ze ‘orses drink only single-malt whiskey?”

“It will be attended to.”

Madame Maxime nodded then said to her students, “Come,” and the Hogwarts crowd parted for them.

Niamh watched them go then turned to Harry.

“A Galleon says the Skrewts have escaped.”

“Oh, don’t say that, Niamh,” said Amanda Brethel, who had suddenly appeared at Harry’s elbow (her head actually did only reach his elbow).

“Mmm,” said Niamh.  “Horrible thought, isn’t it?”

Amanda shivered then asked, “Hey, what’s going on with the lake?”

Several people besides Harry and Niamh turned to look, and indeed – there was something going on in the lake.  A whirlpool had appeared in the center of the lake and a long pole had begun to rise from it…

“It’s a ruddy ship!” said someone from behind Harry.

And it was.  The ship looked like a resurrected wreck, the dim lights shining from it portholes like ghost eyes.  When the ship emerged completely, bobbing on the lake surface, the anchor dropped with a splash and then a plank was lowered to the bank with a thud.

Several people came down the plank, all of them wearing cloaks that seemed to be some kind of shaggy fur.  The man leading them was wearing sleek, silver furs that matched his hair.

“Dumbledore!  How are you, my dear fellow?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff.”

When Karkaroff reached the light pouring from the doors, they saw he was as tall and thin as Dumbledore but with short white hair and a goatee that did not hide his weak chin.  He shook hands with both of his own when he reached Dumbledore, looking up at the castle as he did so.

“Good old Hogwarts.  How good it is to be here, how good…  Viktor, come along, into the warmth…you don’t mind, Dumbledore?  Viktor has a slight head cold…”  He gestured towards his students.

A boy detached from the crowd and Harry caught a glimpse at a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

“Merlin’s beard,” breathed a Gryffindor fifth year behind them.  “It’s Krum!”

Harry watched him go then began to follow the other students in after the rest of the Durmstrang party was in.  Ron and Hermione shoved their way over to them and they could hear Ginny fighting her way up through the third years when the four of them were together.  Harry finally turned around, plunged his arm between two Hufflepuff third years, grabbed what felt like an arm, and pulled hard.

“Look what I found,” he said proudly as he pulled Ginny up against him.

“Aw,” cooed Niamh, her eyes glittering with amusement.  “Can we keep her?”

Ginny glared at the both of them and said blandly, “Ha ha ha.”

Ron – of course – was still staring after Krum.

“I don’t believe it.  Krum.  Viktor Krum!”

“Ron,” said Niamh with a tilt of her head, “its not like he’s that famous.  Now…if it was, let’s say, Godric Gryffindor, then I’d be impressed.”

As they entered the entrance hall, they saw a gaggle of sixth-year girls searching their pockets.

“Probably looking for something for Krum to sign with,” said Ginny.

Ron eyed the girls then turned to Harry and asked, “Have a quill?”

“Honestly!” said Hermione, grabbing Ron’s arm and dragging him into the Hall.

The three Slytherins looked at each other in amusement then followed.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Oh, Ron’s not going to be happy about this…”

Niamh and Harry looked down the table at the Durmstrang party.  The three of them had been the last one’s in and were sitting at the end of the table beside the party.

“No, definitely not,” added the girl as Draco leaned across the table to talk to Krum.

“Ignore them,” said Ginny.  “And how come we can’t get robes like that?”

The Durmstrang students had pulled of their heavy furs, revealing robes of a deep blood red.  The girl beside Ginny heard her and smiled down at her.

“Ve are from different schools.”  She eyed Ginny and asked, “Might you be Ginny Veasley?”

Ginny looked at Harry and Niamh in surprise then said, “Yes.”

The girl smiled and pulled what looked like a hastily wrapped package from inside her robes.  She placed it on the table and pushed it towards Ginny.

“A voy named Mika Davids told me to give this to you.”

Ginny blinked then gently picked up the package, which seemed to contain something soft form the way it sank in under her fingertips.  She tucked it into her robes and said to Harry and Niamh, “I’ll open it later.”  She then turned to the girl and said, “Thank you.”

“You are velcome.”

Suddenly the staff entered and all fell quiet.  Dumbledore remained standing after the other teachers had sat and beamed at everyone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts, and guests.  I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts.  I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast.  I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The plates in front of them filled, some dishes foreign ones, and they are.  Harry began to laugh as Ron gaped at a Beauxbatons girl with a sheet of silvery-blonde hair who had walked over to stand by him and Hermione.

“What’s so funny?” asked Niamh then saw it.  “Ah-ha!” she cried, “our Ronnikins has discovered veela once more.”

“Veela?” said Ginny, turning to look.  The girl said something to Ron and Hermione then picked up a dish and carried it back to the Ravenclaw table.  Several heads followed her.

“I wonder how they do that.”

“What?” asked Harry, looking down at Niamh.  “Draw men into their webs?”

“That’s succubi, you idiot.”

“Ah, yes, but veela are not all beauty are they?  And why would you want to know?”

“I just wonder why only a few looked at her.  They didn’t do that at the Cup.”

“That’s because they were full veela, Ni.  I bet you she’s less than half.

“Bet me what?”

“The joy of one of us winning.”

“Your scared of losing.”

“Me?  Scared?  You must be joking.”

“Isn’t that Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman?” said Ginny suddenly, interrupting Harry and Niamh’s banter.

“So it is,” said Niamh as the two took the other two seats that had been set up at the Head Table.  “Here to see their tournament start, I suppose.”

Soon the plates were empty and Dumbledore rose again.  Silence fell immediately on the Hall once more.

“The moment has come.  The Triwizard Tournament is about to start.  I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in that casket – ”

“What is it, a body?” said Niamh.

“ – just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year.  Bt first, let me introduce Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madam Maxime on the panel that will judge the champion’s efforts.”

“The casket now, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch now approached Dumbledore, an ancient looking wooden chest encrusted with jewels cradled in his arms.  He placed it carefully on the table in front of Dumbledore then stepped back.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and they had made the necessary arrangement for each challenge.  There will be three tasks, spaced through the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess – their daring – their power of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools.  They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total score after three tasks will win the Triwizard Cup.  The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore tapped the top of the casket three times with his wand then reached in and drew out a roughly made wooden cup.  A cup brimming with blue-white flames.

The cup was sat on top of the casket as Dumbledore continued.

“Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet.  Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours to put their names forward.  Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three judged most worthy to represent their schools.  The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.”

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it had been placed in the entrance hall.  No one under seventeen will be able to cross this line.”

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of your wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered lightly.  Once the Goblet of Fire has selected a champion, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end.  The placing of  your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract.  There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion.  Please be very sure that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet.  Now, I think it is time for bed.  Good night to you all.”

“C’mon,” said Harry, rising quickly.  “Let’s try and make it out before the hoard.”

The three of them ducked, spun, and sprinted through the crowd, making it to the doors just as Karkaroff and the Durmstrang students did.  Harry stopped, holding out one hand to halt a still running Niamh and waving Karkaroff forward with the other.

“Thank you,” said Karkaroff, nodding at him.

Then he froze, his eyes locking onto Harry’s face.  Harry’s street instincts screamed at him to run at the shrewd look on the man’s face, but he fought them now, watching with slightly narrowed eyes as Karkaroff’s eyes traveled up to his scar.  The Durmstrang students were now looking at him too.

“Yes, that is Harry Potter.”

Snape had shoved his way to the fore of the crowd, black eyes focused on Karkaroff.

“Severus!”

Snape glared mildly at him and said, “Move on, Karkaroff.  You’re blocking the door.  Mr. Potter, Miss O’Feir, Miss Weasley…if you would head on to the common room.”

Harry nodded and said, “Yes, professor,” before moving past Karkaroff.  Niamh and Ginny followed him, both girls moving up to stand on either side of them.

Harry still felt Karkaroff’s eyes on him as they walked down the corridor.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“So, Gin, let’s see what’s in the package,” said Niamh as she settled into a chair in the Hexer’s Corner.

Ginny blinked then pulled the soft package from inside her robes.

“I forgot about it…”

“Well, let’s open it, girl.  I want to see what our traveling companion has sent you.”

Ginny began to open the brown paper the package was wrapped in and Niamh leaned forward in anticipation.  Harry watched idly from where he lay sprawled on the couch, Hedwig curled up on his chest asleep.

“Oh heavens…”

“What is it?” asked Niamh, leaning forward some more.

Ginny, wide-eyed, pushed the brown paper wrapping aside and stood, unfolding a full-length gown of an amazing fiery shade, the top cut low, the shoulders laid bare by the cut between the top and the sleeves, and the whole trimmed in gleaming silver thread.

Niamh’s eyes bugged out and she breathed, “Holy saints and demons…” as Harry sat upright, waking the sleeping Hedwig and earning an angry hiss.

Ginny gaped at the dress before she collapsed into her chair, the silky fabric clasped in her face.

“This – this must’ve cost a fortune.  I can’t take this from him!”

“There’s a note,” said Harry, leaning down to pick it up.  He hand it to Ginny, who unfolded it and read it aloud in a shocked whisper.

Gin,

I know you’ll say you can’t take this from me, but – please – do take it.  The place’s here are astounding.  There’s a village not far from the school – a wizarding village like Hogsmeade.  I saw this (and let me tell you, there were hundreds more like it) and immediately saw you in it.  Please keep it.

We’ll just say it’s a Christmas present from me to you.

Mika

“Oh, Merlin,” breathed Ginny, “how did he afford this?”

“Being as his dad’s Moody, I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Niamh.  “Gin, you not thinking of giving it back, are you?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Slytherin’s serpent, Ginny, you can’t return something like this!  It’s probably custom made!”

“Oh,” said Ginny, looking at the dress.  “It is very beautiful…”

“And you’ll probably look beautiful in it,” said Harry, causing the redhead to blush.  “But you’d better wrap it up and hide it at the bottom of your trunk.  Pansy’s liable to steal it.”

“And fire is not her color,” said Niamh.  “Not that she’d care, she being the all-proclaimed Slytherin Whore.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Ah.  Slytherin Wench.  How’s that?”

Harry rolled his eyes at Ginny then said, “Hardly better.  I’m off to bed.  You do know the Locking Charm, don’t you, Gin?”

“Yes.  Goodnight, Harry.”

“’Night, Gin, Ni.”

“’Night, mate.”

The next day, Harry, Niamh, and Ginny had to push, shove, and even hex their way into the Great Hall.  By the time they’d eaten breakfast, they found Ron and Hermione entering the Hall, Ron grinning in amusement.  Harry grabbed a piece of toast and left Niamh and Ginny to finish eating as he wandered over to where Ron and Hermione had sat down at the almost empty Gryffindor table.

“Hey, mates,” said Harry, jumping up onto the table beside Ron’s plate.  “What was so amusing?”

Ron grinned and replied, “Oh, it was priceless.  Fred and George took an Aging Potion and tried to cross the Age Line.  They ended up with very nice beards!”

Harry laughed, spraying out toast crumbs on Angelina Johnson, one of the Gryffindor Chaser’s.  He winced and swallowed the rest before grinning in embarrassment at her.

“Sorry, Angelina.  Ron was just talking about the twins very nice beards.”

Angelina smiled at him and brushed crumbs off her shirt.  She and Harry had always gotten along, even though they did tend to end up spilling things on each other.

“S’alright, Harry.  I’ve had worse from the twins.”

“Did you enter your name, Angelina?” asked Hermione.

“Just now,” replied Angelina.

“Better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory,” said Seamus as he walked up.  He looked at Harry sitting on the table and added, “Come to join us?”

“Just for a moment,” replied Harry.  “And leave Cedric be.  He’s not a bad chap.”

“You didn’t get beaten by him,” grumbled Ron.

“Nooo…  I got beaten by Miss I’m-A-Ravenclaw-But-Have-The-Attitude-Of-A-Slytherin over there.”  Harry took a bite of his toast and nodded towards Cho Chang as she entered the Hall.

“Only because of those horrible dementors,” said Hermione.

“True,” said Harry with a shrug, finishing off his toast and licking the crumbs from his fingers.  He then looked over at the Slytherin table and added, “Looks like the girls are finished…  See you lot tonight.  And good luck, Angelina.”

As he hopped down and strolled back over to the Slytherin table, a fifth year sitting nearby growled darkly, “Good luck from a Slytherin…  Bah!  Bad lucks more like it!”

Ron and Hermione looked livid but Angelina looked even more so.  She walked over to the fifth year and snapped, “Look here, you.  Harry may be a Slytherin, but he’s of a finger lot than you.  And when he says something, he means it.  so shut you trap or I’ll shut it for you.  Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” squeaked the fifth year.

Angelina eyed the fifth year then walked back down to where Ron and Hermione were grinning.

“That was bloody brilliant!” exclaimed Ron.

Hermione nodded.  “That was awful good of you, Angelina.”

Angelina smiled at them and said, “Harry’s a good kid.  And a killer Seeker.  Seems he needs some defenders in this school.  Not that he can’t defend himself, being the Lord Hex…anyway, I’m off to see how Fred and George are doing.”

“And to gloat, probably,” said Ron after her.

“Probably!” replied Angelina over her shoulder.

“Honestly!” cried Hermione, throwing up her hands in defeat.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

That night, as the golden plates cleared and Dumbledore got to his feet, a tense silence fell on the Hall.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision.  I believe that is requires one more minute.”

“Now…when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the tip of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they shall receive their first instructions.”  Dumbledore gestured towards the door to his right as he spoke, then lifted his wand.

At once all the lights in the hall but those in the grinning pumpkins went out.  All eyes fastened onto the bright, blue-white flames of the Goblet of Fire.

Beside Harry, Niamh fidgeted excitedly, blue eyes bright.

Suddenly the flames turned red and a tongue of fire shot up, a charred piece of parchment fluttering out of it.

Dumbledore caught it and held it close to the once again blue-white flames so he could read it.

“The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!”

Applause and cheering erupted through the Hall as Krum rose from his seat (no longer sitting anywhere near Draco) and walked up to the staff table, turned, and vanished through the door.

The goblet burned red again and immediately all the cheering died down as a second piece of parchment rose into the air.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”

“Hey,” said Niamh as a girl with a familiar sheet of silver-blonde hair rose and walked up towards the Head Table.  “Isn’t that the girl Ron was goggling at?”

Harry looked.

“Yep.”

“Thought so.”

The applause died down once more as the goblet burned red for a third time and a tense feeling filled the Hall.

“The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!” said Dumbledore after the third piece of parchment had emerged.

The Hufflepuff table was the loudest in the Hall as a grinning Cedric rose and headed towards the Head Table and the door.  Niamh was hugging Harry very happily as this happened.

“Excellent!  Now that we have our three champions, we many continue.  I trust that all of you will cheer your champions on…”

Dumbledore paused, as the Goblet of Fire turned red again.  As another piece of parchment flew up, he seemed to grab it automatically, opening it and stared hard.

“Something’s wrong,” whispered Ginny in the tense silence.  “Look at his face.”

Dumbledore had turned pale and his eyes darted towards the Slytherin table.  He then cleared his throat, shaking his head and said two words that surprise everyone in the Hall.

“Harry Potter.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“WHAT?!” screamed Harry, Niamh, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione at the same time.

“I didn’t put my name in,” gasped Harry.

“Well, it somehow got in there, mate,” said Niamh, “and now you’re stuck.”

“Look at Professor Snape!” hissed Ginny.

Snape had turned a pasty white and rose quickly to head down the table to Dumbledore.  Harry could only imagine what they were saying.

Dumbledore shook his head then gestured towards Harry.  The teen was half out of his seat when someone from the Gryffindor table shouted, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!”

“Who said that?!” snarled Niamh, jumping to her feet beside Harry, wand in hand.  On his other side, Ginny appeared, brown eyes narrowed.  At the Gryffindor table, Ron, Hermione, the now beardless twins, and a few others were looking coldly at those around them.  Several Slytherin’s (even some who disliked Harry) cried out in outrage.

As the noise rose, Dumbledore shot off a loud bang from his wand and yelled, “SILENCE!  Miss O’Feir, Miss Weasley, your defense of Mr. Potter is admirable but hardly necessary.  Mr. Potter, if you would go join the champions…  Mr. Weasley, please put Mr. Adock down.”

“Sir,” said Ron, releasing his grip on a short, brown-haired boy’s shirt.  “He’s the one…”

“He shall be readily dealt with by me, Mr. Weasley.  Please…sit back down.  Harry?  Harry Potter, please go join the champions.”

Harry nodded the squeezed Niamh and Ginny’s hands.  “It’ll be alright,” he said before heading for the door the other champions had vanished through.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Albus,” said Severus sharply as he watched Harry vanish through the door.  “You can’t seriously allow him to compete.  He’s only fourteen…”

“And as smart as Lily was at that age.”

“Albus!”

Dumbledore smiled and placed a gentle, reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder.  “Do not worry, Severus,” he said.  “Harry will be fine.  He is your son after all.”

Severus smiled tightly.

“Yes.  Yes, I suppose he is very much my son.”

“Good.  Now, if you wouldn’t mind going to tell Mr. Adock to see me in my office after the feast then come join us…”

Dark pleasure glimmered in Severus’ obsidian eyes.

“It would be my pleasure, Albus,” he purred before heading for the Gryffindor table.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry slid into the room and saw the others grouped around the fire.  Krum was leaning up against the mantelpiece.  Cedric was standing, hands behind his back, staring into the fire.  Fleur Delacour was the only one who noticed Harry in the room.

“What’s is it?  Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

Cedric turned, blinked, and breathed, “Harry?”

“Hi, Cedric.  And no, I’m not here to deliver a message, thank you,” said Harry, looking at Fleur.

“Then…” began the girl but was interrupted as Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and a rather smug looking Professor Snape.  Harry smirked inwardly.  So Dumbledore had let his father go tell off Adock…

“Madame Maxine!” cried Fleur, “what is going on?”

“Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete!” replied the giant of a woman.

Harry bristled visibly.  Sure, he couldn’t make her height, but he damn near wasn’t little!

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” said Madame Maxime.

“I’d like to know that myself,” growled Karkaroff.  “Two Hogwarts champions…”

Dumbledore lifted a hand and said, “We were just as surprised as everyone else, my dear Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff.”

“’Ogwarts cannot ‘ave two champions,” insisted Madam Maxime.

“Yes,” hissed Karkaroff.  “We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore…”

“I didn’t put my name in!” snapped Harry, glaring defiantly about as all gazes turned upon him.  He then shrank back a little when he caught his father’s slight shake of his head.

“And how do we know that?” hissed McGonagall, frowning at him.

“Minerva,” purred Snape, “surely you don’t believe that one of my students would…”

“I assuredly do, Severus.”

“Are you implying that my students would cheat and yours would not?”

“Severus!” snapped Dumbledore.  “Minerva!  Control yourselves!”

“Forgive me, Headmaster,” said Snape, inclining his head slightly.  “But I do find it hard to believe that Harry would put his name in the Goblet of Fire or ask an older student to do it for him.  He had always been a good student.”

McGonagall snorted not too softly.

“Dumbly-dorr must ‘ave made a mistake wiz ze line…” said Madame Maxime.

“It is possible,” said Dumbledore softly.

“But doubtable,” murmured Snape.

“Mr. Crouch…Mr. Bagman…” said Karkaroff.

Bagman looked at Crouch, who shook his head and said, “We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

“I insist upon resubmitting the names of my students.  We will set up the Goblet of Fire once more and continue until two champions are chosen from each school…”

“Now, now, Karkaroff,” purred Snape.  “Surely you recall that the Goblet of Fire does not reignite itself until the start of the next tournament.”

Karkaroff glared at the dark professor as if to say ‘You stay out of this’.  Snape simply smirked.

“I have half a mind to leave now!”

“Afraid you can’t do that, Karkaroff.  Your champion’s got to compete.  They all do.  Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said.”

Moody limped into the room, his blue eyes roving over the occupants.

“Someone,” growled Moody in his gruff voice, “put Potter’s name in knowing he’d have to compete if it came out.”

“Someone ‘oo wished ‘Ogwarts to ‘ave two bites at the apple!” said Madame Maxime.

“Yes…” said Karkaroff.  “I’ll be lodging a complaint…”

“Funny,” growled Moody, interrupting the other man.  “If anyone’s got a reason to complain, it’s Potter.  But I don’t hear him saying a word.”

“Why should ‘e complain?  ‘E ‘as ze chance to compete!” cried Fleur.  “Zis is a chance many would die for!”

“Maybe that’s what someone’s hoping,” said Moody.

Silence fell in the room at those words.  Then Bagman cleared his throat and said, “Ah…what a thing to say, Moody, old man.”

“Well, it was a skilled witch or wizard who put that boy’s name in the goblet…”

“’Ow do you come of zat?”

“Because they hoodwinked a powerful magical object!”

“Yes, well,” said Karkaroff, “we all know that Moody does not consider a day good, unless he has found five plots to murder him before lunch!”

“There are some who’ll turn innocent occasions to their advantage.  It’s my job to think like Dark wizards do.  As you ought to remember, Karkaroff…”

“Alastor!” said Dumbledore sharply.  Moody quickly fell silent, eying Karkaroff with satisfaction.

“Now,” said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone, “it is not known how this situation arose, but we shall make do with it as we have no other choice.  Both Harry and Cedric will compete in the tournament.  Barty, if you would?”

Mr. Crouch looked up, looking rather ill now.  He then gave a little shake and turned to Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

“The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to tell you what it is.  Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…  The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.  The champions are not allowed to ask or receive help from their teachers.  They will face the first challenge with only their wands.  Owing to the demanding nature of the tournament, they are exempted from end-of-the-year tests.”

Well there’s one perk, thought Harry bitterly.

“I believe that’s all, Albus.”

“Thank you, Barty,” said Dumbledore.  “Are you sure you won’t be staying at Hogwarts tonight?”

“No, no.  I must get back to the Ministry…I left young Weatherby in charge…very enthusiastic…”

Harry could help but give a little chuckle as he remembered that ‘Weatherby’ was actually Percy.

“Very well then,” said Dumbledore.

Madame Maxime and Fleur were already gone and Karkaroff and Krum were leaving now.

“Harry, Cedric,” said Dumbledore, “I suggest the two of you get to bed.  I am quite certain Hufflepuff and Slytherin would like the opportunity to make a great deal of noise.”

The two boys nodded and left together.

“So…I guess we’re playing each other in a bigger game than Quidditch, aye?” said Cedric with a grin.

“Yeah,” said Harry, shaking his head numbly.  “How the hell did that happen?”

Cedric looked at him in surprise.

“You mean you didn’t put your name in?”

Harry’s head shot up and he stared Cedric right in the eye, his gaze intense.

“Are you nuts?  Why in Merlin’s name would I want to compete?  I get enough adventure in my life as is!”

“Good point.”

They were silent until they entered the entrance hall and turned to part ways.

“Well…who do you think put it in?” asked Cedric, stopping to look at Harry.

Harry stopped too and sighed heavily, shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t know.  But if I ever find out…I’ll hex the hell out of them.”

Cedric grinned in a nervous sort of way and clapped him on the shoulder.  “I’m sure you could do it, too.  See you later, Harry.”

“See you, Cedric.”

Harry watched as the other boy walked off then headed behind the marble staircase, grabbing one of the candle sconces and pulling it down.  Part of the wall slid into itself and he stepped through.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry entered the dungeons and headed, not for the hidden doorway into Arx Serpens, but down towards the Potions classroom.  He turned away from the classroom and walked down to the second torch sconce to the left of the door.  Carefully counting the bricks, he placed his hand against the third one down and softly said, “Lily.”

The wall slid aside and he stepped inside, walking over to the empty fireplace and drawing his wand.

“Accendo.”

A tongue of fire leapt from his wand to the kindling in the hearth, springing instantly into a full blaze.  Harry smiled satisfactorily and sheathed his wand, pulling one of the two chairs near the fire closer to feel the warmth.  He then climbed up into the very comfortable piece of furniture and sighed, closing his eyes.

He waited a long while, wondering when his father was going to get back.  Surely whatever he was doing wouldn’t take this long…

Harry looked at his watch and saw it read 1:54.  Suddenly the screen flashed and read Go to sleep, fool!  Harry snorted and let his arm fall to land in his lap.  He wasn’t going to get to sleep until he talked to his father.

But a half-hour later, sleep claimed him and he only had enough consciousness left to stagger out of the chair and into his father’s bedroom.  Climbing up onto the bed, he collapsed, completely immersed in sleep before his head hit the pillow and the charm he had murmured had pulled a blanket over him.

At around 7:15 the next morning, light from a small, high window at the top of the bedroom (the window shouldn’t really have been there as this was a literal dungeon but it was in a magical castle, so let’s ignore that fact) onto the sleeping Harry’s face.  The teen grimaced in his sleep and threw up an arm to cover his face, mumbling something in Parseltongue.

A few minutes later, his arm slipped down and the bright sunlight tried to burn holes into his eyelids.  Harry, growling something about getting some stone and mortar, sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking about.

He was still in his father’s bedroom on the man’s bed.  Which either meant the Potions Master had slept on the couch or had not come down to his rooms at all during the night.

Harry sighed and got up, using a few flicks of his wand to straighten the rumpled covers and return the blanket to its place on the trunk at the end of the bed.  He then headed out into the main room, yawning widely before he reached for the familiar bell pull (that was attached to nothing as far as he could tell) and gave it a sharp tug.

Dobby appeared and instantly leapt bodily onto Harry.

“Harry Potter!  Dobby is so happy to see you’s!”

“You too, Dobby.  Now, if you wouldn’t mind…your cutting off my circulation.”

“I is sorry, Harry Potter,” said Dobby as he slid to the floor.

“S’alright,” said Harry, smiling at the house-elf.

“Is Harry Potter looking for his father?”

“Yes.  Do you know where he is?”

Dobby shook his head.

“Dobby had not seen Professor Snape.  Dobby had not seen Professor Snape since Harry Potter stayed with him.”

Harry sighed and said, “Thank you, Dobby.”

“Would Harry Potter like something to eat?”

“No, thank you.  I just go up to the Hall.”

“All right, Harry Potter.  Dobby will keep an eye out for Professor Snape.”

Harry smiled at the crazily dressed house-elf and said, “I’d appreciate that.”

Dobby beamed in response then disappeared with a crack.

Harry sighed heavily then heard a crash suddenly through the wall.

“Ow…  Damn desk…  HARRY!”

The teen groaned and walked over to one of the bookcases, reaching up and pulling out a false book.  The bookcase turned sideways and Harry replaced the book, walking into the dark tunnel behind it before the case returned to its former position.

As Harry walked, he could hear the voice in the Potions classroom still ranting.

“HARRY!  HARRY, WHERE ARE YOU!?”

Finally reaching the end of the tunnel, Harry ran his hand along the wall, searching for the raised stone his father said was there.  When he found it, he depressed it and watched as the wall slid open, revealing the dark Potions classroom.  Entering, he spoke the words that would instantly light the torches in the room and saw Niamh sitting on the floor in the center, rubbing one of her knee’s, which had what looked to soon be a bruise.

“Y’know,” he said, causing the girl to jump, “it’s not nice to just barge in somewhere without being invited.”  He looked at the lock pick that was tucked above Niamh’s ear and added, “And it’s also not nice to steal my extra lock pick.”

Niamh glared at him and growled, “Well, I wish you’d come and told me where you were going last night.  I was worried!”

“I was waiting for Da.  He never came down and I ended up falling asleep in his rooms.”  He arched an eyebrow at her and chuckled.  “Did you perhaps think I was hiding in the classroom?”

Niamh rolled her eyes and said, “Sometimes I don’t know what to think of you, Harry.  Your as changeable as a switchblade.”

Harry smirked.

“I thrive on being changeable.”

Niamh snorted then moaned as she accidentally hit her bruised knee.  “Ow…”

“What’d you do?” asked Harry as he strode over and gently pulled her to her feet.

“Ran into the ruddy desk.  Can’t see in the dark.  Could you tell me the spell to light the torches?”

“No, you’d probably use it in class and get me skinned alive.  I’m the only one besides Dumbledore that knows how Da lights the torches.”

“How about how to get into his rooms so I don’t have to so searching for you anymore?”

Harry gave her a stern look and she shrugged.

“It was worth a try.”

“Indeed,” said Harry, sounding very much like his father.  “Now, I’m going to take you upstairs to the infirmary then go get some breakfast.”

“It’s just a bruise!  I can walk fine…oh shit!!”

Niamh had pushed herself away from Harry and as soon as her weight came down on her bruised knee is collapsed.  Harry managed to catch her before she hit the floor and pulled her back up, wrapping an arm about her waist and trapping her against his side.

“Ah, yes,” he purred, “you can walk as gracefully as a jungle cat.  A jungle cat with a thorn in its paw, that is.”

“Shut up, you devil, and get me upstairs.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

After dropping Niamh off with Madam Pomfrey, Harry headed to the Great Hall to grab some breakfast.  As soon as he entered, the Hall fell as silent as a tomb.  Harry, as he was wont to do, stalked over to the Slytherin table without his shoes making a sound.  He sat down at the end nearest the doors where no one sat and began to grab pieces of food at random, ignoring those staring at him.  After a few moments, the noise in the Hall went up again.

“Harry.”

Harry turned and looked at Hermione, who was standing nervously behind him.

“’Lo, Mione.  Have a seat.”

“I…”

“Sit,” said Harry sharply.

Hermione sat and Harry smiled grimly at her.

“Now…what’s all the jumpiness about, ‘cause your really setting me in a bad mood in it.”

“Sorry, Harry…er – Ron…”

Harry groaned, “What’s he done this time?”

“Er – well…”

“Well?  Well, speak up!”

Hermione flushed and Harry went, “Ah.  I see.  He thinks I entered myself, doesn’t he?”

Hermione nodded numbly and Harry sighed, closing his eyes.  He grumbled, “I thought last year was one time enough to go through this.”

“Harry…”

“Mione, please.  I’m really not in the mood.”

Hermione nodded and gently patted his arm before heading back to the Gryffindor table.  As soon as she was gone, a seventh year walked down to Harry and sat down across from him.

“Fraternizing with the enemy again, Potter?”

Harry looked up at the older boy with such a look of loathing that the seventh year pulled back a little.

“Fraternizing with the enemy?  Fraternizing with the enemy?”  Harry spat this out in a bitter tone, rising angrily from his seat as he did so.

“They’re Mudbloods and Muggle-lover’s, Potter,” hissed the seventh year.

“Ah!” said Harry loudly, earning the attentions of many in the Hall.  “So that’s how it is!  Mighty Slytherin: all above the other Houses, all the other people.  Well, let me tell you something, my dear Housemate, life’s not like that outside these walls.  Life is cruel, hard, and as vicious as a mother dragon.  Life doesn’t give a damn about what you are: Muggle, Muggle-born, Pureblood, Halfblood, Squib, Werewolf, Vampire, Gryffindor, Slytherin…  It doesn’t give shit about any of that!  Life is the cruelest thing you can go up against, even worse than Voldemort himself!!  And I should know, because I’ve met both of them!  And let me tell you, Housemate mine, that Voldemort would be a much better thing to face than life.  Why?  Because Voldemort doesn’t cause you to suffer for years upon years.  Certainly under Cruciatus you might suffer by his hand but by the time he’d be done, you’d be dead!  Life doesn’t do that.  Life puts you down, kicks you in the gutter, and it keeps you alive.  So don’t you talk to be about fraternizing with the enemy, you fucking asshole.  ‘Cause the only enemy I see here, is idiots like you!”

This tirade ended with Harry throwing his goblet at the seventh year then storming out of the Hall, rage practically emanating off of him.  Those who had been standing in the doorway listening to him moved hurriedly out of his way, their eyes wide and frightened.

Talk that morning turned from the Tournament to Harry Potter’s tirade and the sudden sheepish looks on some of the Slytherin’s faces as though they had just realized something.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Potter?”

“What the fuck do you want, Malfoy?” growled Harry.  He was sitting in his alcove again, Hedwig curled up by his feet.

Draco looked at the snake then up at Harry, who was glaring daggers at him.

“I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Then ask it and get the hell out of my face.”

Draco’s gray eyes hardened then he said, “Where did you get that scar?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the other boy, looking down at where his sleeve had rolled up to reveal one of his worse scars, a long wound that had been made by a sharp blade on the inside of his left arm.  The wound had come from a brawl between Argil’s band of thieving boys and another one.  It’d been a fight for territory, of where they could steal from.  Argil’s bunch had won, but they had lost the newest boy of their lot and Harry had ended up with that scar.

“Is that all you wanted to ask me, Malfoy?  If so, I am not amused.”

“No, it’s not, Potter.  But I happened to see it, and I wanted to know.”

“Really?  Well, let me tell you.  It came from a brawl.  And no normal brawl.  You see, Malfoy, unlike most people think, I didn’t grow up living a charmed life.  Oh no…  I grew up on the streets, raised by a man who only used the children he kept alive to pick pockets.  I grew up belittled, beaten, and without anyone who loved me.  Where’s that put me in your grand scheme of what the world looks like?”

There was a moment of silence as Harry finished then Draco spoke.

“It puts you pretty much in the same boat as me.”

Harry snorted, disbelieving.

“And how is that, Malfoy?”

“Because that’s the same way I grew up, you unfeeling bastard!”

“Is it?” snapped Harry, turning to his legs dangled down the wall.  “Are you a pickpocket, Malfoy?  Is your body as riddled with scars as mine?  Did a man who betrayed your parents to the worst Dark wizard of all time damn you to Hell for ten years?  Tell me, where you?”

“No,” said Draco softly.

Harry hopped down from the alcove, grabbing Hedwig and sliding her into his pocket.  His eyes blazed as he glared down at Draco.

“Then we are nothing alike, are we?”

As he turned to walk away, two hands grabbed him and spun him back around.  Harry was shocked to find Draco holding him tightly, his face twisted in rage.  And, if Harry read it right, grief.

“No, Potter, not exactly alike.  I’m not a pickpocket.  I probably don’t have as many scars as you.  But I was as damned as you by the fucking bastard who stole my father’s soul!!”

Harry stared in shock down at this boy, his fellow Housemate who had loathed him for years.  The boy who had, at eleven, killed an owl to get revenge.  But now…hell, Harry looked at him and he saw someone like himself, someone what had been battered and beaten down all their lives.

Shit.

Harry gently pulled Draco’s hands from his robes and looked down at the other boy.

“Maybe, Malfoy.  Maybe we’re the same in some ways.  Maybe one day we could become…friends of a sort.  But if you’re looking to apologize now, you’d better do better than that.  You killed an owl, a creature that’d done nothing to you to get revenge.  And I can never forgive you for that.  But, maybe – maybe – I could become the only real friend you’ve probably ever had in your life.  Think about it.”

Harry turned and began to walk off when Draco whispered, “You’re his son, aren’t you?”

“Who’s?” said the raven-haired boy, halting in his tracks.

“Snape’s.  You are, aren’t you?”

Harry turned partially to look coldly at Draco, eyes as cold as the emeralds they resembled.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because.  The way you act, talk, everything about you is like him.”

“Oh…really?  Perhaps its simply coincidence.”

“Don’t play with me, Potter!” yelled Draco.  “Tell me: are you or are you not?”

Harry smirked and said, “We’ll see, Malfoy.  You really want to know?  You really want to become something more than enemies?  ‘Cause we don’t need enemies.  I think you and I, we’ve got enough of those.  So, if you really want to know, change your attitude.  Generally I’m a forgiving soul.”  Harry laughed and added, almost to himself, “It’s the Gryffindor part of me.”

He then turned and walked off, leaving Draco alone in the hallway to think on what had been said.

Sirius,

You’ve probably heard this by now (but maybe not), so whether you have or haven’t heard it, I’m going to tell you.  The Triwizard Tournament’s been started up again and when they drew names last night, mine came out.  I’m the fourth champion, one of two from Hogwarts.  Cedric Diggory’s the other.

I don’t know how it got in there.  But Ron seems to think I did it.  And I just exploded at a seventh year to probably the entire school then practically got asked by Draco Malfoy to become friends.  Friends.  You don’t really know the history between him and me, so here’s the sort version: he insulted Mum, I beat him up, he killed my old owl Hedwig to get revenge, and we’ve hated each other since.  Now…now I don’t know what to think of him.

I’m stretched thin as a wire here.  I feel like I’m strapped to one of those medieval torture devices that stretch you.  And they keep cranking the wheel.

I probably shouldn’t be heaving my problems onto you, but I can’t find Da and Ni…she’s stood by me ever since we met, but – I don’t know, I just can’t do it.  I think it’s that thing I was talking about earlier, about it being easier to write stuff down than saying it out loud.

And I’m starting to believe it.

Stay safe,

Harry

Harry sighed and folded the letter before looking up at the black lump that was Jardin.  The raven was still tired from his flight not too long ago, so Harry rose and picked out a school owl, tying the letter to its leg and sending it off just as Hedwig hissed from his wrist, “Everything is not okay?”

“No, Hed,” replied Harry, leaning on the stone ledge of the window and looking down onto the grounds.

“Everything is far from being okay.”

“It is the tournament?  Or the ferret?”

Harry shook his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know.  I just don’t bloody know!”

He slammed his hands down on the stone’s, ignoring the sting in his palm.

“Why does everything have to happen to me, Hed?  First the streets, then here, where I thought I’d have a better life.  I do really, but…  It’s almost becoming as much of a hell as the streets.  There’s Voldemort, trying to kill me probably even as we speak, and now this damn tournament.  And sure, I have Da and you and Jar.  You guys never waver.  But everyone else…  They waver.  They hear something about me – or about Da – and they started to think about it.  They start to think what about if its true or if it could happen.  Even Niamh.”

“Because,” hissed Hedwig, rubbing her arrow-shaped head up against his hand, “because you are the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Who lived when his mother died!”  Harry closed his eyes and whispered, “Maybe I should have died that night…”

“No!  Do not say that!”

“Why?” asked Harry tonelessly.  “Maybe I should have.  Ow!”

Hedwig hissed and bared her fangs at Harry as the teen stared at where she had bitten him.

“No!  Do not think like that!  You were meant to live!  You were meant to go through this!  This is LIFE.  This is what Life is.  It is pain.  It is betrayal.  It is loyalty.  It is love.”

Harry smiled slightly, remembering his tirade from earlier.

“Your right, Hed.  This is Life.  This is my life.  And I – I suppose this is what it’s going to be.”

“It is.”

“How on earth did you get so smart?”

“Talking to the raven.  He is very smart.  And the fox.”

“The fox?” said Harry in confusion.  “Who is the fox?  Hed?  Hed, answer me!”

“You will know in time.  Not now.  Now is not the time.”

“Why not!?”

“Because you have class,” replied Hedwig matter-of-factly.

Harry blinked and looked at his watch.

“OH SHIT!”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Where’ve you been, mate?” asked Niamh as Harry came dashing across the lawn to Hagrid’s hut.  “You completely missed Divination.  Not that the class is even needed, but anyway…”

“Busy,” said Harry, slightly winded.  He had been running up and down the corridors being chased by Peeves and had to hide in one of the secrets passageways.  Then Filch has come down that passageway and he’d had to duck into another, wishing he hadn’t left the Marauder’s Map in his trunk.  When he’d finally made it down to Arx Serpens for his bag, the first class was over and second was starting.

Niamh arched an eyebrow but said nothing.  She knew that busy coming from Harry was generally wandering the halls and getting away from Filch when the man popped up.

“What do you think…”

“Oh, look,” sneered a voice from behind them.  “It’s the champion.  Potter, the high and mighty.”

Niamh whirled, teeth bared, then blinked and completely fell out of her fighting stance.  She had expected to see Draco standing behind her and Harry.  Instead it was Pansy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.  Harry turned halfway, his face and eyes blank of expression as he said, “Hello, Pansy.  Taking over from Malfoy?”

The pug-faced girl sneered at him and spat, “No thanks to you, Potter.  What the fuck’d you say to him, anyway?”

Niamh turned and glared hard up at Harry, her blue eyes burning like the flames of the now extinguished Goblet of Fire.  Harry didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her glare, simply looked at the other three Slytherins with an expression like a stone statue.

“I believe what I said to him is between him and me alone, thank you.  If you care to find out, try and ask him.  Or me again.  I’d be happy to inform you in the form of a very painful hex.  Now…good day.”

Pansy practically had steam coming out of her ears as Harry turned and walked over to where the rest of the class was attempting to tie leashes on a skrewt.  Niamh glared at Pansy for a moment then followed Harry.  She worked along beside him in silence, the look on her face telling him that she was going to rake him as soon as class was over.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

As soon as they had reached the entrance hall, Niamh dropped her bag and whirled on Harry, shoving him hard into the wall.

“All right, you,” she growled.  “What’s this about a talk with Malfoy?”

Harry looked down at her unperturbed and replied, “It was a talk, Ni.  And like I said to Pansy, a private one.”

“You know you can talk to me about everything.”

“Yes, I know.  We both can, can’t we?”

Niamh flinched.  She knew he was referring to last year with the boggarts.

“Harry, I – I can’t tell you about that.”

Harry nodded and said, “And I can’t tell you about this.  This is between me and Malfoy, Ni.  That’s it.”

“Are you becoming friends?”

Harry gave her an unreadable look.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you trying to?”

“You can only hate someone for so many years…”

“HE KILLED HEDWIG!  He’s capable of murder, Harry.”

Harry frowned slightly.

“He’s capable of murdering a defenseless animal.  I doubt he’s capable of murdering another person.”

Niamh’s anger rose and she bristled, “And you are?”

Quite suddenly the girl wished she hadn’t said that.  Something dark flashed behind Harry’s eyes and he gently pushed her away from him, his grip tighter than it needed to be.  Niamh could feel his hands shaking as he released her to lean down and pick up his bag.

He walked away without a word.

Niamh stared after him.  She knew that remark had had something to do with Tyls’ death.  She just knew it!

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry completely skipped lunch, Double Potions, and dinner that day.  His mind was whirling from what Niamh had said to him.

Twilight found him huddled in the passageway behind Rowena’s portrait, tears streaming down his cheeks.  Niamh’s words had struck him to the core.

“HE KILLED HEDWIG!  He’s capable of murder, Harry.”

“He’s capable of murdering a defenseless animal.  I doubt he’s capable of murdering another person.”

“And YOU are?”

Harry leaned his head back against the cool stones and closed his eyes.

Yes.  Yes, his was capable of that.  He was capable of murder.

But had it really been?  Or had he been avenging Tyls’ death?  Certainly avenging his friend.  And anyone else who had probably died at Argil’s hand or been beaten by him.

Harry shook his head, opening his eyes.

Niamh’s words echoed through his head again.

“And YOU are?”

“Yes,” whispered Harry to the darkness of the tunnel, tasting his salty tears as he spoke.  “But never again.”

“Never again…”

“Hey, Potter!” called out a voice behind Harry a few days later as he walked towards Double Potions.

Harry turned, completely alone in the corridor without Niamh or Ginny beside him.  His eyes fastened on Pansy and he growled, “What do you want, Parkinson?”

The blonde girl smirked and replied, “To show you this!”

She pointed at a badge on her chest, which read in bright red lettering:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY – THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

“Like them?” asked the girl.  “Look what else they can do!”  She pressed the badge and the words changed, this time showing up in green.

POTTER STINKS

The Slytherins around her laugh uproariously but Harry simply looked emotionlessly down at her.  His eyes suddenly saw Draco’s pale face in the crowd.

The boy hadn’t been one of those laughing.

Harry walked towards Pansy, stopping when he was about a foot away.  The Slytherins leans back a little, not laughing anymore and with fear in their eyes.

He leaned down – for Pansy’s head barely reached his chest – and peered at the badge.  Smirking, he pulled back a little and looked in her shrewd blue eyes.

“Very ingenious, Pansy.  Very much so.  But – here’s an idea.  Why don’t you make one that doesn’t make you look like an idiot, hmm?  I mean, not supporting your own Housemate.  Tut, tut.  What would Professor Snape think of that?”

Still smirking, Harry straightened and turned, heading on towards the Potions classroom.  Pansy glowered after him until he disappeared around a corner.  Behind her someone chuckled.

All eyes turned on Draco, whose grey eyes were filled with mirth.  He chuckled for another moment then locked eyes with Pansy.

“Well, well, Parkinson,” he said, “it seems Potter has foiled your plots again.”

“Shut the fuck up, Malfoy.”

Draco shook his head and walked through the crowd up to where he stood in front of her, barely an inch taller than she.

“Such language from a lady.  But – wait – you aren’t a lady, are you, Parkinson?  In fact, I think O’Feir’s more of a lady than you.  After all, what more could the Lady Hex be?”

He smirked at her then headed down the corridor after Harry, hearing Pansy shriek behind him.  As he passed by a shadowy alcove, he did not notice a tall, lean figure standing there.  When he was far enough along the corridor, Harry stepped out, smirking and shaking his head slightly.

“Well, well, Malfoy.  It seems you are having a change in attitude.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Later in Potions, the door suddenly opened and Colin Creevey entered, walking up to Snape’s desk.  The dour Potions Master look up at him and said silkily, “Mr. Creevey.  What would a young Gryffindor such as yourself be doing out of class?”

Several Slytherins snickered, thinking Colin was going to get detention and points deducted.

“I’m supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs, sir.”

Snape arched an eyebrow.

“Champion duties, I suppose?”

Colin nodded and Snape looked at Harry, who was just now bottling up the antidote they were supposed to make in class.

“Mr. Potter, put that on the shelf, clean up, and go with Creevey.”

Harry nodded and did as asked, picking up his bag and following Colin out, catching Ron’s sour look as he did so.

“So,” said Harry as they ambled down the corridor, “any idea what they want me for, Colin?”

“Photos, I think,” replied the shorter boy.  “Oh, isn’t it amazing?  You being champion and all?”

“Sure, Colin.  It’s all glorious.  Like war.  War can be glorious.  Then again, so can a well-shot hex.  But I digress.”

Colin just stared at Harry then said, “There’s the room.  Er, good luck!”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Harry, entering.

The room was a classroom, all its desks but three pushed to the back of the room.  The three left were covered by a black velvet cloth and had five chairs sitting behind them.  Also in the room was Krum, who was standing sullenly in a corner; Cedric and Fleur, who appeared to be deep in conversation; Ludo Bagman, who was sitting in one of the chairs talking to a very familiar looking woman in mauve robes.  A sneer immediately crossed Harry’s features as he saw who she was.

“Ah!” cried Bagman suddenly.  “Harry, my boy!  Come in, come in.  Don’t worry – it’s just the wand weighing.”

Harry arched an eyebrow and said, “Wand weighing?”

“Yes, yes.  We have to check if your wands are fully functional – they’re your most important tools in the tasks.  Ah!  And this is…”  He gestured at the witch in mauve robes, who had walked up behind him.

Harry sneered at her and snarled, “I know who she is, Mr. Bagman.”  He then said to her, “Well, Ms. Skeeter, writing more trash articles?”

Skeeter smiled grimly and replied, “Just a small one, Mr. Potter.  Perhaps, you and I…could talk in private?”

“Sure.  Why not?  No, wait.  I’d rather have a resurrected Voldemort brutally murder me.  Sorry.”

Harry turned sharply and walked away, not caring one iota about Bagman staring at him.  As he stopped near Cedric and Fleur – who had been watching him – Cedric leaned over and said softly, “Wasn’t that a bit uncalled for, Harry?”

The teen turned angry green eyes on the Hufflepuff.

“Have you ever read her articles, Cedric?”

“Er…yes.”

“Then my point is made,” said Harry cryptically, leaning against a desk and dropping his bag onto the floor.  He then pushed his sleeve up and took his wand out of the holster strapped to his arm.  Fleur snorted.

“Iz zat what you keep your wand in?”

“Yes,” said Harry slowly, rubbing at a small scratch on the dark wood.  His eyes glared up at the veela-looking girl from under his bangs.

Fleur snorted again and muttered, “Englishmen…”

Harry watched as she walked halfway across the room then began to rub at the scratch on his wand again.

Quite suddenly, Dumbledore appeared, followed by Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Mr. Crouch.  Along with a familiar, silver-eyed man…

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” said Dumbledore as he and the other took their place at the judges’ table.  “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.

Harry quickly sheathed his wand at this and walked over to where four chairs had been put out for the champions.  As he sat down, he saw Rita pulling out a piece of parchment and an acid-green quill from the crocodile skin bag in her hands out of the corner of his eyes.  He suppressed a growl of annoyance and turned to where Ollivander was stretching out his hand for Fleur’s wand.

“Hmm…  Nine and a half inches…unflexible…rosewood…and containg…dear me…”

“An ‘air from ze ‘ead of a veela.  One of my grandmuzzer’s.”

Ah, thought Harry, so she is part veela.

“Yes,” said Ollivander, running his wand over the wand as though checking for bumps or scratches.  “A temperamental core that makes, but…to each his – or her – own!”  He then flicked the wand, crying out, “Orchideous!” and causing a bundle of flowers to burst from the tip.

“A wand in fine working order.  Mr. Diggory, you next.”

Cedric rose and handed his wand over to Mr. Ollivander, who smiled slightly.

“Ah…one of mine, isn’t it?  Yes, yes…  Ash…twelve and a quarter inches…pleasantly springy…with a core of unicorn hair.”  He flicked the wand, sending a stream of smoke rings across the room.

“Thank you.  Mr. Krum…”

Krum got up and slouched over, handing his wand to Ollivander.

“A Gregorovitch creation?  Yes, yes.  A fine wand-maker…  Let’s see…hornbeam and dragon heartstring…rather thicker than one generally sees…ten and a quarter inches…Avis!”

The blast that the wand let off made everyone in the room save Harry, Ollivander, and Dumbledore jump.  A flock of birds erupted from the end and circled the room once before flying out the open window.

“Very good.  Now…Mr. Potter…”

Harry go to his feet and walked over to Ollivander, pushing up his sleeve to reveal the wand-holster on his arm.  He pulled it out and handed it over in one quick, liquid movement.

Ollivander nodded, eying the holster.

“Ah.  A dueler, I see.  I’ve heard of your reputation, Mr. Potter.  And this wand…ah, I remember it well.  Eleven inches…holly…and phoenix feather.  And not a scratch on it…”

“Better for dueling, sir,” said Harry softly.

“Yes…  Yes, indeed.”  Ollivander flicked the wand, sending a fountain of wine shooting out of it before handing it back to Harry, who slipped it up his sleeve and into its holster in a practiced move.

“Very good condition, Mr. Potter.  Very good.”

“Thank you,” said Harry, grateful that the man hadn’t mentioned his wand’s connection to Voldemort’s.

“Now, then!” said Dumbledore, rising from his seat.  “Thank you all for waiting on us old people.  You may go back to your lessons – or perhaps dinner, as lessons are about to end.”

“Photos, Dumbledore, Photos!” cried Bagman.

“Ah, yes,” said Dumbledore as a man with a black camera jumped up from where he’d been sitting.

“Yes,” said Rita, her eyes on Harry.  “And get some individual shots.”

The photos took longer than anyone might believe.  Madame Maxime had to sit down in the end (she was shadowing everyone else) and Rita kept trying to get Harry in front.  Of course, Harry being fairly tall, go pushed back.  When the reporter tried to pull him forward again, he jerked his arm away from her and spat, “You touch me again, and I’ll curse your hands off.”

“Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore sternly and Harry gave the headmaster a look that clearly read ‘Can you blame me?’

Finally, photos were over and Harry grabbed his things, leaving quickly before Rita could follow him.  She actually did try but he got away from her by hurriedly getting around a corner and ducking into a passageway behind a portrait of a large silver snake.  The trick with this passageway was that it had to be opened by a Parselmouth.

“Is she gone?” hissed Hedwig as Harry strolled down the long, slightly damp passageway.

“Yes,” replied Harry.

“Good riddance.”

Harry threw back his head and laughed at the snake’s remark.

“She wants in your father’s pants you know.”

That caused Harry to stop and lean up against the wall, breaking down helplessly into a long fit of laughter.

“She does, does she?” he finally said when he could get enough breath to speak.  “And how might you know that little piece of information, my dear viper?”

Hedwig poked her head out of his sleeve and gave the snake equivalent of a smirk.

“That’s for me to know, and you not to.”

This sent Harry into more peals of laughter as he pushed himself away from the wall and continued down the passageway.

“Harry, have you seen this?”

Harry looked up as Niamh settled herself into the seat across from him.  He had just been about to open the reply from Sirius but stuffed it into his pocket instead.

“What?” asked Harry just as his eyes caught the name of the paper.  His eyes narrowed instantly and he growled, “Do tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

Niamh smiled grimly and folded the paper, sliding it across the table to him.

A picture of Harry in his Quidditch robes on the pitch, Firebolt in one hand and fluttering Snitch in the other, was plastered on the front page.  Beside it was a long article that lasted for two pages if Harry guessed right and was by – of course – Skeeter.  By the title it was a piece about the Triwizard Tournament but by the looks of what he’d skimmed through so far, it was more about him than anything else.

There also seemed to be a lot of things in the article he couldn’t recall ever saying to anyone.

I think about my parents a lot.  Yes, I think they’d be proud to see me now…

Harry snorted and mumbled, “Horseshit,” before flipping to the second page of the article.

It seems Harry has the attention of many young ladies.  His friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen without the company of Hermione Granger and Niamh O’Feir, two very pretty Muggle-born Girls, and Virginia Weasley, daughter of Arthur Weasley.

Harry snorted again and chucked the paper into the middle of the table.  “Crap,” he said.  “Just plain, bloody crap.  I didn’t even talk to that woman.  If you can call her a woman.”

“Harry,” said Niamh, “aren’t you going a little far in your dislike of her?”

Harry glared at her and she held up her hands in defense.

“Just asking, mate…”

“I know what you mean, Ni.  But bloody hell…how do people read this crap?”

Niamh shrugged then asked, “Are you mad at me?”

Harry looked at her, one eyebrow arched.

“Pardon?”

“After what I said.  About Malfoy.”

“Oh, Ni, ye bloody idiot,” said Harry, chuckling slightly.  “That was my fault that I stormed off.  Don’t worry about it.”

“What…”

“Don’t worry about it,” repeated Harry.  “And where’s our red-headed companion?”

“Down there…  What’s Parkinson doing with her?”

Harry leaned back and peered over several heads to see Pansy and Ginny standing in the door leading into the Great Hall.  The blond was screaming something and waving a paper, pointing at Ginny.  The redhead did not look amused.

“Pretty?  You?  What was Skeeter judging the three of you against – a skrewt?”

“Do I get the impression that Pansy is…” began Niamh.

“Jealous?” suggested Harry.

“Yep.”

“It would appear so.  And there’s Hermione.”

The two of them watched as Hermione strode up, plowed through the Slytherin girls who had gathered around Pansy and Ginny (who had been reaching for her wand), and grabbed the younger girl’s arm.  She dragged her up to where Harry and Niamh were sitting and made the other girl sit down before assuming the same position with a humphf.

“Seen the paper, I presume?” said Niamh.

Hermione snorted and looked at Harry, saying, “I hope you didn’t say any of that.”

Harry shook his head.

“I hate the woman with a fiery passion.  I wouldn’t talk to her if she and Voldemort were the last two people on the planet.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” growled Ginny, taking her hand off her wand.  Hermione frowned at her then scowled at Niamh and Harry.

“You two shouldn’t be teaching her hexes.”

“We didn’t,” said Harry.

“We just practice them so much, she picked them up,” said Niamh before glaring at the second year that was sneering at Hermione.

“Yes, yes, well.  Harry, have you been looking for things that might help you in the task?  That Summoning Charm Professor Flitwick’s been teaching might be a help…”

Niamh chuckled softly and said, “Mione, Harry’s known the Summoning Charm since second year.  He’s so far ahead of the rest of us, that Flitwick’s got him doing sixth year work.”

Hermione stared at Harry, who scowled at Niamh.  He really didn’t like the looks he got whenever someone found out he was doing sixth year Charms work.

“Harry…your that far ahead?”

“Yeah.  Anyway, I don’t even know what the first task is going to be, so I don’t really know what to look at.”

“So what are you doing?”

“Looking over all his hex and curses books,” said Ginny.  “And his own.”

Hermione blinked.

“Your own?  You’ve made your own hexes?”

“Shhh,” said Harry, grinning slightly.  “Shouldn’t let anyone know.”

“Harry!”

The dark-haired boy only grinned and refused to reply to any of Hermione’s questions.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

It wasn’t until that night that Harry had a chance to read Sirius’ letter.

Harry,

Your one of the Triwizard Champions?  I’ve been hearing about it for weeks, about the fourth champion, but…I never thought I’d be you!  Good Merlin…  Just be careful, Harry.

Malfoy?  Lucius Malfoy’s son?  Well, despite the bad blood between you, I suggest you try and make friends with him.  It could prove a good thing.

Don’t think about it.  Just go with what’s going on and don’t think about what might happen next, or why everything is happening.  I’ve done that several times and that path of thought only leads to madness.  And if you can’t talk to Snape or Niamh, talk to that raven of yours.

I think it’s time for me to come back.  Things seem to be going awry there and Dumbledore’s brought Moody out of retirement.  Don’t owl me again.  I’ll owl you when I get back into the country.

Sirius

Harry stared at the letter for a moment then cursed and slammed his fist down upon his knee.

Dammit!

He read the letter again and spat a curse under his breath.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, he thought.  Now Sirius is coming back into the country and you stand to lose the only real relation you’ve got besides Da!  Harry, you complete and total, sodding IDIOT!

Harry continued to berate himself like this for a few minutes before he left the common room and went to his dormitory, hiding the letter in the bottom of his trunk and locking it before he changed and climbed into bed.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The next Saturday, Harry, Niamh, and Ginny trudged down into Hogsmeade and towards the Three Broomsticks.  Just before they reached the door, Rita Skeeter and the photographer from the wand weighing came out.  Her eyes alighted on Harry and she smiled.

“Why, Harry,” purred Rita.  “How pleasant to see you here.”

Harry sneered at her and spat, “Oh, how sweet it would be if the feeling were mutual.  Or…perhaps not.  If you’ll excuse us.”

The tall teen plowed past her, Niamh and Ginny following him.  As soon as they were inside, Harry said, “You two go find a table.  I’ll go get us some butterbeer.”

The two girls nodded and went off as Harry headed for the counter to buy drinks.  There he found himself standing behind Hermione and tapped the girl on the shoulder.  She turned and blinked up at him.

“Oh.  Harry!  Ron’s still…”

“Bristling?” suggested Harry, peering through the crowd towards the table where Ron sat with the twins and Lee.  “Yes, I can see that.  You came with him?”

“Well…I thought about coming with you…”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mione.  At least this year the dislike isn’t mutual.”

“Harry!” shrieked Hermione indignantly then blushed when she discovered it was her turn.  She paid for her drinks and glared at Harry as she walked off.  He grinned wryly at her then bought the drinks and went to search for Niamh and Ginny.

The two of them were sitting on the window seat of a rather large stained glass window.  As he handed them their butter beers and situated himself inbetween them, Niamh said, “No more tables.  And we had to fight four first years for the window seat.”

Ginny nodded and grinned, fingering her wand.

“We threatened them.”

Harry shook his head and said, “Ladies, ladies…don’t you know any manners?”

“Your one to talk!” said Niamh.  “Hey, there’s Hagrid.  Hagrid!”  She stood up on the window seat, waving frantically at the giant of a man.

“Who’s he talking to?” asked Ginny, seeing Hagrid was slightly bent over.

“Moody,” replied Niamh.  “Hey!  They’re coming over here!  Or, well, Hagrid is.  Moody’s leaving.”

Niamh sat down as Hagrid lumbered over to them, a wide grin behind his shaggy beard.

“All right, Niamh, Virginia, Harry?”

Ginny blanched and said, “Please, Hagrid.  Ginny.”

“Er…yeh.”  Hagrid bent down and looked thoughtfully at Harry before whispering, “Yeh still got that cloak, Harry?”

Harry arched an eyebrow at the question then took a sip of butter beer and replied, “Yes.  Why?”

Hagrid simply grinned and replied, “Meet me tonight at me cabin.  Wear that cloak.”

“Hagrid…” said Niamh.

“No, yeh can’t come.”

Niamh gave a little huff and glared at Hagrid for a moment but couldn’t keep it up.  She liked the man too much to be angry with him.

“Oh, all right…”

Hagrid smiled and ruffled Niamh’s hair with a large hand before saying, “Nice ter see yeh lot,” and leaving the pub.

Ginny stared after him and asked, “What was that about?”

Niamh shrugged and looked at Harry, who was downing the last of his butter beer.

“You going tonight, Harry?”

The dark-haired boy looked at her like she had asked him if he was playing Quidditch anymore.

“’Course I am.  Hagrid’s got my curiosity going.”

“I didn’t know you could be curious,” teased Ginny, earning a mild glare.

“Ha, ha, ha.  C’mon, let’s go.  I have a craving for some Honeydukes chocolate.”

The two girls grinned and followed close behind him as they departed.

Harry, under his Invisibility Cloak and with Hedwig curled tightly about his wrist, crept across the dark grounds towards Hagrid’s lighted hut.  He could hear Madame Maxime talking inside the Beauxbatons carriage as he went past but he ignored it, sliding on past and knocking on Hagrid’s door with an invisible fist.

“What are we doing?” hissed Hedwig.

“Shh,” replied Harry.

“Humphf.”

Harry rolled his eyes then looked up as Hagrid open his door and poked out his shaggy head.  He saw the broken teeth of a comb in it and winced.  Slytherin’s serpent, Hagrid had worse hair that he’d had on the streets!  And that was waist-length and from eleven years of dirt and grime!

“That you, Harry?”

“Unless some other invisible person is wandering around,” said Harry in an amused tone.  Hagrid grunted and opened the door enough to let Harry slide in.  As soon as he was inside, the teen threw back the hood of his cloak.

“What is it you want to show me, Hagrid?  Something to do with the skrewts?”

“You’ll see,” replied Hagrid.  “Now follow me, an’ keep yerself covered with that cloak.”

“Alright.  Let me get the hood back up.  Oh, is this going to be something that might scare Hedwig?  Like the hippogriffs last year?”

Hagrid looked thoughtful for a moment then shook his head before striding out into the night.  Harry gave the hood of the cloak one more tug for good measure then loped after Hagrid.  He blinked when Hagrid led him over to the Beauxbatons carriage but didn’t say anything.

Hagrid looked around as though looking for Harry then knocked on the door.  Madame Maxime, a silk shawl about her shoulders, appeared in the doorway and smile at Hagrid.

“Ah, ‘Agrid…it is time?”

“Bong-sewer,” replied Hagrid, holding out his arm after he’d helped her step down the golden steps.  As they tromped off, Harry followed them, sliding noiselessly across the grass with practiced steps.

“Wair is it you are taking me, ‘Agrid?” asked Madame Maxime.

“Yeh’ll enjoy this.  On’y – don’ go tellin’ anyone I showed yeh, right?  Yeh’re not s’posed ter know.”

“Of course not.”

Harry frowned slightly at the exchange.  What on earth was Hagrid leading him to?

Then he heard it.  The shouts of men and a deafening roar came from just ahead of him and he broke into a faster pace in sudden anticipation.

They cleared a clump of trees and Harry hissed under his breath, “Hell’s bells…  Dragons…”

There were four of them, four vicious-looking dragons inside a fence made of thick wood planks.  Harry’s eyes widened as he recognized the breeds.

“Silvery-blue…Swedish Short-Snout,” he breathed, taking a few steps away from Hagrid and Madame Maxime.  “Common Welsh Green…Chinese Fireball…and….cripes!”

“What?” hissed Hedwig.

“They’ve got a bloody Hungarian Horntail!” hissed Harry, eyes wide as he watched the huge, lizard-like beast of black rear on its hind legs and roar, its slitted yellow eyes bulging.

“Is that bad?”

“Its bloody suicidal!”

Harry watched as the dragon keepers drew their wands and fired Stunning Spells at the dragons.  The Horntail swayed dangerously then came down, making the ground quiver slightly.  He inched closer as the dragon keepers hurriedly made the chains about the dragons fast and secured them to iron pegs.

“All right there, Hagrid?” called one of the dragon keepers as he strode over to them.  Harry quickly recognized him as Charlie and smiled slightly.  Charlie eyed Madame Maxime as she began to circle the enclosure and said to Hagrid, “I thought you were coming alone, Hagrid.”

“I thought she’d like ter see ‘em.”

“Nice date, Hagrid.”

“One fer each champion?” asked Hagrid, gesturing at the dragons.  Harry nearly keeled over when Charlie replied.

“Yep.  They just have to get past them, I think.  Oh, I hope Harry doesn’t get that Horntail…”

Harry wanted to slap Charlie.  Instead he settled for moaning softly and ducking his head.  You were never supposed to say anything like that!  Generally it came true!

Charlie continued, “I just hope he’s fine after he faces this first task.  Mum’s been having kittens worried about him.  ‘Course, Dad keep telling her that Harry isn’t a Slytherin for nothing.”

“True,” said Hagrid, eyeing the dragons longingly.

Harry took this as he time to leave and turned, making good use of his long legs by sprinting across the grounds and up into the castle.  He blatantly ignored the fact that he saw Karkaroff also creeping across the lawn.  As he crept like a shadow through the corridors, his mind was spinning.

What was he going to use to get past a fifty-foot, fire-breathing dragon?

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Tuesday and the First Task came far too fast for Harry and he still didn’t know how to get past the damned dragon.  As he saw Cedric leaving breakfast, he was struck by the memory of seeing Karkaroff the night he’d seen the dragons.  Rising, he broke into a fast lope and caught Cedric by the arm just as he was heading up the marble staircase.

“Cedric!”

Gray eyes blinked at him in surprise and Cedric said, “Harry?  What…  Is something wrong?”

Harry made sure no one was near them and said, “The first task is dragons.”

“What?”

“Dragons,” repeated Harry.  “There’s four – one for each of us – and we’ve got to get past them.”

“Are you sure?  I mean…”

“I’ve seen them.”

“What?  How?”

Harry sighed and said, “Nevermind how.  But Fleur and Krum probably know too.  Maxime and Karkaroff saw the dragons too.”

“And we have to face them today?  Oh dear…”

Harry smiled, or tried to smile, at the older boy.  It must have looked bad because Cedric grimaced then began to laugh.  Harry began to laugh as well and said, “I bet we look like a bunch of fools.”

Cedric shook his head and said, “I don’t think anyone would have the guts to call you a fool, Harry.”

“Good point.  The mighty Lord Hex is feared by all.”

Cedric laughed again then clapped Harry on the shoulder.

“Thanks for telling me, Harry.”

“Welcome,” said Harry.  He then saw a few sixth-year Hufflepuffs emerging from the Great Hall and said, “I’d better slither off in my Slytherinly way.”

“Hmm?”

Harry jabbed his thumb over his shoulders towards the Hufflepuffs and said, “They’ll say I’m trying to hex you so I’ll be the only Hogwarts champion in the tournament.”

“But I know you wouldn’t do that,” said Cedric with a wink.  “And that’s all that counts.”

“True.  But try and tell that to the good bit of the school that thinks I cheated to enter.  Y’know, half the Slytherins are supporting you.”

“Half your own House?”

Harry smiled bitterly and said, “Just because they’re my own House, doesn’t mean they like me.  Good luck.”

“You too,” said Cedric as Harry headed down the steps and in the direction of the dungeons.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Harry, what are you going to do?” hissed Niamh as they huddled together in the back of the History of Magic classroom, ignoring Binns persistent droning.

“I don’t bloody know!” spat Harry in response, leaning on his elbows.  He turned his head to look at his friend and asked, “What would you do to get past a dragon?”

“You know more about magical creatures than me.”

Harry grunted and closed his eyes for a moment before he spread one hand on the table and pointed at his fingers with the other.

“Okay, dragons are impervious to all spells except really powerful one’s or one’s cast in great number.  They’re eyes are vulnerable but you can’t hit those unless your close enough.  Then there’s the whole fire-breathing thing.  Plus their wings, which can be dangerous in close quarters.  And…well, hell, a dragon practically unbeatable.”

“But not completely,” said Niamh, eyes glittering.

“No…not completely.  But…gah!”

“What?”

“I just had a epiphany.”

“A what?”

“And idea.”

“And may I know this wondrous idea?” asked Niamh sarcastically.  Harry grinned at her and patted her shoulder.

“You’ll see.  You’ll see…”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Lunch came and with it came Snape and the task.  Nearly all eyes were on the Potions Master as he crossed the Hall to where Harry sat with Niamh and Ginny.

“Potter.”

Harry looked up from his lunch and slowly rose.  Niamh and Ginny smiled nervously and both whispered, “Good luck.”  He forced a smile at the two of them then walked out with Snape.

As the two of them headed out onto the grounds and the cold air, Severus put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Good as I’m going to be,” replied Harry.

Severus smiled slightly and said, “Don’t worry.  There are wizards standing by if the situation gets out of control.  And I’ll be up in the stands with my wand at ready.”

Harry looked at his father oddly and said, “You think I’m going to be scorched by dragon breath?”

“No, no, no.  I am positive of it.”

“Oh, thanks.  I really feel better now.”

Severus chuckled then looked up.

“We’re here.”

Harry frowned at the tent in front of him then looked at his father again.

“Could you tell me that this’ all a dream?”

Severus shook his head and Harry sighed.

“I thought so…  Oh well.”

Harry gave a little shake and said, “Wish me luck.”

“Only the best.  Bagman’s inside with the other champions to tell you what’s going on.  Good luck, Harry.”

“Thank you,” said Harry, adding ‘sir’ as an afterthought.  Severus winked at him then walked off in the direction of the dragon enclosure.  Harry checked to make sure his wand was in it holster and ready to pull at a moment’s notice, then entered the tent.

“Harry!” cried Bagman.  “Come in, come in!”

Harry entered slowly, eying the happily grinning man.

“Well, now we’re all here – time to fill you in!  When the audience has assembled, I’m going to be offering each of you this bag (he waved a small silk bag) from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face?  There are different – er – varieties (“Varieties, my ass,” muttered Harry), you see.  And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes…your task is to collect the golden egg!”

“Eggs,” muttered Harry, letting his head drop into his hand.  “It had to be eggs.”

Soon they heard the trample of footsteps and happily talking voices passing by the tent.  Harry peered out and thought he saw Hermione flash by, her face very drawn and worried looking.  Bagman opened the bag and offered it to Fleur, who put a shaking hand inside and pulled out a tiny miniature of the Welsh Green with a number two around its neck.

Krum went next, drawing the Chinese Fireball and the number three.  Harry gave a little inward smile as he noticed neither of them were surprised.  So Maxime and Karkaroff had told them…

 Cedric – looking exceedingly green – stepped forward and drew out the Swedish Short-Snout, with a one tied about its neck.  Harry felt a sinking feeling as he realized what was left and stuck his hand into the bag when Bagman offered it to him.  The Hungarian Horntail stood in his hand a minute later, stretching its wings and baring sharp fangs at him.  He plucked the piece of paper with the number four off its neck and tossed it away, just watching the dragon as it circled around his hand.

“Well then!” said Bagman.  “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face and the number in which you shall face yours.  Now, I’m going to leave you in a moment because I’m commenting but Mr. Diggory, you’re first, so, just go into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?  Harry…”

“No, thank you, Mr. Bagman,” said Harry, watching the Horntail lay down in the palm of his hand.

Bagman nodded slightly and said, “Well then.  Good luck!”  He then left the tent and they were alone.  A whistle blew a few minutes later and Cedric, who was getting greener by the moment, started for the door.  Harry touched his arm before he made it out and whispered, “Good luck.”  The older boy nodded at him then headed out.  Harry listened closely and heard the roar of the crowd that meant Cedric had entered the enclosure.  He turned back to the mini Horntail and went over what he planned to do in his head.

Soon enough it was Fleur’s turn, and she left the tent shaking but with her head held high.  Harry watched her go out of the corner of his eye then looked back at the model.

Minutes later the crowd erupted into applause as they had done for Cedric and the whistle was blown.  Krum rose stiffly and slouched out, leaving Harry alone.

And then it was Harry’s turn.

He rose slowly as the whistle blew, stuffing the model into his pocket.  He walked out and over to the enclosure, passing through a gap in the fence and drawing his wand as the crowd roared.  The Horntail crouched over her clutch of eggs at the other end of the enclosure, her yellow eyes fixed evilly upon him.  Harry clutched his wand hard and took a breath.

Just like dueling Niamh.  Yeah, there’s an idea…  Think of that vicious dragon as your best friend, who can also be vicious when she sets her mind to it.

Harry walked a few steps forward, wand held out straight in front of him, the tip tilted towards the grounds slightly.  His eyes were focused on the Horntail as he waited, hoping she would do what he wanted her to…

The Horntail seemed to draw into herself then roared, a great rush of fire coming out of her mouth straight towards him.  Gasps went up from the crowd as he stood, waiting until the rush of heat was almost upon him before he yelled, “Speculum!”

A half-circle of transparent blue light formed from the tip of his wand and, as the fire struck it, it was gathered into a ball, hovering just before the tip of his wand and the half shield then it hurled itself back towards the Horntail in a rush.

Harry dispelled the mirror at the same time, rushing forward under the flames; his body crouched low towards the ground.  He ignored the surprised gasps coming from the crowd and Bagman’s magnified voice.  Pointing his wand at the Horntail’s feet as it reared to meet its own flames, he yelled, “Funis!”  Ropes sprang from his wand and lashed themselves about the dragon claws, binding them together.  The dragon fell with a roar as Harry dove at the clutch, his left hand grabbing the golden egg and holding it close against his chest.  He rolled, landing on his back, wand pointed upwards as the flames – no longer heading for the Horntail – headed towards the crowd.  There were wizards running across the field, trying to beat the flames to the crowd.

“Incendia verto!”

The crowd was shrieking, waiting for the fire to strike them – and was struck instead by thousands of roses.  They stared at the perfectly proportioned, blood red flowers then began to cheer in roaring screams as Harry rose to his feet, egg in the crook of his left arm and waved at the part of the crowd almost struck by the flames.

“Look at that!  Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg!  And what a way to do it!  I suppose his nickname isn’t Lord Hex for nothing!”

Harry grinned wryly as he sheathed his wand then let out a yelp as someone very large grabbed him from behind and lifted him into the air.  He got a glimpse of Hagrid’s bushy beard and said loudly, “Hagrid!”

The giant of a man grinned widely behind his bushy beard and put Harry down, clapping a large hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“Yeh did it!  Agains’ the Horntail!”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” said Harry, feeling Hagrid would continue on and let out that he’d taken him to see the dragons.

“Bravo, Harry,” said Severus as he walked up, his dark eyes shining.  “That was quite a move at the beginning.  Quite a move indeed.”  Harry could practically taste the words ‘And you scared me half to death’ upon the air.

“Thank you, sir.”

“An’ here comes that Niamh,” said Hagrid.  He grinned at Harry then said loudly, “Let’s leave Harry to get ‘is score, Professor.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” said Severus, seeing Niamh coming.  “Good job, Harry.  Yes, yes, Hagrid, I’m coming.”

“Harreeeeey!” squealed Niamh as she threw herself bodily onto him, hugging him tightly.  Harry laughed and nearly dropped the heavy golden egg as she began to dance around with him.  The dark-haired girl hugged him again then began to bounce up and down, resembling a house-elf on a sugar high.

“You did it, you did it, you did it!”

Harry grinned at her and slung his arm around her shoulder to keep her from bouncing anymore.  He saw Ginny and Hermione standing near the opening in the enclosure.  And he was surprised to see Ron lurking behind them.

Striding over to them, Niamh under one arm and the egg tucked in the other, he grinned.  Ginny and Hermione immediately latched onto him as he got near, practically glowing.

“Oh, we were so worried!” said Hermione, brown eyes wide.  “When you were just standing there with that fire coming at you…I thought it was going to hit you!”

“But I,” said Ginny loudly, “told her not to worry.  I knew you had it under control!”

Harry grinned at her then looked at Ron, who was staring at him like he was a ghost.  A tense silence fell upon the three girls as the two boys stared at each other.

Ron finally said, “Harry…I think whoever put your name in that goblet’s trying to do you in!”

“Caught on, have you?” said Harry, arching an eyebrow.

Ron opened his mouth again but Harry held up his free hand.

“No.  Don’t apologize.  Remember at the end of last year?”

Ron winced and said, “Yeah.”

“Exactly,” said Harry with a grin.  Ron looked at him for a moment then grinned back.

Hermione suddenly yelled, “You two are so stupid!”

“Hey!” said Harry.  “He started it.”  He pointed at Ron, who glared mildly at him and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Shut up, you.  Let’s go see your scores…”

Harry grinned wryly and the five of them walked off, Niamh hurriedly going through what the other champions had done.

“Look, look!” cried Ginny, pointing at the five judges sitting at the other end of the enclosure, right above where the fire had almost hit the crowd.

“It’s marks out of ten from each,” explained Hermione.  “And Madame Maxime’s putting hers up!”

Maxime raised her wand in the air and a long silver ribbon shot out, twisting itself into a nine into the air.

Mr. Crouch was next.  Another nine rose in the air.

Dumbledore – ten.

Ludo Bagman – ten.

Karkaroff – six.

“A six!” shrieked Niamh, shaking her fist angrily.  “You gave Krum a ten, and he crushed half his eggs!”

“Don’t worry about!” screamed Ginny.  “Harry’s in the lead!”

“Well, that’s something…” grumbled Niamh.  Harry grinned down at the girl then gave her a one-armed hug, nearly pulling her off her feet,

“Harry!”

“What?” asked Harry innocently as the five of them stood there.  Charlie suddenly appeared, grinning at Harry as Ginny threw herself onto her brother and Ron grinned at him.

“Great job, Harry.  First place…  Unbelievable.  I’ve got to go send an owl to Mum, I swore I’d tell her what happened – oh, and Bagman wants a word, back in the champions’ tent.  See you lot later!”

“Bye!” yelled Niamh and Ginny as Harry headed for the champions tent.  He got there at the same time Cedric did.  The older boy had orange paste covering one side of his face but he grinned at Harry nonetheless.

“Good one, Harry.  I don’t think anyone expected that.”

Harry grinned and said, “Never do what’s expected.  You did well too.”

“Well done, all of you!” said Bagman as he entered the tent.  “Now, just a few words.  You’ve got a long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty fourth – but we’re giving you something to think about in the meantime.  See the hinges on the eggs your holding – yes, they open!  You need to solve the clue inside because it will tell you what the second task is and how to prepare for it!  Everyone get that?  Alright…off you go!”

Harry left the tent and joined up with his friends again.  The five of them headed towards the castle but were stopped when Rita Skeeter appeared, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill blending in perfectly against her robes.

“Congratulations, Harry!  I was wondering if I could have a word?  How you felt facing that dragon?  The fairness of the scoring?”

“Yeah, you can have a word,” spat Harry,  “You can even have two.”

“Really?” said Rita with a grin.  ‘What?”

“Sod off,” replied Harry, turning back to his friends and heading for the castle without looking back.

Sirius,

I got past the dragon.  Yes, dragon.  That was the first task.

I was talking to Ni this morning and it suddenly hit me how to do it.  Make the dragon breathe fire first then use a Mirror Spell to bounce it back.  As it’s bouncing back, run under the flames and use that handy rope charm to tie up the dragons legs before leaping over the eggs and grabbing the gold on (that’s what we were after).  Of course, then there was the fire to worry about, so I used the Transform Spell.  Fire into roses.  I nearly scared the crowd to death but I think they got over it pretty fast.

So you don’t have to come back.

Harry

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Jar?”

< Eh? > said the raven sleepily as Harry entered the Owlery.

“Delivery.”

The raven clacked his beak and fluttered his wings.

< Sirius said to use an owl next time.  I’m sort of obvious, me being a raven. >

Harry sighed and looked around.

“Where’s Pig?”

< Ah, that hyper ball of fluff.  One moment. >

Jardin leapt off his perch and flapped his way up into the dark heights of the owlery.  There was a moment of screeching and then a gray ball came soaring down into Harry’s hands, twittering loudly.  Harry looked up as Jardin settled back down on his perch between a barn owl and an eagle owl.

“Thanks, Jar.”

< No problem. >

Harry quickly tied the letter to Pigwidgeon’s leg then gave the little owl a light toss out the window.  He watched him until he was nothing but a weaving away shadow then turned and headed downstairs after saying goodbye to Jardin.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Hey,” said Harry later at dinner when he made a deliberate pass by the Gryffindor table, “I borrowed Pig to send a letter to…eh, well…you-know-who.”

Ron blinked and said, “You-know-who?”

“Not that you-know-who.  The other one.”

“Oh,” said Ron.  “Okay.”

“’Kay.  See you guys.”  Harry waved to Hermione and Ron as he walked over towards the Slytherin table.  Just before he reached the spot were Niamh and Ginny were sitting, Draco appeared in front of him.

“Potter,” he said.

“Malfoy,” said Harry, nodding his head slightly.

“Good moves today.”

“Thanks.”

Draco nodded and began to walk off.  Harry looked after him then headed for the empty seat beside Niamh again.

“Oh, and Potter?”

Harry turned, one eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, Malfoy?” he asked, aware that several people had their eyes on the two of them.

“Good luck with that egg.”

With that Draco walked off and several whispers went up.

“Did Malfoy just wish Harry good luck?”

“Maybe its not Malfoy.  Maybe its someone trying to make him look bad.”

“You mean worse.”

“Or maybe Malfoy’s going soft!”

Harry snorted at what he heard and walked over to where Niamh and Ginny were waving at him.

“What did Malfoy want?” asked Ginny.

“Nothing,” said Harry as he sat down.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

It was a few days later in Transfiguration class when Harry’s fourth year ranked a worse rating than second year.  They had just finished their work when McGonagall called for attention.

“Attention, everyone.  The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests.  The ball will only be open to fourth years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish.  Dress robes will be worn and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall.  Now, good day.  Potter!  A word, if you will.”

Harry’s hand froze where it was reaching down to grab the strap of his bag and looked up at McGonagall.  He nodded slightly then said to Niamh, “I’ll see you in Charms.”  The girl nodded and headed off, scowling mildly at McGonagall before she disappeared out the door.

“Potter,” said McGonagall, “generally your Head of House would tell you this but as you’re here…”

“Yes, professor?” said Harry, arching an eyebrow at McGonagall.  He found it slightly amusing that he was taller than her.

“The champions and their partners…”

“Partners?”

“Your dance partner, Potter.  For the Yule Ball.  The champions and their partners open the ball.”

Harry blinked then said, “Oookay.  Partner.  For ball.  Yes, ma’am.  Anything else?”

McGonagall glared at him and said, “Go.”

And Harry went.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“What’d the Demon Bitch want?” asked Niamh as Harry sat down in the seat beside her.

“Partner.”

Niamh shook her head and peered at her friend.

“Hold on.  Run that one by me again.”

Harry sighed and said, “I have to get a partner for the ball.  Apparently the champions open it.”

“Well, that won’t be to much of a problem.  You’re a champion!  Girls will be fawning all over you.”

“That’s just it.  I don’t want them to be fawning all over me.  And there’s another problem.”

“What?” asked Niamh, opening her book to the page Flitwick had called out.

Harry sighed, opening his own book as he said, “I can’t dance.”

“I thought everyone could dance,” said Niamh.

“Unless they had a dance club in the slums that I didn’t know about, I never learned how to.”  Harry grinned and quipped, “Of course, you could teach me, since you seem to me so wise on the subject.”

Niamh scowled at him and said, “Then I will.”

“When, pray tell?” asked Harry as he turned his head to watch Flitwick.

“Tonight.”

“Okay then.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Alright, you put your hand here, on my waist.  And you hold my hand with your other one.”

“Where’s your other hand go?”

“On your shoulder.  Now, this is about the simplest dance you can do.  Watch the feet and follow me.  One-two-three and one-two-three and one-two-three…”

Niamh and Harry were spinning around the common room, ignoring the people eying them.

“One-two-three – careful with your feet, mate.  Your not Ron, but you could crush my foot if you stepped on it.”

Harry looked indignant and scoffed, “No, I couldn’t.  My feet aren’t that big.”

“Well, don’t wear those great, bloody combat boots.  Where’d you get those anyway?”

“Birthday gift from Sirius,” replied Harry.

“Oh?” said Niamh.  “Now, you lead.  Let’s see if you can at least slow dance.”

Harry grinned and said, “I’ve got the hang of this one.  So, I’m leading…  And – one-two-three, one-two-three…”

“Learning how to dance from the Mudblood, Potter?” said Pansy loudly as they spun past her.  Niamh stuck her tongue out at Pansy as Harry quipped, “I wouldn’t insult the Lady Hex if I were you, Pansy.  It’s just not safe.  I would remind you that, even though she is dancing, she is still armed.”

Pansy scowled as Harry grinned and suddenly pulled Niamh close, leaning her back into a dip.  The girl laughed and said, “Well, it seems I won’t have to teach you that one.”

Harry smiled and pulled her back up.

“You wouldn’t have been able to hold me.”

“Are you saying I’m weak, Mister Potter?”

“Why no, Miss O’Feir.”

“Then you’re implying that you’re heavy?” asked Niamh with a wry grin.

Harry smiled and replied, “Why, no.  I’m implying that you couldn’t hold me up if you tried to do that.”

Niamh snorted and said, “C’mon, next dance now.  This one’s fast, so pay good attention or you’ll lose it…

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Hey, Dumbledore got a band.”

Harry looked up at Niamh from where he was poking into the back of a medium-sized boom box with a metal stick and a screwdriver.

“Really?”

“Yep.”  Niamh peered at his work and asked, “Is that…”

“That radio you asked me to try and get to work inside Hogwarts?  Yep.  The only way I can figure out how to get it to work is have it play off magical energy, being as there’s an abundance here.”  Harry jabbed at something on the inside with the screwdriver and continued, “But, my problem is figuring out how to get it to only take what it needs, not all the magic in the castle.”

Niamh blinked and gasped, “You mean you’ve got it working?”

“Yeah.  Except for the little difficulty of where it will suck all the magic up…  Just a small difficulty.”

“Harry…how long have you been working on this?”

“Err…”  Harry sat down the metal stick and picked up a pair of pliers lying beside the boom box.  “Since you suggested it over the summer.  It seemed to be a good way to waste time.”

And not think about Tyls, thought Niamh.  She grinned at her friend and said, “This is great!  Now I can bring my CD’s…it is a CD player, right?”

“Yep.”

“Joy!” cried Niamh, flopping down beside him on the couch.  Harry lifted his tools as she made the couch bounce then went back to work.

“Say,” he said after a few moments, “has anyone asked you to the dance yet, Ni?”

Niamh blushed and Harry turned his head to look at her.  A wide grin spread over his face and he said, “Ah.  So someone did ask you.”

“No,” said Niamh, her voice cracking slightly.

“Ah, your lucky.  One week left and I’m still sorting through the girls trying to go with me.”

“Well…at least their asking.”

Harry snorted and went back to his work.  Niamh peered over his shoulder for a moment then said, “Why don’t you ask Hermione?”

“Mione?”

“Yeah.  She’s a girl.”

“She’s already going with someone.”

Niamh blinked.

“So you did ask her?”

“No, Ron did.  Spouted off some rubbish about her being a girl and she got a bit hot under the collar.”

“Ooo, tell me she slapped him…”

Harry gave Niamh an odd look and laughed.

“She looked like she came close to it.  He kept saying she wasn’t go with anyone, so she walked out.”

“Who’s she going with?”

“Not a clue,” replied Harry.

“Hmm.”  Niamh leaned back into the couch then said, “Hey!  Why don’t you ask Ginny?”

“Gin?” said Harry, looking up.

“Yeah.  Our young redheaded companion.”

“Well…it’s a go.  Better than asking any other girl here.  Except for Amanda.”

“She’s going with Neville,” said Niamh.

Harry nodded.  He’d have expected something like that, the two of them being good friends.  He then snorted and began to laugh.

“Gods…I just had a thought.”

“What?”

“Me and Pansy.”

“Urgh,” moaned Niamh.  “Bad picture there, mate.  Blond and black really don’t go together.  Especially as she’s about three inches shorter than me.  And a wench.”

Harry waved his screwdriver at the girl beside him and said, “Now that’s never been proved…”

“No.  Not yet.”

“I hope your not playing on proving it.”

Niamh wrinkled her nose, looking revolted.

“Hell no!”

“Good,” said Harry, “’cause that’s just a disturbing image.”

“What?”

“Pansy…well, you know…and you watching.”

“Argh!  Harry!  That’s worse than that image of Lockhart and Snape!”

Harry winced and moaned, “Oh, don’t remind me!  Now that’s an even worse thought!”

Niamh looked revolted again then shook herself, leaning into the couch again.  Harry closed his eyes to clear away that image and began to work on the boom box again.

“So?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to ask Ginny?”

“Do I have any other choice?” asked Harry without looking up.

“No.”

“That answers yours question then.”

They sat in silence for a moment then Niamh asked, “Are you just going to ask her because I told you to?”

Harry sighed and shook his head as he clipped a wire in half with the pliers then began to twist one end of it to another already clipped wire.

“To be honest, I’ve been considering it for days.”

“And me finally telling you to do it is making you do it?”

“No.  Chang asking me got me to do it.”

“Whoa,” said Niamh.  “Doesn’t she know that now she’s got a rivalry going on between Ravenclaw and Slytherin?”

“I don’t think so.  She nearly slapped me for saying ‘no’ then I think she remembered that I’m one of the best duelers in the school.  She sort of walked away really fast after that.”

“Heh,” said Niamh, “who’d have thought?”

Harry grunted then gave a yelp when Niamh suddenly punched his shoulder.  He made a mad grab at the screwdriver as it soared up into the air and almost came down into the center of the boom box, ruining all of his work.  The tool in one hand and the other covering the open back of the machine, he turned his head slowly to glare at his friend.  Niamh reached over and placed her hand on top of his head, turning it towards the door.  Ginny had just now entered the common room and was heading over towards them.

“Ask her,” whispered Niamh.

“Yes, yes, yes,” growled Harry, brushing her hand off of his head and jabbing the screwdriver at her.  “You know you almost lost your precious CD player?”

“I knew it was safe.  Now ask.”

“Ask what?” said Ginny as she sat down in the chair across from Harry.  Niamh nudged his shoulder and he glared at her, threatening her with the screwdriver then turned to Ginny.

“Gin?”

“Yes, Harry?” her eyes looking at the boom box lying in front of him.

“Will you go to the ball with me?”

Ginny sputtered and fell back into her chair, eyes wide.

“Wha’, wha’, wha’ – what?”

“Will.  You.  Go.  To.  The.  Ball.  With.  Me?” repeated Harry, saying the words slowly.

Ginny blinked several times then said, “I thought it was only fourth year and above…”

“You can invite a lower year,” said Niamh.  “So?  Whatdaya say, Gin?  Y’ gonna go with this strapping devil here?”

“Strapping?” said Harry, arching an eyebrow at Niamh.

“Sure,” said Ginny.

“You will?” exclaimed Niamh.

Harry grinned and said, “Okay then.  I hope you know how to dance, Gin.”

Ginny smiled and said, “I’m the one that helped Mum teach Ron and the twins.”

Niamh laughed at that and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

Niamh and Harry were walking down the marble staircase when the girl suddenly said, “Er…isn’t that Pig?”

“Heh?”

“Over there.”

Harry looked and heard a third-year girl exclaim, “Oh look at the weeny owl!”

“Better get that owl, Harry,” warned Niamh.  “Didn’t you say you sent a letter to Sirius with him?”

“Yep.  Pardon me…”

Harry charged up the stairs and grabbed Pigwidgeon.  He turned to the girl and said, “Excuse me,” before hurrying back down the steps.  Handing the letter to Niamh, he gave Pigwidgeon a toss into the air and said, “Get back to the owlery!” as the tiny owl hooted happily and flew off.

“It never works,” muttered Niamh, handing the letter over to Harry.  “He replied fast, didn’t he?”

“He’s back in the country now,” said Harry, unfolding the letter.

Harry –

Good job.  Whoever put your name in the goblet probably isn’t feeling too cocky now by the way you say you beat it.  A brilliant idea of how to get that egg, by the way.

Though don’t let down your guard.  I’ve heard Karkaroff is there and if I remember right, he was a Death Eater.  Got off because he spouted off the names of higher ranked Death Eater’s to the Ministry.  Though I bet Snape’s already told you about him – “Nope,” said Harry – and if he hasn’t, I’m telling you.

Stay out of trouble, kid.

Sirius

“Well,” said Niamh, “he’s proud of you.”

“Karkaroff was a Death Eater?” said Harry in surprise.  “Which would explain how he and Da know each other.  Maybe…maybe that’s where he was the night I got chosen.”

“What?  Snogging Karkaroffie?”

“Niamh!”  Harry looked repulsed at the thought.  “No more of that, please.  That image with Lockhart a year ago was bad enough.”

“Good point.  So, you think they were chatting about old times and how to ruin the tournament?”

Harry glared at her and she held up her hands.

“Just joking, mate.”

“I know you are.  But that’s not funny.”

“Too right.  C’mon.  I want to get up early tomorrow.  Christmas, y’know!”

Niamh beamed happily and bounced down the stairs, swaying from side to side.  Harry rolled his eyes and followed her, stuffing Sirius’ letter into his pocket.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry awoke Christmas morning – not to Niamh’s normal happy shriek and bounce on his bed – but to something sitting on his chest and looking at him with large green eyes.

“Cripes!”

Harry leapt backwards and grabbed for his wand, lightning it.  He looked at the house-elf standing nervously at the end of his bed and sighed.

“Dobby.  Did you have to wake me up like that?”

“I’s sorry, Harry Potter.  Dobby only wanting to wish Harry Potter ‘Merry Christmas’ and bring him a present,” said the house-elf, his green eyes even larger than before.

Harry sighed and said, “S’all right.  You just scared the dickens out of me sitting on my chest like that.  Just…shake me next time, okay?”

Dobby nodded and said, “Dobby will remember, Harry Potter.”

“Potter,” snapped Blaise from two beds down.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Talking to a house-elf, Zabini.”

“What’s a house-elf doing in our dorm?”

Harry poked his head out of his drawn hangings and snapped, “Having a conversation with me.  Now sod off.”

“Eh, fuck you, Potter,” growled Blaise as he rolled over.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” said Harry, ducking back inside the hangings and looking at Dobby.  He looked at the house-elf and said, “You took quite a risk coming down here with that lot in here.”

“Dobby was very careful, Harry Potter.  But Dobby had to come…  He did not know when he could give Harry Potter his present!”

“That’s okay,” said Harry.  “I’ve got something for you too.”

“Sir, did not have to get Harry Potter anything…”

“I wanted to,” said Harry as he climbed out of bed and padded across the floor (he had made sure to steal several furry rugs into Hogwarts from home this year and line the stone floor) to his trunk.  Tapping the lid with his wand, he muttered the charm that unlocked it and pushed it open, nearly knocking Dobby onto his back as the house-elf tried to watch him.  He dug into the trunk and pulled out an overlarge maroon sweater – a reminder of the summer he’d spent with his aunt and uncle.  Closing the trunk and relocking it, he handed the sweater to Dobby, who beamed.

“Thank you, Harry Potter, sir!”  The house-elf now handed Harry a package, which were a pair of socks.

“Dobby made them himself!” said the elf happily.

Harry looked a the socks – one Gryffindor red with a pattern of broomsticks, the other Slytherin green with a pattern of Snitches – then grinned at the elf.

“They’re very nice, Dobby.  Thanks.”

“Harry Potter is very welcome!” cried Dobby.  “Dobby must go now, we is making Christmas dinner in the kitchens!”  He disappeared in his customary whip crack, effectively waking Draco and Blaise again.

“What was that?” asked Draco as Harry sat on top of his trunk and pulled Dobby’s socks on over his bare feet.

“House-elf.  Your old house-elf in fact, Malfoy.”

Draco blinked and gaped, “Dobby?  What’s he doing here?”

“He’s been working for Dumbledore since third year.  Miss him?”

“He was a good elf,” said Draco, ignoring the look Blaise gave him.  Harry nodded stiffly then attacked the pile of presents at the end of his bed.  Niamh came in halfway through and handed him her present.  By the time Harry was done unwrapping, he had a rather large pile of stuff, not counting the socks from Dobby; Sirius had sent him a penknife; Niamh, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans; Ron, a bag of Chocolate Frogs; Ginny, a picture of him, her, Niamh, and Mika that Colin had taken of them on the marble stairs; Hermione, a book on dueling techniques; Hagrid, some of his rock cakes (Harry stuffed these under his bed); and his father, who had given him a new pair of Quidditch gloves.  And then there was Mrs. Weasley’s normal package of a sweater – green, as usual, with a dragon this year – and a dozen mince pies.  Niamh eyed the pies hungrily and Harry handed one to her before he stuffed everything into his trunk and grabbed his shoes.

“Hey,” said Niamh, “where’d you get the funky socks?”

“Dobby,” replied Harry, pulling on his shoes then getting to his feet.  “C’mon, let’s go.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

After breakfast and lunch, Harry, Niamh, and Ginny rushed back down to Arx Serpens to grab scarves and cloaks (Harry grabbed the thick, emerald green one his father had given him two Christmas’ before) and headed outside to join Ron, the twins, and Lee Jordan in a snowball fight.  Hermione chose to just watch them and Niamh finally aimed a ball at her, forcing her into the game.

At around five, Hermione went upstairs to get ready for the ball.  Niamh blinked and yelled after her, “Who are you going with, the Prince of Wales?”  Lee got her in the back of the head with a snowball and she retaliated by magicking up several hundred snowballs with her wand and hurling them at him.

By seven, they had all returned inside and gone to get ready.  Harry slid quickly into the bottle green dress robes he had bought and pulled his hair back into a ponytail.  Using a Drying Charm on his green cloak, followed by a Warming Charm, he slid it over his shoulders and pinned it with the coiled serpent pin that had come with it, trying to get the chill from the snow out of his bones.  He then strode out into the common room and collapsed onto the couch in the Hexer’s Corner to wait on Ginny and Niamh, pulling his cloak tightly about him as he propped his feet up on the table that still held the boom box and his tools.

“Cold?” asked a voice a few minutes later.

Harry opened his eyes and saw Niamh standing there, her normally wild hair flattened down.  He blinked at her dress robes, which were a very dark royal blue with a gold belt with gold circles looped around her waist.  The really odd thing was that one sleeve was full and the other had been chopped off at the shoulder.  When Niamh noticed him look at it, she laughed.

“I thought I’d make a fashion statement.”

Harry shook his head at her and laughed, getting to his feet.  Niamh took a step back and eyed him up and down.

“Well…don’t you make a figure?  All decked out in green like a true Slytherin.”

Harry snorted and said, “And what a statement you’re going to make.”

“Don’t I know it?  I think I’ll go see what Gin’s doing…”  Niamh walked off and Harry watched her go, reaching up his sleeve to somewhat loosen the grip of his wand holster on his arm.  Everyone else might be leaving their wands, but he was so used to having his, he rarely put his down anymore.

Suddenly Draco appeared and eyed him up and down.

“Going out for Slytherin mascot?”

“Ha ha,” said Harry, looking at the shorter boy.  Draco was dressed in simple but elegant steel-gray robes, the cuffs and collar trimmed in silver.  “You going for the unsheathed dagger look?”

Draco snorted but smiled slightly at him.  He walked on past him out of the common room and Harry watched him go before he heard the door leading to the girl’s dormitories open again.

Niamh entered again, beaming brightly, and pulled Ginny in behind her.  Harry blinked and thought, Well, Mika was right.  That dress does look good on her.

Ginny smiled sheepishly at him then, taking the edges of her dress in her gloved hands (the sleeves were actually gloves), twirled in place.  She asked, “What do you think?”

Harry looked at her for a moment then voiced his earlier thought.  Ginny’s cheeks flushed red, hiding her freckles and she mumbled, “Thank you.”  Harry smiled and said, “Let’s get going.”  He gentlemanly offered his arm to Ginny and she took it, still blushing.  They strode out of Arx Serpens, Niamh preceding them with a wide grin on her face.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Niamh,” said Harry as they were nearly to the Hall, “who did you say you were going with?”

“I didn’t,” replied the girl with a grin.  She then waved and ran off, yelling, “I’ll see you guys in a minute!”

“What’s that about?” asked Ginny, peering after her.

Harry shrugged and replied, “Haven’t the foggiest.  C’mon.  Let’s go see if we can find Ron before the oh-so-mighty champions get called.”

“Okay.  Who do you think Hermione came with?”

Harry shrugged and scanned the crowd in the entrance hall for Ron, spotting him standing with Parvati Patil, who was dressed in pink.  Ginny winced and said, “I think Ron used a Severing Charm on his robes.”

“To get off that lace?  Who wouldn’t?”

“Harry.”

“Sorry, Gin.  C’mon.”

Ron beamed as the two of them came up then blinked when he saw it was his sister on his friend’s arm.

“Wha’, wha’, what?  Y-you…you two…”

Harry smirked and Ginny said, “Yes, Ron.  We’re here together.”

Ron stared at her then stuttered, “Wh-where’d you get that dress?”

“Mika,” replied Ginny.  “It was a Christmas present.”

“Does Mum know?”

“Ron!” said Ginny indignantly.  “No, she doesn’t.  Hey, there’s the Durmstrang students!”

Harry turned and peered over Ginny’s head as they entered, Krum in the lead with a pretty girl in blue robes beside him.

“Who is that?” asked Ron.

“Champions!  Champions over here, please!”

“I think that’s us,” said Ginny nervously.

“Yep,” said Harry.  He turned to Ron and Parvati and said, “See you two later.”  The two of them walked over to where McGonagall stood by the doors into the Hall.  The Gryffindor Head of House was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had a ring of thistles around her hat.  Ginny shook her head sadly then gave a little cry when Fleur Delacour and her partner, Ravenclaw Quidditch captain Roger Davies, shoved past her and Harry, pushing her into Harry’s side.  The dark-haired teen steadied her and glared mildly at Davies, who was completely enraptured by Fleur and missed it.

Ginny suddenly gasped and tugged on Harry’s arm.

“Harry.  Oh, Slytherin, Harry, look!  Look at Krum!”

Harry looked at his jaw dropped.  The girl standing beside Viktor Krum was none other than Hermione, her generally bushy hair sleek and twisted up into an elegant knot on her head.  She smiled at then and waved.

“Hi, Harry!  Hi, Ginny!”

Ginny had to blink several times then began to laugh.  She looked up at Harry and said, “Well, that’s ironic, isn’t it?  She’s been saying all year how silly it is for all those girls to be hanging off Krum’s arm and now she’s the one hanging off his arm!”

Harry shook his head and said, “Very ironic, Gin.  Now where’s Ni gotten to…”

Suddenly Cedric appeared with a dark-haired girl in a very familiar dress on his arm…

“Niamh!” gasped Ginny.

Niamh smiled sheepishly and said, “Hey, guys.  Oh, Mione!”

Hermione waved at Niamh and said, “Hello, Niamh.”

“Great bleeding serpents,” muttered Harry, looking around at the crowd.  He spotted Cho Chang and saw her glaring coldly at Niamh.  Ah-ha, he thought.

“Alright,” said McGonagall, “all of you gets into pairs and follow me.”

Harry and Ginny ended up second in the line with Fleur and Roger in front of them and Niamh and Cedric behind them as they walked up through the center of the Hall to where the judges were sitting at a large round table.

“I feel like a show dog,” whispered Ginny to Harry as everyone stared at them.

“Welcome to the club,” muttered Harry back.  He turned and saw Ron glaring at Hermione.  “Hoo-boy.  Ron’s spotted Mione.”

“Oh dear,” said Ginny.  “I think all the girl’s are glaring at her.”

“Of course they are.  She got the guy they’ve all been pining over.”

As they neared the top table, they could see Dumbledore beaming brightly but Karkaroff had an expression similar to Ron’s.  Bagman was clapping as loudly as some of the students and Madame Maxime beside him was clapping politely.

“Hey!” hissed Ginny.  “What’s Percy doing here?”

“Percy?” said Harry, tilting his head to see Percy sitting in the seat that would have been Mr. Crouch’s.  The older boy pulled out the chair beside him and looked pointedly at Harry and Ginny.  They both looked at each other then walked over to him, Harry pulling out the seat for Ginny then sitting down in the one beside Percy.

Ginny, blushing slightly from having the chair pulled out for her, leaned forward to talk to her brother.

“Percy, what are you doing here?”

Percy smiled smugly and said, “I’ve been promoted.  I’m now Mr. Crouch’s personal assistant.”

“Why isn’t he here?” asked Harry, eying the menu that had suddenly popped up in front of them.

“Mr. Crouch isn’t well, I’m afraid.  Too much work, I think.  Especially with that Skeeter woman buzzing around…”

“Like a fly,” muttered Harry, looking down at Dumbledore as the old wizard read his menu then said to the gold plate in front of him, “Pork chops!”  And pork chops appeared.

“So that’s how it works,” whispered Ginny, reaching for her own menu.

“Say, Percy,” said Harry.  “A question.”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Is Mr. Crouch still calling you ‘Weatherby’?”

Percy’s face turned completely red and Ginny hid a laugh behind her menu, the silver tinsel arranged in her flaming red hair tinkling softly as she laughed.

“Mr. Crouch is a very busy man,” said Percy stiffly.  “He can’t remember everyone’s name.”

Harry nodded slightly and turned back to his menu, smiling at Ginny as she looked up finally, a smile still on her face from laughing.  He then looked across the table at Niamh and Cedric, who were deep in conversation.  Beside them, Hermione was trying to get Krum to say her name correctly.

“Hermy-own.”

“Her-my-oh-nee.”

“Herm-own-ninny.”

“Close enough,” said the girl, smiling at Harry and Ginny.

Dumbledore stood when everyone was done eating and the plates were cleared and asked the students to do the same.  He waved his wand and the tables zoomed back along the walls as a raised platform appeared along the right wall.  A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes had appeared with it and then the Weird Sisters trooped up onto it, picking up their instruments and striking up a slow, mournful tune.

The other champions were standing and Harry rose with them, unclasping his cloak and laying it over the arm of his chair before he extended a hand to Ginny and the two of them followed the other champions and their partners onto the dance floor.

“Are they still staring at us?” asked Ginny from where she had her face very close to Harry’s chest.

“Yes,” replied Harry, slowly revolving on the spot.  He spotted Neville and Amanda standing at the edge of the watching crowd and glared meaningfully at the blonde girl.  She smiled weakly at him then grabbed Neville’s hand and dragged him out onto the floor.  Very soon more couples came onto the floor and the champions were no longer the center of attention.  Ginny pulled back a little and grinned sheepishly up at Harry.

“That was really stupid…”

“No, it wasn’t,” said Harry.  “All those people staring at you is a bit unnerving.”

“You didn’t look unnerved.”

“That’s because I kept my eyes on you.  The easiest way to not be nervous is to focus on one thing.”

“I’ll try and remember that,” said Ginny, looking over to where Dumbledore was dancing with Madame Maxime, his pointed hat barely touching her chin.  Mad Eye-Moody suddenly passed them, doing a very ungainly two-step with Madame Pomfrey.

“Nice socks, Potter.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, watching as the two of them wheeled away.

“It’s still hard to believe that he’s Mika’s dad,” said Ginny.  “They’re just so…”

“Different?”

“Yeah.  But his eye is really cool.”

“Want one?” asked Harry with a grin.

“Not unless you intend to take my eye with it,” replied Ginny as the last note of the song ended and another one started, this one faster.  She looked up at Harry and said, “Shall we?”

Harry grinned and said, “Why not?  Just try and keep up.  Ni taught me this one.”

“Oh, dear…” was all Ginny got out before Harry grasped her hands and breaking into a bouncing, spinning dance that left the two of them gasping for breath by the time the song was over.

“Oh,” said Ginny, “water.”

Harry chuckled – or tried to, it came out as a wheeze – and said, “I should have warned you.  That dance should only be done once a night.”

“You’re telling me.  Let’s go visit Ron and Parvati.”

“Right-o,” said Harry, weaving through the dance floor and over to the table where Ron was sitting sulking.  Parvati was gazing longingly at the dance floor.

“’Lo,” said Harry as he and Ginny sat down.

“Mmm,” said Ron, his eyes followed Hermione and Krum as they danced nearby.  Parvati glared at him then was suddenly asked by a boy from Beauxbatons to dance.

“You don’t mind, do you, Ron?”

“Eh?” said Ron.

“Oh never mind,” snapped Parvati, going off with the Beauxbatons boy.  Harry looked after her then turned back to Ron.

“I think you just lost your partner.”

Ron snorted and continued glaring at Hermione and Krum.  After the third song, Hermione came over and sat down in the empty chair beside Harry, her face flushed from dancing.

“’Lo,” said Harry, turning to her.  “Might you be talkative tonight or are you merely a mirage?”

Hermione laughed then said, “Well, I’m not a mirage.  My, it’s hot…  Viktor’s just gone to get some drinks.”

Ron scowled at her.  “Viktor?  Hasn’t he gotten you to call him Vicky yet?”

Hermione blinked at him and said, “What’s up with you?”

“If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

Hermione looked at Harry and Ginny, who both shrugged.

“Ron, what…?”

“He’s from Durmstrang!  He’s competing again Harry!  Against Hogwarts!  You – you’re – fraternizing with the enemy, that’s what your doing!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Harry, eyes narrowed.  “I am really tired of the words ‘fraternizing with the enemy’.  Half the Slytherin would consider me and Gin sitting here doing that.  So, don’t talk about it.  Or didn’t you hear my speech about that?”

“What speech?” asked Ron.

“Nevermind,” muttered Harry.

Hermione nodded and said, “And honestly, Ron – who was the who was all excited when they saw him arrive?  Who was the one who wanted his autograph?”

“Is it getting a little hot over here?” asked Ginny softly.

“The temperature is steadily rising,” replied Harry, eying their two friends.

“I s’pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?” snapped Ron.

“Yes, he did.”

“What?  Trying to get him to join spew?”

“No!  He said he’d been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me but he hadn’t been able to pluck up the courage!”

“Well – that’s his story.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Hermione.

“Obvious, isn’t it?  He’s trying to get closer to Harry – trying to get inside information on him…”

“Oh for Slytherin’s sake,” muttered Ginny.  “That’s the biggest piece of…of…”

“Crap?” suggested Harry.

“…crap I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“How true.”

“For your information,” spat Hermione, “he hasn’t asked me one single thing about Harry!”

“Then he’s hoping you’ll tell him what his egg means!”

“I’d never help him work out that egg!  I want Harry to win the tournament.  Harry knows that, don’t you?”

Harry nodded but Ron was paying no attention.

“Well, you’ve got a nice way of showing it.”

“This whole tournament’s supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!”

“No it isn’t!  It’s about winning!”

“Should we stop them?” asked Ginny.

“Not unless they start punching each other,” replied Harry.

“Why don’t you go and find Vicky,” said Ron.  “He’ll be wondering where you are.”

“Don’t call him Vicky!” yelled Hermione as she leapt to her feet and stormed off.  Harry looked after her then said, “Bravo, Ron.  Good show on ticking one of your friends off.”

“Vare is Herm-own-ninny?” said a voice from behind them suddenly.

Harry and Ginny turned to see Krum standing there holding two bottles of butterbeer.

“Lost her, have you?” snapped Ron.

Harry sighed and stood, leaning across the table to mutter, “You’re acting like a prat, Ron.”  He then turned to Krum and said, “She went that way.”

“Thank you,” said Krum, walking off.

“What’d you do that for?” cried Ron, glaring at Harry.

“Because your acting like a prat!” replied Ginny.

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are!  And besides, if Krum had wanted to know anything about Harry, he would have asked me or Niamh!”

Ron’s eyes narrowed and fixed on another pair on the dance floor.  Harry followed his gaze and saw it land on Cedric and Niamh.  He groaned and said, “Let’s go outside, Ginny.”

“Yes, let’s,” said Ginny angrily, glaring at her brother.  She grabbed Harry’s offered arm and they stalked around the dance floor and out into the entrance hall.  The front doors stood open, revealing the fairy lights in the rose garden that had been set out there.  Going quickly down the steps, the two of them began to walk down one of the many winding paths.

Ginny suddenly rubbed her arms and said, “Oh, its cold.”

Harry wished he’d thought to bring his cloak and then suddenly, there it was, hanging over his other arm.

“Here,” he said, offering it to her.

“Thanks,” said Ginny, smiling.  “I thought you took it off inside.”

So did I, thought Harry.  “I guess not.”

“Oh.”  Ginny wrapped the thick green cloak about herself and gave a sigh.  “It’s so warm.  But there’s no pin…”

“Er…”

“Oh well,” continued the girl.  “I’ll just hold it.  No worries.”

Harry laughed and they continued walking, sometimes weaving away from people sitting on the carved benches.

“…don’t see what there is to fuss about, Igor.”

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!  It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months.  I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it – ”

Harry looked at Ginny in surprise and mouthed ‘Da?’  Ginny shrugged and then they heard Snape speak again, this time curtly.

“Then flee.  Flee – I will make your excuses.  I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner, Snape blasting the rosebushes with his wand.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!  And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!” he snapped as a boy and a girl rushed past him.  He then spotted Harry and Ginny and said, “Harry, Virginia…shouldn’t the two of you be inside?”

“Things were getting a bit – ah, hot under the collar, sir,” replied Harry, looking at his father meaningfully.  Snape nodded slightly and mouthed ‘My rooms.  After the ball,’ moving his lips so little that only Harry noticed.  He then waved a hand and said, “Move on then.”  Harry nodded and led Ginny off, waiting until they had reached a large stone reindeer and a bench.  He sat down on the bench and Ginny eased down next to him, her eyes wide.

“What was that about?” asked the girl.  “What was Karkaroff talking about?”

“Gin,” said Harry softly, “Karkaroff’s a Death Eater.”

Ginny’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“Yeah.  Sirius said in his last letter that he’d spouted off the names of other Death Eaters to the Ministry.”

“But…what were they talking about?”

“Well…waitaminute.”

Harry rose slowly to his feet and peered over the stone reindeer and through the tall fountain on the other side.  He saw the shadowy outlines of two very large people on a stone bench and there were only two people he knew that were that big – and they weren’t Crabbe and Goyle.

“Hell’s bells…its Hagrid and Madame Maxime.”

“What?  Where?”

“No, no – sit!  And be quiet.  If we’re too loud they’ll hear us.”

“So, we’re going to eavesdrop on them?” said Ginny.

Harry looked around them and said, “Looks like it.  We’ve got three paths; one leads back to the castle and the other two go around the fountain.  And do we really want to go either way?”

Ginny shook her head then sighed heavily.

“Momen’ I saw yeh, I knew.”

Ginny and Harry blinked at each other.  Now this didn’t seem like a good conversation to sit in on.

“What did you know, ‘Agrid?”

Hoo boy, thought Harry, focusing his attention on a beetle crawling along the stone reindeer’s back.  Ginny coughed politely beside him.

“I jus’ knew…knew you were like me…Was it yer mother or yer father?”

“I – I don’t know what you mean, ‘Agrid…”

“It was my mother.  She was one o’ the las’ ones in Britain.  ‘Couse, I can’ remember her too well…she left, see.  When I was abou’ three.  She wasn’ really the maternal sort.  Well…it’s not in their natures, is it?  Dunno what happened to her…might be dead fer all I know…”

“What’s Hagrid talking about?” whispered Ginny.

Harry replied, “I think he’s talking about his childhood!”

“My dad was broken-hearted when she wen’.  Tiny little bloke, my dad was.  By the time I was six I could lift him up an’ put him on top o’ the dresser if he annoyed me.  Used ter make him laugh…  Dad raised me…but he died, o’ course, jus’ after I started school.  Sorta had ter make me own way after that.  Dumbledore was a real help, mind.  Very kind ter me, he was…”

“Poor Hagrid,” whispered Ginny.

“So…anyway…enough abou’ me.  What about you?  Which side you got it on?”

“It is chilly,” said Madame Maxime, rising to her feet.  “I think I will go in now.”

“Eh?  No, don’ go!  I’ve – I’ve never met another one before!”

Anuzzer what, precisely?

“Another half-giant, o’ course!”

“’Ow dare you!  I ‘ave nevair been more insulted in my life!  ‘Alf-giant?  Moi?  I ‘ave – I ‘ave big bones!”

Madame Maxime stormed off into the bushes as Hagrid sat there for a moment.  Then he slowly rose and headed in the direction of his cabin.

Harry sighed and looked at Ginny, who was beginning to shiver again despite his cloak.  “C’mon,” he said, “let’s go back inside…”

Ginny didn’t move.

“H – Hagrid’s half-giant…”

“Uh-huh,” said Harry, getting up and grabbing the younger girl’s arms.

“Did you know?”

“Ni’s generally the one that has the conversation’s with Hagrid.  And she’s never said anything.  Why?”

“Harry,” said Ginny softly, “giants are…well, they’re not very nice.”

“Gin,” said Harry seriously, “I know about giants.  They’re like trolls.  But there’s nothing wrong with Hagrid.”

“I know there’s nothing wrong with Hagrid, Harry, it’s just…oh, what if someone finds out?  We – we know him, we know he couldn’t hurt anyone…”

“Except with one of those creatures of his.”

Ginny glared at him and said, “Well, your one to talk.  You’ve got a Darcorn in your pocket.”

“Oh, Ron told you?”

“No, Mika did.  Oh, c’mon, let’s go back inside and dance.  I want to get warm!”

Harry laughed and began to head for the open front doors.

“Then let’s get going.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

By midnight, Ginny and Harry were wincing as they walked back down to Arx Serpens.

“Oh,” moaned Ginny.  “I don’t think I’ve ever moved my feet so much in my life.”

“I have,” said Harry, “and mine hurt.”

“Not worse than mine do.”

“What do you bet on that?”

“Two Sickles.”

“Okay.”  Harry pulled two Sickles out of a pocket in his cloak and handed them to the girl.  When she blinked at him in surprise, he said, “I lied.”

“And I have two Sickles,” said Ginny, grabbing the silver coins.

“Hey, Harry!”

The two of them turned and saw Cedric loping across the entrance hall towards them.  Niamh was standing by the foot of the marble staircase, her short hair now sticking up as wildly as usual.

“Hey, Cedric,” said Harry.

Cedric looked nervously at Ginny and Harry said, “Ah, don’t worry.  Gin, won’t say a thing if you don’t want it said, right, Gin?”

“Not unless it’ll hurt someone.”

Cedric shifted his feet then said, “Okay.  Well, listen, Harry…  I owe you one for telling me about the dragons.  You know that golden egg?  Does yours wail when you open it?”

“Yes,” said Harry wincing.  Niamh had opened the egg the day after the first task.  Since then he’d had it locked in his trunk.

“Well…take a bath, okay?”

“Pardon?”

“Take a bath, and – er – take the egg with you, and – ah – just mull things over in the hot water.  It’ll help you think… Trust me.”

Harry and Ginny stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Tell you what, use the prefects’ bathroom.  Fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor.  Password’s ‘pine fresh.’  Gotta go…want to say good night – ”

“Well,” said Ginny, watching him as he walked back over to where Niamh was standing.  “Not like that wasn’t too odd or anything.”

“Heh,” grunted Harry, catching Cedric and Niamh kissing out of the corner of his eye.  That odd feeling he’d felt at the World Cup when Cedric kissed Niamh’s hand welled up again and he shook it off.  Offering Ginny his arm, he said, “C’mon.  I’ve got a conversation with a certain Potions Master to go to.”

Ginny yawned then grinned up at him.  “And I’ve got a bed to go to.”

“Well then let’s take a shortcut.”

Harry turned them back towards the marble staircase and opened the passage there.

“After you.”

Ginny stepped inside, yawning again, and Harry followed her.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

As soon as Ginny was inside Arx Serpens, Harry turned and headed down towards his fathers rooms.  He touched the brick and said, “Lily.”  The wall opened and he stepped inside, seeing his father sitting in a chair by the merrily crackling fire, a glass of some amber liquid in his hand.

“Da?”

Severus looked up and Harry stepped closer, now seeing that the older man appeared to be dressed for bed, wearing a pair of plaid pants and a green t-shirt with a faded silver snake on it.  His left arm lay along the arm of his chair and Harry could see the Dark Mark, blacker and more sinister than ever.

The teen sat down in the chair across from his father and pointed at the Mark.

“Is that what Karkaroff was talking about earlier?”

Severus looked down at the Mark and nodded, tilting back his head and downing what was left in his glass.  He sat it down on the table beside his chair then said, “Yes.  And how did you know he was a Death Eater?”

“Sirius.”

“Black,” spat Severus.  “Hmm.  I meant to tell you that night you got chosen but that man…I don’t know what to say about him.    I certainly say he’d in a finer mess than I’d be in if Voldemort returned.”

Harry winced as one of his greatest fears was mentioned then said, “Because he gave the Ministry names of the others?”

Severus looked at him in surprise then chuckled.

“Well…Black did tell you more than just that he was a Death Eater, didn’t he?”

Harry shrugged and Severus sighed.

“Yes.  Yes, that would be why.  Of course, with me, no one has a chance in hell of knowing except for my father and he died in Azkaban.”

“He did,” said Harry in surprise.

“Last year.  Now, enough talk.  You should be in bed.”

Harry scowled and Severus looked at him sternly in return.  The teen sighed and grumbled, “Alright, alright.  I’m goin’.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“’Night, Da.”

Harry slipped back out into the corridor and down to Arx Serpens.  A few people were still up in the common room but neither Niamh nor Ginny was visible.  Harry shrugged and went into his dorm, quickly getting ready for bed and climbing in, muttering a good night to Hedwig as she woke up from her spot by his pillow.

“Okay, what happened to the skrewts and who the hell is that?”

This is what Niamh exclaimed when she and Harry arrived at Hagrid’s hut after Divination on their first day back to find an elderly witch with short gray hair standing in front of the wooden hut.

The woman glared mildly at Niamh and said sharply, “My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank and I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher.”

Harry looked behind her at Hagrid’s hut and saw none of the lights were on and the curtains were closed.  He did however hear a whimper from inside and guessed Fang was still there.  Focusing on Professor Grubbly-Plank again, he asked, “And where might our normal Care of Magical Creatures teacher be?”

“He is indisposed.  Now,” she said to the rest of the class, who were standing behind Harry and Niamh, “follow me.”

Niamh grumbled under her breath as they followed the old woman behind the hut to where the Beauxbatons horses were stabled.  Tethered to a tree was a large unicorn, its coat a brilliant white that stood out against the snow.

Harry crossed his arms across his chest and snorted as many of the girls “oooohed!”

“Oh, yeah, they ‘ooo’ when they see a unicorn.  How about a Darcorn?  Now there’s a unicorn!”

“Potter, what are you mumbling about?”

Harry turned to look down at Draco, who had suddenly appeared on his left.  Niamh frowned slightly and reached for her wand but stopped when Harry gave her a stern glare, shaking his head slightly.

“Unicorns, Malfoy.  Surely you know the difference between that creature over there that half the girls are cooing over and a more – ah, how shall I say this? – dangerous creature?”

Draco frowned and hissed, “You had better not be considering going after a Darcorn, Potter.  Those things are dangerous!”

Harry smirked at that and Draco’s jaw fell.

“Bloody hell…  You’ve seen one, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Malfoy.  And apparently so have you, as that’s something you seem to fear.”

“Don’t remind me…  Hello, O’Feir.”

“’Lo, Malfoy,” spat Niamh, scowling.

“Hey, Potter?  Have you heard?  Hagrid’s in the paper!”

Harry turned his head to watch Pansy as she sauntered up to him, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand.  She smirked at him then waved the paper in front of his face.

“What?” she asked when he didn’t take it.  “Don’t want to see what happened to the clutz?”

Harry, no emotion on his face, took the paper from her and read the rather lengthy article, surprise flickering in the back of his eyes when he saw the mention of Hagrid being a half-giant.  He remembered the night of the ball when he and Ginny had accidentally overheard the conversation between Hagrid and Madame Maxime.  And there hadn’t been another soul around that he had seen!

But, he thought grimly, keeping his anger off his face, Skeeter would find some way to find that out.  But how?  Madame Maxime wouldn’t have said anything – her reaction said that much.  And Ginny wouldn’t do that.  So how did Skeeter know?

Beside him Niamh made an indignant sound and snapped, “Hagrid’s as harmless as a – a – a ruddy caterpillar!”

Pansy snorted and said contemptuously, “Apparently not.  And now he’s ashamed to show his face.  Not that I blame him.  If I were half-giant, I’d hide my face too!”

Niamh let out a snarl, and before Harry could react, had leapt upon Pansy, her wand drawn.  Pansy let out a squeal and went down under the other girl.

Harry watched as they rolled across the ground then calmly folded the paper, drew his wand, and set it on fire.  Tossing it over his shoulder, he watched as Niamh hit Pansy with the hex he’d taught her just the night before.  Now Pansy had wriggling masses of snakes for hair.

Draco watched them as well then looked at Harry as Professor Grubbly-Plank noticed the fight and ran over.  As she tried to separate the two girls, he asked, “Shouldn’t you do something?”

“And what, pray tell, might I do?” asked Harry in a tone not unlike his father’s.  He tilted his head sideways and arched an eyebrow at Draco.  “Perhaps knock Niamh unconscious?  Because that would be the only way she’d not hex anyone.  And even then, I’m not sure.”

Draco eyed the taller boy then looked back at the battling girls, who had finally been separated.  Professor Grubbly-Plank held them at arm’s length from each other, her face a mask of fury.  Niamh, wand in hand and a small amount of sweat on her brow, was smiling sinisterly in pleasure.  Pansy, on the other hand, was feeling of her hair and face.  Niamh had also hit her with a hex that made her front teeth lengthen to below her chin.  The blond shrieked and wailed, “My hair!  My teeth!”

“Looks good on her,” remarked Ron as he came up to stand beside Harry.  He then noticed Draco and his eyes snapped to Harry, narrowing slightly.

“Malfoy.”

“Hello and goodbye, Weasley.  I’ll be seeing you, Potter.”

“I believe that’s because we sleep in the same dorm.”

Draco gave Harry what appeared to be an amused look then headed for the castle, which was where Professor Grubbly-Plank had already dragged Pansy and Niamh.

“What was that about?” asked Ron as soon as the blond Slytherin was out of hearing range.  “I thought you two hated each other.”

“Change of heart,” mumbled Harry, stuffing his hands in his pockets and heading towards the castle.  Ron peered after him, a look of confusion on his face.  He then snorted and shook his head.

“Change of heart, my arse…”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Harry,” said Niamh loudly a few days later.

Snick.  Tink.  Snick.  Snick.

“Harry,” said Niamh louder.

Snick.  Snick.  Click.  “Damn.”  Snick.

“Harry!”

Harry, scowling out from underneath the fringe of dark hair that had fallen over his face, looked up from where he was working on the boom box again.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to Hogsmeade today?”

“And take the chance to see that excuse for a woman again?  No thanks.”

“Harry…”

“Yes?”

Niamh threw up her hands and growled, “Nevermind.”  She got up and stormed out of the common room after that, grumbling under her breath.  Harry watched her as she went, brow furrowed.  He then sat the screwdriver and pliers in his hands down and leaned back against the couch, propping his feet up on the table.  Tilting his head to look at Hedwig, who was curled up on a nearby pillow, he asked, “Any idea what’s up with her?”

The snake lifted her head and flicked her tongue out at him in response.  She then dropped her head back down and Harry sighed.

“I guess that’s a ‘no’ then…”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The Boy-Who-Lived in Love?

It seems that the boy who was deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents has found it once more, writes Rita Skeeter.  Fourteen-year-old Harry Potter appears to have found solace in his friend and fellow Housemate Ginny Weasley, the only daughter of Arthur Weasley.

Miss Weasley, a year younger than Mr. Potter, is said by classmates to often be found in his company along with two other young ladies; Misses Hermione Granger and Niamh O’Feir.  But, it seems that Miss Granger and Miss O’Feir have become occupied with two of the other champions; Mr. Viktor Krum and Mr. Cedric Diggory.

However, there are some who say that Miss Weasley was known the year before to be very close to another of Harry Potter’s friends; Mika Davids, another Housemate who was transferred to Durmstrang for the year.

Perhaps Harry Potter should be careful whom he gives his heart to if Miss Weasley’s charms have captured both his and Mr. David’s interests.

Harry snorted contemptuously as he put down the paper and proceeded to scowl at nothing in particular.  A Gryffindor seventh year walking by turned to him and snapped, “What are you looking at, Potter?”

Harry eyed him coldly and spat, “Not you.”

The Gryffindor snorted and walked on.

“Why, Potter, I had no idea you turned that way.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” growled Harry, folding the paper and tossing it on top of his empty plate.  He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, barely sensing the movement of an arm reaching across him to pick up the paper.  There was a rustle of pages and then Draco whistled softly.

“Oh, I see.  Well…I find that interesting.”

“What?” asked Harry without opening his eyes.

“I had no idea you had a crush on the Vixen.”

Harry’s eyes flew open and he turned to stare at Draco in shock.

“The what?”

“Vixen,” replied Draco, looking at him coolly over the top of the paper.  “Surely you’ve heard Weasley referred to as that.”

“Not until this moment.  Who’s calling her that?”

“Half the boy’s in the school since they saw her in that dress,” replied Draco.

Harry grinned evilly and said, “And would you be one of those boy’s, Malfoy?”

Draco snorted and folded the paper, tossing it back onto Harry’s plate.  He rose from his chair and said, “Honestly, Potter.  How could you think that?”

“Just a question.”

“And besides…Davids has threatened half the boy’s in Serpens that if they even dream of touching her, he’ll rip out their hearts with his bare hands.  Good day.”

“Hmphf,” grunted Harry.  He then remembered something and smiled.  Ah, yes.  Tonight was the night to figure the secret in that damned wailing egg.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry got out of Arx Serpens through the passage behind one of the couches, crawling through with the Invisibility Cloak tossed over his shoulders, the Marauder’s Map in his back pocket, and the heavy egg rolling before him.  As soon as he reached the spot where it opened out into the corridor, he stopped, pulling out the map and tapping it with his wand.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

The lines on the map sprang up and Harry saw Filch combing the third floor passageways and no one even remotely awake in the dungeons.  Grinning, he stuffed it back into his pocket and pulled the hood of the cloak over his head.  Then, picking up the egg, he crawled out from behind the statue that hid the tunnel and sprinted up the steps out of the dungeons.

He checked the map periodically as he traveled down the corridors, not seeing a single soul wandering about.  He pondered at that because generally someone was walking through the castle (beside Filch and Mrs. Norris, that is), then shrugged it off as he found the statue of Boris the Bewildered.  Counting down to the right door, he whispered, “Pine fresh.”  The door opened and he slipped inside, bolting it behind him to avoid being disturbed.

“Slytherin’s ghost,” he breathed as he looked around at the room, taking off his cloak.  “Prefects get a ruddy good deal.”

The room was all white marble with and candle-filled chandelier on the ceiling, along with an empty rectangular swimming pool set into the floor.  Golden taps were all around the pool’s edges and there was even…

“A diving board,” said Harry seriously, eying the contraption at the other end of the pool.  “You must be joking.”  He eyed the portrait of a mermaid on the wall, watching her sleep for a moment before he sighed and grabbed a fluffy white towel from where they were stacked in a corner.  Setting the egg, cloak, and map down by the edge of the pool, he turned on one of the taps and watched as water mixed with silver and green bubbles poured out.  Waiting until the pool as filled fairly well, Harry turned off the tap and pulled off his t-shirt and pants then dove into the water.

He laughed a little as he swam around, enjoying the feel of swimming for the first time in a few years.  Argil had – at four years old – thrown him into the river and told him to swim.  A terrified Harry had sunk halfway down before he’d fought his way to the surface and began paddling furiously for shore, choking on dank water.  Argil had beaten him afterwards then thrown him back into the room where he slept, where Harry curled up in a corner under his ratty blanket and cried himself to sleep.  That had been the last time he’d cried until Niamh had been Petrified in their second year.

Sighing, he swam over and grabbed the egg, opening it a hairsbreadth.  The head splitting wailing soared out, echoing off the marble, and he immediately snapped it shut, scowling.  He thought back over Cedric’s words and muttered, “Mull things over.  Aye, I’ll mull things over, ye bloody Hufflepuffian.  I’ll mull things right over yer melon of a head and hit you so hard with a curse that Helga Hufflepuff will feel it!”

“You know,” said a voice from behind him as he finished his tirade, “you could just put it in the water.”

Harry turned and saw the ghost of a glum-looking girl sitting cross-legged on top of one of the taps.

“Hello, Myrtle.”

Myrtle smiled at him and Harry swore he saw her eyes roving over the scars on his chest behind her thick glasses.

“Hello.”

“Er…what are you doing in here?  Sneaking up to watch prefects bathe?”

“Sometimes.”

Oh good Lord, thought Harry.

“Anyway,” said Myrtle, “I’d try putting the egg in the water.  That’s what Cedric Diggory did.”

“Did he?” said Harry in a dark tone.  “Now why didn’t he tell me that?”

Myrtle shrugged and Harry looked at the egg in his hands.  He frowned and thought, What the hell, lowering the egg beneath the water and opening it.  Voices seemed to be coming from the egg now that it was underwater and before Myrtle could get out the words “You have to put…”, he had ducked under the water.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing about the ground,

And while you’re searching, ponder this:

We’ve take what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour – the prospect’s black,

Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

Harry bobbed back up again and reached up a hand to brush his hair out of his face.

“Hear it?”

Harry scowled mildly at Myrtle then slid back under the water in answer.  He had the song memorized then and now was trying to figure it out as he set the egg back on the edge of the pool.

“So,” he thought out loud, “I have to look for people, but they’re not above ground.  Being as that egg only works underwater, I presume that’s where they are.”  His eyes fell on the picture on the wall and he slid under the water in shock.  As he bobbed back up, Myrtle asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” hacked Harry as he attempted to cough up the water he’d swallowed.  He then looked at her and asked, “Are there merpeople in the lake?”

The ghost clapped and looked gleeful.

“Oh, very good!  It took Diggory much longer than that.  And she was awake then.”  Myrtle jerked her head towards the sleeping mermaid.

“Ah,” said Harry, swimming over to the side and leaning his elbows on it, chin resting on top of them.  He saw Myrtle leaning forward on her tap and peering at his back and scowled, snapping, “Do you mind?”

The ghost looked a little flustered and if Harry didn’t know better, he’d have said she’d blushed.

The teen sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking.  He then voiced his thoughts out loud.

“Okay.  So – if we have to underwater to the merpeople, that means they’ve taken something.  Something important like that song says.”  He frowned now.  What of his were they going to take?  And how on earth were they going to get it?  He’d locked his trunk up tighter than Moody probably did his house.

Then another thought came to him.  How in Merlin’s name was he supposed to breathe underwater?  Certainly he could swim, Argil had seen to that by throwing him in the river.  But breathe underwater?  Hmm, maybe his father could help him there…

“Myrtle, would you mind closing your eyes?”

“Yes,” replied the ghost.

Harry groaned then turned his fiercest glare on her and snapped, “Eyes.  Now.  Or I’ll use the Banishing Charm on you.”

Myrtle gave him a surly look but closed her eyes as he climbed out and dried himself off.  He’d just gotten his pants back on when the ghost opened her eyes and eyed him hungrily.  Harry shook his head and tugged his shirt over his head before leaning down to pick up the map, egg, and cloak.  He pulled the latter on as Myrtle asked, “Will you come and visit me in my bathroom sometime?”

Harry blinked owlishly at her then said, “Er…maybe.”  Yes, he thought when he’d started for the door, checking the map to make sure no one was around.  When I have to go back down into the Chamber of Secrets, which I doubt will ever happen.

Creeping out into the hallway, Harry spotted Filch down in the dungeons, but nowhere near Arx Serpens or the statue that hid the tunnel back into the common room.  He smiled then noticed something very odd.  Someone was in his father’s office and it wasn’t his father…

The dot was labeled “Bartemius Crouch” and Harry looked at it twice to make sure it was really there.  What would Crouch be doing in his father’s office at half-past midnight?

Frowning, Harry sprinted down the stairs leading to the dungeons, his bare feet making only faint sounds on the stone floors as he ran.  Then he came to a screeching halt as he heard the sounds of his father’s voice and Filch.

“Could it have been a student, professor?”

“I don’t know who it was, Filch, but they would have to had been very powerful to break through my wards.  And I don’t know of any student that could do that.”

Harry frowned and crept up to the corner, peering around it at his father and Filch.  Filch was wearing an old flannel dressing gown and his father a pair of black pants and a worn gray t-shirt with a dressing robe thrown over it.  He then looked at the map again and saw the “Bartemius Crouch” dot walking down the corridor towards the two men.  Then he stuffed the thing into his pocket, suddenly remembering that the statue he wanted was in the next corridor over and Filch was standing right in front of the main door into Arx Serpens.

Damn!

“Mowr?”

Harry looked down at his feet and saw Mrs. Norris standing there, looking up at him curiously with her red eyes.  He knelt down beside her, checking to make sure neither man had heard her.  Running a hand over her back, he watched around the corner as suddenly there was the familiar clunking sound of Moody approaching.  He leaned back against the wall.  If Moody’s eye could see through the back of his head and Harry’s robes, then it could damn well see through an Invisibility Cloak.

“Did I hear that correctly, Snape?  Someone broke into your office?”

“Perhaps,” said Snape, his glare in his voice.

Moody growled, “Who’d want to break into your office?”

“A student, I daresay.”

He’s contradicting himself, thought Harry as he listened to the conversation, Mrs. Norris climbing into his lap and settling herself there as he sat cross-legged on the floor.  The cat purred like a steam engine and Harry could only hope no one heard her.

“Reckon they were after potions ingredients?  Or are you hiding anything else in your office?”

“You know very well that I’m hiding nothing, Moody.  You searched my office thoroughly.”

“Auror’s privilege, Snape.  Dumbledore told me to keep an eye on things.”

“Dumbledore,” said Snape, “happens to trust me.”

“’Course Dumbledore trusts you.  He’s a trust man.  Believes in second chances.  But – some spots just don’t come off, do they?”

Harry scowled and Mrs. Norris stopped purring in his lap, sensing his anger.  She stood on her hind legs, paws on his chest, and batted at his nose.  Harry frowned then smiled slightly, running his hand over her furry ears.  He whispered, “I’m not angry at you, Norri.  Just Moody.  The nerve!”

Snape growled, “Mmm.  Some spots never do come off.  Even those that are invisible.  Good night, gentlemen.”  Harry then heard the sound of his father’s office door slam and winced.  He looked down at Mrs. Norris then peered around the corner, watching as Filch walked off but Moody just stood there.  Slumping against the wall, he sighed and looked down at the cat in his lap.

“Well,” he said, “looks like I’ll be sleeping outside tonight.”

Mrs. Norris purred and rubbed her head up against his chest and he smiled.

“You want to come with me, Norri?”

The cat purred again and Harry grinned.

“Alright.  Let’s go before Moody comes this way.”

Harry quickly rose and padded down the corridor, Mrs. Norris trailing behind him.  He slid into the tunnel hidden behind a full-length mirror and lay down, using his arm as a pillow and the cloak as a blanket.  The warm, purring sensation that was Mrs. Norris curled up against his chest and Harry smiled, breathing in the scents of cat fur and stone and dust before he dropped off into sleep.

“Oh, this is stupid!” cried Hermione.

Nearly everyone in the Care of Magical Creatures class – including the teacher – looked at her.  Professor Grubbly-Plank stopped her lecture and asked, “If there something wrong, Miss Granger?”

Hermione flushed and ducked her head.

“No, professor.”

“I thought not.”

As Professor Grubbly-Plank went back to her lecture, Harry leaned over to Hermione and asked, “What, may I ask, is so stupid?”

“Hagrid!” replied the bushy-haired girl.  “He’s hiding in his cabin just because of that stupid article!”

“Wouldn’t you hide your face too?” asked Ron.  Hermione promptly glared at him and the ginger-haired boy held up his hands in defense.  “Just a question…”

“Mione’s right,” said Niamh, doodling on a piece of parchment with a Muggle pencil.  “We ought to march up to Hagrid’s door and tell him we want him back.”

“Skrewts?”

Niamh and Hermione both glared at Ron and Harry said, “You’d better give up while you still have all your body parts intact, Ron.”

Ron nodded, looking from one girl to the other.

“I think you may have a point, Harry.”

“You four in the back!  Would you mind enlightening the rest of the class to what so interests you besides my lecture?”

Four heads shot up to look at Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had her fists planted on her hips and was glaring at them.

“Certainly, professor,” said Niamh with a grin.

“Then do so.”

“We were just discussing how long a person could stay sane when placed under the Cruciatus Curse,” said Harry.  When Professor Grubbly-Plank stared at him in shock, he added, “Research for Professor Moody.”

“Well then talk about it somewhere else.”

Niamh snickered as the elderly witch began her lecture again and Hermione hissed, “Harry, that wasn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” said Harry back.

“But it was bloody brilliant,” said Ron.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

It was lunch when Harry received a bright red enveloped carried by a rather familiar looking grizzled owl.  As he took the envelope, Ginny gasped, “That’s a Howler!  Who would have sent you a Howler?”

“Being as that was Mika’s owl, I’ll give you two guesses,” deadpanned Niamh, pointing her fork with a piece of potato speared on the end after the owl as it flew off.  She then ate the potato and mumbled around it, “Mrell, mropin’ i’ ma’e.”

Harry frowned at the envelope, watching it begin to smoke slightly, then picked it up and opened it.  Mika’s voice, magnified and enraged, poured into the Hall.

“Harry, if you dare do anything to hurt Ginny, I swear I will find some way to get back there and use every hex I know on you!  Understood?!”

The letter immediately burst into flame and its ashes fell onto the table.  Harry looked at Niamh, who was trying not to laugh and failed miserably.  Beside him, Ginny look the perfect picture of fury.  Eyes blazing, she rose from her seat and left the Hall.  One could practically see steam coming out of her ears.

“Where’s she going?” asked Amanda from two seats down,

“Probably to owl Mika,” replied Harry.  “How I’d hate to be him right about now…”

“Hell, yes,” agreed Niamh.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

A day later…

“Hagrid!”

“Hagrid, we want to talk to you!”

“C’mon, Hagrid!”

“Hagrid!  Come out here and talk to us!  We don’t care what that bi-witch said!  Now open…”

The door opened and Dumbledore peered down at the five students standing outside the door of the wooden hut.  Niamh, who had been pounding on the door and yelling, paled severely and squeaked out the rest of her sentence.

“…up.”

“Hello, professor,” said Hermione in a meek voice.

Dumbledore smiled at them then turned back inside.  “Hagrid.  I believe you have some visitors.  Come inside, children, please.”

The five of them entered and Harry was immediately leapt upon by a madly barking Fang.  As he tried to settle him, the other four were gaping at Hagrid, who looked like he’d been through a hurricane, a monsoon, a tornado, and a mudslide and never had a chance of a break inbetween.

“Hi, Hagrid,” said Niamh.

Hagrid looked at her and said, “’Lo,” in a very hoarse voice.

“Did you hear what Miss O’Feir was shouting?” asked Dumbledore as he closed the door and sat down, motioning the five teenagers to do the same.  “It seems that all of them still want to know you.”

“Of course we still want to know you!” cried Hermione, fixing Hagrid with a mild glare.  “Hagrid, how could you think that?”

“Ignore everything that bitch says, Hagrid,” snapped Niamh.  She then seemed to realize what she’d said and mumbled, “Sorry, headmaster.”

“I have temporarily gone deaf and have not heard a word you said, Miss O’Feir.”

“Oookay.”

“Hagrid, really,” said Ginny, “what makes you think we’d care what that poor excuse for a woman wrote about you?”  She lifted her chin proudly and continued, “I don’t care.  She can write about me all she wants.  I don’t care.”

“Because we know the truth,” said Harry, finally able to get Fang off of him.  He grinned at Hagrid then motioned at the three girls.  “I’d repeat what they said, but they said it much better than me.”

“Yeah,” echoed Ron.

Hagrid smiled furtively at them behind his tangled black beard.

“You see, Hagrid?  Proof of what I’ve been telling you all this time,” said Dumbledore.

“Not all of ‘em wan’ me ter stay.”

“Well then bugger to them,” said Harry.  “Just ignore ‘em, Hagrid.  Eventually they’ll leave you alone.”  He then grinned and laid a hand on Niamh’s shoulder.

“Or,” he continued, “you can tell them that if they want to have an argument with you, they can have an argument with the Lord and Lady Hex first.”

Niamh grinned and nodded.  “Yes,” she said, “we’re always happy to oblige people in conversation.”

Hagrid smiled at the two of them and said, “Thank ye two.  I – I think I’ll come back and teach.”

“Excellent!” said Dumbledore, standing.  “I expect to see you in the Great Hall for breakfast tomorrow morning, Hagrid.  Good afternoon to you all.”

“Goodbye, professor,” said six voices.

“Great man, Dumbledore,” said Hagrid after he was gone.  “Great man…  An’ he’s right – yeh’re all righ’…I bin stupid…”

“No, you haven’t, Hagrid,” said Niamh.  “There aren’t many people who can just blow off something like that.  Except for maybe Harry here…”

“Oh, yes, just insult me, why don’t you?” grumbled Harry good-naturedly.

“See?” said Niamh.  “Of course, he likes me, so he won’t hex me…”

“I would not be too sure of that,” said Harry softly, eyes narrowing.  “I might get you in your sleep.”

“Anyway,” said Hermione loudly.  “We’re glad you’re going to come back, Hagrid.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, “class just isn’t – er – the same without you.”

“Really?” said Hagrid.  “What’s that Professor Grubbly-Plank teaching you lot?”

Hermione began to launch into their last few classes when Harry looked at his watch.

“Er, guys,” he said, “I’ve got to go.”

“What?” said Ginny in surprise.  “Why?”

“Ahhhhh – detention.”

“Harry,” said Niamh seriously, “you’ve only had detention once in our entire time here.  And that time was a mistake!”

“Yeah, well, I got it again.  So…I’ll be seeing you.”

“Okay.  Bye, Harry.”

“See you later.”

Hagrid waved cheerfully and Harry smiled at him before turning and leaving the cabin.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Professor?”

Harry poked his head into his father’s office and saw Moody standing there, one hand on the desk and the other jabbing at the dark-haired wizard’s chest.

“Look, Snape, your letting those children run loose in times like these, with no restraints on them whatsoever.  I don’t think Dumbledore would approve of the way you’re running that House.”

Snape’s dark eyes narrowed until they seemed like pits of dark tar.

“Moody, threaten me all you like, but say anything about my students and I begun to take offense.  I know very well how to run Slytherin House, as you should know the two of us being one’s ourselves.  Albus happens to trust me…”

“Trust that wasn’t earned.”

Snape rose from his seat, slamming his hand down on his desk and glaring at the old Auror.  The two of them were the same height though Moody was a good deal stockier than the lean Potions Master.  Anger flashed across his pale face as he growled, “Our trust was readily earned many years ago, Alastor.  Now – if you don’t mind – I have some work…”  He then saw Harry in the doorway and said, “Mr. Potter.  To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Moody turned, his roving blue eye landing on Harry.  The teen did not look at the scarred Auror, only at his father.

“I wanted to ask you a question, professor.”

“Oh, I’d like to hear this,” said Moody, looking at Snape with a sneer on his face.

Snape scowled at him and growled, “Get out.”

“Come now, S…”

“Out.”

Moody frowned at him and growled, “I’m watching you, Snape,” before he turned and limped out past Harry.  The teen peered after him for a moment then closed the door and cast an Anti-Eavesdropping Charm on the room.  He then turned to his father, who had sank back down into his chair and was rubbing his hands over his face.

“What was that about?”

“An old argument,” replied Severus, looking up.  “One that has been going on for many years between Moody and I.”

“Why?” asked Harry, curious as to what else Mika’s father might have against his own.  Certainly one being an Auror and the other a Death Eater was not the entire story.

“Because he was my teacher at the Auror Academy.  I was later placed under him when I graduated and got into the field.  Then my father was captured and tried, which put my under close inspection by itself, not owning to the fact that I was already being watched because of the rumors of my father’s loyalties.”  Severus sighed and continued, “And then I was captured during a raid I’d warned Dumbledore about.  They were supposed to capture Lucius Malfoy but instead I was Stunned.  Moody was furious to say the least.  Especially when Albus revealed that I had been the spy in Voldemort’s ranks.”

“But I thought only your father – grandfather – knew you were never with the Death Eaters!” exclaimed Harry.

“He did.  Because I brought him in.  But Albus couldn’t just let them sentence me to Azkaban after the trial.”  Severus looked up at his son and continued, “If he had, I’d have been sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss.  The only reason I’m not in there right now with my soul sucked out is because Albus spoke up for me.  If I’m ever found doing one thing to deal with the Dark Arts – one tiny, miniscule thing – I’ll be immediately thrown into Azkaban.”

Harry sank into a chair in shock.

“Hell’s bells…”

Severus sighed again and nodded, running his hands back through his hair.

“Yes.  Well…what was it you wanted?”

“Er…I was wondering if you might have something that would allow someone to breathe underwater.  Like a potion or something.”

Severus frowned and said, “I can’t help you with the second task, Harry.  You know that.”

Harry grinned wryly and replied, “I know that.  I wasn’t asking you to give it to me.  I’m just asking if you happen to have anything.”

“I have something that would do the trick but you’re not getting it.”

Harry smirked and said, “We’ll see, Da.  We’ll see…”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The day of the task…

“Hey, Harry!”

Harry looked sullenly up at Colin as the third year bounded over to the Slytherin table.

“Yes, Colin?  To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your perky face on this drab morning?”

Colin’s grin faltered and he said, “Well, if you don’t want to talk to me…”

Harry shook his head.  “No, no.  I’m sorry, Colin.  The second tasks’ today…”  He waved a hand as his voice dropped off.

“Actually,” said Colin, looking at his watch, “its in two minutes.  That’s what I was coming to tell you.”

“ Two what?  Heck-sod!”

Harry leapt up and sprinted out of the Hall, ducking and dodging between groups of people as he shot across the entrance hall.  He took the stone steps leading down onto the grounds in one leap and hit the ground running, reaching for the gillyweed in his pocket as he did so.  The night before he had snuck into his father’s office and disabled the wards on his cabinet’s before picking the locks and searching through them.  Of course, he’d locked and warded them again.

The other three champions were already down at the lake, watching the stands as they filled up.  By the time Harry skidded to a stop beside them, Ludo Bagman was pointing the champions to places around the lake within ten feet of each other.  Then he placed the Sonorus charm on his throat and turned towards the crowd.

“All our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle.”

Harry suddenly noticed that Hedwig was still curled about his wrist as he bent to take off his boots.  He craned his head back as he tugged at the laces of the left one and was the black speck in the sky that was Jardin.

Jar! he yelled, half-listening to Bagman.

“They have precisely an hour…”

< Yes? >

Down here.  Now!

“…to recover…”

< Is there some trouble? >

Come and get Hed!

< She’ll bite me! >

ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU’RE SCARED OF A LITTLE GARDEN SNAKE? roared Harry.

< No, > said Jardin meekly.

“…what had been taken…”

THEN GET YOUR FEATHERED ASS DOWN HERE!!

< Alright, alright.  Toss her in the air. >

“Get ready, Hed,” whispered Harry to the snake as he loosed the laces of his right boots then shoved both off and sat them to the side before rolling up his sleeves.

“For what?”

“…from them.  On the count of three, then.  One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

The whistle blew sharply and the cheers from the stands reverberated across the water.  Harry grabbed the gillyweed from his pocket and choked it down as he looked up to see how far away Jardin was, then tossed Hedwig into the air as he ran and dove into the icy lake.  He heard the snake scream at him before he went completely under.

“I HATE HEIGHTS, HARRY!!!!”

Whoops, thought Harry, pushing himself downward through the water.  The gillyweed still hadn’t taken effect and he was beginning to run out of air.

Quite suddenly he could breathe again and the water began to warm about him.  Harry glanced once at his webbed hands and feet then dove deeper into the lake.  He swam past drove after drove of fish and thought he saw one of the giant squid’s arms before he reached a company of crude stone dwellings.  And voices like those from the egg, voices of merpeople, fell upon his ears.

“An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took

Your time’s half gone, so tarry not

Lest what you seek stays here to rot…”

“Now that’s ominous,” said Harry out loud to himself, arching an eyebrow when all that came out of his mouth were bubbles.  Here and there as he continued to swim he saw gray faces framed by long, dark green hair.  Yellow eyes leered at him and he could only conclude that these were the merpeople.  They bore no resemblance to the mermaid in the perfects bathroom.

Turning his head, he saw a statue in the center of the crude-cut little village.  And tied to its tail were four figures.

There was a little girl with such clouds of silvery hair that she had to be a very close relation to Fleur if not her sister.  Tied beside her was Hermione, her bushy brown hair barely moving underneath the water.  Then there was Ginny, red hair flower about her face likes flames and between Ginny and the little girl was Niamh, feathery dark hair moving like sea grass.

Harry drew the pocketknife Sirius had sent him for Christmas from his pocket and flipped out the blade.  He eyed the three girl he knew, wondering which was the one he valued most.  As he did so, he thought how ludicrous this task was.  He loved all three girls like sisters.  They were his friends, for Slytherins sake!  How could he choose any one of them?

Suddenly a shape coming towards him out of the dark depths broke Harry from his musing.  He watched as it approached and blinked several times when he saw it was Krum’s body with a shark’s head attached.  Watching as Shark-Krum swam to Hermione and began to try to cut her bonds with the ungainly shark teeth, Harry felt a sharp snap of anger.  Didn’t that idiot know that the shark’s teeth could easily sever the lower half of Hermione from the upper half?

Harry swam hurriedly down to him and slapped his shoulder, thrusting the knife at his chest, blade in towards his own palm.  Krum looked at him then took the knife and cut Hermione away, grabbing her about the waist and swimming upwards, dropping the knife.

Harry grabbed the knife before it hit the sandy bottom and became lost, swimming back up to the three girls.  When he got there he was Cedric, his head distorted by a large bubble, cutting Niamh away.

Well, that narrows down the field, thought Harry as he watched the Hufflepuff drag his friend away.  He then cut Ginny away and peered at the little girl, wondering where Fleur could be.  Then he looked at his watch, which had begun to rhythmically flash ‘Time to go!’ over and over.  Looking around again and seeing no sign of Fleur, he decided.

As he began to hack at the girls ropes one-handed (for Ginny was held against him by his other arm), the merpeople moved forward.  He fixed them with an icy gaze and snapped, “Don’t even think about it.”  And in their own language nonetheless.

The merpeople backed off and Harry smirked.  After he’d informed Jardin about what Myrtle had told him, the raven had immediately began to teach him Mermish.  Apparently he could “speak” over a hundred languages – many of them no longer in use – with the exception of Parseltongue and Elvish.  He could however recognize the two.

Now unhindered, Harry brought the knife down on the ropes binding the little girl in one sweep, severed them, then jammed it into his pocket as he seized her about the waist and kicked off of the bottom in a great cloud of dust.

He had not swam far when he saw that dragging the two girls, light as they would have been on the land above, were heavier with their robes like water-weights.  Drawing his wand, he swam in a slow circle, wand tip pointed down towards the bottom.  When the circle was complete he said, “Reverto Charybdis!”

The water around them bubbled and Harry sheathed his wand, pulling the two girls tight against him.  He had to hold tight to them because he had no control over this spell once it began to work.  It was actually an offensive spell he had created to form and suck down an opponent near or over water.  Now he was reversing its effects and if he failed, all of them were dead.

The water around them frothed and began to spin as the whirlpool effect of the spell began to work.  Harry felt a downward sucking feeling and his heart sank.  Then the water swelled around him and the two girls and spun fasted.  Quite suddenly they were rushing upwards and the water was opening up to air around them.

Cries of awe and surprise fell on Harry’s ears as the reversed whirlpool bobbed them to the surface.  He had a moment where he nearly suffocated because the gills were still there but the gillyweed’s effect wore off quickly and he could breathe.  The whirlpool subsided, having done its duty, and Harry grinned.  They weren’t dead after all!

“Harry?”

Ginny stirred, blinking water out of her brown eyes to peer at him.  She then saw the silver0haired girl in his other arm and said, “You were only supposed to get me.”

Harry shrugged at her and said, “I’m half Gryffindor.  What do you expect?”

“The Slytherin to overrun it.”

“Oh, buck up, Gin.  You’re half Gryff too.  Now let’s get to shore and swelter in the hubbub going on before Ni comes out here and gets us.”

Ginny turned her head to look towards the shore.  A blanket-wrapped figure with a shock of black hair and two blazing specks of blue eyes was standing by the shore of the lake.  The redhead winced.

“She looks pissed.”

Harry laughed and remarked, “I know she’s pissed.  Now c’mon.  To shore we go.”

“I agree with you on that.  What were they thinking doing this in February?”

“Obviously ‘Let’s freeze the champions so they can’t swim’.  Help me here, Gin.  I think this girl’s frozen solid.  She won’t move.”

Harry and Ginny seized the little girl and swam for shore.  As soon as they splashed up out of the water, the girl suspended inbetween them, Madam Pomfrey descended upon them, cocooning them in blankets and forcing hot potions down their throats.

“Grabrielle!  Gabrielle!  Is she alive?  Is she ‘urt?”

The little girl broke away from Madam Pomfrey and ran towards Fleur, who was fighting to get away from Madam Maxime.  Harry looked away as the embraced and was suddenly grabbed by the collar and jerked downward so his eyes were level with a pair of blazing blue one’s.  Niamh scowled and grabbed his shirt collar in both hands, shaking him furiously.

“If you ever worry me like that again, I’ll kill you.”

Harry gave a mock salute and said, “Understood, Madam Hex.”

Niamh scowled at him again then squealed when Cedric came up behind her and enveloped her in a hug.  Harry turned away from them and saw Fleur coming towards him.

The veela girl’s robes were torn from somewhere but she was smiling.  Looking at Harry, she said, “You saved ‘er.  Even thought she was not your ‘ostage.”

“Well,” said Harry, “I couldn’t just leave her…”  He was cut short as Fleur kissed him on each cheek then turned to Ginny and did the same before heading back to where Gabrielle stood.  Ron looked outraged while Niamh looked simply furious.  Ginny just look surprised until Hermione leaned down and whispered something in her ear.

Ludo Bagman’s voice suddenly boomed over them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached out decision.  Merchieftainess Murcus had told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have deiced to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…”

“Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage.  We aware her twenty five points.”

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was second to return with his hostage, thought he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.  We there for award him forty-two points.”  Harry saw Niamh leap upon Cedric with a wide grin on her face out of the corner of his eye.

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was first to return with his hostage.  We award him forty-seven points.”  Hermione smiled at Krum as he pointed out a bug in her hair.

“Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect.  He returned last and well outside the time limit of an hour but with quite a large finish.  However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was the first to reach the hostages and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.”

Ginny punched Harry in the arm and hissed, “Going Gryffindor on us.”

“Most of the judges feel this shows moral fiber and merits full marks.  However, Mr. Potter’s score if forty-five points.”

“The third and final task will take place at duck on the twenty-fourth of June.  The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand.  Thank you for all your support of the champions.”

Niamh and Hermione cheered as Ron clapped Harry on the back and Ginny hugged him.  Jardin landed on Harry’s shoulder, dropping an irate Hedwig into his hands and cawing loudly into the teen’s ear.

< Bravo!  Bravo! >

Harry grinned at the bird then tried to calm Hedwig as Madam Pomfrey began to bustle the champions and their hostages up towards the castle.

“Hey, Harry.  There’s an owl here for you.”

Harry looked up from the boom box (he almost had the magic-sucking issue fixed) and saw a very ruffled looking owl perched on Niamh’s shoulder.

“Who’s it from?” he asked.

Niamh shrugged and replied, “I don’t open you mail, mate.  And I don’t recognize the owl.  Mik maybe?”  She handed him the letter then sent the owl off up one of the small passageways in the ceiling that lead outside.  Harry watched her for a moment then sat down his tools and opened the letter.

“It’s from Sirius,” he whispered as Niamh settled beside him.  Jardin suddenly appeared from a dark area atop a bookshelf and flapped over to his bonds shoulder.

< He has returned? >

Harry growled, eyes glinting, “If he has, I’ll kill him,” before scanning the rather short letter.

Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o’clock on next Hogsmeade weekend.  Bring as much food as you can.

“That’s ominous,” remarked Niamh as Harry angrily crumpled the letter and stuffed it in his pocket.  “Mate, what’s wrong?”

“Sirius is what’s wrong!  He’s come back and now he’s running the chance of getting caught!”

Niamh smiled and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry.  Sirius’ll be fine.  And you’d better write back and tell him the next Hogsmeade weekend is this week.”

“Right,” said Harry sullenly.

< Don’t worry, Harry, > said Jardin.  < It’ll be fine. >

Oh, shut up, grumbled the teen as he grabbed up a scrap of paper and searched for something to write with.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

When Potions class rolled around a few days later, Harry deliberately spilled armadillo bile as an excuse to have a short talk with his father after class.  He had meant to tell him about the meeting with Sirius but Karkaroff slipping into the room as the rest of the class bustled out.

“We need to talk, Severus,” said Durmstrang’s headmaster.  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Snape’s black eyes flicked over to where Harry was crouched behind his cauldron.  He knew he was there but Karkaroff – thankfully – could not see him.

“What is so urgent?” asked Snape.

“This,” replied Karkaroff and Harry heard the rustle of cloth.  He peered around his cauldron and saw Karkaroff showing his father something on the inside of his left arm.  “Do you see?  It’s never been this clear, never since – ”

“Put it away, you fool!” hissed Snape.

“But surely you’ve noticed - ”

“Do you wish to be caught?  If you don’t recall, there is an Auror in the school with us.  Were he to walk in right now we’d both be in Azkaban.”

“But, Severus - ”

“Later, Igor!”

Karkaroff stood there for a moment then turned on a heel and strode out.  Harry watched him as he went, thinking of what the more visible Mark meant.

It means Voldemort is gaining power, answered his brain.

That thought sent a cold shiver through the teen’s body.  He did not fear many things but he did fear the idea of Voldemort’s possible return to power and form.  Not only because of that dream and the Cup, but because that damned Mark.  Some part of his father was bound to the Dark Lord and Slytherin knew what that lunatic would do – and could do – to the elder Snape should he find out of his “betrayal”.  Plus the oh-so-tiny fact that he had sired the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord not once, but three times.

“Harry.”

Harry gave the floor a last swipe and stood, looking across the room at his father with an unreadable green gaze.

“He’s getting stronger, isn’t he?” said the teen softly.

Severus nodded slowly and looked towards the closed classroom door.  He then said, in Elven, “Come to my rooms tonight.  Then we’ll talk.”

Harry nodded and hurriedly packed up his things, taking a hastily scribbled note from his father’s hand that excused his being late for Transfiguration and dashing out of the room past a group of third year Ravenclaws.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

That night, Harry slipped out of Arx Serpens under the cover of his invisibility cloak and headed down to the entrance to his father’s rooms.

Inside, he sat down by the merrily crackling fire to wait.  A few minutes later, Severus slipped out of the passage leading from the classroom, smiling at his son as he took off his outer robe and threw it over the back of the chair across from Harry before sitting down in it.

“Is he?” asked Harry, addressing his question from earlier in the day.

Severus nodded grimly and the teen sighed.

“I thought so.”

“Just because he’s getting stronger, doesn’t mean he’s a danger, Harry,” said Severus.  “According to what you’ve told me about your first year run-in with him, he’s bodiless.”

“But still a danger,” said Harry.  “And there are potions and spells that could give him back a body, aren’t there?”

Severus sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand.

“Unfortunately, yes.  But the spells are few and far between and require a power like Voldemort’s to allow them to work to their full potential.  And they cannot be cast upon oneself.”

“That’s good.”

“Not likely.  The potions are far more numerous and are known by a great many of the greater Potions Masters.”

“One of which is you,” said Harry with a slight tilt of his head.

“Yes.  But Voldemort cannot Summon the Death Eaters without a body.  Else he would have already done so.  Or he can and is simply waiting for the right moment.  Merlin knows what goes on in his…well, what would you call a creature without a body’s mind?”

Harry shrugged then said, “So we’ve got nothing to worry about?  I doubt that.”

Severus nodded in agreement.

“As do I.  But as of now Voldemort is still spirit and as I doubt he could get his claws into a Master who knows those potions that would help him.  Many were those betrayed by men like Karkaroff to save their own hides and others have hidden.  I only know of one that isn’t hidden and she won’t be of any help.”

“Why not?” asked Harry.

“Because she’s in St. Mungo’s,” replied Severus bitterly.  “And even if she wasn’t, they’d not get a thing out of her.  Auror’s are hard to break.”

Harry blinked.  Could he…could he be talking about Neville’s mother?

“Mrs. Longbottom?”

Severus’ head snapped up and his dark eyes locked onto his son’s face.

“What did you say?” he demanded.

“Mrs. Longbottom,” repeated Harry.  “Neville’s mother.”

“How do you know about the Longbottom’s?  Very few do.”

“Amanda,” said Harry.  “I went in the common room one night and she was there crying.  She told me.  She was there.”

Severus leaned back into his chair, nodding slowly.

“Yes.  The Brethel’s.  William was always a good friend of Frank’s.”

“You knew them?  The Longbottom’s?”

“Two years ahead of me,” said Severus.  “Frank Longbottom and William Brethel, both Gryffindors.  Melissa Jessup was a Slytherin.  Merlin knows how she and Frank got together.  But they did.  William’s Neville’s godfather as well.  I doubt Miss Brethel told you that.”

“Then why didn’t they take…nevermind.  I think I know why.  Grief-stricken.”

Severus nodded and said, “Both of them.  Miss Brethel’s mother is Muggle but a believer in magic.  She was good friends with Frank and Melissa.”

The elder Snape shook his head slowly then gave a little shake, as if to brush the old memories off.  He looked at his son and asked, “And what was it you spilled armadillo bile for?”

“Sirius is here.”

“Black?  Here?  Well, I always did say he was a loony as a loon.”

Harry glared mildly and said,” I told him about the Tournament.  He’s worried.”

“Worried about you or worried I’m going to go back to my “Dark Ways” and snatch you off to Voldemort?”

“Probably a little of both.”

“Slytherin knows.”

“Should I tell him…about the streets?”

Severus looked seriously at his son.

“Only if you want to.  And if you do, I suggest you owl those relatives of yours and tell them to get out of the country.”

“I don’t know.  I’d rather like to see Aunt Petunia and Dudley mangled beyond recognition but Uncle Vernon was rather nice to me.  He just needs a bit of a backbone.”

“Do you intend to tell him?”

“Only if he asks.”

“Ah,” said Severus, looking at the fire.  He then said, with a glance towards the clock on the mantle, “You’d better get to be.  It’s almost midnight.”

Harry nodded and rose, wrapping the invisibility cloak about himself.

“’Night, Da.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry slipped out of the rooms and down the hall to Arx Serpens, where he fell asleep on the couch in the Hexer’s Corner rather than chance waking one of his dormmates (not that he cared, but to avoid questions of where he’d been).  Severus, meanwhile, stayed up far into the wee hours of the morning, pacing in front of the fire and praying to every god that he knew of (and some he didn’t) that Voldemort would never return to cast a shadow on the world.

His, and his son’s, lives would be in great peril if that monster clamped his iron fist back upon the wizarding world.

On Saturday, Niamh, Harry, and Ginny plus one Altair Raven walked into Hogsmeade.  Hedwig had declined coming, claiming tiredness as her plea.  So it was the four of them, Harry carrying a bad slung over his shoulder that contained a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, some éclairs, and a flask of pumpkin juice.  He had snuck into the kitchens earlier that morning and gotten the food from Dobby.

After a few minutes of walking down the road that led outside Hogsmeade, Niamh let out a cry of, “There he is!” and took off like a bullet from a gun.  Harry and Ginny bounded after her, Jardin being shaken from his perch by the abrupt movement.  When they found the dark-haired girl crouched by a black dog so large and shaggy it resembled a small bear, the raven took a perch on a rock instead of his bonds shoulder, muttering disgruntledly in Harry’s head.

The teen blocked the birds comments and forced a smile at the dog.

“’Lo, Sirius.”

Sirius barked, eying the bag over Harry’s shoulder, then picked up a pile of newspapers rolled into a bundle and bounded off.  The three teens and bird followed him over the rocky ground and up a steep, winding path lined with boulders.  By the time they reached a narrow fissure in the rock wall, Niamh and Ginny were clinging to Harry for support.

The dark-haired teen pulled the two girls to their feet and pushed them gently towards the fissure Sirius has disappeared into.  He slung the bag in when they were through then slipped in himself.

Niamh and Ginny collapsed onto the floor, panting and leaning against each other and the dusty wall.  Harry looked once at them then over at the black dog, which had turned into his godfather.

Sirius was wearing the same ragged robes Harry has seen him in the year before and his hair was cut but as matted as ever.  One good thing was that some of the haunted look that had been in his eyes from Azkaban had faded.  But only slightly.

The man sat the newspapers in his mouth of the floor and reached for the bag, pulling out a chicken leg and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth.

“Thanks,” he said when his mouth was clear.  “I’ve been living mostly off rats.  Can’t make people suspicious.”

Ginny winced from her spot against the wall as Sirius beamed at Harry.  The teen did not return the grin.

“What are you doing here, Sirius?”

“Fulfilling my godfatherly duties, such as they are.  I want to be on the spot.  Thing’s keep getting fishier and fishier and I’ve got an odd feeling that something’s going to happen.”

“And what if you’re seen?” growled Harry.  “Besides, Da is here.”

Sirius scowled and spat, “He may be your father, Harry, but that doesn’t mean I trust him.  He was a - ”

“Death Eater.”  When Sirius looked at him in surprise, Harry continued, “I know.  He told me summer after second year.  But he wasn’t really.  His father forced him to take the Mark.”

Sirius looked disbelieving and opened his mouth to say something but Harry cut him off with a fierce glare.

“And I believe him, Sirius.  I don’t really care if you don’t, but I’ll hex you if you try to pick a fight with him.  I swear I will.”

Sirius stared at him for a moment then nodded.

“Alright.  No fights.”

“Good.  I hope you’ll hold to that.”

Sirius grumpily growled, “Just make sure he does.”

“Oh, he will,” said Harry.

“Can I at least hit him once?”

“No.”

“A little tap?”

Harry fixed his godfather with a dark scowl and the older man winced.

“Right, right.  Niamh, what are you looking at?”

Niamh peered over the newspaper she’d been reading and said, “They make it sound like he’s dying.”

“Who?” asked Harry.

“Crouch,” replied Ginny, peering over Niamh’s shoulder.  “It says he’s not been seen in public since November and his house is deserted.”

Harry arched an eyebrow at Sirius and said, “One of those fishy things you were talking about?”

Sirius nodded.  “One of them.”

Niamh chuckled and said, “A Galleon says Hermione’d say that’d he’s getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky.”

“Crouch sacked his house-elf?” said Sirius with surprise lacing his voice.

Ginny nodded.  “Dad said he did.”

“They thought Winky had summoned the Dark Mark that appeared at the Cup,” said Harry.  He quickly told Sirius what had happened at the World Cup then watched as the man picked up another chicken leg and rose, beginning to pace around the cave.

“So,” said the man after a moment, “you ended up sitting next to Crouch’s elf at the match and she said she was saving a seat for him but he never showed up.”

“Yeah,” said Harry.  “No sign of him until after the Dark Mark showed up.”

Sirius nodded numbly and mused, “And you say the elf had Niamh’s wand?”  He looked at the girl for confirmation and she nodded.

“Did you have it after you left the Top Box?” continued Sirius.

Niamh frowned and folded the newspaper, placing it in her lap.  She shook her head and said, “No.  I didn’t look for it until we were in the woods.  And it was poking out of my pocket when we were up in the stands.”  She looked sharply at the man and asked, “You don’t think anyone stole it when we were in the Top Box, do you?”

“Quite possibly,” replied Sirius.

“I doubt Winky took it,” said Harry.  “House-elves don’t have that type of cunning.  I mean, the only house-elf that could possibly come up with something like that would be Voldemort’s house-elf and we all know that he’s not going to be using a house-elf anytime soon.”

The other three people in the cave looked at him oddly and Jardin from his perch outside the cave said, < Never judge a book by its cover. >

Harry’s eyes flashed angrily and he growled out loud in the raven’s direction, “You think you have to tell me that?”

< Sorry. >

Sirius arched his eyebrows at Harry then said, “A good point, Harry.  Can any of you remember who else was sitting beside you?”

Niamh nodded and said, “The Malfoy’s.  But they were too far down to reach my wand.  And the only one near me who could have taken it would have been Harry.”

“Why would that be?” asked Sirius as Harry scowled at his friend.

“I’ll tell you later,” growled the teen.

“Harry…”

“Later, Sirius,” snapped Harry.  “Its too long of a story to tell right now and we’ve got enough going on right now without you getting angsty over my past!”

Sirius looked taken aback and Ginny looked a little afraid at Harry’s outburst.  But Niamh rose and walked over to her friend, touching his arm gently.  She smiled and softly said, “Hey, mate, its okay.  You don’t have to talk about it.  I’m sorry I said anything.”

And I get the feeling you don’t want Sirius to know, added the girl, able to talk to him through Jardin’s near presence.

I don’t want him going crazy.  I’ve had enough of my past this year, said Harry, sighing mentally.

Niamh smiled and squeezed his arm reassuringly.  Sirius looked between the two of them, completely unaware of the exchange.  Harry took a deep breath and turned to the man, saying, “Sirius, I swear I’ll tell you.  But not right now.”

“Right,” said Sirius.  “Right.”  He then picked up the loaf of bread and tore off a large hunk.  He pointed at the paper that Niamh had been looking at and said, “Going back to the conversation, that doesn’t sound anything like Crouch.  The man’s like a machine.  For him to reinstate the Tournament and have his elf save him a seat at the Cup then not appear at either occasion is not like him.  If he’s ever taken a day off work, I’ll eat that raven of yours, Harry.”

Jardin let out an indignant squawk and yelled, < You most certainly will not! >

“It’s a figure of speech,” said Sirius to the ruffled bird, taking a bite out of the hunk of bread.

There was a silence in the cave for a moment then Niamh asked, “You know Crouch?”

Sirius’ face darkened and he growled, “Yeah, I know Crouch.  He’s the one who sent me to Azkaban without a trial.”

“Bastard,” growled Niamh

Sirius nodded mildly and said, “He was thought to be the next Minister of Magic.  But the Dark Years changed him.  Sometime when people try to do the right thing they - ”

“Just end up screwing it up even more,” finished Harry.  When the other looked at him oddly, he shook his head and waved at Sirius to go on.

The Animagus coughed and continued, “Yes.  Well…Crouch abhors the Dark Arts.  When he was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Aurors had the power to kill rather than capture.”  He shrugged, adding, “Like I said, the Dark Years changed him and the world.”

“But after Voldemort disappeared, everyone thought Crouch’d get the top job.  Then his son got caught with a group of Death Eaters.”

“His son?” gasped Ginny.

“Good enough reason to hate the Dark Arts,” murmured Niamh.  Harry nodded in agreement.

“Was his son a Death Eater?” asked Ginny.

Sirius shrugged and grabbed an éclair and the flask of pumpkin juice.

“Haven’t a clue.  I was in Azkaban by then.  As far as anyone knows, he could just have been as unlucky as the house-elf.”

Harry eased himself onto a narrow ledge and mused, “I suppose Crouch’s son didn’t make it very long.”

Sirius shook his head.

“He lasted a year before he died.  Then Crouch’s wife died not too long after that.  Crouch lost his son, his wife, and his shot at Minister of Magic.  I get the feeling that this Tournament is him trying to get back to the top.”

“But,” continued Sirius.  “If he really wanted to get back to the top, he’d be trying to catch a Death Eater.”

“Snape?” queried Ginny.

“Maybe,” replied Sirius, glancing at Harry.  The dark-haired teen’s eyes darkened at that remark.

“Da’s not a Death Eater and he never has been.”  Harry clenched his fists and growled on, “If Crouch tries anything, he’ll face me.”

Niamh cast a worried glance at Sirius, who said, “I don’t doubt you could take him, Harry, but you can’t do that if Snape’s accused of something.”

“Why the hell not?” snapped the teen.

Niamh sat on the ledge beside her friend and said, “Mate, if you try and go against Crouch or anyone if they accuse Professor Snape, people will star to wonder.”

“And think of what will happen if the world were to find out you’re his son,” said Sirius.

Harry glared darkly at the two of them for a moment then his shoulders drooped and he nodded.

“Your both right.  I just – I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Snape’s not going to get caught,” said Sirius, trying to reassure his godson.  “I heard he was tried but never convicted.  Apparently Dumbledore spoke up for him and got him out.  Saved his sorry ass.”

Harry immediately glared at his godfather, who ducked his head and grabbed another chicken leg.

“Speaking of that trial, I’m surprised Moody didn’t speak up for him.  Snape was an Auror in Moody’s division.”

“Da told me about that,” said Harry.  “I don’t think he and Moody have been too friendly since that trial.  Seems to me they were good friends or something.”

“So you think Moody feels betrayed?” asked Ginny.

Harry shrugged in response then looked at his watch.  He looked at his two friends and said, “We’ve got to get on.  Time down here’s almost up.”

“Listen, Harry,” said Sirius and Ginny rose from her spot on the floor and Harry and Niamh slid down from the narrow ledge.  “Be careful.  I know the lot of you are Slytherins and have Snape looking out for you but I still want you – all of you (he eyed Niamh and Ginny as he said this) – to be careful.  The Third Task is next and if the first two tasks were anything to judge by, this next one’s going to be even harder.”

“I know,” said Harry as Jardin swooped in and landed on his shoulder.  “I’ll send Jardin if anything happens.”

“I’ll be waiting.  And be careful when you talk about me.”

Niamh grinned cheekily at the older wizard.

“Don’t worry,” she quipped, “they’ll think we’re talking about ‘Sirius the Dog’.”

Sirius looked at her oddly as she gave him a thumbs-up then disappeared out of the cave, Ginny trailing behind her.  The Animagus looked at his godson and said, “That is one odd girl.”

Harry laughed and said, “You have no idea.  I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t sneak out to do it.”

“As if I’d get caught!” cried the teen over his shoulder as he exited the cave.

Sirius walked to the cave entrance and watched as the three teens, Harry’s arms around the two girls shoulders, as they walked down the path and disappeared around the corner.  He shook his head in amusement and leaned against the rough cave stone, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Those kids are going to drive us all to drink.”

“Hey, Potter!  Y’know your insane, right?”

Harry continued walked down the corridor to Charms (Flitwick had finally switched him to the sixth year class) and said over his shoulder, “I prefer to think of myself as mentally challenged but if you insist…”

The voice from behind him laughed and another cried, “I’d say that fits better!  I mean, staking out Davids girl?  Your nuttier than everyone thought!”

Harry turned to stare at the group of third and fifth year Slytherins gathered behind him.

“I’m doing what?”

The thought of him and Ginny was…well, appalling.  She was his friend.

“Oh please,” said one of the fifth years.  “You make friends with her, take her side when that Gryffindork brother of hers goes crazy…”

“Which one?” quipped Harry.”

“…and then,” continued the fifth year as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “you ask her to the Yule Ball while Davids is at Durmstrang.  Smooth, Potter.  Proves you’re a real Slytherin.”

“And,” piped a third year, “I hear you wear a necklace the Vixen gave you.”

“Oh, Potter.  Does Davids know?”

Laughter erupted at that statement and Harry grinned in a crooked sort of way.  Several of the boys in the group elbowed each other and eyed him.

Harry, still grinning in that crooked sort of way, shook his head at them and said, “You’re all nuts.  Ginny and I are just friends and if she heard all this bullshit, she’d be on a hexing bend.”

“She is going to go on a hexing bend.”

All of the boys eyes widened and Harry turned to see Ginny standing behind him, wand held at ready and undiluted rage burning in her eyes.

She took a few steps forward, lifting her wand as she went.  Harry watched in amusement as the group of boys nervously back away from the red-haired girl.

“Alright,” growled the girl,” let’s get several things straight.  Harry and I are just friends; that necklace you were talking about is a thank you for him saving my life in my first year; and another thing – I belong to nobody and no one but myself.”  She twirled her wand in her fingers and continued, “Now…are we clear or do I have to begin hexing the hell out of all of you?”

The boys all looked nervously at each other then began to hurriedly back away.

“Uh, no need for that…”

“Yeah, we were just..”

“Fleeing for our lives!”

As the boys fled down the corridor Ginny sheathed her wand then turned to face the silently applauding Harry.

“Bravo, bravo,” said the older teen.  “Absolutely fabulous.  Ni would be proud you’ve picked up her ‘let’s kick ass first, ask question later’ attitude.”

Ginny laughed and said, “I’m sure she’ll be extremely thrilled.  Oh, and have you told Ron and Hermione about our conversation with Sirius?”

“Yep.  You think you can owl Mika and tell him?  I’ve got a Charms paper to write and it’s going to take me all night.”

“Uh, Mike and I really probably aren’t talking right now.”

Harry arched an eyebrow and said, “Let me guess.  You sent him a Howler after he sent that one to me?”

“Of course I did!  I was bloody pissed off!”

“Okay, okay.  We’d better get to class now.  I’ll see you down in the bowels of the dungeons.”

“It’s a date,” said Ginny with a smile.

Harry chuckled and said, “Don’t let that lot hear you say that.”

“They do and I’ll castrate them.”

“Please tell me when you do so I can call Ni.  She loves to help wreck things.”

Ginny laughed and waved at him before disappearing down the corridor.  Harry shook his head after her then headed for the Charms classroom.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

A few nights later, Harry and the other champions were told to come down to the pitch.  Harry and Cedric arrived at the same time and Harry felt that same emotion he’d been feeling around the older boy since the Yule Ball and before.

What the hell is this?  Am I…jealous of Cedric?  That Ni likes him?  Surely not.  I mean, it’s Ni for cripes sake!

Harry eyed Cedric for a moment then looked at the Quidditch pitch, which appeared to be sprouting walls.

“Any idea why the pitch has suddenly grown a beard?” asked Cedric.

“Not the foggiest,” replied Harry, shaking his head in answer to the question and to get rid of the image of Niamh and Cedric kissing after the Yule Ball that had suddenly popped into his head.

“Hello there!” cried a cheery voice quite suddenly.

Harry and Cedric turned to see Bagman, Krum, and Fleur standing in the middle of the field.  The two boys looked at each other then began to climb over the hedges to join them.  Fleur smiled at Harry as the approached and he nodded in return.

“What do you think?” asked Bagman as the two boys crossed the last of the hedges.  “Growing nicely, aren’t they?”

“Wonderfully,” said Harry in a bland tone.  He eyed the way the hedges were laid out and said, “I’m guessing it’s a maze of some sort.”

Bagman beamed at him and Harry was reminded of Lockhart for a moment.

“Right you are, Harry!  It is a maze.  The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze and the first champion to touch it will receive full marks.”

“So it’s the easiest task we’ll have to face,” said Cedric.  “No dragons or spear-bearing merpeople?”

Harry arched an eyebrow at Cedric’s remark.  Apparently he had picked up some of Niamh’s sarcasm.  Then again, he had always been a witty guy,

“Well,” said Bagman.  “No.  There will be – ah – obstacles.  Provided cordially by Hagrid.”

Harry let his head fall into his hands and muttered, “We’re all gonna die.”  Beside him Cedric chuckled softly.

“Well…if no one has any questions, let’s go back inside.  Rather nippy out here…”

As they started for the castle, Cedric pulled Harry off to the side and said softly, “I want to have a talk with you.”

About what?” asked Harry, leaning up against a tree.

“What is there between you and Niamh?”

Harry blinked and pushed himself away from the tree.  He said, “We’re just friends.  Like me and Ginny or Hermione.  Why?”

Cedric shook his head and waved a hand dismissively.

“Nothing, nothing.  Just paranoid, I guess.”

Harry sighed and said, “Cedric, you’ve got nothing to worry about.  Me and Ni are just friends and she likes you besides that.  Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not,” said the older boy.  “But she talks about you an awful lot.”

“Doesn’t everyone eventually bring me into a conversation?” quipped Harry with a grin.

Cedric nodded and laughed.

“Yeah.  Generally you do.”

“I can’t think of why that could possibly be though…” said Harry, stroking his chin in a thoughtful gesture.

Cedric laughed again then frowned when Harry abruptly held up a hand, all laughter fading from his eyes.

“What is it?” whispered the older boy.

“Someone’s here,” replied Harry, sliding his hand up his sleeve for his wand.  “In the trees.”

Cedric looked at him oddly.  “How can you tell?”

“Shh…” said Harry, eying a patch of bushes.  Quite abruptly something staggered out of them and Harry had almost Stunned it before Cedric gasped, “Mr. Crouch!”

Mr. Crouch looked like he’s had a battle with one of the sandworms from Frank Herbert’s Dune and then gotten lost in the deserts of Arrakis.  And he seemed to be talking to someone only he could see.

“…and when you’ve done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students…”

“Who’s Weatherby?” whispered Cedric.

“Percy.”

“Weasley?”

“Yep.”

“…and send another owl to Madame Maxime…”

“Mr. Crouch?” said Harry, taking a step towards the man.  He stayed a good pace or two back, having run into far too many crazies on the streets to want to get close to what appeared to be another one in the making.

“Dumbledore!” gasped Crouch suddenly, lurching forward and grabbing Harry’s robes before the teen could move back.  “I need…see…Dumbledore…”

“Right,” said Harry.  “Let’s go see Dumbledore.”

“I’ve done…stupid…thing…  Must…tell…Dumbledore…”  Crouch slumped to the ground as he said this, looking as thought he had to struggle for the words.  Harry frowned and wondered, Could it be Imperius? That would explain where he’s been all this time…

“What could he want Dumbledore?” asked Cedric.  Harry shrugged and looked down at Crouch.

He said, “Get up, Mr. Crouch, and we’ll take you to Dumbledore.”

Crouch’s eyes rolled up to look at Harry.

“You’re not…his?”

Harry frowned, not knowing who the person Crouch was talking about, and said, “No.  I’m not his.”

Crouch’s eyes bugged out and he pulled Harry closer.

“Warn…Dumbledore…”

“I can only do that if you let me go, Mr. Crouch.”

“Thank you, Weatherby, and when you’ve done that…”

Crouch to talk to a tree and released Harry, who turned to Cedric and said, “Stay with him.  I’ll go get Dumbledore.”

“Er, yeah,” said Cedric, looking around nervously.  “Hurry will you?  I’ve got a bad sort of feeling.”

Harry nodded and took off towards the castle, glancing back at Cedric and muttering under his breath.

“You and me both.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry charged up to the second floor where the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office stood.  He skidded to a halt in front of it and muttered, “I’d kill for some help right now.”  He hurriedly began to rattle off the names of several pieces of candy before he got irritated and angrily kicked the statue.

“C’mon!  Open ye sodding piece of…”

“Potter!”

Harry turned to face McGonagall, who was scowling at him.  When he turned, her eyes widened slightly then she shook her head and said, “What are you doing here, Potter?”

“Mr. Crouch just turned up,” replied Harry.  “He’s asking for the headmaster.”

“What are you talking about…”

“Dumbledore!  Forest!  Now!  Get him!”

Harry turned on a heel and sprinted out of the castle, muttering something very unflattering about McGonagall under his breath in Elven.

“Stupid, contradictory woman…  Cedric!”

Harry ran back to where he had left Cedric and Crouch and blinked when he arrived.  No one was in sight and nothing but the trees moved.

“Cedric?” said Harry, looking around.  He drew his wand and had just begun to say the incantation to light it when he heard something behind him.  Finishing the spell, he whirled, a hex on his lips.

“I believe you wanted to see me, Harry?”

Harry lowered his wand slightly and saw Dumbledore’s weathered face illuminated by the light from his wand.

“Professor.”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore.  “And where might our friends have gone?”

Harry started to say something but a moan from behind a tree stopped him.  He and Dumbledore looked at each other then hurried to the spot where the sound had come from.

There, in the beam of light from Harry’s wand, lay Cedric.  He appeared to be unconscious and there was no sign anywhere of Crouch.  Dumbledore knelt by Cedric as Harry slowly eyed the surrounding area.

“Only Stunned.”

“Should I go get Madam Pomfrey?” asked Harry.

“No, no,” said Dumbledore, rising and drawing his wand.  “Stay.”

He lifted hi wand and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid’s cabin.  Something silvery darted out of his wand and vanished into the trees.  As he did this, Harry pointed his wand at Cedric and said, “Ennervate.”

Cedric opened his eyes and began to sit up when he saw Dumbledore.  Harry prodded him in the chest with a booted foot and shook his head.  Dumbledore turned now and knelt back down by Cedric, who reached up and rubbed his head.

“He attacked me!” muttered Cedric.  “I was watching Harry as he ran off and Crouch jumped me!”

“Lie still, Cedric,” said Harry.  “Ni’ll kill me if she finds out you got hurt when I was with you.”

Cedric looked at the younger boy for a moment then lay back.  “Good point,” he said.

“A good point that should always be followed,” remarked Harry with a grin.

Hagrid suddenly appeared with Fang at his heels and his crossbow in his hands.

“Professor Dumbledore!  ‘Arry – Diggory – what happened?”

“Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, rising once more, “I need you to go fetch Professor Moody - ”

“No need, Dumbledore,” growled a voice.  “I’m here.”

Moody limped towards them, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye roving over the four figures in front of him.  He grinned raggedly at them and said, “Would’ve been here sooner if it weren’t for this damn leg – what’s happened?  McGonagall was muttering something about Potter and Crouch.”

“Crouch?” said Hagrid.

“We don’t know where Barty Crouch is but it is of the utmost importance that we find him,” said Dumbledore to Moody and Hagrid.

“I’m onto it,” said Moody.  “Hagrid, head that way.”

Hagrid looked at Dumbledore as Moody limped off into the forest.  Dumbledore nodded at the half-giant and said, “Go on , Hagrid.”

Hagrid nodded and lumbered off, Fang trailing along behind him.  As soon as he vanished into the forest, Dumbledore turned to Harry and said, “Let’s get Mr. Diggory up to the castle.”

“I can handle him alone, sir,” said Harry, leaning down to pull Cedric up.

Dumbledore began to open his mouth but Harry stopped him by smiling and saying, “We’ll be fine, sir.  Don’t forget where I came from.”

The elder wizard smiled and said in an amused tone, “One can never forget where you can from, my boy.”

Harry smiled slightly in response to that then began to head towards the castle, Cedric’s arm clung over his shoulder.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“You okay yet?” asked Harry as he and Cedric crossed the entrance hall

Cedric looked at him and replied, “When the room stops spinning, I’ll be fine.”

Harry arched an eyebrow.

“That big of a Stunning Charm, aye?”

“One hell of a stunning Charm,” grumbled Cedric.

“I can tell.  I’m guessing we’re for the Puff’s common room?”

“Yeah.”

“Er…directions?”

Cedric blinked and stared at him.

“You don’t know where it is?”

Harry nodded then shrugged.  “The only Puff I know besides you is Ernie Macmillian.”

“The kid who kept accusing you of being Slytherin’s Heir?”

“That’s the one.”

“Right.  Left up ahead.”

Harry turned left and they walked in silence until Cedric spoke again.

“So you know where the Gryffindor common room is…”

“And the Ravenclaw.”

“How’d you discover that?  They’re even more secretive than most of the Slytherin’s.  No offense.”

“None taken.  It was a fluke.”

“A fluke?”

“A fluke,” repeated Harry.  “Can’t get in but I know where it is.  As to the Gryff’s…they’re easy to infiltrate.”

“Infiltrate?” said Cedric with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah.  One, the Fat Lady likes me and two, cracking their passwords is easy.”

Cedric chuckled and said, “Sometimes I wonder why you’re a Slytherin, then you say something like that to remind me.”

“Thanks.  I think.”

“Welcome.  And what was that you were talking about with Dumbledore?  About where you came from?”

Harry looked perturbed for a moment then he shook his head and said, “I grew up on the streets.  In the London slums.  As bad a place as any to grow up and I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.  That’s how I learned to fight.”

Cedric blinked at him then said, “Wow.  I …I never knew.”

“Very few people do.”

“It was that bad?”

Harry nodded solemnly, the images of his last visit to his “home” flashing through his mind.  Something must have shown in his eyes, because Cedric went quiet on the subject after that.

“I can make it from here,” said the older boy as they rounded another corner.  “I’ll see you later, Harry.”

“Yeah,” said Harry as he watched Cedric walk down the corridor.  “See you.”

“There’s only one explanation.  Someone snuck up on Cedric and dragged Mr. Crouch away after they’d Stunned him.”

Ron rolled his eyes at Niamh and muttered, “You only say that because he’s your boyfriend.  OW!”

Niamh scowled venomously at Ron, who scooted his chair away from her, clutching his arm.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother and said, “You only say that because Hufflepuff keeps beating Gryffindor in the Quidditch matches.”

Ron scowled at her and snapped, “I do not!”

“Alright children,” sneered Hermione.”  Harry…what all did Mr. Crouch say?”

Harry looked up from where’d he was trying to finish the work on Niamh’s boom box and said, “He just kept on raving.  He seemed to be talking to Percy – about the Tournament, oddly enough.”

“Anything else?” asked Ginny.

“He kept saying he needed to see Dumbledore.  Didn’t say why though.”

Harry frowned and continued, “Y’know, it was almost like he was under Imperius…”

“Imperius?” said Niamh in a surprised tone.

“Yeah.  When he was talking to – well, the trees – he was going along fine.  But when he was talking about Dumbledore he was stumbling.”

“Like under Imperius,” said Ron.

Harry nodded then set back to working on the boom box.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“What’s he doing?” asked Hermione as she and Niamh watched Harry sitting outside by the lake with Amanda and Neville.  “He shoulder be training for the third task!”

Niamh gave her an odd look then smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, Mione.  Harry knows all he might possibly need for the third task.”

“How do you know?”

“Because when he hasn’t been working on that boom box or with us or in class, he’s been in one of the unused rooms in the dungeons practicing.  He is the Lord Hex after all.”

“He doesn’t know every hex and curse!” cried Hermione.

“No,” replied Niamh. “But he – and I – have made up a few of our own.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”  Niamh reached into her cloak and pulled out a little leather-bound journal.  As she handed it over to the other girl, she said, “Don’t tell Harry I showed it to you.  There’s some dangerous stuff in there.”

“Like what?” asked Hermione as she opened the little book.

“Like a spell to skin someone alive.”

Hermione sputtered and stared at the girl.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not in the slightest.  We figured it out by mistake.  I was trying to say one thing but said something else.  Next thing we know, there’s a skinned rat on the floor.”

“You killed a rat?”

“Well, its nice to imagine its Pettigrew.  And they’ve been plaguing the kitchens for ages.  The house-elf’s don’t know what to do with them after they catch them so they five them to us.”

Hermione blinked a few times then asked, “What other dangerous spells have you two thought up?”

“Look in the back.”

Hermione obliged then looked skeptically at her friends.

“The ‘Hex-o-meter’?”

Niamh shrugged and took the notebook back, saying, “Well it had to have a title.  And I have to get to Divination.  See you, Mione.”

“Of course.”

There was a man on the floor… a man sobbing into a burnt hearthrug at the foot of a chair.

And there was a giant snake circling the man, its eyes burning hungrily.

“You are in luck, Wormtail,” said a cold, high-pitched voice.  “You are very fortunate indeed.  Your blunder has not ruined everything.  He is dead.”

Wormtail lifted his head and opened his mouth soundlessly, saying words that could not be heard.

“I fear you are out of luck, Nagini.  I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all…  but there is still Harry Potter.”

The snake hissed at though in agreement.

“Now, Wormtail, perhaps one more little reminder as to why I will not tolerate another blunder from you…”

Wormtail’s eyes widened and he shook his head, his mouth forming soundless words quickly.  He threw himself forward but it didn’t help.

“CRUCIO!”

Wormtail screamed and with him Harry ‘Potter’ echoed his pain.

“Potter!  Potter!”

“Harry!”

< Harry! >

Harry opened his eyes to see Jardin, Niamh, and Draco leaning over him.  He could see the worried faces of Ginny, Thomas, and Amanda beyond them and beyond them the disgruntled faces of his Housemates and dormmates.

“Wake the whole House why don’t you, Potter?” grumbled Blaise.

“Shut up, Zabini!” snapped Ginny as Amanda leaned over Niamh’s shoulder and asked, “Are you okay, Harry?”

“Fine,” replied Harry.

“You didn’t look fine when you were rolling around on the floor screaming,” said Draco as everyone began to clear out of the room, muttering under their breath.  “With your hands on your scar no less.”

“I’m fine,” growled Harry, glaring at the other boy.

< Harry, > said Jardin, < you’re not fine.  I can feel it. >

Stay out of my head! snapped Harry.  Just stay out, Jar!

< I will then. >

The raven flapped his wings angrily and took flight out the open door of the dorm.  Harry cried out after him, immediately abashed for yelling at the bird.

“Jar!  Jar!  Dammit.”

Niamh looked worriedly at her friend then said, “You should get back to sleep.  You look horrible.”

Yeah, well, feeling Cruciatus through my scar isn’t much of a joyride, thought Harry bitterly as he pulled himself up off the floor and climbed back into his bed, jerking the curtains close behind him.  Niamh looked at the close curtains for a moment then began to usher everyone who didn’t belong out of the room.

As she passed Draco, she growled, “You keep an eye on him, Malfoy.  Or I’ll kill you.”

Draco simply looked calmly at her as she left, closing the door behind her, then doused the candles and climbed back into his bed.

He wasn’t the only Slytherin lying awake the rest of the night.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Something’s going to happen soon.  I’m sure of it.”

Severus nodded and looked at Dumbledore, who was watching Harry over his steepled fingers.  The three of them were seated in Dumbledore’s office the morning after Harry’s dream.  As it was Saturday, there were no classes to worry about.

“Did they say who was dead?” asked Severus.

Harry shook his head.  Then he looked up at his father and said, “But I think it was Mr. Crouch.”

Dumbledore let his hands fall and Severus stared.

“Why do you think that, Harry?” asked Dumbledore.

“Because he seemed out of it when Cedric and I found him – or rather when he found us.  When we was talking to ‘Percy’ he was going along normally.  But when he was trying to say something about you, professor, he had to struggle.”

Severus frowned and stroked his chin.

“It sounds like Imperius,” he said.  “But why Crouch?”

“A good question, Severus,” said Dumbledore, his eyes clouding behind his half-moon glasses.

“A good question indeed.”

“Exam time,” said Ginny with a sigh.

“Does anyone know that exams are evil?” mumbled Niamh through her Transfiguration book.

Hermione looked indignant at that and cried, “They are not! Exams let you see how far along you are!”

“Halfway to hell,” muttered Ron, earning a glare from the bushy-haired girl.

Harry laughed at the two of them then happened to look out the window to see Blaise down on the grounds – talking into his hand.

Curioser and curioser…

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

On the morning of the third task, Niamh exploded. She had just unrolled her copy of the Daily Prophet when it happened.

“That stupid, psycho bi…barnacle!”

Ginny spat pumpkin juice all over her plate and Harry paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. Both stared at the girl before Harry spoke.

“Psycho barnacles?”

“Are you okay?” asked Ginny.

Niamh simply sputtered incoherently and shoved the paper at Harry’s chest. The teen blinked and took the paper, eyes darkening when he saw the headline.

Harry Potter

“Disturbed and Dangerous”

The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter’s strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.

Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). It is now known that Potter collapsed in his dormitory, complaining later that his scar had hurt him.

Experts at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries say that it is possible that Potter’s brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion. He might even be pretending.

“Potter can speak Parseltongue,” reveals Pansy Parkinson, a Hogwarts fourth year and a Housemate of Potter. “He’s even got a snake that he talks to. We’ve all seen it.”

Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. The most famous Parselmouth of our time is none other than You-Know-Who himself. Many would consider anyone who converses with snakes suspicious, as snakes are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic.

Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this very evening.

“Well,” said Harry, folding the paper. “That was an interesting read.”

“She ought to be skinned alive,” growled Niamh. “Think we could get away with it?”

Harry gave the girl a bland look in response.

“I thought you’d say that,” sighed Niamh.

Across the table Ginny asked, “How’d she know about your scar hurting? No one’s been saying anything about it around school.”

“They are now,” muttered Niamh.

“But how could she have known? About any of that stuff’s she’s written?”

“Muggles use things to bug people, to listen in on their conversations,” said Niamh. “Maybe there’s a magical equivalent.”

“Bugging” murmured Ginny. She then looked at Harry and snapped her fingers.

“I think I know.”

Harry frowned at her then seemed to catch on.

“You don’t think she…”

“Yep.”

“What?” asked Niamh, looking confused.

“Just a theory,” said Ginny. “But…if she did. Oh, if she did, we’ve got her! We’ve got her!”

“Get Mione to help you research,” said Harry.

“Right.”

“Niamh glared at the two of them and cried, “What are you two going on about?”

Harry grinned at her and replied, “You’ll see if Gin’s right, don’t worry. Want to help me get a little practice in before the task?”

“Sure. Hey, here comes Professor Snape.”

Harry looked up and saw that his father was indeed heading towards them.

“Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast. The champions’ families are invited to watch the final task. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.”

Harry nodded and said, “Thank you, professor.”

Snape nodded , smiled in an apologetic sort of way, then returned to his place at the staff table.

“What was that smile about,” asked Niamh quietly after the attention had fallen away from them.

“His way of saying ‘good luck’ and ‘I’m sorry I can’t be waiting for you out there’,” answered Harry. “The real question is who is waiting out there for me?”

Niamh nodded then waved at Cedric as he rose and cross the Hall. He grinned at her and waved back before he disappeared.

Harry watched as Fleur followed him before he rose and went as well, Krum rising from further down the Slytherin table at the same time.

As he entered the room, he saw Cedric talking to his parents and fleur talking to her mother in French on the other side of the room. Her little sister Gabrielle waved at him and he waved back before he was suddenly wrapped in a hug.

“Harry, dear, how are you?”

“Fine, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry. He then saw Bill grinning at him and asked, “What are you two doing here?”

“We wanted to surprise you,” replied Mrs. Weasley, releasing him and moving to stand by her eldest son.

Harry chuckled and said, “I’m definitely surprised. I really wasn’t expecting anyone to be back here.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him and said, “Of course we’d be here, dear. Your like a part of our family.”

Harry looked taken aback by that for a moment then he said, “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Your very welcome, dear. Now…how about a little tour? I haven’t seen this castle in years.”

“Alright,” said Harry, leading them off.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry had the perfect morning walking around the grounds with Mrs. Weasley and Bill. It calmed him exceedingly, as he was just a little nervous about the third task. Who knew what Hagrid was going to have in that maze?

“How’s Percy?” asked Harry, remembering him filling in for Crouch during the Yule Ball, as they headed back to the castle for lunch.

“Absolutely batty,” replied Bill, earning a stern look from his mother.

“He’s very upset,” said Mrs. Weasley, lowering her voice slightly. “The Ministry wants to keep Mr. Crouch’s disappearance quiet, but Percy’s been hauled in several times for questioning about the instructions he’s been sending in; something about them not really being written by him.”

“They’re not letting him fill in for him as the fifth judge tonight either,” said Bill.

“So who’s doing?” asked Harry as they went up the steps into the entrance hall.

“Cornelius Fudge,” replied Mrs. Weasley before she waved at Ron as he and Hermione came down the marble staircase.

“Mum – Bill! What’re you doing here?” asked the ginger-haired boy as he walked over to join them, Hermione right behind him.

“We came to watch Harry in the last task!” said Mrs. Weasley with a smile. She then frowned as Ginny popped up from the dungeons and sighed, “Oh how I wish I could see the old common room again. I wonder how its changed…”

“The Gryffindor common room?” said Ron.

Mrs. Weasley gave her youngest son an odd look.

“Heavens no! The Slytherin common room.”

Ron keeled over in shock while Ginny crowed, “I told you Mum might have been a Slytherin!”

Mrs. Weasley smiled and said, “All the girls in my family have been Slytherins for years. I’d have been disappointed if my daughter hadn’t gotten in!”

“Then why was Das so angry when I got there? And why did he ask if I wanted to be resorted?” asked Ginny.

“Because your father’s family has always been in Gryffindor. I was the first Slytherin to marry into it and you are the first Slytherin born into it.”

“Good show, Gin,” said Harry with a grin. “Where’s Ni?”

Ginny replied, “Oh, Cedric drug her off to meet his parents. Now let’s go eat! I’m starved!”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

After lunch Harry, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley whiled away the afternoon by walking around the castle and Harry made sure it ended with enough time for Mrs. Weasley to take a look at the Slytherin common room before they headed back upstairs for the evening feast.

Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge were already at the staff table when they arrived and Harry swore it looked like Madame Maxime had been crying. He also noticed Hagrid continually sneaking glances down the table at her and had to wonder what had happened.

Mrs. Weasley, to Harry’s surprise, came and sat with him and Ginny at the Slytherin table. They were joined a little time into dinner by a glowing Niamh, who beamed brightly at all of them then dug ravenously into her food.

As the enchanted ceiling showed the sky turning from orange and red to the blue and deep violet of twilight, Dumbledore rose to his feet and a tense silence overtook the Hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.”

Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, Amanda, Thomas, and Niamh wished Harry luck as he rose. As he walked down the table, Draco gave him a rather discreet thumbs-up, causing Harry to wonder if Draco had really been serious when he’d said those things some time ago. He’d been rather cautious about his ‘friendship’ with the other boy, not only because he still remembered the insults and – most of all – Hedwig’s death in his first year. But perhaps it could really work…

Turning his head away from the Slytherin table, Harry followed Krum and Fleur out of the Hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cedric kissing Niamh. Wolf-whistles followed the Hufflepuff out of the Hall and he was blushing slightly when he came to stand beside Harry.

They walked out onto the Quidditch pitch, which was now surrounded by a twenty-foot high hedge. A gap opened right in front of them, revealing the beginning of a vast maze.

As the stands began to fill, Harry tightened the straps on his wand-sheath, loosing the two straps that secured his wand slightly. He then turned with the other champions to watch as Hagrid, McGonagall, Moody, and Flitwick walked towards them. All of them were wearing bright red stars on their hats except for Hagrid, who was on the back of his moleskin vest.

“We’re going to be patrolling the outside of the maze,” said McGonagall. “If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?”

The champions nodded and Bagman cried, “Off you go, then!”

Harry headed around the maze, stationing himself in one spot like the other three.

“Sonorus! Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand: in first place, Mr. Harry Potter with eighty-nine points, one of our two Hogwarts champions. In second place, with eighty-three points – Mr. Cedric Diggory, also of Hogwarts School. In third place, with eighty-two points – Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute. And in fourth place, with sixty-seven points – Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy.”

“So, on my whistle, Harry! Three – two – one - ”

The whistle blew sharply and Harry sprinted into the maze, hearing Bagman’s second whistle signal Cedric to enter the maze a minute later. He ran on up to a fork and turned right, Bagman’s third whistle barely reaching his ears through the tall hedges.

As the sky grew darker, casting the maze into deeper shadow, he drew his wand and lit it, carefully moving forward, keeping his back to a hedge at all times.

As he rounded a corner, he came face to face with a dementor. Hurriedly summoning a memory of the summer he’d spent with his father at Hogwarts, he cried, “Expecto Patronum!”

The silver Darcorn erupted from his wand and charged the dementor, which fell back, stumbled over its robes. As the Darcorn circled back to stand beside Harry, he pointed his wand at the “dementor” and yelled, “Riddikulus!”

The boggart vanished in a puff of smoke and the Darcorn faded with it. As Harry walked on, he wished the real Darcorn were beside him. Or even Jardin. Or Hedwig. But shrugging, he ran on, pausing once to do the Four-Point Spell that Hermione had found and forced him to learn.

As he backtracked from a dead-end, Cedric nearly plowed into him. The older boy’s face was covered in soot and the sleeve of his robe was smoking.

“Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts!” he croaked as Harry arched an eyebrow at him. “They’re huge!”

He then dived out of sight down another path. Harry shook his head after him then did the Four-Point Spell again, heading in the direction it pointed.

As he rounded a corner, he heard a shrill scream from somewhere in another part of the maze. “Fleur,” he whispered and ran on – right into a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Cedric had been right. It was huge; ten feet long with a long sting curved over its back like a scorpions venomous tail.

Harry took a step back from it, trying to think of a spell that would get through the skrewt’s armor. As he thought, the skrewt let loose a gout of fire from its end and shot towards him. He threw himself to the side, pointed his wand at the skrewt’s underbelly and cried, “Gelo!”

The curse missed its target and bounced off the skrewt’s armor. Harry dodged it as it came ricocheting back at him and aimed his wand at the creature again.

“Caecus!”

This spell struck the skrewt directly in its left eye, causing both of them to glow golden for a moment before it began to stumble around bellowing. Harry grinned and shot away down the left path. As he continued on, he heard something coming from the path parallel to his own

“What the hell are you doing?”

Harry turned towards the hedge and had just raised his wand when he heard Krum’s voice.

“Crucio!”

Cedric screamed and Harry roared, “Comburo!”

Fire roared out of his wand and struck the hedge, burning a large circle in it. Harry leapt through.

And plowed right into Krum.

The Durmstrang champion went down under Harry with a grunt as the younger boy slammed into him with all of his weight. Before they’d even hit the ground, Harry had sheathed his wand and was ripping into Krum with his fists.

“You…bastard!” growled the Slytherin as he slugged Krum across the nose, effectively breaking it and knocking him unconscious at the same time. He rolled off of him and looked over at Cedric, who was sitting up and wincing.

“You alright?” breathed Harry.

“Yeah,” gasped Cedric. “He crept up behind me… I turned around and he had his wand on me…”

Harry’s eyes hardened and he scowled at Krum’s unconscious form.

“Bastard. I should have cast something painful on him.”

Cedric looked at the younger boy for a moment then grunted, “C’mon. Let’s get out of here and send up the red sparks.”

Harry snorted and rose to his feet, drawing his wand and shooting the sparks up into the air. He then turned and extended a hand to Cedric, pulling him to his feet.

“That takes care of that,” said the dark-haired teen.

“Yeah,” said Cedric. “I suppose we’d better go on…”

“Yeah,” said Harry. He eyed Krum menacingly once more then turned and headed off down one of the paths. Cedric’s footsteps faded away as he headed on.

As he walked, he wondered if Krum had been mad enough after the Cup to use an Unforgivable. There was a reason they were called the Unforgivables after all.

His train of thought was interrupted when the beam of light issuing from his wand fell upon a pair of heavily clawed paws. He lifted his eyes and saw that the creature he was facing now was a sphinx, its body that of a lion with a woman’s head.

She paced in front of him, blocking the path. Then she spoke.

“You are near you goal.”

“The quickest way is past you,” said Harry, “but I have to answer your riddle first.”

The sphinx smiled and purred, “Smart human. Answer correctly and you may pass. Answer wrongly and I attack.”

Harry nodded and the sphinx recited:

“First thing of the person who lives in disguise,

Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.

Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend,

The middle of middle and end of the end?

And finally give me the sound often heard

During the search for a hard-to-find word.

Now string them together, and answer me this,

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”

Harry frowned in thought then said, “Well, I wouldn’t want to kiss a dementor, but that’s not the answer.”

The sphinx simply smiled at him.

“Someone in disguise who lies…” He snapped his fingers and said, “A spy, of course.”

Harry frowned and continued, “I don’t know what the ‘middle of middle’ is but…”

It suddenly hit him and he hissed, “It’s a spider!”

The sphinx nodded and moved aside, allowing him to pass. He bowed slightly towards her then ran on down the path.

Using the Four-Point Spell again, he was soon facing the Triwizard Cup. As he walked towards it, Cedric barreled out from a path in front of him and yelled, “Harry! It’s a basilisk!”

Harry saw the huge serpent coming after Cedric and wondering what in Slytherin’s name someone was thinking putting that creature of all creatures in the maze.

“Behind me!” yelled Harry to Cedric then turned towards the basilisk, throwing up an arm to cover his eyes.

“Stop!” he yelled in Parseltongue.

The basilisk stopped and hissed, “Why should I follow your orders, little human?”

“I speak your language!” replied Harry. “And I know the way out.”

“Tell me more,” hissed the basilisk, dipping its head towards him.

Harry pointed towards the Forbidden Forest and said, “Go there. But don’t hurt anyone.”

“I just want out.”

“That’s it? You want out?”

“Don’t we all,” whispered Cedric.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the other boy then said to the basilisk, “Then go. And don’t harm anyone.”

“Hmm,” said the basilisk. It turned and headed back down the path. Harry lowered his arm then turned to grin at Cedric. Sometimes it helps to be a Parselmouth.”

Cedric laughed and said, “You’ll have to teach me some of it. Then I’ll be ready next time.”

“Deal.”

The two of them laughed then realized where they stood. They looked at the gleaming cup then at each other.

“You take it,” said Harry. “You’re the only one of the two of us who should actually be in the tournament.”

“Y’know,” said Cedric, “this is one of those times when I wonder how you ever got in Slytherin.”

“Just take the cup,” said Harry, sheathing his wand.

“No deal.”

“Cedric – take the damn cup.”

“No,” stated Cedric stonily.

Harry scowled and said, “You’re a stubborn ass-hole, you know.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Harry glared at him and Cedric said, “Let’s just take it together. We’ll tie and it’ll still be a Hogwarts victory.”

The Slytherin looked at the Hufflepuff’s face and sighed.

“You won’t take it without me, will you?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

Cedric grinned and Harry smiled in return.

“On three, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“One - ”

“ - two - ”

In the stands, Niamh suddenly let out a shriek and clutched her head. A moment later she was on her feet, blue eyes wide.

“ - three!”

Harry and Cedric each grasped a handle on the cup and Harry instantly knew something was wrong. There was a familiar tug behind his navel and he was jerked off his feet, drawn into the Triwizard Cup, Cedric at his side.

In the stands Niamh screamed, “HARRY! CEDRIC!”

Harry staggered slightly as his feet hit ground again and he drew his wand. Cedric rose to stand beside him and they both looked at their surrounding

Instead of standing in the middle of the hedge-maze on the Quidditch pitch, they were in the middle of a dark graveyard.

“Well,” said Cedric blandly, “this doesn’t look like Kansas anymore.”

Harry looked at him oddly and he said, “The Wizard of Oz.”

“Never seen it.”

“Right. Did you know the cup was a Portkey?”

“Not unless someone Obliviated me after I found out,” quipped Harry. He then looked around and hissed, “Someone’s coming.”

And indeed someone was. A short figure carrying something in its arms walked through the gravestones, a smaller figure following it. As the first one came nearer, it became apparent that the bundle in its arms was – a baby?

Suddenly Harry’s head exploded with pain, a pain like none he had ever felt before. And he had felt a lot of pain in his life.

Harry then realized who this was, who this had to be, but he couldn’t speak. The pain in his head was so fierce…

Then he heard that cold voice, that familiar cold voice that sometimes haunted his nightmares…

“Kill the spare.”

CEDRIC!

“Avada Kedavra!”

Something fell to the ground beside Harry and he knew what it had to be. The pain blazing from his scar rose for a moment then faded to a dull pulse.

Harry opened his eyes and saw Cedric lying on the ground beside him. His gray eyes were wide and glassy and Harry knew he was dead.

Suddenly he was jerked to his feet and dragged over to a marble headstone. He had enough time to read the name before he was lashed to it, his body not responding to his brains cries to move.

TOM RIDDLE

As the cloaked man stepped away, Harry saw one of his fingers was missing, which confirmed that he was where he thought he was. And that sent a cold shiver up his spine.

Wormtail (for that is who the cloaked figure was) stuffed a piece of fabric into Harry’s mouth then disappeared from sight. A gigantic snake appeared in his place, circling him and the headstone.

Then Wormtail reappeared, dragging a stone cauldron full of water to the foot of the grave. As Harry watched, he used a wand (Harry’s nonetheless) to light a fire under the immense cauldron. The bundle that Harry thought was a baby twitched as the liquid in the cauldron began to heat up, sending off fiery sparks. The little boy that had been following Wormtail stood beside it, his blue eyes as blank as Cedric’s now were. He couldn’t have been more than five.

“Hurry!”

The water looked as thought it were afire now.

Wormtail’s mouth moved then but the words came out of the little boy’s mouth.

“It is ready, Master.”

“Now…”

Wormtail bent and opened the robes on the ground, a look of revulsion passing across his face. Harry saw it and let out a yelp that was muffled by the fabric in his mouth.

It looked like a human child, but it wasn’t. Hairless and scaly-looking with dark, reddish black skin, it had feeble looking arms and legs. And its face – its face had never belonged to any child – flat and snakelike with gleaming red eyes.

Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron and Harry heard its body hit the bottom. As he watched, Wormtail lifted his wand (still Harry’s) and mouthed the words, which came out of the little boy’s mouth.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”

The grave at Harry’s feet cracked and a trail of dust floated out of it and into the cauldron, which turned a poisonous blue.

Now Wormtail pulled a silver dagger from his robes. The voice from the boy’s mouth faltered as Wormtail lifted the blade.

“Flesh – of the servant – w-willingly g-given – you will revive – your m-master.”

He stretched his right hand out before him – the one with the missing finger – and lifted the dagger high in the other hand. Harry knew instantly what he was doing.

A scream erupted from both Wormtail and the boy’s throats as the severed hand splashed into the cauldron. The water was now red, blazing and bright.

“B-blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will…resurrect your foe.”

Wormtail came towards Harry, panting heavily. The teen pressed against his bonds as the silver dagger came close but it was no use. Its point ripped opened his shirtsleeve and penetrated the crook of his and blood began to flow. Wormtail fumbled for a vial, then held it to the cut so a bit of blood dribbled inside.

Staggering back to the cauldron, he poured Harry’s blood inside. The liquid turned a blinding white. Wormtail sank to the ground, he and the boy sobbing as one, his task done.

The light emanating from the cauldron grew even brighter…then it stopped.

Harry peered into the smoke now billowing from the cauldron and saw the outline of a tall, skeletally thin man.

“Robe me,” said the man.

Wormtail, wounded arm clutched to his side, rose and grabbed the robes from the ground, pulling them one-handed over his master’s head.

The man stepped out of the cauldron and Harry looked up into the face of the man who had murdered his mother and had a hold on his father’s soul. Face whiter than a skull’s, a snake’s flat, slitted nose, and eyes the color of newly shed bloody…

Next headline for the Daily Prophet: Lord Voldemort Has Returned.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry watched as Voldemort ran his spidery hands over his own body. On the ground, Wormtail twitched and bled his life into the grass. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the rat. But he felt even more sorry for the boy. He had a feeling the child would not live to see another sunrise.

Then Voldemort drew out a wand from one of his pockets, raising it and pointing it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the tombstone Harry was tied to. The boy issued forth a cry of pain, Wormtail’s pain. And Voldemort laugh, cold and mirthlessly.

“My Lord…” said Wormtail, through the boy’s mouth. The stump of his arm was wrapped in his robes, turning them even darker than they were. “My Lord…you promise…”

“Hold out your arm.”

“Oh thank you, Mater…” He extended the bleeding stump.

“The other arm, Wormtail.”

“Master, please…”

Voldemort bent and grabbed Wormtail’s left arm, pulling up the sleeve to reveal the blazing red of the Mark. He examined it slowly, carefully.

“They will all have noticed it…but now we shall see…”

He pressed one long finger to the Mark.

Harry’s scar let out another fresh whiplash of pain in joint with Wormtail (and the boy’s) howl. As Voldemort moved back, Harry saw the Mark burning black as pitch.

“Now,” said Voldemort, “how many will be brave enough to return when they feel it? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?”

Now he’ll know, thought Harry. Now he’ll know that Voldemort has returned.

Voldemort smiled cruelly and turned to Harry.

“So we meet again, Harry Potter. Here we stand, above the grave of my father, a Muggle and a fool…much like your mother.”

“You shut up about my mother,” growled Harry, spitting out the fabric Wormtail had stuffed in his mouth, his eyes blazing.

Voldemort threw back his head and laughed.

“I strike a cord I see. Shall I play on it?” mused Voldemort. “Ah what a sweet conversation family is. But look! Now my true family returns!”

And so they did. Cloaked wizards, hooded and masked as at the World Cup, Apparated into the graveyard. They paused when they saw the Dark Lord, then moved forward slowly.

One Death Eater fell to his knees and kissed Voldemort’s robes.

“Master…”

One by one the Death Eaters did this then formed a circle around the grave, Voldemort, Harry, the heap that was Wormtail, and the glassy-eyed little boy. Harry saw gaps left in the circle, as though more were expected. But Voldemort obviously did not expect them.

“Welcome, Death Eaters. Thirteen years have passed since we last met. Yet…you answer my call as though it were yesterday. We are still united under the Dark Mark…or are we?” He looked around the circle. “I smell guilt…”

“You all are here, healthy, with your powers intact – yet I ask myself…why did this band of wizards, sworn eternally to their master, never come to his aid?”

A shiver went through the group but no one spoke. In the silence, Harry tried to free his hand enough to reach his pocket, where he’d put the pocketknife.

“So I answer myself – this band of wizards thought me gone, broken and done. They slipped back among my enemies and pleaded innocence…”

“Yet why would they do such a thing when they knew the steps I had taken to prevent myself from dying a mortal death? Or perhaps they thought a mere babe had destroyed what even Albus Dumbledore could not?”

Voldemort looked about the circle.

“I confess…I am disappointed…”

One Death Eater suddenly flung himself forward at Voldemort’s feet.

“Master! Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!”

Fool! thought Harry as Voldemort lifted his wand and laughed.

“Crucio!”

The Death Eater began to writhe on the ground, screaming. As the screams went on, Harry used it as a diversion to cause on of the ropes binding him to snap. He had learned from one of the other children at Argil’s that enough pressure on anything will break it. So now on of his legs was mostly free. Hip-hip-hoorah.

Voldemort lifted his wand and the Death Eater lay still, gasping.

“Get up, Avery. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive; and I do not forget. I want thirteen years repayment before I forgive you.”

He looked down at Wormtail.

“Wormtail here had already paid some of his debt. He returned to me, not out of loyalty, but of fear of his old friends. Yet, traitorous as he is, he has helped me return to my body. And Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…”

“Yes, Master,” moaned Wormtail’s voice from the boy’s mouth, “please, Master…”

“Indeed he will be rewarded. But first…Avada Kedavra!”

The little boy fell to the ground and Harry winced. Then Voldemort raised his wand and whirled it through the air, a streak of molten silver shining in its wake. Then it writhed and formed into a shimmering hand, which swooped down like a bird of prey and latched itself onto Wormtail’s bleeding wrist.

Wormtail’s sobs ceased as he lifted his head and stared at the silver hand now fixed seamlessly to his arm. He flexed the fingers then picked up a twig, crushing it into powder.

“Master,” he said soundlessly, the boy now dead and the spell that had given him voice broken. “Thank you…thank you…” He kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robes.

“May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail.”

Wormtail shook his head furiously then rose and joined the circle of Death Eaters as Voldemort began to turn to the members of the circle.

“Lucius, my slippery friend… I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. I heard of your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup…but your energies might have been better spend finding and aiding your master.”

“I was on the alert, my Lord. Had there been any whisper of your whereabouts…” said Lucius Malfoy’s voice from underneath a hood and Harry felt a fresh wave of hatred for the man.

“Yet you ran from my Mark when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky… You have disappointed me, Lucius… I expect more faithful service in the future.”

“Of course, my Lord…”

Voldemort moved on, to a place where two people might stand.

“The Lestranges should stand here but they are entombed in Azkaban. When it is broken open, they shall be well rewarded for never renouncing me.”

Harry felt another flash of anger as he remembered that he had read that the Lestranges had been two of the Death Eaters who had tortured the Longbottom’s (later turned in by an anonymous source) and left Neville parentless. And Amanda tortured by the memory.

Voldemort walk on, passing some Death Eaters in silence. Others he spoke to.

“Manair…destroying dangerous creatures for the Ministry…”

“And here we have Crabbe…and Goyle. I trust the two of you will do better this time.”

“The same goes for you, Nott,” said Voldemort to a figure cowering behind Goyle.

Voldemort now reached a gap that may have held six people at one time.

“And here we have six missing Death Eaters. Three of them are dead in my service. One is too cowardly to return…he will pay. One has left me forever, I believe…he will be killed…”

Da! thought Harry, heart jumping in his chest. His greatest fear besides a dementor had just been voiced.

“…and the last, my most faithful of servants. He had already returned to my service and is the very reason our young friend is here tonight.”

Harry blinked. Someone at Hogwarts had sent him and Cedric here!”

“Yes,” hissed Voldemort, as all eyes in the circle fell upon Harry. “Harry Potter has deigned to honor us with his presence.

“Master,” said Lucius Malfoy. “Master, we crave to know…tell us – how you have managed to return to us…”

Voldemort laughed.

“Why, Lucius, it begins – and ends –with out guest here.”

“You all know that this boy has been gifted with the honor of being the cause of my down fall. You all know on the night I tried to kill him, I lost my powers and my body. His mother died to save him – and provided him a protection. Her sacrifice enforced one of the old magic’s…and I could no touch him. But that matters not now…now I can touch him.”

One white hand caressed Harry’s cheek and the teen bit his tongue to keep from crying out at the pain in his scar. Blood pooled in his mouth as Voldemort continued.

“I miscalculated, I admit it. My curse was deflected by a woman’s foolish sacrifice and rebounded onto myself. Such pain it was. I was ripped from my body, less than a spirit or the meanest ghost…but I was still alive.”

“I settled in a forest and waited…surely one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me…would find me and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body…but I waited in vain…”

Voldemort paused and Harry could practically taste the fear in the air, it was so thick.

“Only one power was left to me. I could possess the bodies of others. I dared not go near populated area, not with the Aurors abroad and looking for me. Animals were my prey at first – but they never last long.”

“Then – four years ago – my way to return with within my grasp. A young, foolish wizard wandered onto me. He was easy to bend to my will and he was a teacher at Dumbledore’s school. I was so close to my goal and then I was thwarted once more by Harry Potter.”

“The servant was killed by the very curse that felled me and I never saw the caster. I fled back to my hiding place, and then, then I did fear that I might never regain my powers.”

Harry blinked. So he had heard someone say the words of the Killing Curse that night! And it hadn’t been Dumbledore.

“But then, a servant returned to me at last. Wormtail, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was discovered by his once friends and decided to return to his master. He sought me out, helped by the rats along the way – he has a strange affinity with rats, Wormtail. But then he decided to stop at an inn for some food…and who should he meet there but a Ministry witch, one Bertha Jorkins.”

“Ah but Bertha was more important than she seemed. And Wormtail – displaying an intelligence I would never have supposed he had – overpowered her and brought her to me. And the stories Bertha had to tell!”

“She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be all too willing to help me, if only I could reach him. But alas…the mean I have to use to break the Memory Charms upon her was powerful and after I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were damaged beyond repair. I disposed of her.”

“Of course, I could no possess Wormtail, so I was forced to acquire a body of sorts to travel in. And with no hope of setting my hands on the Sorcerer’s Stone, as Dumbledore would have seen it destroyed, I set my sights lower. My old body and strength would do until I could seek immortality again.”

“To achieve this – the potion that revived me tonight is old Dark Magic – I needed three powerful ingredients. One, of course, was ready at hand. Flesh given by a servant…”

“My father’s bone meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe…ah, a harder thing to find. Wormtail would have had me take any wizard who hated me, but I want the one who had stripped me of my power. I wanted Harry Potter’s blood.”

“But how to get him? Perhaps at the World Cup…but no. Yet how to reach him at Hogwarts, to snatch him right out from under that Muffle-lover’s crooked nose? Why, to use Bertha Jorkin’s information. A faithful Death Eater stationed at Hogwarts to make sure his name was placed in the Goblet of Fire. A Death Eater who would make sure the boy won the tournament and turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey. Which brought him here, out of Dumbledore’s reach. Here is the boy all believed to be my downfall…”

Voldemort lazily turned towards Harry, lifting his wand.

“Crucio!”

Pain beyond anything he had ever felt ripped through Harry. Argil’s beatings were Heaven next to this – even the pain from his scar when Voldemort was near. He writhed against the ropes still binding him, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. Voldemort would not hear him scream…

Then the pain stopped. Harry sagged against the cool marble of the headstone. The Death Eater’s laughter rang in his ears.

“You see how foolish it was to think this boy could be strong than me? But let us make sure that there is no mistake. Harry Potter escaped me by luck. And I’m going to kill him, in front of all of you, to prove it. I will give him a chance to fight, a change to prove which of us is stronger.”

“Now, Wormtail, if you would untie him and return his wand.”

Harry lifted his head at those words and spat out the blood that had pooled in his mouth. He straightened as well as he could as Wormtail approached. The short man lifted his new silver hand and cut the ropes binding Harry with one swipe. He then shoved the teen’s wand into his hand without looking at his face and rejoined the circle of Death Eaters.

“I presume you have been taught to duel?” said Voldemort.

Harry spat out another mouthful of blood then clamped his hand hard on his wand. Eyes blazing, he looked up at Voldemort and smirked.

“Bow, Harry,” said Voldemort, bending only slightly. “The niceties must be observed.”

Harry tilted his head slightly and smiled coldly. As the Death Eaters shifted slightly, he thought, Well, if that’s the way he wants to play this…

“Of course they must,” said Harry, bowing slightly, keeping his eyes on Voldemort’s face. “After all…we wouldn’t want to disappoint the adoring public.”

Voldemort smiled at him but it was not the same confident smile he’d had before.

“And now you face me like a man…to die the way your father died.”

Oh, if only you knew, thought Harry, lifting his wand.

“Now – we duel.”

Voldemort lifted his wand and before Harry could get the words of his Shield Spell off, he had fallen under the Cruciatus Curse again. He writhed on the ground, his entire body feeling as thought it was being scored by a thousand white-hot brands. He bit the inside of his cheeks again to keep from crying out and when the curse was lifted, more blood pooled in his mouth.

Spitting onto the ground, Harry took a deep breath before getting to his feet. He narrowed his eyes at Voldemort and hissed, “Praecipito!”

The curse rushed towards Voldemort – and he sent it spiraling away into a Death Eater with a weak shield. As the Death Eater was thrown down onto the ground, he said, “A good attempt, Harry. But not good enough.”

“Abrumpo!”

Harry threw himself onto the ground and heard something whistle above his head. As he hit the ground, long locks of dark hair fell around him. He reached up and felt nothing but a cluster of feathery hair where his ponytail had been. Shaking his head, he got up and looked at Voldemort.

“Did you mean to miss my head or were you actually aiming at the ponytail.”

Red eyes narrowed and Voldemort hissed, “Crucio!”

But this time Harry was ready. Just as Voldemort lifted hi wand, he cast his Shield Spell.

“Adamans Defendo!”

Unfortunately Harry hadn’t had enough time to strengthen the shield and it collapsed. And he once more fell under the Cruciatus Curse.

Then, as he started to rise again, Voldemort hissed, “Imperio!”

Harry’s mind was wiped of all thought for a moment but just when a voice, Voldemort’s voice, had started to whisper in his head, he shook it. Voldemort’s eyes widened and Harry smirked. He had completely thrown off the Imperius Curse.

Then Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his wand again. Harry lifted his in the same instant and they both spoke curses at the same time.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Excorio!”

The two spells, one green and one a violent orange, collided and became one glowing golden strand, connecting the two wands. Harry’s hand seized up around his wand and, try as he might, he couldn’t let go. Voldemort too was trapped. Both of their wands were shaking violently.

Then their feet left the ground and Harry clamped his hand hard on his wand. Quite suddenly they were moved, from above the tombstone of Tom Riddle Sr. to above a patch of ground that was clear. The Death Eaters followed, as well as the snake. They reformed the circle about Harry and Voldemort, a few of them drawing their wands.

The golden thread connecting the two wands suddenly splintered, a thousand more beams arching off of the one, crisscrossing around them into a dome-shaped web. The Death Eaters circled in like jackals around a kill.

“Do nothing!” shouted Voldemort to them. Harry saw him trying to break the beam of light connecting them and he held tighter to his wand.

And then quite suddenly Harry heard a song he’ only heard once before in his life. Phoenix song, the song he’d heard in the Chamber of Secrets when he’d face the Tom Riddle from the diary. Some like a voice whispered in his ear, Don’t break the connection.

As if someone had to tell me that, thought Harry, clutching his wand tighter as it began to vibrate harder. As he watched, the beam of light connecting him and Voldemort changed. There now seemed to be beads of light sliding up and down it. Harry’s wand shuddered violently as the beads of light began to slowly slide his way…

The wood beneath his fingertips and palm grew unbearably hot but he held tight. As the beads came closer he eyed it angrily. It felt as though his wand would shatter if that bed connected.

Then Harry turned his head slightly and saw Cedric’s body lying beyond the circle of Death Eaters and the dome of light. Red rage filled him at the sigh, not only because Cedric has been his friend, but because his death would hurt Niamh. Harry turned his eyes back to the bead moving towards his wand and began to concentrate on moving it back towards Voldemort. If anyone had been able to see, they would have seen his eyes go completely black.

And the bead began to move back along the beam. Now Voldemort’s wand was the one shaking violently. Harry’s eyes narrowed to slits of darkness as he concentrated, forcing that bead back along the thread until it connected with Voldemort’s wand.

Screams immediately issued from Voldemort’s wand, echoing screams of pain – then a shadow, a gray shade of a little boy – then a ghostly hand that flew off and vanished. More screams issued forth and then something much larger, a grayish mass that appeared to be a head…and a chest and arms…of one Cedric Diggory.

Harry’s eyes widened in shock and only his already tight grip on his wand kept him from dropping it. He watched as the ghost of Cedric (if it really was a ghost) squeezed out of the wand and dropped to the ground. He looked at the beam of light then at the boy, who stood silently with sad eyes. Then he looked at Harry.

“Hold on, Harry,” the shade said, its voice echoing.

Harry nodded and looked across at Voldemort. Judging from the look on his face, he didn’t know what was going on anymore than Harry did.

More screams issued from the wand – then another head, followed by the arm and torso…it was the old man, the one Harry had seen in his dream during the summer – his ghost, or whatever it was, fell next to Cedric’s and surveyed the battlefield…

“He was a real wizard, then?” said the old man, eying Voldemort menacingly. “Killed me, that one did… You fight him, boy…”

Another shape was emerging from the wand now…but this one was a woman… As she emerged, Harry had to clamp both hands on his wand as it began to shake violently. The darkness that permeated his eyes swirled like storm clouds as he fought to hold it. Something told him he had to hold it, no matter what.

The woman (who he guessed was Bertha Jorkins) cried, “Don’t let go, now! Don’t let him get you, Harry!”

The four shadows circled the duelers, three of them whispering encouragement to Harry and hissing words he could no hear to Voldemort. The little boy only watched, his eyes so very sad… Harry felt a dark rage at Voldemort for that death. He had only been five! And now he would never know the rest of life. Never.

Now another shape began to blossom from the wand…a woman, beautiful, with long hair… She fell to the ground then straightened and moved towards Harry. The teens, arms shaking violently from his fiercely vibrating wand, looked up into his mothers face for the first time that he could remember.

“My baby,” she whispered, shadowy hand reaching toward him then pulled back to her chest. “Hold on…he’s coming…just hold on…”

Another shape blossomed from the wand…this one a man, tall with hair that flew everywhere. James Potter straightened beside his wife an came close to Harry…there was something in his eyes…then it hit Harry. He had known. James Potter had known that he, Harry, was no his son.

Now James whispered so Voldemort could not hear…

“When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments…but we will give you time…you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts…do you understand, Harry?”

Harry nodded slowly and his mother slid into his sight again.

“Be careful…oh my son…my beautiful little boy…”

Harry’s eyes abruptly snapped back to green at those words and he whispered, “Mum.”

“Harry…” whispered Cedric, “take my body back…take my body back to my parents…”

“I will,” promised Harry.

“…and tell Niamh…”

“I know,” whispered Harry.

“Do it now,” hissed James. “Be ready to run…do it now…NOW, HARRY!”

Harry let out a wordless cry and wrenched his wand to the side with all his strength, breaking the connection. The cage of light vanished, the phoenix song faded, but Voldemort’s victims did not. They surrounded him – even the little boy, who turned bright eyes on Harry – blocking Harry from his view…

Harry ran like he’d never run in his life, dodging headstones then curses as the Death Eaters got back their wits. The teen bared his teeth and focused on Cedric’s body. He had to make it…he had to.

“Stun him!” bellow Voldemort from behind him.

Harry dived behind a headstone as the jets of red light shot over his head. He glanced at Cedric’s body, not teen feet away… Then he threw himself to his feet, running backwards so his wand faced the Death Eaters and let loose a curse, putting all his pain and rage into the spell.

“COMMOVEO!”

The first lines of Death Eaters were thrown violently backwards by the curse and the ranks of them went down like dominoes.

He suddenly tripped over something, saw Cedric’s body under him…jets of light flew over his head as he hit the ground…

“Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!”

“Not today,” snarled Harry. He arched backwards, hooked fingers around the handle of the Cup, and threw himself onto Cedric’s body as the Portkey activated.

Voldemort’s scream of fury was the last thing Harry heard as he and Cedric’s body were whirled back to Hogwarts.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry smelt grass and lifted his head. He saw the maze around him and sat up, releasing his hold on the Cup, throwing the object away from him in a violent motion. That object had not only cause the death of one of his friends this night, but the death of a little boy who’d never done a thing but perhaps get caught up in the workings of wizards.

As he sat up, regaining his bearings, a hole was burnt in one of the hedges and a familiar figure leapt through before the fire had even faded away.

“Harry!” Then… “No…Cedric!”

Harry staggered to his feet as the figure ran towards Cedric’s body. He met them halfway and held them close as they screaming in his ears and pounded on his chest and arms with their fists. As he held them, they broke down into sobs and the two of them sank down onto the ground. Harry pillowed his head against Niamh’s feathery dark hair as she sobbed into his chest and whispered, “I’m sorry. Oh gods, Ni, I’m sorry.”

Footsteps thundered in Harry’s already pounding ears and he looked up to see Dumbledore and his father at the head of a crowd. Dumbledore went to Cedric’s body as Severus walked over to Harry, who still held the sobbing Niamh in his arms.

Harry looked up at his father and whispered, “He’s back. Voldemort.”

Severus nodded grimly.

“I know.”

Harry nodded and closed his eyes against the dull pain in his scar, leaning his head against Niamh’s.

“What’s going on? What’s happened?”

There was Cornelius Fudge’s voice. Dumbledore’s grave voice answered him.

“Cedric Diggory is dead.”

Niamh broke out in new sobs at that and Harry tightened his hold on her. He heard voice rings in his ears and felt people jostling close around them.

“Severus, go find Minerva – try and calm the crowd. Harry…on your feet…”

Harry let Dumbledore pull him up and he pulled Niamh up, keep her close. He had no intention of letting her go in this crowd.

“Dumbledore, Diggory’s parents, they’re here, in the stands…” said Fudge.

“I’ll take them, Dumbledore…” said a new voice.

“I would prefer…”

“Dumbledore, Amos Diggory’s running… Don’t you think you should tell him – before he sees - ?”

“Harry, stay here…”

Dumbledore moved away and Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, son…let’s get you two to the hospital wing…”

“Dumbledore said stay,” murmured Niamh in a teary voice, even as whoever it was began to steer the two of them through the screaming, panicked crowd. It wasn’t until they’d reached the castle that either of the fourteen-year-old’s realized who they were with.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. “What happened, Harry?”

“Cup was a Portkey,” said Harry through the pain in his head. Merlin, wouldn’t that damned scar stop? He clutched Niamh tight against him as Mad-Eye Moody pulled them across the entrance hall. “Took us to a graveyard…Voldemort was there…Cedric…”

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Up the marble staircase…

“Diggory?”

“Killed him…Voldemort made a potion…got his body back…”

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Down a corridor…

“Not..the way to the…hospital wing,” murmured Niamh.

“The Dark Lord got his body back?”

Harry nodded.

“Death Eaters came…we dueled…got away though…wand did something funny…”

“You dueled with the Dark Lord?”

“Not…hospital wing,” murmured Niamh again, sagging against Harry as they were sat down. A cup was pressed into Harry’s hand but he wouldn’t take it, wouldn’t let go of Niamh. Moody tipped the stuff down his throat and Harry’s head cleared. He looked around and saw that they were in what he guessed was Moody’s office.

“Voldemort’s back, Harry? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” growled Harry, closing his eyes and rubbing his scar with one hand.

“The Death Eaters returned?”

“He Called them.”

“Did he forgive them?”

Why does he want to know that? wondered Harry, then said, “No. And there’s a Death Eater here at Hogwarts – they put my name in the Goblet of Fire…”

“I know,” said Moody.

“You know? Then why…” Harry gaped. “It was you!”

Moody grinned ferally and growled, “And they say kids don’t know anything these days.”

“Unfortunately, you made it very hard for me to get my job done. You are a very nosy Slytherin.”

“Thank my mother,” growled Harry, reaching for his wand. Then he remembered dropping it when he’d stopped Niamh from getting to Cedric’s body. Moody laughed as shock spread across the teen’s face.

“Left your wand, did you? I’d have thought that the great Lord Hex would have known better.”

Harry glared at him then saw in the Foe-Glass over Moody’s shoulder the shadowy figures of three people. He then fixed his eyes on the grizzled face and growled, “I care more about my friends than my reputation.”

“Well,” said Moody, “you won’t have to worry about either of them for much longer. The Dark Lord so wanted to kill you – but since you escaped him, I’ll do it for him. And send your most precious friend with you for company!”

Moody’s wand lifted. Harry felt a wand press into his hand and he used it, throwing up a shield about himself and Niamh. Moody, a mad glint in his real eye, opened his mouth –

“Stupefy!”

The door splintered and tore apart under the force of the curse and Moody was thrown back onto the floor. Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall appeared in the shattered doorway, the older wizard in the lead and with a look of terrible anger on his face. As Dumbledore walked to Moody and rolled him over onto his back, Snape went to Harry and Niamh as the teen dropped the shield.

“He was going to kill us,” said Harry.

“I know,” said Severus, touching his son’s shoulder.

“Dumbledore, we should get Potter and O’Feir to the hospital wing…” said McGonagall.

“No,” said Dumbledore sharply.

McGonagall opened her mouth but Severus said softly, “Be quiet. There are things here we all have to understand.”

McGonagall gaped in confusion but Dumbledore nodded.

“Well spoken, Severus. You see, Minerva, this is not the real Mad-Eye Moody.”

McGonagall’s jaw dropped.

“Wh-what?”

“It has never been the real Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head. “The real Moody would no have take Harry – and Niamh – from my sight tonight.”

“Then,” whispered McGonagall, “who is it?”

“Barty Crouch,” said a voice.

All eyes turned on Niamh, who was sitting up now, leaning against Harry’s side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. McGonagall stared at her and hissed, “I can’t be him! They were seen together.”

Severus shook his head, looking from Niamh to Harry to Moody. “That’s not the Barty Crouch she’s talking about, McGonagall.”

“What other…no! Surely not! Crouch wouldn’t have…He couldn’t have done such a thing.”

“I’m afraid he may have, Minerva,” said Dumbledore gravely. “And it cost him his life. Now, if you would go find the house-elf Winky in the kitchens. Severus, please fetch me your strongest Truth Potion. And send a note to the cave at the edge of Hogsmeade. I believe you know who to send it to.”

“Yes, Dumbledore.”

“Of course, Albus.”

The two Heads of House left and the two Slytherins watched as Dumbledore knelt by Moody’s body and drew his hip flask and a ring of keys from his robes. He took the ring of keys and walked over to a trunk fitted with seven locks. Both teen’s were surprised when each respective lock revealing different contents in the trunk.

When Dumbledore reached the seventh lock and opened it, he revealed a pit of some sorts. Harry pulled Niamh up beside him as he stood and walked over to the trunk, peering inside. Lying curled up on floor, wooden leg and magical eye gone, was the real Mad-Eye Moody.

Dumbledore slowly lowered himself into the trunk and knelt by Moody.

“Stunned,” said Dumbledore straightening. “Very weak but still alive. Harry, throw down a cloak – he’s freezing.”

As Harry turned to get the other Moody’s cloak, Niamh shook her head and fumbled for the clasp at her throat. She flicked it open and swung the heavy fabric down into the trunk.

“Use mine, professor. Its probably warmer than Crouch’s.”

“Thank you, Miss O’Feir. Now step back you two. I’m coming back up.”

Harry pulled Niamh back to the trunk they’d been sitting on and asked, “How do you know its Crouch?”

Niamh closed her eyes and replied, “I don’t know. But…somehow – I got in his head. I saw his thoughts, Harry! And I don’t know how!”

“Shh,” said Harry, “we’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

“I – I keep seeing him.”

“Cedric?”

Niamh nodded and Harry softly said, “He really loved you, you know.”

“I know.”

Niamh leaned against Harry again as Dumbledore clambered up out of the trunk. He picked up the hip flask from where he’d set it on the desk, unscrewed the top, and turned it so a think, glutinous liquid Harry recognized spatter on the floor.

“Polyjuice Potion.”

Dumbledore smiled at the teen and said, “As brilliant with potions as your father, Harry. Yes. Polyjuice Potion. It works quite well, Moody never does drink from anything but his hip flask. Perhaps…”

“…with everything tonight, he forgot to take it,” finished Harry.

Dumbledore nodded and the three of them sat there staring at Moody until he began to change. The scars were vanishing, the skin was becoming smooth, the mangled nose became whole and shrank. The long grizzled gray hair withdrew into the scalp and became straw-colored. The wooden leg fell to the floor with a clunk as a normal leg grew its place. The magical eyeball followed it a moment later.

Now a man: pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair lay on the floor. Harry had no idea if Niamh was right and this was Crouch’s son – but his father suddenly reentered the room and confirmed it for him.

“Crouch!” Severus stared at Niamh, who mumbled a barely intelligible “I told you so.”

McGonagall entered a moment later, a filthy, disheveled Winky at her heels.

“Good heavens!”

“Master Barty, Master Barty!”

Winky flung herself onto the young man’s chest and cried, “You is killed him! You is killed Master’s son!”

“He is simply Stunned, Winky,” said Dumbledore. “Severus, you have the potion?”

Severus nodded and handed him a small bottle of clear liquid, which Harry recognized as Veritaserum. Dumbledore pulled Crouch’s son up into a sitting position against the wall and poured three drops of the Truth Potion down his throat. He then pointed his wand at him and said, “Ennervate.”

Crouch’s son’s eyes fluttered open. His expression was slack, like a person Harry had once seen hypnotized when he was seven. Or that boy…

“Can you hear me?” asked Dumbledore.

“Yes,” muttered Crouch.

“Tell us how you escaped Azkaban.”

“My mother,” said Crouch in a flat voice. “She was dying, so she persuaded my father to save me as a last favor to her. He loved her more than he ever loved me. He agreed and they came to visit me; my mother and I took Polyjuice Potion with the others hair in it. We traded appearances.”

“Say no more, Master Barty!” cried Winky.

But Crouch continued. He had to. The Veritaserum forced him to.

“The dementors never knew. They sensed on healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban and the same leaving it. My mother died in Azkaban, buried under my name and appearance.”

“What did your father do with you?” asked Dumbledore. “What did he do when he got you home?”

“Staged my mother’s death – had a small, private funeral. The grave’s empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health and then I had to be concealed, controlled. My father put my under the Imperius Curse. But when my strength returned, I was determined to find my master.”

“I had to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. The house-elf was always with me; my keeper. She even persuaded my father to give me occasional treats.”

Winky began to sob.

“Did anyone ever discover you were alive?” asked Dumbledore.

“A witch – Bertha Jorkins. She came with some papers for my father’s signature but he wasn’t there. Winky showed her inside then returned to the kitchen, to me. Bertha followed her. She heard enough of the conversation to guess who I was and waited, confronting my father when he returned. He place a powerful Memory Charm on her; too powerful. I damaged her memory, he said.”

Winky continued to sob as Dumbledore said, “Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Winky talked my father into it. She spent months persuading him and he conceded. He planned it all very carefully, my father. Early in the day, he led Winky and I up to the Top Box. Winky’s excuse was she was saving a seat for my father. We would leave the box after everyone else had gone. No one would know.”

“But I had begun to fight my father’s Imperius Curse. Winky didn’t know. There were times I was almost myself. If happened in the Top Box. I found myself in public, in the middle of a match. And there, just a seat down form me, was a wand sticking out of a girl’s pocket. I had to wait so long, but I got it. I stole it when she got up to leave the box. Winky never saw. She had her face hidden.”

“Master Barty, you bad boy!” said Winky.

“What did you do with the wand?” asked Dumbledore.

“We went back to the tent. Then we heard them. All those Death Eaters who have never suffered for my master, who had never sought him, thought they were free. It angered my. I took the wand to attack them. Winky stopped me. She worked her own brand of magic and bound me to her. She pulled me out of the tent, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to stop her. I wanted to punish those Death Eaters. I sent the Dark Mark into the air. Ministry wizards arrived and shot Stunning Spells. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken and we were both Stunned.”

“When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby so he searched the bushes and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry workers had left, then he came back, put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me home. He dismissed Winky because she failed him. She had almost let me escape.”

Winky let out a moan.

“Then it was just Father and I in the house. But then my master came for me.” A crazed grin spread across Crouch’s face and Niamh shivered, shaking her head and muttering.

“You poor fool…”

Harry looked down at her in confusion then turned back to Crouch as the man continued to speak.

“He arrived late at night in the arms of Wormtail. My master had found out I was still alive from Bertha Jorkins. That’s how he learned the old Auror, Moody, would be at Hogwarts.”

“My master place my father under the Imperius Curse. He was forced to go about his business and I…I was freed.”

“What did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?” asked Dumbledore.

“He asked me to risk everything for him. I was ready. He told me he needed a faithful servant at Hogwarts; a servant who would ensure Harry Potter reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey that would take Potter to my master. But first - ”

“You needed Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore, eyes blazing.

“Wormtail and I did it. We have the Polyjuice Potion. We went to his house. Moody put up a struggle but we finally got him locked in a compartment of his own magical trunk. I drank the potion and became him, just in time to deal with Arthur Weasley. Then I packed up Moody’s things and set off to Hogwarts. Then I remembered. Moody had a son. I couldn’t have him at Hogwarts with me. He’d ruin it all. So I went after the boy’s mother. I knew she was the one who wanted the boy at Hogwarts. So I put her under the Imperius Curse and off the boy went.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly then said, “What became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?”

“He returned to my father’s house to care for my master and watch my father.”

“But your father escaped,” said Dumbledore.

“Yes. He began to fight the Imperius Curse as I had. Sometimes he knew what was happening. My master deemed it unsafe for him to leave the house and had him send letter instead. Then he escaped. My master guessed he would go to Hogwarts. He was going to Dumbledore to confess.”

“My master sent me word of this. I was to stop him at all costs. So I waited. Then one night I heard Potter talking to McGonagall. I hurried to the place before he and Dumbledore could return. I Stunned Diggory. I killed my father.”

“Bastard,” breathed Niamh as Winky wailed, “Master Barty, what had you done?”

“What did you do with the body?” asked Dumbledore.

“Carried it into the forest. I waited until Diggory had been awakened and Hagrid summoned before I showed myself. I told Dumbledore I’d heard McGonagall muttering something.”

“Dumbledore told me to go look for my father. I went back to his body. After everyone had gone, I Transfigured my father’s body. He became a bone – I buried him in front of Hagrid’s cabin.”

“And tonight…” said Dumbledore.

“I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner. I turned it into a Portkey. My master’s plan worked. He had returned and I will be honored by him above all.”

Crouch grinned insanely as he finished. Winky sobbed loudly as Niamh bent her head and cried softly into Harry’s shoulder.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Dumbledore rose from where he’s been kneeling by Crouch, disgust written clearly across his face. He pointed his wand at Crouch and ropes flew out, binding the man tightly.

“Minerva, would you stay here while I take Harry and Niamh upstairs?”

“Of course,” said McGonagall, looking slightly sick. But her wand was aimed true and her hand was steady. Harry had to give her that.

“Severus, please tell Madam Pomfrey to come here; we need to get Alastor into the hospital wing. Then go find Cornelius Fudge. I’m sure he’ll want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing if he needs me.”

Severus nodded and started to leave when Dumbledore added, “And send an owl to Miss Davids. I am certain that she had broken the hold of the Imperius Curse by now. Also contact Professor Kurvoltz at Durmstrang and tell him to send Mika Davids back to Hogwarts through the secure Floor in my office. With all his belongings. I daresay Mr. Davids will want to see his father and to stay here.”

“Yes, Albus,” said Severus and with a glance at Harry and Niamh, was gone.

Dumbledore then motioned the two teens to rise and gently pressed them out of the room. As they walked towards the hospital wing, Harry half-carrying Niamh as she sagged against him, all energy spent from her crying, Dumbledore asked the Potion Master’s son a question.

“Harry, could you tell me what happened?”

Harry looked at the older wizard for a moment, then nodded slowly and began to speak. When he mentioned Cedric, Niamh made a little noise and pressed herself further into his side.

When Harry told of Wormtail taking his blood, something like surprise flashed in the old wizard’s eyes. It faded quickly but Harry had caught it. He wondered what it meant.

Then Harry reached the part about the wand connecting, which Harry now had the slightest idea of what it was.

“Priori Incantatem,” muttered Dumbledore.

“The Reverse Spell effect,” said Harry, nodding slowly.

Dumbledore smiled at him.

“Very good, Harry. As you probably know, your wand and Voldemort’s share sores – each had a tail feather of the same phoenix. My phoenix in fact.”

“Fawkes?” mumbled Niamh, lifting her head from where it lay on Harry’s shoulder and blinked glassy eyes.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “The moment you and the Weasley’s walked out of his shop, Harry, Mr. Ollivander wrote to me, telling me that you’d bought the second wand. Do you know what happens when brother wands meet?” Dumbledore eyed Harry curiously.

“They don’t work against each other,” said the teen. “Voldemort’s wand…it looked like it started working the spells it’d performed – only backwards. And they were more…ghostly.”

Dumbledore nodded and said, eyes flicking to Niamh, “Which means some form of Cedric appeared.”

Harry only nodded.

“And I guess that other such forms appeared.”

Harry nodded again and said, “An old man…and Bertha Jorkins, I think. That little boy. Then…then my mum and…” The teen glanced around them before he finished, “…and James.”

Dumbledore nodded again.

“The last murders that wand performed in reverse order. There would have been more had the connection held. Did these…shadows do anything Harry?”

Harry quickly told of how he’d escaped with the shadows help. He left out the part about James Potter having known about his parentage and what his mother had said. If there was anything good that might possibly come of this horrible night, it was that he had seen – really seen – his mother. Even if she had just been an echo, a shade, an illusion.

“You are quite a young man, Harry,” said Dumbledore as they neared the hospital wing. “Quite a young man.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry with a vigor he didn’t feel.

Dumbledore smiled and patted his shoulder before walking in the direction of his office. Harry watched him go then entered the hospital wing, giving up Niamh as Madam Pomfrey descended upon them in a swift swoop. He was then immediately entrapped in the warm embrace of Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, Harry, dear. Are you alright?”

Mrs. Weasley held him back at arms length, her blue eyes sweeping over his long, exhausted frame. Harry idly wondered if his mother might have been like the woman who had taken a ragged, dirty street urchin – himself – off the streets and into her home.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley.”

“You most certainly are not! Your barely standing! Sit, sit. There, on the bed. Hermione, dear, hand me that blue vial there.”

Hermione looked skeptical for a moment but snapped into action when Madam Pomfrey said, “Give her the vial, Miss Granger. Molly had four years experience under me here at Hogwarts and she is a certified mediwitch.”

Hermione looked abashed as she handed the vial to Mrs. Weasley. The older woman peered at the potion inside then said, “You still put Sleeping Potion’s in the blue vials, don’t you, Poppy?”

“Of course, Molly,” came the reply as the mediwitch poured a bit of potion from another blue vial down Niamh’s throat.

Mrs. Weasley nodded and pressed the vial into Harry’s hands.

“Drink it. You look like Severus did the day after Lily left him.”

Harry didn’t have enough energy to think about what had just been said. He swallowed a mouthful of the potion, gagged, then immediately keeled over. His vision grew hazy as the potion took effect and someone pushed and shoved his long limbs onto the bed. Voices chattered in his ears, reminding him of the sparrows in the roof of the old building he’s grown up in. They’d battle sometimes.

Then another voice bid them be silent and a blanket was pulled over him. The last thing Harry sensed before the cool darkness of sleep took him was a hand brushing hair from his face and a kiss being planted on his forehead.

Then Sleep opened her arms to him and Harry fell into her warm embrace without argument.

Harry awoke quite warm and still very sleepy; so much that he didn’t open his eyes.  He heard whispering around him and recognized Hermione’s voice.

“They’re going to wake him if they don’t shut up!”

“What are they shouting about?  Nothing else can have happened, can it?”

That was Mrs. Weasley.

Harry opened his eyes to a slit and peered around.  Mrs. Weasley and Hermione sat between his bed and Niamh’s.  Bill was standing by the door and looking out into the hall.

“That’s Fudge’s voice,” breathed Mrs. Weasley.  “And Minerva.  What would they be arguing about?”

Harry could hear them, their voices getting louder as they approached the hospital wing.

“It is regrettable, Minerva, but all the same…”  That was Fudge.

“You should never have brought it in the castle!  When Dumbledore finds out - ”

The hospital doors came open and Bill had to jump back to avoid being hit as Fudge strode into the ward, McGonagall at his heels.

“Where’s Dumbledore?” snapped Fudge when he saw Mrs. Wesley.

“Not here,” replied Mrs. Weasley.  “This is a hospital wing, Minister, not a circus.”

“How are - ”

The doors opened again and Dumbledore strode in, a huge shaggy black dog and Mika at his heels.  The dog immediately ran over to Harry’s bed.  Mika, on the other hand, saw the sleeping Moody further down the ward and hurriedly pressed past Fudge and McGonagall.

Dumbledore then swept his eyes over the two and said, “Why are you disturbing these people?  Minerva – I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch - ”

“There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Albus!  The Minister has seen to that!”

Well, thought Harry.  McGonagall does care about something besides her precious Gryffindors.

Snape entered the wing then, face stark white and his thin lips drawn in a tight line.  Just as he entered, Dumbledore demanded, “What happened?”

“The Minister,” sneered Snape, “felt his personal safety was in question.  He insisted on bringing a dementor to accompany him into the castle.”

“I told him you would no agree, Albus!” snapped McGonagall.  “But that stubborn fool - ”

“I beg your pardon, madam!” roared Fudge.  “As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish protection with me when interviewing a dangerous - ”

“Not when that protection kills the person!” shrieked McGonagall.

“Calm yourself, Minerva,” said Dumbledore as Harry remembered the last thing Crouch would have seen: that gray, leathery face with its open-hole of a mouth…  Now Crouch was worse than dead.

“He is no loss to the world,” snapped Fudge.

“But now he cannot tell us why he did what he did,” said Snape.

“Because he was a raving lunatic, that’s why!  He thought You-Know-Who was giving him orders!”

“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore.  “All the deaths caused by Crouch were by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again.  I succeeded – Voldemort had been restored to his body.”

Fudge looked like he’d just been hit with a ton of bricks.  He stared at Dumbledore as if the old wizard had grown a second head.

“You-Know-Who…come now, Dumbledore…”

“I am sure Severus doubtless told you that we heard the very thing from Crouch’s lips.  Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban and how Voldemort – using information taken from Bertha Jorkins – freed him from his father and used him to capture Harry.  I tell you again, Cornelius, Voldemort has returned.”

“Dumbledore,” said Fudge with a vague smile, “you can’t seriously believe that.  You-Know-Who back?  Certainly Crouch may have believed he was acting on You-Know-Who’s orders – but to take the word of a lunatic…”

“We have Harry’s word as well,” said Snape darkly.

Fudge looked at Dumbledore sharply and said, “You are prepared to take Harry’s word on this, Dumbledore?”

“Indubitably.  The story we heard from Crouch and what Harry had told me of what happened after the Triwizard Cup transported him to Voldemort coincide with all that had happened since Bertha Jorkins disappearance.”

“So…you are prepared to take the word of a lunatic murder and a boy – a Slytherin – who…well…”

“You’ve been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge,” said Harry darkly.  Around him Hermione, Bill, Ron (who was on the other side of the bed), Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny (who was at the end of the bed) all jumped.  Sirius barked and Harry reached down to pat his head.

Fudge look abashed for only a half-second before his face set stubbornly.

“And if I have?  I’ve discovered there are certain – facts – kept quiet.  A Parselmouth, eh?  Quite well versed in hexes too so I hear.  And having turns all over the place…”

“I presume you are referring to the pains Harry had had in his scar?” said Dumbledore.

“You admit he’s been having them?  Headaches?  Nightmares?  Hallucinations?”

“Cornelius,” said Dumbledore.  “Harry is as sane as you or I.  That scar has no addled his brains; it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by or feeling particularly murderous.”

“Never heard of a curse scar functioning as an alarm bell…”

“Voldemort’s back!” snapped Harry, far to irritated with Fudge to stay quiet any longer.  “I saw him!  I saw the Death Eaters!  They killed Cedric!  Open your eyes!”

Fudge looked at him for a moment, an odd expression on his face then turned to Dumbledore.

“The boy was full of a crackpot story last year – now here’s another.  He can talk to snakes and you trust him?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” snapped Ginny, quickly silenced as Mrs. Weasley clamped a hand over her daughter’s mouth.

“Voldemort has returned,” repeated Dumbledore.  “If you accept that and take necessary precautions, we may be able to prevent what almost happened thirteen years ago.  The first thing you should do is remove the dementors from Azkaban.”

“Preposterous!” shouted Fudge and Harry saw that the man was point-blank refusing to believe anything they said.  He probably wouldn’t have believe it if Merlin himself had appeared and said it.

Fudge continued, “Remove the dementors?  I’d be kicked out of office!  Half of us only feet safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!”

“The rest of us sleep less soundly know you have put Lord Voldemort’s most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures that will join him the instant he asks!  They will not remain loyal to you when he can offer them much more scope for their powers and pleasures!  With the dementors and his old supporters behind him, you’ll find it hard to stop him!”

Fudge simply gaped at Dumbledore in outrage.

“You should also send envoys to the giants,” said Dumbledore.

“Are you mad?” shrieked Fudge.  “If the magical community got wind o me send envoys to the giants – my career would end - ”

“You are blinded by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, his voice rising and his eyes blazing.  “You fail to see that it does not matter how a person is born, but what they come to be!  Your dementor has just destroyed the last member of a pureblood family as old as any – see what that man chose to make of his life!  Take my suggestions and, in office or out, you will be remembered as one of the greatest Ministers of Magic of all time.  Fail to act – and you will be remembered as the man who allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried so hard to rebuild!”

“Insane,” whispered Fudge.  “Batty…”

“You’re the batty one, you old coot,” snarled Harry in Elven, fixing the stubborn little man with a venomous glare.  Mrs. Weasley turned her head at the sound of the unfamiliar words.  When she saw his look, she placed a hand on his shoulder, leaned down, and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, dear.  Severus may make him believe.  And even if not, we can’t hex him.”  She leaned back and Harry distinctly heard her mutter, “No matter how good it would feel.”

“If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius, we have reached a parting of the ways.  You must act as you see fit.”  Dumbledore paused then continued, “And I shall act as I see fit.”

“Now see here, Dumbledore,” said Fudge, his voice bristling with anger.  “I’ve given you free rein, always.  I’ve had a lot of respect for you.  And there aren’t many who’d have let you fire werewolves or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach to your students without reference to the Ministry.  But if you work again me - ”

“I work again no one but Lord Voldemort.  If you are again him then we remain on the same side.”

Fudge simply stared at Dumbledore after that.  Then he shook his head and muttered, “He can’t be back, Albus, he just can’t…”

Severus looked across the room then, locking eyes with his son. His eyes then slid to Mrs. Weasley, who nodded.  The black orbs slid back to Harry then he turned, striding towards Fudge, rolling up the left sleeve of his robes.  He stuck out his forearm and Fudge recoiled.

“There,” growled Severus.  “The Dark Mark.  It’s not a clear as it was an hour ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had to sign burned into him by the Dark Lord.  It was a means of distinguishing one another and his means of summoning us to him.  When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate and Apparate, instantly, to his side.  It has been growing clearer all year.  Karkaroff’s too.  He fled tonight when we both felt the Mark burn and knew he had returned.  Karkaroff betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be welcomed back.”

Fudge appeared to not have heard a word the Potions Master had said.  He simply started at the Dark Mark then look at Dumbledore.

“I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I’ve heard enough.  I will be in touch with you tomorrow to discuss the running of this school.  I must return to the Ministry.”

He turned, started to leave, then approached Harry’s bed.  Taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and placing it at the end of the bed near Ginny, he said shortly, “Your winnings,” then turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Dumbledore turned to those gathered around Harry’s bed.

“There is work to be done,” he said.  “I hope I can count on you and Arthur, Molly.”

“Of course,” said Mrs. Weasley.  “We know what Fudge is.  Only Arthur’s fondness for Muggle’s has held him back in the Ministry all these years.  Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.”

“Then I need to send a message to Arthur.  All those that we can persuade of the truth must be contracted and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry.”

“I’ll go to Dad,” said Bill.

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore.  “Tell him what had happened and that I will soon be in contact with him.  He will need to be discreet, however.”

Bill nodded.  “I’ll take care of it.”

He kissed his mother of the cheek, clapped Harry on the shoulder, and ruffled Ginny’s hair as he slung his cloak about his shoulder and strode out of the room.

Dumbledore then turned to McGonagall and said, “Minerva, I want to see Hagrid in my off as soon as possible. And if she will come – Madame Maxime.”

McGonagall simply nodded and left.

“Poppy,” said Dumbledore, “if you would kindly go down to Professor Moody’s office where you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress?  Do what you can for get then take her back to the kitchens.  Dobby, I believe, will look after her for us.”

“Of course, Albus,” and she left as well.

As soon as she was gone, Dumbledore turned to Severus and asked, “Did you reach Calissa?”

Severus nodded.

“She had broken the Imperius and was just about to come here to warn you.  It took me some time to calm her – for she was worried for her son – but she is coming.  By broom, as you know she loathes Apparating.”

Dumbledore nodded then looked at the shaggy black dog now sitting by Ginny at the foot of the bed.

“Sirius…if you would.”

The black dog looked at him then was quite suddenly a man standing at the end of the bed.

“Sirius Black!” hissed Mrs. Weasley, reaching for her wand.  Ginny leapt up and stood in front of Sirius, arms spread wide.

“No, Mum!  He’s okay!”

Mrs. Weasley frowned and looked at Severus, who nodded and said, “Much as I loathe to admit it, he is, Molly.”

Mrs. Weasley eyed Sirius then thrust her wand back into her robes.  She crossed her arms and growled at him, “You try anything, and I’ll fix your feet to your ears and your hands to your knees then dump you in a river.”

Sirius looked at her for a moment, obviously quite certain she would carry out this threat, and said, “I assure you, Molly, I don’t want to do anything to harm Harry.”

Dumbledore coughed and looked between Sirius and Severus.

“I hope the two of you have resolved your differences?”

The two men eyed each other and Sirius growled, “Partially.”

“Indeed,” agreed Severus, black eyes glinting.  Harry eyed his father and godfather darkly at this exchange.

Dumbledore nodded and said, “That will settle for now.  I have jobs for both of you.  Sirius, I need to you alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd.  Lie low at Lupin’s for a while; I’ll contact you there.”

“Sirius,” said Harry.  He had a feeling that now his godfather was even more danger now than ever before.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” said Sirius, flashing a wry grin at him.  “I’ll be in touch.”

“Just be careful,” said Harry.

Sirius clasped Harry’s shoulder then transformed into the black dog and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw.  Then he was gone.

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, “you know what I must ask you to do…”

“No!” said Harry, heart leaping in his chest.  “You can’t!”

“Harry!” said Severus sharply, glancing at Molly who smiled warmly at him.

“Severus, you don’t have to hide it from me.  I’ve knew who Harry’s father really was the moment I saw him.”  She chuckled and continued; “I knew you and James Potter from eleven to seventeen and you beyond that.  There is a great difference between the both of you and I, of all people, know that difference.”

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all gaped at Mrs. Weasley while Harry simply laughed silently and Dumbledore looked amused.  Severus could only shake his head and smile.

“Gods, Molly, you are a Slytherin.”  He then looked at Harry and said, “Why no?”

Harry sobered immediately.

“Where are you going?  Back to spy?”

Severus looked at Dumbledore then nodded slowly.

“You can’t.  He knows.  He’ll kill you.”

“Harry,” said Severus, moving over to stand beside his son’s bed, “sometimes you have to take risks.”

“Then let someone else!” yelled Harry.  “I don’t want to lose you to the same monster that took Mum!”

Severus took his son by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

“We have to know what he’s doing.  We have to, Harry.  None of the other spy’s remain in the circle.  I have to go.”

Harry shook his head, fists clenched on the blanket covering him, then looked up at his father, eyes flashing.  He hissed, “You’d better come back.”

Severus squeezed Harry’s shoulders reassuringly then pulled him into a hug.  When he pulled back, he turned to Dumbledore and said, “I’m ready, Albus.”

“Then good luck,” said Dumbledore.  Severus nodded to him and to his students, squeezed his son’s hand and Mrs. Weasley’s as she looked anxiously at him then strode out.  Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley watched him go with apprehension on their faces; Harry felt just like he had when Tyls had been killed.

“I must go downstairs,” said Dumbledore after a few minutes of silence.  “I must see the Diggorys.  Harry – take the rest of your potion and don’t worry about Severus.  I will see all of you later.”

With that he was gone and Harry collapsed against his pillow.

No one in the room spoke for a while.

“You should take the rest of this, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley finally, nudging the blue vial on the table.  “Think about something else.”

“All I can think about is my father and if he’s going to come back!” said Harry.  He sat up and eyed the bag of gold at the end of the bed.  “Damn them.  Damn them!”

“Who?” asked Hermione as Harry drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“All of them.  Everyone who had a part in this.  Crouch, Voldemort, Wormtail…  All of them!  Damn the lot of them!”  Harry felt a burning feeling behind his eyes as he slammed his fist down on the bed.  “Cedric’d still be alive if it weren’t for them!  He’d be the one who’d have won the tournament.  But now he’s dead!  He’s dead!  He’s dead because Voldemort was after me!”

“It wasn’t your fault, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“Yes, it was.  It was.  He took the Cup with me.  He wouldn’t do it without me.  If I’d refused…he’d still be alive!  He’d still be alive and Voldemort wouldn’t be back and Niamh wouldn’t be hurting so much and…and…”

Tears spattered on the blanket.

Mrs. Weasley rose and wrapped her arms about Harry, pulling him close and rocking him gently as the teen cried.

Even if it was only a few tears.

Mrs. Weasley pulled back from Harry and pressed the blue vial into his hand.  “Drink it,” she said, brushing a lock of hair from his face.

And he did.  He downed all of it and let Sleep take him again.

But just before took him into her arms again, he saw Ginny by the window, a look of pride on her face and her hand clenched about something.

A week later Harry sat by the lake, his back against a tree, eyes closed as a crisp, cool wind ruffled his now shorter hair.  Hedwig was curled up in the grass beside him, a little black lump with a gray tongue that kept flicking out.  Jardin sat on his bond’s knee, a black statue whose golden eyes watched for anyone approaching.

Since that day of the third task, other students had been avoiding Harry more than usual, whispering behind their hands when he passed.  He hadn’t the urge to hex them.

He just wanted to be left alone.

At least the Diggorys didn’t blame him for what had happened to their son.

Even if he blamed himself.

Jardin turned his head and saw a dark-haired figure approaching from the school.  He looked at Harry then back at the figure.  He shifted slightly on his bond’s knee and waited for the person to approach.

Niamh walked towards her friend slowly, trying not to disturb him.  Ever since the third task and…Cedric’s death…he had been distant.

Most of all from her.

I wonder if he thinks I’m angry with him, she had thought one day when Harry had left the room when she’d entered.

Now she had finally caught him and she intended to talk to him.

So, walking around the tree, she settled herself down into the grass beside him.  He didn’t move.  She looked at him, studying his face, which looked weary and worn.

It was so unlike the Harry she knew, the boy she’d met in the common room the first full day at Hogwarts.  The boy who’d defended her against Draco.  The one who was always there, no matter what.  The one who laughed with her.  The one who was her best friend, the friend she felt she could always count on.

She couldn’t even say that about Cedric.

Yes, she’d loved him, by Slytherin she had.  But God knew where that would have gone.  Yes, she missed him dearly and she always would.  He’d been her first love and she could never forget that.

But Harry had been her first friend.

And some friendships came before love.

Niamh leaned her head against Harry’s broad shoulder and felt as though they were back on that night of the task.

Only this time she wasn’t the one grieving.

Harry didn’t move, didn’t speak when she did this.  Niamh sighed and closed her eyes, hoping that simply be being there she could help her dearest friend.

I don’t blame you, she whispered.

She knew not if she spoke it or if she’d said it mentally through Jardin.  But that brought a reaction.

Harry’s arm moved, slid around her.  His head leaned against hers now.  She could feel the weight.

Oh God help us all, she said to the heavens and the air around them.  Help us all.

Jardin heard this and mused to himself, < Now she’s discovered it. >

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The Leaving Feast was very solemn.  Instead of the House colors decorating the walls, there were black drapes.

Black for death.

For Cedric.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, extremely twitchy – most likely from his ten-month tenure in his own trunk.  And Mika had returned.  The Slytherin Four was complete again.

But the occasion that had made this so was not a happy one.

Mika’s mother was also there, sitting beside her ex-husband.  She was dark-haired and chocolate colored eyes – eyes like Mika’s.  Sometime after she had arrived, she had come to Harry, revealing to him that she was James Potter’s older sister.  And that she knew that her brother wasn’t his father.  He’d told her of it, she being his confidant in all things.

Harry could only blink when she’d hugged him suddenly and said, “But what a fine boy you are.  I’m glad that scoundrel of a Snape found someone to care for, even if it is my brother’s supposed son.”

Harry hadn’t known what to say to her and he still didn’t.

Professor Karkaroff’s chair was empty.  Merlin knew where he had gone.  Or if Voldemort had caught him yet.

Madame Maxime remained, sitting by Hagrid, talking quietly.

And to the joy of his heart, his father was there.  He’d been gone the entirety of the week and now he’d returned.  Harry thanked every god he knew of that he’d returned safely.  Now if only he could know Sirius was safe…

Dumbledore stood and the Great Hall, quieter than ever at a Leaving Feast, fell silent.

“The end of another year,” said the old wizard.  His eyes went to the Hufflepuff table, the most subdued and saddest table.

“There is much I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here enjoying this feast with us.  I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise you glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”

Benches scraped across the floor as everyone stood, raising their goblets and saying “Cedric Diggory” in one voice.

Beside Harry, Niamh gave a little sniffle and ran her hand over her eyes.  He half-hugged her as they sat down.

“Cedric,” said Dumbledore, “was a person who exemplified many of the qualities tat distinguish Hufflepuff House.  He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play.  His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not.  I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

Both Harry and Severus looked sharply at Dumbledore at this.

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

Panic swept through the Hall.  Students eyed the headmaster in disbelief.

“The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this.  It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so – either because they will not believe Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are.  But it is my belief that the truth if preferable to lies and that any attempt to suggest Cedric died as the result of an accident or a blunder would be an insult to his memory.”

“There is also,” said Dumbledore, “someone else who should be mentioned in connection with Cedric’s death.  I am speaking of Harry Potter.”

“Harry managed to escape Lord Voldemort.  He risked his own life to bring Cedric’s body back to Hogwarts.  He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him.”

Dumbledore lifted his goblet and nodded to Harry.  The other students did the same.  They murmured his name as they’d done Cedric’s.  And Harry saw many of the Slytherins too had done this.  As he looked down the table, Draco lifted his goblet and nodded at him.  Harry nodded in return then turned his eyes back to Dumbledore as he continued.

“The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding.  In the light of what had happened, such ties are more important than ever.”

Dumbledore looked at everyone in the Hall, the Durmstrang students, the Beauxbatons students, each table of the four Hogwarts Houses, then the professors to his left and right.

“Everyone in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come.  In the light of Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.  Lord Voldemort’s gift fro spreading discord and enmity is very great.  We can fight it only be showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.  Differences are nothing if our aims are identical.”

“It is my belief – and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken – that we are all facing dark, difficult times.  Some of you here have already suffered at the hands of Lord Voldemort.  Many of your families have been broken.  A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.”

“Remember Cedric.  Remember, if there ever comes a time when you must make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry, Niamh, Mika, Ron, and Hermione stood in the entrance hall with the other fourth years waiting for the carriages to take them down to Hogsmeade station.  Ginny had already gone on with the third years.

But Harry would see her soon.  For this summer, he would be staying with the Weasley’s.  His father had told him that it would be too dangerous for either of them to be at their cottage or for he, Harry, to be at Hogwarts.  So he was being sent with the only family his father trusted to care for his son.

“’Arry!”

Harry looked and saw Fleur coming up the stairs toward him.  Behind her, out on the grounds, Hagrid was helping Madame Maxime back two of the gigantic horses into their harness.  The Beauxbatons carriage was about to leave.

“We will see each uzzer again, I ‘ope,” said Fleur as she reached him.  “I am ‘oping to get a job ‘ere, to improve my Eenglish.”

“It’s very good already,” said Ron, earning a glare from Hermione.

“Good luck in that,” said Harry, smiling slightly.  “And tell your sister not to be captured by anymore merpeople.”

Fleur laughed and said, “I shall tell her.  Good-bye, ‘Arry.  It ‘az been a pleasure meeting you!”

Harry watched as Fleur ran back across the ground to the Beauxbatons carriage.

“I wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back.  D’you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?” said Ron.

“Karkaroff did not steer.  He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork.”

Krum had suddenly appeared behind them and said to Hermione, “Can I have a vord?”

“Oh…yes…all right,” said Hermione, following him through the crowd.

“You’d better hurry!” yelled Ron after her.

He then tried to peer over the crowd to see the two of them, earning a box on the ear by Niamh.

“Stop that!” she scolded as the two returned just as the carriages rolled up.

“I alvays liked Diggory,” said Krum to Harry.  “He vos alvays polite to me.  Evne though I vos from Durmstrang.”

“Yeah, he was,” said Harry.  “Have you got a new headmaster yet?”

“Probably Kurvoltz.  But I do not know.”

He shook Harry’s hand then, as the rest of them picked up their trunks and headed for the carriages, Ron abruptly asked, “Can I have your autograph?”

Mika, Harry, Niamh, and Hermione all burst out laughing while a surprised looking Krum signed a fragment of parchment for Ron.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

By the time they reached the train, Ginny had already taken charge of a compartment.  She had apparently run two first years out of it by glaring at them.

“Your turning into another Niamh,” said Mika as he sat down beside her.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Niamh as she shoved her trunk under the seat.

“Nothing.  Just that one of you is enough.”

Niamh glared at him but Harry smiled and said, “He’s right, you know.  One of you is quite enough.”

“I feel insulted.”

Harry nudged Niamh in the ribs with his elbow and she scowled at him then shoved him away.

“Oh, geroff!”

Harry laughed then looked at Mika.

“So, how was the frozen north?”

“Frozen.  Like an icicle.  I generally hate here because its always seems to be raining when I look out the window, but I’ll take rain any day over ice every day.”

< You and I both, > said Jardin from his perch on the luggage rack.  In the cage beside him, Pigwidgeon hooted loudly and he glared at the little bird.  < Oh hush, you poor excuse for a bird! >

“Stop insulting my owl,” said Ron as he entered the room.

“Ron,” said Hermione, coming in right behind her with Crookshanks in her arms, “your always insulting Pigwidgeon.”

“So?”

Hermione sighed and threw herself into a seat.  She batted Crookshanks as the ginger cat eyed Jardin.  The raven narrowed his eyes and growled, < Try me, feline, and we’ll see how far you get. >

The six of them talked about the year until the trolley arrived, whereupon they bought snacks.  As Ginny put her money back in her bag, Niamh saw the edge of a copy of the Daily Prophet.  Seeing her look, the girl grinned and said, “Don’t worry.  There’s nothing in there.  There was just a small piece after the tournament saying Harry’d won.  Nothing about Cedric or You-Know-Who.”

“Skeeter won’t keep quiet,” growled Niamh.

Harry remembered the last thing he saw in the infirmary – Ginny holding something in her fist triumphantly.

“I think she will.  Right, Gin?”

The ginger-haired girl nodded and grinned.

“I was right.  And she won’t be writing anything unless she wants us to tell about her.”

“Right about what?” asked Mika, completely out of the loop as to what was going on.

“Skeeter.  I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she’s wasn’t supposed to be on the grounds.”

“How?” asked Niamh.

“Bugging,” said Hermione.

“Muggle bugging?” said Niamh.

“Not electronic bugs,” said Hermione with a smile.

“Nope!” said Ginny.  “You see, Skeeter is an illegal Animagus.  She can turn into - ”

Ginny reached into her bag and pulled out a small glass jar.

“ – a beetle.”

“You’re kidding,” said Ron.

“You didn’t…” began Mika, nodding at the jar.

“She did,” said Hermione.

Ginny grinned and waggled the jar in their faces.  Inside was, indeed, a large, fat beetle.

“See the markings around her antennae?” said Hermione, pointing.  “They’re just like those foul glasses.”

Harry peered at the bug for a moment then looked at Ginny.

“Good show, Gin.”

“Thank you,” said Ginny proudly.  “I told her she’s stuck with me until she stops writing lies about people.  And if she doesn’t, I’ll hex her so much she won’t be recognizable.”

“Be an improvement to what she looks like now,” said Mika, tapping the jar.  The bug inside buzzed angrily against the glass.  “What a sly thing you are, Gin.”

“Thank you,” said Ginny, putting the jar back in her bag.

As she did, the door of their compartment slid open.

Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and several other Slytherins stood there, looking right pleased with themselves.  Harry noted that Draco was not among them.

“How clever you all think you are,” sneered Pansy.  “You caught a reporter and Potter’s all high and mighty again.  But the mighty do fall.”

Everyone in the compartment reached for his or her wand, excluding Harry, who just glared at Pansy.  Above his head Jardin spread his wings and let out a sort of hiss, eyes gleaming.  From Harry’s wrist, Hedwig issued her own cry, hissing loudly and saying rather rude things.

“I bet your all trying to pretend it didn’t happen,” said Pansy.  “Fat chance.  You all picked the losing side.  Now that the Dark Lord has returned, all of them (she nodded her head at everyone but Harry) will be the first to go.”

“Or second really,” sneered Blaise, “now that Diggory’s gone - ”

There was a loud bang and a flash of light and then the Slytherins were lying unconscious in the hallway.  Harry stood by the door, his back to his friends.  He looked up and down the hall then shut the door, still standing there.  Niamh rose and went to him, touching his shoulder.

He looked at her and Niamh swore that his eyes were completely and totally black for a moment.  Then they were green again.

He smiled at her and said, “Well, that takes care of them, doesn’t it?”

Niamh grinned and everyone laughed nervously as the sat back down and went back to their conversation.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

When the train stopped, the six people in the compartment grabbed their things and walked out over the still unconscious Slytherins.  Niamh was the last one out and she paused for a moment, flicking her wand at them, then walking out with a wide grin on her face.  Anyone who would have been behind her would have seen tentacles growing on all of the Slytherins faces.

As the six of them met out on the platform, Fred and George came up to them, grinning at Harry.

“With us again, aye, Harry?”

“Such fun we’ll have.”

“Mind if we borrow your snake?”

Harry chuckled and said, “I think she’d bite the two of you.”

“She’s not poisonous.”

< I can make her so, > said Jardin, from his perch on Harry’s shoulder.

The twins looked at the bird then at Harry.

“Could he?” they both asked.

Harry only shrugged then saw the others heading away from them towards the barrier.  He started after them then said, “Fred, George.  Wait a minute.”

The twins stopped and stared at him as he opened his trunk and reached inside, pulling out the bag of gold, his winnings from the tournament.  He closed the trunk with a snap and thrust the sack at them.

“Here.”

George said, “We couldn’t.”

“Take it,” said Harry.  “I don’t want it.  Use it for your jokes.  I think we all could use a laugh.”

“Harry,” said Fred, looking at the bag, “we couldn’t…”

“You can and you will,” said Harry, thrusting the bag into Fred’s hands.  “I don’t need it and I don’t want it.  And if you two don’t take it, I’m going to toss it into the nearest lake.”

The twins looked at the bag then at him.

“Harry,” breathed George, “there’s got to be a thousand Galleons in here.”

“Yeah,” said the dark-haired teen.  “Imagine how many Canary Creams and fake wands that’ll make.”

“Just,” he added, “don’t tell your mum where you got it…and for Slytherin’s sake and everyone else’s, buy Ron some new dress robes.  And don’t hug me or I’ll hex the two of you so badly your descendants in 5089 will feel it.”  This last was because the two of them looks like they were going to jump him.

Mrs. Weasley was waiting patiently beyond the barrier for them.  She enveloped him in a hug when she saw him then hugged Hermione and Niamh as the two girls got set to leave as their parents approached.  She smiled and said to them, “You two are always welcome at the Burrow.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” said the two girls.  As Hermione’s parents stood waiting for her, she said goodbye to her friends and hugged Harry, to the teen’s great surprise.

“Bye, Harry!”

“See you, Mione!” yelled Ginny after her.

Then Niamh’s mother appeared, a nervous little wisp of a woman.  She waved at her daughter, who turned to her friends and said, “Oh, Slytherin, I’m going to miss the lot of you.  Don’t do anything exciting without me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Ginny.

“We would!” chorused the twins.

Niamh shook her head at them then looked at Harry for a long moment.  She then gave him a long hug and said, “You be careful, mate.”

“You too,” said Harry, remembering her father’s reaction to him and his own father going to her house and snatching her away before their third year.

Niamh smiled at him then went to join her mother.  Harry watched them until they disappeared then he turned to the Weasley’s, who were all waiting for him.  He grinning at them and said, “Shall we go?”

Mrs. Weasley smiled and said, “Indeed we shall.  Come along now.”

Harry trailed along behind Ron as they left King’s Cross, Ginny walking beside him.  He looked at Jardin on his shoulder then at Hedwig on his wrist.  As they exited the station, he saw Hermione getting into the car with her parents and Niamh and her mother shoving her trunk into their car.

He smiled as he and the Weasley’s shoved their luggage into a new car the Weasley’s had gotten.

Despite the events of the last year, it seemed to him that this summer would be one of the best he may yet ever have.