Harry barely made it to dinner that night. He had been caught up in the next entry of Salazar’s journal. It spoke of an incident in one of his potions lessons. A Ravenclaw student, thinking they knew more than the professor, decided to change the order in which he added his ingredients to ‘increase the function of the potion’, in the boy’s words.

Needless to say, it did not work as intended. Instead, the potion had blown up in the boy’s face and he’s spent the next two weeks in the hospital wing.

Harry was reminded of Neville when he read that.

Harry arrived just about as late as he could, without ever actually being late, as was the norm with him recently. Hermione had saved him a seat but he chose to side onto the end of the bench instead. Hermione pretended that she wasn’t looking at him when he did o. She pretended that she wasn’t hurt too.

Ron nudged her to face him and muttered something that Harry couldn’t hear from so far away. Hermione seemed to nod in acceptance and turned to face the front of the room.

“Not long ago, you were told of the TriWizard tournament, how you may enter, and what it entails.” Dumbledore’s voice rolled over the students in the hall. A whisper of excitement passed over the hall at the statement. A short wave from the elderly headmaster gained silence again. “Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the champion selection!” He finished with a flourish of his hand.

The flames changed from blue to red as the first champion was about to be announced. Harry looked on and wondered if he could create fire like that and use it to burn down the Dursley’s home once he’s left. He smiled to himself and decided that he would have to do more reading on the subject, maybe there would be something in Salazar’s study.

The Goblet spat out a piece of paper which the headmaster caught deftly in one hand. His eyes scanned over the paper and then looked up.

“The Durmstrang Champion,” He announced, “Is Viktor Krum!” Cheers rose from the area the Durmstrang students had situated themselves. A tall, broad shouldered boy rose from the see of students and made his way down to where Dumbledore waited to shake his hand.

Harry wondered idly if Krum knew any dark magic, he wouldn’t have been surprised. Igor Karkaroff was known to be an ex death eater, he surely would have passed some knowledge onto his students. Maybe he would pass some on to Harry if he asked.

Harry was itching with anticipation to read the next part of Salazar’s journal, he was just getting onto his own magical theories, when the next Champion was called; Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons.

A skinny girl with long, blonde hair stood from the table that has housing the girls from Beauxbatons. Her fellow classmates were clapping politely and smiling at her as she walked past.

Cedric Diggory was called up as the Hogwarts Champion. A roar ran through the Great Hall and Harry stood to leave. He was not a part of the tournament and, therefore, he didn’t care about it. But if he were… think of the power that could give him, being the first TriWizard Champion in so many years… and so young. The thought had Harry almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was sure there would be some books down in the study that he could use to help him defeat the other students, he just knew it. And to have that power over them as well, and no one would be any the wiser. His wand was cloaked and most of Salazar’s spells had either never been published or were long forgotten, no one would even realise that the magic he was performing was even dark.

Oh yes, Harry thought, that would be amazing.

Harry was about a foot away from the door when he heard his name called. His mouth dried up, had he just done that? Wanted to be a Champion so badly that his magic had made him one? No, he shook his head, impossible. His magic wasn’t that powerful yet and he knew it. This hadn’t been him.

He suddenly felt every eye in the room on his back. He shuddered. This was power, yes, holding everyone’s attention, but it was not his power. Not the power he wanted.

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore shouted. Harry spun slowly on his heel and cocked his head at the Headmaster. Dumbledore waved him forward and Harry’s thoughts were a whirring mess.

Power, glory, fame, dark magic, they’ll see, power, they’ll lock me up, power, they’ll call me the next Dark Lord, power, fear, dark and powerful, power, power, POWER!

The last raging thought jarred him back to reality. This was his addiction, the dark, the power, this was what he knew. This was all he knew.

Dumbledore ushered him through a door in the back of the hall. Harry let himself be led and, in a daze, stumbled through the door. He had never seen such vicious looks of hatred in his life. Krum looked as if he was about ready to rip Harry’s head from his shoulders, Fleur’s face was pinched in anger and her fists clenched at her sides. Cedric just looked confused.

Harry vaguely recalled the first time he had upset his Uncle Vernon. The first time he could remember, anyway. He never thought someone’s face could be scarier than Vernon’s had been then.

He was wrong.

He couldn’t quite remember what he had done, but he thought it had something to do with cooking. He was about the right age for his aunt to have been teaching him to cook and he was likely to have been making mistakes around that time.

It had been Aunt Petunia’s birthday. She had decided that she didn’t want to cook and Vernon was useless as a chef and cheap to boot. She wasn’t going to be going out for a meal. So it had been left to Harry to figure out.

He had been halfway through making a cake when it happened. A bird had flown through the open window and startled the young boy beating cake batter into dropping the bowl. I had fallen to the floor and smashed, the batter pooling on the floor and creating a sticky mess. Vernon had rushed in at the sound, his face already an alarming shade of red. Harry had frozen in terror. Vernon moved forwards, he’d had Harry pinned against the kitchen countertop before the boy had even realised that he had moved. Harry had jolted when he felt his back touch the edge and stared up wide eyed at his uncle.

“I-I-I’m s-s-so-orr-orry, u-un-cle Ver-Vernon.” He had stuttered out.

“Sorry?” Vernon had almost screeched. “You’re sorry, boy? After all we’ve done for you, you’re just ‘sorry’?” Harry saw Vernon reach for whatever blunt object it was that had been within his reach.

Harry launched himself out of the memory; he didn’t want to go any further. He noticed Dumbledore walk calmly into the room, only to be greeted with angry shouts. Harry moved himself into a corner. He could shut them all up, he knew he could. He could shut them all up, permanently. He knew the right cure to cut out their tongues; he wouldn’t find it particularly strenuous in any way. He’d already tried it on one of the school owls, he’d cut its beak right off with the spell. He didn’t know what had happened to the poor owl after that, but nor did he care enough to find out. 

“Harry,” he heard the Headmaster say to him, “did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?”

“No, sir.” Harry answered.

“Of course he didn’t, you fools.” Snape said suddenly. “The boy wasn’t in the Great Hall for the announcement; I doubt he even has a clue as to what you had to do to enter.” He sounded bored as he inwardly cursed himself for feeling sentiment toward the boy stood in front of him.

Snape had kept a particular eye out for Potter at breakfast that morning, as he had every morning since he’d noted the boy’s unusual absence and behaviour. He knew that the boy was already underweight, or close to it, at any rate. But Severus had always put it down to his small size. His hatred for the boy’s father and his love for Lily had prevented him from suspecting anything might be amiss at home, even with what he knew about Petunia and her petty jealousy.

Karkaroff faced Snape.

“The boy did not have to be in the room to have been able to find out how he could enter himself.” Igor spat.

“Well, ‘Ogwarts cannot ‘ave two Champions. It is not in the rules. I demand a second Champion.” Madame Maxine said in heavily accented English.

Harry zoned out as the adults in the room spoke. He’d felt the magic coming out of that thing, there would be no way for him to get out of the tournament. He didn’t mind. He thought he’d actually quite enjoy being involved. He could try out some of his new spells, and when he was asked about them he could claim it was instinct, like accidental magic, he was just desperate to protect himself. They might want to check his wand, but they wouldn’t find anything, all his dark magic was cloaked and hidden, nothing could find it. It was just another show of the power he had. Even the thought of it now brought on cravings to use it again. He wanted the power, he needed the power, and he was going to use the power just as soon as he got away from these imbeciles.

Harry filed out after the other three Champions. He kept his head down and stayed at the back of the pack as they spoke about the upcoming competition. Krum was loud and obnoxious, making bod statements about how he was going to win and bring glory to his school. Fleur held her head high and seemed to look down at the other competitors. She didn’t think they had a chance, she had the finest education in Europe, in her opinion, and these boys weren’t going to show her up. Cedric was quietly confident, he knew these other Champions had different schooling and may know things that he didn’t, but he wasn’t going to let that get him down. He would try his best to try to win and his was almost 100% sure that he could.

“Mister Potter.” Harry ignored his drawled name from the Potions Master and kept walking, right into the back of Cedric Diggory. Harry took a few steps back, instinctively getting out of striking range, and turned to face the Professor.

Snape’s face was half lit by a small candle in the corridor; it made him look more intimidating than usual. Harry suppressed a nervous gulp, his mood changing from blissful to terrified in a matter of seconds.

Snape inclined his head at the boy. He was pale and sweating. He didn’t think Potter knew about how he looked because the boy was acting perfectly healthy. He hadn’t stumbled down the corridor; he hadn’t swayed or clutched at something as if he was in pain. Snape frowned.

“I need a word.” He said. Harry looked slightly panicked for a second. No! He thought. I need to get away; I need to use my magic! I want to use my magic! Leave me alone!

“Professor, it’s nearly curfew I-“

“Can come with a teacher.” Snape glared down at the boy, he wasn’t going to allow him to get out of it. Harry hung his head and shifted from foot to foot.

“But I was awake early today, Professor, I’m really tired. I-“

“Missed breakfast.” Snape finished. “So how is it you were up so early,” he drawled, “and yet you missed the most important meal of the day?” Harry stayed silent. “Come with me, Mister Potter.”