As Things Should Have Been: The Goblet of Fire

A/N: I have often found fanfiction to be a great release for frustrations with how a certain storyline has transpired, no matter what particular fandom you might write in. As such, this is my attempt to right certain wrongs made by Miss Rowling. Not to say I don't enjoy her work, I wouldn't be here if I didn't, but allow me the attempt to presume just slightly as to how things should have gone.

The story picks up in the third year, when Harry and Hermione are waiting for their past selves to emerge from the Whomping Willow. The story will start with a conversation they have, and then things change from there (right off the bat I will tell you Sirius will not be free to take over for Harry's guardianship). Will eventually turn into a H/Hr story.

/ - / - / - /

Hermione Granger was in a bit of a quandary considering her current situation. If you had told her five years ago that she would currently be in her third year at a school for witchcraft and wizardry, have survived an attack from a mountain troll, helped stop a dark lord from attaining immortality, been turned into some kind of cat/human hybrid, been petrified, and have experience with traveling back and forth through time she would have likely called the men in white coats to take you away. The fact that, sitting here 5 years later, she found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary with any of these was a testament to how much one can change.

No, the problem she currently found herself facing was a problem that she had sworn would not become a problem. She had made a solemn vow with herself not to let these infatuations get out of hand. 5 years ago she never would have imagined such a problem. Two years ago such a problem was out of the question. Of course, fate had decided not to be cooperative in that regard.

The problem was Harry Potter.

The year had started off well enough. She was knee deep in her studies, so ignoring Harry and the new feelings he had begun to elicit deep within her gut was easy. But then those ruddy dementors had to go and cause Harry to fall off his broomstick. Never in her life had time seemed to creep to a standstill like at that moment as Harry slowly plummeted to what Hermione had thought was his doom. Her heart had wrenched solidly in her throat and she nearly refused to believe he was alright when Dumbledore had slowed him to the pitch.

Seeing him nearly die had reawoken the feelings that she had been quashing since the end of her second year. The feelings had actually begun much earlier than that, but in retrospect Hermione shrugged it off merely as simply being friendly. If it was anything more she might have best described it as sisterly affection.

Those feelings, or perhaps her perception of them, began to change shortly after she was petrified by the basilisk. She was consciously aware of almost everything going on around her, literally a prisoner within her own mind. She could also sense Harry's calming presence at nearly every waking hour in the hospital wing, occasionally hearing him talk about class or read homework to her, but mostly simply sitting there, watching over her. It awoke these dormant feelings again, or at least brought them directly to her attention.

And after entering the Great Hall and hugging him like two friends separated by long distance for long periods of time, she felt the overwhelming sensation of things simply being....right. Not that she could have put it into those kind of words at the time.

Time. That's really what all this had boiled down to slightly, she chuckled to herself, resituating herself on the cold hard ground. It had been some time away from Hogwarts, away from the world of magic, and most importantly away from Harry to make her realize that whatever she was feeling, it certainly was going in an entirely different direction from “sisterly affection.” That realization had nearly brought Hermione's world to a screeching halt, and for nearly a week after that she mulled about in her head trying to suss out what her feelings meant. She could analyze anything from a book, analytically dictate to you every single step and its logical purpose in the grand scheme of the final design, but when it came to matters of the heart she was as lost as Ron was in Snape's class. Eventually she came to the conclusion that her feelings were a combination of friendship, gratitude and maybe a hint of infatuation. Once the idea of infatuation was introduced, Hermione immediately shut down her emotions as best she could. She had seen what a simple school girl crush could do to people, having seen it turn her friend Ginny into the equivalent of a blithering idiot whenever Harry came around. Calm, cool, collected Hermione Granger would not let herself be reduced to a blithering idiot...

...until she remembered seeing Harry's broken body on the Quidditch pitch.

She had regained her resolve shortly after that, albeit only with distraction. She flung herself into her studies even moreso and took up Buckbeak's defense as an added distraction. It came to little surprise to her when she eventually suffered a near nervous breakdown with all the added stress. It didn't help matters that her innate feelings for Harry never were completely suppressed, and it was this reason, out of concern for Harry, that had led to the whole fiasco with the Firebolt.

The whole situation both relieved and tormented Hermione's mind. From her academic, analytical point of view she was nearly ecstatic. If Harry was ignoring her, then whatever infatuation she might have with him beyond a platonic one would quickly fade away. She could destroy these frivolous emotional outbursts, she had told herself, and move on with more worthwhile pursuits for someone of her intellect.

Her emotional conscience however, that annoying part of her logical mind that kept rearing its ugly head far more often than it had in the past, was quite literally beside itself. Even if she wanted nothing to do with Harry in terms of more illicit feelings, she'd still want him as a friend. Thankfully the whole incident had passed within a month or so and things had returned to a relative state of normality.

Until tonight.

She was currently reliving this night for the second time. She and Harry had been tasked by Dumbledore, in his indirect manner of course, to save both Buckbeak and Harry's godfather. The first task they had already seen too. The second task was what she assumed Harry was trying to figure out while he waited.

“It's going to be great,” Harry suddenly said from his position sitting next to a tree slightly in front of Hermione. She turned to look at the side of his face, perplexed by his comment.

“What will be,” she finally asked in wonder.

“Living with Sirius,” Harry responded without flinching. He kept a forward gaze, never once glancing towards Hermione, but she could tell he had a small smile on his face. He looked oddly relaxed and calm at the time, a combination that Hermione rarely saw in Harry. In spite of it all, he still held out hope of being able to rescue Sirius that night. Hermione listened as Harry continued on.

“I'll finally be at a place where I can live like a normal person, be a halfway normal teenager for once.” He stopped and got a far away look in his eyes, the calm and serenity seeming to make him forget that anyone else was there. He seemingly rambled to himself, “No more Dursleys. No more beatings. No more being called a freak every other sentence. No more bloody cupboards....” he stopped as the realization of what he was doing hit him, ending the calm and serenity with which he spoke. Hermione watched with equal parts fascination and fear as Harry's slight smirk quickly faded away to a emotionless mask, borderline on a slight scowl.

Hesitantly, she leaned forward, still trying to digest some of what Harry had let slip. “Harry, what do you mean, no more beatings?” She could see him wince, he hadn't wanted to tell her. She knew that Harry didn't have a great homelife. She knew that his relatives weren't exactly the nicest people in the world, but she didn't truly have a good picture of what was going on.

“Nothing,” Harry finally said, trying desperately to divert the questions, “It's nothing.” Hermione however wouldn't let it drop. She scooted slightly closer to Harry and spoke softly.

“Harry, it's alright...you can talk about anything you want to with me.” Suddenly many things about Harry Potter seemed to come into a clear light. He had always been emotionally aloof, although compared to Ron he was certainly not lacking in that department. He also aimed to please people, albeit with a certain rebellious streak that he must have inherited from his father. She watched as Harry sighed and shook his head, unwilling to discuss things at the moment. Hermione nodded, and placed a hand on his shoulder, sitting there in silence.

Though the issue didn't come up the rest of the night, a small seed was planted in the back of Hermione's head, and a nagging voice kept telling her to make things right.

/ - / - / - /

Sleep did not come for Hermione that night. She tossed and turned regularly as she tried to put Harry's slight confession out of her head. It was a futile effort however. She needed time alone to her thoughts, time alone to suss things out. Even though she could count herself as alone for the moment figuratively speaking, even in a room with two other sleeping girls she felt too crowded in her thoughts. Sighing she got out of bed and made her way downstairs to the common room.

To her surprise she found someone sitting on the couch below, staring into the fireplace. She cautiously found herself drawn to the lone figure, called by some unseen force. Her breath caught when she saw those windswept ebony locks that could only belong to one person. Green eyes turned to see who had joined him in his solitude, and a weak smile crossed Harry's face when he recognized Hermione. “Hi,” he croaked, his voice wavering slightly. Hermione furrowed her brow in concern and made her way towards him, once again drawn by a nagging voice in her head. Harry was hurting about something, she deciphered, she needed to help him. All thoughts of spending time alone were immediately cast aside.

She made her way around the sprawling common room and took a seat next to Harry, sitting as close as she could without it being too awkward. She closely examined his face, seeing that he had been crying about something. The tears were still fresh on his cheeks and his eyes were slightly puffy. “Harry what's wrong,” she asked, tentatively placing a hand on his knee. Harry offered a soft smile and looked at her, seeming to try and judge her countenance. It was an odd look he gave him, and it was a bit uncomfortable to Hermione. She'd never been examined visually by anyone, at least not on an emotional level before. It was as if Harry was at war with himself to tell her....something. Perhaps exactly why he had been crying in the first place. He looked down at his shoes, contemplating his words, and nodded his head slightly to himself, before looking back towards the fire and then at Hermione.

“Hermione,” he began, his voice cracking at the beginning. He cleared his throat and continued. “Hermione, I just want to thank you. I know I never show you the gratitude you deserve.” Hermione's eyes went wide but Harry didn't notice, he just continued.

“You treat me better than any other person in this world ever has. Even Ron and his family, much as I....care for them, can be a bit...much. But you, you're different somehow. You're just....Hermione and....and I guess that's enough.” He scratched the back of his head. “I'm probably sounding like a bumbling fool right now, aren't I?” Hermione shook her head, smiling.

“No Harry, that was just fine.” She paused before adding, “And you don't have to thank me Harry. I appreciate the gesture, but I'll always be there for you, no matter if you thank me or not. But your welcome all the same.” There were a few moments of palpable silence before Hermione shot in again. “So are you going to tell me what was wrong?” Harry dropped his head, before a slightly wry smile crossed his face, mixed with a show of sorrow.

“I guess it was too much to hope for that you wouldn't pry,” he whispered under his breath. Hermione winced, but Harry immediately grasped her hand. “I'm sorry...it's just that...” he swallowed deeply, “I'm no good at this deep personal talking stuff. It's just one of those things I never did with the Dursleys because....” he stopped again, obviously afraid to continue. Hermione knew she was at a crossroads. Here Harry was as close as he had ever been to opening up, to probably anyone, and she didn't want to let this opportunity pass. Reaching forward again she took his hand in her own and squeezed it as a sign of support.

“I'm not going anywhere Harry,” she firmly yet gently stated, and she pulled closer to him, draping her arm over his shoulders. He let out a shuddered breath at the contact, and closed his eyes, nodding his head again and biting his bottom lip....

...and everything started pouring out. He told the tales of how he was locked in the cupboard underneath the stairs for the first ten years of his life. Of how any sign of weakness was met with ridicule and humiliation. Of how any sign of his superiority to Dudley in any way, academically or otherwise, was met with a fierce punishment. He carefully spoke of being beaten on several occasions, whether it be as simple as a slap across the face or a broken arm or something as horrendous as having scalding hot water being thrown at your back for no better reason than you tried to get something to eat. With each new revelation, Hermione felt her heart twist and contort in painful reverberations. How could anyone be so callous, she asked herself. How could anyone be so cruel? She kept a firm watch on Harry as he continued to wind off story after story, the flood waters pouring out. About halfway through tears started coming down his face again, and he had to pause at times. It seemed like hours before he had finished, but it was actually closer to ten minutes before Harry finally stopped. He took several deep breaths, on the verge of total emotional collapse, before he continued.

“I don't know why I'm telling you all of this,” he said, trying to wipe his eyes and put on his usual brave face, “I guess with Sirius and being so close to getting away from them I just....I just couldn't hold it in anymore.” Hermione could tell he was trying desperately to simply just be weeping softly and not to complete explode in a show of emotion. All of the pent up anger, frustration and self-loathing that had been building behind a wall of steel had finally been released in a short timespan, and Hermione did the only thing she could to help him weather the storm. She stood up and moved closer to him, pulling him over and letting him cry into her shoulder, hugging him fiercely all the while. Quickly Harry let loose with his emotions, and openly cried for several minutes. Hermione sat silent, her only sounds that of reassuring whispers of comfort. Eventually Harry's tears became less frequent, and his sobs reduced to whimpers. Hermione took the time to break the hug and looked at him with genuine friendship radiating out of every fiber of her being.

“Thank you for trusting me with these things Harry,” she said, obviously showing gratitude. “I want you to know that if you ever need a shoulder to cry on again, I'm right here.”

“Thank you Hermione,” he brokenly said, sniffing away a few last muffled sobs. “I'm sorry for ruining your shirt like that.”

“Oh it's nothing a little drying charm can't fix,” she said with a smile. Her smile faded however as she looked at Harry with worried eyes. “Harry, we can fix this. We can make it so that those horrible people can't to these things to you anymore.” Harry shook his head but Hermione stopped him. “I'll be here to help, just like I always am,” she reassured him. Harry smiled again and tried to look enthused, though she could tell he was very reticent. “Does anyone else know about this?” she asked in an academic fashion.

“Fred and George suspect something,” he finally said after several seconds of thought. “They've seen....seen the bruises in the Quidditch locker room. But they've never said anything to me about it. I think Ron might know too, at least part of it. But no one else knows the whole truth.” He looked a bit hesitant, “If you weren't my best friend in the world I probably wouldn't have told you....or told anyone. When I was in second grade I tried to tell a teacher but she didn't believe me. Uncle Vernon found out and slapped me something awful. He broke my arm actually that time. Locked me in the cupboard for a week with nothing to eat or drink.” He quickly paused as the tears threatened to return, but he maintained his composure.

“They are horrible monsters Harry,” Hermione said with great resolve in her voice. “Nothing gives anyone the right to treat another human being like that.” She paused, biting her lower lip as she prepared for her next question, “Have you ever told Professor Dumbledore? Or Professor McGonagall? Have you told any professor any of this?” Harry shook his head.

“I was afraid they wouldn't believe me,” he sheepishly replied, “I still don't know if they would.”

“Dumbledore would,” Hermione said after a few moments thought. “He'd have to.” She grasped Harry's hand and turned his gaze to meet hers. “Harry, if I go with you, would you tell Dumbledore what you've told me?” Harry looked down, his eyes wide. “If you did,” Hermione continued, “We might be able to get you away from those awful people once and for all.”

Harry thought about it for several moments while Hermione held her breath. If she was going to be able to help Harry further, she thought, she had to be able to bring all of this to Dumbledore's attention. Surely once he had an idea of Harry's homelife, he wouldn't think of sending him back there.

“You'd go with me,” Harry repeated, seemingly only for his own peace of mind. Hermione nodded her head in affirmation. After a few more minutes he nodded. “All right, I guess we can give it a try.” Hermione smiled and gave Harry a hug.

“Thank you for letting me help you,” she said as Harry hesitantly returned the close embrace. He held on for a bit longer, seeming to cling to her a bit, before they each let go. Harry tried to stifle a bit of a yawn and Hermione smirked. “You should probably get to bed, we have a big day tomorrow.”

“You're right,” he said, standing up to which she followed suit. “Thank you for being my best friend Hermione. Merlin knows I don't deserve someone as kind and gentle as you.” Hermione offered a bit of a frown mixed with a smile.

“Harry, never think yourself unworthy of anyone's friendship and....” she stopped, she almost let slip the L-word. She quickly caught herself, “caring,” she finished. If Harry noticed the misstep, he wasn't letting on, which caused Hermione to breath an internal sigh of relief. Much as he seemed to trust her, Hermione was still certain that he didn't care for her....that way. Each of them lingered in the other's presence for a moment longer, before walking towards the stairs. They parted at the break to the dorm's, and headed for their respective beds. Sleep was once again found by both of them that night.

If some one were to walk down the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they would see the usual students milling about. It was a Sunday, and there would only be two more days of exams to be followed by the end of term leaving feast and then departing on Wednesday. Being that it was Sunday, many of the students were holed up in the library studying, out enjoying the warm summer day, or simply having a lie in that morning before their final exams.

Normally you would count Hermione Granger among those who would be in the library. But not today. She was walking with a purpose towards the Headmaster's office, having gotten permission to speak with him that morning during breakfast. When she mentioned Harry would be with her, Dumbledore didn't seem too eager to dismiss her or pass her on to his deputy McGonagall. Harry was trailing behind her, his head hung low a bit with the realization of what he had gotten himself into and the deep-seeded fear that somehow all of this would get back to his aunt and uncle and that he'd really be in for it this time.

Hermione didn't let such thoughts enter into her head. Her single-minded focus was easily summated into two words, “Help Harry.” Nothing else really mattered at the moment. It was a complete reversal from trying to distance herself by throwing herself in her studies earlier in the year. If nothing else she was repaying a debt. Harry had saved her, and the entire school, from the basilisk the year before. Now it was her turn to help him. A simple exchange, is what she told the logical side of her mind that was yelling in her ear that she should be studying right now.

As they approached the gargoyle, Hermione did not break stride, but stopped short when she stopped hearing the soft sounds of Harry following her. She tilted her head as she saw him standing there, his head hung as low as it could get without actually being on the floor, his fists clenched. He was fighting with himself to not lose it again, here outside of the safety of the Gryffindor common room, outside of the safety of Hermione's arms. Hermione walked back to him hesitantly, glancing down as she tried to look into his eyes. There, deep in those emerald orbs of his, was an emotion she was not used to seeing in Harry. He may have shown the emotion before when confronted with dementors, with a werewolf, and with any other manner of creatures that he had come across in his young life, but she had never seen it so clearly and yet so deeply ingrained in his soul at the same time.

It was fear.

Quickly she draped her arm over Harry's shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Harry looked up at her, and though no words were exchanged, he seemed to calm at her presence. Taking a deep breath, they walked toward the gargoyle protecting the headmaster's office. “Caramel Creams,” Hermione clearly stated, and the statue swung out of the way. They both rode the spiral staircase up a floor or so, before stopping at the large oak door. Hermione knocked solidly three times, before receiving affirmation to enter.

Hermione had only been in the headmaster's office on one other occasion, at the beginning of term when Dumbledore had authorized McGonagall to give her the Time Turner. At that time she had been too focused on her schedule to be able to appreciate the sights of his office. Books lined all of the shelves surrounding her, save for one small mirrored cabinet to the side. On various shelves sat several silver instruments, spinning, puffing, and whirring in a kind of melodic cacophony that was oddly soothing and yet extremely annoying at the same time. To the right of the headmaster's desk was the most beautiful bird she had ever laid eyes on, though his feathers did appear to be a bit ruffled. She had never met Fawkes before, and she forgot her place for a moment to approach the bird. Fawkes offered a sharp trill, one that brought comfort to both Harry and Hermione. Hermione hesitantly reached up to stroke the birds feathers...

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Harry said in an even tone, his voice not reflecting the nervousness he was hiding inside. Hermione turned to look at him as if he'd grown a second head, but she saw the sly grin on his face. Shaking her head, she moved to touch Fawkes on the head...

....only to draw her hand back and yelp in shock when Fawkes burst into flames.

Harry let out a laugh, the first genuine laugh he'd really made in about 24 hours, and Hermione tried to offer him a disapproving glare, though the smile she was fighting was making it harder to do so. “I warned you,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders but still smiling.

“I see he finally decided to give up the ghost, to quote a muggle phrase,” came a third voice from the room. The two teens stopped their laughing and immediately turned to see Albus Dumbledore emerging from a small study behind his desk. His eyes were twinkling madly as he gracefully made his way around his large chair and gave a tentative glance into the pile of ashes where Fawkes had once sat. “It's a pity you had to catch him on his burning day Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said with a frown. There was a small squawk from the ash pile, and a small white chick emerged, shaking itself off and squawking again. Dumbledore laughed to himself before turning back to Harry and Hermione. He reached into his robes and pulled out a small package. “Can I interest either of you in a lemon drop?” The two teens shook their heads and pulled up a chair in front of the headmaster's desk, Hermione sitting up straight and Harry slightly slouched over, staring at his folded hands. Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow at this but said nothing. He tossed one of the candies into his mouth and placed the package back into his robes before turning towards Hermione.

“What is it that you wished to speak to me about Miss Granger. It seemed to be a matter of some urgent need.” Hermione nodded and turned to Harry, who cleared his throat.

“Actually sir, I asked Hermione to come with me to....talk to you.” He licked his lips and looked up at the headmaster. Dumbledore immediately noticed the tears welled up behind the boy's eyes, and his brow immediately furrowed with concern. Whatever was going on was serious, he could immediately figure that out. Harry played with his fingers, muttering under his breath, “I'm sorry if we're bothering you....I'm sure you have more important things to worry about then....” he stopped, taking a deep breath. This was incredibly hard for him, whatever it was.

“I'm here Harry,” came a strong confident voice from his side, and Hermione grabbed Harry's hand with her own, squeezing it strongly. Harry nodded and looked up at the headmaster, who was examining the scene closely.

“Nonsense Harry,” Dumbledore replied with a grandfatherly smile, “There's nothing more important to me then the well being of my stu....” he stopped in midstream when he saw Harry flinch at the word “well-being.” What was wrong with Harry? Dumbledore immediately asked himself. This might have something to do with Sirius....or perhaps poor Remus' forced resignation. But Harry had handled worse things in stride, what was causing him this much agony.

“Harry, you have to tell him,” Hermione firmly yet softly stated. “It's the only way to make it stop....to make them stop once and for all.” Harry nodded to the ground, still clinging to Hermione's hand as if it were a lifeline. He took a shuddered breath, and began to speak.

The confession came out slower than it did the night before, and Harry didn't reveal as much as he had to Hermione, speaking in more generalized terms. All the while Hermione kept her gaze on the headmaster. His face was a literal mask. She was internally worried as Harry mechanically recounted his tale. Shouldn't he be showing outrage? Shouldn't he be showing at least some kind of outward emotion? Finally Harry finished his story, and it seemed that he also saw the lack of emotion on Dumbledore's face for the way he hung his head, partly in fear, and partly in embarrassment and shame. Hermione squeezed his hand again. If nothing else, it would do him cathartic good to speak about these things, so that she could help him realize that, no matter what, these things were not his fault.

“Harry,” the headmaster croaked forward, with none of the usual twinkling in his eyes, “Why did you never tell me these things?” Harry seemed a bit taken aback by the question, but swallowed a gulp of air.

“I....I was afraid that....you wouldn't believe me sir,” he finally confessed. Hitherto he had managed to keep control on his emotions, control which slipped an ounce as he confessed his fear. Dumbledore nodded, seemingly out of understanding, before he let out a deep sigh.

“Harry, I originally placed you in the care of your Aunt and Uncle for two reasons.” Hermione internally scoffed at the idea that those horrible people could care for anyone properly. “Firstly, and most importantly, was for your protection from Voldemort's followers. The type of sacrifice that your dear mother Lily made for you left a lingering protection that I took advantage of. As long as you were able to call the residence of one of your mother's relatives as home, then there would be a type of protection against the surviving Death Eaters and, if he ever did return, against Lord Voldemort himself.” He paused, carefully considering his next words, before his face seemed to change before them. In an instant he went from a kind-hearted, slightly off kilter yet formidable presence to that of a feeble old man, wracked with guilt. “The other reason was to try and offer you some semblance of a childhood, away from all the notoriety and fame that you have no doubt come in contact since your first year here.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, taking a deep sigh before he continued.

“It seems that it is in this respect that I have failed you. I sacrificed a small measure of your happiness for a small measure of protection, and in doing so have given you neither.” Taking a deep, measured breath, he turned his gaze completely toward Harry and looked almost, desperate. “I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive an old fool and his mistakes.”

Harry was partly dumbstruck at this turn of events. He was almost certain that he had practically signed his death warrant a few moments ago, that Dumbledore wouldn't have believed him, would have told the Dursleys and that the summer would be a literal hell on Privet Drive. Now he was faced with a throughly chastised wizard who was practically begging him for forgiveness. Recognizing he had to say something, he internally shook himself out of a stupor and offered what he could of a smile.

“It wasn't your fault Professor,” he quietly said, trying to keep his eyes firmly fixed on Dumbledore. “I'm sure you were just doing what you thought best.” A small part of him did want to blame Dumbledore for the whole fiasco, but this part of him was completely drowned out by the fiber of his wondered being at the burden he had relieved himself of.

Everyone sat in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next. It was Hermione who cleared her throat and spoke first. “Harry forgives you headmaster, but the question is what can we do about it?” Dumbledore nodded, and spoke more firmly.

“It's clear to me now that sending Mr. Potter back to the Dursleys is simply out of the question, despite the wards of protection that it would provide.” If Harry had tried to look more surprised, he would have failed. He stared at the headmaster with a shocked look on his face, borderlining on some kind of euphoric spasm that was withheld only by disbelief. Hermione simply breathed a sigh of relief. Though it was what she expected to happen, hearing Professor Dumbledore definitively stay that Harry would not return to those, it was hard to think of them as people at that moment, brought a relief to her weary mind.

“Of course, that raises the question of where you are to stay Harry. You cannot remain here at Hogwarts over the summer, the Governors would hear none of it, though I'm sure Hagrid would take you in if he was asked. Molly and Arthur would gladly take you in as well.” At this, much to Hermione's surprise, Harry shook his head.

“I don't want to impose on anyone sir,” he meekly said, seeming resigned to some pessimistic fate. “The summer is the only time that Mr. & Mrs. Weasley get to see their children, and I don't want to intrude on that.” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in concern. Clearly Harry was either deluding himself, or worse yet incapable of seeing that Molly cared for him as if he were her own. For a moment, Dumbledore was bewildered with what to say next, before his train of thought was interrupted by Hermione.

“You could stay with me Harry,” she offered, with a small bit of hesitation lurking at the back of her voice. The two wizards in the room turned to her quickly, as she had a bit of a sheepish look on her face, “That is....if you...um....want to....that is.” She suddenly found herself completely at a loss for words. She didn't really know where the idea had come from, outside of the standing invitation she had from her parents to invite a friend over for the summer. Dumbledore looked to have no real reaction to the offer, but it was Harry's reaction she was most concerned with. He offered a sad smile to her.

“I appreciate the offer Hermione but....” he stopped, contemplating what to say, “I don't want to impose on your parents either. You and Ron have families that you hardly ever get to spend time with except during the holidays. There's no way I can intrude on that.”

“You wouldn't be intruding on anything Harry,” Hermione firmly stated, causing him to glance back at her with something akin to wonder in his eyes. “My parents told me I could invite a friend over for the summer and besides, it'd only be for a month. Remember we were going to stay with the Weasleys after your birthday for the Quidditch World Cup.” Realization dawned on Harry, having forgotten about the plans they had made for after his birthday. “And honestly,” she said, biting her bottom lip, “With Mum and Dad working all the time, it'd be nice to have some company around the house for a change.” Harry cocked his head slightly at seeing Hermione look the least bit vulnerable, but said nothing. He looked back to the headmaster, having made something of a decision in his mind relatively quickly at this show of emotion, and Dumbledore merely nodded.

“I believe I should defer to you in this instance Harry,” he resignedly said, “After all I believe you to have better judgment concerning this matter at the moment.”

“I'd love to stay with you Hermione,” Harry said, turning back to his best friend, who breathed a tinier sigh of relief this time, “That is as long as your parents aren't put out by it.”

“We'll go owl them right now,” Hermione said with the same single-minded determination she had shown earlier. Harry nodded and turned back to the headmaster, smiling at him.

“Thank you sir for....for listening. For, believing me.” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling once more.

“Words cannot express my regrets at having failed you Harry,” he said with resolve, “But rest assured that I will do everything in my power to try and rectify that situation.”

/ - / - / - /

A quick trip to the owlry and instructions to Hedwig to be as quick as possible in delivering the letter to Hermione's parents having been accomplished, Harry and Hermione found themselves walking by the Black Lake, simply enjoying the warm day. All thoughts of studying for the upcoming Charms exam was left out of their minds as they simply strolled along the shoreline. The Giant Squid raised a tentacle out of the water, splashing it down to the side as if to say hello to the young pair. Harry stopped near a lone tree on the rocky shoreline and bent over to pick up a small rock to toss skip across the water. Hermione sat down, shaking her head and letting the sun warm her body. Harry took the time to sit down next to her, a grin firmly plastered on his face. It was a far cry from the trembling boy that Hermione had held so close the night before. She turned to evaluate his countenance, smiling at how relieved he seemed. It was rare that he saw him this calm, this...at peace, and it nearly made her lose herself in the moment.

“Hermione,” Harry suddenly said, breaking her out of her revelry. She moved her eyes up to his and saw nothing but friendship and, something akin to adoration if she could best describe it.

“Yes Harry,” she said, the logical side of her mind fighting its way out of hiding, trying to get her to quell her emotions again.

“I know you said I didn't have to but....I want to thank you, for everything. If you hadn't...if I...” he fumbled with his words, and took a deep breath, staring back down at the ground. He seemed to be having a conversation with himself. “I want you to know that I really do appreciate all of this, you didn't have to go through all this trouble for me.” Hermione smiled at him, but internally frowned. She saw the next problem that needed tackling, as far as she was concerned. The idea of “Help Harry” was still tantamount in her brain to practically anything else. His lack of self-esteem, more specifically his lack of self-worth, was beginning to worry her. Knowing now what she did, it was easy to figure out where it came from; being called a freak and worthless for reasons you couldn't possibly understand for the first ten years of your life would do that to a person. She simply placed her hand on his knee and smiled at him.

“Yes I did,” she said with finality, enough to counter any argument that Harry might counter with. There were a few moments of silence, as Harry seemed to have something else on his mind. Before long he stood up, a gesture followed by Hermione.

“Let's get back to the castle,” he said, “I know you'll probably want to study for tomorrow and I have to talk with McGonagall. I'll see you later, alright?” Hermione just nodded, wondering what in the world Harry needed to talk to McGonagall about. Harry just smiled as he saw Hermione's face slightly contorting in thought, “I'll tell you about it later. Say, tomorrow after class?” Hermione nodded and Harry gave a broad grin, before beginning the trek back up to the castle.

/ - / - / - /

The next day passed without incident, and it was in the evening that Hermione found herself studying her notes last minute for her last examination of the term. She glanced up from her parchment and sighed, as she saw Harry and Ron emersed in another game of Wizard's Chess. Though she knew that neither one of them was taking Arithmancy, it still would be nice to see them hit the books for the Divination final that they had coming up.

“Bishop to c3,” Ron clearly intoned, and Harry scrunched his face a bit in frustration as Ron smirked at having placed Harry in checkmate...again. “That's game mate.” Harry nodded and made to get up, grabbing a book as he did.

“Think I should study for Divination tomorrow,” he rhetorically asked, smirking. Hermione just scoffed, muttering to herself an honestly, while Ron just shook his head.

“She's just as likely to say there's no point in giving a test, that she already knows how we're going to do and just give us that grade.” Ron pointed out. Hermione glanced up from her notes, outrage apparent on her face.

“Honestly Ron, there's no way she'd do....that. The Headmaster would have her head.” Harry nodded and set the book back down on the table. He moved over closer to the roaring fire in the common room, glancing into the flames for a few moments.

“I could just make up rubbish of some sort. You know, take a shot in the dark and see if I get something right. It's not like I'm ever going to take the course again.” Ron stared at Harry as if he had missed something, while Hermione's eyes suddenly went wide.

“That's why you went to McGonagall,” she said with sudden realization. Harry blushed a bit and scratched the back of his head while turning back towards them. He had forgotten to let Hermione in on his little surprise that afternoon.

“Whoa wait stop,” Ron quickly said, catching up with the conversation, “You went to McGonagall?” Harry nodded.

“Yeah, I meant to tell you but, I guess it just slipped my mind. I asked her to let me drop divination and sign up for runes and arithmancy.” Ron stared at him wide-eyed, while Hermione summoned up all of her inner control to quash a girlish squee.

“Oh Harry,” she happily said, “That's so great! I'll finally have some company in those classes.” Harry smiled at her.

“It wasn't just that reason,” he quickly said, as if covering something, “I couldn't stand another year with that woman. Inner Eye my arse.” He turned to Ron, who looked to be fighting with himself about something, looking closely at Harry and Hermione, before looking down. Harry couldn't exactly tell, but there was something off setting about his appearance.

“I guess I could sign up for runes,” he finally said. He perked up for a moment and offered a smile, “After all, I'm not going to rot in that class with all her predictions of gloom and doom.”

“I hope you know what you're getting into mate,” Harry said as he sat back down on the couch. “McGonagall said that it was possible, but that I'd be far behind in the class and that she couldn't guarantee I'd be able to catch up.” Ron seemed to turn flush at this little announcement.

“Bloody hell Harry, what have you gotten yourself into.” Hermione cocked her head interestingly at Harry's response. She was beginning to suspect that his abilities were far more engrossing than his grades and study habits seemed to let on. No doubt more of the Dursley's influence was to blame. Harry just simply shrugged his shoulders and didn't offer a response. They were interrupted by a solemn hoot coming from the upstairs area. Apparently someone had left a window open. A white blur came flying through the common room, ignoring the cries from the portraits in the room, and landed straight in front of the trio.

“Hedwig,” Harry exclaimed with a bit of joy. He reached forward and stroked the birds feathers, earning another hoot from his familiar. Hedwig held out her leg and Harry took the parchment from her. Surprisingly Hedwig seemed to glare at him reproachfully, but was quickly back up in the air and out the open window, no doubt to gather up what would normally be her breakfast for the night. Harry looked a bit puzzled at Hedwig's behavior, till he noticed that the letter was addressed to Hermione. Blushing a bit, he handed the letter to her. Hermione eagerly accepted it, guessing that it was from her parents.

“Why would Hedwig give a letter to Hermione,” Ron asked. Harry was about to answer when a loud squeal of joy came from Hermione. The two of them both turned to Hermione with somewhat gobsmacked looks on their faces, having never heard such a....Lavender-esque sound from Hermione before. She immediately looked up and blushed at the reaction.

“Sorry.” She paused before continuing with her elation, “Oh Harry it's wonderful! My parents agreed and said you could stay with me through your birthday! You don't have to go back to that horrid place again.”

Harry blinked for a few moments before a smile started to inch its way across his face. Before long it was spreading from ear to ear and he was cackling like a madman, having never felt so happy in his entire life. In one fell swoop he scooped up Hermione in a hug and twirled her around the room, still drunk with happiness. After a few moments he set her down and, still grinning, began to blush. Catching his breath, he sheepishly offered an apology.

“It's alright Harry,” Hermione said, stifling her own laughter. Truth be told, a good part of her hadn't minded at all. Perhaps it had just been the emotion of the moment but...maybe...just maybe.

They both turned and saw Ron standing there, still gobsmacked. There seemed to be a good mixture of emotions strewn across his face, and neither one of them could figure out exactly what the redhead was thinking. Finally, he managed some modicum of sense and asked, “Why are you staying with Hermione this summer?”

A/N: Ron Weasley fans beware the early parts of this fanfiction series. This is your considered warning.

Some might be concerned with the apparent 180 degree change in Harry's personality. Remember however that, even at this early age, he was prone to mood swings, and a lot has happened to him in the last few days as far as this story goes.

A/N: We are building up to the Weasley explosion (you can probably guess where that'll come out) and to be honest I'm not exactly sure how much of a role Ickle Ronniekins will have in this series in general. Any role will pale in comparison to Harry and Hermione. For story reasons, we're skipping ahead in the timeline (the last part of the last chapter was just to set up Ron's aloofness) to King's Cross and Hermione's parents. Suffice it to say, Harry and Hermione told Ron a basic outline about the Dursley's, but he doesn't know the whole truth.

Furthermore, I will borrow both from canon, the movies, and anything else my head will come up with over the course of the storyline. You'll see what I mean.

I refuse to name my Granger parents Dan and Emma. I will stand by this till the day I die :harumph:

/ - / - / - /

Nicholas Granger thought of himself in a decent enough light. He got along well with his co-workers and his patients. He provided for both his daughter and his wife, Josephine. Sure, he might have spoiled his little princess a bit much when she was younger, but that didn't stop her from being a bright, down-to-earth girl that he was immensely proud of.

That she was also a witch bared little weight in his perception of her. Quite to the contrary, he found it to be a characteristic uniquely Hermione.

Since the Granger's had discovered that their little girl was actually a witch, life had not changed overly dramatically. She still came home for Christmas and summer holidays, just as she would have had she gone to the Fullcridge School for the Gifted that she would have entered the year she first went to Hogwarts. She was still as studious and as caring as they remembered her. In fact only one thing had changed, the fact that Hermione actually seemed to have friends. It pleased Nicholas when she wrote back during her first year, speaking of two young boys that she had formed close bonds with. Though this Ronald character seemed to be a bit thick-headed for Nicholas' tastes, he was particularly interested in the young man he only knew as Harry.

He and his wife didn't know much about Harry aside from the fact that he was some manner of celebrity in the wizarding world. A brief meeting in that Diagonal Alley or whatever it was called offered Nicholas the only picture to go with the name. But the way Hermione seemed to hang on his every word made Nicholas frown and smile at the same time. He smiled because he realized that his little girl was growing up and probably developing a crush on her best friend. He frowned because it was his paternal instinct to instantly think any boy not worthy enough for his little princess.

It was this protective instinct that drove Nicholas to initially object when they had received a letter from Hermione (on a rather beautiful owl that they had discovered was Harry's) asking permission to invite Harry over for the summer. She had explained in brief detail that Harry was...well they didn't quite explain what the problem was...but suffice it to say he wasn't going to be welcome at his aunt and uncle's house for the summer and that he needed a place to stay through his birthday. Nicholas was a bit affronted. Even if he was Hermione's best friend, the idea of a ....boy....spending all day in an unsupervised house with his little girl was disturbing to say the least.

That was until his wife had intervened, explaining that the time would come when Hermione would choose between them and Harry, and she didn't want to come out on the losing end of that stick.

Nicholas had argued his point as best he could, stood his ground like any tried and true father of a teenage daughter would, but despite it all he had reluctantly surrendered the pass. Harry Potter would be coming to the Grangers this summer.

Nicholas and Josephine were currently in the throng of people in King's Cross station, awaiting the arrival of their daughter and her summer companion. Before long Nicholas saw a pack of redheads that he knew were the Weasleys coming out of seemingly nowhere. He expected his little girl was not far behind.

He did not expect this.

His little girl was not there. Instead a rather beautiful young woman was coming from the gaggle of ginger-haired magic folk and walking towards them. Her bushy hair was as curly as ever, though it had lengthened somewhat over the year, extending down to the middle of her back. She had adopted more of her mother's features it seemed, looking more and more like a younger version of Josephine everytime he saw her. She smiled brightly when she caught sight of them, her trunk and cat carrier firmly strapped to her luggage cart that she towed behind her. She dropped the cart for a moment and jogged the remaining few feet towards her parents as she grabbed her mother in a fearsome hug.

“Mum! Dad!” she shouted, oblivious to the other people around watching. Nicholas smiled as Josephine lingered for a moment with her daughter, before releasing her to hug her father.

“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter,” Nicholas cheerfully chided, earning a blush from his not-so-little girl. The tender moment lasted far shorter than Nicholas would have liked, but Hermione pushed away and backed towards her carrier.

There waiting was a rather interesting sight. In the brief time he had met Harry, he had been wearing his school robes and looked rather well put together, if a bit on the thin and short side. Here was something entirely different. The boy was still thin, though he had more meat and muscle on his bones than two summers ago (no doubt from a growth spurt, Nicholas told himself erroneously). He still had the same ruffled black hair that hung down in the front and went every which direction in the back, and piercing emerald green eyes that stuck out from the rest of his face.

His countenance was, well it was hard to describe. He was smiling at the two adults standing before him, but something about him appeared off. He was glancing around, looking for something or other, but doing so in a discreet fashion so that no one would notice unless they were paying extra attention.

His clothes as well gave Nicholas pause. Now that he had time to throughly glance him over, he noticed that his shirt hung off him like a garbage bag. His jeans also seemed to be resewn together several times over with loose threads hanging from the bottoms which hung over his feet. They were also about three or four sizes too big at least, loosely held in place by a rather sorry looking cardboard belt. Finally peeking out from the bottom of the parachutes he was wearing were a pair of battered black trainers that had duct tape wrapped around them. This was how a celebrity in the wizarding world dressed?

“Mum, Dad,” Hermione said, pulling closer to the young man, “This is my friend Harry.” Josephine immediately reached over and gave Harry a firm handshake.

“It's nice to finally meet you dear,” she warmly said with a smile, “Hermione has told us all about you.”

There, there was a bit of a flinch of fear in his eyes. Nicholas barely noticed it, and it vanished as quickly as it came. What was he hiding?

“Pleased to meet you Harry,” Nicholas answered back, keeping up appearances for his wife and daughter. He too offered Harry a handshake.

“It's nice to meet both of you,” Harry politely replied, returning each of their handshakes in time. He lingered a bit longer than normal, but before long the four of them were making their way towards the Granger's car in the parking lot.

/ - / - / - /

For the first few minutes of the trip to Hermione's home in Kensington, Harry kept quiet and observed Hermione in her natural element. She was parlaying all the information about what had gone on in school, albeit editing out some of the more serious details about recent events quite heavily. From his vantage point he could see Mr. Granger smiling to himself and nodding his head at the interesting parts, while Mrs. Granger was asking all of the questions.

Finally, Mr. Granger turned his gaze in the rear view mirror towards Harry. “So,” he said, clearing his throat a bit, “Hermione tells us you're some kind of celebrity in your world.” Harry looked at him, his face a bit flushed.

“I guess you could say that,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders, “It's not something I try to flaunt too much. I didn't even know they thought of me that way until I came to Diagon Alley the first time.” Mr. Granger cocked an eyebrow at this, and Hermione jumped in to Harry's rescue.

“Harry grew up with his aunt and uncle,” she said, more than a tinge of anger hidden in her voice, “They kept the fact that he was a wizard from him until he turned 11.” Harry nodded, his eyes suddenly becoming very interested in the floor of the Granger's BMW.

Before long the assembled party pulled into the driveway a good-sized home in suburban street of Kensington. Harry glanced out of the car window. The house was much larger than the one on Privet Drive, something to be expected given the income difference between Little Whinging and Kensington. It was two stories and painted an off-white color with an attached carport and a rather nice looking porch out front. Harry stared at it for a few moments and thought then and there that it was one of the best looking houses he had ever seen. Anything was better than Number 4 Privet Drive at this particular moment in time. Harry mechanically got out of the car and grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage, which was currently empty since he had sent her on ahead during the train ride.

The Granger home was, surprisingly, exactly what Harry expected. The front hallway led to a large living area straight ahead with a rather large library to the side. The living area opened out to the backyard with an enclosed sun room, which led out to the yard itself which was dominated by a modest sized swimming pool. Passing the door to the sun room one entered a formal dining area with the kitchen connected to the library in a wraparound style. Harry walked through the main hallway, stopping at the stairs as Hermione motioned for him to follow her.

“I'll show you to your room,” she said with a smile. Harry followed like a child on a leash, hauling his trunk with surprising ease, trekking after Hermione up the stairs.

/ - / - / - /

As Nicholas Granger watched the young man follow his daughter up the stairs, with their school things in tow, he shook his head and let out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. He meandered into the living room and put his feet up on the coffee table as he collapsed into the sofa. His wife sat next to him, placing her arm around his neck and rubbing circles on his tense shoulders. “What're you thinking Nick,” she asked with a bit of worry in her voice.

“I don't know...it's just....” he trailed off, his mind trying to grasp onto something he was feeling. Finally he stumbled onto the most obvious element, “Doesn't what he was wearing strike you as odd?”

Josephine looked a bit perplexed and shook her head, “I just think he's nervous dear. As to what he was wearing, what does it really matter.” She paused before adding, “So what if he doesn't have a lot of money, that doesn't mean he's not a good person.”

“And how can you tell he's a good person,” Nick asked quickly, a little too quick before he could catch himself. Josephine gave an affronted look and half-scolded him.

“Nick, of course he's a good person. This boy saved our little girl from a troll and helped her get well after she was....petrified.” She stopped, trying to fight back the odd feeling she got from saying such statements so matter of factly and without wonder. “If you've paid any kind of attention than you'd see our Hermione has gone head over heels for him the way she talks about him in her letters. Why she was practically devastated with that whole broomstick thing she told us about.”

“I know, I know,” Nick replied, shrugging his wife off. “I'm sure he's a very nice person it's just that...” Josephine nodded with a knowing look.

“I see what this is about,” she said coyly, “This is just the father in you coming out. Nobody's good enough for your little girl, are they?”

“Damn right they're not,” Nick said with mock fortitude, “And nobody ever will be.” They both shared a laugh with each other, easily causing any lingering stress to fade into the background for the moment.

“I'll talk to Harry about buying him some proper clothes if he needs them. It's the least we can do after everything he's done for Hermione.” Nick nodded, unwilling to argue the point. It certainly could be argued that opening up their home to him was thanks enough, but he knew when his wife had her heart set on something, it wasn't a good idea to stand in her way.

/ - / - / - /

“You're father hates me.” Harry plopped down on the bed that had been provided to him, while Hermione just stared at him incredulously. Harry stared up at the white ceiling, his mind running through the fact that everything that could've gone wrong with his first impression seemed to of. Mrs. Granger seemed warm enough, much like Hermione in that sense, but her father approached him with kid gloves, treating him coldly at best.

“Harry, you've barely said eight words to him,” Hermione replied, setting herself down at the desk chair across from the bed. “I'm sure he's just a bit nervous at having his little girl invite a boy over for the summer.”

For some reason that made Harry's mouth go dry.

Harry's room was easily larger than his room at Privet Drive. The queen size bed took up most of the left side of the room. Across from that was a small desk with matching bookcase in the right hand corner that was currently empty. Outside of the room proper there was a small inlet that held the closet on one side and a door to a small toilet and bath with a vanity and sink in between the closet and the bathroom door. The whole room was painted an off-white color that made Harry feel oddly comfortable if he stared at it for too long. Hedwig's cage had been set up in a corner next to the lone window in the room, waiting for her arrival while Harry's trunk was at the foot of the bed.

“Just give him a chance to know you,” Hermione continued, giving Harry a reassuring pat on the knee. She added, “Anybody who knows the real you can't help but like you Harry.” He offered her a smile at this comment, and she stood up to tend to her own things, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

He made his way to the window and opened it, expecting that Hedwig would be arriving soon. That accomplished, he sat down on the edge of the bed and opened his trunk. After fishing around for a few seconds he found what he was looking for, his photo album that Hagrid had given to him at the end of first year. Silently he opened it to his parents wedding photo, his eyes misting over as he saw how happy they looked in each other's company. Silently he wondered how he had gotten to be this lucky. For the first time in a long time he allowed himself to focus on the good in his life. He had been saved, pure and simple. There was no other word that could adequately describe it in his mind. Hermione had swooped in with single-minded ferocity and rescued him from another disastrous outing with the Dursley's (he internally chuckled at how Petunia was going to get the gardening done this summer).

What had spurred this sign of compassion was a mystery to him. Even after three years in the wizarding world, the small little boy locked in the cupboard for ten years was amazed by the simple prospect that someone would actually want to help him. Him. Harry Potter. The boy who was called a freak every third sentence. The boy who didn't even know his name till he was 5 years old. The boy no one wanted. The boy that had no one in this world.

He wiped away the tears he didn't know he was shedding and placed his album back in his trunk carefully, as if he were handling a fragile piece of glass. Much as he tried to tell himself that he wasn't any of those things, and even if he had been he was no longer, he still occasionally slipped back into that mode of thought. Idly he pushed his thoughts aside and began unpacking his clothes, what little he had of them. Setting them on the bed, he sighed again. The whole of his life was in this trunk, not much to show for thirteen years of living.

Shaking his head out of such thoughts once more, he automatically began to set books on the bookshelf and organizing himself as best he could.

/ - / - / - /

Dinner at the Granger residence, Harry quickly came to find out, was much better than dinner at the Dursleys. For one thing, he didn't have to cook it all by himself. Much to his surprise when he and Hermione came down from unpacking he found that the table had already been set and Hermione's father was coming in with burgers from the grill located next to the pool in the backyard. The fact that he got more than his usual meager portions that he was used to at the Dursley's was another pleasant surprise, no matter how much he had prepared himself for the idea that these were in fact not the Dursley's.

He also found the atmosphere to be much more subdued and much more laid back than the Dursley household. While a normal Dursley meal (when he wasn't sent away to his room and was actually allowed to be present for the meal) usually involved Vernon discussing how perfectly normal his day had been, Petunia gossiping the latest news from the neighbors, and it involved both of them fawning over Dudley as if he were the crown prince of England. Here the conversations were much more balanced. Hermione continued talking about the previous school year (including mentioning that Harry was going to be in more classes with her next year, something that caused Harry to blush a bit) while her parents informed her on the happenings of their dental practice and updated her on her extended family.

When they had finished dinner, Harry instinctively stood up first without saying a word, and began clearing the table of all the plates. The three Grangers stared at him for a moment, before Josephine asked softly, “Harry, what are you doing?”

Harry looked a bit bewildered. “Um...clearing the table?”

Josephine shook her head, but with a smile, “Harry, dear, you're our guest. You shouldn't have to do such things.” At this she stood up and began to clear the dishes, taking the ones out of Harry's hands. He stood there, dumbstruck, unsure of what to do next.

“It's....it's no big deal Mrs. Granger really, I can just...”

“Nonsense. You and Hermione go sit down and we'll take care of this.” Harry wasn't sure what was going on, but allowed himself to be led from the dinner table by Hermione.

As she put away the last of the dishes, Josephine Granger made her way to the sun room. There she found Harry and Hermione, speaking about something. She only caught the tail end of the conversation, but what she did hear made her take quick pause...

“You don't have to be afraid Harry....they won't treat you like the Dursleys...”

“I know Hermione, it's just hard after so many years of...” he trailed off when he heard Josephine enter the room. Immediately he turned to her, erasing a faint flicker of concern that was drawn across his face. Josephine looked at him, trying to figure out what in the world was so off about this Harry Potter she had heard so much about.

“Harry,” she said, moving closer, “I don't mean to pry dear, but when we picked you up today we couldn't help but notice that you're clothes were a tad bit too big.” It was a gross understatement, Josephine told herself, but she kept that thought to herself. “Do you need to go shopping for some new ones?” Harry sheepishly examined the wooden floor of the sun room, a blush of shame immediately coming to his face. He automatically sought Hermione's hand, which was there in support, as it always had been.

“You don't need to trouble yourself Mrs. Granger,” Harry finally said, sighing, “I can make due.”

“Nonsense dear,” Josephine replied in a very Hermione-esque fashion. “It's no trouble at all.” She paused, biting her bottom lip in concern. “Harry, if it's a matter of money then I'm sure we can...” Harry immediately shook his head.

“No, it's not that.” Josephine was taken aback. She had immediately assumed that the reason Harry's clothes were so ill-fitting and in such a state of disrepair was because of money. But the look in his eyes made her see it was not that. It was something deeper, something much more sinister afoot. Josephine Granger was much like her daughter, in fact it could be said they were spitting images of one another. A few clues in Josephine's head began to connect themselves, forming a picture in her mind that she didn't really care to examine very closely. Still, she filed it away in case she should ever need it again. Harry continued during her thought process, “It's just that...well...I've never really bought that many clothes before. I don't even know where to start.” He hung his head a bit lower, though tried to hide the shame that was readily apparent across his face.

“We can go tomorrow,” Josephine said, “I don't have any appointments and I'm sure that Hermione needs a few things for the summer.” Harry looked at her with a glint in his eye, something tantamount to a ray of hope. Josephine smiled at him and walked away, the plans for the next day having been set. In her mind however, a conversation with her daughter was clearly in order.

A/N: Meh, I kind of wanna zip through the summer stuff and get to the school year ASAP. Maybe that's just because this chapter was more difficult to write than the others. If it seems like I'm grazing over something where normally I would go into deeper detail it's either because I'm just trying to speed things along to get to the good parts and/or the parts I'm speeding through are simple actions bearing little to no weight on the story proper. So, don't be surprised if this chapter sucks....

On an aside, I always wished that the Potter series had more POV's than just Harry's. That is why many of my stories vary between other points of view.

Hermione awoke to the feel of her cat pouncing down on top of her. Her eyes fluttered open to see a ginger overlord standing over her, purring slightly and twitching his tail left and right. “Crookshanks...” she mumbled, trying to shoo him off so she could go back to sleep. But the cat would not budge, continuing to stare down at his caretaker (Far be it for Hermione to consider herself as Crookshanks' master). Finally Hermione grumbled again and threw off the covers, causing the kneazle to jump from the bed with a harried mew. Hermione tossed on a bathrobe and headed downstairs towards the kitchen to get Crookshanks his breakfast, and then seeing about getting properly dressed after a shower.

The smell of bacon sizzling on the stove made her wake up even more. She raised an eyebrow in confusion as she slowly made her way down the stairs. She didn't count on her mother or father being up this early to cook breakfast, but perhaps they had been awoken by something. Slowly she rounded through the living room and into the kitchen. She paused when she entered the door.

There stood Harry, hovering over the stove. On one side he was tending to a pan of bacon, making sure it didn't burn, while on the other he was flipping over an egg, making an omelet. As soon as he was satisfied with the omelet, he carefully removed it from the pan, laying it out on a plate where three other omelets, one slightly smaller than the others, rested. Turning his attention back to the bacon, he had no clue that Hermione was there. Oddly enough he seemed at peace in the kitchen, diligently working towards a completed task. And yet at the same time, as Hermione observed his movements, there was a hint of desperation to them. She had only seen similar movements from him once before, as he was trying to learn the Patronus Charm. It was almost as if his life depended on him completing this task, at least in his mind.

It made her heart break all over again.

“Harry,” she quietly whispered, causing him to flinch a bit. He slowly turned to face her, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Morning Hermione,” he said flatly. He then grew a bit worried, “Sorry about the mess, I'll clean it up after you start eating.” Hermione smiled at him, but caught a word in that last statement that made her furrow her brow in deeper worry.

“What do you mean, “after” I start to eat? Aren't you going to eat?” She motioned to the cabinet where 4 omelets sat ready to go. Harry rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah....of course....” He mentally slapped himself for being so dim-witted. He told himself again things were different now. This was Hermione. She wasn't going to let anyone starve him, or beat him, or do anything to hurt him, at least not right now. She hadn't ever let him down (despite the fact that he had let her down on more than one occasion), and he was quite certain she wasn't going to start now. Apparently she could see the internal chiding he was giving himself, for her countenance softened considerably. She walked over and grabbed two plates, making her way towards the dining room. For lack of any other course of action, Harry simply followed.

It was about ten minutes later that the Granger parents awoke and joined them, much to their surprise of finding breakfast already made. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Hermione had just said that Harry wanted to do something nice for them. He didn't want them prying any further.

Once breakfast was finished (and Harry had been shooed away from cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and doing the dishes yet again by Mrs. Granger), the two teens found themselves in the sun room. Harry sat on a chair, watching the birds sing in the trees and a few squirrels jump on the edge of the privacy fence that surrounded the Granger's yard. He kept a firm gaze on the animals, trying to uncloud his mind and feel at peace with his surroundings. He felt as if he'd been walking on eggshells for the last few days, save for those few occasions when he was alone with Hermione.

Somehow it always came back to that. Alone with Hermione.

“Harry,” she whispered, sitting down next to him. He glanced up at her and nearly lost himself in her eyes for a fleeting second. Quickly he shoved such thoughts away, for the dangerous road they might lead down. “Why are you blushing?” Harry's crimson mask only increased in intensity.

“Did you like breakfast,” he asked, quickly changing the subject. “I mean, I know it wasn't anything special but....I have a lot of experience with the Dursley's and I'd like to think that something good came from that whole situation.” A slight giggle from Hermione drew a quizzical gaze from Harry. “What's so funny?”

“You're rambling Harry,” she said with a smirk, “Was it really that embarrassing?” She paused a moment before adding, “And breakfast was wonderful. I had no idea you were that good of a cook.”

“Yeah...well....just a matter of following directions I guess,” Harry sheepishly admitted. This caused Harry to lift his head as if deep in thought, “You'd think I'd do better in potions then.” His facade was broken by the grin that plastered on his face. Hermione laughed with him, rubbing his back in a friendly manner.

“But no more feeling you have to do things for us Harry. Seriously, you're our guest here for this next month. Try to act like it? Please?” Harry nodded, though all things considered he was feeling rather awkward at the moment. Something about this, this particular moment was....strange and foreign to him. He quickly stood up, something followed suit by Hermione, and the two of them left the sun room.

“We'll be leaving in about two hours,” Josephine announced to the two teens as they headed upstairs to grab showers and a fresh change of clothes. Harry stopped on the stairs and turned back towards Josephine.

“I have to stop by Diagon Alley,” he quietly said, “I need money if we're going to buy things. I only have a few galleons on me.” Josephine looked at her watch and nodded.

“We'd better go in about an hour and a half then if we're gonna stop over. Be sure to tell Hermione.” Harry seemed to breath a small sigh of relief, a gesture not unnoticed by Josephine, before he nodded his head and went to catch his shower and catch Hermione.

/ - / - / - /

It was five days later, after the Grangers and Harry had returned from their shopping expedition, and after they had agreed to a week off from work to both spend time with Hermione and take Harry on his first sightseeing trip of London, that Josephine Granger could no longer stand it.

Though she had only actually known him for a short amount of time, Josephine was quickly becoming enamored with the young boy that her daughter had seemed to take a fancy to. He was polite, reserved, and seemingly as equally devoted to Hermione, even if he didn't notice it himself. Josephine certainly did, Harry held onto Hermione as if she were a lifeline to his sanity for some strange reason. It had taken some time, but Josephine thought she had sussed out what that possible reason was.

Her initial suspicions about Harry were that he had just grown up in a very strict household. The boy literally had to be fought against tooth and nail to relax and not be on edge all the time. Perhaps she had fooled herself into thinking it was just ingrained in him from such a strict home.

She had disregarded that explanation.

What had initially set her off, aside from his reticent nature and his obvious lack of proper clothing, was Harry's response to the tour they had taken in London. It was absolutely fascinating to her initially to find that Harry had never seen such things as the Tower of London, Madame Toussant's Wax Museum, or Buckingham Palace. It was hard for her to fathom that, and part of her did give credence to the idea that Harry was just trying to make their horribly corny idea of sightseeing more palatable, trying to placate their feelings so to speak. That train of thought was derailed the moment she saw the expressions on his face as he saw these sights for what truly was the first time. She also took note of her daughter's reaction, as if there were some unspoken sadness at the corners of her eyes as she looked on at Harry's unmitigated joy.

Then there was the incident just after that. She had playfully smacked Harry on the hand when he offered to help with the cooking...again. The way he had recoiled was alarming to Josephine, especially considering the fact that she was a trained medical professional. Since that time he had withdrawn for a while, till another talk with Hermione had brought him back to earth. It was almost as if he was venturing out of his shell little by little, and it was only Hermione that could lure him out.

As she had noted before, the fact that she was a trained medical professional, albeit an orthodontist, but a medical professional nonetheless, clued her into exactly what was going on. Harry had been abused by his aunt and uncle, probably badly if she could tell just by how closed up he was.

She had tried to talk to Hermione about this the moment she figured it out, but her daughter had been frustratingly quiet on the subject. She knew more than she was letting on, Josephine could tell that immediately, but she wouldn't come out and say what. More than likely it was because of the trust that Harry put in Hermione, and Hermione's ultimate desire not to break it.

So here she was, unable to sleep because someone she knew...even if it was only fleetingly...was in trouble and there wasn't anything she could do about it. Harry didn't trust her enough to let her in on his pain, that would be certain. He was only just coming around to being in a relaxed state of mind for the majority of the time. But at the same time it would drive her insane to let Harry suffer through those memories alone. And though she knew her daughter was the brightest person she knew, except for possibly her own husband, she felt it would probably be better if Harry had someone professionally trained to deal with these kinds of cases to talk too.

She turned over in bed while her husband snored away the night, examining the shadows that were plastered on the wall from the street lamp outside. Slowly the worry began to ebb out of her mind, and sleep began to creep over her mind.

She was startled out of her oncoming trance by the sound of a loud scream coming from the room down the hall. Once it registered, she quickly jumped out of bed, not waking her husband who was still sound asleep, and as quietly and quickly as she could made her way down the hall. At first she carefully opened Hermione's door, having naturally assumed the scream was her's. However she found her daughter as sound asleep as her father. Furrowing her brow in confusion, she turned towards Harry's door...and cautiously opened it.

The small creak it created stirred Harry like a frightened deer caught in headlights. He stared at the door, sans glasses, his breathing rapid and heavy. “Harry...” she tentatively asked, causing him to shrink back into the corner of his bed.

“I'msorryimsorry,” he rapidly replied, his words running together. “I didn't mean to wake you. I-I'll go back to sleep...please I'm....” he continued rambling his apologies, and Josephine grew more worried. If she needed confirmation on what his upbringing was like, she was getting it right now, and it brought her near the verge of tears.

“Harry...it's alright...” she quietly said, moving towards the bed. She leaned forward to offer a comforting touch, but Harry flinched back as if wounded by the slightest approach. Josephine backed away, her heart breaking at the sight of it. Her maternal instinct was at full bore. She just had to take this poor young man who had been so obviously wounded and hug him until the pain vanished.

Somewhere in the exchange, Hermione must have heard the pleadings of Harry. Because no sooner had Josephine recoiled from him then she was running by her in a mad dash to comfort her friend. At first Harry recoiled from her as well, fighting against her as she held his shoulders firmly. Josephine was amazed as Hermione offered calming words that seemed to soothe Harry to a more manageable state. Slowly but surely his breathing reduced, becoming calmer and calmer with each passing second. Before long Hermione had grasped Harry in a firm hug, a gesture Harry returned after a few seconds.

“Harry...are you....” Josephine finally said, broken out of her silence. Harry and Hermione broke away from one another, and Harry stared down at his sheets, a bit embarrassed.

“I'm sorry I woke you Mrs. Granger,” he said quietly, still a bit reticent. “It--it was a nightmare. I get them sometimes...but they usually aren't that bad,” he quickly added.

“Do you want to talk about it,” Hermione asked him, scanning his face for something or other. Harry bit his bottom lip and shook his head.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said firmly, “After the pain goes away.” Josephine raised an eyebrow at the pain remark, and for the first time noticed that he was rubbing his forehead in an odd sort of way, right where his oddly-shaped scar was located. She said nothing however, and merely moved closer to Harry. He still hesitated as she approached him, and tensed up when Josephine gave him a long hug. Eventually he loosened a bit, allowing himself to be cared for, if but for one brief moment in time. Eventually Josephine broke away, and Hermione followed her out of the room. After Hermione gave one last glance at Hermione, and a silent nod from the boy wizard was offered in return, the door was shut.

Mother and daughter stood there for a long time, before Josephine turned to Hermione. “He was mistreated by his aunt and uncle...wasn't he?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, but figured that the cat was out of the bag so to speak. Silently she nodded, before she added, “Don't talk to him about it forthright, he'll bring it out on his own good time.” With that plea for her friend, Hermione turned and closed her door, returning to bed.

There were three emotions that went through Josephine Granger's being at that moment. The first was the lingering sorrow she felt for Harry. The second was the swell of pride she had for her daughter in being able to handle such a situation. The third was the joy she felt in seeing the way the two cared for each other. Her little girl was in love, and if Josephine was any expert on judging reactions, she guessed that Harry felt exactly the same way.

/ - / - / - /

The sunlight filtering through the window shades of Harry's room at the Granger residence, causing said wizard to scrunch up his face in a desperate attempt to stay asleep. Finally he gave up the ghost, sighing and stretching out on his bed.

He was getting dangerously close to thinking of it as his bed he reminded himself. He felt more at home here then he had ever felt anywhere else. The attention delved onto him at the Burrow made him feel like an intruder. A welcome intruder perhaps...but an intruder nonetheless. Hogwarts felt like a second home to him, but he still felt strange considering a school to be his true home. And Privet Drive certainly was out of the question as far as the idea of “home sweet home” went.

But here with the Grangers was the closest he had felt to being normal in his life. Here he had neither people gawking at him for some strange reason he couldn't remember, nor did he have tyrants bearing down on him like taskmasters in his every waking moment. Once he had gotten used to the routine, he became more relaxed and actually enjoyed himself this summer. Even the task of homework, which he normally would have found tedious, came easily to him, and as a result he and Hermione had just completed their assignments a month early. No doubt Ron was going to be scrambling three days before term to even begin his work, which for some reason brought a chuckle to Harry's face.

Lightly Harry rolled out of bed and grabbed his glasses. He headed for the small bathroom his room housed and grabbed a quick shower. After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he threw on a loose fitting white T-shirt (though it was far better fitting than Dudley's old castoffs, which had thankfully been given to goodwill once Harry had acquired a wardrobe of his own) and cargo shorts. Ruffling his hands through his recently cut hair, he smirked at the fact that it was still as messy as ever, though for the first time it looked like someone actually cared about the end result as opposed to having taken gardening shears to it. Smirking at his actually well kept appearance again, he walked out of the room to the smells of food waiting for him.

As he rounded the area near the dining room, the hair on the back of his neck tingled a bit and he quickly got the suspicion that something was up. Cautiously he made his way into the dining room, and was instantly stopped dead in his tracks by what he saw.

The set up wasn't anything spectacular. There was a simple banner reading “Happy Birthday!” across the room, with balloons and streamers thrown around the room, and a confetti covered tablecloth. On top of the table was a small, white birthday cake (sugar-free frosting, of course) and 14 candles each lit in a row. Flanking the table on either side were the Granger family, each with bright smiles on their faces. “Happy birthday Harry!”they shouted in unison, causing Harry to abruptly stop. He quickly sussed out what was going on. It was July 31st. His 14th birthday.

Due to the fact that he never had any birthday's to speak of before Hogwarts (it didn't help that he had been smacked across the face when he had dared to ask when his birthday was when he was four years old) and that his other birthdays since then weren't long drawn out affairs, he had forgotten all about it being his birthday. He fought back the tears that almost immediately threatened to overtake him, and instead offered a genuine, warm-blooded smile.

“Happy birthday Harry,” Hermione said coming closer to him, each of them hugging the other. As they leaned together, Harry whispered into Hermione's ear.

“I just want you to know,” he said softly, “That this has been the best summer of my life. Thank you Hermione...for everything.”

Though neither knew it at the time, each one of them was unlocking a door in their minds and their hearts irreparably. One thing was certain, the coming year would be different for a great deal many reasons.

A/N: For those wondering, the dream Harry had is the same he had just prior to the World Cup in GoF involving Crouch Jr. and Voldemort.

Speaking of the World Cup, a reunion with the Weasleys is on tap for the next chapter, and speeding things through the summer a bit more till we get back to Hogwarts. Again I apologize for all the rushing, but I figure you already have seen all the cliches involving the “Harry Goes to the Grangers” story and there is no reason to bore you with my mediocre tellings of them.

Besides, I wanna get to Moody. ;P

A/N: Back to the Burrow in this chapter, and hopefully I'll be able to slow thing down a bit once we get into school and the parts I actually want to cover. As it is, begin looking for changes in the timeline, because they'll be happening faster in the coming chapters.

I want to say something in advance of any “Weasley-bashing.” I can't in good conscious completely destroy the family at this point, though they might get theirs in turn. I speak in particular of Ginny. I understand the Harmony-fans hatred of Ginny, something that quite frankly, I could write if I wanted to. But that hatred, in my mind, is of “super-Ginny” that was created by that overwrought piece of fanfiction known as Half-Blood Prince I still say someone switched copies at the printers). Conveniently enough, super-Ginny doesn't exist here, so any bashing of her will be limited to consider that fact.

/ - / - / - /

He could feel the cool grass beneath him as he slithered around on the ground, darting slowly between moss-grown headstones and the damp, spartan grass of the graveyard. Harry tried to become more adept with his surroundings, he couldn't really hear anything at the moment, or smell anything for that matter. Through slitted eyes he simply followed along as he crawled across the ground.

It was some time before he found himself in the manor house that had been a far creep in the distance. Harry was starting to remember this dream, but try as he might he couldn't wake himself from it. He filled with dread as he felt himself snake up the stairs one by one, coming into a dimly lit room.

“....perhaps if we did it without the boy,” came the meek voice of Wormtail, the first thing he had heard heretofore.

“NO!” came a high-pitched raspy wail from the armchair in front of him. “Without the boy the ritual is nothing! He MUST be included....” there was a pause and Harry dreaded the next part. But to his surprise, it did not come. Instead he saw two other men, their features blacked from view in the waning candlelight. “It is to you, my trusted servants, that I give this most important task.”

Harry heard them speak a reply, but could not hear their voices, muffled by a roaring wind and a deafening voice from behind consciousness. Harry felt himself slowly being pulled from the dream, just as he saw Voldemort grab his wand with spindly fingers, shearing away the life of the unfortunate old man who had wandered nearby.

/ - / - / - /

Harry returned to the waking world in a flash, his mind cluttered with jumbled images and random thoughts from his nightmare. His mind slowly came into focus, as he stared at a red-headed blob in his field of vision. He fumbled with the side table and pulled his glasses to his face. To his surprise, Ginny was standing at the foot of his bed, already dressed, staring at him wide-eyed.

“Ginny?” Harry immediately asked, causing her to blush slightly.

“You were screaming,” she confessed, speaking in a slightly meek voice, “Mum sent me to wake you up and I heard you screaming.” She coughed a moment as if to clear her throat, and added, “She wanted me to tell you that you needed to get up if you were going to get an early start to things. Dad doesn't want to miss the portkey time.” At that Ginny, left the room in a bit of a rush, apparently forgetting to pass this information to Ron.

Not much was said at breakfast, once it finally got underway after a cold bucket of water managed to get Ron out of bed. The twins repeatedly kept looking back and forth between Harry and Ginny, but for once were wise to keep their respective mouths shut. They simply looked. Ron scarfed down his breakfast at near record speeds, oblivious to anything else, while Ginny would occasionally glance up at Harry, who kept to himself mostly, only occasionally saying things to Hermione. Such conversation made Mrs. Weasley frown to herself, but like the others, she kept her feelings bottled up.

“We best be off,” Arthur finally said, standing up from the table, a gesture followed by many of the others. They gathered their things while Mrs. Weasley set to clearing the table, waving them off one at a time as they maneuvered out the back door of the burrow.

Harry and Hermione walked more forward of the rest of the group, ahead of the rest of the Weasley's but slightly behind Arthur as he led the way. Though they walked at a brisk pace, they kept it leisurely for the most part, not really hurrying. They kept to themselves, but on more than one occasion, Hermione glanced over at Harry and could sense that something was wrong with him. Finally, she spoke up, “Harry....what's wrong?” He turned to her, looking straight into her eyes.

“It was that nightmare again, the one with Voldemort,” he confessed, hanging his head in recollection. “It just seemed so real....but it was shorter this time, probably cause Ginny woke me up.” He looked ahead, not speaking anymore, when Hermione stopped him.

“Harry, you know Sirius is going to want to know about this.” Harry nodded, though he was a little wary of contacting his godfather. As much as he trusted Hedwig, he didn't want to be responsible for the Ministry tracking down Sirius again. Still he knew in the back of his mind that Hermione was right. Funny how that always seemed to be the case.

Harry kept to himself the rest of the walk towards the top of a hill, though in the back of his mind, something there clicked once again that he couldn't quite put his finger on. As they reached the crest of the hill, he saw two other figures approaching them from the side. “Amos, Cedric!” Arthur called out, walking over towards the two new entries. As Harry drew closer, he recognized the younger boy on the left as Cedric Diggory, the seeker and Quidditch Captain for Hufflepuff. Harry wasn't really acquainted with the older boy, but that he was a decent chap as far as he could tell.

“Arthur,. So good to see you again,” the elder man to Cedric's right said with a grin before glancing down at Harry. “And you must be Harry Potter! It's a pleasure to meet you.” Harry offered his customary facsimile of a smile whenever he met someone blown away by his fame.

“Nice to meet you sir,” Harry responded, giving a firm handshake in response.

“Of course you all remember my son, Cedric.” He motioned to the side. “From what I heard he was actually the first seeker to ever beat you last year.” Harry grimaced slightly at this, but Cedric quickly stepped in.

“It wasn't a fair match da,” he said in a somewhat angered tone, “And I wanted them to restart it but they wouldn't hear any of it.” Amos Diggory seemed to deflate at that comment slightly, but he kept his head proudly held high nonetheless. It was about that time when the rest of the Weasleys caught up with the group, slightly out of breath from the hike.

“Blimey,” Ron stated in between breaths, “When did you two get so bloody fast,” he asked his two friends, who just stared at him with disbelief. Arthur shrugged him off, motioning them over to an old boot that stood at the top of the hill.

“We best be off or we'll miss the match. Come on now, you three grab that end, Amos and Cedric over here by me...Harry next to Ron there....good now on three...one...two....”

The next few seconds were a blur to Harry, an entirely new experience that, on the surface of it, he wasn't entirely certain he appreciated much. In retrospect however, he was glad that Hermione had talked him into reading about different methods of magical transportation over the summer, so at least he had some degree of what to expect. When the time came, he let go of the portkey and moved his legs in a running motion. When the world came back into focus, he gingerly landed on a small grassy knoll overlooking a large throng of people. After resituating himself he saw Hermione land next to him in a similar situation, while Arthur Amos & Cedric made perfect landings across from him.

They were all in better shape than the four other Weasleys who were sprawled out in a heap before him.

Harry could not remember so many witches and wizards gathered in any one location, save for Hogwarts itself. Even Diagon Alley at its busiest didn't seem to hold a candle to the crowded campground that was laid out before him. He stared in awe at his surroundings as he mechanically followed Mr. Weasley through the campground towards a small tent. He stared with a cocked eyebrow as he saw Mr. Weasley motion for him to enter the rather small, rather unimpressive looking structure. Shrugging his shoulders, he ducked his head and entered between the flaps.

He was taken aback almost instantly by the size of the inside of the tent. “Right then...Hermione and Ginny your section is over there to the left, boys you have the two on the right. After you unpack I suggest you get any souvenirs and sightsee as much as you like. Be back here by 5 so we can make it to the match in time.”

Harry took a moment to simply glance around the tent, a smile creaking over his face. “I love magic,” he whispered to no one in particular.

/ - / - / - /

5 o'clock came and went and before long everyone found themselves climbing up the walls off the massive stadium towards their seats near the top of the stadium. Harry was still struggling to take it all in, however, and nearly missed a voice calling his name from below.

“Hey Scarhead!” came the shrill voice of Draco Malfoy from a few levels below them. Harry finally heard the insult and glared down at the blonde haired snob, flanked as usual by his father, who seemed disinterested in the affair.

“What do you want snakebreath?” Ron angrily shouted back, causing Draco to smirk in his general direction.

“Just wanted to see what the weather was like up there Weaselbee. Father and I have seats with the Minister tonight....” Draco's smirk was erased when his father tapped him on the side with his cane.

“Now now Draco, there's no need to gloat to the.....plebeian crowd.” He smirked up at Arthur, before his cold gray eyes turned towards Harry. “Do try and enjoy yourselves....while you can. Come Draco.” With that, the Malfoys departed. Harry lingered on slightly longer, staring at where Draco had been. Something about Lucius' words had made him stop. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and turned his head slightly to see Hermione standing there, a concerned look on her face.

“Harry...” she worriedly asked, and Harry smiled at her in a reassuring fashion.

“It's nothing 'Mione,” he said with a more upbeat tone in his voice. “Just me being paranoid, that's all.” Hermione looked at him skeptically, before smiling back and continuing up the stairs, Harry right behind her.

When they reached near the top of the stadium, Arthur pointed out to the view and shouted, “I told you these seats would be worth it!” Harry swore if he squinted enough he might catch the entertainment on the field.

“What are those,” he asked to Hermione, motioning to the field below. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed that Ron, Fred & George were literally beside themselves as they stared through their three pairs of binoculars that Arthur had provided them with.

“Those are Veela Harry,” Hermione explained, a bit of a blush coming to her face as she did so. “Frankly I'm surprised you aren't affected by them Veela usually make men who aren't emotionally attached to someone.” Harry took a look through his binoculars, focusing on all the dancing creatures in the center of the arena. Though a part of him certainly did consider them to be attractive enough, he certainly wasn't drooling over himself trying to get a closer look. Hermione for her part merely sat back, and hoped for the faintest of moments.

“Who's that there,” Harry said motioning across the way. Arthur leaned in and peered through his binoculars....frowning as he did so.

“That is Ludo Bagman, The Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports..” Harry looked again across the field towards the Minister's box, spotting the disheveled looking man, who had rather stringy hair held together in a loose ponytail, and thrown together robes that seemed horribly out of place for an official function such as this.

“That's the man we placed a bet with,” Fred said from behind Harry's right shoulder. “I bet him ten thousand galleons that the Irish would win.”

“Now you might ask yourself,” George chimed in from behind Harry's left shoulder, “That we have nowhere near that kind of money, and you'd be right....however the brilliance of the plan is that I bet him ten thousand galleons that Krum would catch the snitch.”

“Why would he make two stupid bets like that?” Ron asked, finally pried away from the Veela show due to them having left the field.

“Bagman has always had a gambling problem,” Arthur said with a scornful look on his face, “And you boys should certainly know better than to try and take advantage of that.”

“Too late now....”

“Father dearest...”

“One way or another....

“we'll come out even....”

“Just please promise us....”

“One thing....”

“and that is....”

“DON'T TELL MUM!”

Harry laughed at the display while Arthur merely rolled his eyes, though a small smile was apparent on his face. The voice of Cornelius Fudge interrupted the merriment, and the group turned down to see him.

“Good evening witches and wizards from all across the globe and welcome to the 130^th Annual World Quidditch Cup Finals!” A loud roar went up from the crowd, which Fudge fully breathed in before he continued, his wand firmly pressed against his throat. “Without further adieu, let's welcome the first of our teams tonight....the national team of IRELAND!” There was a loud explosion and everyone looked up to see the shape of a leprechaun envelope the sky, it's green and yellow light shimmering down over the awestruck spectators. From out of the center of the leprechaun came seven riders on brooms, their bright green uniforms flapping in the wind as the leprechaun exploded, showering the crowd with gold.

“And now....the national team of BULGARIA!” The light Irish jig music was replaced with the loud beating of a drum as seven more riders jetted across the field, trailing black and red smoke behind them in alternating patterns, firing off fireworks ahead of them. As they swooped upwards, Ron let out a gasp of air.

“There he is....Viktor Krum....the greatest seeker in the world!” Harry put on an affronted look at Ron, who turned at him and offered a sheepish smile, “Sorry mate.” Harry simply laughed, and turned back towards the match.

/ - / - / - /

As they sat in the tent, sipping cups of hot cocoa after the match, Harry and the rest were having a rather good laugh at Ron's expense.

“Laugh all you want, but Krum is more than just a player...he's an artist.”

“I think ickle Ronniekins is in love,” Fred said with a smirk on his face, getting a pillow thrown in his direction for his troubles.

“Oh but it's true, he's blushing,” Ginny said, throwing her hat into the ring. Quickly she began singing, joined quickly by the twins and Harry, while Hermione merely sat there laughing. “Viktor oh Viktor....for you my heart beats true! Viktor oh Viktor....it's never the same without you!” Another chorus of laughter rang out as the subject of their ridicule grew eve redder, only to be interrupted by a loud explosion outside the tent.

“Sounds like the Irish are celebrating,” George off handedly remarked, only to be stopped by the dull sound of screaming and chanting coming from outside.

“That's not the Irish,” Arthur said with more than a hint of despair apparent in his voice. “Everyone get out of here, now as quickly as you can. Stay together and head for the portkey.”

Harry was herded out of the tent in a quick fashion, trying his best to hold onto Hermione's hand. Quickly he turned to see what all the commotion was about, only to get separated from the group. “HARRY!” came Hermione cry from afar, and Harry tried to reach her, all the while glancing back at black-robed figures marching forward through the city of tents, green lights flashing upwards in rapid fire fashion, and the pale white masks that he had only seen in his nightmares. Somewhere in the commotion, he was tripped up, and his head smacked on a rock, and the next thing Harry Potter knew was blackness.

He wasn't sure how long he had been out, or how long he had been lying there on the ground for that matter. What he was certain of was that his head hurt, and whatever the commotion had been, it was over now. Swiftly he fumbled around for his glasses and placed them over his face, frowning to himself when he saw a small crack down the middle of the left lens. He laughed to himself when he realized he'd have to ask Hermione for that spell again. Any merriment ceased when he head a movement off in the distance, and with instinct taking over, he simply held down close to the ground, his seeker reflexes scanning around him for the source of the noise.

Off to the east by a few dozen meters or so was a man, wearing a long leather coat, glancing about at the ground. He had what appeared to be a set look on his face. Stopping in the middle of the field, he glanced around again, before pointing his wand straight upwards. “MORSMORDRE!” he shouted in a high raspy voice, and at once a green light shot out of his wand, flying upwards and exploding in a thousand sparkling lights, being replaced with the pale green image of a skull with a snake rolling out of it.

Harry's scar betrayed him the moment he gazed upon the mark in the sky, as he let out a muffled cry of pain. He quickly laid even lower to the ground when the man turned around, unable to discern the location of the voice. Deciding that the Underage Statute was bollocks at this point, Harry did the best thing he could. He summoned up all of his courage, jumped to his feet, and pointed his wand straight at the man. “STUPIFY!” Harry shouted at the top of his lungs, and all at once a red light came bounding out of his wand, hitting the man square in the chest and sending him spinning to the ground. Harry ran over and checked the man, finding him alive. He had short black hair upon closer inspection, his face seemed oddly peaceful, almost like it didn't belong to him.

“Harry!” came a scream from behind him, and Harry turned around only to be enveloped in a desperate hug from Hermione. He hugged her back, both out of thanks that she was safe and out of need from his own adrenaline rush coming to an end. “What happened!” she quickly demanded to know.

“I fell and hit my head on that rock over there, and when I came to this man was here....and he....” the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up, and suddenly he heard several pops all around him. “GET DOWN!” he yelled to Hermione, forcing her down with his own weight as they were surrounded by seven men in Ministry uniforms, each firing a stunner at the center where Hermione and Harry had been standing.

“STOP! CEASE FIRE THOSE ARE CHILDREN IN THERE!” Arthur Weasley and the rest of his clan came running into the crossfire, surrounding Harry and Hermione. “Have you all gone daft!” Arthur asked the surrounded group, only to be approached by a rather thin man, who was shaking with anticipation.

“These two were caught at the scene of a crime! Which one of you conjured that!” he demanded to know in quick succession. Harry merely stared at the man with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“Come now Bartemis....they're only CHILDREN for Merlin's Sake!”

“Nonsense! They were caught red handed!” He pointed skyward “The dark mark was summoned and then we find these two!”

“We didn't summon it!” Harry said with exasperation, “he did.” He pointed down at his feet, and the man looked down at the fallen Death Eater, and almost at once his face became as pale as a ghost.

“It....it can't be....” a larger black man came bounding across next to the man Harry learned was named Bartemis, flanked by a younger woman with rather vivacious hair color. The man looked down, and his eyes went wide as well.

“Barty Crouch?” he bellowed in a deep baritone, “But he's supposed to be dead!”

“Yes I know!” Bartemis quickly stated, “Something foul is afoot here and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Auror Dawlish, Auror Robards, take this man to my office straight away and I'll question him their before turning him over to Rufus.” Two other Aurors nodded without protest, simply doing what they were told and carrying the man a fair distance away before disappearing.

A/N: We'll have a bit more to go, but I thought this might be a good place to end this chapter and have something to start with (namely Winky) on the next one. Not much plot development here, but the first of my major changes (and the seeds for a couple others) have happened.

Auror Robards is a character that has appeared in stories by old crow and chem prof at ff.net. He won't be a major character here, I just needed a stock Auror and that was the first name that popped into my head.

Also, the idea where Crouch has been captured at the World Cup has happened before (see mathiasgranger), but, rest assured, I have done something differently here. It's not too obvious, but it's not hidden either.

As I told another reviewer, I am taking scenes from both the films and the books and mixing them with my own ideas. Needless to say I find that while the books are superior, parts of the movies do add to the dramatic suspense and tension of a given scene, and the line of events is somewhat more clearly laid out. I hope it to be a rather healthy mix of the two.

/ - / - / - /

Harry and company stood in a gathered circle for several moments, each blinking in random succession at the man named Bartemis as he walked back and forth between the lot of them, as if he were about to explode at any moment. Finally he turned away, seeming to look off in the distance, while the rest of the aurors took stock of the scene. Harry leaned over towards Arthur, whispering as he spoke.

“Why does he seem out of sorts sir?” Harry asked, and Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head as he did so.

“Ask me again when we get back to the Burrow Harry,” he quietly said, earning a nod back from said wizard. Harry turned his head back only to have it come face to face with Bartemis, his older face staring intently at him with a scowl seeming to have been permanently etched onto his face. Harry could see the sweat beaming down off the angry man and a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Just as suddenly as he had rounded on him, Bartemis turned away from Harry.

“WINKY!” he cried out, and there was a soft pop down towards the ground. Everyone looked down to see a small, shriveled creature near the ground, shaking like a leaf caught in winter's chill.

“Y-yes Master Crouch...sir....” the elf managed to squeak out, only to get a swift boot to the gut and be sent flying several meters away. Hermione screamed in righteous indignation, but Harry managed to hold her back to some degree.

“You've failed me for the last time....ELF!” Bartemis shouted, pulling his glove off of his right hand. “And I'll see to it that you never fail me...AGAIN!” With that he violently threw down the glove at Winky....watching in anger as it landed straight on the elf.

“NO MASTER! NOT CLOTHES! PLEASE MASTER DON'T SEND WINKY AWAY!” But Bartemis would hear none of it. In a flash, he was gone. Several of the aurors followed suit, but two of them remained behind, tending to a final detail. Hermione at this point broke free of Harry and ran over to where Winky was laying on the ground, cradling the glove given to her by Bartemis, and crying her little eyes out.

“There there now....it's alright little one,” she said repeatedly, trying to comfort the house elf. Hermione let her use the sleeve of her jacket as a handkerchief, all the while staring up at Mr. Weasley with anger in her eyes. “How can anyone be so callous to a creature! It's absolutely barbaric!”

“Come on Hermione....it's just a house elf,” Ron off-handedly said, earning him a sharp glare from Hermione. He quickly shrinked back. “I mean, yeah....that was pretty brutal and all but....I've seen worse from other masters.”

“No one has the right to treat another creature like that,” Harry said resolutely, a far-off look in his eyes. “I don't care if it is the natural order of things, that doesn't make it right Ron.”

“Exactly my point,” Hermione chimed in, glancing down at Winky with concern on her face. Winky sniffed a few times, before looking up at Hermione.

“Thank you misses,” she said in broken speech, “Misses is too kind to bad house elf like Winky....” she paused a moment before tearing up again.

“Look at it this way,” Hermione said, trying to be as positive as she could, “You never have to work for that horrible man again.”

That was certainly the wrong thing to say, as almost immediately Winky exploded into tears once more, and snapped her fingers to disappear to Merlin knew where. Hermione stared at the empty space, and shook her head. “Honestly, the way some people are....”

“I'm afraid the younger Mr. Weasley is right Miss....a lot of house elves are treated worse.” Hermione looked up quickly and saw a towering black man standing over her. She quickly stood up and backed away to give him space, as the rest of the group joined her near the tall man. “Sorry if I startled you,” he said in a soft yet commanding voice, “My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror 2^nd Class. And my counter part over there is....”

There was a loud thump as a young woman with bubblegum pink hair tripped over a fallen tentpole off in the distance. Kingsley grumbled and shook his head. “...Nymphadora Tonks, Auror 5^th Class.” The young woman tried to shake things off as best she could, idly running her hand through her hair and leaving slightly green highlights where her fingers were. Harry's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

“What the heck just happened with her hair?” he asked, and Tonks smiled as she drew nearer, fluffing up her hair slightly in the process.

“I'm a metamorphamagus,” she proudly announced. She stood next to Kingsley, her smile never breaking. She squinted her eyes and stared at Harry for a long while. After a few seconds she snapped her fingers and her smile grew broader. “Merlin's beard! You're Harry Potter!” Harry, for his part, merely sighed a bit internally at the recognition, but still offered the best face he could.

“Leave the boy alone Tonks,” Kingsley stated, moving between her and Harry slightly, “He gets enough of that without you adding to it.” He gestured with his wand and a pad of paper and a muggle ballpoint pen appeared in his hands. “I'm going to need to take a statement from all of you, particularly you two.” He pointed between Harry and Hermione.

After giving their statements separately, Kingsley wrote a few more things down on his pad of paper. Harry motioned skyward and asked, “Would you mind explaining what exactly that was?” Kingsley cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing, allowing Tonks to answer.

“It was the Dark Mark...You-Know-Who's Mark. And those people tonight were his followers, Death Eaters. There were always rumors of attacks but, never anything solid until tonight.” Kingsley cleared his throat, and Tonks looked back at him. “Right then....we should be going. It was nice to meet you Harry....Hermione. Arthur, always a pleasure.” Arthur nodded his head and the two Aurors quickly vanished with a pop.

“Well,” Arthur said, dusting himself off slightly, “We should get back to the portkey. Amos and Cedric have already gone home.”

“That man they captured...” Harry said to Arthur as they turned away, “His name was Barty Crouch....was he...”

“Yes Harry,” Arthur interrupted, “He was Bartemis son. But that isn't the peculiar thing. The peculiar thing is that he was supposed to have died in Azkaban 13 years ago.”

/ - / - / - /

The Hogwarts Express moved along the tracks at its normal rate of speed, going forward without seemingly a care in the world. In various compartments and corners of the various cars of the train, friends reacquainted themselves after a long summer separated by time and distance. Prefects new and old got their duties for the year. The snack trolley slowly made it's way up and down the train, providing sweets for the children of various types.

In one compartment however, there was little joy and little mirth. Harry, Hermione & Ron were seated together, away from the rest of the students. The twins were currently in a cabin with Lee Jordan and the rest of the Quidditch team, while Ginny had gone away with Neville to hunt down Trevor....again. Ron was frantically trying to finish homework for his newest class....to no one's surprise....while Hermione simply sat reading the Daily Prophet and Harry stared out the window, silently rubbing his forehead. Hermione glanced up from her paper, worry clear on her face.

“Harry....is it your scar again?” Harry nodded, causing Hermione to bite her bottom lip. “I thought you said the dream had gone away.”

“It did,” Harry said quietly, “But my scar has still been hurting ever since the world cup.”

“What dream stopped and why is your scar hurting again?” Ron quickly asked, jumping into the conversation cannonball style. Hermione simply rolled her eyes while Harry turned and looked at Ron.

“I dreamt that I was watching Voldemort kill someone. I don't know who, and I don't know why. And ever since the dream stopped my scar has been throbbing.” Ron nodded and turned back to his book.

“Why don't you just take a headache potion, that always works.” Hermione breathed out an honestly while Harry just turned back towards the window. After a few more minutes of reading (or at least attempting to,) Ron closed his book dramatically and went to help Ginny and Neville track down the toad.

Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Sometimes Ron could be such a chore, she told herself. He was still as loyal as any friend could be, however, and that had to account for something. What was not lost on her was the somewhat longing stares that Ron could fall into on brief occasions when he thought she didn't notice. It chilled her to no end if those stares meant what she thought they meant.

Opening her eyes, she was taken aback by seeing Harry, peacefully and calmly staring out the window. The summer had certainly done nothing to help her own quest to quash her budding romantic feelings for her best friend. In her rush to “help Harry” despite her more logical judgement, she had caused those feelings to deepen considerably, and her caring for Harry seemed to grow even more than last year.

Even more troublesome was that tiny little voice of light peeking through the clouds of logic that permeated every corner of her conscious mind. This little peek into her greatest of dreams and desires consistently told her that maybe Harry felt some modicum of the affection that she had for him. She quickly quashed that line of thought and where it might lead should it ever be followed everytime it reared it's beautifully ugly head, reminding herself that, no matter how much socially that had changed, she was still Plain Old Hermione Jane, the bucktoothed, bushy-haired bookworm. In all honesty, her logical side tried to compromise with her heart, saying Ron was probably the best she could hope for. Harry Potter could remain a friend, but nothing more, nothing less.

In truth, Harry Potter was at war with himself. Not because of the incident at the World Cup, or because of the dreams he had been having, or even the throbbing in his skull, though it certainly didn't help matters any.

No, the problem was very much centered around his best friend, Hermione Granger.

Somewhere over the course of the summer, the light in which Hermione shone now differed somewhat. It was the little things that he hadn't noticed before, perhaps the things about a person that one could only notice if you lived with that person for a length of time. It was the way she bit her bottom lip when she was deep in thought. The way the sparkles in her eyes could light up a room that was still gripped in the last vestiges of night. The way the water highlighted the curvature of her body......

Harry stopped right there, clearing his throat which had suddenly become very dry. His mind was wandering to such areas of physical attraction far more than he was used to lately, and more than that he found himself thinking about Hermione in practically every waking moment he wasn't focused on something else. Whenever his mind had a spare thought to itself, it floated back to that section of his brain that Hermione Granger had invaded and set up permanent residence.

He couldn't describe these feelings, they were completely foreign to him. It was a kind of happiness, that much he could suss out. But it was the type of happiness that he just wanted to grab and wrap himself around in like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. He had no name for this feeling, other than “happy.”

'Affection?' he told himself. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was a kind of brotherly affection that he had no experience with. Then he thought to himself that those feelings were more reserved for people like Ron, the twins, and Ginny. They were more familial in nature, he thought. These feelings were more like what he had held for Cho Chang for a brief amount of time last year.

Fancy?

He could admit to himself he had something of a crush on Cho, given her beauty. On more than one occasion he had had dreams about Cho....dreams of a more intimate nature. But then whenever those dreams had come in the past, they might have been about anyone else. Katie & Angelina foremost, Lavender to some degree, even Parvati. Hermione had appeared once or twice, though she was beginning to frequent them more recently, should he ever have those dreams again, it seemed anyway. So...if he fancied Hermione....which was certainly in the realm of possibility....the question was, was it just that? Or was it something more? Was it....

Love?

Everytime he tried to associate that word with Hermione Granger, his face became increasingly flushed and his breathing a bit more labored. Alternatively, Harry would simply ignore these feelings, attempting to quell them out. If it was love, he didn't want to reveal that to Hermione, lest he risk everything he already knew for certain he had with her.

“Harry, is there something else?”

“Huh...what,” Harry shook himself from thinking, and blushed a bit as he realized he had been staring at Hermione.

“Is there anything else, you zoned out there for a minute.” Hermione cocked her head to the side slightly, and Harry shook his head.

“No....just thinking about Sirius. I sent Hedwig with a note to him and I'm hoping she doesn't get caught and lead the Ministry to Sirius.” It wasn't a complete lie, he had sent Hedwig along to Sirius, wherever he might be, but it wasn't exactly a complete truth either.

“I'm sure she'll make it in good enough order,” Hermione said with a smile, turning back to her paper. Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief, and turned back to the Scottish landscape, ignoring the fact that the pain in his scar had lessened somewhat.

/ - / - / - /

Harry and his classmates finished with a opening feast of Hogwarts and were about to tuck in for the evening. There were large murmurs about the crowd, as everyone started to get restless to move back to the common rooms to catch up on sleep for the next day. The ringing sound of a fork against a goblet silenced everyone in time, and they all turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing at the head table, his eyes twinkling madly as he did so.

“Before we tuck in for the evening I have a few start of term announcements,” he bellowed out to the captivated audience. “First years will take notice that there is not to be any magic performed in the hallways between classes. Secondly, as a reminder to all students, the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students who are not accompanied by a professor and on official school business.” Harry raised an eyebrow at the addendum to the usual start of term notification.

“Finally, I would like to announce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. We are pleased to have retired master Auror Alastor Moody on our staff! Presently Mr. Moody is preoccupied, but he should arrive here in the morning.” Dumbledore's tone took on a rather serious expression, and Harry idly wondered what was about to be said.

“And lastly to all students....though this may come as a surprise to many of you....for reasons that shall be announced later, and in the interest of school unity, the House Cup competition as well as the Quidditch season for this year, have been canceled.

The uproar swept through the Great Hall, as dozens of students yelled in protest. Dumbledore stood through it all, allowing the fervor to reach its crescendo, before raising his hands and silencing the majority of the hecklers. “I realize this comes as a bit of a disappointment to many of you, but rest assured it is for a good reason. Hogwarts has been chosen to play host to a legendary event that hasn't happened in over three generations.” Harry could almost hear the gears in Hermione's brain shift into movement at being presented with this latest puzzle. “And though points will not be awarded and deducted this year as per usual custom, detentions will still be given for rule breaking. Now, we all have a big day tomorrow, so I think it best be appropriate that we all turn in. Prefects will lead first years to their dormitories. Good night.” With another wave of his hand, the students began to disperse towards the common rooms.

“Quidditch being canceled is absolute bollocks!” Ron yelled as they walked into the common room, earning a resounding agreement from everyone else. “I don't care what sort of fancy competition they have!”

“I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons,” Hermione replied, though her face was a bit more downtrodden than most would have expected it to be. “Regardless Ron, the pitch is still there for pickup games on the weekend. I'm sure you can schedule things with Professor McGonagall.” Ron scoffed off as he made his way up the stairs towards his bed and towards one of his more favorite pastimes, sleep. Harry merely stared into the fire, an emotionless mask.

“Harry...” Hermione asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Just a feeling,” he mechanically replied, “Like something's about to happen.”

Hermione smiled at him and offered some words of comfort, patting him on the back in the process. Through it all, Ron Weasley stared at the pair of them, a scowl looming at the edge of his face.

A/N: We'll get to Moody, Snape & Ron's first idea at what he's gotten himself into with Ancient Runes class (remember he said he'd drop divination because Harry was) in the next chapter. The length is short, I know, but it was quicker out this time so that's why.

A/N: You may have noticed by my inclusion of Tonks & Kingsley at the World Cup that I am not certainly above bringing in other characters/situations which would take place later on in canon. This will continue with the next couple of chapters to a large degree.

Interestingly enough, this Dumbledore is pretty much the exact opposite from the Dumbledore from my “Heirs” universe, though I see both as merely a fundamental extension of various points in canon Dumbledore's characters. I don't know if you see it that way, but that's what I'm trying to go for.

/ - / - / - /

Hermione Granger sighed contently as she entered her room in Gryffindor tower. Though she didn't consider it her true home, Hogwarts was still a place of great significance to her, a place that held a great many memories in her young life, and as much as she enjoyed her time during the summer with her parents, it was still good to be back.

She ignored the prattling of her roommates for a while, setting about organizing her books and such for the next day. She hadn't received her timetables yet of course, but it certainly never hurt to be prepared. For the first time in a long time, much to her surprise, she found she wasn't worried about the end result of her homework. She wasn't fretting over whether or not she had included enough material in her essays to get outstanding marks on everything.

“Earth to Hermione,” came a rather giggly voice from behind her. Hermione sighed and turned towards Lavender Brown, who was staring straight at her, a wry smile on her face. “So,” Lavender continued, folding her arms ever so prim and properly in a mock show of civility. “When are you and Harry planning the wedding?”

Hermione couldn’t help but blush a bit at that comment, but she tried as hard as she could to fight back the embarrassment at the question. Shaking her head and staring straight at her roommate she crossed her arms and put on the best face she could. “Honestly Lavender, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t Hermione,” Lavender replied, rolling her eyes as she scooted back further against her pillow. “Those aren’t longing looks that you give him every time he says something. Those aren’t more than friendly hugs you give him everytime he is in trouble. Nope….you’re not enamored with him at all.” Parvati giggled, while Hermione scoffed.

“Honestly Lavender, sarcasm is not very becoming of you.” She threw back her covers and removed her shirt, searching through her trunk for a gown to wear to bed.

“Maybe not,” Lavender said grinning, “But I just call them like I see them.” At that, she turned around and drifted off to sleep.

Hermione lay in bed for several hours after that, rather worried. Lavender may have been just kidding around, but then again she had accurately stumbled onto the truth, even if it had been unknowingly. That scared Hermione, scared her to no end actually. That conscious voice of the logical side of her mind consistently told her to tone things down with Harry; that she was sending all the wrong signals when just a year ago she had wanted to try and distance herself from him and give any thought to a romantic relationship a quick and sudden death.

But so much had changed since then, she told herself bluntly. Harry had entrusted her with his deepest secrets, and Hermione had taken it upon herself to try and make his life better. And, she had to admit, that while it seemed plausible to withdraw into herself and her studies a year ago, it was becoming increasingly hard to envision her doing that. Perhaps, in a way, Harry had managed to do exactly what Hermione had intended to do for him, lure her out of her own self-created shell. And now that she saw the light, she was rather reluctant to return to the dark.

Hermione pulled up the covers and closed her eyes, trying not to dwell on such thoughts that evening. That night however, as it always did, hope sprang eternal in her dreams.

/ - / - / - /

The next morning the school was still abuzz with the cancellation of Quidditch and the eradication of the House Cup for that year. Reaction was generally in the negative on both counts, though some of the upper year students seemed to have an inkling as to what was going on, particularly the prefects and the head boy and girl.

Throughout it all Harry Potter simply moved on autopilot, unable to shake the feeling that something was about to happen. His scar had finally stopped hurting the night before, and it hadn’t bothered him yet this morning, something he generally accepted as being a good sign. Still, he had hoped to have heard from Sirius by that point, seeing as how he had written the letter before they had left for King’s Cross Station.

He picked away at his breakfast, for once thankful that he didn’t have to rush through his homework at the last minute. He glanced out of the corner of his eye as he saw Ron diligently chomping away at the eggs and bacon in front of him while simultaneously working on his potions essay, with more than a bit of help from Hermione he reminded himself. His gaze wondered upwards and he glanced at Hermione, who merely smiled at him, but quickly looked away as she did so. Harry felt slightly awkward at the moment.

Quickly they were all drawn to attention by Professor McGonagall, who was sorting out timetables for all of her students at the moment. She stopped at the three of them, handing them each a piece of parchment. “Here you are, and might I add that I am glad you three have decided to challenge yourself more this year in terms of your academics,” she said with a small smile across her lips. As quickly as her pride shone through however, it faded as she turned towards Harry. “Mr. Potter, the headmaster would like to speak with you this evening if it is convenient for you.”

Harry looked taken aback a bit. “Of course,” he blurted out, his mind running through any number of possibilities as to what the headmaster would want to talk with him about.

“Very well, I’ll tell him you will be there at seven tonight. The password is gumballs.” She slightly bowed her head in courtesy to the three of them and went on her way. Harry looked down at the table, still a bit concerned with what Professor Dumbledore had to tell him. Idly his eyes wandered up to the head table, focusing on Dumbledore in the center. He appeared to be chatting merrily with Professor Sinestra, laughing at something that had been said between the two of them.

“I’m sure it’s alright Harry,” Hermione said, causing Harry to turn at her. She offered a small smile, “Your last visit with him didn’t go so bad, now did it?” Harry chuckled and nodded his head.

“I suppose not.” He took a sip of his pumpkin juice as he glanced over his timetable. There was a sour look that crossed his face quickly, but before he could say anything, Ron interpreted it for him.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed, “We have potions AND defense with the Slytherins to kick things off.” He dramatically tossed his paper onto the table, “Well that’s a real smashing start to the year.” Harry couldn’t help but agree. He certainly had enough trouble dealing with Professor Snape as it were without Draco and his Slytherin gang making things more miserable for him. He glanced over at where Snape was sitting, and was surprised when he saw Snape staring right back at him intently, an expressionless mask firmly etched onto his sallow face.

“Harry what is it?” Ron asked, as he finished his breakfast, Harry turned and looked at him, and then looked back at Snape, who had just left the heads table.

“It’s nothing,” Harry replied without breaking his glance, “At least….I don’t think it is.”

/ - / - / - /

There was a palpable sense of dread as the Gryffindor 4^th years filed into the dungeons for potions. Word had seemingly spread overnight that Professor Snape was in no too good of a mood, and that usually meant one thing, trouble for them. And with no house points to deduct this year, many of the students didn’t really know how their least favorite professor would go out of his way to make their life miserable.

The Slytherins, on the other hand, had a more surprising reaction. Many of them shuffled in with a rather stunned look on their face, as if someone had hit them squarely in the gut with a bludger. Harry took a moment to judge their reactions, and to his recollection they had appeared to be that way at breakfast that morning as well, save for the usual gang that hung around Malfoy. They had been as chipper and arrogant as usual, and Draco shot Harry a knowing glance. Something was up.

Before Harry could turn to Hermione to say anything, the doors to the Potions office swung open and Severus Snape came stalking out, his black robes billowing behind him dramatically. He stopped in front of the blackboard where he had pre-written instructions for that day’s lesson and glared out over the students. His gaze passed by Harry three times, moving past the other Gryffindors only once in succession, before he spoke.

“Listen closely because I am only going to say this once,” he hissed, anger seeping out of every fiber of his being, “I have been watching my students for quite some time, and I am sad to say that, particularly in this year, the cases of sabotage and misbehavior are at absolutely inexcusable levels. To that end, any rule breaking, sabotage, or other misbehavior shall be met with swift and….just punishment. Do I make myself clear?” He looked at Harry again, focusing solely on him as the rest of the class nodded their heads in forced agreement. “Excellent, now pass in your homework and we’ll begin today’s lesson.”

To everyone’s surprise the lesson seemed to go smoothly for the majority of the period, with everyone keeping to themselves safe for some students helping one another out. Snape for his part set nothing at the displays, merely pacing back and forth with a sour expression on his face. To say that the whole thing put Harry on edge would be an understatement, and he fervently worked as hard and as diligently as he could to finish his potion and get out of the creepy scene.

“Have fun with your pet mudblood over the summer,” came a rather shrill voice from across the aisle way in the classroom. Harry glanced over and saw Draco Malfoy staring right at him, a smirk on his face, with his dimwitted accomplices Crabbe and Goyle each chuckling next to him. No one noticed Snape turn to witness the affair. Harry tried his best to ignore Malfoy, who snickered, “What’s the matter scarhead? Kneazle got your tongue?” Harry glared back at him, only to be silenced by a slight clearing of the throat from Snape. Hermione turned and glanced back at the professor, as did Harry, and the two of them went back to work.

Draco however, was undeterred, “I suppose she’s nice enough….if you were to use her as some sort of consort or mistress.” Harry stopped what he was doing and glared up at Malfoy with a look that could have put a basilisk to shame, “Merlin knows she’s no good for breeding, but who would want THAT filth in your lineage.” Harry’s hand started shaking with anger, and Hermione placed her hand on Harry’s shoulder, fighting back her own tears.

“Let it go Harry,” she whispered.

“That’s quite enough out of all of you,” Snape barked, pacing between the two parties. Ron glared at Snape from behind his cauldron, whispering something to himself.

As soon as Snape had passed, Malfoy turned back towards Potter, “So what about it Potter, you going to give us the intimate details on your fun with the mudblood.” Harry never looked at him, merely glaring down at the table, his fist clenching and unclenching rapidly at his side.

“Don’t call her that,” he whispered, shutting his eyes to try and control his anger.

“What did you say Potter?” Draco said with mock sincerity, “I didn’t hear you but….I could have sworn that sounded a bit like a threat.”

Harry flipped his head around, “I said….”

“ENOUGH!” Everyone stopped and stared straight at Snape, who slammed a book down on his desk. “I warned you and now you’ll suffer the consequences.” He glared straight at the Trio, a look of palpable anger shown on his face. “You three will have detention with me the next two nights.”

Ron slammed his head against the table, while Hermione looked outraged. Harry merely glared right back at Snape. Malfoy and his goons smirked to themselves, Malfoy in general chuckling snidely.

“What are you laughing at Mr. Malfoy,” Snape replied in an even-tone, his eyes never once leaving Potter’s gaze, “Or did I miss the point where two nights detention was a joke.” He quietly turned towards Draco and his gang, leaving Hermione and Harry each with stunned looks on their face, and Ron with an ever widening mouth. Draco immediately looked at Professor Snape, equally confused.

“Excuse me but, did you say that…”

“Yes I did Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said evenly, turning his back on the students, “You and your friends, Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, will join me in organizing my potions storeroom the next two nights. Perhaps then you will learn to keep your mouth shut.” Draco’s eyes widened, a glimmer of anger beginning to cross his countenance as the realization hit.

“But, sir,”

“Don’t But me Malfoy! Unless you are trying for five days detention…..”

Draco shut up, looking dejected, “No sir….”

“I didn’t think so.” He glanced around the room, stopping on Ron, “You’re not a codfish Mr. Weasley, now get back to work!” Ron quickly did as he was told, as did the rest of the class. Harry put the finishing touches on his potion, turned it in, and got out of their as fast as he could, his mind working a thousand different directions over what had just transpired.

/ - / - / - /

Slowly, one by one, the Gryffindors and Slytherins made their way into the defense classroom, each filled with a different emotion for what had just transpired in the dungeons with Professor Snape. Theories were already bouncing off the walls like Cornish Pixies hopped up on Pepper Up Potion, everything from Snape having been replaced by someone via Polyjuice Potion, to mind control, to Snape having just gone plain off his rocker.

Harry sat and listened to the murmurings around him, and considered everything. The headmaster wanted to speak with him, and Professor Snape was, for once, acting fairly. Perhaps the two were interconnected, somehow, he told himself. In any event he would hopefully find out soon enough. Things were rapidly changing, almost too fast for his liking.

He turned and saw Hermione walk into the room, almost instantly lighting it up. She didn’t even need to smile, though if she had Harry certainly wouldn’t have minded one bit…..

“Stop this!” Harry told himself frantically, “Do you want to ruin the best thing in your life?” Harry shook his head frantically, trying to clear out the momentary cobwebs that Hermione had installed there just by simply existing. It was a miracle she had decided to save him from the Dursley’s, save him from hell essentially, and the last thing he needed to do was go and bugger that up by bringing these….feelings into it.

“I can’t believe that greasy git managed to give detention to Malfoy and his cronies,” Ron said with excitement as he walked in and sat down next to Harry. “And did you see the look on his face? It was like someone blew up a dung bomb right in his face when he did it.”

“Yeah…yeah I saw the look on his face,” Harry replied, thankful for something to distract his thoughts from that treacherous road. “He was looking at me the whole time it seemed like. I don’t know what that was all about.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it mate,” Ron said with a smile on his face, “Whether that greasy git just swallowed some SleakEasy potion when he was doing his hair this morning or whatever, I say we just sit back and enjoy it while it lasts.” He looked around as Hermione finally made her way towards them, sitting down in between Ron and Harry.

“Has anyone seen Professor Moody yet,” she asked, getting a shrug of shoulders from both of the boys she was seated next to.

“No, but my dad told me about him a while back. Said he was one of the most famous aurors in the last war with You-Know-Who, but after that he kind of became a recluse. Really paranoid is what my dad said.”

“Potter!” Harry turned to see Draco stalk into the room, his face an obvious scowl.

“Well, if it isn’t snakebreath himself,” Ron said cheerily, “Planning on what to wear to scrub out the dungeons tonight Draco?”

“If you’re lucky I might give you some pointers Weasel-bee, seeing as how you’ll be replacing that squib Filch when he finally croaks.” Ron scowled back at Malfoy as he turned back to Harry. “I don’t know what you did to Professor Snape, but rest assured my father is going to hear about this.”

“Be sure he sends you a clean pair of robes to replace your mucked up ones,” Harry answered back, causing the crowd to laugh a bit. Draco looked around, and simply harrumphed his way towards his seat.

Several moments passed by while the class awaited the arrival of their new professor. Many of them were starting to get a bit disinterested with Moody’s lack of appearance, when Harry began to feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. Instinctively he grabbed his wand and dropped down, just as a rather loud sounding spell shot out over his head and exploded in the front of the classroom. Everyone turned to see the new threat in the room.

The man was slightly hunched over, leaning forward on a jagged wooden staff. He was a grizzled man, dressed in a long brown robe that covered most of his body. He had stringy blonde hair that hung out of every which way on the top of his head, but his most prominent feature was a solid blue glass eye that sat on his left side, held in place by a gold socket and a leather strap that wrapped around his face. The eye whirled about in his head, glancing around at every student, before stopping at Harry.

“Well done Mr. Potter,” he blurted out as he limped his way forward, causing Harry for the first time to notice the leg that appeared to be slightly shorter than the other, and from the sound of it made of wood to boot. “Good demonstration of the one skill that can save your hide against the dark arts…CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” He turned and faced the class, as Harry retook his seat. “I am Alastor Moody,” the professor said in a quieter tone. “Retired master auror….ministry malcontent….and your new defense against the dark arts professor.

“As Mr. Potter just demonstrated, the easiest way to defend yourself is simply by always being on guard of the threats around you, even the ones you can’t see. Simply by practicing CONSTANT VIGILANCE….you’ll be better prepared for what’s out there.”

Moody paced back and forth around the class, looking at everyone in turn and staring a hole directly through them. “I’ve studied the notes of your previous professors, and suffice to say with the exception of Professor Lupin, you’ve not had even close to an adequate instructor in this area. Well that changes now. For the next month, I will give you a crash course in everything you should have learned the last three years, and at the end of the month, we will have an exam to determine where you stand.” He adopted an almost manic look in his good eye as he whispered, “But not today….

“Today you will get the same lesson everyone third year and up is getting….you need to know what you’re up against….so with that in mind…” he looked down at a roll of parchment before staring right at one of the students.

“Miss Granger!” Hermione was startled by the force of Professor Moody. “Stand up.” Hermione slowly rose to her feet, and Moody walked over and got a good look at her. “Professor McGonagall tells me that you’re the brightest witch of your age. Well then….” He walked away and turned towards the blackboard, beginning to write something, “Perhaps you can tell us how many unforgivable curses there are.”

Hermione gulped, and Harry looked at her with worry on his face. “Three sir,” she managed to answer.

“And they are so named?”

“Because they are exactly that, unforgivable. The use of any one of them will earn you a….”

“….life sentence in Azkaban prison.” Moody finished writing and the board, and turned around, motioning for Hermione to sit down as he did so. “Very good. Now, who can give us a curse?” He glanced around the room. “Mr. Malfoy….stand up!” Draco defiantly stood firm in the face of him. “Why don’t you give us a curse?”

“My father told me about one,” Draco said firmly, “The imperious curse.”

“Yes, you’re father would know all about that one now wouldn’t he.” Before Draco could respond, Moody glared at him, causing him to quickly sit down. Moody turned around and began fishing in a series of jars for something. “The imperious curse is a particularly nasty little thing. It empowers the caster to control anyone or anything that they curse. Every whim of the caster is done without question or hesitation.” He backed away and held up a spider, setting down on the table in front of the class. “Let’s have a demonstration shall we? Engorgio!” The spider grew to twice its normal size. “Imperio!” The spider stayed completely still, not moving an inch, “Now….dance!”

Rather comically, the spider stood up on its hind legs and began to tap dance, causing the class to laugh out loud, increasing in intensity as the spider did other, more elaborate dance moves. “Ah you think that’s funny do you? What shall I have her do next?” Moody flicked his wand and the spider became airborne, landing right in front of Ron, who screamed in fear? “Should she bite him?” He moved the spider again, floating her near a glass of water. “Maybe drown her?” He motioned towards the window. “Throw her out to her doom?” He motioned towards a small candle. “Burn her alive?” The class fell silent and Moody moved the spider back in front of him, leaving it stationary for the moment.

“Now, scores of witches and wizards, including Mr. Malfoy’s father, claimed that they only did You-Know-Who’s bidding because of the Imperious Curse. But here’s the kicker….how do we sort out the ones who are telling the truth….from the ones who are the liars.” He paused. “Any ideas?” There was no response from the class. “Towards the end of the last war, aurors were authorized to use one of the most horrendous spells imaginable for this very purpose.” He glanced around the room for effect, stopping on Neville. “Mr. Longbottom! Stand up.” Neville slowly rose. “Perhaps you know the spell I’m referring too?”

Neville looked down very quietly he muttered, “The….the cruciatus….”

“Very good….you may sit down.” Neville did so, and Moody looked at him a long time, before pointing his wand at the spider. “It’s also known as the torture curse. Crucio!” The tiny screams of the spider filled the classroom as a bright crimson light shot out of Moody’s wand. Everyone watched in horror as the spider twitched involuntarily in pain as the spell was applied with more intensity. Harry looked up at Neville, who appeared to be cringing moreso than everyone else, borderlining on becoming physically ill.

“Stop it….leave it alone!” Harry screamed, causing Moody to stop and stare straight at him. Moody shook his head and picked up the spider, slowly walking over towards Harry and setting the spider gently in front of him.

“Perhaps you would care to share with us the final unforgivable curse…Mr. Potter?”

Harry swallowed hard, his eyes misting over slightly. He had read about the unforgiveables in one of his defense books, though they had only been mentioned in passing. “The killing curse….” he whispered. Moody nodded and started to walk away, before quickly turning back.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” A pale green light shot out at the spider, causing it to go completely limp, much to the horror of everyone. Moody glanced around at all of the students. “The killing curse is the most powerful spell in a Death Eater’s arsenal. There is no known counter, and no known protective measure that can be taken.” He stopped and looked right at Harry. “Only one person is known to have survived it…..and he’s sitting here in this room.” Harry glanced right back up at Moody, who simply turned away. “Class dismissed.”

A/N: As you can tell I pretty much went with the GoF movie for my template on the Moody scene, though some things are different.

You’ll find out why Dumbledore wanted to see Harry in the next chapter, as well as a partial reason as to why Snape acted the way he did. We’re getting closer to the tournament starting too….so sit back and enjoy the ride.

Yes I have read book 7….and for the sake of everyone here I shall avoid any spoilers. Needless to say, I’ll continue with all of my fanfictions as I had planned on doing, regardless of the ending.

/ - / - / - /

Harry slowly made the trek from the Great Hall after dinner towards the headmaster’s office. Hermione had offered to go with him, but Harry had shrugged her off, not because he didn’t want the company, but simply because he needed to collect his thoughts.

First and foremost on his mind was, much to his surprise, not what the headmaster wanted with him, nor was it Snape’s odd actions in Potions that had him mired deep in thought. Rather, it was his personal feelings on Hermione going in three separate directions, two of which happened to be quelled deeply in fear.

To be truthful there was a small part of him that felt…something…for Hermione, beyond what one would constitute as normal friendship. Needless to say he didn’t have a word for it, though he had tried to assign it one before. He figured that part of this was, at least in principle, just simply hormones. If a bloke spent a considerable amount of time around a girl, it would only be natural for part of him to be infatuated on a physical level with said female. That aside however, he felt a deeper emotional connection with Hermione, much more so than any other girl he might have lusted over in the past, and it was only growing with each passing day.

The two avenues of his mind that led to less hospitable thoughts were frightful indeed. Firstly, a part of him thought he was relying far too heavily on Hermione. His parents had died trying to protect him from Voldemort, and Ron had been hurt before trying to help him get to the Sorceror’s Stone. If something….anything….happened to Hermione at this point, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He’d miss her for certain, but more than that there was a disparaging feeling of emptiness and fear that associated itself with the concept of no Hermione in his life. A small logical corner of his mind told him he should retreat into himself, shut out the outside world for fear of losing anyone else, but he shut that up relatively quickly.

The other avenue of thought was that this…whatever it was…would muddle things up between he and Hermione. For someone who had never had someone give a damn about his well-being in his entire life, at least that he could remember, he certainly didn’t want to do anything to screw that up. Hermione was, unquestionably, the best thing in his life at that very moment, and the possibility of destroying that in pursuit of something that might not even be there in the first place was a harrowing prospect indeed.

As Harry approached the gargoyle leading up to the headmaster’s office and muttered the password, he decided for certain on one thing. Until he could suss out everything that was going on in his head, he would keep these feelings to himself. If any of it got out before he was ready to address it himself, there was no telling what might happen.

He rode up the spiral staircase towards Dumbledore’s office, putting such thoughts outside of his mind for the immediate moment. As he drew closer to the oak doors, he heard raised voices coming out of the room. He pressed his ear against the door as he drew closer, trying to hear what was being said.

“…I will speak no more on this matter Severus; you know my feelings concerning it.”

“Yes, headmaster.” Harry blinked. What was going on between Dumbledore and Snape? “I will endeavor to be more….as you put it, fair….in my practices this term.”

“That is all I ask Severus.” There was a pause, and Harry took the moment to lightly rap on the door. “Ah, that will be my next appointment. We shall speak later, if you like.”

“That will not be necessary sir.” Just as Harry opened the door, Snape turned on his heel and marched out, not sparing a singular glance at him. Harry looked at his back, only to hear a soft couch from Professor Dumbledore.

“There you are Harry, I’m sorry my meeting with Professor Snape ran a little late. Please…have a seat.” Harry turned and the door shut behind him. Though he had seen it several times, Harry never ceased to be amazed at all the silvery gadgets and gizmos that puffed, whirred, and whizzed throughout the headmaster’s office like some kind of symphonic cacophony. Harry cautiously moved forward, stopping when he heard a comforting trill from the headmaster’s desk, and moving to stroke Fawkes lovingly on the head. Dumbledore merely stood back and regarded it for a moment.

“You must be doing something right Harry,” he mused, sitting back down at his desk, “Phoenixes aren’t known for taking kindly to those whom they aren’t bonded too, unless they have a pure heart.” Harry turned and glanced at the headmaster with a bit of a bewildered look on his face, though a sheepish smile slowly crossed his countenance. At Dumbledore’s motion, he sat down.

There were several moments of uncomfortable silence, before Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, Harry, how was your summer…if you don’t mind me asking that is?”

Harry smiled. “It was great sir,” he replied honestly, “Other than that business at the World Cup of course. But before that it was great.” He smiled inwardly as he remembered the good times he had, the Dursleys the farthest thing from his mind at that very moment.

“Yes I heard about that business in the paper,” Dumbledore said, smiling proudly as he did. “I received a notice from the Ministry that you are to receive a special commendation for your capture of one of the perpetrators of the attack.” Harry furrowed his brow both in surprise and in concern.

“Sir, the man I stunned….he was Barty Crouch’s son…but the paper said that…” Dumbledore held up his hand, effectively cutting him off.

“Sometimes the Prophet has a tendency to skim over some of the more important details of a story, particularly when powerful men are involved.” Harry frowned, nodding his understanding.

“Is this why you wanted to speak with me…about the special commendation?” Dumbledore’s smile suddenly faded and he leaned forward, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

“No, Harry, I’m afraid not.” He pushed his glasses up, and offered what he could of an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid that in my desire to protect you and offer you some modicum of normality, I have overlooked your basic principle of happiness, as well as the right to make your own decisions. I hope that I have begun to repair things as far as the former is concerned, and I am taking measures to improve things on the latter front.

“In your first year Harry, after you stopped poor Professor Quirrell in the dungeons, you asked me a question, a question that I felt you were too young to know the answer to. A large degree of thought on my part has led me to believe that you are now ready to make this decision for yourself, and so I offer you this choice.

“Should you choose to ask me again why Voldemort wants to kill you, I will tell you everything, but I must ask that you keep it a secret…telling only those that you have the utmost trust in. Only Sirius knows the truth as I do. I will also make a special request of you; that you come here to my office, twice a week at a time which is convenient for you, where I will give you instruction on occulumency, the art of protecting your mind from unwanted intrusion.

“If you wish not to know the truth, then you may walk out the door…and we will not speak on this matter again until you wish to do so.” Dumbledore leaned back, eyes twinkling madly as he did so. Harry bit his bottom lip in a Hermione-esque fashion and thought for only a few moments. No matter what it entailed, there was really only one answer he could give.

“I think I deserve to know headmaster,” he stated evenly, “After everything Voldemort has put me through, I feel that I deserve to know why he is after me at least.” Dumbledore nodded, letting out a measured breath.

“It was my sincere hope that you would not have to face him again so soon in your life Harry, but here at the age of 14 you’ve faced him twice already, and undoubtedly will continue to do so.” Dumbledore stood up and walked over to the side of his office, stopping at a large mirrored cabinet. After making a slight gesture with his hands, the cabinet withdrew into the wall, revealing another mirrored wall that slowly emerged forward. Sitting in the center on a large marble pedestal was a silver basin, engraved with several runes that Harry couldn’t quite make out, not being that far ahead in his class yet. Dumbledore seemed to understand Harry’s confusion and explained.

“This is a pensieve Harry. It not only allows a person to view memories of events that have long since transpired, but to view them from a third person perspective, so that they might notice something which they might not have noticed before. It is a useful tool if you, like I occasionally do, find your mind to full of clutter.” Dumbledore carefully lifted the basin, taking special care not to spill any of the mercurial liquid that it held. He set the pensieve down on the desk in front of Harry, who was momentarily mesmerized by the shimmering surface of the basin.

“16 years ago the position of Divination professor was open here at the school, and it was my task to find a suitable person to fill that position. So it was that I interviewed one Sybil Trelawney.” Harry cocked an eyebrow at the idea that Sybil Trelawney could be good for anything, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the headmaster. “I share some of your indignation for the subject of divination, nevertheless I was not yet prepared to do away with the subject completely, and Miss Trelawney was descended from the noted seer Cassandra Trelawney, so it was my hope that she had inherited the gift.

“As the interview progressed the hot July afternoon, it was clear to me that any genuine ability that she possessed was highly overstated on her part. I was about to end the interview, when the most peculiar thing happened. She fell into a trancelike state and began muttering about random gibberish. In the midst of this I recognized a genuine prophecy…it is this prophecy that I intend to show you now.” Harry looked on skeptically, but with a hint of knowledge in the back of his mind that, whatever this prophecy was, it was most certainly about him. Dumbledore waved his wand over the pensieve, and at once a misty projection of Professor Trelawney in the same kind of trance she had been in last year appeared above the basin. She spoke in a deep, almost otherworldly voice, as she made her prediction:

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”

The wispy image of Professor Trelawney faded from view, and Dumbledore waited for Harry to say something, trying to gauge his reaction. Harry blinked several times, before letting out a deep breath and lowering his head a bit.

“Well that explains a lot,” he said half-jokingly. He looked at Dumbledore, his green eyes boring deep into Dumbledore’s twinkling blue orbs, looking for any sign that this wouldn’t be true. “How do we know I’m the one this talks about…I mean there must have been loads of blokes born at the end of July…”

“Yes, but remember that the chosen one would be born to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. The only two sets of parents who fit that description were your parents….and Frank & Alice Longbottom.”

“Neville’s parents?” Harry asked in disbelief, “So…this could also apply to Neville?”

“It might have, but when Voldemort chose to attack you that night 13 years ago, he effectively marked you as his equal.” Dumbledore’s eyes and Harry’s hands floated up to the scar that was permanently etched onto his forehead. “That is how I know the Prophecy applies to you. It should be noted that Voldemort, despite championing pureblood supremacy, chose you as his equal rather than the obvious pureblood.”

Harry was silent for a long time, mulling over everything in his head. Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, and Harry spoke slowly, “The last part….I have to kill him….I’m the only one who can?”

“That is the only interpretation I can think of Harry.” Dumbledore paused, examining the contours of Harry’s face as he tried to discern Harry’s complete reaction. “I must confess Harry; this isn’t the reaction I expected.” He had expected Harry to explode, destroying his office in the process, but this was much more subdued than he could measure.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked as calmly as he could.

Dumbledore’s face fell slightly as he confessed. “I didn’t want to place this burden on your young shoulders Harry. It was another attempt on my part to give you some semblance of normality in your life.”

“And protecting me from this….that was why you placed me at the Dursleys?”

“Yes….it was for what I judged to be your own good.”

“It always comes back to that doesn’t it?” Harry muttered to himself. Without the sheer shock of Dumbledore’s contrition, without the comforting presence of Hermione, without the abject fear of speaking out, Harry Potter’s temper was beginning to flare, despite his better judgment.

“I can only hope that you can one day forgive an old man his folly, Harry. I shall not ask for it today, but I shall merely give you the promise that I shall endeavor to make things right in the future.” He paused a moment, seeing the war that Harry was at with himself, before adding, “I understand if…”

“No you don’t!” Harry snapped, his fist clenching in frustration as he glared at the headmaster. “You can’t possibly understand. You didn’t have the experiences I did.” Tears started to leak out of his eyes as he continued on with ferocity. “I didn’t know my name till I was four years old and even then just because a teacher told me. I didn’t have a single friend growing up because my cousin chased them all away. No one has ever even…” he stopped, trying to gain control of his emotions as best he could. Fawkes started singing a small song, which brought him a bit of calm. Harry nodded his head and stood up, his face reduced to a blank mask, the tears wiped from his eyes. He walked towards the door, stopping when Dumbledore called his name.

“I must ask you Harry, if you plan on telling anyone about this. I must ask you to take great caution if you do choose to tell them, but I will not forbid it. It is your choice to make.” Harry turned around and stared right at the headmaster.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do right now, more than likely I’m just going to mull things over for a bit.” He paused before adding, “I don’t hate you Professor, and I am thankful you have finally decided to come clean and will help me on this task…but I’m afraid I will have a hard time respecting you ever again.” On that, Harry turned and walked out of the headmaster’s office, leaving Dumbledore in a somber state indeed.

A/N: I decided to just make this all one chapter, rather than add anymore reaction on the part of Harry or any other characters. We’ll be jumping forward in time here, and while I won’t detail many things that happen in other classes (Blast-Ended Skrewts for example), they may be touched upon at times.

Furthermore we’ll start with the leadup to the tournament in the next chapter, so that’ll be a good thing. And before long we’ll get to the initial thing I wanted to change that was the one main decision to start this at the fourth book rather than 5 or 6….the Yule Ball.

A/N: Bah, this chapter just didn’t develop the way I wanted. I’ll be skipping ahead in time in the next chapter, maybe with some more Weasley stuff in there. Once we get to the tournament, I’m sure everything will go a lot more smoothly.

And to alleviate your fears, nothing is going to come between Harry & Hermione, I assure you of that, at least not in this year. That’s not to say they won’t have problems later on, but this remains first and foremost an H/Hr story.

The song going through my head at the beginning was “Hollow” by Godsmack. Just one of those tidbits you might like to know.

/ - / - / - /

Harry silently roamed the halls of Hogwarts, under the guise of his invisibility cloak. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind, nor did he have a clue as to how long he had wandered. After leaving the headmaster’s office, he had quietly walked back to Gryffindor tower, fished the cloak out of trunk, and left again without saying a word to anyone. Hermione had just looked at him with those deep brown eyes of hers, and he had ignored her silent pleadings to tell her what was wrong.

Part of him knew she would help him, that she could try and make things better, but this was one inescapable conclusion he couldn’t avoid, one end that he couldn’t walk away from, and there was nothing Hermione could do about it.

In order to save himself, in order to defeat the greatest evil the wizarding world had perhaps ever known, he had to become that which he hated the most. He had to become just like those who had tormented and abused him for the first thirteen years of his life. He had to become like the Dursleys, or at least no better than them. He had to become a cold blooded murderer.

The thought chilled his very soul.

To be truthful, aside from that part of the prophecy, he wasn’t really surprised that there was something about him that made Voldemort try to kill him so many times. A small sarcastic corner of his mind tried to lighten the mood by saying that it was a wonder Trelawney could actually predict anything made him internally chuckle.

A momentary thought about what she had said last year came and went without a singular consideration from him at that very instant, never to return.

His mind wandered back to what he had to do, what he alone had the apparent power to do. That was one thing he chided himself on. He was so busy being angry and blowing up at Dumbledore that he had forgot to ask him whatever this power that the dark lord knew not was. Whatever it was, he hoped the Professor had some idea.

Harry finally came to a stop just outside the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, slumping down onto the ground and removing his cloak, feeling like a lead weight had just been tied around his neck. He needed a place he could be alone, a place he could collect his thoughts about everything and come up with some kind of plan of action. Frustrated, he stood back up and began pacing back and forth, his mind wishing that some place would just happen to appear.

Funny how magic worked…

Much to his surprise he saw a door appear out of nowhere next to him. He tilted his head in curiosity, and slowly turned the knob and opened the door.

The inside was no different than the Gryffindor common room, safe for the lack of house-specific decorations and no stairwell that led to the dormitories. He cautiously stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He glanced around for several minutes, taking in the simplistic sights, before sitting down in the armchair next to the fire.

“What is this place,” he whispered to the room around him. He hadn’t even heard of such a room before. It was as if the castle had read his desires of what he needed, and then given him what he required. He chuckled as he thought that Hermione would know what this room was.

He really needed to read Hogwarts: A History, he thought to himself.

Thinking of Hermione suddenly made everything seem a lot smaller in scope. He didn’t have to save the whole of the wizarding world; he could live with simply saving Hermione. A small part of him, deep in his gut, told him that would be enough and that the rest would fall into place. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe it literally, but he was able to smile and breathe a bit easier knowing that there was some degree of comfort he could simply get just by thinking of her at a time like this.

He paused when he thought about what Dumbledore had said, about telling other people the prophecy. Only tell those you trust with certainty was essentially what the headmaster had instructed him to do. And as angry as he was right now, he could see the potential problems if too many people got word of the prophecy.

As he went down the list of people he trusted, there were only two names that came up in the “implicit trust” column….Ron and Hermione. And Ron was rather shaky. He had been surprisingly distant the last few days while at the Burrow, but Harry had told himself that it was probably just him stressing about finishing his homework on time.

That left Hermione, solid reliable Hermione, and Harry knew what he had to do. He owed it to her to tell her the prophecy, if for no other reason than to give her the choice of whether or not to stay with him. As much as it pained him to do so, he owed that much to her to give her the option, no matter the outcome.

/ - / - / - /

Harry was amazed to discover how much he enjoyed the art of arithmancy. Aside from defense with Moody (which had started off rocky, but was quickly becoming a far better learning experience than Harry would have anticipated), Professor Vector’s class was rapidly becoming one of his favorites. He was surprised at how easily he took to the art form of creating and enhancing spells.

So it was that he was currently in the library with Hermione, working on a group project that they had been paired off for. Both of them were currently researching various theories on energizing crystals and their use in temporal mechanics. A rather deep project to be certain, but then Hermione had been the one to choose the independent group research project.

Hermione glanced up from her book and saw Harry diligently working at his research, jotting down notes as he came across interesting passages and such. It had been two weeks since school had started, and she had noticed that Harry had become a bit more reserved once again. It looked like he wasn’t getting much sleep. Despite this he appeared to be doing much better in his classes than he normally had been; so far he was competing with her regularly for the top marks in class (save for defense, in which he always scored higher than her). Still, she couldn’t help but notice the lines of tension that had formed around his eyes, seeming to age him a good three or four years. Come to think of it, the brief vestiges of a carefree person that she had seen over the summer had disappeared entirely since the first day at Hogwarts.

More accurately, these images had vanished since Harry had first returned from Professor Dumbledore’s office.

She bit her bottom lip as she went through the possible reasons for this connection. Surely Dumbledore couldn’t have told him that he would have to return to his relatives that summer. Even if that had been the case, he wouldn’t have told him until later in the year.

‘Maybe something had happened to Sirius?’ she thought to herself. She contemplated the notion for a moment before dismissing it. He would have said something about that to her at least.

‘So what else could it be?’ she asked herself. She bit her bottom lip as she tried to deduce the cause of Harry’s problems. She internally sighed when she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t the faintest idea as to what it was. She steeled her resolve, and leaned forward to Harry, concern in her eyes. “Harry,” she whispered, causing said wizard to look up from his book and look at her. His face almost immediately returned to the melancholy mask that it had been wearing for the better part of two weeks when he saw the concern in her eyes. “Is something wrong?” Hermione asked, placing a hand on his, hoping to provide the kind of support she had shown him before. Harry looked down, and seemed to let out a staggered breath before he nodded.

“We shouldn’t discuss this here,” he whispered back to her, before closing his book and standing up. Hermione followed suit, slightly confused as to what was so important that they couldn’t discuss it alone in the library, with only two or three other people besides themselves across the room. They both returned their books and gathered their things, Hermione closely following Harry as they left the library and trudged up a set of stairs that led to a part of the castle she hadn’t been in before. Hermione was even more confused when Harry stopped in front of a tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy, pacing back and forth a few times as if he was waiting for something. Much to her shock however, a door seemed to appear out of nowhere. Her indexed knowledge of Hogwarts: A History kicked into overdrive, and before long she had the answer to her unspoken question.

“You found the Room of Requirement!” she exclaimed, to which Harry looked at her with a slightly amused expression on his face.

“I guess I did. I just needed a place to think about things one time, and here I came.” He opened the door and motioned for Hermione to follow. She had read about the Room of Requirement being exactly that: a place where a person could go to get what they needed. However the book had been frustratingly silent as to the location of said room. She walked through the simple door and was surprised to find a rather fitting replica of the Gryffindor common room, minus the house colors of course. Harry had taken a seat on the sofa in front of the fire, his eyes firmly fixed on it. Hermione tilted her head slightly and sat next to him, closing the door before she approached. She sat there for what seemed like an eternity as Harry took measured breaths while staring into the firelight. Hesitantly, she reached out and put an arm around his shoulders, if for no other reason than to remind him that she was there. Harry closed his eyes and rubbed them, taking off his glasses before he did so. He reopened his eyes and never looked at her, merely keeping his gaze on the fire.

“You remember how Professor Dumbledore called me into his office the first day?” Hermione nodded her head, despite the fact that Harry could not see the gesture. “When I was there, he told me…” he hesitated a bit, before continuing, “He told me why Voldemort has been after me all these years.” Hermione arched an eyebrow in confusion. That should be a good thing to know why a madman was after you. Maybe there was something that could be done about it.

“He said—he said that there was a prophecy made just before I was born. It said that the person with the power to defeat Voldemort would be born as the seventh month died, to parents who had thrice defied him.” Hermione felt her breath involuntarily catch in her throat, and hoped Harry wouldn’t notice. “It also said that Voldemort would mark this child as his equal, but that he would have power that Voldemort didn’t understand.” He paused a moment longer, before meekly finishing, “It also said that one of us has to kill the other one.”

Hermione sat there shocked for a moment, “But…he’s dead right? V-Voldemort is dead already?” Harry shook his head.

“He never really was dead, just sort of left in a kind of limbo I guess. He’s tried to come back twice already, and those dreams I was having in the summer don’t suggest he’s going to give up anytime soon.” Hermione pursed her lips and nodded, rubbing Harry’s shoulders as she absorbed what he had said. They stayed that way for several moments, before Harry added, “Maybe you should leave Hermione.” She stopped halfway down his back, frozen in fear. She swallowed hard, and gathered what he was trying to do.

“Harry look at me.” Harry glanced up at her, and she saw the pained look in his eyes as he fought with himself to say what he was trying to say.

“I’m cursed Hermione,” he softly spoke, barely above a whisper. “My parents died trying to save me, Ron got hurt trying to help me, you were petrified trying to help me, how long before one of you gets hurt again or…” he paused at the gravity of what he was saying, tears now leaking out of the corners of his eyes. Hermione could see that he was struggling to maintain control of his emotions, just as he had three months earlier that fateful night they had saved Sirius. Recalling what she had done then, she slowly pulled him in, hugging him fiercely, allowing him to melt into her embrace and let out the frustration and heartache.

“I’m sorry this happened to you Harry,” she said softly as he seemed to quiet down, “It’s not fair…to anyone…but especially not to someone as kind or caring as you are.” She pulled his face away from her shoulder, cradling it with both of her hands. She looked firmly into his emerald orbs, making sure they were focused solely on her face as she stated firmly, “But don’t think for one second that I’m going to let you face this alone.”

“Hermione…” Harry started to object, but then found the words lost in his throat. “You can’t…I…” he trailed off, and Hermione let him look away slightly.

“I most certainly can and I will Harry James Potter,” she quickly added, “Together, we can beat him together.” Harry still was struggling with himself, debating as to whether or not he could allow this, but there was something else, something just beneath the surface that was threatening to boil over. Finally Harry turned back to her, a modicum of frustration in his voice.

“I can’t let you get yourself killed!” he shouted, the tears forgotten at the moment. He stood up and turned towards the fireplace, leaning against the mantle. Then, barely above a whisper, he confessed…”I…I care about you Hermione…more than you know I….” Hermione’s eyes stood wide open, and she was struggling to keep her mouth from flapping open in shock. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“Harry,” she meekly said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I….I care about you too…like that.” He seemed to stiffen at this and turned toward her, a curious look on his face. He tilted his head, as if he was staring at a ghost or something.

“You mean that…” Hermione slowly nodded. Though it wasn’t directly being admitted, the two of them had silent recognition as to what was being said at that very moment.

“That’s why I won’t let you face this alone Harry,” she said solemnly, “Because the thought of losing you is….unbearable.” Harry turned away again, but Hermione kept going, “Please Harry…let me help you. I know if we work together…we can do anything Harry. Nothing has ever stopped us before, and nothing will here.”

Harry seemed to offer a genuine smile at this as he turned back to her, and embraced her strongly. They broke away, and Harry looked at her with something akin to joy in his face as he rubbed his thumb over her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered, and the two of them embraced once more in the twinkling firelight.

A/N: I understand these chapters are a lot shorter than my “Heir” story, but truthfully I’m having a harder time with this series, maybe because I’m in the process of changing how things are going slightly.

Needless to say I won’t be abandoning this series, but as you can have expected, updates will come much slower than for the Heirs trilogy. I’ve had two updates (and started a third) to Founders while this has sat stubbornly unfinished for the last two weeks or so.

To answer a preemptive question, Harry & Hermione are not officially what you would consider a romantic couple…yet. They took a step closer, by admitting their feelings run deeper than friendship to each other. Any relationship, romantically, will begin in the near future; you can guess where I’m going with this.

A/N: Getting to the point I want to with this story has been frustrating to say the least. Not because of anything that has happened, but simply because for whatever reason my brain has been fried while trying to move the plot along. I sincerely hope with the tournament that things can move forward at a slower, more evolved pace, without the paper thin characterizations I’ve given to many of the supporting characters I want to include in later stories in this series.

So bear with me, as I hope to have this up to the quality of “Heirs” and more frequently updated as well.

/ - / - / - /

“Bloody Hell!”

Ron let out another exasperation as he sat at dinner, trying desperately to juggle eating his way through a turkey drumstick while simultaneously studying for an ancient runes exam the following day. Harry just snickered to himself, his own studying well caught up to that point.

“You shouldn’t have put it off to the last minute Ron,” Hermione said in a somewhat chiding fashion. Ron merely glanced up at her, rolling his eyes slightly.

“Not all of us can absorb information like a sponge Hermione,” he said gruffly. Hermione winced a bit, but said nothing in response.

“Come on now Ron, no need to insult Hermione. She’s just looking out for you.” Ron glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye, before looking back to Hermione.

“Sorry there, just a bit of stress, that’s all.” He shrugged off any lingering problems and proceeded to go back to his studying, adding, “Did Dumbledore say anything to you about that ship in the Black Lake Harry? Or that coach that Hagrid led in?”

“No,” Harry mechanically replied, not really wanting to broach this subject much with Ron. “Why would he?”

“Oh I don’t know, seeing as how you’re always going off to his office and stuff…I thought he might have mentioned it.” Harry noticed the tinge of jealousy in Ron’s voice, but ignored it for the time being. He let out a sigh and looked right at him.

“Listen, I told you before, it’s just something he wanted me to do alright?” Ron nodded his head and turned back to his book. Harry shot a glance at Hermione, who gave a knowing nod. In truth, Harry didn’t like lying to Ron, or at least misleading him from the truth. But some part of him was telling him that for now, Hermione was the only person he could trust with the truth. He was broken from his thought process by the small ringing from a goblet at the head table. Slowly his head swung forward to see the house elves wheeling in a large podium with two cylindrical boxes on it, each ornately carved in a rather gothic fashion. Professor Dumbledore stood before the students who had quieted down at his showing, his blue eyes madly twinkling.

“As you are no doubt aware, a ship has appeared docked in the Black Lake as of this afternoon. Furthermore, a carriage drawn by winged horses landed here shortly thereafter. Many of you have asked what these represent, and I had asked the professors to remain quiet on the subject until tonight.

“As you will recall, I stated at the beginning of term that the House Cup and Quidditch season this year would be canceled in the interest of school unity. This is because Hogwarts has been chosen as the site for a legendary competition…The Triwizard Tournament!”

There was a hushed roar over the crowd, as the students almost immediately began mingling amongst themselves as to what this tournament would entail. “Momentarily,” Dumbledore continued, ignoring Filch as he struggled to run towards the head table, “We will be joined by representatives of two other magical schools from Europe, who will compete along with Hogwarts in this tournament. More importantly however, they are here to learn from all of you, and teach all of you. In these times it is most important that we make bonds of fellowship that reach across borders, cultures and languages. We all live in one nation, all have one culture, and speak one language…that of humanity. And on that note, would you please give a great welcome to the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Magical Academy, with their headmistress, Madame Maxine!”

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and everyone turned to see who was entering. Several young women, all of them rather attractive, came sauntering in, wearing matching powder blue uniforms with pillbox hats tilted slightly to the side. Halfway up the middle of the Great Hall, they stopped and curtseyed too many of the students, causing blue sparks to fly from their wands. As they sashayed their way towards the table that seemed to have been created for them just then, they were followed by a gigantic woman dressed in a red furskin coat. Dumbledore approached the woman, craning his neck rather comically to look at her, and kissed her on the hand.

“Olympe, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” The woman laughed a bit as Dumbledore ushered her to her seat at the head’s table. “I trust your journey was not too difficult.”

“Of course not Albus,” she said in a heavy French accent. “But my horses, zey are rat’er tired from ze journey.”

“Our gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, will take good care of them I assure you.” Dumbledore turned to Hagrid, who seemed to be a bit taken with the headmistress. Seating Madame Maxine, Dumbledore made his way back to the front as the doors were closed once more. Turning back to the assembled students, he raised his hands again and bellowed out, “And now please bid welcome to our friends from the north…the students of the Drumstrang Institute for the Magical Arts…with their headmaster Igor Karkaroff!”

Their was a loud boom and the doors swung open, as several young men in fur coats and brown uniforms came marching into the Great Hall. They continued marching towards the front and filing towards their table, as flame dragons flew above their heads. Walking behind the whole group of them was an elder man with a gaunt face slowly heading towards Dumbledore with another young man with an equally set face moving beside him. Ron’s eyes went wide as he recognized the man, and his shock overcame him.

“Bloody hell,” he squeaked out as they marched by, “That’s Viktor Krum!” Harry watched as the famed seeker spared a small glance in his direction, before taking his seat at the table with the rest of his classmates. The older man he had been walking with slowly approached Dumbledore and gave him a hearty handshake followed by a strong hug. Harry observed this all, and saw Hermione biting her bottom lip as she often did while deep in thought.

“What is it,” he asked, and Hermione turned and shook her head.

“That man…Karkaroff, I think I’ve heard his name from somewhere before but…I can’t place it.” She turned back and saw a hearty glare at Karkaroff being aimed from Professor Snape. Shrugging it off, they both turned back to Dumbledore who moved back to the center, the two cylindrical objects still flanking him on either side.

“And now, to tell us a bit more about the tournament and its rules, please welcome The Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman, and the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Barty Crouch Sr.” Harry grimaced at the mention of Crouch’s name, but still clapped for them nonetheless. The two Ministry officials moved side by side to in front of Dumbledore, who moved to the side. Bagman took a small sip of something out of a red hip flask, before discreetly setting it aside.

“The Triwizard tournament,” Bagman began, scanning the crowd as he spoke, though intentionally trying to avoid eye contact with the Weasley twins, “Is an event that was created in the hope that we could all learn from one another. It brings together three schools from across Europe, from which, three champions shall be chosen, one from each school.” The crowd started murmuring at this little fact while Bagman continued. “These champions will compete in three arduous tasks that will test them mentally…physically…and spiritually. Tread lightly…for these tasks shall test you in ways that you could not fathom in even your wildest dreams.”

Crouch stepped forward, unsheathing his wand from his wrist as he did so. “The first task will be held at the end of November. The second task will take place at the end of February. The third and final task will take place at the end of the term, in June. In order to be considered to be a champion, you must enter your name into this.” He pointed his wand at the object on the left, and the box covering it evaporated into thin air. In its place stood a large stone cup about four and a half meters in height. The edge was brimmed with runestone writing etched onto a bronze plating. The moment the box lifted, a large blue flame erupted from the goblet, filling the room brightly with its glow.

“The goblet of fire,” Crouch explained with a small amount of reverence in his voice, “The ultimate judge. It alone will determine whether or not you are worthy to represent your school as its champion. If you wish to enter the tournament, you must simply write your name and your school on a piece of parchment and cast it into the fire.” Barty took two steps forward, the blue flames giving his shallow face an eerie glow. “But I must warn you. Casting your name into the goblet of fire represents your agreement to a binding magical contract. Once you have entered your name for consideration there is no turning back…for should you be chosen…you will be a Triwizard champion…or you will die.”

Bagman cleared his throat, drawing Crouch away from the far-off gaze he had gotten in his eyes. “Yes, with that bit of information in mind of course, a new rule has been proposed and agreed upon by the participating parties. The Ministry has decreed that no student who is not of age by this time a week from tomorrow will be allowed to compete in the tournament.” There was a loud uproar from the majority of the crowd. Particularly the Weasley twins heckled Bagman as he merely stood there, unresponsive. Dumbledore raised his wand to his throat and yelled at the crowd to keep silent, a command which many of them obeyed immediately. Bagman finished, “The Ministry came to this conclusion for your own safety. These tasks will be a test for anyone who is of age, and it was determined that anyone not of age would be horribly overwhelmed.” Dumbledore stood between Bagman and Crouch, motioning to the Goblet.

“I personally will be drawing an age line around the goblet, so as to prevent anyone from attempting to cast their name in illicitly.” A sharp eye wandered towards the Gryffindor table, and then just as quickly wandered back to the whole of the Great Hall. “To the victor of the tournament goes eternal glory…as well as a cash prize of 2,000 galleons. They will also win this…” He pointed his wand at the other box, causing it to vanish, revealing a gleaming azure trophy that shone as the blue flames of the goblet danced off of its surface. “The Triwizard Cup. We shall all gather here a week from tomorrow, and find out who the champions are. Good Luck…and May Merlin Watch over you all.”

/ - / - / - /

Much of the week passed without incident for Harry and his friends till that Friday. They were all three of them gathered in the Great Hall, Hermione fingering her way through a book while Harry and Ron each circled the Goblet of Fire, occasionally staring as a random student from one of the three schools would hesitantly cast their name into the fire. They both stood back as a stunningly beautiful girl from Beauxbatons tossed in a piece of parchment, causing the flames to roar to life briefly before settling back to their slow crackling. She paid them no mind, though she briefly glanced up at Harry’s scar before backing away. Ron and Harry drew closer together and stared at the Goblet.

“It’ll be great when we’re old enough,” Ron said with a sense of wonder in his voice. “Eternal Glory and all that…and all that money. You could be set for life.”

“Better you than me,” Harry said chuckling, moving away from the Goblet and towards a table. “I don’t even want to think what those tasks are.”

“Oh come on, how bad can it be, after everything we’ve been through? I’ve gotten myself nearly killed more times than I can count because of you. Nearly strangled to death by a living plant, run through by a life-size chess piece, nearly eating by a colony of acromantula, nearly had my leg torn off by your godfather.” Harry snickered at that last memory, and turned back with a sardonic look on his face.

“As if being run through by Voldemort’s spirit, being bitten by a basilisk and nearly having your soul sucked out by a dementor don’t count?” Ron nodded and both of them laughed. Off to the side there were the beginnings of loud applause as a group of Hufflepuffs moved forward, all of them clapping for Cedric Diggory as he walked towards the Goblet and threw his name into the fire. He turned and smiled at the crowd, which was no clapping loudly for him, Harry included. Ron raised an eyebrow as Harry showed applause for Cedric.

“Surprised to see you clapping for him. Didn’t you know he fancies Cho like you do?” Harry looked at Ron as if he’d grown two heads.

“Who said I fancied Cho?”

“Well…what with you acting like a mental patient everytime she came around last year…I just figured.”

“She’s nice I guess,” Harry off-handedly mentioned, moving down away from the crowd as they continued their conversation. “But I don’t think I ever really fancied her.” Ron was quiet for several minutes before they sat down, before glancing in Hermione’s direction and taking a deep breath.

“What about Hermione?” Ron asked, causing Harry to stare at him.

“What about her?” he hesitantly asked, for some strange reason suddenly not liking where this conversation was going. Ron was about to ask his question, when they were interrupted by a very loud roar of applause as Fred and George came running in, each with a small vial held high above their heads, smiles on their faces as they bid congratulations to each other and the crowd. Ron turned and glared at them.

“What are you two up to?” he asked, as he and Harry moved closer.

“Oh dear brother of ours…”

“We’ve found a way…”

“To get around that old…”

“Stick in the mud’s age line!”

Hermione closed her book and chuckled, shaking her head. “Do you honestly think something as daft as an aging potion is going to work?” The two of them looked at each other and then back at Hermione, each grinning madly.

“Of course it’s a daft idea…”

“Which is exactly…”

“Why it’s going to work!”

“Something so brilliant…”

“In its simplicity!”

They turned towards each other…

“Well Gred?”

“Well Forge?”

“BOTTOMS UP!”

They each drank the potions and tossed the vials aside, swaying back and forth as they waited for it to take affect. Summoning up their courage they each took a step beyond the small ring of smoke surrounding the Goblet, and smiled at the crowd as it roared its approval when they were able to pass through unimpeded. They each tossed a piece of parchment into the Goblet, earning further cheers. The Goblet’s flames however quickly turned red, roaring up higher and higher, and striking each of them square in the chest as it spat out their pieces of parchment. The crowd began to laugh as the two of them began to age rapidly, their ginger hair turning a snow white and long beards growing down their faces as they fought with one another over who got the potion wrong. The laughter died down however when Viktor Krum walked in, flanked by several of his Drumstrang classmates. He slowly walked past Harry and Ron towards the Goblet and tossed in his name. He turned back, stopping just long enough to look at Hermione out of the corner of his eye.

/ - / - / - /

The students had all assembled in the Great Hall for the announcement of the champions. The room was darkened, the majority of the light coming from the goblet’s omnipresent blue flames as they continued to roar to life, spiking upwards every now and again. Professor Dumbledore, flanked by Crouch and Bagman slowly approached the Goblet, his eyes once more twinkling madly as they often did in such situations.

“We have all stood with baited breath as to the names of the three champions who will participate in this infamous event. And now the time has come and gone…good luck to all of you.” He turned towards the Goblet, which began to violently flare up and down in its intensity. There was a low whistling sound and a sudden burst of flame as a single piece of parchment shot upwards out of the goblet and slowly fluttered down into Dumbledore’s waiting hands. He carefully glanced at it through his half moon spectacles and announced, “The champion for Beauxbatons…Miss Fleur Delacour!”

Harry and his friends, Ron in particular, glanced over to the Beauxbatons group and saw a porcelain figure stand up from the chatter of cheering students. She sauntered her way up to the front, grabbing her piece of parchment from Professor Dumbledore and stood where Bagman indicated, her headmistress beaming proudly as she did so. The Goblet roared to life again, once more shooting upwards and launching a piece of parchment high into the air. The parchment fluttered down to the ground slowly, and Dumbledore swiftly caught it, read it, and announced, “The champion of Drumstrang…Viktor Krum!” There was a loud cheer from the Drumstrang contingent as Viktor stood up and moved next to Fleur at the head of the Great Hall. The goblet once more roared to life, and fired off a third piece of parchment. Dumbledore once more snatched out of the air with a seeker’s grace, reading it fervently before proudly yelling, “And the Hogwarts Champion is….Cedric Diggory!” The Hufflepuffs cheered madly as Cedric bashfully stood up, a smile on his face, and walked past Dumbledore, who gave him a solid pat on the back. He stood a faced the three champions, a smile beaming on his face.

“Congratulations champions on being chosen. The first task will be held three weeks from this Saturday, and will be a test of your innermost nerves and strengths. I wish I could…tell…you…more…” he drifted off as the goblet behind him began to flare violently, convulsing through several different colors, before finally shooting up another piece of parchment. Everyone stared wide-eyed as the message fell slowly earthward, Dumbledore grabbing it gently and reading it. His eyes widened in fear as he whispered under his breath…”Harry Potter…”

Harry felt his heart sink into his chest. The headmaster couldn’t have possibly said what he thought he had heard. “Harry Potter…” the headmaster said, this time more audibly, and a murmur began to rise up from the crowd at the name. Harry tried to sink back in his seat, as if to disappear from that very moment and spot. Hermione nudged him with her elbow.

“Harry…you have to go up there…” she whispered, and Harry looked at her with a small amount of fear in his eyes.

“HARRY POTTER!”

He flipped his head towards Dumbledore, who yelled his name a third time. Hesitantly he stood up and began to lurch forward, feeling the glares coming at him from all sides of the room as they were intermixed with looks of bizarre wonderment. From behind his back, he didn’t see the death glare coming from his friend Ron. With shaking hands he took the piece of parchment from Dumbledore, and moved towards the other three champions, his breath labored and a sweat breaking on his brow. As he stood with the other champions, the Goblet flared to life once more, before dying out completely, its embers silenced until the next tournament.

A/N: Hope that wasn’t too rushed towards the end. Harry has to feel some kind of fear, it would be practically impossible not to when presented with something as daunting as this (especially when you didn’t sign up for it.)

Some explanations, accusations and preparations in the next chapter…

/ - / - / - /

Harry could feel the multitude of eyes that were focused solely on him, every last of them either staring at him in bewilderment, sympathy or anger. He tried to move when Bagman motioned for the champions to follow him out of the Great Hall, but his legs felt like they were in a body-bind. They moved with the speed of lead weights as he slowly drudged forward, trying desperately not to feel the stares as they bored a hole through the back of his head.

The walk out of the Great Hall was one that permeated with silence. Harry hung his head slightly, while Viktor glared at him from behind. Cedric had a worried look on his face while Fleur looked at Harry with a mixture of anger and wonder. The four champions remained silent as they were led to a room a few doors down from the rear entrances to the Great Hall, a sort of staff lounge that Harry had never been in before. Bagman and Crouch each paced back and forth, trying to think to themselves how this might have happened. It didn’t take long before the door to the room swung wide open.

“Zis iz an outrage!” Madam Maxime screamed as she stormed into the room. “Zis is not in ze rules. You have rigged zis competition Monsieur Bagman!”

“I assure Madame,” Ludo said quietly, “That I have done nothing of the sort. I have no earthly idea how this happened.”

“Of course you don’t,” came a brutish voice from the entryway. Ludo closed his eyes and turned on his heel, staring straight at Igor Karkaroff, whose eyes were blazing with an angry inferno. “Isn’t it convenient ve vould meet, so many years later after…our little disagreement? And then it vould be you once more in the center of controversy!”

“That’s enough Karkaroff!” Igor snarled and turned to face Alastor Moody, who hobbled into the room, taking a swig from a hip flask as he did so. “Bagman had nothing to do with what happened here. He wouldn’t be capable of such a thing.” Behind Moody came a rather perplexed Albus Dumbledore, a seemingly disinterested Severus Snape, and a rather frantic Minerva McGonagall, who shut the door behind them.

“Vell if Bagman had nothing to do with this,” Karkaroff alleged, turning his anger towards Harry, “Then he must be the one who did! It vas his name the Goblet called out…he must have bewitched it!”

“I didn’t!” Harry exclaimed in his defense, standing up a little straighter. “You think I want to be in this stupid tournament!?” Karkaroff shirked back, but quickly moved a bit closer to Harry.

“It vould be just like you…to want the spotlight to alvays shine on you….” Much to Harry’s surprise, Cedric moved between him and Karkaroff, staring at the Durmstrang Headmaster with utter contempt.

“If Harry says he had nothing to do with it,” Cedric said flatly, “Then he had nothing to do with it.”

Viktor violently spun Cedric around, and the two of them stared straight into each other’s eyes. “Nobody asked for your opinion,” Viktor said coldly, and Cedric answered him right back.

“Nor yours,” he stated, keeping his hand firmly nestled next to his wand. Harry felt the tension rise in the room, and moved his arm in front of Cedric to hold him back from any possible confrontation.

“Thanks for defending me,” he whispered to the older Hufflepuff as Viktor too backed down. Harry looked away and then towards Albus Dumbledore, who looked down at the floor. “Sir, you have to believe me.” Harry pleaded, “I have no idea what happened in there.”

“I believe you Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly, before looking up, staring straight at him through his half-moon spectacles. “But I must ask you one time…for my own peace of mind…Did you place your name…or did you have one of the older students place your name in that Goblet?”

“No sir,” Harry said, still a bit shocked as to the whole ordeal. Dumbledore nodded his head, and turned towards Bagman.

“Vell of courze you would believe him,” Olympe shouted again, causing Dumbledore to sadly look at her. “He iz your prized student!”

“If Professor Dumbledore says that Potter had nothing to do with it,” Snape said calmly, causing everyone to look at him in surprise, especially Harry, as he echoed Cedric’s words from before, “Then he had nothing to do with it.”

“And ve should believe you?” Karkaroff yelled in question. “Are you not also the boy’s teacher?”

“I assure you Igor,” Snape said with utter contempt, “That any perceived bias you think I have for Mr. Potter is gravely overestimated.” Harry internally breathed a tiny sigh of relief at that news. Things were going way to weird on that front to even contemplate at the given moment.

“It’s simple why Potter couldn’t have done it,” Moody chimed in.

“Oh really,” Karkaroff asked sarcastically, moving towards the retired Auror. “And why exactly would you know how to accomplish a feat such as this?”

“I’m paid to know these things Karkaroff,” Moody spat out, a tiny bit of spittle landing on the headmaster’s robes, “Lest you forget what happened fifteen years ago.” Igor’s face suddenly blanked and he shrank back from confrontation. Moody then turned to Bagman. “Remind us again how the Goblet works.”

“It’s charmed to pick only three students,” Bagman said firmly. “That’s what so confusing about this. It should be mathematically impossible for such a thing to happen. It will only pick one student for each….” he suddenly stopped, realization dawning on him.

“For each school.” Moody finished, looking towards Harry. “Someone must have used a powerful confundus charm to trick the cup into thinking that there were four schools instead of three. A charm like that would be well beyond the abilities of a fourth year, even one as talented as Mr. Potter. Subsequently, that same person must have cast Potter’s name into the Goblet as a member of that fourth school.”

“Thus ensuring that he would be selected,” Dumbledore said in understanding.

“It’s all a moot point really,” Professor McGonagall said flatly, “Mr. Potter is not of age and was erroneously entered. It’s obvious he was entered against his will, so he should not compete.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple Minerva.” Everyone turned towards Crouch, who had been surprisingly quiet during the whole affair. He turned back towards the group, his face a ghostly white as he delivered the news. “The rules are quite clear on this matter, once the Goblet has chosen a participant, they must compete or they will forfeit their life.”

“But I didn’t put my name in the Goblet,” Harry said once more, his mind sinking into a deeper despair. “Surely you can’t force someone who didn’t put their name into the Goblet to participate!”

“Normally you would be correct, Mr. Potter,” Crouch explained. “Normally the Goblet would not select someone who did not willingly enter. But these are special circumstances. Since the Goblet was hexed into thinking that there were four schools, and you were the only entrant for the fourth school, it had no choice but to pick you as a champion…regardless of your intent.”

“But he’s only a boy!” McGonagall feverishly exclaimed. “You cannot possibly expect him to compete!”

“It’s out of our hands…unless Mr. Potter wishes to forfeit his life. Whether by his will or not…as of tonight…Harry Potter is a Triwizard champion.”

/ - / - / - /

Harry slowly walked back to Gryffindor tower, not looking at anyone who might’ve passed him in the hallways. His mind was overwhelmed with a combination of muddled thoughts and waking nightmares.

The year had been going so well too.

He quietly made his way towards the Fat Lady and muttered the password under his breath. Much to his chagrin as he walked through the portrait hole, the various people in the common room all stopped their mingling and turned straight towards him. The majority of them simply glared straight at him, not sparing him a second glance and heading towards their respective dorm rooms. Harry half-expected this kind of reaction, having dealt with the whole Heir of Slytherin business. Still, the rejection hit a nerve deep within. With a sullen look on his face he walked over to the couch, oblivious to everyone else in the room.

Hermione looked at him out of the small corner where she was frantically searching for any information concerning the Triwizard tournament from her trusty copy of Hogwarts: A History. She bit her bottom lip in worry and slowly sat her book down. She walked over and sat next to him, offering what support she could. Her mind told her that there was no way that Professor Dumbledore could allow the tournament to go on with Harry competing in it. The look on Harry’s face crushed her grandest hopes and revived her deepest fears. She was about to say something, when she heard a scoff in the background. She turned her head, and much to her surprise saw Ron grinning at them.

“Ron this is serious,” she said harshly, and Ron clasped his hands together as he walked forward, rounding the couch and leaning against the fireplace, his rage held only in check by his sarcastic demeanor.

“Of course it is Hermione,” he replied with mock sincerity, before turning towards Harry, his anger showing itself full bore. “You know if you were going to hoodwink the entire school like that, the least you could have done was let me in on it.” Harry looked at him, his own temper flaring up at the accusation.

“I didn’t put my name into the Goblet Ron!” he shouted, standing up to confront his friend. “I didn’t think I’d have to explain that to you of all people!”

“Of course you shouldn’t have to,” Ron shot back. “I’m just poor old Ron Weasley, Harry Potter’s tag-along friend.”

“No one is saying that,” Hermione said firmly, standing up next to Harry.

“Taking his side again eh? Typical. The way you two have been getting on.”

“What are you talking about Ron?” Harry asked, still close to a boiling point.

“As if you don’t know. But that’s only one issue out of many isn’t it.” He stopped and chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he continued. “It’s never enough for you is it? It’s not enough that you have all the money in the world…it’s not enough that every witch and wizard in this whole stinkin country knows your name. You have to have everything you can get your grubby mits on. And me? Your best mate? What do I get…whatever scraps you throw me.”

Harry clenched his fist and took two steps forward, glaring a hole straight into Ron. “Look, I don’t know what happened tonight, and I certainly don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but it’s time you grew up.” His fist started shaking as tears leaked out of his eyes in a mixture of sadness, frustration, and anger. “You have no idea how lucky you are to have had a family your whole life Ron. I would give every last knut to my name just to spend five minutes with my mum and dad!”

Ron never flinched, staring right back at Harry and leaning forward as he did so. “Yeah, I bet you would.” He moved his face inches away from Harry’s glare. “Your parents would be ashamed of you Potter.”

“RON!” Hermione shouted, and she quickly moved to try and hold back Harry from unleashing a series shot to his friend’s head. Ron simply snickered and turned to walk away.

“Piss off, the both of you…” he said callously, before he exited the common room.

Harry stood their, his fist clenched and beads of sweat pouring off of his brow. “Ignore him Harry,” Hermione said softly, rubbing his back in a calming motion. “He’s just being a bloody git.” Harry took a deep breath and nodded, sitting himself back down and trying to calm down from the fight.

“He has no idea…” Harry quietly repeated, and Hermione shushed him, simply allowing him to vent slightly as the adrenaline slowly ebbed out of his body. Harry then turned towards Hermione, offering a bit of a smile.

“I believe you Harry,” Hermione assured him.

“I know,” Harry said appreciatively, “You don’t have to tell me. I just know.” Hermione smiled, and Harry could feel his heartbeat once again increase in intensity. “I’d better get some sleep,” he said as strongly as he could, “Early class tomorrow.” He looked up the stairs with an anxious glance. “I suppose no one up there believes me.”

“It doesn’t matter Harry,” she replied in a soothing voice. “Together…you and I…I know we can make it through this. With…or without Ron.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, somewhat unconvinced. He turned back to Hermione, gazing deep into her eyes, and nearly got lost in their richness. Before he left the couch, he felt an incredible urge that he couldn’t explain, coming from the base of his gut and overwhelming his very senses. Slowly he embraced Hermione in a loving hug, feeling her warmth against his body. Hermione was initially surprised by this; Harry rarely showed this much affection. But she quickly found herself returning the hug with equal sincerity. Harry then pulled away, staring at her and patting her on the back of her head, before he quietly kissed her on the forehead. Before Hermione’s mind could register what had just happened, Harry was up the stairs and headed towards bed. Hermione merely sat on the couch, nearly overcome with emotion and excitement, and she cautiously touched the spot on her forehead where Harry’s lips had made contact.

/ - / - / - /

The sun beat down on Harry as he stood near the lakeside, documenting some of the plants that grew there for herbology class. To be quiet honest however, plants were certainly the furthest thing from his mind.

He wasn’t quite sure what had come over him the night before with Hermione. The lingering moments after he had kissed her in a friendly way was a feeling that couldn’t be described simply in words. It was joy, it was caring, it was love…every positive emotion he could come up with would be a semi-accurate description of the feelings he had in that one encapsulated moment. It both elated him, and frightened him at the same time.

Hermione had been relatively quiet the next morning, leading Harry to worry that maybe he had gone too far. Maybe any lingering feelings they had for one another was just friendship, a sort of brotherly and sisterly affection that had been etched into stone. It was a line that, perhaps, he had unknowingly crossed the night previous.

“Harry?” Harry shook himself out of his stupor and looked over at Neville, who was looking up at him with something akin to wonder. “You alright there?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, “Just thinking that’s all.”

“I’m sure you have a lot on your mind,” Neville said, almost half-jokingly. He paused for a moment before turning back to Harry, “You know…I believe you…for whatever its worth.” Harry’s eyes went wide and he smiled appreciatively at his more timid friend. “I mean…you’d have to be barmy to put your name in the Goblet of Fire.”

“Thanks Neville,” Harry whispered, smiling down at his friend. “That really does mean a lot.” Harry turned back to the plants, and his mind began to wander again. For some reason it wandered back to the Prophecy that Dumbledore had talked about at the beginning of term, and how it might have affected Neville as well. “Neville,” Harry asked cautiously, “I know you live with your Gran but…what happened to your parents…if you don’t mind me asking?”

Neville stopped fishing around in the water and sat there for a long time. “I’m sorry,” Harry quickly said, apologizing profusely. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything…I was just…curious.”

“It’s alright Harry,” Neville quietly said, going back to his work. “I’ll tell you some other time, when we have more time to talk it through.” Harry nodded and knelt down next to Neville, noting some of the plants along with his partner. He heard a solemn hoot from overhead however, and instantly recognized Hedwig flying in from the south. Harry stood up and held out his arm for the bird, smiling at her after not having seen her for a while. Hedwig nipped at him playfully before holding out her leg, which had a letter taped to it. Harry took the letter and Hedwig flew off towards the owlry, eager to get her dinner and some much needed rest. Harry looked at the front of the letter, and almost instantly recognized the sprawling handwriting of his godfather.

“Who sent you the letter Harry?” Neville asked, not looking up from his plants. Harry quickly pocketed the letter and moved back to the water’s edge.

“No one,” he said firmly, “Just a friend I know from home.”

A/N: I hope that little taste of things to come as far as H/Hr goes makes the long wait worth it. Uggh I have been real bad about updating this fic. I can’t promise I’ll do better, just that I’ll endeavor to do so.

A/N: Maybe I’m jumping the gun a tiny bit here (in terms of my original layout of the story), but I felt like this needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. I never should have put that kiss in last chapter; it caused my Harmony addiction to act up again!

Everyone’s favorite reporter makes her first appearance in the story in this chapter, so you have that to look forward too as well.

/ - / - / - /

Hermione was quiet most of the morning the next day following the Halloween feast and the massive shock of finding Harry in yet another situation of abject horror. Surprisingly enough, this wasn’t the only thing that was keeping her from focusing on her classes. Bewildered by the night’s events, she had retreated to the familiar haunts of the library as she tried in vain to concentrate.

Though she was indeed worried, more like scared to death, about Harry and whatever challenges might await him, the foremost thing on her mind at that particular moment was a lingering feeling that was settled in the middle of her forehead. Harry had kissed her there, offering a genuine sign of affection and the faintest inklings of hope that were enough to drive the emotional corridors of her mind to run around frantically.

It also put a lump in her throat that she couldn’t quite explain.

They were awfully young, she told herself, what if he wasn’t the one? What if all these feelings were just overt hormones running rampant, overt concern for her best friend that had been misinterpreted as love? And what if Harry was just showing friendly affection, completely oblivious to the reaction he was generating within her?

It was enough to confuse the heck out of her.

Sighing deeply, she thrust herself into another book, trying to force Harry out of her mind as she had most of the previous year. Alas, it was a much more difficult task than it had been just a year prior. Try as she might, the moment continued to run through her mind non-stop.

It did cause her to flush with embarrassment as she idly wondered what his lips would feel like against her own. What exactly he would feel like…

‘Stop this!’ she yelled to herself, trying to refocus her mind, ‘You’re letting yourself be distracted too easily!’ She chided herself almost immediately for saying such things, confused as she was.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone enter the library, and was surprised when she saw Viktor Krum walk across the room and sit at a table far in the opposite corner away from her. She thought nothing more of it, only to think it surprising that someone like Viktor would choose to spend his free time in the library, away from the fan club of girls that seemed to trail him everywhere he went, no less.

A few moments later, she internally sighed and smiled simultaneously as she saw Harry walk into the room at a brisk pace. “Hi,” she said confidently, trying to hide any of her mixed feelings at the moment, “I thought you were going to the lake to work on your herbology project with Neville?”

“I was,” Harry responded, slightly out of breath from the brisk pace at which he had traveled to the library. “Hedwig showed up while I was there and gave me this letter from…” Harry leaned forward, holding the piece of parchment he was carrying close to his mouth so as to hide its movements, before he finished in a soft whisper, “from Sirius.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she closed her books, throwing them into her bag and quickly leaving the library so that Harry and she could find a more secluded place to discuss the latest development. Neither one of them noticed the scowl that had formed on Viktor Krum’s face.

Quickly Harry & Hermione made their way to the Room of Requirement, finding it situated to a form similar to the last time they had been there. “The letter doesn’t talk about the tournament,” Harry explained, “Just about the dreams I was having in the summer.” Each of them took a seat on the blue sofa in front of the roaring fire as Harry unfolded the letter and held it out so that Hermione could read it as well.

Dear Harry,

I’m sorry it took so long for Hedwig to return with a reply, but the bird was enjoying her time here in the tropics where I’m staying at the moment. The dreams you describe are disconcerting in the least, especially in light of what happened at the world cup. And I’d like to take the time to discuss them with you in detail. Meet me in the Gryffindor common room the Thursday two weeks from now at 2:00 in the morning. Be sure you’re alone.

Buckbeak sends his best.

Love,

Padfoot

Harry closed the short note and gazed at the fire. “I know Sirius said that I should be alone,” he said quietly, “But I want you to be there too. You’ve helped me so much so far….” he trailed off, and Hermione smiled at him, draping her arm around his shoulders.

“Of course Harry,” she said quietly. Each of them sat there for a while, trying to fight some of the unintended awkwardness that seemed to permeate the room. “Harry…I,” Hermione finally began, her nerves at full bore.

“Hermione I understand,” Harry replied, cutting her off. “I’m sorry if I offended you or anything last night. I don’t know what came over me but I just…” Harry looked over at Hermione, who was staring at him with something akin to a fearful look on her face. Harry felt a lump grow in his throat, before he swallowed it and added, “But I want you to know that, regardless of what you felt …I…umm….”

Hermione’s eyes went wide, her anticipation at full bore. Nothing really had ever prepared her for this.

“I…that is, I well…” Harry continued to stumble over his words, trying to find the right way to say this. “I guess what I’m trying to say…I…like you…I mean I…fancy…you.” Harry blushed deeply, holding his arms at his side and hanging his head down. “I guess that it’s just been something I’ve felt for a while now, but I didn’t know what to call it,” he finally blurted out all at once, surprised at his own frankness. He turned towards Hermione, and cringed when he saw tears in her eyes. Misunderstanding, he quickly held up his hands in defense. “Please don’t cry. I know you probably don’t feel that way but, I just felt like you…” Harry was silence by Hermione, who put a hand up to his lips.

“No Harry,” she said, smiling and wiping her eyes when he was quiet. Whatever confusion she might have had previously had been wiped clean away. “I’m not crying because of that. You just don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that…”

Harry gulped nervously, his cheeks flushed with surprise. “Y-you have?”

Hermione nodded suddenly very conscious of herself and not being able to help but blush a little, “Oh Harry…I…um…fancy you too.” Truthfully she knew in her heart that she felt something more than that, but her mind was still trying to wrap around this confession from Harry.

Harry felt a warm sense of being envelope him, and he couldn’t help the grin that slowly crawled across his face. “Y-you do?” Hermione nodded again. Harry chuckled, and much to his surprise found a few tears leaking out of his own eyes. Slowly the two of them hugged each other deeply. After a few moments, they backed away and stared at each other. Harry smiled widely, framing Hermione’s face with his hand. “I’ve never been any happier in my life,” Harry confessed. He suddenly turned a brighter bit of red when he asked, “Umm…Hermione…would you like to be my…you know…”

“Girlfriend?” Hermione finished for him.

“Yeah…that,” Harry replied back, smirking and rubbing the back of his head.

“I’d love to,” Hermione said. She was certain that if she tried, she would not be able to make the smile on her face any larger. Harry returned her maniacal grin with one of his own, and then softly planted a kiss on her cheek.

Neither had ever been happier.

/ - / - / - /

Harry felt the joy of Hermione and his newfound relationship to be the greatest thing that he had ever experienced. He likened it to the feeling he had when thinking of the memory of his parents. As he walked around Hogwarts for the next couple of weeks, his hands intertwined with Hermione’s for the entire world to see, he felt a sense of joy and completion that was practically indescribable.

Class was proceeding at a relatively normal pace, at least normal for this year alone. Snape had become much more civilized at his treatment of non-Slytherins in his class, though Harry could tell it was as if someone had exploded a dung bomb in his mouth everytime he was forced to toss praise onto the Gryffindors in his class. With Snape’s newfound objectivity, and without Malfoy’s usual pestering, Harry had quickly seen his grade in Potions rise to near the top of the 4^th year class, though Hermione still outshone him by leaps and bounds.

Malfoy was another interesting subject. He had continuously tried to pester Harry & Hermione since the revelation of their relationship roughly two weeks ago, but on this day he was unusually subdued. Harry chalked it up to good luck.

His attention was diverted when the silence was broken by the door to the classroom opening. Harry, along with the rest of the class, turned to see who would dare interrupt one of Professor Snape’s lessons. Much to Harry’s surprise, he saw Colin Creevey standing there, his legs twitching a bit beneath him out of nervousness. “Is there something I can do for you Mr. Creevey?” Snape said in his usual, sardonic manner.

“Professor Dumbledore sent me,” Colin quickly explained. “He needs Harry to come to his office…some kind of photo shoot for the tournament.” Snape let just a hint of a sneer mask his face before he turned towards Harry.

“Very well then Mr. Potter, take your things. We will discuss how you can make up the grade later.” Harry nodded and quickly picked up his bag, sparing a slightly loving glance for Hermione, before he followed Colin out of the dungeons. He moved with a brisk pace about him, still ignoring the stares of a few passersby who glared at him. The reaction to his entry in the tournament still had many shunning him, be it for jealousy or for other reasons. Harry also noticed that a few of the girls in the school were now glaring at him since he had begun his relationship with Hermione. Jealousy, he guessed.

Not that any of them had ever really stood a chance, a small part of his subconscious told him.

Colin led him into a small study near the headmaster’s office which Harry recognized from his lessons with Dumbledore. The room was small by Hogwarts standards, with a few of the more accessible books of the headmaster’s collection located there so that they might be used by the faculty. Harry saw that the other three champions had been gathered together, as had the respective headmasters of the three schools. Off to the side he saw Ludo Bagman talking with someone and next to him was a surprising figure, in Percy Weasley.

“Percy?” Harry questioned as he entered the room, “What are you doing here?”

Percy turned and glared at Harry, no doubt having heard from either Ron or Ginny about the major falling out between Harry and the Weasleys (though he still spoke and joked around with the twins). “It’s none of your concern Potter,” Percy spat out, before taking a haughtier stance. “But for your information, I’m here as a representative for Mr. Crouch. He’s recently taken ill, and asked me to fill in for him at this occasion.”

“Now now Weatherby,” Bagman said as he walked away from whomever it was he was talking too, “There’s no need to insult Mr. Potter.” Percy grimaced at being called weatherby, and muttered something akin to a yes sir towards Bagman. Harry couldn’t help but snicker a bit at seeing Percy taken down a couple of pegs. His eyes wandered over to whomever it was that Bagman had been talking too, and was surprised when he saw Mr. Ollivander standing there.

“Now that all the champions have been gathered,” Bagman continued, drawing everyone’s attention to himself, “We can begin with the Weighing of the Wands. It’s merely a traditional ceremony of course, just simply a way of ensuring that everyone is perfectly suited to whatever wand they might have. Mr. Krum, we’ll start with you. If you’d please hand your wand to Mr. Ollivander.” Krum moved forward and handed his wan over to the old man, who regarded it with a bit of disdain.

“I see,” he said, gazing up at Krum with his seemingly pupil less eyes, “This wand was made by Gregorovitch, not by my hand. Still, it is a fine piece of work. Hornbeam, 10 ¼ inches, dragon heartstring core, and quite rigid.” Ollivander waved Krum’s wand about, causing a small yellow canary to appear on his shoulder. “Everything is in working order,” he said, handing the wand back to Krum. Viktor turned away, glaring at Harry for a brief moment, before taking his place next to Karkaroff. “Miss Delacour if you please.” Fleur made her way up next, sashaying in front of Harry in a subtle, yet still noticeable fashion, causing him to raise an eyebrow at the display. She leaned forward and handed Ollivander her wand, who was more focused on it than on her. “A fine piece of work, even if it was not made by me. Rosewood, 9 ½ inches, veela hair core and very inflexible.” He waved this wand, causing a second canary to appear on his shoulder. He handed the wand back to Fleur, and exclaimed, “Mr. Diggory, if you please.” As Cedric walked to the table, Fleur walked past Harry, winking at him and then moving next to Madame Maxime. Harry shook the sight out of his head and turned back towards Mr. Ollivander and Cedric. “Another fine piece of work. An elm wand at 12 ¼ inches with a single hair from a particularly fine male unicorn. This wand is pleasantly springy if I do say so myself.” He waved it around causing a third canary to appear on his shoulder, before handing it back to Cedric.

Harry gulped as he approached Mr. Ollivander, who gazed at him with the deep pools of eyes that he had looked at him with so long ago in Ollivander’s shop. “And of course, how can I forget Mr. Potter.” Harry hesitantly handed over his wand, and Ollivander gazed upon it with something akin to finding a long lost friend. “Yes I remember this wand well. A supple holly wand, 11 inches in length, with a phoenix tail feather core.” He waved the wand twice, causing first a fourth canary to appear on his shoulder, and then causing all four to burst into flames. “Your wand is working quite well. And it appears that my prediction is coming true. We can still expect great things from you Mr. Potter.” At that Ollivander stood up, place a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and shuffled his way out.

“Right then,” Bagman said as the respective headmasters left the room, the ceremony done. “We have a reporter from the Daily Prophet here to speak with you all. I’ll go fetch her.” With that, Bagman and Percy left the room.

Harry walked over to the small window, staring out of it for a very long time. Whenever he met Mr. Ollivander, he still got this overwhelming sense of dread. He had indeed predicted great things for Harry, but had also made note that Voldemort had done great…and terrible things with his wand. A brother to Harry’s wand. It still unnerved Harry to no end.

“Harry Potter,” came a deep bellowing voice from behind him, and Harry turned to stare Viktor Krum straight in the eyes…or at least look up at him straight in the eyes. “I vish to speak vith you for a moment.”

“Yes,” Harry replied, cocking an eyebrow, feeling slightly intimidated.

“It is about Herm-y-o-nin-y.” Viktor replied, his voice much quieter.

“Excuse me,” Harry asked. Viktor couldn’t have just tried to say what Harry thought he had tried to say, he told himself frantically.

“Herm-y-o-nin-y,” Viktor repeated. “I vish to know vhat kind of relationship you have vith her.” Harry glanced up at Viktor, suddenly feeling very protective of his girlfriend.

“She’s my girlfriend if you must know,” he replied, standing up a little straighter in Viktor’s face.

“I see,” Krum replied, his face darkening at the news. “Zey say zat you are the greatest seeker at Hogwarts in ze last twenty five years. Perhaps ve vill have to test zat claim someday.” Harry and Viktor continued to glare at one another, before a subtle cough broke them away.

Harry turned and saw a rather odd looking woman staring at him from behind jeweled spectacles. Her blonde hair was done in an elaborate style, with over done ringlets and swoops and swirls drawn throughout. On her arm was a crocodile handbag, and a small pad and quill floated behind her. “I hate to break up this little party,” she said in a shrill sing-song voice, “But I’m here for the interviews with the champions. We’ll conduct them while my photographer sets up.” She jerked her thumb behind her, and Harry saw a hidden man messing with a camera and tripod stand, his head concealed by a large black sheet on the back of the camera. “Let’s start with the youngest,” she said quickly, and grabbed Harry by the arm, leading him to a small broom closet off to the side.

“I hope you don’t mind the closed quarters,” Rita said, causing Harry to shake his head slightly. “So…the famous Harry Potter…competing against wizards and witches almost seven years older than you. How does it feel?”

“Well…I guess that…”

“Oh,” Rita interrupted, “You don’t mind if I use a Quick Quotes Quill do you?” Harry raised an eyebrow, and Rita continued unabated. “What do you think your parents would think about this? Proud of you…maybe worried…”

“I guess they’d be worried,” Harry started to answer.

“Well of course they would be! I mean, not only will you be facing tasks and spells that you haven’t thought of in your wildest imagination, but the whole suspect way in which you entered the tournament in the first place. Come on Harry, tell the world, exactly how did you put your name into the Goblet?”

“I didn’t….”

“Of course you didn’t.” Harry sighed and glanced up at the quote book, catching a glimpse of what it was writing.

“My eyes are not swimming with the ghosts of my past!” he said quickly.

“Oh dear,” Rita replied with a laugh, “That’s just a bit of journalistic license on my part. Now then, are you currently single?”

Harry clenched his fist and stared straight at Rita, “If you’re going to lie about what I’m saying, and ask questions like that, then I have nothing further to say to you!” With that, Harry stormed out of the broom closet and left the photographer yelling at him to come back.

Rita emerged from the closet, a smile on her face. It would take more subtle ways of getting her story this time.

A/N: Harry gets his clue about the task, meets with Sirius, deals with Rita’s lies, and Wonder-Ferrett pops into plain view, though not quite as you would expect.

A/N: I apologize if I have been neglecting my stories, this one and Heirs, simply based on time, lack of effort, whatever. I can’t honestly explain everything, other than maybe the whole DH thing is hitting me harder now that we’re several months removed. Maybe it’s burnout from having so many stories. Whatever the reason, all I can ask and hope is that you sit through it with me and wait it out through the muddlesome chapters. I won’t abandon fandom altogether, that much is certain. I’ve done that far too often when things get depressing.

Anyway, enough bellyaching on my part, let’s get to the real reason you’re here, shall we?

Fair warning when we make it that far, if you’re into Weasley bashing (or evil!Weasleys) then this will be the fic for you. There’ll be a nice little tease for you here of things to come, as well as an alteration to the Bouncing Ferrett scene.

/ - / - / - /

Harry rushed from the drawing room, his mind swimming with something other than the ghosts of his past, as Miss Skeeter would have put it. He shook his head clear and tried to put his focus on the task at hand: Namely the fact that the first task was just about a week away and he still hadn’t a bloody clue what to do about it.

He sighed and sat down on a bench that happened to be near by. His relationship with Hermione had been a nice distraction with everything that had been going on, forcing the tournament far from his mind save for those times when he and Hermione set aside time to work on it specifically. It wasn’t as though much had changed in their relationship anyway…other than the occasional sessions of sitting together on the couch in the common room or in the Room of Requirement (which, Harry reminded himself with a blush, could be useful should that particular need ever arise, though he didn’t feel a specific need for it at the moment). The earth had not shaken to its core. The sky had not fallen. Everything, more or less, was as it had been.

It made Harry feel sightly stupid for not having seen it earlier.

All that said, the tournament was beginning to weigh more heavily on his mind. As Rita had so casually pointed out: he’d be facing things that most wizards twice his age would never have to face in their lifetimes, armed with only the knowledge gained from three years of Hogwarts classes and his sheer will power. A small voice in the back of his head, one that sounded eerily like Hermione, told him that it would be enough.

Smirking, he gathered his things and walked down the hall. When he rounded the corner he saw a pair of third year Hufflepuffs chatting between themselves. Once they saw him, they immediately stopped talking and flashed their robes at him so that he could see a button pinned on the inside. The button read “Support Diggory” before shifting colors and revealing the words “Potter Stinks!” Harry shook his head and walked out into an open courtyard, grimacing when he saw Malfoy and his goons gathered around a tree.

“Like the buttons Potter?” Draco said with a smirk on his face, jumping down out of the branch of a tree. “Made them myself…but I can’t seem to keep up with demand. If you want one, you’ll just have to wait in line.”

Draco walked over to Harry, who simply glared straight back at him. Harry could see the twinkle in Draco’s eye, daring him to say something…anything…that would provoke him. Harry relied on the cursoru occulumency training he had been receiving from Dumbledore as he drove his initial outburst of anger down deep into a closed space of his mind where he reserved such thoughts. Grimacing at unsaid words on the tip of his tongue, he merely stalked off. “What’s the matter Potter!” Draco called back while laughing, “Kneazle got your tongue?!” Harry said nothing and merely kept going. Draco scoffed and turned to walk away, when he heard the most unlikely of voices.

“More like he’s going to snog his mudblood girlfriend…” Harry stopped cold in his tracks, part of him completely in disbelief at what he had just heard and who had just said it, while the other part of him seething with rage. He turned and looked behind to see blue eyes glaring a hole straight through him. Draco, for his part, merely watched the proceedings with an amused look on his face.

“What did you say,” Harry asked with venom dripping from the words as he dropped his bag and approached the source of the insult to his girlfriend…to his Hermione…that of Mr. Ronald Weasley. Ron merely smirked in a Draco-esque fashion and crossed his arms, staring straight at Harry.

“You heard what I said Potter…” Ron replied angrily. A group of students now started to gather round, including one that caught Draco’s eye, causing him to slink away into the shadows lest he be caught at the scene. “I said you were off to snog your mudblood girlfriend.”

Harry’s fists clenched at his side. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you Ron,” he replied with anger, his fists literally shaking with rage. So much of him wanted to slug Ron in the face at the moment, that he could literally feel the pent up frustration burning a hole deep in his very soul. He tried to calm himself with breathing techniques, but it was a losing battle. “But you are going to regret saying that. One day…mark my words…”

“Is that a threat, Potter?” Ron replied snidely.

“No,” Harry answered back, his green eyes beginning to radiate with untold power, causing Ron to slink back slightly. Harry moved three steps closer, standing right in Ron’s face, before clarifying. “It’s a promise…” His point made, and desperate to find something he could blow up, Harry turned and grabbed his bag, walking away from Ron. In his mind, Ron took this as an affront, and quickly grabbed his wand to curse Harry from behind.

“Curse him behind his back will ya!” came a loud voice from the side, causing Harry to turn, his wand at the ready in his own right should the need arise, only to see Professor Moody with his own wand out, shooting a curse straight at Ron. Ron blinked once or twice before he was overtaken by the spell, shrinking down into nothing until there was only a small red ferrett sitting there. Moody began to move his wand up and down and all around, causing the creature to bounce to and fro, and causing the gathered group of students to laugh their heads off in the meantime. Harry allowed himself to laugh at Ron’s misfortune, causing a large degree of tension to slowly ebb its way out of his being.

Upon seeing such a conglomeration of students, Professor McGonagall quickly made her way into the courtyard, trying to figure out what all the commotion was about. She had heard one of the portraits convey the message about what Mr. Weasley had said to Mr. Potter about his girlfriend, and was quickly trying to intercept the two before a fight could break out between two of her Gryffindors. She stopped short when she saw Professor Moody moving his wand around, leading something to dance around in circles. “Professor,” she asked in an exasperated tone, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?!”

“Teaching,” came the simple reply from Prfoessor Moody, both of his eyes fixed on the target at hand.

McGonagall stopped short, her breath caught in her chest. She pointed forward in horror. “Is that a student!?”

“Technically,” Moody answered back, never breaking his motions. “It’s a ferrett.”

Professor McGonagall nearly screamed as she pointed her wand at the creature and transformed it back into what it was supposed to be. She glared at Ron Weasley when he landed in front of her, spitting out a pair of leaves that had gotten stuck in his mouth when he landed. “The portraits told me what you said,” she said sternly, “And I am ashamed of you. Two weeks worth of detention with Mr. Filch!” Ron grimaced, but held his tongue…moving away from McGonagall quickly. She then pointed her wand straight at Moody, who’s face had become hard to read. “We NEVER,” she began sternly, “I repeat, NEVER, use transfiguration as a punishment Alastor. Surely Headmaster Dumbledore told you that!”

Moody seemed to blush, as much as one like him ever could, before responding, “He probably mentioned it once or twice.”

“You’d do well to remember it,” McGonagall said, waving her wand for added effect before storming off. The crowd had already begun to disperse, when Harry started moving away.

“Potter,” Moody called, causing Harry to stop. He turned and watched the Professor move towards the opposite hallway, motioning him to follow. Harry sighed, readjusted his bag, and trudged ahead.

/ - / - / - /

Harry followed Moody up the winding staircase towards the defense classroom, keeping his distance from the grizzled ex-Auror. Though Moody was a brilliant, if somewhat eccentric, teacher, something about his methods made Harry try to keep his distance, and his wand at the ready.

“You’re quite smart you know Potter,” Moody grunted as he limped his way up the stairs. Harry stopped short when Moody reached the top landing and turned his head, offering a crooked smile before taking a shot out of his hip flask. “Always practicing CONSTANT VIGILANCE...even amongst your allies.” Harry blinked a couple times, before Moody turned back and marched towards the Defense classroom.

Harry was surprised when they kept moving through the class and into the back, moving towards the back office. When he entered the room, the first thing he noticed was several large glass mirrors that apparently came with Moody’s term as professor, as they had not been their when Professor Lupin occupied the post the year previously. Moody eased himself onto a small wooden chair at the edge of a small oak desk, and slowly pulled a peg leg off of his right thigh, causing Harry to cringe slightly. Moody noticed Harry looking at the glasses, and pointed right at them. “Those are interesting things right there,” he said, leaning back against the stone wall with a grunt of relief, “That’s a foe glass. It allows me to keep an eye on my enemies.” Harry looked at it, seeing a few faces he couldn’t really recognize reflected back at him, and two or three faces he did recognize, chief among them Igor Karkaroff and Ludo Bagman. “I can get you one if you like,” Moody offered, and Harry simply shook his head. He turned his head and glanced over in the corner, seeing a large trunk sitting there with several keyholes in the front.

“I’ve never seen a trunk like that before,” he said with wonder as he approached it.

“That’s a multi-compartment trunk,” Moody explained from behind Harry’s back as he refilled as hip flask with a clear, yet congealed liquid. “That particular model has six different compartments. But that’s not why I brought you up here.” Harry turned away from the trunk and glanced at Moody, who motioned for him to come closer.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Moody began, “has asked me to aid you in this tournament, seeing as how you are competing at a bit of a disadvantage.” Harry grimaced at this thought slightly, but Moody caught on to his gesture. “Don’t worry about this being some kind of cheating. You can bet your arse that Krum and Delacour will have help from Karkaroff and Maxime respectively.”

“What about Cedric,” Harry asked. Moody looked at him as if he had grown a second head for a moment, before shaking his head and waving his hand dismissively.

“I’ll endeavor to aid him anyway I can, if it will put your mind at ease,” Moody halfheartedly replied. Harry didn’t buy the argument for a moment, but promised himself to help Cedric if he could. “Do you have any idea what the first task is going to be,” Moody asked Harry, to which Harry shook his head. Moody reached over on his desk and fished around for a piece of parchment. After finding the right one, he handed it to Harry. “That’s a pass to accompany Professor Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest tonight. Be there at 11 PM sharp. Harry nodded and placed the parchment in his bag. Moody dismissed him and Harry turned away, only to stop when Moody called his name a second time. “If you have a way of being discreet,” he added, “It might be prudent to bring that with you.” Harry arched an eyebrow before the message got through. Nodding his head, he walked away from the room, leaving Moody smirking behind him.

/ - / - / - /

Harry did as he was told and met Hagrid at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Filch had eyeballed him as he left the castle, but a glance at his pass had held the caretaker at bay for the moment. Hagrid smiled as he spotted Harry moving closer towards him. “’Ello ‘Arry,” he said cheerfully, “Glad you could make it.”

“Hello Hagrid,” Harry said enthusiastically in return. With all the commotion of his new classes, his training with Dumbledore and the tournament, he had not been able to spend as much time with one of his favorite people at Hogwarts this year. Silently the two of them made their way through the forest.

“So ‘Arry,” Hagrid said quickly, breaking the ice, “What’s goin on ‘tween you and Ron?” Harry internally snarled, but kept his composure.

“He’s got a problem with me dating Hermione,” Harry said bluntly, “I guess he must’ve fancied her or something.”

“’Ou wouldn’t know it from the way they got on,” Hagrid muttered to himself. “I’m sorry you’ve got to deal with something like that. Ron should know better.” Harry smiled to himself, happy to have Hagrid on his side.

He looked up at the giant man and noticed that he seemed to have put some effort into his appearance that evening. “Why are you so dolled up,” he asked, causing Hagrid to blush internally.

“Don’ worry bout that,” Hagrid said, stopping short when they reached the edge of a large clearing. “Better put yer cloak on ‘Arry.” Harry nodded his head and slipped his father’s invisibility cloak over his body, ducking down behind a bush as Hagrid moved forward to meet another large figure approaching from the distance. He was surprised when he made out the silhouette of Madame Maxime approach Hagrid, hugging him like old friends.

“’Ow are you Olympe,” Hagrid asked with a smile on his face.

“Wonderful Monsieur Hagrid,” Maxime returned with a smile on her own face. “Vhat iz it you wanted to show me.” Hagrid motioned for her to follow him, and Harry trailed them both from behind. They made their way through the clearing, and Harry could make out several people in the far distance, and four large cages being moved through the forest. All at once there was a large burst of flame that came from the cage in the lead, and in the firelight Harry could make out the silhouette of a large dragon, causing his own breath to catch in his throat. Thankfully his audible gasp was drowned out by Madame Maxime’s own loud gasp.

“Aren’t they magnificent,” Hagrid said quietly, and Maxime nodded her head in agreement. If not for the prospect of staring down a dragon himself, Harry might have mused at the notion of them being magnificent creatures.

/ - / - / - /

Harry slowly moved into Gryffindor, physically and mentally exhausted from the days events. Much to his surprise he found Hermione sitting on the couch in the common room, apparently waiting for him. Seeing her boyfriend in such a state, Hermione immediately threw down the book she had been reading to pass the time till Harry’s return. Quickly she ushered him over towards the couch and sat down next to him, holding his cold hands in her own as they warmed themselves by the fire.

“Harry what is it?” she asked, concern readily apparent in her voice.

“Dragons,” Harry finally said with a hoarse voice. Hermione’s eyes went wide and stared at him, fearing that she had heard what she thought she had heard. “The first task is dragons.” Hermione felt her throat clench up at seeing the sincerity and fear in Harry’s eyes, and the two of them huddled together closely.

“More specifically,” Harry continued, “I have to retrieve some sort of object that a dragon will be guarding.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said with a quivering voice, “How can they expect you to fight a dragon…” she thought for several moments, something clicking in her brain, and hope seemed to write itself across her face. “Unless,” she gasped, “You don’t have to fight it.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow and pulled away from her, trying to figure out her meaning. “That is to say, what if you can use your broomstick to manuever around the dragon and capture whatever it is you’re trying to get.”

“But Hermione,” Harry said with trepidation in his voice, “They only allow you to have your wand.”

“That’s all you need Harry,” Hermione explained quickly. “You can use a summoning charm to retrieve your Firebolt once you’re in the competition.”

“But…” Harry tried to do the math in his head, “I’d have to summon my broom from almost a kilometer away!”

“I know,” Hermione said, a tinge of pride in her voice, “But you’re probably the only student in this school who can do it Harry. I don’t know if you’ve done the math in arithmancy, but you probably have more magical potential than anyone else here.”

“I’m rubbish without you,” Harry said softly, rubbing his hands across Hermione’s cheeks. Hermione smiled, leaning into his hand.

“Me,” she replied, “Books and cleverness…” Harry smiled at the memory, and the two of them stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments, before closing the distance and kissing each other gently on the lips. It hadn’t been the first time they had kissed, but this was perhaps the most passionate they had ever been, as they tried to drown out the terrors of the coming tournament for just a brief moment. A memory and a need to breath forced Harry to break away from Hermione slowly, neither one eager to have the moment end. They smiled at each other, feeling the heat rush to their faces.

“Tonight’s the night we have to speak with Sirius,” Harry said quietly, in case anyone else had wandered by, “Best he doesn’t find us snogging each other’s brains out.” Hermione had to stifle a giggle, and simply allowed herself to lean next to Harry and sit there on the couch for a good long while. They sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company, before Hermione quietly spoke.

“I heard what Ron said,” she said softly, and immediately she felt Harry’s grip stiffen around her. “I can’t believe he would do something like that…”

“Me neither,” Harry said reflectively, “But if he thinks I’m going to sit back and…”

“Don’t get in trouble over me Harry,” Hermione chided gently. “He’s not worth it.”

“But you are Hermione,” Harry argued back, causing her to look up at him in wonder. “I know what its like to be demeaned just because you’re different. I know what its like to be called worthless and useless…and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone treat someone I care about like that.” Hermione smiled, and fought back a couple of tears as she thought to herself that it was exactly what she would do in his place. Content for the moment, they both stared at the fire, waiting for Sirius.

/ - / - / - /

Harry felt himself being gently shaken from his slumber. Groggily he yawned and saw Hermione staring at him, a concerned look on her face. “Harry, it’s time.” It tok a moment for Harry to register what exactly she was saying, but when he did, he nodded and moved closer to the fire. To his surprise, he saw Sirius’ head floating in the middle of the hearth, surrounded by emerald green flames. He immediately smiled when he saw the Marauders face.

“Imagine my surprise,” Sirius said with a smirk as wide as his face, “When I arrived here and found my godson snoozing away while holding this beautiful witch.” Both Harry and Hermione blushed at the idea.

“It’s good to see you Sirius,” Harry said, trying to fight back some tears at seeing his godfather was alright, even if it was only just an image.

“It’s good to see you too kiddo. I’m sorry I can’t be there in person. I do want to congratulate the two of you for waking up and deciding to be together. It was obvious just from seeing the two of you for a few hours last year.” Again, Harry & Hermione blushed.

“I’m afraid there are some serious things we need to discuss,” Hermione said and Sirius nodded his head.

“Yes,” he turned towards Harry. “First I have to ask you Harry, did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

“No,” Harry forcefully said, causing Sirius to hush him.

“Sorry, but I had to ask. You’ve told me about your dreams in your letters…have they stopped?” Harry nodded his head. “That may be a good sign. Harry, there’s no doubt in my mind that your dreams and what happened at the World Cup, as well what has happened this year at the tournament, are somehow connected.”

“What are you saying,” Harry asked fearfully.

“I’m saying that Hogwarts is no longer safe for you Harry. I’m saying that whoever but your name in that Goblet is probably connected to Voldemort somehow. Igor Karkaroff…he was a Death Eater.” Harry and Hermione’s breath caught. “You already know that Barty Crouch Sr.’s son was a Death Eater as well. Ludo Bagman was implicated in the Death Eater trials but was later exonerated as having been under the imperious curse. Severus Snape, the greasy git, he was a Death Eater too.”

“Snape’s been tolerable this year,” Hermione said, her voice reflecting the paranoid connection in her mind.

“In that case, be extra careful around him,” Sirius warned. “No one…and I mean no one…ever stops being a Death Eater.” Sirius looked around, as if he had spotted something on his end. “I have to go now Harry. I’ll send you a letter as soon as I can. Remember to keep your friends close.” With that, Sirius disappeared into the flames, leaving Harry and Hermione alone with their thoughts.

Harry kept his eyes closed firmly shut as he reinforced the walls around his mind. Brick by brick and stone by stone he built an impregnable defense that even the strongest battering rams couldn’t get through. “Are you ready Harry?” came Dumbledore’s voice, echoing in his mind as if it were carried by a distant wind. Harry nodded in response. “Very well, Legilimens.”

Harry could feel the headmaster’s probe push against his walls softly, and then in a more rapid fashion. The walls held firm against the onslaught, and where cracks might appear, Harry was quick to reinforce them. He maintained his focus and kept himself singularly determined to keep Dumbledore out of his thoughts. When he felt the pressure against his mental barriers relax, he smiled internally at his success…only to be frustrated when the telltale flow of images began to race through his head.

Harry shook himself out of his concentration and breathed hard a couple of times. He looked at the headmaster, who was merely judging him from a distance. “How did you do that?” Harry finally asked, causing Dumbledore to smile down at him.

“There is more to protecting one’s mind then simply protecting from a direct assault,” Dumbledore explained, reaching into his robes and pulling out a lemon drop. “You must think of your mind in more than just one dimension Harry. Building strong walls are the first step, but you must work on protecting yourself from more subtle approaches from the side and above and below.” He paused a moment, contemplating his thoughts, before adding, “Your mental shields must be able to withstand different types of legilimency.”

“There are different types?” Harry asked, as he idly reached forward and scratched underneath Fawkes chin when the bird flew over to his side. Dumbledore nodded while smiling.

“Yes, there are. The approach I use is a more gentle approach, designed to subtle probe the mind for information so that you never knew I was there. This is a contrast to the approach of say…Professor Snape, who uses a more direct approach I tried on you earlier.”

Harry stopped short. “Wait a minute…did you say Professor Snape knows legilimency?” Dumbledore sadly nodded.

“Yes Harry and I know what you are thinking right now. Yes, he has used it on students in the past. However I assure you that this practice has been terminated as part of the…agreement that he and I reached earlier this year.” Dumbledore readjusted his glasses while Harry tried to dissect what the headmaster had just revealed to him.

“What sort of an agreement?” Harry asked, though he suspected what it was.

“Unfortunately, that information is privy only to Severus and me. I’m sure you understand, Harry.” He simply nodded and noticed when the clock chimed. “Our time is up for this evening,” Dumbledore announced as Harry stood up and grabbed his bag. “You are making excellent strides Harry, and in no time I am sure you will be a skilled occulumens. All it takes is practice and discipline.” Harry smiled and nodded before turning to walk away. “Oh and Harry.” Harry stopped and looked at the headmaster, who handed him a pair of boots. “These are made out of dragon hide, some of the toughest in the world. I happen to have a pair in your size, and you may use them for the task if you wish.”

“Thank you sir!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing the boots and quickly shrinking them and placing them in his bag. Dumbledore smiled at his enthusiasm, with a tinge of sadness at what awaited the young man in front of him, before dismissing him.

Harry slowly walked down the corridor away from Dumbledore’s office, trying to figure out a way to reinforce his mental walls in the way in which the headmaster had suggested. He was so engrossed in his own thought processes that he nearly ran into someone on the way back to Gryffindor Tower. Catching himself at the last moment, Harry looked up and saw Cedric Diggory walking in the opposite direction.

“Hi Harry,” Cedric said cheerfully, and Harry nodded in return. The two of them stood there nervously for a moment, unsure of how to act around one another in light of the tournament. “Listen,” Cedric began, cracking the ice and awkwardness, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’m sorry about the buttons…I’ve asked them not to wear them but…” Harry simply waved him off.

“It’s alright, I understand.” Harry thought a moment, before something dawned on him. “Say Cedric…what would you say if I told you what the first task was?” Almost immediately Cedric’s eyes lit up.

“Of course Harry,” he quickly said in a hushed tone, “I’ve been going spare all this time thinking about it.”

Harry’s face quickly became very somber. “Dragons,” he said plainly, “The first task is dragons.” Cedric’s face went pale and he swallowed down a deep gulp of air. “That’s what I said,” Harry sardonically replied. “Anyway, I just thought you should know…even playing field and all.”

“Yeah, thanks Harry,” Cedric replied, seeming to regain his composure. “I won’t forget this.”

“It’s what you’d have done for me,” Harry replied off-handedly. “Besides, it’s the least I can do after the way you stood for me to Karkaroff.” Cedric smiled, and the two of them nodded their heads and went along their separate ways.

Neither noticed the blonde haired witch in the shadows, running in fright at what she had just heard.

/ - / - / - /

Harry awoke the morning of the task, his nerves completely rattled. He had spent the better part of the remaining time between finding out about the task and the task itself trying to master the summoning charm, and now he felt that he had it down pat. The night before he had been able to summon his bag and every book in it from clear across the Gryffindor common room. Still, that didn’t stop his mind from working overtime the night before about how many different things might go wrong that day. What if the charm didn’t work that far? What if the dragon cooked him before his broom got there?

Harry tried to calm himself by organizing his mind, much in the same way Dumbledore had taught him. Once that was accomplished he took a deep breath and a quick look at the clock next to his bed. He frowned when he saw that he had slept in a bit, and hoped there’d be something left in the Great Hall for breakfast. He put on the champions uniform he had been given, a seemingly regular Hogwarts robe that had the colors of Gryffindor house on it and his name on the back, not dissimilar from his Quidditch uniform all things told. Throwing on a pair of gloves and the boots the headmaster had given him, he made sure the window was open and left his Firebolt in an open position so it could be summoned.

He stopped short when he saw Hermione alone, sitting on the couch, a plate of toast sitting in front of her. He could tell from the movements of her shoulders that she was crying about something. He cleared his throat and said softly, “Hermione?” Quickly Hermione stopped shaking and rubbed her eyes, moving her head back to stare at Harry, trying to put on a brave face.

“Hi Harry,” she said as brightly as she could manage. “I saw that you slept in so I brought you something for breakfast. Merlin knows that you shouldn’t take on a dragon with an empty stomach. It isn’t much I know but…” Harry silenced her ramblings with a hug, seeming to know what she needed at that very moment. Hermione did not resist his embrace, instead collapsing into his arms and allowing her worry to boil over. Harry whispered softly in her ear as she let out the feelings of fear and frustration one tear at a time.

“Oh Harry,” she said in between sobs, “Please promise me you’ll be okay. Promise me you’ll be safe.” Harry pulled away and stared straight at her, an emerald gaze meeting her chocolate brown eyes, and he answered with as much honesty and sincerity as he could.

“I can’t promise that I won’t get hurt,” he said with trepidation, “But I promise you I’ll come back Hermione. I won’t leave you.” Hermione smiled at him, and the two hugged once more, enjoying each other’s company while they had it. They stayed that way for several seconds, before Harry broke away and kissed her gently on the lips. “We should go,” he said quietly, and Hermione merely nodded her head. They both stood up, hands entwined, and made their way out of the Gryffindor common room. They had no sooner stepped through the portrait hole, but were suddenly greeted by the flash of a camera and a person Harry would rather not like to see that morning.

“Ah my, young love,” Rita Skeeter said in a falsely happy voice. “And what is the name of this lovely witch who has ensnared your heart Mr. Potter.” Hermione recognized the woman from what Harry had told her about the interview incident. Thankfully, she had not been allowed to write any of her lies from that incident due to Dumbledore’s intercession. She scowled at Rita, while Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration and annoyance.

“Dumbledore told you to get out of the castle Rita,” he said calmly, “I suggest you listen to him...” At this, he pushed aside Rita and her photographer and made his way towards the Champions tent outside the castle.

Rita merely glanced back, a smirk on her face, and her eyebrow arched. She had her story now.

/ - / - / - /

Harry was more nervous than he gave himself credit for, though from the looks of things most of the champions could join him in that regard. Fleur appeared to be a downright mess, and Maxime kept talking with her over and over about fearing something. Krum was silent as Karkaroff went over some kind of strategy with him, while Cedric was as pale as a ghost, but kept to himself. Finally, after several minutes of waiting, Barty Crouch Sr. and Ludo Bagman approached the tent, flanked by Professor Dumbledore. Crouch appeared to look better than Harry could remember him looking in quite some time, but Bagman appeared to be rather hastily put together. He kept glancing down at his watch and then back over to Harry several times. “Champions,” Barty said clearly, “Gather around.” The champions moved forward, and Crouch huddled in with them.

“The first task is a grueling test of both your bravery and magical prowess. You must retrieve a golden egg from a nest of dragon’s eggs. Inside this egg holds a vital clue to the second task. As you can imagine, there is more to it. Guarding this nest will be a real-life dragon. Four different dragons have been chosen for this task, and you will randomly select based on a randomly determined order. Miss Delacour…you may go first. Please place your hand into the bag.” He held out a small red velvet bag. Fleur tentatively looked at Madame Maxime, who urged her forward. She then reached forward and fished around in the bag for a moment before quickly withdrawing her hand and opening it, looking a bit relieved when she saw a miniature version of a Welsh Green Dragon staring back at her…at least until it spit out a miniature fireball. “You’ve chosen the Welsh Green,” Crouch repeated, before he turned to Cedric. “You’re next Mr. Diggory.” Cedric reached in and pulled out a larger dragon that Harry didn’t immediately recognize. “You’ve drawn the Swedish Snort-Snout. Mr. Krum if you please.” Viktor reached in, seeming to try and decide between the two, before finally pulling out a slightly larger dragon than Fleur's. “Oh, the Chinese Fireball,” Crouch said with a small twinkle in his eye, before turning towards Harry. “Which leaves you Mr. Potter, with…?” Harry held out his hand and a large dragon model with spikes going every which way rolled out of the bag and into his palm. “The Hungarian Horntail.” Harry gulped at the ferocious beast that had been laid out in front of him. Crouch smiled at all of them, before nudging Bagman in the side. Ludo seemed to come to his senses, shaking his stray thoughts loose.

“You will be scored on how quickly it takes you to capture the egg,” he explained, “As well as the methods in which you employ to capture it. Before you try it, the egg has been charmed against anyone using a summoning charm on it. Should you be incapacitated or fail to capture the egg, you will not receive any points, but you will still be given an egg, as the clue is vital to your continued success in the tournament. Good luck.” Dumbledore motioned towards Filch, who was up in the canopy.

“At the sound of the cannon Miss Delacour…you may…” there was a loud boom that interrupted him, as Filch accidentally set the cannon off early. Fleur looked apprehensive, but simply moved forward slowly. Harry didn’t watch the episode, merely content to keep himself to his thoughts. From beyond the tent he heard a hushed voice whisper at him. Slowly, he walked over towards the edge of the tent, and was surprised to see Ludo Bagman standing there.

“Mr. Bagman,” Harry said quietly, “What are you doing?”

“Listen Harry,” Bagman said as politely as he could. “I know you’re at a bit of a disadvantage here what with your age and all but…maybe you could use a few pointers to help even the playing field and…” Harry stopped him there.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you still owe the Weasley twins a mountain of gold would it?” Ludo’s face flushed, and Harry figured as much. “I’d thank you not to try and cheat. If I’m going to be forced to compete in this tournament, I’d like it to be as fair as possible.” At that, Harry turned and walked away. A small part of him chided himself for having accepted Moody’s help, but he quickly quashed it away by saying that he had told Cedric about the dragons. There was a loud cheer and Harry quickly turned.

“Miss Delacour has done it,” came Crouch’s voice over the large gathered crowd. “Through her powerful use of a flame freezing charm and some fancy footwork, she has managed to capture her egg! Next up will be Cedric Diggory!” There was another loud cheer for the Hogwarts champion. Cedric turned and looked at Harry, who gave him a small smile. Cedric returned it and muttered a good luck, before exiting the tent.

It was about six more minutes when Harry heard the cry come up from the crowd again. “Mr. Diggory charmed several rocks into dragon’s eggs to confuse the creature, while also using a flame freezing spell. Well done Mr. Diggory! Next up is Viktor Krum.” Viktor spared no glance at Harry, and merely moved forward out of the tent.

There was close to another six minute interval when Harry felt his throat catch at the sound of another loud roar. “Mr. Krum went full steam ahead, fighting the dragon with a powerful conjunctivitis curse! Our final champion will be Mr. Harry Potter!” Harry heard a palpable silence, mixed with a few cheers from some voices he could recognize. Gathering up every last ounce of courage he could, he moved out of the tent and onto the pitch.

Harry glanced around the makeshift stadium quickly. There were several rocky outcroppings surrounding a large circle where the nest stood in the middle. Harry could clearly see the golden egg sitting in the middle of the large nest, surrounded by several other dragon eggs. Harry moved forward quickly, not seeing the dragon immediately.

He was stopped when he heard a loud roar, and nearly was too slow to dodge the snapping jaw that came down where he had once been. Harry hid in a circular pit surrounding the nest and glanced upward, seeing the large Horntail staring down at him. The dragon let out a mighty roar, and Harry bolted outside of the circle. Once he had escaped the outlying distance of the dragon’s reach, he pointed his wand skyward towards the castle. “ACCIO FIREBOLT!” he shouted. He knew it would take a couple of minutes for his broom to get there, so he went into action of putting his other plan into motion. He moved towards one of four outcroppings that pointed at the cardinal direction, keeping a shield spell up between him and the dragon at all times. When he was certain he was temporarily safe from the flames, he quickly drew into the sand and rock a combination of three runes he had memorized for just such an occasion. He quickly muttered a spell to keep the runes in place, before replacing his shield and running towards the next outcropping. He repeated the procedure at each of the outcroppings, and then moved as far as he could from the dragon, still keeping his shield in front of him. He turned away from the dragon and pointed his wand at the first rune, shouting out “SOLARUS!” The runes did as they were supposed to…energizing the spell and connecting with one another, before in a singular moment there was a blinding flash of light. The crowd gasped and shielded their eyes from the brightened light. Harry let his ears see for him, as he heard the telltale whooshing sound of the Firebolt coming towards him. With all the grace and speed of a seeker. He jumped up onto the incoming broom and pushed it as far as he could, squinting into the blinding sun spell’s epicenter, and snatching the first glint of gold he could find. As he flew off, he smiled when he saw the golden egg safely in his possession.

“Absolutely astounding!” Crouch shouted enthusiastically, “Mr. Potter has captured the golden egg!” The crowd let out a roar of approval, and Harry allowed himself a moment of relief and celebration as the sun spell died out.

The crowd…and Hermione…felt their respective breaths fall out of their lungs…when they saw the Hungarian Horntails spiked tail smack Harry in the side, causing him to skip off the rocks and land with a resounding thud on the turf below.

Dragon keepers immediately went into action, holding the horntail at bay as the creature lashed out against them. Oblivious to the danger. Hermione screamed and rushed through the crowd, running towards Harry’s side as quickly as she could. Professor Dumbledore met her there. Grabbing a rock and muttering a portkey spell under his breath, the two of them immediately apparated to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, leaving a very stunned crowd behind.

/ - / - / - /

Harry could feel a dull ache in his ribs, and felt a calming presence at his side. He groaned, and heard a loud gasp and a joyous voice cry out. “Madame Pomfrey! He’s awake!”

Harry opened his eyes slightly. Even in the fuzziness he recognized the ceiling above his usual bed in the Hospital Wing. Quickly his world turned clear as he felt his glasses slip onto his face. He blinked a couple of times and turned his head, seeing Hermione sitting next to him, a mixture of worry and happiness etched onto her face. He offered what he could of a smile and tried to sit up, almost immediately regretting that decision. When he winced in pain, Hermione eased his head gently back down onto the pillow. “Rest Harry,” she said softly, leaning towards him.

“Wha…what happened?” Harry asked his voice hoarse from disuse.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said with a new mixture, this time of pride and of anguish, readily apparent in her voice. “You were absolutely brilliant. You captured the egg faster than any of the other champions. You just…” he saw tears falling out of her eyes, and Harry tried to shush her as best as he could.

“It’s alright now,” he said softly as Hermione leaned forward and gently hugged him. Harry placed a kiss on the top of her head, ignoring the shots of pain that went up and down his ribs from the awkward movement.

“Harry,” she whispered, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m here Hermione,” he said quietly, “Just like I said I’d be.”

“She’s right Mr. Potter.” Harry looked over Hermione’s shoulder and saw Madame Pomfrey moving towards them. Hermione reluctantly broke away and pulled up a chair next to him. “I wouldn’t sit up if I were you, not for a few more hours anyway. Imbeciles, making fourth years face dragons…you were lucky Mr. Potter, I’ll flat out say it.”

“What happened to me?” Harry asked, “The last thing I remember is catching the egg.”

“The dragon hit you with his tail,” Hermione explained. “They didn’t figure on it being so vicious. Dumbledore was furious.”

“You suffered four broken ribs and a bruised lung,” Madame Pomfrey explained. “I’ve healed your lungs and your ribs, but you’ll be sore for several days no doubt.”

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“Just a day, amazingly enough,” Madame Pomfrey plainly said. “Apparently you heal fast Mr. Potter.” She looked over a piece of parchment before placing a tray of potions on his bedside table. “Drink those when you can and try to eat something soon. You should be out of here in no time.”

“I’ll collect your homework,” Hermione said, causing Harry to smile inwardly.

“How did I do on the task,” he asked, and Hermione beamed at him.

“You were awarded the full 50 points,” she said proudly. “Cedric and Viktor tied with 48 a piece and Fleur got 45.” Harry smiled. He might actually live to tell the tale after all, he joked to himself.

A/N: I so could have ended on that cliffy with Harry getting hit, and had originally intended to do so, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Consider it a late Christmas gift.

The clue of the egg, Rita’s article, and the march up to the Yule Ball, all in the next chapter.

A/N: For some reason updates have been coming quicker to me on this story then they have been on Heirs (though I am working on one right now.) Not that I’m going to complain, mind you. One does not ignore the muse when she had taken up residence in your minds eye.

In this chapter we’ll have Rita’s article and the ramifications of that. The beginnings of the Yule Ball and a few more changes to canon. And Ron discovers that words, once said, have a consequence. Molly will also rear her impudent nose into the fray.

Again, I remind you, super!Ginny doesn’t exist in my world.

/ - / - / - /

Harry awoke the next day and was happy to be released from the care of Madame Pomfrey. He had to remember that he had only been nearly impaled by a dragon just a few days earlier, a fact that the lingering soreness in his ribs reminded him of if he moved too fast or twisted the wrong way. He half suspected that Madame Pomfrey intentionally left some degree of soreness there, so as to try and deter future visits to her hospital wing.

Not that it ever worked with Harry of course…but nonetheless…

Harry strolled out of the hospital wing, intent on surprising Hermione in the Great Hall for breakfast. He frowned internally, but still smiled nonetheless when he was intercepted by his girlfriend en route. Hermione rushed up to him and hugged him, making certain to reign in on the usual bone crushing intensity of her embraces in light of his injuries. Harry returned the embrace, and before long the two of them had swung into a side passage and were kissing each other several times over. After a minute or so of a heated exchange, the both of them stood in each other’s company, breathing heavily.

“If that’s my welcome back present,” Harry quipped, “I’ll have to get hurt more often.” Hermione tried to look affronted at the suggestion, but the smile on her face ruined the illusion.

“You’ll do no such thing Harry James Potter,” she replied. Harry smiled back and kissed her again. Hermione broke away. “As much as I’d like to continue this,” she said, blushing slightly, “We’d better get to breakfast and class.” Harry nodded his head and the two of them walked towards the Great Hall, hands intertwined.

The moment they entered the Great Hall, Harry noticed two things immediately. There were no Potter stinks buttons anywhere that he could see, and the collective female populace of the school was glaring straight at Hermione. Harry arched an eyebrow and squeezed Hermione’s hand as the two of them walked to their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. Both of them noticed Ron stand up from the table and walk out of the Great Hall, throwing his copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table. Harry and Hermione both sat down across from Ginny, who looked at them apprehensively.

“You might want to read that Harry,” she said quietly, afraid to assume anything at the moment. Harry took the paper and turned to the front page, seeing a picture of himself and Hermione emerging from the Gryffindor common room. His eyes went wide at the headline and story.

CHAMPIONS ENSNARED! Vying for more than golden egg!

By Rita Skeeter

It is bad enough that the Boy-Who-Lived, after everything he has been through in his young life, has become a suspect entrant in the dangerous Triwizard Tournament. But now, sad is it may be to report, it appears that young Mr. Potter may be experiencing the tragedy of young heartbreak.

Recently Harry has been seen in the romantic company of one Hermione Granger, a 4^th year muggleborn witch at Hogwarts. It is well documented that Miss Granger and Mr. Potter have been friends for some time, but now it appears that this money-grubbing charlatan has decided on more than friendship.

This reporter has learned that she has been using love potions, including possibly the forbidden “Amors Mortis” to ensnare Mr. Potter’s heart. What’s worse is that she has also been seen in the company of one Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion.

“She’s always been a real flirt,” says Hogwarts student Pansy Parkinson. “She just wants to ride on people’s coattails to overcome her own shortcomings. It’s sickening and demeaning when you think about it.”

Amidst all of these are also allegations of grade tampering and preferential treatment due to Miss Granger’s friendship with Mr. Potter. This reporter tried to obtain an interview with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, but was rudely turned away.

I hope, as do we all at the Daily Prophet, that the Boy-Who-Lived can escape this scarlet woman’s trap.

Harry felt rage boiling up inside of his gut as he read the article. Hermione gasped behind his shoulder, and Harry quickly pulled her next to him and draped his arm over her shoulders. Harry shot a look at Professor Dumbledore who was sitting there. Dumbledore nodded his head towards Harry, who quickly led Hermione out of the Great Hall, any lingering anger being quelled for the moment.

They reconstituted themselves in the Room of Requirement, there usual setting for simply talking away from prying ears in the Gryffindor common room. “You know that paper is a load of rubbish…” Harry said calmly as he held Hermione in his arms. “I know that paper is rubbish…”

“It’s not just that,” Hermione explained as she controlled her tears. “It’s everyone. Not just the paper…but those people that believe it. And more than that…it’s Ron. I just want to…”

“I know,” Harry replied in a cold voice. He shook his head and tried to keep his temper in check. “Look, I know of a way we can deal with the Prophet.”

“How,” Hermione sniffed in a questioning tone.

“It’s time I used my bloody fame for something good for a change. I’m going straight to Dumbledore and telling him to owl the Prophet, forcing a retraction, or I’ll ask him to seek a solicitor on our behalf. If threats don’t work, then I’ll sue the Prophet for everything their worth and then we’ll see how long Miss Skeeter has a job.”

Hermione smiled sadly before grabbing Harry’s hand. “Harry, you shouldn’t take revenge out on someone because of me. I admit something needs to be done…but we shouldn’t make a scene out of it…”

“Yes we should ‘Mione,” Harry argued back. “We shouldn’t just let them trounce all over us.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And don’t think you’re not worth the trouble. You thought I was worth the trouble…so let me help you now.”

Hermione smiled again and hugged him deeply, still taking care to watch his ribs. “What about Ron?” she asked quietly.

“Maybe he’ll come around,” Harry shrugged. “He doesn’t really concern me anyway. After what he said…he’s burned more than a few bridges…”

/ - / - / - /

Harry was never more glad that his schedule virtually mirrored Hermione’s. Any would be detractors, hecklers or other n’er do wells were quickly subverted by a glare from Harry. Hermione felt slightly vulnerable from Harry playing the protective boyfriend, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to enjoy it for a while.

They each sat at the Gryffindor table eating lunch and reading from their respective books, Harry brushing up on something from arithmancy while Hermione was working on transfiguration. Harry heard an incoming hoot coming from above and turned to see a rather familiar bird zooming in for a landing. He quickly cleared away the food and books surrounding Hermione and he before Errol crash landed onto the table in front of them. The ancient bird dropped its letter and quickly departed, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow at the behavior. Normally Errol would hang around for some food or something.

“What did Errol deliver to you?” Ginny asked, lifting her head over to see. Hermione’s eyes went wide as she laid sight on a Howler that was addressed to her. Ginny paled, while Harry simply looked on stunned. Hermione brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and stared at the flaming letter.

“You’d better open it,” Ginny urged, as the rest of the Gryffindors around them, the ones that weren’t openly ignoring Hermione at the moment. Hermione nodded and slowly opened the letter, which quickly took on a life of its own and began screaming at Hermione.

“HOW COULD YOU!” the letter exclaimed in Molly’s shrill voice. “OF ALL THE PEOPLE I KNOW…I NEVER WOULD HAVE EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU YOUNG LADY! LEADING POOR HARRY AROUND LIKE A LOVE-SICK DOG! I HAVE A RIGHT MIND TO….”

The howler never got a chance to finish. It let out a bloodcurdling scream and was quickly consumed by a large burst of flame as Harry pointed his wand at it and destroyed it wordlessly. Hermione stared at Harry as if he’d grown a second head, and everyone quickly took a step back away from him when they saw the glint in his emerald eyes.

“Someone’s not getting a Christmas card this year,” Harry remarked off-handedly, though the scowl was readily apparent on his face. He quickly pocketed his wand and looked with concern towards Hermione, but quickly arched an eyebrow when he saw the puzzled look on her face. “What?”

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, “How did you do that? Not only did you destroy a howler…but you did it wordlessly.”

“I did?” Harry asked, clearly not aware of anything he might have done differently. “I could have sworn I said Incendio. Maybe you just didn’t hear me above the racket?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, you didn’t Harry.” She bit her bottom lip, as she often did while trying to solve a rather confusing puzzle. “What were you thinking when you did that.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I just wanted that Howler to stop. So I thought of the spell that would work and performed it.” He smiled at her, careful not to speak in a patronizing tone, “I honestly just think you didn’t hear me. What with all that noise.”

Hermione nodded her head. That had to be it, she told herself. She shook her head clear and tried to put Molly’s howler to rest. Harry meanwhile turned towards Ginny. She seemed to anticipate his question. “I’ll set her straight,” she said, smiling.

/ - / - / - /

Harry had to admit, it had worked far better than he had anticipated in relation to the Daily Prophet. No sooner had he spoken with Dumbledore than the next day’s edition had featured a complete retraction and a notice that Ms. Skeeter had been placed on indefinite leave from the Prophet. He couldn’t help but walk around Hogwarts with a smug grin on his face.

Admittedly, he didn’t know exactly what brought about this change in his character. He should be scared out of his mind, what with the tournament and the lurking threat of Voldemort still looming over his head. Yet, despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel as if the weight of the world was but a distant memory. As he walked away from Dumbledore’s office towards the Gryffindor common room, he felt a slight spring in his step. People he passed in the hallways were cordial to him, maybe even downright friendly. Even a few of the Slytherins were at least wise enough to keep their distance.

He spoke the password to the Fat Lady and strolled into the common room, smiling broadly when he saw Hermione reading a book in the corner. He ignored Ron, who was engaged in a rather one-sided game of wizard’s chess with Dean, and walked over towards his girlfriend, sitting down on the ottoman in front of her after placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“How were the lessons?” Hermione asked, setting down her book. She moved to the side of the chair as much as she could and Harry squeezed in next to her, enjoying the feel of her against his chest.

“Same as usual,” he said quietly, trying not to incur Ron’s jealousy at the given time. “I think I am starting to get the hang of it though.”

“You’ll have it down in no time,” she replied, before adding, “Do you think you’re skilled enough to give me some lessons. I’ve done some reading on occulumency, but the books aren’t really detailed enough to become self-taught.”

“I can teach you some things,” Harry replied, “But I need to learn legilimency first before I can give you proper instruction.” He gave a smirk and looked at Hermione playfully. “You sure you want me poking around in your head?”

Hermione smiled and swatted Harry on the shoulder. “I think I can manage,” she replied. The two of them were content to share each other’s company at that particular moment in time. They sat there in each other’s arms for several minutes, the only sounds being the shattering of Dean’s pieces against Ron’s systematic chess onslaught. When Dean had finally lost, Ron glanced around to see if anyone else was in the room at the moment. Dean nodded his head and headed upstairs to the dorm, while Ron silently put the chess board away. He slowly walked towards Harry & Hermione his head hung low.

“Guys,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. Harry and Hermione both turned towards him, their angered glares masked by looks of disinterest. Ron glanced up at them, his blue eyes staring at them intently. “I just wanted to apologize for everything I’ve said these last few days and stuff. I mean, I guess I was just jealous of the whole tournament thing.”

Harry sighed and looked straight at Ron. “Do you honestly think things can go back to the way they were after everything you said Ron?”

“Look I said I was sorry,” Ron replied quickly, his temper flaring up again. “What more do you want from me?”

Hermione shook her head. “If you ask that question then you don’t know,” she replied sadly. “You said a lot of hurtful things Ron, and once you say something it’s out there. It can’t be taken back.”

“Bollocks,” Ron shot back. “You’re just being insufferable, just like you always are!” He turned towards Harry, “Come on mate. I was the first friend you ever had, you said so yourself! She’s just clouding your mind.” He turned back to Harry. “Hard to believe I ever thought I fancied someone who’s mental like you.”

“You’re the one who’s mental,” Hermione childishly replied, her own anger getting the best of her, “If you thought I’d ever fancy you!” Harry stood up, breaking away from Hermione and moved close to Ron, his eyes glaring daggers straight through him.

“If you want to piss away a friendship because of bitterness and jealousy,” he said darkly, “That’s your business and what you’re going to have to deal with. I won’t speak for Hermione, but as for me, stay away.” Hermione nodded her head in approval, and both of them started away.

Ron just stood there, seemingly speechless. His fists clenched and his anger boiled over. He ran after Harry from behind and tackled him to the ground. “You could have had anyone!” he shouted as he pounded his fist into the back of Harry’s head. “Why did you have to have her!” Hermione was caught off guard momentarily, before she struggled to try and pull Ron off of Harry. Three other Gryffindors, who happened to wander in, joined in the effort of trying to pull off the assaulting Weasley.

After years of fending off Dudley, Harry merely covered up and protected his head, trying to kick the larger boy off of his frame. He found it difficult to breathe, and speculated that his ribs might have been reinjured by Ron’s initial tackle. His eyes went wide however, when he saw one of Ron turn around in anger and push Hermione off of his back, causing the witch to stumble backwards and smack her head on an end table. The other Gryffindors merely stood back in shock. Harry’s own rage boiled over almost instantaneously, and with little more than a gesture, Ron was tossed back off the ground and clear across the common room, slamming against the wall and collapsing in a heap on the floor. He ignored the shots of pain from his ribs and ran over to Hermione, who was clearing the cobwebs loose and holding her head in pain.

“I’m fine Harry,” she said softly as soon as Harry down on one knee cradling her. “Are you alright?” Harry nodded, but winced in pain a moment later. Hermione noticed this and she quickly picked Harry up and helped him to the hospital wing. The rest of the Gryffindors finally made their way downstairs and took stock of the situation. After an explanation from Seamus, one of the other students who had tried to pull Ron off, a few of the younger students helped Ron to his feet and simply shoved him out the portrait hole, leaving him to fend for himself.

/ - / - / - /

Harry wasn’t at all surprised to find himself in Professor McGonagall’s office the next day, recounting the events that had led to the fight in the common room. He noticed the darkened look on her face when he finished recounting his side of the story. There were a few moments of silence before Harry added, “I’m sorry if I hurt Ron Professor. But I wasn’t going to let him hurt Hermione anymore.” Professor McGonagall’s face lightened and she offered him a bit of a smile.

“I understand your position Mr. Potter, and rest assured that you will not be punished for your actions last night. Your story matches the one that Miss Granger and Mr. Finnegan gave me almost exactly, and there’s no doubt to me that Mr. Weasley is the one who instigated this whole affair. He well be serving the rest of the term in detention, and will be lucky if he is not expelled.”

There were a few moments of silence before Harry asked, “How is he?”

“He had a bump on the head, but he’ll recover soon enough.” Professor McGonagall adjusted a few papers on her desk before she changed subjects entirely. “I also want to tell you, now that I have the opportunity, that I am most pleased with the improvements in your academic performance Mr. Potter, not only in my class but in every other class. Even Professor Snape has said you have shown marked improvement.” Harry’s eyebrow arched at this, but he held his tongue. “And may I also say, though this is strictly between the two of us,” she added with a slight smile, “That should you and Miss Granger continue on your current path, that you will certainly be the frontrunners for consideration as Gryffindor’s prefects next year.” Harry smiled at the recognition.

“There is one other matter,” McGonagall added before Harry left. “During the Triwizard Tournament, it is tradition for the host school to throw a Yule Ball on Christmas night.” Suddenly Harry’s throat went very dry.

“A b-ball?” he stammered out.

Professor McGonagall nodded her head, somewhat amused at the young man before her reduced to an incoherent person at the notion of a formal dance. “And as a champion,” she continued, “You and your date are expected to participate in the opening dance.”

Harry went even paler. He swallowed deeply, not helping the fact that his voice cracked at the notion. “D-dance?”

“I trust that there are those who can help you, if you know where to look.” McGonagall said slyly. “I would ask that you not tell anyone tell tomorrow night, except a date if you believe she can keep a secret. I don’t want the whole castle in a frenzy overnight.” Harry nodded his head, still trying to get his mind around the concept of having to dance in front of everyone, something he had no bloody clue how to do. McGonagall dismissed him, and Harry almost immediately made a beeline towards Hermione.

Somehow he knew she was reading a book outside in the cold autumn day. There were still a few patches of snow from a freak storm that had happened a week earlier, but for today it was merely a bitter wind that blew through the Hogwarts ground, assaulting the last lingering leaves that clung to their branches in a desperate attempt to fight the coming winter. He made his way towards the bench where she was seated, and smiled as much as he could when she scooted over to make room for him.

“McGonagall says I won’t be punished for last night,” he began, trying to hide his frayed nerves. Hermione nodded her head and placed a marker in her book.

“Of course you won’t,” Hermione replied with a sad smile on her face. “Ron’s a bloody git Harry, you did nothing wrong.”

“She said as much,” Harry replied in return. He became interested in the ground at his feet suddenly. “She also mentioned something that she’ll be announcing tomorrow. There’s going to be a Yule Ball Christmas night.” He heard the gasp come from Hermione, and looked up to see a far away expression in her eyes.

“I had wondered if they were going to do that. I know it’s a tradition, but I didn’t know if they’d revive it for this year or not.” She turned and looked at Harry, seeing the worry in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “And since I’m a bloody champion…I have to participate in the ceremonial opening dance.” Hermione nodded her head, sensing where this was going. “I have no clue how to dance Hermione. It’s not exactly anything that the Dursley’s would have taught me…and I doubt that learning to dodge Dudley’s fists counts as a dance.” Hermione hid her scowl at the mention of his relatives.

“I’ll teach you what I know Harry,” she offered. “I don’t know much myself, but surely there’s a book in the library that can help.” Harry licked his lips, not 100% certain he’d like the answer to his next question.

“Would you go to the Ball with me,” he asked. Hermione was at first taken aback by the question, having automatically assumed that she would go to the Ball with him given their current relationship. When she saw the fear in his eyes, she quickly smiled at him.

“Of course I will Harry,” she replied, “Why do you even need to ask?”

Harry looked back down at the ground. “I didn’t want to assume. I also didn’t know if you wanted to go to the Ball with someone who’s likely to make himself look like a fool.”

Hermione sighed and turned his head to look at her straight in the eyes. “There’s no one else I’d go with, Harry,” she answered back, before kissing him gently on the lips. Harry returned the kiss with a bit more ferocity, his tongue daring to trace along the edge of her bottom lip, as if begging for entrance. Hermione relented, and for the next few moments, Hermione proceeded to erase all doubts out of Harry’s mind.

A/N: Rita will be back…of that I assure you. You can’t keep a sneaky bug like that down, at least not without squashing her, anyway.

There will be some events (including a hinted one you read about three or four chapters ago) that will fill in between now and the Ball. Ron will also find even more consequences for his actions….as all of Hogwarts unites against him.

I also haven’t forgotten about S.P.E.W., I’m just not sure how to write it into the story at this point. It may wait till after the Ball or even until after 4^th year.