Unofficial Portkey Archive

Book 2: The Man Of Many Names

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"HARRY!"

The voice was shrill and loud, piercing through his eardrums. There was a touch of desperation about it, the way the second syllable was stretched out into the eons of time. The voice had been coming more often, visiting frequently in the dark hours of the night. Sometimes, it would start quiet - muted almost. It would crescendo until it rattled his skull, echoing until Harry woke up awash with sweat, gasping for air and scrambling for his glasses as he tried to convince himself it was just a dream.

Yet, he couldn't get rid of the niggling feeling that the voice was anything but a dream.

"Harry!"

Blinking, Harry Potter scanned the crowd with his forest green eyes, squinting through his glasses as he searched for the origin of the sound. King's Cross was packed for another year at Hogwarts Battle School and Harry stood alone with his trunk in the middle of a crowd swarming with parents and students alike. Although he had grown an inch or two during the summer, Harry was still considered on the small side for his age. He strained his calves, tip toeing until he saw carefully curled dark hair fighting its way through the crowd.

Tracey Davis nimbly dodged a plump woman who seemed to be the mother of an irate First Year and beamed as she spotted Harry. She was all smiles, bright blue eyes, and incredibly tanned legs. The white shorts only served to highlight her shapely legs and Harry mentally forced himself to meet her eyes as she rushed forward to envelop him in a tight hug. The aromas of her lightly curled hair overwhelmed him for a moment and he made sure that his hand placement was careful after he felt a patch of skin as her shirt rose in the back.

"How was your summer?!"

Uneventful - just the way he wanted it.

For some reason or the other, Vernon Dursley had avoided any sort of conflict with Harry. The latter assumed the worst at the close of the last school year when Hermione Granger had not so lightly hinted that she knew more than her fair share of public peace keepers. However, Vernon had left Harry alone, even passing off most of his daily commands to Petunia. Harry didn't mind, especially since they allowed him to eat dinner unimpeded in his dingy room. Whilst Dudley didn't improve in his malicious tendencies, Harry had grown craftier in avoiding him. For one, Dudley couldn't do anything while his mother was in the house as Petunia was still wilfully ignorant of her son and her husband's violent habits. On the occasion that Harry would step out of the house to explore the surroundings or just get a fresh breath of air, he made sure to avoid any of Dudley's hangouts and noted several escape routes should he run into Dudley and his gang.

It frustrated him, at first, to resort to such tactics in order to avoid Dudley. Harry could have easily bamboozled Dudley with his wand, but the laws were quite clear that he could not use his wand while he was underage and not attending school. The fear of not returning to Hogwarts, the only place he found happiness, was enough to stay Harry's wand despite the strong urge to cast more than just a Stunning spell on Dudley. Still, Trow had taught him to adapt to his circumstances and so he did, mindfully staying out of Dudley's business until the school year approached at the turn of July.

Even better, he had received letters from Tracey and Blaise to occupy his time. Tracey explained that she was spending the early part of summer vacationing with her mother in sunny Spain. Through not so subtle words, she outlined that her father had remained behind on her mother's request so they could enjoy the vacation without exploding into another frightful argument about Tracey's future. She promised him that she would have a gift for him when he returned and wished him an early birthday by delivering a pair of gloves made of dragon hide that could withstand anything from heat of a dragon's breath to the frosty chilliness of winter.

Blaise sent him a pamphlet from the finals of the Quidditch World Cup. His mother had somehow gotten him tickets from one of her former lovers that was still alive. Blaise excitedly explained, in tortuous and lengthy detail, the bets he had made in order to make a tidy profit from the games, even predicting that Viktor Krum, the young Seeker sensation, would catch the Snitch to win the final. As a birthday gift, the dark Slytherin sent Harry a pair of Omnioculars that contained a replay of the final match between Ireland and Bulgaria. Harry was particularly enamored by the Veela mascots of the Bulgarian National team and expressed his gratitude towards Blaise for providing him some material for those particular late summer nights.

Despite the lack of human contact, the hours of ennui, the inane conversations of the Dursleys, and the lack of magic, Harry had found this summer much more pleasant than any of his previous ones.

"It was fine," Harry answered shortly with a smile.

"Fine," Tracey snorted, "Tell me about everything you did!"

"Well, I hid from Dudley, read your letters, and finished some required reading material for the next year," Harry explained.

"Living on the edge, are we?" She asked playfully with a wink.

"Positively dangerous."

"Positively boring is more like it."

Blaise Zabini - tall, dark, and handsome if he were to describe himself - approached them with his arms obnoxiously stretched out wide, purposefully whacking a few of the younger students as he walked by. Harry rolled his eyes, noting that it took less than one minute for Blaise to announce his presence in grandstanding fashion.

Blaise's grin grew even wider as he looked Tracey up and down. "Tracey, that tan is quite agreeable on you."

Tracey and Harry met eyes and both of them delivered matching eye rolls.

"It's nice to see you too, Blaise," she answered dryly as she approached him for a hug.

"Oh don't be like that," Blaise admonished. "You wouldn't be wearing those shorts if you didn't want people to notice."

This time, she punched him squarely on the shoulder. Blaise was definitely right, though, as Harry found his eyes back on her legs like they were a visual tractor beam. She laughed at Blaise and hit him again, but it was more playful than harmful. Harry joined in on the laughter as he immediately felt right at home, like a missing part inserted into place. The Hogwarts Express sounded off a shrill whistle as it warned that the time to board was upon them.

"Oh quickly now! We have to square off a compartment before the good ones are taken." Blaise left them without a second word, rushing off with his luggage as he plowed through a tiny First Year.

"I have to say goodbye to my mother, but I'll find you on the train!" Tracey squeezed Harry's forearm as she departed.

Just as quickly, Harry was alone again as the crowd pushed its way towards the train. Making sure to gather his belongings, Harry took one step towards the Hogwarts Express to join Blaise but stopped when he spotted a familiar tangle of bushy hair out of the corner of his eye. She was standing with a woman he didn't recognize, pointing at the train and talking quickly. They were at a medium distance, but he knew her lecturing expression in an instance. Making a quick decision, Harry grabbed onto the rolling cart with his trunks and made for Hermione Granger.

She spotted him during his approach and Harry was happy to see that she looked much healthier than she did at the end of the year. Perhaps a summer away had done much to ease her frayed nerves. Gone were the bags under her eyes and the constant sickly pallor. Even her hair was more manageable, staying down in mostly contained waves tossed over one shoulder. On the other hand, her eyes seemed skittish as he came near and there wasn't an instantaneous smile on her face like Tracey.

Looking from Hermione to whoever was accompanying her, Harry came to a stop and gave them a small smile.

"Hello, Hermione," he said.

"Harry," Hermione answered with a curt nod. "Um, this is my Aunt Carol. Carol, this is Harry. He goes to Hogwarts too."

Carol smiled though her eyes still shifted nervously at every owl in a cage or hovering hat that floated by. "It's nice to meet you, Harry. Are you from the Gryffindor house as well?"

"No, I'm from Slytherin."

"Oh!" It was the sort of surprise where Carol knew she had to be surprised, but she didn't know why. It must have been confusing for her, taking care of her niece while simultaneously finding out that her niece also happened to be a witch that attended a magical boarding school where they focused on dueling and had a demented headmaster that was hell bent on making his life miserable. Carol was a plain, middle-aged woman with medium length brown hair in a bob and an unrecognizable face and she had the mannerisms of such a woman.

Breaking up the awkward interlude, Hermione said, "Yes, well, I should really get going. Thank you, Carol - for everything."

What ensued was an awkward show of affection from Hermione as she grasped her aunt in a light hug. Feeling like he was intruding, Harry looked away, focusing on the steam rising from the engine cart of the train.

"Be sure to write me with those owls. That McGonagall lady said they make good time though I don't understand why you can't just ring me up," Carol said.

"Magic has a way of confusing things," Hermione explained.

"They certainly do." Carol crossed her arms and looked around uncertainly.

"I can help her with her things," Harry offered, sensing Carol's nervousness.

The older woman smiled at him kindly. "How pleasant of you. I should be going anyway. I don't want to get lost in here."

"Remember, just walk through the wall. You'll go right through," Hermione reminded her aunt.

Carol nodded absent-mindedly, looking around for said barrier. She turned to him and said, "Take care of her, Harry."

"I'm sure he'll do a great job," Hermione said and Harry had to bite back a smile at the undercurrent of sarcasm in her voice.

As Carol left, a silence settled between Harry and Hermione. The former struggled to find something pertinent to say, feeling oddly uncomfortable and unable to recall anything from his mind. Hermione was no better, her head ducked down as students and parents bustled by them. Harry bit his tongue, hopping a bit on his toes in an effort to diffuse the tension. Thankfully, Hermione must have decided that she, too, was unable to handle the strangeness.

"I hope your summer was well," she finally said, one hand on the handle of her cart as she started towards the train.

"Better than I could have hoped for," Harry answered as he followed her.

"You were...treated well?" Hermione asked, opting for discretion given the abundance of curious ears around them.

Harry shrugged. "No one bothered me."

"I'm glad," she said sincerely.

It was hard to have a conversation as they weaved through the crowd. The platform seemed particularly crowded this year as there were definitely an overabundance of parents. Fortunately, neither Harry nor Hermione were burdened by such things. As they reached the train, Hermione turned to Harry and gestured vaguely towards their particular carriage.

"Well, I'll be seeing you, Harry," Hermione said in rather short fashion, hoisting her trunks onto the train without any word.

Harry didn't even have a chance to say good-bye as she left. It struck him as odd. Hermione Granger was many things: intelligent, arrogant, stubborn, confident, blunt, proud, but she was not a coward. Why, then, did she practically run away from him?

As the train signaled one last time, Harry climbed onto the train, wondering what exactly had Hermione so skittish.

* * * *

Harry waited patiently for a moment, letting others pass by with their full bags, clogging the already cramped hallways. The train was just starting to roll forward, the light jostling not enough to disrupt his balance.

"I hate fighting through the crowds too."

The owner of the voice was Cedric Diggory, tall with a pleasant smile on a handsome face topped with exquisitely windswept hair. He, too, was standing to one end of the train, his luggage shoveled off to one side as he let various students pass.

"Did you catch any of the World Cup?" Cedric said.

"No," Harry said. "Didn't really get any news of it."

Grinning, Cedric leaned in so Harry could hear better. "Well, I went there and I heard from a very good friend of my Dad's that there's going to be something big at Hogwarts this year."

"What do you mean?"

"Try to keep this mum, but I don't think I'll have seen the last of Viktor Krum and Bulgaria yet."

A flock of attractive girls, Fifth Years by the look of them, walked by and took a moment's pause to chat with Cedric. One or two cast a curious glance towards him, their eyes flicking towards the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Harry casually leaned against his luggage, doing his best to pretend he wasn't inconspicuously looking them up and down. Cedric laughed and smiled with them as a small crowd of Second Years annoyedly stamped behind the group of older girls.

Harry coughed, catching one of the girl's attentions. The redhead glanced behind her and saw that they were forming a bottleneck. Her eyes passed over him and Harry gave her a small smile. Interestingly enough, she returned it without any pretense.

"We should get going." The redhead nudged her friends and the flock bid Cedric good-bye as they moved on, freeing the rest of the students to pass by.

Cedric's gaze lingered on the girls as they vanished out of sight and he smiled at Harry, winking in the process. Harry commiserated with a simple raise of his eyebrows as there was finally a small gap to navigate through the train.

"Well, I'll be seeing you, Harry," Cedric shook his hand in goodbye.

"You too, Cedric."

The tall Hufflepuff went first as he presumably left to find a compartment with his friends. Harry followed after a minute, occasionally peeking his head into the windows of the different compartments as he searched for Blaise and Tracey. He finally found them towards the back of train, Blaise animatedly gesturing at Tracey.

"Harry, listen to this," Blaise said before Harry could even stow his luggage.

"I have no doubts I'll be forced to."

Tracey smiled at his sarcasm, scooting over to make room for him. Harry stowed his luggage in the overhead racks, finally taking a seat as the train rolled on at full speed. He felt oddly at home, relishing the plush seats and the sound of Blaise's chattering voice. Tracey playfully contradicted him in parts of his story about some Bulgarian at the Quidditch World Cup, doing just enough to temper his ever growing boastfulness.

"-but that's a whole other matter concerning the Veela. Harry knows all about that, don't you?" Blaise grinned.

"Yes I do," Harry glibly said, doing his best not to meet Tracey's incredulous gaze.

"Harry!" She exclaimed.

Harry shrugged, still laughing with Blaise. "I told you it was a lonely summer."

She still shook her head, the raven ringlets flying around. "I still don't understand why we can't visit. I had some time after our trip to Spain and if I had to sit another hour listening to my Dad prattle on about who knows what and bills and decrees at the Ministry, I might have taken my wand and bid all of you good-bye with a well placed Cutting Hex."

"Cutter? I took you more of a hanger myself," Blaise quipped.

Harry glared at him, pointedly refusing to bring up the insensitive nature of his joke. Blaise, much to Harry's chagrin, disregarded it completely.

"Too soon?" Blaise weakly asked.

"No." Tracey played it off with a slight laugh. "Not too soon."

Yet, the way her lips turned downwards after she finished laughing and then nervous way she rubbed her outer thigh told Harry that he was right in his assessment that Blaise shouldn't have commented on the subject so cavalierly. Making a mental note to wring his friend's neck about it later, Harry pushed onwards, trying to keep the mood light. He knew, more than a lot of other people, the dangers of recessing into the darker parts of the mind.

"You probably couldn't come because Dudley would try to eat you." Harry attempted a weak joke.

"Well, he would definitely do Tracey over," Blaise immediately responded, incurring genuine laughs from Harry and Tracey.

Sometimes, Blaise did cross into the territory of being a reasonable friend.

The door slid open, interrupting their general clamor. Pansy Parkinson looked in, holding a stack of envelopes in her hands. Harry looked at her appraisingly. Though she wasn't the luckiest in attractiveness gene pool, her calm, if not slightly arrogant, demeanor conveyed a confidence that was undeniable.

"Potter. Zabini. Davis. How could I ever guess that you would be in the same compartment?" Pansy drawled as she rifled through the stack of envelopes.

"They have you stuck handing these out?" Tracey said sympathetically.

"Just for our year. Somehow, they avoided Goyle and picked me instead."

"Where is Crabbe these days, anyways? Aren't they attached at the hip?" Blaise wondered aloud.

"Sent home. Failure to achieve proper marks," Pansy explained. "Here you three go."

With a collective thanks, they gathered their respective letters as Pansy departed to presumably deliver the rest. Emblazoned upon each of their letters was the bright green of Slytherin's colors as well as their names. Harry dumbfoundedly stared at his, wondering why he was receiving a letter on the train.

"What is this?" Harry asked, reflecting his thoughts.

Blaise looked up, a ridiculously quizzical expression etched onto his ebony features. "These are our Track placements! You know, for such a great wizard, you are completely clueless sometimes."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, finally remembering filling out his form at the end of last year. Truth be told, there were so many events in between and the long summer had done nothing to prompt him on the matter.

"Like it matters," Blaise continued, "Everyone knows that you're going to be placed in Leadership. Hell, they've practically groomed you for it."

There might be more than a little truth in that, Harry thought. Given the slow but dawning realization that Snape had sent his bullies last year in one manner or another, Harry saw it fit to believe that the headmaster was also capable of something less complicated like laying out a path to the Leadership track.

"Well if they did, I've played right into hands. That's what I applied for," Harry sighed, not liking the upper hand Snape had on him.

"It's not the end of the world," Tracey reminded him. "Being placed into Leadership isn't anything to scoff at. They'll probably put me in General Battle."

"Together forever." Blaise placed a hand to his heart in mocking gesture.

"Together then?" Harry asked, raising his envelope.

In unison, they tore open their envelopes, spilling the contents within. Harry read his in a rush, trying to find the exact words that would indicate his exact placement. He need not read far for his placement was laid in exact terms in the second sentence.

We would like to congratulate you for being accepted into the Magical Theory Track...

The rest of the letter continued on in other formalities, highlighting his time tables as well as potential job situations post-graduation as well as the benefits of said track. But Harry paid no mind, laying the letter down on his lap in confusion. He wa so sure that he was going to be placed in Leadership. It was a perfect fit, given his usual role as leader of the House in Battle matches. What more, it was widely known that there were very few people selected for Magical Theory, likely one per House. That could only mean...

"LEADERSHIP?" Blaise shouted, standing up as the torn envelope went flying into the air. "Who the bloody hell do they think they are?! I don't want to be in this. This looks hard!"

Blaise looked accusingly at Harry as if he were the person to blame for this tragedy.

"What did you get then?" He quickly grabbed Harry's letter before the latter could even react.

Skimming the page quickly, Blaise's already wild expression somehow morphed into more confusion. "Magical Theory?! What does this mean? What does this mean for us?"

"Blaise, calm down!" Tracey urged. "We're still going to be in the same core classes. We'll have a class or two different, that's all."

"But why am I -" Blaise jabbed his thumb into his chest to emphasize the point, "- in Leadership? I would pick Malfoy over me."

"Maybe they saw something in you?" Harry offered.

Blaise moaned, though Harry couldn't quite understand his adverse reaction. It was supposed to be beneficial to be placed into a better Track. Not that everyone who was in General Battle was a lemming, but Leadership was supposed to be the Track with more prestige.

"This is a good thing, Blaise," Harry said.

"No it's not. It'll mean more work. More work will mean more homework. More homework will mean less time to -"

"We get it, we get it," Tracey interrupted. "You don't like to do work."

Blaise huffed to himself, angrily staring at his letter as if he were willing the text to scramble around and create a new letter that would state his acceptance into General Battle. Harry turned to Tracey and asked her, "What'd you get, Tracey?"

A small smile crept onto her heart shaped face, her blue eyes shining happily. "I got what I wanted: Medical."

"Glad somebody did," Blaise grumbled.

Harry shot Blaise a look to silence him, trying his best not to ruin Tracey's good news.

"Well, that's great!" Harry said genuinely. "I knew you'd get it."

"I thought I had a chance," Tracey admitted. "But I honestly didn't think it would happen until I read the words on here."

Harry looked at Blaise, imploring his friend to say something meaningful. Blaise gave another huge sigh, not bothering to hide his displeasure. Despite this, he still said, "Good job, Trace."

"Thanks, Blaise. You know it won't be that bad, you know? You could use a little responsibility for once."

"This is all Snape," Blaise continued. "He put me in here to punish me for telling you, Harry."

The worst part of it all was that it was exactly something Snape would do.

* * * * * *

They arrived at Hogwarts, discussing the potential ramifications of their Track placements as well as other gossip related to their classmates to pass the time. Once or twice, someone would peek within their compartment window, stealing a glance at Harry and then hurriedly rushing off. Blaise, in better spirits as the day wore on, started to gesture obscenely at each tourist that would come by. Harry did his best to ignore them...and Blaise.

The carriage brought them towards Hogwarts whilst the First Years piled into canoes that would take them across the lake. For all of the changes at Hogwarts, Snape seemed to have kept the traditional First Year trek for whatever demented reason. Perhaps he wanted to frighten them with a long journey across the lake. Perhaps he just hated First Years. No matter the reason, Harry was glad to finally be seated in the Great Hall amongst the rest of the students and not floating in a dingy boat.

The familiar faces were all there, save for poor Crabbe. Daphne Greengrass sat across from Harry, looking pleasantly happy and fair faced. Pansy, seated right beside her, was saying something to Daphne while her eyes darted around furtively. Theodore Nott glumly tapped his wand against the table, annoyed that the food wasn't present yet. Gregory Goyle stared blankly ahead, his face still as a statue, not a thought expressed upon it. Millicent Bulstrode, a veritable Goyle doppelganger, albeit female, was actually engaged in a conversation with Sadie Baldock, the quiet but conniving girl who always seemed to be on the peripherals.

Last of all, Draco Malfoy sat by himself a small distance away from the rest of the Slytherins. He looked unusual in that he wasn't framed by the two bulky towers of Crabbe and Goyle. Without the pair of dunderheads by his side, Malfoy looked strangely small and thin. Still, his eyes held a sharpness about them and when Harry met them, Malfoy gave him a small nod. Harry reciprocated it in kind, appreciating the lack of insults usually thrown his direction.

"What's with Malfoy?" Harry asked Blaise, nudging his friend to catch his attention.

"Heard his Dad got into some trouble with Gringotts, something about shady business going on with false accounts. The goblins don't take too kindly with any sort of that, so I heard that they lost a lot of money," Blaise answered.

"How much is a lot?"

"Enough to quiet Malfoy down. How much do you think that would be?"

A considerable amount.

Harry diverted his eyes away from the platinum blond Slytherin, focusing on the head table as the last of the teachers filed in. There weren't a lot of turnovers from the previous year as all the familiar faces were at the head table as well. Professor Slughorn, the bumbling Potions master anchored one end of the table. Amusingly, Professor Moody sat right beside him, glumly drinking from a flask, his magical blue eye whizzing around haphazardly. Professor McGonagall was next in line, her strict face drawn with an ever increasing tightness. The Headmaster, of course, sat in the middle, watching over the students like a herder would with his sheep.

On Snape's left sat Professor Trow, looking pale and sickly. Professor Flitwick, his head barely visible above the table, chatted with Professor Lupin, who had apparently returned for another year despite numerous complaints over his condition. Finally, a new person sat on the other end of the table opposite from Professor Slughorn. This old man, and Harry could perceive that he was old even from a distance judging from the leathery composition of his face and the general droopiness of his body language, had shiny, white hair that framed his crown and fell to his shoulders. A white beard connected his jaw line, but stopped just short of his chin. On his chin, a goatee extended a few inches so that it covered his neck. All in all, the new teacher had a cracked, leathery face engulfed with vibrant white hair. He was smiling, almost serenely, at nothing in particular as he gazed upon the students.

Before Harry could ask Blaise or Tracey about the identity of the old man, Snape started speaking.

"This year, we will have the opportunity to host an important event. I can not overemphasize the magnitude of such a thing. No doubt some of you have heard the rumors of what might transpire this year. Now that we are here, I can inform you that Hogwarts will be hosting a Tournament of Champions."

An excited chatter broke out like wildfire amongst the students. They were turning left and right, whispering in a dull roar. Harry swiveled his head around, watching the chatter flow back and forth. It seemed as if he were one of the few that didn't hear the rumors about this Tournament of Champions. The students settled down as Snape raised his hand for silence.

"As host, it is our duty to represent the school and its values with honor. You will be on your best behavior and any transgressions that might occur in the presence of our competitors will be punished severely. Furthermore, all of you will act individually as acceptable hosts for the two schools that will compete in this tournament. A lot of hard work, from our friends in the Ministry and the faculty itself, has been applied to execute this tournament and it is your responsibility to ensure that you and your fellow classmates will do everything you can to make sure things run as smoothly as possible."

Snape assessed the crowd's mood with a passing glance and Harry made sure to bring up his Occlumency shields as the Headmaster's gaze washed over him. He didn't want to take any chances given what he knew.

"The two schools competing in this tournament are Beauxbatons Academy from France and the Durmstrang Institute of Bulgaria. Each of these schools boasts talented wizards and witches that will test your mettle beyond the likes of what you have seen here. It is known that these two schools rival only Hogwarts in fame and prestige. Though their main purpose is the tournament, this is also a time to learn about other cultures and discover what it is like for students from another country. It would behoove all of you to use this year as a unique opportunity to learn about life on the continent."

This time, the students didn't even bother containing their chatter. Excited voices rang through the hall as friends and classmates conversed on the potential of meeting students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Blaise nudged Harry forcefully and said, "Harry, do you know what I've heard about girls from France?"

Even Snape, more feared than admired, could not completely silence the crowd as he resumed his speech.

"Some of you may have known this competition as the Triwizard Tournament. It is true that this competition usually involves only one champion from each of the schools to compete in three dangerous challenges, but after several meetings with the heads of each school, we have decided that it is more beneficial to include more than one champion from each school. As such, each school will have thirteen champions to represent their respective schools."

The students roared to life with a cheer, some of the older students standing up excitedly at the prospect of competing in this tournament. Already, some of the students were claiming that they would surely be part of the thirteen champions to compete for Hogwarts. The excited clamor was even present in the usually cool Slytherin table. Harry could see Marcus Flint boasting that he would certainly be one of the champions, despite the fact that he had to return an extra year on account of poor marks.

"Each winner will be awarded five hundred Galleons as well as eternal glory for Hogwarts and yourself. This is not a matter to be taken lightly. Previous competitors have died in the pursuit of becoming the champion. Despite the potential hazards, the Ministry has allowed us to expand the minimum age of competitors to be...fourteen."

Snape's eyes stopped their roaming and settled on Harry. Harry returned his stare in kind, his Occlumency shields ready from a long summer of practice. Yet, he felt no intrusion into his mind nor did he feel the usual probe of Legilimency. Instead, it seemed as if Snape was trying to send him a message and it was one Harry understood with clarity.

"There are champions among you. Which of you will represent Hogwarts with dignity?"

* * * * * *

The Great Hall was as loud as Harry had ever heard it, despite the arrival of much needed food. Everyone was talking about this Tournament of Champions and given Snape's last announcement, there were more than a fair share of students who thought themselves worthy of representing Hogwarts. Blaise, probably the last person to be excited about a school event, spoke with gliding words about the potential ramifications of hosting this event.

"I thought it would be the Triwizard Tournament! Everyone knows about that. Snape would do something like this and mix it up. Thirteen champions?! Hell, Harry, I reckon you have to be one of them," Blaise said.

"For once, I might have to agree with you," Harry replied. "I don't think it's a coincidence that the participating age has been lowered to fourteen."

"Caught that one, did you? Daphne says that the tournament was discontinued after 1792 due to that aforementioned death and Pansy claims that their was a huge fight in the Wizengamot about resurrecting it, especially the age limit."

Harry looked curiously at Blaise and said, "How'd they possibly get that through?"

"All three schools made a case that they would have several safeguards in place to prevent anything unscrupulous," said a third voice.

Draco Malfoy cut in with his batch of information, not even looking up from his kidney pie and goblet. He continued eating, not interjecting with usual brash boastfulness. No doubt he was privy to information considering his father's high ranking in the Wizengamot, but it was the manner in which he informed them that was unsettling. It was unlike Malfoy to not brag on how he came upon this information.

"Do you know anything else?" Tracey asked. Harry just noticed how quiet she was during Snape's opening speech, contrasting Blaise's never ending blabber.

"I know that there will be considerable coverage on this tournament," Draco said as he looked up. "Though I suppose that there will be some focus on me given my father's role in allowing this tournament."

There it was. The pretentiousness couldn't fully go away.

Ignoring Malfoy, Blaise pressed forward. "Now, I heard from my Mum that there's some strange process in picking the champion. Whatever happens, if it picks you, Harry, you have to participate."

"I'm guessing you forgot about the dying part?" Harry said.

Blaise waved the concern off impatiently. "A student died once. You're Harry Potter! They're not going to let you of all people die."

"He has a point," Tracey said.

Turning to her, Harry asked, "Are you saying I should do it? Will you do it?"

Tracey nodded. "If I got picked to do it, why wouldn't I?"

Why shouldn't I? Harry thought. As he looked at the head table and watched Snape converse with Moody, Harry had the sinking suspicion that he wouldn't be able to turn down the opportunity if it was presented. Then again, turning down the opportunity to become one of the Hogwarts champions would certainly thwart whatever plan Snape had. But what was the headmaster's end game? Why was he doing this?

Frustrated by the questions that had been plaguing him all summer, Harry procured the coin that would allow him to contact Hermione. Pointing the tip of his wand against the coin, Harry concentrated and watched as the words appeared on the silver coin.

Cave. Tonight.

"You're going to meet her, aren't you?" Tracey asked, noticing that he was stowing the coin in his pocket.

Harry cleared his throat, looking around to make sure no one was listening intently. "I have a couple questions about tonight and Snape. Do you want to come with me?"

A strange look passed over Tracey's face as she pursed her lips and looked away. "No, I'm okay for tonight. You two talk about whatever you talk about."

Harry had the distinct feeling that he had done or said something wrong but avoided speaking. While Tracey didn't look particularly upset, she was excellent at masking her feelings. He had seen the way she deflected questions about that harrowing night last year. What else could she be holding back from him?

"Are you sure you don't want to go with me?" Harry asked one more time.

She gave him a small smile. "No. Just let me know what happens."

Finding no other reason to implore her more, Harry looked towards the Gryffindor table and spotted the mildly tamed, bushy hair of Hermione. He kept his eyes on her, willing her to feel the hotness of the coin and to check his message. Harry watched her until she slowly came around to stare at him from the other side of the Great Hall. Hermione looked down and after a moment, Harry felt the coin heat up in his pocket.

Yes.

* * * * * *

The cool dungeons of Hogwarts always provided a temporary respite from the loud clatter and bustle of the upper hallways. In contrast, the lower levels were dark and noticeably cooler, the walls clammy to the touch and the hues in dark blues and greens instead of the greys and oranges that dominated everything above. Harry enjoyed the tranquil, if not morbid, atmosphere of the dungeons. He felt at home in the dark instead of the constant din of noise above. As he waited for Hermione, however, he could not stop the increasingly bothersome thoughts in his head.

All through the summer, he couldn't understand why Snape was doing it. Harry knew that Snape meant to test him, but what was the purpose of all these tests and why did they so often end up with himself in harm's way? Harry had originally vowed to fight against Snape and his machinations, but he was plagued by the why. That was the question he had to have answered first before he decided on his next move and the best person he thought of asking was Hermione.

A soft pitter patter of feet alerted Harry and he instinctively melded himself into an alcove, knowing that there was a non-zero possibility that it was someone besides Hermione. Fortunately, he could spot her outline against one of the few lamps in the dungeons and stepped out from the shadows to greet her. As he said hello, Harry noted that, like before, she avoided meeting his eyes and kept her return greeting short.

"Let's see if I can still remember this," Hermione said as she walked up to the wall that would lead to the cave. She tapped a few bricks in coordination and stepped back as the wall folded into itself and revealed the muddy path inside. Harry followed her silently, perturbed by her lack of willing conversation.

Mud turned into smooth stone as Harry stepped into the large atrium of the cave, the moonlight refracting through the water and casting strange shadows within. Deep blue lights danced against the walls, shining in Hermione's hair as she walked towards the solitary table and the two accompanying chairs. She sat down, tossing her hair back and focusing on her stubby fingernails as Harry approached the table and took a seat.

Letting a moment pass between them, Harry said, "So what do you think about this tournament?"

Hermione answered, "I actually think it's a good idea."

"You do?"

"It would be good to meet other schools. It would give us some insight on what their methods are," she answered.

"But the actual tournament - Snape's setting me up, isn't he?"

"It would seem that way," she replied shortly.

Usually, she would pontificate on the subject and explain the rationale behind why she thought so, but Hermione resumed her stodgy silence, steadfastly avoiding to meet his eyes. Up until this point, it was just a curiosity for Harry, but he was starting to grow angry with her dismissiveness. Had they not agreed to work together at the end of last year? Surely she wouldn't have forgotten the events of last year so easily.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry came out and asked it rightforth.

She looked away again, staring up at the ceiling and the lake sloshing around above them. The shimmering water cast strange ripples on her face and Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she did so. There was a visible rise and fall of her chest and Harry impatiently waited as she collected her thoughts.

"I need to tell you something," she finally said.

Harry sighed, assuming that someone had said something to her about their relationship. "I thought we were over the Slytherin and Gryffindor nonsense. I don't mean that we have to announce our friendship to the whole world, but I would like to think we made enough progress last year for this not to be so...so...awkward."

Hermione quickly said, "No! No! It's not that. It's not that at all. Trust me, I have no problems with...whatever this is." She paused lamely. "Anyway, it's something different entirely."

"Then what is it?"

She looked away, her eyes first looking left then darting downwards towards her lap. The soft features of her face glowed in the dancing lights of the moon through the water, but the concern was easily read even in the dim light. Furthermore, her strange bout of silence was far from normal. Hermione always had something to say, whether it was a critique or a comment. The fact that she was searching for words scared Harry more than anything.

There was a certain unspoken agreement between them not to discuss what exactly they were. Were they friends? Were they just learning from each other? Were they taking advantage of each other's knowledge in specific areas? They never did decide to put words to their companionship and Harry thought she was starting to doubt the nature of their relationship. After all, it had been a long summer and given enough time, perhaps she wanted to form a friendship with someone who she didn't have to meet in a secret cave.

"Not like you to be unable to find the words for something," Harry said, trying to prompt her.

She didn't respond. Tucking her hair behind one ear, she looked off into the distance, steadfastly refusing eye contact with him. Harry, on the other hand, kept his green eyes solely fixed on her, willing Hermione to look at him.

At last, she spoke.

"There's a dream that comes and goes. I've been having it more frequently and it is the same every time, without a difference. I normally wouldn't put much value in dreams. Divination is a branch of magic that I don't particularly put much stock in. The thing is, I don't think this is any form of Divination. I tried to ignore it first, pretending that it was just a fleeting thought that kept returning. But the dream is so vivid and so precise every time. Even then, I wouldn't have been bothered too much. After all, I've been through a traumatic year and I'm bound to experience some form of depression, but it's also the content of this dream that has me terrified."

Hermione licked her lips, still looking at some unquantifiable object in the mid distance. She closed her eyes as if she were trying to recall this dream. Harry remained still, entranced by the vulnerability in her voice and the depth of her explanation.

"There is a woman. I can only see her outline, never anything more. I can't see her face or her shape, but I know that she's young. It's hard to describe, that sense of knowing, but it's there. She's reaching for something she'll never have and then she opens her mouth. I can still remember her scream, tearing my insides apart and filling my head until I hear the echoes even when I'm awake. But it's not her scream that bothers me. It's not the fact that this dream has been occurring more frequently that bothers me. It's what she says that's been haunting me. It's only one word and it doesn't change. She says it with such emotion . . . such fear."

Hermione finally turned to him, haunted brown eyes asking questions of Harry. He gulped, knowing exactly what dream she spoke of. In this moment, he could see that she was unsettled and fearful of the unknown - this strange dream that could no longer be dismissed as an anomalous continuance.

"Do you know this dream I speak of?"

In a voice barely above a whisper, at a decibel that would have made it difficult to hear if it were not for the fact that the only noise was gentle swish of the lake above them, Harry answered truthfully.

"Yes."

* * * * * * * *

"Has there been any update?"

"None. The lines and whispers have become less frequent."

"This is quite unlike him. I would say that it is incredibly far-fetched to think that he would not surface by now, but this is a form of him I don't particularly understand."

"Neither do I. What more, I can't say with any confidence that I know what his next move is."

"We will have to remain on guard for any changes in the tide. We can not suffer a setback while we are so close to unlocking the boy's potential."

"I will keep my ears and eyes open, but I confess that I don't have high hopes."

"When have we ever? On more pertinent matters, I have lifted the Imperio curse off that abominable, fat Muggle. Suffice to say, the boy noticed the change of manner in him, but I don't think he noticed why."

"It was past time we did that. It has never been one of my favorite choices for him."

"It has served its purpose. The less connections he has, the more he will be able to make a rational and objective decision when the time comes. We both agreed that we would only be able to stunt his emotional growth for so long."

"If you can call it that. You certainly do have a way for evasively and justifiably describing our decisions."

"Decisions they are. We have made them and we will have to live with the consequences, foreseen and unforeseen. I have also done my best to withdraw any leftover imaging from the Hufflepuff boy's head."

"I warned you from the beginning that magic of the mind is a dangerous and unwieldy creature. Are you sure that the Hufflepuff boy is no longer plagued by those branching thoughts?"

"I can not say for sure. I withdrew any implants in his mind that I could and also did my best to repair the festering malice within, but only time will tell if he is fully recovered. I imagine that the Hufflepuff will do his best to stay out of Potter's way now that he has returned to some form of normalcy."

"Not so long ago, you wished for the boy to kill him."

"An act still at the top of my agenda. Yet, I fear that if he did not make his choice then, what will drive him to do so? Do not think you are blameless of this. After all, whose idea was it to potentially threaten something close to him in order to spur his motivations?"

"It was an idea -"

"And you have many great ideas. That does not change the fact that you knew and you were close to finding the key to unleashing that constrained darkness within."

"It does not take a great wizard to realize that. After all, you would have done the same for the one you loved."

"I would have done more."

"And so you know it is not an easy thing to predict or plan. If the boy does have to kill, it will be his moment and on his terms. You can not force it. Do you not remember your first kill?"

"I do."

"Then you know that it is a difficult, almost insurmountable, thing to do."

"And he will do it. One way or another, before this ends, he will have to kill."

"In time. All I can ask for is time."

"A commodity we might not have. We are wandering in the dark, looking for the Dark Lord and finding nothing but our hands grasping empty air."

"He will strike soon. He might have changed, but he cannot hide forever."

"Will we be ready? Will the boy be ready?"

"I...can not say for certain."

*****

A/N: Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts Battle School. I am pleased to post chapters again and I hope you all have forgiven me for my slight hiatus. Except more regular updates in another exciting year and I hope to hear from you. Thank you for following this story and supporting it and I hope you enjoy.

Projected update time: 24 days

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