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The Chinese Fireball died two days later.

It took the better part of forty dragon trainers to stop it from killing everything in sight. After, the red beast would not stay unconscious long enough for the trainers to heal it. With wounds on every part of its body, the red dragon eventually weakened past the point of recovery. In the end, only the Common Welsh Green survived the ordeal.

Heather Locklear suffered burns to her face and hands but managed to escape without any permanent damage. The jars of burn salve had come in handy. Heather informed Snape that she would quit the tournament the next day. Cedric half-heartedly tried to persuade her to stay, but the girl had brushed too close to death. If Bagman activated the portkey just a few seconds too late, Heather might have suffered permanent damage to her plain face.

Marcus Belby quit as well. He had performed admirably in distracting the Common Welsh Green, but the task rattled him. No amount of money or glory can get me to go in there again, he had said. That left just eleven Hogwarts champions. Most of them acquired various pains and aches. Cedric was fortunate to leave vastly unharmed thanks to his flying skills. Fred and George had to have ash suctioned out of their lungs. Roger had burns all the way up his left arm, but his skin was bright red instead of black. Angelina had a large gash across her face from running into a rock, but that was easily fixable. Lee Jordan was actually the one that tamed the Welsh Green, slicing up its wings. Stephen Stebbins and Cho Chang were knocked unconscious early, victims of the Hungarian Horntail.

Marietta ended up stealing the golden egg. With both of the dragons mightily distracted, Marietta finally had a clear shot of the egg. She turned her ankle jumping out of the nest, but it was a worthy injury. Hermione avoided any burns on her skin, but her hair had caught fire. It wasn't something that could be easily fixed. She eventually trimmed it so it closely framed her face. The tangly bush was gone, but Hermione must have taken some pride in her long hair. The threatening look on her face when Harry saw her for the first time with her new cut was enough to keep him quiet.

Harry suffered more than anyone else out of all three schools.

A torn patella tendon in his right knee was the first of his maladies. It was not something that could be mended overnight like a broken bone. Madame Pomfrey managed to repair the tendon, but there were very few potions or spells that could speed up the process. Harry would have to walk with a limp for a few weeks. The deep cut in his arm ripped the muscle in half. The recovery only took a night, but the pain kept Harry awake the whole time. His left shoulder was also dislocated from his tumble off the dragon. Three broken ribs and contusions all over his body were the last of his physical problems.

Pomfrey also managed to keep him from going into Wetigan's Shock. Peter Wetigan was the head of the Department of Muggle Affairs during the early eighteenth century. He attempted to fly over the Atlantic with nothing but Levitation charms. Convinced he could do it, he cast the charm every ten seconds to keep him afloat. According to his last owl, he unexpectedly found himself unable to cast any more spells. Body failing me. Wish my wife the best. Should have taken the broom, Wetigan wrote. Thereafter, Wetigan's Shock was the term used for a wizard who exhausted the magic in the body.

Harry had almost done the same. There was no way to specifically calculate how much magic was left in his body, but his skin was cold to the touch when they recovered him. He was also unresponsive to any magical healing charms for a few minutes, another side effect of Wetigan's Shock. Only a vial of perfectly brewed Replenishing potion from Headmaster Snape had saved him from the same fate as Peter Wetigan.

He was the last to leave the Hospital Wing, long after everyone had gone. Pomfrey had insisted on keeping him for two extra nights because of the torn patella tendon and his low magical properties. During that time, he had a chance to catch up on how everyone else had fared. Beauxbatons had been first. The dragons might have been caught unawares as they did not put up nearly as much of a fight as they had with Hogwarts. Fleur had magically enchanted two of the dragons herself, but the Hungarian Horntail was insatiable. They caused enough distractions though and Karim Tireur, the lone male of Beauxbatons, struck the Horntail with several accurate spells right in the eyes.

Durmstrang fought a little differently. They made great use of transfiguring different objects out of the rocks. Viktor Krum was even able to transfigure a large boulder into a moving dog, something which distracted the dragons. Of course, this information was all second hand - mostly from Tracey. If they had records or pensieves on the First Task, they were not showing it to the champions.

The night after the First Task, a large feast was held in the Great Hall, but Harry missed it. Almost everyone else was discharged save for a Durmstrang student who would not stop bleeding from the eye. Harry didn't mind missing the feast, but he wished that Pomfrey would let him go. There was so much to review, but he did not want to chance seeing Hermione in such a high volume area. The Slytherins had visited him and he allowed them a few minutes to congratulate him but dismissed shortly after. It would be well for them to see him in such a vulnerable position.

Cedric often visited, mostly to inform him of the fallout of the First Task. Charlie Weasley, one of the multitude of Weasleys, had made very large complaints about the fact that Harry killed the Hungarian Horntail. There was nowhere in the rules that they were not allowed to kill the dragons, however, so Harry avoided any punishment or degradation from the trainers, especially Charlie Weasley. That did not stop the Hogwarts populace from bestowing yet another nickname upon Harry.

The Dragonkiller.

Harry noted that the suffix was killer instead of something more heroic like slayer or fighter. Cedric had joked about the moniker, claiming that he should have received a nickname as well. The Hufflepuff refused to take credit for the kill, however, and told everyone that it was Harry who killed the Hungarian Horntail. Some either did not believe him or chose not to believe him for they still showered Cedric with praise. After all, they did see Cedric and Hermione defend the comatose Harry from the Chinese Fireball just before Marietta snatched the egg.

Let them keep talking. The more they talk, the more fearsome I become. Projection of fear was something that he could do without putting forth too much effort. If he refused to quell any rumors, it would lend some credence to it. More importantly, he did not want anyone to know about the amount of wandless magic it took to kill the Horntail.

The scores for each school were also announced afterwards. Snape, Karakoff, and Maxime, and Bagman were the judges and had equal input. They unanimously granted Beauxbatons first place as each judge gave them three points for successfully retrieving the egg with no losses and little intervention from the enchanted dragons. Durmstrang was in second. Karakoff was the only one to give them three points. Snape and Maxime each gave the school from Norway two points while Ludo only favored them with one at first then eventually changing it to two. Hogwarts was last as Maxime and Karakoff granted them with a point only for Harry's part in killing the mythical beast. Snape and Bagman gave Hogwarts full points.

The tally stood as such: Beauxbatons had the maximum points at twelve. Durmstrang was in second with nine points. Hogwarts trailed just behind with eight.

On his third and last night in the Hospital Wing, Harry entertained one last visitor.

She walked through the moonlight, her hair shimmering as it went from dark to light to dark again. Fleur wore the standard blue Beauxbatons uniform, the top hugging her bodice until it flared out at the hips. Her slender legs stroked the ground as she approached his bedside. Harry sat up straight, trying to look as confident as he could in a reclined position. If only Blaise could see me now. What would he say? Best not to talk, Potter. Your mouth always does you more harm than good. Go with your wand. No doubt, there would be a wink at the end of it.

"My dragonslayer." Fleur smiled with her eyes as she sat on the edge of his bed, one porcelain leg crossed over the other.

"Don't tell me you've bought into that too," Harry said.

"I have to admit, there is a certain romanticism in it. The hero slaying the dragon. It is every young girl's dream," Fleur said in her slightly accented English.

Harry laughed but could not find any more words. He hated this effect she had on him. Her very presence altered the way his brain worked. He could feel the magic radiating off her. It was irritating yet intoxicating.

"I'm sure, right now, there are young girls around the world that have heard of Harry Potter slaying the black dragon," Fleur continued.

Changing beats, Harry said, "Maybe young boys are talking about Fleur Delacour and how she enchanted the dragons."

"I'm sure young boys are thinking of something else." She smiled.

Harry laughed more easily at that. Though her presence was overwhelming at first, she had a way to put him at ease. Much like their first meeting in the Great Hall, Fleur found the words to let him relax. She tucked a long, blonde strand behind her ear. Her hands overlapped each other on her lap. It was deceivingly innocent.

"I meant to congratulate you earlier, but I did not want to intrude. Some think that it's inappropriate to consort with other champions," Fleur said.

There were a few that Harry could think of in his own school. "I should be congratulating you as well. You did a much cleaner job than us."

"I've certainly noticed your school's tendency to pick the most violent solution. But the job got done in the end, didn't it? I'm not one to argue against results," she said.

It had never occurred to Harry that there was another way to approach the task. There were other solutions had their plan not fallen apart. Perhaps Fred and George could have done a better job at distracting them with transfigurations or charms. Maybe Cedric could have gone straight for the egg and forgoed the rest of them. Yet, their plan had always been to attack the dragons directly. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang opted for subterfuge and misdirection. Was Hogwarts that different?

"So, what brings you here? I've heard they're still celebrating the First Task."

Fleur shrugged. "Curiosity? I've heard many stories about you, Harry Potter. People have said that you read minds. You steal their battle plans in the middle of the night and seduce women just by looking at them. You win by transforming into a giant snake.You call down lightning from the clouds. There's even rumors that you had a student dismissed from school just because he crossed you."

"Do you believe any of them?"

"What does it matter which ones I believe? People talk. That is just the way of things," she said.

"People talk about you too," said Harry.

"People have talked about me all my life. Some nice. Most cruel. I've learned to ignore what they say, but most what they say about me is true. The truth may be tainted with different colors, but it is the truth nonetheless. It has never been said that I can summon lightning from the clouds, for example. People say that I can devour men in a single swallow and while that may be an exaggeration, it is still the truth."

"Can you really?" Harry asked.

She smiled coyly.

"Truthfully, you are interesting and I like interesting people. It isn't often I meet someone that draws more eyes than I do," Fleur said.

"I don't know about that." Harry drank in the sight of her, shifting uncomfortably beneath the bedsheet.

Fleur laughed, a sweet sound that danced through the air. Her face turned somber in a second, however, the warm blue eyes suddenly cold. She turned to him and Harry swore the air turned dark around her.

"But I come to you for another reason, Harry. I would not dare to warn you with others around to hear. Even now, mon ami pretends I am somewhere that I am not. There are others who wish to see you...removed from this tournament."

Harry shrugged. He was used to such threats. "That's not really anything new to me."

"I have heard about others. Boys who have attacked you in the middle of the night," she said. Harry was surprised to hear about that.

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Because you might find more formidable foes than your classmates here."

Harry thought of Justin. He thought of Tracey hanging from a rope, her face blue and lifeless. Justin might not have been powerful, but that means nothing.

"If you're telling me I need to be scared, you're going to have to have a lot more than saying others want me removed from the tournament. I knew that as soon as I signed up. People have been out to get me since I defeated Ron Weasley in my first duel in my First Year."

"Then listen to this." Fleur leaned closer, her breasts pressing against the front of her robes. "I know those who wish you harm. They are not some classmates wanting to knock you down a few places. They are older than you. Wiser. Most likely, they are more powerful. They do not care for the rules of Hogwarts and what may happen to them because they will not be caught. No fear is what your headmaster often says. I will not insult him directly, but I don't believe that is the best thing to say. You should fear a little, Harry Potter. They are coming for you."

Again? Harry thought amusedly. Let them come.

"And why are you telling me this?" Harry asked.

Fleur stood up, smoothing down her robes. Her hands glanced over the shape of her hips, the blue robes rippling along her body. The moonlight caught her skin, giving her an ethereal glow. She was truly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"You are interesting, Harry. People do not like seeing those whom they perceive are above them. Trust me on this, they will do their best to make you ugly and uninteresting."

She leaned down and squeezed his hand. As she tried to let go, Harry wrapped his fingers around hers. He asked, "Will you tell me who they are?"

Fleur shook her head sadly, her straight, blonde hair shimmering like a halo.

"I do not wish to make any more enemies than I already have."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Madame Pomfrey assigned Tracey to assist Harry as he was discharged from the Hospital Wing. He was to not perform any strenuous magic for a week. In addition, he was to use a cane until such a time that his leg healed without the assistance of the prop. It was a plain thing, dark brown wood carved into a staff that came a little above his hip. The end was smoothed and sanded over so he could grip it without splinters digging into his skin.

"Is this really necessary?" Harry asked

Tracey fixed him with a mean glare. "You tore your patella tendon clear off. Pomfrey is a miracle worker and that's the best she can do. Be glad your whole leg didn't come off. It wouldn't be as simple as fixing up the tendon and giving you a cane. Ask Professor Moody."

Harry had no inclination to talk to the moody ex-Auror. As Tracey assisted him out of the bed, he tested his right knee to see if there was any stability to it. Leaning on his leg, he felt fine but as soon as he pivoted, a sharp pain raced up his thigh. He hissed quietly and Tracey tutted her disapproval.

"Avoid pivoting and making quick turns. You want to take it slow while it heals. You're going to need to take some potions every night to accelerate the healing process, but I can help you with that," Tracey said.

Harry knew what she was doing, but he allowed it. The sooner he recovered, the faster he could get rid of this already cursed cane. It would not do him well for others to see him so weak. If Fleur was correct, there were already those plotting to take advantage of any mistake he could make. Of course, how they planned to attack him was still in question. She had been reluctant to name the plotters, so it had to be someone close. Most likely, someone in Beauxbatons.

He neglected to mention any of this to Tracey. While part of him wished to confide in her, doing so would remove the barrier he had placed between them. It was difficult for him to treat her like another one under his command. It would be even more trouble to divulge Fleur's secrets with her. For the time being, Harry would have to hold Tracey at arm's length. She held his arm lightly as he tested the cane. Eventually, he managed it on his own.

Navigating the moving staircases was difficult. He couldn't move fast and when he had the instinct to jump the last step, Harry would have to stop and wait. Limping along, the going was slow as they approached the Great Hall. Movements that he took for granted were now cumbersome. As he walked, his right leg turned stiffer and stiffer. Harry made no complaints, however. He could not show weakness.

Taking his time, Harry slowed as he arrived on the ground floor. The halls were empty in the middle of the day as most students were at lunch. Sunlight streamed through the ornate windows, warming the castle. It would not be long before the cold grip of winter took over. Harry was thankful that there would be some time before the Second Task. The Yule Ball would serve as a buffer and he needed his knee healed before the task.

"Tell me about our class," Harry said as they continued their slow pace.

Tracey noticeably fidgeted, but Harry said nothing of it.

"They're okay. Morale has taken a hit since we've lost the last few times, but you've been busy, of course," she said.

"Who is complaining?"

Tracey hesitated but eventually gave an answer. "Pansy hasn't been that happy. She's never happy though. That girl was born with the spoon shoved all the way into her throat. Nott is concerned, but he's never been one to take matters in own hands. And...um…"

"Blaise?" Harry silenced her stammering.

Tracey fell silent. The brown cane clomped along the ground. Every time the flat end struck against the ground, it created a queer noise. The slap was louder in the pocket of silence. Twice, Tracey opened her mouth to say something but repressed it. Her back finally stiffened as she raised her chin and stared straight.

"He still thinks he should have more authority instead of sharing it with Draco."

"Do you think the same?" I already know you do.

She hedged and looked torn. Her face was too easy to read.Tracey did her best to hide it, but those deep blue eyes were so expressive. Harry knew she was spending more time with Draco since they were both in the Medical track. They were moving slow, but Tracey's mind seemed to be moving slower.

"I think one person backing you up is better than two. If they make conflicting decisions in the field, who would we listen to?" Tracey finally said.

"I said to defer to Draco."

"And Draco isn't exactly held in the highest esteem right now."

Draco Malfoy, heir to the most ancient of the Pureblood families, held with as much esteem as Goyle. Every step Harry took to repair Slytherin came with two steps backwards. There was so much promise in the beginning, but his removal from the field removed the personal touch. It was partially his choice, placing himself above them, but it would be no use if they started openingly questioning his orders. Wasn't that the reason for making myself Commander in the first place?

"You don't have to stick up for him, you know. I know what he thinks of me." Harry didn't specify a name, but he knew they were both talking about Blaise.

"It doesn't have to be that way," she responded.

Harry doubted that. He had already thrown Blaise to the wolves once when he dismissed him from Battle class in front of their whole Year. His friend was not likely to be the subject of such shame again. Harry could also not come crawling to Blaise on his hands and knees and ask for forgiveness nor could he demand obedience. He had hoped to quell the issue early but once Slytherin got a taste of winning, they would not be satisfied with losses. Winning is the mortar that holds them together. If there's not enough, they will break apart.

Harry didn't give her an answer as they entered the Great Hall. Instead, he said, "I'm going to take lunch alone. Thanks for filling me in."

Tracey nodded curtly and walked towards the direction of the rest of the Slytherins. The Great Hall noticeably quieted as Harry entered. Harry leaned on his cane, painfully aware of the eyes following his slow progress. He took his seat at the end of the Slytherin table, close to the head table. Food appeared on his plate as. As the fork in his hand scraped against the plate, the screech snapped the students out of their stupor. Some still glanced at him with looks that varied from fear to interest. Harry placed his cane on the table. I can't hide my weakness. I must display it freely.

A shadow fell across his plate as someone sat across from him. Expecting one of his Slytherins, Harry was surprised to find one of the Beauxbatons students. It was the lone male. He was one of the champions, but Harry could not recall his name. His skin was a light tan, someone of obvious Mediterranean descent. Dark brown eyes, almost black, stared at him intently. Although the Beauxbatons student was sitting, Harry surmised that he was not that much taller than himself. The tan-skinned Beauxbatons boy reached across the table and plucked a piece of toast from Harry's plate.

"Your food is so cold," he complained. "The sun might be out right now, but the second the clouds smother it, the long shadow of winter covers this place like a blanket. It's no wonder my parents moved away."

He spoke without any sort of accent. There was also a slight English lilt to his voice.

Karim. The name finally came to him. Harry shifted in his seat as Fleur's words came into his head. They are coming for you, she had said. Was it a coincidence that a Beauxbatons student confronted him the day after? Fleur's reluctance to divulge the identity of these plotters made it more likely that they were in Beauxbatons. He looked around for her, but the quarter-Veela was not in the Great Hall.

"Did the dragon get your tongue as well as your leg?" Karim asked.

"Neither," Harry answered.

Karim laughed, but he did not smile. His whole head was bald save for the two black caterpillars that were his eyebrows. Those black eyes glittered in the afternoon light of the Great Hall. He had a long, angular face with a pointed chin and thin lips. His robes were still the same shade of light blue that Fleur wore, but it was in the plain fashion of Hogwarts instead of the elegant robes the girls of Beauxbatons wore. Karim was thin but not scrawny. There was an air of arrogance about him.

"You speak very softly. Hear I thought that the voice of Commander Potter might hold some more weight to it. Or am I speaking to the wrong person?"

He thinks himself a joker. "You have the right person."

"So serious. So somber. So sad. Is everything here like this? I thought it would be good fun to return to England. My mother was not one to stay around and send me to this school when your headmaster took over. Barbaric, she had said. Yet, when I grew up, all I heard were the tales of the great wizards and witches from Hogwarts. Renowned duelists that could slice you apart before you even lifted your wand. Why couldn't I go there, I always asked her. The answer was the same each time. I did not want you to grow up around that darkness. One too many Tireurs had died during the terror of both Dark Lords."

Karim Tireur. Harry could finally recall Snape calling the boy's name as the goblet spit it out. That Karim was originally from England did not come as much of a surprise at this point. His accent and his English were things he could not fake. He spoke with an assured smoothness, much like Snape. Every word rolled into each other, pleasant to the ears until one listened to the content.

"Yet, here you are," Harry said.

"Here I am. My mother was so disappointed when she learned I was going to Hogwarts for this tournament. My father did not care too much. He follows whatever mother says. They've taken to life in France. We live in Pertuis, a town north of Marseille. The train to Beauxbatons doesn't take too long. Have you ever been, Commander Potter?" Karim used the moniker mockingly.

"I can't say I have."

"It's a beautiful place. Smaller than Hogwarts, of course. Yet, very few things contend with our view of the mountains. We have to take the flying carriages from the base of the mountains since the path is treacherous even in the summer. Atop the highest tower of Beauxbatons, you can see Spain and France. When it snows, the world disappears below us and all that exists is Beauxbatons," Karim said wistfully.

"Sounds like a wonderful place." Harry was almost finished with his plate, still wondering what the Beauxbatons boy wanted.

Karim took out his wand and placed it in the center of the table between them. Harry looked at it curiously. He was no wandmaker so he could not know what wood the wand was made of and only Karim knew what was in the core. It looked to be made out of ivory, white as it was, except for the handle. It was a bright blue that did not look to be natural. The Beauxbatons boy spun it in around so the axis was in the middle. Karim stopped it with his pointer finger, the point of the wand directed at Harry.

"It was. Mother was glad when they started accepting the other half of the gene pool into the academy. I suspect our curriculum is different than yours. Less emphasis on...killing each other," Karim said. He spun his white and blue wand again and stopped it with just the tip of his middle finger this time. The point was still directed at Harry.

He spun it again.

"Truth be told though, I think I was meant to go here. You might not know who I am yet, Commander Potter, but you will. I have been the best duelist in my Year since I started at the academy. Even our lovely little Veela has fallen to my wand. I applaud the way you killed that dragon. You showed me that there is something behind that terrible hair and sour face. I thought this would be a boring and easy affair, the Bulgarian Seeker excluded. I did not think much of you when they called your name. That is Commander Potter? But to kill a dragon - that is something else. So, I hope this next task gives us a chance to meet so I can see if I can best the Bringer of Lightning."

Karim stopped the white and blue spinning wand with his ring finger. It pointed at Harry.

"I am Karim Tireur. Remember the name."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Almost a week had passed and Harry's right knee was only marginally improved. He still had to walk with a cane out in the halls. Tracey prescribed him three potions to drink every night that would accelerate the healing process. When he confronted her on the lack of progress, she had the gall to tell him it was actually on schedule. The pain lessened so it no longer throbbed with every step. The only time he would feel the weakened knee beg for relief was when he would twist or turn too quickly. As he was mostly disabled, he was also confined to the Board Room. Slytherin won two battles for the week, against Ravenclaw and Slytherin, but lost to Gryffindor again.

They grumbled loudly afterwards.

Lupin and Trow continued their history lessons. While they had promised everything on Tom Riddle, they started hundreds of years before him. Harry learned of Wyllas the Wicked and his hate for Half-Bloods. There were other dark overlords, but Wyllas was the first one after they signed International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in the seventeenth century. The Dark Lord Xaphes intended to overthrow the Ministry and take the seat for himself. In truth, he was less a Dark Lord and more a rebel, but his strange fascination with blood earned him the title. Xaphes did not truly hurt innocents out of malice. They were tools to him. There were two concurrent Dark Lords in the nineteenth century who sought to break the secrecy pact. The Dark Lord Anjus and the Dark Lord Mobius were both Slytherins. According to Lupin and Trow, it was a bloody affair spanning four decades that almost sent wizards and witches back to the burning trials.

After that, there was a rare moment of peace until Grindelwald.

It was past nine by the time they let Harry go. He started the long walk back to the dungeons, his cane smacking against the ground. His pace was quicker as he pushed himself. Don't push yourself too hard, Tracey had said. Harry was content to keep a brisk pace while moving in a straight line, only slowing down around corners and stairs. The moonlight cast a white glow along the ground. The cane was in his right hand and the wand in his left.

He reflected on the Dark Lords of the past. Four had risen to be revered with that title since the secrecy pact. Each had inflicted unopposed terror for lengthy periods of time. Their motivations might have different, but the eventual ending was the same. The different Dark Lords would collect a band of followers. Then, they would use violence and intimidation to either coerce more to their side or eliminate those who opposed them. The Ministry would hem and haw, rarely carrying out decisive attacks in fear of breaking the secrecy pact. As a result, it would only take a great duel between a renowned wizard and the Dark Lord. The death of the Dark Lord effectively eliminated the rest of the body. Cut off the head. Just like a snake, Harry thought.

Sometimes, a group of wizards and witches would band together to defeat a Dark Lord. The Dark Lord Xaphes had been defeated in such a matter by a set of seven. Before the secrecy pact, wizards of old would come together to fight those who terrorized the innocent. Yet, it was never without a cost. It always took far too long for anyone to act. Was it fear? Was it cowardice?

Harry understood that they wanted to create an organizational unit that could effectively fight Dark Lords and dark wizards alike. It also did not take long for Harry to pick up on the fact that his impending education of Tom Riddle's life meant it was likely that Lord Voldemort was still alive. That conclusion only gave way to another set of questions. If Snape conceivably knew, did that mean the everyone in the Ministry knew? Obviously not as there would be widespread panic, but who was in this inner circle of knowledge? Harry did not expect answers to these questions.

After descending the winding staircase to the dungeons, Harry found the stone wall of the Slytherin Common Room. He whispered the password, widower, and entered. He expected the Common Room to be only half full. Instead, it looked like every student in the Slytherin House awaited him. The Fourth Years were all there. A cluster of First and Second Years stood in the corner, identifiable by their size. Even the older Slytherins were there. Marcus Flint with his prominent front teeth. Scabior Trenton with his long, untamed hair. Gemma Farley, the Seventh Year Prefect. Peregrine Derrick, the Seventh Year with the broken nose. Countless others stood as Harry entered the Common Room.

Tracey was the first one that clapped.

Others joined in and like a tidal wave, the applause grew and grew until a raucousness overtook the Slytherin Common Room, the likes of which Harry had never seen before. He was frozen on the spot, the cane in his right hand and the wand in his left. Someone let out a shrill wolf whistle as Harry finally limped forwards. They mobbed him, clapping him on the back and ruffling his long, raven hair. Every jolt hurt his knee, but it was worth it.

They gave him congratulations. They gave him thanks. Harry met Slytherins he had never known before, especially from the upper years. For once, the usual enmity and hierarchy of order that prevailed within Slytherin vanished. Harry was above that measure for the time being as the lone representative of the Slytherin House in the tournament. What else could he do but say thank you in response? Slowly, the crowd dwindled, others retiring once they got a chance to shake Harry's hand. Harry did his best to project a thankful image, despite his throbbing knee.

He felt a hand on his elbow and looked to see Tracey leading him to the couch. A rebuttal was on the tip of his tongue. He was supposed to give them the orders, but Harry allowed it. If they wanted to celebrate, it would at least dispel the growing enmity between the Fourth Years momentarily.

"Thank you," he whispered as he sat down on a plush, leather armchair. Tracey smiled at him, those deep blue eyes shining brightly. At last, it was only the Fourth Year Slytherins left.

"We never really got to celebrate," she explained. "They had a big feast the night afterwards, but it was hard to celebrate without you being there. Everyone had their champions to surround expect us. It occurred to me that we never got to properly honor you. We got all of the Slytherins together to at least give you a hearty welcome back."

"Thank you for that," Harry said.

"You really cut that dragon apart," Goyle said.

"Yeah." Blaise smiled though it did not reach his eyes. "So Commander, you think that's the last dragon you're going to kill in this tournament?"

Harry remembered the glowing, red eyes following him around the castle. It would be best if there were no other dragons to face in the tournament. They were monstrous creatures. Surely, there could be no worse?

Harry put on a false smile on his face as well. "I don't expect there to be any more."

"Are there any more leads on the Second Task?" Draco asked.

"Diggory has the egg right now. There's supposed to be some sort of clue within the egg, but every time we open it, it just lets out this terrible screech."

"So that's what that is. All this time, I thought Diggory's balls had finally dropped." Blaise's joke drew a couple chuckles.

Harry tried not to show his displeasure at the joke. It would not sit well with the other Slytherins if he defended the Hufflepuff champion, but Harry couldn't help but remember Cedric plucking him from the ground and his skill at flying the broom. He made a mental note to check in with Finch-Fletchley. He would have no more use of Justin's sleuthing. Cedric Diggory had proved his worth.

"Thankfully, we have some time. The Second Task isn't for another three months and I should be good to go by then." His knee throbbed again to remind him.

"That's good. Maybe we can focus on getting some more wins in Battle class, too," Blaise said. Harry bit his tongue again. Since when were you so concerned about Battle class?

"We will. Double practices this week."

The smiles and geniality dropped instantly. He had not put them through double practices since the beginning of the year. If Blaise wanted to humor him, then Harry would humor them all. At least they would then know that they stand united for each other's actions. Harry dismissed them after that and they fled without another word. The Common Room was cold again, the fire in the hearth dying away as the cold breeze of the dungeons lowered the temperature considerably.

Harry pushed himself up with the cane in his right hand and his wand in his left. He stood in front of the fireplace, savoring the last morsels of warmth. Above the hearth was a large tapestry of the Slytherin emblem. The snake looked down upon him, green jewels where the eyes would be.

Cunning. Ambition. Resourcefulness. That's what the Sorting Hat had said to him when he was placed within Slytherin. It seemed to him that for every cunning Slytherin, there was a Goyle or a Millicent. Hard people, but no one would ever call them cunning or ambitious. How was it, then, that all of the Dark Lords Harry had studied were in Slytherin? Harry had planned to rebel against Snape and his contraptions, but he could not do it alone. Yet, if he couldn't trust his own House mates, who could he trust? He fingered the special Sickle in his pocket.

Harry retreated to the dormitories when the fire died. He took the necessary potions and slid into bed, listening to the snores. His green eyes were wide open as he looked upon the canopy of the bed. There was a shuffling and someone walked around the dormitory. Harry reached for his wand underneath his pillow and held it to his chest. His right knee ached. The movement suddenly stopped as a bed creaked. Harry relaxed, his back loosening.

Pointing his wand at the drapes surrounding his bed, Harry whispered, "Colloportus."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So he survives the beasts."

"He did more than survive. It is not the same as killing a person, but he made the decision to kill the dragon."

"It is still no easy thing to slay a dragon. Perhaps, we don't have to go through the process of having him kill."

"You old fool. There will be a day of reckoning. Do not pretend to be that ignorant."

"I do not confess to ignorance. I am pleased, however, that the boy performed admirably. Wandless magic at such an age…"

"Not even you could confess to that skill. His powers are growing immensely. Indeed, I have sensed a sharp increase in his magical power since his arrival this year. Perhaps you were right that their magic exponentially grew within their teenage years."

"His magic should continue to mature, but I, too, did not expect such prowess. It was only a Cutting Charm and a Levitation Charm, but it was still a great feat of wandless magic."

"Yes. I had hoped that something as base as a dragon would not be the thing that defeats the boy."

"No. That was just the First Task after all. Have you begun preparations on the second?"

"I convened with Maxime, Karakoff, and that oaf, Bagman, to start preparing the Second Task. There will be trials before then. You heard the Beauxbatons girl. More enemies come to knock the boy out of the tournament."

"Did the house elves reveal anything about the identity of these people?"

"I can have the elves follow the boy almost anywhere, but it is a different matter to ask them to infiltrate the carriages of Beauxbatons or that ship of Durmstrang. They have their own magic and as much as I would love to vex both of them, I can not send the elves in there."

"Then we know as much of these plotters as the boy does."

"We will have eyes on him. If nothing else, it will prove to be another burden we can place upon him. It is one thing to compel the Hufflepuff to attack the boy. It is another to see what someone can do out of their own accord."

"I hope he can handle this. Older students trying to knock him out of the tournament. The tournament itself. Battle class. The lessons. He is straining to hold it all together."

"Then he will have to learn to delegate where he can and adopt strategies for each of his troubles. He will have to be successful outside of the battlefield as well. When he takes command, he will have to trudge through the waste that is the Ministry."

"Our friends there bring grave words. Last night, I received an owl of troublesome news."

"On with it."

"The old families have been contacted. It is of my opinion that Pettigrew is the one visiting them.

"The dog will enjoy that."

"He will have to wait for his vengeance."

"Who has little Pettigrew contacted?"

"Nott. Parkinson. Goyle. Crabbe. Flint. Greengrass. The major Pureblood families save for Malfoy, who will no doubt be the target of a prison break. That was just in one week and there will be more. They could not tell us what was discussed, but Tom is on the move again. He is preparing."

"At last, he makes his move. Yet, those families would not dare strike against us as long as we hold their sons and daughters hostage at this school."

"Yes...the Yule Ball will keep the important ones for the winter holidays. But once summer comes…"

"I do not think the Dark Lord will be that patient. He is testing the air, trying to see what support he can gather. Is the Ministry prepared to have these families followed?"

"Some. To what capacity, we do not know. Our forces have dwindled in the hunt for the Horcruxes. They have destroyed the cup but it cost lives again. Even now, there are those in the Wizengamot aware that something is amiss within the Ministry. They do not know what we are planning, but they know they are being watched. They will be careful."

"We must make sure that the Dark Lord can not marshal the same support. The families will be reluctant to be burned by their master again. He will have to show his face in order to gain validity. That is when we strike with the boy leading the charge."

"Yes...the progress he has shown this year By the school year's end, he should be ready enough…"

"I have checked the map again to make sure I did not see another...anomaly."

"Do you think your eyes were playing tricks on you?"

"They might have been, but that inspires no confidence from me. I had the elves follow the teachers to ensure their identities. They have been verified. It still does not sit well with me, but it might have been a trick of light that I saw that name."

"I will check with Black to see just how accurate their map is. From the magic I detect, I do not see how it could give a false positive."

"I have kept a vigilant watch over it. The name has not arisen again."

"Good. I also don't believe that is something he would do."

"Nonetheless, I will keep watch. On other matters, have you heard from the American?"

"He dropped a coded post this week. Former Death Eaters are gathering. Underlings but Death Eaters all the same. They all speak of the same things. Tom has returned, but they can not say where. Tom will strike, but they can not say where. One group will say something that another contradicts. Even the Death Eaters are being misinformed."

"The Dark Lord is being cautious. He might be a shell of his self, but he still has mind."

"No need to lecture me on Tom's brilliance. I have been witness to it."

"Of course, how can we ever forget?"

"You are so keen to remind me. I remember once when you respected me."

"That was before I learned that the Dark Lord was not the only one to create a Horcrux."

* * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Projected update time: 28 days

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