Unofficial Portkey Archive

Hermione dreamt of a beautiful girl writhing in bed. The girl had long, shimmering hair. Her back arched and her mouth opened in endless ecstasy. Her face was always indistinguishable, a shadow within the shadows. Her naked body twisted like a snake, curling and folding within itself. Then, Hermione was above the beautiful girl. She was looking down at her, but Hermione's hands were stronger than usual. There was hair on her forearms. The beautiful girl groaned again, her mouth beckoning as Hermione leaned down...

When Hermione awoke, it was still dark. Quiet snores filled the room. The covers had been thrown off her body, strewn in a pile at her feet. She rubbed two fingers along her brow, trying to silence the echoes of the moaning girl in her dreams. Running a hand through her hair, Hermione froze when she came to the last frays just above her neck. She ran her hand through her short cut again, trying to convince herself that this was also a dream.

When Pomfrey had told her that it would be better to cut her hair, Hermione thought it would just be a few shears off the end. Little did she know that her bushy mane had been burnt in several places. It came short around her ears. The fire had even given the tips of her ears a pink shade. Hermione had cried when she looked in the mirror. No one had witnessed the tears falling from her cheeks. She didn't even know why she was crying. She had been growing that bushy mane since she was nine. In truth, it did not particularly flatter her. It was an enormous hassle in Battle class and did not bend to her will no matter what products she used.

But it was mine.

Hermione sat up, deciding to get up for the day. She wiped a tear from her eye. A moment passed as Hermione collected herself. Once the drapes were open, no tears would be shed. Everyone was still asleep as she drew the drapes of the four-poster bed back. Lavender was to her right, the bedside table littered with potions and half-completed homework. Parvati Patil continued the circular orientation of the room. Fay Dunbar slept directly across from Hermione. Rionach O'Neal's bed was to Hermione's left though Hermione sometimes forgot the girl was there. Rionach was as quiet as a mouse.

After quickly making up her bed, Hermione entered the bathroom. As she stripped off her clothes, her eyes caught the mirror. She stood in front of the mirror and examined herself. Her hair stopped just above her neck in a messy bob. It was neither straight nor curly. She couldn't part it to one side so it ended up being a springy carpet on her head. Baby fat was still on her cheeks, her chin soft and rounded. To call her skin fair would be a lie. It was a pale, sickly color. Her breasts were small, unlike Lavender's growing chest. The rest of her body was unshaped dough, her hips round and her legs undefined.

"You should get in the shower, dear," said the mirror.

"I've never had a mirror patronize me. What else do you have to say?" Hermione said. The mirror did not speak again.

Breakfast could be prepared as early as four in the morning. Hermione had once arrived at the Great Hall that early during her Second Year in order to study for a Potions exam. It was not quite that early when Hermione left the Gryffindor Common Room. There was a shade of orange on the windows as the sun broke over the horizon. It must have still been early as the halls echoed with only her footsteps. The Fat Lady was still asleep when Hermione departed. The base of the Gryffindor tower was on the seventh floor. Hermione took the spiral staircase down to the fifth floor and from there, the moving staircases to the bottom floor. The first time Hermione had gone alone from the Gryffindor common room, she had ended up near the greenhouses when she should have been in the dungeons.

It only took Hermione two days to memorize routes to each classroom and alternate routes should the staircases not cooperate that day. She still had the diagrams and sketchings of Hogwarts and the various classrooms but memory had long rendered them useless. Hermione was at the top of the main atrium facing the double doored entrance of Hogwarts when she spotted Viktor Krum entering. He leaned against the wood-paneled door to open it. Though the doors stood at least twenty five feet tall, Krum seemed to occupy most of it. He wore a sleeveless shirt. His shoulders were massive bulges, skin tight against his muscles. Even from afar, Hermione could see the veins running through his temples. His legs were tree trunks, thick and wide in the thighs. Krum looked up. His eyes were dark and angry.

Gigantism? Half-giant?

No, he could not be. Madame Maxime was a half-giant and Krum only came to her shoulder. He had to be about six foot and six inches. Four other Durmstrang students followed him inside Hogwarts. While they weren't as tall as Krum, they were easily bigger than almost all of the students at Hogwarts. Each of them were wide across the chest with muscles abound. Hermione tried to remember who they were.

The girl was Alexandra Petrov. Hermione was sure of that. Alexandra had a square face. Her brow was constantly drawn tight as if she were concentrating on something particularly difficult. Silky, black hair was drawn in a ponytail that fell almost to her hip. She had an uninteresting face. One that was easy to forget. One of the other boys was Anton Velick. He was more lithe than blocky. His hair was a dirty blond, longer than Krum's short crop. His nose was crooked and there was a scar extending from underneath his right ear to the point of his jaw, but Anton was handsome in his own way. His green eyes reminded her of Harry, but his was a pale leaf as opposed to Harry's forest green orbs.

Krum brushed by her without a word as they walked up the main staircase. Alexandra Petrov's eyes passed over her, but Anton Velick stopped short. The others passed. Krum spared a glance backwards but said nothing. Did he ever speak?

"Hello, how are you?" Anton had a thick accent, his words sounding slurred.

Up close, Hermione saw his pale green eyes were not warm or inviting. They were cold and harsh like Durmstrang. When he smiled with his crooked teeth, it seemed genuine, but there was something amiss about it. She stepped away from him, stumbling on the varied steps. Anton laughed, a low chuckle that terrified her. He did not need to say anything else. This one is dangerous.

Hermione thought of running away. Do not fear those who want to scare you, Hermione. You're smarter than that. That was what her mother would have said.

Leave the past in the past, Hermione thought. She banished any thoughts of her mother and cleared her mind.

"I'm just fine. If you will excuse me," she said.

Hermione felt his eyes following her but did not look back. Leave the past in the past.

Breakfast was toast with a side of fresh fruits. The Great Hall was hardly filled, only a few students here and there. Most of them were older. The Slytherin table was fairly empty save for one or two people. A smatter of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs filled the rest of the tables and there were three pretty Beauxbatons girls at the extra table. An owl soared through the open windows in the rafters and descended in a wide circle. It hooted as it dropped the Daily Prophet besides Hermione. She picked it up, chewing on a piece of toast as she read the headline.

The Dragonkiller.

Hermione winced at the headline as she read the rubbish. The writer, Aristophanes, went to great lengths to portray the dragon's violent end. A metal spear skewered the dragon through the neck, an ugly end to a beautiful creature, Aristophanes wrote. Never mind that she made no mention of how the dragons tried to burn them alive at every turn. Potter, like many of his Hogwarts compatriots, chose the bloodiest solution. The piece was tainted from the very beginning.

"Journalism," Hermione said derisively.

As she read on, Hermione found the other pieces no less friendly. She read the Daily Prophet daily and was no stranger to their anti-Hogwarts tendencies. Still, one would think that they would support their home school in this Tournament of Champions. Aristophanes was the worst of them, a clever and cruel writer that needed only a paragraph to decimate subjects. She would use just a kernel of truth and warp it to confuse the simpletons who consumed her words greedily. Hermione read on.

In the end, it was the unlikely duo of Cedric Diggory and Hermione Granger who stopped the Chinese Fireball from killing Harry Potter. Diggory, the golden boy of Hufflepuff, summoned a wall of water to douse the dragon's flames. It was strange that Granger, an unlikely and undermatched competitor, stood beside him in the end.

Hermione snapped the paper shut and had an itch to cast Incendio on it. She tried not to show too much emotion visibly. They were always watching. Inside, she burned red hot. Hermione ran a hand through her bushy tresses, pulling tightly at the short ends on the nape of her neck. She did not want to read any more of this rubbish, but she forced herself to. You will never learn anything if you choose to ignore what you don't like, her mother had said.

Leave the past in the past. Hermione banished any thoughts of her parents.

There were other articles. Small stories about the increase of illegal activity in the black markets of Eastern Europe. Personal pieces about English Quidditch team and their disappointing performance in the most recent World Cup. Back page trash regarding the illicit affairs of Minister Fudge. Most of it was nothing of interest save for the three page spread on the Tournament of Champions. A picture of Fleur spanned half a page. The blonde girl winked salaciously at the camera. Hermione wrinkled her nose. Folding the paper carefully, she put it down.

After breakfast, she had half a mind to go to Trow's classroom to review some tapes but found the need wanting. There were other things to address first. The library was on the fourth floor of Hogwarts. Little else was on the fourth floor as the sheer size of the library occupied most of the space. It was empty so early in the morning. On most days, save for the day or two between midterms and final exams, the library was scarcely filled. Madame Pince hardly said a word or raised her head when Hermione walked inside. The Gryffindor girl was a regular.

Hermione took her time choosing the books she wanted to read. Interpreting Dreams was in the Divination section. Hermione loathed that area, but they had the most books concerning dreams. The Blood of Creatures was a large tome that contained a wealth of information on magical creatures, including Veelas. A Study of Schools was an encyclopedia of the different magical schools in the world. There would be a section on Durmstrang. Last, she picked out What is Occlumency. It was the most comprehensive book about Occlumency. Still, it was short. Whereas other books on particular subjects would span near four to five hundred pages, What is Occlumency was a scant one hundred and fifty pages. Hermione had read all of it already, but wanted to reread the narrow booklet lest she missed something on her first read.

She settled down in the back corner near the windows. The sun was more orange than red as it broke over the horizon, so Hermione pulled the curtain to give her some shade from the blinding light. Laying the books on top of each other, Hermione first opened The Blood of Creatures.

Hermione already knew their powers of seduction. They seemingly affected both genders, but a near genocide of the male Veela during the burnings of the early sixteenth century left very few of them alive. Muggles burned them as they were easily recognized by their shimmering hair. There were few male Veela alive and those that remained were hidden away from the rest of the wizarding and Muggle world. There were even small colonies of full-blooded Veela that did not mingle with the outside world.

The Blood of Creatures only slightly delved into their history. Hermione gave it a quick scan, but it was not what she wanted. She skimmed a finger along the page until the words came to her. Characteristics and Tendencies. Veela had their own inherent magical properties. Theorists did not agree on the source, but there were two schools of thought. The first was that Veela were constantly emitting low-energy magic. Similar to other magical creatures, the Veela magic was always active. The other theory was that a combination of sound and smell attracted the opposite gender.

When enraged, Veela also transformed into a creature that resembled a harpy. The further she read, the more Hermione found the theories in disagreement. All concluded that the amorous nature of the Veela was key to understanding them. Most agreed that a certain bond was formed when one engaged in sexual activities with the Veela. They disagreed on what exactly the bond was. Some theorized that the bond would not allow the human partner to harm the Veela. Others thought that it was akin to some form of telepathy with them. It was rare to get a first hand account as those who slept with the Veela rarely put their thoughts to the scroll again.

"Hermione?"

The Gryffindor girl surreptitiously slid A Study of Schools over The Blood of Creatures. She could feel her face burning. Her mind had been lost in the text. Hermione shouldn't have been embarrassed, but something about reading sex magic shamed her. Looking up, she found Cedric Diggory approaching the table.

"Pince said I'd find you back here. I thought I saw you at the Great Hall, but you got away and no one else knew except for Neville. Nobody else is awake yet and I couldn't wait," Cedric said in a rush.

He was a handsome man. Cedric had a strong jaw and a slight bristle on his cheeks. His gray eyes were bright. His wide smile filled the room. He had a cheerful demeanor but also took his responsibilities seriously. Cedric was unlike Fred or George, who thought everything was a joke. He looked around surreptitiously before retrieving something from his bag.

"I cracked it." Cedric tapped the egg for emphasis.

Hermione internally chuckled at the pun but kept her face passive.

"How so?" she asked.

"When it was my turn to try and crack the egg, I felt like I couldn't leave it anywhere. I had an inkling for a bath and...well...I knew the password to the Prefect's bathroom. I didn't know what else to do so I took the egg with me. I was in the bathroom alone and...uh...I was fully disrobed…"

Cedric stammered but smiled at her all the same. She fought down the blush.

"I heard someone coming in through the portrait and kicked the egg into the tub. I panicked and dove in after it. As soon as I went underwater, I could hear it," Cedric explained.

Hermione remembered how the egg screeched when the Hogwarts champions tried to open it the first time. The sound was high pitched and inhuman. It did not take her long to put together the pieces of the puzzle.

"Mermaids," she murmured.

Cedric shook his head bemusedly at her. "You ruined my reveal."

Hermione rolled her eyes and indicated that he should go on.

"I wrote down the song. I had to test my lungs underwater to listen to what they said, but I got it down. Excuse me if I don't sing it."

"Excused," she said.

Cedric pulled out another parchment. He cleared his throat as he repeated the words that were written.

You will not hear the songs we sing.

Underneath you'll never win.

Up on top you'll search to find.

The ones who come first in your mind.

Be careful do not fear the cold.

To win the heroes must be bold.

Take your time watch where you walk.

One false step sink like a rock.

Hermione sat back as she absorbed the various rhymes. There were multiple meanings to what each line meant. The first two lines had to mean they would not be fighting underwater. Cedric could only hear the song underwater and the first line could not be any more clear. The second line only further reinforced her theory. But why have the mermaids sing the song if they would encounter them? Furthermore, what did up on top mean? Did they mean for them to fight on land again? Who exactly would they be searching for? The ones who come first in your mind indicated the possibility that there would be outside targets.

"Cryptic, isn't it?" Cedric said.

No. The song isn't cryptic. It is a puzzle. There is a definite message. The error would come in our interpretation.

Hermione wondered how much she could share with the Hufflepuff star. He had come to her for help with the egg, true enough. Was it because there were no other options? He had said as much. There were worse options.

"I don't think they mean for us to fight underwater," Hermione said.

He nodded. "I gathered as much. The rest though…"

Do not fear the cold. Sink like a rock. It made little sense. What would they be searching for? They had not participated in other scenarios besides total elimination in Battle class. The older students were probably familiar with Battle classes that involved more than just eliminating the other House or Houses. Their experience would be valuable. Hermione committed the song to memory.

"I mean to call another meeting. The rest should know," Cedric said.

Hermione nodded. She looked outside through the long and narrow windows of the library. The sun was hiding behind the clouds. The gray sky muted the color in the air. The lake was placid, barely a ripple or a wave disturbing it. What did the riddle mean?

"Do you think the other two schools know?" Cedric asked.

"If they don't, they'll discover it soon. I saw some of the Durmstrang students this morning. One of them stopped me," she said.

"Krum?"

"No. Another one." Hermione remembered Anton Velick and his pale green eyes.

"I would have fancied facing Krum underwater. For a Seeker, he's quite different. Most Seekers are nimble. Krum is a monster. That advantage would have been useless for him underwater," Cedric said wistfully.

"Nothing we can worry about now," she said. The song repeated in her head as she tried to interpret the meaning.

"The heroes must be bold," Cedric repeated. "I hope they don't think we're going to become the heroes of old. Viven the Victorious. Gallant Godfrey. The Magnificent Mikel."

He knows his history, Hermione thought. She tried hard not to show that she was impressed.

The heroes must me bold.

Hermione thought of the article written by Aristophanes. She was nothing more than an afterthought. The main crux of the Hogwarts piece was Harry. Though he performed well against the dragons, Hermione could not shake the feeling of melancholy when she looked at him. There was a burden on his shoulders. A heaviness in the way Harry walked. She did not know what plans Cedric had for Harry, but the lone Slytherin representative was already winning his detractors within Hogwarts. More would be asked of him. Hermione wondered how much more he could handle.

Bold I must be as well.

* * * * * * * * *

Harry watched as the Black and Silver group clashed in the Room of Requirements. Slytherin had their designated practice time and Harry wanted to put them through some one-on-one duels. He thought of changing their names. They didn't really make much sense now that he thought about it. Something more alphabetical would have been preferable.

Maybe later, Harry thought. Too much to worry about now.

"Homenum Revelio."

Harry paced as he said the spell over and over. "Say it wherever you go. The spell is pretty low energy so it won't tire you out. We've used it enough so that people are going to try to use it against us. If we're in attack mode and not trying to use stealth, keep using it so you don't walk yourself into a trap. Remember, it only works on those who magically hide themselves. Don't think you're going to find everyone just by saying that spell."

He paced around them, ignoring the others observing their practice. Harry never revealed too much during their public training sessions. He mostly had them dueling against each other. The nature of their spells wouldn't matter too much. Almost everyone had the same access to spells. It was just how they used them.

They were much improved in their individual groups. Black group still spearheaded most of his attacks. Draco's improved leadership gave Black a lot of autonomy. Tracey and Pansy served in their support roles well and Harry found himself relying on this group the most. Silver would never lead the line, but they were excellent in running diversions and countering enemies. Nott and Baldock, in particular, were adept at creating illusions and setting traps. Vicious area trigger spells that would swallow their enemies in ropes and vines. Neither Nott or Baldock had replicated the body double spell that Hermione was so skillful at, but they were practicing and would learn in time.

Green group was still...a work in progress. Blaise, Goyle, and Bulstrode were a competent blocking force themselves and regularly led the line when it came to actual confrontations. Their improvised ability as human shields had caught on slightly with other Houses, but few were as big and strong as Goyle and Bulstrode. They could withstand spell after spell on their shields since they concentrated all of their efforts into it.

Black and Silver were currently dueling each other while Green watched. Blaise broke off from Gregory and Millicent to talk to Harry. Standing beside him, Blaise said, "Do you see who's watching?"

Harry had taken stock of who was there. A variety of older students from different Houses were idly watching. Susan Bones was in attendance as well as Padma Patil. Finally, Karim Tireur and two other Beauxbatons girls were watching from behind the magical barrier. Harry did not spare him a glance. He stood with his arms crossed as Tracey dispatched Baldock with an accurate Stunner.

"What about them?" Harry asked.

Blaise cleared his throat and sidled closer. "I've been noticing that the Beauxbatons boy has been keen to keep his eyes on you. Do you think he's up to something?"

Certainly.

"Nothing we're showing here would change what happens in the tournament. He's free to watch," Harry said. I also rarely duel myself.

"You want me to keep an eye on him? I can get some of the First and Second Years to do so," Blaise offered.

Harry considered the offer. It would be no different than having those First and Second Years monitor the Hufflepuff movements last year, but he felt uncomfortable the more he thought about it. The Hufflepuffs had caught Blaise's little spies. If Karim or any of the other Beauxbatons students discovered some Hogwarts students tailing them, what would that mean for the rest of the Hogwarts champions? Would they be punished? Would points be deducted from the tournament? Harry squirmed internally but kept a calm outer visage.

"No," Harry finally answered.

Blaise drew his lips in a tight line but nodded. After a moment's pause, he also said, "I also had some ideas of what we could do with Goyle and Bulstrode…"

He continued to speak, but Harry was distracted the warmth in his pocket. He fingered the special coin in his pocket and pulled it out. There was a message inscribed in the Sickle: Champions meeting. Same place. Six.

"What do you think?" Blaise asked.

Harry had missed most of his pitch. Sighing, he shook his head. "I missed what you said. Come to me later with that plan and we can discuss it again. There's other things I have to attend to."

Blaise fixed him with a stare and Harry met his eyes. There was a coldness in Blaise's brown orbs. Harry had half a mind to probe him with a Legilimens. Since his meetings with Hermione had fallen in frequency, there was little reason to use Legilimency or Occlumency. Harry did not want to become rusty.

"Yes, Com," Blaise said.

Harry grunted in response and called out to Tracey and Draco to finish the practice with two more duels. He left the pair in charge and marched towards the Astronomy tower. Hermione had given him late notice. He hadn't seen her throughout the day. Karim's eyes continued to follow him as he exited the Room of Requirement. He was finally alone in the hallways and walked quickly. His legs stretched as he climbed the spiraling staircase towards the top of the narrow tower. He opened the wooden door and found the rest of the champions waiting. They were making a habit of him entering last.

"Harry," Cedric said as he stood up to make room. There was barely enough room for Harry to squeeze by the Hufflepuff and settle into a seat between Hermione and Roger. The older Ravenclaw subtly leaned away as Harry took his seat. He was fine with that. Harry still remembered Roger neglecting to do anything as Marietta bullied Luna.

"Two shorter, but we will still manage. We also ran into a bit of luck. I've discovered what the egg says." Cedric unrolled a parchment and recited the song that sprung from the egg.

After he finished, Cedric asked, "So, any ideas to start?"

Do the other schools know?

Information was vastly important in the battlefield. Those who gained the most information regularly had the advantage. It would not take long for the other schools to discover how to unlock the key to hearing the song. Interpreting the information would also be vitally important. There were clues within the song. Harry was sure that he could put his mind to the task, but with Hermione on hand, he had no doubt they would have an interpretation soon. There were other things on his mind.

Roger, Cho, and Marietta were the first time to chime in, hypothesizing various ideas. Roger thought that there was a chance they would be fighting in the woods, agreeing that they were unlikely to be under water. Marietta was certain there would be traps involved based on the last line. Cho kept murmuring one line over and over: The ones who come first in your mind.

"It seems to me that we're actually going to be fighting against Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," George said.

"They didn't mention any dragons or creatures. We're obviously going to be searching for something," Fred said.

"That doesn't necessarily mean we'll be against the other Houses. We could easily be searching for an item and will be timed for our search. Watch where you walk. Do not fear the cold. These are lines that make it clear we're going to be in dangerous environment," Hermione argued.

They continued back and forth for half an hour. Harry declined to comment freely. Personally, Hermione seemed to have the most accurate interpretation. She theorized they would be searching for an item at the same time as the other schools. Historically, the Second Task involved pitting the competitors against each other. Harry was amused to find the discussion became heated as they traded arguments. His mind was wandering, knowing he had another lesson with Trow and Lupin later that night.

"Take a break on it, everyone," Cedric finally said. "Make sure to write down the song and we can reconvene in a couple days. There's still plenty of time before the Second Task, but I wanted to get ahead of this. The sooner we know, the sooner we can prepare. For Merlin's sake, don't tell anyone. We all have friends. As much as we believe that we can trust them, someone will talk. Do not tell anyone."

Hermione leaned over and whispered something to Cedric. The older Hufflepuff boy shook his head after a moment. Harry was aware that he was not the only one to see the interaction. Cedric stood up and dismissed the rest of them. Slowly, they filed out. Harry gathered his belongings and left without saying another word. These meetings were mostly a waste of time.

"Harry."

He expected Hermione to follow him, but knew by the masculine voice that it was not the argumentative Gryffindor. There was still some time before his lessons with Trow and Lupin, so Harry paused in the middle of the hallway. Cedric came to a stop in front of him and looked around surreptitiously.

"You've had classes with Hermione, right? You're both Fourth Years," Cedric said quietly.

Harry nodded, unsure as to where this was going.

"Do you know what she's like?" he asked, almost embarassed.

"What do you mean?"

Cedric shrugged and looked around again. "I mean...does she have a boyfriend? Do you know if there's someone she's interested in?"

Harry almost burst out laughing. Of all the things he expected Cedric to query him about, Hermione's love life was not one of them. There was a strange feeling in his stomach and he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

"She's in Gryffindor. You know we don't get along with Gryffindors, right? It's not like we talk about that kind of stuff," Harry said

"Yeah, but you're in the same Year. Surely, you would've heard some sort of rumor?"

Harry considered the question and responded with one of his own. "Why do you want to know?"

Cedric scanned the area again. "Between you and me, I'm thinking of asking her to the Yule Ball."

This time, Harry did burst out laughing. He couldn't say why, but the idea amused him to no end. Hermione Granger? Dancing at the Yule Ball? He felt sorry for the poor boy. She would say no in a heartbeat.

"To my knowledge, I don't think she has a boyfriend nor do I know if she's interested in anyone," Harry said.

"Good. Cheers, mate." Cedric smiled, apparently satisfied, and slapped Harry on the back.

When Lupin and Trow asked why Harry was smiling, he dismissed it by saying he had a good day. He couldn't help the smile that crept to himself every now and then as he thought of Cedric asking Hermione to the Yule Ball. From what Harry knew of her, she couldn't possibly be interested.

* * * * * * * * * *

Blaise Zabini watched as Professor Moody paced in front of the class. He was growling about the necessity of discipline, his wooden leg smacking against the ground every other second. Blaise sat in the back and listened disinterestedly. In front of him, Ernie MacMillan sat forward, his quill scratching furiously as he took down an excessive amount of notes. Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, Megan Jones, and Anthony Goldstein sat in the front row. Beside him, Seamus Finnigan fidgeted in his seat.

"Discipline must be ingrained within. If you give an order, they must follow without hesitation. It restrains the showboats. It keeps the cowards from folding. Don't think that just because you have a group of trained wizards means that every one of them is the same. There will be some braver than others. There will be others that hesitate when you tell them to attack. It is your job to make sure they - ZABINI!"

Sitting up straight, Blaise steeled himself for another lecture. He had been the target of Moody's ire for the majority of the semester. The ex-Auror stomped through the aisle of desks until he was looming over the Slytherin. His blue eye was spinning but his natural eye remained fixed on Blaise.

"Why they decided to put you in this class is beyond me," Moody snarled. "If ever there was someone who was unfit to lead others into battle, it would be you, Zabini."

"Charisma can go a long way," Blaise responded.

"If you put that smart ass mouth to use for something other than blatant disregard for authority, you might be something. Tell me, Zabini. What happens when you're about to enter a house full of Death Eaters and they look to you for orders? Where will your charisma take you then?""

Away from that house, Blaise wanted to say. He didn't like the way Moody was leaning over his desk so he opted for a more suitable answer. "Make sure to set up Anti-Apparition wards to pen the Death Eaters in. Everything else would depend on how many allies I have and the quality of the enemies within."

Moody's face twitched, the many scars moving as one. "Smart ass has an answer. You have seven below average Aurors. Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, and the Carrow siblings are inside. What do you do then?"

Blaise knew all of those names. Perhaps subconsciously, Moody had listed them in order of most dangerous to least.

"How many stories is the house?" Blaise asked.

"Two."

Blaise nodded, formulating a plan in his head. "Do I have any mission parameters?"

Moody's magical eye twitched. "Capture Lestrange. Kill or capture all others."

It was cheating, but it was the easiest plan. "Bring the house down. Unless they have some crazy wards on it, the house should come down."

"And Lestrange?" Moody asked.

Blaise shrugged. "She lives or she doesn't. Better to play it safe. I'm not going to storm the house with seven below average Aurors against Lestrange."

Moody snarled, "You broke your mission parameters."

Blaise shrugged again. He wanted to add a smarmy remark, but it was a dangerous line to rile up the former Auror. Flitwick, maybe. Slughorn, definitely. McGonagall, never. There were people that could be pushed and people that couldn't. Moody fell into the latter. Blaise had already gotten bored of the exercise.

I would never find myself in a situation where I have to confront Lestrange of all people, Blaise thought.

"Get up," Moody said.

"What?"

"Up," Moody hissed. He brought his staff up and down. Blaise felt an invisible force tug at his navel and bring him to his feet. Grumbling, Blaise walked to the front of the classroom. He felt the rest of the students watching him. He tried to portray a sense of boredom as he slinked to the front of the classroom. Moody's magical eye spun around the classroom until it settled on Padma Patil.

"Levitate her." Moody pointed his deformed chin at Padma.

A moment's hesitation almost betrayed his bored persona. He could say no. The option was there, but the punishment would be severe. Blaise did not have time, not tonight, to waste. He didn't bother giving Padma an apologetic glance. It was Moody's order, after all. Concentrating on Padma's chair, he levitated the object and the person. Padma's eyes widened as she gripped the sides of her chair. Her brown hands gripped the sides so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"If you drop her before class ends, you will both receive detention," Moody said.

Padma's mouth opened immediately. "Professor! I didn't do anything."

"And there will be times when you will have to absorb the punishment of your peers or your charges. Get used to shouldering the blame," Moody said.

Blaise tried not to panic. He could not afford detention tonight. All of his efforts were poured into this Levitation charm. Concentration was always key to maintaining spells. A slip of the mind and he would drop her. Moody droned on about shouldering the blame and understanding to accept responsibility. All Blaise could think about was keeping the chair afloat. It wobbled, now and then. Padma would glare at him when it did. She did not speak aloud, but he knew what curses she was saying under her breath.

The bell finally rang after twenty minutes of levitating Padma Patil. Blaise unceremoniously dropped her. Parvati must have predicted his release as she cast a Cushioning charm as the chair broke apart. Padma glared at him evilly as she walked out. The rest of the class did not look too impressed either. Blaise did his best to disregard them, wiping the sweat off his brow without meeting their eyes. He dusted down his fifty-two Galleon robes.

"Get out, Zabini. I don't want you infecting my class any longer," Moody growled.

Blaise was glad to leave.

He still did not understand why they placed him Leadership. The class was detestable and Moody was far worse than he was in Dueling. The classroom was on the fifth floor, so there was a long way down to the Slytherin Common Room. Blaise had to walk the same way as the Patil twins. As he passed by, Blaise quipped, "Nice catch, Parvati."

Both twins glared at him. "Why didn't you just keep answering him?" Padma asked.

"You can't give in to Moody. He just wants to steamroll you."

"He wants to teach us," Parvati said.

Blaise clucked his tongue and grinned at the pair. "I'm afraid I don't have much to learn from the poor sod. You should be thanking me. I kept you up, didn't I?"

They had nothing to say to that.

He left the swiveling sisters. Hopping over a moving staircase, Blaise descended to the dungeons. Leadership had been completely unfruitful and Moody hated him more and more with each passing day. There were times when Blaise felt that magical eye never moved from him. How far could that eye see?

"Fucking pervert," Blaise muttered, thinking about the ex-Auror.

Here and there, a Beauxbatons or a Durmstrang student would pass by. Blaise would inspect each of them closely but subtly. He had come to learn their names and stories. No one knew much about the Durmstrang students. They were a quiet bunch, rarely straying from the pack. They had to be drawn into conversations and most were intimidated by their sheer size. Some bravely ventured to speak to Krum, but the large Bulgarian would always grant and walk away.

There were stories that they practiced the Dark Arts, but Blaise knew better. They didn't talk to the Hogwarts students and that made them mysterious. The sheep always feared the mysterious, in his opinion. When he inquired about some of the others like Anton Velick, the Seventh Year with the scar, or Stillyan Dobovich, the Sixth Year that would not stop bleeding from the eye, Blaise learned nothing. His little First and Second Year spies said they dismissed the very sight of the little runts.

Not that it mattered too much to Blaise.

He was a naturally inquisitive person and generally wanted to learn more about the mysterious school. Yet, he wouldn't make the mistake of trying to push it. If Durmstrang had secrets to keep, Blaise was not going to try and pry them loose. Not yet, anyway. There were far more pressing matters at hand. As Blaise entered the Common Room, he spotted Tracey sitting by the fire with Draco. The pair was frequently seen together these days and Blaise never passed up an opportunity to tease her mercilessly about it.

"You two always take the cozy spots by the couch," Blaise said as he approached them.

She looked up, her curly hair falling across her azure eyes. Draco kept his head buried in his journal. There were times when Blaise wondered just how much the imprisonment of his father changed Draco. Was he always like this? Or did he change because of his father? Blaise would never find out. Draco Malfoy was not keen to sharing his secrets either. Perching himself one of the arms of Tracey's chair, he leaned over to see what she was reading.

"More potions books?" Blaise wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Applied project," she said. "It's due at the end of the year, but you'd be surprised how competitive everyone in Medical is. How about you? Another bad day with Moody?"

"That staff of his must have buggered him one too many times. He has it out for me. As does Snape. Why would they ever put me in that Track?" Blaise complained.

"I'm sure it's for a reason," Tracey said.

To punish me, Blaise thought sourly. Maybe Snape was playing another one of his games. Blaise still shuddered at his broken memories of the night he participated in brutally beating Harry. The headmaster was dangerous. Far more dangerous than any of the other students would like to think. Blaise had known dangerous men in his life. His mother had more than her fair share of suitors. There was always a glint in their eyes, an underlying darkness that one had to squint to see. But it was there.

"Have you seen the Com?" Blaise looked around the Common Room for that increasingly unruly mop of black hair.

"He's not here. Caught up in another tournament meeting," said Tracey.

Good.

Blaise patted her on the shoulder, satisfied that he confirmed Harry's location. He bid her goodbye. Malfoy never looked up.

The flutters in his stomach were increasing. Blaise didn't panic. Instead of wringing his hands or distressedly running his hand across his face, he sat calmly as he waited for the dinner bell to ring. The timing would have to be perfect. There was only a small window of opportunity. When he heard the loud gongs announcing dinner, Blaise waited and made sure the majority of the Slytherins had left. No one would notice a straggler or two.

He left behind the rest of the crowd. Blaise even followed them up the staircase to the ground floor. Turning right would take him into the Great Hall. He stopped, made sure there were no others around, and turned left instead. Then, he cast the Disillusionment Charm. The familiar ice cold trickling crept down his body. Now, he was just a distorted blur walking through the castle. There was a back door that opened into the grounds. Blaise took it.

Outside, the sun was already setting. An orange slice hung on the horizon, but it was already dark. Winter was approaching and the sky became a little blacker just a little quicker. Most of the other students left for dinner as well. Madame Maxime had rumbled by not too long ago. It was very hard to miss her. At last, he reached his destination.

They told him they would be in the second to last carriage in the line. The winged horses knew he was there. They sniffed at Blaise, sensing his presence through his invisibility. He would pat some on the nose just to assuage them as he approached the second to last carriage. Blaise paused in front of every carriage, making sure there wasn't a similar straggler to dinner. When he reached the second to last carriage, Blaise Zabini steeled himself.

I can still turn back. I don't have to do this, he thought.

Yet, Blaise knew he must.

He patted the door twice with his open palm, then rapped his knuckles against it thrice. After a moment, the door opened. A shaved head peeked out. Blaise cancelled the charm. Karim Tireur smiled as he saw the Fourth Year Slytherin.

"So you did come. I've heard you are good with money. You owe me some so I can Petra for losing our bet. Come in, little Slytherin." Karim spoke quickly but assuredly. Blaise did not like the sound of his voice.

He stepped into the carriage, knowing it would be magically enlarged within. Unlike the uniformity of Hogwarts dorms, the different rooms within this carriage each had its own personality. Different fabrics of a variety of colors hung from each and every corner. There were four distinct sessions but only two people within the carriage. There was a tall, brunette girl sitting on a plush couch in the middle.

"Do you know Petra? She's one of the other champions," Karim said.

Blaise smiled at her, doing his best not to reveal the nervous flutters in his stomach. They were not due to this Beauxbatons girl. He resisted the urge to squeeze his wrist. It was his nervous tic.

"Pleased to meet you," he said as calmly as he could.

She cocked her head. Petra had a narrow and angular face. Her nose was a smidgen too long and her eyes were asymmetrical. Her high cheekbones and perfect hair offsetted the incongruencies, giving her an unnatural beauty. Blaise was not moved by that. Karim was the far more dangerous player in this game.

"We have about twenty minutes until others start to return for dinner. I'd like for you to be out in eighteen." Karim flicked his wand and an hourglass filled with gobstones flipped end over end. It started squeezing through from one end of the hourglass to the other. Blaise quelled the nervous flutters in his stomach.

Karim flopped onto the large couch in the middle of the carriage. He kicked one leg over the other and looked at Blaise with his dark eyes. The Slytherin met his gaze, trying not to be intimidated by the two older students. He was failing, but he would not show it. His mother had been adamant in never showing what he was actually thinking. Miss Zabini taught him very well in his opinion.

"Sooooo…" Karim drew out the word, his eyes never leaving Blaise. "One of your little children told me you had something important to tell me."

"That depends."

"On what?" Karim arched one of his bushy eyebrows.

Blaise took a moment to collect himself, thinking of the words he rehearsed. "What I'm about to tell you is going to be advantageous for you. I ask that you don't ask me why I'm doing this. I ask that you keep me out of anything you might be planning. I am here to give you information. Nothing more."

Karim waited for a moment. The Beauxbatons student glanced at Petra. Then, he said, "No."

"No?" Blaise repeated.

"I do not want to talk to a man when I don't know his motivations. Motivations are key. How can I possibly believe what you need to tell me if I don't know why you're doing it?"

"Because I think you want to know about Harry Potter."

Blaise knew he had them. Petra tried to feign interest in a long, transfigured object in one corner of the room. There was a glittering placard that had Karim Tireur's name over that particular corner. Blaise wondered what that transfigured object was. It had a particular shape to it. It was almost interesting enough to hold someone's attention, but it did not stand a chance of keeping Petra's attention once Blaise uttered the famous name. Karim did not bother to hide his enthusiasm. He leaned forward, cupping his chin in both hands like a chalice. His dark eyes winked with mischief.

"And why would one of Harry Potter's best friends want to talk to his rivals?" Karim asked.

Blaise shook his head slowly. "Harry has no friends. He has delegates. Subjects who he commands. No one in our year even calls him by his name anymore."

Except for Tracey, Blaise thought. I can't bring her into this. She wouldn't want to be part of this.

"So I've heard." Karim leaned back. "Everyone has. That still doesn't satisfy me. Why would you do this? Telling me anything about the Hogwarts champions will put your school in jeopardy of losing."

"I don't care about the school," Blaise said.

"Really? I thought everyone loved Hogwarts Battle School."

Blaise gritted his teeth, trying not to grow impatient with Karim's mocking responses. The gobstones were still seeping through the hourglass. They did not have much time.

"Tell me why you're so obsessed with beating Harry. If you do, I'll tell you my reasons," Blaise blurted out.

Karim considered him thoughtfully. Petra continued to act bored and Blaise wondered just exactly what her role was. Friend? Confidant? Backup? Blaise tried to run the scenarios through his head, but he had to focus on one game at a time.

"You know a lot about the old families, don't you? You belong to a Pureblood sect yourself," Karim said.

The Zabinis did not come from old blood. They were not around before the Statute of Secrecy. The Zabini vault in Gringotts did not come about until late in the seventeenth century. His ancestors were eventually accepted into the older Pureblood families. Much of that society was defunct now, but names still held sway. Names would always hold sway.

Karim continued on without a response. "The Tireurs were newer to England. My great-great-grandmother migrated over here from France nearly a hundred and fifty years ago. Our family prospered. Our broom business boomed. Everything was fine for a hundred years until Grindelwald came along. My great grandparents were killed by Grindelwald. My grandparents, an Uncle, three Aunts, and two of my cousins were killed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. We do not have good history with the Pureblood families. Do you know why?"

Blaise tried to answer him but found nothing. He knew the Tireurs lived in England before, but the circumstances around their departure had never been discussed by any of the families or women who chatted with his mother.

"They did not like finding sport with Muggleborns. No, I would never be able to marry a half-blood or a Muggleborn, but they did not like torturing and killing them either. Voldemort wouldn't have for that, so he razed the family house to the ground."

Karim paused, his eyes far away as he flexed his right pointer finger.

"My brother was in that house."

Blaise didn't expect that intimate revelation. If Karim was aiming to unsettle him, it was succeeding. He felt like an intruder, learning this dark past. Instead of giving false sympathies, Blaise remained quiet. Karim picked up on it and finished the rest of his tale.

"When it came time, I never received a letter from Hogwarts. My mother had enough and returned back to our ancient family home in France. Everyone celebrates the Boy-Who-Lived and the famous Hogwarts Battle School with its legions of Aurors and heroes. Why wasn't I invited? I had just as much reason as everyone else who lost someone to Voldemort. Instead...instead...instead I'm shipped off to shitting Wolping Academy in Liverpool. Why not me for Hogwarts? Mother didn't care for an answer. She hated this place already. So we left."

The gobstones clinked softly against the hourglass as Karim paused.

"Whoever thought I couldn't make it here was wrong. I've already seen that I can beat most of the ingrates in this tournament. No one cares about that. I need to beat the one who will make the loudest noise," Karim said.

"Voldemort's dead. Why would you need to prove anything?" Blaise asked.

"So is my brother. I deserved to be here. I deserved to join the Aurors and hunt down the bastards that killed her. They're still out there. My parents tried to put it all behind them, but they didn't see. They didn't see my brother's burnt and mangled corpse. They couldn't stand to look. That fell to me. Imagine - a six year old looking at the burnt body of his older brother. And yet...fucking Wolping is where I was supposed to go."

Karim suddenly stopped and his face lit up with a smile. The sudden change disconcerted Blaise more than he cared to show.

"So there," Karim said. "Now you know why I'm keen to beat Harry Potter. It's not his fault. He just happens to be in the way. You have five minutes to say what you came here to say, Zabini."

"You took most of that time," Blaise said.

Karim shrugged. "Five minutes. Speak or leave. It does not matter to me."

Oh, it matters. Why else would you want to me to tell you if it didn't? Karim might have tried to play coy, but Blaise knew better. You must do this, he told himself.

"Harry embarrassed me. He threw me to the side. I'm no longer…"

"...useful?" Karim finished. "You liked that power, didn't you? It's the prestige without the burden."

Blaise gulped but not too visibly and with little movement. "I just want to see him down a peg or two."

"Fair enough. He does seem to be rather arrogant," Karim said in a strangely non-ironic manner.

"You won't hurt him, right? He's been down that road before and won't be broken. Fleur has also been around him more."

Karim waved the idea off. "Of course not. I do not intend beat him like you mongrels. As for our little Veela, let her play her little games. I have no interest in her."

Petra finally spoke. "Two minutes."

Karim leaned forward, his long fingers rubbing his eyebrows. His dark eyes were deep and empty at the same time. Was Karim even telling the truth? Blaise had no way of knowing, but the emotion did not seem fake. Why did you do this to me, Harry?

"Do you know the history between Slytherins and Gryffindors?" Blaise said.

"I have heard you do not like each other," Karim answered in an amused tone.

"Do you know who Hermione Granger is?"

"One of the Hogwarts champions, I believe."

Blaise Zabini paused. Then, he made his move.

"This is how you hurt Harry Potter."

* * * * * * * * * *

A/N: 14 days

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