Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hey ! Fellow potterhead, so I'm finally coming back with the fourth book of my long series.

It took me a long time to do so, I know and I'm sorry. But to be honest, I had to make some changing, the book will be different (at some part from the french version) because I rewrote some parts... why did I did that ? Well I received a lot of message mad with the fic and it made me hate it a little... because I couldn't disagree with them (I'm only talking about the last three books : 4 5 6) so I dedided that rather than translating and being insulted a second time but by more readers (because I obviously have more in english than french) I'll just modify the fic.

The issue will be : I'll need to change a lot of things of the book 5 too (less for the sixth) sooooo... the next book will take so time to go out.

I than have a question, what do you, readers, prefer ?

1. I post the whole fic at once but you could have to wait another few months for the next book (because I'm working on other fic at the same time and don't have that much inspo for Back)
2. I post chapter by chapter (let's say every week) so you can feel the time a little less I'll let you decide and stat posting next sunday, if you could just tell me your preferances, it would help greatly

Edit : first of all, thank you for all your comments, it makes my day to know the book is long awaited. Since most of you prefered the book published all at once, I'll do that, you'll see the book being published in totality througt out the day <3 Hope you'll like it !

Ah, and of course : As always, the necessary warnings:

Unfortunately, I'm not bilingual, but I've translated the story to the best of my abilities (with the help of some translation tools, not Google Translate, I reassure you!). Names and terms may sometimes switch between the French and original versions. I appreciate constructive feedback that helps improve the story, but repetitive notes only pointing out translation inconsistencies can be discouraging. If you notice such issues and want to help, you can either send me an email with the chapter and the correction, propose yourself as a beta-reader, or simply enjoy the story as it is. Thank you for your understanding.

This story, these characters, and more or less the entirety of the wizarding world belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am merely playing with them because it is entertaining. I regularly paraphrase, or even reproduce word for word, sentences or fragments from the original work, but I have done my best to blend everything together smoothly. I have also taken two or three ideas from the movies, I cannot remember exactly where from, but there you are; I'd rather warn you.

Regarding Harry and his relationships with others:

Harry is mentally an adult in my story. He is not all-powerful, but he is naturally very skilled in magic, as he has already had considerable experience and has learnt to control his powers. I must admit myself that he does come across as a little overpowered; I am at least trying to maintain a degree of coherence, and I hope he does not end up appearing too much like a Gary Stu, which is absolutely not my intention.

As for his relationship with Charlie, the latter will indeed appear in this volume, and I know many readers have been eagerly waiting for him (as have I). However, I prefer to clarify a few points:

First, Charlie’s age: he is around twenty-five or twenty-six in this story. Officially, J. K. Rowling gave him two more years than Percy, which we can agree makes no sense at all, so I decided to rely on a study about the plausible ages of the Weasleys, which I found fascinating and which I shall link here: https://www.hp-lexicon.org/2004/05/02/the-age-of-the-weasleys/. It explains that it would be far more logical for Bill and Charlie to be two or three years older than Rowling implies, which places Charlie at about twenty-five (during book 4) (7years of Hogwarts + 3 more years)

Harry is fourteen, WHICH MEANS Charlie is too old for him. I simply wish to remind everyone that the issue with age gaps in relationships (especially the ones involving adolescents) is above all a matter of one party lacking maturity (and the other using it to manipulate him/her). We can therefore agree that this is not really a concern here, given that Harry is mentally older than Charlie. But I wont make them a fast couple AND Charlie attracted to a fourteen y.o boy... it would creep me out too much.

A, final point concerning Charlie: we know virtually nothing about him, so I have really had to elaborate based on the two things found online or in the books, namely dragons and Quidditch, and then I added elements from the game Hogwarts Mystery, in which he appears (even though this story is not canon, which is not necessarily a bad thing, as it introduces even more confusion regarding the ages of the older Weasleys).

Finally, I hope you will enjoy this story and that you still take pleasure in following the adventures of our dear Harry, who is far from being done with this story.

Chapter Text

"So, how did you get your hands on this recipe for Polyjuice Potion? It's particularly restricted by the Ministry, no?"

Harry smiled as he twirled his wand over the cauldron, whose contents were slowly changing colour. He was a little proud of the admiring tone he had used.

"The Restricted Section always has everything you need," was all he said.

Sirius was sitting next to Harry, who was using the dining table as a potions lab. He was brewing Polyjuice Potion to give his godfather more freedom, especially to allow him access to the wizarding London without the risk of being spotted, reported, and instantly thrown into prison – which would be troublesome given how difficult it already was to keep him safe without locking him up.

"Let me guess, Snape kindly gave you access!" he said ironically, still not over the fact that the man had become a teacher.

"I'd have said Prongs, but it's true Snape contributed a little."

The corners of Sirius's mouth twitched.

"The cloak…" he shook his head. "If your father knew you were using his cloak to sneak into the library," he said hoarsely, trying to sound casual. Harry shot him a brief look.

"If it makes him feel any better, I also used it to sneak into Snape's private stores and nick a few ingredients," Harry added with a small smirk.

Sirius burst out in a great laugh that sounded like a dog's bark in reply. It was a laugh Harry had heard more and more in the past month. Since coming back from Hogwarts, he had made sure to visit the three inhabitants of Number 12, Grimmauld Place regularly. He could only do it in the evenings or when the three Dursleys were out, but at least he had the chance to see them often. And that was all that mattered to him: finally being able to spend time with and reclaim his godfather. The man he had already lost too many times for two lifetimes, and whom he was determined to protect at all costs. Harry had spent some time gathering the ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion, but he was glad to think he would be able to help Sirius.

"And so," Sirius went on, a little more seriously. "Are you going to tell me why you needed Polyjuice Potion? It's not something people your age usually use…"

Harry kept his smile under control. He had been forced to explain that he knew how to brew the potion because he had already made it for himself. Which made sense; no one would learn to make a potion as complex as Polyjuice without a good reason and a specific purpose. And it wasn't as if it was available to buy. The potion had at last reached the shade of brown he was aiming for. He nodded, satisfied, as he lowered his wand, taking his time to reply, knowing his godfather wouldn't interrupt him with questions while he was still brewing. He began to pour it into several containers, planning, as he had for himself, to create multiple appearances. Only when he was done did he turn to Sirius.

"Not much, honestly… I just wanted to be able to move around Diagon Alley without everyone staring or wondering what I was up to. I can at least tell you I've not done anything illegal or dishonest with it."

Sirius was momentarily taken aback before shaking his head.

"Anyone using Polyjuice Potion is doing something illegal."

"I'm also hiding a fugitive from the Ministry, if you want to go and report me," Harry said with a wink.

He knew he ought to be grateful that Sirius and Remus didn't ask too many questions about his behaviour. From the outside, he must have looked extremely suspicious. He had an answer for everything, when he was supposedly someone who had only known about the wizarding world for three years.

But from his own point of view, he was the one trusting them too much and taking risks. He didn't quite know why he told them all these things, only that he wanted to. Though he would have liked to ask why they believed him so readily.

He said nothing. Asking questions would force him to answer theirs, which he couldn't allow. He just had to take a few risks if he wanted to improve things for everyone. He wasn't going to limit himself when the chance to help the two men came up. After all, it was for them too that he was doing all this.

"So then, where were you going that you didn't want to be followed?"

Harry shrugged.

"Diagon Alley… here and there."

"Like Knockturn Alley," Sirius suggested, narrowing his eyes.

He studied Harry's face, which had taken on a detached expression, pretending to focus on his potion.

"Among other places."

"Harry…" Sirius growled.

"Dare tell me you've never gone there out of curiosity."

Sirius growled as he straightened up.

"Believe me, that's the very last place I'd go. Unlike you, I've walked those streets far too often as a child. I'd rather you stayed away too. It's not your friends wandering around that foul alley riddled with Dark magic."

Harry pretended to nod but was saved by a sound.

The front door had just opened at that moment, and footsteps could be heard in the hallway opposite the sitting room where they were settled. Remus Lupin entered the room. He still looked tired, and his face was still covered with scars, but he seemed in better shape; he had, in particular, traded his ragged clothes for a brown robe, slightly altered by Dobby under Harry's instructions. Harry had promised himself he would make them some clothes as soon as he was back at Hogwarts for the new term. The former professor stopped short when he saw them sitting in front of a cauldron.

"Up to something illegal again?"

"Hey Remus, back already? How was your moonlit stroll?"

The werewolf approached the cauldron, shaking his head darkly. He had gone to take refuge in a forest deep in Scotland for his night under the full moon two days before, and was only returning today. Sirius had wanted to go with him, but Harry had been against it, saying he wasn't in good enough condition to face a wolf at full strength, and Remus had, of course, agreed.

"Polyjuice Potion?" the man said, leaning over the cauldron. "You managed to get some knotgrass?"

"I bought some in Diagon Alley. Honestly, I've no idea where it grows, but I figured they'd have some in stock after the full moon."

"When did you go to Diagon Alley?"

"This morning. My uncle and cousin had to go into London for an errand, so I took advantage," he said as he continued working on his mixture. "By the way, I also bought this."

He pointed to the brown satchel that was resting a little further along the table, well in view. Remus went over to it and opened it. He turned instantly back to Harry.

"It's probably of lower quality than the ones Snape brews, but it's always safer than if Sirius or I tried to make it ourselves."

"Harry, I– I can't accept this, those potions are so expensive!"

"Sadly, the world isn't fair, and my parents left me money I've got no use for. I'm sure they'd be very happy for me to use it this way."

"Even so, you–."

"Remus, it's just a matter of time, I'll pay next time as well. We have to support each other, the three of us, and honestly it was nothing to buy these potions, so don't make a fuss."

"I–"

"What I'd like to know is the look on their faces when they saw Harry Potter buying knotgrass and Wolfsbane Potion," Sirius interrupted, no longer listening.

"They didn't get the chance, it was my neighbour Lucille Fleshing who went to buy the potion for me."

"You're getting a taste for Polyjuice, I see."

"I don't really have any other way. It would be hard to explain myself if someone recognised me."

Of course, he kept quiet about who exactly was watching him.

"Harry… thank you," Remus finally said, slightly pink, drawing Harry's attention back.

"No problem, Remus. In return, keep an eye on Sirius when he's out, I'm afraid he might do something foolish," he said with a teasing smile towards the Animagus.

Sirius was about to retort, but Harry planted a glass full of golden Polyjuice Potion right under his nose.

"Drink that."

"Why? I'm not going out straightaway."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"We need to know how long the potion lasts." He pulled back his sleeve to show the hourglass watch he always wore when using Polyjuice Potion. "See, mine lasts an hour and fifteen minutes, so I've got an hourglass set to that time. We need to know yours too."

Sirius stared at him, astonished, and still reeling, took the potion from him with an uncertain hand. After swallowing it with difficulty, he stuck out his tongue.

"It's vile."

Remus and Harry smiled at the sight.

"If it tastes awful, it means it's working."

Even if that was more of a Muggle saying than a wizard one.

Meanwhile, Harry began tidying up his potions things. He then took out some white labels, sticking one on each container. One for each characteristic. He added a hair into each one, noting down the information as he went. Sirius and Remus watched him, dumbfounded.

"What hair did you use?"

Harry laughed a little, pointing to his face.

"Mine. You won't be able to use it outside, so it's a good test," he said.

"That's really incredible, Harry," said Remus as Sirius's face and body began to change and shrink before their eyes.

Sirius had gripped the table tightly, visibly enduring the transformation. Harry admired his self-control before reminding himself that Sirius had endured far worse in Azkaban for twelve years. After long seconds, a double of Harry was standing in front of them, the only difference being that he was dressed in a black robe far too long for him and, of course, wasn't wearing glasses.

"How do you feel?" Remus asked as Sirius straightened up and felt his face. Harry turned over an hourglass to time how long it would take for him to change back. He hoped he had managed to make it last longer than his own version.

"Fine. Harry, your eyesight is even worse than your father's."

Harry smiled, shaking his head. He had no doubt Sirius had already taken his father's appearance at least once in his life.

"Well, you've lost a bit of charm, but at least the potion works," Harry said with a small laugh, handing him his glasses so Sirius could see.

Sirius, at last able to see, began moving his arms and pacing in a circle, adjusting to the much shorter distance to the ground due to their height difference, before placing his hand on his stomach.

"Harry, you're far too thin, you need to eat more than this!"

"I told you, my cousin's on a diet, the whole family's following it. I'll put some weight back on once I'm back at Hogwarts… maybe even before."

Sirius pulled a face, but Harry didn't leave room for protests.

"You should be more worried about yourself. You both need to eat more. If you were kinder to Kreacher, maybe he'd cook you better meals. Let's be honest, neither of you is much good in the kitchen. You can't only eat properly when I'm here. I won't be able to come once I'm back at Hogwarts," he said more seriously.

The two adults being told off had the decency to look embarrassed, which made Harry smile.

"Kreacher's never been good at cooking," Sirius tried.

"Doesn't matter. He'd put in more effort if you tried to improve things, I'm sure. Giving him your mother's portrait was already a step forward, but it'd be good if he could accept your presence here."

Sirius sighed, used to this argument.

Harry was rather pleased with all the progress made so far. He had managed to get through to Kreacher, and by showing a little respect for the Black family, had managed to calm the house-elf, who had spent more than ten years locked up in that old house. Still, things would only really improve if Sirius made an effort too.

He had quickly retrieved Slytherin's locket and had it duplicated by Dobby to leave no trace. Only Hufflepuff's cup remained, and soon Harry would have six of the seven Horcruxes. Then he would only need to fight and kill Voldemort, and find the snake to destroy it. The only flaw in his plan was if Pettigrew hadn't yet found his master as Harry assumed, and he never ended up facing Voldemort in the graveyard at the end of this year. If that were the case, Harry would have no choice but to leave Hogwarts and hunt him down to destroy him for good. But that would mean taking the risk of revealing himself, and since he was unable to explain himself about the control spell, he would have many more problems, which could cost him dearly. Already, he was taking risks in revealing so much to Remus and Sirius.

Still, he had no regrets. Both of them seemed to be recovering far better seeing him regularly than in his first life. Back then, Harry had never managed to get close to his father's two friends. He had been a child they cared about, yes, but neither of them was fit to talk to a child like him – a nervous werewolf and an ex-convict with tics.

They had never really had the chance to grow close, their early departure not helping. But now, Harry was practically their age, mentally, and had no trouble getting along with them. He was even the one taking care of them. Even if it must have been unsettling for them to see the situation reversed, it was far better than the first time.

It was only an hour and a half later that the effects of the potion subsided and Sirius's re-transformation began, under Harry's delighted gaze. The three of them were settled in Sirius's room, looking at the various decorations and some photographs Sirius had kept from their Hogwarts years. Harry glanced at the hourglass that shrieked the time.

"Three thirty, pretty good, I didn't think I'd last that long," Harry whistled, impressed with himself.

He was certain Snape would have a heart attack if he ever found out.

"That's impressive, Harry," Remus remarked, while Sirius endured the backlash of the potion.

"I made enough, and a few extra phials of the same for your trip," Harry said with a nod.

"Trip?" asked Remus, confused.

"It was supposed to be a surprise, Harry," Sirius growled as he quickly regained composure, as though watching his body change and grow in a few seconds was no harder than coughing.

Harry clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Sorry," he said quickly, but Sirius only ruffled his hair in response.

"Dobby said he wanted to travel and suggested we all go somewhere together."

"Harry too?" Remus asked, glancing at him.

"Nope, I'm staying here. Don't forget, I'm going to the Cup on my own and then I'll be at the Weasleys'. That works out better, I won't have any chance to slip away once I'm with them. Besides, it makes Dobby so happy."

Sirius smiled.

Remus nodded.

"So where are we going, and how?"

"By Muggle means!" Sirius declared with a wide grin. "The rest is a surprise."

Harry looked as astonished as Remus. When he'd urged Sirius to go away the day before, Sirius had insisted he'd rather stay in case he was needed, and Harry had had to press him hard, assuring him he'd be fine with the Weasleys to look after him, before Sirius finally gave in. It seemed he had made his peace with the idea now. Perhaps he was also excited at having a little control over Remus for once. In any case, Sirius had never seemed this joyful in Harry's previous life, and Harry deeply regretted not having found more ways to visit him back then, to draw him out of the isolation that had only fed his psychoses. This Sirius was nothing like the one from before, and judging by his smile, it was all for the better.

Once the potion was put away and the explanations given, Dobby appeared in the room with an unusually large suitcase, declaring he could hide inside it to board the boat Sirius had mentioned. Harry quickly bade them goodbye, promising to visit again as soon as they returned, while both men promised to rest.

"Take care of yourself, and enjoy the match," Remus told him with a smile.

"You two enjoy yourselves as well. And be careful," Harry replied with a smile of his own.

"Of course, we'll keep you informed."

"Gladly, bring me back a souvenir, wherever you end up."

After hugging them both briefly, Harry took Dobby's hand and returned to his room.

"Harry Potter will always be able to call Dobby, Dobby will hear and Dobby will come back."

"Don't even think of it, Dobby. You've been helping me so much since the start, enjoy your holidays. I'm sure you'll have a blast, and you'll get to taste all sorts of new foods too. I'm just entrusting these two to you, you know how hopeless they are at looking after themselves," he smiled as they sat facing each other on Harry's bed.

"Of course. Dobby will watch over Harry Potter's friends, and he will also think of a way to get into the vault."

"And have fun, you'll tell me all about it when you get back. As for our quest, I'll think things through on my end, so don't worry. I'm sure we'll find a solution. For now, we just need to make sure everything goes as planned. If we can't, we'll have to fall back on a proper burglary, though I'd rather avoid it," Harry said pensively. Dobby nodded.

"Harry Potter can count on Dobby. He will come back strong and help Harry Potter with his mission, without saying a word to Remus Lupin or Sirius Black."

Harry gave him a big smile, and Dobby disappeared with a quick bow. Left alone in the darkness, Harry let himself fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. This was it. Soon he would know if everything was going according to plan.

You heard me, Wormtail?

Harry woke up with a start. That was something he hadn't missed, the nightmares caused by his link with Voldemort. Those cursed dreams, those damned premonitions, which had both helped and hurt him in his previous life. Still, despite the fear and the pounding of his heart as he sat upright, Harry was delighted by this dream. Voldemort had just confirmed he was indeed following the expected plan to capture him.

He had deliberately reopened his mind since the beginning of the summer, hoping to catch glimpses of clues about his Nemesis's return. The dream was almost unchanged, and it seemed Crouch's presence was expected at the start of term.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Unable to fall back asleep, Harry sat cross-legged on his bed and smiled, ignoring the searing pain in his scar. The feeling was so familiar, and he was so relieved to see his plan unfolding as it should, that it took him a while before the pain bothered him at all. Finally, he fell back on the bed, arms behind his head.

Two weeks remained before his return to Hogwarts, the school he had now attended for four years. Harry was ready this time. He had prepared everything.

He had five of the seven Horcruxes in his possession, himself included. With the last Horcrux secured just a few days earlier, Harry was making rapid progress toward the final resolution. Only two remains.

And yet, the battle against Voldemort at the end of the year was not the only trial awaiting him. Harry would also be dragged into something that had overwhelmed him in his first life: the Triwizard Tournament. What's more, he had no choice but to win, for only then could he reach Voldemort. That was why his dream, or rather his nightmare, was such a good sign. Voldemort had spoken the same words as before, confirming he would send his servant to Hogwarts and use Harry to return to life. He had even confirmed that Nagini was already by his side. Nagini was Voldemort's snake and the last Horcrux, created only weeks ago, apparently, and the creature Voldemort used to survive. Without a doubt, it would be the hardest to destroy of them all. Harry had fought it before and failed. It had been Neville, Harry's friend, who had finally managed, after many ordeals, to get rid of it in the final battle. This time, Harry would not force Neville to dirty his hands.

Harry was stronger, far stronger, and his control of magic had never been better. That was largely because, after discovering he could control accidental magic at the age of seven, Harry had trained himself to master it, which allowed him to develop his power in new ways. The fact that he had already completed almost a full Hogwarts education in another life helped enormously as well, he had to admit. Thanks to this, Harry was far more confident in facing Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

He let out a long sigh, a breath mixing fatigue, scar-pain, and relief, before moving to his window. He welcomed the cool night air, soothing the lingering throb in his forehead. The good news aside, Harry was beginning to fear being trapped once more in his link with Voldemort, giving him access to too much information. He would have to rely on Occlumency to seal the connection as soon as possible. That practice often limited his own access to memories, but perhaps that would be for the best in this case, especially since so many eyes would be on him in the coming months.

Harry remembered his previous life… but he couldn't pretend to remember everything, not those little details, funny enough to tell Ron, but which he had quickly erased from his mind.

The next morning, as he crept downstairs, he ran into his grumpy uncle sitting at the table. Harry had heard the post arrive, the doorbell had rung, and more importantly, Vernon had been irritated. What he hadn't guessed was that the anger was aimed at him. Vernon gave him a sharp look before Harry noticed a letter lying on his empty plate. It had been opened and read, but its appearance was striking: it was mauve, or rather, it had been covered in so many stamps of every kind that the color had changed. Harry had no trouble guessing who it was from. He picked it up and unfolded it to read.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

We have never had the pleasure of meeting you, but I am sure Harry has often spoken to you about my son Ron.

As Harry may already have told you, the Quidditch World Cup final will take place next Monday, and my husband, Arthur, has managed to get excellent tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I sincerely hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, as it is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Great Britain hasn't hosted the World Cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by.

Of course, we would be very happy to have Harry stay with us for the rest of the summer holidays and to take him to the train back to school.

It would be best if you could send us your reply as quickly as possible by the usual means, as the Muggle postman has never delivered mail to us, and I'm not even sure he knows where our house is.

We very much hope to see Harry soon.

Yours sincerely,

Molly Weasley

P.S. I hope we put enough stamps on the envelope.

"Sorry, Uncle Vernon, I told them not to send owls, so they probably thought this was the best way," Harry said quickly, while Vernon kept his furious, purple face fixed on him.

"The postman noticed," Vernon hissed through clenched teeth. "He was very curious about where that letter came from, you can believe me. That's why he rang the doorbell. He thought it was funny."

Harry said nothing. He remembered a very similar incident from his first life, though how Vernon had let him go after that was still a mystery.

When Harry didn't respond with the usual gasp of indignation, his uncle glared at him. Harry hadn't expected any other reaction from the man. He certainly wasn't going to admit that he himself found it a little funny. After all, it was a letter covered in stamps, and Molly Weasley had even asked if there were enough of them. Anyone less pigheaded than Uncle Vernon might have smiled at that.

Of course, Vernon only saw it as the harbinger of a cursed day when people would find out about his link to a family like the Weasleys. Harry couldn't have cared less.

"So… can I go?" he asked instead of apologizing again.

He watched Vernon's mind churn, the man snatching the letter back from him as though the answer to Harry's request might be hidden in the lines. Which, in part, it was.

"Who is this woman?"

"The mother of one of my friends, you've never met her, but I stayed at their house two summers ago."

"Quidditch," Vernon muttered. "Quidditch… what nonsense is that?"

"It's a wizard sport. Want me to explain the rules?"

"No, certainly not," Vernon snapped before he could say more.

That suited Harry just fine; he wanted to end the discussion quickly too. He stayed silent and upright as his uncle retreated into the letter once again. Harry saw his lips form the words 'send us your reply by the normal way.'

"What does that mean, 'the normal way'?" Vernon barked.

Harry shrugged, studying the pulsing veins on his uncle's forehead, his next obstacle already looming.

"Normal for them," Harry said, and before Vernon could interrupt, he added, "you know, owls. That's what's normal for wizards. They don't have mailboxes."

Uncle Vernon looked as scandalized as if Harry had just sworn at him, but how else could he explain? His uncle wouldn't have believed him if he'd said something like telephone or anything else… Shaking with anger, Vernon shot a nervous glance at the window, as if expecting to see one of his neighbors already pressing an ear to the glass, ready to spread gossip about them all over the street. He fumed, while Harry waited patiently.

"You can go. But I'm not driving you there, you'll have to manage on your own."

"Of course, I'll tell them to come pick me up…"

Vernon only growled, clearly not liking that solution either.

"I'll reply then. And I'll tell them to come with their car," he added with a small, smug smile.

That closed the discussion, since a car was something normal. Harry had kept that card for last, and he had never appreciated Arthur Weasley's love of Muggles more. Dudley, who already knew Harry would be leaving, didn't comment. He had long been used to being separated from Harry during the school year.

When Harry went back upstairs, he was suddenly dive-bombed by a grey owl with twisted eyes, apparently unable to tell a human apart from a perch. At least it hadn't crashed into the kitchen window.

"Hello there, who are you?" Harry exclaimed with a small laugh as the owl banged into his head, trying to land on his shoulder.

Harry caught it mid-flight and untied the letter while the owl hooted happily. Once freed, it flew straight to Hedwig, who glared at it furiously, probably with good reason, as in its clumsiness the strange owl had knocked over her water dish and splashed it everywhere.

Still laughing, Harry unfolded the letter. It was from Ron, and apparently he had gotten himself a new bird.

Harry, DAD GOT THE TICKETS.

Ireland against Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum wrote to your Muggles asking if they'd let you come stay with us. They may already have her letter, I don't know how long Muggle post takes. Anyway, I'm sending you Pig.

We're coming to get you. There's no way you're missing the World Cup, but Mum and Dad think it would be better to ask permission first.

If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer straightaway, and we'll come get you at five o'clock Sunday afternoon.

If they say no, send Pig back straightaway, and we'll still come get you at five o'clock Sunday afternoon.

Hermione's arriving this afternoon.

Percy started to work at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Whatever you do, don't mention anything about foreign countries unless you want to die of boredom under one of his speeches.

See you soon, Ron

Harry lowered the letter. Pig had finally joined Hedwig and, after nearly knocking her off the wardrobe where she'd retreated, was hooting triumphantly, clearly proud of himself for delivering the letter. Harry motioned for him to be quiet, hoping his uncle hadn't heard.

"Come on, Piglet the second, you've got to go back with my answer!"

In a flutter of wings, the owl flew away from Hedwig, who was shooting him a glacial glare as if daring him to come any closer, and landed on Harry's desk. Harry barely managed to snatch up his ink bottle before it toppled over.

He then took out his eagle feather quill and a piece of parchment, and began to write:

Ron,

This is great news.

Please thank your parents once again for me.

My uncle and aunt agreed. You can come pick me up on Sunday, but don't use the floo, ours has been blocked off. It would be better if you came by car, or Apparition if your dad agrees, otherwise I can get to London on my own to use a fireplace.

Waiting for your reply,

Harry

Satisfied with his answer, Harry called Coq, who was fidgeting all over the place, to attach the letter. Hedwig had drawn closer, glaring at the owl with obvious impatience for him to leave. After a few more squawks, and two laps around Hedwig, Coq finally flew back out the window and vanished. Harry chuckled before stroking Hedwig's feathers with a finger.

"We're going to the Weasleys for the rest of the holidays, leaving in three days. Until then, you can rest up, and you'll be able to meet me there, and drop by Cedric's on the way," he said, as she nipped his finger approvingly.

After that, Harry set about packing his trunk. He had already managed to do some of his summer homework a few days earlier, knowing ahead of time that he'd be going to the World Cup with them. Harry began putting in his school robes and uniform after his uncle had allowed him to bring out his trunk to finish packing. He still wasn't permitted to keep it in his room and was only allowed to take out the most neutral items, books and parchment, to work with. Everything else, his cauldron, wizard's robes, remained locked in the cupboard under the stairs. He had entrusted Dobby beforehand with a few books he couldn't risk taking to the Weasleys. The only thing he kept with him was the Horcrux bag, which he refused to part with and which, thanks to Dobby's magic, remained completely undetectable.

Once the trunk was shut, Harry looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror. He had grown a bit over the summer, though he was still noticeably shorter than Ron, who was clearly about to finish shooting up. His aunt had cut his hair short at the start of the year, so the only length left was a bit on his forehead, barely enough to hide his scar. Not that it mattered, people no longer recognized him by it anyway. Harry hadn't tanned much over the summer but had lost even more weight, gaining only a bit of muscle across his shoulders. That was thanks to his cousin's boxing training, which had given Dudley an impressive physique in just a year, and to the regular Quidditch practice Harry had kept up for the past two years. Still, Harry remained scrawny. Forced to follow his cousin's strict athletic regime, backed by the whole family, he didn't get the chance to eat properly. The problem was that his body lacked the resources his uncle and cousin had to handle such a strict regimen, and it took its toll on him.

Still, he was being fed, and he wasn't going to complain. He had known far worse than a diet that was a bit too strict.

Chapter Text

When Sunday morning came, Harry woke in excellent spirits.

He knew what day it was and could not wait to get to the Weasleys'. He took the clothes he had prepared, folded the pyjama bottoms he had slept in back into his trunk, and pulled out the top half of a wizard's robe. Wizarding robes were made of two garments: a robe whose length could vary from the feet to the knees, and over it, a very loose, thin cape-like garment that covered the arms and could either fall freely over the robe beneath or be drawn in at the waist. Harry liked wearing this second layer on its own with bottoms like Muggle leather trousers or denim jeans, which he found far more comfortable than the rougher wizarding fabrics; only the higher-quality wizard robes were soft.

He therefore chose a loose wizarding robe-top that left his collarbones uncovered, with sleeves ending just below his shoulders. The heat outside was stifling, so he completed the outfit with a pair of slightly worn three-quarter-length denim trousers, cut down from one of Dudley's old pairs. His look was a little unusual, a mix of both worlds, but then again, that was precisely what Harry was. After fastening his trunk, he went down to have breakfast with the Dursleys. They stared at his outfit, puzzled, but none of them found anything to say, knowing he would be leaving the house in a matter of hours.

His aunt still wrinkled her nose as she returned to the kitchen.

"Have you got everything ready? We're not sending you anything if you forget something," she growled, just minutes before the Weasleys' car was due to arrive. She had just thrown half his things out of the cupboard as if desperate to reclaim the space, as if Harry had been preventing her from doing so all this time.

Ron's father, Harry's friend's dad, worked at the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, where he had fallen in love with Muggle technology. He had even bought and renovated a Muggle car. He spent his days preventing people from doing exactly what he himself was doing. When Harry had made it clear he needed them to come by car for his aunt and uncle's sake, Mr Weasley had jumped at the opportunity. Harry wondered whether this would irritate Mrs Weasley, but he still preferred it over what had happened in his other life, where they had blown up the Dursleys' fireplace and horrified a family already disgusted by magic. He sincerely hoped that this time, things would go well.

The atmosphere at Number Four, Privet Drive was extremely tense. The imminent arrival of an entire wizarding family made the Dursleys nervous and irritable. Uncle Vernon had looked very worried when Harry told him the Weasleys would be collecting him at five o'clock on Sunday afternoon, even though he had assured him they would be coming by car.

"I hope you told them to dress properly, those people," he had growled with disdain. "I've seen the sort of things you lot wear. The least they could do is put on normal clothes."

Harry preferred not to answer. He was certain Arthur had put on Muggle clothing. He did so whenever he could, but because wizards were unfamiliar with Muggle fashion, they tended to throw on anything that caught their fancy, often resulting in very strange and extremely colourful combinations. Harry suddenly felt apprehensive about what they might be wearing.

And indeed, when the car pulled up outside their house at one minute past five, Petunia, who had been peering through the curtains, let out a horrified squeak. Vernon, who had put on his best suit for the occasion, not to welcome anyone but to assert his superiority, saw this as an ill omen and barked a question.

"What?"

"He- he's…"

Harry opened the door and stifled a smile.

Arthur Weasley was standing there, his balding forehead beneath a grey hat, wearing fisherman's trousers and a Hawaiian shirt, probably because of the heat. The twins and Ron, standing behind him, were only slightly better dressed: brightly coloured tops paired with equally flashy trousers and shorts. How wizards managed their shopping in the Muggle world was a mystery. Their love for garish colours clearly had no limits.

"Hello, Mr Weasley," Harry said, suppressing a laugh. Vernon had just reached the doorway behind him and was staring, wide-eyed, at Arthur Weasley's outfit.

"Hello, Harry, and you must be his uncle," Arthur said, extending his hand.

Vernon seemed too stunned to take it, but was saved by Dudley, who appeared behind them, pushed his father aside, and shook Arthur's hand enthusiastically, eager to meet another wizard, and one far less frightening than Hagrid.

"Hello, hello, you must be Dudley! Harry's told us a lot about you!" exclaimed Mr Weasley. "And what a grip."

He added this while examining his reddened hand, which Dudley had squeezed too tightly in his excitement.

The three Weasley brothers hurried to greet the only member of Harry's family who seemed genuinely pleased to see them, but were pulled inside by Aunt Petunia before Ron even had time to introduce himself.

"Come in, come in quickly," she hissed, checking that none of the neighbours were outside. They all found themselves crammed into the tiny hallway.

"You really have a charming house, Mr Dursley," Arthur said cheerfully, admiring the small hall mirror as though it were a work of art. "I imagine we owe it all to your wife's discerning eye."

The compliment would have pleased Vernon coming from one of his clients, as he loved boasting about his wife's housekeeping talents. But Harry doubted the opinion of a "lunatic" dressed like a Hawaiian fisherman would flatter them. He smiled to himself.

"Did you have a good trip?" he asked the twins, who were studying the house with curiosity.

"Very good, Harry, there was no traffic at all."

Harry wondered whether they had flown part of the way, given that this was one of the enchantments placed upon the car, but decided not to ask in front of the Dursleys.

"I'll just get my things!" he said, hurrying back into the sitting room.

The Dursleys, at least the parents, seemed terrified at being left alone with Arthur, who kept trying to make conversation. Harry returned as quickly as possible, trunk in hand and bag over his shoulder.

Arthur was standing at the entrance to the sitting room, looking around with interest. He had always shown a great fascination for Muggle inventions, and Harry could tell he was itching to examine the television and the video recorder more closely.

"It works on eckeltricity, doesn't it?" he said in an expert tone. "Ah yes, I see the plugs. I collect plugs myself," he added to Uncle Vernon. "And batteries. I have a very fine battery collection. My wife thinks I'm mad, but here is the proof that I'm not."

Vernon clearly seemed convinced that Mr Weasley was indeed mad. Frankly, Harry would probably have thought the same had he just discovered the wizarding world.

Harry saw him edge slightly to the right, shielding Aunt Petunia behind him as though he feared Mr Weasley might suddenly lunge at them. Harry decided to put an end to the conversation.

"We can go," he announced.

"Excellent, excellent!" exclaimed Arthur Weasley.

Fred joined him and lifted his trunk to help carry it to the car. As they passed Dudley, Harry narrowed his eyes. Fred was dragging the trunk ahead, while George was still chatting with Dudley. Ron was already stamping impatiently by the car. Harry stepped away from Fred and doubled back just as they were leaving the house.

He reached them just in time to snatch Dudley's hand before he could eat a sweet George had given him.

"Careful, Big D. George, don't give him anything odd," Harry warned, examining the sweet.

The Dursley parents yanked their son back towards them, deeply alarmed.

George pulled a slight grimace as Arthur stepped in.

"My son is mischievous, I'm sorry, it's only a little joke!" he said, shoving George sharply towards the car. "get in the car, Harry."

"What? It's only a Jellybean Nougat, he was curious…"

Harry looked at the sweet. It was a brown praline he didn't recognise. George might even have been telling the truth, but Harry decided not to take chances.

"It was just a sweet, but George likes his jokes, so better safe than sorry…" he said, not at all certain the Dursleys were reassured; they were still staring in shock. "I'm sure he'll be punished once he's home. Right, I'd better go. See you next summer."

The three Dursleys looked between the Weasleys and their car, as though suddenly unsure whether they ought to let Harry leave with them, yet also very eager to see them go, and frightened of them besides.

"Yes… next summer," Vernon muttered.

"Bye, Harry," said Dudley, still a little pale, giving him a brief handshake.

Harry climbed into the car, which headed back to the Burrow, taking off as soon as they were out of sight of any Muggle houses.

"Honestly, George, just wait until your mother hears about this. Doing such a thing to Harry's cousin," Mr Weasley scolded as they flew over the fields below.

"It was nougat. What do you take me for?"

"Only nougat? Really?" replied his father.

Harry shook his head.

"Let's say it's fine… but if it had been something else, it would have been a disaster. My uncle hates magic more than anything. I'd never have been able to go back if there had been consequences. Dudley wouldn't have found it funny either," he said, shaking his head again.

"Not like magic?" said Fred. "Who doesn't like magic?"

"My uncle and my aunt," Harry answered.

Ron mercifully changed the subject and launched into an excited explanation about the upcoming tournament. Harry learned that despite his mother's insistence, Neville's gran had refused to let him come along, but Hermione was already at the Burrow, as were Ron's older brothers.

"You must be looking forward to arriving, Harry, mustn't you?" George asked with a knowing look. Harry sighed.

George and Fred loved teasing him about how much he supposedly had in common with their older brother Charlie, despite their age difference. Harry sensed these two weeks were going to feel very long. He ignored the remark, though he had to admit he was indeed eager. He was curious to meet Charlie, of course, but above all, he was impatient to see Bill again, whom he had known well in another life.

The rest of the journey went smoothly; they reached the Burrow in about an hour thanks to the flying car. Harry felt a surge of delight as soon as they flew over the place, before landing some twenty metres away on a small empty country lane to approach the house inconspicuously.

The Weasleys' home was probably the most unusual house he had ever seen; it looked as though a simple cottage had gradually been extended with extra rooms and floors over the years, which, on reflection, was probably true. The Weasleys were a very large family; Ron had six brothers and sisters in all, so it would hardly surprise Harry if Mr and Mrs Weasley had added rooms each time a new child arrived. For Harry, who had grown up in a house where walking indoors with shoes on was unthinkable, the Burrow felt like a treasure trove, a cavern full of wonders where new mysteries and odd artefacts could be discovered in every corner, even after exploring it thoroughly for twenty years. Harry leapt out of the car with enthusiasm.

Fred and George were right behind him, and after retrieving his trunk, he stepped into the tall, ramshackle house.

"We're here!" Ron called.

He did not need to announce it for long. Two people were already in the sitting room, talking calmly on the sofa, stood as they entered. Harry eyed Fred and George suspiciously as they closed in on him. Ron had gone back outside with his father, leaving him at their mercy.

"Come on, Harry! We've got someone to introduce you to."

They tugged him forward towards the two men.

"You mean some people, unless you want Bill to feel slighted for being ignored."

George grinned as both older brothers looked surprised. Harry headed straight for Charlie. Charlie was taller than Harry but much broader than his brothers; unlike the twins, Percy, or Ron, who were all lanky, Charlie had the solid build of someone who worked with dragons. He had an open, friendly face and mid-length hair that fell over particularly square shoulders.

"How did you recognise Charlie?"

"Goblins don't breathe fire, as far as I know." He pointed to Charlie's forearm, exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, where a large reddish burn covered most of the skin.

Of course, it was cheating; he already knew exactly what Bill looked like and had met Charlie in his previous life. He could hardly have confused them.

Charlie laughed and reached out to shake his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Harry. My brothers have told me a lot about you."

"Likewise. Fred and George never shut-up about you," Harry replied, returning the handshake with a warm smile. He saw Charlie cast a curious glance at his brothers, who ignored him.

"How was the trip, Harry?" Bill asked with a broad smile.

"Fine, fine," Harry said, shaking his hand as well.

He glanced at Charlie, who had just flicked Fred on the temple, prompting Fred to pretend to be mortally wounded, which made the two eldest brothers and George burst out laughing.

"Harry!"

He turned towards the kitchen. Ginny and Hermione had just stepped out.

"Hermione! Ginny!" He went to meet them. "Do you had a good holiday?"

Hermione hugged him, while Ginny simply smiled faintly and nodded. Harry's best friend spoke for both of them anyway.

"Very good. I've got heaps to tell you. I tried to make Ron do his homework yesterday, but I suspect we'll need both of us. Have you finished all yours?"

"Almost."

"Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed as she entered the room. She beamed at him and pulled him into a tight embrace. She stopped abruptly, held him at arm's length, and inspected him from head to foot.

"Good heavens, Harry, you're skin and bone. Do those Muggles not feed you?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes; Sirius and Molly were both hopelessly overprotective.

"We were dieting to support my cous-"

Harry did not have time to explain.

"What? They dare force you onto a diet when you're already half-starved? I knew I was right to insist you come for the last few weeks. Never mind, dear, I shall put some weight on you." She marched straight back into the kitchen, muttering angrily about Harry's aunt and calling her a child-starver. Harry watched her go, perplexed, his arm half-extended as though he meant to stop her. He eventually exchanged a look with Hermione.

She made a small apologetic grimace.

"Tell us next time; we'll send you something secretly."

"I'm not made of sugar, 'Mione. I'm perfectly fine," he sighed.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked, rejoining them.

"Nothing. Your mum thinks I'm too thin."

"Well, you are, especially compared to your cousin."

"He's just a little glutton. And it's mostly muscle as well," Harry answered with a shrug. "Ah, Mr Weasley, thank you again for the invitation, and especially for coming to pick me up by car. I'm sorry I had to insist on that part."

"Nonsense, Harry, I've been waiting ages to test the flying function on my beauty. It was the perfect opportunity."

"What did you test, Arthur?" came Molly's voice from the kitchen.

Every Weasley present, along with Hermione and Harry, froze and exchanged worried looks.

"Arthur?" Molly repeated.

"Your mother didn't know?" Harry asked, uneasy.

"She did, but we promised not to make it fly. Come on, Harry, let's take your things to my room."

Harry did not follow him. He wanted to apologise to Arthur, who was moving towards the kitchen. Bill and Charlie exchanged amused glances while the twins slipped out through the back door. Harry was seized by Ginny and Hermione, one on each arm, while Ron pushed him from behind towards the stairs. A few seconds later, Molly Weasley erupted.

They were already far away at that moment.

"Hello, Percy," Harry said as the family's third son emerged from his room.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Percy replied. "I was wondering who was making all that noise. I'm trying to work, you know. I have a report to finish, and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people hop up the stairs."

"We're not hoping," Ron muttered crossly. "We're walking. Sorry to disturb the top-secret work of the Ministry of Magic."

"Oh right, congratulations, Percy. What are you working on?" Harry asked.

"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Percy said importantly. "We're trying to establish standard measurements for cauldron-bottom thickness. Some imported makes are a bit too thin. There has been a three-per-cent increase in leakages this year."

"That will certainly change the course of history," Ron said. "Cauldron leaks ought to be front-page news in the Daily Prophet."

Harry nudged him in the shoulder.

Ron was too young to understand, but a stable government owed far more to such matters, and to all sorts of small bureaucratic details, than to fighting Dark Wizards or Obliviating Muggles.

"It does sound important; they might melt during use otherwise and cause disasters," Harry commented. Percy looked thrilled that someone appreciated the importance of his work and puffed out his chest proudly. Harry immediately regretted it; he should have waited until he was alone with Ron.

He knew Percy would turn his back on them at the first opportunity, just as he had in Harry's previous life, even if he eventually came back and repented. Harry felt no particular affection for him, nor any urge to make his life easier. Percy would change one day without Harry's help.

"Thank you. At last, someone who understands."

"Yes, yes, all right," Ron grumbled, continuing up the stairs as Percy shut his door.

Ron's room at the top of the house had not changed much since Harry's previous visit. The same posters of the Chudley Cannons players zoomed about on their broomsticks, waving energetically. The sloping ceiling still followed the line of the roof, and the aquarium on the windowsill was now occupied not by tadpoles but by a massive frog. And of course Scabbers's basket was missing. Instead, a little perch made of two sturdy sticks lashed together stood by the window. The small grey owl who had brought Ron's letter to Privet Drive was bouncing about wildly, hooting in excitement.

"Shut it, Pig," Ron said, squeezing past two of the four beds crammed into the room.

"So you two are sleeping with us, Hermione and Ginny?" Harry asked, curious.

"Fred and George are staying with us because Bill and Charlie have taken their room," Ron replied before the girls could answer, and they both nodded. "Percy insists on keeping his for himself because of his precious work."

Hermione added, "I suggested the three of us could share, but Molly refused, and… well, someone had to put up with the twins and their contraptions."

Ginny had turned bright red and looked rather dreamy. Harry preferred to look away towards the owl, who flew straight at him; he caught it before it crashed into the opposite wall.

"So, 'Pig'?" Harry asked, because he genuinely could not recall the story.

"Mum and Dad gave him to us, Dad saved it on the journey, and now that I don't have Scabbers anymore…"

"Mum said he's for the four of us," Ginny said. "I'll be the one keeping him when Ron leaves. Percy's taking Hermes with him, so we won't have an owl left."

"If you can call that an owl," Ron muttered. "Its eyes don't point the same way, and it screeches constantly… I can't wait to send it to the owlery."

Harry believed him wholeheartedly; he was fortunate to have a calm and dignified owl like Hedwig. He certainly did not miss the tiny, hyperactive creature Ron had owned in his previous life, but he was not looking forward to seeing it in the Great Hall again either.

"At least Pig delivered my letter," he said.

"That's not his name," Ginny said. "It's Pigwidgeon."

"Yes, and that's a perfectly sensible name, since Ginny chose it," Ron cut in with sarcasm. "She thinks it's adorable. I tried to change it, but it was too late; he refuses to answer to anything else. So now it's Pig."

Harry knew Ron would grow fond of him in no time; Ron, for all his grumbling, loved all his pets deeply.

"Where's Crookshanks?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Out in the garden, I imagine," she replied. "He likes chasing the gnomes. He'd never seen any before."

Harry laughed and set his trunk down in a corner of the room beside a chest of drawers.

"And your brothers, have they been here long?"

"Charlie only arrived three days ago, but Bill took more time off."

"I see. And Percy? Looks like he likes his job?"

"Like it? You must be joking," Ron answered darkly. "If Dad didn't force him to come home, I swear he'd never leave the office again. Work is an obsession for him. And whatever you do, don't mention his boss. You'll never hear the end of it. 'According to Mr Crouch… As I pointed out to Mr Crouch… Mr Crouch thinks that… Mr Crouch told me…' Keep this up and they'll be announcing their engagement soon."

Harry burst out laughing and let himself fall onto the bed on the left.

"As long as he enjoys himself."

"I can't see how he does," Ron grumbled.

Clearly, the tension between Ron and his older brother wasn't going to ease any time soon. Both needed a bit more maturity.

"It sounds quieter downstairs. Should we go back?" Hermione suggested.

They all nodded and headed for the now-silent ground floor.

Molly was alone in the kitchen, muttering under her breath about being surrounded by irresponsible children.

"We're having dinner in the garden," she said as they came in. "There's not enough room for eleven people here. Girls, could you take the plates outside? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. You two," she added, pointing her wand sharply at Ron and Harry, "take care of the cutlery."

With a rather forceful flick, she aimed her wand at the sink. The potatoes piled there shot out of their skins so fast they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.

Harry and Ron hurried to grab the cutlery and glasses and escaped with the girls into the garden, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and Mrs Weasley, who was in no state for conversation. As they stepped out the back door, they heard her swear at one of Fred and George's trick wands left lying around.

They had barely walked a few steps when Hermione's ginger cat, Crookshanks, named for his bow-legged stance, darted in front of them, tail fluffed. He was chasing something that looked suspiciously like a muddy potato with legs. Harry recognised a garden gnome at once. It stood about twenty centimetres tall and sprinted across the ground on its tiny forked feet before diving headfirst into an old boot by the back door. Harry heard the gnome burst out laughing as Crookshanks shoved a paw into the boot to try and grab it.

A loud crash erupted from the far side of the house. The source became clear as soon as they entered the garden. Bill and Charlie, wands in hand, were levitating two decrepit tables high above the lawn and smashing them furiously together, trying to knock the other's down. Fred and George clapped wildly, Ginny was in fits of laughter, and Hermione, standing by the hedge, looked torn between amusement and concern. When Bill's table rammed Charlie's with a resounding crack and broke one of its legs, a window flew open above them. Percy's head appeared on the second floor.

"Would you mind calming down?" he shouted.

"Sorry, Perce," Bill called back with a grin. "How are doing those cauldron bottoms?"

"Very poorly," Percy snapped before slamming the window shut.

Still laughing, Bill and Charlie lowered the tables gently onto the grass, placed them end to end, and with a single flick Bill repaired the broken leg and conjured tablecloths out of thin air. Harry felt a surge of envy. He couldn't wait to be rid of the Trace and finally perform magic outside Hogwarts freely.

He followed Ron to the table with the cutlery while the girls set out the plates. Charlie and Bill joined them, and Charlie helped Harry unload the glasses he was carrying in his arms so he wouldn't have to make any sudden movements. Harry smiled at him, then noticed the twins pulling faces behind Charlie's back.

"If I were you, I'd lie low. Your mother found one of your trick wands in the kitchen," he warned. Both turned toward the house with huge grins.

Harry sighed.

"When they're allowed to use magic, this place will become a nightmare."

Charlie laughed.

"Mum's been dreading that day since they first set foot in Hogwarts. Probably earlier."

"I don't blame her. Though I'm a little jealous. I haven't done magic outside Hogwarts since I was eleven. It's driving me mad."

"I wouldn't go back to that time for anything," Charlie said as he took the last glass from Harry's arms.

Harry smiled.

"Although I never would have thought of using tables for duelling practice."

Charlie chuckled.

"Just wait until you're of age. You'll be delighted to make every possible mess with it."

"Take away children's magic and they stay big children forever," Harry replied with a quiet laugh. "Speaking of big children, Ron couldn't tell me, how's Hagrid's dragon?"

"Norberta? She's doing well. She's a she, actually. Had her first clutch last year."

"That's wonderful," Harry said, unsurprised. "Hagrid must have been thrilled."

"He said he'd come to the reserve as soon as he could to see her."

"He was so upset when he couldn't watch her grow up, " Harry stopped. The twins had drifted close, listening. "Can we help you?"

George straightened.

"Your conversation sounded interesting." Fred came closer. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Why are you talking about Hagrid?"

Charlie only laughed and ignored the question.

Harry did the same, turning his attention to Hermione and Ron, who were watching Crookshanks on the far side of the garden, and to Mrs Weasley, who approached with the first dishes. Mr Weasley emerged from the garage after putting the car away. Dinner was about to begin.

They had just taken their seats when Hedwig appeared. Harry, about to sit where George indicated, stood again and held out his arm.

"Hedwig? Back already? Didn't you find Cedric?" he asked, but noticed a new letter tied to her leg.

"What ? Why is Mister Perfect writing to you?" George muttered.

Harry sat down again and let Hedwig fly to the Weasleys' owlery after she nipped his ear affectionately. He opened the letter, ignoring the twins' commentary. They had never forgiven Cedric for beating Harry two years ago, and even less for the way he and Harry had stayed close.

Harry looked up at Mr Weasley in surprise.

"We're going to the Cup with the Diggorys?"

"Oh, is that Amos's son writing to you? Yes, we are."

"Brilliant," Harry said, rereading Cedric's note saying he was looking forward to seeing him the next day.

"Amos's boy, Cedric?" Charlie asked. "He must have started Hogwarts in my sixth year…" He was clearly trying to remember him.

Bill, seated across from him, looked as though the name meant nothing to him. Their age gap was obviously too large.

"You seem close to him, but he's older and in another house, isn't he?"

"Yes, but we get on very well. Whether some people like it or not," Harry added, shooting a look at the twins. He still had no idea what their issue was. "I've never been a big fan of the house system."

"Harry has friends in every house," Ron said proudly beside him.

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to venture further into that conversation. Ron looked very pleased with himself, though. In truth Harry only knew Luna well outside Gryffindor. And maybe Daphne in Slytherin.

"That's very good, Harry," Molly said as she set the last dish down in front of him. "Everyone sit down."

The conversations soon split. The younger ones debated the World Cup. Charlie alone defended Ireland against his brothers, who all supported Bulgaria and Krum. Arthur, on the other side of the table, spoke in low tones with Percy about something worrying. Harry wasn't paying attention until he heard a familiar name.

"Do you realise Bertha Jorkins has been missing for a month?" Percy said. "She went on holiday to Albania and never came back."

"Yes, I asked Ludo," Mr Weasley replied, frowning. "He says Bertha gets lost all the time, but if she worked in my department, I'd be concerned…"

Harry froze with a forkful of chicken halfway to his mouth. Bertha Jorkins. Another name he had forgotten.

His appetite vanished. He set his fork down.

"Harry, you’ alright?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry looked up, drawing the others' attention.

"Yes, of course. I'm just full," he said vaguely.

Bertha wasn't missing. She was dead. Harry knew it. Voldemort had used her to create Nagini's horcrux. The memory of his nightmare returned, vivid and sickening. Wormtail had caught Bertha, tortured her, killed her. She had revealed the Triwizard Tournament. Harry felt sick with guilt. He had let her die, not even remembering her until now.

"Harry, you're very pale," Molly said, worried.

"I'm fine, Mrs Weasley," he replied, forcing a wide smile. "I'm just not used to eating so much." It was a lie.

Across the table, Percy let out a long sigh and drank a long gulp of elderflower wine.

"We have enough on our plate at the International Magical Cooperation Department without finding missing staff from other offices. As you know, we have another major event to organise right after the World Cup." He cleared his throat importantly and looked down the table at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "You know what I mean, Father. The one that is top secret."

"Father?" Harry raised an eyebrow. Percy had always said ‘dad’ like the others. Ron rolled his eyes and muttered to Harry and Hermione:

"Ever since he started working, he's dying for someone to ask him what the great secret is. Probably a cauldron-bottom exhibition."

Harry smiled. Ron was clearly frustrated but too proud to ask outright. Charlie snorted beside him. Bill, on the opposite side, was now struggling with his mother over the fang dangling from his ear.

"That dreadful fang you insist on wearing. Honestly, Bill, do you realise what people must think? What do they say at the bank?"

"Mum, nobody at the bank cares what I wear as long as I bring in money," Bill said patiently.

"And your hair is becoming impossible," Molly added, stroking her wand. "Let me trim it a little…"

"I like it the way it is," Ginny said. "You're so old-fashioned, Mum."

Harry smiled at the familiar scene. Bill had never looked like a banker, more like a rocker, with long hair, leather boots, and dragon fang jewellery.

"Yes, but the Bulgarians have Viktor Krum," Fred declared.

Harry turned to the twins as they resumed arguing with Charlie about the Cup finalists.

"Krum's the only good player they've got. Ireland has seven," Charlie replied firmly. "I wish England had made it to the final. Nothing to be proud of this year."

Harry let them debate, unable to focus on Quidditch with everything looming over them. The world sometimes felt upside down to him. Everyone was thinking about the match while Bertha was gone and Voldemort was preparing to rise again. But how could they know?

Trying to push the thoughts away, he began an animated discussion with Hermione about her discoveries in Ancient Runes, much to Ron's dismay as he was stuck between them.

"By the way, Harry… how are our… friends?" Ron asked, glancing around to check no one was listening.

"They're fine," Harry smiled. "I told them I'd be here, they may write before we're back at Hogwarts. They've both taken time to rest, and… enjoy a well-earned break."

"That's great," Ron said, grinning.

"Did they tell you where they were going?"

"They wanted to travel abroad."

"A very good idea, and much safer," Hermione added softly.

Harry would have preferred to discuss this elsewhere. Charlie's ears were very much close.

"Have you seen the time?" Molly exclaimed, looking at her watch. "You all should be in bed. We'll have to leave at dawn tomorrow for the World Cup. Harry, if you give me your list, I can buy your school things on Diagon Alley tomorrow. I'll get everyone's supplies. You may not have time after the Cup. Last time the match lasted five days."

Harry nodded.

"I'd appreciate that, Mrs Weasley, thank you." He had already planned the amount he'd need for the year. Only a few textbooks, nothing more. Clothes weren't a problem, he could adapt them magically, though Molly might grow suspicious if none of them ever needed new uniforms in seven years.

"I hope it lasts as long this time!" Ron said enthusiastically as they cleared the table.

"Not me," Percy replied sternly. "I can't imagine the backlog at the office if I were gone for five days."

"Yes, perhaps you'd find more dragon dung on your files, eh, Perce?" Fred said.

"It was a sample of fertiliser from Norway!" Percy snapped, face scarlet. "And it wasn't meant for me!"

"Oh yes," Fred whispered to Harry, "it was from us."

Harry barely suppressed a laugh as Percy swept past them with exaggerated dignity.

Chapter Text

The next morning, they were roused from bed unusually early, long before the sun had risen, and given the short night they had just had, the awakening was harsh. Harry, Ron, Fred, and George descended together, groaning, hastily dressed, with their small luggage on their backs.

"Where are Bill, Charlie, and Peeeeeeercy?" George asked, letting out a very long yawn.

"They must be Apparating," Mrs. Weasley replied, placing a large pot of porridge on the table and beginning to serve it. "They can therefore stay in bed a little longer."

Lucky them, thought Harry. Apparating meant teleporting from one place to another almost instantly. He could not do it because of the mark and was counting the days until his freedom. Of course, Harry knew how to do it from his previous life, but he was unsure whether his body could manage it now, and he could not risk it except under escort Apparition.

After several complaints and groans, the girls joined them, adding even more yawns to the room.

"We talked a lot after dinner," Hermione panted, sitting beside Harry. She glanced at Mrs. Weasley. "And you? We heard noises coming from your room."

"That was Coq," Ron grumbled.

That was somewhat misleading; the twins had merely been thinking of a way to quiet him and had tried giving him Silencing Seeds without success. Fortunately, the Weasley parents' bedroom was far from theirs.

Hermione made a small apologetic face.

"At least he's not coming with us," she said with a hint of encouragement.

After that, they fell silent, finishing their breakfast quickly, and headed toward the kitchen door to meet Mr. Weasley, who was closing the last bags. Just as they were about to set off, an outraged exclamation made them all jump.

"George!" Mrs. Weasley shouted abruptly.

"What?" George said, his innocent tone fooling no one.

Harry sighed; he knew this scene as well. For once, he had no part in it, but he led his three friends outside as she accused him of taking one of their new inventions...the famous long-tongue sweets on which Harry's cousin had suffered in his previous life.

Ron waved his hand, not really embarrassed for George.

"What do those candies do, again?" Hermione asked disapprovingly.

"They make your tongue swell," Ginny replied. "They gave some to Percy the other day… they claim they tested it on themselves first, but nobody believes them."

"Of course," Hermione hissed.

At that moment, someone poked their head through the window...it was Charlie.

"Hey early risers, why all the shouting downstairs?"

"George was about to take some trick sweets, and your mother caught him," Harry explained first.

"Nice try, then," Bill chuckled as he joined them. "At least we can eat without worry for a few hours."

This made them laugh, while Mrs. Weasley's voice pierced through the kitchen window.

"We told you to destroy them! Accio! Accio! Accio!" she shouted.

"We spent six months developing them!" Fred exclaimed.

"Did you have nothing else to do for six months besides your Prank Products?!" she retorted sharply. "No wonder you didn't get more OWLs!"

The atmosphere was hardly warm as they set off. Mrs. Weasley always looked furious when she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, but not nearly as much as the twins, who slung their bags over their shoulders and walked off without a word.

"Have fun," Mrs. Weasley called, "and don't get into trouble," she added as the twins disappeared from view. "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy around noon," she told her husband.

And so they set off. The twins grumbled for a while before moving on, especially since there was still much walking ahead.

"So, have you found a name for your inventions?"

Fred and George gave him broad, proud smiles.

"It's impressive, isn't it?!"

Ron and Ginny burst out laughing, though not Hermione.

"Unfortunately, all the good ones we made were destroyed, and it's expensive to redo them without magic, so we'll have to wait until we're at Hogwarts."

They moved further along as Harry turned to his friends for more details.

"And your mother didn't take it well?"

"When cleaning Fred and George's room, Mom found a pile," Ron explained. "But even we were surprised...they really had made a lot of things."

"We've heard explosions in their room for years, but never thought they were actually inventing things," Ginny said. "We just thought they liked making noise."

"The problem is, most of those things, actually all of them, are a bit dangerous," Ron continued. "They intended to sell them at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mom was furious. She forbade them from continuing and burned all the order forms… Anyway, she's angry with them. They didn't get as many OWLs as she wanted."

Harry remembered vaguely. He turned to Ginny, who continued.

"Then there was a big argument," Ginny said, "because Mom wanted them, after school, to work at the Ministry like Dad, but they told her they preferred to open a joke shop."

"That must have finished her off," Harry supposed.

"Pretty much," said Ron. "But I don't think she'll change their minds...good for them, but Mom gets really angry now… and Percy is even worse."

"Luckily Bill and Charlie are here, Mom's calmer and Percy let us alone a bit."

"He doesn't dare scold the two of them as much," Ron added. "They're stronger than him, especially Charlie… When we were younger, he fought Bill, and Charlie forced him to sit down to discuss it, and he had a bruise on his shoulder all week."

"He hit him?" Harry asked, surprised.

Especially knowing the man, he did not expect it.

Ginny chuckled.

"Percy claims so, but we saw everything. Charlie never gets angry; he grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed him like this!" she said, demonstrating with her hands pressing forward and down to the ground.

"Even Mom couldn't say anything to defend her dear Percy…"

Harry nodded slowly. As a child, he had found Mrs. Weasley simply wonderful and kind because she had never opposed him. Among the adults he had met, she was undoubtedly the most loving.

But now Harry realized how much the siblings seemed to endure this "desire to do well" from Mrs. Weasley...telling them how to live, how to dress, getting angry when they did not fit into the mold she had built for them. He knew, of course, that she loved them all more than anything and that her actions were just the result of her fear they would not live well if they took risks. But she had accepted the twins when they had proved themselves and had always accepted all of Ron and Ginny's efforts in their life choices.

Even after the war, after Fred, she had encouraged her children even more to choose the life they wanted, celebrating Harry and Ron's entry as Aurors, and then Ron’s choice to join George, then Ginny's as a professional Quidditch player. And she had always shown support.

But that, he was the only one to know, and good intentions alone could not suffice...not for children who grew up hearing they were worthless if they didn't obey her, not when she held up Percy, among the least suitable, as the example to follow.

He gave a brief pat on Ginny's shoulder, who looked surprised. But he said nothing and moved forward to reach the top of the first hill. Behind it lay… another hill.

The road continued like this along a long slope that forced them to save their breath.

"Where are we going, Dad?"

"Yes, is it still far?!" Ginny exclaimed, flushed.

"We're going to Têtafouine Hill. That's where we're headed, and we'll meet Amos and his son there." Mr. Weasley pointed toward a large black mass rising beyond the village of Loutry Ste Chaspoule.

Harry nodded as the sun was only beginning to peek above the horizon.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, old chap, we found it!"

When they arrived at the hill beneath a very beautiful sunrise, two tall figures stood out against the starry sky on the other side of the summit.

"Amos!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed with a broad smile, striding toward the man who had called out.

The others followed suit. Mr. Weasley shook hands with the ruddy-faced wizard, sporting a bushy brown beard, whom Harry had only met once at King's Cross two years earlier. In his other hand, he held an old, moldy boot.

"Hello, Harry," said a voice in front of him as he reached the top.

"Hello, Cedric, excited for the match?"

"More than a little," smiled his Hufflepuff friend. "Hi."

He addressed the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione, who were joining them. They all returned small smiles, though tired, except for the twins, of course.

"Did you walk a long way to get here, Arthur?" asked Cedric's father.

"Not too far, no," replied Mr. Weasley. "We live on the other side of the village. And you?"

"We had to get up at two in the morning, didn't we, Ced? I'll be glad when he gets his Apparition license. Well… can't complain… I wouldn't want to miss the Quidditch World Cup, even for a bag of Galleons, and that's roughly what the tickets cost. But it could have been worse…"

"This is your first professional match, Harry, isn't it?"

Harry turned to Cedric and saw the twins making faces behind his back.

"Yes," he lied. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"With Krum as the champion, I don't blame you."

"Exactly! Just for Krum, this final will be incredible!" Ron exclaimed, clearly having caught enough breath to talk about the Bulgarian Seeker.

Harry let them gush over the player's skills and moved closer to Ginny and Hermione, both still catching their breath, particularly Hermione, who had not had the chance to join Dubois's training sessions in recent years.

"It must be almost time," Mr. Weasley said hurriedly, glancing at his watch again. "Do you know if we're waiting for anyone else, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week, and the Faucetts couldn't get tickets," Mr. Diggory replied. "It's just us in this sector now, isn't it?"

"As far as I know, yes," said Mr. Weasley. "Departure is scheduled in a minute; we'd better get going…" He turned to Harry and Hermione. "You'll just need to touch the Portkey, that's all. One finger is enough…"

Awkward with their enormous backpacks, all nine of them clustered as best they could around the old boot Amos Diggory still held. Harry placed his finger on the object. He had heard the name Lovegood just now, but had not paid attention in his first life. Not surprising...he did not yet knew Luna at that time. He did not know she had attended the World Cup, though it did not surprise him; Luna had always loved cheering for Hogwarts teams.

"Three…" murmured Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch. "Two… One…"

It was immediate: Harry felt as if a hook had suddenly grabbed him by the navel, pulling him irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground, and he felt Ron and Hermione beside him, their shoulders bumping into his. They shot straight ahead in a whirl of colors and a whistle like the wind. His finger was glued to the boot, which seemed to pull him like a magnet.

And suddenly… his feet hit the ground sharply. He managed to stabilize, but Ron, falling forward, sprawled half onto him, and they tumbled. Hermione staggered beside them, and eventually all three lay flat in the field.

Harry and Ron disentangled themselves, and everyone stood up. Cedric was the only one to laugh a little, offering Harry a hand to help him up. Once everyone was on their feet, they looked around. They had arrived in what appeared to be a mist-covered, deserted moor.

In front of them stood two wizards, looking tired and grumpy. One held a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed in Muggle attire, but very awkwardly: the man with the watch wore a tweed suit with riding boots, his colleague a Scottish kilt and a poncho.

"Hello, Basil," said Mr. Weasley.

He picked up the old boot and handed it to the wizard in the kilt, who threw it into a large box filled with worn Portkeys. In the box, Harry saw an old journal, empty soda cans, and a deflated football.

"Hello, Arthur," Basil replied wearily. "Not working today? When we can afford it… We stayed here all night… You'd better clear the path; we're expecting a group from the Black Forest at 5:15. Wait, I'll tell you where to set up… Let's see… Weasley… Weasley…"

He consulted the list on his parchment.

"About five hundred meters from here, the first meadow you find. The campsite manager is Mr. Roberts. Now, Diggory… You're on the second meadow. Ask for Mr. Payne."

"Thank you, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, motioning for the others to follow.

They left the clearing and walked along a wooded path. When they finally arrived at the camp entrance, everyone was eager to reach it and put down their bags in a comfortable tent.

"Enjoy the match, Harry. If we don't see each other before then, we'll meet at Hogwarts," Cedric said as he and his father continued down the path a few meters from the camp entrance.

He waved before turning and hurried to Mr. Weasley, who was entering the camp. Noticing the landowner nearby, he approached the father.

"Mr. Weasley, you'd better let me handle the money," he said softly, holding out his hand to take the wallet Arthur offered.

"With pleasure, Harry. Hello!" said Mr. Weasley in a loud voice to the man.

"Hello," replied the Muggle.

"You're Mr. Roberts?"

"Yes, that's me. And you are?"

"Weasley… We rented two tents two days ago."

"Alright," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list posted on the wall. "You have a plot near the small wood, over there. Just for one night?"

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley.

"In that case, will you pay in advance?" asked Mr. Roberts.

Harry checked the price and handed over the money with a smile.

Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder with a broad grin.

"Here's a map of the campsite," said Mr. Roberts, "and your change."

"Thank you very much," Arthur sang, leading the others with him.

Harry was glad to have spared him at least an Obliviate spell. He knew the poor Muggle received memory charms several times a day due to questions about his strange customers. At least he could do one useful thing.

He motioned for the others to move on, pretending to tie his shoelace. Once they were out of earshot, Harry straightened and joined the man. He placed a hand on his forearm and whispered,

"Do not ask the visitors any questions; there is nothing strange."

"Nothing strange, no, absolutely ! Thank you, young man."

Harry smiled.

"There will be a lot of noise tonight, so take your wife and children into town for the night; it will be more comfortable. Tomorrow, the campsite will be fine, I promise."

He had infused enough mind magic, it seemed, because the man gave him an even more cheerful smile.

"What a great idea, my wife dreamed of it. After all, I was told no one enters after 4 pm."

"Goodbye, sir," said Harry with a final smile.

The man waved, tapping his feet in excitement, greeting the new arrivals with a lively "welcome".

Harry trotted to catch up with his friends.

"What were you talking about with him?"

"I was asking where the toilets were."

Hermione nodded slowly, a little puzzled.

"Why?" interrupted Ron. "There'll be some in the tent."

"Oh really?" Harry sang.

No one asked him another question after that. They climbed the gentle slope of the misty meadow, weaving between rows of tents. Most of them looked almost ordinary. Their owners had tried to make them resemble Muggle tents but had made some errors, adding chimneys, bells, or weather vanes. Some, however, so obviously belonged to the magical world that Harry could not understand how the organizers tolerated them. If they were going to do that, they might as well have kept Muggles away for a few days.

In the middle of the meadow stood an extravagant striped-silk structure resembling a miniature palace, with several peacocks tied at the entrance. A little further on, they passed a three-story tent with multiple turrets. At some distance, another had a full garden with a birdbath, sundial, and fountain-fed pond.

"Same as always," Mr. Weasley said with a smile. "No one can resist showing off to the neighbors when we're all together. Ah, here we are. Couldn't have asked for a better spot. The Quidditch stadium is just on the other side of this wood, can't get any closer."

He slid his backpack off his shoulders.

"Good," he said, eyes shining with excitement, "so remember, no magic on Muggle grounds. We'll set up these tents by hand! It shouldn't be too hard… Muggles do it all the time… Tell me, Harry, where should we start, in your opinion?"

Harry had plenty of experience with camping and, in his previous life, with one of these two tents...they had used it during the last months before the fight with Voldemort, when he had to hide from the Ministry. That had at least come in handy. He quickly took command, and twenty minutes later, two small tents rose on their plot. From the outside, they looked tiny and very ordinary, especially considering they would house ten people, but inside, the magic worked.

The interior resembled a slightly old-fashioned three-room apartment, with kitchen and bathroom. It was furnished in the same style as Mrs. Figg's home, Harry's squib neighbor, with mismatched armchairs covered with hooked headrests and a strong smell of cat.

"Well good enough, it’s just for one night after all," said Mr. Weasley, dabbing his balding forehead with a handkerchief. He looked at the four bunk beds in the room. "I borrowed these from Perkins at the office. He doesn't do much camping anymore, poor fellow, since he got a bad back."

Harry, standing beside him, saw him pick up the dusty kettle and peek inside.

"We're going to need water…"

"There's a tap marked on the map the Muggle gave us," said Ron, who had followed Harry inside the tent. "It's on the other side of the meadow."

"In that case, perhaps You, Harry and Hermione could go fetch some water, Ron."

Mr. Weasley handed him the kettle and two saucepans.

"And we'll take care of the firewood."

"But we have an oven," said Ron. "Why not just…?"

"Ron, remember Muggle safety! When real Muggles camp, they cook outside, over a fire, I've seen them!" Mr. Weasley replied, apparently delighted to imitate them. Harry was even convinced that was the main reason he insisted they make the fire themselves. Even if… well the muggles were the one who invented the oven.

Harry took the containers.

"Come on, Ron, we might run into people we know."

The argument convinced Ron, who relieved Harry of two saucepans. They stopped by the girls to invite Hermione to join, and then the three of them set off into the crowd of wizards masquerading as Muggles.

The real Muggles were very easy to spot among the others; they were the ones most astonished by the other campers. They stared, wide-eyed, at people moving about in their loud clothing. When they reached the pump, the trio had the chance to see two Ministry officials attempting to convince a man that Muggle men do not wear dresses, which caused them great amusement. Harry also took the opportunity to buy three sets of multipliers, a kind of copper binoculars equipped with all sorts of buttons and dials that allowed one to replay, slow down, or examine any moment of the match frame by frame, giving one pair to each of them. He insisted that Ron take a pair, despite Ron's reluctance to accept charity from Harry, particularly since he had insisted on having a 25-Galleon debt contract drafted for the broom Harry had bought in their second year.

They passed several Hogwarts classmates, including former Gryffindor captain Olivier Dubois, who had just joined a professional Quidditch team. He stopped them for a while to talk and introduced Harry and Ron to his parents. But there was no sign of Luna. They also had the chance to see the propaganda of the two teams: the Irish covered the ground and tents with shamrocks under the shocked and furious gaze of the Ministry agents, while the Bulgarians were not to be outdone, projecting Krum's sullen face on every tent. Charlie was not entirely wrong in saying the Bulgarians only really had Krum.

"You took your time," said George when they finally returned to their tents.

"We met people," replied Ron, setting down the water. "You haven't started the fire yet?"

"Dad's amusing himself with matches," sighed Fred.

Hermione went to help Arthur Weasley, and a few minutes later a modest fire began to blaze in front of them. It was only after they placed the first sausages and some fried eggs over the fire that Percy, Bill, and Charlie arrived to join them.

"We just Apparated, Dad," said Percy in a loud voice. "Ah, perfect timing for lunch!"

But their arrival was immediately overshadowed by the entrance of another figure.

"Here's the man of the hour!" exclaimed Arthur. "Ludo!"

Among all the people Harry had seen at the campsite, Ludo Verpey was by far the most noticeable, even more than old Archie in his floral nightshirt. The head of the sports department wore a long Quidditch robe with broad black and bright yellow horizontal stripes. Harry watched him approach, horrified that he had absolutely no sense or responsibility; he fully deserved his fate at the end of the year. Harry glanced at the twins, who were chatting on the other side of the fire near the tent entrance with Charlie. He went to join them, ready to minimize the damage. He knew what was coming.

"You're going to bet with Verpey?"

"How do you know?"

Harry merely raised an ironic eyebrow.

"I'm guessing from what I see; you’ll regret it… Verpey is known to get into debt easily."

"How would you know?" George asked hesitantly.

Fred interrupted.

"Whatever, it's an investment, you'll understand later…"

"And besides, it happens to others; he's Dad's friend."

"He can be friendly and a cheater, but your savings, your choice," said Harry, shrugging and preparing to go back to them, but Fred stepped in front of him, pushing him back.

"Looks like he's starting to bet, but stay and chat," they said, shoving Harry back, who finally noticed Charlie.

They looked at each other before Charlie smiled, shaking his head. Harry turned to the twins, tired, wondering why they were playing matchmakers since yesterday, especially given their age difference. Of course, Charlie was closer to Harry's actual age, so it was not a problem for him, but Harry's body was still that of a fourteen-year-old boy, which could be a concern for Charlie. Though it had to be said, Charlie did not really react to their jokes since their first meeting. Harry did not even know if he realized what his juniors were doing. He shook his head with a sigh before glancing at Charlie. It would be impolite to leave without saying a word now.

"Is Mrs. Weasley doing well? She seemed rather grumpy when we left."

Charlie looked slightly surprised.

"She was fine. But we didn't try to talk to her about those two. Percy just complained about the noise you made last night. What were you doing? Mum thinks it's another of Fred and George's inventions?"

Harry laughed at the question, noting the certainty in his voice.

"Partly; they wanted to quiet Ron's bird with one of their sweets."

Charlie smiled as he looked at his brothers farther off, who were whispering, while Barty Croupton had just arrived and Percy was bowing repeatedly. Harry grimaced. Had there really been so many people the first time? He turned back to Charlie.

"So..." / "So..." they said simultaneously.

Harry fell silent, letting him speak.

"I just wanted to ask you, about last year… I was following from afar, my mother mentioned it a bit in her letters."

Harry raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"You mean Sirius Black? There's not much to say; I wasn't really his target from the start, apparently," Harry replied.

Charlie looked surprised at Harry's blunt tone and found nothing to argue.

"What were you going to say?" asked the second Weasley.

Harry watched Mr. Weasley hand a Galleon to the head of the sports department and grimaced; he had forgotten Arthur had also bet with Verpey on this match, though luckily it was only one Galleon. He turned back to Charlie, confused, before remembering.

"Ah, actually, you did follow Professor Brûlopot's classes at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

Charlie looked surprised at the question but nodded.

"Actually, I wanted to ask if I could take a bit of your time to talk about it. You probably know, Hagrid replaced him, and I wondered if you could tell me a bit about the Care of Magical Creatures classes to help Hagrid. He's passionate, but he lacks… um, rigor and experience in how a class should run."

"Ron told me it was pretty good."

"It is, but we had to watch over Nifflers for an hour for the final exam," Harry replied.

"Ah...I see." He scratched his cheek before laughing. "Of course, I'll be glad to talk about it. Professor Brûlopot's classes were by far my favorites; I certainly have a lot to tell you about them."

"I thought as much," said Harry, smiling. He had regretted not being able to advise Hagrid more last year, and the classes had been somewhat chaotic. A little help for the apprentice professor wouldn't hurt.

"But I could have sent him a letter; are you sure you want me to summarize everything?"

"Of course, I'll take notes for him, and I have to admit I've always wanted to attend his classes since I arrived at Hogwarts." He straightened, hands behind his back, leaning against a tent pole. "I'm happy for Hagrid, but at the same time, I really wanted to attend real classes. If only they didn't make us wait until third year."

Charlie nodded.

"I completely understand. When I was at Hogwarts, I used to sneak into corners to attend certain lessons. No one was particularly surprised to see me taking the dragon gloves afterward," he said, showing his hands.

They were very worn, full of blisters and burns...hands of a true enthusiast, no doubt.

"I understand why you chose that over Quidditch," Harry smiled. "But why dragons? There are so many other incredible… less dangerous creatures."

"Have you ever met a dragon, Harry?"

Yes, several, but Harry shook his head.

"No, and I'm rather glad I haven't encountered an adult Norberta in Hagrid's all-wood cabin," he said, making Charlie laugh out loud. Harry saw the group watching them from afar but refocused on Charlie, who gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"You've got good arguments too. The day you see one, you'll understand why it's so fascinating...their strength, power, unpredictable nature. There are millions of things we still have to discover about them. Not a day goes by without challenging what we think we know… and taking care of such a huge, powerful creature always comes with adrenaline, knowing it could crush you with a single mistake."

Harry laughed at the last remark.

"To think you almost convinced me," he said as Arthur called them. Croupton and Verpey had disappeared without being noticed. “You lost me at the end.”

Harry and Charlie went to join them. Percy was brooding in a corner, and the twins had just abandoned the idea of prying into their father's secret Hogwarts project, surrounding him and taking him aside with his plate under Charlie's puzzled gaze.

"You seemed to have a good chat," George began.

"Didn't we say you'd do the pair?" added Fred.

Harry ignored them, sitting between George and Hermione, who seemed deep in thought. He glanced across the fire where they were all seated and saw Charlie engaged in a new conversation with Bill. He would never admit it, at least not to Fred and George, but it was indeed pleasant to talk with the second Weasley, something he had never done in his previous life. Harry was almost certain he had exchanged more sentences in a few minutes now than in five years before.

Charlie was passionate, strong-willed, and genuinely responsible, unlike most people he interacted with daily. Harry could handle being around children all day...he had plenty of practice since his rebirth. He could tolerate trivial discussions, but sometimes he noticed the immaturity of those around him, including adults and students. Harry was aware that he himself was unusually mature due to his circumstances. Yet, he did not speak to Charlie as to someone overly serious or mature, only as a peer, capable of intelligent conversation, tolerating silence, and laughing, even discussing lighter subjects, without worrying about what Dumbledore might hear or having to restrain himself as he usually did. He recognized that it felt good to speak naturally, his true age...over thirty if counting both lives. Normally with adults, he had to appear like a child, and that had always bothered him...the need to always diminish or infantilize himself.

Harry turned his head, aware he must have been staring at Charlie, hearing the twins laugh beside him. He ignored them and asked Hermione what he had missed from the previous conversation.

Finally, when night fell, a loud gong echoed through the valley to announce the opening of the stadium to the public. The Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione set off toward the field, following small green and red lanterns hung in the trees. Carrying their purchases from the various stalls along the campsite paths, with Mr. Weasley leading the way, they walked through the woods along the lantern-lit path. Around them, they could hear shouts, laughter, and fragments of songs rising from the crowd. The feverish atmosphere was contagious. They walked for twenty minutes through the forest, talking and joking loudly, until they finally emerged from the trees to find themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Harry could see only part of the immense golden walls surrounding the field, but he knew it was vast enough to contain a dozen cathedrals.

"It can hold a hundred thousand spectators," Arthur Weasley exclaimed proudly. "The Ministry set up a special team of five hundred people to work here for an entire year. Every square centimeter has been treated with Muggle-Repelling Charms. All year long, whenever a Muggle approached, they would suddenly remember an urgent appointment and leave as quickly as possible… Dear Muggles," he added in a fond whisper.

The remark was somewhat condescending, but Harry was more intrigued by the enchantment itself. He recognized, above all, the charm protecting Hogwarts and wondered for a moment about the level of magic required and the time needed to produce such an enchantment.

He led them to the nearest entrance, where a noisy crowd of witches and wizards was already gathering.

"Prime seats!" exclaimed the Ministry witch checking their tickets. "Official stand, all the way at the top! Climb the stairs. When there are no more steps, you'll be there."

Inside the stadium, the stairs were covered with thick purple carpets. They climbed among the other spectators, who were slowly spreading out on the stands to the right and left. Harry and his group continued upward until they reached the top of the stairs, finding themselves in a small box overlooking the entire stadium and giving a clear view of the center of the field, halfway between the two goal lines. About twenty purple-and-gold chairs were arranged in two rows, and when Harry slipped into the front row with the Weasleys, they discovered a sight that defied imagination. A breathtaking view that could never cease to astonish.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their seats in the stands surrounding the oval field. A mysterious golden light seemed to emanate from the stadium itself, and the field's surface, seen from above, appeared as smooth as velvet. At each end stood the goals, three golden hoops fifteen meters high. Facing the official stand, almost at eye level, stretched a huge scoreboard, on which golden words appeared as if written by an invisible hand, slowly fading to be replaced by others. Looking more closely, Harry realized they were advertisements. The Blue Bomb: a broom for the whole family, safe, stable, reliable, with a built-in anti-theft siren… Make cleaning effortless with Mrs. Scrubbin's Magic Cleaner: stains gone, worries gone!… Dress at Clothwise, the finest Ready-to-Wizard shops in London, Paris, Hogsmeade…

Harry turned toward the inside of the box to find the person he hoped to see and spotted her. The other chairs around her were empty, and she was the only one seated. In the second-to-last row, a tiny familiar creature was making herself as small as possible...Winky, a house-elf. She resembled Dobby greatly, with the same bulging eyes and ragged robe, but there was a difference: she was curled up on herself, hiding her face in her hands. Harry decided to approach.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked, crouching in front of her.

The elf lifted her head toward him with a small watery look before rushing to straighten up and stand before him.

"No, Winky is keeping the seat for her master."

"Oh, you looked unwell, I thought..."

"Winky does not complain, Winky was only waiting."

Harry smiled and glanced aside, noticing the Weasleys had settled in their chairs further away. He turned back to Winky and smiled.

"What's your name?"

"Winky, sir."

"I'm Harry."

He saw Winky flinch at the name and glance up at his forehead, but Harry did not give her time to question it.

"Why are you hiding your eyes, Winky? Are you afraid of heights?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Winky does not like heights, sir."

"Then why did your master send you here?"

"My… my master wants me to keep a seat for him, sir, he is very busy," said Winky, bowing toward the empty space next to her. "Winky would like to return to her master's tent, sir, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

"I see, that's true, Winky. You're very brave."

She glanced fearfully at the railing again and hid her eyes behind her hands, nodding. Harry drew his wand from his back pocket and tapped it lightly on the elf's head, who straightened instantly.

"What did you do?"

"It's a little wellbeing charm. You should feel a bit less nauseous from the height, right?"

She looked around and seemed suddenly lighter. She did not smile, but her eyes widened, slightly wet.

"Sir, Dobby said you were very good with elves."

"So you’re one of his friends. I don't know if I am, I try not to be unpleasant to all living beings in general, elves, humans…"

"One day you'll regret it."

Harry chuckled.

"Who knows."

He let her return to her seat after a final wave and put his wand back in his pocket.

"That's a real house-elf, huh? Weird little creature," said Ron as Harry settled in the free chair between him and Percy. They were in a corner near the almost transparent railing. The twins and their older siblings were leaning against the railing a few steps away.

"They're raised that way," Harry said, shrugging.

"What were you talking about?" asked Hermione, still keeping an eye on the little house-elf.

"She was telling me that her master made her keep a seat, but she's afraid of heights."

"What? That's outrageous."

"What can you do?" said Harry. "She loves her family very much. I cast a charm against her vertigo, but it's only temporary… Magic can't fix that kind of thing."

Hermione seemed reassured but still displeased. Harry could do little for now. Winky would soon be freed from her master's control anyway.

"What do you have there?" he asked to change the subject.

"Mr. Weasley gave me the program. Listen: ‘The mascots of the two teams will perform a show before the match,'" she read aloud. "I wonder what it will be."

"It's worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "The national teams bring creatures typical of their home countries for a bit of a show."

Around them, the box gradually filled, and the patriarch Weasley kept shaking hands with people who clearly held high positions in the wizarding world. Every time, Percy would jump up as if sitting on a porcupine. When Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell and broke. Horribly embarrassed, he fixed them with a wave of his wand and sat down, casting envious glances at Harry when Fudge greeted him as an old friend.

Of course, though they had met only once, Fudge shook Harry's hand paternalistically, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards seated beside him.

"Harry Potter, you know…" he said loudly to the Bulgarian Minister, who wore a magnificent black velvet robe trimmed with gold and seemed not to understand a word of English. "Harry Potter, come now," Fudge insisted, "I'm sure you know who he is… The boy who survived You-Know-Who… You must know who he is…"

Harry smiled at them. He remembered them; they had made him laugh a lot back then. He knew they were pretending not to understand Fudge and did not intend to expose them.

"I knew it would end like this," Fudge said to Harry, sounding weary. "I'm not very good with foreign languages, I need Barty Croupton in these cases. Ah, I see his house-elf saved him a seat… That's good. Those Bulgarian jokers tried to grab all the best places… Ah, here's Lucius!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Slipping along the second row toward the Minister, behind Mr. Weasley, Lucius Malfoy entered with his wife and son. Harry waved at Draco, who betrayed no emotion, though he was a little flustered since Harry had beaten him at Quidditch last year. Harry paid it no mind and listened as Lucius and Arthur argued behind Fudge before the Malfoys went to find their seats further along, in the second part of the box.

At least there would be no more disputes before the match began.

Chapter Text

It was only once Ludo Verpey was finally in his place that the show began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to welcome you! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators erupted in cheers and applause. Thousands of flags waved, mixing the national anthems of the two teams in a cacophony that added to the roar. The enormous scoreboard, which had previously displayed advertisements, now read BULGARIA: ZERO and IRELAND: ZERO.

"And now, without further delay, allow me to present… the mascots of the Bulgarian team!"

The right side of the stands, entirely red, exploded with cheers.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward. "Aaah!" He abruptly removed his glasses and wiped them on his robe. "Veela!"

Harry preferred to look away.

Veela were among those mysterious creatures for Harry, with their ability to mesmerize men as if enchanted. They generally appeared as women of intoxicating, almost supernatural beauty, but one had to be wary: when angered, they became hideous, more like harpies. Veela had the particularity of erasing all common sense in men unfortunate enough to gaze upon them. Harry remembered perfectly their intervention in his previous life; all the men had done reckless or foolish things, including making outrageous promises. Harry looked beside him: the twins were fascinated, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. He restrained his curiosity and the urge to glance down again. With his powers and knowledge, he could not afford to act foolishly because of desire.

Looking behind him, Ludo seemed to be enjoying himself, while Fudge appeared largely unaffected. Among the group, the reactions that intrigued him most were Bill and Charlie's. Bill sat next to his father, both observing the spectacle with faint controlled smiles. This did not surprise Harry too much; Bill's future wife Fleur was a quarter Veela, and she had notably been drawn to him because he did not fawn over her. Harry rose to join Charlie, leaving Hermione sighing as she scolded Ron, who seemed ready to leap from their box.

Charlie was leaning lightly against the railing, his gaze faintly bored as he watched the Veela dance across the stadium. He clearly seemed eager for the match to begin.

"You don't seem to be enjoying the show much," Harry said, settling next to him, back to the railing to avoid looking down.

Charlie jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Yes, I am," he replied. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Pretty girls aren't really your thing," Harry said with a small smile. Charlie turned toward him, stunned. "You prefer them with more scales, I suppose."

After a brief silence, Charlie laughed.

"They do have more character that way, that's true."

Harry joined him in laughter, shaking his head.

"Looks like you're the same way," he said with a smile he could not quite interpret.

"No, well, I don't know what effect they'll have; what I do know is that I'm not taking the risk," Charlie said with a small grin, glancing downward.

"Afraid of what?"

"Of doing something stupid… like jumping off the railing."

Charlie burst out laughing.

Boos echoed across the stadium.

"They're making them leave," explained the man.

Harry smiled before hearing his friend next to him exclaim,

"You're ridiculous, Ron."

Harry turned his head to see Ron angrily smashing his shamrock-shaped hat pin. He was clearly as flustered as the others by the Veela's departure. Harry laughed along with Charlie, who had also witnessed the outburst.

"You'll need it," said his father, repairing the pin with a wave of his wand, "when Ireland has said its final word."

"Huh?" Ron mumbled, mouth agape, eyes fixed on the Veela, now lined up at one side of the field.

Hermione, reproachful, reached out and guided Harry and Ron back to their seats, evidently assuming Harry had moved toward the railing for the same reason as Ron.

"Really!" she grumbled, while Harry exchanged an amused glance with Charlie.

"And now," Ludo Verpey's amplified voice boomed, "please raise your wands… to welcome the mascots of the Irish national team!"

Moments later, a large green-and-gold comet appeared in the stadium. It circled the field completely before splitting into two smaller comets, each rushing toward a goal. A rainbow suddenly stretched from one end of the stadium to the other, connecting the two luminous comets. "Aaaaaaah" and "Oooooooh" rose from the crowd, like a fireworks display. The rainbow then disappeared, and the two comets merged back into one, forming a giant sparkling shamrock that soared above the stands. A kind of golden rain seemed to fall from it.

"Magnificent!" Ron shouted as the shamrock flew overhead, scattering a shower of gold coins that bounced on their chairs and heads. Harry observed that the shamrock was made up of thousands of tiny bearded figures, each wearing a red vest and carrying a tiny green or golden lantern.

"Leprechauns!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, amid the crowd's roaring applause, as many scrambled to collect the coins fallen at their feet. Harry laughed, watching Ron try to gather as many as he could.

"You know these will disappear in a few hours?" Harry shouted into his ear.

Ron's eyes widened, and he dropped all the coins, embarrassed. Harry high-fived him and grabbed a handful, tossing them into the crowd with a smile. Ron quickly recovered and imitated him with a broader smile under Hermione's watchful gaze, who warned them they could hurt someone and that it was dangerous.

That, of course, was the organizers' and the Irish team's problem.

They did not stop until the announcement that the match was beginning. Verpey introduced the members of both teams one by one, provoking particularly loud cheers when Victor Krum entered. The young Bulgarian Seeker, with a square, stern face and rare talent, had not often spoken with Harry in previous lives, but Harry realized one reason for Krum's quiet demeanor was his simple, antisocial nature; he had at least proven kinder than Harry had expected.

At his entrance, Ron screamed the loudest of all, causing Harry to laugh and Hermione to sigh. She was not particularly fond of Quidditch but had made the effort for them. He was grateful, even if she did not seem fully enthusiastic.

Moments after the International Quidditch Association referee entered, the whistle signaled the start of the match, and the players shot into the sky, immediately engaging in a fierce struggle lasting over two hours. Krum allowed his team as much time as possible to catch up with Ireland, but as Charlie had predicted, the Irish team had seven strong players while Bulgaria relied mostly on Krum, leaving them naturally too far behind. Krum eventually concluded the match to avoid a massive point gap. Harry had to admit that even knowing the result, it remained highly entertaining, though his apprehension only grew as the evening progressed.

"That Wronski feint is… it's… impossible!" Ron exclaimed as they walked back to their campsite, still caught up in the match's excitement.

"It's doable, you saw it," Fred retorted.

"No, but Krum, of course, he's perfection; he can do it."

"I'm sure Harry could do it too, with all the stunts he performs," said Hermione.

Harry smiled. It was true; he could do it and had performed it a few times in his former life. It required real daring but was the most exhilarating maneuver of all. He turned toward Charlie, walking on the other side of George.

"Can you do it, Charlie?"

The man responded with a faint smile.

"Maybe a few years younger," he said. "I tried it once when I was younger, but since I never played professionally, I didn't really have the chance to use it in a match."

His brothers stared at him wide-eyed.

"You can do it?!" Ron exclaimed, apparently incredulous.

"You have to be crazy to attempt it, don't you think?" Harry said.

Charlie laughed.

"That's exactly how I would have defined it."

"What a shame you didn't pursue Quidditch longer; maybe you'd be the one we'd be cheering for in this match, and you'd have caught the Snitch from Krum," Fred said.

Ron looked outraged, and Charlie shook his head.

"Don't exaggerate, I wasn't that good."

"That's not what people say about you, right Harry?!" Fred exclaimed with a broad grin.

Harry shot him a suspicious glance, narrowing his eyes.

"What did you tell us last time? That you'd crush anyone who spoke about Charlie Weasley next."

Harry stared in shock as Charlie also looked surprised.

"At least give some context when you throw out things like that." He turned to Charlie. "I didn't say it like that at all."

Charlie raised an eyebrow with a small smile.

"Yes, yes," George confirmed.

"No, I was just a little on edge before the match, and possibly, hearing everyone remind me that Gryffindor hadn't won the cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley put a bit of pressure on me," he said, glaring at the twins laughing behind their fake beards.

Charlie gave a small smile, less tense than before.

"I would have reacted the same way."

Harry smiled faintly.

"But, shall we talk about the referee showing off in front of the Veela?" he said, trying to change the subject. This made the twins giggle even more, not fooled in the slightest. "Is it legal to bring them onto the field?"

"I think so," Arthur said. "After all, they're mascots, and all magical creatures are allowed."

"All?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Not dragons," Charlie said, making them laugh, though a little nervously.

Luckily, dragons were not allowed on the field. Harry was not particularly eager to deal with one again.

A few hours later, after going to bed, Harry found himself lying in his bed, dreading what would soon wake the rest of his friends. It did not take long; he barely had time to mentally review the steps to avoid altering the situation when shouts erupted outside. These were not the joyful cries of the Irish fans, but screams of terror.

The screams grew louder as Harry was swept outside by Arthur, alongside his friends and the rest of the Weasleys. Ginny let out a small cry, pointing toward the meadow beyond the tents.

Harry squinted to see more clearly. A group of wizards was advancing side by side, apparently coming from another campsite. The Death Eater cloaks magically obscured the faces of the men.

Harry clenched his fists, uncertain how far he could intervene. He knew he had at least prevented an attack on the family that owned the campsite, but there was no shortage of Muggle victims; they could hear torn screams and see figures rising above the tents. The same tents were collapsing under the advancing crowd. Once or twice, Harry saw a hooded wizard destroy a tent in his path with a single spell. Several of the tents caught fire, and the screams intensified.

"This is horrible," Ron murmured, staring at a child spinning like a top twenty meters above the ground, suspended by one foot, head flailing in all directions. Unable to restrain himself, Harry started toward them, only to be grabbed by Arthur Weasley's arm.

"We're going to help the Ministry people," Mr. Weasley shouted over the tumult, rolling up his sleeves. "You, go take refuge in the woods and stay together. I'll come get you when it's over."

Bill, Charlie, and Percy had already moved toward the group of Death Eaters.

Harry growled in frustration but followed the others; he needed to avoid being noticed. He knew there would be no fatalities, this had been the case in his previous life, and there should not be too much chaos here. This was just a desperate move by a few overly intoxicated Death Eaters.

The six Hogwarts students exchanged glances before quickly moving forward. In the distance, across the meadow, streams of green light shot up. Harry scanned around them as fires blazed everywhere and people ran frantically, seeking shelter.

The group moved with difficulty through the chaos, having to circumvent two tents that had collapsed in the middle of their path. Ginny was dragged along by George on one side, while Ron was pulled by Fred on the other. Hermione followed closely, and Harry brought up the rear. They looked around, seeking a route to escape and reach the woods. One of the tents collapsed at their feet, and a crowd surged past them, chased by a man. He had not even noticed them, and after letting the group pass, Harry kicked him, sending him headfirst into a burning tent. He watched him flee.

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked beside him. "The others!"

Indeed, they were separated from the rest of the Weasleys running ahead toward the forest edge. Harry looked around, intent on moving them away from the danger. He took Hermione's hand and led her between two tents, one of which had started to tremble.

They emerged into a new aisle, another row of tents standing, though their occupants ran screaming in all directions. Some Death Eaters were present, terrorizing the remaining Muggles and wizards. Harry shoved Hermione aside to bypass the area, pointing toward the forest and urging her to run at full speed.

"Crucio."

The words were spat by a grim voice a few meters away before he could follow Hermione. A sharp scream rang to his left, and he turned slowly, shocked. A Death Eater pointed his wand at a woman lying motionless on the ground, but it was not she who was screaming, it was the little girl, probably a Muggle, curled up near the woman's head. Filled with sudden, burning anger, Harry reached for his wand, usually kept in his back pocket.

He stopped abruptly, it had vanished. He had lost it again, just as in his previous life. Without thinking further, Harry approached and positioned himself behind the man in an instant. He had never done this before; he had never considered using his hands to cast the curse, but he was determined to return pain for pain at what the child was enduring. He grabbed the man's skull; the Death Eater startled but had no time to react. He collapsed immediately, dropping to his knees with a scream of agony. Harry glared at him, keeping his face down, before letting him fall fully to the ground.

Clearly, these small, drunken Death Eaters were not accustomed to the Cruciatus curse. They should thank him for a bit of training before the return of their precious master. He gave him no time to recover, kicking him in the stomach as he writhed in pain. The man tried to turn, but Harry did not allow it and struck his face with a "Repulso!" The man flew through a burning tent, disappearing from view in another scream of pain.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted as she ran up, followed by the four Weasleys. Harry signaled them to join him and stepped toward Hermione.

"Can I borrow your wand?" he asked as she reached him, holding it out.

Hermione looked at him, confused, and handed over her wand.

"What's happening, Harry?" Fred asked, shocked.

Harry moved ahead as the little girl still sobbed, twisted in pain on the ground. He looked at her with concern, then gently tried to move closer, placing his hand on her shoulder. She was small, with dark hair, and the flames nearby revealed a scattering of freckles on her face. She barely reacted to his touch, only flinching slightly and lifting tear-filled eyes toward him.

"It's going to be alright," he said softly. He pointed Hermione's wand at her, putting her to sleep slowly before her eyes. He did not want her to suffer amid the crowd, nor to dwell on pain. At least, she could rest. She collapsed immediately into Harry's arms, who now turned his attention to the mother beside her. Hermione leaned over with him and breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the woman's heart beating.

"Harry, you're going to tell us what happened here?"

Harry, finally a bit reassured, turned to them with the child in his arms.

"That filth was torturing them with a Cruciatus curse," he spat, pointing to the man he had thrown into the flames. The two older Weasleys choked in horror, looking toward the destroyed tent where the man lay, while Ron and Ginny listened in confusion, realizing only that he had harmed the mother and daughter. Another groan of pain tore through the camp.

"We don't have time to deal with him. We need to hide in the forest quickly. Can one of you carry the mother on your back?" he asked, standing up while still holding the sleeping child.

With her body, a child under five was still a burden, but she slept soundly against him, comforting him. George and Ron helped Fred lift the woman onto his back while Hermione retrieved her wand, leading the way anxiously, scanning their surroundings.

The screams grew more distant as they finally entered the forest, led by Harry, who wished to retrace the path from his previous life. He still had a task to accomplish here. They glanced around until they finally felt safe. Occasional shouts pierced the night, but they were only flashes of color illuminating the campsite. Ministry members had finally arrived.

A rustle made them start. They saw Winky, Croupton's house-elf, emerging from the bushes nearby. Her walk was strange; each movement seemed difficult, as if an invisible hand were pulling her back.

"There are bad wizards here!" she squeaked, panicked.

She leaned forward and continued with heavy steps. Harry was tempted to stop her, but she could no longer listen. He needed events to unfold as before.

"And people flying very high… very high! Winky doesn't want to stay here!"

She disappeared into the trees, letting out small gasps, struggling against the force that held her.

"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked, watching with curiosity. "Why can't she run normally?"

"She probably didn't ask permission to go hide," Harry evaded.

"You know, house-elves don't have an easy life!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed indignantly. "It's slavery, nothing else! That Mr. Croupton forces her to climb to the top of the stadium even though she's afraid of heights, and he enchanted her so she can't even run when the tents are trampled! Why is nobody doing anything about this?"

"Well, the elves are happy with their lot, aren't they?" Ron said.

"It's because of people like you, Ron, that unjust and appalling systems continue to exist," Hermione snapped, "simply because they're too lazy…"

Another explosion echoed at the forest's edge.

"Shall we keep moving?" suggested Ron.

Harry and the twins, who had begun taking turns carrying the woman nearly as tall as them, nodded, barely following the conversation. Ginny's eyes remained fixed on the distant explosions.

"Come on, Ginny," Ron said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

Harry saw her let herself be dragged, her gaze still fixed sideways.

"Everyone will be fine over there, Ginny," he assured, leveling with her and cutting off her view of the nearby flames.

She turned away without a word, though her trembling spoke for her. Harry regretted mentioning the Cruciatus curse; his father and brothers were back there, and she would probably not sleep for days. Yet he remained confident, knowing nothing had happened to them in his previous life. He had to believe it once again.

He tried not to think too much about the muggles who suffered last time. If this girl and her mom survived… did they just erased her memory ? And let them go ? Without justice ?

They followed the dark path deeper into the woods, putting distance between themselves and the horrors, especially now that they had captured one of the Death Eaters. They passed a group of goblins loudly arguing over a sack of gold, presumably won by betting on the match. Apparently, the commotion in the camp did not concern them.

Further along, Harry and his friends suddenly entered a patch of silvery light. Through the trees, they saw three beautiful Veela standing in a clearing, surrounded by a crowd of young wizards, all shouting loudly.

"I make about a hundred Galleon bags a year," one shouted.

"I work as a dragon hunter for the Dangerous Creatures Review Commission."

"No, that's not true!" exclaimed his friend. "You wash dishes at the Leaky Cauldron… I'm a vampire hunter, and I've killed about ninety so far…"

A third wizard, his face covered in prominent pimples even in the Veela's faint silver glow, spoke up:

"I'm going to become the youngest Minister of Magic ever, you'll see."

Harry stifled a laugh upon recognizing the pimply wizard: his name was Stan Rocade, actually a Knight Bus conductor, a wizard Harry had encountered a few times in another life, including during the final battle at Hogwarts. He was on the Death Eaters' side, clearly under Imperius, but at least he would never lose his astonishing naivety in this life.

Harry turned to check on Ron, whose face had suddenly gone slack. A moment later, he screamed:

"Did I tell you I invented a broom that can fly all the way to Jupiter?"

"No, really!" Hermione repeated.

The twins burst out laughing, though Harry noticed they had to control themselves, their laughter slightly forced. Ginny had not even paid attention to what was happening a few meters away.

Harry and Hermione each grabbed one of Ron's arms and pulled him forcibly away. When the voices of the Veela and their admirers faded into the night, they had reached the heart of the small forest. They seemed alone now; it was much quieter. Harry looked around.

"The best thing is to wait here," he said. "If anyone comes, we'll hear them from miles away."

He had barely finished speaking when Ludo Verpey appeared from behind a tree directly in front of them. Even in the dim light of the two wands, Harry noticed that Verpey had changed considerably. He seemed to have lost his cheerful demeanor and rosy complexion. He now walked with heavy steps, his face pale and tense.

"Who's there?" he asked, blinking to try to recognize them. "What are you doing here all alone?"

They exchanged a surprised look. Verpey seemed so dazed that he did not appear to notice much, not even questioning the presence of the mother and her sleeping daughter in their arms.

"There's panic over there," Ron said. Verpey stared at him.

"What?"

"At the campsite… There are masked wizards attacking Muggle families…"

Verpey let out a loud curse.

"Idiots!" he said, panicked.

With a simple "pop," he vanished, Apparating away without another word.

Harry felt the child in his arms slip slightly. He straightened her and gently adjusted her hair.

"Verpey isn't exactly effective," Hermione said, frowning.

"Perhaps, but he was a great Seeker in his time," Ron remarked. "It seems calm here; we could stay a little while."

He led them off the path into a small clearing and sat in the grass at the base of a tree.

"The Wimbourne Wasps won the championship three times in a row when he played with them."

He took a small figurine of Krum from his pocket, placed it on the ground, and watched it pace back and forth. Like the real Krum, the figure had slightly spread feet, a hunched back, and seemed far less impressive on the ground than in full flight on a broomstick. Harry, meanwhile, strained to listen for the fateful moment when everything would start moving again. He did not want to rush things. Everyone needed to process what had just happened.

"Since when does Quidditch prowess make you more responsible?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.

Harry heard the twins laugh again as they listened. George had used the pause to lay the woman in the grass against a tree. Harry looked down at the sleeping child in his arms. He did not know what would happen next.

Earlier, he had acted without much thought, using magic without a wand, and most importantly, casting an Unforgivable Curse. These spells were considered the worst of all, forbidden by wizarding law. Anyone using one risked life imprisonment. Harry had cast three Unforgivable Curses in his previous life: one to control a goblin, one against Bellatrix Lestrange after she had killed Sirius, and another against Carrow, a Death Eater who had spat in McGonagall's face and tortured classmates at Hogwarts for months. The Cruciatus curse was perhaps the worst of all, inflicting extreme, seemingly endless pain. He had hoped never to use it again, but seeing this child writhing in pain at the foot of that man had driven him to it. The only silver lining was that, because he hadn't used his wand, the Ministry could not trace the spell back to him.

"I hope the others haven't run into trouble," Hermione said after a moment.

"They’ll be fine," Ron assured her.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I'm sure they're all worried about us, and see, we're fine. Think of it the same way for them," Harry said with a small smile. "Besides, the Ministry has already arrived; it should end quickly."

"Those poor Muggles…" Hermione added, clearly needing to voice her concern. "They hung some of them by their feet… what if they couldn't get them down?"

Harry noticed her glance quickly at the child in his arms. She was thinking as he was, wondering if there were others suffering similar torments.

"They'll manage," Ron reassured her confidently. "They'll find a way."

"It's really insane to do such a thing when all the Ministry people are here!" Hermione continued. "They don't imagine they can get away with it, do they? Do you think they're too drunk, or…?"

She stopped suddenly, looking over her shoulder. They turned too. It seemed someone was stumbling toward them. They waited, listening to irregular footsteps coming from behind the darkened trees. Suddenly, the steps stopped. Harry motioned for silence, clutching the child as Fred and the others moved closer to the unconscious woman.

Abruptly, without warning, a voice very different from the sharp screams they had heard in the woods tore through the silence. This time, it was not a panic-stricken cry but an otherworldly growl: "MORS-MORDRE!"

A huge, glowing green shape shot from the darkness, flying above the trees, climbing toward the sky.

"What…?" Ron stammered, springing to his feet, eyes fixed on the apparition.

Under their astonished gaze, a skull rose higher and higher, shimmering in a halo of green smoke, outlined against the black sky like a new constellation. Suddenly, a burst of screams echoed through the surrounding woods. The sudden appearance of the skull had likely triggered the screams; the Dark Mark was the symbol Voldemort had used during the First Wizarding War to signal that his Death Eaters had spread death again. Harry, however, was convinced it was more a command for the Death Eaters to retreat, cast by Barty Croupton Jr to announce his return to his master. Harry was ready to let him do so; the more the plan proceeded as intended, the sooner Harry could confront Voldemort.

The green shape had risen high enough to illuminate the entire woods, like a sinister neon sign, and Harry felt a shiver of apprehension. He scanned the trees, trying to spot who had conjured the Dark Mark, but saw no one.

"Let's get out of here!" Fred said, hoisting the woman onto his back.

Hermione was the first to react, shoving a dumbstruck Ron aside, who stared at the mark ahead of them. But barely had they taken a few steps when twenty wizards appeared out of nowhere in a flurry of sparks, immediately surrounding them. Spinning around, Harry realized in a split second that each wizard was pointing a wand at them. He grabbed Hermione's wand and pressed close to Fred.

"ON THE FLOOR!" he shouted.

"STUPEFY!" roared the twenty wizards in unison.

Harry cast a shield around himself and Fred, who still carried the woman on his back. The men stopped their spell mid-incantation, surprised.

"Are you mad?" Harry snapped. "Don't you see we have children and injured people with us?"

The men kept their wands raised, exchanging quick glances. Harry rolled his eyes, tightening his hold on the child.

"Stop!" a voice he immediately recognized shouted. "STOP! These are my children!"

Mr. Weasley was striding toward them, terrified.

"The children! My children… are you all right?" His voice trembled as he drew them to him one by one. Ginny was the first to rush into his arms. Harry kept his wand raised, maintaining the shield.

"Done firing blindly now, are we?" he asked sharply at the wizards still holding them at wandpoint, while Fred remained by his side, stunned.

"Step aside, Arthur," a cold, harsh voice commanded. "And you, lower your wand!"

It was Barty Croupton, accompanied by other Ministry wizards, advancing with rage contorting his face. Harry lowered his wand but kept the shield in place.

"Which one of you did this?" he barked, eyes scanning from one to another. "Who made the Dark Mark appear?"

"It’s not us!" George protested indignantly.

Harry gave Croupton a steady look.

"We didn't do anything!" Ron added, rubbing his elbow and staring at his father indignantly. "Why did you attack us?"

"Do not lie, young man!" Croupton shouted.

"We heard the voice that cast the spell; it came from over there," Harry said, pointing to the trees behind them. Croupton Jr had already disappeared anyway.

"Someone over there? Really?" Croupton's eyes bulged as he turned to Harry, utterly incredulous. "And they cast a spell, you say? You seem very well-informed about how to summon the Mark."

"Of course, I heard it being done," Harry said, unimpressed, which clearly was not the response Croupton wanted. His face twisted further in a purplish scowl.

Croupton probably expected to be taken seriously, but apparently, no other Ministry wizard believed any of them could have conjured the Dark Mark. In fact, hearing Harry, they raised their wands again, pointing toward the indicated trees, scrutinizing the area.

"We arrived too late," said a witch in evening robes. "They all Apparated away."

"I don't think so," replied a dark-bearded, shaggy wizard, Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our Stunning spells went through the trees… there's a good chance we hit someone…"

"Amos, be careful!" some colleagues exclaimed alarmed.

Amos Diggory ducked his head, raised his wand, and crossed the clearing decisively. Hermione covered her mouth with her hands as she watched him disappear among the trees. Moments later, they heard him cry out.

"Yes, we got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! No way…"

"You caught someone?" Mr. Croupton exclaimed, incredulous. "Who? Who is it?"

Harry could not suppress a small smile, hidden as he lowered his head. He was eager to see Croupton's expression upon discovering the captive's identity.

They heard branches snap, leaves rustle, then Amos Diggory's footsteps emerging from the woods. In his arms was a tiny, lifeless figure, Harry immediately recognized the small house-elf: Winky. Mr. Croupton did not move or speak as Amos set the elf at his feet. All the other Ministry wizards fixed their gaze on Croupton. For a few moments, he was stunned, pale, his eyes fixed on Winky. Then he seemed to come back to himself.

"This… is… not… possible," he said in a choked voice. "No…"

He bypassed Mr. Diggory and strode toward the spot where he had found Winky.

"Useless, Mr. Croupton," Mr. Diggory shouted. "There's no one else over there."

Indeed, there was no one they could find.

Chapter Text

"Fred, who is that woman? And that child?" asked Arthur's anxious voice beside him.

"A Muggle… I suppose."

"One dea- well, one of the masked men was torturing them with the Cruciatus Curse," explained Harry.

At this announcement, outraged and angry murmurs ran through the assembly.

"I sent him flying into the flames, so if you see a man suddenly burned in the next few days, you'll know who it was," Harry added.

"Sent flying?!"

"You're not supposed to use magic as first-year wizards," remarked Amos sharply.

Harry shrugged.

"So I was supposed to walk away and let her be tortured?"

Affirmative grumbles were the only response.

Crouch returned, increasingly furious, clearly having ignored every word of their conversation.

"And the Mark?" a squeaky voice asked from further away. Everyone turned to see him point at the Dark Mark still hovering above them. A silence fell before all eyes shifted back to the poor house-elf, still petrified.

Amos Diggory pointed his wand at her.

"Enervatum," he said.

Winky stirred weakly. She opened her large brown eyes and blinked repeatedly, dazed. Under the scrutiny of the silent wizards, she pulled herself into a sitting position, trembling. She then saw Mr Diggory's feet and, slowly, fearfully, lifted her eyes to his face. Even more slowly, she looked up at the sky. Harry saw the giant skull reflected twice in her enormous glassy eyes. She stifled a cry, looked around the crowded clearing, and broke into terrified sobs.

"Elf!" said Amos Diggory gravely. "Do you know who I am? I am part of the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures!"

Still sitting on the ground, Winky rocked back and forth, her breathing ragged. Harry listened, annoyed, he could have at least asked her name rather than referring to her by her species.

"As you can see, elf, the Dark Mark appeared just now," Amos Diggory continued. "And you were found directly beneath it moments later! So? An explanation, please!"

"It… it… it… wasn't me, sir!" stammered Winky. "I don't know how to do it, sir!"

Amos Diggory brandished a wand in front of Winky.

"You had this wand in your hand when we found you!" he barked.

The green light emanating from the skull illuminated Harry's wand. According to the Magical Creatures Regulation Code, elves were not permitted to hold wands; she was in serious trouble simply for touching it. It was absurd, why would an elf use something that diminishes her magic when their power is otherwise superior? Harry watched Hermione, who seemed on the verge of intervening.

"Hey, that's my wand," Harry said, trying to sound innocent. "It fell out of my pocket!"

"Fell out of your pocket?" repeated Mr Diggory, astonished. "Is this a confession? You threw it after conjuring the Mark?"

Harry looked at him, stunned, not even bothering to answer.

"Amos, remember who you're speaking to!" Mr Weasley intervened angrily. "Would Harry Potter conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er… no, of course not," muttered Mr Diggory. "Sorry… I got carried away."

"Anyway, it's not where I lost it," Harry said, gesturing to the trees beneath the skull. "I lost it a while ago at the camp. That means whoever took it was in our camp, or maybe even directly in the stadium."

"If you didn't have your wand… how did you subdue the man earlier?" remarked one of the pointed-nosed men.

Harry shrugged.'

"I never said I did it with magic," he said simply.

"So," Mr Diggory resumed, ignoring the interruption and fixing a stern gaze on Winky, still huddled at his feet, "you found this wand, didn't you, elf? You picked it up and thought you could have a bit of fun, is that right?"

Who would cast the dark spell for fun ?

"I didn't use magic, sir!" squeaked Winky, tears streaming down each side of her flattened nose. "I… I… I just picked it up, sir! It wasn't me, the Dark Mark, sir, I don't know how to do it!"

"It wasn't her!" Hermione affirmed. Though intimidated by all the Ministry wizards, she was determined to speak. "Winky has a high-pitched voice, yet the voice that cast the spell was much deeper!"

She glanced around as others hurried to back her up.

"We'll see about that," growled Mr Diggory, unimpressed. "There's a very simple way to know what the last spell a wand cast was, elf, did you know that?"

Winky shook violently and nodded frantically, her ears flapping like wings, while Mr Diggory brought his wand tip-to-tip against Harry's.

Harry glanced at Crouch, who was staring elsewhere.

"Prior Incantato!" roared Amos Diggory.

Harry heard Hermione stifle a scream as a massive serpent-tongued skull erupted at the junction of the two wands. It was only a faint echo of the greenish skull hovering above them, appearing as thick grey smoke, like a ghostly imprint of the spell.

"Destructum!" cried Mr Diggory.

The skull dissipated instantly in a swirl of smoke.

"So?" said Mr Diggory, brutally triumphant, looking at Winky, still convulsively trembling.

"It wasn't me!" she cried in her tiny, high-pitched voice, rolling her terrified eyes. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know how! I'm a good elf, I don't have a wand, I don't know h-"

Harry, tired of seeing her mind tortured like this, approached and took her by the shoulders.

"Calm down, Winky. It's all right. You've done nothing wrong, I'm sure of it."

She looked at him with her huge, globular eyes, sniffing, though her trembling eased slightly.

"Wh-" Amos Diggory began, but Harry cut him off.

"You're really from the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures?!" he snapped. "Don't you know house-elves cannot lie to their masters? Mr Crouch could ask the right question, and this would be resolved, no need for torture an innocent."

He looked up at Crouch, who seemed perturbed to be suddenly drawn into the conversation.

"You're planning to-"

"Potter's right, Amos. Let me handle this, it's my elf, after all."

He stepped in front of her.

"Winky, did you cast the spell to make the Dark Mark appear in the sky?"

Winky shook her head.

"No, Winky swears, Winky would never-"

"Then it's settled," said Barty, rising, no longer interested in her apologies. Harry gave her a small smile as he stood, and Hermione smiled broadly, as did the Weasleys standing further back.

"But Barty, she has the wand-"

"Amos," Mr Weasley said firmly, "think a moment… Very few wizards could cast such a curse. Where would she have learned to do it?"

"Amos perhaps insinuates," said Mr Crouch, enunciating each word with cold anger, "that I teach my servants how to conjure the Dark Mark?"

A particularly awkward silence fell. Amos Diggory looked horrified.

"Mr Crouch, come now, that's not it at all…"

"You were about to accuse the two people here least likely to conjure this Mark!" roared Mr Crouch. "Harry Potter… and myself! I imagine you know this boy's history, Amos?"

"Of course, everyone knows it," muttered Mr Diggory, crestfallen.

Harry was secretly pleased to see a hint of contrition.

"And I trust you remember the many instances, throughout a long career, where I have demonstrated my disdain and abhorrence for Dark Magic and those who practice it?" shouted Mr Crouch, eyes bulging again.

Harry could hardly argue with that; few enforced justice with such rigor.

"Mr Crouch, I… I never suggested you had anything to do with this!" stammered Amos Diggory, reddening beneath his scruffy beard.

"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" exclaimed Mr Crouch. "Where could she possibly have learned such a thing?"

"She… she could have found it anywhere…"

"Exactly, Amos," Mr Crouch replied. "She could have found it anywhere… Winky?" he asked gently, but the elf shrank as if he, too, had shouted at her. "Exactly where did you find Harry Potter's wand?"

Winky twisted the hem of her rag so fiercely it frayed between her fingers.

"I… I found it… over there, sir," she whispered. "In… in the trees, sir…"

"You see, Amos?" said Arthur Weasley. "The one who conjured the Mark could have vanished by Apparating and left Harry's wand behind. Clever of the culprit to use a different wand, and Winky was unlucky to find it immediately after."

"But in that case, she must have been mere metres from the real culprit!" exclaimed Mr Diggory impatiently. "Elf! Did you see anyone?"

Harry rolled his eyes at the label, he now knew her name; there was no excuse for calling her ‘elf' indiscriminately.

Winky shook more violently than ever. Her huge eyes flicked from Mr Diggory to Harry, then to Mr Crouch. She swallowed hard before replying.

"I… I saw no one, sir… no one…"

"Amos," said Mr Crouch sharply, "I know that according to standard procedure you would wish to take Winky to your department for interrogation. But I ask you to let me handle it myself."

Mr Diggory did not look pleased, but Crouch's authority in the Ministry forbade him from refusing.

"You may be certain she will be punished," Mr Crouch said icily.

"M-m-master…" Winky whimpered, tearful eyes lifting to him. "M-m-master, p-please…"

Mr Crouch looked at her in turn, his face hardened, each feature accentuated. No pity in his eyes.

"Winky behaved tonight in a manner I could not have imagined," he said slowly. "I told her to remain under the tent. I told her not to move while I restored order. And I find she disobeyed. This means she will receive a… clothing."

"No!" screamed Winky in her tiny shrill voice, prostrating herself at Mr Crouch's feet. "No, master! No clothing! No clothing!"

The elves were freed from their oath. From the moment they received clothing, they were again free, and for many of them, except perhaps Dobby, this was one of the worst things that could happen in their eyes. Sirius had once assured him in another life that Kreatur would probably die if suddenly released from the Black family. Hermione seemed to understand perfectly as well, as she intervened, raising her voice.

"She was scared! That's why she ran!" Hermione cried angrily, casting an indignant look at Mr Crouch. "Your elf is afraid of heights and those masked wizards were levitating their victims! You can't blame her for wanting to escape!"

Mr Crouch took a step back to distance himself from Winky and regarded her with contempt, as if she were some filth threatening to soil his impeccably polished shoes.

"I have no need for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly, turning his gaze toward Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets her duties to her master and does not care for her reputation. If no one objects, I believe I shall return to my tent," he said quietly. "Amos, we have nothing further to learn from this wand… If you would kindly return it to Harry…"

Amos Diggory extended his wand to Harry, who slipped it into his pocket, his mind elsewhere as he watched the little elf's head nodding against her shoulder. He turned to Amos Diggory.

"What do we do with these two? Have any reinforcements arrived?" he asked, indicating the child and her mother.

Fred looked visibly exhausted, probably having not dared to set the child down during the entire exchange. He also had to admit he could no longer feel his right arm.

"Yes, we'll go and join them to explain the situation. Loir, Felton, take them, we'll meet you there," he said in a dry tone before Apparating.

Harry would have liked to ask after Cedric, but it was too late. He handed the still-sleeping little girl into the arms of the pointed-nosed agent while Fred left the mother with a sturdy witch. He stretched long afterward as Arthur congratulated his son for his diligence. The Weasley patriarch then gathered the small group.

"Let's go now," he whispered.

Harry handed his wand to Hermione, who did not respond to his smile.

"What will happen to Winky?" Hermione asked anxiously once they had left the clearing.

"I don't know," replied Mr Weasley.

"The way they treated her!" Hermione fumed. "Mr Diggory calling her 'elf' all the time… And Mr Crouch! He knows perfectly well she isn't guilty but still wants to send her away! He doesn't care that she was scared, that she's upset… It's as if she isn't even human!"

"Exactly, she isn't," Ron remarked. Hermione turned to him.

"That doesn't mean she has no feelings, Ron. It's disgusting to see how-"

"Hermione, I agree with you," Mr Weasley said hurriedly, motioning for them to keep moving. "But now is not the time to discuss elf rights. I want us to get back to our tents as quickly as possible. The others must be waiting anxiously; I told them not to move while I came to fetch you."

Harry lightly patted Hermione's back.

"I'm sure Winky will soon find a far better situation; Crouch was not a good master for her," he said with a small smile, glancing briefly at Crouch, who walked ahead, ignoring Winky's sobs as she stumbled along behind him.

"Dad, why was everyone so tense about that skull?"

"I'll explain everything once we're under the tent," Mr Weasley said tensely.

But when they reached the edge of the woods, they could go no further. A large crowd of witches and wizards, visibly terrified, had gathered, and several of them immediately surged toward Mr Weasley.

"What's happening over there? Who made it appear? Arthur, it can't be-"

Winky cried so loudly her sobs echoed throughout the clearing. The very unpleasant silence that followed was broken by Mr Weasley.

"Of course not, it's not her," Mr Weasley replied irritably. "We don't know who it is; it seems the culprit Apparated away. In any case, rest assured, no one was injured. And now, excuse me, but I'd like to get some sleep."

He made his way through the crowd, leading them back to the campsite. Everything was peaceful now. The masked wizards were gone, but several tents, ravaged by flames, still let out wisps of smoke.

Charlie's head appeared under the boys' tent awning.

"Dad, finally. What happened? Did you find them?"

"They're with me," Mr Weasley reassured, leaning to enter the tent.

Harry and the others followed him inside. Bill was sitting in front of the small camping table, a cloth wrapped around his heavily bleeding arm. Charlie's shirt was torn, and Percy had a nosebleed. They all looked as though they had endured very long hours. Charlie drew Ginny into an embrace and ruffled his brothers' hair as Harry withdrew his wand. He was rather disgusted that it had been used to conjure the horror that, as he now knew, had once adorned his parents' home. Fred, standing beside him, laid a hand on his shoulder, offering a small smile as he put away his wand. He would think about it later, alone.

"Did you catch him?" Bill asked immediately. "The one who made the Mark appear?"

"No," replied Mr Weasley. "We found Mr Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we know no more about the culprit's identity."

"What?" exclaimed Bill, Charlie, and Percy in unison.

"Crouch's elf!" Percy choked.

"She's guilty of nothing!" Hermione protested, still unsettled by Diggory and Crouch's earlier behaviour.

"And that has been proved. Anyway, a lot happened."

Harry collapsed onto the couch next to Ginny, who seemed to finally regain some colour, while the group recounted their evening.

"Mr Crouch is perfectly right to get rid of an elf like that!" said Percy. "Running off when he told her to stay put… Embarrassing him in front of the Ministry… Imagine the scandal if she had been interrogated by the Department for the Control and Regulation…"

"She did nothing at all! She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione interrupted sharply.

Percy looked taken aback. Hermione had always gotten along well with him, much better than with the others at least.

"Hermione, a wizard of his level cannot afford to have a house-elf running amok with a wand!" Percy replied, resuming his self-important tone.

"She didn't run amok!" Hermione exclaimed. "She simply picked up the wand!"

"Can someone finally explain what this skull means?" Ron finally demanded. Harry looked at him, a little surprised.

"It's Voldemort's emblem," he explained, perplexed. He was sure it was Ron who had explained it to him in his previous life; he must have confused things, so much had happened that night.

The full Weasley family gasped as they heard the name.

"Harry…" murmured Arthur, somewhat shocked.

"It's the symbol You-Know-Who used to announce a murder, Ron," Hermione added before anyone could speak. "It's in The Rise and Fall of Dark Magic."

"And we hadn't seen it for thirteen years," Mr Weasley whispered. "No wonder everyone panicked… It's as if You-Know-Who had returned."

"I don't understand," Ron frowned. "After all… it's just a shape in the sky…"

"Ron, you need to know that You-Know-Who's followers would conjure the Dark Mark every time they killed someone," Mr Weasley said. "You can't imagine the terror it inspired… You're too young. Imagine coming home and seeing the Dark Mark over your house, knowing what you'd find inside…" Mr Weasley grimaced. "It was everyone's worst fear… the worst…"

Harry could see him trembling slightly, as if back in that dark time, wondering each night if he would find his sons and wife alive. Bill then removed the cloth around his arm to check the wound and said:

"In any case, whoever conjured it didn't help us. As soon as they saw it, the Death Eaters were terrified. They all Apparated away before we could identify a single one. Well… we have some doubts; some say Lucius Malfoy was caught on the scene with half his face burned… At least we managed to get most of the Muggles before they hit the ground. We were performing Memory Charms on them after treating them."

"What did you say!" Arthur exclaimed, springing to his feet.

"I said we got to them just in time…"

"No, not that, about Lucius Malfoy!" his father growled.

"Oh, he was caught wearing similar clothing and got burned, but he claimed he'd come to help and was thrown into the flames…"

Harry, who had only widened his eyes at the news, suddenly felt the gaze of the Weasley juniors and Hermione upon him. He was completely taken aback. Running into Lucius Malfoy was probably the last contingency he had considered, he had barely thought about it. Out of everyone, Malfoy was the last person he expected to encounter at the camp.

"So the man Harry sent flying into the flames was Malfoy!" Ron finally exclaimed.

The three eldest Weasleys turned to him, eyes wide.

"The man… by Merlin! He- he did?!" Arthur gasped, deeply shocked.

Harry ruffled his hair, thinking. It was very bad news that the man was Malfoy. Absolutely not part of his current plans, not to mention that he would not hesitate to mention an Unforgivable Curse. Harry would have to play it carefully in the coming weeks. He was fortunate that no one knew he was the one who dealt with the Death Eater.

"And he'll get away… because the Ministry will never oppose him," Fred gulped.

"Certainly," Harry acknowledged.

"Not on my watch! I'll find a way this time. This crime won't go unpunished."

"It's foolish of him… Why Cruciatus? The others just played nasty tricks, didn't they?" he muttered so quietly that the others seemed not to hear, having launched into an insult contest against the Death Eater.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Apparate away on seeing the Dark Mark?" Ron finally wondered. "They should have been pleased to see it instead."

"Think a bit, Ron," Bill said. "The Death Eaters struggled to avoid Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power. They told all sorts of lies claiming he forced them to kill and spread suffering, like Malfoy tonight. I imagine they'd be even more afraid than us to see him return. They always denied their ties to him when he lost his powers and had to return to normal life… So I doubt he'd be pleased with them, understand?"

"But then… the one who conjured the Dark Mark," Hermione said slowly, "did they want to show sympathy to the Death Eaters or scare them?"

"We know no more than you," Hermione, Mr Weasley replied. "One thing's certain: only Death Eaters knew how to conjure the Dark Mark. I'd be very surprised if the culprit hadn't been a Death Eater at some point in their life, even if they're not now… Listen, it's very late, and if Molly ever learns what happened, she'll worry herself sick. We'll sleep for a few hours and try to catch a Portkey early tomorrow morning to get home."

Everyone nodded and began changing and curling up in their respective beds, continuing to talk.

Harry and Ron were talking in a corner of the room, near their high bed.

"What depresses me is that I left my Krum figurine back there… do you think we'll have time to fetch it before we leave?"

"It's going to be difficult, honestly, if we get caught there, we could be in serious trouble."

Ron sighed, disappointed.

"But if you want, I can make you another one once we're at Hogwarts; I even have the perfect spell to make it walk just like before," he said. "And if that's what it takes to make you happy, I can redo all the Krum merch. Like a life-size statue, his mini broomstick, scarves and t-shirts, even a pillow with his face on it."

Ron smiled a little at that.

"What would I do with a pillow?"

"Well, imagine waking up every morning and seeing his dark, brooding eyes and terribly sexy frowning brows right in front of you," he said with a mock expression of charm, dodging a kick from Ron, who was laughing at the same time.

They did not have time to argue further before a voice spoke behind them.

"And who is this terribly sexy person you want to see every morning, Harry?" Recognising George's voice, Harry sighed and turned around.

"If you want to talk to me about-" he stopped, his mind a little blank "…Cedric."

Charlie was about two metres away, changing his clothes, clearly listening with a small smile. Harry had been moments from saying his name, unaware of what misunderstanding it could have caused.

Fred and George, both obviously present, suddenly wore blasé expressions.

"You think Mr Perfect is sexy."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Of course, because he's perfect," he said, mischievously.

"Really?" George looked even more unimpressed, but Fred smiled at him.

"We don't believe you."

"I already told you Cedric and I are friends; he sees me as a little brother, and I remind you he's two years older than me."

"Age doesn't matter."

Harry sighed. Of course they would say that. Like they were trying to pair him with Charlie, who was almost ten years older.

"If you want." He cast a quick glance at Charlie, who had turned to Bill, whispering and laughing quietly. At least he didn't seem to have noticed Harry's discomfort.

Harry pretended not to think about it and turned to the bed to grab his own bag. He just wanted to sleep. He took off his t-shirt, yawning. It had been slightly soiled by the little girl; he smiled sadly, thinking of her.

"Oh, Harry! No sense of decency!" George suddenly exclaimed. Harry turned to them laughing, as did Ron, who had propped himself up on the bed at the scream. George and Fred pretended to cover their eyes while shouting that he was shameless. Harry tossed them his t-shirt.

"Some people want to sleep here!" Percy yelled from the other side of the room.

"Sorry, Percy," he said, signalling to the twins to be quiet.

He then climbed onto the high bed and collapsed onto the mattress. It might be less soft than his bed at Hogwarts, but after such a day, he would have taken anything, even his old mattress under the stairs would have sufficed. He lay on his back, leaning toward Ron.

"Good morning, Ronnie," he said with a small smile. Ron responded with a tired grunt, which was perfectly adequate.

The twins had left their corner of the room, and Harry might have worried about them leaving with his t-shirt, but he no longer cared. He didn't even have the energy to slide under the covers, closing his eyes instantly, sinking into a long, restorative sleep that didn't last nearly long enough.

It was still early when Arthur woke them that morning. Harry grumbled slightly at the voice next to him but sat up nonetheless, forcing himself awake by stretching. Once certain Harry and Ron wouldn't fall back asleep, Arthur trotted back outside, presumably to wake up the girls. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, looking around. The tent was still dimly lit, night still outside, and only the candles illuminated the interior. Fred and George seemed half sprawled over one another on the couch, clearly having been pulled from bed but immediately collapsing there. Harry laughed at the sight. Percy was methodically packing his bag while trying to keep his eyes open, and beside him, Charlie chatted incessantly, in apparently peak form, which was almost suspicious. Bill was nowhere in sight.

Harry leaned slightly from his bed toward Ron, who had gone back to sleep once their father left.

"Wake up, Ronald!" he said, voice still hoarse, slightly sleepy.

Ron replied with a grunt, making Harry chuckle.

Harry jumped out of bed and landed right next to his friend's head.

"We've got a long way to go, get up, I'm not carrying you!" he said, shaking him.

"Two minutes," grumbled his friend.

"I'll jump on you in two minutes, just warning you," he said, more awake after his little leap from bed. He turned to the centre of the room; Charlie and Percy had noticed, but Harry focused on the twins a few metres away.

"Up, it's really nice outside," he said, leaning over the back of the couch.

Fred looked at him, dazed.

"Are you possessed by Olivier or something?" he growled.

"I'm doing my best; usually this gives you energy."

"Usually I don't spend the night running for my life in the woods," said Fred, while George didn't seem able to speak.

"You just lack training." Harry shook his head, then turned to Percy and Charlie, who were watching. "Sleep well, you two?"

Percy nodded, returning to his bag, while Charlie took a second to nod slowly with a smile.

"You look well-rested, Harry, sleeping only three hours?"

"If I convince myself I am, then I am," Harry said, smiling. He flicked George's cheek, who had closed his eyes with his chin wobbling dangerously downward. George jumped at the touch, grunting. Harry laughed, ruffling his hair, then looked up at Charlie.

"I see that you're in good shape, though."

"I'm used to short nights," he said, logical, given that dragons do not follow wizards' fixed schedules or sleep neatly at night.

Harry smiled, then lowered his gaze toward Fred and George, who were finally starting to emerge, stretching and groaning loudly.

"So boys, up? Good? Ah, Harry, very well! But… Ron! Get up, we leave in ten minutes and need to pack the tent and our things."

Arthur Weasley had returned in a fury, heading straight to pull his son out of bed, this time for good. Harry felt sorry; he had forgotten that Arthur intended to wake him before coming back.

"Why do we have to leave so early? We're safe, right?" his friend murmured, stretching.

"Your mother hasn't heard from us and must have learned what happened here last night; she must be worried," Harry said, pulling a new t-shirt from his bag.

Faced with that irrefutable argument, Ron dragged himself from the bed and grabbed clothes to get dressed quickly. Harry watched him take a chick-yellow t-shirt from his bag to match his bright green shorts patterned with actual apples. Harry was so horrified by the style that he stared throughout the process. He had never wanted magic outside Hogwarts more, to change his outfit into something wearable. Ron finally looked at him, confused.

"What?"

"Burbage really needs to start her class on Muggle fashion…" Harry said.

"Why? What's wrong with my outfit?!"

Already thinking about the store Ron got his clothes from, he thought, so appalled he smiled despite himself. Luckily, someone arrived unexpectedly.

"Excuse me, I just came to see Harry, won't take long," said a voice he immediately recognised.

Harry turned to Cedric with a big smile and went to him. As soon as he saw him, Cedric came closer, passing Bill who accompanied him, and took Harry by the shoulders, inspecting him from head to toe. Only after a few seconds did he look satisfied.

"You alright, Cedric?"

"Alright? I was terrified," he exclaimed. "My father told me what happened."

Harry looked surprised before smiling.

"I'm fine. Sorry to have worried you. Your father must have had a lot of trouble yesterday; I… ran into him."

Cedric nodded, looking dark for a moment, before ruffling Harry's already messy hair with a small smile.

"Cedric, sorry, but we have to leave very soon," Arthur intervened, cutting short their reunion. Harry looked around, somewhat forgetting where they were, noticing the twins looking annoyed next to Charlie, who was speaking quietly with Bill, not seeming to follow the exchange. Percy glared at Cedric, his hand extended as if expecting a handshake.

"Of course," Cedric said, stepping away from Harry. "I haven't told my father anyway, better go back before he looks for me. See you at Hogwarts."

"Without fail," Harry smiled.

He left as quickly as he had come, greeting everyone.

"You really think he's sexy?" Fred asked beside him, looking unimpressed.

Harry turned to him, confused. He had never thought of Cedric that way, although he recalled their discussion the night before.

A slap sounded nearby, sparing Harry from replying. Charlie had clearly just hit the back of Bill's head, who laughed heartily, and followed his laughter. Fred hurried over to see what happened, and Harry could retrieve his bag and the last necessary belongings before following Arthur out of the tent.

"Finally, we've been waiting hours," Ginny grumbled.

"You know men, always fussing over themselves," Harry said with a wink. Ginny and Hermione sniggered as the others joined them.

He used magic to dismantle and fold the tents, and they hurriedly left the campsite, passing Mr Roberts, who waved and exclaimed,

"Thank you for your visit!"

"He apparently went out with his family the night before and saw none of what happened," Mr Weasley whispered as they advanced across the moor. "That's lucky."

Harry nodded, satisfied with the result. Approaching the Portkey, they heard frantic voices and saw a crowd of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the transport manager; everyone demanded to leave as quickly as possible. Mr Weasley had a brief conversation with Basil; they then joined the queue and an old worn tyre.

Chapter Text

After waiting another ten minutes, the Portkey tyre returned them to the Têtafouine hill just as the sun was rising on the horizon. In the morning light, they crossed the village of Little Hangleton towards the Burrow. They were too exhausted to talk and could think of nothing but sitting down to a good breakfast. As they rounded the last bend of the damp dirt path leading home, a loud cry rang out.

"Oh, thank Merlin, thank you, thank you!"

Molly Weasley was waiting for them visibly outside the house. She rushed towards them still wearing her slippers, pale, drawn, hand clutching a crumpled copy of The Daily Prophet.

"Arthur! I was so worried! So worried!"

She leapt into Mr Weasley’s arms, and the newspaper fell to the ground. Glancing at it, Harry saw a headline in bold: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, above a black-and-white photo showing the Dark Mark glimmering above the treetops.

"Nothing happened to you?" Mrs Weasley murmured, frantic, releasing her husband and looking at each of them in turn, her eyes red. "You’re all alive… Oh, my children…"

To everyone’s surprise, she grabbed Fred and George by the necks and squeezed them so hard their heads collided.

"Ow! Mum, you’re choking us…"

"I scolded you when you left!" Mrs Weasley sobbed. "I haven’t stopped thinking about it! What if they had hurt you when the last thing I told you was that you hadn’t had enough NEWTs… Oh, Fred… George…"

"Come on, Molly, you can see we’re perfectly fine," said Mr Weasley in a calming tone.

He took her from the twins and led her inside, gesturing to Bill.

"Bill," he said quietly, "pick up the newspaper, I want to see what it says…"

Once they were all gathered in the tiny kitchen and Hermione had made Mrs Weasley a very strong cup of tea into which Mr Weasley insisted on pouring a finger of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky, Bill handed the newspaper to his father. Mr Weasley skimmed the front page while Percy read over his shoulder.

"I knew it," sighed Mr Weasley. "Numerous Ministry blunders… The culprits haven’t been found… Serious security failures… Dark wizards running rampant… A disgrace for the country… Who wrote this? Ah, of course… Rita Skeeter."

Harry restrained a sigh. What mattered to him was that there wasn’t a word about Lucius Malfoy. He was certain Malfoy would find a way to get out of it. The problem was that Lucius could possibly accuse him of casting an Unforgivable Curse. He would need to deal with that quickly. Maybe Dobby could modify memories. He shouldn’t confront Dobby with his former masters; it would be unfair. He absolutely needed to know what Malfoy would say at the Ministry and, most importantly, to Voldemort. Normally, Voldemort would not yet be aware of his return, but after this year, he would be, and could no longer shield himself as easily. Lucius would surely realise Harry had the newspaper, and Voldemort would overprotect his Horcruxes. Meanwhile, Harry had not yet secured the Cup.

"Harry."

A hand rested on his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. Harry jumped back, looking at Charlie. He glanced around. The kitchen had emptied, leaving only his friends and Charlie. Hermione and Ron were clearly trying to speak to him.

"Sorry?" he said eventually, confused.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"I-" he began, so caught up in his thoughts. "Yes."

Both raised a sceptical eyebrow at the blatant lie.

"I was lost in thought, sorry. As expected, they didn’t mention Malfoy; I’m afraid he’ll get away easily," he finally said, sharing part of his concern.

"Dad will probably know more tonight; he went to the Ministry with Percy."

Harry nodded.

"We can only wait, I suppose," he said with a smile he hoped was convincing.

"No choice now," Ron sighed, finally sitting up.

Harry then saw someone leap from outside the house. It was Dobby. Harry swallowed.

"I’ll be back in two seconds, I just need to… put my things down," he said, rising with another forced smile. The others watched, puzzled.

"Want us to come with you?"

"No, I’ll be quick." He waved before anyone could respond.

Harry bounded up the stairs, reaching Ron’s room and closing the door behind him.

"Dobby," he said, out of breath.

Dobby appeared before him; Harry dropped to his knees, worried.

"Something happened? Are you alright?"

Dobby bounced, eyes sparkling.

"Dobby came to check on you, Dobby just learned what happened at the Quidditch World Cup, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are very worried, they wanted to come, but Dobby insisted on coming alone first."

Harry sighed with relief and smiled.

"I’m fine, thank you for worrying. You can tell them all is well and I’ll explain everything as soon as possible. For now, I don’t have much time; the others are waiting."

"Dobby is reassured. Is it true the Dark Mark appeared?"

"Yes, and that’s a very good thing," he said with a small smile.

Dobby looked surprised.

"Soon, it will be Voldemort returning, and we will be ready to send him six feet under for good." Dobby’s eyes widened even more at the name but he said nothing. "Meanwhile, I will have a task for you when you can. Well, not really a task, you know Winky, right?"

"Winky? The Croupton family elf? Yes, Dobby knows her well."

"Well, Winky was forced to receive a garment unfairly; she must be distraught. Maybe you could invite her to Hogwarts with you. She doesn’t know where to go. She will be safe with you, I’m sure."

"Poor Winky!" Dobby whimpered. "She loved her masters so much. Why was she freed? Did she do something wrong?"

"Her master is somewhat tyrannical. She’ll explain better than I can, but in short, she was accused unjustly, and Croupton punished her for sullying the family name."

Dobby shivered with worry.

"Dobby will go find her as soon as possible," he affirmed.

"Perfect, that should be fine. Who knows, she may even get used to freedom like you," said Harry, smiling as he stood. "I’m counting on you to reassure Sirius and Remus; they don’t need to worry, I’ve got this under control."

Dobby disappeared quickly. After a few seconds, Harry descended calmly, finding Charlie alone in the kitchen. He was drinking coffee, a beverage rarely consumed by wizards, though Harry wasn’t surprised the Weasleys had it.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Out fetching Fred and George," replied the dragon keeper, holding out the cafetière. "Want some?"

Harry hesitated, not a fan of the taste, but he felt he needed it.

"I won’t say no, thanks," he said, going over as Charlie poured a cup.

He took it and savoured a sip of the hot mixture. It was warm outside, but that didn’t bother him; he felt his stomach tense slightly, which helped him relax.

"So, when will I get the chance to face the legendary Charlie Weasley in a Quidditch duel?" he asked, trying to break the silence.

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"Legendary, that much?"

"Believe it or not, it wasn’t me who said it. Usually legends are for the dead. But you won’t complain, right?" Harry replied with a teasing smile.

"True. But who can match you in legend?" Charlie retorted with the same grin.

"Touché," Harry laughed.

"Why not now?"

Harry saw him straighten up.

"Just after running and fighting all night, indeed, the perfect moment to test each other’s skills," he said, sipping again as Charlie smiled. "Why not, I’ll ask Ron to lend you his broom; no blaming the broom when you lose."

Charlie raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"And I heard you weren’t boastful."

"I’m a modest genius, what can I say," Harry replied, pleased with his description. "And modesty has no place on a Quidditch pitch, don’t you think?"

They were interrupted by the twins and their friends entering, accompanied by Ginny and Bill. The twins’ smiles clearly indicated they had been listening.

"Shall we play a match?" Charlie suggested. All nodded.

"Ginny, Mione, you’re playing too?"

"Harry, you know I’m not very good on a broom," said Hermione.

"Of course you are," Harry insisted, while Bill asked Ginny if she was sure about playing. She seemed especially enthusiastic.

"After all, we need four Chasers, right?" Harry noted, Ginny’s eyes sparkling.

With that, they all went to the garden shed to collect the brooms. There were brooms of all shapes and ages; Charlie borrowed Ron’s broom, eager to test it. Hermione was chosen as second Keeper opposite him, while Bill and George would play Chasers against Fred and Ginny.

As soon as they took off, Ginny began flying in circles impatiently; she had never had the chance to play with her brothers as a child. Harry was certain they would be dazzled by her skills. Hermione appeared the least confident. Harry teamed up with Hermione, Ginny, and Fred against the four Weasley brothers. From the outside, it looked extremely uneven, but knowing Ginny and Fred’s abilities, he was sure they would perform brilliantly. Hermione also proved attentive with good magical reflexes; flying was no exception.

The match began and everyone rose into the air. Ginny snatched the Quaffle from under Bill’s nose to Fred and Hermione’s exclamations. Harry climbed higher, enjoying the wind on his face and a better view of the game. Charlie flew lower, clearly taking advantage of the broom and some practice time. Harry had to admit, despite his impressive build, he was light and skilled on a broom. He reminded Harry a little of Cedric in his balanced flying style. The difference was that Charlie looked entirely at home, as if born on a broom, flying gracefully through gusty wind, with a slightly dreamy expression. In a way, he reminded Harry of himself; he now understood why the twins often said they resembled each other. Harry was sure that if he asked Charlie to describe Quidditch in one word, it would be “freedom.”

"Harry, are you watching or what?!" Fred shouted, passing the Quaffle to Ginny near the goal. Harry turned from his contemplation and descended to join his teammate.

"It’s crazy, Charlie and I really look alike when we fly, that’s what you’ve been telling me?" he asked.

"Alike? I’ve been telling you for years; you weren’t listening?"

"Yeah, Ginny!" Harry yelled, ignoring him as the redhead joined, slapping his hand with a huge grin while the others recovered their lost points. Fred dashed after them, ending their discussion. Harry was a little unsettled; he had really thought the twins’ teasing was partly to provoke him and gauge his reactions. Apparently, he had underestimated the situation.

He quickly rose to avoid the midfield battle, gaining altitude, finally searching for the Golden Snitch.

"You don’t seem to be looking much, Harry; not taking this duel seriously," Charlie said, joining him.

Harry responded with a small pout.

"I do, I’m just observing…" He smiled and shot forward, having spotted a golden flutter near the goalposts. As expected, Charlie had seen it too, and they advanced side by side. The Snitch stirred, fleeing with both in pursuit. The wind grew stronger; Harry, being lighter, struggled with its effects. He glanced at Charlie and smiled. Making a sharp curve, he slipped beneath Charlie to his left to shield himself from the wind. Charlie snorted, the wind carrying it away, while Harry reached out, taking advantage of the protection. He leaned forward on his broom to gain speed.

The Snitch suddenly darted skyward, but neither had difficulty following. Charlie had said he was rusty… Harry grumbled he must have been terrifying at Hogwarts. They climbed higher as the Snitch veered slightly to the right. Harry swerved with Charlie but still had to make a sharp turn at the last moment, losing some speed; the Snitch was now just above him. Harry hesitated before smiling.

"Charlie, I’m counting on you if this doesn’t work! I’ve always wanted to try this!" he said and leapt from his broom. He heard Hermione scream as his hand closed around the Snitch.

He burst out laughing before extending his hand.

"Here!" he shouted, and the broom leapt into his hands, allowing him to remount. He sat sideways, laughing loudly, showing off the Golden Snitch. The others yelled in excitement as they joined him. Harry laughed so hard he nearly tipped backwards. Charlie, arriving behind him, caught him, and Harry tried to calm his laughter as he straightened up. Sitting only on one side of the broom was already difficult enough without adding uncontrollable laughter.

"I’ve always wanted to try that, but I never dared at Hogwarts," he said, half flopped onto Charlie, who looked torn between laughing with him and having a heart attack. Harry realised they had been startled when he jumped and, in hindsight, admitted it had been rather unwise. This calmed him a bit, and he began to sit upright as the others gathered around.

"What was that, Harry? Another of your stunts?" exclaimed Fred.

"That was very dangerous!" worried Hermione, clearly pale.

"That’s Quidditch, taking risks," Harry said with a small smile. He turned to Charlie. "Sorry, that must have scared you to see me leap off the broom like that."

Charlie, still in the same spot, nodded, apparently not yet recovered.

"But it’s your fault too. You told me you were rusty at Quidditch; I wasn’t expecting that! If I hadn’t done that, I would have lost," he laughed while the others looked on, still shocked.

"You don’t need to risk your life in every little duel, you know that, right?" George said, finally laughing.

Charlie finally responded with a distant smile.

"I clearly lost."

"To think I accused Oliver of forcing you into dangerous stunts, you clearly don’t need him for that!" Fred finally said.

"No, but I was sure… 97% sure it would work!" Harry replied as the others gradually recovered.

After their exchange and Harry’s promise to no longer attempt stunts that put him in immediate danger, a new match was started, then another, and yet another. Finally, they only dismounted when Molly came to call them in for dinner, Arthur and Percy just having returned.

"You said you were tired!" she exclaimed as they dragged their exhausted bodies towards the house.

"We got a bit carried away, Mum," said Bill with an apologetic smile.

Ginny seemed the most exhausted, while Hermione had taken a break midway, allowing for some mini-Snitch duels, making her less tired than the others.

"Where did you find a necklace like that?" Charlie asked as they brought up the rear. "Sometimes I was chasing the Snitch, and it felt like I could see it on you."

Harry pulled the Snitch from under his sleeveless shirt.

"It’s a gift from my father; he had it made into a necklace for me. Apparently, he stole the Snitch at Hogwarts and played with it between lessons, even as a Chaser. Remus said he did it because it was fun," Harry confided, his eyes tracing the fine details of the necklace. Charlie examined it closely.

"That’s a really cool gift. Maybe your father knew."

Harry smiled.

"Maybe he had a vague thought to give it to his child, yeah," he said softly, walking slowly and letting the others move ahead, though Charlie didn’t rush him.

"Do you have memories of them? We rarely do at that age, but I have vague memories of my early years…"

"Not really, it’s too far, I was barely a year old. I remember their faces, mostly from photos. I remembered that this Snitch was enchanted by my father to fly around me constantly. I even managed to recover the spell he used to make it fly last year."

"Really? How? Enchanting Snitches is advanced magic."

"It’s not the official spell, don’t worry; you can’t use it in a match. According to my father’s friends, he invented it. Do you want me to teach you?"

Charlie looked surprised.

"I-"

"It’s really easy."

"Are you sure, if your father created it?"

"Of course, you just can’t commercialise it," Harry said with a teasing smile.

Charlie shook his head, laughing.

"Of course, I wouldn’t have even thought of it if you hadn’t told me."

Harry laughed at his response.

"Harry, Charlie, hurry up a bit," Molly’s voice called from further away.

Their conversation interrupted, they continued in silence. They hadn’t even noticed they had stopped and caught up with the others already seated, bombarding the newcomers with questions. It was a harsh return to reality for Harry, who had forgotten much of his troubles during the day, absorbed only by the calm and intoxicating freedom Quidditch offered. Outside, however, the world remained troubled, and a Death Eater was likely still at large, angry with him.

"And him? Will he get away?" Ron asked, shoving a large bite of chicken into his mouth, earning a disgusted grimace from Hermione.

Arthur sighed.

"Unfortunately, Fudge intervened. We don’t know yet; he’s just under surveillance for now," Arthur sighed. "But Harry’s testimony wasn’t enough to convince them. Many know you don’t lie, like me, but without proof, we can do nothing more."

Harry nodded gloomily. In fact, he was relieved. Malfoy’s arrest would have disrupted continuity too much, not to mention what it would do to his relationship with Draco. He didn’t know what was best, carry on as before or take this new path. Didn’t the boy and his mother deserve at least that justice, even if it risked maintaining his precious continuity? And it would also remove an ally for Voldemort in the long run. On the other hand, it could help when Harry removes Fudge, that cowardly, opportunistic Minister. He could expose how Fudge had covered for and forgiven Malfoy too much. Both outcomes worked; Harry just wanted clarity.

It went without saying that with this matter, Harry would have to monitor his own behaviour. Restraining a sigh, he listened as the others changed the subject and calmed the atmosphere. A few minutes later, Molly sent everyone to bed without exception, even the two eldest and the prestigious new Ministry employee, nobody dared argue. Harry, last on the stairs, pricked up his ears and heard the parents speaking gravely again.

In the morning.

"It’s Nuage," Harry said, opening the window and grabbing the small brown owl, who hooted loudly. "Yes, yes, I’ll release you. Catch him, Ron; I know him, he always escapes before receiving replies."

His friend jumped up to catch the struggling bird as Harry grabbed the letter.

"It’s from Neville. He’s asking about the Cup," Harry said after scanning the mail.

"Good thing his grandmother forbade him from attending," said Hermione.

Harry raised his eyebrows without replying.

"He also says she bought him a new wand to celebrate entering the fourth year… Why suddenly? She used to grumble whenever he mentioned it."

“This old-"

"Ronald Weasley, language! How did I raise you?!"

"No, but it’s true, his grandmother is awful to him!" Ron exclaimed.

"Strict, maybe, but you’ll watch your tongue, young man, or I’ll wash it with soap. She cares about Neville’s wellbeing above all."

"His wellbeing?!" Ron shouted, outraged, letting the bird fly from his arms.

The owl circled the room, screeching angrily.

Harry, who had begun scribbling a few words to reassure Neville that they were fine and would explain everything on the Hogwarts Express, barely avoided the flapping creature.

"Enough! Catch it immediately!" Molly shouted as the owl knocked a plate to the floor. Harry placed the letter on the kitchen table and, like his two friends, ran around attempting to grab it.

The animal was fast and agile, evading them all, perching mockingly on the highest shelves. Whenever one approached, it took flight again, causing collisions among Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Molly’s angry shouts didn’t help; the owl caused less chaos than them in their chase.

"If only we could use magic!" Ron groaned, having only managed to grab a small brown feather.

Harry said nothing but thought the same.

"I’ve got it!" a voice suddenly exclaimed behind him.

Bill had entered the kitchen, leapt, and caught the stubborn bird in one swift motion. The three rushed towards him.

"Great, Bill!"

"You’re the best."

"Thanks a lot, Bill," Hermione smiled, more reservedly.

The owl twisted in his hands before suddenly falling asleep before their astonished eyes. Bill turned to the newcomer, Charlie this time.

"Much easier this way."

Harry took the owl from Bill, smiling at the dragon keeper.

"Did you kill it?" Ron asked, leaning towards the creature.

"Don’t say such horrors, Ron!" Hermione squeaked.

Harry ignored them, simply taking the bird to the aviary.

"It should sleep a few minutes, long enough for you to give your reply."

"Yeah… with my luck, he’ll refuse and tear it up as soon as he has it in his claws," Harry smiled, seeing that Charlie had followed him outside, wearing wizarding robes, the first time Harry had seen him like that.

"Possible… whose owl is it?"

"Neville… who knows where he got it. He refuses to carry letters for anyone but his master."

"What… a loyalty."

Harry rolled his eyes as the owl hooted in its sleep. He turned to Charlie.

"Going somewhere?"

"Visiting a friend. I usually take the chance to see them when I’m here."

"I see, it must be rare. No regrets living so far away?"

Charlie thought for a moment, eyes fixed on a distant point.

"Sometimes dragon-keeping is a bit lonely, but I’d go mad staying in England; it’s not for me."

Harry nodded slowly.

"I understand, trust me."

Charlie gave a faint smile.

"Life at the reserve must be livelier."

"Depends… someday, if you want, I’ll show it to you; you could come with Ron. And Hermione and Neville, of course."

"With pleasure."

"Oh, regarding your request. I should be back in the afternoon, if you want to discuss a bit…"

"What about?"

"Care of Magical Creatures classes?"

Harry’s lips formed an ‘o’. With all the recent events, he had completely forgotten.

"Of course, yes. Thanks for remembering, I’d totally forgotten…"

"I noticed. Understandable, given what happened yesterday."

"Yeah, sometimes there are things more important than lessons. But-" he added.  "I’ll be happy whenever you have time."

"Perfect, see you later then. Say hello to the others for me, I’m already late."

He vanished, leaving Harry in front of the aviary, completely alone. His mind wandering, he returned to the kitchen to find the twins and Ginny already seated. He joined them, picking up the letter, and smiled at Hermione, seeing she had added a little note for their friend, just as Ron had signed at the end.

"Has Charlie already left?" Molly asked, annoyed, looking out the window.

"Yes, he said he was late."

"Ah, that one. If only he had lingered less. Did he say anything else?"

"Just that he would be back in the afternoon," Harry replied, narrowing his eyes at Fred’s mischievous grin. Preferring to ignore it, Harry focused on finishing his letter, afraid the owl would wake before he was done.

"Has Bill gone too?"

"Well, he had to take advantage of his trip to visit the bank," Molly said with a small smile.

"Alright. Ginny, do you want to write a note to Neville before I send it?"

Ginny, sitting opposite to him next to Hermione, shook her head.

"Just say hello for me," said the youngest.

"I want to!" George exclaimed, grabbing the letter and quill from Harry. He scribbled in a corner while Fred rolled his eyes behind him. When Harry retrieved his letter, the note was already sealed. He hesitated for a moment to open it and check what George had written but decided to let it be.

"I’ll send the owl," he sighed as George returned to his seat at the breakfast table with a small smile.

The rest of the week flew by. Harry and his friends stayed busy during the long, hot days at the Burrow. Hermione ensured all their homework was completed thoroughly, and they flew every day. Ron wanted to be ready for the selections, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to tell him there would be no Quidditch at Hogwarts this year. He also often got to spar with Charlie in small matches or duels, which was reason enough to continue as if nothing had changed. He and his three friends also participated heavily in household chores together or spent long evenings in the garden observing the stars, with the twins imitating Trelawney’s grand predictions about star positions or Ginny recounting all the legends Luna had told her.

Another thing Harry often witnessed were the serious discussions Arthur Weasley had with his three eldest children. Many matters had become complicated following the World Cup attack. Harry’s name had come up in Arthur’s investigation of Lucius Malfoy, who accused Harry of attempting to ruin his reputation. Since Fudge supported him, no one dared contradict him. Apparently, Dumbledore had to intervene to prevent Malfoy from taking Harry to court. Although Harry was relieved to avoid a trial, much remained at risk with a Mad Malfoy.

"Isn’t it risky for Malfoy to sue Harry, Dad? Leaving Harry to testify is a huge risk…" Bill asked one evening while they sat on the terrace.

"He would never have done it," Arthur replied. "He would have obviously lost the case."

Harry and Percy, sitting side by side, exchanged glances. Percy clearly didn’t believe Malfoy could win.

"He fears what Harry might say, that’s true. But he knows Dumbledore would have intervened to prevent the trial."

"Perhaps, but what good does that do him?" Charlie asked.

"That the other side refuses the trial, obviously."

Harry saw Charlie frown. He understood why Charlie had chosen to distance himself from the English politics of petty pride, which brought a small smile to his face.

"You had to drop the charges against him, didn’t you?" Harry asked.

"What?" Bill exclaimed, outraged.

"Dumbledore thought it was safer. He said Malfoy would be watched and behave, giving us time to build a better case."

"In fact, that’s true," Harry acknowledged. "But let’s be honest, if there had been grounds for a case, you would have done it long ago, wouldn’t you, Mr Weasley?"

Arthur didn’t answer immediately, staring at his glass of Ogden’s Old Whisky before finishing it in one gulp.

"You understand, Harry. But I know he’ll make a mistake… someday."

"Certainly. It’ll happen the day he’s caught red-handed. In the meantime, you shouldn’t worry; Dumbledore is probably right that he’ll keep quiet for a while."

Arthur gave him a faint smile. Harry looked at Charlie, who still frowned.

"Malfoy operates purely on pride," he said slowly, turning the others’ heads to him. "He doesn’t want the trial, just to be left alone without losing face. And there, the first to retract his accusations would have lost."

Charlie made a brief grimace before looking at his father, who stared at his glass as if wishing to drown in it.

"And Dad lost."

"Unfortunately. Dumbledore dislikes long trials, and with Fudge’s support, unable to act without Malfoy’s wealth, it would have dragged on for months, even years…"

Harry met Percy’s suspicious gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you know about the Ministry and its workings to say that?"

"So you also think Malfoy is innocent in this matter?"

Percy turned a shade of purple.

"Of course not! I’m just saying, you know nothing about this world. Everything is far more complicated."

"Prove it. That Fudge doesn’t support Malfoy either for money or title."

A long silence followed as Percy opened and closed his mouth, failing to argue.

"Harry!" Hermione’s voice called behind him.

He turned. She stood there in a dressing gown, Pattenrond in her arms.

"Ron needs you, come quickly. He says he’s going to strangle Coq."

Harry stood and grabbed the bottle.

"I don’t think you should continue. I’ll put it down before Mrs Weasley finds it," he said with a wink at Arthur, who watched him intently. Arthur responded with a brief smile, and Harry left the four men behind.

The day before returning to Hogwarts, Harry felt the tension around him reach its peak.

"It’s a total disaster," Percy told them, looking important as he returned from the office. "I’ve spent the week trying to calm things. People keep sending us Howlers, and, as you know, Howlers explode if not opened immediately. There are burn marks all over my desk, and my best quill has turned to ashes."

"Why are they sending Howlers?" Ginny asked, sitting by the fire, patching her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with tape.

"To complain about security during the World Cup," Percy replied. "They want compensation for their trashed tents. Mondingus Fletcher filed a claim for a twelve-room tent with kitchen and Jacuzzi, but I know him, he was sleeping under a cloak on poles."

Harry, seated and reading a Muggle story given to them by Burbage, whistled ironically.

Molly Weasley glanced at the grandmother clock in the corner of the lounge. Harry liked the clock; it was useless for telling time but gave other valuable information. It had nine golden hands, each bearing a Weasley name. The face had no numbers, only locations: "At home," "At school," "At work," and also "Lost," "At hospital," "In prison," and instead of twelve, "In mortal danger." Eight hands pointed to "At home," but Mr Weasley’s longest hand always indicated "At work."

"The last time your father had to go to the office on a weekend was back in You-Know-Who’s time," Mrs Weasley sighed. "They overwork him. His dinner will be inedible if he doesn’t return quickly."

"Father knows he has to make up for the mistake on match day," Percy said with an irritating shrug. "Honestly, he was somewhat reckless making a public statement without first consulting his department head…"

"I forbid you to criticise your father because of that horrid little Rita Skeeter!" Molly Weasley snapped.

"If Dad hadn’t said anything, old Rita would just have written that it was scandalous that no Ministry member commented," Bill intervened, playing chess with Ron. "With Rita Skeeter, everyone is always wrong. Remember when she interviewed the curse-breakers at Gringotts? She called me a ‘long-haired fool’."

"It’s true they are a bit long, dear," Mrs Weasley remarked gently. "If you’d let me…"

"No, Mum!"

Rain hammered the lounge windows. Hermione was absorbed in The Book of Spells and Enchantments, Level 4, which Mrs Weasley had bought several copies of for Harry, Ron, and herself from Diagon Alley. Charlie was mending a fireproof hood, and Fred and George, sitting in a corner at the other end of the room, whispered while writing on parchment.

"What are you two up to?" Mrs Weasley asked sharply, staring at the twins.

"Doing our homework," Fred replied vaguely.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You’re still on holiday," Mrs Weasley retorted.

"We were a bit behind," George said.

"You wouldn’t be… remaking order forms, by any chance?" Mrs Weasley asked inquisitively. "You wouldn’t be planning to resume your joke shop antics, would you?"

"Listen, Mum," Fred said, giving her a mournful look. "If the Hogwarts Express derails tomorrow and George and I are killed, imagine how upset you’d be, thinking that the last time you spoke to us was to unfairly accuse us?"

Everyone burst out laughing, even Mrs Weasley.

"Ah, your father’s coming!" she suddenly said, looking at the clock again.

Mr Weasley’s hand had jumped from "At work" to "Traveling"; a second later, it joined the eight others at "At home," and they heard him greeting them from the kitchen.

"I’m coming, Arthur!" Mrs Weasley called, rushing out of the room.

A few moments later, Mr Weasley entered the warm, cosy lounge, carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.

"This time, it’s really heating up," he said to his wife, sitting in an armchair by the fire to eat the slightly wilted cauliflower on his plate without enthusiasm. "Rita Skeeter spent the week snooping everywhere to see if the Ministry made other mistakes she could report. Now she’s discovered poor Bertha’s disappearance. It’ll be front page tomorrow in The Daily Prophet. Yet I kept telling Verpey he should have sent someone to look for her."

"Mr Croupton has been saying the same for weeks," Percy hurried to remind him.

"Croupton is very lucky Rita knows nothing about what happened with Winky," Arthur replied irritably. "She could have made a week of headlines about his house-elf found with the wand that conjured the Dark Mark."

"I thought we agreed that, even if she acted irresponsibly, it wasn’t her elf who made the Mark appear?" Percy said heatedly.

"If you ask me, Mr Croupton is lucky no one at The Daily Prophet knows how cruel he is to his elves!" Hermione interjected angrily.

"Now, listen carefully, Hermione!" Percy retorted. "A senior Ministry official like Mr Croupton has the right to expect his servants to obey scrupulously…"

"Servants? You mean slaves," Hermione cut in sharply. "He doesn’t pay Winky, as far as I know!"

Harry and Ron exchanged weary looks; Hermione and Percy had argued like this all week with no resolution. If Harry was obviously with Hermione, he knew when to withdraw from an already lost fight against closed minds.

"I think you’d better check your luggage!" Mrs Weasley said to cut the discussion short. "Come on, everyone, up to your rooms…"

Chapter Text

Finally, it was time for him to return and begin what promised to be one of the most depressing school years. As they were about to say goodbye to the rest of the family and head upstairs, Mrs Weasley interrupted them, carrying a pile of witch robes.

"And take these," she said, dividing them into six stacks. "Make sure you store them properly so they don't get wrinkled." She placed them on the table. Hermione and Ginny had their own stacks in front of them and looked at the clothes with small smiles.

"That's very kind of you, Mrs Weasley," Harry thanked her, setting his book on top of the pile to make sure he could carry everything upstairs.

Hermione did the same.

"My pleasure, dear, but are you sure they're the right size? I mean, you said you didn't need any robes, and Ron neither, as if you weren't growing," she said, annoyed.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, then smiled and nodded.

"Really, don't worry, Mum, it's not necessary, I would've told you, " Ron stopped as he noticed something under his new books. He pulled apart the pile and found a long violet velvet robe, decorated with a slightly musty lace jabot and matching cuffs.

"What is this thing?" he exclaimed.

The others turned to look. Bill and Charlie, who were near their father at the table further away, talking quietly with him, had also looked up. But among all of them, it was the twins Harry noticed, once Ron groaned, that appeared with their usual mischievous grins.

"Mum, you gave me Ginny's new robe," Ron complained, holding up the velvet robe.

Harry glanced at Ginny; her expression said it all, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Of course not," Mrs Weasley replied. "It's your evening robe."

"What?" Ron exclaimed, horrified.

"Your evening robe," Mrs Weasley repeated. "This year, you must have formal attire, it's on the list sent by the school… for official ceremonies."

"You're joking," Ron said incredulously. "There's no way I'm wearing…"

Harry nudged him and gave him a meaningful look. Ron grumbled slightly before smiling.

"Fine, thank you," he said, in his poorest imitation of a sincere smile.

Harry barely glanced at his own robe and turned to Ron and Hermione.

"Looks like we're going to waste more time this year. I wonder what Dumbledore has found for us this time," he said with a small laugh. "Maybe the new teacher is fond of ballroom dancing."

"I hope not…" Ron grumbled as his mother folded the robe and returned it to his pile.

"Why say that, Ronnie? I think you'll look very cute in purple!" Fred called out.

"You have no eye, brother, it's the lace that makes all the difference!" George added, grinning even wider.

Ron turned a shade of purple.

Their older brothers intervened, giving gentle taps to each other's heads.

"Good job, Ron, Mum tried her best, I'm sure," Charlie said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, well, she didn't have to… I'll be better off in my uniform than in this," Ron muttered, making sure his mother was too far away to hear.

"Were there balls at Hogwarts in your time?" Harry asked.

"In my time, how old do you give me?" Charlie said, pretending to be offended before smiling. "I think we had one, just once."

"Seriously, and did you take someone with you?" Fred asked, shocked.

"Uh… I think I went with Nymphadora, but honestly, I don't really remember."

"Nymphadora?" Harry asked. "Like Tonks?"

Charlie looked at him.

"You know her?"

Harry hesitated. Of course he didn't know her; he wasn't supposed to have met her.

"Uh… just some family members," he said slowly, adopting the most casual tone he could.

Charlie frowned; he clearly knew who Tonks' family was.

"What are all these knowing looks, explain yourselves."

Harry grabbed his own pile of clothes.

"None of your business,” he said before turning to Hermione, who was trying to hold her robes in one arm while keeping Pattenrond, who refused to leave her arms, in the other. "Shall we go?"

The three of them, Ginny included, obeyed. When Harry glanced back, he saw the twins pestering Charlie with questions. When their eyes met, Harry winked and gave a mock grin, making the dragon keeper roll his eyes.

"What was that, Harry?"

"I don't think we'll ever have a quiet year," Harry evaded, leading the way up the stairs. They separated on the girls' floor before settling in Ron's room.

"What do you think it'll be? A party? Or a big Quidditch competition?"

Harry smiled at his friend's enthusiasm, knowing he couldn't stop the endless chatter, and began putting his last belongings into his trunk. He smiled slightly as he placed the notebook he had filled for Hagrid with Charlie over the rest of his clothes. A long year awaited him.

The next morning, they were awakened by the sound of rain. After a long heatwave, the rain had returned, clearly an ill omen. Harry dragged himself out of bed, as did Ron and the twins. He was rather depressed to have to put on a warmer top after so many sunny days. Once their trunks were finally closed, Fred, George, Ron, and he went downstairs for breakfast.

As they reached the first floor, Mrs Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking exasperated.

"Arthur!" she called. "Arthur! An urgent message from the Ministry."

Harry pressed himself against the wall to let Mr Weasley pass, who emerged from his room in a rush, his robe inside out, and disappeared down the stairs. In the kitchen, they saw Mrs Weasley frantically rummaging through the drawers of the sideboard.

"I put a quill somewhere…"

Mr Weasley, meanwhile, was bent over the fireplace, speaking to Amos Diggory. The fireplaces were by far the main communication means for wizards, allowing travel between them using floo powder, or even speaking directly through the fire to anyone nearby whose fireplace was known. Harry had to admit he had been rather shocked to see a face emerge from the still-glowing embers of the Weasleys' fireplace in his previous life. He followed the others into the kitchen, listening to the conversation.

"…Muggle neighbours heard explosions and screams, so they called… what are they called again? The 'Gente Dames,' that's it? Arthur, you absolutely must go there…"

"Ah, here it is," Mrs Weasley said, out of breath, handing Mr Weasley a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill.

"It's really lucky I heard about it," Mr Diggory said. "I was heading to the office early to send a couple of owls and came across the Abuse of Magic Department staff going to the scene. If Rita Skeeter finds out, Arthur…"

"What happened according to Mad-Eye?" Mr Weasley asked. He unscrewed the ink bottle, filled his quill, and prepared to take notes.

Mr Diggory rolled his eyes.

"He said he heard someone entering his garden and approaching his house, but the bins stopped them."

"What did the bins do?" Mr Weasley asked, writing quickly.

"They made a terrible noise and scattered rubbish everywhere. Apparently, one of them was still throwing waste as the Gente Dames arrived…"

Mr Weasley grunted.

"And the person who tried to get in?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr Diggory, rolling his eyes again. "You imagine someone sneaking into his garden at night? I rather think that by now there's a completely bewildered cat, covered in potato peelings, wandering around not knowing what happened. But if the Abuse of Magic Department gets hold of Mad-Eye, with his file, it's over for him. We absolutely must get him out of it and reduce it to a minor offence under your department. How many exploding bins, roughly?"

"We can handle it with a simple warning," Mr Weasley replied, writing quickly, brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't attack anyone?"

"I suppose he must have jumped out of bed and cast spells at everything he could reach from his window, but they'll have a hard time proving it. No one is injured."

"Very well, I'll go," said Mr Weasley. He stuffed the parchment in his pocket and rushed out of the kitchen.

Mr Diggory turned to Mrs Weasley.

"Sorry for the bother, Molly," he said more calmly. "Coming to trouble you so early… But Arthur is the only one who can get Mad-Eye out of this mess, and since Mad-Eye has to start his new job today… What a ridiculous idea to do this just today…"

"It's alright, Amos," Mrs Weasley assured him. "Don't you want a little toast before you leave?"

Harry turned completely away from the exchange as Molly passed him with a buttered toast to offer the head that had appeared in her fireplace. Everything was proceeding as planned.

As always when he overheard such an exchange, Harry was filled with doubts, should he preserve the proper course to continue his quest and leave Mad-Eye trapped in a trunk for several months? Mad-Eye would be their teacher for the coming year, at least in appearance. In reality, it would be Barty Crouch Jr., using Polyjuice Potion to take Mad-Eye's place as Hogwarts' new teacher and thus send Harry into Voldemort's grasp. A far-fetched plan, but Harry would not be deprived of it; he also wanted to confront Voldemort, so why not follow Crouch Jr.'s instructions? After a brief reflection, Harry decided to leave him in the trunk for the moment. He had already sacrificed his parents and Sirius; he might regret it one day, but being collateral damage in a great quest was nothing new, Harry knew that better than anyone.

Harry looked at the Weasleys dozing over their breakfast as Molly bustled in the kitchen. She was surely the only one who had never wished Harry to fight; he was certain that if she ever learned Harry was destined to die and Dumbledore had prepared him for it all his life, she would be so furious she would put Voldemort and Dumbledore in their place. Harry couldn't help the corners of his mouth from trembling.

"What are you thinking about, Harry?" George asked, sitting opposite him.

"I'm looking forward to going back to Hogwarts," Harry said, shrugging.

He heard Mr Weasley hastily say goodbye to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Five minutes later, he returned to the kitchen, his robe now correct, combing his hair.

"I'd better hurry. Have a good term, boys," he said to Harry and his sons. He threw a cloak over his shoulders and prepared to Apparate.

"Molly, can you manage to take the children to King's Cross?"

"Of course," Mrs Weasley replied. "Go look after Mad-Eye, everything will be fine for us."

As Mr Weasley disappeared, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.

"Someone mentioned Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What has he done this time?"

"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," Mrs Weasley replied.

"Mad-Eye?" George said thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on toast. "That lunatic…?"

"Your father thinks highly of him," Mrs Weasley said seriously.

"Yes, alright, but Dad collects electrical outlets too, doesn't he?" Fred whispered as Mrs Weasley left the kitchen.

"Mad-Eye was a great wizard in his time," Bill said.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore, I believe," Charlie added.

"Exactly, Dumbledore is not really someone you'd call normal," Fred said. "I know he's a genius, but…"

Harry raised both eyebrows in approval.

"In any case, I heard Mad-Eye has become very paranoid in his old age. He trusts no one and sees dark wizards everywhere," Charlie remarked.

Harry smiled at the description; it summed up Mad-Eye perfectly, an old man obsessed with 'constant vigilance.' He had escorted Harry on a mission in his previous life, turning a twenty-minute journey into nearly an hour in pouring rain, claiming he wanted to ensure they weren't being followed. His entire team had to intervene to get him to deliver them safely. Like every hero, he had also lost his life fighting Voldemort. Harry's smile grew sadder; losing Mad-Eye had affected him deeply, for despite his quirks, he was a great man Harry could only admire.

Meeting Hermione's worried gaze, Harry regained composure and focused on his breakfast. Soon after, they were chased from the kitchen by Molly to gather their final belongings. Bill and Charlie insisted on accompanying them to the station, while Percy concocted weak excuses to leave for the Ministry. No one in the house seemed to mind. Molly had to go to the nearest Muggle post office to call taxis to take them to the station.

Harry was reluctant to explain to Mrs Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers rarely had the opportunity to transport overexcited owls. However, Pig caused an infernal racket, and the atmosphere did little to calm when Fred's trunk suddenly burst open, setting off several damp fireworks from Dr. Filibuster. The driver let out a horrified scream that turned into a howl of pain as Pattenrond, panicked, climbed up his leg, claws fully extended. The journey was extremely uncomfortable. They were indeed cramped in the back of the taxis, with their luggage taking up much of the space. Pattenrond took some time to recover from the fright caused by the fireworks, and by the time they arrived in London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all suffered a fair number of scratches. They were greatly relieved to finally get out of the cars in front of King's Cross station, even though the rain was now pouring harder than ever, soaking them to the bone as they crossed the street with their luggage. Together, they passed through the barrier into the station and eventually arrived at Platform 9 ¾.

As soon as they had found a compartment and put down their things, they encountered Neville, dragging his heavy trunk. The Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione went to help him.

"Hey Nev!" said Harry, helping him straighten his trunk.

"Hi Harry, Hermione, Ron and… everyone. Have you already stowed your stuff? I'm late, I forgot where I put my wand and had to repack my suitcase at the last minute."

The laughter his anecdote provoked was interrupted by a new arrival.

"He's here! Harry!"

The group turned to see Remus Lupin accompanied by Patmol, who wagged his tail upon seeing them. Harry rushed forward. Remus tousled his hair with a smile.

"I thought you weren't coming back to England until tomorrow."

"I… I wanted to see you once before your departure," he glanced at the dog at his feet.

"Professor Lupin," exclaimed the Hogwarts students, surprised.

"Hello, everyone, how are you?"

Molly, Bill, and Charlie exchanged puzzled looks as everyone approached the two newcomers.

"Did you have a good holiday?" asked Hermione with a huge smile.

"Excellent, although I won't be repeating the Muggle airplane experience anytime soon."

"Remus Lupin, it's been years," exclaimed Molly, finally recovered from her surprise.

"Indeed, Mrs Weasley, you look well?" he smiled. "Bill and Charlie, is that right? You've grown so much. You hadn't even entered Hogwarts the last time I saw you."

The two men merely greeted him in return, clearly wondering who this man was and when they might have met him.

"Well, we're fine. Did you come to see Harry?" their mother asked.

Indeed, it could be surprising from the outside that his former teacher had made the journey just for him, when they were supposed to be strangers to each other. Harry, stroking Patmol's head, looked up at the adults talking nearby. Remus cast him a brief glance.

"Well, I realised I've been absent from Harry's life for too long… I don't intend to make the same mistake again. I must thank you for taking care of him over the past two weeks as well."

Harry felt his heart pounding. He smiled shyly, still stroking Patmol's head, who wagged his tail, clearly very pleased by the words of his friend.

"Of course- I-  it was a pleasure having him with us."

"Did you enjoy your holiday?" Ron asked Patmol, sitting beside Harry, followed by Hermione and Neville.

Patmol wagged his tail joyfully.

"Are you talking to a dog, Ron?" Fred asked from behind.

"It's because he's a clever dog. Though I wouldn't go so far as to say he's smart, given that this station isn't very safe for him," Harry said, sharing a knowing look with the dog. The latter turned his head stubbornly, making the four friends laugh.

The train rumbled behind them, signalling its imminent departure.

"You must board now," Molly told them, while Bill helped Neville put his trunk on the train. Families were saying their goodbyes. There were long embraces on the platform for the Weasleys. Harry was drawn into Molly's arms as she told them to enjoy themselves.

"Thank you again for inviting me, Mrs Weasley," he said before looking at the others.

"We might see each other sooner than you think," Charlie said with a smile, hugging Ginny.

"Why?" Fred asked curiously.

"You'll see," Charlie replied. "But don't tell Percy I told you. After all, 'this is classified information until the Ministry decides to make it public'."

"I'd love to return to Hogwarts this year," Bill said, hands in his pockets, looking at the train almost nostalgically.

"Why?" Ron asked impatiently.

"You're going to have a very interesting year," Bill said, eyes gleaming. "Perhaps I'll even take some time off to see it…"

"See what?" Ron pressed. Harry walked past him, laughing, cutting off Ron's endless questions.

Harry approached Remus, who pulled him into a very brief embrace, more like placing his hands on his shoulders.

"What's this about, something happening at Hogwarts?"

"It seems Dumbledore has found a new way to put us in danger," he said low enough for the others not to hear. Remus raised an eyebrow, but Harry moved away before he could ask more.

"I'll write you everything soon by letter," he said, turning to the two remaining Weasleys.

"Harry, it was nice meeting you," Bill greeted, shaking his hand. Charlie beside him nodded with a small smile.

"Likewise. See you soon, from what I understand," he smiled, confident.

Charlie offered his hand as the train whistled a third time. He barely had time to touch it when Patmol leapt onto him, paws on his stomach. Clearly, he saw the time left dwindling. Harry patted his head, giving Charlie an apologetic smile.

"I'll see you soon," he whispered to the dog, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"Harry, hurry, they'll leave without us."

Harry freed himself from Patmol and gave a final wave to the group before following the others toward the train.

The journey was in complete uproar; Ron kept launching hypothesis after hypothesis about what awaited them this year, naturally after recounting the entirety of the quidditch cup to Neville who had missed it and updating him on Lucius Malfoy's surveillance due to Harry. The rest of the journey, after leaving the train, was far less pleasant. Torrential rain had started to fall, forcing them to run from the train to the carriages, then run again to the castle to take shelter.

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his hair and spraying water all around. "If this keeps up, the lake will overflow. I'm soaked! ARGH!"

A large red water balloon had just fallen from the ceiling, bursting on Ron's head. Soaked and sputtering, he staggered into Harry as a second water bomb narrowly missed Hermione. The bomb exploded at Harry's feet, his shoes submerged by a wave of icy water that seeped into his socks. Around them, students fled in all directions, pushing one another, screaming. On top of the atrocious weather, they were being bombarded by Peeves, Hogwarts' poltergeist, who had apparently inflated water balloons upstream, seeing the heavy clouds gathering.

Harry, certain of their attacker, looked up and saw Peeves, the poltergeist, floating five or six metres above the ground. He appeared as a small man wearing a jester's hat, an orange tie around his neck, his broad, malicious face tensed with concentration as he aimed again. Harry slowly drew his wand.

"PEEVES!" a furious voice shouted. "Peeves, come down IMMEDIATELY!"

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House, had rushed out of the Great Hall. She slipped on the wet floor, catching Hermione by the collar to steady herself.

"Ow… Sorry, Miss Granger…"

"No harm done, Professor!" Hermione stammered, rubbing her throat.

"Peeves, come down IMMEDIATELY!" McGonagall barked.

Harry aimed his wand and charmed the remaining water balls Peeves had tossed to crash onto his face.

"Watch out, Peeves, I also have a spell to duplicate them and have them follow you all year!" he threatened with a wide grin. Harry had learned a few useful tricks about the poltergeist from Remus and Sirius over the summer, including that he preferred pranks to retaliation. He might continue annoying Harry, but at least he wouldn't go further.

Peeves yelped as the jet of water hit him and screamed about cheating.

"Cool spell, where did you learn that?"

"Remus," Harry smiled at Ron, who was wringing out his sleeve.

Neville, next to him, had just returned, Trevor having fled during the attack.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall began, stern. "Good work."

Harry, who had feared a reprimand, smiled.

"Right, let's go now!" McGonagall said sharply to the disorderly crowd of students. "Everyone into the Great Hall!"

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione crossed the entrance hall, slipping and stumbling on the wet floor, and passed through the double doors into the Great Hall. Ron muttered angrily, brushing his wet hair from his forehead. Harry felt a pang of pity for him and cast a drying spell on himself and his two friends. Several people cast envious glances, but no one asked for help or complained, so he ignored them. Only once seated at their table, near the middle, did Harry spot Cedric arriving among the last groups, surprisingly less drenched than them. They exchanged greetings from afar, as did Luna, whom Ginny had left to join them. She was followed by the twins, who took a place not far from them with Lee Jordan.

"Hi, Harry!" It was Colin Creevey, a third-year student who regarded Harry as a hero.

"Hi, Colin," Harry replied with a small smile.

Colin was a bit clingy and idolised him a little too much, but Harry could feel nothing but guilt for having lost him in his previous life. He had promised himself to tolerate his fanboy behaviour for a few more years; after all, he would grow up one day.

"Harry, you know what? You know what, Harry? My brother is starting first year! My brother Dennis!"

"That's great, though I wouldn't have wished for him to arrive this year, given that he has to go across the lake in the boats," Harry said kindly, smiling.

"No, he's really thrilled!" Colin assured, almost bouncing on his chair. "I hope he gets into Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, okay, Harry?"

"Of course," Harry replied as Colin disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

Harry glanced at the staff table. There seemed to be more empty chairs than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still on the lake, braving the elements to bring the first-years to the castle. Professor McGonagall was presumably ensuring the entrance hall floor was dry, yet one chair remained unoccupied.

"Where's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Hermione asked anxiously, also watching the table. "Perhaps they haven't managed to find one!"

"Well, he's probably still at the Ministry sorting out the problem with the rubbish-spitting bins."

The others stared at him in astonishment.

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

Harry looked up at Fred, sitting across from him on the right.

"About Mad-Eye Moody."

"What, you think Moody is going to be our new teacher?" Neville squeaked, to his left.

No, he knows, Harry thought. Given his previous life, Harry could understand why Neville might be a little wary of Moody, and rightly so.

"He's a friend of Dumbledore's, a former Auror who suddenly gets a job starting on the first day of term. And what else could a former Auror do but teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Harry shrugged.

He was stretching things a bit, but that was life; they weren't going to sue him for showing off a little knowledge.

"Wait, how do you know he knows Dumbledore?"

Harry shrugged.

"Charlie mentioned it… and Bill, well, you were at lunch too."

His three friends nodded, while Neville remained uneasy.

"I barely listened to what they were saying, I see you pay attention when a certain person talks," Fred said with a mischievous grin. Harry ignored him.

"I'm just someone who pays attention."

"True, so you've met their brothers? Too bad, I really would have liked to speak with them more," Neville said with a small smile, having barely had time to cross paths with them at the station.

"Don't worry. You'll have the chance soon, or at least that's what they say," Harry replied.

Instantly, Ron's theoretical machine was running, dragging his friends along with him as he explained his main theories about the year's events. Harry clearly had no complaint about the change of subject. The twins had been relentless all summer; he was glad for a little peace. Charlie was nice, and that was about the last thing he needed to think about now, he already had enough thinking for the coming year. He had much work ahead. He would have to contact Dobby as soon as possible and try to convince Winky to assist in his quest, as well as Kreacher, though he doesn’t feel confident about him. The risk Sirius comes to suspect something and make him talk is too high… or worse, Dumbledore.

The doors of the Great Hall suddenly opened, and silence fell. Professor McGonagall entered, leading a long line of first-years to the far end of the hall, near the staff table. If the rest of the Great Hall could be considered wet, it was nothing compared to the sight of the unfortunate newcomers. They looked as though they had swum across the lake rather than taken the boats. When they lined up in front of the other students, all shivered with cold and anxiety. All except one: a boy with dull, pale hair, smaller than the others, wrapped in Hagrid's taupe coat. The coat was so large on him that he looked as though he were encased in a fur tent. His face, barely visible above the collar, radiated such excitement it seemed almost painful. When he joined the line of terrified peers, the boy met Colin Creevey's gaze, gave two thumbs up, and silently mouthed the words, “I fell in the lake!”, which seemed to fill him with pure delight. Harry chuckled, Dennis was definitely a chip off the old block.

Professor McGonagall then placed a three-legged stool on the floor and set an old, patched wizard's hat on it. The new students, like the older ones, watched attentively. For a moment there was complete silence. Then a tear in the hat's worn fabric near the brim opened like a mouth, and the hat began to sing:

Over a thousand years ago,

When I was young and bold,

Lived four famous wizards

Whose names are familiar to us all:

Daring Gryffindor dwelled on the plains,

Kind Hufflepuff lived among the oaks,

Loyal Ravenclaw ruled the heights,

Cunning Slytherin preferred the marshes.
...

Rhymes were all well and good, but Harry had grown somewhat weary of this speech over the years and stopped listening. He looked at the Slytherins, whom he hadn't noticed until now, and found them particularly strange. Half seemed in good spirits, probably already aware of what the year promised, while the other half were much darker, and with good reason. Even though Malfoy had escaped punishment, an investigation had been opened against him, which put many families at risk. Among them, Draco was the gloomiest, far from his usual composure. Harry felt his stomach knot, thinking of the Slytherin; he had definitively ended any relationship with Draco with his previous act, and there was no doubt the boy would never want to hear from him again. He had had four years of reprieve, and he should have been content, but Harry had come to appreciate this status quo with Draco, where they were neither close nor enemies, just good classmates. Harry was not naive; he suspected that there would come a day when the Slytherins would cross his path in the fight against Voldemort. He had only hoped for more time. Lost in thought, Harry only returned to reality when Dennis's name was called.

He watched the little boy, still swamped by Hagrid's enormous coat, make his way with difficulty to the Sorting Hat. Hagrid entered the room at the same time, giving them a wink and a cheerful smile as he slipped to the staff table. Dennis was, of course, sorted into Gryffindor, and Harry applauded enthusiastically with the others, pushing away his dark thoughts. He made sure to stay focused for the rest of the sorting, applauding each placement, including the Slytherins, though strangely even to him, it felt out of place this year.

Ron grew hungrier with each name and almost gave Dumbledore a standing ovation when he announced the official start of the feast. Even Harry had to admit he was grateful it didn't begin with a long speech, especially as he already knew what Dumbledore would say.

"Ah, it's already starting to get better," Ron said, mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"You're lucky the feast could take place," said Nearly Headless Nick. "There were troubles in the kitchen this afternoon."

"Oh? What happened?" Ron asked, chewing a sizeable piece of steak.

"Of course, Peeves's fault," replied Nick, bobbing his head dangerously. He adjusted his ruff. "The usual discussion. He wanted to attend the feast. Impossible, naturally, you know him, he cannot behave civilly, and he cannot see a full plate without throwing it on the floor. We held a ghost council: the Fat Friar wanted to give him a chance, but the Bloody Baron firmly opposed it, which is much wiser, in my opinion."

Harry didn't remember this discussion, but it sounded plausible. That explained Peeves's earlier bad mood. He smiled faintly.

"You should give him a chance next time. After all, isn't Hogwarts the place for second chances?" he said with a sly grin.

"What did he do in the kitchen?" Hermione asked, cutting short his joke that no one else would have understood.

"Oh, the usual," said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. "He turned everything upside down. Pots and pans everywhere, the floor flooded with soup, the house-elves terrified…"

With a metallic clatter, Hermione slammed her cup down, spilling pumpkin juice across the white linen tablecloth, leaving it dotted with orange stains. She paid no attention, and Harry clicked his tongue in annoyance; he had hoped Hermione would stay away from the kitchens and the elves. He wouldn't be able to approach Winky as easily with Hermione meddling, trying to free the other house-elves, which particularly angered the former Croupton elf. Luckily, none of his troubles were noticed.

"Are there house-elves here?" she asked, staring at Nick in horror. "Here, at Hogwarts?"

"Of course," said the ghost, surprised by her reaction. "There are even more than in any other residence in Britain. I think there are over a hundred."

"I've never seen a single one!" said Hermione.

"They almost never leave the kitchen in the daytime," Nick explained. "They come out at night to tidy up… put logs on the fire, and so on… You're not supposed to see them, right? The mark of a good house-elf is to make their presence forgotten."

Hermione stared at him.

"But… do we pay them?" she asked. "Do they get holidays? Sick leave? Retirement, and all that?"

Harry pity her a little. How did she hope to convince a 500-year-old ghost of her revolutionary ideas? Unsurprisingly, Nick snorted with laughter so hard his ruff slipped, and his head fell sideways, held by the few centimetres of phantom flesh and muscle connecting it to his neck. Several first-years around them squeaked at the sight.

"Sick leave and retirement?" he said, placing his head and ruff back correctly. "House-elves don't want sick leave or retirement!"

Hermione lowered her eyes to her barely touched plate, set down her knife and fork, and pushed the plate away.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron said, accidentally spilling some roast beef gravy onto Harry. "Oops! Sorry, Harry," he swallowed his bite. "Starving won't get them sick leave!"

"It's slavery," Hermione replied, hissing. "This is why we have this dinner, thanks to slaves." She refused to eat anything else.

Harry tried his luck.

"Mione, you're not going to ruin a meal they've put their hearts into, are you?"

But even his encouragement didn't sway her; she stared at the cooked fish in front of her as if it were the source of all the world's misfortunes. She ate nothing, even when the desserts she usually loved arrived. Neville became depressed and didn't dare eat either, and Harry eventually joined her hunger strike in solidarity.

Ron looked very uncomfortable during the following minutes before putting his own fork down with a long sight, looking at the dessert with envy.

Chapter Text

By the time Dumbledore had moved to make his "grand and mysterious announcement," Harry was already bored. He was merely waiting for Moody to arrive in the hall and scare everyone to reassure himself that things were going as planned. He was already relieved not to see him at the staff table.

When Dumbledore rose again and drew the crowd's attention, Harry yawned and flopped onto his fists in boredom.

He had a lot… a lot to say, and it promised to be long and tedious. On top of that, the rain against the windows made it difficult to hear him clearly.

"And here we go!" Dumbledore said with a broad smile. "Now that we have been fed and watered, I must, once more, ask for your attention to give you some information. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to inform you that the list of items forbidden on school grounds this year also includes Howler Yo-Yos, Snake-tooth Frisbees, and Perpetual Motion Boomerangs. The complete list comprises four hundred and thirty-seven items, if my memory serves me correctly, and can be consulted in Mr. Filch's office for those interested."

He smiled, clearly delighted by the grimaces some students made. Harry just wanted to go to sleep and hoped he would make it brief, but given what he was about to announce, there was little chance of lights out for at least two good hours. The greatest risk was falling asleep and missing a moment of enthusiasm.

"I would also like to remind you," he continued, "that, as always, the forest is off-limits to all students and Hogsmeade to those who have not yet reached their third year. I also regret to inform you that the House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Harry saw his teammates further down the table, looking shocked. He had half-forgotten about that. He saw Ron so outraged in front of him, and he understood; this year should have marked his debut on the field. He would have preferred that for him… he could have prevented it too, but unfortunately for Ron, Voldemort's death took precedence.

"This is due," Dumbledore continued, "to a particular event that will begin in October and continue throughout the school year, demanding a great deal of time and energy from the professors. But I am confident you will all be delighted. Indeed, I have the great pleasure of announcing that this year at Hogwarts…"

At that moment, a deafening clap of thunder sounded, and the Great Hall doors swung open. A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a large staff and wrapped in a black travel cloak. Every head turned to the newcomer, except Harry, who slowly straightened, half-satisfied, seeing another interruption that delayed his bedtime, when suddenly a flash of lightning streaked across the enchanted ceiling.

It had to be admitted: Barty Crouch Jr. knew how to make a dramatic entrance; he must have inherited that from his master.

When he reached the end of the staff table, he limped toward Dumbledore. Another flash lit the ceiling, and Hermione shuddered. The lightning cast a harsh light on the latecomer's face.

Worn, scarred skin and much of his nose missing. But it was his eyes that made him truly terrifying. One was small, dark, piercing. The other was large, round like a coin, and bright, electric blue. The blue eye moved constantly, never blinking, rolling in its socket, side to side, up and down, entirely independent of the normal eye. It could even turn completely backward. Only a white globe was visible then. A magical eye, certainly useful, but Harry would never trade his precious eye for a little gift barely useful except for making its owner even more paranoid and frightening to others.

And… It was a bit petty, but it hadn't really helped him against Crouch, otherwise they wouldn't be here today. In any case, he won't judge the man, to be surprised by Voldemort after thirteen years of boredom in forced retirement.

The man sat down after exchanging a few words with Dumbledore, shook his gray mane to clear his face, grabbed a plate of sausages, raised it to the remnant of his nose, and sniffed. He then took a small knife from his pocket, speared a sausage, and began eating. Harry had to admit he had perfectly grasped the character, and now that he knew everything, he could only admire his superb acting. His normal eye was fixed on his plate, but the blue eye continued to flit across the Great Hall, surveying the students seated at the tables.

"I present to you our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," Dumbledore announced clearly, breaking the silence. "Professor Moody."

Usually, new professors were greeted with applause. This time, however, neither students nor staff clapped, except for Dumbledore and Hagrid. Harry knew McGonagall opposed his presence; he wasn't fully aware of others' opinions, but many had heard of the walking disaster he had become and were not eager to have him around children.

There was a grim quality to the few scattered claps that echoed in the general silence, and after a few deeply awkward seconds, they stopped. Everyone else seemed so petrified by Moody's strange appearance that they just stared. Harry couldn't help but smile faintly. He would have applauded under other circumstances.

But he didn't.

He would have, had it been the real Moody, but above all, he wasn't going to even more antagonize the heirs of the Death Eater houses, given that Moody had officially imprisoned more than half their families in Azkaban. Professor Moody appeared completely indifferent to the lukewarm reception. Ignoring the pumpkin juice pitcher in front of him, he rummaged in his cloak pocket again, withdrew a flask, and took a long swig. Anyone would think it was alcohol, which suited the character perfectly, but Harry knew it was Polyjuice, and he was almost impressed he revealed nothing while just starting to drink it this morning.

"As I was about to tell you," Dumbledore continued, smiling at the students still staring at Mad-Eye Moody in astonishment, "we will have the honor of witnessing an event not seen here for a century. I am very pleased to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will take place this year at Hogwarts."

"You MUST be joking!" exclaimed Fred Weasley.

The tense atmosphere that had settled since Moody's arrival suddenly dissipated. Almost everyone laughed, and Dumbledore himself chuckled amusedly.

"No, I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said. "But if you like jokes, I heard a very good one this summer. It's a troll, a harpy, and a goblin who walk into a bar…"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Uh… indeed…" Dumbledore said. "Perhaps this is not the time to… Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament… Some of you may not know what this tournament entails, so I ask those who do to forgive me for having to explain. Meanwhile, you may think of other things."

Harry could never decide whether he liked Dumbledore's general nonchalance, but he had to admit that his way of speaking about dangerous matters as if they were trifles was sometimes entertaining.

"The Triwizard Tournament first took place about seven hundred years ago. It was a friendly competition among the three greatest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. One champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions had to complete three magical tasks. Each school hosted the tournament in rotation every five years, and everyone saw it as an excellent way to foster relations among young witches and wizards from different countries, until the number of deaths became so high that the tournament was halted."

"The number of deaths?" Hermione whispered, horrified.

Harry raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

But the majority of students did not seem to share their concerns. Many whispered excitedly to neighbors or stared at Dumbledore in awe, indifferent to the victims of centuries past.

"Over the centuries, there have been several attempts to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "but none met with great success. This year, however, our Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Games and Sports felt it was time to try again. We all worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion would be at risk of death. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive in October with a list of candidates, and the selection of the three champions will take place on Halloween. An impartial judge will determine which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a personal reward of one thousand Galleons."

"I'm entering," Fred Weasley whispered, thrilled at the prospect of such glory and wealth.

He was not the only one imagining himself Hogwarts champion. At each table, Harry saw students whisper fervently to neighbors or stare at Dumbledore in rapture. But as soon as Dumbledore resumed speaking, silence fell once more.

"I know you are all eager to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,"

Oh, that, Harry was eager to deliver the cup, and on top of that, he would offer Voldemort's head on a platter. He smiled faintly, suppressing his morbid thoughts to focus on the rest of the speech.

Harry turned to his remaining piece of cake. Hermione now seemed far from thinking about the elves, and he was hungry. But he heard the end of Dumbledore's explanation: only witches and wizards seventeen or older could participate.

"They can't do that!" Fred protested.

He couldn't help rolling his eyes at the thought that someone younger couldn't enter. Sure, he had received little nudges from Crouch during the third task, but he had survived nonetheless. It was a matter of legality and reassurance… A child dying would be a tragedy, an adult, it would be his fault, that's all.

Anyway, the "anti-cheating protections" promised by Dumbledore were worthless once someone made an effort or hired an adult to do it for them. If Harry weren't concerned about one of them being entered into the tournament alongside him, which would be highly dangerous, he would probably have offered the possibility to the twins.

"So I ask you not to waste your time trying to enter if you are under seventeen."

A very weak rule, he thought. He could already hear students theorizing how they might still try their luck.

"As I said, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive in October and remain with us for most of the school year. I know you will show the utmost courtesy to our foreign guests and fully support Hogwarts' champion once he or she has been chosen. But it is late, and I know how important it is that you are fresh and ready for your first classes tomorrow morning. So, everyone to bed! And quickly!"

Dumbledore sat down and turned to Mad-Eye Moody. All the students rose amid the clatter of sliding benches and streamed toward the double doors leading to the entrance hall. Harry followed, yawning.

Now that he thought about it, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were without their heads for an entire year; he wondered how that worked for them. Wasn't it a bit unfair? He saw Cedric exchanging excited words with his friends out of the corner of his eye. His stomach tightened slightly, abandoning his useless reflections. He had to succeed at all costs.

"We'll be seventeen in April, why shouldn't we try?!" exclaimed George Weasley, who had not yet joined the crowd and stood glaring at Dumbledore.

"They won't stop me from entering," said Fred stubbornly, also giving the staff table an indignant look. "The champions get to do things normally forbidden, and on top of that, there are a thousand Galleons to win!"

"Yeah," said Ron dreamily. "A thousand Galleons…"

"Come on, move," said Hermione. "If you don't, we'll be last."

They followed her to the hall. The twins wondered what measures Dumbledore could have taken to prevent students under seventeen from entering.

"And what are you going to do about the impartial judge who selects the champions?" Neville asked.

"Don't know," said Fred, "but that's the one we need to trick. A few drops of Aging Potion should do it, right George?"

"Dumbledore knows very well you're not old enough," Ron remarked.

"Yes, but he's not the one choosing the champion," said Fred slyly. "I think once the judge knows the candidates' names, he'll pick the best from each school regardless of age. Dumbledore is just trying to stop us from entering."

Harry rolled his eyes. He wondered if he really had any attachment to his own life. If he were to enter into the tournament, Molly would probably be so furious she'd try to kill him herself. Leaving them to debate, Harry turned to Neville, who made a small pout while listening.

"Do you want to try, Nev?" he asked with a small smile, already knowing his answer.

Neville jumped.

"Never in my life. I wouldn't even make it to the first task."

"You underestimate yourself, but I agree, it's not a competition for us. Let them kill themselves while we enjoy a peaceful year," Harry smiled.

His best lie. At least some things wouldn't change.

"I'm glad to hear you say something with sense," Hermione sighed, catching up with them, leaving the three boys to argue behind. "They're ridiculous. Who would want to participate after hearing that people had died?"

"Ridiculous people," Harry said with a smile.

Anyway, why worry? They wouldn't succeed.

They reached the entrance to the Gryffindor dormitory. The entrance was accessible by giving a password to a lady in pink within a large Victorian-style frame.

"Finally back, we couldn't stand that Sir Cadogan anymore," Harry grumbled at her.

"Glad to be back too."

"Nonsense," Fred exclaimed beside him.

The previous year, the Fat Lady had been confronted by an angry Sirius and had refused to resume her role for much of the year, so they had had to endure another portrait: Sir Cadogan, a lunatic who spent his time insulting them, provoking duels, and constantly changing the password several times a day, driving everyone slightly mad. Harry would certainly not miss him.

They entered the common room, greeted by comfortable armchairs and a crackling fire. Ron fidgeted, still talking about the Tournament, though aimlessly. Neville was beside him but seemed unable to hear him, lost in thought.

Hermione stared into the flames, frowning, and Harry heard her mutter, "Slavery!" Harry smiled; it didn't make him forget his fight, of course. She then said goodnight and disappeared through the door leading to the girls' dormitory. Harry, Ron, and Neville climbed the last spiral staircase to their dorm, halfway up the tower. Five four-poster beds with crimson curtains were lined along the walls, and everyone's luggage was placed at the foot of their bed. Dean and Seamus were already preparing for bed. Seamus had pinned his Ireland rosette to the head of his bed, and Dean had hung a poster of Viktor Krum above his nightstand. His old West Ham football poster was stuck right beside it. They quickly went to bed, all too tired to even talk about the excitement of the Tournament, with only Ron continuing to mumble about it.

The next day, Hermione had finally decided to start eating again, apparently brimming with new ideas to launch her house-elf liberation campaign. Harry genuinely wanted to tell her that her 14-year-old ideals would carry little weight, but aside from revealing his knowledge on the matter, which he obviously could not do, he had no real evidence to present. Hermione would quickly consider that Harry simply wasn't taking her cause seriously, like Ron. That wasn't true, but he recognized that, at their age, they were more than useless. In their previous lives, Hermione had continued her fight once she returned to the Ministry of Justice, campaigning fiercely and ultimately securing a house-elf advocate to represent elf rights, among other achievements. Harry had only had a glimpse of its beginning.

So he remained quiet and observed her. After all, this fed his ambition; he wasn't about to deprive her of investing in something important to her. Each to their own battle. Fortunately, there was Neville. He seemed to be the only one even slightly affected by Hermione's new quest… at least he looked guilty every time she spoke of slavery, likely because of his own family's house elves.

"Not bad, this morning's schedule, we're going to be outside all day," Ron said, scanning their Monday timetable. "We've got Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and then Care of Magical Creatures… By dragons, we're stuck with Slytherins for that class again…"

"But then we have the afternoon free," said Harry with a thin smile. He preferred not to show his unease. He was apprehensive about how the Slytherins would behave toward him when they faced him.

A few moments later, the owls arrived, and Neville was the only one to receive a package. His grandmother had sent her usual start-of-year parcel, containing everything he had forgotten. This year it was especially large, apparently because Neville had forgotten his new cauldron.

After teasing Neville, they made their way to the greenhouses for their first class of the year: Herbology. It wasn't the most thrilling class; they had to harvest pus from Bubobulbs, blackish plants oozing a liquid supposedly effective against acne. Afterward, the Gryffindors separated from the Hufflepuffs to head toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest for Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class.

Hagrid was waiting in front of his hut, one hand on the collar of Fang, his enormous black dog. Several wooden crates were stacked at his feet, and Fang tugged on his collar, whining impatiently to examine their contents more closely. As they approached, they heard scraping punctuated by small explosions. Harry shivered in horror, as if a bad memory had passed through him, making him feel sick at the same time.

"Hello!" Hagrid called, smiling at Harry and his three friends. "We'll wait for the Slytherins; that'll please them… Blast-Ended Skrewts!" Harry restrained a sigh at the announcement. He doubted that anyone could find these creatures appealing, in any world.

"Could you repeat that?" asked Ron.

Hagrid indicated the crates.

"Bleh!" Lavander Brown jumped back.

‘Bleh’ was clearly the best word to describe the Blast-Ended Skrewts. They looked like deformed lobsters, shell-less, ghastly pale, slimy, with tiny legs sticking out in unexpected places and no visible head. There were about a hundred in each crate. About fifteen centimeters long, they crawled over one another, bumping against the crate walls as if blind, emitting a strong smell of rotten fish. From time to time, sparks shot from the end of one creature, propelling it several centimeters forward.

"They've just hatched," Hagrid said proudly. "You'll get to raise them yourselves! Thought it'd make a good project!"

Harry barely stifled another sigh.

"Why would we want to raise them?" came a cold voice.

The Slytherins had arrived. It was Draco who had spoken, with Crabbe and Goyle chuckling along. Hagrid looked momentarily flustered.

"What do these creatures do?" Draco asked. "What's their use?"

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking. A few silent moments passed, then he answered brusquely:

"That'll be for the next class, Malfoy. Today, you just feed them, that's all. We'll try different types of food. It's my first time with these, so I'm not sure what they like. I brought ant eggs, frog livers, and a piece of snake. You'll just try giving them a bit of each."

Harry glanced into the crate with a resigned expression; he had to admit it wasn't the most inspiring project for the year. He was genuinely glad to have brought these notes for Hagrid, though he doubted the professor would find them useful once he saw them. He mostly did it for himself, Hagrid will probably think about it as “too weak or boring”. Harry thought about it later, that Hagrid was release from Hogwarts at his third year, so he only started the class at the time.

Which is, to be honest, another proof he is not suited to teach… and Dumbledore not suited at his job.

While the others bravely handled larvae and other items, Harry approached the Slytherins gathered a short distance away.

Their reception was far from warm, as expected. He saw Daphne make a discreet grimace. He tried a faint smile.

"Let's get this out of the way," he said, stepping up to them.

"I have nothing to say to you, Potter. I think you've made yourself very clear."

Of course, it was Draco speaking.

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry pressed. "An apology?"

"What would I do with that? Saint Potter suing my father and always wanting us to believe he's on our side."

"I'm on no side, not the Ministry's, not Dumbledore's, and even less Voldemort's or anyone attacking innocents," Harry said firmly.

He looked over the Slytherins, who paled slightly at the cursed name.

He sighed.

"I won't apologize, Draco. I was in a burning camp where innocents were being attacked. I heard a three-year-old scream in pain because a man with a masked face tortured him with the Cruciatus Curse. I hit him and reported him to the authorities. I didn't know it was your father. But know this: if it happened again, and I knew it was him, I would do it again."

Draco clenched his jaw.

"I would do the same if it were Ron's father, or anyone, even one of you or any of my Gryffindor friends."

He crossed his arms, surveying them all; at least he had their attention, seeing several exchange uncertain glances.

"You probably don't want to hear from me anymore, fine. Just know I judge people by their actions, which is why I never blamed you over all these years, and I will continue to do so. But if you seek me, you'll find me."

He turned his back on them, leaving them to ponder, paying no attention to their potential responses. He even avoided Daphne's gaze and went to join Neville, who was watching three Blast-Ended Skrewts emit smoke whenever he brought them near an ant.

"Really nasty creatures," Harry smiled, while his friend gave him a despairing look.

Neville looked away from the creatures and at him, tilting his head toward the Slytherins.

"I don't know, it could go as before, like it'll never be simple again."

Neville patted his shoulder just as another explosion rang out farther away, and Hagrid vaguely acknowledged that yes, they could indeed explode. The two friends exchanged weary looks.

"So, all good on your side?" Hagrid asked cheerfully.

Harry watched the skrewts wriggling in their box.

"Hagrid, is this going to be the program for the year?"

"You don't like it?"

"Hmm… it could be… long? Dangerous? Not allowed?" he suggested.

He pulled out a notebook.

"I've got something for you, Hagrid." He handed the notebook, made large to suit Hagrid's hands. "Some notes from Professor Kettleburn's classes over many years and teaching tips."

Hagrid, flipping through the notes in surprise, looked up at him, astonished.

"Where did you get those?"

"I met Charlie Weasley this summer, and he helped me compile it. I tried to be as precise as possible. I thought it might help with your future lessons, and there are protection tips too, since handling some creatures can be dangerous for students."

Hagrid's mouth opened in disbelief, eyes welling up.

"You did this for me?" he sniffed.

"I think your class is fine, but starting as a teacher isn't always easy."

Hagrid hugged him tightly, crushing him in an embrace while Neville laughed at Harry's smothered expression.

Hermione and Ron joined them.

"What is it, Hagrid?"

"It's a gift from Harry and Charlie." He handed the notebook to Ron, who flipped through it, while Hermione read over his shoulder, raising an impressed eyebrow.

"This is why you secluded yourselves at the end of the holidays?"

"No, it's because your brothers wouldn't leave us alone, and we couldn't make progress," Harry sighed, making Ron chuckle, while Neville watched curiously.

"Thank you so much, Harry. I need to write to Charlie to thank him too," said Hagrid, standing as if he'd forgotten his class and was about to go to his place to write his letter immediately. He noticed the other students watching curiously, and they spent the rest of the morning discussing Kettleburn's proposed programs, which excited the students, while occasionally trying to feed the skrewts. The Slytherins stayed apart the entire hour, observing their creatures and talking amongst themselves.

Once free, they sat at the Gryffindor table and filled their plates with lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione ate so quickly that Harry, Neville, and Ron watched in intrigue.

"Uh… is this your new way of fighting for elf rights?" Ron asked. "Are you trying to make yourself sick?"

"No," Hermione replied with all the dignity she could muster while chewing Brussels sprouts. "I just want to go to the library."

"What?" Ron exclaimed incredulously. "Hermione, it's the first day of classes! We haven't even had a single assignment yet!"

Hermione shrugged and continued devouring her plate as if she hadn't eaten in days. Then she jumped up and said, "See you tonight at dinner!" before disappearing toward the Great Hall exit. At the same moment, the twins appeared from their own class, having to step aside for her to pass.

"Where's she running off to?" George asked as he sat next to Harry, his brother facing him.

"She's fighting for house-elf rights," Harry said, continuing to eat.

"She's obsessed," Ron sighed.

"Yesterday she went on a hunger strike; this is better, isn't it?" Neville remarked.

None could argue.

"What did you have this morning?" Ron asked the twins.

"Transfiguration and Divination."

"You were in Divination class?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Of course not, you just asked our schedule."

Harry snorted, amused; the opposite would have been surprising.

"And you?"

"Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Harry made Hagrid cry," said Ron with a wide grin.

Harry kicked Ron sharply under the table. Ron yelped in surprise, but of course, he had already caught the twins' attention.

"You? You made Hagrid cry?"

"He gave him Brûlopot's class notes that he had compiled for him," Neville said.

Harry relaxed; it was perfectly summarized and didn't mention a certain person's name. The twins whistled in admiration, and Harry quickly led his two friends toward the Muggle Studies class before they asked more questions.

"You really hurt me, Harry."

"That's because you talk too much."

Neville looked at them, perplexed.

"What's going on?"

Harry sighed as Ron snickered.

"Well, you know, my brothers are trying to pair Harry and Charlie," he said.

"They didn't leave me alone all vacation, and it's not over yet."

"They're still at it? I thought they'd stop once Charlie and you had met."

"Apparently, that wasn't enough," Harry said, entering the classroom and ending the conversation, though he still heard Ron and Neville chuckle behind him at Ron's comment that it wasn't likely to end because he and Charlie got along really well.

Ron was in much worse spirits at dinner after reading Rita Skeeter's article about his father, and after skimming it, Harry could understand why. In addition to misspelling his name, Rita had used Arthur Weasley's intervention on Maugrey's sneezing trash bins to ridicule him, accusing him of humiliating the Ministry. This did little to bolster Mr. Weasley's credibility, particularly if he intended to take action against Lucius Malfoy. After their meal, in which she merely made a brief appearance, Hermione excused herself to return to the library. Harry said he would check on Hedwig before curfew and left on his own as the twins settled at the table.

"Dobby, Winky, are you here?"

Harry entered the kitchens after taking a slight detour through one of the upper floors to avoid being noticed by students heading to their dormitories. The kitchen, located directly beneath the Great Hall in the dungeons, was as large as the hall above. Four long tables ran down the center, arranged exactly like the four house tables upstairs. For now, they were covered with dirty utensils and nearly finished dishes, the dinner service still ongoing, but Harry assumed that an hour earlier, they had been stacked with the dishes the house-elves sent flying from the ceiling to the students' tables. There were easily a hundred elves present, smiling, bowing, and curtseying as he passed. All wore the same uniform: a dish towel emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest, draped like a toga.

The two house-elves joined him at the sound of his voice, and Harry faced them. Winky's eyes bulged in shock.

Winky wore a small skirt and bodice, topped with a matching blue hat with holes cut for her long ears. Unlike Dobby, whose numerous ties were immaculate, Winky's outfit was clearly uncared-for: soup stains covered her bodice, and a burn had left a hole in her skirt.

"Hello, Winky," Harry greeted, noticing tears welling in the elf's eyes.

"Mister… Winky is still a little sad."

"You loved your family very much, didn't you?" Winky could no longer hold back her tears, and Harry gently patted her shoulder. "It's okay, Winky. You're a good house-elf. I'm sure you'll find a good family soon."

"Winky is a fallen elf. She can never be accepted."

"Of course you can. You just need some time. It's wonderful that you came to Hogwarts."

"Mister knew Winky would be here?"

"Harry Potter told Dobby that Winky was free and alone so that Dobby could bring her here." Dobby beamed, thrilled to have completed his mission.

"Mister Harry Potter is Dobby's master?" she squeaked.

"No, Dobby is my friend," Harry smiled. "Winky can be too, I promise I'll look after you in the future."

"Why? Doesn't Mister Harry Potter want a house-elf? Winky would rather be his house-elf…" she asked, glancing at Dobby, who nodded.

Harry frowned; he had never considered taking either elf as a servant. It was true that having house-elves could help protect them and keep their plans secret, but it was a significant commitment.

"I don't know, am I too young for such a contract? I haven't reached majority yet." He looked at them, both staring at him with shining eyes. "I'll look into it, but for now, it's simpler if you stay at Hogwarts so we can be together, agreed?"

He glanced at the remaining elves, but they seemed too busy to listen, or perhaps sensibly ignored the conversation, which worked in his favor; he didn't want Dumbledore learning such information. Checking the time above the door, he realized the banquet had ended some time ago; his friends would soon wonder where he was and might come to find him at the Owlery. He stood.

"I have to go. I'll check in with you both as soon as possible. Dobby, I'll comfy you Winky."

Dobby waved while Winky curtsied. Harry frowned briefly, then drew his wand and quickly mended his robe and wiped off the few stains.

"You have a very nice robe, Winky. See you later," and he left as Winky broke into another sob.

The following two days passed without notable incidents, except that Neville had already melted his sixth cauldron since arriving at Hogwarts during the very first lesson. Professor Snape, whose bitterness seemed to have reached new heights over the summer, gave him detention. Neville returned from his punishment on the verge of a nervous breakdown: he had had to gut an entire barrel full of horned toads.

"Do you know why Snape is in such a murderous mood?" Ron asked Harry, watching Hermione teach Neville a Scrubbing Charm to remove toad entrails from under his nails.

"Yes," Harry replied. "It's because of Moody."

Indeed, it was Moody, well, Barty Croupton Jr. in disguise, who had been tormenting him since the start of term. Of course, Snape didn't know it was him, but Croupton had always envied Snape's position beside his master, exploiting the Moody's prestige to harass him and endlessly discuss his Death Eater past. He likely hoped Snape would make a mistake to report to his master.

Harry didn't elaborate despite Ron's questions, and Ron resigned himself, apparently hoping Moody would make Snape pay for his bad temper. All Harry knew for now was that Snape avoided him entirely, which suited Harry perfectly.

On Thursday, the fourth-year Gryffindors eagerly awaited their first lesson with Moody, arriving early just after lunch and lining up outside the classroom before the bell rang. Hermione was the only one missing, arriving just in time for the start of class.

"I was in…"

"…the library," Harry finished with a faint smile. "Let's sit down."

They rushed to the four tables facing the teacher's desk, took out their copies of Defence Against the Dark Arts: How to Protect Yourself, and waited in unusual silence. Soon, they heard the familiar sound of Moody's steps. The clack of his wooden leg echoed down the corridor as he entered the classroom, looking as strange and terrifying as usual. Beneath his robe, his clawed wooden foot was visible.

"Put your books away," he growled, settling at his desk. "You won't need them."

They promptly returned their manuals to their bags. Ron looked pleased; practical lessons were, by far, the most engaging for students, far more than reading a few lines pretending to explain how to fight the forces of evil.

Chapter Text

Honestly, Harry did not know who was the crazier of the two: Mad‑Eye the professor, or Dumbledore, the man who had hired him. What had possessed him to think that discussing Unforgivable Curses with fourteen‑year‑olds made for a suitable introduction to the subject? The worst part was that Harry was not even sure the real Mad‑Eye wouldn't have done the exact same thing.

The lesson had begun normally enough.

Mad‑Eye had taken out a register, shaken his long mane of grey hair to clear it from his scar‑lined, twisted face, then started calling the roll, his normal eye following the names while the magical one spun around in its socket, fixing itself on every student who answered "present".

"Right," he said once he had finished. "I received a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've got a decent grounding on dealing with dark creatures. You've seen Boggarts, Grindylows, Red Caps, werewolves, and a few more, is that right?"

A murmur of agreement ran across the room.

"But you're behind, very behind, when it comes to defending yourselves against dark spells," Mad‑Eye continued. "So I'm here to get you up to speed, by teaching you the curses witches and wizards use on each other. I've got one year to show you how to handle the jinxes that, "

"What, you won't be here next year?" Ron cut in.

Mad‑Eye's magical eye swivelled toward Ron. He seemed a little uneasy at first, but after a moment, Mad‑Eye gave him a smile. It was the first time Harry had seen him smile since his return, and he had forgotten how terrifying Mad‑Eye's smiling face looked. His scarred features seemed even more distorted, though the flash of goodwill, meagre as it was, still felt strangely reassuring. Ron looked deeply relieved, and also slightly horrified.

"You're Arthur Weasley's boy, aren't you?" Mad‑Eye said. "Your father pulled me out of a nasty tight spot a few days ago… Yes, I'll only be here the one year, then back to the peace and quiet of retirement."

Harry barely held back an ironic smile. He would certainly enjoy his retirement, and if Harry had his way, it would be in a high‑security cell in Azkaban. If not that, Harry would settle for his death, just as it had happened the first time.

"All right, let's begin. Dark spells. They take many forms, and their power varies wildly. If I were to follow the Ministry's recommendations, I'd be here to teach you a few defensive spells, nothing more. I'm not supposed to show you how the banned curses manifest until sixth year. In the meantime, they consider you too young to learn the details. But Professor Dumbledore holds a higher opinion of your character and thinks you can handle more. And I'll add this: the sooner you know what's out there, the better. How could you defend yourselves against something you've never seen? A wizard about to cast a forbidden curse won't warn you. He won't be gentle and polite about it. You must be ready. You must stay alert. Miss Brown, you don't need to be looking at that while I'm talking."

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati the horoscope she had just finished under the desk. In truth, the saddest part for Harry was knowing that Barty Crouch Jr. had probably been the most competent teacher of his six years at Hogwarts in Harry's previous life. Remus's lessons had been valuable, of course, but this was the first time they had truly learned things that could prove useful out in the world. The irony of a Death Eater being the one who had trained him best to face Voldemort was bitter indeed.

"Potter, are you listening?" Mad‑Eye growled, dragging him back. Harry straightened up and nodded.

He had been listening only with half an ear, already knowing roughly what Mad‑Eye would say.

"I was asking… Can anyone tell me which curse the wizarding law punishes the most severely?"

Several hands rose timidly, including Ron's and Hermione's. Mad‑Eye pointed at Ron, though his magical eye remained fixed on Harry.

"Er," Ron said uncertainly, "my dad told me about a curse… It's called the Imperius Curse, or something like that…"

"Ah, yes," Mad‑Eye said appreciatively. "Your father knows that one, all right. Caused a lot of trouble for Ministry folk, the Imperius."

Mad‑Eye rose slowly, opened a drawer, and took out a glass jar. Inside, three large spiders scuttled frantically, desperate to escape. Harry felt Ron shrink slightly beside him. Ron hated spiders.

Mad‑Eye plunged a hand into the jar, grabbed one of the spiders, and set it in the palm of his hand where everyone could see it. Then he raised his wand and murmured:

"Imperio."

The spider leapt from his hand, let itself down on an almost invisible thread of silk, and began to swing as though performing a trapeze act. Then it stretched its legs, executed a backward somersault, snapped the thread, and landed on the desk where it began spinning cartwheels in circles. Mad‑Eye flicked his wand and the spider stood on its hind legs, tap‑dancing.

Everyone burst out laughing. Everyone except Mad‑Eye and Harry.

"You think that's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like me to force you to do the same?"

The laughter died at once.

"Total control," Mad‑Eye said quietly as the spider curled in on itself, rolling across the desk. "I could tell it to jump out the window, drown itself, or leap down one of your throats…"

Ron shuddered.

The Imperius Curse was a horror for weak minds; Harry had to admit that. For him, it was not the worst of them all, but it certainly left a very wide field open for inflicting suffering of every sort.

"Years ago, plenty of witches and wizards were under the Imperius Curse," Mad‑Eye went on.

He was talking about the days when Voldemort still held power. After his fall, many of his Death Eaters, especially from the old families, had claimed that they had acted only under the Imperius. Lucius Malfoy among them.

"Ministry folks had a lot of work sorting out who had acted under coercion and who had done so of their own free will. You can fight the Imperius Curse, and I'm going to teach you how, but you need real strength of character. Not everyone's capable of that. Best not to be hit with it in the first place. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and the whole class jumped, except for Harry, who barely suppressed the nostalgic smile the shout provoked. Mad‑Eye's acting truly was impressive.

He picked up the capering spider and dropped it back into the jar.

"Another forbidden curse?" he asked.

Hermione's hand shot up again, but so did Neville's. Harry already knew what Neville would say, and his stomach tightened. Usually the only class where Neville dared answer was Herbology, his favourite by a wide margin. For him to speak up now, and about something so personal, was truly bold.

"Yes?" Mad‑Eye said, his magical eye swivelling toward Neville.

"There's one… the Cruciatus Curse," Neville said in a small but clear voice.

Mad‑Eye stared at him with both eyes this time.

"Your name's Longbottom?" he asked, glancing at the register again. Neville nodded awkwardly, but Mad‑Eye asked nothing further. Harry did notice the quick look Ron and Hermione exchanged. They probably thought Neville knew of the curse because of what Harry had told them about Malfoy over the summer.

Turning to the class, Mad‑Eye reached back into the jar and took another spider, placing it on the desk, where it remained motionless, too terrified to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," Mad‑Eye said. "We'll need to enlarge it so you understand better."

He pointed his wand at the spider.

"Engorgio," he muttered.

The spider swelled at once, now larger than a tarantula. Ron pushed his chair back as far as possible, repulsed. Harry turned toward Neville just as Mad‑Eye lifted his wand again.

Pointing it at the spider, he whispered:

"Crucio."

The spider's legs buckled. It rolled over, convulsing violently, jerking in every direction. It could make no sound, but Harry was certain that if it had possessed a voice, it would have been screaming. Mad‑Eye held his wand steady, and the spider's spasms grew harsher, faster, more frantic.

"Enough!" Harry shouted at the same time as Hermione.

Neville, white as death, his fingers clamped so tightly around the edge of the desk that his knuckles were bloodless, stared wide‑eyed at the scene. Harry jumped up, rushed to him, and turned him away just as Mad‑Eye lifted his wand. He seemed almost displeased at being interrupted, and Harry remembered sharply that just because the man had never committed atrocities in front of Harry's eyes did not mean he was not a deranged psychopath serving an even greater madman, one who delighted in causing pain.

Harry kept Neville's face turned toward him, watching his friend's dilated pupils slowly calm.

"You're all right, Nev," he murmured, before turning back toward the professor.

Even though the curse had ended, the spider still twitched helplessly, legs in the air.

"Reducio," Mad‑Eye muttered.

The spider immediately shrank back to its normal size, and he dropped it into the jar.

Harry returned to his seat slowly, keeping an eye on Neville, who was struggling to steady his shaking hands.

"Pain," Mad‑Eye said softly. "You don't need a weapon to hurt someone if you can cast the Cruciatus… That one was used plenty, back in the day. One more forbidden curse?"

Harry raised his hand, wanting to get it over with.

"Avada Kedavra," he said, his tone sharp.

"Ah," Mad‑Eye replied with another twisted smile. "Yes. The last, and the worst. Avada Kedavra… the Killing Curse."

Harry glanced at Neville. No, it was not the worst. It was terrible for those left behind, but to die by the Killing Curse was nothing more than a brief moment of emptiness. He can tell it. He is the only one who can.

Harry watched, with everyone else, as Mad‑Eye killed the spider with a flick of his wrist. The flash of green was painful to witness, yet disturbingly familiar.

Several girls gasped. With a sweep of his arm, Mad‑Eye brushed the desk clean, sending the spider's body sliding toward Ron, who recoiled so suddenly that his chair nearly tipped backwards.

"Not pleasant," Mad‑Eye said calmly. "Not fun at all. And there is no counter‑curse. No way to block it. There is only one person who has ever survived it, and that person is sitting right in front of me."

Harry held Mad‑Eye's gaze, refusing to be intimidated. He knew all this already. Seeing he could not get a reaction out of him, Harry's arms remained crossed, his stare cold, and Mad‑Eye eventually looked away.

"For Avada Kedavra, you need immense magical power. If all of you pointed your wands at me right now and said the words, I doubt you'd even give me a nosebleed. But no matter. I am not here to teach you that spell. So why show it to you, if there's no defence? Because you need to know. You must understand what the worst truly is. And avoid ever ending up in a situation where you'd face it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the class jumped again. "Now, these three spells, Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus, are known as the Unforgivable Curses. Using any one of them on another human being earns a life sentence in Azkaban. These are the forces of darkness you'll be facing, the ones I must teach you to fight. You will need preparation. You will need weapons. But above all, you will need constant vigilance. Take your quills and write…"

Harry wondered whether Mad‑Eye might get into trouble for showing them all this, but he supposed the Ministry would not object to the torture of three spiders.

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the three Unforgivable Curses, and no one thought of uttering a single word until the bell finally rang. Yet the moment they left the classroom, everyone began talking at once. Most were commenting on what had happened, their voices wavering between awe and terror.

"Did you see that spider writhing in pain?"

"And when he killed the other one? Just like that, without even touching it!"

They spoke about the lesson as if it had been some sort of show, Harry thought, but he had found nothing amusing in any of it. Hermione neither, it seemed, and even Ron was exceptionally pale.

Harry held Neville by the shoulders and did his best to steer him as far away from the classroom as possible.

"If you don't want to go back to that lesson after this, Nev, I'll understand. I'll explain it to Moody myself if you want. Or even to McGonagall."

"No, what are you talking about… I'm fine. Really. That was… very interesting."

"Neville, do not pretend," Hermione said softly, though her voice remained gentle.

"I… really… I'm really hungry, aren't you?"

Still holding him, Harry shook his head and began guiding him toward the Great Hall, when a voice called after them.

"Longbottom. Don't worry, son," a voice behind them said.

They all stopped and turned to look.

"If you like it, you can stop by my office, all right? Come on, we'll have a cup of tea…" Moody said, stepping in front of Neville.

Harry did not let go.

He knew Neville was not in danger with him, yet he would still prefer Moody not approach him at all. Neville next to him looked even more terrified at the thought of having tea with him.

"You all right, Potter?"

"My parents died without suffering. You never should have shown the Cruciatus Curse. It is the worst of them all, and you know it perfectly well," Harry said, his voice harsh.

Even Moody seemed taken aback, his magical eye twitching slightly. Ron and Hermione were shocked that he would speak to a professor like that. But Neville was the one who looked the most stunned.

"It may be a bit brutal, but you need to know. Longbottom," Moody said, signalling for him to follow. "Come on. I've got a few books you might find interesting."

Harry still did not let go.

He knew Moody had taken this opportunity to pass Neville a book that could help Harry with the Second Task, but Harry did not intend to depend on his friends, nor use Neville's pain for that.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, his gaze unwavering.

"I really think we should talk," Moody insisted.

Harry clenched his jaw. That seemed to decide Neville, who moved.

"I'll go, don't worry, Harry. I'm fine, I promise. I'll meet you in the dormitory."

Harry made a doubtful grimace. But faced with Neville's insistent look, he finally gave in. After all, perhaps it would ultimately help Neville to face Moody's bluntness about the matter. He let him follow the professor toward his office and walked off in the opposite direction with his two other friends.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked, watching them disappear around the corner.

"I don't know," Hermione replied, thoughtful.

Harry hesitated. He finally decided he would bring it up with Neville directly later.

"Anyway, that was really a lesson, wasn't it?" Ron said to Harry as they headed for the Great Hall. "Fred and George were right. Moody knows what he's talking about. When he cast the Avada Kedavra, did you see the way that spider just died? Wiped out in an insta-"

He fell silent as he looked at Harry. Harry shrugged, and Ron, cut short in his enthusiasm, did not dare add anything more.

During dinner, Hermione did not join the conversation. She wolfed down her food at an incredible speed, then got up to return to the library. Harry and Ron headed toward Gryffindor Tower, and Harry ended up bringing the topic of the Unforgivable Curses back himself.

"I wonder why Moody and Dumbledore aren't in trouble with the Ministry for showing us those three curses in class," he said as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Well, Dumbledore has always done things his own way, hasn't he? And Moody's been getting into trouble for years. He attacks first and asks questions later. Remember the incident with the dustbins? Nonsense," Ron added, shrugging as he turned toward the Fat Lady.

Harry smiled at the remark. The two of them were indeed cut from the same clothe. They went straight up to the dormitory, where they found Neville alone on his bed, reading. He looked far less shaken than at the end of Moody's lesson, though not quite back to normal. Harry and Ron noticed his eyes were red. Harry lay down beside him.

"So?" / "You all right?" Harry and Ron asked at the same time.

"Yes, yes," Neville replied, "I'm perfectly fine. I'm reading a book Professor Moody lent me…"

He showed them the volume: Properties of Mediterranean Magical Water Plants. One chapter mentioned a plant capable of allowing a wizard to breathe underwater by developing gills for a short time.

"Apparently Professor Sprout told Professor Moody I was really good in Herbology," Neville explained, with a hint of pride Harry too rarely heard in his voice. "So he thought this book might interest me."

"That's great," Harry said, smiling as he pretended to flip through the book.

He knew Moody's motives were not entirely pure, but anything that helped Neville gain confidence was welcome.

After that, Harry dragged the other two to start their Muggle Studies assignment, guessing Hermione would soon bring them into her latest ambitious plans anyway. Better to get ahead. Settled near the windows, they began drafting short essays with Harry's help regarding Muggle schooling.

Harry noticed Fred and George sitting together on the other side of the room, bent over the same sheet of parchment, writing silently. It was unusual to see them apart from everyone else, working without making any noise. Normally, they preferred the centre of attention, loudly. Watching them like this, Harry recalled their secretive behaviour in the Burrow's living room when Mrs Weasley had asked what they were writing. Back then, he had assumed they were preparing a new order form for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but tonight was different. If that had been the case, they would have asked Lee Jordan to join them. No, they were clearly trying to figure out how to enter the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry saw George nod and cross something out. Then he leaned toward Fred, whispering, and in the nearly empty room, Harry still managed to catch it:

"No… That would make us look like we're accusing him. We have to be careful…"

That was enough for Harry to decide he did not want to hear any more.

A few minutes later, Hermione came through the portrait hole carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box full of objects rattling at each step in the other. Crookshanks rose and began to purr as she approached.

"Hi!" she said. "There, I'm done!"

"So am I!" Ron answered triumphantly, dropping his quill. Hermione sat down, set her things on an empty armchair, and read Ron's assignment.

"Why mention that office buildings use electricity? Every house does," she sighed.

"What's in that box?" Harry asked, trying to prevent the inevitable argument.

"Funny that you ask," Hermione replied.

She opened the box and showed them the contents. Inside were about fifty badges of different colours, all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

"Spew?" Ron said, picking one up. "What's that supposed to be?"

Harry took one too, raising an eyebrow but smiling this time.

"Not spew," Hermione said sharply. "You say S-P-E-W. It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," Ron said.

"Of course not," Hermione retorted briskly. "I just founded it."

"Really?" Ron said, taken aback. "And how many members do you have?"

Neville, who had taken a badge as well, gave Harry a perplexed smile.

"If you join, that makes four."

"And you think we're going to walk around with badges that say spew?" Ron asked.

"S-P-E-W!" Hermione repeated with fervour. "At first, I wanted to call it Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status, the S.O.A.O.F.M.C.A.C.C.L.S., but the badges were too small. So I settled for this name, and here is our manifesto."

"Excellent choice," Harry said, placing one badge in his pencil case. "I think the elves will hate the idea, but one has to start somewhere by raising awareness."

He hoped she would understand that he was supporting her.

Hermione made a small grimace.

"We need to do much more than that."

"Mione, we cannot change the world in a year, but campaigning for their protection is a beginning. Believe me when I say I would gladly tear down the entire wizarding society and the Ministry for their incompetence and crime, but it's not that simple," he said pragmatically.

Hermione looked at him, slightly startled.

She had clearly not thought that far herself.

"I never said-"

"No, that was me. Anyway, we can start by talking about it around us. And with the other schools coming, it might be an opportunity to extend its influence."

"Hold on, you two!" Hermione and Harry turned toward Ron, who had just realised he had lost control of the situation. "You have to understand one thing: They like it. They like being enslaved!"

"They have never known anything else, Ron. Of course they think it's normal. That happens when you grow up in a certain condition," Harry said.

He turned the badge between his fingers. He knew what he was talking about.

"Our short-term goal," Hermione replied, louder, pretending not to hear him, "is to ensure that elves receive fair wages and decent working conditions. Our long-term goal will be amending the wand ban legislation and appointing an elf to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because their lack of representation is downright scandalous."

"That sounds good. Nev, what do you think?"

"My family has house-elves, but they're not subjected to physical punishment… at least, not that I know of," he said awkwardly.

Harry smiled at him.

"House-elves won't be freed in this lifetime. What matters is simply promoting their protection," Harry assured him.

"If that's all, I can help," Neville said.

Hermione did not seem entirely satisfied, but since everyone agreed, she said nothing more.

"So what do we start with?" Harry asked.

"We start by recruiting new members," Hermione said brightly. "A contribution of two Sickles per member will pay for a badge and finance a leaflet campaign. Ron, you'll be treasurer. I've got a tin upstairs to collect the funds, and you, Harry, will be secretary. In fact, you should probably take notes right now to write the minutes of our first meeting."

Hermione stopped, glowing with enthusiasm. Harry remained still, torn between exasperation and amusement at Ron's expression. Ron looked so stunned he could no longer form words. Neville beside them seemed slightly afraid of Hermione's sudden burst of zeal.

At that moment, the last group still in the common room went upstairs. Harry turned to Neville.

"Shall we go to bed since we're done?"

Neville straightened a little.

"Hum, I'll stay a bit." He glanced around before grabbing his Herbology book. "I want to read more."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"If that's all, I'll stay with you. You two should go to bed. Especially you, Mione, you didn't sleep enough this week."

"Listen who's talking," Hermione muttered, struggling to balance her manuscripts and the box of badges, three of which stuck out.

Harry let out a small laugh. She wished them good night and disappeared up her staircase. Ron followed with a long yawn.

"She’s right, Harry, you should go too. I'm only staying a bit, not long."

"Honestly, I'm not tired."

Neville, embarrassed, followed Harry as he sat on the sofa beside him, pretending to flip through his Muggle Studies notes. Neville seemed particularly uneasy, staring at the same page of his book. Harry finally sighed.

"I won't force you to talk, Nev," he said.

"Y-you know?"

Harry was silent for a moment.

"Yes," he breathed. "Honestly, I've known for years. I just thought it was up to you to tell us whenever you felt ready."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, I suspected what would happen earlier, but I let it unfold since you had taken the initiative." He kept his eyes on his notes. "I can't compare my situation to yours, but I don't like talking about my parents either…"

He finally turned to Neville. The latter was staring at him, eyes wide.

"H-Harry, you, you don't have to say that. You can't compare people's grief."

Harry smiled.

"Of course not." He placed a hand on his shoulder. "I already know everything, but I'm not the only one worried about you. Hermione and Ron are just as concerned, and you know that, don't you? None of us would ever judge you."

Neville stared at him, his eyes troubled, lit only by the fire crackling before them. Harry offered him a reassuring smile.

"We should get some sleep. You won't make it through tomorrow otherwise."

"I…"

Harry fell silent and let him speak. A moment passed.

"I don't know if I can. Even when I try, I keep thinking about what they must have gone through. I picture them in that spider's place…"

Harry leaned in and wrapped an arm gently around him.

"I know," he murmured.

Neville looked up, embarrassed. After a short silence, Harry continued.

"I see my parents sometimes. My mother collapses in front of me in a flash of green. So even if I can't compare, I understand. And the only advice I can give you is to take everything you feel and use it to make sure Bellatrix Lestrange never lays a finger on anyone again. It will take strength to keep her locked away for life and maybe obtain the proper punishment she deserves."

Neville trembled slightly under his arm, curling into himself and clutching the book. His face was tight.

"Of course, I'm not talking about revenge. Revenge brings nothing. It only gives that woman another victory. But just… living. Not letting her break you."

"You wouldn't do it? If… V-Vo-Voldemort were in front of you?" he whispered.

Surprised that he had spoken the name, Harry stayed silent for a moment.

"I would kill him. And… I swear that if one day you stand before her and want to punish her the same way, I will help you. But I want you to know that it won't make you feel better, any more than it will help your parents."

After that, Neville remained silent, and Harry let him be. Nearly fifteen minutes later, Neville finally agreed to go upstairs with him. Once in the dormitory, they changed quietly, but when it was time to sleep, Harry pulled Neville with him and lay down beside him before drawing the curtain.

"Wake me if you need," he murmured, placing his head on the second pillow. He had no idea what Neville thought of this, as he could not see his face, but Neville merely stammered for a few seconds before settling on the other pillow. Harry smiled before closing his eyes, listening, letting sleep take him only once he was sure Neville had drifted off as well.

Chapter Text

The week ended on a high note, and the next one followed in the same vein. Neville insisted he was doing well, and from what Harry observed, he seemed genuinely to be recovering better than Harry would have believed.

However, they had not spoken again about the fact that Harry knew, nor had they told the other two. Harry knew he would address it one day, but he wasn't going to pressure him. Instead, he focused on their lessons, which were particularly laden with homework. The lessons themselves were not especially difficult, at least not for Harry, but he had to admit they kept them busy. All the teachers applied pressure, some, like McGonagall, already speaking of the O.W.L.s that awaited them the following year. This only heightened Hermione's stress, who was already rushing about in every direction. Her grand S.A.L.E.S. projects were still very much ongoing, so she spent every meal and class promoting her society, attracting the attention of a few Muggle-borns here and there who had no idea what a house-elf was, but generally, the other students didn't care, or, like Ron, found her behaviour somewhat infuriating.

Ron had eventually given up on trying to make her stop and contented himself with rolling his eyes each time the subject came up. Neville dared not give his opinion, since his family had always had house-elves. As for Harry, while he followed the matter, he felt somewhat awkward. On one hand, he was entirely in favour of Hermione's ideas; on the other, he had two house-elves begging him to become their master to provide them with security and stability. By helping Hermione and reading her notes, he had understood how contracts were made between families and elves, but he dared not speak of it to the other two, knowing Hermione might see it as a betrayal.

“Harry…”

He turned towards the familiar voice calling him from down the corridor.

“Oh, Daphne.” An awkward silence followed. “How are you?”

Daphne bit her lip.

“I'm fine.”

Another moment of discomfort hung between them.

“Soo… you wanted something?”

“I- I don't really.”

Harry raised an eyebrow before smiling and ruffling his hair.

“I saw you left the Muggle Studies class. You didn’t enjoy it anymore?”

“My parents think it's pointless for me to continue,” the girl evaded.

Harry nodded slowly, observing her. She avoided his gaze and twisted her hands nervously.

“You don't have to force yourself to talk to me, Daphne. I understand that your situation is complicated.”

“I- I- yes. I just wanted to tell you… that Uncle Lucius, Draco's father, says you used the Cruciatus Curse on him.”

Harry straightened and pressed his fingers on her lips as someone shouted down the corridor. It was Peeves, fortunately, he didn't seem to have heard them.

“You're crazy. If Malfoy heard you tell me about it, he could turn on you.”

“R-really?”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“No, but what you've just said is enough to testify against Malfoy. Why did he even tell you?”

“Astoria told me; she overheard them talking last summer.”

Astoria was Daphne's little sister and also Draco's fiancée, though Harry had only glimpsed her at Hogwarts since her arrival. He let out a deep sigh.

“It's a nasty business. Malfoy is guilty, but there's no way to prosecute him. Above all, forget what Astoria told you, and make sure she doesn't say a word.”

“Why?”

“Do you think Malfoy wouldn't act if he knew you could testify, or worse, that your sister could testify against him?”

Daphne paled.

“You think he…”

“I think I know him. I know what he was and what he did. I never judged Draco for it, but I never pretended to be blind to his father's actions or rhetoric. I'm not stupid either.”

“Of course,” the girl blushed.

Harry smiled at her.

“What would you have done if I had actually used the Cruciatus Curse?” he asked slowly.

Daphne looked at him before shaking her head.

“I don't think you would. I just wanted to know if what Astoria said was true… I'd warn her.”

Harry nodded; she hadn't answered the question. A more comfortable silence followed.

“So, you're not angry with me, like the others?”

“I like Draco; he can be annoying sometimes and takes himself a bit too seriously for a fourteen-year-old.” Harry smiled. “But he's kind to Astoria, and even you said he was your friend.”

“He is. As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason we shouldn't be friends anymore, but Draco isn't yet capable of truly understanding who his father is,” she shook her head, offering a weak smile. “One day, he'll be able to see things clearly.”

“I'm sorry,” the girl finally said.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“I… Draco says we mustn't be friendly with you anymore. I don't agree, but I…”

Harry smiled.

“I know.”

“I wish I were brave like you; I don't know how to tell others that I don't care about their opinion.”

“Hey, Daphne.” He took her by the shoulders. “It's fine, don't worry. I understand. You can count on me if needed, but for now, avoid getting into trouble if you can.”

Daphne, cheeks still red, nodded.

“I'll try to talk to the others… when I can. Many disagree with Draco and don't like that we have to become your enemy. They just don't want trouble.”

“I told you it's fine, Daphne. Don't worry.”

A small laugh sounded nearby, Peeves', and Harry led his friend down another corridor.

“We should get going before he targets us.”

Daphne gave a light laugh and nodded.

“Sorry again, Harry. You can send me an owl, maybe not Hedwig, if you need my help, and we can always meet at the Owlery.”

“Of course.”

The girl in green and silver disappeared into an adjacent corridor, leaving Harry alone.

It reassured him a little that his friend wasn't like the others. Who would have thought that in the end, she would be the only one loyal to him? Trying not to think of possible future conflicts with the Slytherins, he headed back to his dormitory, having completely forgotten what he had come to the corridor for in the first place.

“But… you told us it was forbidden, Professor,” Hermione remarked uncertainly, while Moody moved the tables with a flick of his wand to create a free space in the middle of the classroom. “You said… using it on another human being…”

As in his previous life, Moody had decided to teach them how to resist the Imperius Curse, or at least to experience its effects.

“Dumbledore wants you to know what it feels like,” replied Moody, his magical eye fixed on Hermione with a disturbing stare, without blinking. “If you prefer to learn in a more brutal manner, the day someone truly casts it on you and completely imposes their will, I have no objection. You may even leave immediately; I release you from this lesson.”

He pointed to the door with his gnarled finger. Hermione's face turned bright pink, and she hurriedly stammered that she had no intention of leaving. Harry, Neville, and Ron exchanged small smiles. They knew Hermione would rather swallow Bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson. Harry, however, was not as eager to participate, since he had been completely immune to the Imperius Curse for a long time. He was still unsure how to act, and whether it was better to pretend to resist.

Moody called the students up in turn and cast the Imperius Curse on them. Harry observed his classmates, who, one after the other, began performing the most unexpected actions under the spell. Dean Thomas ran three times around the classroom, jumping and singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville executed incredible gymnastics moves that he would certainly be incapable of under normal circumstances. None of them could resist the curse's effects. They regained freedom of movement only when Moody lifted the spell.

“Potter,” Moody growled. “Your turn.”

As Harry stepped to the centre of the classroom, Moody raised his wand, pointed it at him, and pronounced:

“Imperio!”

Harry was still uncertain how to act, taking a moment to feel the spell brush the barriers of his mind. Moody cut the spell just as Harry began to allow it in, intending to yield slightly.

“Potter!” he growled. Harry looked annoyed. “Excellent. He resisted the curse! We'll try again, Potter, and you, pay close attention, look into his eyes; that's where you see what happens.”

Harry felt somewhat embarrassed by the praise; there was nothing remarkable about it, as a spell like this could barely touch his mind, he had been able to resist it at the same age in his previous life.

“Very well, Potter, truly very well! They'll have a hard time controlling you!”

Harry grimaced at the other students' admiring looks, treating him as if he were performing an especially difficult exercise requiring great effort, when he had simply learned to resist long ago. Furthermore, someone skilled in Occlumency was almost naturally protected.

But, in truth, this didn't change much. It wasn't really an advantage he could use against Voldemort; the Dark Lord rarely employed such tactics except to humiliate people. Harry joined his friends further along the room to continue observing. Ron was still in line, but Hermione and Neville had already demonstrated their abilities.

“How did you do that?” Hermione exclaimed as he leaned against the wall beside them.

“I don't know,” he admitted, having completely forgotten the effect Imperius had on an untrained mind. He couldn't even tell them how to counter it. “What was it like for you?”

“It was strange…” Hermione began awkwardly.

“You feel very free.”

“I saw that. You see, Nev, you're capable of anything when you feel able. You should take an example from what you did today.”

Neville muttered that it wasn't true.

Harry adopted a pensive pose.

“I'd say you must question the order that appears in your mind,” Harry finally suggested, seeing Hermione still waiting for advice.

“You make it sound easy…”

Harry gave her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I think it's unique to each person.”

“But, why insist so much on teaching us this? As if we're about to be attacked?”

Harry cast a vague glance at Neville, who was staring at the professor worriedly. He couldn't entirely blame him. Why was Barty Crouch Jr teaching them to resist the Imperius Curse, knowing they could form a resistance against Voldemort later? If it were Moody, he could understand, but why Crouch? Not to mention that he said the idea came from Dumbledore, was the Headmaster far more aware of Voldemort's actions than he realised? Many questions remained. On the other hand, he wouldn't complain about the students receiving some training in case Harry didn't survive and Voldemort prevailed in this life.

“Harry? Shall we go? The lesson's over.”

Harry straightened and followed his three friends down the corridors, listening to them enthusiastically discuss the previous lesson.

“No wonder they were pleased to get rid of it at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted ‘Boo!' behind his back on April first? But when will we have time to train against Imperius with all the other homework we have?”

The fourth-year students had been struck by the noticeable increase in workload. On top of Professor McGonagall assigning several Transfiguration tasks each week, Binns, the ghost teaching History of Magic, set them weekly essays on the Goblin Rebellion of the 18th century. Professor Snape forced them to research antidotes, which they took very seriously, as he hinted he might poison one of them before Christmas to test their effectiveness. Professor Flitwick asked them to read three additional books to better prepare for Charms on Attraction. Even Hagrid imposed extra work. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at an astonishing rate, despite no one having yet discovered their diet. Hagrid was delighted and suggested, as part of their “project,” that they come to his hut in turn in the evenings to observe the Skrewts and take notes on their extraordinary behaviour. Naturally, the Slytherins objected. Harry noted the only reason the Gryffindors didn't complain first was that the Slytherins had already done so. Ultimately, Hagrid had his way, making them work and study other creatures from Charlie's programme to test different diets in the next lesson.

The year promised to be long and exhausting. Hagrid appreciated the notes, but when discussing with Harry, he seemed determined to focus on his new creature to discover, arguing they were pioneers in the field. That was probably true, but at that rate, no one would want to continue the subject when the chance arose.

From what he had heard, the third-year group consisted of only five students, unlike the fifteen they had been. Harry feared the numbers would continue to drop if Hagrid didn't change things.

A few days later, upon arriving in the entrance hall, there was such a crowd that they struggled to make their way forward. Students were gathered around a large noticeboard set at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, being the tallest of the four, stood on tiptoe to try to read over the heads what was written on the board:

TRI-WIZARD TOURNAMENT.

Delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive on Friday, 30th October at 6 pm. Consequently, lessons will end half an hour earlier than usual.

“Brilliant!” exclaimed Ron. “Our last lesson on Friday is Potions! Snape won't have time to poison us!”

Harry, who hadn't been paying much attention to them, glanced at the board. He had slightly put aside this matter, but he would need to act quickly before Hogwarts became even more crowded with students. He had to organise the year ahead. Once his name came out of the Cup, he would be under everyone's scrutiny. He needed to prepare thoroughly and manage the final points with Dobby and Winky, signing their contracts to ensure their confidentiality. He did not doubt Dobby, but if Winky were questioned by Croupton Sr. by accident, or even by Dumbledore, he could do nothing. This was his best chance to guarantee their discretion, and fortunately, the ritual was only a matter of paperwork he would sign and enchant with the rules he wished. He needed to sit down and draft it, replacing the usual punishment clause with a simple silencing charm.

He still had so much to prepare. He had to devise the perfect plan to retrieve the Cup before the Third Task. A magical heist could not be organised in two days. He would have to plan everything, including how to conceal his face, which rune circles to use, how to channel his magic within them without being detected by the Ministry, and other considerations, such as where and when to do it.

Neville suddenly grabbed his sleeve, pulling him out of his reverie, and he refocused on the conversation. Other students from their year had joined them.

“Only a week to go!” said Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff student, eyes shining. “I wonder if Cedric knows? I should probably go tell him…”

And he ran off.

“Cedric?” said Ron, surprised.

“He's the right age, Cedric said he was going to try the tournament this year,” explained Harry with a smile.

“Hmph. You really think he has a chance?”

“Of course,” smiled Harry, leading them towards the Great Hall. “I'm sure he'll make an excellent champion for Hogwarts.”

Even if he could never actually win the competition, Harry added to himself as he took his place opposite Ginny.

The appearance of the noticeboard in the entrance hall had a spectacular effect over the following week. There seemed to be only one topic of conversation, wherever Harry went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumours spread among the students like wildfire: who would put themselves forward as Hogwarts champion? What tasks would the competitors face? What were the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students like? Were they very different from them? The castle also underwent an extraordinary cleaning. Several rather grubby portraits had been scrubbed, to the apparent displeasure of their occupants. Perched in a corner of their frames, they muttered complaints gloomily or grimaced, brushing the tips of their rosy cheeks. The armours gleamed once more and moved without squeaking. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was so fierce with students who forgot to wipe their feet upon entering that two first-year girls had been struck with genuine terror. Some professors also seemed tense.

“Longbottom, you will be most kind to refrain from revealing to any Durmstrang students that you cannot perform a simple Switching Spell!” Professor McGonagall called out at the end of a particularly difficult class during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

Harry had found the remark particularly inappropriate, but he knew it was more due to her tension than anything else, and he had promised Neville to help him revise the spell for reassurance.

Amid all this commotion, Harry was the only one not particularly enthusiastic, and with good reason: he had far more pressing concerns. Even though he was the first to be surprised by it, Harry was not apprehensive about his own participation in the tournament. Perhaps it was because he had been through it before and had managed without any training at fourteen years old, or maybe because he already knew the content. The fact remained: he simply did not care.

In reality, he had much more on his mind. He had to find the time to draw up a magical contract with Winky and Dobby without incurring Hermione's wrath. Recently, he and Dobby had gone through several tomes offering the possibility of teleportation, some even able to bypass Gringotts' protections. He had wished to find more works detailing studies and analyses of house-elves, but he had to resign himself to the fact that their power and history had been so overlooked by wizards, whether intentionally or not, that he would have to conduct his own experiments. First, however, he needed to secure the loyalty of the two elves participating in the experiment with him, starting with Winky. He would also need to find an opportunity to visit his godfather during the year to approach Kreatur, and perhaps obtain a change of contract or, at minimum, his discretion in participating in this mission without his godfather finding out.

In short, Harry had little time to worry about what was happening around him, starting with the tournament. The only matter he hoped to preserve himself from, and which worried him greatly after his own quest, was his friendship with Ron. In his previous life, Ron's jealousy over Harry's participation in the tournament went badly, to the point where Ron had become a fervent critic alongside some Slytherins. Of course, they had not stayed in conflict long, but he feared going through that long phase again, when Ron would finally unleash all his insecurities on him. The more Harry thought about it, the less confident he felt about having reassured Ron during the past years. Having tried to maintain as much consistency as possible, it was likely that Ron would not be any more receptive to his arguments once Harry was unwillingly drawn into the tournament in a few weeks. Every day, he worked to convince anyone who would listen, starting with his three friends, of how much he detested the idea of risking his life in a tournament and that he would not participate even if he were of age. Harry's reputation as an honest figure, always speaking his mind, ensured that most people around him believed him. The only one who did not understand was Ron himself, who was increasingly excited about the forthcoming events, regretting every day not being born a few years earlier. This caused great frustration for Hermione and Neville, who had to endure their disagreements over the tournament's importance, debates that Harry often abandoned first, fearing an early argument and looking even more hypocritical when summoned by Dumbledore later that evening.

When they went down for breakfast on the morning of 30th October, they found the Great Hall decorated overnight. Immense silk banners hung from the walls, each representing one of Hogwarts' houses: a red one with a golden lion for Gryffindor, a blue one with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, a yellow one with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and a green one with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the staff table, the largest banner bore the Hogwarts crest: lion, eagle, badger, and serpent surrounding a large H. An unfamiliar sight for the students, Harry noted, as it was rare to see the Hogwarts crest displayed in the Great Hall even at the end-of-year ceremony when the House Cup winner was revealed. This proud display foreshadowed the semi-competitive, semi-welcoming atmosphere the school and its occupants would experience in the coming months.

The four friends spotted Fred and George deep in serious discussion in the middle of the Gryffindor table and sat beside them.

“It's annoying, alright,” said George to Fred solemnly. “But if he doesn't want to speak to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter. Or hand it to him ourselves. He can't avoid us all the time.”

“Who's avoiding you?” said Ron, sitting down.

“Not you, unfortunately!” replied Fred, looking irritated by the interruption.

“What's annoying?” asked Ron, turning to George this time.

“Having a foolish brother who meddles in everything,” George replied.

Harry shook his head with a sigh. His brothers were in a bad mood because of Verpey, certainly, but it wasn't fair for Ron to bear the consequences. He did not intervene, however; Ron would not have liked him to step in and protect him in every situation, particularly as he was becoming increasingly sensitive to Harry's behaviour.

“So, any progress for the Triwizard Tournament?” asked Harry. “Have you found a way to become candidates?”

“I asked McGonagall how champions were chosen, but she wouldn't say,” replied George bitterly. “She just told me to keep quiet and continue transforming my raccoon in silence.”

Harry smiled at the anecdote, imagining the deep irritation tinged with worry their Head of House must feel watching the two troublemakers take an interest in something that definitely didn't concern them.

“I wonder what tasks the champions will have to complete,” said Ron thoughtfully. “You know, Harry, I'm sure we could manage it…”

“Not in front of a panel of judges,” replied Fred. “McGonagall said points are awarded based on how well the champions complete the tasks.”

“And who are the judges?” asked Neville.

“They're the three Heads of House: Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Maxime, of course, plus Croupton, Director of the International Magical Cooperation Department,” said Harry, sipping his pumpkin juice.

The twins turned instantly from their brother to stare at him.

“Huh.”

“I've done some research,” shrugged Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes while the others did not argue further; they were used to their friend producing information out of nowhere, which often proved accurate.

“It's always the same people acting as jurors. In fact, the three heads were injured during the 1792 tournament when a Cockatrice that the champions had to capture escaped,” Hermione interjected.

Seeing their fixed looks, she added, in an annoyed tone, that with all the books she had read, it was normal she knew more than them, and that they should follow her and Harry's example and read more. Harry had already returned to his breakfast.

“It's all in The History of Hogwarts,” she said. “Oh, of course, it's not a book you can rely on entirely. The Revised History of Hogwarts would be much more accurate. Or even A Very Biased and Incomplete History of Hogwarts, Obscuring the Less Flattering Aspects of the School.”

Harry smiled, taking a bite of porridge as the four stared at her, perplexed.

“What are you talking about?” asked Ron.

Harry knew where she was going, and Neville's grimace as he tried to hide behind his scrambled eggs suggested he knew too.

“House-elves!” Hermione said loudly. “Not once in the whole book does it mention that we all contribute to the oppression of hundreds of slaves! Do you realise our sheets are changed, our fires lit, our classrooms cleaned, and our meals cooked by magical creatures we do not pay and treat as slaves?”

For a month, she had been harassing Ron to wear his badge and convince others to do the same. Every evening, she would clank around the Gryffindor common room, waving her donation box under her peers' noses. Some had even paid simply for Hermione to stop glaring at them or banging her box. A few seemed vaguely interested but reluctant to take a more active role, while others treated it as a harmless joke.

Exasperated, Ron rolled his eyes towards the autumn-lit ceiling, and Fred focused closely on his grilled bacon (the twins had both refused to buy a S.A.L.E. badge). George, however, leaned towards Hermione.

“Tell me, Hermione, have you ever been down to the Hogwarts kitchens?”

“Of course not,” she replied sharply. “I don't believe students are allowed down there…”

Harry looked up swiftly. This was a very bad idea. Hermione must not go to the kitchens and meet Winky and Dobby, as it could cause more problems if she encountered the two elves now insisting fervently on signing a contract with him. Not to mention, Hermione's words would inevitably anger Winky, which would not help if he wanted to retain her assistance.

“Well, we've been,” said George. “Very often, even, to steal food. We met the elves, and believe me, they're very happy. They're convinced they have the best job in the world…”

“They've been brainwashed and denied education!” Hermione retorted, and Harry was about to intervene when suddenly…

Owls entered the Great Hall with the morning post. Harry immediately looked up and saw Hedwig swoop down on him. Hermione stopped mid-sentence. Neville and she watched curiously as Hedwig perched on Harry's shoulder while Ron hurriedly tried to finish his breakfast, fearing another interruption. Harry took a letter from Sirius and allowed Neville to offer a strip of bacon to Hedwig, which she gratefully ate. After ensuring Fred and George were absorbed in their discussion about the Triwizard Tournament, he read his godfather's letter. It was a long letter from the two friends expressing their excitement at Harry attending the tournament and asking for all the details as soon as possible, ideally in person, saying they would try to come to see him soon. Harry smiled gently as he put the letter away.

“Our friends are well. They said we'd better give them all the details of the coming year.”

The three smiled at him.

“Ah, it's going to be so incredible.”

“And where are they?”

“Still at the old Sniffle family home,” said Harry, nodding. “They're fine anyway. Thanks, Hedwig,” he added, stroking the owl, who looked sleepily content. She hooted softly, dipped her beak briefly into the glass of orange juice Harry offered, and flew off again, evidently intending only to take a good nap in the Owlery.

"Aah, I would love to see them..." said Hermione, and Harry was not surprised. Hermione had often expressed, since the beginning of the year, how much she had enjoyed the time spent investigating and working with their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at the end of the previous year. Certainly, it was the case; for once, adults had regarded them as such and guided them fully, and it was only natural that she missed it.

Harry saw Neville and Ron nodding eagerly beside him, already talking about the upcoming holidays when they hoped to find an opportunity to see both of them.

Harry felt his stomach tighten slightly at the sight. He had kept many things from his friends since the beginning, but he had not really considered that all three of them were just as attached to the two adults as he was. He had quietly enjoyed it on his own without saying a word. He hesitated for a moment before making a decision.

"I'm sure we'll see them very soon. We should tell them in the next letter."

"You think..."

"Believe me, they want it as much as you do," Harry said with a reassuring, and probably slightly mysterious, smile. But none of his friends could extract any more from him. They would have to wait a little longer, until Harry sorted out a few things.

The rest of the day seemed to pass both quickly and slowly for everyone at Hogwarts. No one paid attention to lessons, neither students nor teachers; even Snape seemed so distracted that Neville produced an excellent potion that left nothing to be criticised by the end of the day. The lesson even had the convenient excuse to end half an hour early, giving Harry and his friends just enough time to drop their belongings and head for the hall. The majority of the school was already there, a noisy mass of black hats, all talking at once about the imminent arrival of the two delegations.

The heads of the different houses lined up their students.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall said sharply to Ron. "Miss Patil, remove that ridiculous accessory from your hair."

Parvati pouted and removed the butterfly from her braid. Harry glanced towards the Slytherins, who were all immaculately prepared, and besides their impeccable appearance and perfect attire, they stood upright and neatly in line. The other three houses looked rather pale in comparison. Standing properly in the presence of guests was a way to honour the school; he would like to hear anyone criticise the Slytherins, always held up as a bad example here.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First-years, go in front... Do not push..."

They descended the steps leading outside and lined up in successive rows in front of the castle. The evening was cool and clear. Day was slowly fading, and a moon so pale it seemed almost transparent already shone above the Forbidden Forest. Harry, in the fourth row beside Neville and in front of his other two friends, spotted the tiny figure of Dennis Creevey in the first-years' line, literally trembling with impatience, which made him smile despite his deep annoyance at the year ahead. He would make sure that this year became nothing but a wonderful, exciting memory for Dennis.

"It's almost six o'clock," Ron said, glancing at his watch and then at the avenue leading to the gates. "How do you think they'll arrive? By train?"

"I doubt it," said Hermione.

Harry said nothing; he could not see how he would avoid looking like a seer under these circumstances if he said anything, but he did not feel like asking questions or pretending to be excited by the guests' presence.

"By Portkey, perhaps?" said Ron. "Or they could Apparate. Maybe at their home, it's allowed before seventeen."

"You cannot Apparate within Hogwarts grounds, how many times must I tell you?" Hermione replied, exasperated.

Harry and Neville exchanged amused smiles but did not dare even turn towards them, wary of provoking their friends' anger or, worse, McGonagall's, a few steps away.

Once stopped, everyone began scanning the grounds, which were darkening around them, but nothing moved. Everything was calm, silent, almost as usual. It was starting to get cold. Harry wished they would hurry a little.

"Ah! If I am not mistaken, the Beauxbatons delegation is arriving!" announced Dumbledore, at the back row with the other professors.

"Where?" several students eagerly asked, looking in all directions.

"Over there!" shouted a sixth-year pointing towards the Forbidden Forest.

Something very large, much bigger than a flying broomstick, or even a hundred broomsticks, was approaching the castle in the dark blue sky.

"It's a dragon!" screamed a first-year, panicking.

"Don't be ridiculous… it's a flying carriage!" replied Dennis Creevey.

Dennis was closer to the truth… The gigantic black shape advancing above the treetops was gradually illuminated by the castle lights, revealing a vast pastel-blue carriage drawn by enormous horses. The carriage was the size of a large house and flew towards them, pulled by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, each as large as an elephant.

Students in the first three rows stepped back as the carriage descended from the sky at a terrifying speed. Finally, in a crash so impressive that Neville leapt back and was saved only by Harry's reflexes, the horses' hooves, larger than plates, touched the ground in a cloud of dust. Moments later, the carriage itself landed, bouncing on its enormous wheels while the golden horses shook their huge heads, rolling their fiery eyes. Harry caught sight of a crest, two crossed golden wands each shooting three stars, engraved on the carriage door just before it opened.

A boy in a light-blue wizard robe jumped down, bent forward, fiddled awkwardly with something on the carriage floor, then unfolded a golden step. He respectfully stepped back, and a black high-heeled shoe emerged from the carriage, a shoe the size of a child's sled. Almost immediately, it was followed by the tallest woman ever. The carriage and horse sizes now made sense to the students. Some muffled surprised exclamations.

"It's Olympe Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons," Harry whispered to his three friends.

As she entered the glow cast by the entrance hall, everyone could see her beautiful olive-toned face, her large dark moist eyes, and her beak-shaped nose. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun that gleamed at her nape. She was dressed head to toe in black satin, with magnificent opals sparkling around her neck and thick fingers. Dumbledore began clapping, and the students eagerly followed, Harry included, though more restrained.

She smiled graciously and stepped towards Dumbledore, extending a hand dazzling with jewellery. Dumbledore barely had to bow to kiss her hand. Harry briefly wondered about this strange practice of hand-kissing but immediately lost interest in the subsequent conversation between the two heads, content to watch the group of students who had disembarked behind their headmistress.

A dozen boys and girls, all seventeen or eighteen, had stepped from the carriage and now stood behind her. They shivered, unsurprising given the fine silk robes they wore without cloaks for protection. Some had wrapped scarves or shawls around their heads, and from what Harry could see of their faces, they looked anxiously at the castle. Harry immediately recognised Fleur Delacour among them, despite the layers of clothing. He had come to know and care for her over the years; she was likely one of the bravest he knew. She was also the future wife of Bill, the eldest Weasley, and Harry wished him all the courage in the world to convince Molly Weasley to accept her into the family. A wave of affection for the past and future couple struck him. When he had left his first life, Fleur was expecting their first child, and he would forever remember their happiness when they announced the pregnancy to the family: Molly crying tears of joy, Arthur immediately producing his first Firewhisky to celebrate and wish them well for years to come. This news had been the first after a decade of misfortune, heralding a new era of peace.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry was suddenly pulled back as the group began moving and Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How big do you think the Durmstrang horses will be?" Seamus Finnigan asked, leaning forward from behind Lavender and Parvati.

"If they're bigger than those, not even Hagrid could handle them," said Ron. "But first, he'll need to get rid of his Blast-Ended Skrewts. I wonder where he is with them."

"Maybe they've escaped," said Neville hopefully.

"Don't say that!" Hermione exclaimed shivering. "Imagine them roaming free in the grounds..."

"No chance of that happening. Remember, Hagrid said we'd only study them until the end of winter; we'll be done soon," Harry said, giving Hermione a quick nudge.

They stayed there, shivering in the growing cold, awaiting the arrival of the Durmstrang delegation. Most students watched the sky, full of hope. For a few moments, a great silence reigned, broken only by the sounds of hooves and the neighing of Madame Maxime's enormous horses.

"Do you hear something?" Ron asked suddenly.

Harry listened. A strange, loud, and unsettling noise came from the darkness. It was a muffled rumble, mixed with a sucking sound, as if a giant vacuum had passed through a riverbed.

"The lake!" Lee Jordan shouted, pointing. "Look at the lake!"

From their vantage point atop the gently sloping lawn, they could clearly see the smooth black surface of the water, which suddenly became turbulent. Large bubbles formed, and waves lapped the muddy shores. A whirlpool appeared at its centre, as if a giant plug had been removed from the bottom… A long black mast slowly rose from the centre… Harry recognised the rigging of what he knew to be a huge ship.

"It's a boat," he murmured to his friends.

Slowly, majestically, a vessel emerged from the water in the silver shimmer of moonlight. It looked oddly spectral, like a wreck saved from a shipwreck, and the faint glows behind its portholes, shrouded in mist, resembled ghostly eyes. Finally, with a cascade-like sound, the ship appeared fully, swaying on the turbulent waters, sliding towards the shore. Moments later, they heard the anchor drop and the muted sound of a gangplank lowering. Passengers disembarked, parading in the porthole light.

All seemed built like Crabbe and Goyle, but as they neared the hall's light, it became clear their massive silhouettes were due only to the thick, compact fur cloaks they wore. The man leading them wore different fur, smooth and silver, like his hair.

"Igor Karkaroff… former Death Eater," Harry murmured to Neville, low enough to wonder if he had heard, but he saw his friend stiffen slightly, signalling he had understood. Harry did the same; if he could rely on his friends to keep an eye on the headmaster he intended to send where he deserved before year's end, he would not complain.

"Dumbledore!" Karkaroff exclaimed warmly, stepping onto the lawn. "How are you, my dear friend, how are you?"

"The best of worlds, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," replied Dumbledore.

Karkaroff's voice was smooth and well-toned. He was tall and slender, like Dumbledore, but his short white hair and goatee (ending in a small curl) did not entirely hide a rather receding chin. Standing before Dumbledore, he clasped both of his hands. The four friends exchanged uneasy glances. This was what Harry had hoped for; it was time for his friends to understand the meaning of Dumbledore's second chance, something he offered a little too subjectively in Harry's view.

"This dear old Hogwarts," he said, smiling at the castle. "What a joy to be here, truly… Viktor, come warm yourself… I hope it is not inconvenient, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight cold…"

Karkaroff signalled one of his students to join him. Harry did not need Ron's hand to immediately recognise the profile; he turned and offered an amused smile.

"Harry… It's Krum!" Ron whispered uselessly in his ear.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe it!" said Ron, astonished, as the Hogwarts students climbed the castle steps behind the Durmstrang delegation. Krum, "Harry! It's Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's just a Quidditch player," Hermione replied.

"Just a Quidditch player?" exclaimed Ron, looking at her as if he could not believe his ears. "Hermione, he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I never would have guessed he was still studying!"

"What surprises me is that Harry wasn't aware," said Neville with a smile.

Harry looked at him, smiling, before glancing at Ron and laughing. The latter gave him the most magnificent expression of astonishment.

"I wouldn't have missed Ron's semi heart attack for the world."

"Seriously, Harry!" exclaimed Ron, waving his arms as if he had just suffered the greatest betrayal of his life, doubling Harry and Neville's laughter while Hermione rolled her eyes, finding him evidently too dramatic.

As they crossed the hall towards the Great Hall, Harry saw Lee Jordan jumping on the spot, trying to get a better view of Krum's back. Several sixth-year girls rummaged frantically through their pockets.

"Oh no, it can't be! I don't have a single quill on me!"

"Do you think he'd sign my hat with my lipstick?"

"No, really…" said Hermione haughtily, passing the two girls who were now arguing over the lipstick tube.

"I want to get his autograph, if I can," said Ron. "Don't you have a quill, Harry?"

"Ron... he'll be here all year, you have plenty of time to get his autograph, I assure you, he won't fly away after the evening."

They went to sit at the Gryffindor table. Ron made sure to sit on the side facing the hall, for Krum and his Durmstrang classmates were still gathered by the door, unsure where to sit. The Beauxbatons students had seated themselves at the Ravenclaw table and looked around the Great Hall gloomily.

Three girls kept scarves and shawls on their heads.

"It's not even that cold," said Hermione, casting them an irritated look. "They should have just brought cloaks."

"Here! Come sit here!" said Ron in a hissing voice. "Here! Hermione, move a bit, make some room…"

"What?"

"Too late," said Ron bitterly.

Viktor Krum and his Durmstrang companions had sat at the Slytherin table. Harry saw his former friend immediately put on a superior little air. He had already leaned towards Krum to speak to him. Harry shook his head while Hermione maintained an outraged expression, which Ron seemed not to care about in the least.

"Durmstrang students are only from pure-blood families; in fact, Muggle-borns are not accepted. I'm not especially surprised they headed there; some must have family members in that house," Harry explained rationally, hoping, despite himself, to cool Ron's ardour a little.

But it had no effect, as he seemed to barely listen, which was obviously not the case for Hermione, who looked even more outraged at hearing his words, while Neville nodded. He had evidently already heard rumours about this school, like any heir of a pure-blood family.

Ignoring Ron, who was fantasising about the Quidditch player, and Hermione's sighs, Harry and Neville watched with amusement the two groups discovering the Great Hall. The Durmstrang students clearly seemed far more curious and awed by the place than the Beauxbatons students, who looked around with all the disdain in them. Given what Fleur had told him about her school, he could understand why they were not as impressed by the old stone castle. Beauxbatons lacked Durmstrang's rigor and sobriety; the students had always been accustomed to a different standard of living, which Hogwarts could hardly compare to. Even though Harry could not confirm this, having never seen the school himself, he kept in mind that Fleur had always had that superior impression since her arrival at Hogwarts, and the French seemed to revel in that image of their school.

When all the students had sat at their respective tables, the professors entered and took their places around the high table. Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime brought up the rear. When their headmistress appeared, the Beauxbatons students jumped to their feet, eliciting a few laughs from the Hogwarts ranks. They apparently felt no embarrassment and only sat back down once Madame Maxime had taken her place to Dumbledore's left. Harry could not see what was funny about showing respect to their headmistress or other customs, but he had to admit he would have laughed in the face of the first person who had asked him to do the same for Dumbledore. The latter had remained standing, and silence gradually fell over the Great Hall.

"Ladies, young ladies, gentlemen, dear ghosts, and, above all, honoured guests, good evening," said Dumbledore, addressing the foreign students with a radiant smile. "It is my very great pleasure to welcome you to Hogwarts. I hope, and indeed I am certain, that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

Fleur Delacour, who always had a scarf wrapped around her head, let out an openly mocking laugh.

"No one's forcing you to stay!" murmured Hermione, exasperated.

"The tournament will officially open at the end of this banquet," announced Dumbledore. "But for now, I invite you to eat, drink, and consider this house as your own!"

He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff immediately lean towards him to start a conversation. As usual, the dishes before them filled with various foods. The kitchen elves had outdone themselves. Harry rediscovered with pleasure the cuisine of the other two countries, which he had only rarely had the chance to taste at the time.

"What is that?" asked Ron, pointing to a large tureen filled with a mix of fish, next to a stew of beef and kidneys.

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's French," Hermione clarified. "I had it once on holiday, two years ago. It's very good."

"I'll take your word for it," replied Ron, serving himself a hearty portion of good English stew.

There seemed to be far more people than usual in the Great Hall, even if there were only about twenty more students. Perhaps it was due to their colourful uniforms, which stood out more against Hogwarts' black robes. Beneath the furs they had removed, the Durmstrang students wore robes of intense blood-red colour.

The banquet had been underway for about twenty minutes when Hagrid slipped into the hall through a door behind the professors' table. He slid into his seat and greeted Harry, Ron, and Hermione, waving a hand wrapped in bandages.

"The Blast-Ended Skrewts are well, Hagrid?" called Harry from the Gryffindor table.

"In fine fettle," replied Hagrid, beaming.

"No surprise," said Ron quietly. "Apparently, the food they like best is Hagrid's fingers," making the three of them laugh.

At that moment, they heard a voice ask:

"Excuse me, have you finished with the bouillabaisse?"

It was Fleur Delacour. She had finally decided to remove her scarf, releasing a cascade of silvery blonde hair that fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes and very white, perfectly straight teeth.

Ron went scarlet.

He stared at her, opened his mouth, and stammered.

"The bouba… the boubaliaisse… The bailloubaisse…"

"Bouillabaisse," she corrected.

"Bouba… boubia…," stammered Ron.

"You don't seem very skilled with foreign languages…" the blonde girl impatiently remarked. "So, have you finished, yes or no, with that bouillabaisse?"

"Yes," said Ron, out of breath. "Yes, it was… it was excellent."

She took the tureen and carried it carefully to the Ravenclaw table. Ron continued to stare at her, eyes wide, as if it were the first time in his life he had seen a girl. Harry burst out laughing, and Ron seemed to come back down to earth.

"She's a Veela," he said to Harry in a hoarse voice.

"Of course not!" Hermione cut in sharply. "No one else is staring at her like an idiot!"

"He's not wrong, though," said Harry.

For once, Hermione did not seem to take his word.

"I didn't see what Veelas looked like in detail last time, but it's clear she has at least some Veela blood." Harry gestured to how most of the boys and a few girls here and there had turned in her direction, looking dazed and fascinated. "But what intrigues me is… why doesn't Ravenclaw have bouillabaisse at their table?"

The two boys looked at him in astonishment, but Hermione didn't even seem to hear him, or perhaps she ignored him.

"You only say that because she's pretty. Ah, boys," sighed his friend, clearly wishing to end the conversation.

"I've never seen a Veela myself either, but I've heard about them," said Neville, looking questioningly at Ron.

"They are the most wondrous creatures in this world," sighed Ron, still visibly recovering from having met the semi-Veela's gaze.

"Weren't you curious to see them?" Neville asked, evidently just as curious about the creatures. Harry shrugged.

He wasn't about to admit he was more interested in talking with Charlie at that moment; the twins were clearly within earshot.

"When you've finished debating trivialities," Hermione said brusquely, "perhaps you'll see who has just arrived."

She pointed to the professors' table. The two previously empty chairs were now occupied. Ludo Verpey was sitting next to Professor Karkaroff, while Barty Croupton had taken a seat next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" Neville wondered. "Is it because they are judges?"

"Surely, and more than that. They are the ones who organised the Triwizard Tournament," said Hermione. "It's only natural for them to be here at the official opening."

When desserts were served, they noticed various cakes they didn't recognise. Ron examined a kind of whitish cream closely, then nudged it to the right so it was visible from the Ravenclaw table. But Fleur seemed to have eaten enough and did not take it.

Once the golden plates had been cleared and cleaned, Dumbledore stood again. The Great Hall now held an atmosphere of anticipation. Not far from them, Fred and George, leaning forward, watched Dumbledore with the utmost attention.

"The time has come," said Dumbledore, smiling broadly at all the faces turned towards him. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin. But I would like to give a few explanations before the reliquary is brought forward and to clarify the procedure we will follow this year. First, allow me to introduce, to those who do not yet know them, Mr Bartemius Croupton, Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation." There was polite applause. "And Ludo Verpey, Director of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

This time, the applause was much more enthusiastic, doubtless due to Verpey's reputation as a Beater, or simply because he seemed far more affable. He responded with a warm wave of his hand, while Bartemius Croupton neither smiled nor acknowledged the audience when his name was announced. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes; both seemed as disagreeable as the other, each annoying him in their own way. This was why he didn't even bother to applaud Verpey, appearances be damned, he would already have plenty of effort ahead over the coming months.

"Mr Verpey and Mr Croupton have worked tirelessly over the past months to prepare the Triwizard Tournament," continued Dumbledore, "and they, along with Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, and myself, will form the panel tasked with evaluating the efforts of the champions."

Harry felt the gaze of his three friends on him; as always, his predictions proved correct, but none made a remark, for as soon as the word "champions" was spoken, the students' attention towards Dumbledore intensified. He must have noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he asked, "The reliquary, please, Mr Filch."

Argus Filch, who had kept to a corner of the hall, approached Dumbledore carrying a large wooden chest inlaid with gemstones.

The chest appeared very ancient, and its appearance prompted an excited murmur among the students. Dennis Crivey had climbed onto his chair to get a better view, but he was so tiny that he barely rose above his seated classmates.

"The instructions regarding the tasks that the champions must complete this year have been carefully drawn up by Mr Croupton and Mr Verpey," Dumbledore continued as Filch placed the chest gently on the table, directly in front of him. "And they have made all necessary arrangements to ensure the smooth running of this competition. Three tasks will take place at various points during the year and will test the champions' qualities… their magical abilities, their daring, their powers of deduction, and, of course, their capacity to face danger."

These last words caused absolute silence, as if no one dared even to breathe.

"As you know, three champions will compete in this tournament," continued Dumbledore in a very calm tone, "one from each participating school. They will be scored according to their performance in each task, and the champion who earns the highest number of points will be declared the winner. The three champions will be chosen by an impartial judge… the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore tapped the chest three times with his wand. With a creak, the lid slowly opened, and Dumbledore drew from the reliquary a roughly carved wooden cup. The cup itself would have been unremarkable if not for a spout of blue flames that burst from it, dancing like a hearth fire.

Dumbledore closed the reliquary and, with careful gestures, placed the Cup on it so that everyone could admire it at leisure.

"Anyone wishing to submit their name to be chosen as a champion must write their name and school clearly on a piece of parchment and drop it into this Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore explained. "Prospective champions will have twenty-four hours to do so. Tomorrow evening, on Halloween, the Goblet will give the names of the three people it deems most worthy of representing their school. From this evening, the Goblet will be placed in the entrance hall and accessible to those wishing to enter. To ensure no student below the required age succumbs to temptation," Dumbledore continued, "I will personally trace an Age Restriction around the Goblet when it is placed in the hall. No one under seventeen will be able to cross this limit. Finally, I wish to warn the candidates that participation in this tournament is not to be taken lightly. Once a champion is selected by the Goblet, he or she is obliged to undergo the tournament tasks to completion. Placing your name in the Goblet constitutes a commitment, a sort of magical contract. Once someone is named champion, there is no turning back. Consequently, think carefully before submitting your name; you must genuinely desire to participate. That is all. Now, I believe it is time for bed. Good night to all."

Harry turned to the others.

"I can't wait to see how your brothers plan to cheat this vase," he said with a mocking laugh, knowing in advance what a fiasco it would be.

Ron looked slightly outraged at his tone but had no time to argue; Fred's voice overpowered everyone around them.

"An Age Restriction!" exclaimed Fred, eyes sparkling, as the crowd of students headed towards the entrance hall. "Aging potion should be enough to bypass it, right? And once your name is in the Goblet, how do they know if you're seventeen or not?"

"I don't think anyone under seventeen has the slightest chance of winning," said Hermione. "We just don't know enough, that's all…"

"Speak for yourself!" George snapped. "Harry, you're going to try, aren't you?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Far from wanting to appear boastful, but I'm clearly neither in need of eternal glory nor money; I'm seeking royal peace, which the tournament cannot offer me, so I'll pass," he said. "However, I'll be perfectly happy in the stands to cheer on our future champion; I just hope you're ready for the consequences if you succeed."

"You speak like Dumbledore, it's scary," said Fred, making a face.

"I meant your mother; I'm almost certain you'll never reach the first task because she'll come and kill you with her own hands before," he said, getting up and not waiting for a reply. His three friends followed him, Ron more slowly, twisting and turning to catch a glimpse of Krum, who was being led to the exit by Karkaroff, the rest of the Durmstrang students on his heels.

The headmaster led his students to the exit, reaching the Great Hall doors at the same time as Harry and his friends. Harry stopped to let them pass.

"Thank you," said Karkaroff in a distracted tone, giving him a glance. Suddenly, he froze, turned back to Harry, and stared as if he could not believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, his students also froze. Karkaroff's gaze slowly rose and rested on Harry's forehead, revealing part of his scar. The Durmstrang students, too, watched with curiosity. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw that some had already realised who he was. One boy nudged the girl beside him and openly pointed at Harry's forehead.

"Yeah, it's Harry Potter," growled a voice behind them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around just as Harry did, who had no doubt about the identity of the speaker. The world was sometimes cruel; the exact same scene had occurred last time. Harry would never forget the first time he had come face to face with Karkaroff and his sly expression.

Mad-Eye Moody stood before him, leaning his full weight on his staff, his magical eye fixed unwaveringly on the Durmstrang headmaster. Harry saw Karkaroff pale. A terrible expression of fury mixed with fear appeared on his face.

"You!" he said, looking at Moody as if uncertain it was really him.

Which was already strange in itself, hadn't he seen him at the dining table? Did he not pay attention to the rest of the hall to this extent?

"Me," Moody replied grimly. "And unless you have something specific to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you'd better clear the way. You're blocking the exit."

It was true. Half of the students remaining in the Great Hall were waiting behind them, standing on tiptoe to see what was obstructing them. Without a word, Professor Karkaroff signalled to his students to follow. Moody watched him leave, his magical eye fixed on his back, his mutilated face showing intense antipathy.

The next day being a Saturday, most of the students would have been expected to come down for breakfast later than usual. But Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not the only ones to wake up much earlier. When they descended into the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people, some holding toast, gathered around the Goblet of Fire to examine it more closely. It had been placed in the centre of the hall, on the stool usually used as the pedestal for the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been drawn on the floor, forming a circle about three metres in radius around the Goblet. Harry couldn't help but wonder about the choice of three metres; the hall was large but not enormous, and it would likely get congested frequently over the weekend. If he were to do it, Dumbledore would have been better off placing it in the Great Hall, or at least reducing the circle to two metres.

Harry would have preferred to ignore the object, but his friends had obviously stopped, so he did the same.

"Has anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked curiously, addressing a third-year girl.

"All the Durmstrang students," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts approach it yet."

Before anyone could add anything, a burst of laughter rang out behind Harry. He turned and saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan running down the stairs, looking exhilarated.

"There we go," whispered Fred triumphantly. "We've taken it."

"What?" asked Ron.

"The Aging Potion, numbskull," replied Fred.

"Just a drop each," said George, rubbing his hands with a gleeful expression. "We only need a few more months."

"If one of us wins, we'll split the thousand Galleons three ways," said Lee with a wide grin.

"I'm not at all sure that'll work," Hermione warned them. "Dumbledore has certainly thought of that before you did."

Fred, George, and Lee, of course, paid no attention to her warning.

"Ready?" said Fred to the other two, who shivered with excitement. "Here goes, I'm going first."

Amused in advance, Harry watched Fred take a slip of parchment from his pocket on which was written: “Fred Weasley – Hogwarts.”

Fred stepped up to the line and stopped in front of it, balancing on his toes like a diver about to jump from fifteen metres. Then, under the eyes of all watching him, he took a deep breath and crossed the line. For a fraction of a second, he must have thought he had succeeded; George surely believed it, as he let out a triumphant cry and jumped over the line after Fred. But a moment later, there was a crackling sound, and the twins were flung out of the circle as if catapulted by an invisible shot put launcher. They landed painfully three metres away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, two long, identical white beards immediately sprouted on their faces with a firecracker-like pop.

Harry burst into laughter, unable to get enough of the scene. The hall echoed with loud laughter. Even Fred and George could not resist joining in, laughing at their own beards.

"That's what you get for shouting your mischief all over the corridors; Dumbledore must have known about your plan ages ago," said Harry, helping one of the twins to his feet and using his wand to slow the growth of Fred's beard.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice. Everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore emerging from the Great Hall. "I suggest a visit to Madame Pomfrey," he said, eyeing the twins mischievously. "She's already tending to Miss Faucett of Ravenclaw, and Mr Summers of Hufflepuff. They also tried a bit of self-aging. But I must admit, their beards are much less impressive than yours."

This seemed to calm Fred and George slightly, surely disappointed not to be the only ones with the idea, and they headed to the infirmary, accompanied by Lee Jordan, who was still shaking with laughter. Harry and his friends were also chuckling as they went to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed. In honour of Halloween, a cloud of bats flew beneath the enchanted ceiling, while at the four corners, hundreds of hollowed pumpkins cast demonic glares. Following Ron, Neville, and Hermione, Harry approached Dean and Seamus, who were attempting to compile a list of Hogwarts students likely to enter their names.

"From what I hear, Warrington got up early to put his name in the Goblet," Dean told Harry.

Ron snorted in disdain.

"Just what we need, the Hogwarts champion being a Slytherin!" he said.

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," added Seamus scornfully. "But I didn't think he'd risk his perfect little head in something so dangerous, well…"

Harry shook his head.

"Cedric would make an excellent champion, as would anyone, even Warrington. As long as they come out alive, anyone is fine with me."

"Listen!" Hermione suddenly interjected, cutting off a potential response from Ron and Seamus.

All turned towards the entrance hall, where applause could be heard. They looked back and saw Angelina Johnson entering the Great Hall with a slightly embarrassed smile. She was a tall girl who played Chaser for Gryffindor's Quidditch team. Angelina came to sit with them.

"There, it's done!" she announced. "I just put my name in the Goblet!"

"Really?" said Ron, impressed.

"Congratulations, Angelina," Harry smiled at her.

"I'm glad someone from Gryffindor is entering," Hermione said. "I really hope you get chosen, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," replied Angelina with a smile.

"Yes, better you than that show-off Diggory, well…" said Seamus, earning scowls from several Hufflepuffs passing by their table, and one from Harry as well.

He wasn't sure what was wrong with the Gryffindors, but it wasn't the first time he'd heard some of his classmates criticize Hufflepuff. Thinking back, it had already happened in his first life, but he had never really paid attention. Judging by the looks several Gryffindor girls had given Cedric, who had just taken his place at the Hufflepuff table, their dislike was mostly jealousy. Harry's gaze drifted to the Ravenclaw table, where he saw Cho Chang whispering to her friends, whose names he did not know. She was looking in Cedric's direction, eyes sparkling, which made him smile softly.

"What shall we do today?" Ron asked Neville and Hermione as they left the Great Hall after breakfast, Harry not really listening to the conversation.

"We could go see Hagrid," suggested Neville.

"Good idea," agreed Ron, "as long as we're not forced to sacrifice a few fingers to the Blast-Ended Skrewts."

Hermione's face suddenly lit up.

"I just realised I haven't asked Hagrid to join the S.P.E.W yet," she said enthusiastically. "Wait for me, I'm running up to fetch the badges."

"She's really annoying!" sighed Ron exasperatedly as Hermione ran up the stairs.

"Let her be," said Harry, stepping aside to let a group of Beauxbatons students pass, most of whom lingered to glance at Harry's forehead, led by Madame Maxime. "Yes, I have a forehead, just like you," he grumbled, annoyed. He felt like he was back in his first year.

The students all looked away, embarrassed, while Neville patted Harry's shoulder to calm him. They stayed to watch the ceremony.

Their headmistress lined her students up. Then, one by one, each stepped over the age limit to drop a piece of parchment with their name into the blue flames. Each time, the parchment turned briefly scarlet and sent out a shower of sparks.

"What do you think will happen to those not chosen?" Ron whispered to Harry as Fleur dropped her parchment into the Goblet. "Do you think they'll return to their school or stay to watch the tournament?"

"They'll stay to watch and support their champion… I presume," he added quickly. "They'll attend lessons with the older students, from what I've heard."

When all the Beauxbatons students had entered their names, Madame Maxime led them back into the grounds.

"Where do they sleep?" Ron wondered, watching them walk away.

"Well, in their carriage, I suppose," Neville suggested uncertainly.

A loud clatter behind them announced Hermione's return with her box of badges.

"Ah, you're just in time, hurry up," said Ron. He ran down the stone steps, eyes fixed on Fleur's back, now in the middle of the great lawn beside Madame Maxime. Harry restrained an eye-roll, unlike Hermione, who did not.

As they approached Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they saw the enormous pastel-blue Beauxbatons carriage parked two hundred metres from Hagrid's house, the Beauxbatons students climbing back inside. The elephantine flying horses that had drawn the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift enclosure nearby.

Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, setting off Crockdur's thunderous barking.

"Well, it's about time!" said Hagrid. "I was wondering if you'd forgotten where I live!"

"We've been very busy, Hag…," began Hermione, stopping in astonishment as Harry grimaced.

Hagrid was wearing his best (and dreadful) brown plush suit, adorned with a yellow and orange plaid tie. But that wasn't the worst: he had tried to style his wild hair with a viscous substance that was probably engine oil. It was now pulled back in two large shapeless lumps; perhaps he'd tried to make a ponytail like Bill, but clearly had too much hair. The result, in any case, was disastrous. For a moment, Hermione stared with wide eyes, then, preferring not to comment, simply asked,

"Er… where are the Skrewts?"

Harry had to bite his lip to hold back laughter.

"In the pumpkin patch," Hagrid replied cheerfully. "They've grown quite a lot, nearly a metre now. The only problem is they started fighting each other."

"Really?" said Hermione, casting a reproachful look at Ron, who was clearly about to comment on Hagrid's new hairstyle.

"Yes," sighed Hagrid sadly. "But it's better now; I've put them in separate boxes. I've still got about twenty more."

"That's lucky," said Ron. Hagrid, of course, did not grasp the irony.

His hut had only one room. In one corner, a huge bed was covered with a patchwork quilt. An equally massive table, surrounded by matching chairs, was set before the fireplace, under an impressive array of smoked hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. They sat at the table as Hagrid prepared tea, and the conversation once again turned to the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid was as enthusiastic as they were.

"Wait a bit," he said with a smile. "Wait and you'll see something you've never seen before. The first task… Ah, but I'm not allowed to tell you…"

"Go on, Hagrid!" Neville, Ron, and Hermione encouraged in unison, while Harry smiled.

Hagrid just nodded, continuing to smile.

"I don't want to spoil the surprise," said Hagrid. "All I can promise is that it will be spectacular. The champions are going to have their work cut out for them! I never thought I'd live to see the Triwizard Tournament brought back!"

They ended up staying for breakfast with Hagrid, though they didn't eat much. Hagrid had prepared what he called a beef stew, but after Hermione discovered a large bird of prey talon in her plate, their appetites were somewhat dampened. Nevertheless, they spent a long time debating who they thought would be Hogwarts' champion, the forthcoming tasks, and the fact that the twins had already lost their beards. By mid-afternoon, a light rain had started to fall. Comfortably seated by the fire, they listened to the faint patter of drops against the windows and watched Hagrid mending his socks while discussing the fate of house-elves with Hermione, who had shown him the badges for the S.P.E.W. He had categorically refused to join.

"It wouldn't be good for them," Hermione said gravely, threading a thick yellow string through the eye of a bone needle. "It's in their nature to serve humans. That's what they enjoy, you understand? You'd make them unhappy if you took their work away, and it would be insulting to try and pay them."

Harry refrained from commenting, smiling as he watched Ron roll his eyes, clearly pleased to finally hear someone with the same discourse.

As the minutes passed, the sun sank lower, signalling the approach of evening, and Harry felt his apprehension rising despite himself. He was an adult, had faced disasters including Voldemort, had endured more than most, yet he felt an irresistible urge to be far away from the castle when his name came out of the Goblet tonight. To relive it all: the anger, the jealousy. To see Ron at his side, teasing him, trying to share his excitement about the future champions while knowing he might be resented in a few hours. Harry wished nothing more than to be far away, to stop worrying, and even, unconsciously, that his name would not emerge from the Goblet, forcing him to plan anew and seek Voldemort to defeat him by other means. Of course, it would be disastrous if his name didn't come out; it would mean losing complete control of the situation. He clenched his jaw and tried to take a discreet breath as his friends said they would return to the castle for dinner.

"I'm coming with you," said Hagrid, putting away his sewing kit. "Just a moment, and I'll be ready."

He stood and fetched something from the dresser near his bed. Harry and the others paid little attention until an appalling smell made them half-suffocate. Ron coughed violently beside him, and Harry felt his stomach churn.

"Hagrid, what is that?" Ron asked, coughing.

"What?" said Hagrid, turning to him with a large bottle in hand. "You don't like it?"

"Is that aftershave?" asked Hermione, struggling to breathe.

"Er… cologne," mumbled Hagrid, suddenly flushed. "Maybe I put in a bit too much," he added abruptly.

"I'll wash it off, wait for me…" Hagrid left the hut heavily and they saw him scrubbing himself vigorously in a barrel of water outside the window.

"Cologne?" Hermione exclaimed. "Hagrid?"

"Look!" said Ron suddenly, pointing at the window. Hagrid had straightened up; they had never seen him blush like that.

Quietly, so as not to be noticed, the four friends went to the window and saw Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons students emerging from their carriage for the Halloween feast. Hagrid was too far for them to hear, but he spoke to Madame Maxime with a wet-eyed, blissful expression. Harry wrapped his cloak around himself.

Without looking at his hut, Hagrid crossed the grounds with Madame Maxime. They strode forward, and the Beauxbatons students following them almost had to run to keep up.

"He's going to the castle with her!" Hermione exclaimed. "I thought he asked to wait for him!"

"Let's go; he's clearly forgotten us already."

"My word, he's in love with her!" said Ron incredulously. "Imagine, if they have children, they'll break a world record! Their baby will weigh at least a ton."

Harry shook his head and opened the hut door, letting the others go in ahead of him.

Outside, night had fallen unusually quickly. Pulling their cloaks tightly around their shoulders, they crossed the lawn toward the castle.

"Look, it's them!" whispered Hermione.

The Durmstrang students had disembarked from their ship and were also heading toward the castle. Viktor Krum walked beside Karkaroff, the others following in a loose formation. Ron watched Krum with his usual enthusiasm, but Krum did not turn his head. He reached the castle doors slightly ahead of them and entered the hall. The Great Hall, lit by candles, was almost full when they arrived. The Goblet of Fire had been moved to the teachers' table, in front of Dumbledore's empty chair. Fred and George, freshly shaven, seemed to take their disappointment in good humour.

"I hope it's Angelina," said Fred as Harry and his friends sat at the Gryffindor table.

"Me too," said Hermione, out of breath. "We'll know soon enough."

Harry remained silent, mostly eager for it to be over. The following meal had never seemed so slow and unpleasant. He disliked the Halloween feast in principle, but he had to admit it was very likely the worst of the entire year. He was not the only one; students struggled to swallow a few bites just to get it over with, though for reasons quite unlike his own.

After a long time, the last remnants of the feast disappeared from the golden dishes, which immediately regained their shine. The murmur of conversations grew, then fell silent as Dumbledore rose. Beside him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and impatient as the others. Ludo Verpey, beaming, winked at various students. Only Mr. Croupton seemed indifferent, almost bored.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "the Goblet of Fire is about to make its decision. We must wait just a minute. When the champions' names are announced, I will ask the chosen students to come here and gather in the adjoining room," he indicated the door behind the teachers' table, "where they will receive their first instructions."

He then raised his wand and made a sweeping gesture. Immediately, all the candles went out except those lighting the hollowed pumpkins, plunging the Great Hall into darkness. The blue, sparkling flames issuing from the Goblet now shone so brightly they almost hurt the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting… Some students glanced at their watches… Harry was bored.

Suddenly, the flames of the Goblet of Fire turned red again, showering sparks. A tongue of flame shot up, and a piece of blackened parchment fluttered into the air. The assembly held its breath. Dumbledore grabbed the parchment and held it aloft, reading by the light of the flames, now blue again, the name written on it.

"The champion of Durmstrang," he announced in a loud, clear voice, "will be… Viktor Krum."

"No surprise!" Ron exclaimed as thunderous applause and cheers filled the hall.

Harry watched Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and make his awkward way to Dumbledore. He walked along the teachers' table and disappeared through the door leading to the adjoining room.

"Well done, Viktor!" Karkaroff called in a voice so loud everyone could hear despite the applause. "I knew you could do it!"

Silence returned, and everyone turned their attention to the Goblet, the flames glowing red again. Another piece of parchment shot up from a tongue of flame.

"The champion of Beauxbatons," Dumbledore announced. "Will be a championess. It is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her!" exclaimed Ron to Harry as the young girl rose gracefully, tossing back her silvery-blonde veil and gliding elegantly between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Look, some of them are disappointed," said Hermione over the clatter of applause, nodding toward the other Beauxbatons students.

Disappointed is an understatement, thought Harry. Two girls were sobbing, burying their heads in their arms. Harry restrained an eye-roll, resting his gaze on Cedric, who seemed nervous but hid it behind a modest, encouraging smile as his friends patted his back. Harry smiled. Strangely, he felt Cedric looking at him; Cedric met his gaze, and Harry gave him a thumbs-up and a broad smile. He would not be alone in the upcoming tasks; at least he had his friend. By participating, he ensured Cedric's protection, and that was all that mattered, even if it meant being disliked by everyone else.

When Fleur Delacour disappeared into the adjoining room, silence fell again, but this time the tension was palpable. The next champion to be named would be Hogwarts'… Once more, the flames of the Goblet glowed red, sparks flew, a tongue of flame leapt, and Dumbledore grasped the third piece of parchment.

"The champion of Hogwarts," he announced, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"Oh no!" Ron exclaimed, though no one but Harry heard.

The cheers from the nearby table were deafening, Harry included. Even though his house led the applause, all the Hufflepuffs leapt to their feet, stomping and shouting, while Cedric, smiling broadly, made his way to the door behind the teachers' table. Harry smiled brightly and applauded vigorously, and his friend responded with a huge grin.

The applause for him continued so long that Dumbledore had to wait before speaking.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed joyfully once the noise subsided. "We now have our three champions. I am sure I can count on each and every one of you, including the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, to give your champions all possible support. By cheering your champions, you will help…"

But Dumbledore stopped suddenly, and everyone saw what had interrupted him. The Goblet's flames had turned red again. Sparks flew, and a long tongue of flame shot up, projecting a new piece of parchment. Harry swallowed and prepared for the new scene about to unfold.

With an almost automatic gesture, Dumbledore reached out and took the parchment between his long fingers. He held it aloft and read the name written on it. A long silence fell, all eyes on him. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and read aloud:

"Harry Potter."

Let the show begin.

Chapter Text

Harry remained motionless, aware that every head was now turned towards him. There was not a single clap. A sort of hum, like that of an angry swarm of bees, gradually rose in the Great Hall. Some had stood to get a better view of Harry frozen in his seat. He tried to maintain a look of shock, and honestly, the fact that no one moved forced him, despite himself, to stay that way. He eventually turned his face slowly towards Ron while keeping his expression. Ron seemed the most shocked of all.

At the High Table, Professor McGonagall had leapt to her feet and rushed over to whisper something into Professor Dumbledore's ear, causing him to furrow his brows slightly. Harry turned towards the table. Behind him, he saw the Gryffindor students sitting at the long table staring at him, mouths agape.

"I didn't put my name in the Goblet," Harry said, a look of complete incomprehension on his face as he addressed his friends. "I haven't done anything, you know that."

Neville and Hermione, facing him, looked just as stunned, unable to even say they believed him. He bore them no ill will; he knew they would trust him. It was Ron he feared. He looked at him, repeating the same sentence.

At the High Table, Professor Dumbledore gave a nod of approval to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he repeated. "Harry! Come here, please!"

Harry did not move, his gaze fixed on the headmaster. The man was shocked and innocent of what had occurred, but he need not watch him as if wondering whether he was guilty. He felt a surge of anger deep inside. A strange, uncontrollable anger, and oddly, for once, he did not restrain himself from showing it. For they all deserved it.

"Go on," Hermione murmured, gently nudging him.

He rose slowly and walked towards the dais and the teachers' table, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore, filled with all the anger he could muster. He tried his best to ignore the looks of hatred, surprise, and astonishment still fixed on him.

"I refuse to participate," he said once before them.

"In the adjoining room, Harry," said Dumbledore without a smile.

"Look me in the eye and say it," Harry hissed. "Say that you believe me guilty."

Dumbledore froze, then slowly turned fully towards him, his pale eyes settling on Harry with a softer, more benevolent gleam.

"We must sort this out, please. Go into the adjoining room."

He hesitated for a moment, considering confronting him further, but the whispers rising in the crowd tested his patience, and he turned his back on the assembly and joined the others in the small room adjoining the teachers' table. He retained on his face, despite himself, all the boiling anger. Dumbledore dared look so disappointed when all of this had arisen from his own incompetence.

Harry opened the door with a brusque gesture and found himself in a much smaller room, its walls covered with portraits of witches and wizards. Opposite him, a magnificent fire roared in the fireplace. The painted faces in the portraits turned to watch him. He saw an old, withered witch step out of her frame and move to the next, where she whispered something to a wizard with a thick walrus moustache.

Viktor Krum, Cedric, and Fleur Delacour had gathered around the fire. Krum, hunched and sullen, leaned against the mantle, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric, hands clasped behind his back, watched the flames. Fleur Delacour turned as Harry entered, tossing back her long silvery-blonde veil.

"So, what's happening now?" she said. "Do we need to go back to the hall or what?"

"More complicated than that…" he grumbled.

Cedric turned at the sound, looking at Harry in shock.

"Harry? What's going on?"

He approached Harry, who let out his frustration.

"As usual, Dumbledore makes wonders with his protections… and I'm the one paying for it," he spat at his friend.

Cedric, who had moved closer, shook his head gently and spoke to him in a lower voice, hiding it from the others, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders with concern.

"What happened?"

Harry shook his head.

"A poor guy put my name in the Goblet… well, let's hear the experts' opinion," he said, trying to restrain his rage slightly.

Behind them, hurried footsteps sounded, and Ludo Verpey entered the room. He almost knocked Cedric over as he seized Harry by the arm, dragging him towards the fireplace in ridiculous hopping bounds.

"Extraordinary!" he said, pressing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… Miss," he added, addressing the three others, "allow me to present, incredible as it may seem, the fourth champion of the Triwizard Tournament!"

Harry looked at him and freed his arm.

"I said I refuse to participate. You are not going to force me," he said, irritated.

At this point, he was equally annoyed by the situation his younger self had faced and the one he now faced. In any case, he could say whatever he liked; he would never be removed from the tournament.

"Always a witty remark, my dear Mr Verpey," said Fleur, tossing her hair back. "I suppose that's British humour, yes?"

Harry stared at her, unimpressed.

"Witty remark?" Verpey repeated, confused, trying to catch up with Harry who had partially hidden behind Cedric. "But no, not at all! Harry's name has just come out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum furrowed his thick eyebrows slightly. Fleur looked shocked.

"Honestly, this is absurd, there's been a mistake! What sort of organisation is this?" she said to Verpey, in a superior tone. "It's impossible; this boy is far too young."

"We are all surprised," Verpey replied, stroking his chin and smiling at Harry. "But, as you know, the minimum age rule was only instituted this year, for safety reasons. And since his name has come out of the Goblet… I think at this point, it is no longer possible to retract… It's in the rules; we must… Harry will simply have to do his best…"

His speech faltered as their burning stares fixed on him. Harry met them with scorn: Fleur with anger, Krum with dismay, and Cedric with perplexity.

The door opened again behind them, and several people entered: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr Croupton, then Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and finally Professor Snape. What Snape was doing there remained a true mystery; it would have made more sense for Sprout to come, as she was the head of Hufflepuff. Snape had come merely to relish the spectacle, to show everyone how much of a pompous little boy he was. Harry caught the murmur of the Great Hall before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur exclaimed, rushing to her headmistress. "They've just told us this boy is going to take part in the tournament! Do you realise? It's insane!"

"Clearly!" added Harry, still half-hidden behind Cedric, who no longer knew where to place himself, knowing Harry used him as a shield against the heads and professors.

Upon hearing this, Madame Maxime straightened to her full enormous height. The top of her head brushed the chandelier adorned with candles hanging from the ceiling, and her massive satin-covered chest swelled dramatically.

"Dumbledore, can you tell me what this pleasantry means?" she demanded imperiously.

"I would also like to know, Dumbledore," added Professor Karkaroff. He wore a fixed smile, his icy blue eyes like shards of ice. "Two champions from Hogwarts? I do not recall hearing that the host school was allowed to enter two champions, or perhaps I did not read the regulations carefully enough?"

He gave a small sarcastic laugh.

"This all seems utterly impossible," said Madame Maxime, placing one of her enormous hands adorned with splendid opals on Fleur's shoulder. "Hogwarts cannot have two champions. It would be far too unfair."

Harry straightened slightly to try to see Dumbledore's face, but the headmaster still said nothing.

"We assumed your Age Limit would keep candidates too young away, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, the same fixed smile, but his gaze colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would of course have selected more candidates from our own schools."

"Potter is solely responsible for this situation, Karkaroff," said Snape in a low voice. His eyes gleamed with malice. "Dumbledore should not be held accountable for Potter's obstinacy in breaking the rules. This boy has never had much respect for rules and authority… He has merely crossed another one now…"

"M-"

"What!!" Harry exploded, unable to contain himself, stepping away from Cedric, who leapt in surprise at the shout. "Do not put your incompetence on me. Bring me veritaserum and I will prove I never put my name in this Goblet, nor intended to… What Professor Snape here should understand is that I break rules I find useless or stupid, and entering a lousy tournament is not one of them."

The adults all stared at him, shocked to see the pupil they had surely taken for a frightened, shameless child, rebelling.

"I refuse to participate, so that's settled, isn't it? Remove me from the Tournament."

At this, Professor Dumbledore turned to Harry, who held his gaze, trying to decipher what his eyes conveyed behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Harry, if you did not put your name into the Goblet, how do you explain it coming out? Could you have asked an older student to submit your name on your behalf?" suggested Professor Dumbledore, paying no attention to Snape, who had gone red when the headmaster had raised his voice.

"No!" Harry snapped vehemently.

"Honestly, Dumbledore, this is absurd, the boy is lying!" exclaimed Madame Maxime.

Snape now nodded, lips pressed tightly together.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line himself," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "we all agree on that…"

"Dumbledore must have made a mistake in drawing that line," replied Madame Maxime with a shrug.

"That is possible, of course," admitted Dumbledore politely.

Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well that you made no error!" Professor McGonagall protested. "What nonsense! Harry could not have crossed that line himself, and as the headmaster believes when he says he did not ask an older student to do it for him, I am convinced that should suffice!"

She threw an angry glance at Snape, who had the decency to say nothing. He glared at Harry who crossed his arms, returning the same look.

"Mr Croupton… Mr Verpey," said Karkaroff, his voice again smooth, "you are our… er… impartial judges. Surely you must acknowledge with us that this situation is entirely contrary to the rules?"

Verpey wiped his round, youthful face with a handkerchief and looked at Mr Croupton, who stood at the edge of the circle of light cast by the fireplace flames, hidden in shadow. He had a slightly unsettling air, appearing older in the dimness, his face taking on the appearance of a skull. When he spoke, it was in the same curt tone as usual:

"We must abide by the rules," he said, "and the rules clearly state that candidates whose names emerge from the Goblet of Fire must compete in the tournament."

"You may believe it, Barty knows the rules by heart," said Verpey, beaming, turning to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime as if the matter were closed.

"I insist that the entries of my other students be resubmitted," said Karkaroff, abandoning his smooth tone. He no longer smiled, and a horrible expression had appeared on his face. "You will set the Goblet of Fire back in place, and we will continue to submit names until each school has two champions. That is only fair, Dumbledore."

"Now, Karkaroff, you know full well that is impossible," said Verpey. "The Goblet has just gone out; it will not relight before the next tournament…"

"… in which Durmstrang will certainly not participate!" Karkaroff fumed. "After all our meetings, all our negotiations, all our compromises, I did not expect to see such a thing happen! I wonder if I would not be better off leaving immediately!"

"Empty threats, Karkaroff," growled a voice near the door. "You cannot withdraw your champion now. He must compete. All must compete. They are bound by a magical contract, as Dumbledore said. Convenient, isn't it?"

Maugrey had just entered the room. He hobbled towards the fireplace, his wooden leg clicking with each step.

"Convenient?" Karkaroff exclaimed. "I do not understand at all what you mean, Maugrey."

Convenient, especially for Maugrey, yes, thought Harry, who had finally decided to remain silent, fearing they might actually try to remove him from the tournament. He had decided to provoke them slightly to defend himself and highlight their incompetence, which should never have arisen in the first place, but he could not jeopardise his mission.

"Really?" Maugrey continued calmly. "It is quite simple, Karkaroff. Someone placed Potter's name in the Goblet, knowing full well that he would be obliged to compete if chosen."

"Clearly, it was someone trying to double Hogwarts' chances!" said Madame Maxime.

Harry could not resist rolling his eyes.

"Of course, and that person chose a fourteen-year-old boy," he muttered under his breath.

No one heard him, but he saw Fleur glance at him silently.

"I completely agree with you, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing before her. "I shall lodge a complaint with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards…"

"If anyone should complain, it is Potter," roared Maugrey. "But… strangely… he is the only one I do not hear speaking…"

"You clearly did not hear me before," muttered Harry, knowing he would be.

"Honestly, it's absurd! What could he possibly complain about?" exclaimed Madame Maxime.

She pressed Fleur's shoulder, and Fleur stamped her foot.

"He has the chance to compete! For weeks, we all hoped we would be chosen! To be the honour of our school! And to win a thousand Galleons… Some would be willing to die for that!"

"Perhaps someone hopes Potter will die, indeed," said Maugrey, his voice now a low growl.

"Maugrey, my old friend…" said Dumbledore. "What on earth are you talking about?"

He had the audacity to look at him as if he were senile.

"We all know Professor Maugrey considers his morning wasted if, by lunchtime, he has not discovered at least six plots to kill him," said Karkaroff, loudly. "And apparently, he also teaches his students to fear assassination attempts. I am not sure that is a great quality for a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but I suppose you have your reasons."

"So, according to you, it is all my imagination?" growled Maugrey. "I have visions? You know full well it would require an experienced wizard to put this boy's name in the Goblet…"

"What proof can you provide for your assertions?" asked Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands disdainfully.

"The person who did this managed to deceive an object of great magical power!" replied Maugrey. "One would have to cast a very powerful Confundus Charm to confuse the Goblet of Fire to make it forget that only three schools can participate in the tournament… I think Potter's entry must have been submitted under the name of a fourth school, to make it appear he was the only candidate in his category…"

"You seem to have thought about this very thoroughly, Maugrey," remarked Karkaroff, in a glacial tone. "That is indeed a clever hypothesis. But I understand that some time ago, you were convinced that one of your birthday presents contained a cleverly disguised Basilisk egg, which you smashed to pieces, before realising it was actually a travelling alarm clock. You can therefore understand that we do not take you entirely seriously…"

"Some take advantage of the most trivial opportunities to achieve their ends," Maugrey replied threateningly. "It is my job to consider the methods employed by Dark Wizards, Karkaroff… You should remember that…"

"Alastor!" said Dumbledore reproachfully.

"Point for Maugrey," Harry whispered to Cedric, who did not even seem to hear him.

Dumbledore should be ashamed of dealing with a washed-up ex-Death Eater like Karkaroff and considering him a friend. He fell further in Harry's estimation each day.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, addressing everyone present. "However, it seems to me that we have no choice but to accept it. Cedric and Harry have both been selected to compete in the tournament. That is what they shall do…"

Harry did not hesitate to show his displeasure, glancing at Maugrey from the corner of his eye.

"But surely, Dumbledore…"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative solution to propose, I would be delighted to hear it."

Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime remained silent, merely casting dark looks. She was not the only one. Snape looked furious, Karkaroff was pale. Only Verpey seemed rather pleased. Harry turned his gaze back to Dumbledore.

"Wait… so I have no choice, I'm forced to do it, and that's it? All because you couldn't create strong enough protection around the Goblet," he felt compelled to say, partly because he was certain no one would reverse the decision, and partly to needle Dumbledore. The latter did not fail to notice.

"Harry…" Dumbledore sighed but nodded. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to deal with it… we will try to figure out what happened as soon as possible; for now, just focus on the tasks… and, of course, your classes."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. To dare say that to a fourteen-year-old was shameful, especially since… he knew the future. He was the one who had discovered who was behind it all, even if they had eventually realised it. He did not for a moment feel that anyone had bothered to try to understand who had set him up.

"Well, shall we get started?" Verpey interjected with a broad smile, rubbing his hands together. "We must give the champions their instructions, yes? Barty, the place is yours."

Barty Croupton seemed to emerge from a deep reverie. Harry watched him, trying to recall Croupton from his previous life, had he always been this scatterbrained? He could barely remember much from that year; the end of it had been so exhausting that he only felt confident about a few specific elements, while the details completely escaped him.

"Yes," Croupton said, "the instructions. That's it… The first task…"

He stepped into the light cast by the fireplace flames.

"The first task will test your courage," he continued, addressing Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Krum. "We will not tell you in advance what it will involve. Bravery in the face of the unknown is an essential quality for a wizard… Very essential… This first task will take place on the 24th of November, in front of the other students and the judges. Champions are not allowed to ask for or accept any assistance from their teachers. They will face the first task armed only with their wands. Once the first task is complete, information regarding the second task will be provided. Given the time and energy required by the tournament's various challenges, the champions will be exempt from taking their end-of-year exams."

Mr Croupton turned to Dumbledore.

"I think that's all for now, isn't it, Albus?"

"It seems so," replied Dumbledore, looking slightly uneasy at Mr Croupton. "Are you sure you don't wish to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, thank you, I must return to the Ministry. It's a very busy, difficult period at the moment… I left young Wistily in charge of the department during my absence… He's very enthusiastic… perhaps even too much, to be honest…"

Harry resisted rolling his eyes.

"Will you have a drink with us before you leave?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Come now, Barty, do as I do! I'm staying!" Verpey said jovially. "Everything's happening at Hogwarts now; much more exciting than going back to the office!"

"I don't think so, Ludo," replied Croupton, regaining his familiar tone of impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, one last drink before retiring?" said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already taken Fleur by the shoulders and was briskly leading her away. Harry heard them talking rapidly as they returned to the Great Hall. Karkaroff signalled to Krum, and the two of them also left the room without exchanging a word.

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at them. "I'm sure your Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends are waiting to celebrate the occasion, and it would be a shame to deprive them of the chance to make as much noise and mischief as possible."

A tense silence followed his words.

Ludo Verpey, now looking anxious, began bouncing on the spot. Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left the room together.

The Great Hall was now deserted. The candle flames flickered weakly, casting an uncertain, unsettling glow over the pumpkin smiles.

"So," Cedric said with a small smile, "we get to play against each other again!"

"I suppose," replied Harry.

Harry nodded, and Cedric's small smile faded.

"The person who put your name…"

"I intend to get through this tournament," Harry cut him off. "But not to win; I'll be watching everything to try and catch the culprit. Cedric, you take care of the victory and the honour of Hogwarts and all that, okay?" His thin smile vanished. "… There's something brewing, I can't explain how I know, but something dark is coming, and I intend to deal with it… but I'll need your support. If you see anything suspicious, anyone trying to help or cheat, anything at all, even merely assumption, a slight doubt tell me, alright?"

Cedric nodded as they walked up the aisle towards the hall together.

"You seemed angry earlier, you’re okay?"

Harry gritted his teeth.

"I can't believe they're blaming me for their incompetence. They were all there, accusing me from every angle, knowing full well that even if I had managed to get my name in, it would only have been thanks to their own fault. I can't believe it would have been enough to ask an older student… and a simple Confundus Charm," he said, feeling his irritation rise.

"Come on, Harry, at least we're stuck in this together."

Harry looked up at his friend and slowly offered a small smile. They stopped at the staircase junction, their dormitories on opposite sides.

"Yeah, I was disappointed we wouldn't play against each other in Quidditch this year, so here's my wish granted," Harry said, making Cedric nod.

"I'm almost looking forward to it. But nothing stops us from playing during the year," Cedric affirmed.

When he parted from Cedric and climbed towards the dormitory, Harry let his mind wander. Many exhausting problems and challenges lay ahead, but each step brought him closer to the end of his quest.

Harry jumped when he found himself in front of the Fat Lady. He had moved forward mechanically, not realising he had already arrived. He was also surprised to see the withered witch, who had slipped from a neighbouring portrait when he had joined the champions in the small room, now sitting beside her with a small, satisfied look. She must have hurried from frame to frame, throughout the portraits along the staircase, to arrive before him. Both were watching him with great interest.

"Well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violette told me everything. So, who's been chosen as the school champion!"

"Nonsense," said Harry grimly, hoping to end their gossip quickly.

"Not at all, it's very serious!" protested the witch.

"No, no, Vi, it's just the password," the Fat Lady said soothingly, and the portrait pivoted to allow Harry to enter the common room.

The noise that hit his ears as the portrait swung open nearly made him fall backward. Moments later, twenty hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him inside, where all the Gryffindor students greeted him with cheers, applause, and whistles.

"You should've told us you'd found a way to put your name in the Goblet!" exclaimed Fred, looking both annoyed and impressed.

"How did you manage that without growing a beard? Remarkable!" George bellowed.

Harry looked at them before rolling his eyes.

"I had no way of telling you, I didn't do anything. Maugrey said someone put it in for me-" he shrugged.

But Angelina rushed to him.

"Even if it wasn't you, at least a Gryffindor has been chosen," she said, and Harry was pleased to see her satisfied.

"We have good food, Harry, come…"

"I'm not hungry, I've eaten enough at the feast… I mostly want to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow," he said, moving away from the group that continued to bombard him with questions.

His irritation flared again; no one was listening. They dragged him towards the small buffet at the back table, continually asking how he had bypassed Dumbledore's protection, and Harry finally freed himself and demanded silence.

"Alright! You want explanations, don't you? So stop asking everything at once." Everyone fell silent and listened. "I don't know how my name ended up in the Goblet. Maugrey began investigating and said someone put my name in to get at me. So, an older student cast a Confundus Charm on the Goblet to try to get me killed in this tournament. Now that it's settled, could you please let me go to bed? I've had a very long evening, and it looks like it's going to be a very long year."

He waited for no response and, ignoring the shocked and worried expressions of his peers, hurried up the staircase to his room.

"Ah, I hoped to find you here," he said, finding his three friends sitting on the bed.

They all smiled, which Harry found a little grating as he approached.

"So… congratulations," said Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh no, not you too."

He flopped down beside Hermione.

"I already had trouble with them downstairs."

"You can't blame them, no one managed to cross the Age Line," said Ron. "Not even Fred and George. How did you do it? Did you use the Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry shook his head.

"It doesn't work like that… I didn't put my name in the Goblet. I told you, I don't care about this Tournament, especially when it's being used to try to kill me," he growled.

At least that got his friends' attention, though Ron still looked sulky. He began to recount everything to them: the arrival, the directors' accusations, and Maugrey's intervention.

"I knew you hadn't entered your name yourself," Hermione said when he finished. "You should have seen your face when Dumbledore once you were in the backroom! But the question is, who submitted it for you? Professor Maugrey is right, Harry… I don't think any student could have done it… None could have fooled the Goblet or crossed the Age Line."

"Go tell Maxime and Karkaroff that," Harry snapped, still angry at the woman's condescending look. He looked at Ron and Neville in turn. "And you? Do you believe me?"

"Of course, Harry," Neville smiled.

Ron nodded gently.

"Argh, it's frustrating! I would have loved to participate!"

"You didn't listen, Ronald, Harry is in great danger!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated.

Harry felt his stomach relax immediately. Ron believed him, something he never thought would happen so quickly. He didn't even try to calm the argument starting between his two friends and watched them squabble with a sense of relief.

The next morning, Harry was surprised to find himself alone in the dormitory. He dragged himself out of bed, particularly unenthusiastic, before recalling the previous night's events in more detail. He paused, thinking of his three friends. They had listened to his explanation of what had happened, and while he saw that Ron was jealous of his participation, at least he hadn't called him a liar. Harry knew he would eventually wear him down, and soon, especially after witnessing the first task, Ron would stop envying this ultra-dangerous competition, but knowing that he had enough trust in him for now was enough.

Harry got dressed and went down to the common room. As he appeared, those already back from the Great Hall greeted him with another round of applause. The prospect of sitting at the Gryffindor table, facing his peers treating him as a hero, was not particularly thrilling. But if he stayed, he would be harassed by the Crivey twins, signalling frantically for him to join them. He therefore strode resolutely toward the portrait, stepped out of the common room, and came face to face with Hermione, Ron, and Neville.

"Hello, Harry," said his friend with a small smile, offering him some toast and an apple.

Harry beamed.

"My saviour," he said, accepting the food gladly.

"It would be wise to avoid the Great Hall this morning. Everyone keeps talking about you; they're waiting for your arrival," Neville warned.

They began walking down the corridor, naturally heading towards the castle exit.

"I'd better keep close to the walls for a while," he laughed, biting into his toast.

"Meanwhile, if something good came out of this, it's that the Slytherins look furious. They're jealous a Gryffindor was chosen."

Harry said nothing, not wanting to risk a quarrel with Ron.

"How do you feel?" Neville asked, worried.

"Good. Honestly, mostly tired. I wanted a quiet year," Harry sighed. It was a half-lie; yes, he wanted a quiet year, but he had never expected one. He would rest once Voldemort was six feet under.

"Harry, I thought, you should write to Sirius and Professor Lupin. If they hear what happened on their own, they'll probably rush here worried, right?" Hermione suggested.

Harry looked at his friend for a moment, hesitating, then nodded.

"Actually, I have an even better idea."

The three looked at him curiously. Harry changed their path and began heading toward the dungeons. He did not answer any of their questions during the entire journey.

Chapter Text

"Harry Potter is a champion for Hogwarts! Dobby heard what happened. Harry Potter can be proud, but Dobby told the other house-elves he wasn't surprised," Dobby bounced around him as soon as he saw him enter the kitchens.

"Hey, Dobby."

"Ha-Harry?" Hermione squeaked, looking around in surprise.

They had just entered the vast kitchen, which was sparsely populated. A few elves were busy serving and restocking breakfast, but most seemed to be out of the kitchen. Ron and Neville looked around, astonished, likely more by the size of the room than by the elves' presence.

Dobby glanced behind Harry and gave a small gasp of surprise.

"Are these Harry Potter's friends? Do they want something to eat?"

"Oh, thank you, Dobby, but we've already eaten," Harry replied, scanning the room. "Where's Winky?"

"Master called for Winky?" a voice chimed from behind them.

Winky had evidently hurried over upon hearing them, straightening her blue robe. She now wore a large white apron, stained from previous work, but she seemed less dishevelled than at the start of the year. Hermione let out a small squeak upon seeing her.

"I have a lot to tell you," Harry said to his three friends. "But first… how's work going here? You've been busy with all those feasts, haven't you?"

"Dobby often cooked before, but Dobby is very happy, he enjoys preparing holiday meals even more!"

"Winky works very hard too."

"I don't doubt it, Winky. I know you always do excellent work."

Winky wiggled happily at the compliment.

"Um, Harry?"

He looked at his three friends standing before him and the two elves. Hermione was flushed.

"I'd like to introduce you to Dobby, and, Hermione and Ron, you already know Winky, I believe. You two, this is Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom, my closest friends."

He gestured to each person in turn.

"Dobby and Winky signed contracts with me just a few days ago. I wanted to introduce them to you," he said, trying to push his apprehension aside. "I need to know when you'll have a little time because I'll need you to run an errand for me. To help our friends contact me, or rather, tell them to come where I'll tell you."

Dobby nodded eagerly.

"Dobby can go now."

"No, no, finish your work at your own pace. Tell them to be at the house where the moon likes to hide by 2 p.m.," Harry said with a small smile.

Dobby nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm counting on you, then. I won't bother you any longer. I'll catch up with you later."

He led his three friends on after bowing from the two elves, who waved enthusiastically in return.

"Right, Harry, you explain now," Hermione said sternly as they walked toward the grounds.

"As soon as we're out of earshot," Harry replied, perfectly aware they were near the Slytherin dormitory.

Despite his warning, his friends continued questioning him along the way, and they eventually reached the grounds, where small groups enjoyed the clear sky and fresh air.

"I helped Dobby free himself from his masters two years ago."

"Two years! And you never mentioned it before?"

"I had to… bend a few rules at the time to do it, and I didn't want to risk being noticed by anyone, especially not his former masters… the Malefoys. Dobby helped me hide Sirius afterwards, but since I hadn't told you about him, I didn't know how to explain."

He stopped, facing the lake.

"You trusted me with the tournament, and that means a lot, so I wanted to stop lying to you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner…"

"But… Harry?"

"I know it's easy to ask."

"No, but Harry… you do realise this goes against the Association?"

Harry turned to Hermione, stunned. Neville and Ron hadn't moved, and while Neville seemed unconcerned, Ron was still shocked.

"Uh… to reassure you, the contracts were their idea, and I gave them proper work contracts, as you like. Freed house-elves have almost no chance of finding a family and often die quickly if they don't find someone to protect them… Winky was on the brink of alcoholism, and Dobby always dreamed of having a master who pays him. I pay them salaries, though I'm convinced Winky immediately returned hers to my account once I gave it to her. Money makes her itchy."

Neville let out a chuckle.

"Well, at least you pay them…"

"But why are they at Hogwarts?"

"Do you see me sending them to my aunt and uncle? No. Dobby lives with Sirius and Remus during the summer, and I'll introduce Winky to them very soon. As I said, I bent a few rules to free Dobby, so for now I want to keep our contract discreet. It's not fully official. And they prefer to stay with me, which is better while I'm at Hogwarts, so officially they work for the school. Anyway, I'm really sorry for hiding it from you for so long… Technically, they both have contracts like Dumbledore also engaged them in the kitchens."

He looked at Ron, who shrugged.

"It's really cool to have house-elves… I mean, that you helped these two elves without family who must have been… very, very unhappy," Ron added, glancing at Hermione, who seemed hesitant.

"I didn't impose a strict contract like others. In short, they're attached to my family and must keep what I tell them private, which helps with Sirius, but they can act without my approval as long as it doesn't harm me. Dobby earns 2 Galleons a month… and you can't imagine how hard I had to negotiate to raise the price. Winky earns 200 Knuts, she absolutely refuses to go higher… I really eased as many conditions as possible."

Hermione then launched into a new series of questions about how he met Winky and the contract details, which Ron and Neville avoided but both found amusing as Harry explained at length.

"Harry!"

Sirius opened his arms wide, and Harry gladly accepted the embrace.

They had just arrived at the Shrieking Shack.

Remus looked around.

"I think I'd rather not know how you discovered this place," he said, brushing dust from an old shelf.

The small group had gathered in the stone entrance under the Shrieking Shack. Ron and Hermione looked delighted to finally see the place, while Neville remained uneasy.

"It just took a few anecdotes and connecting the dots," Harry said with a smile, though it wasn't entirely true.

He freed himself from Sirius as the latter greeted the three others.

"You all look well," Sirius said, smiling.

All three seemed shocked to see Sirius in such good shape.

"You too, Sirius, you look well-rested," Hermione noted.

"Life isn't too bad, though I'd rather be somewhere else than the old family house. But at least with the time we have, we've tidied up a bit. I won't say no to twisting Peter's neck, but… I know, Harry, I'm waiting for justice."

Harry remained silent; his gaze spoke for him.

"We're not done with Peter. I'm sure he'll emerge from hiding soon, and we'll catch him then," Harry said. "Do you still have enough Polyjuice potion to get out?"

"Plenty," Sirius replied. "And from what I've read… I'll need it to come see you here during the year."

Harry looked surprised.

"The article's already out?"

"Since you sent Dobby to fetch us, we knew you'd explain everything… so?" Remus asked.

Harry nodded and felt everyone's attention on him. He recounted all the previous night's events, leaving nothing out, especially his anger at the headmasters. He noticed his three friends were just as attentive as before.

"It's outrageous that they're forcing you to participate!" Sirius exclaimed once he finished.

"Croupton was categorical; as it's a magical contract, I have to honour it."

Remus cut Sirius off before he could speak again.

"What's concerning is what Maugrey said. Sure, he's an old Auror, a little paranoid, but there are many points to clarify… the fact that any adult could access it doesn't help. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Someone wants to kill me? I can probably think of a few," Harry chuckled. "But I don't think it's quite that. Well, it's possible, of course, but I've thought about it. This is still a complex plan to get rid of me, right? It would have been simpler when I'm not so surrounded… Actually, it would have been far easier if I hadn't participated, so whoever is making me participate wants me to accomplish something in particular, and I'm convinced, to the dismay of Maxime and Karkaroff, it's not for Hogwarts' glory."

"So someone wants you to do something during this tournament," Remus mused.

"You'll need to stay very alert to everything around you. And keep us informed. Remus and I will check outside for anything that might help. Better to be overcautious, especially with Karkaroff at school."

Harry nodded.

"I know, having a former Death Eater around is risky, but remember Karkaroff would never risk harming me under Dumbledore's nose, too dangerous to trace back to him, and with Voldemort still missing…"

"We'll also investigate on our side!" Hermione interrupted. "We could look into past tournaments and also see who had the idea to reorganise it this year."

"Hermione's right. We need to be vigilant about everything… and most importantly, you must be careful, Harry," Sirius nodded.

"And we'll train you too. That'll frustrate whoever wants you in the tournament!" Ron added, and Harry couldn't bring himself to dampen his enthusiasm.

"I'm counting on you for that! We'll stay in touch; don't hesitate to send a message via Solar if you need to, and if it's urgent, there's always Dobby," Harry said, turning to Ron. "See, when I said we wouldn't have a quiet year…"

"Who's Solar?" Neville asked Remus.

"Oh, an owl I bought to help with communication.” intervene Sirius. “Hedwig might sulk a bit, but with her plumage she isn't exactly discreet. Considering the Ministry and the Daily Prophet are watching me, it's better to be as discreet as possible, especially now."

"On that note… we should return to school before someone notices we're missing," Hermione said, bringing them back to reason.

"True, we'll see each other very soon," Harry said as Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder.

"If it weren't for you, I'd be very worried, but you have what it takes to survive. That's what matters. Don't worry about the rest, just take care."

Harry nodded. After a final pat on the shoulder and back for Remus, the four students followed them back, walking along the passage beneath the Whomping Willow.

"It's really reassuring to know they're going to help us," Neville said.

Ron nodded.

"It sounds really dangerous, though the Tournament is already dangerous by default, that's what makes it great. We'll have to train you for the first task. We need to try to figure out what it might be."

"I'll make you a revision programme; we'll have to dive into the fifth and sixth-year courses!" Hermione said, clearly thrilled at the idea of getting ahead.

"Oh no, Hermione, we could do cooler things than go to the library!" Ron grumbled.

"Yes, we could play some Quidditch," Harry said with a smile, immediately bringing one to his friend.

"Let's bring the team with us, we can fully train for next year!"

"For your big debut as goalkeeper," Neville added with a small smile.

Hermione sighed this time.

When classes resumed, it was impossible for him to avoid the other students, and everyone, even some Gryffindors, seemed convinced that he had indeed volunteered for the Tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, students from other houses showed him no admiration. Unsurprisingly, most Ravenclaws assumed he had sought extra fame by finding a way to put his name into the Cup. Hufflepuffs, normally on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, now treated them with extreme coldness. Herbology class proved this point. There was no doubt that, in Hufflepuff eyes, Harry had stolen the glory from their own champion.

Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, usually friendly with Harry, refused to speak to him while repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same table. Harry noticed even Professor Sprout was distant, unsurprising since she was the head of Hufflepuff.

Under different circumstances, he would have been eager for Care of Magical Creatures, but this class would force him to face the Slytherins, the first time since he became champion, and he honestly had no idea how they would behave. In the first year, they had been his first critics, and he had hoped to count on their support now, but recent events had changed the dynamics, leaving him uncertain.

Unsurprisingly, all eyes fell on him as he approached. No one commented; the rumours about Harry's outburst to the Gryffindors regarding the Tournament had already spread through the school. Yet most students didn't believe him. Only the Slytherins seemed conflicted. On one hand, they clearly did not want to attack Harry, the only person supporting them; on the other, they were still angry at his ‘betrayal' and refused to show any friendship. Daphne was the only one to send him a worried glance as he passed. Harry restrained himself from smiling to reassure her. They had been careful to avoid each other since she asked him a month ago, and they rarely met in the Owlery.

Hagrid emerged from the back door of his hut, carrying a stack of boxes teetering dangerously. Each contained a large Blast-Ended Skrewt. Under his horrified students' gaze, Hagrid explained that the unfortunate creatures had not expended enough energy, leading them to injure each other. The solution was for each student to walk a Skrewt on a leash to give it exercise. The only positive aspect was that it gave Harry a chance to talk with Hagrid.

"Walk one of these things?" Draco said, disgusted, looking at one of the boxes. "And where are we supposed to attach the leash? To the sting, the blast end, or the sucker?"

"In the middle," Hagrid replied, demonstrating. "Um… you might want dragon’s gloves, safer that way. Harry, come help me attach this one…"

Harry joined him in a few steps.

"So… you're taking part in the Tournament," Hagrid said very seriously. "You're the school champion."

"One of the champions," Harry corrected. Beneath his bushy brows, Hagrid's small black eyes looked anxious.

"You don't know who put your name in the Cup?" he asked.

"Someone who doesn't wish me well," Harry replied, still stoic. He observed Draco and the others struggling with their own creatures; only Crab appeared unbothered.

The other students had scattered, clearly in difficulty. The Skrewts were now nearly a metre long and unusually strong. No longer soft or colourless, a grey shell as thick as armour had formed around their bodies, yet they still had no visible eyes or heads. They looked like a cross between giant crabs and scorpions, and their extraordinary strength made them very hard to control.

"They seem to be having fun, don't you think?" Hagrid said cheerfully.

He was certainly referring to the Skrewts, as his classmates were clearly not enjoying themselves. From time to time, with a loud detonation, a Skrewt would explode and leap several metres forward, dragging its student flat on the ground. Neville quickly let go of his own leash, and Hermione had to help chase hers after giving it to Ron, who was being pulled from both sides.

"Ah, well, well," Hagrid sighed, looking at Harry anxiously. "School champion… things certainly happen to you…"

Harry said nothing. Yes, things certainly happened… and what a nuisance.

The rest of the week passed at a glacial pace. Harry attended lessons normally with his three friends, who shot looks at anyone daring to glare at Harry. Unsurprisingly, the harshest, aside from students from other schools, were Cédric's fans.

When Cedric came up to them after their Charms lesson, he was, unsurprisingly, surrounded by a group of fawning girls who looked at Harry as if he were some particularly disgusting variety of Skrewt. Harry, however, stopped in front of him. Passersby paused, thinking perhaps their sudden rivalry had ruined their friendship, but Cedric's genuine smile ended all whispers.

"Hi Harry, I hear everyone's been giving you a hard time the past few days."

"Luckily, I haven't cared about their opinion since I arrived at Hogwarts," Harry replied with a shrug. "And you? How's life for the great, beloved official champion of Hogwarts?"

Cedric grinned.

"I'm mostly worried about the first task."

"If you were chosen, it's because you have what it takes. I'll try not to fall behind, I promise."

He began to walk off to eat before the afternoon Potions class. But Cedric stopped him.

"Hey… want to fly a bit after your lesson this afternoon?" he asked, a little embarrassed by the number of people around them not bothering to be discreet.

"Sure!" Harry replied. "I'll be out around 4:30, shall we meet at five on the pitch?"

Cedric hesitated before nodding and leaving for his own class.

"I'm glad Cedric took it well," Hermione said.

"I'm surprised; shouldn't he be annoyed that Harry took his place?"

"First, I didn't take his place; he's still a champion. Second, Cedric isn't like that, he's too modest to see it that way. And honestly… if he weren't with me in this, I'd be much more worried," Harry said with a faint smile. The discussion seemed closed, and they hurried to the Great Hall, ignoring the angry stares, especially at Harry.

Potions classes, bringing Gryffindors and Slytherins together, had always been a chore, but these days, it had become a real ordeal. Being locked in a dungeon for an hour with Snape was a trial, especially after Harry's outburst near the stage the other day. Snape had been glaring at him ever since, and Harry did his best to avoid him, not wanting to trigger his own bad mood.

He watched the Slytherins lined up outside the classroom. No one spoke. Everyone stared each other down without daring to start hostilities. Snape had probably never found his students so well-behaved. He ushered them in in a foul mood, common in recent weeks, so no one paid attention. Harry sat beside Neville, Hermione and Ron behind them.

"Antidotes!" Snape said, his cold, dark eyes flashing. "You should all have your recipes ready. I want them prepared with utmost care. Then we'll select someone to test one…"

Snape's gaze met Harry's, leaving little doubt: he was the one to be poisoned. Harry held his stare, unblinking, either feeling suicidal or having reached his limit. But Snape had no time to add anything as knocking sounded at the door.

It was Colin Creevey. He slipped into the class, beaming at Harry, and approached Snape's desk.

"Yes?" Snape said curtly.

"Sir, please, I have to take Harry Potter upstairs."

Snape lowered his eyes at Colin, whose smile disappeared instantly.

"Potter has a Potions class," Snape replied coldly. "He will go upstairs at the end of the lesson."

Colin blushed bright red.

"Sir… um… it's Mr Verpey who wants him," he said awkwardly. "All champions have to go, I think they want photos…"

Harry decided to intervene. If he could avoid meeting Skitter, he would.

"No way I'm going. Colin, tell Verpey I'm already three years behind the others; he won't make me miss classes too," he said. "At least not for photos."

Colin looked even more embarrassed.

"I- "

The others watched, uncomfortable for the boy.

"Mr Verpey said it's part of the Champion's role, "

Harry rolled his eyes, trying not to be dramatic.

"Fine, fine," Snape said sharply. "Potter, leave your things here. You'll come back later to test your antidote."

"Um… Sir, please, he needs to take his things," Colin squeaked. "All champions…"

"Fine," Snape interrupted. "Potter, take your bag and get out of my sight!"

Harry packed his things grumbling, quickly turning to Hermione, who seemed to understand.

"I'll note everything down, we'll redo it together later, don't worry."

He followed Colin outside.

"Amazing, isn't it, Harry?" Colin said as soon as Harry closed the classroom door. "I'm sure you're going to win!"

Harry couldn't bring himself to contradict him or brush him off. He let him chatter all the way.

"It's for The Daily Prophet, I think!"

"Great," Harry said sourly.

"Good luck!" Colin called as they reached their destination.

Harry knocked on the door and stepped inside.

He found himself in a small classroom. Most of the tables had been pushed to the back of the room, leaving a large open space in the middle. Three of the tables were placed end to end in front of the blackboard and covered with a velvet cloth. Behind the tables, five chairs were lined up. Ludo Verpey, sitting on one of them, was talking to Rita Skeeter, and Harry felt a surge of irritation just at the sight of her. Viktor Krum, as sullen as usual, stood in a corner, not speaking to anyone. Cedric and Fleur, on the other hand, were deep in conversation. Fleur looked much happier now, tossing her head back constantly, her long blonde hair shimmering with silver highlights. A man with a prominent belly held a large black camera that emitted a wisp of smoke, glancing at Fleur from the corner of his eye. Cedric turned to him with a broad smile when he saw him.

"We're meeting earlier than expected after all," Cedric said, abandoning his conversation with Fleur, who seemed somewhat annoyed.

"That means we can go flying right away," he added, relieved to have his friend by his side. "I honestly need some Quidditch."

He noticed Krum listening and saw him glance at them upon hearing the word.

"There he is!" exclaimed Ludo Verpey, having just noticed him enter. "Champion number four! Perfect, Harry, perfect, and don't worry, it's just the Wand Examination ceremony. The other jury members will be here any moment…"

Harry nodded vaguely, not particularly interested. It would have helped if they had told Colin the real reason, because “taking photos” didn't improve his image.

"We need to ensure your wands are in perfect working condition. They will be your most important instruments for your tasks, understand?" Verpey continued chattering. "The expert is upstairs with Dumbledore. Then we'll take a small photo. Let me introduce Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in a dark pink robe. "She will write a small article on the tournament for The Daily Prophet…"

"Perhaps not so small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes fixed on Harry.

Harry didn't even glance at her.

"Are you acclimating to the weather?" he asked Fleur, who was still next to them.

She gave him a vague glance and nodded, tossing her hair back. She was clearly still annoyed about her participation or being interrupted in her conversation with Cedric. He didn't press and turned to Cedric, giving a conspiratorial grimace.

"I can't believe they're making me come here when I had Potions with Rogue… on antidote."

"As if you're not happy to miss his class, he was probably planning to test it on you."

"I'd rather be poisoned than listen to that witch's venom," Harry hissed, nodding toward Rita Skeeter, making Cedric smile.

"Could I ask Harry a few things before we start?" she said to Ludo Verpey, never breaking eye contact with Harry. "He's the youngest champion… it would add a bit of color…"

"But of course!" Verpey exclaimed. "If Harry has no objections?"

"Why should I? I was added at the last minute. Talk to the real champions if you want, but I have nothing to say to the Daily Prophet," he replied gruffly. "You already made me miss an important class…"

Verpey looked at Rita, embarrassed. He must be starting to realize having Harry in the competition would not be easy, and Harry was perfectly content with that.

Harry led Cedric away from her, grumbling. Five minutes later, the door opened again.

"Dumbledore!" exclaimed Rita Skeeter, evidently delighted. "How are you?" she said, extending one of her long, masculine hands to Dumbledore. "I hope you read what I wrote this summer about the International Confederation of Wizards meeting?"

"Wonderfully spiteful," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed the phrase you used about me: 'An old fool from another age'."

Rita Skeeter, of course, was not the least bit embarrassed. She was the sort who, like cockroaches, had no shame.

"I merely wanted to highlight that some of your ideas are completely outdated, Dumbledore, and that the common wizard-"

"I would be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the insult," Dumbledore interrupted politely, a broad smile on his face, "but I fear we must postpone this conversation. The Wand Examination is about to begin."

Harry and Cedric took their places side by side at one of the tables with the other two champions. Four of the five judges were seated behind the velvet-covered table: Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Croupton, and Ludo Verpey. Rita Skeeter sat in a corner. Harry saw her set up her equipment, sucking on the tip of her Quick-Quotes Quill and balancing it on her parchment.

"Let me introduce Mr. Ollivander," said Dumbledore, addressing the champions while sitting with the judges.

"Mr. Ollivander will check your wands to ensure they are in good working order before the tournament."

"Miss Delacour, could you come first, please?" Mr. Ollivander asked, stepping into the open space in the center of the room.

Fleur approached Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Mmmmmm…" he murmured, twirling the wand between his long fingers like a baton.

The wand emitted sparks of pink and gold.

"Yes," he said softly, examining it carefully. "Twenty-three and three-quarters centimeters… very rigid… Rosewood… With inside… oh, yes…"

"A Veela hair," Fleur said. "It belonged to my grandmother."

Harry listened only half-heartedly, watching Rita fixed on him with a fake smile. He had a strong urge to wipe that smile off immediately.

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I have never personally used Veela hair, of course. I find it gives wands a very difficult character… but everyone has their preferences, and if this one suits you…"

It was very disrespectful to say, especially if one asked Harry's opinion. Fleur's wand was highly effective and responded well, she was an exceptionally skilled witch, and implying otherwise was absurd.

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the length of the wand, checking for bumps or scratches. Then he whispered, "Orchideus!" and a bouquet of flowers shot out from its tip.

"Very good, very good, it works perfectly," Mr. Ollivander said, handing the bouquet and wand back to Fleur.

"Mr. Diggory, your turn, please."

Fleur returned to her seat, smiling at Cedric.

"Ah, this one is mine, isn't it?" Mr. Ollivander said enthusiastically as Cedric handed him his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. It contains a single hair from a particularly magnificent male unicorn… an animal over four meters long. It almost skewered me with its horn when I took a hair from its tail. Let's see this wand… Thirty and a half centimeters… Ash… very supple. It's in excellent condition… Do you maintain it regularly?"

"I polished it last night," Cedric replied with a smile.

Mr. Ollivander caused silver smoke rings to emerge from Cedric's wand, declared it in excellent condition, and asked:

"Mr. Krum, please."

Viktor Krum rose and walked awkwardly toward Mr. Ollivander, hunched shoulders, duck-footed. He handed over his wand, standing sullenly, hands in his robe pockets. Harry's gaze returned to Rita Skeeter, who hadn't looked away despite two champions already having gone. Fleur had even mentioned her Veela grandmother. Harry turned away, increasingly annoyed.

"Mmmmm…" murmured Mr. Ollivander. "Unless I am mistaken, this is a Gregorovitch creation? An excellent wandmaker, though his style is never quite what I… well…"

He lifted the wand, examining it carefully, slowly turning it before his eyes.

"Yes… Hornbeam with a dragon heartstring?" he asked Krum, who nodded. "Thicker than average… Very rigid… Twenty-five and a half centimeters… Opinion!"

With a gunshot-like detonation, the hornbeam wand shot a flock of small birds, which flew out the open window into the damp autumn sky.

"Good," said Mr. Ollivander, returning the wand to Krum. "Only Mr. Potter remains."

Harry rose and approached Mr. Ollivander, handing him his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly brightening. "Yes, yes, yes, I remember very well."

Mr. Ollivander spent more time examining Harry's wand than the others. Finally, he made a fountain of wine erupt from its tip and returned it to Harry, declaring it in perfect condition.

"I told you, Mr. Potter, you would do great things with this wand," he said with a smile meant to be paternal.

Harry was tired of being patronized.

"You should consider a career in Divination," he said sharply.

He returned to his seat beside Cedric, who gave him a reassuring tap on the shoulder. Dumbledore cleared his throat, perhaps embarrassed; Harry hoped so.

"Thank you all," Dumbledore said, rising at the judges' table. "You may return to class, or perhaps it would be better to go straight to dinner as lessons are almost over…"

Harry and Cedric exchanged a smile. They would clearly skip dinner to relax and fly. But their plans were interrupted.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" Verpey exclaimed hurriedly. "Judges and champions together. What do you think, Rita?"

"Uh… Yes, let's start with group photos," Rita Skeeter said, her gaze again on Harry. "Then we may take some individual shots."

The photo session dragged on. Madame Maxime's shadow loomed over everyone, no matter where she stood, and the photographer couldn't get enough distance to capture her fully. Eventually, she had to sit in the middle of the others, who remained standing. Karkaroff kept twisting the end of his goatee around his finger into a neat curl. Krum, who should have been used to such exercises, tried to hide partially behind the others. The photographer insisted on having Fleur in the foreground, but Rita Skeeter kept pushing Harry forward to ensure he was highlighted, forcing a frozen smile that made him pale. She then insisted on individual photos of each champion. Finally, after a long time, everyone was free to leave.

Harry and Cedric slipped away, heading to the pitch with their own brooms, exchanging a few matches as usual. They were only found by Harry's friends after dinner. Ron joined them, and they returned just in time for curfew. These duels did Harry a world of good; he felt finally relaxed and had his fill of exercise.

"Harry Potter must be happy that everything went as planned," said Dobby.

Harry, Dobby, and Winky were in their small room, finally able to hold a meeting.

"I wish I didn't have to do all this. But it's nice to keep some consistency. Now, it's just about surviving the next three tasks. We'll have to investigate that teleportation rune in more detail. Elemental magic is still difficult to master, and we'll have only one chance."

"Winky thinks there will be things at the Ministry of Magic," the small elf said, now in the loop.

"Dobby agrees. Maybe Dobby should investigate there."

"Breaking into the Ministry could cause a lot of commotion, and if you're caught, it will put us all at risk, not to mention your own troubles…" Harry considered.

"Dobby could go to Gringotts and study the protections?"

Harry thought it over.

"The Lestranges' vault is at that level. There are three major barriers, including a magical river nullifying all spells, even the strongest." Harry showed the Gringotts map he had discovered and partially updated. "But you might learn more by looking closely. I'll send you out with some money, and you can observe… every bit of information will help."

"Winky wants to do that too."

"Winky, I'll need you for something else."

The little elf straightened up, clearly delighted with a mission.

"You'll have to investigate the French market. There must be a branch in Paris, and since you speak French, you'll find more than Dobby or I could. Look for everything related to runes, apparition, magical powers, and house-elf history."

"Winky can do that. Winky has days off Dobby made her take. Winky never imagined they'd be useful."

"I'm counting on you then. We're lucky so far; we still have time. It will be crucial to break into Gringotts on the day of the Third Task. We need the cup at the very last moment and ensure no one hears about the heist until we're back at Hogwarts and I'm home… so the Third Task."

"Harry Potter already knows what it will be?" exclaimed Dobby.

Harry felt his throat burn.

"In some way," he managed to say. Dobby asked no more. "Anyway, don't worry about the tournament, I can handle it. What matters is what comes next."

They both nodded. The new plan was now in motion.

Chapter Text

The date of the first task was approaching inexorably. In the meantime, daily life at the castle was worsening for Harry. Rita Skeeter had published her article ten days earlier, on the Triwizard Tournament, but the tournament played only a secondary role: it was in fact a long, colorful article about Harry. A photo of him dominated the front page, and the article (which continued on pages two, six, and seven) was entirely devoted to him, with the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) appearing only in the last line. Cedric’s name wasn’t mentioned at all. The article focused in particular on Harry’s attitude, described as condescending, portraying him as overly self-confident. She depicted a talented young man who wanted to make his deceased parents proud and who scorned authority when given the opportunity, fairly accurate, in fact. Ultimately, the article made him laugh, partly because Rita had already written far worse about him, but mostly because there was a section on Hermione and Harry Potter’s "love life" that was delightfully amusing.

Harry had finally found love at Hogwarts, she wrote. Colin Creevey, one of his close friends, confided that Harry was rarely seen without Hermione Granger, a young girl of dazzling beauty, of Muggle-born origin, who, like Harry, was one of the school’s top students.

The article had caused Harry and his three friends, including Ron, to burst into laughter, so ridiculous was it. Hermione never hesitated to confront those who criticized the comment on her beauty, and her three friends would fight anyone claiming otherwise. Harry now amused himself by nicknaming Hermione "love of my life" with a broad, ironic smile that always worked with his group and most of their classmates.

Harry and his friends spent the rest of their days in the library, revising with all sorts of advanced books. Hermione and Harry had asked the cantankerous librarian, Madam Pince, to borrow some books from the restricted section, arguing that Harry was at a significant disadvantage compared to the other students, and she had no objection in accompanying them to find what they needed. Hermione was clearly the happiest of the four. Ron, on the other hand, frequently found excuses to drag Neville and himself out of the room, often claiming he needed to practice for next year and couldn’t afford a sabbatical. Harry found the argument plausible, though he knew it was partly false, but Hermione thought it foolish not to seize the chance to learn in advance.

Viktor Krum also spent considerable time in the library. Harry knew it was because he hesitated to approach Hermione, but he didn’t care; if Krum wanted to talk to her, he was old enough to manage. In any case, it was not looking good for him. Hermione often complained about his presence, not because he bothered them, but because girls would come to watch him, hiding behind the shelves. Their constant giggling annoyed her.

"He’s not even handsome!" she muttered one day, casting an angry glance at Krum’s profile. "They like him just because he’s famous! They wouldn’t even notice him if he couldn’t make the Wrong-Ski slope…"

Harry snickered, making a mental note to report this name-mangling to Ron later.

The Saturday before the task, a trip to Hogsmeade was organized, and Harry was finally able to enjoy his very first "official" outing in the wizarding village in this life. After leaving Honeydukes, Harry and his friends headed to the Three Broomsticks to warm up a bit, the temperature having dropped significantly since early November.

At the same time, Rita Skeeter appeared with her photographer, and Harry barely had time to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. He had covered his face with a cloak just in case, but he knew the students were not fooled and recognized his three friends. However, the journalist did not know, giving him a small advantage.

"Harry?" Ron called, searching for him. Once certain she had gone, Harry reappeared, startling him as he had approached before disillusioning himself. "You scared me!" he exclaimed, making the other two laugh.

"She’s set up in the village," Harry said once they were away. "I bet she wants to watch the first task."

"She’s gone," Hermione said, scanning the main street behind Harry. "Shall we go get our Butterbeers?"

Harry sighed but followed the three nonetheless.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded. The clientele, mostly Hogwarts students enjoying their free afternoon, also included various figures from the wizarding world Harry rarely saw elsewhere. Hogsmeade, being the only exclusively wizarding village in Britain, was likely a haven for creatures like harpies, who were not as skilled as wizards at disguise.

Harry and Neville returned with four Butterbeers. Hermione then pulled out a notebook in which she had noted the members of S.P.E.W. Harry saw that his, Neville’s, and Ron’s names were at the top of the very short column. The day Hermione had arrived in the common room, during which they had made whimsical predictions together and she had automatically appointed them secretary and treasurer, now seemed very distant.

"Maybe I should ask villagers if they want to join the S.P.E.W.," Hermione said thoughtfully, glancing around.

"Good idea," Harry said, seeing Ron roll his eyes. He did not comment further.

Harry remembered coming here in his previous life. He had daydreamed about his situation while he and Hermione were alone. Ron was angry, Neville didn’t stay with them, and Harry was fed up at the time. Much like now. Despite himself, Harry couldn’t help but think back to what he had wanted then, surprisingly the same things. How he would have given anything to be like everyone else, sitting with friends, drinking, laughing, without any other worry than homework. He imagined the pleasure of being in this room if only his name hadn’t come out of the Goblet of Fire, if Voldemort hadn’t returned. His friends and he would probably have fun imagining the deadly dangers awaiting the champions the next Tuesday. He would have been eager to see what feats they would be asked to accomplish… Peacefully seated at the back of the stands, he would have cheered for Cedric like all the other Hogwarts students. The young Harry, thinking he was in a problematic and dangerous situation, was clearly unprepared for what would follow, Harry thought.

"Oh look! It’s Hagrid!" Neville said, waving at the gamekeeper, who had just risen from his table shared with Croupton Jr., or rather, Moody.

They approached and bent down to exchange a few words.

"So Potter, ready for the task?" his professor growled.

"I suppose I’ll know when I’m there," Harry shrugged.

"Ah, Harry, come see me at my hut at midnight tonight. Understood?"

Harry looked at him with the most perplexed expression he could muster. Hagrid glanced at the three others before giving a small smile.

"Harry will tell you everything later, but he must come alone."

They went their separate ways afterward.

"I wonder what he’s up to now. I don’t know if you should go, Harry…"

"Why not?"

"Maybe he has information about the task," Ron whispered.

Harry nodded.

"That wouldn’t hurt."

"But it’s against the tournament rules, isn’t it? He’ll get in trouble if he does."

Harry shook his head.

"Fleur and Krum are already briefed on all the tasks; even if he has info, it won’t change anything. Let’s see what he wants, I’ll tell you later," he promised, making the other three nod eagerly.

That evening, Harry cloaked himself and left his friends in the common room, engrossed in a long game of chess that would occupy them until his return. The Weasley twins were with them, as well as the Creevey brothers, who were working on their homework, or at least the younger Creeveys were. The Weasleys seemed mostly to be scheming over their parchment. Harry slipped past quietly, crossed the room to the portrait of the Fat Lady. No one seemed to notice him leaving once Hermione opened the door, pretending to glance outside.

The grounds were plunged in darkness. Harry walked toward the lights shining from Hagrid’s hut. The interior of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was also lit, and through a window, Harry saw Madame Maxime talking to someone. Reaching the hut, he knocked.

"Is that you, Harry?" Hagrid murmured, opening the door and glancing outside.

"Yes." Harry slipped inside and removed his cloak. "So, what’s going on?" he asked.

"I have something to show you," Hagrid replied, excited.

He wore a flower in his buttonhole resembling a giant artichoke. Apparently, he had given up putting oil in his hair, but had still attempted to style it; Harry noticed broken comb teeth tangled in his mop.

"What do you want to show me?" Harry asked warily. "Does it have to do with Maxime?"

"N-no!" his friend replied. "Come with me, don’t make a sound, and wrap yourself well in your cloak," Hagrid said. "We won’t bring Crockdur; he wouldn’t like it…"

Harry stopped him, drawing his wand. He tapped it and removed all the comb pieces from his beard.

"She’ll like you just fine if you’re natural."

Hagrid blushed. He opened the hut door and was already stepping into the night. Harry hurried to follow and, unsurprisingly, Hagrid was leading him toward the Beauxbatons carriage.

"Not a sound!" said Hagrid. He knocked three times on the carriage door, adorned with crossed golden wands. Madame Maxime opened it, a silk shawl draped around her massive shoulders. Upon seeing him, she smiled.

"Ah, Hagrid… You arrive just in time… What punctuality!"

"Madam, allow me to wish you good evening," Hagrid said in a pompous tone. He gave her a broad smile and offered his hand to help her step down from the golden carriage step. Madame Maxime closed the door behind her. Hagrid offered his arm, and together they circled the enclosure where the giant flying horses were kept. Looking up, Harry had to run to keep up with their long strides.

He hesitated to leave them behind and took the lead. He knew where Hagrid was taking him: to the dragons recently brought by the dragon keepers in preparation for the first task. He didn’t need Hagrid, but it was better not to take risks. So he simply followed, restraining himself from shivering each time he heard Hagrid’s overly sweet and carefully phrased words.

In any case, his friend was reserving the same surprise for Madame Maxime as for Harry. After a while, she asked lightly:

"Where exactly are you taking me, Hagrid?"

Harry had no idea how interested Madame Maxime was in Hagrid and his quirks. Was she trying to gather information or genuinely curious? Harry preferred to give her the benefit of the doubt, as he didn’t care much.

"You’ll like it, I’m sure," Hagrid replied in his usual gruff tone. "It’s worth seeing, believe me. But be careful, alright? Don’t tell anyone I showed you. Normally, you shouldn’t know."

"Oh, of course, Hagrid, you can count on me," Madame Maxime assured, fluttering her long black lashes.

They had to walk quite a distance around the Forbidden Forest until the castle and lake were out of sight. Harry suddenly heard something, men shouting… then a deafening roar echoed through the night… Hagrid led Madame Maxime behind a thicket of trees and stopped there. Harry caught up and waited behind them.

Four enormous dragons with fierce expressions stood on their hind legs inside an enclosure made of thick wooden planks. Stretching their necks, they roared, bellowed, and blew torrents of fire from their open jaws, lined with sharp teeth, sending flames fifteen meters into the black sky. One of them, silver-blue in color with pointed horns, growled and snapped its jaws, trying to bite the wizards around it. Another, with smooth green scales, writhed in all directions, stamping the ground with all its might. A third, red with a peculiar fringe of golden spines on its head, spewed mushroom-shaped clouds of fire. Finally, the one closest to them was black, gigantic, its silhouette reminiscent of a dinosaur. Around thirty wizards, seven or eight per dragon, tried to control them, pulling on chains attached to thick leather straps around the dragons’ legs and necks. Fascinated, Harry lifted his head and saw, high above him, the eyes of the black dragon, its vertical pupils like a cat’s, bulging with fear or rage, he couldn’t tell… The creature let out a horrible sound, a high, mournful scream, a spiked Magyar. Harry could honestly say he had absolutely no desire to face it again.

"Careful, Hagrid, don’t get too close!" shouted a wizard near the fence, pulling with all his strength on the chain he held. "They can spit fire up to six meters! This Spiked Magyar can even reach twelve meters."

Harry felt a little queasy. He glanced at Hagrid, whose eyes sparkled.

"It’s magnificent!" Hagrid said, his voice filled with emotion.

"They need to be calmed!" exclaimed another wizard. "Stupefy spells! I’ll count to three!"

Harry watched as each wizard surrounding the dragons drew his wand.

"Stupefy!" they shouted in unison.

The red spells shot from their wands like fiery rockets, exploding in showers of sparks on the dragons’ scales.

Harry didn’t know if stunning a creature was considered a way to calm it, but at least it worked.

The Spiked Magyar, closest to them, swayed dangerously on its hind legs. Its jaws opened wide, and its scream faded into silence. Its nostrils still smoked but no longer spewed flames. Then, very slowly, the massive black dragon collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. Harry would have sworn its fall had shaken the trees behind it.

The dragon keepers lowered their wands and approached the inert creatures, each the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and carefully secure them to iron stakes, which they drove deep into the ground with their wands.

"Do you want to get a closer look?" Hagrid asked Madame Maxime enthusiastically.

They approached the fence, Harry following closely. He continued to stare at the Spiked Magyar, now pinned to the ground.

"All right, Hagrid?" asked one of the dragon keepers, breathless, approaching them.

Harry turned in surprise at the voice. He had somewhat forgotten that Charlie was part of the expedition. His stomach twisted slightly. In a way, it reassured him a bit to see him here.

"It should go smoothly now. We gave them a Sleeping Draught to bring them here. We thought it would be better for them to wake up in darkness and calm. But, as you saw, they weren’t happy, not happy at all…"

"What species do you have?" Hagrid asked, looking at the nearest dragon, the Spiked Magyar, with an expression bordering on reverence.

"That one’s a Spiked Magyar. The smallest over there is a Common Welsh Green. The gray-blue one is a Swedish Short-Snout, and the red one is a Chinese Fireball."

Charlie looked around. Madame Maxime walked along the fence, observing the stunned dragons with interest.

"I didn’t know you were coming with her, Hagrid," Charlie said, frowning. "The champions mustn’t know what awaits them. She’ll probably warn the Beauxbatons competitor, don’t you think?"

"I just thought she’d enjoy seeing them," Hagrid replied with a shrug, staring in awe at the dragons.

"Very romantic, as a moonlight stroll," Charlie remarked, nodding.

"You two need to reconsider your definition of romance," Harry said, removing his cloak and watching Hagrid squeak.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"Harry?" Charlie exclaimed, standing upright.

"It’s fine, Hagrid. It’s Charlie. And well, you brought Maxime here, Fleur will know everything once she returns, so…"

"Harry, hide, please."

Harry looked up but ducked back under the cloak.

"This cloak? Wow, it’s really impressive!" Charlie said, finally recovering from seeing him appear from nowhere.

"Harry, showing yourself is risky; you could get into trouble. You aren’t supposed to know the task before it starts."

"I’m also not supposed to participate since I’m not seventeen, so I’d like to see them come to explain the rules and kick me out of the competition."

"I heard you’ve been pretty outspoken against Ludo Verpey from the start," Hagrid growled.

"That fool thinks I’m happy to participate… Maxime’s coming back… you’d better take her elsewhere before someone notices, which won’t be long; she can be spotted  from afar."

The two turned toward the approaching woman, smiling broadly.

"What a marvelous discovery, Hagrid!" she exclaimed, having fully enjoyed the view of the four dragons. Further away, five of Charlie’s companions approached the dragon, staggering under the weight of a pile of enormous, stone-gray eggs, carried on a spread blanket held by each. They gently placed the blanket next to the Spiked Magyar.

Hagrid led Madame Maxime further away, suggesting a walk around the grounds. Harry was pleased that he didn’t show his blast-ended skrewts and chose something conventional, one type of dangerous creature is clearly enough for a first encounter.

Silence settled between Harry and Charlie. The latter looked around, hesitant.

"I’m still here," Harry laughed. Charlie straightened.

"I was wondering if you’d leave with them."

"They have legs waay too long for me, and no thanks, just watching three minutes of their romantic rendezvous was enough."

Charlie chuckled. A short silence fell before he spoke again.

"How are you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, remembering that Charlie couldn’t see him. Charlie had even stopped staring into space, focusing on the enclosure where all the dragons slept peacefully with their eggs attached, well protected.

"Like I’m about to face a dragon in a competition I don’t want to enter?" Harry suggested.

Charlie shook his head.

"And you still manage to laugh about it."

Harry leaned on the fence, staring at the dragons through the cloak.

"I don’t know, it’s not that I’m scared… well, maybe a bit now… it’s just that I know I can handle it, and since I don’t care about winning and just want to avoid getting killed, I should be fine. It’s just… I’m more concerned about whoever put my name in the Goblet, you see? This person clearly has a plan."

"Do you have any leads?"

"A few, but no proof," he dodged. "Moody says this person wants me dead."

Charlie nodded very slowly.

"Be careful… sorry, it’s a weak comment, honestly, I don’t know what to say. Just… in previous tournaments, all ages were accepted, which means your age difference isn’t as much of a disadvantage as they claim. It’s only about being well prepared and constantly alert."

Harry nodded.

"I will be," he smiled. "Tell me, Charlie, will we have to fight them? Because I’m not sure I want to hurt them any more than they hurt me…"

Harry still remembered the tournament in his previous life. Several dragons had been injured by his rivals, and Harry, who could hardly repeat the same, wondered which option was least risky.

"You won’t have to hurt them if that worries you, but… be ready to defend yourself."

Harry nodded, again forgetting that Charlie could not see him.

"My mother worried herself sick, you know? She was furious when she found out what was happening to you."

Harry chuckled lightly.

"Don’t remind me, one overprotective mother is enough," he smiled, thinking of Sirius, who had sent him letters several times that week with everything he could remember, useful against both men and beasts or for all sorts of spells and magic, and Remus had not been left out, with long explanations of potential dangerous creatures that could appear during the tournament.

"Your aunt must be worried too, and she probably can’t come, I suppose."

Harry looked at the dragon keeper, who still stared into the distance, dazed, before shaking his head.

"I was talking about… Remus Lupin. My aunt doesn’t even know I’m participating in this tournament,” he laughed.

He saw Charlie stiffen slightly. Harry felt obliged to explain.

"My uncle and aunt aren’t very fond of anything magical… they actually hate it… I’ve been careful not to tell them about the tournament, especially since they nearly had a heart attack when they found out wizards don’t use electricity," he said, thinking of the Dursleys, wondering if they would cry if he lost his life in this tournament, certainly Dudley would. Maybe Petunia would miss him sometimes, and Vernon… he couldn’t really imagine him saddened by the news; he wondered if he wouldn’t just pop open champagne for the occasion.

"What about you? Do they accept that you’re a wizard?" Charlie asked, pulling him out of his troubled thoughts.

"Nope, I’m forbidden from using magic in the house, and everything related to this world is locked up triple-fast in the cupboard under the stairs. That’s why I give my broom to Ron in the summer, it wouldn’t do anything else but gather dust with me otherwise."

Charlie nodded, visibly unable to say anything. But Harry didn’t feel bad. He had never taken the time, nor managed to speak about his situation face-to-face with anyone in this life or the other. Perhaps it was because he was much less affected by the Dursleys’ treatment now that he had grown, or perhaps it was something else, but Harry still had things to handle before dwelling on it.

"Anyway, no need to pity me. I’ve eaten my fill all my life (more or less) and they let me go to school. I hardly see what I could complain about."

"Some people have much more and complain all the time," Charlie said with a smile.

"I don’t have time for that," Harry shrugged. "They’re dragonesses… aren’t they more dangerous after laying eggs? If I die in this tournament, I’ll make sure to come back as a ghost to haunt Dumbledore for the rest of his life," he said, wanting to change the subject.

Charlie laughed, trying to keep it discreet, but it sounded a little muffled into his fist.

"You’re being a bit too pragmatic."

"I plan to survive this trial, don’t worry. And reassure your mother, tell her I said everything will be fine. I might be overconfident, but magic relies on self-confidence."

"That’s right," Charlie chuckled. "And my brothers? What do they say?"

"Um, Ron was a bit… jealous at first, but I think when he’ll know for them… that will stop. Fred and George are super excited, and Ginny… well, I haven’t seen her since the announcement, but knowing her, everything should be fine."

"Ron lacks confidence, it’s true. It must be hard for him to run the difference with you. Give him time."

"We’re not in conflict. I just know what he thinks. But I don’t know if I’d be as confident and calm without Ron, Hermione, and Neville with me."

Charlie nodded.

"I’ll be there too in a few days to see you. We’ll celebrate your triumphant return, I have no doubt about that."

Harry chuckled a little. He had just looked up at the sky; the moon had begun to descend. He must have been outside for over an hour by now.

He turned to Charlie. The latter was still covered in burns and looked tired. He gazed into the distance, his eyes fixed on the Welsh Green rolling on its side, blowing clouds of smoke from its nostrils. He was pulled from his reverie by the arrival of one of Charlie’s colleagues. The newcomer seemed younger, with short blond hair and broad shoulders, speaking to Charlie in a yawned, unfamiliar language to Harry, certainly Romanian. Charlie quickly sent him off to one of the tents they had set up not far from the dragon enclosure.

"It’s getting late, Harry, you should head back and rest…"

"Speak for yourself," Harry teased. "You look exhausted."

"We’ve traveled three days to bring them… but I will start the watch tonight."

"Alone?"

"We take turns every hour…"

"I’ll keep you company then," Harry smiled, starting to lift his cloak.

"Of course not, Harry, it’s already late."

But Harry no longer listened. He had already removed his cloak, fixed his hair that had fallen back, and offered a bright smile. Charlie shook his head.

"You’re going to get into trouble."

Harry leaned again on the fence.

"Not if you don’t report me," he smiled, enjoying the cool autumn wind on his face after being trapped under the cloak.

"Cheater."

A short silence followed his comment before Harry changed the subject.

"So, you were the one who mentioned your visit to Hagrid?"

"Yes, he sent me a letter a few days ago. He already knew about our arrival but asked if he could come see them when they arrived," he exhaled and added. "I didn’t expect him to bring Maxime with him. Or you."

"The worst part is, I’m sure he really brought her to please her… he’s far too naive… well, Maxime was already supposed to know the schedule, probably Fleur too, and of course Krum…"

"Aaah yes, Krum. So how is he? Ron must be crazy to see him…"

"I think he hasn’t recovered yet. He’s figuring out the best way to approach him, but honestly I don’t know which one he’s more taken with, he or Fleur," Harry smiled.

"Pretty?"

"Veela," Harry said. Charlie groaned. "Well, partly, only from her grandmother…"

"She’ll create idiots and broken hearts."

"Let’s hope she doesn’t trample on his; I don’t care for the other fools."

Charlie gave Harry another smile.

"Sorry if I’m meddling, but… you seem angry."

"Sorry… it’s just that everyone’s getting on my nerves lately, and Fleur is… assertive. I suspect she doesn’t have a bad heart, she’s just… a princess?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow at that definition.

"She’s probably very nicewith people she likes, but if she dislikes you, she makes it clear and doesn’t care about others’ opinions."

"A bit like you then."

Harry widened his eyes, ready to retort, but stayed silent. It was somewhat true.

"Deserved, but I remain polite… most of the time."

Charlie shook his head, smiling.

"Charlie!" a voice called from afar, and Harry instinctively disillusioned himself.

One of his colleagues had come out of the tent. Charlie waved to him and, after another exchange in a language too complex for Harry, sent him off. Moments later, Charlie returned.

"Harry?" he finally asked, looking where Harry had been.

Harry, leaning against the fence after having taken out his wand to pretend he had been disappointed, reappeared, making Charlie step back.

"Quick reflex," Charlie whispered, visibly impressed.

Harry felt slightly embarrassed; he had let his guard down too much if he had used magic without a wand. Not good.

"I nearly had a heart attack, but otherwise I’m fine," Harry said with a faint smile.

Charlie, now facing him, smiled and shook his head.

"You should get back under your cloak… my colleague will take the watch with me. He’ll be out soon… it’s almost two o’clock…"

Harry began to nod before stopping.

"It’s that late? I have to go; I completely forgot, but the others told me they’d wait to see what Hagrid wanted."

Charlie straightened, looking at the sky. He shook his head, laughing as Harry wrapped himself in the cloak, moving too quickly to avoid clumsiness.

"Then hurry, and be careful on the way."

"Of course, thanks for tonight, Charlie… I…I’ll see you on the day of the tournament."

"Yep, get some rest, and I don’t need to tell you good luck, you’ll manage without it."

Harry smiled as the last corner of the cloak fell over his face.

"Good night, Charlie."

"Good night, Harry."

He went back up to find Hermione in the common room with A History of Magic on her lap, and Ron and Neville dozing in their chairs, astronomy homework abandoned on their knees. Harry wouldn’t need to attend class since he had the task the next day; champions were excused the day before.

"Finally!" his three friends exclaimed, jumping on him as he had just freed himself from the cloak.

He sighed and sank into the chair beside Hermione.

"I’m really sorry! I completely lost track of time… and regarding… you-know-what… the dragons," he said.

The three reacted, aghast.

"It’s the first task; I don’t have the details, just that they’re dragonesses, they have eggs to protect, and… according to Charlie, there’s no reason to hurt them, but they’re likely to attack us."

"Charlie was there?"

"Yep, I ran into him after Hagrid dragged me to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where they hid the dragons. From what they said, they just arrived… anyway, there are four dragonesses, one for each of us. The most worrying part is that they have eggs…"

"That’s insane!" Hermione exclaimed, outraged, fatigue completely gone.

"It’s not new that Dumbledore’s crazy!" Ron added.

Neville had gone pale.

"Are you really sure you can’t just… huh… get sick?"

"Yeah, I’ll ask Pomfrey for a note to give to Croupton and go to bed," Harry replied with a mocking smile.

"At least now, thanks to Hagrid, you have an advantage over the others; you were too handicapped in this competition from the start."

Harry grimaced, embarrassed to crush their hopes.

"Uh… I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t specify, but Hagrid didn’t just show me the dragons… Maxime was there too… Fleur will know everything tomorrow, if not tonight…"

"What!?"

"Why give an advantage to a rival school?"

"Because he’s in love, obviously; he doesn’t think about the consequences," Hermione replied, equally outraged as Ron.

"Anyway, I’ll tell Cedric as soon as possible so he has time to prepare, and we’re not really rivals. As for Krum, I’m sure Karkaroff knows enough scheming to have briefed him on the entire tournament and task details."

"So, in fact, you have no advantage."

"I do, because I’ve seen the dragons myself and I know them a bit. Not to mention that I know I need to focus on defensive spells as Charlie advised. Mione, tomorrow we check the three defense books and see what resists dragon fire. It’s time to use my advance in Transfiguration to my advantage, don’t you think?"

Hermione nodded promptly.

"We’ll help too!" Neville exclaimed, followed by Ron.

"Just tell us what to look for," Ron said to Hermione, who smiled.

Harry felt strangely reassured. Even without a concrete plan, with their help he would at least have some preparation. He felt a little confident.

Chapter Text

The next day, Harry found himself in the Great Hall with Hermione, Ron, and Neville. The four of them were stuffing as much food as possible into their mouths with the goal of being at the library at the opening.

Harry grabbed every book he could find on dragons, and they began to scan hundreds of pages.

"Claw-Cutting Spells… Treatments for scale scabies… This is for lunatics like Hagrid who want to keep them healthy…" Ron grumbled.

"Dragons are extremely difficult to kill due to a very ancient magical protection that imbues their thick skin, which only the most powerful spells can penetrate…"

"The eyes, that's the weak spot," said Harry. "But I refuse to hurt them in the eyes, and there will be eggs too, imagine if I damaged them."

"Harry, that's very sweet, but focus on surviving before thinking about them," Ron growled.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I think we should look for restraints, or protective shields."

"There, you have the dragon handler's gear," Neville said, flipping a large black book to allow his friends to read about the various components of the dragon handler's uniform and their tools.

"Dragon leather gloves can withstand really high temperatures…"

"I'll ask Dobby to find some for me, a little extra protection won't hurt," Harry said thoughtfully. "Here! A rune."

He handed the book to Hermione.

"Well, it resists fire fairly well, though it's for small burns, like touching your cauldron; a dragon's breath will obviously be much stronger."

Harry pursed his lips but nodded.

"And, what if you extinguished the flames?" suggested Neville.

"Yes, there's Aguamenti, simply."

"That might create smoke, right?" Hermione asked. "But it's worth exploring. Maybe we could find a water rune. Look, it's something you trace on the ground and then raise with your wand as if it were a wall. Normally runes are hard to produce, but I'm sure you can manage it."

Harry examined the drawing. The runes looked complex.

"Let's keep that and continue searching."

"It's still risky… the idea isn't for Harry to face the dragon directly, but having a way to avoid it would be good too," Hermione noted.

"Here… Transfer spells. But what could that be used for? Unless you wanted to turn its teeth into marshmallows to make it less dangerous… The trouble is, as the other book said, there's not much that can pierce dragon skin… You could try a Transfiguration spell, but how do you transform something so huge? I'm not even sure Professor McGonagall could do it… Unless we applied the spell to ourselves? To gain extraordinary powers, for example? But these are very complex spells, we've never studied them in class. I only know them because I took mock exams to prepare for the OWLs…"

"Harry's a genius at Transfiguration, you should do that."

"A dragon is still too big and too powerful. As Hermione said, there's a good chance the magic enveloping its skin would block the spell, right? And… I don't want to hurt it."

The three stared at the spell, worried.

"What matters is that Harry can protect himself."

"Our best chance is the water wall, right?" Neville said, closing his fourth book.

After searching through some intriguing sections and titles, the four friends left, particularly because Krum had shown up in the library and Hermione preferred to leave before he heard anything or his groupies arrived, dragging Ron along.

"I'll catch up with you at the greenhouse," Harry said, seeing Cedric exit the Great Hall. "Go ahead, I'll join you."

"Harry, you're going to be late, the bell is about to ring…"

"I'll join you, alright?"

Harry rushed after Cedric, who was turning down a corridor with his friends. He didn't hesitate and called out to him. Cedric turned, surprised, and gave a nervous smile.

"Hey Harry, what's up? Sorry, I have class right now."

"Don't try to distract him, Potter!" a girl in the group interjected.

Harry ignored her.

"I just need to tell you a word. I have class too, so don't worry, it won't take long."

"I'm listening."

Harry looked at the others.

"It's about the tournament," he said, noticing none seemed inclined to move. He took Cedric by the arm, who followed, still a little surprised.

"What's happening, Harry? Did you find out who put your name in the cup?"

"No time to worry about that right now. I just discovered the nature of the first task: dragons. We'll have to get past them. Apparently they are dragonesses, so they have eggs. I don't have more details, just that there's one for each participant and all are different species: a Welsh Green, a Chinese Fireball, a Hungarian Horntail, and a Swedish Short-Snout."

"H- how did you find out?"

Harry smiled.

"If I tell you, I'd have to kill you afterwards."

Cedric gave him a small smile.

"But are we allowed to know?"

"Since Fleur and Viktor already know thanks to their dear, very biased heads, I'd say yes. Anyway, I won't take long. Just focus on this side to prepare. I don't know how far we can show we know it, but be ready."

Harry started to leave, but Cedric caught up.

"Harry, hey, thanks… for telling me."

"No problem. I told you, I'm your biggest supporter in this cursed tournament… I have to go, I'm heading to the greenhouses."

Cedric had no time to respond; a familiar snap sounded behind them.

"Come with me, Potter," growled Moody. "You, Diggory, go to class."

Harry looked at Moody apprehensively, while Cedric hesitated. He was pushed aside with a swift motion as Harry was led away by the shoulder.

"Professor, I have a Herbology class…"

"I don’t care, Potter. Come to my office…"

Harry followed him, but couldn't suppress a small growl.

"Always making me miss classes," Moody muttered under his breath.

Moody ushered him into his office and closed the door behind him. Then he turned to Harry, both eyes, the magical one and the normal one, fixed on him.

"What you just did was very loyal, Potter," Moody said quietly. "Sit down."

Harry obeyed and kept his eyes fixed on the professor as he limped away.

"So… you know about the dragons?"

"Yes."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Moody continued, sitting and letting out a grunt as he extended his wooden leg. "Cheating has always been part of the Triwizard Tournament traditions. No one has ever held back."

"I didn't cheat," Harry said sharply. "I discovered it by… chance."

Moody smiled.

"I'm not accusing you, my boy. I told Dumbledore from the start; he could have all the moral high ground he wanted, that's not why Karkaroff and Maxime would try to imitate it. They've surely told their champions everything they know. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only human."

"Well, they musn’t be disappointed," Harry muttered so quietly even Moody probably didn't hear.

Moody let out a gravelly laugh and his magical eye spun so fast that Harry felt dizzy.

"So, do you have an idea how you're going to face your dragon?" Moody asked.

"I have a… rough plan and several contingencies."

"Good…" he growled. His magical eye roved over him. "Surprising, but you seem the best prepared among the four. Almost suspicious; you're attentive and quick-witted, aren't you? I've heard it from other teachers and students."

"I manage with a wand," Harry dodged.

"That's reassuring. I wasn't going to help you; I don't like favoritism. Just know, when you're there, you'll have to rely on your own resources, so whatever comes out instinctively will be what you do best. I hope survival instinct is among them."

"Rather," said Harry with a glimmer of defiance.

Moody offered a satisfied smile and nod.

"Your friend Longbottom seems to be doing better."

"Rather," he repeated.

"So you know what happened when he was a baby?"

"Yes, if you mean his parents."

Moody growled.

"Nasty business, that."

Harry observed him for a second before nodding.

"Professor, why did you agree to come out of retirement so suddenly?"

Moody leaned back in his chair and took out his flask filled with Polyjuice Potion. He swallowed a gulp before replying.

"It was at the request of my old friend Dumbledore; how could I refuse?"

"I get it, but why now?"

Moody turned his magical eye toward him.

"Because he asked me now."

"I heard you were attacked before arriving at Hogwarts. Did you see who did it?"

Moody growled.

"No. It fled before I could catch him."

He was quite impressive, it had to be admitted. Harry shouldn't be surprised, given that Moody had maintained his cover from Dumbledore himself for a whole year. Harry finally shook his head.

"Professor, since you made me miss my Herbology class, could you tell me about my father? I heard you worked with him for a time."

The professor diverted his magical eye and took a pensive, rather grumpy expression.

"Little Potter? Good student, promising in many ways, if you ask me."

Harry nodded.

"How long was he an Auror?"

"Hhph, he had just finished training school as far as I remember."

Harry did not know that.

"Was Sirius Black one too?"

"Black?" he growled. "That kid wasn't. He hung around the Muggle world doing who knows what."

"And him? You had seen him before? Voldemort," he finally added with a faint smile.

This time, Harry saw Moody stiffen slightly, his magical eye spinning in its socket to fix on Harry again.

"You have to be as crazy as Dumbledore to say his name, Potter."

"Perhaps," Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Moody grunted while putting away his flask.

"Just crossed paths… only once."

"So even Alastor Moody is afraid of him?"

"Of course. Do you know a man who isn't afraid of him?"

"Dumbledore?"

Moody grunted.

"I said a man."

"I thought we agreed Dumbledore was just an ordinary human," Harry smiled.

"Indeed, he is just an ordinary human, but above all, he's mad."

Harry nodded in agreement.

The next morning, the castle was filled with a tense excitement. Classes would end at noon to give the students time to reach the dragon enclosure, but of course, they still didn't know what awaited them there. Harry felt a strange distance between himself and the others, whether those wishing him luck or those muttering as he passed, "Better get a box of tissues ready for Potter." He felt the nerves creeping in, even though he had experienced it before. His friends were not much better off, and it didn't help that their only class that morning was History of Magic, a class even Hermione had exceptionally skipped.

By lunchtime, Harry could eat nothing and almost welcomed the hurried arrival of McGonagall with relief.

"Good luck, Harry!" said Hermione.

"You've got this, mate," Ron affirmed.

"It'll be fine, don't overthink it," added Neville.

Harry offered them a sincere smile and left the hall, which had fallen into a deathly silence.

Once outside the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall, she seemed different too. She appeared as anxious as Hermione and, when they were outside in the November chill, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't panic," she said. "Keep a clear head… There are wizards there to control the situation if things go wrong… The important thing is to do your best, no one will think badly of you if you don't succeed… It's okay, Potter, are you all right?"

Harry looked at her and gave a small smile. Between the two of them, she seemed the most nervous. After the past year, Harry had felt a certain distance from the Transfiguration professor whom he had learned to respect as a child and then to appreciate as an adult. He was glad to know she was still by his side despite the passage of time.

"I'm fine," Harry replied.

She now led him toward the gathering place of the dragons, at the edge of the forest, but as they approached the grove behind which the enclosure was set, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, hiding the dragons.

"You must enter there with the other champions and wait your turn, Potter," Professor McGonagall said in a slightly trembling voice. "Mr. Verpey will meet you under the tent… He will explain the… procedure to follow… Good luck."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied.

Professor McGonagall left him in front of the tent with a quick nod, and Harry entered.

Fleur Delacour sat in a corner on a wooden stool. Her forehead was damp, her confident air gone, and she looked rather pale. Viktor Krum seemed more sullen than ever, which must be his way of expressing apprehension, Harry thought. Cedric paced back and forth. When Harry entered, he gave him a small smile. Harry smiled back as he joined him, but had no time to reach him or say anything.

"Ah, look who we have here! Harry!" Verpey exclaimed cheerfully, turning toward him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Amid all these pale-faced champions, Verpey looked like a colorful cartoon character. Once again, he wore his old Beater's robe.

"All here at last. It's time to brief you!" Verpey said in an upbeat tone. "When the audience is seated, I will ask you to draw in turn from this bag."

He showed them a small purple silk bag, shaking it in front of them. Harry couldn't hide a grimace, he knew what was inside: miniature versions of the dragons they would face. If everything went normally, Harry would have the Hungarian Horntail. Strangely, knowing the contents of the bag offered him no comfort.

"You will each take a model of the creature you must face later! There are different… uh… varieties, you'll see. I must also tell you something else… yes… your task is to seize the golden egg!" Harry looked around.

Cedric nodded to show he understood and resumed pacing, his complexion slightly greenish. Fleur and Krum showed no reaction. Surely they already knew, but their expressions suggested that even opening their mouths might make them sick. Harry could relate, he had been in the exact same state the first time, and even now his stomach was knotted.

Suddenly, hundreds of students poured outside. The pounding of their feet in front of the tent, their excited chatter, their laughter, their jokes, it seemed only a second passed before Verpey opened the purple bag.

"Ladies first," Verpey said, presenting the bag to Fleur Delacour.

She plunged a trembling hand inside and withdrew a tiny miniature dragon, perfectly replicated: a Welsh Green. The number "two" was hung around its neck. Fleur showed no surprise, only resigned determination. Harry knew he had guessed correctly: Madame Maxime had told her what awaited her.

The same happened with Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball, number "three" around its neck. Krum didn't even blink, merely staring at the floor. Cedric reached into the bag and pulled out the Swedish Short-Snout, gray-blue in color, numbered "one."

Knowing what remained, Harry plunged his hand into the bag and took the Hungarian Horntail, number "four." When he looked at it, the miniature dragon spread its wings and bared its tiny fangs. Just like the first time. This was oddly reassuring, helping him calm down, he had a semblance of control.

"Well, here we are!" said Verpey. "You have each drawn the dragon you will face, and the number you wear indicates the order for this first task. Now I must leave to comment. Mr. Diggory, you are first. When you hear the whistle, step out of the tent and enter the enclosure where your dragon awaits, understood? Harry? Could I see you for a moment?"

"Uh… yes," Harry said.

He stepped out with Verpey, who led him slightly aside among the trees, then turned to him with a paternal expression.

"All right, Harry, are you feeling okay? Can I do anything for you?"

"About what?" said Harry. "Certainly nothing, I already asked to be removed from the tournament and no one can do anything, it's too late now."

"Don't think like that, Harry. It's a good experience for you. So do you have a plan?" Verpey asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "If you need a few tips, don't hesitate… You are the underdog…" He lowered his voice even more. "If I can help…"

"No," Harry replied. "No, I'm fine. I'm perfectly ready."

He returned to the tent.

He heard Verpey rushing toward the other tent, grumbling.

A whistle blew, interrupting him. Harry returned to the tent and saw Cedric stepping out, looking greener than ever. Harry, facing him, didn't know what to say, so he closed the last steps and pulled him into a quick hug.

"It's going to be fine, take a deep breath and go in."

Cedric gave a smile so awkward it was more of a grimace.

Harry joined Fleur and Krum under the tent. A few seconds later, they heard the crowd's cheers, meaning Cedric had entered the enclosure and faced the dragon, which was no longer a miniature… It was worse than anything Harry had imagined. Sitting there, frozen, he heard the crowd scream, shout, exclaim… hold their breath as Cedric struggled to pass the Swedish Short-Snout unharmed. The spectators seemed like a single entity with multiple heads reacting as one. Krum continued staring at the floor. Fleur also began pacing around the tent, following Cedric's path. Verpey's commentary only made things worse… Horrible images formed in Harry's mind. It had been the same the first time, but Harry was always too afraid to be overconfident, to lose Cedric a second time.

Finally, fifteen minutes later, Harry heard the deafening roar of the crowd that could mean only one thing: Cedric had successfully passed the dragon and seized the golden egg.

"Bravo! Really very well done!" shouted Verpey. "Now let's see the judges' scores!"

But he did not announce them. The judges wrote them on boards displayed to the audience.

"Three more competitors now!" Mr. Verpey exclaimed as another whistle blew. "Miss Delacour, please!"

Fleur trembled from head to toe. Seeing her leave the tent with her head held high, her hand gripping her wand tightly, Harry felt more sympathy for her than he had until now. Krum and he remained on opposite sides, avoiding each other's gaze. And it all started again…

"Oh, that might not have been very wise!" they heard Verpey shout gleefully. "Oh, dear… almost! Careful now… Merlin, I thought that was it!"

Ten minutes later, Harry once again heard the crowd erupt into thunderous applause. Fleur had succeeded. There was a brief silence as her scores were shown… then more applause… and finally, a third whistle blew.

"Now we have Mr. Krum!" Verpey exclaimed. Krum stepped out with a dragging gait, leaving Harry alone in the tent.

Harry found himself alone with his thoughts. He suddenly wondered what he was even doing here. Then two familiar faces appeared before him.

"Harry Potter!" his two house-elves cheered enthusiastically.

"Dobby and Winky were waiting for everyone to exit. Master is ready; Dobby and Winky just wanted to say they will watch your task and cheer along with everyone else."

Indeed, both elves wore red and gold scarves around their necks, and this brought a smile to Harry's face as he slumped into a chair, his head in his hands.

"Thank you," he managed to say.

"Harry Potter is the greatest wizard of his time, so he has nothing to fear from a dragon. Dobby is not worried."

Harry straightened up, his stomach slightly less knotted, at least enough to form a sentence.

"If I'm not ready, I'll never be ready against Voldemort."

Winky's ears twitched, but she said nothing.

"Let's go, Winky and I have found a spot where we can hide and watch the arena."

"Thank you for coming, and for your support. It means a lot," he smiled.

The two elves had tears in their eyes, but cheers erupted again as Verpey began to wrap up Krum's turn.

"Off you go. We'll see you later."

The two elves disappeared once more, and Harry straightened up. He tucked his wand into his sleeve and put his red-and-black shirt back on. He had swapped his robe for wide trousers and leather boots for better grip. He barely had time to adjust his glasses securely and push his hair out of his eyes when the signal blew for him.

Everything before him seemed like a scene from a vivid dream. Hundreds upon hundreds of faces watched from magically erected stands, the same ones from the night he had first come here. The Hungarian Horntail faced him at the far end of the enclosure. The dragon, brooding over her eggs, had her wings partially folded, her fierce yellow eyes fixed on him. Like a monstrous black-scaled lizard, she lashed her spiked tail into the hard ground, leaving long, deep marks. The crowd roared in chaotic excitement. Harry did not know whether the shouts were for him or against him, and in truth, he did not care.

He lifted his head and began his approach. There was no point in rushing or attacking the dragon immediately. His sole intention was to defend himself. The dragon kept her slitted eyes on him throughout his maneuver. Harry circled her slowly to the right, wand hidden in his sleeve but ready at the slightest sudden move, slipping his gloves on slowly as he calmed his heartbeat, which gradually found a regular rhythm, allowing him to breathe.

Step by step, he moved around the creature, closing in gradually while pretending to circle it. In theory, he could just grab the egg in a flash and dive toward the exit. Of course, that was only in theory. When he tried a quick wand movement to lift the egg, it remained stubbornly on the ground, there must have been an anti-attraction spell on it.

Harry grimaced and shook his head slightly. He tried another approach, conjuring a duplicate of himself on the other side of the field by transforming a rock near the entrance. The dragon spun her head so fast the ground trembled beneath her. The false Harry began running toward her eggs, which had been left exposed while she watched the real Harry.

She spun back immediately into position, hurling devastating fire at the impostor. Harry raised his wand and commanded the duplicate to hide behind a rock.
His double grinned and dashed madly toward the eggs.

The crowd's exclamations echoed in his ears at this first attempt. Harry pointed his wand at the dragon, and while everyone thought he was about to attack, he made a swift wand movement to raise the ground beneath her, separating her from her eggs. This gave him just enough time to reach the "nest" and grab the golden egg amidst the crowd's cheers. But Harry had no time to celebrate.

The wall exploded in front of him, and Harry barely managed to hit the ground to avoid the tail, a spiked, flaming mass. Screams of terror rang out around him, and Harry couldn't tell if they were from the crowd or his own shouts. He stayed down for a second before seeing the dragon two meters away, ready to breathe fire, her mouth wide open, vivid orange heat pooling deep in her throat. Harry could sidestep, but the dragon's eggs remained, and he could not bear to let her destroy them over a silly tournament.

He rose and quickly traced three water runes he and Hermione had practiced late into the night. This had to be a last resort; the spell was difficult to wield, and he could hardly invent a new trick in seconds. He swiftly traced the aquatic spirals around him. He no longer heard the crowd, but it was not because they were silent, they simply could no longer reach him.

The dragon advanced, sparks flying with each step. Harry barely managed to raise the barrier, channeling a little magic without his wand for extra power. Once the water wall stood, he plunged his hands into it, hoping it would resist the flames.

With a fierce roar, the dragon unleashed her fire. Harry closed his eyes in fear, then, feeling nothing, opened one, then the other, her flames met the water, erupting in scalding jets that ran around him. He was grateful for the dragon-hide gloves, which likely saved his hands from burning. Slowly, heat increased, then became intense; water streamed down his arms, and under the pain, he hissed, "Stop! Your children!"

Suddenly, the flames ceased. Harry felt his arms fall limply, still kneeling, and glanced at the eggs behind him, all intact. He retrieved the golden egg between his legs and extended it toward the dragon, who narrowed her eyes but approached slowly.

Smoke still poured from her nostrils and mouth. Harry could not feel his forearms, but it was not fatigue. He kept his gaze on the dragon as she approached the golden egg.

After a few milliseconds that seemed like an eternity, the dragon turned her gaze to her real eggs, and Harry took it as permission to leave with the golden prize. He quickly tucked the egg under his arm and retrieved his wand, held lightly between his fingers. He dragged himself toward the exit, ears ringing and heart pounding so slowly he wondered if it had stopped.

"That was extraordinary, Potter!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, approaching him. "I have so much to tell you, but…" Harry noticed her hand tremble as she pointed to his forearms. "You must go see Madam Pomfrey before the judges post their scores… Go, she has already treated Diggory…"

"You did it, Harry!" Hagrid's rough voice bellowed. "You did it! Against the Horntail, no less! And what you did!!" Hagrid seemed on the verge of tears, but Harry had no strength to comfort him.

Professor Moody also looked pleased; his magical eye seemed to dance in its socket.

"That was quick and effective, Potter," he growled.

"Go on, Potter, the infirmary tent is this way…" said Professor McGonagall before disappearing into the enclosure with the other teachers.

Harry bumped into Charlie, who had just entered the adjacent tent.

"Harry! You were amazing!" Charlie said, approaching and immediately checking him from head to toe. "How did you even manage that?!"

Harry could only manage a quick smile.

He let the egg, which was definitely too heavy, drop and rested his head on Charlie's shoulder. The older wizard froze immediately; Harry could hear his heart racing, had he been that worried too? Harry felt an odd sense of happiness at the thought.

Charlie finally placed his hands behind Harry and pulled him close, sensing that Harry was trembling.

"It's over," he whispered.

"Charlie," Harry groaned. "I never want to see a dragon again in my life."

Charlie chuckled against him.

"You say that now… soon you'll be asking for more."

Harry relaxed against the man, smiling, his stomach twisting painfully with his quiet laugh.

"That was incredible, Harry. You weren't just brave, you were attentive, and you protected the eggs. That's what makes it even more amazing," Charlie murmured. "Really."

Harry straightened slightly and met Charlie's eyes, seeing the sincerity in his expression. His face spread into a smile.

"I didn't think much at the moment, so I'm not sure I deserve all that. But thank you."

Before Charlie could say anything more, Pomfrey arrived, interrupting them.

"Well, Potter! Where are you?" She stopped when she saw them and they stepped apart.

Charlie picked up the egg and handed it back to Harry, who nodded in thanks. He followed the nurse, who made no comment, simply studying him from head to toe, clearly assessing the damage. She gasped when she saw the reddened skin of his forearms beneath the burned sleeves of his robe.

"Dragons!" she exclaimed, dragging Harry inside with a look of disgust.

The tent had been divided into several areas with cloth screens. Harry glimpsed Cedric through one of them, but he did not appear badly injured. At least he was sitting up. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry's forearms, muttering constantly.

"Last year, Dementors; this year, dragons. What will they bring us next?"

She had Harry remove his shirt and gasped in surprise at his arms. They were red and blistered all over. She poured cool water over them, which made Harry smile blissfully, then applied a slightly bluish ointment on the open wounds that soothed them. She finished with a bandage. She gave him a replacement t-shirt and told him to rest while she attended to Cedric nearby.

Harry collapsed back onto the bed, but the arrival of his three friends instantly ended his rest, and he jumped to greet them. Hermione and Neville pressed against him, while Ron tapped his shoulder gently.

"Hey, don't smother him," he smiled, laughing.

"Harry, you were amazing!" Hermione cried, her voice sharp. Terrified by the dragon encounter, she had dug her nails into her skin, and her face still bore the marks.

"You were extraordinary! Really!" Neville added, his hair in every direction as if he had tried to tear it out.

"Yes, yes, we get it: incredible, magnificent, majestic!" Ron continued. "The whole dictionary applies to you, but seriously, that was insane, Harry."

"You'll definitely get the highest score! No one else did as well," Neville added.

"And you executed the water rune perfectly! Even better than in practice!" Hermione said, wiping away remaining tears.

"Anyway, you were the best, no doubt about it…"

"What did the others do?" Harry smiled.

"Cedric did something similar to you. He transformed a rock on the ground… into a dog… not a full double like you. Anyway, like you, he wanted the dragon distracted by the dog instead of him. As a transfiguration, it was quite successful and almost worked perfectly. He got the egg, but still got burned. The dragon suddenly changed her mind and decided to attack him instead of the dog. But Cedric managed to get away. Then there was the Beauxbatons girl, Fleur… She used some enchantment to put the dragon into a trance. That sort of worked. The dragon dozed off but started snoring and spat a long jet of fire that set her robe ablaze. Fortunately, she was able to extinguish it using water from her wand. And Krum… incredible, he was the best after you. He hit the dragon directly in the eye with a spell. The problem was that the dragon was in so much pain she began thrashing wildly, breaking some of her real eggs. The judges deducted points for that. According to the rules, the eggs had to remain intact."

"That's what I feared with that spell," Harry nodded, recalling a similar report from another time.

"In any case! First task completed, that's a point for you and one for the person who put your name in," said the three friends, nodding toward Neville.

"That deserves a celebration. I survived the first task, and it wasn't easy. Hopefully, I'll survive the year and sue Verpey for forcing me into this," Harry joked.

The three burst out laughing.

They all headed toward the enclosure to see the scores revealed, but they didn't make it to the entrance. Daphne appeared in front of them, cheeks flushed and hands still trembling, and rushed into Harry's arms. He received her easily with a smile before noticing Theodore Nott a few steps away. Unlike others, he didn't glare at Harry; in fact, he seemed uninterested in what Harry had done this summer.

"Merlin, Harry. I was so scared!" the girl exclaimed, stepping back to look him over.

"I'm fine, Daphne. Pomfrey has already checked me," he smiled.

"Of course, I mean… that's not the point. Merlin, it was so dangerous, what were they thinking?!"

Theodore, still waiting, glanced briefly behind them and intervened before Harry could reply.

"Daphne, we need to go back; they're announcing the results."

Daphne pouted briefly, glanced at her fiancé, then nodded.

"You were amazing anyway." Harry smiled as she headed back inside.

"Merlin, that was dangerous, do you think all the tasks will be like this?" he heard her ask Theodore.

Harry turned to his friends.

"I think she was worried."

"No kidding, we couldn't see anything at the end with all that smoke. We didn't know if your water wall had held," Ron said.

Harry opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again. That explained the pale looks on their faces.

Arriving at the dragon enclosure, Ron, who had been explaining how everyone had screamed at the smoke, including a petrified Dumbledore behind the podium, finally caught his breath. The Hungarian Horntail had been removed, and at the other end of the field, Harry saw the five judges seated in high chairs draped in golden cloth.

"Each judge gives a score out of ten," Hermione explained. Harry squinted as the first judge, Madame Maxime, raised her wand, releasing a long silver ribbon that twisted into a figure eight.

"Not bad," Ron said amid the crowd's applause. "She must have deducted points for your injury…"

Next, Mr. Croupton gave his score: a nine.

"This is looking good!" Ron exclaimed, giving Harry a hearty back slap. Dumbledore also awarded a nine. The crowd cheered even louder. Ludo Verpey: ten.

"Ten?" Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Of course…"

"Don't complain, Harry!" Ron said enthusiastically.

"Incredible, Harry!" Neville added. Everyone eagerly awaited the last score, from Karkaroff.

Karkaroff raised his wand, thought for a moment, then produced his number: four.

"What?" Ron protested angrily. "Four? That lice-infested scoundrel! He gave Krum a ten!"

But Harry didn't care. Even if Karkaroff had given him zero, it would not have mattered. His three friends yelled insults at the director, discreetly, and Harry simply enjoyed it, savoring finally having passed a milestone.

"You're tied for first with Krum, Harry!" Charlie announced.

Harry gave him a shy smile. He had leaned on someone earlier, clearly needing support after the scariest moment of his life. He felt a bit bashful that it was Charlie, whom he barely knew, who seemed ideal to his instincts for him to relax around.

"Great, Harry!" Ron shouted, shaking his shoulder.

"Congratulations," Neville smiled, while Hermione displayed the most satisfied grin she had ever had, apparently making Karkaroff pay back her new life goal.

Harry allowed himself to be carried along by their enthusiasm, laughing at the exclamations around him, led by Ron like a conductor waving his arms to encourage louder cheers. It was not just Gryffindor, Hogwarts itself was cheering, a sensation that unknotted his stomach and filled his heart with satisfaction. He had to admit he had done very well with an improvised plan.

"How are your arms?" Charlie asked, examining them again.

Harry raised one arm to show the bandage.

"Madam Pomfrey is a blessing."

Charlie laughed, nodding.

"We never say it enough. Oh, and I was asked to tell you that Verpey wants to see you over there, in the tent."

Harry nodded at the older Weasley. He nodded again, and his friends told him they would wait outside. Charlie gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before letting him go.

Fleur, Cedric, and Krum entered together. One side of Cedric's face was covered in thick orange paste, presumably to treat burns. He smiled at Harry.

"Congratulations," he said.

"And congratulations to you," Harry replied. "Are you okay?"

"I can feel nothing at all," Cedric said.

"Well done, all of you!" Ludo Verpey exclaimed, bounding into the tent, looking as pleased as if he had retrieved a golden egg from a dragon himself.

"Now, a few quick points," he said. "You'll have plenty of time to rest before the second task on February 24 at 9:30 a.m., but in the meantime, we'll give you something to think about! If you look closely at the golden eggs in your possession, you'll see they can be opened… You see the hinges? Listen carefully: these eggs contain a riddle that you must solve to know what the second task will involve and how to prepare. Clear? Sure? Very well, you may go!"

Harry didn't care much about the instructions; he would wait for Cedric to discover it and tell him. Until then, he would ignore it. He knew Cedric would want to help him, so if Harry gave the clue, it might embarrass him.

Harry joined his friends waiting outside the tent, and the four of them returned to the castle. He wanted more details on how the champions had obtained the eggs. But as they rounded the grove that concealed the enclosure, a witch appeared from behind a tree and hurried toward them. It was Rita Skeeter. That day she wore a garish green dress, perfectly matching the Daily Prophet she held in her hand.

"Congratulations, Harry!" she called with a wide smile. "I just wanted to ask one quick question. What did you feel facing the dragon? And how do you feel now, after seeing your scores? Do you think they are ju-?"

Harry said nothing and silenced her with a flick of his wand, making his three friends and himself burst out laughing.

They continued toward the castle, casting mocking smiles at the reporter, who watched them leave, flustered.

Chapter Text

What a joy it was to enter the Gryffindor common room dormitory after all these trials. Harry had left a short note for Sirius and Remus, arranging to meet them the next evening at the Hagrid's hut to tell them everything. He could thus relax and head upstairs with his three friends to enjoy the festivities. As they entered the Gryffindor common room, an explosion of cheers, applause, and acclaims erupted once again. Every corner overflowed with cakes and jugs of pumpkin juice or Butterbeer. Lee Jordan had set off some damp fireworks from Flitwick's collection, guaranteed explosions without heat, which filled the room with sparks and stars. Dean Thomas, known for his artistic skill, had unfurled impressive banners, most depicting Harry facing the Hungarian Horntail with wand raised or conjuring water to protect the eggs. Two other drawings showed Cedric with his head on fire.

Harry served himself some food and sat with his three friends. He had almost forgotten what hunger felt like and ate without thinking, devouring everything within reach, while his friends eagerly refilled his plate with all sorts of treats, as if it were his reward.

"Oh, wow, this thing is heavy," Lee Jordan said, weighing the golden egg Harry had placed on the table. "Open it, Harry! Come on, let's see what's inside!"

"He must figure out its meaning on his own," Hermione said quickly. "It's in the tournament rules…"

"I also had to figure out on my own how to take an egg from the dragon," Harry whispered, and Hermione gave a slightly guilty smile.

"Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!" several voices urged.

Lee handed him the egg. Harry slipped a fingernail into the groove around it and managed to open it. He could not suppress a grimace, already anticipating what awaited him. It was hollow and completely empty, but as soon as Harry opened it, a horrid sound, a high-pitched and deafening wail, filled the room. The only comparable noise Harry had ever heard was the musical saw orchestra that had played on Nearly Headless Nick's deathday.

"Shut it!" Fred yelled, hands pressed over his ears.

"What is that?" Seamus Finnigan asked, looking at the egg Harry had snapped shut. "It sounded like the Death Eater's specter… Maybe that's what you'll face next, Harry!"

"It sounded like someone was being tortured!" Neville whispered, turning pale and knocking sausages onto the floor. "They'll put the Cruciatus Curse on you, and you'll have to resist it! That will be your second task!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Neville, that's illegal," Fred said. "They'd never use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. To me, it sounded a bit like Percy's singing… Maybe you'll have to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry."

After a long discussion about the possible origins of the shrill noise, the conversations began to die down, leaving only the Weasleys, Hermione, Neville, and Harry together.

"Do you want a jam tart, Hermione?" Fred asked.

Hermione cast a suspicious glance at the plate he offered. Fred smiled.

"You can go ahead," he said. "I didn't touch them. It's the caramel creams you have to watch out for…"

Neville, who had just eaten a spoonful of caramel cream, spat it out, choking halfway. Fred burst into laughter.

"Just a little prank, Neville…"

Hermione took a jam tart.

"Did you get all this from the kitchen?" she asked.

"Yeah," Fred replied with a broad smile. In a high-pitched voice, he imitated a house-elf, "Tell us what would please you, sir, we'll get you whatever you want! They bend over backward… They'd roast a whole ox if I said I was really hungry."

Harry was sure he said that just to provoke her.

"And you're proud of yourselves?" she protested.

And it worked, Harry thought, smiling. Hermione squinted at the plate, clearly thinking of Winky and Dobby, who had spoken happily about their situation, and she looked genuinely torn between her feeling and anger at their treatment.

"What do you want to do? Encourage the house-elves to strike?" George asked. "You going to hand out leaflets and incite rebellion?"

A few muffled laughs arose, but Hermione remained silent.

"Don't give them ideas about needing clothes and pay!" Fred warned. "You'd stop them from working!"

At that moment, Neville created the perfect diversion by suddenly transforming into a large canary.

"Oh, sorry, Neville!" George exclaimed amid laughter. "I forgot to tell you the caramel creams were actually enchanted…"

Moments later, Neville lost his yellow feathers and returned to normal, even laughing with the others.

"Canary Creams!" Fred announced to their Gryffindor classmates. "George and I invented them. Seven Knuts each, a bargain!"

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean went up to bed. Before closing the curtains of his four-poster, Harry placed his miniature Hungarian Horntail on his bedside table, where the tiny dragon yawned, curled into a ball, and closed its eyes.

The beginning of December brought wind and sleet. In winter, Hogwarts was full of drafts, but when Harry passed the Durmstrang ship swaying in the gusts, its sails puffed against the dark sky, he was glad to know that good fireplaces and thick walls awaited him inside the castle. The Beauxbatons carriage must have been rather freezing as well. He noticed Hagrid providing Madame Maxime's horses with generous amounts of single malt whisky, their favorite drink. The alcohol fumes rising from the trough in the corner of their pen would have been enough to make a whole class of Care of Magical Creatures students dizzy. That would have helped little, as they needed all their faculties to deal with the horrible Blast-Ended Skrewts.

And indeed, the next class was imminent.

"I don't know if they hibernate or not," Hagrid said to his shivering students in the pumpkin patch. "We'll get them settled in their boxes and see if they want to take a nap…"

Only ten Skrewts remained. Apparently, the walks on the lawn had done nothing to curb their desire to fight each other. Each was now nearly six feet tall. Their thick grey shells, powerful and flexible legs, explosive ends, stingers, and suction cups made them the most repulsive creatures Harry had ever seen. The class stared despondently at the large boxes Hagrid had brought, lined with pillows and thick blankets.

"Here, just get them in there and put a lid on top. We'll see what happens."

But the Skrewts did not hibernate and did not like being enclosed in boxes with pillows.

"Now, now, don't panic! Don't panic!" Hagrid soon shouted, as the Skrewts ravaged the pumpkin patch, scattering charred and still-smoking box debris. Most of the students, led by Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, had taken refuge in Hagrid's hut through the back door, barricading themselves inside. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a few others stayed to help Hagrid. Harry regretted that the Petrificus Totalus spell was forbidden at school; it would have been very useful in this situation.

Harry grabbed Hermione's arm.

"Wingardium Leviosa together," he said.

She looked surprised but nodded. They stood back-to-back and raised their wands together. Under Neville's admiring gaze, all the creatures rose about three feet off the ground, thrashing angrily. The remaining students used the opportunity to tie them up. By combining their efforts, they managed to capture and restrain nine of the ten Skrewts, at the cost of numerous burns and scratches. Only one remained free, still flying.

"Don't scare him!" Hagrid shouted, seeing Ron and Neville shoot sparks at the creature with their wands. The Skrewt thrashed threateningly, its quivering stinger forming an arc on its back, pointing at them. "Just try to loop a rope around the stinger so he can't hurt the others."

"Yes, that would be a shame!" Ron said angrily.

"Well, well, well… looks like you're having fun," said Rita Skeeter, leaning against Hagrid's garden fence and watching the chaos. She wore a thick dark pink cloak with a purple fur collar and carried her crocodile-skin bag over her shoulder.

Hagrid lunged at the Skrewt threatening Ron and Neville and pinned it down with all his weight. With an explosive sound, a jet of fire shot from its tail, singeing the pumpkins behind it.

"Who are you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he secured a rope around the Skrewt's stinger.

"Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet," she replied with a broad smile that made her gold teeth glint.

"I thought Dumbledore had forbidden you from returning to the school," Hagrid said, frowning slightly.

He stood and dragged the subdued Skrewt toward its companions. Rita pretended not to hear him.

"What are these fascinating creatures called?" she asked, her smile widening.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid muttered.

"Really?" Rita said, intrigued. "I've never heard of them… Where do they come from?"

Harry saw Hagrid blush beneath his bushy beard and felt a pang in his heart. The truth was that they were a new species created by Hagrid himself. Hermione, who seemed to have realized the same, quickly intervened.

"They are extremely interesting creatures!" she said. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Uh… yes, quite," Harry replied, hoping not to sound too false.

"Oh, there you are, Harry!" Rita Skeeter said, turning to him. "So, you enjoy Care of Magical Creatures classes? Is it one of your favorite subjects?"

"Indeed," Harry answered firmly, which made Hagrid beam with happiness.

"I'm not surprised, given how you handled the dragon during the tournament, what a spectacle!"

"I didn't handle it. A dragon isn't a pet. I just made sure its eggs weren't destroyed because of us, and it understood that," he growled.

"What a noble soul," Rita Skeeter sang, showing how little she cared, already turning her attention back to Hagrid and the Skrewt.

"Have you been teaching long?" she asked Hagrid.

Harry noticed that she was looking successively at Dean, who had a deep cut on his cheek; Lavender, whose dress was scorched in several places; Seamus, trying to tend his burned fingers; and then at the cabin windows, where the other students were pressed against the panes, watching to see if all danger had passed.

"It's only my second year," Hagrid replied.

"Wonderful… Would you, by any chance, grant me an interview? To let us benefit from your experience with magical creatures? V-"

"Absolutely not."

Harry stepped in front of her.

"You will leave politely. I know your methods, writing only what you want. Go away, or I will take you by force to Dumbledore, who I'm sure will take more… radical measures against you."

She tensed, seeming to search for a retort, but ultimately turned away.

"Perhaps another time," she sang, clicking away in her heels through the frozen mud of the ruined garden.

"Thank you, Harry," Hagrid sighed.

"She's a nuisance. Dumbledore needs to find a solution; she shouldn't be able to come and go as she wish."

All his friends agreed.

"So, Winky found this book. He says it's possible to use an apparition spell in both directions with elf magic, but it's complicated and Winky still has to finish translating it. Winky doesn't really know why it's so important to the master, but she's happy to help."

"You've done excellent work, Winky," Harry affirmed.

He looked at the volume, written in a language he had only learned three words of over his two lifetimes, and handed it to Winky.

"What matters is mastering it, perhaps even testing it once, by next June."

"Harry Potter wants Dobby to speak to Kreattur? Kreattur does not understand Dobby, but Dobby wants to be understood and to explain to Kreattur the noble cause they serve."

"It's unlikely he'll repeat it, but unless Sirius forbids it, he could perfectly well do so. It will be important to approach him gently and make him understand why we're doing this. You can start trying to become his friend, but for now don't give him any hints. I'll try to negotiate with Sirius as soon as possible to ensure discretion."

"Kreattur will understand, because the master is a noble person who works for the good," Winky affirmed.

"But the family Kreattur served was against my ideas… which makes convincing him tricky. But I also want to help Kreattur. For now, until Winky has more information, we shouldn't rush. Dobby, what happened with your bank excursion?"

"Dobby gave the money to Harry Potter."

"Yes, yes, that's good, but what about the protections?"

"Dobby felt stun barriers along the walls, which got stronger the lower he went. The goblins found Dobby's behavior very odd, so Dobby isn't sure if he can try again."

Harry nodded, concerned. He didn't want to risk attempting such a long heist again, he wouldn't have the time, discretion, or means. Winky's spell had to work.

"Before the task, there will be a short winter break. We'll test the rune in the castle. Until then, everyone continues researching Gringotts and the house-elves. See if there are any special spells to protect doors or prevent intrusions that no one would have thought of."

"Potter! Weasley! Could you please pay a little attention to what's happening?" Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip during Thursday's Transfiguration class. Harry and Ron jumped.

Harry was dozing at the back of the room while Ron babbled away about Krum.

Class was ending. The day's lesson was complete. The turkeys they had transformed into guinea pigs had been locked in a large cage on McGonagall's desk (Neville's guinea pig still had feathers; it was more of a turkey-pig, as the professor had remarked). They had just copied the homework from the blackboard into their notebooks (Describe, with examples, various ways to adapt transfiguration spells for interspecies transfers) and the bell was about to ring.

"If Potter and Weasley would be so kind as to pay attention for a few seconds, I have an important announcement. The Yule Ball is approaching. It is a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, which allows us to better get to know our foreign guests. The ball is open to all students from the fourth year onward, but you may invite younger students if you wish…"

Lavender Brown let out a high-pitched giggle, and Parvati Patil nudged her in the ribs, struggling not to giggle herself. Both turned toward Harry. Professor McGonagall paid them no attention. Harry rolled his eyes, having largely forgotten about the ball. Not a very great memory.

"Evening attire will be required," Professor McGonagall continued. "The ball will take place in the Great Hall on Christmas Day, beginning at eight in the evening and ending at midnight."

The professor shot the entire class a pointed look.

"Of course, the Yule Ball always has something a little… wild about it," she added disapprovingly.

Lavender giggled louder than ever, hand pressed to her mouth to make less noise. This time, Harry understood the humor: seeing Professor McGonagall with her hair perfectly twisted into a tight bun, it was hard to imagine she had ever been wild in any sense of the word.

"This does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall continued, "that we will tolerate any less disciplined behavior from Hogwarts students than usual. I would be extremely displeased if I ever saw a Gryffindor student act in a way that could harm the school's reputation."

The bell rang, and the usual uproar rose as students packed their bags and began to leave.

"Potter, I would like to see you, please," Professor McGonagall called, loud enough to be heard over the noise. Harry walked toward the podium with a dull expression.

The professor waited until the others had left before speaking.

"Potter, it is traditional for the champions and their partners to open the ball."

"Uh… what if I decide to leave Hogwarts for Christmas?"

The look she gave him seemed caught between shock and fury. After a few seconds, she seemed to convince herself that Harry was trying to be funny and continued.

"It would be regrettable if that happened, Mr. Potter…"

Harry sighed.

"I thought so…" he muttered. "I'll see what I can do."

His friends were waiting for him on the other side of the door.

"I'm supposed to open the ball with the others," he grumbled, causing Neville and Hermione to burst out laughing while Ron patted his back in consolation. "And I have to find a partner."

"That shouldn't be difficult, knowing you're a champion; any girl would be more than happy to accompany you."

Harry hesitated briefly, considering re-inviting Parvati as he had in his first life, but he honestly didn't feel like spending the evening with her again, nor putting her through a bad evening. He shook his head and left first, his friends following closely.

As in his first life, Harry had never seen so many students eager to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. He himself never left the castle, to avoid being forced to spend the holidays at the Dursleys, but until now he had been one of the few unwilling to return to his family. This time, however, every student from the fourth year onward wanted to stay. The ball was on everyone's mind, especially the girls… and naturally, many hoped to accompany him, one of Hogwarts' champions. His solution came to him naturally at breakfast the next day.

Harry had just sat down at the Gryffindor table when he spotted her. He quickly rose, startling his friends, and told them he'd return shortly. The Great Hall was nearly empty, small groups just beginning to gather around breakfast, and only the staff table was almost full.

"Hey, Luna," Harry said, sitting across from his friend.

She sat alone at the table, apparently forgetting to eat, her hair pinned up in a bun by her wand, staring at a Transfiguration book, or at least she was, knowing her eyes never moved.

"Hello, Harry," she sang.

"How are you? Have the dirigible plums stopped bothering you since that Herbology class the other day?"

"I see a few flying here and there, but it seems the violet really drove them off."

Harry smiled.

"Have you heard about the Yule Ball?"

"Of course."

"Are you going?"

"I'm not old enough, Harry."

Harry laughed softly.

"I know, I just wanted to see if anyone had invited you."

"Ah, no," she said, still staring at her book calmly.

"So, would you like to go with me?"

Harry heard several squeaks coming from a group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs a few steps away.

"Why?"

Harry shrugged.

"I have to go to the ball as a Champion, so I thought, why not go with the nicest girl in the school."

Luna's eyes sparkled with happiness, and Harry knew he had made the best decision of his life.

"I'd be delighted to go with you. But I don't know how to dance."

"That's perfect, neither do I," he said with a small laugh. "Thanks, Luna, we're going to have a great time, I'm sure."

"Me too," she sang, diving back into her book as if nothing had happened. "I can't wait."

Harry left her to her reverie and went to join his friends.

"You did well inviting Luna, Harry," Neville said. "She seems really happy."

"At least with her, I know I'll have a good evening, and since she's not old enough to go alone, it would have been a shame for her to miss it."

"That's very true," Hermione added.

"In the meantime, we still have no one," Ron grumbled to Neville, glancing at Fleur, who had just sat down at the Ravenclaw table not far from Luna.

"Harry, is it true you invited Loony Luna to the ball?" a Hufflepuff exclaimed with a mocking smile. "Didn't you have anyone better?"

Harry didn't even bother listening.

As the days passed, the last week of the term grew increasingly hectic. Rumors about the Yule Ball spread in every direction, but Harry knew none were solid. For example, people said Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mead from Madame Rosmerta. The only thing that proved true was that he had indeed hired the Weird Sisters. Strangely, one rumor that spread throughout the school was that Harry would attend the ball with the girl nicknamed Loony; the odd third-year who saw invisible creatures and had alarming superstitions.

Seeing everyone distracted, some teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach normally. On Wednesday, Flitwick allowed students to play whatever they liked and spent most of the hour talking with Harry about his tournament exploits. Other professors were far less lenient. Professor Binns, for example, continued to read in his monotone voice about goblin uprisings. Even his own death had not stopped him from teaching, so one could not expect a trivial event like Christmas to divert him. Remarkably, his recounting of bloody and fierce goblin riots sounded as boring as Percy's report on cauldron bottom thickness. Professors McGonagall and Moody also kept students working until the very last minute. As for Snape, of course, it was just as unthinkable that he would let them play during his class as to ask him to adopt Harry. With a dark look, he announced that he would spend the last class of the term testing their antidotes.

"He's really a nasty piece of work," Ron said bitterly as they returned to the Gryffindor common room. "Giving us an exam on the last day. Ruining the end of term with all these revisions."

"You don't seem too tired by it," Hermione remarked, looking up from her potions notebook. Ron was busy building a card castle with his Exploding Snap cards, a much more interesting pastime than Muggle card castles, since it could blow up at any moment.

Harry made no comment. He was reviewing step by step the latest potion with Neville, hoping to prevent a troll incident this time.

"I thought you'd have other things on your mind these days, Harry."

"Other than studying with Neville."

"That I could handle… I meant the egg."

"Listen, Hermione, I have until February 24 to think about it."

He wasn't going to bother pretending to research something he had as much interest in as his first sock. He would simply note that he needed a plant to breathe underwater and have Neville work on it, which would give him much more confidence.

"But it might take you weeks to figure out what it means!" Hermione remarked. "You'll look like a complete fool if everyone knows what the next task involves except you!"

"Leave him alone, Hermione, he deserves a little rest," Ron said. "His burns have barely started to heal."

He placed the last two cards on the castle, which exploded, singeing his eyebrows.

"Bravo, Ron, you're perfect like that… It'll go wonderfully with your evening attire!"

Fred and George sat down with them at the table as Ron examined his eyebrows to assess the damage.

"Ron, can we borrow Crookshanks?" George asked.

"No, he's carrying a letter," Ron replied. "Why?"

"Because George wants to invite her to the ball," said Fred mockingly.

"Because we want to send a letter, you dimwit," George said.

"Do you want Hedwig?" Harry offered, receiving broad smiles from both.

"Finally, a useful brother!" Fred said with a grin.

"What do you mean, brother?"

"Well, brother-in-law, brother, it's the same."

Harry pretended not to hear. Ron, however, was not so discreet and snickered.

"At least he has someone. So… Do you have girls to take to the ball?" George asked.

"Not yet," Ron said.

"You'd better hurry, old man, or you'll end up with the ugly ones," Fred said.

"And you, who are you going with?"

"Angelina," Fred replied without hesitation.

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "You've already asked her?"

"Thanks for reminding me," Fred replied. He turned and called, "Oh, Angelina!"

Angelina, chatting near the fireplace with Alicia Spinnet, looked up at him.

"What?" she asked.

"Do you want to go to the ball with me?"

Angelina studied Fred as if appraising him.

"All right," she said, then returned to her conversation with Alicia, a small smile on her lips.

"And there you go," Fred said. "It's not more complicated than that."

He stood up, yawning, and added:

"We'd better hurry and send the letter, George. Thanks again for Hedwig, Harry."

"No problem. The best part is you count the seconds in your head very slowly- huh, Nev ?"

He looks at his friend who was still looking at the door where the two brothers disappeared.

"I was just wondering with whom George was going."

"I thought he was going with Fred to be honest…" answered Hermione. "To continue their sale during the ball."

She looks even more annoyed.

"Well, looks like you were wrong," laughed Harry, she glanced at him without answering. "I think I remember he and Lee Jordan going together as buddies."

"Maybe we should also take care of… finding a girl for the ball. Otherwise, we'll end up with a pair of trolls," Ron said to Neville.

Hermione gasped indignantly.

"A pair of what? What did you say?"

"I'd rather go alone than with… let's say, Eloise Midgen," he shrugged.

"Her acne has cleared up a lot recently. And she's very nice!"

"She doesn't have her nose in the middle of her face," Ron said.

"Ah yes, I see," Hermione replied irritably. "So, in summary, you'll take the prettiest girl you find even if she's the worst brat?"

"Uh… yes, pretty much," Ron admitted.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped. She climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories without another word.

"Well done, Ron," Harry said. "By the way, speaking of brother-in-law, it reminded me, Neville, if you feel too shy to ask a girl you're not close to, you could ask Ginny. After all, she can't go to the ball without an invitation, and then we'll all be together… of course, if you have someone else in mind…"

"No! That's a good idea, it would reassure me to go with someone I'm friends with."

"Then go for it," Harry said, pointing to Ginny, who was chatting with two dormmates in a corner of the room.

"What? Now?"

"Of course. Remember, if you have confidence, everything will go well, and you won't have any regrets."

"But what if she says no?"

"It's Ginny. Even if she already has someone, she'll tell you nicely. And there are plenty of other girls to ask if she refuses, but don't miss the opportunity."

Reluctantly, Neville stood up, stumbling as he slowly crossed the room. Harry could see the cogs turning in his brain as he thought about what to say. Harry turned to Ron.

"You don't mind?"

"No, I mean, the whole brother-in-law thing is clearly too soon… but I'd rather it be Neville than some guy I don't know…"

"That, I'm afraid, will always be too soon for you."

Ron stared as Harry returned to his work.

"Is it true?" The casual tone in which Ron asked the question suggested otherwise, and Harry looked up, puzzled.

"What? That Neville is asking her to the ball? Or that you'll always be an overprotective older brother?"

"I meant… what's going on with Charlie?"

Harry looked at him, perplexed, then forced himself to look back at his paper so Ron wouldn't see his discomfort.

"Your brothers like to tease me, that's all."

"No, but, I mean-"

Harry bit his lip.

"There's really nothing if it worries you. Don't overthink it."

"I'm not worried, I mean, it's fine… just… he's a little old for you, right?"

Harry shot him a legitimately surprised glance before trying to reread the sentence he had been looping over since Ron started talking. He finally gave up.

"Yeah, he's too old for me," he said, hoping to end the debate.

"I mean, you're not saying that because of me, right? Because really, it's fine, "

"No, I'm not saying that because of you… not entirely, not at all. Just, we- there are lots of things that could be obstacles, so I'd rather not even think about it… You know, relationships… I can do without. Really, don't worry about it."

At that moment, Neville had sat down across from them, his face pale.

"So?" Harry asked, a little worried.

"She said yes…"

"Great! And that should reassure Ron too," Harry said with a broad smile, trying to push his own unease aside. He had promised himself not to think about it until Voldemort was gone for good. Not before.

The Hogwarts staff, always eager to impress their Beauxbatons and Durmstrang guests, seemed determined to use Christmas to showcase the castle at its best. When the decorations were installed, Harry was speechless: he had never seen anything so magnificent. Eternal ice stalactites hung from the marble staircase railings, the traditional twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were adorned with the most spectacular ornaments imaginable, from holly branches with glowing berries to golden owls that produced real hoots, and the suits of armor were enchanted to sing Christmas carols whenever someone passed by. Hearing "Il est né le divin enfant" sung by an empty helmet, which knew only half the words, was unforgettable. On several occasions, Filch had to pull Peeves out of an armor where he had hidden, as he replaced the missing lyrics with his own crude verses.

Ron remained the only one in the group without a date, and he was growing increasingly worried. Harry was glad he had invited Luna from the start. He had, however, somewhat forgotten an event that had occurred just before the ball. It all came back after he returned from a Quidditch match he had shared with Cedric, during which Harry had let slip that he planned to formalize his relationship with Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, at the Yule Ball. Harry had returned in excellent spirits, delighted to have made Cedric blush to the ears, but froze upon entering the common room.

Ron sat in a corner, looking dejected. Ginny was beside him, trying apparently to comfort him.

"What's going on, Ron?" Harry asked, approaching them.

Ron looked up at him, horror written on his face.

"Why did I do something like that?" he said, horrified. "I don't know what came over me!"

"What?" said Harry.

"He… uh… he just asked Fleur Delacour to the ball," Ginny explained.

She seemed to suppress a smile but continued gently tapping Ron's arm.

"Oh…"

For Harry's defence, the whole thing had completely slipped past him, like always with everything related to the ball, he had no role in it. He felt a little bad for Ron. The charms of his future sister-in-law's Veela heritage were still clearly too strong.

"I don't know what came over me!" Ron repeated, out of breath. "What was I thinking? There were people all around her, I must have gone mad, in front of everyone! I had just crossed her in the entrance hall, she was talking to Diggory, and I felt something push me… so I asked her…"

Ron groaned and buried his face in his hands. Harry frowned, realizing he must have crossed paths with them before Cedric came to find him. He felt a little sorry for his friend, who must have wandered through the castle before daring to return to the common room. His friend continued talking, though it was hard to understand him.

"She looked at me like I was a worm. She didn't even answer. Then, suddenly, I don't know what happened, I snapped and ran away."

"She's partly Veela," Harry said. "Her grandmother was one. It's not your fault, I guess you just walked past her while she was using her magical charm on Cedric, and you got zapped. Anyway, she was wasting her time on him. He's already going to the ball with someone else."

"That's not true… him too? Hermione and I are the only ones with no one, if I understand correctly."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look.

"Uh, Hermione has someone," Ginny said.

"What? Nonsense? She would have said so."

At that moment, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and Hermione entered the common room.

"Why weren't you at dinner?" she asked, walking toward them.

"Because Ron just got rejected by all the girls he asked for the ball," Ginny said.

"Thanks a lot, Ginny," Ron said bitterly.

"So, all the pretty girls are taken?" Hermione asked haughtily. "Eloise Midgen is getting very pretty, isn't she? Anyway, I'm sure you'll find someone, somewhere, who will go with you."

But Ron now looked at Hermione as if seeing her in a whole new light.

"Hermione," he said, "after all, you're a girl…"

"What an observation!" Hermione snapped.

"So, why don't you come with me?!"

"No, impossible," Hermione said sharply.

"Come on, stop it," Ron said, annoyed. "We both need dates, we'll look really silly if we don't, everyone else has someone…"

"I can't go with you," Hermione said, blushing. "I'm already going with someone else."

"You're kidding!" Ron exclaimed. "You're just saying that so you won't go with me."

"Oh, you think so?" Hermione replied, shooting him a glare that could have set fire. "Just because it took you three years to notice doesn't mean others didn't see right away that I'm a girl!"

Ron looked at her, then smiled again.

"All right, all right, I know you're a girl," he said. "Happy now? So, you'll come with me, then?"

"I already told you it's impossible!" Hermione said angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"

Harry sighed as she rushed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

"She's lying," Ron assured him, watching her leave.

"No," Ginny said.

"Then, who is she going with?"

"I won't tell you, it's her business."

Harry shook his head.

"Ron, Hermione's not wrong this time. She's a very pretty girl with a lot of personality. Don't expect her to stay single her whole life just so you can have her when it's convenient." Harry hoped to give him some perspective. "By the way, have either of you seen Neville?"

Both shook their heads; Ron had clearly not even heard the question. Harry frowned and went upstairs, leaving him to his thoughts as Ginny would probably join Hermione. He then found Neville in front of the mirror, practicing dancing. He smiled amusedly and gently closed the door so as not to distract him.

Chapter Text

Despite the amount of homework the fourth-year students had to complete over the holidays, Harry was in no mood to work when the term ended and spent the week before Christmas having as much fun as possible with the others. There were almost as many people as usual in the Gryffindor Tower, but it seemed a little smaller due to the constant commotion. Fred and George had enjoyed considerable success with their Canary Creams: during the first two days of the holidays, it was common to see yellow feathers suddenly sprouting from someone's back. But the Gryffindor students soon grew accustomed to examining everything offered to them with extreme care, for fear a Canary Cream had been concealed within. George confided to Harry that he and Fred were already working on a new idea, and Harry promised himself never again to accept even a single crisp from them.

By now, snow was falling thickly over the castle and the grounds. Beauxbatons' pale blue carriage looked like a giant frosted pumpkin, beside Hagrid's hut, which resembled a gingerbread house dusted with icing sugar. The portholes and masts of the Durmstrang ship were also glazed with frost. In the kitchen, the house-elves excelled themselves, sending out succulent and comforting stews and cakes more delicious than ever, and only Fleur seemed able to find reasons to complain.

"Honestly, it's insane, it's far too heavy, all this food at Hogwarts," she said one day in a bad mood as they left the Great Hall (Ron hid behind Harry so she wouldn't see him). "I won't be able to fit into my dresses anymore!"

"Oh, what a true little tragedy," Hermione retorted sharply. "She really thinks she's someone!"

"French food is just different," Harry tempered. "Let her grumble a bit, she hasn't been so unpleasant the rest of the year."

His friend glared at him.

"Don't start defending her, we've got enough trouble with Ron making a fool of himself, hiding every time she appears when she doesn't even recognise him."

"Hermione, who are you going to the ball with?" asked Ron, stepping out from behind Harry, unfazed by their friend's mockery.

He kept asking, hoping to catch her off guard. But Hermione merely frowned and replied,

"I won't tell you, you'd make fun of me."

Harry shook his head along with Neville. He knew perfectly well who had invited Hermione to the ball but refrained from revealing it. Not only would it involve him in their ridiculous quarrel, but also because the shock of seeing Hermione with someone else would have a far greater impact on Ron than if he learned gently from a friend. Harry fully intended to avoid last time's Shakespearean drama, but for that, Ron would need to grow up. Considerably.

On Christmas morning, Harry woke with a start, wondering what had pulled him so abruptly from sleep. He opened his eyes and saw two large, round green eyes staring closely at him in the dark.

Harry recoiled so violently he nearly fell out of bed.

Dobby had appeared just above him. Every year he pulled the same trick. The novelty this time was that Winky was quietly beside him.

"What a fright," Harry muttered before smiling. He grabbed his wand and cast a silencing charm around them.

"Dobby and Winky only wanted to wish Harry Potter a ‘Merry Christmas' and bring him a present!" the elf giggled delightedly.

"Merry Christmas to you both."

"Merry Christmas, Master."

Harry looked at him, perplexed.

"Ah, I wanted to do something for you. You don't change much, but how about some outfits just for the occasion?"

"Oh, Master needn't give presents."

Harry shook his head and leaned to grab two pieces of fabric from under his pillow, which he had bought in advance. They were old fabrics whose colours he had refreshed.

"Winky, do you have a favourite colour?"

"A favourite colour?"

"Yes," said Harry, embarrassed, "a colour that makes you happy when you see it."

Winky seemed to ponder deeply.

"Winky likes emerald green, the colour of Master's eyes."

Harry nodded, then showed the fabric and snapped his fingers, changing it to emerald green. When he unfolded it, it revealed a long green gown with two sheer sleeves.

Winky yelped in surprise, and Harry couldn't tell if she was astonished at him performing magic without a wand or at the dress itself. Dobby clapped his hands, declaring it fabulous.

He handed it to Winky, telling her to put it on as he had decreed in the contract that the only way to be freed was for the elf to tear up the signed paper, a choice that allowed him to spoil them with clothes at will. Winky, eyes misted with tears, did not dare take the garment.

"I promise this won't free you, Winky. I just want to thank you both for all the help you give me every day. It means the world to me," he assured her.

He turned to Dobby and transformed a deep green gown which the elf grasped and put on immediately.

The two elves then presented him with their joint gift.

"They are socks; Dobby and Winky bought the wool with their wages and made them themselves, "

"Winky would never have agreed to give such a poor gift; if Winky had known Master could make clothes… Winky is terribly sorry!" squeaked the small elf.

Harry took her by the shoulders.

"They are wonderful, Winky. Thank you too, Dobby. Socks made by you are far more valuable!" he said, quickly putting them on. "And they're so warm too!"

After countless further thanks, the two elves departed, and Harry finally rose from bed after lifting the silencing charm around him.

"Presents!" exclaimed Seamus, seeing he was up. He was already sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed, as were the others. When Harry bent over his own gifts, Hermione had given him a book titled The Quidditch Teams of Great Britain and Ireland, Neville a new kit for maintaining his wand, Ron a large bag of Fanged Geraniums, Sirius a pocket knife with special blades that could open any lock and untie any knot, Remus a book on dragons, and Hagrid a large box of Harry's favourite sweets: Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and Fizzing Whizzbees. There was also the customary parcel from Mrs Weasley, in which he found a hand-knitted jumper (green with a dragon design, suggesting Charlie had recounted the Hungarian Horntail incident in detail) and a large number of small pastries.

Harry, Neville and Ron found Hermione in the common room and they went down together for breakfast. They spent most of the morning in the Gryffindor Tower marveling at their gifts, then returned to the Great Hall for a sumptuous lunch where a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings were served amidst the constant explosions of surprise crackers.

In the afternoon, they went out into the grounds. The snow was untouched except for the deep tracks made by Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students walking to the castle. Hermione preferred to watch the snowball fight between Harry and the Weasleys rather than participate and returned at five o'clock to prepare for the ball.

"Three hours for that?" said Ron incredulously.

This momentary lapse earned him a large snowball to the head thrown by George.

"Who are you going with?" Ron shouted as she walked away, but she merely waved and disappeared into the castle.

There was no Christmas tea that year as the ball also served as a festive dinner, and at seven o'clock, when the diminishing light made aiming difficult, they ended the snowball fight and returned to the common room. The Fat Lady was sitting in her portrait with her friend Violet. They were surrounded by empty boxes of liqueur chocolates and looked slightly tipsy.

"Slug-voice, that's right!" the Fat Lady giggled as they gave the password, turning to let them pass.

Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville went up to the dormitory to put on their evening attire. Ron looked horrified in the full-length mirror. From every angle, his outfit looked more like a woman's dress than anything else. Harry watched him scrutinise it as if enduring the worst torture, then, taking pity, raised his wand.

"Don't move," he said, holding out Ron's arms. Under the attentive gaze of his two friends, Seamus and Dean having already begun descending, he shortened the collar, removed all frills, and changed the colour to midnight blue, which suited his complexion. Harry thought for a moment that Ron might cry with joy.

They then descended together. The students, dressed in fabrics of various colours instead of the usual uniformly black robes, gave the common room a strange appearance. Parvati waited for Ron at the foot of the stairs. She looked exceptionally pretty in her bright pink gown, her long black braid entwined with gold threads, bracelets of the same sparkling gold at her wrists. Ginny was equally lovely in a scarlet dress with her hair pinned up.

"You look very pretty," Ron said, giving her a smile as Harry had instructed.

"Thank you," Parvati replied, without giggling. Harry tidied his hair slightly to the side.

"Right, I'll leave you, I'm off to find Luna. We'll meet at the banquet. Ron, Neville, conduct yourselves like gentlemen," he smiled before leaving his four Gryffindor friends.

He walked through the corridors, his mind elsewhere. He had not had very fond memories of the ball the first time, but there was one thing he was determined to do: ensure Luna had a wonderful evening. He could not help but smile in anticipation.

Harry only had to wait for two minutes outside the Ravenclaw dormitory, but that was enough to draw the attention of several students heading to the Great Hall in pairs or groups. Naturally, he could not escape the murmurs along the way: "Do you think…?" "Looney?" "Nonsense, what would he do with her!" "He must have felt sorry for her…" But he paid them no mind as soon as his companion for the evening descended the stairs and joined him, bouncing lightly.

Luna had let her long ash-blonde hair down and wore a sleek, slightly purple gown that was very pretty. Harry gave her a genuine compliment as he offered his arm, which she took with a bright laugh. They spoke on the way about the dance lessons they had attended in preparation for the opening of the ball and the many mistakes they had made, which they were all too likely to repeat that evening.

The path to the Great Hall was dimly lit, but as soon as they reached the hall, a myriad of colours became visible, partly due to the crowd gathered near the doors. Harry led Luna to his two best friends and their respective partners. Cornelius McMillan was also present, paired with Padma, Parvati's sister.

"Hello," said Ron to Luna. "Oh, no…"

He ducked slightly to hide behind Harry. Fleur Delacour had just appeared, radiant in a silver satin gown, accompanied by Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Once they had moved away, Ron straightened and glanced into the crowd.

"But where's Hermione?" he repeated.

A group of Slytherin students emerged from the basement, where their common room was located. Draco led them, wearing a black velvet evening robe with a stiff collar, which, in Harry's eyes, made him look far too much like his father. Pansy Parkinson, in a pale pink gown overloaded with lace, clung tightly to his arm. Crabbe and Goyle were both dressed in green. None of them had partners, unless they had come together. Daphne was also present, in her pale dress and on the arm of Theodore Nott, which did not surprise Harry, who knew they had been betrothed since birth by their parents. He supposed it was time for them to appear in society together according to the contract. Seeing them, Harry could not help thinking that the Greengrass father had played his cards wisely from the moment his daughters were born, knowing that the youngest, Astoria, just entering her second year, was Draco Malfoy's official fiancée. Turning away from the romantic entanglements of his former Slytherin friends, Harry tried to focus on the conversation, which was clearly animated by the three boys talking Quidditch to the great annoyance of their partners; only Luna participated with as much vigour as they did.

The large oak doors of the entrance opened, and everyone turned to see the Durmstrang students entering, led by Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front, accompanied by a lovely young girl in an elegant flared blue gown: Hermione. Harry beamed at her, and she returned his smile.

Through the open door, Harry saw that part of the lawn had been transformed into a kind of grotto, lit by strings of lights formed by hundreds of living fairies, perched in rose beds or fluttering above statues depicting Santa Claus and his reindeer. Professor McGonagall's voice rose in the hall.

"Champions, this way, please."

Harry took Luna's hand before giving a brief nod to his friends. They advanced through the crowd, which parted to let them pass. Professor McGonagall, wearing a predominantly red tartan robe and a horrid thistle crown, symbolising Scotland, around her hat, asked them to wait by the door while the other students entered the Great Hall. They were to follow, one by one, once their peers were seated at their tables. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies waited near the entrance. Davies seemed so awed to have been chosen as Fleur's partner that he could not stop gazing at her admiringly. Cedric and Cho were also nearby, and Harry approached them to start a conversation.

"So? Ready for the big reveal?" he asked as his friend blushed. Cho gave him a small, shy smile.

"You look very pretty, Luna," said Cedric, trying to look elsewhere.

"Thank you, you look very nice too, both of you," Luna replied.

Harry watched Hermione, just a few steps away, blushing under the gaze of everyone around.

"I can't wait for those blasted doors to open and see Ron have a fit when he sees you," Harry said with a teasing grin.

"Don't be silly… Do you think he'll be surprised?"

Harry smiled and turned to Krum.

"You've got an incredible partner, Viktor, take good care of her, or I'll have to deal with you myself," he said with a wink, causing Krum to almost choke. He looked at Hermione, who gave a small shy smile.

Harry turned to Luna, who had evidently just noticed Hermione, having been talking with Cedric and Cho until then.

"Good evening, Hermione, you look very pretty in that dress," she said.

"Thank you, Luna, so do you," Hermione replied.

The pronunciation of her name by Luna drew the attention of those around, who now stared in shock. When the Great Hall doors opened, the girls from Krum's fan club who had been spying on him in the library surged past, giving Hermione disgusted looks. Pansy Parkinson, still on Draco's arm, gasped in astonishment when she recognised her. Ron, however, passed Hermione without seeing her. Neville frowned but seemed doubtful, prompting Ginny to roll her eyes as he leaned over to ask her a question.

Once everyone was seated in the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall instructed the champions to line up in couples and follow her. Everyone applauded their entrance as they made their way to a large round table at the far end of the hall, where the judges were already seated. The walls were coated in sparkling silver frost, and hundreds of holly and ivy garlands crisscrossed beneath the star-strewn ceiling. The usual house tables had disappeared, replaced by a hundred smaller tables, each lit by lanterns, around which a dozen guests could sit.

Harry, still holding Luna's arm, ignored the hundreds of eyes on them, while Luna looked around in every direction, twisting to take in the decorations, eliciting a tender smile from Harry, which in turn increased the chatter. Approaching the round table, he saw Ron and Parvati. Ron was squinting at Hermione passing by, while Parvati looked sulky.

Dumbledore gave the champions a joyful smile, but Karkaroff's expression was very close to Ron's when he saw Krum and Hermione arrive. Ludo Verpey, wearing a purple robe dotted with large orange stars that evening, applauded with the same enthusiasm as the students. Madame Maxime, who had abandoned her usual black satin uniform for a long lavender silk gown, merely applauded politely. Harry then noticed Barty Crouch was absent; the fifth seat was occupied by Percy Weasley.

When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy pulled out the empty chair beside him, gesturing for Harry to sit. Percy looked more arrogant than ever in a brand-new navy robe.

"I've been promoted," he said before Harry could ask a question. "I'm now Mr Croupton's personal assistant, and he has tasked me with representing him."

"Why hasn't he come himself?" asked Harry.

"I'm sorry to have to say it, but since the World Cup, Mr Croupton has not been well, not well at all. Unsurprising, overwork. He's no longer young, though still brilliant, of course. His mind is as sharp as ever, but the World Cup was a fiasco for the Ministry, and on top of that, Mr Croupton suffered a considerable personal shock due to the intolerable behaviour of his house-elf, Winky, or whatever her name is. Naturally, he dismissed her immediately, but… he needs someone to look after him, and daily life has become far more difficult since his elf's departure. Furthermore, organising the tournament and dealing with the World Cup aftermath,  that dreadful Rita Skeeter constantly hovering around, meant the poor man deserved a quiet Christmas. He's fortunate to know there's someone he can fully trust to stand in for him."

Harry struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. Croupton must have been delighted to spend the evening at the office without Percy underfoot; escaping something as trivial as a ball must have been his best opportunity. But Harry wisely kept silent.

In any case, Percy enjoyed hearing himself speak.

The golden plates were still empty, but a menu lay before each. Harry hesitated as he picked his up, glancing around the hall, there were no servers. Dumbledore examined his menu carefully, then spoke aloud to his plate:

"Pork ribs!"

Pork ribs appeared immediately. Following his example, the other diners also ordered from their plates. Harry turned to Hermione to see what she thought of this new, more complicated method of service, house-elves must have had a lot more work! But for once, Hermione seemed unconcerned with the Ministry's Regulations. She was engrossed in a long conversation with Krum, paying no attention to her plate's contents.

"We also have a castle, but not as biiig nor as cooomfortable," he said to Hermione. "We only have four floors, and we only light the fireplaces for practising magic. But we have a much bigger parrrk than this one. In winter, the days are short, and we can't enjoy it much. But in summer, we fly all day above lakes and mountains…"

"Come on now, Viktor!" Karkaroff interjected with a laugh that did little to soften his stern gaze, "say no more, or your charming friend will have no trouble finding us!"

"Igor, why all the secrecy… one would almost think you do not wish to receive visitors."

"You know, Dumbledore," Karkaroff replied, baring his yellowed teeth, "we all wish to protect our domain. Should we not jealously guard the places of knowledge entrusted to us? Are we not justified in taking pride in being the only ones to know our schools' secrets, and in wishing to preserve them?"

"Oh, I would never presume to claim I know all of Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," Dumbledore responded kindly. "Just this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turn on the way to the lavatory and found myself in a room of admirable proportions I had never seen before. And do you know what was inside? A magnificent collection of chamber pots! When I returned to inspect it more closely, the room had vanished. But I shall try to find it again. Perhaps it can only be accessed at half past five in the morning. Or maybe it only appears when the moon is at its first quarter, or when the seeker's bladder is particularly full."

Harry vaguely wondered whether Dumbledore had ever known about the Room of Requirement before deciding it made no difference. He turned to Luna, hoping to avoid drawing Percy's attention and risking another conversation.

She had clearly ordered turkey, and Harry followed suit without thinking too much.

"You're wise to have turkey, Harry; apparently nargles tend to hide in the grass that calves graze on in winter… better avoid eating any for a few weeks."

"Thanks for the advice," he smiled, taking a bite. "Speaking of grazing, we should bring some meat to the Thestrals; they should get to celebrate Christmas too."

"That's a very good idea, Harry," she said in a sing-song tone. "We should go tomorrow morning."

"We'll stop by the kitchens. Maybe Neville will want to come too; he said he was curious about how we take care of them."

"Of course," she smiled. "The more the merrier."

Harry cast a glance around the Great Hall. Hagrid was seated at another of the tables reserved for staff. He had put on his dreadful brown suit again, and Harry noticed him giving a small wave towards their table. He turned and saw Madame Maxime respond, her opal jewellery glinting in the candlelight.

Meanwhile, Hermione was teaching Krum to pronounce her name properly. He kept calling her “Herrrmion.”

"Her-mi-o-ne," she said, enunciating slowly and clearly.

"Herrr-mion-neû."

"Not bad," she said with a smile, exchanging a glance with Harry.

Once everyone had finished dining, Dumbledore rose and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his hand, the tables moved along the walls by themselves, clearing a vast space in the centre of the hall. Dumbledore then conjured a stage against the right wall, on which a drum kit, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and a few bagpipes were arranged. The Weird Sisters rushed onto the stage, greeted by a frenzied round of applause. They all had very long hair and wore black dresses that had been artfully ripped in various places.

They took up their instruments, and Harry, so focused on watching them that he had almost forgotten the ball, suddenly noticed the lanterns had gone out and the other champions, with their partners, had risen. He grabbed Luna's hand hastily, and they followed the others onto the dance floor.

Luna burst into a loud laugh as she saw Harry glance at Cedric a few steps away, trying to figure out how to hold his partner, having already forgotten everything from the brief lessons given to the four champions in preparation for the ball's opening.

The Weird Sisters began to play a slow, melancholy tune. Harry spun Luna, who had grasped his shoulders and could not stop laughing. The lights were dazzling, and he was certain all eyes were on them, but he did not care. They twirled together, and Harry even lifted Luna for a moment as others joined them on the dance floor, Ginny and Neville first. He saw Ginny grimace each time Neville trod on her feet, and Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime. He looked tiny beside her, the tip of his hat barely reaching her chin. Yet she moved with grace for a woman of her size. Mad-Eye Moody danced a very clumsy polka with Professor Sinistra, who was mostly concerned with avoiding getting her foot crushed by his wooden leg.

"Nice socks, Potter," Moody grumbled as he passed, his magical eye fixated on the hem of Harry's robes.

"My friends made them," Harry replied.

Luna curiously inspected Harry's feet, making him laugh. He took her hand and twirled her, diverting her from further scrutiny. Soon, the slow dance ended, seamlessly transitioning into a livelier tune. Harry and Luna continued dancing, laughing with Ginny and Neville, who tried to avoid bumping into each other while hopping in place. Hermione danced only with Krum all evening, never approaching them, but Harry caught her gaze and received a dazzling smile in return. Luna clearly adored the Weird Sisters, shouting the lyrics in rhythm while bouncing in place, and Harry would not have interrupted her; he simply followed along, unaware of the words.

They finally paused about twenty minutes later, as Harry began to feel the room spin. Luna led him off the dance floor, still humming. They returned to the table where Ron and Parvati were seated, passing Fred and Angelina, who danced with such frenzy that everyone stepped aside to avoid being struck. George had joined his sister and Neville to dance with them.

"How's it going?" Harry asked Ron, dropping into the seat beside him and uncorking a Butterbeer. Luna did the same but poured herself pumpkin juice, cheeks flushed from shouting and dancing. Wearing small heels, her feet must have hurt, but she seemed not to care, stomping them in time with the music.

Ron did not reply. Dark-eyed, he watched Hermione and Krum dancing a little further away from the start of the evening. Parvati sat beside him, arms and legs crossed, tapping her foot in time. Occasionally she shot him a disapproving look, which he ignored. A few minutes later, a Beauxbatons student asked her to dance; she left after trying in vain to get Ron to respond, which he did not.

Hermione took her place. Her face was flushed from dancing as much.

"Hi," Harry smiled. Ron remained silent.

"It's warm, don't you think?" Hermione remarked, fanning herself with one hand. "Viktor went to get something to drink."

Ron gave her a fierce glare.

"Viktor?" he said. "You don't call him Vicky yet?"

Hermione looked surprised, but Harry rolled his eyes at her.

"What's your problem?"

"If you don't know, don't count on me to tell you," Ron snapped.

Hermione stared, confused, then turned to Harry, who sighed in response.

"Ron, what…"

"He's at Durmstrang!" Ron exclaimed. "He's an adversary of Harry! An enemy of Hogwarts! You… you are…" Ron paused, searching for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime. "You are fraternising with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"

Hermione was dumbfounded.

"You're ridiculous!" she said after a moment of shock. "The enemy! Really! Who was all excited when he arrived? Who wanted an autograph? Who has a figurine of him in their dorm?"

Ron said nothing.

"I suppose he asked you to accompany him to the ball when you were both in the library?"

"Exactly," said Hermione, cheeks reddening. "So?"

"How did it go? Did you try to sell him a dirty badge or something?"

"Not at all! If you really want to know, he… he said he came to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he never dared!"

"That's what he told you."

"Hermione is right on that one," Harry interjected in response to Ron's look, adding, "I mean, I saw him coming when I was with her; he always seemed hesitant to approach her, but with me or Nev there, he never dared."

Hermione turned a deep shade of crimson, perhaps having doubted Krum until then.

"You're not going to make me believe that; it's obvious he had something else in mind."

"What do you mean?" Hermione whispered, annoyed.

"Obviously, right? He's Karkaroff's student, yes? He knows who your friends are and is just trying to get close to Harry. He wants information, or an opportunity to cast a nasty curse…" Hermione's expression could not have been more aghast.

"I should point out," she said, voice trembling, "he never asked me anything about Harry, not a single thing…"

Ron changed tactics at lightning speed.

"Then he's just hoping you'll help him solve the egg riddle! I imagine you talked about this and that during those charming little library sessions…"

"I would never think of helping him with anything!" Hermione exclaimed. "Never! I want Harry to win the tournament, and he knows it perfectly well, doesn't he, Harry?"

"You have a funny way of showing it," Ron replied sarcastically.

"This tournament is meant to meet wizards from other countries and build friendships!" Hermione exclaimed sharply.

"No, that's not it at all!" Ron shouted. "It's about winning, nothing else!"

"Ron…" began Harry, but Ron was not listening.

"You'd better join Vicky; he'll wonder where you went," he spat at Hermione.

"Stop calling him Vicky!" Hermione jumped to her feet and hurried to the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd.

Ron watched her leave with a mixture of anger and satisfaction.

"Proud of yourself?" Harry asked, disapproving.

"Where did Herrr-mion-neû go?" came a voice. Krum had just arrived at their table, a Butterbeer in each hand.

"No idea," said Ron stubbornly, looking up at him. "Did you lose her?"

Krum frowned again.

"Don't listen to him," Harry smiled, trying to be reassuring. "She just went off looking for you; you must have missed each other. She can't be far," he said, pointing in the direction his friend had gone.

"So, it seems you've become friends with Viktor Krum, Ron?" Percy had rushed over to their table, rubbing his hands in a very superior manner. "Excellent! That's the point: international magical cooperation!"

To Harry's great annoyance, Percy sat in the chair Hermione had just vacated. The champions' table was now empty. Professor Dumbledore was dancing with Professor Sprout, Ludo Verpey with Professor McGonagall, and Madame Maxime and Hagrid whirled in a frantic waltz, tracing a wide path through the crowd of dancers who stepped aside cautiously. Karkaroff, however, was absent. At the end of the next piece, everyone applauded again, and Harry saw Ludo Verpey kiss Professor McGonagall's hand before stepping away from the dance floor. He was then accosted by Fred and George.

"What's up with those two, bothering a senior Ministry official?" Percy muttered through his teeth. "They have no respect at all…"

Harry shook his head. Verpey owed them money; that's why they were harassing him.

But Ludo Verpey quickly got rid of the twins. Seeing Harry, he waved and approached their table.

"I hope my brothers haven't troubled you, Mr Verpey?" Percy hurried to ask.

"What? Oh no, not at all, not at all!" Verpey replied. "They just wanted to talk to me about those joke wands they make. They wondered if I could give them advice on marketing them. I promised to put them in touch with a person or two I know at Zonko's, the joke shop…"

Percy looked very displeased, and Harry would have bet he would rush to tell Mrs Weasley everything as soon as he got home.

Verpey opened his mouth to ask Harry something, but Percy spoke first:

"What do you think of the way the tournament is going, Mr Verpey? Our department is very satisfied. The little trouble we had with the Goblet of Fire," he glanced at Harry, "was a bit unfortunate, but since then, things seem to have worked out very well, don't you agree?"

"Oh yes, of course," Verpey replied cheerfully. "We had a lot of fun. How is dear old Barty? Pity he couldn't come."

"Oh, I'm sure Mr Croupton will recover quickly," Percy assured him importantly, "but in the meantime, he can count on me to set things right. Of course, my duties aren't limited to attending dances," he gave a slight laugh. "Believe me, I had to resolve numerous problems that accumulated during his absence. You've probably heard that Ali Bashir, "

"Shall we dance?" Harry whispered to Luna, who nodded, snapped out of her daydream that had clearly engrossed her since Hermione and Ron's spat. They had left Ron in the middle; good, a fitting punishment. But he was so furious he didn't seem to hear them at all.

He took his partner's hand and quickly slipped away with her, delighted to avoid the two people she found nearly as unpleasant as each other. They joined the dance floor laughing, where they found Hermione and Krum still dancing together and talking. Hermione stopped when she saw her friend approaching. She was about to apologise to Krum, but Harry was quicker.

"Hey Viktor, do you mind if I dance once with Hermione? Luna would love to dance with a great Quidditch player; she's a big fan."

Krum nodded very slowly, his expression unchanged, and Hermione took Harry's hand.

"Harry…" Hermione hesitated, nodding her head.

Harry turned his head to Krum and Luna, who danced a few steps apart in stiff, mechanical movements, though Luna clearly seemed to be having fun, bombarding Krum with remarks as he kept tucking his neck and nodding at each one.

"Mione… it's not for me to tell you, but… you know he doesn't really mean it, right?"

"Mean what?" she asked, feigning curiosity.

"Ron. He knows perfectly well that you're not talking about that with Krum; he's just trying to convince himself because he's green with jealousy that Krum made a move toward you."

"If you intend to def-"

"I'm not defending him, I'm not taking sides because it's for you two to sort out yourselves. I even think it's good; Ron might finally start thinking and growing… he's just a little immature…"

"A little?" Hermione sniffed, drawing an amused smile from Harry.

"…so, knowing you're the more mature of the two… don't push him away the day he finally makes a move toward you; it won't help anyone, especially you."

Hermione bit her lip.

"Why didn't he invite me? If he had done it directly, we wouldn't be here…"

Harry hugged his friend, and she pressed against his neck, apparently trying to hide her tears.

"Because he's not ready yet. I know it's hard for you right now. I'm not telling you to wait, just don't do anything that would hurt him. If you want to move on, do it; if not, wait a bit… we're all still young, we have plenty of time, and Ron will grow soon enough," he whispered softly, gently stroking her hair.

Hermione sobbed for a few seconds against him before slowly lifting her head and giving him a small, courageous smile.

"Who would have guessed you were such an expert in these matters?"

Harry chuckled.

"I know plenty about these things."

"But you ignore them when it concerns you."

Harry shook his head.

"Trust me, I have far more pressing matters than finding someone. Starting with surviving this year."

Hermione shook her head with a new smile. She dabbed her tears lightly before giving him a brighter, braver smile.

"Go join your snow prince," he said, nudging her toward him; she gave one last laugh.

Luna hopped quickly toward him after seeing Hermione return.

The Weird Sisters started a new piece, and Luna seemed to have rested her vocal cords enough to follow immediately from the first verse. Harry once again accompanied her in dancing, spinning her on occasion.

At midnight, the Weird Sisters stopped playing. They were met with another enthusiastic round of applause, and the dancers began to leave the hall. Many would have liked the ball to continue, but Harry was thrilled to go to bed. He had followed Luna on the dance floor far too long, and his legs were aching and his voice worn. He ended the evening slumped next to Ron, who wore the same expression as before. Neville was equally exhausted, dozing while sipping the last of his Butterbeer, while Luna and Ginny continued to dance energetically a few steps away on the final song.

In the entrance hall, Harry, Neville, and Ron saw Hermione say goodbye to Krum before he returned to the Durmstrang ship. She gave them a quick smile before leaving arm in arm with Ginny. Harry began heading toward the Ravenclaw dormitory with Cedric and Cho, intending to escort Luna. The girls' cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkling, chattering together over the penultimate song, which was clearly their favourite, a shared trait. Harry and Cedric walked a few steps behind, equally exhausted, laughing when their eyes met.

After bidding farewell to the girls and seeing them disappear into their common room, Harry was about to say goodbye to his friend and collapse on his bed for a full night's sleep. But Cedric stopped him.

"Wait, Harry… I… I wanted to tell you… I didn't say anything earlier because I didn't want you to worry before the ball… so you could enjoy it… I just found out very recently, I swear… and it took me a while to understand, and I wanted to make sure it worked."

Harry raised an eyebrow, a little lost, before understanding what he meant.

"No problem, Cedric, but you mean…?"

"The egg! Does yours start screaming when you open it?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, bathe in hot water with it… it really helps… I'd like to tell you more, but honestly, I'm still working on it… anyway, bathe with it and listen; you'll finally understand what they say, but only underwater."

Harry feigned perplexity and nodded.

"Thanks, Cedric. Honestly, I had no idea what to do…"

"Considering how you helped me barely a month ago, I had to return the favour."

Harry smiled at him.

"I'll listen to it tomorrow then; thanks again," Harry greeted him.

"One last thing," Cedric continued. "Go to the prefects' bathroom. The fourth door on the right after the statue of Boris the Haggard, on the fifth floor. The password is ‘Pine Freshness.' There's a very large bath; it'll be easier."

Harry responded with a wider smile.

The Fat Lady and her friend Violet were asleep in the portrait when Harry arrived and had to shout "Garland!" several times to wake them. When they finally opened an eye, they were in a very foul mood.

Harry slipped into the common room and found Ron and Hermione arguing violently, standing face to face three metres apart, faces flushed. Neville was in a corner, watching the scene, unsure how to act.

"If you don't like it, you know what to do next time!" Hermione shouted.

Her hair was dishevelled, and her facial features twisted with fury.

"Oh yeah?" Ron shouted back just as loudly. "And what should I do?"

"Next time there's a ball, just ask me to go with you before someone else does, not at the last minute because you couldn't find anyone else."

Ron silently opened his mouth like a fish out of water, while Hermione spun on her heels and ran up the girls' staircase four steps at a time. Ron turned to Harry.

"So…," he stammered, looking astonished, "that proves that… she didn't understand a thing at all."

Harry sighed.

"No, Ron, she's perfectly right. You asked too late; it's on you not to be angry because she didn't wait until the last minute… Hermione isn't a bag you pick up when you need it."

But Ron was in no state to listen. Harry joined Neville and led him upstairs to their room, leaving their friend behind.

Chapter Text

The day after Christmas, everyone got up very late except for Harry and Neville. They were out at the edge of the Forbidden Forest first thing with Luna, carrying meat brought by Winky. When they returned, their common room was still quiet. Conversations drifted lazily, punctuated by yawns. Hermione's hair was once again tousled, and she admitted she had to use generous amounts of Lissenplis hair potion to manage it.

"But it's too much work; I certainly wouldn't do this every day," she added casually, stroking Crookshanks, who purred on her lap.

"It suited you very well," Neville said. "I almost didn't recognise you."

"That's kind," she said, blushing.

"And Krum also thought you looked very pretty," Harry added with a smile.

She lost her smile a little, her cheeks reddening even more.

"Yes, he told me, it's crazy how honest and sincere he is. I didn't really expect it; I thought he was just a brainless idiot, but he really works hard. He told me what the exams are like at Durmstrang, and it sounds particularly tough."

Harry smiled, because of course she had talked to him about exams.

"And did you talk about the competition?" Neville asked.

"Oh no, don't start suspecting me of giving him information about Harry, you too," Hermione said, with a hint of warning in her tone.

"No, well, I was curious, but I mean, he's confident, right? Because Karkaroff seems to be putting pressure on him. Harry says he already knows everything about the upcoming tasks. I'm sure you didn't say anything. Besides, I don't think you'd have much to teach him anyway."

She relaxed.

"To be completely honest, we didn't talk about the tournament once. The only time was about the ball; he asked if I was already going with Harry, and when I said no, he offered. He knows we're friends; I even think he was a little jealous," she added with a wink. "Well, he was. Because I agreed we'd meet in the library later."

Harry sat up.

"Really? At what time?"

"Uh, after lunch… uh, would that bother you?"

He smiled.

"Of course not, but I'll bring Ron along. No way he keeps with his suspicions. We'll sit him down with Krum and explain the situation. Ron needs things explained calmly to him."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? After yesterday…"

"That's exactly why it's a good idea."

"I think Ron will be even angrier," said Neville.

"Yes, but at me, and you know it… he can't resist me for long."

Harry was confident. He was confident that this time, he wouldn't let things get out of hand.

"To the library? On the first day of vacation? Seriously, Harry…"

Ron had still followed him with Neville as they walked up the Great Hall after lunch.

"It won't take long," he insisted. "I just need a book on Thestrals; it's for Luna."

When they pushed open the door to the main reading hall, they found Hermione and Krum sitting across from each other, each holding a book. The rest of the library was almost entirely empty. In fact, they almost seemed alone. They were also tucked in a fairly secluded corner, far from Madam Pince. Perfect for private discussion.

Apparently, Hermione had still thought about the best seating, even if she didn't believe much in his solution.

"Oh no, not them, grab your book and let's go before they see us."

"Not a chance."

And he dragged Ron by the arm to sit him across from Krum, next to Hermione, placing both hands on his shoulders to hold him in place.

"Hey, what are you doing, Harry?"

But he ignored him.

"We don't shout; we're in a library," he said. "Hi, Viktor."

Krum stared at them, frozen. His gaze shifted from Hermione to Ron to Harry and Neville, anxious. Neville sat next to him to close their little circle. Hermione looked at Ron, tense.

"Well, it seemed obvious that we needed to clear a few things up together."

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

Ron didn't shout, but his face had turned three shades of red, all rather threatening. Hermione cleared her throat.

"It's Harry's idea… Ron, we need to talk about our argument from yesterday."

"What? Here, now? In front of him?"

He didn't dare look at him. Krum was very uncomfortable, staring at the scene as if he wanted to disappear.

"I- I could leave."

"No," said Harry. "Actually, you're involved in this argument, whether you like it or not. I promise it won't take long."

"What?" Ron repeated, trying to pull free.

"You see, Krum, Ron was worried that you were approaching one of my friends with some idea in your mind."

He looked at him, confused.

"Let's just say he was worried you might do it to spy on me or with bad intentions. Right, Ron?"

"Rrr, yes, yes, no… well, it's complicated."

"No, that's exactly what you accused me of," said Hermione. "Viktor, could you confirm for him that you don't intend to talk to me about the competition?"

"But, Mioooone," Ron gasped.

"And you were very harsh with her, unfairly."

"Sorry, Ron, that's true."

They all turned to Krum, who finally dared to speak.

"I do not intend to spy, norr ask questions about your friend, even though we arrre rrrrivals in the competition."

There was a silence.

"Ah, thank you, reassured now, Ron?"

"Wh-well, no, but I suspected as much."

"And Krum never asked me to help him with any task either."

"I just want to get to knooow Her-Miu-Neeeu."

"I'm sure you want to win fairly too, Krum?"

"Of cooourse, no true victorrry without fairness."

He nodded.

"Like in Quidditch."

Ron looked at him for a long moment.

"Uh, okay…"

"And how about you apologise to Hermione?" said Harry. "Because, we agree, that was the only thing worrying you; it wasn't the fact she's going out with a boy."

The sentence turned Ron pale, and he straightened.

"No, no, of course. No… but, uh, sorry Hermione, I was worried, you see, for Krum, and that, you're too kind sometimes."

"I forgive you, Ronald," she said. "But no more complaints."

He nodded broadly.

Harry relaxed his shoulders.

"Well, that's done. I didn't want to hear you fight when we finally have peace and holidays."

"True, besides, you have a lot on your mind," said Hermione.

"Yesss," he said. "Well, we'll leave you; we're going to the Quidditch pitch for Ron's practice if you're looking for us."

Hermione nodded.

"Quidditch," said Krum. "You both play Quidditch?"

"Ron is trying out to be a keeper for our team next year."

Krum approved appreciatively. Ron was crimson, a little proud.

"Yes, well, I'm training."

"And you?" he asked to Harry.

"I'm a Seeker, like you."

Krum approved with a new smile. He looked at Neville, who winced.

"I'm not very good on a broom."

"That's alright."

Harry chuckled.

"If you want to fly with us sometime, don't hesitate. Even if we know we're not a match for you."

"That's kind," he said. "I haven't had the chance since we came… Karrkaroff wants me to train for the tourrrnament."

"Well, you're welcome. If you need to convince him, just use Ron as an excuse and say you're spying," said Harry, winking. "See you later."

And they left, leaving the two together.

"Incredible, he actually said he would come."

"I think you worried too much about him," said Neville. "He seems very kind."

"Absolutely," said Harry.

Suddenly Ron stopped him.

"Hey, your book for Luna."

Harry looked at it for a few seconds before smiling.

"Oh, Harry, seriously!"

It was time to think about the homework they had neglected during the first week of the holidays. Now that Christmas was over, everyone seemed rather lethargic, Harry foremost among them. It wasn't until after dinner that Harry told his three friends about the clue left by Cedric, asserting that he would go that very evening to investigate.

Harry carefully planned his escapade. His Invisibility Cloak would, of course, be indispensable, and as an additional precaution, he intended to bring the Marauder's Map. Apart from the cloak, it was the most useful item he owned when it came to breaking the rules. The map depicted the entire school, including shortcuts and secret passages, but most importantly, it showed the location of anyone in the castle as tiny dots labelled with their names. This way, Harry would be warned if anyone approached the bathroom.

When night fell, Harry quietly climbed into the dormitory, covered himself with the Invisibility Cloak, and slipped silently downstairs. Then, as he had on the night Hagrid had shown him the dragons, he waited for the portrait of the Fat Lady to swing aside, allowing him to leave. This time, it was Ron on the other side who gave the password ("Fried Bananas") at the right moment.

"Good luck," Ron whispered as they passed each other.