average human’s Reviews > Polyjuice > Status Update

During his next several Defense classes, Moody seemed to make a point of ignoring Harry. Harry would speak up in class, Moody ignored him. He’d mouth something off loudly enough for Moody to hear, Moody ignored him. He even tried staying after class to speak with him, but Moody bolted each time as fast as his stupid wooden leg let him go.

“It’s fucking annoying,” Harry slammed his hand on the table at dinner after another unsuccessful day of trying to speak with the man. “Now that I want to talk to him- he ignores me!”

“Here’s what you do-” Fred leaned forward, his blue eyes were sparkling mischievously and he opened his mouth, with what was definitely going to be a prank, when Theo cut him off.

“No to whatever Weasley is about to suggest,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Be a Slytherin Harry. Be patient, cunning, subtle,” he added with a pointed look at Fred.

“I was going to say blow up his room with fireworks,” Fred shrugged. “But sure. I guess you could be boring about it too.”

“No wait-“ Susan leaned across the table towards Fred. “Tell me more about those fireworks.”

Harry huffed as the two of them started discussing explosives.

“What house was Moody in?” Blaise asked.

“Gryffindor.”

“Hufflepuff.”

Hermione and Neville looked at each other.

“He was definitely a Gryffindor,” Hermione said. “He was an auror right? So we know he was brave.”

“I’m pretty sure he was in Hufflepuff,” Neville disagreed. “Loyal and hard working, right? Not all Aurors are Gryffindors.”

“Tonks was a Hufflepuff,” Draco added helpfully.

“Why does any of that matter?” Harry asked, slamming his hand down again. “How does knowing his house from a hundred years ago help recruit the man?”

“It was not one hundred years ago,” Luna giggled. “Alastor Moody is only seventy eight.”

“Fifty one years ago then,” Harry rolled his eyes. Wixen aged so weird.

“Sixty one,” Hermione corrected him. “And I’m buying you a calculator for Christmas.”

“I’ll buy you a cobra then,” Harry warned her. “And I’ll tell it to sleep under your pillow and scare the hell out of you when you’re least expecting it.”

“Then we’ll melt your sword,” Theo said with a teasing grin.

“How does knowing Moody’s house help recruit him?” Ron asked, interrupting Harry’s next threat about attacking their secret trunk of illegal books.

“Don’t be a Gryffindor,” Draco huffed, ignoring Fred and Neville’s indignant faces. “You have to approach people based on what they value.”

“Do go on Little Snake,” Fred grinned. “We want to hear more about your secret Slytherin recruiting tactics.”

“Don’t laugh at him,” Susan told Fred. “They worked on you didn’t they?”

“Oi! I’ll have you know that I had to trick Harry into dating me,” Fred said. “Worked my arse off too, didn’t I?”

“Not really, no,” Blaise smirked. “You just irritated him until he agreed to go out with you.”

“Daaaaaaarlin, say it ain’t so,” Fred cried with his hand over his heart. “Do you hear how they cheapen our love?”

Harry kicked Fred under the table.

“Jesus Christ, shut up,” he laughed. “Draco- ignore him. What were you saying?”

“I was saying, that if you wanted to recruit a Gryffindor you have to be all righteous about it. Convince them that your side is the right side to be on. A Slytherin is easy, just show them how powerful you are. Ravenclaws can’t stand not knowing things-“ Draco’s grey eyes flicked towards Hermione for a moment and he smirked. “So with them just be all ‘ooh I have a lot of secret knowledge but only gang members are allowed to know it.’ Hufflepuffs are the hardest, you have to win their loyalty. But once you do, they’re the perfect allies.”

Susan puffed her chest out proudly.

“We are the superior house,” she said pompously.

“Hardest to win though,” Blaise pointed out. “Which is probably why you’re the only Hufflepuff in the gang.”

“Lue’s the only Ravenclaw, and Nev’s the only Gryffindor,” Harry said. Hermione still refused to officially join because ‘gangs are for hooligans’.

“What? I’m not in the gang?!” Fred made puppy dog eyes at Harry. “Why am I not a part of it?”

“The gang is different than being friends, or, er, more than friends I guess,” Ron said, his face blushing. “It’s allies Fred. You and Harry aren’t allies.”

“How do I be an ally then?” Fred asked, leaning back and locking his hands behind his head. He winked at Harry when he noticed him eyeing his exposed arms, which made Harry blush now as well.

“You have to swear to follow Harry’s causes,” Neville said.

“And you aren’t allowed to ask him for favors,” Susan added.

“And if you try and leave the gang or betray it then you die,” Luna said serenely. “Harry calls it ‘magic in, blood out’.”

“You die if you leave the gang?” Hermione hissed. “Harry that’s a joke, right?”

“Nope.” Harry took a drink of his water and calmly watched as Hermione seethed for a moment. “Most gangs make you kill someone to join, so I suppose I’m already being plenty nice, yeah?”

“I’ll kill someone,” Susan said as casually as if they were talking about brewing a potion. “Give me a name.”

“You’re already in the gang,” Harry smiled fondly at her. “But you can help me kill Dumbledore at some point if you want.”

Susan took the opportunity to glare darkly up at the Head Table where Dumbledore was chatting away with McGonagall.

“Wait, wait, wait. All I have to do is agree to follow Harry’s causes, not ask him for favors, and never betray the gang?” Fred asked. “Done.”

“Do you even know what his causes are?” Blaise sighed. “You shouldn’t join a gang just because you’re dating the leader.”

Fred shrugged and smiled at Harry.

“What’re your causes then Darlin’? Besides taking over the world.”

“Shows what you know,” Draco scoffed before Harry could answer. “Harry’s only trying to take over the United Kingdom.”

“Why think small though?” Ron said, his eyes squinted thoughtfully. “If Harry could rule the whole world, why not do it?”

Harry and Susan glanced at each other and seemed to share a moment where they could read each other’s minds.

“Nah,” Harry waved his fork airily. “Too much work. Here’s my causes-“ he watched Fred carefully, waiting to see how he’d react to his current plans. “Figure out how Timmy’s coming back. Then kill him. Then kill Dumbledore. Then become the Minister of Magic. Wands for all magical creatures that can carry them. And mandatory boarding schools starting in Primary Schools for muggleborns. Complete separation from muggles for them as early as possible. And... and I’m sure there’ll be more later.”

Fred looked calm and thoughtful during Harry’s spiel, but Harry still half expected him to crack a joke or laugh at him.

“Why mandatory boarding schools for Muggleborns?” he asked, surprising Harry with his thoughtful tone.

“Because muggles either hate magic or they want to use it, yeah? It’s disgusting and it’s unfair,” Harry spat. “Magic kids shouldn’t have to live like that.”

“Not all muggles,” Hermione said coolly. “My parents certainly aren’t like that.”

“Not yet,” Susan said, her tone matching Hermione’s level of warmth. “Who knows what they’ll ask when you come of age?”

“My parents love me,” Hermione said. “They’d certainly never hate me or try and use me.”

“You’re lucky then,” Harry told her flatly. “But wouldn’t it have been better if you’d been around other kids your age when you first started showing signs of accidental magic? Then you wouldn’t have been bullied by muggle kids, or felt like a freak. You would have known you were special right away.”

“I was awfully behind on Wixen culture when I arrived,” Hermione said slowly. “I think it could have been beneficial if I’d have known I was a witch when I was younger. But I don’t think mandatory schools are necessary.”

Harry ignored her last bit. Hermione might be one of the few lucky muggleborns whose family didn’t want to use her for magic or hated her for it. Or they just hadn’t shown their true colors yet.

Magic kids, kids who were strong and special, needed to be protected as early as possible.

“You make a lot of good points,” Fred said. “I never thought about how hard it would be to live with muggles before Hogwarts. The secret would be safer if kids were moved sooner too, wouldn’t it?”

“Exactly,” Harry said. “I knew you’d get it.”

He hadn’t actually known that. He was worried Fred wouldn’t get it at all. But people liked to hear that you believed in them, so Harry said it anyway.

“And why are we killing Dumbledore?” Fred asked.

“Because he’s an idiot,” Neville said, surprising Harry with his hard tone.

“Dumbledore is a bit personal,” Harry admitted with a shrug. “But he is on my to do list, sooo it’s a gang thing now.”

“And what exactly does betraying the gang consist of?” Fred asked.

Harry was actually surprised. Nobody else had asked this many questions before joining the gang. In fact, most of them hardly asked any questions at all. Harry felt a small warmth in his chest that Fred was obviously so smart to ask the right questions before just trying to join.

“Anything that puts the gang at risk,” Blaise said. “Draco almost got kicked out for calling Hermione the M-word back in first year.”

“I was eleven,” Draco hissed, his cheeks heating up at the reminder. “And Ron was almost kicked out for not trusting Harry in the chamber!”

“Hey- if Harry had to choose between killing a basilisk or saving an annoying first year, you’d question it too!” Ron defended himself. “And I’ve been perfectly loyal ever since.”

“Pft,” Fred scoffed and leaned forward, his elbows now on the table between him and Harry. “I want in.”

“What about George?” Theo asked.

“Fred’s his own person,” Blaise said, watching Harry closely as he decided.

Harry chewed his lower lip while he stared at Fred. On the one hand, Fred was a genius. He was smart, and tricky, and all around brilliant. He was able to make friends easily and would be perfect for the gang.

But, on the other hand...

“Harry doesn’t want to have to kill you if you betray the gang,” Luna said easily. Once again proving that she’s a better mind reader than Snape himself is. “He’s worried you’ll betray the gang and he’ll have to hurt you.”

Fred slowly reached out and laid his hand palm up in the middle of the table between them.

“Never,” he said.

This was the part that Harry hated. He hated having to decide if he trusted someone or not. Everyone in the gang, Harry trusted. Each of them knew at least one secret about him, though none of them knew them all. They all knew the prophecy, and they all knew what Harry’s plans were. And they’d all proved that they’d help Harry with his plans, no matter how dangerous or ‘mad’ the plans were. Harry didn’t think any of them would betray him, so he didn’t think he’d ever have to actually bring himself to hurt them.

He would if they forced his hand, but he didn’t think it would get to that point.

But trusting Fred felt different. He’d been surprised when Fred stuck around after the opening duels, Fred hadn’t even seemed scared of Harry at all after everything he said and did. But Harry figured Fred thought he was joking about killing Avery and Theo’s dads.

Would Fred still want to be with Harry if he was in the gang and found out more about him? Hearing him say he was going to kill Dumbledore was one thing, what would he do if he knew Harry had killed people before? Would he leave?

“You don’t have to decide now,” Fred said, grinning more casually at Harry despite the lingering silence. “But just so you know- I want in.”

Harry let out a relieved sigh at the easy out Fred gave him.

“I’ll think about it,” he offered quietly.

“If nothing else then I’d be excellent arm candy for the future minister,” Fred winked, breaking the tension for the rest of the group who had been watching the interaction.

Fred was just so easy going. Which was wild that he wanted to be with Harry, because Harry was never easy going.

“Can we get back to recruiting the insane defense Professor or are you two going to kiss now?” Blaise drawled with a Snape like brow raised.

Fred leaned across the table towards Harry and puckered his lips up. Harry laughed and shoved his face away with his palm.

“Quit it stupid,” he smiled. “Jesus Christ Fred.”

“Fine,” Fred poured. “But dibs on sleeping in your bed tonight.”

“That fine,” Luna said. “I invited Ginny to have a sleepover in my room tonight anyway.”

“Ginny Weasley?” Susan asked sharply. “Luna! Why?”

Luna shrugged, ignoring the shocked looks of her friends.

“She’s so lonely,” she said easily. “Nobody ever talks to her.”

Harry craned his head around Fred to peek at the Gryffindor table and felt a small pang when he realized Ginny was sitting alone at the end of the Gryffindor table. He could still remember how terribly lonely it had been when he was alone all the time with no more company than his own miserable thoughts.

‘You’re a monster. I hate you.’

“Maybe she shouldn’t have been so fuckin rude, huh?” Harry said.

“Harry,” Luna turned to him and gave him a very uncharacteristically serious look. “She’s alone.”

“She does look lonely,” Fred said with a small frown. “I didn’t notice before...”

“Well damn,” Ron sighed, peeking at his sister as well. “What do we do?”

“You idiots don’t do anything,” Hermione said. “Lue can be friends with her if she wants.”

Luna and Harry were in a silent stare off.

“Fine,” Harry eventually huffed. “Be her friend. But don’t be surprised if you try and be nice to her and she says she hates you.”

“I won’t be surprised, people say they hate me all the time,” Luna said lightly.

“They better never,” Susan growled. “You tell me who and I’ll kill them.”

By the end of dinner, when Harry was sneaking Fred down to his room, he realized their group had gotten off track and he still had no damn idea how to get Moody to his side.

“Just be yourself,” Fred murmured that night. “He’ll see that it’s the right side to be on.”

“You really think so?” Harry said softly.

“Harry,” Fred tilted his face up towards him so Harry had to look in his steady blue eyes. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. If Moody doesn’t beg to be on your side, then fuck him.”

Harry grinned up at him. Fred was the best.

“Fuck him,” he agreed.



Except, Harry’s very next class, Moody proved how great of an ally he would be.

“Today I’m going to be putting the Imperious Curse on each of you, this will demonstrate its power and to see whether you could resist its effects,” Moody said.

“You’re using an Unforgiveable on us?!” Millicent Bullstrode asked.

“Do you have a better way to learn how to resist it?” Moody growled. “Or would you rather have the first time you get it placed on you be by a Dark Wizard?”

Bulstrode shut up, but Harry wrote a quick note to Susan.

If he tries to make me do anything that isn’t okay, will you hit him with fiendfyre?

Absolutely. You’ll do the same, right?

Swear.

Their quick pact made, Harry was eager to watch their Professor put each of their classmates under the Imperious Curse.

Harry cracked up when Moody made Macmillan twirl a waltz in front of everyone. And Pansy clucking like a chicken was also hilarious. Harry felt a little bad when Ron hopped around the room singing a catchy Wixen song. Not a single one of them could fight off the curse, which was surprising because Harry knew for a fact that Snape was able to resist it almost instantly.

“Potter,” Moody growled, “you next.”

Susan nodded at Harry so he moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, ”Imperio!”

Harry felt the magic wash over him, but he didn’t feel very magically enslaved so he just blinked at Moody, unimpressed.

“Jump on the desk,” Moody murmured softly. “Jump on the desk.”

“Why would I do that?” Harry asked, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked blankly at him.

Moody, who hadn’t hardly said three words directly to Harry since their first class, gaped at him now.

”Imperio!” Moody cried again.

Harry smirked at him and winked out at a giggling Susan.

“Look at this!” Moody yelled out at the class. “Potter beat it! They won’t be able to control you, will they boy?”

“Don’t call me boy,” Harry said curtly.

Moody gave him a small frown and ushered him back to his seat.

“Bones, up next.”

Harry passed Susan and touched the back of her hand reassuringly. If Moody tried to get her to do anything stupid- he’d stop him.

Susan smiled at Harry when he brushed their hands together, which actually reassured him that he hadn’t done it wrong before when he patted Draco’s shoulder. Clearly there was something wrong with Draco.

Moody made Susan jump on the desk, and she wasn’t able to throw it off. Which was disappointing, but it seemed like maybe it was harder than Harry had made it look.

“How did you do that?” Susan hissed. “I felt so... so... floaty and free, but not free?”

“I barely felt it,” Harry whispered. “Probably the Occlumency.”

His theory was proven correct when Theo, Draco, Blaise, and Daphne Greengrass were all able to throw the curse off between one and five minutes. Draco threw it off the quickest, which made sense because, after Harry, he was the strongest Occlumens in their group.

“Professor, I’d like a word,” Harry jumped up immediately after Moody finally dismissed their class.

Moody sat on the edge of his desk and seemed to basically growl as Harry approached him.

“I changed my mind about the dueling lessons, are you still offering them?” Harry asked brightly. “I didn’t know you’d be able to use the Unforgiveables on us.”

“You want me to curse you?” Moody asked, raising his thick brows in surprise.

“Yeah, I mean, probably not the AK cause I dunno for sure if I can block that twice. But if I can learn to block or dodge the Crucio, that’d be brill, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re positively mad Potter,” Moody howled with laughter. “You can’t block the Cruciatus Curse.”

Harry scowled and tapped his foot in irritation.

“Not at all? What if I did this?”

Harry waved his hand and pulled up a shield with layers to prevent pain, bleeding, cuts, and bone breaking curses.

“Would this work?” he asked Moody from behind the shield. “I designed it myself.”

“Potter... Potter where is your wand?” Moody looked surprised and so Harry raised his chin up proudly before he shrugged.

“Probably in my trunk. I don’t carry it much, do I? Don’t need it.”

“You don’t carry a wand?” Moody asked, his magic eye was swirling around like crazy. “Potter, they’re going to have a hard time with you, aren’t they?”

Harry saw his opening, for the first time in weeks, and took it immediately.

“Anyone who’s on my side they’d have a hard time with too, sir,” he said. “I take care of my people, don’t I?”

“I bet you do, laddie,” Moody said, his real eye was narrowed and thoughtful as he watched Harry closely. “I bet you do.”

“I do,” Harry said calmly. “It’s not always chocolate or vanilla ya know, there’s a third choice too. I think it’s the better choice, but everyone decides for themselves, yeah?”

“What does the third choice offer?” Moody asked in a harsh whisper. “Besides a teenage boy with a scar on his forehead and a lucky past?”

”Freedom,” Harry said earnestly. “The third side offers freedom. If that’s something you might like, let me know. I think you’re smart, you’ve tricked Dumbledore, haven’t you? You know the laws. You’d be a good ally. But unlike the other two choices- I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

Moody didn’t say anything so Harry figured he’d better leave while he was ahead.

“Let me know if you want to duel sometime,” he said. “You could tell Dumbledore that I’m in detention. The excuse would probably work for your other Master too,” he smirked before quickly leaving the classroom.

The bait was set. All he could do now was wait and cross his fingers.

And he needed to get Fred a gift, he’d been right after all. Harry was himself and Moody seemed to be at least a little open to his offer. He’d just have to wait and see.

In the mean time, the whole school was abuzz with news of the upcoming arrivals of the two foreign schools. Which finally mean that Harry could put the Contessa’s plan in action.

“Hot damn,” Fred whistled when Harry came to breakfast the morning of the foreign schools arrival. “You look sharp Darlin’, you’re not dressing up for Krum are you?”

“No, the French kids,” Harry said truthfully. He felt like a bit of a prat in the tight black trousers, fitted black shirt, and his dark green school robes on top- but Draco and Blaise both said he looked good this morning. But they wore similar outfits everyday, which was a far cry from Harry’s preferred jeans and graphic t-shirts, so he wasn’t sure if their opinions counted.

’Do I look charming though?’ Harry had asked them.

‘Ask Fred,’ Theo said over the edge of his textbook.

“Hey- do I look charming?” Harry smiled as charmingly as he could at Fred and watched as the black part of his eyes grew in size.

“That’s a yes,” Susan laughed.

“Why are you trying to charm the French kids?” Fred asked after shaking his head lightly. “Because a bloke might get jealous over here.”

“Why would you be jealous?” Harry asked curiously.

Ron and Neville started snickering, which made the back of Harry’s neck heat up in embarrassment. He hated when he said something and people laughed.

“Because Fred thinks you’re trying to find a new boyfriend or girlfriend,” Luna said. “Which is silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Fred grumbled, his face now blushing lightly. “Look at him!” he waved his hand in Harry’s direction. “They’re going to be chasing after him!”

Harry’s neck was definitely practically on fire now.

“Quit it,” he mumbled as he glared at Fred beneath his bangs. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” Fred said. “Harry, Merlin, did you even look in a mirror? You look hot.”

“That’s enough,” Susan said firmly as Harry hissed at Fred. “Harry, quit glaring and eat.”

Harry hastily shoved enough food down that he could duck his head slightly and take his medicine. Then he snatched his bag off the floor and stormed out of the hall to the potions classroom. If Fred was going to be an arse, then he wasn’t going to talk to him today. He already felt like a prat, Fred didn’t have to rub it in.

Harry was twenty minutes early to potions, but since they were the first class of the day he knew the door would be unlocked. He just went ahead and went in and threw his bag on his usual table in the back corner.

“Is there a reason you are attempting to break my table with the sheer force of your glare?”

Harry jumped a bit in his seat and looked up front to see Snape watching him curiously.

“Er, sorry sir, I didn’t see you there,” Harry said honestly.

“Is there a purpose behind your early morning anger?” Snape asked again.

Harry shrugged.

“Do I look charming?” he asked, feeling like an idiot for asking Snape, but now he needed another opinion since Fred couldn’t take anything seriously.

Snape eyed Harry from top to bottom once while Harry tried the charming smile the Contessa told him to use.

“You represent me and my house well,” Snape said, a hint of pride in his voice. “I am pleased to see at least one of you took my warning to dress and behave today properly.”

Harry preened slightly at that. That was practically high praise coming from the usually sarcastic Snape. Then he remembered what Fred said and scowled.

“Fred said the French students would be ‘chasing after me’,” he said flatly. “Then he called me hot.”

“And that was cause for you to come storming in my classroom angrily?” Snape asked.

“I don’t like being made fun of,” Harry muttered. He would have been embarrassed to say something so childish out loud, except he knew Snape didn’t like to be teased much either.

“Harry, why do you believe Frederick was teasing you?” Snape asked gently.

“Because its stupid,” Harry said, crossing his arms across his chest. “People do not ‘chase after me’, and I’m not hot I’m- well... I’m sort of short and scrawny and I’ve got these fuckin scars and glasses, yeah? I was just trying to dress up cause the Contessa told me to.”

“Your plans for world domination aside,” Snape smirked at Harry’s insulted huff. He was not trying to ‘take over the world’. The United Kingdom needed plenty of work on its own. “You are neither short nor scrawny,” Snape went on. “You are finally of average height and will likely always have a lithe build, as both your parents were thin people. And your father was living proof that some people found glasses attractive.”

“Did you just compliment him?” Harry grinned.

“I did not,” Snape said drily. “I certainly never found James Potter’s glasses to be attractive. But I was apparently in the minority according to the many witches, and occasional wizard, who followed the man around like lovesick fools. Additionally, I believe that some people find scars to be ‘interesting’ and ‘dangerous’.”

Harry laughed outright at that. Snape complimenting him in such a dry tone was just too much.

“So... so you think Fred wasn’t just being an arse?” he asked hesitantly.

“I believe Frederick Weasley typically redefines the word ‘arse’, but in this one specific instance? I do not. You have a famous name, a tragic backstory, you possess adequate looks, and you have an innate ability to draw others towards you. Undoubtedly, you will be the target of many fools’ affections.”

Harry let out a deep breath at that. Even if Snape was biased, Fred probably was too. So... maybe he had meant it.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“If you need reminded of your many irksome charms I suggest placing this memory in your pensieve because I will not be repeating myself,” Snape said gruffly.

Harry gave Snape a half-hearted salute as he pulled his book out of his bag, much more cheerful now than he had been.

“Here,” Draco muttered, handing Harry a folded parchment when he arrived. “Inform your Weasley that I am not an owl.”

“Ta, Dray,” Harry murmured, distracted as he unfolded the note.

Darlin,
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
You are very attractive,
And I already miss you.
-Fred
Ps: I wasn’t making fun of you. I’m sorry if you thought that.
Ps again: Susan says she’ll help me prank any French student who tries to steal you away from me. Reckon that means I’ve finally gotten her approval?
Ps again again: Hoot at Malfoy, it’s hilarious.

Harry grinned and carefully pocketed the note.

“Hey Dray,” he whispered as Snape started calling for attention. “Hooooot.”

Draco snapped his quill right in half.



There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Divination was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. Though, Trelawney still assigned them a months worth of dream interpretations. When the bell rang early, Harry and his friends ran to their dorms, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

“Boys! Over here!” Susan waved the Slytherin boys over to where she was waiting with Fred, George, Hermione, Luna, and Neville.

“You look great,” Fred murmured quietly to Harry as he wrapped his arm around his waist and followed the rest of their friends out to the lawn.

“You too,” Harry muttered truthfully, having no idea what to say to a compliment like that. If someone said ‘Harry you’re really strong’ then he’d probably puff his chest out proudly. But looks were different from being strong. Harry wasn’t like Tonks, he couldn’t just change his looks if he wanted.

Fred shook his head at him with a small grin, probably guessing at Harry’s doubts, but he didn’t say anything as the whole school waited with silent anticipation for the arrival of the foreign students. Harry shivered a bit as dusk had already fallen and it was starting to get icy in the evenings.

“Where is your cloak?” Susan hissed beside him. Harry glanced at the other Slytherin boys, none of which grabbed their cloaks either, and shrugged.

“Forgot I guess,” he said. Harry jerked his wrist shortly and Ron, Draco, Theo, and Blaise let out sighs of relief as Harry put warming charms on them all.

“Thanks mate,” Ron said. Harry nodded at him and then listened in closely as the students surrounding them guessed at how the foreign schools would be arriving.

“5 galleons that Durmstrang flies,” Ron whispered to Draco.

“5 galleons that Durmstrang isn’t so ignorant that they would fly clear to Scotland in freezing temperatures,” Draco laughed.

Harry shook his head as they shook hands on their bet. Ron and Draco could make a bet out of anything.

“Your brothers got a gambling problem,” he said to Fred. Fred grinned down at him.

“It’s a Weasley trait, we all love making ridiculous bets,” he winked.

“Yeah but at least you won your last one,” Blaise said, overhearing their conversation. “Harry told me about your win at the Cup. 1400 galleons on an impossible ending? There’s gotta be some sort of good luck charm happening or something.”

Harry looked at Fred curiously as his arm tensed around Harry’s waist.

“What’s that about?” he asked as Fred and George exchanged dark looks.

“Nothing,” Fred murmured.

“Tell me,” Harry said stoutly. “I want to know.”

Then Dumbledore interrupted as he called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers —

“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

“You’ll tell me later,” he told Fred sternly.

“Yes sir,” Fred winked. “Suppose I can stay with you tonight?”

“Yeah, but tomorrow’s just for the gang. Susan wants us to stick together on Halloween night since it’s cursed.”

Fred gave him an incredulous look at that, but a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, landed on the lawn in front of them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

“Later,” Fred murmured as the stairs to the carriage unfolded on their own.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully.

Then Harry saw what had to be the tallest women he’d ever seen before in busk life step out of the carriage. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

The woman smiled graciously, Harry was sure her name was Madame Maxine, he’d met her once when she tried to convince him to attend her school. She walked through the parted students to Dumbledore, who kissed her hand politely.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dorr,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ’ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

Susan turned and grinned at Harry when he said that, the look in her eyes clear.

Honestly. As much as Snape acts like Harry never thinks about it before he kills anyone, he must not know how much he has to hold Susan back. She literally had a list on the inside of her wardrobe of reasons she was going to kill Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

About a dozen students, an even mixture of boys and girls, climbed out of the carriage and shivered in the cold air. Harry eyed their blue silk uniforms and found the perfect way to make his first impression.

”Warm them up,” he instructed his magic. He waved his arm just a bit more than was necessary so that at least one of them would catch his, hopefully, charming gesture.

Which worked.

An older girl, whose pale skin tone and long silken blonde hair could pass her for Draco’s older sister, caught Harry’s actions and smiled at him as the warmth hit her.

‘Thank you,’ she mouthed.

Harry winked and nodded. He wasn’t sure if winking was charming or not, but he liked it when Fred winked at him so he figured it was worth a shot.

He didn’t notice that Ron, Neville, and Draco had all turned and were staring at him with their mouths open.

“What?” he hissed.

“Merlin,” Fred sighed. “You don’t even know your own strength.”

Harry scoffed as the Beauxbatons students followed Madame Maxine in the castle to wait for Durmstrangs arrival. Of course he knew his own strength. He wasn’t stupid. Everyone talked about how good he was at magic.

“The lake!” yelled Lee Jordan yelled abruptly, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor...

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool...

“It’s a boat!” Draco yelled at Ron, holding his hand out eagerly.

“Son of a bitch,” Ron sighed as he dug out five golden coins from his pocket and smacked them in Draco’s palm gracelessly.

Harry laughed at his friends, but kept his eyes on the now disembarking students. They too had roughly a dozen students, all more thickly built than the French students, and all shuffling behind their Headmaster, the former Death Eater turned snitch, Karkaroff.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had short grey hair, a matching grey goatee, and was tall and thin, a stark contrast to his short and broad students. Harry stood on tiptoe to try and find Krum, who he’d wrote to at the end of summer when he realized why he’d offered to fly together this year.

“It is a pleasure to be here,” Karkaroff said, his warm tone not matching his cold black eyes. “You don’t mind if we come in quickly do you? Viktor here has a slight cold.”

Harry rolled his eyes when the students all began chatting excitedly as Viktor Krum stepped forward beside Karkaroff.

Harry caught Viktors eye and nodded at him.

“Potter,” Viktor said, stepping over to shake Harry’s hand. “You have been vell?”

“Better now that the tournaments starting,” Harry grinned. “Dumbledore cancelled quidditch, didn’t he?”

“You cannot cancel quidditch!” Krum said, insulted and indignant. “You vill need to practice if you vish to be recruited.”

“Good thing you’re here then, eh?” Harry said.

“Yes,” Krum said with a disgusted look towards Dumbledore. “Ve practice tomorrow.”

“Brill,” Harry beamed. “If you want to sit with us at the feast, you can. We’re on the end of the green table closest to the door.”

“Thank you, I vill see you inside.”

Harry was busy talking to Krum and missed George’s teasing whisper to his twin;

“Forget the French, the international seeker is your real competition Freddie.”



When Harry and his friends made it back inside he grinned when he saw Krum hesitating next to their table.

“I can’t believe you made friends with Viktor Krum,” Ron muttered.

“Must be a seeker thing,” Blaise shrugged, eyeing the Beauxbaton girls who were seated at the Ravenclaw table. “Graci,” he sighed, “Harry I think we should have went to France when it was offered.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Blaise winked and managed to flirt just by walking past the giggling group of girls. He noticed that the blonde girl from outside did not giggle at Blaise and instead rolled her own eyes as she unwound her scarf. Harry could admit the blonde girl was rather pretty, sort of like a mixture between Draco and Luna. She had big eyes like Luna, except hers were light blue instead of silver. Her skin tone and hair coloring were a dead on match for Draco’s, but she had softer features when directly compared to Draco’s pointier ones. She smiled politely when she caught Harry’s eye and gave a pointed look to Blaise, who was now practically strutting across the room.

“Guess someone doesn’t find Blaise charming,” Harry laughed, tilting his head towards Fred. “Hey, what’re you two on about?” He hadn’t noticed until Fred’s lack of a response but Fred and Susan had their heads tilted together and were whispering something fiercely back and forth.

“Nothing,” Fred said, straightening back up and wrapping his arm around Harry. “Just some business Darlin.”

Harry squinted at them, but ignored it as they approached their table.

“Krum, this is Fred, Susan, Luna, George, Ron, Draco, Blaise, Theo, Hermione, and Neville,” Harry said, pointing at each student as he said their name. “C’mon, we can sit if you want.”

“Thank you,” Krum said, sitting across from Harry. Harry would have told him that was Fred’s spot except Fred took Susan’s spot right next to him and stretched his arm across Harry’s shoulders slowly. Harry gave him a curious look, but before he could ask about the change in their usual seating arrangement, Dumbledore stood up and called for attention.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

“Who’re the extra chairs for?” Ron asked, drawing the groups attention to the Head Table where there was one extra chair on either side of Madame Maxine and Karkaroff, both of whom were seated beside Dumbledore.

“Dunno,” Neville said, his forehead scrunched up as he looked up at the table. “Guess two more judges?”

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” Dumbledore continued. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation. The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

Harry’s friends chatted along happily, drawing Krum, who seemed to be a quiet sort like Neville, in to the conversation when they could. Harry kept a close eye on the overly full Hall, feeling slightly on edge with all the new students.

“You’ll be entering for sure then?” Fred asked Krum.

“Yes,” Krum nodded around a forkful of some weird foreign food he seemed to like. “I am hoping to win.”

“Aren’t we all,” Harry agreed.

“You are seventeen?” Krum narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“He’s fourteen,” Fred said, with an odd emphasis on his age. “And he’s going to try and sneak in.”

“Vhy vould you do that?” Krum asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Harry’s mad, he can’t help it,” Luna said with a sweet smile for Harry.

“Thousands galleon prize money doesn’t hurt either,” George said.

“Because he’s an idiot,” Hermione hissed.

“Take that baaaack,” Susan sang out softly. “Right now.”

“It’s fine,” Harry waved his hand casually. “Mione will see who’s an idiot when I’m the champion.”

Krum watched them all banter with an amused look on his face.

“You all are very odd,” he said. “It is different here.”

“Harry’s the oddest,” Fred said fondly with a sappy kiss to Harry’s head. “But he’s the best.”

Harry scowled at Fred without any real heat, and they changed the topic to quidditch during desserts. Ron, finally overcoming his uncharacteristic quietness, talked enthusiastically about his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons.

“Look who arrived,” Fred muttered to George with a sharp look at the Head Table. Harry looked up and saw that the two empty seats had been filled by Ludo Bagman and Mister Crouch, the wizard who demanded Snape’s arrest. Snape caught Harry’s eye and rolled his own with a pointed glance towards Crouch.

Harry would feel much worse for him, except Snape was still refusing to help him sneak in to the tournament so he just smirked and shrugged.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, finally he’d get to find out who he needed to impress to enter the tournament.

“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —”

“The what?” Harry muttered.

Fred shrugged.

“— just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There were a lot of cheers for Bagman, who apparently used to be a popular Quidditch player, and hardly any at all for Crouch. Harry noticed that Fred and George exchanged another look and refused to clap for Bagman.

Dumbledore held his arms out for silence once the students were done with their polite clapping.

“The casket, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

Harry and George exchanged a smile at the last bit. Harry wasn’t afraid of any danger, and clearly neither was George.

Harry was relieved that Fred agreed to not enter though. There was really only one other person he needed to convince not to try and join. He eyed Ron carefully. Ron was a gambler. He liked to make money. He probably wasn’t entering for the same reasons Harry was...

Mentally crossing his fingers that his instinct wasn’t going to lead him wrong, it rarely did truthfully, Harry leaned towards Ron while Dumbledore pulled a giant golden goblet out of the casket.

“I’ll give you 200 galleons if I win if you agree to not enter,” he murmured quietly. He’d already told Fred he’d split the money with him, so if he gave Ron 200 then he’d still have 300 galleons. Which he wasn’t too fussed about. Harry just wanted the chance to prove himself and show off a bit. He’d up his offer to the full 500 if that’s what it took to make sure Ron’s life wasn’t in danger.

“Why?” Ron asked. Harry shrugged.

“Deal or no deal?” he asked.

Ron studied Harry carefully for a few moments before shrugging as well.

“Deal,” he said.

Harry sat back in his seat, relieved. Now George was the only one of his friends that was going to enter, but they weren’t too close so he wasn’t as worried about him. He turned his attention back to Dumbledore as he was explaining how the students who wanted to enter just had to put their name in the Goblet, and the winners would be chosen during the feast tomorrow.

“Age up potion?” Fred murmured as Dumbledore explained an age line he was using.

“Fuck.” Harry looked up at Fred and felt irritated now. “I’m allergic to potions,” he hissed, ignoring Dumbledore’s explanation of the magical contract the champions would enter.

“Think your cloak would work?” Susan asked.

“Guess I’ll try.” Harry grit his teeth in annoyance now. Trust his stupid damn illness to try and keep him from entering. If he hadn’t spent so long in St Mungo’s after taking the last potion, he’d say screw it and take one anyway.

Harry and his friends got up at Dumbledore’s dismissal.

“See you tomorrow then?” Harry asked Krum. “Reckon you’re sleeping in your ship? If not you can bunk with us.”

“Ve are sleeping in our ship,” Krum said. “But I vill be practicing in the morning. You could join me.”

“Brill,” Harry said eagerly. He’d been looking forward to a chance to see what an actual professional quidditch player thought of his flying ever since the first time Krum wrote to him. “I’ll see you then.”

Krum nodded at them all before he stuck his hands in his pockets and slouched off towards his waiting classmates and headmaster. The latter of whom gave Harry a sharp look. Harry just cocked his head to the side and smiled lazily at the man, he wasn’t worried about a former Death Eater who was too scared to even stay in the United Kingdom after turning in his fellow scumbags.

“Meet up after you get done flying with Viktor bloody Krum to try and enter?” George asked Harry.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Harry said. He wished his other friends goodnight and headed down to his dorm with Fred.



Harry waited until they were both changed and hidden behind a privacy charm to ask Fred about his weird behavior today.

“What’s up with you today?” Harry asked, propping up on his side so he could see Fred better. “You said you’d tell me later about the Cup, and then you were glaring at Bagman, what’s going on?”

“Bagman owes us money,” Fred said bluntly. “He gave us Leprechaun gold for our win and now he’s dodging our owls.”

Harry blinked at him for a long moment while he processed that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Chapter End Notes

Up Next:
Severus Snape and this is definitely a heart attack this time.

40%

Severus woke up early on Halloween morning, his stomach churning with anticipation. Halloween had been a terrible date ever since that fateful one in 1981, but the last three had been especially intolerable.

He sipped his coffee in his sitting room, before the sun even rose, and considered the last three Halloweens.

1991, Potter was attacked by a troll, subsequently killed the troll, and Severus had to defend him to Albus and Minerva as a scrappy hero and not a budding Dark Lord.

1992, Potter was caught in front of a message declaring the opening of the Chamber of Secrets and a petrified cat. Severus then spent the evening swearing that Potter was nothing like a young Tom Riddle and that Albus’ fears were baseless.

And Severus’ personal favorite, 1993. Sirius Black broke in to Hogwarts, terrorized Potter with a knife only to be disarmed. Severus was summoned to the Hospital Wing and Potter still carries the damn dagger on him to this day.

And now? Severus glanced down at his exposed forearm and grimaced at the sight. This Halloween there would be a foreign former Death Eater, a mad ex-auror, two high ranking ministry officials, one of whom arrested Severus on a murder charge only months ago, a foreign Headmistress, and two dozen foreign students in the castle all preparing to watch and participate in a newly revised tournament with a staggering death toll. A tournament that Potter has been begging for information on how to join since Severus told him of it. None of which accounted for the odd circumstances that led Albus to appoint Alastor Moody: the darkening mark on Severus’ forearm, the disappearance of the Ministry witch in Albania, and the vision Potter allowed in his mind over the summer.

No, Severus would be a naive fool to believe that Potter’s accursed luck for having terrible incidents happen on Halloween would not hold true again today.

And so, he planned. Hence, why he was up before the sun. He finished his coffee and determinedly strode to the Slytherin dorm entrance. He conjured a chair, disillusioned himself, placed the appropriate silencing charms on his person, and made himself at home in the corridor until Potter awoke.

Some may say that he was taking his resolution to keep Potter away from life threats too far (well, Minerva said that when Severus had fretted over the day during their newly resumed weekly tea nights. Which were nothing more than an opportunity to drink scotch and complain about their students, but it was a ritual Severus had surprisingly missed while Minerva had been so openly against his ward in recent years) but they (Minerva) had never been a spy, nor a guardian to the most unlucky child to enter the castle. Potter was a danger unto himself on an average day. The child had more difficulty making it through a normal day than any other human being Severus had ever encountered. The 31st of October just seemed to have it out for him on top of his usual streak of bad luck and poor decision making.

Severus pulled his book out of his pocket as he sat outside the Slytherin entrance. He had expected to be there at least an hour and a half before Potter left for breakfast, and was therefor surprised when the portrait opened not twenty minutes later revealing Potter...

... and God damned Frederick Weasley.

Both sporting their flying gear and bedraggled hair.

Severus was going to end up cursing Frederick Weasley by the end of the year, if not the day, he was sure of it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Potter was saying to Frederick. “I dunno if Krum knows much about your position or not.”

“If you don’t mind I’d like to go,” Frederick smiled in the cheerful way that Severus himself could never accomplish. “Even if I don’t fly with you guys, you still look great on a broom so I’m not wasting my time.”

Frederick winked at Potter, who laughed and shoved his arm.

“C’mon then,” Potter said, casually lacing their hands together. “I don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

Severus silently rose from his seat and trailed behind the two boys. He listened to their easy banter and Frederick’s shameless flirting as they made their way through the castle and out to the Quidditch pitch. He rolled his eyes when he saw that Viktor Krum, Karkaroff’s prized student he rambled on about during dinner last night, was waiting on the pitch for the boys.

Well, for Potter anyway.

“Harry,” Krum said. “I did not expect your friend, vat is your name?”

“Fred,” Frederick said, offering his hand to the other boy. “I’m Harry’s boyfriend.”

If Severus were not determined to go unnoticed he would have snorted at Frederick’s jealousy. Potter, the oblivious idiot that he was, just summoned his and Weasley’s broomsticks, not noticing the way Frederick and Krum were now sizing each other up.

“You are ready?” Krum turned to Potter with an eager look that matched Potter’s current enthusiasm spot on. Severus had felt badly for his ward on the first night when he realized that there would be no quidditch this year. He knew Potter had been crushed, and took it rather personal, as it was his first year as captain of his team. He was pleased to see that Potter would instead have an opportunity to train with a professional player.

And if it irritated Frederick, then all the better in Severus’ opinion.

Severus watched as the three young men flew around in the sky for hours. He was begrudgingly impressed when Frederick quickly shed his jealousy and enthusiastically began flying and interacting with Krum. And he was equal parts pleased and disgruntled when Potter began truly showing off and was heavily complimented by Krum.

“Vat you must do Harry is have memories sent to teams,” Krum said once they landed, his eyes alight with a now recognizable quidditch induced manic gleam. “I vould be pleased to have my captain come vatch you at your next match.”

“But if they liked him, Harry would only be the reserve seeker,” Frederick pointed out. “And we both know he’s too good to be a reserve.”

Krum grunted in bitter agreement and Severus felt a spark of pride in Potter. How many students could say they had a chance to fly professionally while they were still in school?

He would be sure to mention this to Minerva during their next tea time. The old witch would die from envy for not landing Potter in her house.

Severus followed the boys to the now full Hall and slipped through the teachers entrance and took his place at the Head Table.

“Busy morning?” Minerva murmured with a knowing look in her eyes.

“It is scarcely seven thirty and I have already seen him risk his life on a broomstick,” Severus said baldly. “I believe a little paranoia is warranted.”

“Careful,” Minerva hummed. “Next thing you know you’ll be screeching about constant vigilance.” She shot a distasteful look towards Moody, the driving force between mending their previously affable relationship.

“Be sure to have me killed quickly and painfully if that becomes the case,” Severus quipped.

“So I should involve the lovely Miss Bones?”

Severus scoffed over his breakfast at the mere thought. Minerva’s dry wit and quick banter had been sorely missed in recent years. Perhaps he would send Moody a thank you card for irritating the witch in to venting her frustrations to Severus over his lax hold of Hogwarts rules on punishments and proper teaching methods. After an hour of ranting, Minerva had summoned a bottle of scotch and their weekly tea nights resumed easily.

“Your snake is plotting something,” Minerva said, her sharp eyes on Potter. “Anything involving both Weasley twins, Lovegood, Bones, and Nott is sure to be catastrophic.”

Severus looked over at the Slytherin table and saw that those students did indeed all have their heads bent together conspiratorially, which promised nothing but chaos. And if Miss Granger’s indignant expression was any judge, it would be an exceptional level of chaos.

“Potter is attempting to enter the tournament,” Severus sighed as he guessed at the groups plot. “If we had not helped Albus place the wards around the goblet ourselves, I would be worried about his success.”

“I believe Mister George Weasley is planning on using an aging potion to cross the line,” Minerva said with a mischievous glint to her eyes. “Perhaps I’ll join you in babysitting your child to see what happens.”

Severus hid his smile behind his glass of water as he imagined the boys attempting such a menial maneuver to cross the line.

Then of course he nearly choked as he debated on if Potter had considered his medication when plotting his entry to the tournament.

He probably hadn’t. Or he believed the reward was worth the risk.

Which, it absolutely was not.

“Excuse me,” he said hastily, making his way quickly towards the scheming group.

“Harry, I need to speak with you,” he said curtly as soon as he approached his ward.

“‘Kay,” Potter blinked up at him and remained firmly in his seat. “What’s up?”

“As you are plotting your pointless schemes to enter the tournament I would simply like to remind you of your life threatening allergy before you consume any potions,” Severus said sternly. “Your funeral will lack the pomp you desire when I inform your friend Rita that you died due to your own foolish actions and a sub-standardly brewed aging potion.”

The Weasley Twin who was not seated beside Potter, George Weasley, looked insulted, but it was Lovegood who spoke up.

“It’s not substandard Professor, I brewed it myself,” she said in her typically absent-minded tone that hid the sharp mind Severus knew she possessed. “I think it’s perfect but if you’re worried about the boys’ health, you’re welcome to test it.”

“You brewed an OWL level potion?” he asked, ignoring the implication that he would worry about any students heath aside from Potters. He was not skeptical of her success, Lovegood was a potions prodigy, but he was unsure of her motives to undertake such a time consuming task.

“George helped,” she smiled up at Severus in the fearless way that only Potter’s friends did. “He’s going to prank the next five students who are rude to me since it took me five hours to brew.”

Severus snorted. “5 points to Ravenclaw for such a Slytherin deal,” he told her before turning his attention back to Potter. “Harry- you will not partake in any ill advised potions today?”

“No sir,” Potter said. His voice was polite, which did not bode well for his plans. “I’ve got a few different ideas.”

“Of course you do,” Severus muttered. “I suppose it is a waste of my breathe to inform you that the line is foolproof, which means you simple minded dunderheads will be unable to cross it?”

“It is,” Granger huffed.

Severus would share a sympathetic look with the witch if it were not for a traumatizing summer spent watching her emerge from the boys’ bedroom in Theodore’s night clothes.

“Very well, I will simply be on hand to witness your failure,” Severus said curtly, turning on his heel and making his way back to Minerva.

“Disillusioned still or are you done pretending today?” Potter yelled at his back, his ever expanding pack of misfits laughing boisterously at his words.

Severus hated Halloween. Some days he believed he may hate Potter.

He didn’t. He was as fond of Potter as a person could be, but the brat was infuriating.

Mostly he cursed his own bad luck for ever encouraging Potter to feel at ease around him.

He fondly remembered when his students were too frightened to do more that whisper in his presence, and now Potter has nearly a dozen of them chatting him up, smiling at him, and bordering the line between cheek and disrespect.

“I hope he fails many times today,” he muttered to Minerva, receiving a sympathetic pat on his shoulder from the witch.

And fail many times Potter did.

Severus leaned against the stone wall of the Entrance Hall and watched with bemusement as Potter and George Weasley attempted several different methods of making it past the age line.

”Broom,” Potter demanded, his hand out and his eyes hard as he began his fourth attempt at crossing the line. George Weasley had conceded with good grace and stood beside his brother, who interestingly had not attempted to join the tournament even once.

“I can see how he wound up in your house,” Minerva chuckled, eying the long black beard that remained as proof of Potter’s many previous attempts. “Determination like that? Tsk, Gryffindor didn’t have a chance,” she clucked.

“I think the brash foolishness he is currently presenting makes him an excellent candidate for Gryffindor,” Severus disagreed.

They fell silent as Potter’s beloved Firebolt smacked in his hand and he mounted it in front of the eagerly waiting crowd. Severus and Minerva had debated on disallowing this ridiculous farce to take place, but they believed if they other students witnessed Potter’s fruitless efforts, they would be dissuaded from attempting it themselves.

Potter backed away from the Goblet, kicked off from the ground, leaned forward, flew over the line and-

”GOD DAMNIT,” Potter swore loudly.

“10 points from Slytherin,” Severus called casually from his spot amidst the students who were crowing with laughter and exchanging bets as Potter was once again expelled from the Goblet’s vicinity and his beard lengthened. Severus would typically never publicly dock his house points, but he could hardly stand by as his student, and his publicly acknowledged ward, blatantly swore in front of half of the castle.

“Lue, bring out Plan E,” Bones cried stubbornly.

Lovegood danced forward, Potter’s owl perched on her shoulder.

“Alright Sevvie, all you have to do is take this paper-“ Potter stuck a parchment in his owls beak and stroked the fuzzy black bird tenderly, “-and drop it in that goblet. Can you do that buddy?”

“What attempt is this now?” Pomona asked, walking up to join Severus and Minerva.

“His fifth,” Minerva said, her eyes dancing with laughter and her mouth curved up in a rare, but genuine, smile. “I may have to send this memory to Sirius, I believe young Harry is more of a force than James and Sirius were combined in their school days.”

Pomona laughed and they all fell silent as Potter’s owl obediently took off from his shoulder and flew across the line aaaand-

“SON OF A BITCH!”

Despite not even crossing the line this time, Potter and his owl both were zapped ten feet further away from the Goblet and Potter’s beard lengthened once again. It was now trailing behind him like a ridiculous black veil.

“10 points from Slytherin,” Severus said, ignoring Potter’s hiss of anger. It was a mark of how entertaining Potter’s attempts were that none of the watching Slytherin’s even complained about their now fifty point deficit.

Or perhaps, more accurately, none of the Slytherin’s wanted to risk Potter’s wrath by complaining about their points.

Potter had single handedly won them the House Cup the last three years regardless.

“Seems unfair to dock Harry for picking up on your language,” Pomona said slyly.

“Life is unfair,” Severus responded drily.

By Potter’s seventh attempt, the entire school, including Albus, were watching with mirth in their eyes and were openly betting on his success.

By his tenth Severus wondered exactly how long his beard could grow.

And finally, his thirteenth attempt, Bones announced to the disappointed crowd that it was the last one.

“Plan M,” she yelled. “Last try now.”

“Suppose it’s my go then?” Johnathan Abbott, a seventh year Hufflepuff who attended the World Cup with Potter, stepped forward.

“Here,” Potter slapped a piece of parchment in Abbott’s hand. “If this works I’m going to blow up this entire Hall,” he said flatly. Many students chuckled at that, yet only the Slytherin’s edged towards the doorways.

“Oh this is my favorite one,” Albus said happily beside Minerva. “I thought the students would try this first.”

“Harry wouldn’t want someone else to take credit for his entrance,” Filius squeaked.

Severus inclined his head in agreement. Potter would be furious if this worked, his credit would have to be shared with the Abbott boy.

Severus and the entire Hall held their breath as Abbott stepped over the line and walked right up to the Goblet.

“Here goes,” he said cheerfully before dropping the parchment in the Goblet.

“YESSSS!!” Potter actually jumped up and threw a victorious fist in the air as his name was dropped in the Goblet. “FINAL-“

And then Abbott and Potter were both blown away from the Goblet and sprouted long handlebar mustaches before they even hit the ground. The Goblet spit out Potter’s parchment with a long red flame and the students and staff watched as it burnt to ash in front of them.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

“10 points from Slytherin.”

“Thirty points to Slytherin for an entertaining morning and a demonstration of outstanding determination,” Albus called, his beard twitching with repressed laughter and his eyes sparkling like mad.

Severus shrugged and inspected his nails in an effort to appear aloof of the proceedings.

Albus’ reward was, for once, not misguided. Potter certainly was entertaining as he wasted his morning trying to enter the tournament. Severus was pleased to see that every attempt was unsuccessful though. Despite being confident in the wards the Professor’s had built last night, he would not have put it past Potter to find a way around them.

Though Severus sighed internally at the blatant favoritism he would need to show in the upcoming weeks to revive Slytherin from their current loss of 100 points.

God damned Harry Potter.



Severus was satisfied that Potter had fulfilled his daily quota for idiotic ideas after his defeat in the Entrance Hall and gave up on trailing him for the rest of the afternoon.

The fact that Potter smirked at where Severus was standing disillusioned in an empty corridor before he began kissing Frederick... enthusiastically... was inconsequential.

“I think it’s an odd romance, but sweet,” Pomona said while Severus was cursing both boys out in the staff room. “Fred’s quite different than Harry, isn’t he?”

Minerva snorted over her cup of tea.

“Harry and Fred are not sweet, it’s an entirely new generation of chaos. I hoped they would never meet to be honest.”

“How did they end up meeting?” Pomona asked. “Through Ronald?”

“If I eavesdropped correctly, I think Fred was quite taken with Harry after their duel in Fred’s fourth year,” Filius squeaked.

The Hogwarts staff were truly irredeemable gossipers.

Severus threw himself in the conversation once the topic shifted away from his ward and toward the students who were actually able to enter the tournament.



Severus drug himself to the feast that night with poor grace. He despised this tournament, and he despised the extra intruders the castle was filled with.

He was in the clear minority as the Great Hall was filled with eager chatter from excited students and staff. He ignored the mindless chatter and silently debated with himself as he eyed his glass of wine.

It was unlikely that Potter would go the entirety of the evening without at least one chaotic event happening to him, or being caused by him. And in that event, Severus would need to remain alert.

However... It was unlikely that Potter would go the entirety of the evening without at least one chaotic event happening to him, or being caused by him. And in that event, Severus would prefer to already have at least a mild amount of alcohol in his system to deal with it.

Severus glared at the wine glass before deciding that if he could keep Potter out of Azkaban after a glass of firewhisky, he could certainly defend him from whatever chaos he caused tonight with a glass of wine.

Severus amused himself during the feast by ignoring the looks of thinly veiled rage aimed at him by Crouch Senior, and instead fantasized about carrying out plans of revenge he had formulated with Barty back in their Hogwarts days.

Some nights, when Severus considered all Potter had done so far, he admired the child for dispatching of his friends abusive parent.

Other times, Severus recalled how Barty, Regulus, and himself were easily recruited by the Dark Lord due to their shared histories of abusive parents and shuddered to realize that Potter recruited Theodore with similar tactics.

But for now, Severus indulged himself with imagining the many different ways that Barty had discussed getting revenge on his father.

He was remembering a particularly complicated plot, one that only Barty’s Ravenclaw mind could plan, involving a chimera, a fever reducing potion, and the Ebublio Jinx, when the desserts were cleared and Albus called the room to attention.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Albus with a broad smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” — Albus waved towards the door behind the staff table — “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

Severus took a deep drink of his wine as Albus took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, blue-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting... Severus rolled his eyes at the sense of melodrama filling the room.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.

Albus caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

Severus watched as Potter’s friend, Viktor Krum, rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Albus; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Igor, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!”

Severus scoffed at Igor’s blatant favoritism. The man had one famous student and believed he was the only one that mattered.

The fact that Severus considered his own overtly famous student to be his favorite was inconsequential. Potter was his ward. Igor was an attention seeking idiot who clings to the coattails of others to raise his own station.

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Albus, “is Fleur Delacour!”

“Ow ow,” Fred Weasley whistled loudly from the his seat across from Potter at the Slytherin table. Severus hoped Potter or Bones smacked him for catcalling at a guest student in their castle. Particularly when he was seated with Potter, who was as close to Weasley as he was with Bones and Lovegood.

A young woman, who must be at least a quarter veela, got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

Olympe clapped politely and sent a disapproving look towards where the remainder of her students were creating a quiet spectacle. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with the students’ excitement you could almost taste it.

The Hogwarts champion next...

Severus prayed with all his might to any God available that it would not be one of his Slytherins. He could not handle it if he had to worry about one of them competing in this death trap of a tournament this year on top of the stress of the darkening mark on his left arm.

Keeping one of his students alive was challenge enough, he hardly needed to worry about two of them this year.

“The Hogwarts champion,” Albus called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Every single Hufflepuff jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Mister Diggory, one of Pomona’s sixth year students, made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table. The applause for Diggory went on so long that it was some time before Albus could make himself heard again.

“Excellent!” Albus called happily as at last the noise died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —”

Albus suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

Severus felt his chest tighten with a sudden pang of anxiety as the fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

This was not supposed to happen. And when things that were not supposed to happen did happen, particularly on Halloween, it usually involved-

“Harry Potter.”

Severus’ eyes flew to the green eyed gaze of his ward just in time to see the child’s (for it did not matter that Potter was now 14, he was a child in Severus’ mind) eyes shift from a startled look of surprise to one of absolute delight.

Severus did not need to be beside him to interpret his words as Potter stated his belief that this horrifying turn of events was “brill”.

Which, it absolutely, undoubtedly, was not.

There was nothing ‘brill’ about it at all.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next:
Harry Potter and the best damn night of his entire life.

42%

Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Diggory was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

“‘Arry, yes?” she said with a kind smile. “What is it? Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

“Nope.” Harry was all but bouncing in place as the other champions looked at him. “I’m in. I’m the fourth champion.”

The other champions stared at him. Diggory looked rather nonplussed, which was insulting. But Krum gave Harry a bitter grin and shook his head.

“You did warn me,” he grunted.

“I did,” Harry grinned.

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He grabbed Harry’s arm and Harry, who already had a score to settle with Bagman, jerked his arm out of his hold.

“Don’t touch me ever again,” he hissed, his eyes bright and his mouth twisted up in anger.

“Sorry, got away from myself for a moment...” Bagman muttered, leaping away from Harry. “Uh, gentlemen and lady- may I introduce the fourth Triwizard Champion?”

Diggory and Krum both shook their heads, amusement pulling their lips up reluctantly. Fleur, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, “Oh, vairy funny joke.”

“Joke?” Bagman repeated, gaping at Fleur in a way that had Harry’s shoulders tightening in irritation. Fleur was a pretty girl, not a fuckin’ prize to be stared after.

“No, no, not at all! Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”

“But evidently zair ’as been a mistake,” she said with a soft smile towards Harry. “’E cannot compete. ’E is too young, ‘e will be ‘urt.”

“Well... it is amazing,” said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and looking down at Harry who sneered at him. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name’s come out of the goblet... I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage... It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged... Harry will just have to do the best he —”

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Dumbledore, followed closely by Crouch, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, McGonagall, and Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before McGonagall closed the door.

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!”

Somewhere under Harry’s coursing excitement he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy? Harry nearly bared his teeth at Fleur before remembering his mission from the Contessa to build allies with the French students.

Still though, what a fuckin thing to say.

He’d remind her of this when he won the tournament.

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said imperiously.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice.

“Two Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?”

He gave a short and nasty laugh.

“C’est impossible,” said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many sparkling rings was resting upon Fleur’s shoulder. “’Ogwarts cannot ’ave two champions. It is most injust.”

“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. “Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools.”

“I am aware of the oddity here,” Dumbledore said calmly. He looked down at Harry, who met his gaze evenly. “Harry, were you successful in putting your name in the Goblet?”

“Nope,” Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and surreptitiously held on to his dagger from Black. “Think everyone saw me bugger that up, didn’t they?”

Dumbledore’s beard twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile or laughter. Which irritated Harry. He wasn’t here to entertain Dumbledore.

“He is lying!” Karkaroff roared. “He put his name in the goblet!”

”Yeah... I did it ten times, Sevvie tried once, that snake tried once, and Johnny did it once. Didn’t work, did it?” Harry tilted his head to the side as he curiously studied Karkaroff. Everyone saw him enter the tournament thirteen times. Why wouldn’t he take credit for it now if he had succeeded?

It’s not like he had wanted to look like a failure in front of the entire fuckin’ school.

”I do not believe you,” Karkaroff sneered. “You have clearly found a way to enter despite the RULES!”

”Weird that you’d worry about a few fuckin’ rules, yeah?” Harry smiled sharply, too many teeth showing to look anything resembling politeness.

McGonagall snorted before covering it with a light cough.

“Language,” Snape murmured, coming to stand behind Harry and slowly placing a hand on his shoulder. “Harry, do you have any idea how your name came out of the Goblet?”

“None,” Harry said honestly. “I’ll take Veritaserum if you want me to.”

“Yes!” Karkaroff said with a nasty look at Harry. “Interrogate him! He is lying!”

“I would also like ‘im to be interrogated,” Madame Maxine said. “If ‘e did not do it then you would want the culprit caught, yes?”

“Harry cannot take Veritaserum due to an allergy,” Snape said, his hand flexing tightly on Harry’s shoulder for an odd moment. “Apologies.”

“Convenient,” Karkaroff sneered. “I’ve never heard of a wizard with an allergy to potions.”

“Bet you’ve never heard of one surviving the killing curse either,” Harry smirked.

”Enough,” Dumbledore cut in. “I do not believe Harry entered himself in this tournament.”

”Of course he didn’t,” McGonagall said with her arms tightly crossed. “I lost 40 Sickles to Pomona because he couldn’t get across the line. We all saw it.”

”You bet I’d make it in?” Harry asked her, oddly touched. “Ta Professor.”

”I thought if anyone was idiotic and determined enough to break the rules it would be you,” McGonagall said, her voice dry but her eyes sparkling.

Harry shrugged then stuck his chin out as the seven adults and three other champions in the room surveyed him.

“Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice bitter, “you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”

Bagman wiped his round face with his handkerchief and looked at Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked creepy, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in a curt voice that made Harry flex his own hand tightly.

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

“Ah, yet I believe as Harry is a minor and I am his guardian, he was unable to legally consent to a binding contract,” Snape said smoothly. “And I certainly do not consent. He will not be competing.”

Harry spun his head around to look at Snape with badly concealed betrayal.

“You can’t do that!” he cried. He turned to Crouch, someone he’d rather not plead to but if Snape was going to try and pull him out he’d have to. “Can he?”

Crouch looked thoughtful before grimacing.

“I am unsure on the legalities here,” he said tightly.

“Allow me to make it simple,” Snape said. “Harry is a minor. The Goblet cannot accept a binding agreement from a minor. It is not legal. I am perfectly willing to call a barrister if needed.”

“Well... Harry’s name was chosen...” Bagman said hesitantly.

“Let me say this in a way that even an irredeemable moron like yourself can understand,” Snape said calmly from behind Harry. “Potter. Will. Not. Be. Competing.”

“Yes. Potter. Will.” Harry said, grinding his teeth. Snape was ruining this.

”Over my dead body,” Snape hissed, his hand tightening on Harry’s shoulder. Harry ripped out of his grasp and spun so he could glare up at him.

”I was chosen. I’m competing.”

“Why don’t we all take a moment here and allow Severus to call on a barrister to sort this out?” Dumbledore suggested, stepping forward and holding his hands up calmly. “Miss Delaclour, Mister Krum, Cedric- why don’t you retire for the evening? I’m sure your classmates will be eager to celebrate with you.”

“Not so fast,” Bagman said as Snape sent off a quick patronus.

To Malfoy.

Which was fine actually.

Harry liked Snape quite a bit, but Malfoy was bound to him.

“We have to give them instructions for the first task!” Bagman continued. “Barty, would you?”

Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

“Yes,” he said, “instructions. Yes... the first task...”

He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry hoped he had some horrible disease. It would serve him right for arresting Snape.

“The first task is designed to test your daring,” he told Diggory, Fleur, and Krum, with small glances towards Harry, “so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard...

“The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

“The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.”

This just got better and better.

“No tests?” Harry said happily. “Brill.”

“You will be taking them because you will not be competing,” Snape hissed, ignoring Krum and Diggory’s low chuckles.

“Will too,” Harry said. He hated repeating himself but if Snape was going to repeat himself then Harry would as well. “I was chosen, yeah?”

McGonagall scoffed and Dumbledore let out an exasperated sigh.

“Olympe, Igor, if you’d like to stay and find out the results from the barrister Severus summoned?” Dumbledore offered.

“You will inform me of ze decision,” Madame Maxine said, placing her hand back on Fleur’s shoulder. “Zank you.”

“Night Fleur,” Harry called charmingly as she strode out beneath her Headmistresses large hand. “Sleep tight.”

Fleur looked over her shoulder at Harry and he swore he saw a glimmer of amusement there before she snorted, rather elegantly honestly, and quickly left.

“Guess I’ll call it a night too then,” Diggory said with an outright smile for Harry. “Good luck Harry.”

“I will be staying,” Karkaroff drew himself up to his full height. “I want to ensure there are no further miscarriages of justice. Viktor, I will meet you on the ship.”

Harry ignored Diggory and Krum as they left and watched the fireplace. Snape told Malfoy to floo to this room and Harry would need to intercept him before he arrived.

After only about another minute of tense silence, the floo flared to life and Harry stepped towards it quickly.

”Do not forget who you swore loyalty to,” Harry whispered harshly, yet quietly, as he made a show of (unwillingly) shaking hands with a bewildered Malfoy. ”Understand?” he murmured.

“I am pleased to see you as well Heir Potter-Black,” Malfoy said clearly. “I have been well, thank you. I will inform Narcissa you send your well-wishes.”

Harry admired the way that Malfoy was able to keep a cordial mask up, despite his obvious confusion. The rest of the adults gathered around them quickly and Malfoy attempted polite greetings- which were ignored.

“Harry here was just chosen as the fourth Triwizard champion,” Bagman said. “He says he didn’t enter, but just having your name drawn constitutes a binding contract-“

“But as Harry is a minor and I, as his legal guardian, do not give permission then the contract is moot. Correct?” Snape asked Malfoy.

Malfoy, damned Slytherin genius that he is, glanced down at Harry’s reflection in his snakehead cane topper while humming aloud thoughtfully. Harry shook his head very slightly.

“Hmm,” Malfoy said. “What is the Ministry’s stance on this Crouch?”

Crouch turned a bland face to Malfoy before grimacing again.

Harry had no idea what his problem was, but if he kept being a prat to Harry’s allies they were going to have even more problems.

“It is an irregular occurrence,” he repeated dully. “I am unsure of the legalities. Potter was chosen, which binds a contract. But he is a minor with a legal guardian.”

“He never should have been entered!” Karkaroff shrieked. “He’s a liar and a cheater!”

“Watch yourself,” McGonagall snapped. “We all saw him trying to enter all day long. He says he wasn’t successful and that’s that.”

“Then who did?!” Karkaroff demanded.

“That is the question of the evening, isn’t it?”

Their odd group, except Harry who had looked up the moment the door opened, spun around as Moody clunked in to the room.

“You!” Karkaroff cried. Harry felt Malfoy shift backwards a bit as Moody stepped up to the group.

“Me,” Moody repeated calmly, his magical eye stuck on Harry. “What’s the problem here? Potter was chosen, he competes.”

Harry gave Moody an approving nod. Maybe he was accepting of Harry’s offer to be allies after all.

“Ta,” he said.

“He is a minor,” Snape snapped. “He is a minor with a life-threatening potions allergy. How will we treat him if he is injured during the tasks? He will die.”

... fuck.

Harry hadn’t actually thought about that.

“Maybe whoever entered him is hoping Potter will die,” Moody said.

“Moody! What a thing to say!” Bagman cried, glancing down at Harry nervously before looking up at Malfoy. “Malfoy- er- what does the law say?”

Harry beamed when Malfoy gave Snape an apologetic look.

“Heir Potter-Black accepted his Heirships and will be recognized legally as an adult who resides with a parent, no different than a seventeen year old living with their family. I will check, of course, but I am confident that the law supports Harry competing.”

“Then he competes,” Crouch said dully. “That is that.”

”Yes!” Harry cheered victoriously.

“BED. NOW.” Snape roared, clearly furious. “Lucius, Albus, I will speak with you both later.”

“See you in November,” Harry called happily to the newly arguing adults behind him. He ignored Dumbledore as the old man called out a calm goodnight and allowed Snape to guide him to the exiting corridor.

“You stupid fool,” Snape hissed as soon as they were alone. “How did you enter?”

“I didn’t,” Harry looked earnestly up at Snape. “You know I wanted to, tried all fuckin’ day didn’t I? But I didn’t get it. Someone just did me a favor I guess,” he shrugged.

“It is not a FAVOR!” Snape yelled. Harry took a couple quick steps away from him. If Snape wanted to scream, fine, but Harry wasn’t going to have someone screaming in his face.

“If you did not do this the whoever did is an adult within this castle hoping you will die,” he said in a harsh tone that was hardly better than the yelling had been.

Harry snorted. Snape was acting like that was a new occurrence.

“Suppose they’ll be disappointed then,” Harry said as he edged closer to the dungeon entrance. “Cause I’m going to win.”

“YOU ARE NOT GOING TO WIN! YOU ARE GOING TO DIE YOU IDIOTIC CHILD! THIS IS NOT A GAME POTTER!” Snape yelled, his eyes wild and his teeth bared. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT CHALLENGES YOU WILL BE FORCED TO FACE?!”

“I dunno why you’re yelling at me.” Harry clenched his fists and crossed his arms across his chest in an effort to keep his voice steady. “You know I didn’t do it.”

“You told Lucius to back you up the moment he arrived, didn’t you?”

“Nope. That was later. The moment he arrived I told him he was bound to me.” Harry knew he was being rude, being insolent, and ungrateful, but why couldn’t Snape see this was the luckiest night of his life? Susan thought Halloween was cursed, but she was clearly wrong.

”You have no sense of self-preservation,” Snape said sharply. “You are entirely too willing to die for the sake of accolades.”

“Jokes on you, I dunno what that means.” Harry was impressed his voice sounded so light and uncaring despite his racing heart. He didn’t want to fight with Snape.

Why are they always fighting?

“You...” Snape’s eyes looked glazed for a moment while he stared at Harry before he blinked and they were blazing. “You do not even know the meaning of the word accolades AND YOU BELIEVE YOU WILL SURVIVE THIS TOURNAMENT WITH A DEATH TOLL? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry yelled back, quickly moving as far away from Snape as he could. “I’m sorry I’m stupid, but I’m not weak, Snape. I can win. You’ll see.”

“Harry, stop.” Snape closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead, and took a deep breath. “I apologize. I apologize. I did not mean to imply that you were either stupid or weak. Please do not run away from me right now.”

Harry hesitated by the dungeon entrance. He was pretty sure Snape wasn’t going to hit him, he wouldn’t do it when Harry asked him to so he probably wouldn’t do it now either. But he was also obviously pissed. You couldn’t always trust people not to lash out when they’re angry.

And it was better to be prepared just in case.

“My friends are waiting on me,” Harry said carefully.

“I am certain your victory party can wait for five more minutes,” Snape said sarcastically. “Harry, listen,” he took a couple of measured steps towards Harry and slowly reached out for Harry’s chin. Harry, very carefully, did not flinch when he grabbed it gently and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. “This is dangerous,” Snape said firmly, but not unkindly. “It is not a game. I am worried for your safety, your health, and your life. You could become injured and I will be unable to heal you with the potions it would require. It is a poor excuse for yelling at you, because despite your manipulations with Lucius, I do believe you did not enter yourself. I simply do not wish to see you injured. I do not believe someone entered you as a favor. Do you understand?”

“Muggles get hurt all the time,” Harry said stubbornly, resisting the urge to smack Snape’s hand off him. “And they’re fine. I just have to heal like a Muggle, yeah?”

“Muggles are never injured in a magical tournament,” Snape disagreed.

“Then I won’t get hurt.”

“Do you truly have any idea what you’re up against?” Snape asked, dropping Harry’s chin and staring down at him. “You are fourteen.”

“You must think I’m a real idiot to remind me of my own age,” Harry sneered. “I know how old I am, thanks. But I’m in. I’m competing. And I’m going to win. You’ll see.”

“Go,” Snape said flatly. “We will discuss this more tomorrow.”

“‘Kay,” Harry shrugged. Snape could talk about it all he wanted, but on November the twenty-fourth Harry would be competing and that was that. “Night,” he called, jogging to hurry towards his friends who would definitely be waiting for him in the common room.

Snape and Fleur and everyone who thought he couldn’t do it were going to be surprised when he won the tournament.

They’d all have to see how strong he was then.

And Snape might be upset now, but when Harry won he was sure he’d be proud.

Outside the common room entrance Harry took a deep breath and counted to ten.

You’re in, he reminded himself before adopting a smug smirk and pushing open the entrance.

“HARRY! YOU DID IT!” Susan yelled, throwing herself in Harry’s arms the moment the painting swung open.

“How’d you do it?” Draco asked.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ron laughed.

“You’re an idiot,” Hermione said, her warm brown eyes wide and worried.

“You’re going to win,” Luna beamed at Harry. “You’ll get the trophy.”

Harry looked past his friends who were all talking on top of each other and saw that the entire Slytherin house was waiting in a highly decorated common room.

SLYTHERINS CHAMPION! was painted on a huge green banner behind a table filled with drinks and snacks.

Neville, Fred, and George came up to him, slower than Harry’s other friends had, but all of them smiling widely at him. Well, Neville shook his head in mock exasperation, but he was still smiling.

“How’d you pull it off?” Neville asked.

“Yeah, how’d you do it?!” a Slytherin standing along the wall yelled.

“Magic,” Harry smirked. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

Harry’s friends laughed but Susan whispered in his ear, “Later?”

“Later,” he confirmed.

Harry let everyone crowd around him for a few minutes while the Slytherin’s were shouting questions, laughing, and congratulating him.

“Cheater,” Fred murmured as he smiled down at Harry. “Shame on you Potter.”

“Hey, will you stay tonight too?” Harry asked, his excitement leading to the spur of the moment question.

“Thought it was for the gang only?” Fred asked, his brightened eyes already answering for him.

“Well Mione’s not in the gang and she’ll be here, and I don’t wanna repeat myself,” Harry shrugged.

“Alright then,” Fred smiled.

They all spent about an hour talking about the tournament. Surprisingly, a few Slytherin’s offered to loan Harry books on different spells he might need for it.

“When’s the first task?” a younger boy came up and hesitantly asked Harry. He was a first year, and looked a bit like Harry with black hair and green eyes.

“End of November,” Harry told him.

“Are you scared?”

“Nope,” Harry grinned.

“You’re brill,” the boy said, setting Susan and Luna off in to giggles as he took off to the snacks.

“Your slang is catching on!” Susan said between her laughter. “Oh my Gods.”

Luna was unsuccessfully trying to stifle her own laughter but her eyes were bright with amusement.

“You’re going to have all the first years swearing,” she giggled.

“Good,” Harry smirked. “Give Snape something to do when we’re gone, yeah?”

Harry celebrated with his housemates and friends until nearly midnight when Theo finally pulled him away from a group of eager fifth year girls that were telling Harry what they thought the tasks might be.

“C’mon,” Theo rolled his eyes. “I already kicked Vince and Greg out, Ron and Draco are making your weird floor beds now.”

“Ta,” Harry grinned. “Let’s go.”

“Are you finished with your fan club?” Blaise smirked when Harry entered the dorm room and saw his friends were all already waiting.

“For now,” Harry stuck his nose in the air pretentiously before laughing. “God, they’re all excited aren’t they?”

“It isn’t often that we get known for anything good,” Theo said.

“How on Earth is Harry sneaking in to the tournament going to improve Slytherin’s image?”
Hermione asked.

“Oh yeah,” Harry sat down on the edge of his bed and shrugged. “So I didn’t do it. But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

His friends all stared at him in shocked silence before Ron snorted.

“Yeah you did, it’s all you’ve been talking about for months, isn’t it?”

“I just said I didn’t do it, didn’t I?” Harry said coolly, narrowing his eyes at where Ron was sitting on the floor beside Draco. “I’m not a liar.”

“Who did then?” Susan asked.

“And why can’t we tell anyone?” Fred asked.

“I dunno who did.” Harry leaned back a bit on his bed and propped himself up on his elbow. “Moody says it’s probably someone wanting to kill me. Snape said it had to be an adult. And I don’t want anyone else to know I didn’t do it, makes me look weak if someone put me in without me knowing, doesn’t it?”

“That’s- that’s not good Harry,” Draco said quietly. “Snape and Moody think that someone entered you to try and kill you?”

“Yup.”

Harry’s friends stared at him with varying degrees of shock on their faces. Except for Luna, she was just looking up at the ceiling and humming. Then, abruptly, Fred grinned and flopped down on the bed beside Harry.

“Think of how disappointed they’ll be when you win instead.”

“That’s what I said,” Harry smirked. “They’re gonna look so stupid.”

“Who do you think did it though?” Susan asked. “Because I’m getting sick of people thinking they can try to kill you to be honest.”

Theo said Timmy at the same time Harry said Karkaroff and Blaise said Moody.

The three boys stared at each other curiously.

“How the fuck would Timmy enter me in the tournament?” Harry asked Theo.

“Who knows,” he frowned. “But it’s a sight more likely than Moody.”

“Nope. I’ve got 10 Galleons on Moody,” Blaise said confidently from his cross legged position on his bed. “He knew you wanted to enter right? Maybe this is his way of trying to make an alliance.”

“If so then he’s in for sure,” Harry grinned. “But I’m thinking it was Karkaroff.”

“Why would the Durmstrang Headmaster enter you in the tournament?” Neville asked.

“Because he used to be a Death Eater,” Harry explained. “And he must know Timmy’s coming back. So maybe he thinks if he kills me off then Timmy won’t be so mad he sent those other Death Eaters to prison.”

“Damn,” Fred swore. “I bet you’re right.”

“He better not try anything,” Susan said shortly. “Because he’ll regret it.”

“Like I said, he’s going to look stupid when I win, won’t he?”

“What do you think the first task is going to be?” Ron asked eagerly. “They said you can only have your wand?”

“No knives?” Draco smirked.

“No swords either,” Harry shook his head sadly. “But it can’t be anything too hard if an idiot like Diggory is expected to survive it.”

“Cedric is not an idiot,” Hermione said hotly. “He’s a prefect isn’t he?”

“So was Percy,” Fred laughed. “And he’s a right git.”

“I agree with Weasley,” Draco scowled. “Diggory’s an imbecile.”

“You’re just mad you lost one game that he won,” Hermione said.

“And you just think he’s cute,” Theo drawled with a sly smirk.

“I do not! I happen to think he’s very kind, polite, and smart!” Hermione sniffed.

Harry listened happily as his friends debated over the qualities of the other champions and pictured himself holding the Triwizard Trophy up high in front of the whole school.

Alive.

Free.

Strong.

“Whatcha thinking about Darlin?” Fred asked quietly.

“Winning the tournament,” Harry said honestly. “Then you’ll have 500 Galleons to put towards your shop, right? Plus,” Harry lowered his voice. “I’m going to get your money back from Bagman next time I see him.”

Fred rolled his eyes but gave him a lopsided grin.

“I was teasing you about splitting your winnings, you keep it.”

“But you said you wouldn’t enter if I split it with you, and I will,” Harry insisted. “Otherwise it’s not fair.”

“Harry, I was joking. I know that’s rare for me, but it really was a joke. You should keep your gold and buy a bunch of swords or something wicked.”

“We’ll see,” Harry snorted. “But next time I see Bagman I’m going to get your money.”

“My hero,” Fred sighed dramatically with a hand on his heart. “I’ll be sure to give you a sweet discount once our shop opens.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned.



When Harry laid on the floor that night, his head in the crook of Fred’s arm and Lue’s head on his chest, he let his mind drift back to his previous fantasy about winning the tournament.



Harry would stand up on a platform and raise the trophy high. His friends would all be cheering for him. Snape would be giving him that proud look he gives when he’s pleased with Harry. Black, the Contessa, Amelia, and the Malfoy’s would all be there waving at him. Harry would look at Dumbledore and feel a smug sense of satisfaction as he has to announce that Harry won.

It would be the best day of his life.

The next morning at breakfast Harry pulled one of his pills out from the bottle and hesitated before he took it.

‘I am worried for your safety, your health, and your life. You could become injured and I will be unable to heal you with the potions it would require.’

“What’s up Harry?” Susan asked as Harry stared down at the pill in his hand.

“Nothing,” Harry said hastily, pocketing the pill. “Just thinking about the first task.”

“Hermione read about the previous tasks and her and Theo have some theories on what’s coming up,” Blaise said.

Harry turned toward Hermione and Theo and grinned at them.

“Let’s hear it then,” he said, the pill in his pocket already forgotten about.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: Severus hates reporters. End quote.