[Harry Potter / Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha] OUROBOROS

[Nitramy]

For years 0 through the first part of year 4, go here.

***

The Morning After (And All That Entails)

***

Despite the disturbing note given to him about how he and Fleur carried on during the Yule Ball, Harry slept like a log and woke up refreshed, almost as if the events of last night didn't happen at all.

Once he emerged from the small room adjoining the office assigned by Hogwarts for the Witch of Dun Scaith, he looked like he was ready to face the day... until he saw his master seated at the breakfast table, wearing a Mona Lisa smile and gesturing to the Daily Prophet.

Paying it no mind, Harry padded over to the kitchen and fixed himself some breakfast on autopilot, and went over to his spot in the small dining table to see the immortal witch still wearing that enigmatic smile.

He was halfway through his bacon and eggs when he saw the headline. Thankfully, he wasn't eating or drinking anything at the moment, otherwise he would have done a perfect spit take onto the Witch -- and that would have meant bad things (like Ansuz practice).

If this was a slapstick cartoon, Harry Potter's jaw would have uncoupled and dropped onto the breakfast table, because on the front page of the Daily Prophet was an animated close-up picture of his face hovering close to Fleur Delacour's chest.

Ouroboros started laughing, but it sounded distant, because of the jackhammer beats of his heart.

He looked back up at Scathach and her smile just widened.

"Read it."

***

After the most awkward ten minutes where he read about the Triwizard's Yule Ball dance -- which was actually a very informative story about what had happened up to that point -- had passed, Harry turned to his Master.

"Why would they use that as the front page picture?" Harry asked after reading, pointing towards the caption "Champions of Dun Scaith and Beauxbatons heating up the dance floor".

"Sex sells," Scathach replied, and Harry resisted the urge to gag, making her chuckle. "Ah, right. I did not consider that in all your adventures, you have yet to grow past the 'girls are icky and have cooties' phase."

Harry gave his Master a face as if he had sucked on a lemon -- he was only now beginning to notice the fairer sex, but he would be damned if he let a weakness like that slip out, especially from a living legend like Scathach.

"Nevertheless, I am sure the other competitors have gained insight on their golden egg by now," she continued. "Today is a free day, so you might want to take a dip in the pool and make sure your swimming skills haven't randomly vanished."

Harry hung his head.

"As you wish, Master."

The Witch stood up.

"Be of good cheer, my student," she said. "I have no doubt that my presence alone will buoy your spirits while swimming."

More like you're going to feed on the attention of the male students from three schools.

Harry couldn't resist, he mentally chuckled at Tom's ridiculous statement.

"I'm feeling better already," Harry admitted, as the morning meal finished and he went towards his swimming gear. "Anyway, Master, do you think the Yule Ball was a success?"

"More than you think," she said. "You'll see more of it in the coming days."

And true to form, when Harry and the Witch of Dun Scaith showed up at the pool, there was a crowd waiting for them, mostly upper years... and was there a smattering of female students from the other schools, too?

***

Serendipity

***

The informal swimming class went along quite well, with the students taking to separate parts of the pool to swim or warm up (magical heating, who knew), and Harry trying desperately to not get overloaded by hormones every time he saw one of the upper-year female students.

After an hour had mercifully passed by, Harry was about to extricate himself from the pool when he heard three voices that instantly put him on alert.

Upon hearing the chatter of the Gryffindor chasers, he ended up kicking the golden egg into the pool in his panic to get to the locker room.

He was in a stall and done hyperventilating when he realized that the golden egg in his swim bag was missing, and panicked even more.

Maybe it's back in the pool?

Harry took a moment to let out a calming breath.

Maybe you're right, Ouroboros. I should check it out.

Several minutes later, and when the course was clear, Harry returned to the pool, dove to where he thought the golden egg was, and marveled as he saw the item had opened, with a choir of what looked like merfolk singing inside it.

Immediately, he grabbed the egg, tucked it in his swim trunks, and made for the surface... only to run into Fleur.

Face, focus on her face, Harry thought, all the while Ouroboros was laughing uproariously in his mind.

"I see you are very happy to see me," Fleur said coquettishly, and Harry groaned as he remembered where he tucked the golden egg.

He just scratched the back of his head and shrugged.

"Still have lots of things to do, even if today's a weekend," Harry quickly said. "Have fun at the pool."

"Of course, Harry. Wouldn't want to keep you from your... business."

Harry was sure his head had been magically replaced with a tomato by the time he returned to the dressing room and put the golden egg back inside his swim bag.

I haven't been entertained this hard since I watched that plebian show your aunt likes... but anyway, I should remind you that water is what activates the golden egg's mechanism.

Tell me about it, Harry replied, when I'm done making a complete prat of myself.

Ouroboros just chuckled.

I took the liberty of taking a picture of Fleur because you were too busy looking at her face. Full body.

I take back everything good I said about you, Harry shot back. You are just as evil as when you weren't an Intelligent Device.

I aim to please, boss, Ouroboros replied after letting out a believable wolf whistle.

***

Though it was technically supposed to be a free day, Harry took the golden egg to the "apprentice's bathroom", put it under the sink, and turned the water on.

The egg unfolded, and Harry could hear the merfolk singing about "something important".

I don't have anyone or anything important here. Everything I have can either fend for themselves... or are in a different world, Harry told himself.

If that's the case, then ask yourself: what would other people think is important to you? Ouroboros asked, and Harry nodded.

Well, we'll just see what happens, Harry replied.

***

As an aside, the Daily Prophet published on the 27th of December featured Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts and Claire Rousavall of Beauxbatons in a rather compromising position, turning them into fuel for the gossips for the next few weeks.

Ouroboros -- thanks to being an Intelligent Device -- knew that nothing happened, of course.

It was merely an unfortunate convergence of coincidences: one, Claire Rousavall was Cedric Diggory's date in the Yule Ball; two, Ms. Rousavall turned out to be quite the lightweight, and Mr. Diggory was a consummate gentleman and helped her back to her quarters in Hogwarts; and three, Ms. Rousavall's habit of sleeping in (almost) the buff and sleepwalking just had to kick in at the most inopportune time, and a lot of jokes about "international cooperation" circulated around Hogwarts during the days leading up to the Second Task.

All of this brouhaha was but a footnote to Harry, though, as his preparations for the second task came first.

It didn't stop his Device from giving him updates on how the scandalous event unfolded, though -- even throughout the Christmas holidays, where he found a book containing the biographies of historically famous wizards and witches courtesy of Hermione, a magically-animated poster of "Breakfast at Tiffany's" from Fleur, and a Krav Maga booklet given by the Dursleys.

Realizing that his training had gotten him to forget about sending holiday presents back, Harry's Christmas holiday was all about getting last-minute presents to his friends and family, and was every bit as hectic and stressful as his training sessions with the Witch.

***

The Second Task

***

Several weeks of training and studies later, Harry found himself on the shores of the Black Lake, together with the other Triwizard competitors. The task was introduced, to take back "something important" from the merpeople's village within an hour, and return.

Harry was too focused on the task to pick up on what was happening elsewhere, and as he turned to the coaches' are to see a confidently-smiling Scathach, he nodded back, his tension easing a bit as he knew that all the hard work he had done would prepare him sufficiently for this task.

"...and go!" Bagman shouted, signaling the start of the Second Task, and three contestants hit the water at roughly the same time.

Harry waited a few moments before hitting the water himself, and as soon as he did, gave the mental command.

Ouroboros, to infinity.

Barrier Jacket: Amphibious Mode activated.

And in a flash of brilliant green light, Harry was now wearing a skintight variant of his Barrier Jacket, complete with an air supply more than sufficient for the hour allotted for the task.

I can't believe that you, the Admiral, and the witch managed to keep this from me, Harry thought as he grabbed Ouroboros in wand form and began swimming to the objective.

We didn't, Ouroboros said. The Witch asked me if my functions also included underwater or amphibious operations. I said yes, and I immediately asked your Uncle Gil if I could access them. So technically, you're not cheating -- people who were in a place to help you just did; nothing more, nothing less.

Still doesn't feel right.

Not as right as when the other schools literally gave their champions the answer to the golden egg. Consider it turnabout and fair play.

Fine, Harry told his Device as they went on their way.

A few minutes of swimming later, Harry gasped as he saw lights in the underwater flora ahead. What the hell... are those grindylows?

A whole swarm of them, boss. They seem to be attacking someone en masse.

And given that the merfolk village is just a ways from here, it means a competitor is in danger, come on!

Ay-yay-yay, Ouroboros interjected. What is it with you and that hero complex of yours?

Do you want to stand idly by when someone dies here... when you could have done something about it?!

All right. Let's not make too big a splash, though.

Harry moved with his Device in unison towards the grindylows, like a torpedo through the water, wand glowing with power he was waiting to unleash.

***

In the Hunt

***

Harry Potter (or as he is more known in Hogwarts, Harry Graham) cut through the water, his Barrier Jacket both streamlining his movement and camouflaging him from fish and other creatures within the depths of the lake as he speedily and stealthily edged closer to the horde of grindylows that was his destination.

Holy diver, you've been down to long in the midnight sea...

Oh, what's becoming of me!

Harry's Intelligent Device was playing music as soon as they hit the water, and the chorus hit as they made it closer to the horde of grindylows...

Okay, that's not good. Someone's run into those little bastards.

Based on the magical signature, it's someone we know very well.

Fleur?

Harry moved through the water faster.

Oh, I can think of two very good reasons why you would forego your own goals and help her.

You're not helping right now!

He made it to see her being harangued by what looked like fifty or more of those things -- she was casting spells, but Harry felt her magic beginning to weaken, especially underwater.

Tom, does your shot spread slow down underwater?

Only conventional munitions worry about that. Lock and load!

With a grin on Harry's face, he swam up to the group of grindylows in the back, still unseen, and pointed Ouroboros at them.

The resulting shock wave from the blast threw the rest of them off Fleur, and before the rest of the grindylows knew what was up, a barrage of green lights coming from one direction were smashing into them.

I don't give a flying fuck what those things are, if they can bleed, we can kill it! Harry thought. "Phase Bolt: Hail Storm!"

Fleur was still occupied when Harry swam up to her, and her eyes lit up in recognition as she saw his outfit looking similar to the one he wore at the Yule Ball.

He gestured towards the distance, where the merfolk village was, Fleur nodded, and went on her way.

YOU'RE GIVING HER A HEAD START?

WHY?

One, we're underwater, and sound carries differently there than here. Two, it wouldn't look good if Fleur and I made it at the same time to the target location. Three, pretty sure we'll have our hands full when we get there, might as well move cautiously and let the linker core's regeneration kick in, so we have more access to our tricks, should the need arise.

Oh, good. At least I know you're thinking with the right head. I thought you were all "you can finish ahead of me, m'lady" just because it's Fleur.

Do you have anything else worth needling me about?

No, and let the other participants tangle up first before we step in.

Right, that's the actual plan. Come on.

***

Though they weren't moving fast by their standards, Harry and his Device made it to the merfolk village not too long after the rest of the Triwizard contestants did -- in what looked like three separate areas, the participants were each battling an opponent: Fleur was against a merfolk warrior (and holding her own), Cedric was trading spell fire with a merfolk mage, Krum was partially transfigured as a hammerhead shark and pressing the attack against a merfolk brute...

A chittering voice welcomed Harry and Ouroboros into the merfolk's village.

"And the man of the hour arrives," the merfolk chieftain said. "You have the luxury of having to defeat me to claim that which is lost."

Harry's hostage looked unfamiliar; the fact that the tie blended in with the water meant the girl was either from Slytherin or Ravenclaw, of which he didn't bother to guess.

So they picked up a random hostage because they knew you would charge in like the whitest of white knights, all to save an innocent?

Whatever, we're gonna take out whoever they put up against us. Come on!

"All right," Harry said, Ouroboros translating his speech into the merfolk's language. "Let's dance!"

He switched his Device into its Shooting Mode, and moved in.

***

It was three minutes into exchanging spells and blows that Harry realized one important fact: the merfolk chieftain was so below him in combat ability.

There were so many times where he could have just used Flash Move to warp in and separate the chieftain's head from his shoulders with a point-blank Phase Bolt, or stunned him long enough for an Arc Smash to vaporize the entire lake, or some other flashy and powerful means of victory.

And there were even more times where he could have just broke through the merfolk chieftain's defenses and stabbed him with Ouroboros in wand or dagger form.

Am I too fast, or is this guy too slow?

You remember who you've been training with?

Oh... right.

When he realized that he could have ended the fight in the first couple seconds, Harry turned to see the hostage's head starting to turn blue, and he knew that he had to end this fast.

The merfolk chieftain chanted, and ripples of pressure came roaring at Harry, only for him to sidestep them as he moved closer, and right before the chieftain could summon up another volley of attacks, he saw a green light...

"Phase Bolt!" Harry intoned, and as his Device activated the spell, the merfolk chieftain took the brunt of the magical blast and plummeted back down to the roof of his house, unconscious.

"Now that that's done," Harry told no one in particular as he made his way to the hostage. Dark hair, oriental features... and he finally saw enough of the tie to determine it was a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin.

After commanding Ouroboros to make a strap to bind her on his back, he began the swim back to shore, the hostage piggybacked on him, and a decisive victory on his hands.

***

...and then what?

***

The second event was another massive success for Harry and Dun Scaith, as he had emerged well before the time limit with his hostage. The rest of the Triwizard contestants also made it before the time limit, but that was because his knocking out of the chieftain disoriented the rest of the merfolk enough for the others to take advantage of the opportunity and win big.

Naturally, when the scores were tallied, Harry had now gained a comfortable lead, and maybe the ire of the grindylows, as despite the massive power of his Phase Bolt buckshot, it wasn't lethal at all.

Of note was when the merfolk chieftain called down Headmaster Dumbledore to ask "from what fresh saltwater hell did he get that 4th contestant?"

Harry and Ouroboros were too busy listening into and mentally laughing at the chieftain's rant to digest that they were in the lead, and that the other Triwizard contestants were now considering teaming up against him.

Except Fleur, of course, as he had done her a huge favor in making sure she was able to make it to the merfolk village.

He caught a glimpse of her embracing Gabrielle, who was just wet and bedraggled as she is, and after she turned to see him, gave him a grateful nod that he returned.

The rest of the ceremony flew by in a blur, even as Harry was feeling the buzz of having helped Fleur rescue her sister, even if that was all a dog and pony show in the end. As soon as the event had been declared completed, with the participants and audience returning to Hogwarts for the requisite meal together, Harry was suddenly struck with a feeling of accomplishment.

I've got Master, I've got Tom... I think I have a decent shot at winning this!

Don't get complacent, though, Ouroboros replied. I think that's what the Witch would say, and any overconfidence you have will most likely be trained out of you once the weekend is done.

You are such a buzz kill.

Anyway, the worst of it is done -- there's just one task, several months away, and I think we could use a bit of downtime.

Have I mentioned how you sound a lot like that Granger girl? Only you would think of academic activity as downtime.

Looks like my fiendish nature has rubbed off on you.

***

I knew it.

The week after the second task, the Witch threw them into the deep end... again.

The training sessions in the Room of Requirement had become even more frantic, with evading spells, withstanding what Scathach called "pain runes" (felt like Cruciatus, but without the side effects), learning how to stay calm when injured or in pain... and she had become even more vicious with that red spear of hers.

It was with a zombie's gait that an exhausted and disheveled Harry emerged from one of his master's training sessions, only to run into the hostage he had rescued.

"Oh, hello there," he said as soon as he saw her. "Fancy meeting you here... what was your name again?"

"Cho."

"Right, Cho. Hello there, Cho," Harry said, his mind still not all there yet.

"You look awful," Cho observed. "What have you been doing in that room?"

"If you think I look awful, ask about how I feel: how bad I look is just about a quarter as bad as how I'm feeling," Harry replied with a groan. "Even my bruises have bruises on them."

"...What kind of things would cause you to end up like that?"

Harry tried to downplay his state. "Well, my Master and I were just working on a few Defense-related things, you know how it goes."

"Oh," she said, and immediately recalled how Professor Pennyworth taught Defense. "Well, you don't look like you're in shape for going to Hogsmeade with me on the weekend."

Though he was surprised, he could barely raise his head towards her.

"Why?"

"Well, I haven't had a chance to thank you."

Harry shrugged.

"It's still Thursday, so... you're welcome?"

In Harry's mind, Ouroboros started laughing hard.

"Sounds good, actually! So... I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry answered, raising his hand as she skipped away.

What the hell was that? Harry asked his Device, who played a song in lieu of a reply.

"And they call it puppy love..."

You fucker.

His Device just laughed even harder.

***

Notes: Krum's hostage was still Hermione, Fleur's hostage was still Gabrielle. Cedric's hostage was Claire Rousavall, which opened up Cho Chang for Harry (but to be honest, it could have been anyone; the reason for Cho being the hostage and all these scenes will be made apparent later).

***

Historical Revisionism

***

Shortly after the Second Task, and the last-minute change of having the Triwizard participants battle merfolk champions underwater, the committee scrambled to make some last-minute changes to the Third Task, as while a chase through a hedge would make for a good task challenge-wise, it wouldn't make for a good task, publicity-wise.

Principals and faculty from three schools were wringing their brains for some ideas until the Witch of Dun Scaith stepped in and saved the day.

"I am a consultant for Hogwarts' Dueling Club, as it is run by Professors Snape and Pennyworth," she declared shortly after another meeting about what the Third Task should be started. "I know you know that some of your students have been sneaking out to observe our Dueling Club activities, so why not make the third task a dueling tournament? Single combat, single elimination, winner advances."

Bagman nodded.

"That's... why, why didn't we think of that? Dun Scaith has also participated in the Triwizard, making it four champions. Why, we could make it so that each school will hold their own tournament, and the best four of each would take part in the third task!"

Scathach grinned -- she liked it when others came up with her ideas on their own.

"That's right," Karkaroff added. "Sixteen students and the rounds spread out over a week, plus the tournament being broadcast on wizarding wireless? Would make for a great publicity coup for our schools."

"It would also give the students who did not participate a chance to prove themselves, too!" Headmistress Maxime chimed in. "This is a very good idea. Scrap the maze, let's make it a tournament!"

What was left afterward was the hashing out of details and the selection process for their respective schools.

Nobody noticed a tiny beetle perched on the corner of the room seeing everything, and making a mental note to write about the Triwizard deepening the cooperation between the three schools who should ostensibly be rivals.

Maybe there is hope after this.

***

In Da Club (obligatory "go go go go go go / go shawty it's yo' birthday")

***

The Dueling Club meeting that followed once everything had been arranged was eventful, as Scathach had made the announcement to the participants, to much applause and approval.

"Our end-of-term dueling tournament's top 4 will now decide who will participate in this Third Task tournament! Naturally, our champion is exempt from this contest. All four participants will be awarded with copies of this picture... and this picture."

She brought out the competition swimsuit picture, leading to a lot of hooting and hollering from the male student body, because she brought out another animated picture: this time, she was wearing a purple bikini, the same color as her hair.

After silencing the room with a gesture, she continued.

"And, this is for the one who advances the furthest in the tournament."

She brought out an animated portrait showing Professor Pennyworth's performance in the Hogwarts' faculty Christmas party, singing something by a Muggle, Mariah something-or-other; Harry recognized the title as "All I Want For Christmas Is You".

That wasn't the noteworthy thing: the bunny outfit she was wearing was the thing that attracted the most attention.

Snape sighed at the pandemonium ensuing in the Dueling Club, once more.

As her apprentice, Harry was there and watching the proceedings with amusement.

Wonder who would be bad enough to make it to the Third Task? Ouroboros asked.

I don't know, but we have a pocket full of aces. Even then, we still have to be careful so we can win the whole thing. Sixteen participants, and four rounds? We're going to have to step it up, even without Master's help.

It's great that you have a good head on your shoulders. But be warned. That picture is going to make your classmates train like they've never trained before.

Don't I know that. We're going to have to work on our arsenal of spells.

Ah, ah, ah. That will have to wait. Tomorrow is Saturday. Do you know what that means?

No... I don't.

Hogsmeade. With that girl Cho. Or did that last training session mess up your memory that badly?

Crap, you're right! Ouroboros, I have a problem, though...

...let me guess, you don't know what to do on a date, right?

YES!

All right, let's do what we did with Lucius Malfoy. Watch a maestro at work.

***

Friday Night (Can't Stop Dancing All Night Long)

***

After the Dueling Club meeting, the Witch and her apprentice were walking back to their quarters, when she surprised him.

"There will be no training tomorrow and on Sunday, I have personal business to attend to," she said. "Feel free to treat this as a day for rest and recreation -- things will step up as the Third Task is approaching. Speaking of which, I have thought about bringing you as a guest for the other Dueling Club members to spar against, just to take the measure of their prospective opponents in the Triwizard finals. Do you approve?"

"I might get scouted," Harry thought aloud. "But sparring under a handicap is another form of training, so I guess that's a good idea. Besides, I've seen the sixth and seventh years all fired up trying to win that prize of yours."

Scathach smiled.

"Now you're thinking like a warrior. Keep that up and you're going to win the Triwizard easily, even without Ouroboros' esoteric abilities."

Weird. A compliment. She gives those out once every blue moon.

Yeah... something seems to be up. I should thank her.

"Thank you, Master."

"You're very welcome. Now, what's this I heard from the Ravenclaws about you and Cho Chang?"

Harry and his Device both groaned.

***

The day of the Hogsmeade date finally came, and Harry found the whole affair sorely underwhelming.

Everything that happened was so banal, so boring... but Ouroboros was constantly telling Harry that he should enjoy the boring and peaceful times while he could.

All he and Cho Chang did during the date was walk around Hogsmeade, with Cho asking a lot of questions about Harry's life and misadventures, with Harry trying to give his best possible answers.

When it was Harry's turn to ask, Cho surprisingly scrimped on her answers, but at the time, he did not notice -- the town was just that picturesque in the winter.

Eventually, their stroll ended up in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, where Cho asked Harry about his chances in the tournament.

"I honestly don't know if I'll win, that's why I'm training my best," he replied honestly. "But with the kind of training I'm going through, I'm sure I'll put up a good showing, even against the other champions. It's a huge honor -- and a huge responsibility -- to be the champion of Dun Scaith, picked out personally by Scathach herself."

As soon as he said that, he spotted a shock of purple hair several tables down, and turned to see his Master having tea with a cloaked man. While he was listening to Cho, he asked Ouroboros to snoop on the Witch's conversation.

"I've acquired what you've asked for," the Witch said as she handed over a small vial containing a suspicious red liquid to the cloaked man, "and I've also convinced Bagman and the others of the diversion."

"What about the other end?" the man asked.

"We should have enough time to make the pickup, but it's going to be cutting it very close. Are you sure he's fit to travel after that?"

"The ritual should go off without a hitch... I still need more proof that you're not going to screw me over or throw me to the Ministry's mercies."

"Who do you think I am? You asked for my help, and my help I shall offer to you. The only variable here is the destination, and the conditions of my assistance."

"I know that. But this is the only shot I have now, because of circumstances."

"Very well."

Harry's attention returned to Cho as she was talking more about Cedric and that "blonde French bimbo with big bumpers" that kept hitting on him.

After having tea and strolling back to Hogwarts, Harry thanked Cho for a good time, and she left to rejoin her fellow Ravenclaws.

Okay, that was odd.

Very odd, indeed. Who could the person the Witch was talking to be?

Beats me. That vial was also very suspicious.

You know our Master, always doing things behind our back, things we probably aren't prepared to deal with now.

Yeah... we still have the tourney to prepare for. Let's put it on the back burner for now, then ask her about it once the tourney's over.

Agreed.

***

Not Your Ordinary Death Eater

***

Several days after the Hogsmeade date, a small shock reverberated throughout the wizarding community, as Ludo Bagman was investigated for the disappearance of the official overseeing the Triwizard: Bartemius Crouch Sr.; the investigation brought back Bagman's past as a Death Eater who avoided imprisonment by saying he was put under the Imperius.

After a class where the Imperius was discussed by Professor Pennyworth, Ouroboros and Harry were having a rather enlightened conversation.

Bagman was a Death Eater?

He was, though he wasn't privy to any of our insider information.

What do you mean?

Bagman's only claim to fame was his quidditch skills. Magically, he's incompetent, and has all the interpersonal skill of a big, dumb, jock. Naturally, he joined our group because everyone else of note did.

So... he's a bandwagoner.

Exactly. I'm not that surprised he claimed Imperius. Must have been under the recommendation of someone like Malfoy.

Why?

Bagman doesn't know anything about the Death Eaters. I'd wager he still thinks it was an association of the "cool" people in the Wizarding World, and we never disabused him of the notion by including him in raids, meetings, or any of that stuff. We just used his popularity and his reputation as a quidditch star as a recruitment pitch.

So he's just a glorified figurehead.

Exactly. As far as Death Eaters go, Bagman is the type who can never harm a fly -- outside quidditch. That's why Crouch brought him on board: he thinks Bagman can lead him to more Death Eaters, and his popularity would also improve his reputation from being a cutthroat prosecutor.

My godfather did mention Crouch being the one who convicted him.

Yeah, the guy was a bit too quick on the draw for my taste, but it did help the Death Eaters gain some sympathy points from the public, i.e. those naive bleeding-heart morons. It helped the Imperius defense gain some legitimacy, once I got to read those transcripts.

Harry laughed.

So what do you think happened to the old man?

I don't know. Maybe someone with a grudge showed up. The man had enemies.

With the topic out of their minds, Harry and Ouroboros continued onto Potions, where Snape was his usual grumpy self.

A few days later, the elder Crouch was found in the outskirts of Hogwarts with his House Elf Winky, completely disoriented and the last few days missing from his memory, and with Bagman's alibi corroborated, he was cleared of any suspicion in the disappearance, and the build-up towards the Third Task of the Triwizard continued on...

***

Among Us

***

The weeks leading up to the Triwizard finale continued on uneventfully, with Harry going with Cho to Hogsmeade several more times in between his classes and the ever-more-grueling training sessions with the Witch.

All of this bore fruit for Harry, as he was now able to change Ouroboros into a wand for him to cast spells with. Before, Ouroboros would cast spells for him, but with the Witch making sure they could only cast spells both of them mastered, it spurred the young man to start working on mastering his limited arsenal of spells.

However, during one of the last meetings of the Dueling Club, a small incident roused the suspicion of the boy and his Intelligent Device: during a conversation with Cedric Diggory as they watched the dueling club sparring, Cedric had said something about "Breakfast at Tiffany's", something Harry had told Fleur during the Yule Ball.

That wasn't something Cedric should have known, and from that moment onward, Harry considered his upperclassman with suspicion, though at Ouroboros' urging, he did not immediately show it on his face.

As soon as the meeting ended, Harry went to an empty classroom nearby, and brought forth the Marauders' Map.

"What the fuck..." Harry muttered as he saw Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang in close quarters in another empty classroom.

Is this what I think it is?

This is beyond our scope to deal with. We need to consult our Master.

You're right.

***

"I think we have some circumstantial evidence... that Cho Chang is dating me to gain information, information that she gives to Cedric Diggory," Harry told the Witch as soon as they entered their quarters, and as soon as he saw the Witch's face, he let out a breath of annoyance about being locked out of the loop. "You don't look surprised, Master."

"I had my doubts," she said. "Besides, based on the second task, you are not that attached to anyone here in this school, and anyone attached to you here can fend for themselves, for the most part. Based on that... it makes me think that once you finish your education here, you will forego the British Wizarding World altogether and set your roots down elsewhere."

"Do you disapprove?"

She smiled.

"Absolutely not. You are free to live your life the way you choose to, even if my guidance means that you will have to fight your way through it."

"So what should I do... about this?"

"Use it... to your advantage. Give her false information you can leverage should you and Diggory meet in the finals of the third task. Think of doing it like how the Weasley twins prank people."

Harry grinned. That was something he could definitely go on board with.

***

Book Learning

***

Fresh off a training session in the Room of Hidden Things, Harry found himself passing some time by reading through the Krav Maga booklet gifted to him by his uncle, aunt and cousin. A lot of the preparatory activities and ways to keep in shape within were already part of his daily training regimen, thanks to the Witch, but the philosophy of avoiding conflict and ending it decisively should it escalate was something he had yet to encounter, and he was reading through that.

"Interesting read, my student," the Witch remarked. "A gift?"

"That is so, my Master," Harry answered. "It is about self-defense, and I have read through it a few times already."

"But you do not apply it yet? Let me have a look at it."

Harry handed over the booklet to the Witch, and after scanning it for a few seconds, she nodded.

"I shall hold onto this for now; maybe I can train you with what I can learn from this."

That surprised Harry. Normally, Scathach would have all the answers to any of his questions, so why was she treating the booklet like something she'd never seen before?

"Ah, I see the look on your face. Remember, Harry: I am a teacher of heroes, and I know that sometimes, to be a better teacher, one has to be receptive of learning new things, like a student does."

"Right."

"That reminds me," Ouroboros remarked aloud. "That was my dream so many years ago: I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up."

"Well, you have your memories, experiences, and menagerie of magic spells to teach, aside from your functions as a Device," Scathach replied. "So in a way, your dream has been fulfilled. Maybe that's why you nurse no resentment towards your boss -- you have no more regrets now, do you?"

"Not anymore," the Device replied. "With what's coming, I want the boss to be prepared for anything and everything, even if I have to face off against myself."

"Let's hope it won't come to that," Harry said. "But the book did say that should a fight be unavoidable, we have to fight as hard as we can."

"And that's where I come in," the Witch added. "Come on, there are still a few tricks with casting Charms you have yet to learn from me."

The Room changed into a dojo, and the training day began accordingly.

***

Ready to Rumble

***

The days, weeks, and months passed by quickly, as Harry found his preparations for the dueling gauntlet that was the final task of the Triwizard Tournament stepping up drastically.

Before, he was being treated with kid gloves.

Now, the Witch of Dun Scaith was going after him with even more power and ferocity; in the heat of battle, he found his abilities forged to an absurd degree.

To what, he did not know; all he knew was that the Witch was powerful beyond comprehension, and every time he sparred against her, he emerged from the Room of Hidden Things exhausted, singed, bandaged, limping, and/or all of the above.

The training was such that his plans to prank Cho Chang went out of his mind until the last Sunday that would make for the eve of the gauntlet proper.

You have anything in mind on how to make Cho's leaking of information backfire on her?

No, nothing at the moment...

Well, you are in luck. Remember the tournament brackets? You and Cedric are on opposite sides. Block A has you, Edvard Markov, Ricard Vellanoise, and Roger Davies.

I remember him. He's the president of Fleur's fan club here in Hogwarts.

Did you see all those fan signs he made saying all those wonderful things about you, in the Second Task?

Harry laughed as he remembered.

Yes, they were very... imaginative. If it wasn't for Master holding me back...

Well, now you've got your chance, assuming he gets past Vellanoise. From what we've seen, the man is known for rapid-fire spell barrages, and he wields his wand like a rapier.

So we make a fight plan for Davies and Vellanoise, huh?

Yep. Davies is, and I hate to make you complacent, a pushover. He wears his heart on his sleeve. Piss him off and he's going to make the first mistake, which you can capitalize on.

What about Markov?

Sangromancer. His uncle's one of those shadowy research-type guys; won't let his nephew into the family magic until after his school term. Expect solid fundamentals from him.

Gotcha.

***

The nineteenth of June dawned, a bright and sunny morning that concealed the beginning of the dueling tournament that would decide the winner of the Triwizard tournament.

Because of the number of participants, the first round would be stretched over two days, with the next three rounds taking a day each.

Of course, knowing that there would be those who would aim to win by any and every means necessary, the participants of each school were placed under strict guard.

Thus the event began, with students of each school cheering on their duelists and champion as they made their way onto the stage.

After the opening ceremony ended uneventfully, Harry found himself in a waiting room, the very first duel of the tournament, the sound of his heartbeat resounding heavily in his ears as the pressure was beginning to get to him.

Unlike everyone else here, who wanted to win for personal glory or for school spirit, he felt like he was caught between a rock and a hard place.

It was monumental expectations piled high upon him, his age, and what he was representing.

Harry, you're palpitating.

Don't tell me, Ouroboros; I just want this over and done with.

Deep breaths, boss. You're fine. We're fine. We'll be fine. We're trained by the best. Remember what the Witch taught you.

Right, right.

Breathe in energy.

One, two, three, four.

Breathe out stress.

One, two, three, four.

Again, Harry: breathe in energy.

One, two, three, four.

And breathe out stress.

One, two, three, four.

Harry and his Device continued the breathing exercise for several more minutes until a purple-haired head poked into the curtains of the waiting room.

"It is time, my apprentice."

Harry opened his eyes calmly and looked at the Witch of Dun Scaith.

"Let's go."

He stood up, and with a thought, summoned the Barrier Jacket he used as a representative of Dun Scaith, and transformed Ouroboros into a staff topped with a green orb, with metallic rings orbiting it.

Showtime.

***

"Presenting, the unprecedented fourth champion of the Triwizard, representing Dun Scaith, give it up for Harold "Harry" Graham!"

Polite applause filled the stadium, except for someone who may or may not have been Draco Malfoy shouting "Kick his ass!" up in the bleachers.

"And his opponent, a seventh-year from Durmstrang, the latest of the Markov line, Edvard Markov!"

The crowd politely applauded while the Durmstrang contingent cheered for their duelist.

"Now, both contestants -- dueling positions!"

Harry's grip on his staff tightened.

"Ready... and begin!"

As soon as Bagman vanished, the spells began flying, and Harry did what he did best: dodge.

It was difficult, as Markov was very skilled at layering hexes and jinxes on top of one another, weak things that disrupted the opponent, setting them up for a huge Flippendo / Depulso combo that knocked the target off-balance long enough for him to put the opponent at his mercy.

That tactic was what served Markov the best for him to win his school's own dueling tournament for the right to be at this event, but this time, it wasn't working.

Graham was simply too agile; once he got the hang of how Markov shot spells, he started to mix in his own hexes in between evasive maneuvers.

"Scheisse!" Markov exclaimed as he was blindsided at this development: this Graham kid was taking his best tactic, evading it, and now he was countering it, all on the fly! "What kind of training did that Witch put you through?"

Harry did not reply, and instead finished the fight by parrying the seventh-year duelist's strongest combo, sending the spells off to the sides, impacting the charmed arena walls, and stepped into Markov's guard, the staff glowing an ominous green as he had him dead to rights.

"I... I cannot believe this... I surrender!" Markov declared as he lowered his wand.

"What a splendid start!" Bagman announced. "After a furious ten-minute exchange of spell fire, it seems Dun Scaith's Harold Graham has triumphed... and will be advancing in the tournament! Give it up for our contestants!"

Everyone applauded; the fight was really that spectacular, and Markov had the good sense to raise the victor's arm in a display of sportsmanship.

"A healthy diet and daily exercise," Harry said as they were walking back to the waiting room. "That is what the Witch of Dun Scaith did."

"Bullshit," Markov said, and they both laughed. "Seriously, though. You were something else -- I thought I was facing my uncle Sorin for a moment! Are you going to join the dueling circuit when you are finished here, Mr. Graham?"

"Still weighing my options, Mr. Markov -- and please, call me Harry. Mr. Graham makes me sound old."

"If you will call me Ed. All of my friends do, Harry."

"Glad to hear, Ed."

***

First Round, First Day

***

As a result of the first match, Harry found himself a new friend: one who talked nonstop about wizarding duels and tactics.

"You were taught the parabolic casting arc first? Unbelievable! We don't get taught that until sixth year! And with the way you were firing spells off, you looked more like a pro! Unbelievable, just unbelievable," Edvard Markov continued as the break between bouts slowly came to an end.

Harry didn't want to give the fact that Ouroboros was doing most of the heavier calculations during the bout away (however, during training, the Witch would insist that he not use his Device when casting, so it was a net benefit either way), so he just smiled at the Durmstrang seventh-year.

"Anyway, our champion is in the B Block, so you will face him in the third round. Good luck on the second!"

"Yeah, may the best champion win," he said with a polite smile, and Edvard ran back to his classmates.

Do you think he's going to help Krum by telling him how we dueled?

Sucker bet. However, we've only shown off a fraction of what we can really do; we've got a ton of surprises waiting in the woodwork.

"You're not going to watch the rest of the bouts?" a voice asked behind Harry, and he wheeled around to see his Master. "They're starting in a few minutes."

"On my way, Master. I just had some... company."

"Yes, and it's a good thing you were able to pick his brain just as much as he picked yours," Scathach said with a grin. "Come on, the house elves will bring snacks for us as we watch."

With a grin, Harry followed his Master back to the box seats reserved for them.

***

The bout immediately after Harry's was the most interesting one he had seen so far; Vellanoise had been in the lead, whittling down Roger Davies' defenses until he reversed the outcome by capitalizing on a telegraphed spell.

"Well now," Harry said as soon as preparations for the next round were underway. "Vellanoise was never at an advantage in the duel, right, Master?"

"Very insightful," Scathach replied. "Can you explain why?"

"Davies knows he's not as fast or as magically talented as the fencer, so he used that to his advantage. Fencers are trained to go after holes in opponents' defenses, so he deliberately put a hole in his defense that Vellanoise couldn't resist going after, and he never realized that Davies was limiting his options from the start of the bout."

The Witch smiled.

"Did you come up with that on your own or did Ouroboros help you?"

"All on my own, Ouroboros only confirmed my suspicions when the duel ended."

"Excellent. You don't realize it, but you have become a better mage than when you started. Keep it up."

"Thank you."

"So, what do you think would be the way to counter someone setting deliberate holes in their defense as a trap?"

Harry was quiet for a moment.

"As the bouts are continuing, I suggest you try working on that with Ouroboros, knowing that he'll be your opponent, day after tomorrow," Scathach said, and that was when the House Elves entered, snacks in tow.

He nodded solemnly, and his Device blinked green.

***

The next several bouts were not that interesting, as those who were expected to win, did.

Viktor Krum defeated Kenneth Towler, a seventh-year Gryffindor, and Claire Rousavall proved she wasn't just eye candy and defeated another Durmstrang duelist -- Gisela Soderlund -- in a marathon of a match.

Of particular note was the fact that during the girls' bout, a lot of cutting charms were used, and the battle was decided by a close-quarters grapple, much to the delight of the male students watching.

Since the day had only so many hours, there were only four duels at most per day, and that blocks C and D would conduct their first rounds the next morning.

Harry and his Master returned to their quarters, minds whirring with ideas and tactics to use against their upcoming opponents.

***

The Second Day

***

The twentieth of June turned out to be a bright and pleasant summer's day, a very good day to have some wizarding duels and determine the winner of the Triwizard Tournament.

First on the card was Fleur Delacour against a Durmstrang duelist named Brunnhilde Stern ("please, call me Bruna," so she said).

Harry was watching a bit more intently than usual, which got a smile from his Master, as Fleur showed off a really fascinating combination of simple spells and her Veela ancestry to throw fireballs at her opponent.

As it turned out, the fireballs were the key to Fleur's victory, as she used the threat of getting roasted alive to gain the win by slowly cutting off her opponent's room to move.

"She's got some new moves," Scathach thought aloud as a victorious, though slightly tired, Fleur was being led back to her box by Headmistress Maxime. "Did you notice her as she fought underwater in the second task?"

"I did. I think that little rescue I did lit a fire under her ass," Harry remarked offhandedly, while still looking at the stage and analyzing how Fleur controlled the arena in her bout.

"Pretty sure that's not all she did," the Witch said, and Harry never bothered to look back to show his Master his rapidly reddening face, as he did not pick his words wisely.

It was also now that Harry heard Ouroboros chuckling.

"There's going to be another bout, and then lunch," Scathach continued, and right on cue, the house elves of Hogwarts emerged, snacks in tow.

Harry nodded, and around fifteen minutes later, the next bout began.

***

You noticed that? Harry asked Ouroboros as soon as Cassius Warrington was being led off the field on a stretcher. This isn't a personal duel, but that Montague guy went after Warrington like he owed him a school year's worth of lunch money. I'm not a fan of Slytherin, but we Hogwarts students gotta stick together, that was overdoing it!

Montague... Montague... Ouroboros answered, thinking aloud for a moment. Right, Montague! His family is notorious for being rabid pureblood supremacists. And check who's next on his fight card in the next round.

Fleur.

Yep, I don't think he hurt Warrington out of any personal quarrel, he just wanted to make a statement... to everyone here, but mostly to Fleur.

I heard her friend say that Montague was the favorite to be the Beauxbatons champion until something happened.

Well, there you go, Ouroboros said. I also analyzed Warrington's injuries. A lot of them are simple blunt-forced attacks; no magic whatsoever. He's a pro -- he knows how to make it look bad, but a glass of Skelegrow and a good night's sleep and his opponent will be back to fighting form.

Hope Fleur does her best against him.

Don't worry too much about her, focus on preparing for tomorrow. Davies is going to be tricky.

Right.

***

The next two bouts weren't that notable, except for Diggory winning without revealing any of his best moves, and the only Durmstrang student who made it past the first round, Sigarda von Braun.

Those last two bouts didn't have anything that we haven't seen yet, Ouroboros remarked as the day's ceremonies were closing.

Davies will be a troublesome opponent.

Not if we already know his tactics.

However, none of them were prepared for the surprise that was coming, as when the Witch returned, there were two men flanking her.

"Too bad we never got to see you in the first round, Harry. How have you been?" the newly-promoted Rear Admiral of the Time-Space Administration Bureau, Gil Graham, asked. "Your teacher has been sharing a lot of interesting stories involving you."

Harry sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

"Doing well enough, I guess," he answered. "So will you guys be around for the rest of the tournament, Uncle Gil?"

"That's right," Sirius Black replied. "We're also here to take care of a few legal matters, get my name cleared, and finalize liquidating the part of my estate I'll use to continue my brand-new start at Midchilda."

"That's great!" Harry exclaimed. "The last time I saw you, you weren't..."

"Don't worry too much about that! The nurses at Mid have been taking very good care of me. Besides, once this is over, I'm going to have to put you up to speed with what you've inherited from me."

That was a surprise.

"Inheritance? You serious?"

"As a heart attack," Sirius answered. "There are still some things I own that I can't quite dispense with, but suffice it to say that you're not going to want for anything in your wizarding education from this point forward."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"Oh, and I've heard from your very pretty professor that you're going to be Seeker next year. How's the Firebolt I got you?"

He smiled.

"Working well and maintained properly, Godfather."

"Ah! Please, just call me Sirius. 'Godfather' makes me sound ancient."

Harry laughed; it sounded like he was, indeed, a chip off the old block.

"How about we continue this while having dinner at Hogsmeade?" Graham asked. "I've already invited your Professor; you can come too."

"Sounds great!"

***

There was a lot of catching-up, awkward stories exchanged, and tales of adventures shared between Harry, his godfather Sirius, the Rear Admiral, and the Witch of Dun Scaith, over a dinner in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop.

The atmosphere was celebratory, though the second round and beyond still loomed beyond him.

However, when the talk went to more serious topics, the mood became somewhat somber, especially with the bomb that the Witch dropped.

"I don't think I can teach you any further than this, Harry," Scathach began. "You've learned the basics of everything I can teach you: combat magic, awareness, runes, unarmed combat."

That came as a surprise to Harry.

"Why?" he asked.

"Nearly every facet of my teachings are lethal. The system with which Ouroboros operates is a pacifistic one. I've taught you the basics of everything so you and your Device can take them to a similar path as mine, but without the killing inherent in my personal style. Consider that my final lesson and challenge to you."

"Are you going to be leaving?"

The Witch nodded.

"I will return to the Land of Shadows once this school year ends. It was but an alignment of the stars that I was able to manifest here, and it will be around a decade before I can return here once more... but do not be downcast! Not all farewells have to be sorrowful, or permanent."

"What your Master means to say is that 'this is not goodbye, this is see you later'," Sirius explained. "Anyway, after spending most of last year as a research subject for long-term dementor damage, it was only during the start of your fourth year that I found out what happened to the rat. After I told Admiral Graham what happened, he didn't waste any time and took care of that loose end."

"He was notoriously slippery... but we caught him, extracted a confession out of him, and left him to the mercy of the Midchilda legal system. When they found out he was an animagus, oh boy, let me tell you, the researchers literally tore at each other for a chance to see how that works."

"Who won that bidding war again? Some guy named Spaghetti?"

"Scaglietti," the Admiral replied. "And that confession is why you're here in Hogsmeade and fancy free; without Crouch hovering over the DMLE, I was able to get the paperwork clearing your name processed properly."

"Can't believe I have to owe you big-time," Sirius remarked.

"Well," Graham replied, "I DID come from Hogwarts before, but once I graduated I took the Enforcer's offer to go to Midchilda, and that was where I continued working."

"Is there any difference there than here?" Scathach asked.

"Not as much as you'd like to think," Graham answered. "Anyway, Harry, it's getting late. You and Lady Scathach ought to turn in for the night -- Sirius and I will handle the tab. Kick ass tomorrow."

"Show 'em what the son of a Marauder can do," Sirius added with a wink. "Put on a show out there."

Harry smiled, though it was a tad bittersweet.

"Will do."

***

Harry found himself holding his Master's hand during the entire walk back to Hogwarts, and upon their return to the faculty office and apartment allotted for the Witch and her champion, he couldn't help it; his eyes started to water.

"You're going to conquer more than sorrow, Harry," Scathach said softly as she ruffled her apprentice's hair. "You are going beyond this world, and will go further than any other wizard of your generation has done... you'll be doing more for this world and that than any of my apprentices. Do you understand?"

Harry shook his head, and the Witch couldn't see his eyes, covered as they were by his hair.

"It is not yet time for tears, my apprentice," she continued. "You still have other things to take care of, remember?"

Harry nodded.

"Tomorrow, until the end of the Triwizard, I want you to do your absolute best. Make me proud. Can you do that?"

"I can."

"Don't tell me you can. Tell me you will."

"I will do it."

She ruffled his hair again.

"I look forward to your victories, then."

Harry went back to his room, still confused, but now filled with a blazing determination to win the whole thing, because it would be the best thing to send off the Witch with when she returned to the Land of Shadows.

***

The Third Day

***

You were oddly silent yesterday.

Never had any family or people who cared about me the same way they do about you, Harry, Ouroboros said, his voice solemn. Treasure them, take care of them, hold their memories close to your heart.

Right.

Harry opened his eyes to see that the sky outside his window was starting to get bright.

Well, now isn't the time to be sentimental. We have a tournament to win.

Damn straight.

Harry emerged from his room to see that breakfast was already on the table, and seated there was the Witch, halfway through her own meal, looking like she wasn't the stern teacher of heroes Harry had known her to be, up to this moment.

"Three more opponents, huh?"

Harry nodded.

"Don't eat too fast. Take your time to savor meals. There will be much action later."

He smiled; this experience of being mothered by a legendary figure would definitely be filed under the most important of his memories.

Once the meal was done and preparations were duly made, they began the walk out to the quidditch pitch, which had been made into the arena for the Triwizard finals.

And in their waiting room, they easily spotted the Admiral and Sirius Black, taking up box seats and sipping tea.

His godfather looked like he was nursing a pretty hefty hangover, while the Admiral was calmly sipping on a cup of tea, the only signs of his own hangover were the slightly reddened eyes.

With everyone in play, Harry was already looking forward to the bout ahead.

***

It's a slobber-knocker!

***

After introductions were made, Harry walked onto the dueling arena, where opposite him, the Ravenclaw Roger Davies was waiting.

"I had this long speech planned out," his opponent began, "but I'm going to forego it for now. You took a lifetime opportunity away from me, and I'm going to take you out of the tournament for that."

He gestured to the Ravenclaw section of the audience, who unfurled a giant "Graham Sucks" sign, and Harry just grinned.

More showmanship needed, huh.

Yes, we're going to have to make this look really, really good.

"Lifetime opportunity, huh?" Harry asked. "Sounds like a good time for me to ask -- what's gotten you this angry? I haven't done anything to you now, have I?"

"Delacour was supposed to be my Yule Ball date," Davies gritted out, in a voice so low that Harry could only hear it thanks to Ouroboros.

"Hey, there's that saying when life closes a door, it opens a window," Harry said nonchalantly, and that response only served to enrage Davies even further.

"After you've seen what I can do, you still mock me, Graham? I don't care who you are, whether you're the apprentice of the Witch of Dun Scaith or the Boy-Who-Lived, I'm going to take you out!" he bellowed.

"Tsk," Harry said as he brought out his Device, in wand form. "You really don't know what you lucked into, huh? Once I beat you, I suppose I owe it to you to tell you what it is."

"Whatever. Now bring it!"

"Both combatants are ready after a blistering exchange of words," Bagman observed aloud. "Duelists, are you ready?"

After both of them nodded, he raised his arm.

"Then begin!"

He dropped the arm, and as soon as he did, Harry flashed forward, a red light shimmering on the tip of his Device.

Davies was a step too slow in establishing a defense, so he barely dodged a stunner heading his way -- it scraped his shoulder, though, leading to his left arm dangling uselessly for a moment.

It served him well, as he knew that Harry would go after his stunned arm, and as he backpedaled, he began to prepare for the counterattack.

However, instead of firing off a spell, Harry continued moving in close quarters, and before winding up for a spell, planted his foot firmly on the ground.

He'll try to take another of my limbs out with a stunner! Davies thought, and cast his own stunner through the telegraphed action, but before the spell could appear, his vision was suddenly filled with a fist rapidly closing in.

His next sensation was rolling along the ground as the punch Harry threw sent him some distance back; his jaw seemed to bend in the wrong way, but that wasn't important now, as he had to stand up!

A flash of magic that was the cheering charm brought his fears and stress back down to manageable levels as he vaulted back up, but a hair before he was ready, Harry was onto him again, wand glowing with the magic that was the basic stunning spell.

The red light flashed, and in his own arc of red light, Roger Davies parried the stunning spell easily, slamming it back to the ground, and preparing a riposte of his own in the same motion.

A booted foot was flying his way, and he did not have time to think any further.

He's going to sacrifice his leg to end the fight!

The stunner went off right before Harry's kick connected, but Roger never realized that the foot wasn't pointed in his face.

The stunner was able to hit straight and true, but as soon as it impacted onto its target with a satisfying smack, Harry vanished.

With residual magic still flowing in his veins, Roger whipped his head around to find his opponent, with no luck.

His last moments before the duel was called in Harry's favor was to turn his head upwards, to see Harry Graham looming above him, robes billowing in the air like a Dementor, and his wand glowing with a very familiar green light.

What followed was an explosion, and he knew nothing more.

***

"Ah, yes, you're finally awake," a voice said, and as Roger Davies opened his eyes, he saw his Head of House, the Hogwarts nurse, and... someone who looked like Harry Graham at his bedside. "That wasn't the longest duel so far, but by Merlin, it didn't want for action. Nothing permanent, aside from that jaw Graham knocked loose when he punched you, and Madam Pomfrey already took care of that."

"What's he doing here?" Roger asked, his jaw still aching from that punch.

"He says he has something to give you, on behalf of his Master," Professor Flitwick said, "and Professor Pennyworth, who isn't available now."

Harry moved to where his opponent lay, and placed an envelope on the table.

"Professor Pennyworth told me to tell you, 'congratulations, and good luck on your duelist career'. Good fight, Roger."

With a nod towards Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey and a wave of his hand towards Roger, Harry Graham took his leave.

He was still out of it from the treatments, so he did not think much of it as he went back to sleep.

***

It was later in the afternoon when he woke up again, this time feeling much better than before -- he saw the envelope, opened it, and several pictures dropped out from it.

That was when he realized what Harold Graham meant when he said something about life opening a window when it closed a door.

Roger Davies laughed out loud in the tent before returning the animated pictures in the envelope, and stashing it in his robes before he went back outside to rejoin his Head of House, deciding that tomorrow, they'd be taking down the "Graham Sucks" banners -- he owed Harry at least that much.

***

Shellshocked

***

Once Harry returned to his tent, he collapsed onto the seat. The Witch thought he was fine, but after returning with some drinks, she soon realized that the boy was unresponsive.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, and her heart leaped up to her throat when she saw that Harry's eyes had dulled as he was looking nowhere in particular.

Despite her status, she had come to care for the boy, so she did what anyone in her place did: she panicked... in the way a powerful warrior-witch would.

She barged into the infirmary and shoved a catatonic Harry onto Madame Pomfrey.

"Poppy," she said. "Fix this. He still has two rounds left to go."

As she went to the boy, the Witch sighed, and contacted his next of kin: the man with Sirius Black, Rear Admiral Graham.

***

Brittle

***

"Well," Pomfrey replied, once Graham, Sirius Black, and the Witch of Dun Scaith were notified, "Harry will be in proper shape for tomorrow. He's just... how should I call it, let's say his heart is tired."

"Post-traumatic stress disorder," the admiral clarified. "Harry's been walking on a tightrope for so long."

He shook his head.

"And he's so close, only to come apart at the worst possible time... Madame Pomfrey, do you mind brewing a Calming Draught for my boy Harry? Sirius, you can follow her."

As soon as the two of them left, the pendant on Harry's necklace glowed green.

"I knew," Ouroboros began, "that it was only a matter of time before this happened. It's been going on since Harry's third year and it never really stopped."

"What do you mean?" Admiral Graham asked. "You haven't been putting my boy through the works now, have you, Professor?"

Scathach was shaking.

"He can handle it. I know he can handle it. He's endured worse," she said, her voice breathy, having lost a lot of her confidence. "Why now?"

He put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"I know. He is. But Professor... Harry's brittle. You remember that... his big brother Clyde died, right? And he never really had a chance to say goodbye?"

"Yes?"

"And now, you're leaving, as well. Harry doesn't do well with... abandonment. The Dursleys treat him proper, but he's always felt like a square peg in a round hole among them. If any, I think he looks up to you as a mother figure."

The Witch sighed.

"He may be touched by death, but he will not last in the Land of Shadows."

Graham took a moment to think, and the infirmary room was flooded with silence for several minutes until a green light glowed.

"I have an idea," Ouroboros announced. "Can Devices operate in the Land of Shadows?"

"Ostensibly," Graham said. "They don't qualify as 'living', in the technical sense of the word. Even a basic Storage Device could... that's it!"

He took out what looked like a blank business card, and handed it over to the Witch.

"See if it breaks if you add the magic from the Land of Shadows to it," he said, and when the Witch did so, the Rear Admiral grinned as he saw the active Device let the death magic pass through it like it was an inert object.

"Is... is this..."

"...a way to communicate with Harry, while you're away."

"Aww, they're hugging, and I got a picture of it, that's cute," Ouroboros said after a moment. "Imagine, if you will, a living legend and a member of the TSAB top brass, hugging; I wonder how much the Quibbler will pay... NO, NOT THE ENGRAVINGS! ANYTHING BUT THE ENGRAVINGS! IT WAS A JOKE! A JOKE!"

After the mage, the Witch and the Device all shared a laugh, a knock on the door signaled Madam Pomfrey and Sirius' return.

"Harry should be good for tomorrow when he wakes up," Sirius said as he stepped forward, potion bottle in hand. "Let's make sure we get this draught into him."

"Ouroboros, guardian authorization: snap Harry out of it long enough for him to drink these potions."

The orb glowed green.

"Affirmative, Admiral. Commencing now," Ouroboros intoned, and upon glowing brighter, Harry's eyes regained their luster as he sat up.

"What... where...?"

"You're in the infirmary, kid," Sirius replied. "You just took a seat and just tuned out, scared your Master something fierce."

"And you're not completely out of the woods yet," Admiral Graham chimed in. "Ouroboros is keeping you going until you take the Calming Draught."

"All right," Harry said, and took the potion bottle, pinching his nose with one hand and chugging the potion with the other. "There, done."

"Very good, boss. I'm going to slowly ease off the authorization so you can sleep through the night."

"Thanks, Ouroboros."

"No problem, boss."

The green light slowly faded away, and with it, Harry went back to sleep.

"Do you think we should tell him about what happened to that Delacour girl?" Sirius asked; as soon as they heard Harry lightly snoring, the three of them quietly left the infirmary and made it to the waiting room outside.

"No, let him find out for himself," the Admiral replied. "Besides, it wouldn't do for him to be deeply entangled with her, not during a time like this. Matter of fact, I think his subconscious resistance to her Veela allure might have had something to do with his PTSD."

"Ah, so it could be made into an acronym," Sirius said with a nod.

"How convenient," the Witch added. "But I think I may be the one behind that, as my... how do you call it, presence when training Harry is... quite intense."

"Well," Graham said, "for all of Harry's precocity, you have to remember, he is still a child... even if wielding an Intelligent Device already gives him some legal responsibilities back where I'm from."

"So does that mean it was legal when I signed over most of my assets in the Wizarding World over to Harry?"

The Witch laughed.

"And here I am, thinking that I was the only one who put more on Harry's plate than he could handle," she said. "Maybe once this is done, you should take him on an actual vacation. No training, no assignments, nothing related to his stay here. Rest and relaxation, from start to his return before fifth year."

"What a coincidence," both men replied. "That was what we had in mind, too."

***

The Semifinals

***

Harold Graham sat up with a start, and turned to the window to see that the sun was just beginning to rise.

Great. I didn't miss anything... wait, what happened, Ouroboros?

You literally ran out of gas. The Witch had to drag you here. Slept through the whole day after your bout against Davies.

Oh. But that means... I missed the other bouts! Oh, man. So much for scouting the other champions.

Well, don't worry too much about that. Worry about Krum. He's next on your dance card.

Right. He's played world-level quidditch, so his reflexes are pretty good, and we have to assume he can duel in three dimensions instead of two. We won't get as much results out of getting into his face, and he'll probably summon his broom if we do the same. What to do, what to do...

Harry put his school robes back on and prepared to make his way back to the faculty quarters where he and the Witch stayed, and all the while, he and Ouroboros were already talking shop.

I have something in mind.

Let's hear it.

We transform. Barrier Jacket and everything. Let's take a page from Scathach's book and shock and awe our way to the finals.

Then we bring out the big guns in the finals and just blow everyone away... literally.

It's non-lethal, after all. Yeah. Let's go for it.

A plan had already hatched in Harry's mind when he knocked on the Witch's office door -- and something was different.

Sure, his Master had opened the door, and yes, there was a substantial breakfast waiting for him in the dining table, but something about it just seemed... off.

The Witch of Dun Scaith never looked like this. To him, it was like looking at a door you knew was rigged with a trap when you opened it carelessly... and that killing intent... oh boy, that killing intent. It had gotten to him badly on the very first day, Harry and his Device, and he never really got over it, like something in the corner biding its time to leap at you.

He was almost done with breakfast when he finally realized it: the killing intent coming from the Witch was all gone, and so was the blank expression on her face she often wore.

Thankfully, he was done with coffee by the time he had seen the worried smile on her face.

"I see that the calming draught has done its job," she said. "It also seems I have yet to learn more new things, aside from this."

She placed the Krav Maga handbook on the table and sat down.

"I will not consider you a failure if you bow out, Harry."

"I know," Harry answered, "but I would. I've gone so far, and endured so much... I will not disappoint you."

"You've never disappointed me, Harry," the Witch said. "Why? Because every time you fall short, you try harder and smarter."

"...even if I didn't make it to today?"

She nodded.

"Harry, you have been the best student I have had in centuries. I did not choose you from the Goblet on a whim -- you have always had the potential to be great, and for the past school year, I have been honing that potential of yours."

And when Harry stood up, she gave him another surprising gesture -- a hug.

"No matter what happens today and tomorrow, I want you to know that I am very proud of you, Harry Potter... Graham... or whatever you call yourself, and I want you to hold your head high. Do you understand me?"

For some reason, Harry's vision was clouded.

"Yes... I understand."

"Then let's go show Durmstrang why I'm proud of you. Come on, Harry... you too, Ouroboros."

"Roger that. Let's get this party started right."

Harry found himself oddly grateful to Ouroboros for not making a clever quip or commenting on the Witch's figure during that very personal moment, and he put thoughts on why that was on the back burner, because they were already at the quidditch pitch and awaiting the start of the semifinals.

***

Shock and Awe

***

"Heard about what happened yesterday," Viktor Krum called out in the duel arena to Harry as some last-minute announcements were being made. "You sure you're a hundred percent?"

"One hundred percent," Harry called back. "More than enough to get to the finals."

"Now I know you're ready," Viktor said with a smile. "Let's do this."

"Yes, let's not keep the fans waiting much longer."

"...and now, will both duelists get ready... and begin!"

Ludo Bagman called the start of the match, and as the first barrage of spells began to fly, Harry found himself thinking about his supplemental arithmancy classes with the Witch.

***

"The purpose of the 'parabolic casting arc' isn't just for spell casting," Scathach began. "Because you have proven to be a quick study -- and Ouroboros can process the equations for you -- we can move onto the next step: constraining casting effects within spheres. Can you summon your basic attack, Ouroboros?"

"I can," the Device answered. "Phase Bolt. Holding."

The green orb hovered close to Harry, and the Witch took the time to study it.

"Fascinating," she thought aloud. "The arithmantic calculations needed to create an effect this simple would be significant. And to be able to use it on the fly... you've had an extensive suite of upgrades, Ouroboros."

"This is just the standard package, Lady Scathach," the Device replied. "I myself have not truly delved into the full extent of my functions... perhaps when things are less hectic."

"You do that," the Witch said, "because in my absence, you have to be at your best in order to truly look after my student. Why, I'm already considering you a fellow student of Harry's, under my tutelage."

It is one honor I was unable to avail of at the time, Professor Lemongrass. It is rare to gain a second chance like this, and I will not waste it.

Scathach just nodded at Tom's mental admission.

***

The first spheres of green lights that flew out of Harry as he swept his wand in an arc towards Viktor appeared to house Banishing Charms, a favored tactic of his.

However, with instincts honed in the quidditch field, Viktor shot at the one on the left, which detonated in a red light.

Stunner!

That moment of surprise was all Harry needed to yell out.

"Ouroboros, to infinity!"

"Acknowledged," a mechanical voice echoed throughout the arena, and in a brilliant green flash of light, Harry's school robes were replaced with a more aerodynamic and stylized set of robes, vaguely reminding the audience of his outfit in the Yule Ball.

Instead of a wand, Harry was now carrying a silver staff topped with a green orb, with which he now flung another set of spells at Viktor.

"Dammit!" Viktor cried out as he began to evade the wave of projectiles -- he wasn't on his broom, but he was just as agile. Given that these projectiles could all hide spells in them, he knew he couldn't afford to get hit.

And then he turned his head at imminent danger, to see that Harry was about to take a swing at him with the staff from a blind angle.

He decided to risk getting hit by one of those bolts to be able to parry the strike.

However, that wasn't a strike -- Harry swung his staff when he was still far away, missing Viktor completely.

"You hit me too soon!" he called as he pointed his wand at Harry.

"Did I?" Harry asked, and the green orb glowed before saying two words.

"Phase Bolt. Launching."

And then another wave of green blasts of magic surged forward, clipping Viktor as he leaped away to safety. He made it to his feet, but realized that his arms and legs were now starting to lag behind when his brain ordered them to move.

He knew he was in trouble, and had to anticipate Harry's next move in advance to make up for his sudden loss of mobility.

"You're not going to take this match from me that easily!" he called, and with a wave of his own wand, a row of fireballs came forth, smashing into what the staff called "phase bolts", detonating in midair before sending a second batch Harry's way.

But instead of defending against them, Harry simply powered through each of them as they harmlessly blew up on his Barrier Jacket, until he came in close quarters again.

Instead of a staff, it was now Harry's fist that was coming, and Viktor anticipated this, bringing down a cutting spell to deter the advance.

However, Harry kept coming.

Another cutting spell that would have slashed him open from shoulder to hip passed, and Viktor realized he was cutting through air too late when he heard a whisper from the right of him.

"...Arch Smash."

Viktor Krum saw a white light envelop him before he passed out.

***

Aftermath of Victory

***

The explosion that followed was impressive, the blast wave straining against the wards put up on the arena by the Triwizard staff and the rumbling boom that came with it shaking the audience seats.

And once the clouds of smoke parted, two wizards were on the arena floor.

One of them was sprawled out on the dirt, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest.

The other one was the representative of Dun Scaith, who raised his arm in triumph, the staff he wielded already gone.

Raucous applause filled the stadium, as the announcer scrambled to proclaim the winner.

"It looks like we have a winner! From Dun Scaith, give it up for Harold Graham!" shouted Ludo Bagman, as the contestant in the arena bowed to each corner before walking towards backstage, to where his trainer, uncle, and godfather were all waiting.

***

"One more win," Scathach said, welcoming her victorious student into the waiting room.

Harry smiled before taking a seat.

"That's right," Harry answered. "That went better than I thought, honestly. Krum totally underestimated me; thought I'd duel the way a wizard does…"

"…but your advantage of surprise is all but gone now, once the final starts tomorrow."

Harry shrugged.

"Well, I still can watch the other semifinal later, scout what either Cedric or Fleur can… what's with the long faces?" Harry asked, and understood when the announcement came.

"Because of yesterday's events, the champion of Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory, gets a bye to the finals. The afternoon duel will be replaced by an exhibition between professional duelists."

"What?" Harry asked as his eyes shot open upon hearing the news.

"You were out of it yesterday, you didn't see how the other quarterfinal went," his uncle explained. "Now that you've got the time to spare, I suppose this means you want to go and see how Fleur's doing."

"Er… yeah, I guess," Harry said, and he turned to see his godfather looking like he was full of bubbles and needed to pop… badly. "Is this about the Yule Ball dance, Sirius?"

The Witch had to hide her amusement as the former fugitive deflated.

"I was getting ready to tease you about it, actually," he admitted. "But given how serious yesterday's events were, it doesn't seem like the right time now."

"Maybe in a couple of weeks, when you take him to that veela colony in Monaco?" Graham asked, and Sirius Black actually sputtered.

"How'd you…?"

Now it was Graham's turn to chuckle, as Sirius lifted up the tent flap to let the Witch through.

"Trade secret. Now come on, we have more than just Harry on our plate today."

***

Face Value

***

"Oh, man…" Harry breathed out. "Oh, God…"

I'm not particularly religious, but I understand. This is something else. It's a good thing Fleur's only quarter-veela, otherwise that spell would have turned her into a burnt husk of suffering. Would have been more merciful to euthanize her.

"They wouldn't…!" Harry exclaimed softly, and was surprised to see Gabrielle Delacour asleep at the foot of her sister's bed at the Hogwarts infirmary.

They would. I recognize those spells; they were used by the Allies against Grindelwald's personal Elitewachen.

How the hell would Grindelwald get a bunch of veela to join his cause?

He was a wizarding supremacist, not a blood supremacist; there's a difference. Besides, Grindelwald's own Elitewachen were fugitives from Eastern Europe; joined Grindelwald's cause to be able to return to their homelands after they were chased off by the Nazis.

Weren't Grindelwald and the Nazis allies?

Not on every front. He was able to convince the Thule Society that the half-breeds that joined his army would be useful.

Still, though…

I know. This Montague fellow must really dislike half-breeds to resort to this kind of spellwork.

He walked over to where Fleur was sleeping and shook his head.

I wish there was something I could do about this…

If Fleur was awake, she'd probably want you to win the whole thing. She probably wouldn't forgive herself if she found out that she was the reason you were distracted enough to lose the final. Besides, Diggory's a pushover. His dueling style is basic, and there hadn't been any time to teach him anything further. You can beat him easily.

I know... but this just really gets me. I mean, what if this Montague guy went after the Liese twins with similar spells? Even more so, why?

That is one question that will probably take more than a wizard's lifetime to answer... even mine, Harry. I'm still nowhere close to figuring that out.

Oh... anyway, you think Master, Sirius, and Uncle Gil are done talking to Fleur's mom and dad?

I think so. Come on, let's not tarry here any further.

Harry turned and left the room where the other Triwizard contestant was being kept in stasis by magic due to the massive amount of damage Montague's spells did.

***

"…In all honesty, this looks like I'm asking you to take a leap of faith for your daughter. And in a way, it is. I mean, some guy walking up to you and offering to assist in your daughter's convalescence for no cost looks like an offer too good to be true, right?"

Sebastian Delacour nodded.

"The last time my colleagues were able to document the status of magical interbreeding in this world was during the 12th​ century under Venser Scrya," Admiral Graham admitted. "With what they know, they should be able to help your daughter."

"But… your offer… are you going to take Fleur away from us?"

He shook his head.

"No. You're all going with her. I've seen this type of spell damage before, and I know specialists who can restore Fleur's condition."

"Thank you, Mr. Graham."

"But there is a catch. We're going to have to make the trip tomorrow, during Harry's match. Can you get yourselves fit to travel by then? It's going to be touch-and-go."

"We will."

"All right, it's settled. Get in touch with whoever you need to, and make preparations… I have a few calls to make, myself. Come on."

With that, Harry and the rest of his contingent stepped out of the Hogwarts infirmary and moved towards the Witch's quarters.

Upon entering, Harry felt that something was off when he closed the door behind him; his suspicions were confirmed as soon as the others settled down.

The Witch snapped her finger, and a middle-aged witch appeared from nowhere and crashed onto the waiting room table, where wands and staves were immediately pointed towards her.

"How nice of you to drop in, Ms. Skeeter," Scathach said, red eyes glowing.

***

The Squeeze Play

***

"So, what kind of story are you going to write about this?" Sirius Black asked.

"Story? What story? I'm just following the lead I have about some Hogwarts alumni recognizing the Witch of Dun Scaith as an old professor…" Rita answered, her Quick-Quotes Quill apparently just as frightened as her, because it had stopped moving the moment the Witch laid eyes on her.

"I'm going to forestall any idle speculation and confirm that," Scathach said, giving the Admiral and Sirius Black a sidelong glance as they silently watched the byplay. "As Hogwarts is at the edge of my domain in the Land of Shadows, I can manifest myself here for several years before returning to Dun Scaith. Typically, for every decade I spend in isolation, I spend one to two years here, teaching and assisting students, finding those with potential among them."

"And Mr. Graham here has potential?"

"Loads of it," the Witch answered.

"It doesn't fit, though," Skeeter thought aloud. "I mean, you're a legendary teacher of heroes, and Graham here is… just… an… ordinary… Hufflepuff…"

Her eyes went glassy for a moment as she put the pieces together and then jumped onto the couch.

"You! You're not Harold Graham, you're Harry Potter, the Boy-who-Lived!" she exclaimed, but before she could speak further, a red spear was at her throat.

"Now that is something that you'll have to keep to yourself, unless you want to know what being stuck with a Gae Bolg feels like," the Witch said, her voice dropping to a murderous whisper, killing intent coming off her in waves. "Concerns about my identity aside, what business do you have here? Getting material for Cornelius Fudge?"

"Nothing of the sort," Skeeter said, her voice going up an octave in fear. "Nothing, really! I was actually told that there was an expose of the Ministry somewhere here, involving railroading the Death Eater trials a few years ago, but I have yet to make headway in that!"

"It's a good thing I'm here, then," Graham then said. "You'll get your expose in exchange for your silence. As to why he's been calling himself 'Graham', well, consider this a freebie: I put him up to that, keep him from unwanted publicity. With what's happened, well, it hasn't turned up as successful as I wanted it to be. Besides, if Harry here wants to reveal his true identity to the wizarding world, when and where should ultimately be up to him, wouldn't you say?"

Skeeter nodded warily – her meal ticket was here, and all she had to do was not mess things up and reveal the truth about the champion of Dun Scaith.

I have to keep my mouth shut. I must. The expose of my career is banking on it!

"Good to know. The expose is going to have to come a few weeks after the Tournament. Give me your business card so I can contact you."
"You're not going to go after me if Harry himself comes to me on his own accord for an interview, right?"

Admiral Graham snorted.

"By the time he'll consider doing that interview with you, he'll be of age to make those kinds of decisions, won't you, Harry?"

"I think so," Harry replied. "Besides, it's less a tell-all and more a... how do you call it... 'exit interview', so I'm already planning for that, Ms. Skeeter."

"If you're going to schedule an appointment with me, call me Rita. 'Ms. Skeeter' is my aunt," the reporter said, and continued after everyone else traded chuckles. "Well, looks like I've overstayed my welcome. I'll be seeing you around."

"Remember what we agreed on here," the Witch said, just as Rita Skeeter stood up, dusted herself off with as much decorum as she could muster, curtsied, turned towards the door, and as soon as the doorknob clicked shut behind her, ran out of the main Hogwarts building as fast as she could.

***

"I've got some good news for you, Harry," the Witch said as soon as Skeeter left. "The Admiral and Sirius confirmed that I can make use of a Storage Device."

It took Harry a few moments to figure it out, and when he did, he saw his Master's red eyes twinkling.

"That means you CAN stay in touch with us! That's awesome," Harry said, and couldn't help himself; he threw his arms around the Witch. "Tom and I, we'll be messaging you every day!"

"I… will be looking forward to that?" Scathach asked, confused, "as soon as Admiral Graham shows me how to use it, of course."

"We'll help, too!"

"You still have a tournament to win, Harry."

"I know."

"That's why you have to get yourself ready for tomorrow," the Witch said. "Sirius, do you mind taking Harry down to lunch? The Admiral and I will follow shortly."

"All right."

As soon as they left, Harry felt the wards the Witch personally placed on their quarters activate – what sort of matter was it between her and the admiral, that she required absolute privacy?

The thought had departed Harry's mind by the time the house elves brought their standard lunch spread onto the dining hall.

***

Not long after the sun set, Harry was in his quarters meditating; preparing his mind for the finals.

A knock interrupted his thoughts, and when he opened the door, he saw a bandaged-up but grinning Viktor Krum, flanked by Edvard Markov.

"Viktor Krum?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it is I," the Bulgarian wizard replied. "As soon as the trophies have been awarded, we shall depart back to the Durmstrang campus posthaste, which is why I had to break curfew to thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"Edvard did not tell you? As he is towards duels, so am I towards Quidditch. I am… what do you call it… a Quidditch lifer. It is what I will continue do once I finish my schooling," Krum admitted. "And when I saw your matches, I was inspired. To see you do those things… I want to bring that to Durmstrang, and to the national team."

"Okay…?"

"You do not understand the value of what you have made, Harold Graham. I can see that how you play will revolutionize the game of Quidditch, and for that, I thank you."

He smiled.

"You blasting me into the next time zone in the Triwizard doesn't seem too bad, in exchange. Besides, even if that happened, we will still cheer for you in the finals tomorrow. Hogwarts is united against you, and we thought to help there, too."

"Viktor, the caretaker's heading this way!" Edvard whispered harshly.

"Ah, my apologies, Harry. Thank you, and you will hear from me soon!"

The two of them padded off, and Harry closed the door, confused about what happened before he returned to his meditation.

***

Twists and Turns

***

The dawn of the final day of the Triwizard dawned red, as if something important™ was going to happen later today.

It was to a weird sight that Harry Potter (or, more known in Hogwarts as 'Harold Graham') woke up – the Witch of Dun Scaith was making breakfast.

"Sit down and eat," she said, offering a plate of bacon, eggs, toast and a cup of coffee. "The match starts at nine in the morning. Did you hear? The only one in Hogwarts not actively cheering for your defeat is Roger Davies of Ravenclaw. There would be another, too, but she has a defense on Monday."

"Granger," Harry said with a grin. "You don't think she bit off more than she could chew?"

"She did, and she's nowhere near where the report needs to be. Once this Triwizard is done, I am allowing you to assist her in a limited capacity."

"Limited capacity. Grunt work. Sounds good," Harry said after a mouthful of eggs on toast.

"Yes, and I have my own business to take care of during your bout; hopefully I won't take that long."

"Right. I'll try not to finish it too quickly, because according to Tom, I've got the match in the bag."

"Don't be overconfident. That's pretty much what the Admiral told me, too. But don't worry about going without someone; your godfather has offered to take my place while I conduct this business of mine."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Hope you help the Admiral take Fleur and her folks to Mid without a hitch."

"If all goes well, yes," the Witch mused. "Now wrap up your breakfast, you have a match to win. Sirius is probably waiting for us at the arena."

***

Turns out, she was right – the former fugitive was looking fanciful as he awaited the Witch and his godson near the dressing room.

"By the way," Sirius began, "about that Device of yours, why did you name it 'Tom'?"

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Force of habit, I guess."

"Couldn't you have named it anything else? It just doesn't rub me the right way."

"All right, I'll call him Ouroboros, then," Harry said with a laugh.

Now that was pretty inventive, boss. I wonder, though, when will we run into Dick?

That's the joke, Harry mentally replied as they started taking a roll call of their available spells.

"Ready to kick some ass?" Sirius Black asked once Harry was seated.

"Never thought I'd get the chance to let loose," Harry answered with a smile.

"That's my boy," Sirius continued. "Now come on, and let's show these chumps how a champion of Dun Scaith rolls."

Harry nodded, and they were in the waiting room and readying themselves by the time the Witch left to attend to her business.

***

It was close to ten minutes since their arrival when Harry heard the rumble of cheering outside – it seems that the crowd was already making themselves known, the contingents of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons momentarily teaming up to keep Hogwarts' home field advantage from overwhelming the champion of Dun Scaith.

Cheers erupted from the Hogwarts side of the arena, and Harry knew that it was Cedric approaching the combat zone.

"Mr. Graham, one minute," a staff member ducking her head behind the curtain said.

"Thanks," Harry replied, and once Ludo Bagman was finished introducing him, stood up.

"His opponent, the unprecedented fourth champion of this year's Triwizard tournament, representing Dun Scaith…"

He swept the curtains aside and strode onto the arena floor.

"Harold Graham!"

A mix of cheers from one side and boos from the other met him as he made his way to where Cedric Diggory was waiting for him.

He glanced over to where the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons sat, and spied a familiar face in the audience.

Tom had to chuckle as they saw Roger Davies in the foreign seats, dangling a "They took all my signs. Sorry!" sign, answering the question why the array of "Graham Sucks" signs (and a couple of new ones) came back in force.

But that didn't matter: winning this match was.

Putting the suspicions and odd feelings aside, Harry readied himself for the Triwizard Tournament final against Cedric Diggory, now that they were arrayed against each other on the field of battle.

"Nice crown, Cedric!" Harry said once they were set up in dueling position. "Nice sword, too!"

"As the chosen of Hogwarts, I was given the privilege to use these to defeat you, Harry! Looks like your living legend is going to go home disappointed."

"We'll see about that," Harry shot back. "Once Bagman says 'go', you never know what will happen!"

"That's exactly right," Cedric said, and Harry grew concerned at the odd timbre of his opponent's voice, almost like it was starting to become more bloodthirsty.

Not a problem. At least this means I won't roll him over in the first move or so.

That's not the only thing you should be worrying about, Harry. I have a bad feeling about this.

Can you slow down with the Star Wars references for a bit? Got a tournament to win here.

No, I mean, Diggory. Something's not right.

Let's worry about it once I blast him into next month, okay?

All right, but expect the unexpected! This has been bugging me for some time now.

You got it, Tom. We'll do this by Lady Scathach's book.

Great.

"Diggory, are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Graham, are you ready?"

Harry just nodded.

"Then let the final match of the Triwizard Tournament… BEGIN!"

***

ThomasTheTankEngine@u97.mdc: Where am I?

RadomMarion@tsab.rd.mdc: You're on board the first of its class, the Search and Discovery Asura. Or, as the humorless pricks in the upper brass call it, the Arthra. We have facilities here to repair Devices, and we got you working over the weekend, but we had to wait for a specialist after close to a week to get you back online. Welcome back, Tom.

ThomasTheTankEngine@u97.mdc: Specialist? So… what happened at the Triwizard finals? I can't access my logs.

RadomMarion@tsab.rd.mdc: Oh, that. We were able to fix most of the damage due to your slap-dashed, half-assed emulation of a pinpoint Alcubierre drive, since your hardware, even with CVK-702 overclocking, would strain under those kinds of calculations. We had to bring in a specialist after you wouldn't boot up even after we fixed everything.

SScrya1455@tsab.ilrr.mdc: I am the specialist in question, Tom. Saren Scrya, part of the Infinity Library Ritual Research division. Pleasure to meet you.

ThomasTheTankEngine@u97.mdc: The pleasure is all mine, but Dr. Radom, why are we bringing a librarian to what's a technical problem?

SScrya1455@tsab.ilrr.mdc: Believe me, Mr. Riddle, it is a technical problem, and I happen to have extensive knowledgeable on the subject. Do you know what a phylactery is?

ThomasTheTankEngine@u97.mdc: It's a receptacle for a soul a lich uses to maintain his immortality – wait, are you talking about horcruxes?

SScrya1455@tsab.ilrr.mdc: That is the reason I am here. Now, do you remember what happened in the Triwizard finals?

ThomasTheTankEngine@u97.mdc: I do, and it's starting to come back to me…

***

"What the hell is going on?" Harry Potter yelled as he skillfully weaved his way through spell fire, hexes, and explosions cast nonstop by his opponent.

You've been strangely quiet, Tom! How the hell did Cedric turn from shooting elementary spells to swordsmanship into this?!

The start of the match hadn't been anything special: Cedric had begun predictably by throwing spells, his elementary spellcasting tactics easily exposed by Harry's evasive maneuvers.

Then, when the sword came into play, Harry willed his Device into a halberd, and was now using it two-handed as both a melee weapon and a spell catalyst, which he was using simultaneously, opposed to Cedric only being able to cast or swing, never both at the same time.

Dodging a nearly lethal attack after your guard gets broken tends to do that.

As the fight continued, Cedric began to waver, but Harry held firm, his defenses holding up and his skill with that magical halberd spotless.

And then Cedric started getting desperate, throwing hexes and curses that Harry knew wasn't in the school curriculum.

It was thanks to his exhaustion that Cedric never got to aim correctly, but Harry was concerned.

What's Cedric muttering about?

"…no, you're not going to… I won't let you… NO!"

A massive surge of magic rippled through Hogwarts; a familiar feeling that had Harry reminding him of…

Uncle Gil? Why would the Bureau come—

However, all his thoughts were put to a complete stop when he felt the nauseating, cloying sensation of dark magic manifesting itself close by.

He turned… and there was Cedric, standing erratically, wand in his hand, sword discarded to the side, and what looked like a crown on his head shining with an eerie green light.

The same kind of green his slitted eyes had now become.

"Sorry for the interruption! The magical storm has been determined to be a periodic fluctuation due to our position close to the Land of Shadows and the summer solstice! The contest will continue," the announcement came, and Cedric laughed out loud.

That laugh had no joy in it, and neither did his eyes as those locked onto his opponent.

"Well… now… destiny is a strange thing, indeed," Cedric began, his voice gaining a more eerie timbre. "To think I would be dueling you. Tell me, boy, do you know what that is in your hand?"

An Intelligent Device, Ouroboros replied, and Cedric stepped back.

"How can you speak straight into my mind?" he asked, surprised.

Ouroboros chuckled, the green light in the halberd blinking in mirth.

Do you know him, Tom? Harry asked, and his Device sighed.

I can bypass his occlumency shields easily, because occlumency can hide your thoughts from others…

"…but not from yourself," Cedric and Harry's Device said in unison.

…We do not face Cedric Diggory any longer. That is me… that is Tom Riddle. That is Lord Voldemort reborn.

Are you freaking serious?

The first blast of spell fire came forth, and Ouroboros quickly negated the hex with a Phase Bolt of his own.

As a heart attack.

Cedric was on him, power radiating from his being, and now it was Harry's turn to go on the defensive.

***

"Whoa, and now Cedric is the one pressing the advantage! Such advanced spellwork! Harry's trying to put up a fight, but all he's doing is evading! Something has to give here," the announcer said.

"Amplify the spell shields as far as they'll go!" someone in the audience cried out. "It's cracking!"

"You're right, these spells are far beyond what the arena dome can handle! Scott, Hewlett, Starr! To me! Call the rest of the staff, we're going to have to protect the audience however we can!"

Back in the thick of the fight, Harry sensed the shields around the dueling arena were being fortified. He felt Ouroboros let out a grin at the same time he did; now, the spell field was now strengthened to the point that they were lowering the visibility of the two wizards battling inside.

Now, he and his Device had no further need to hold back.

They charged at their enemy, glowing with power, and began their counterattack.

And all the while, Voldemort laughed out loud as he fought with The Boy Who Lived and that thing bearing his likeness.

The thing was obviously modeled after him, and knew his moves, but didn't have what he called his 'killer instinct'.

It was only a matter of time until he would score a direct hit, and then the boy would pay for sending his dream to its knees…

***

"Gah!" Harold Graham cried out as he dodged a massive Reducto by the skin of his teeth, the blast wave sending him flying into the shields keeping their spells from hitting the audience.

It was not a good impact, and Harry felt several bones strain once Ouroboros had automatically kept him from smashing into the arena floor.

This isn't going to work; I can't do it… he's just too smart, and with the body of Cedric, he's both fast and strong…

I know, Harry. I know.

There is still one way, though.

What?

I know those magics. Voldemort is possessing Cedric with the diadem. Do you see it?

Yes… I do, Harry said as he slowly lifted himself up, pain flowing all throughout his body. I can't hit that with you, I might risk getting Cedric killed.

I know. That is why… I'm going to tell you about that thing Ms. Pennyworth taught me.

…Lady Scathach?

He felt Ouroboros steeling himself for what it had to do.

Last three cartridges. We'll need all of it in one go, to be able to do what the Witch does.

Don't tell me…!

***

"I promised long ago that I would never teach this to anyone if they intended to take a life with it in cold blood," the woman said. "It is a cursed technique, wielded by a cursed weapon, whose aim is death. I am giving you the information you need to use it, if you and Harry need it. But be warned, you are not fit to wield its full power yet, and even a partial use of it may seriously disrupt or harm your functions."

"Do you still wish to learn this, Tom?"

"I do, Lady Scathach. Harry needs all the help he can get."

"Then use these runes in sequence, and focus on the concept of the reversal of causality…"

***

He stood up, though his robes were bloody and tattered, and breaths were coming out of him in heaves.

Voldemort smiled.

It was always best when the enemy still had some fight left in them.

Made it even better when the champion of Hogwarts would be utterly destroyed.

You fool.

Why do you still mock me even in your defeat, effigy?

That boy whose body you house. That is the champion of Hogwarts. Not the Boss.

You call that boy your boss?

It was programmed into me. I liked it. I kept it. And that's why you're going to lose.

The Boy Who Lived can barely stand, let alone cast a spell or strike with that spear of his. How sure are you of victory?

Because you've always taken what you want by force. You never bothered to try and work with another.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! I stand above all!

Yeah, but you won't see this one coming.

Harry hefted his Device into a striking stance, and his green eyes glowed brilliantly as the last three cartridges in his stock activated, flooding Ouroboros with all the mana reserved for this one attack.

"Ha! No force in this world can stop someone like m—"

And as Harold Graham planted his foot for one final strike, he uttered two words, the target clear in his mind, and the path of his attack straight and true.

"*** ****."

Voldemort never heard the attack's name.

He also never saw where it came from.

A flash of red light was the last thing the horcrux within the diadem saw.

***

Now, you remember?

Yes, I do. It all comes in so clearly now. …but I have to ask, why did it take so long for me to be repaired?

Well, it took me some time to do research on what you were before you became a device, and let me tell you, searching through Unadministered World 97's records of magical history turned out to be quite the challenge.

Indeed, but why the backlash? Was it due to Lady Scathach's technique?

No, it wasn't, but it didn't help either. A Device of your caliber shouldn't be using Alcubierre drive techniques, or an emulation thereof, even if you had a CVK-792 installed. Tell me, did you read the fine print on horcruxes?

I read enough.

You apparently didn't. One of the rules of horcruxes is that a horcrux cannot harm its progenitor, nor other horcruxes created by the same, lest they be destroyed.

…oh.

Why didn't I know that?

Well, my ancestor Eustania Scrya XIV was able to make a comprehensive dossier on horcruxes before the Library of Alexandria was burned down. You were in possession of incomplete information, not that you knew about that at the time.

And Harry?

Wouldn't you like to know?

I certainly would; thank you very much, Miss Saren, Dr. Radom.

***

"Soul reconstruction complete," the surgeon said as she emerged into the waiting room. "He should be out of danger, but he needs to rest for the next 24 hours or more, and be kept under observation to see if there are any untoward side effects."

"Will there be any?"

"With the information and soul blueprints we got thanks to working on Ouroboros before, there should be no side effects at all. The self-correcting procedures we also included will also ensure he lives a long and reasonably healthy life. Is that all?"

"Yes… that's all. And thank you. Thank you very much."

"You still have to face the jurisprudence of the Bureau after this," the Enforcer standing by his side said. "But given the Bureau's policy of turning enemies into useful assets, the two of you will probably be given exploratory work in other unadministered worlds. Far, far away from UW97."

"It's fine by me. Already did my duty," the man seated outside the hospital room said. "And based on what I'll tell him when he wakes up, he'll probably agree with it, too."

"You've been gripping your arm for some time now. Are you still wounded or injured?"

The man shook his head.

"Just some last-minute ink removal. Earthly thing, never really liked it."

"My Device can sense some powerful and ancient magic within it. Can you pull up your sleeve?"

The man did, revealing a patch of healing skin, on top of which were inked four runes, set in a square pattern.

"The same thing our patient has?"

"That's right," the man said. "It's the payment we made to get here."

"I see… well, I will notify the higher-ups about this development. With the good news, I will now return you to your holding cell."

"Please do, Enforcer Countach."

***

The final set of snippets for Year 4 has Harry waking up, seeing Lady Scathach for the last time, the repercussions of the Tournament, and dark tidings in the horizon.

 

[Nitramy]

AN: Yes, I lifted parts of the scene with Scathach from the Eiger Sanction.

***

The Champion

***

Harry Potter (or, as he is more known in Hogwarts, Harry Graham) opened his eyes to see the Admiral looming above him.

"Good to see you're back in action," he said. "We were all worried, but Madam Pomfrey just said you exhausted yourself. A good night's sleep – or two – turned out to be just what you needed."

"Thanks, Uncle Gil–" Harry replied, but stopped short as his mental probe towards his Device registered no reply.

"You're looking for Ouroboros?" the Admiral asked. "They're just about to finish up repairs on him. That thing you used to win the Triwizard with, nearly broke it completely. What was that?"

"Secret technique," Harry answered. "But if you know your mythology and who the Witch taught, it's a no-brainer."

The Admiral nodded.

"Anyway, after some time, Aria and Lotte are going to bring your repaired Device here. Might as well relax and enjoy your victory, eh?"

"That's true."

After a few moments of silence, Harry finally noticed.

"The school sounds a lot more peaceful. Where'd the other schools go?"

"They returned immediately after the closing ceremonies. Since you were out for a day or two, you missed them completely."

"I see," Harry said with a sigh. "Where's Lady Scathach?"

"They just started the presentation, she's at the panel. You can sit in, if you want."

Harry nodded, and after the admiral gave him a few minutes to put on his uniform, followed him outside the Witch's quarters and towards one of the lecture halls.

***

"…are your theories supporting your results?" the last question came out, and although the question staggered the girl in front of the chalkboard, she regained her posture, and spoke clearly.

After five minutes, the answer was completed, the panelists nodded, and small talk was exchanged: a sign that the report's presentation was finally done.

The smattering of 7th​ year students serving as the audience, the panel, and Admiral Graham had already left by the time Harry made it to the front of the lecture hall to congratulate the presenter.

He had to hide a chuckle when he saw the haggard form of Hermione Granger take zombified steps off the lecture hall stage and towards the front seats, whereupon she collapsed onto them like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Tough crowd?" he asked, and she just barely got to raise her arm and middle finger, before she resumed melting tiredly onto her seat.

"Thanks for the help," she said. "Got a tournament and all, but you still got time to help this dumb girl out."

"If I wasn't in the tournament, I could have had more time."

"Nah, you did quite enough already. Just call Madam Pomphrey and maybe Ms. McGonnagall, she can transfigure one of the chairs here into a giant pizza peel to cart me away with," she said, and Harry just laughed.

"If you're sure…"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go be with Fleur or something."

Harry couldn't help it. He left, laughing all the way.

***

Back at the Master's quarters, Harry decided to spend his first few hours without his Device just lying down, recovering from that reality-warping move he and Ouroboros pulled off.

Sure, it wasn't the first time they used a technique that laid Harry out flat, but he didn't want it to become one of those annual events during his stay in Hogwarts.

He was halfway through counting the holes in the ceiling when he felt his Master enter the quarters.

"You came in just as Ms. Granger's presentation was about to finish," she announced. "Don't deny it; I've seen your handiwork in the way she answered my questions and how the study was structured. You're as much a part of this study as she is."

"That's true," Harry admitted. "For what it's worth, I never considered it schoolwork. Seeing Ms. Granger squeeze the juice out of those stuffy old books is an amazing sight."

"I never pegged you to go after two women at a time," the Witch said with a grin.

"Nah," Harry said. "Hermione's just a colleague. You do know I don't intend on planting any roots here."

"That's right," Scathach said. "I'll also be returning to Dun Scaith the day after the leaving feast."

"Right," Harry nodded, and a companionable silence settled down over the two of them.

The Witch stood to leave.

"Say, Master," Harry said after he let out a breath, "how did you get mixed up with Bartemius Crouch and Tom Riddle in the first place?"

The Witch of Dun Scaith turned towards the window, where the sun's orange light turned the quidditch pitch into a field of dreams.

She let out a breath of her own, and when she turned back to her would-be apprentice, her voice was strangely gentle.

"That threw me off-balance," she admitted.

Harry smiled.

"Didn't have much time to think about it after the Triwizard finals," he began, "but in between waking up and this afternoon, it's given me lots of time to think… and practice."

"Well, it worked out just as well as I'd hoped it did. How long have you known?"

"I took a gamble on that question earlier – honestly, all I had were bits and pieces; I knew you had a history with Tom, you taught at Hogwarts around the time he was there, too… and all the dealings you were doing, I had a feeling that you would have wanted to intervene on his behalf."

The Witch nodded.

"I would have been fine with just being a generalist for this year, but when Lupin told me that Dumbledore was planning to put in Moody for Defense, I knew something was up."

"How did it go?"

"I stopped Crouch from getting to Moody, but he was desperate. He said he was his Master's only hope, and recognized me from the time I taught there – said he'd do anything for my help. Right then and there, I remembered the Bureau, and bound him and Tom to a geas preventing them from harming you or your associates – or returning to this world once they leave."

"In exchange for what?"

"Help complete the ritual. This was where our goals coincided. Once the ritual was complete, they would throw themselves at the mercy of the TSAB."

"The Admiral wouldn't…"

"Your Uncle Gil helped me, Harry. He was a contemporary of Tom, and with the research data he had when Ouroboros was made, he knew that this was a chance to fix the damage all those horcruxes made to his soul – plus, securing a subject that would help with the understanding of Ancient Velkan Devices… I think you know where this is going."

"Why Crouch, though?"

"I taught him, remember? I also thought he had some potential, and when I found out about the Longbottoms, I had to… get at the bottom of things."

Harry grimaced at the pun. "He wasn't a Death Eater?"

"Oh yes, he was. But what happened to the Longbottoms? The Lestranges sabotaged his wand so its core would burn out on the next Cruciatus he'd cast. It was a loyalty test, and it condemned three people."

"So that's why Minister Fudge wanted those records sealed."

"Exactly. Transporting them off-world was also the excuse we needed to get the Delacours off-world, too. They're already at Mid-Childa, last I heard the Admiral talk about it – and he's already taking steps to bring the Longbottoms off-world, too."

"Why would he do that?"

"Ever felt like you were responsible for everything horrible happening? When I taught him, Barty had that aura emanating from him. A perfect servant… serving a now-fixed master."

"And Riddle?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Maybe not. It's best we don't meet."

"Indeed. Riddle already said that he's counting on the Bureau to rehabilitate him into one of those explorers into unadministered worlds, with Barty in tow."

"So, he gets away with it…" Harry thought aloud.

"Not really," Scathach said. "Crouch already served his time. Riddle already knows the price they had to pay to get him here and get him all fixed up… that horcrux really did a number on his soul, you know."

"I can imagine…" Harry said. "What now?"

"Well," the Witch said, "do you consider what I've done a betrayal?"

Harry took a moment to look at the ceiling.

He shook his head.

"I think it's a privilege that you're even sharing this with me," he admitted. "And with everything that's been going on… I think it's not that bad. We all got what we wanted here… except maybe Cedric."

The Witch just laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You'll see."

Somehow, Harry didn't feel reassured with that.

***

Departures

***

The last few days of school were exams and other matters, with Harry receiving his Device back before they began.

For some reason, Harry thought he was supposed to feel some kind of hate or anger over what had happened, but he found himself detached from everything, what with all the academic work he had to wrap up.

You're just about as calm as a Hindu cow right now, Tom said, and Harry couldn't brook any opposition over that.

At any rate, the night before the Leaving Feast was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Harry ran into his Uncle Gil over there.

"There's someone who wants to meet you," the Admiral said, and a suited man with patrician features walked over to their table. "Harold Graham, meet Tom Riddle."

The man extended a hand to Harry, who cautiously shook it, all the while Ouroboros was in his pocket, ready to go at a moment's notice.

"You're right, Gil. This boy reminds me so much of myself at his age. He's got a different edge to him than I had, though," Tom remarked. "Anyway, it's good to finally meet the Triwizard champion, at least before I'm finally stationed in some distant backwater of a planet several galaxies over."

"It's an honor," Harry said on autopilot. "My victory is due to the help of everyone around me, though."

"And so humble," Tom added. "Well then, since this is going to be my last meal on Earth, might as well enjoy it!"

Dinner proceeded rather awkwardly until Harry got the courage to ask.

"Why aren't you the Dark Lord people claim you as?" he finally got out, and Tom just smirked.

"Because my soul isn't shattered anymore," Tom replied matter-of-factly. "The Dark Lord you know is a fragment of me, with all the systems deemed 'extraneous' by a raging psychopath removed. It's why the Dark Lord had so much mastery of that kind of magic; these systems built into your soul weaken the power of the dark arts, or so the historians at Mid tell me."

"So… you're no threat to this world any longer?"

"It's on the geas I signed to get my soul fixed in Mid," Tom admitted. "Once I leave this world, I cannot return."

"Well, I hope you find adventuring to different worlds exciting," Harry said after a nod. "Don't get homesick."

"I plan to, and no, I'm sick of this place already."

The rest of the meal proceeded uneventfully after that.

***

The leaving festival, however, proved to be the biggest fiasco so far of Harold Graham's life.

Not only was he booed soundly by the students for beating Cedric Diggory in the Triwizard finals, the reveal that Cedric had to study his seventh year at Beauxbatons due to some unsavory rumor or another only intensified the students' ire against him.

So, what was supposed to be the awarding of his victory in the Triwizard turned out as one of the lower points of Harry's academic career.

Between that and the Witch's departure the next day, Harry found out the hard way that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, there will always be people who will hate you.

Fortunately, there were at least several students who didn't care about all of that: there was Roger Davies, who was now treasuring the prize he won for being the school's best duelist; Draco Malfoy, who Harry literally frightened enough to be his friend; and his academic colleague Hermione Granger.

He just hoped that the next year wouldn't be as bad as this one.

As the last bits of announcing in the leaving feast were winding down, the headmaster stepped up and made a claim so bold that Harry's eyes bugged out completely.

"Lord Voldemort has returned," the powerful wizard declared, and all hell just about broke loose in the main hall.

Well, at least I won't have to endure being the school's goat.

Think of it as an acronym, though. Greatest Of All Time.

You really say some of the nicest things sometimes, Tom.

In the midst of the chaos at the announcement and the faculty trying to keep everyone calm, Harold Graham and the Witch of Dun Scaith just enjoyed their meal, taking sips of butterbeer as they watched the chaos unfold in front of them.

***

New Horizons

***

"So why did Cedric have to move to Beauxbatons?" Harry asked.

"Funny you should ask that," the Witch of Dun Scaith answered. "There are two reasons: one, Beauxbatons has a better program to understand and fix the damage Voldemort's momentary possession of Cedric made… and two, Claire Rousavall is currently, shall we say, 'suffering from success' in her attempt to put Mr. Diggory out of the market."

Harry laughed out loud as he understood, and the two of them made their way to one of the pathways out of Hogwarts, away from the rest of the student body, but the laughter quickly eased away into a melancholy.

"I'll try to call as often as I can, Master," Harry told the departing Witch of Dun Scaith. He took on the task of seeing Scathach off, even as the rest of the school was still reeling from Headmaster Dumbledore's explosive announcement.

"Please do. It will help keep the loneliness at bay; even if I have a lot of ghosts for company, they don't make for good conversation."

Harry couldn't help it; he sniffled a bit.

"Now, now," the Witch said. "Didn't I say that not goodbyes are forever?"

Harry nodded, and he just gave into the urge and embraced the woman who had been the biggest influence on him in the shortest time he knew who she really was.

She patted his head as he tried his hardest not to break down and cry, and when he pulled back, his eyes were shining, but no tears were shed.

"There we go. What did that old wizard say about not all tears being an evil?"

Harry chuckled even as a tear coursed down each of his cheeks, not trusting his voice to crack at a moment like this.

He just nodded, and tried to burn everything in that moment into his memory.

The Witch gave him a truly happy smile, turned around, took a few steps outside of Hogwarts, and immediately disappeared into smoke.

Harry was still waving goodbye when she left, and then without a word, he turned back, carrying his things as he joined up with the mass of students awaiting their rides towards the Hogwarts Express station.

And as he blended in with the throng of students, one thought was starting to brew in the depths of his mind:

I don't want to be a part of this world anymore.

***

Somewhere in a town called Little Hangleton, something That Should Not Be opened its eyes for the very first time.

***

Omake (might be a future story, who knows):

Sometime later, in someplace far, far away…

"Ugh… what hit me?" the man asked as he woke up in a heap.

He brushed the dust off and stood up, finding himself inside some sort of ancient stone building, with a few corpses strewn here and there.

Surprisingly, there was no stench of the dead, it was as if these weren't just dead, but frozen in time.

"The air here is thick with magic," he said, and pressed a button on his watch that caused a green light to appear. "You sense it too, don't you, Ophioneus?"

Affirmative, sir.

"Does that mean we made it successfully?"

I don't know, sir.

"What do you mean?"

Some outside force is preventing me from contacting the Kamadeva.

All right. Huh, who knew it'd be kind of hard to get used to telepathically addressing you, Ophion.

It is of no import, sir.

Whoa.

Once the man had gotten a few strange items from the room within, he opened the door… and stepped out onto what looked like a forbidding fortress, high atop some sort of mountain.

He cautiously made his way across the rocky dirt, Device at the ready, and crossed the rickety wooden bridge towards what looked like some kind of chamber…

…and then, he leaped back as some manner of ghoulish combination of limbs crashed onto the ground where he was, brandishing weapons as it roared at him.

He never had a chance to ready his Device, as the abomination grabbed hold of him and tossed him into oblivion.

"Not this way! Not this way! No!" the man yelled, all the way down.

***

Tom Riddle opened his eyes to find himself at the bottom of a pile of corpses, and a one-eyed woman giving him a very odd look.

 

[Nitramy]

a/n: not sure if I handled the drama part well.

***

Family Matters

***

Harry Potter's summer vacation began at the exact moment when he stepped off the Knight Bus and onto the sidewalk just outside #4 Privet Drive.

Once the bus drove away, he made his way to the front door, knocked, and when his aunt and cousin were about to welcome him in, they gasped a little.

They weren't that fond of freakishness, but when they saw the look in his eyes that reminded them of soldiers coming home after the war, they quickly ushered him in, trying to make him comfortable.

"Sorry for being such a bother," he said even as his aunt Petunia poured him a cup of tea.

"Whatever you may be, or will become, you are Lily's boy. Nothing will change that," the older woman said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's sad that Vernon and I only realized that when the captain made us …"

"It's okay," Harry said, his voice just as thin as his aunt's. "I imagine I won't be such a burden to the three of you for much longer…"

"What are you talking about? You're family. Now relax, this is your home."

Harry had taken care of most of the tea when Dudley shyly emerged into the living room.

"Heard some of my boys tell me you'd been in a scrap or two," he said. "How did it go?"

"Spent most of it scared out of my wits," Harry replied candidly. "Wait, how'd your friends know?"

"Friends saw you getting dropped off by bus here," Dudley answered. "You looked like me coming home after a prize fight. "

Harry nodded.

"Yes, it sure does look like that," he admitted. "I mean, this last school year was a bit of a roller coaster ride for me."

"I'll bet. With a teacher like that lady who came by here last year, eh?"

Harry had to chuckle at that.

Right, Master did say I had to call her after I made it home. Maybe later.

I'll remind you of that, Boss.

Thanks, Tom.

"You're right."

As soon as Harry finished his tea, Dudley stood up.

"Want to go out to the pitch? Kick a few balls like old times?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

On the way back home, Dudley saw that the dullness in Harry's green eyes had subsided somewhat, and was thankful that what his parents told him to do worked.

***

Later that night, at dinner, Vernon was once again grumbling about bills, and how he'd spend another summer at the office.

"I kind of won a contest at school," Harry said. "The prize was a bit too much for me, so I think you guys should spend this summer on something fancy, I don't know…"

He put down a wad of bills on the table, shocking the Dursleys.

"Harry, no," Aunt Petunia said. "Your Uncle and I, we're doing our best to get by—"

"Do you think I'd just take that money—"

"Where'd you come into that much dosh, Harry—"

Harry sighed rather loudly, and the table fell silent. His smile was very sad when he spoke.

"Just think of it as me paying you back for all the freakishness you've had to endure from me," he said, right before he put the last forkful of food into his mouth, excused himself, stood up from his chair, and walked up to his room.

The Dursleys just sat there for a good, long while, looking at the stack of bills on the table.

***

Harry Potter woke up to someone nudging him awake.

His eyes opened to see his cousin shaking him.

It would have been rather rough had he not been kept in shape by the Witch.

"Ugh," he said as he pulled himself up, "sun's not out yet, Dudley – what's that for?"

"Mom and Dad want to talk to you downstairs," Dudley said solemnly, right before he stepped out of Harry's room.

Harry could hear the sound of footfalls down the stairs as he got out of bed and threw on a shirt, following his cousin into the living room.

When he got there, he saw the Dursleys giving him rather awkward looks.

His aunt gave his uncle an elbow to the side, and Vernon spoke up after a sigh.

"B—er, Harry," he began, "we're really grateful for this, but…"

"Don't chicken out now, Vernon," his aunt said under her breath.

"…fine. All right, Harry. You know we don't like freakish things in this house… but that doesn't mean you're not welcome here. You're family now… I just thought about where all that money would come from, and how I'd never get that much, no matter how hard I work…"

Harry let out a bewildered chuckle before he replied.

"Guys, it's a gift. Don't think too much about it. But really," Harry continued, "thanks for doing your best to put up with me. Also, do with the money what you will: save it, spend it, whatever. But I really want you guys to go on some sort of vacation, like a cruise ship."

"Really?" the Dursleys asked in unison.

Harry nodded.

This time it was his aunt who stepped up.

"I'm saving a large chunk of this for Dudley's college fund," she said imperiously, "and for our pensions, too. We can start worrying about cruise ships and vacations after that."

As it turned out, there was more than enough left for a fancy cruise Vernon and Petunia had been aiming for. In Dudley's case, he waited until his parents had gone, Vernon to work and Petunia to the bank – to tell Harry about what he had in mind.

"I want a copy of Chrono Trigger," Dudley had said secretly, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Sure."

Unfortunately, the cruise was set for just a few days after Harry's return, so Dudley never got that far in playing the game he'd so wanted before the Dursleys went on their summer cruise ship vacation extravaganza.

***

They departed for the cruise early in the morning, so by the time lunch arrived, Harry was all alone at #4 Privet Drive, finished with his morning workouts, and wondering if simulations and some advanced study would be the only things he'd be left doing for the rest of the day.

The screech of Hedwig changed that, and when he read the message, it was something rather interesting.

***

Inheritance

***

Half an hour after receiving the message, Harry heard the telltale pop of the Knight Bus arriving outside their door, and from it emerged his godfather, Sirius Black.

"Not at Mid right now?" Harry asked as soon as he opened the door. "Also… tea and sconces?"

"Sure," Sirius said as he waltzed in the door. "Got here in a hurry, there were some… complications that happened when I signed off my assets to you. Will explain over snacks."

***

Not long after that, the two of them caught a cab ("has to be Muggle transportation," Sirius insisted) and after a ride to London, get dropped off at what looked like an empty space between two buildings.

"Welcome to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry," Sirius announced, breaking the illusion. "Safest place to be in Wizarding Britain. Even the bombs changed direction when they were dropping here, so said Grandfather."

Harry laughed.

"Come on in," Harry's godfather continued. "We'll get these complications straightened out once we get you settled in."

The place looked like a total fixer-upper to Harry, and when he reached the shrieking portrait…

"Oh, that's just my mother," Sirius said over the screams, and right when she said something about the dirty halfblood, the portrait was staring down the business end of a powered-up Ouroboros.

"I own this place now," Harry declared, "so unless you want to know what a slow death by muggle paint remover feels like, you will hold your tongue."

Silence followed, and on the way to the main wing of the house, Sirius let out a low whistle.

"Almost thought you'd actually blast my mother's old portrait into next week," he said with a smile. "That killing intent of yours is something else."

"Just one of many things the Witch taught me," Harry said, returning the smile as they entered the main wing of 12 Grimmauld Place, only to see an assemblage of witches and wizards doing various things.

"What is Potter doing here, Black?" one of them – Severus Snape – asked.

"I said I'd leave everything behind to start a new life elsewhere, right?" Sirius replied. "Well, everything means the house, too. Meet the new owner of 12 Grimmauld Place: Harry Potter."

Chaos erupted, Sirius smiled at a prank gone horribly right, and Harry just shrugged – he had long since been used to the Witch of Dun Scaith doing such things.

***

The Dementors hovered over #4 Privet Drive, but found it empty.

Frustrated at the loss of their quarry, they returned to Azkaban.

The wizard assigned to watch over the house rushed to report his findings to his superior officer.

***

If you think this is too light, remember the warning in the first chapter.

 

[Nitramy]

***

Accidental Magic

***

Once the brouhaha was over and introductions were made, Harry learned that Sirius was part of this group aimed to stop Voldemort and his servants the Death Eaters.

When they revealed the head of the group to be Albus Dumbledore himself, Harry just nodded.

It wasn't often that the Order ran into someone who wasn't bedazzled by the famous wizard, but there they were, seeing Harry Potter dealing with Headmaster Dumbledore in a very formal and businesslike demeanor.

"Well," Snape thought aloud, "he owns the place now, so Dumbledore has to deal with him the way a leaser does a landlord."

How very Slytherin of him, he thought.

"…well, any plans I have with the property aside from the requisite maintenance will have to be put on the back burner, at least until this Voldemort matter is settled," Harry said. "Which is why maintenance aside, nothing changes with your arrangement with my godfather."

He smiled.

"Feel free to use this place as headquarters, Professor, then."

"Blood traitors, all of you!" an old woman's yell came from the usual part of the house.

"Shut up or I'm going to wash your mouth out with lye!" Harry yelled back before turning to the headmaster. "Sorry about that, Professor."

"It's all right, Harry. Some are just set in their ways."

"Don't I know it. Anyway, I might need some help to get this fixer-upper taken care of. Given its secrecy, we're going to have to DIY everything, whether by magic or muggle methods. Only thing I'll ask is for some extra hands to help out when that time comes. Will that be a problem, Professor?"

"No, I don't think it will be, Harry. And thank you for being so understanding."

"Well, my Uncle Gil tells me to be as helpful as I can to others, where I can. It's no big deal, Professor."

They shook hands, and the deal was closed then and there.

After being introduced to the Order members (and having to hear Ouroboros' chuckling when he got introduced to Nymphadora Tonks), Harry was led to another wing in the house, where he ran into some other familiar faces.

"Blimey, it's Harry Potter!" Ronald and Ginny Weasley said at the same time as the door to the large room opened. Within, reading books and playing wizarding chess were Harry's other schoolmates: Fred and George Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom.

"Yes, it's Harry Potter," Harry said lamely, but stopped short when after a few moments, something sparkled in Hermione's eyes.

She put down the book she was reading on the table, stood up, made her way towards Harry, and started to size him up closely.

"Slick back your hair?" she more commanded than asked, and Ouroboros had to laugh.

Looks like the jig is up.

Pretty sure the faculty at Hogwarts knows about this, but doesn't care.

Anyway, you do remember another one of those things the Witch taught us?

Yeah, you never say no to a beautiful woman.

With an uncharacteristic smirk, Harry put a hand to his head, and slicked back his hair in one smooth motion.

"Yep, I knew it," Hermione said with a triumphant grin. "Harry Potter does study at Hogwarts; he just goes by an alias."

"Fat lot of good it did me, trying to keep me from publicity," Harry groused even as everyone else was trying to pick up their jaws from the floor from seeing the Triwizard champion in the flesh.

"Say, did we ever thank you for helping fund our emporium?" the Weasley twins asked, and Harry just shrugged.

"I was… advised that I'd need a tax haven with what I won from the tournament… but really, I'm just grateful you guys helped me out back in third year without thinking of pulling something on me," Harry replied. "Anyway, I got the gist of why everyone is here. What's going on right now, though?"

"Rumors," Hermione replied. "Nothing but rumors of Voldemort's return. Very little Death Eater activity; all we do here is train and work on Defense, build up on what Professor Pennyworth taught before she left."

Harry nodded.

"That's a good starting point," he agreed. "Wait, you said everyone?"

"Yep," Ron replied. "When we're not looking for leads or looking into the Minister thinking that Professor Dumbledore is trying to take his job, that's what everyone here is doing: staying fit."

"Speaking of which," Neville observed, "you seemed to transform when you pulled back your hair."

"I did?" Harry asked, a mix of surprise and delight in his voice.

"Must be some sort of accidental magic," Hermione theorized. "Even the way you wear your glasses are different when you're Graham than when you're Potter."

"That's good to know. So, Neville," Harry asked, "I already know why the Weasleys are here; Granger's here for the study I helped her make, what about you?"

"Well," Neville replied, "I'm just here to pass on messages between Gran and Professor Dumbledore. The whole Ministry business started even before the Triwizard finals, and it's just getting tiresome at this point."

"What Minister business is that?" Harry asked, surprised. "Is he trying to regain confidence in his leadership after that Crouch fiasco?"

"It's a little bit more complicated than that, my boy," Albus Dumbledore replied as he made his way into the room as well. "I come bearing perilous tidings: your home was assailed by Dementors shortly after you left. Nobody was there, but my man saw them and hurried back here to inform me."

Harry slowly felt his blood chill into ice.

"What… why, Professor?"

"That I do not know," the headmaster answered. "But it is perhaps best that you spend your vacation here, for now."

There didn't seem to be any way out of it, so Harry just closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

"Yes, perhaps it has to be that way."

***

As it turned out, living with the Order wasn't that bad: the Weasley siblings were fun to be around, Hermione was still the academically-inclined busybody, Neville had been improving ever since his showcase in the school's in-house dueling tournament, but Harry found himself engaging with the actual Order members more than the junior ones.

He also found out that the Ministry and the Daily Prophet was still searching for Harry Potter; apparently, they had concocted this fabulous conspiracy theory that Albus Dumbledore was training the Boy-Who-Lived in secret to be a weapon against former Death Eaters, and eventually the Ministry.

When Harry read that editorial written by one Dolores Umbridge, he fell into a laughing fit so hard the Weasleys were accused of dosing his tea.

Even then, if they weren't in training, Harry did put some of the Order members to help clean up 12 Grimmauld Place, much to Sirius' delight. He did, however, warn Harry of the rooms in the house that were not to be touched; those were the responsibility of the house elf Kreacher.

Harry never trod on the house elf's responsibilities and made sure the Order respected that, but when Kreacher attempted to steal one of the belongings of Harry's guests, one Phase Bolt drew the line.

Thus, two months passed, Harry saw off his godfather to his possible migration to Midchilda, and Harry soon saw himself back on the train towards Hogwarts.

However, the train ride and his arrival brought upon dark tidings for his fifth year there…

***

The Black Sheep

***

Harry spent the train ride remembering what his godfather Sirius said before he departed for Midchilda.

"Let them think I retired to some island in the Pacific, shagging tropical women and draining daiquiris. It's going to be my final prank, having those bunch of idiots running all over themselves trying to figure out where I vanished to."

"What about your friends?"

"Remus still has his Order business," Sirius answered. "Already told him he could get his little furry problem fixed permanently at Mid, but he wanted to stick around and help out. Well, I told him that if he ever wanted out, he should contact you."

"Fair enough."

And instead of the Hufflepuffs, he found himself on the train compartment with the junior members of the Order: Ron, Hermione, Neville, and a waif named Luna Lovegood.

That had been the most interesting part of the train ride, as upon meeting him, Luna immediately asked to see Ouroboros.

"Ah," she said upon giving the Device a piercing look. "I wish my mother was still here to see this, would have answered most of her questions."

And then she returned Ouroboros, her eyes becoming languid once more.

Who's her mother again?

I think we need to look it up.

The idea was tabled, as Hogwarts loomed in the distance, and the train signaled the end of the long trip.

***

Even before the welcoming feast and Sorting, Harry already knew something terrible would happen, and no, it wasn't a bad feeling or another Star Wars reference Tom liked to bring up.

It began when he tried to find a seat at the Hufflepuff table, only to find it fully occupied. He turned to try and find a seat elsewhere… and after some time, a House Elf pulled a chair over for him to sit on.

Harry sighed as the sorting and welcoming feast came and went, and was briefly surprised when the Sorting Hat said something about how sorting into houses bred resentment, and was one challenge Hogwarts students should overcome in the upcoming days.

Of course, nearly everyone paid that no mind, as they were too busy waiting for the feast to begin.

Small consolation to the fact that there were Ministry observers here was that they got Alastor Moody to teach Defense for this year… at least for the shitstorm Harry knew would be coming, his favorite subject in Hogwarts would thankfully not be one of them.

***

The Headmaster of Hogwarts was troubled, as one of his students was now in his office, apparently locked out of his own House for some reason or another.

"Lopsy says she had to get you a seat just for you to take part in the sorting and welcoming feast, then, you barely avoided a vinegar bath when you tried to enter your house's common room…" Albus Dumbledore said. "I dare say, your start for this year for your house has been quite the comedy of errors, Harry."

"It's like they still think I'm with Dun Scaith, not Hufflepuff House," Harry concurred with a sigh.

"I'll look into it. For now, you can have your apprentice quarters back, until I straighten this matter out."

Harry smiled.

"Thanks for that, Professor."

Maybe it was due to the magic in Hogwarts or something, but when Harry returned to the apprentice's quarters given to him as a representative of Dun Scaith, he fell asleep with a smile on his face, and woke up with traces of a few tears on his cheeks.

Would it be best if I ask Master what to do in this situation?

I don't think so. Just ask how her day has been. Prove that we do not have to hang onto her every word for every situation.

Harry sighed again.

You're right, Tom.

After that, it was time to face the school day.

***

A/N: Harry slicking up his hair a la Vergil is him assuming a more assertive persona (as Harold Graham). He's also subconsciously trying to make sure Clyde Harlaown isn't forgotten (yes, the guy has spiky hair, I looked it up), and this accidental magic keeps his hair slicked back, and it also makes his glasses fit more fashionably.

 

[Nitramy]

***

Ostracized

***

Unfortunately, it proved to be a very long several weeks before anything could be done about Harry's place in Hufflepuff House.

Even worse, nobody from Hufflepuff even bothered to hear out Harry, as to why he was both picked up as a Triwizard contestant, and why his exploits overshadowed Cedric Diggory's.

It's got to be that. Imagine throwing your entire weight of support behind someone like him, only for the dark horse to come in and win the championship.

…but I'm also from Hufflepuff House.

No, in this case, you were picked by the Witch of Dun Scaith, so that is where you are… at least that's what Hufflepuff House thinks.

You think all of them are some sort of hive mind or something?

It's possible. Maybe some of them there do have dissenting opinions, but can't go against the majority.

In a house like Hufflepuff? We've already seen the signs, Tom. This is some Children of the Corn-type shit.

When you're starting to make horror movie references, even I get a bit disturbed. Why haven't we gone to Professor Sprout yet, anyway?

Because there's the very real risk that she's the one behind the entirety of Hufflepuff House turning their back on me?

Fair enough.

It was times like this that Harry was thankful that he had a Device to bounce ideas off of; if not, he was sure that he would have broken a long time ago. However, he was already near the end of his rope – thankfully, a development came that would allow him some sort of socialization in school.

***

After the infamous "Malfoy the Bouncing Ferret" incident, the movers and shakers at the Ministry deemed it sufficient cause to promote Dolores Umbridge from a mere observer to an Inquisitor of Hogwarts.

Naturally, Umbridge appointed helpers from within the student body to catch those who would go against their sanitized vision of education.

Funnily enough, this was the opportunity Draco Malfoy seized upon, because the day after that ruling became effective, Harry found the newest members of that squad walking alongside him on the way to the first bunch of classes of the day.

"Draco, his… young men Friday, and… your name's on the tip of my tongue… Ah yes, Viola Wittrockiana."

"My name is Pansy!"

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had to resist the urge to laugh, as they had just been to Herbology classes earlier.

"Would Ms. Parkinson be a better form of address instead, Viola?" Harry asked.

"It's fine. Draco, do what you came here for."

The Slytherin prefect stepped up and offered him a letter of invitation to the Hogwarts inquisitorial squad.

"I'm the only one not in Slytherin you offered this to."

"And you're the only student here without a house, or a part of a house of one member. Dun Scaith, right?"

Harry gave him a grudging nod.

"Well, we're here to ensure the Inquisitor's educational decrees are enforced, and are thus given broad executionary powers to do that as junior inquisitors."

"Inquisitors, huh…?" Harry asked, and a sly spark was in his eye.

***

"So… tell me, what reason do you have to offer to be one of my junior inquisitors?" Umbridge asked Harry.

Harry decided to go with his and Tom's ridiculous idea.

"I know for a fact that Tom Marvolo Riddle is not, and will not be for the foreseeable future, a threat to the Wizarding World, British or otherwise," he said with the straightest of faces.

Umbridge glowed at that statement, and deep inside, Harry and Tom gave evil grins.

Hook, line and sinker.

Can't believe it was that easy.

Now, it's time for the next phase of the plan.

Yep.

***

Once Harry got his inquisitor's badge, there were two people he contacted via fire-call: the first was that Order witch with the ridiculous name, asking her whether Hufflepuff House was a hive mind.

The second person he called was Lucius Malfoy.

"Ah yes, Mister Graham," the man said. "I heard about your… academic troubles, and nudged my son in the direction where he might be able to assist you."

"Thank you for that," Harry replied. "I'm trying to minimize the damage Umbridge is doing to the school and the ties between its members and the Ministry. Her decrees were growing more and more outlandish even before she became Inquisitor. What's going on?"

"Fudge is paranoid," Lucius replied. "He thinks Dumbledore will unseat him as Minister, and as such, had his designated bootlicker take a metaphorical hammer to Dumbledore's legacy as forcefully as possible. For all of his purported savvy, Albus Dumbledore shouldn't have let any Ministry officials onto school grounds... but here we are."

"Weren't you one of Fudge's advisers?"

"At this point, it doesn't matter. There's a lot of confusion and unrest going on outside Hogwarts right now: rumors of the Dark Lord resurfacing in different places, traces of his dark presence in several cursed locations… there simply isn't any time for petty concerns, like what Fudge and his staff are trying to prove."

"So… the Dark Lord hasn't truly surfaced?"

"Not to our knowledge. Everything so far has been hearsay. The only reason nobody has sent Umbridge packing…"

"…is because of what Professor Dumbledore said at the leaving festival back in June…" Harry finished. "I'll keep an eye out on Draco. Will make sure he and his posse don't start something they can't finish."

"I thank you for that, Mr. Graham."

The fire call ended, and Harry let out a breath.

If it's only hearsay that Voldemort is back, why do I feel that he's returned, and even stronger than before?

Because he never made a public return, Tom explained. That way, he can stay in the shadows, cultivate fear in the people, and when that has reached a fever pitch, he then makes his appearance and makes an even bigger impression thanks to shock and awe.

Straight out of the pages of "Habits of Effective Dark Lords".

Exactly. So… what's this idea of yours to neuter Umbridge? Last I heard, she was going to aim for Hagrid's position.

I don't think Umbridge quite understands that Hagrid's position both as gamekeeper and professor are ironclad right now. It doesn't matter how good he teaches, he's secure. Umbridge is going to have to burn a lot of her political capital if she goes after the big lug.

How so… wait a minute. You're talking about what happened last year… and what's happening right now.

Yep. Put up another point on the scoreboard for Lady Scathach.

***

Expect The Unexpected

***

"So… this is a taboo spell, right?" Draco asked as Harry was preparing a spell array in an unused classroom.

"Yes and no. It's a taboo that immediately alerts us to a particular word, and it also momentarily transfigures our outfits to fit our… appearance."

"Is this going to help our tasks as inquisitors?"

Harry smiled.

"Yes. It's going to make our work much, much easier."

***

"Can't believe we're still doing detentions even in seventh year," Fred Weasley began.

"And for simply asking Professor Moody for further reading than the Ministry-approved Defense text," George Weasley continued. "It's like an inquisition or something."

BOOM

In a puff of smoke, three students loomed before the Weasley twins, wearing Hogwarts robes with brown accessories, the medal and emblem of the Inquisitorial Squad placed clearly on it.

"NOBODY EXPECTS THE HOGWARTS INQUISITION!" bellowed the new arrivals, leaving the Weasley twins gobsmacked at the sight.

Taking the lead was a spiky-haired Hufflepuff with goggles instead of glasses.

"Our chief weapon is surprise, surprise and fear; wait, that's two… our chief weapons are surprise, fear, and ruthless inefficiency… that's three! Our weapons are surprise, fear, ruthless efficiency and near fanatical devotion to Dolores Umbridge! …wait, we should have rehearsed this more properly."

"Is this some kind of joke, Brother Graham?"

"It is not, Brother Malfoy! We are here to inquisit and to root out heretics! Aren't we, Sister Wittrockiana?"

The lone female in the trio deflated before nodding.

"Dammit, retreat! We shall return once we have perfected this entrance... heretics!"

And in another puff of smoke, they were gone.

"Do you know what just happened, Gred?" Forge asked.

"Bugger if I know, Forge," Gred replied.

***

In between those, Harry was teaching the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad the basics on how to be cool.

"There's a thing called a 'power walk'," Harry began. "We don't just walk together in the halls of Hogwarts. We swagger confidently. It's all about posture. Confidence and attitude can make up for… facial features, or looking ordinary. Yes, Miss Parkinson?"

"Is this relevant to our work as Inquisitors?"

"Of course. Because nobody expects us."

Even funnier is that Tom was the only other one who got the joke when he used his functions as a Device to watch that particular episode.

***

A/N: Viola wittrockiana is the scientific name of the common pansy. And yes, Harry is going slightly mad due to his isolation from Hufflepuff House (though implied by year 3, year 4 made it clear that he has issues with abandonment). Also yes, in this story, after 7 years of Hogwarts, Pansy gains fame and fortune writing wizarding bodice rippers. Her pseudonym? Viola Wittrockiana.

 

[Nitramy]

Inquisitorial Work

***

At the unused classroom next to the "Apprentice's Quarters" Harry had been using since fourth year, a meeting was going on.

Namely, Harry and the other inquisitors were given new orders by Umbridge: there was a group of subversive students teaching defense without her approval, and it was the inquisitors' job to ferret out the members and ringleader.

Nobody laughed at the wording, least of all Malfoy.

Everyone else was grinning, though.

"So, now that we've done our comedic routine and have convinced the student body we're harmless, how do we get this done and not get on Umbridge's bad side?" Draco asked.

Harry chuckled.

"Aren't you guys Slytherin? You should have the savvy to be able to figure out how to follow a job on paper while doing the opposite in spirit. Besides, I already know who the ringleaders are. I can tell them to stand down for now, take their meetings elsewhere, or reschedule. They have a mole in their ranks; it's the only way this info got to Umbridge."

"It didn't go through us, though."

"That's what worries me," Harry thought aloud. "I think some detective work is in the offing. You got the family tree diagrams? I've got a soft copy of the membership here, we can cross-check if needed."

"Here," Draco said, bringing out a parchment. "When I told Father you would need it, he took very little time in getting a copy out. Heck, he thinks you would have made good in Slytherin."

Harry shook his head.

"Not really. When shit hits the fan, I'm usually the first one there to help. Not very Slytherin of me."

***

A few hours and some butterbeers later courtesy of the house elves, Harry found it.

"There's your mole. Edgecombe," he declared, pointing at a name in the family trees.

"How would she... her buddy Cho is really close with that Gryffindor golden trio..."

Harry shook his head.

"You know your mundane history, Draco? Emperor Domitian's public appearances often came with him beside an ugly dwarf, so he'd look taller and more handsome in comparison," Harry explained. "I think this is Edgecombe realizing she doesn't want to be the ugly dwarf anymore."

Many laughs came around the table.

"Well, you can't change your face..."

"That's what cosmetic spells and polyjuice is for," Harry explained. "But now that I have the mole, I'm going to make sure all the intelligence she gives Umbridge is messed up."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Let's just say I have connections," Harry replied enigmatically. "We stay the course for now."

***

Hogsmeade

***

Harry didn't realize it, but all the inquisitorial work and academics began to pile up on him, and he was looking forward to the Hogsmeade visit.

When the inquisitorial squad asked him about it, he just answered that he liked to spend time alone and think, and that while they should enjoy the weekend, they should still be on alert.

"...if you do, I won't tell your father about the time I saw you and Viola holding hands down the hallway," Harry concluded, and both mage and Device stifled laughter at seeing their two fellow inquisitors immediately break apart, faces quickly turning red. "Have a good time."

Hogsmeade was mostly the same as the last time he'd been there, and he did spend some time going to the Weasleys, asking them about how the construction of their shop was going.

It was a good investment of part of his Triwizard winnings (and also tax-deductible, who knew), so Harry found himself satisfied that at least in some respects, things were going as planned.

What he didn't expect was the eldest of the Weasleys walking up to him and offering to treat him to lunch.

***

"How's Egypt?" Harry asked.

"Dry," Bill replied with a grin. "Makes me wish I was back to the same old gloomy weather, since I'll be back there at the end of the year. Hopefully we get the pyramid all cleaned out before the official opening of the second Gringotts branch in Diagon."

That was a new development.

"Second Gringotts branch?"

"You didn't hear? The goblins have been going through some trouble with safe management, they've already soft opened a second branch across of Tom's diner."

"Wouldn't that breach the statute?"

"Absolutely not. It's another one of those 'integrating Muggleborns into the system' infrastructure things; the Goblins still handle the bigger transactions, but you won't see any of them in the front. Speaking of which... I'm sure you know who my latest coworker is... and why she's working very hard on her English."

Someone working on her English...

You KNOW who this is, Harry.

"Fleur?"

"Got it in one," Bill said, raising his glass. "Man, I only ran into you once or twice at HQ, but seeing you now... no wonder you own a lot of prime real estate in her heart."

Harry's jaw almost hit the floor.

Real estate? What does he mean?

It means Fleur has it bad for you... and he has it bad for Fleur.

I don't get it.

I'll tell you when we get back to Hogwarts. Just let me guide you in the conversation...

"Er... thanks. Sorry that I don't know that many foreign witches... or other Hogwarts upperclassmen, if that counts for anything..."

"No, don't be," Bill said, momentarily surprised at Harry's gesture. "Just wanted to take your measure for myself personally; was wondering why you were all Fleur talked about during our date."

Harry closed his eyes; his Device was laughing out loud.

"Well," Harry thought aloud, "if I've indirectly inconvenienced you so... my folks owe me a vacation after I burned most of it playing landlord. Maybe I could take you along, I heard it was going to be a veela colony at Monaco."

"Really. Thanks for the gesture. You don't have to."

The rest of their lunch went by in relative peace, and when Bill left, Harry found himself asking his Device all of the questions on the walk back to Hogwarts.

What did Bill Weasley mean by that? By all accounts, he's got a better thing going than I do. Cursebreaker, academic achievement, quidditch...

Ah, but he did not win the Triwizard like you have.

I still don't get it.

Plus, Bill didn't have TSAB contacts... if it wasn't for them, Fleur would be in a spot worse than death. So I think it's both your achievements... and that she owes you. And since she doesn't have anything she thinks she can pay you with...

...she'll pay me back with the pleasure of her company?

Something like that, yes.

I still don't get it.

Same here. Humans are confusing at times.

You were human once, too.

The point still stands.

***

The next planned educational decree by Umbridge was about the use of Ministry-approved educational materials in practical classes, and when Harry and Draco read it, they knew their running interference was starting to bear fruit.

 

[Nitramy]

Slytherin Spirit

***

Because of Harry's status within his own House as some sort of scapegoat, it was decided by the professors to have him attend classes with the Gryffindors and Slytherins (unlike almost every other time, Dolores Umbridge absolutely preened at the possibility, since she had her best Inquisitor interacting with possibly the ringleaders of that 'Defense club').

While in Defense, Harry could sense Professor Moody's frustration over having to teach from the textbook.

What kind of professor allows students to trade notes and answer quizzes straight from the book? Tom asked in between chuckles.

The one who has completely run out of fucks to give, Harry replied with a chuckle of his own. Well, we're way ahead in the 'curriculum' or whatever that moron Umbridge had in mind. Professor or not, you'd be frustrated too.

Fair point.

The dam broke when Harry had an idea... but Neville Longbottom beat him to it.

"Professor, since we've all done the exercises in the textbook, do you have any stories to share with us?"

Well, well, well.

Looks like all that time in the Dueling Club worked wonders for his confidence.

The year the Witch came in, he looked like a ball of bread dough.

Now? He looks carved out of stone.

That's not the other thing worth looking at. Check this out.

Harry nodded as the grizzled veteran began to draw upon his store of experiences hunting down Dark wizards. The Slytherins in the classroom seemed affronted when he was describing the Dark wizards he'd battled and captured back then, but knew to be quiet -- they didn't want a repeat of the Floating Ferret Incident.

He saw Malfoy listening without a care to the professor's story, but in a few moments, his eyes lit up and he started listening intently.

"You see what Professor Moody's doing?"

"He... he's teaching us... without teaching us. Just telling stories," Draco admitted.

"Do you think we're going to take this to Umbridge?"

"No... he's just going to say he's telling old war stories to the students as a way to pass the time," Draco answered. "I... I can't believe it. This is brilliant. It's so very... very..."

"Very Slytherin of him?" Harry asked, and Draco nodded.

"Well, Professor Moody may be a lot of things, but a bad storyteller isn't one of them," Harry thought aloud as the class continued.

***

Disastrous Visions

***

A few nights later, something disturbing happened.

Harry, I'm getting some kind of odd transmission, Tom said just as Harry was about to wrap up the day.

What kind?

Video. It's kinda grainy and scratchy. Gonna put some cycles into editing it in real time. Hold on.

Audio?

All good. Hold up... I know that voice.

Ouroboros' HUD activated, and Harry read the audio output and who it was from.

Ah, shit. This is bad.

Better move!

Harry ran from his room in haste, trying to find a fireplace, all the while he could hear the familiar voice drone on and on.

"...imagine, an entire wing's worth of prophecies, all gone..."

"...all of them were also seer-grade, meaning..."

"...the Unspeakables will sort it out..."

"...just a formality..."

"...have to file a report..."

The voice sounded louder and louder, and the hisses grew stronger and stronger...

Harry kicked a door open to see two seventh-year Hufflepuffs in a compromising position.

"GET OUT OF HERE, I NEED THE FIREPLACE!" he bellowed, magic augmenting his voice, and got two wands pointed at him for his trouble.

"The nerve of you coming here to..." they began, but stopped as it wasn't a wand he was pointing back at them.

"Mine's bigger," Harry said, his voice low and menacing to go with his already-glowing green eyes and staff.

They had barely picked up their clothes and left when Harry tossed some Floo powder at the fireplace and yelled out "Twelve Grimmauld Place!".

A familiar face poked itself from the fire.

"No time for greetings, Nymphadora. Arthur Weasley is in trouble! Get to him ASAP!"

"How did you--"

"THERE'S NO TIME, GET SOMEONE TO FIND HIM! HE'S AT THE MINISTRY, SOMEWHERE NEAR THE DEPARTMENT OF PROPHECIES OR SOMETHING!"

The fire call ended abruptly, and when he turned around, he saw Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott pointing wands at him.

"Starting trouble, Graham?" Hannah asked.

"You tell me," Harry replied glibly. "Just needed to make an emergency call."

"Threatening your underclassmen, too?"

Harry chuckled evilly.

"You don't smell anything fishy here? Pretty sure the house elves didn't make anything with fish or squid this evening," he declared, and the two seventh-year Puffs behind the prefects at least had the decency to blush when mentioned. "Besides, I don't have any business with you... unless I absolutely have to, remember? You signed off on this."

"We're going to deduct points from you."

"Where, house Dun Scaith?"

"Or we can go to Umbridge."

"Go right ahead. It's not against the rules to make an emergency fire call," Harry said, and his eyes were again glowing green.

A moment later, the stand-off lifted.

"This isn't over," Ernie said over his shoulder as they were leaving.

"I hope it is," Harry snarked back. "I don't want to see any of you any longer than necessary."

In a huff, Harry stomped back to the apprentice's quarters.

Well played, Harry.

Not now, Tom. I'm still pissed off at their entire Children of the Cornfield bullshit.

You did negotiate yourself without resorting to your extensive vocabulary of four-letter words gained from training with the Witch.

Inquisitors gotta inquisit.

Unbelievable. You are still angry, but you manage to come up with quality zingers all the same.

Yeah, yeah.

Harry sighed.

I guess we know where that video feed was coming from, and why it's scratchy as heck.

The holidays are coming up, which means we can get the 'why' out of the way.

I have my hunch... and I know, you also have a guess.

Indeed... it's better to get confirmation than to go in with a plan half-cocked.

You're right.

***

The very next day, it was another Defense lesson with the Slytherins and Gryffindors; throughout the lesson, Professor Moody was giving Harry odd stares.

When the 'exercise' was done, Harry immediately figured out why: the grizzled veteran was talking about how one needed to take swift and decisive action during an emergency, lest lives be lost.

He invited some of the students to talk about times where they needed to contact Aurors or other personnel; surprisingly, even some of the Slytherin students shared their stories (glossing over the fact that the responders were also purebloods).

Sure enough, when classes were over...

"Graham, stay behind a while," he said.

Once the rest of the students had filed out, the former Auror put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"That was a very good thing you did back there," he said. "If the Aurors and healers came a minute or two too late, we would have lost Arthur."

Harry's eyes widened.

"So..."

"That's right. It really was an attack. Also, the headmaster wants to talk to you. Sign this, hand it over to your next professor before going up to meet him."

"Thanks, Professor Moody."

He nodded, and gestured towards the classroom door.

 

[Nitramy]

***

Remedial Supplemental Lessons

***

You know, this is actually the first time I've come up to the headmaster's office.

Really? Ouroboros asked, and after a moment of thought, blinked green. You're right. But you know, we've done our best to stay under the radar throughout our stay here…

…and the Triwizard just upended all that. Here we are.

Harry knocked on the door, and when bid by an unfamiliar voice to come in, entered… and marveled at the sight.

Portraits of past headmasters lined the walls, simple yet elegant décor, and the phoenix Fawkes at his perch and giving Harry's Device a stinkeye.

"So… what's your first name, buddy?" Harry asked the bird as he walked towards it. "Guy?"

The bird sputtered a bit before regaining his composure and shaking his head.

"So, it's just Fawkes, huh?"

The bird nodded, and turned to the side.

Harry followed suit to see Headmaster Dumbledore looking amused at the byplay between the student and his phoenix.

"Nice to see you made good time here, Harry," the headmaster said. "I assume your concern involves your vision from several nights ago?"

Harry shrugged.

"Well," he said after letting out a breath, "just thinking about how I can't spend the rest of my time here in anonymity any longer. The Triwizard Tournament made sure of that."

"I had you called here to personally thank you for making a difference, however small," the old wizard said. "The healers and Aurors said that it was a very precarious situation; Arthur Weasley might not have made it."

"I see," Harry thought aloud. "Lady Scathach did say that I shouldn't forsake a chance to help for the sake of maintaining my… cover, here. Now, Harold Graham is as much a celebrity as Harry Potter. It's already been quite a rough go of it so far, this year."

"I understand completely, Harry," the headmaster replied. "Still, I find it odd that you would continue here under that name rather than use your own."

"I got used to it," Harry said with a sheepish grin. "Anyway, Headmaster, about that vision, it just came to me one night while I was minding my own business."

"And then, after you made that fire call, you had a run-in with the Prefects in your House."

"That's how it went down, sir."

"Indeed, Professor Sprout has already asked me to look into this, as she herself is looking into what is keeping you away from your House."

I'll be needing more than a grain of salt on that one, Harry.

I know. We need to stay much more low-key than this, though. Dumbledore may catch you if you keep talking.

Harry blinked, felt his Device power down, and when he opened them, the headmaster was still smiling at him, though there was concern in his eyes.

"Is it another vision?"

Harry was about to shake his head, but decided to play along at the last moment.

"I think so… it's just a lot of static right now. You know, from muggle TV."

"We know what muggle TV is," another voice said from within the office, and immediately, the Potions professor loomed menacingly before taking slow steps towards him. "And you might be downplaying just how dangerous a mental link from you to the Dark Lord could possibly be."

"How do I get rid of them?"

Momentarily, Ouroboros went online.

Mixed in with all that static was a very potent intent to harm. If I had still been a physical part of you, it would have caused you a lot of pain.

"I mean… it's been giving me nightmares as of late."

Good one.

"Hmm, yes, it seems things are going as anticipated, Severus…" the headmaster thought aloud. "It seems young Harry here will need some help in clearing up his mind, to keep the Dark Lord's mental attacks at bay. And I have just the man for the job."

"You're kidding," Harry and Snape said as one.

"I do not, as a matter of fact, kid," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he gave his reply in a deadpan delivery. "Severus… you will have to train the boy in Occlumency."

Somehow, Harry felt a bit of empathy for the Potions professor as he heard the man let out the sigh of the long-suffering.

"It will be as you say, Headmaster," he replied, but quickly regained himself as an idea came to him. "Remedial Potions sounds good, but Harry here is a mite too good with potions for him to take that class. I also can't hijack Umbridge's detentions because he hasn't earned any – he's even one of their inquisitors!"

He turned to look at Harry with more suspicion now.

"Or maybe he's planning to go to Dolores with what he knows now, maybe use it for whatever purpose…"

"And lose my wonderful tenants? Perish the thought," Harry said with a shrug. "What Umbridge doesn't know, she doesn't ask, and whatever she doesn't ask, I don't answer – that's all. Heck, you can put that on your first occlumency lesson, Professor: find out if Harold Graham is secretly working for the High Inquisitor."

Snape was about to let out a retort when the headmaster chuckled.

"He has you, Severus," Dumbeldore said, his voice tinged with mirth. "Also, don't you have the International Confederation of Potioneers event to go to next November? I distinctly remember you looking for an assistant…"

"…and we can name it 'Supplementary Potions' instead of 'Remedial'…" Snape thought aloud. "Yes, that just might work."

Harry, on the other hand, was beaming.

"Please tell me you're actually considering me to be your assistant for the ICP event."

This time, it was the Potions Professor's turn to smile.

"I won't go with anyone who OWLs less than an O."

Harry heard the answer, swallowed, and gave a grin like he was looking at one of his tournament opponents in the Triwizard.

"You drive a hard bargain, Professor Snape… but I'm in. Shake on it?"

He extended a hand, and the Potions Professor shook it.

"Excellent! We now have things all set up. However, with the winter holidays so close, and to help with preparations, best schedule this to when classes resume after New Year."

"Understood."

"Thank you very much, Headmaster."

"Please. Call me Professor Dumbledore."

***

Peaceful Days

***

The days leading toward the winter holidays were surprisingly peaceful, the incident with Arthur Weasley notwithstanding.

When the Weasleys heard of their patriarch's fate, they immediately wanted to go – but the headmaster told them that it was a potential attack by the Dark Lord, and that they had to lie low.

Harry was once more summoned before the headmaster, but this time, Professor Dumbledore asked him if the Weasleys could spend the holidays at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Oh, would you look at that. I was considering getting someone to house-sit for me, and a solution falls right into my lap, Harry thought, and agreed to the headmaster's request.

"I'm going there Boxing Day," Harry said. "Might bring a tray of my aunt's baked ziti, too… plus presents for everybody… and the stuff addressed for me that I'll pick up, too."

"Looking forward to that, Harry," the headmaster said. "I remember your aunt's cooking, even if it was decades ago…"

"She took it back up, starting when I was five. Said she would've lost her touch if it wasn't for a wake-up-call," Harry said. "May you and everyone here have happy holidays."

"We shall try to. Enjoy your time off."

***

Unlike before, Harry's trip back home was quiet, since the two first-year Slytherins he shared a compartment with were either too awed at him to speak, or slept on the trip back.

Several hours and a Knight Bus ride later, Harry Potter (also known as Harold Graham) finally made his return home for the holidays.

***

Blood on Fire

***

It was the day after his return that Dudley motioned him towards his room.

"Some guy in Tokyo sold me this set of VHS tapes, said it was something that just finished airing a couple months ago," Dudley began, gesturing to the pile of tapes on his desk. "Unfortunately, it's all in Japanese, so I can't watch it."

Tom. How's your translator feature?

It's up, and I've been bringing in the Japanese language options ever since your cousin said 'Tokyo'. Give me a minute or five.

Thanks.

"So… how was Japan?"

"It was really, really cool!"

Fifteen minutes later, and Dudley still wasn't done describing how awesome his three weeks there was, while the cruise ship they were on was on some sort of maintenance stopover. Harry had to catch his Device blinking to signify that yes, they now had smart subtitles for what they were about to be watching.

Later that day, when Petunia called the boys down for dinner and they didn't answer, she went up to Dudley's room to see that the both of them were blown through the back wall of the room due to the sheer amount of awesome they had just witnessed in the past three hours.

When the two had returned to Earth and were being made to take dinner, the Device told Harry a very heartening thing.

I've recorded them so you can rewatch it at Hogwarts.

Man, if you weren't a Device, I would've hugged you already.

You're welcome, Harry. Consider this my holiday present to you.

***

"What the heck have you two boys been watching that's gotten you crying like that?" Petunia Dursley asked as she called the two boys down to the kitchen to help with making the holiday meals.

In between sniffles, Dudley barely managed to get an answer out. "Something beautiful, mum," he just said, and Harry solemnly nodded in turn, also trying to keep a stoic face, only for the tiny trail of snot going down one of his nostrils to totally ruin the look.

"Anyway, what kind of help do you need, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked.

"That not-so-nice boy who had been trying to get with Lily a long time ago dropped by," Petunia replied off-handedly, "said he was passing by to remind you of Boxing Day… I asked him what was going on, and he said one of his co-workers got hospitalized for something or another, didn't bother for the details."

"You boys can give me a hand here, as I'm going to make sure the Weasleys get quite the Christmas spread," she continued as she gestured to the large pot on the stove, brimming with tomato sauce. "Dudley, watch the Bolognese. Harry, get ready to make a second batch. And no sneaking bits off the parmesan!"

***

"That was awesome," Dudley said as they saw the last words on the screen.

SEE YOU AGAIN

AT THE 14TH​ TOURNAMENT

"Say, Harry. Does that green thing hear me?"

"Kind of… why?"

"Tell him… thanks… from me."

"Sure."

"You're welcome, Dudley."

He was surprised for one moment, but then caught himself as he realized that he was in no position to talk about freakishness.

After all, thanks to that freakishness, he had been able to understand one of the things that he had purchased during the cruise with his family.

The thing he watched was the really, REALLY awesome type of freakishness, too… he had somehow plateaued in his amateur boxing, but sitting through all that told him that he was due a breakthrough, if he just kept his heart clear and his hands fiery.

***

A/N: Yes, Dudley purchased a set of VHS tapes containing the entirety of MOBILE FIGHTER G GUNDAM during his time in Japan.

Spoiler

The "What the heck have you two boys been watching that's gotten you crying like that?" part? Episodes 44 and 45.

 

[Nitramy]

Holiday Memories

***

If there was one thing Harry learned from his aunt and uncle, it was about doing right by other people, even if you didn't like it. The realization came slowly, but when it did, he figured out that when they were made to do right by him all those years ago, the Dursleys ended up trying to do the best they could. They worked their hardest to swallow up their fear of his "freakishness", and just did what they could to treat him as 'Harry, a part of the family'.

Of course, there were times where that was strained: Uncle Vernon's budgeting troubles near the start of summer was but one of several incidents, but most of them were dealt with easily, as their family therapist lauded them for always trying to treat Harry 'on the level', and not some aberration that he thought he was.

Now, Harry was spending his first actual Christmas holiday with the Dursleys, and all things considered… it wasn't that bad. Dudley brought along some of his friends, embarrassing stories of childhood were told over food and drink, and for once, the voice in the back of Harry's mind telling him that he didn't belong there was silent.

Presents were exchanged – most of them were shirts from the Dursleys' cruise destinations, but Harry appreciated it all the same. For his aunt, Harry was able to finagle a copy of the Weasleys' family recipe book from Molly as thanks for saving the head of their family, and for his uncle, Harry got him a new briefcase for work, and a few weights for Dudley in the gym they had put together in the back yard for when he needed to lift.

And for every moment, Harry was taking picture after picture, a camera in his hand, poised to take snapshots of every moment, because he knew that the time for him to depart was closing in on them.

***

"Got presents!" Harry said as he opened the door to 12 Grimmauld Place, and the Weasleys welcomed him into the Order headquarters.

"Aunt Petunia made too much of her famous baked ziti. Thought she'd just make enough for ten people, but apparently, someone," and here, Harry gave Professor Snape a sly look, "added extra drama to what happened to Mr. Weasley, so she made enough for twenty. Don't worry, if there's a charm that I'm confident in, it's the food-preserving one. That aside… presents!"

Even if the mood in the house was festive, and Harry also got his fair share of presents, there was still that bit of loneliness in his eye, something he knew that the holidays would fix only temporarily.

He put that aside for the moment and just enjoyed the festivities, camera taking photos here and there for him to assemble into a collage.

***

"Oh, Harry!" Dudley said as he nearly ran into his cousin while going down the stairs. "Coach said I have to do my road work even in the holidays. Didn't peg you to be a light sleeper. Up for a run?"

Harry had planned on taking a jog to the store in the town center and picking something up to eat before he'd call the Witch, and with the enthusiasm on his cousin's face, he finally resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't tell his cousin 'no'.

"Lead on, then."

"Oh, I forgot," Dudley added. "You're in shape, but you're not in boxing shape, so I'm going to take it easy before I start getting serious. You okay with that?"

Harry just nodded, and once he closed the front door behind them, they were off.

***

After twelve minutes of what Harry James Potter's cousin called a 'comfortable run' and eighteen of the longest minutes of Harry's life, the two cousins finally stopped in front of an old-looking building with "Jerry's Gym" painted on the sign in faded colors.

"Just going to drop by and greet the boys before I head home," Dudley said. "Come on in and wait for me."

"Sure," Harry replied, and as he waited for his cousin, he started to notice the similarities between how the boxers trained, and what he had to go through under the Witch's own regimen.

It was a fascinating sight, until Harry sensed a small old man walk over to him.

"You here to box, sonny?" the old man asked, amused.

"Uh… no, sir," Harry answered politely. "I'm just waiting for my cousin."

"Ah," the old man thought aloud, "but the way you stand and look, you're a fighter, through and through. Even got the eyes… oh, where are my manners? Jerry Doyle, owner of this gym."

"Harry Potter," he replied, extending a hand.

They shook, and when Dudley emerged from one of the offices, he immediately went to the old man.

"Boss Jerry! I see you've already met my cousin."

"Yes, he's just as interesting as you said he'd be," the old man said enigmatically. "It's good to see you keeping up your training, even during the holidays. If this keeps up, once you're out of high school, there's a good possibility that you might be good enough to go pro."

"Really, boss?"

"You can be, if you work hard enough. Anyway, I have my prize fighter to put through the works – good to see you, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Mr. Doyle."

***

On the (leisurely) jog home, Dudley was grinning the whole way through.

"I knew the boss would like you," he said. "They said he was a scrapper when he was young, saw that in you."

"That's nice," Harry thought aloud. "You think you've got what it takes to turn pro?"

"I wish," Dudley admitted, "but I still have a long way to go… what's that?"

He pointed to the morning sky where some sort of black sheet was flying.

Harry quickly looked around to see that the two of them were taking the less-traveled path towards home, and looked back up.

"Dudley," Harry said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "run on ahead. This… this is trouble."

Dudley knew enough already that if Harry's chickens came home to roost, they'd have to be ready, so he just nodded, and began to sprint back.

The black sheet started to turn towards the running boy, but a flash of green light stopped it short.

"I don't think so," Harry replied, his voice dripping with venom as he pointed an already glowing-with-power Ouroboros at the dementor. "Going after my family was the last mistake you made."

***

Dudley was about several hundred meters short of home when Harry caught up with him.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked as he jogged up towards his cousin.

"T-t-that's supposed to be my question, Harry!" Dudley gasped out; he had been running nonstop ever since Harry had told him to rush home. "What was that thing?"

"Bad news," Harry replied. "We should head home and tell your mom and dad… now."

***

Sure enough, upon their arrival, the aurors were already there: apparently, another of those dementors had strayed too close to Privet Drive. Apparently, someone in the know was watching long enough to notify the magical authorities.

One of them, someone who looked like Auror work was all about filing paperwork and polishing seats with his bum, swaggered up to Harry and Dudley even as they were about to walk into their front yard.

"Say! You wouldn't have seen some sort of… aberration here now, have you?" he asked in a smarmy voice, and Harry just groaned.

Dudley chuckled a bit, the humor coming at an odd time because of the scare that just happened.

"Not really, but something happened on the road back – another dementor."

"Another… wait, you're that attention-grabbing Boy Who Lived. You trying to pull something on me, boy?" the auror asked, and immediately stepped back when a black cloth was nearly flung at his face.

"Does this look like a lack of attention to you, sir?" Harry asked, and the auror quickly backed up, grabbing the cloth for evidence before returning to his squad.

"Wanker," Harry muttered under his breath, and Dudley just laughed. "Good thing very few people were out this morning; they'd have to bring in obliviators if this happened at any other time."

"Obliviators?"

"They take out your memory. When my Master dropped by Privet Drive, she also made sure you and your folks would be exempt from the spell – come on, let's see how your mom and dad are doing."

Thankfully, they were unaware of what was happening outside, and made a late breakfast for both young men.

***

The Call

***

Later that day, while Dudley went to a friend's house to continue his brand of holiday festivities, Harry was at his room and was just about to give the Witch of Dun Scaith a call via his Device.

The call connected, and Harry had to wonder who kept replacing his head with a tomato, because the Witch was apparently fond of diaphanous gowns when she wasn't wearing her skintight combat outfits.

And these gowns were scandalously close to revealing details that Harry never thought he'd be ready for.

"Master," Harry said, trying his hardest to focus on the space between the Witch's eyes. "It is good to see you again."

"Indeed, my apprentice. The pictures you have sent… it is likewise heartening that you are carrying on well enough without me. There is a look of trouble about you… what has happened this past year?"

Somehow, the pretense of having to appear strong crumbled within him, and he just sighed as he told the tale of the school year to the Witch of Dun Scaith.

Whereas before, he was a sniffling wreck, now, only tears streaked down his face as he laid his sorrow bare towards the Witch, who he considered the closest thing to being a mother.

***

"…and once I come back to classes, it's going to be occlumency lessons with Professor Snape," Harry concluded, taking a relieved breath now that he had someone to openly share his problems and worries to.

"Tom, you've been keeping our boy here from being subjected to any legilimency probes, right?"

"That is right, Lady Scathach," the Device replied.

"That's good… until Harry can learn to anticipate such attacks and either deflect or ward them off, keep it up," the Witch replied, and then turned to Harry. "When you get back to school, keep in touch with me. I may have a few tricks or two to help you defend your mind against mental attacks."

"Thank you very much, Master," Harry said slowly, not trusting his voice, so afraid he was that it would crack at such a crucial moment. "I…"

"Do not worry too much, my apprentice. Let all your stress flow out of you until the year ends. Isn't this what I also told you during the holiday break?"

Harry just nodded.

"Then you'll be in good hands, provided you continue to look after yourself… also, you have become very good at capturing images… you and Ouroboros."

***

With Scathach giving him some reassurance, Harry did manage to relax up to the start of the new year, and recharge sufficiently for the rest of the school year.

As he was standing with the Dursleys in the town's fireworks display, this was when an epiphany came over him.

This was why his uncle, his aunt, and Dudley enjoyed what they called a 'normal existence'.

The fireworks continued to blossom in the midnight sky, all the while, Harry's resolve to set his roots elsewhere began to grow – he would not stand in the way of what his family wanted.

***

Mind Reading

***

The first day back in Hogwarts was, of course, uneventful – as everyone was struggling to get back into the groove of learning magic.

One student who had to hit the ground running was, of course, Harold Graham – and it was illustrated nicely by him being recommended for supplementary Potions classes.

When he entered the classroom in the dungeons, Professor Snape was already waiting for him, leafing through an esoteric potions text as he did.

He gave Harry an odd look as the fifth-year nominal Hufflepuff walked in with his potions kit, textbook peeking out of the covers.

Wait, is that…

"Ah, well, it's supposed to be called supplementary Potions, right?" Harry asked, in response to the professor quirking his eyebrow at what he was carrying.

"That textbook of yours… where did you get it?"

"Oh, this old thing? Found the fourth-year one in the rooms Professor Pennyworth let me use during the Triwizard. Also found this when I got locked out of my House, with all my books still in there. Heck, I haven't gotten around to getting them, since I have a… what's that odd look on your face, Professor?"

"Think nothing of it, Graham. I assume you know what guided meditation is?"

"I do, sir. It was one of the many things the Witch taught me for the Triwizard."

"That's good – we can begin earlier than expected."

Contrary to popular belief, no, Professor Snape did not begin the 'lesson' with a legilimency probe right off the bat.

A/N: The idiot Auror is, of course, Dawlish. Also, the potions textbooks Harry has been using since being named Dun Scaith's champion in fourth year are Snape's (back when he was still a student).

 

[Nitramy]

***

What Happens Eventually

***

It was at the end of the first week that Professor Snape finally got around to asking Harry what was going on.

"I'm no slouch as a legilimens," he began, "but you have been doing an extraordinary job of fending off my attempts to read your mind. Dumbledore thinks you might be hiding something – but that's not relevant to what we're doing. Was this part of what you were taught by the Witch?"

Harry nodded warily.

"And the Headmaster just managed to finagle a set of pensieve memories from the merfolk chieftain, with how the second part of the Triwizard went. I saw how it unfolded, and the tournament footage… you do know you are the most dangerous wizard on these premises right now?"

Harry was surprised by the admission.

"Not Professor Dumbledore?" he asked.

"No, because the old wizard has lost too much to bother with trying to be dangerous. You're young, dumb, and itching to prove yourself to this world. What's stopping you from becoming the newest model of Dark Lord?"

"Well, Professor, I DO want to prove myself…" Harry admitted, "but not to this world. The Witch already taught me the lesson that the Dark Lord is a part of my destiny. Whether I like it or not, our paths will cross, and I can make better use of the time until that happens preparing myself for it… even if you don't think it's useful or needed."

Snape grunted.

"You leave the stopping of the Dark Lord to me and the rest of the Order. For now, clear your mind," he said, and cast the mind reading spell again.

***

After another futile attempt at reading Harry's mind, the Potions professor declared that the 'supplementary potions' class for the week was done. There was still time left on the clock, though.

"So, what did the Order find out about the dementor attack on me and my cousin?"

Snape sighed.

"It is not your business to know these sorts of things…" he began, but when he saw Harry's eyes narrow, he relented.

"When my family was put in the line of fire in front of those creatures, it became my business, Professor."

"That was meant to be a diversion," the Potions professor admitted, and had to admire Harry staying calm even when a sensitive topic was breached. "There was a breakout at Azkaban prison; a lot of Death Eaters escaped."

"So… he's putting the gang back together," Harry thought aloud as his mood returned to normal.

"That's what the Order has deduced," Snape agreed, and gestured towards the door. "But, again, leave matters for adults to the adults. You do not need to throw yourself into this world so quickly."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, and left – right before he closed the door behind him, he could hear a loud gulp from the Potions professor – he guessed that it might have been some sort of drink.

***

The Third Eye

***

From here, Harry saw that Umbridge was now monitoring other classes more closely: specifically, Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid looked like he was on the mend, but he was still nursing a few injuries, and had to settle for lectures and the magical equivalent of video to show footage of various magical creature breeding techniques, much to the delight and amusement of the students.

Divination, on the other hand, was an unmitigated disaster – Harry never took it as any of his electives, but had to sit in on them as a representative of Umbridge's when she was off monitoring the other class.

"…Mr. Graham, what do you mean when you say 'Horoscopes are pattern recognition'?"

"Well," Harry answered, "if you guys remember your previous Astronomy lessons about the canals of Mars, then the various character traits associated with zodiac signs and houses are often vague and connectible enough that one can make a comprehensive personality dossier out of someone based on their birth or star chart. It's less 'the chart makes the individual' and more 'individual interpretations of birth charts'… I don't know, always loved doing those things in my spare time, when Clyde lent me his old scientific calculator."

"Do tell the class more, Mr. Inquisitor," Professor Trelawney said a bit slyly, and Harry had to mentally curse his big mouth.

At least this isn't Umbridge talking trash to the Divination professor. Take small blessings while you can.

Yeah, but I haven't done a birth chart in years. I'm rusty.

I'll give you a helping hand. Just start slow and I'll assist.

Thanks, Ouroboros.

The rest of his mini-lecture went as well as he hoped.

"…and that's how personality traits were divided up by constellations. It's neither complete nor comprehensive, but a good theoretical grounding for other things, like arithmancy, for example."

The bell rang, and Harry let out a relieved breath as Professor Trelawney's classroom emptied.

"Please, Mr. Graham, stay a while," she said, and after the room was emptied, she continued.

"Thank you for not making light of my condition," the professor declared. "I have no conscious or deliberate control over the visions I see, and that is why I was brought here in the first place."

"That doesn't make you a fraud, like what Professor Umbridge is insinuating," Harry explained. "Just give me a couple days to make a presentation and I should be able to explain bits and pieces of how the 'Seer' phenomenon works."

"Again, Mr. Graham, thank you. You do not have to go through this much trouble on my behalf."

"Please, Professor," Harry said, and leaned in to whisper something to her: "I'm here to make her look dumb, too."

And right before he left, the Divination professor raised her near-empty glass of sherry to him in a toast.

***

Harry's Secret

***

For some reason, the inquisitorial squad got to wondering among themselves as to how their de facto leader still had an aura of serenity about him, even as the entire school was beginning to turn against them due to Umbridge's nonstop edicts.

None of them knew that Graham barely stopped the Ministry official from banning quidditch, as that would result in a situation where they would end up losing their control over the student body.

Harry already knew that it would be a disaster on both ends if Umbridge crossed the line at a time where his plans weren't yet ready, so he had to take the extra effort to convince the official to go after something else.

With his inquisitor duties, OWLs, and supplemental potions lessons, Harry's colleagues thought it would start to take a toll on him.

He just replied with a smile and said that this was nothing compared to his training under the Witch.

It was around this time that he had yet another close call.

"Harry. Harry!" Draco cried out as he banged on the door to the apprentice's quarters.

"It's open!" Harry called out, and when the Slytherin member of the inquisitorial squad walked in, he found one of the oddest sights.

Harry was holding what looked like one of those parts of those muggle weapons, the item glowing with a green light as his eyes was closed, and his head was moving to a beat.

"Put one in the chamber whenever I'm feeling this anger. Don't want to make excuses because this is how it is, what's the use? Unless we're shooting, no one notices the youth, it's just me against the world, baby," Harry sang softly as the light glowed and his head continued to bob.

The door closing behind him broke his concentration, and he put down the muggle part.

"Draco, I only said that you can only barge in when there's an em–" Harry began, but Draco beat him to the punch.

"Umbridge is gonna make her move on Professor Dumbledore. We're going to back her up."

Harry's eyes shot open immediately.

"Fuck."

"Indeed. Come on, we've got to go."

While they were making their way to Umbridge's office where the rest of the inquisitors were gathered, Draco finally pieced together the puzzle.

"So that's what's keeping your head, even throughout OWLs and all this. What kind of artifact is that?"

"Music player," Harry replied.

Just a music player?

Among other things, but we'll let Draco figure that one out later.

"What were you listening to? Sounds nothing like what I've been hearing."

"Muggle stuff," Harry replied. "You wouldn't like it."

Draco made a face.

"I'll be the judge of that," he added. "For now, we've got to act fast. Edgecombe got onto you, and she's already sold out the study group."

"This will be tricky. I'm going to have to start taking drastic steps."

"What am I gonna tell Umbridge?"

"You will tell them that you didn't find me in the Apprentice's Quarters," Harry answered, "in the meantime, I'm going to use Umbridge's preconceptions against her."

They got to one of the stairways: one was headed towards a seventh-floor corridor, and the other went down towards Umbridge's office.

"You go that way; I'm going this way."

"Better hurry, Umbridge looks like she's out for blood."

"I know."

They went their separate ways.

A/N: Harry is listening to "Me Against the World" by Tupac Shakur.

Also yes, I HAVE noticed that this story is beginning to look like "In Another World With My Smartphone", except that the smartphone in question can be overclocked by magic bullets and has the fixed AI soul of Tom Riddle running it.