Author's Note: I realize that the topic of the "Classic 11" may be of some confusion to some of the readers, so I'd like to elaborate on where I got the idea for the "Classic 11" and the schools within.

My idea first came to me when I was on Pottermore, and I saw that J.K. Rowling had said that there were 11 well-known wizarding schools in the Harry Potter Universe, and we knew the names of 8 of those schools. So, I decided to create the idea of the "Classic 11", and the schools in the Classic 11 would be the schools that are definitely in the Harry Potter Universe. So yes, I realize that America is a young country, and other countries are way older. But Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry appears as one of the schools Rowling mentions, so it's part of the "Classic 11". The 8 "Classic 11" schools in the tournament are simply canon schools- every other school was one I made up.

I hope that clears up any confusion for anyone on the "Classic 11". Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, storylines, or objects that you recognize from this story, J.K. Rowling does. All I did was create a few new characters and plotlines.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking out of their DADA class with Snape. Harry just told the two about his canceled contract with Daphne Greengrass, causing Ron and Hermione to be extremely shocked.

"Come off of it mate," Ron said, snorting, "There's no way that's true- all those sweets on the Hogwarts Express must have gotten to your head."

"I'm serious!" Harry exclaimed. "Everything I'm telling you is true?"

"You know how Slytherins are," Ron said, still not taking Harry seriously, "How do you know that she's not messing with you? Playing you?"

"I'm trusting my instinct here," Harry continued, "And she did show me some proof."

"So why don't you show me that proof?" Ron challenged.

"I will!" Harry said back, annoyed that Ron wouldn't believe me.

"Harry," Hermione jumped into the conversation, "You're saying that Daphne told you that her mother and your father were almost in a marriage contract. Then your grandfather decided to have his eldest grandson betrothed to Davies Lawson's eldest granddaughter, which would be Daphne Greengrass. But there was a clause in the contract saying that both yours and Daphne's parents had to be alive for the marriage to take place, which unfortunately didn't happen. Harry, that is a lot to take in."

"So if You-Know-Who hadn't murdered your parents," Ron said, "You would have been engaged to Daphne Greengass? A slytherin snake?"

"She wasn't so bad," Harry surprised himself, as he defended Daphne, "Er- I mean, for a slytherin."

"Mhm," Ron said, "Probably a ruse, she's trying to get on your good side."

"Harry," Hermione said, "Maybe Ron will believe you when you show us the proof."

"Are you saying that you believe him?" Ron asked Hermione, tilting his head.

"I'm not going to make any judgement yet," Hermione sharply said, "Harry, you just bring that piece of evidence."

"Fine," Harry huffed, as the three walked along in an awkward silence.

"Hey guys," Hermione began, intent on changing the subject, "What do you think of Snape?"

"Thought he was a bit full of himself for finally getting the DADA job," Harry muttered, "With all of his nonsense and talk."

"Well," said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like you."

"Like me?" Harry was taken aback, shocked that she was comparing him to Snape.

"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts — well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"

Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth memorizing as The Standard Book of Spells that he did not argue. "Harry! Hey, Harry!" Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.

"For you," panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend —"

But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. It was Dumbledore's. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he scurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.

"What does it say?" Ron asked. "Read it out loud."

"Dear Harry," Harry replied to Ron, "I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Please come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you're enjoying your first day back at school. Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore. P.S., I still enjoy Acid Pops."

"Why's he telling you that he enjoys Acid Pops?" Ron asked.

"That's the password to enter his office," Harry said, "Acid Pops."

"I wonder what Dumbledore is going to teach you," Hermione said, "Maybe some Advanced Defensive Magic? Oh, I wish I was there!"

"Nah," Ron replied, "It should be some really nifty spectacular jinxes and and hexes of the type the Death Eaters wouldn't know."

"Ron," Hermione scolded, "Such things could be illegal." Ron and Hermione continued to debate over what Harry would be learning for the rest of the period. However, unbeknownst to them, there were two people who had overheard their conversation. The first person was Daphne Greengrass, and the second person was Draco Malfoy.

When Harry, Hermione, and Ron arrived in the potions corridor they saw that there were about a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy and Greengrass. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan.

The dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Harry, Greengrass, and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and something flowery he thought he might have smelled at the Burrow. However, when he sniffed it again, he smelled designer perfume, a flowery-grassy smell, and etiquette chocolate. He found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Ron, who grinned back.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Everybody get your supplies and books ready."

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.

"Harry, m'boy?" Slughorn responded, gazing at Harry with interest.

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything — nor's Ron — we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see —"

"Nor do I professor," Daphne said, putting her hand in the air, "I just recently learned I would be taking this class today."

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape did mention . . . not to worry, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts. . . ."

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and came out with three very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry, Ron, and Daphne along with three sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

Slughorn continued to ask multiple questions, with Hermione quickly raising her hand, ready to answer the questions. It quickly became a rapid-fire session, with Slughorn asking questions and Hermione quickly responding.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" asked Slughorn.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.

Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year — I'd've told him so if he'd asked me!"

Hermione smiled but made a "shhing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying. Ron looked slightly disgruntled.

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho," said Slughorn again. Harry was sure that Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all Harry could see of Malfoy was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know...highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."

"But, before I carry on further," Slughorn said, "Professor Dumbledore has asked me to force people to work with those from other Houses. So, I shall split you all up into pairs of 2! You will be working with the partner I assign you over the course of the school year."

Grumbling and some protests were heard, but the students realized that there was no changing Slughorn's mind. "Anywho," Slughorn began, "Here are the pairs. Hermione, you'll be partnered up with Mister Boot. Mister Weasley, your partner will be Mr. Nott. Mister Malfoy, your partner will be Miss Turpin. Mister Macmillan, your partner will be Mister Corner. Blaise, your partner will be Miss Li, and Daphne, you'll be partnered with Harry. Get into your pairs, and turn to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. The pair who brews the best potion wins little Felix!"

Harry walked over to Daphne, holding his supplies. "Hey," Harry greeted, "Looks like we're partners."

"Cut the small talk Potter," Daphne said, "I have something to talk to you about." Harry sat down in the seat next to Daphne, looking at her questioningly. Daphne found herself slightly caught up in his emerald eyes, before snapping out of it.

"I overheard you talking to your friends about your private lessons with Dumbledore." Daphne notified Harry.

"What?" Harry asked. "How? Were you spying on us?"

"No," Daphne said, "I was just walking by in the hallway. You and Weasley speak rather loudly."

"Okay," Harry said, "But why are you mentioning this to me right now? You haven't told Malfoy about the lessons- have you?"

"You know Harry," Daphne started, "Not all Slytherins hate your guts. We're not overly fond of you, but not all of us hate you."

"I'd like to meet one of those Slytherins who don't hate me," Harry snarked, "I haven't met one yet."

"You're sitting next to one of those Slytherins right now," Daphne said, "Though your tone is making me want to hate you."

"Oh," Harry said, "I'm sorry."

"Anyway," Daphne continued, "The point I was trying to make earlier was that you should keep your voice down when you're talking about something as private as that. Someone could easily overhear you- especially someone like Malfoy."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, "But why are you helping me?"

"Well," Daphne said, "I might as well help out someone who really needs it. Now let's move on with our work- you go get the ingredients, I'll start setting up."

Harry and Daphne each opened their new books, gazing at the instructions. To Daphne's annoyance, she saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions.

Bending low to decipher the ingredients Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, he saw that Daphne had set up everything, and was patiently waiting for the ingredients.

"Here's the ingredients!" Harry exclaimed.

"Then let's begin," Daphne said, beginning to work, "Come on Potter!"

Within ten minutes, the whole classroom was full of bluish steam. Hermione and Terry Boot, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Their potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-colored liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

Having finished chopping her roots, Daphne bent low over her book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction: Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Daphne turned to Harry.

"Can I please borrow your silver knife?"

He nodded impatiently, not taking his eyes off their potion, which was still light purple, though according to the book ought to be turning an even lighter shade of lilac by now.

Daphne crushed her bean with the flat side of the dagger. To her astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice she was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron she was surprised to see that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook. Harry looked at Daphne in surprise, but motioned for her to continue.

Her annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Daphne now squinted at the next line of instructions. According to the book, she had to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner had made, however, she ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice?

Daphne stirred counterclockwise, held her breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.

"How is that working?" Harry asked, slightly in awe, "You're not even correctly following the instructions!"

"Keep this secret," Daphne answered, lowering her voice, "But the previous owner of this book has scribbled a bunch of notes in the instructions. I'm just following the notes- they're working brilliantly!"

"Fair enough," Harry said, "Now, what does it say next?"

"Seven stirs counter-clockwise, one clockwise, pause," Daphne said, seeing that Harry was following her instructions perfectly, "Continue in that pattern two more times."

Across the room, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice. He and Nott appeared to be arguing and insulting each other- much to the annoyance of Slughorn. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his and Daphne's. He felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in this dungeon.

"Time is up!" Slughorn exclaimed excitedly. "Please put your supplies down, I will observe all of your potions to determine the victor."

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. He smiled ruefully at the "substance" in Ron and Nott's cauldron. He passed over Ernie and Michael Corner's navy concoction. He gave Malfoy and Lisa Turpin's potion an approving nod. When he saw Hermione and Boot's potion he smiled proudly. Then he saw Harry and Daphne's substance, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent! Harry, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are — one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well! Both of you- an amazing job!"

Harry accepted the tiny bottle of golden liquid, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins' faces and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione's. Ron looked simply dumbfounded. He turned to Daphne, whose face was was lit with pleasure.

"That was brilliant," Harry said, causing Daphne to blush slightly, "You were brilliant. How'd you know to disregard to original instructions?"

"Sometimes you just have to think for yourself and break away from the instructions," Daphne pointedly said, causing Harry to frown.

"Would you like to keep this?" Harry asked, indicating the golden liquid.

"Really?" Daphne said, surprised. "You're nothing like Malfoy said you were. I'll gladly accept your gift- Mister Potter."

"I hope you enjoy it- Miss Greengrass," Harry replied, handing her the bottle.

"You know," Daphne said, "How about we exchange books as well? I feel as if it'll help you become more of an individual, and it'll be useful in the future."

"Alright then," Harry said, contemplating Daphne's words, "Why not?"

Draco Malfoy was not in a good mood- not at all. Why? Well, it started over the summer, when he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, and had worn the Dark Mark. He was proud to be a Death Eater, and had been eager to prove himself- after his father had let the Dark Lord down.

Lucius Malfoy had been one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eaters, and had led a team to retrieve a prophecy involving that brat Potter and the Dark Lord. The team had ventured into the Ministry, and almost succeeded. Unfortunately, the Order of Phoenix had responded to the raid, and Lucius Malfoy had been captured, along with several other Death Eaters. Worst of all, the prophecy had never been retained.

So, the Dark Lord turned to the next Malfoy in line- Draco. He added Draco to his corps, which had been one of Draco's proudest moments. However, Draco was also given a task- one that would be almost impossible to complete. Draco Malfoy had been hired as an assassin. His target? Albus Dumbledore- the one wizard who could match the Dark Lord in a duel.

Draco was a smart boy, and knew that the Dark Lord had expected him to fail. This task had been given as a punishment for his father's failure. Everybody expected him to fail- even his own mother, Narcissa Malfoy, but Draco would prove them wrong. Draco WOULD kill Albus Dumbledore. He knew that if he failed, his entire family would be punished severely- and probably killed. Draco began making his way to the seventh floor, looking for the Room of Requirement.

Just in his first day back at Hogwarts, Draco had learned some interesting and useful information. Gryffindor's Golden Boy Potter would be taking private lessons with Dumbledore, but that wasn't important. The important thing was that he knew the password to enter Dumbledore's Office. Acid Pops. No doubt that the password would change rather frequently, so Draco would need to act quickly. He also needed to find some way to always know what Dumbledore's password always was- if only he could find some way to always keep an eye on that gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's Office.

Potter had also given the bottle of Felix Felicis to Greengrass, which was important to know, as one would never know when a little bit of luck would come in handy. Draco simply needed to find a way to steal the potion from Greengrass.

"Here I am," Draco said, "The seventh floor." Draco began imagining a very special room in his head. The Room of Hidden Things, which the Dark Lord had told him about. Draco imagined the room, and suddenly, a door appeared in front of him. After checking to make sure nobody was watching, Draco opened the door and stepped into the room.

The Room was stacked with many items, and filled with many important things. But Draco Malfoy was here for one main thing- the Vanishing Cabinet. The Vanishing Cabinet was an object that could be used to form a passage. The Cabinet at Hogwarts supposedly had a twin at Borgin and Burkes. The two cabinets could form a passage between Hogwarts and Knockturn Alley, which would be very useful. Draco walked around the loads of items, searching for the cabinet. Unfortunately, The Room of Hidden Things had a special protection that prevented a Summoning Charm from being used in it, meaning people had to physically find what it was they were looking for. Finally, he found it.

It was rather tall, formed a vertical rectangular prism, and appeared slightly rusty and broken. Draco smiled. It was nothing that he couldn't fix. After his training over the summer, Draco knew that he was ready to fix this. The room also could be used for training, Draco thought to himself, I do need to work on silent spells. Suddenly, Draco yelled in his head- Confringo! A nearby box exploded and then burst into flames.

Draco began laughing. This was great- it was amazing! He could also use the room to train, and become better than Potter. In honesty, Draco was jealous of the relationships he sensed Potter was beginning to build with Greengrass. Draco had realized today that he actually fancied Greengrass, despite what he had overheard earlier.

(Open Flashback)

"You said that there were multiple reasons as to why your parents wanted you to talk to me," Harry said, "So far, all you've mentioned is that our families were close to each other. Is there something else?"

"Unfortunately," Daphne responded, "Yes. It's about the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort?" Harry repeated, now completely taken aback.

"Well, my father is urging you to stay alert for an attack," Daphne said, "I would appreciate if you didn't mention this to anyone."

"I won't mention it to anyone," Harry said, "But how does your father know that I have to be alert for an attack?"

"Let's just say that he's an inside source and leave it at that," Daphne winked, "And somewhere, we both know that the Dark Lord is up to something."

"You believe that he's back?" Harry questioned. "Some people don't."

"I've believed you since Cedric Diggory died," Daphne said, noticing Harry wince a little, "I'm sorry for bringing that up."

"No," Harry said, "It's Voldemort that'll be sorry one day for all the things that he's done."

"I hope so," Daphne sadly said, "I hope so."

Unbeknownst to Harry and Daphne, Draco Malfoy was watching them, cackling with laughter on what he was hearing.

(End of Flashback)

Draco wasn't sure what he would do with that information. He had naturally thought of blackmailing Greengrass with that information, but that wouldn't exactly paint him in a good light towards her. Draco knew that he should report her father to the Dark Lord, but at the same time, if she learned of who ratted out her father, he would never stand a chance with her. For the first time in his life, Draco had actually attained a crush.

Sure, he'd enjoyed many flings with girls such as Pansy Parkinson, but one girl he'd never been able to impress was Daphne Greengrass. Of course, that made her even more attractive to him. Draco enjoyed a challenge, and she definitely was a challenge. A challenge that he wanted.

In fact, when Draco had walked by the love potion- Amortentia, (which was supposed to smell differently to every single person, according to what they were attracted by) he had smelled Daphne's perfume. Draco wouldn't admit to anybody but himself, but he definitely fancied Daphne Greengrass. Most girls in Slytherin (especially Pansy Parkinson) were easy for Draco to get. But Greengrass and her best friend Tracey Davis had never been impressed by Draco's heritage or his skills. And that frustrated him. Greengrass was in his house, which meant that she should be his, not Potter's.

Yes, Draco would train long and hard, work on the Vanishing Cabinet, and serve the Dark Lord. Draco would kill Albus Dumbledore and climb up the ranks of the Death Eaters. Draco would reclaim his family's glory. And best of all, Draco would best Harry Potter and claim Daphne Greengrass.

Author's Note: Well, it's been long since I last updated, but hopefully, with the holidays approaching, I'll find more time to update frequently! If you enjoyed, please follow/favorite and especially review- that's always great and inspiring for an author. The more reviews we get, typically the more we end up updating. ;) XD jk, I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter!