I own nothing.

Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum

-Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Cedric Diggory was a born and bred magical citizen on the United Kingdom. He had been using floos since he could walk and even before that. Therefore, he had no excuse as he fell flat on his face. "Ow."

"Graceful," Harry stated. Cedric looked up and glared at the younger student.

"Oh?" a new voice began, "so that wasn't you that managed a full flip and a half before landing on your head, Harry?" Cedric stared at the new man as he climbed to his feet. There was something eerily familiar about the tall man. Cedric felt his stomach drop.

"Get down!" He tackled Harry, intent on using his body to shield his fellow Hogwarts champion. Well, he tried. Instead he got the wind knocked out of him as Harry caught his arm and the world spun around him before he landed on his back. He stared up at Harry as he tried to draw breath. "Sirius Black!" he managed to croak.

"Yeah?" Harry asked in confusion.

"You did tell him I was innocent, right?" Sirius asked. Harry's face fell and he stared blankly into the distance. "You didn't tell him."

"What is happening?" Fleur demanded.

"Uh. . .surprise?" Harry ventured, suddenly sounding rather awkward.

"Harry's being an idiot," Hermione stated. Cedric turned his head and saw that the female Gryffindor had joined them. The fact that she had apparently just flopped out of a linen closet did not help his confusion.

"Allow me to introduce everyone to my godfather, Sirius Black," Harry said, shooting a glare at the bushy-haired woman. "The man who did not betray my parents leading to their deaths." Cedric stared at him. "I'm not bewitched. Peter Pettigrew as much as admitted it to me."

"Harry," Cedric managed, "Peter Pettigrew is dead. I think the ministry still has a few of his toes."

"I ran into him last year and he's not actually dead yet," Harry said. "I still have use for him. When I'm done, then he can die. . .and he will." Cedric watched as a manic smile slowly spread across the younger man's face before a chuckle bubbled out. A chuckle that very quickly became a roaring, maniacal laughter.

"Okay, I get that this isn't helping my case that I didn't do something to him, but I really am innocent," Sirius stated as he offered a hand. Cedric took it without a second thought.

"Actually, I've been expecting this for a while," he admitted.

"What a drama queen," Hermione grumbled in disgust.

"Skeeter," Ron stated. Hermione made a rather rude snorting noise as all the air in her lungs tried to escape through her nose before she began cackling.

"Is it weird that this is reassuringly normal right now?" Cedric asked.

"Normal is what we make of it," Cho replied as she wrapped an arm around his waist. Cedric smiled for her.

"You are my anchor in this madness."

"Flatterer."

"Luna," Ron began, drawing their attention, "it's times like this that remind me to tell you how much I appreciate you joining our group. I'm thankful to you for just being you, but I also can't imagine dealing with these two lunatics without someone else who was sane backing me up."

"It's not easy being the only two sane people here," Luna agreed as she reached up and scratched the redhead behind his ear. "I appreciate you too!"

"Forget what I just said," Cho stated. "I am scared of this new reality." Cedric just laughed and gave his girlfriend a good squeeze. They all jumped as the door burst open and a French auror that Cedric had seen around Harry before strutted into the room.

"As our American cousins say: Laissez les bon temps rouler!"

"They speak French in America?" Cedric asked in confusion.

"They do in the civilized parts," the auror cheered.

"There are civilized parts of America?" Fleur asked.

"Of course!" the auror chirped. "That's where they speak French!" She paused for a moment and her eyes seemed to light up. "Mardi Gras is soon. I think we have a new stop for our revelries!"

"Sorry," Cedric interrupted. Surely, he must be misunderstanding the woman. "Is she saying what I think she's saying?"

"You already came this far," Sirius stated. "Might as well add a third country to our grand tour." He stared at their faces. "They didn't tell you?"

"They insisted that it would be a fun surprise," Cho admitted.

"Oh." Sirius strode across the room and threw open the curtains on the far side to show a cityscape that was just beginning to come alive as the sun set. "Welcome dear guests! Welcome to Monte Carlo!"

"Quoi?" Fleur squeaked.

(:ii:)

"So, this is where you lot disappear to?" Cedric asked. Harry just grinned and sipped his drink. "The French Riviera. Well, that explains your tan at least."

"I have discovered a love of the beach this year," Harry admitted. "We'll go there tomorrow."

"You're not planning on going back for a while, are you?" Cedric asked.

"Well, Sophie did mention Mardi Gras is in a few days," Harry commented.

"In New Orleans," Cedric replied. Harry nodded. "Which is in America." Harry sipped his drink and grinned. "Fuck it, sounds good to me."

"That a boy." They leaned against the railing and watched the dance floor below.

"About dinner," Cedric began.

"How was it?" Harry interrupted.

"Oh, fantastic," Cedric stated. "Le Salon Rose? That place was incredible. I've been to magical restaurants that can't even dare to compete."

"Cho like it?"

"Loved it."

"Good."

"About the bill though," Cedric said, trying to steer the conversation against Harry, "and my tuxedo and Cho's gown."

"Cedric, my family left me a lot of money," Harry said simply. "If I can't use that to make my friends happy every once in a while, what good is it?" Cedric nodded, accepting that he would not win this argument. It was probably for the best. He doubted he could actually afford any of the things he had mentioned. "Now, I'm sure you're curious as to why I dragged you up here."

"You wanted to know who won the challenge?" Cedric ventured.

"What?" a new voice demanded. They both turned to see Sirius stumbling towards them. "You didn't even wait to find out who won?"

"I didn't need to," Harry stated. "Everyone is alive and I didn't even have to murder any merpeople or destroy any of their buildings. We all won, except for whoever is trying to kill me. He lost. This time. Though, since I haven't figured out who they are and killed them yet, have they lost?"

"Uh. . .kill?" Cedric asked. "Don't you think that maybe you should capture them instead and turn them over to the authorities?"

"Oh, I wasn't going to try kill him," Harry stated. "It's just that, well, people who try to kill me usually end up dead. It's not my fault though. Things just happen."

"You did say that you burned Quirrell alive," Cedric admitted.

"Accidentally while trying to stop him from getting something that would have fully resurrected Voldemort," Harry clarified.

"Fully?" Cedric asked, feeling his stomach drop and his pleasant buzz disappear in a moment.

"Never mind that shit," Sirius interrupted. "How did Harry do?"

"He came in fourth," Cedric answered.

"That's fair," Harry admitted.

"Fleur took third and I got second. Victor took first even though Dumbledore had to get involved with transfiguring him back to fully human Harry took last because he disappeared. A lot of people actually wanted to disqualify you."

"Heh," Harry grunted as he sipped his drink. "Who cares?"

"Now, what did you mean when you said: "fully"? Voldemort's not dead?" Cedric demanded

"Of course not," Harry said blankly. "If he was dead, I wouldn't have gotten stuck in this damn competition."

"Voldemort is alive," Cedric stated as he took a hard slug from his drink. "I guess you've all been implying it, but I didn't want to put it together. The war was supposed to be over. The fear was supposed to be over. But, he's still alive."

"Well, he's something," Harry said simply. "I mean, the last time I saw the actual him, he was stuck on the back of a guy's head."

"What about the last time you saw the not-actually him," Cedric grumbled snarkily.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about him. He died," Harry answered helpfully. "At least I guess he died. I mean, I destroyed the thing that seemed to be tying him to this world. Although, was he alive? I mean he talked. . .a lot. Like, he would not shut up. I guess ghosts talk too, but ghosts don't scream in pain and disappear when you stab a book with a basilisk fang."

"When did this happen?" Cedric asked.

"My second year," Harry said.

"When you were twelve?" Cedric pressed.

"Almost two years ago," Harry agreed as he topped off his glass from his flask. Cedric immediately thrust his own glass forward, regardless of what was still there and the youngest champion filled it too.

"I just want you to know," Sirius commented, "I'm disturbed by all of that too."

"Oh, good," Cedric said as he downed half of his drink in one go. "I was starting to worry that that was normal and I just had a very sheltered view of the world."

"Don't worry, I'm an expert at killing dark lords!" Harry stated happily.

"You've only killed the one," Cedric replied.

"Yeah, but I've done it a couple of times and; if you don't count his monologues, I've gotten quicker each time!" Harry frowned suddenly. "Now! I would like to tell you why I dragged you up here in the first place."

"I wish you would," Cedric said. "You keep getting distracted." The withering look he received was absolutely worth it.

"You tried to save me from Sirius," Harry stated.

"That's very commendable," Sirius commented.

"Thank you," Cedric replied.

"You tried to save me by using yourself as a shield," Harry said, ignoring both of them. "Never do that again."

"You are my friend Harry," Cedric countered. "I will die for my friends."

"How about you kill for them?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"I lost two parents who died heroically shielding me with their lives," Harry said. "I will not allow another body to lay at my feet. I don't want you to die for me. I want you to kill for me." Cedric leaned back as the implications of that washed over him. "The next time something bad happens, I want you beside me hurling the worse curses you can think of, not in front of me being a hero. I've seen you try to fight McGonagall. I know you have the instincts and the knowledge. Can you use those things for me?" Cedric pondered that for a long moment as he sipped his drink. He had been angry before. He had gotten into a few childish duels before.

"I don't know if I can kill," he said finally, "but I do know plenty of curses and I will use them."

"That's all I ask," Harry stated as he held up his glass. Cedric and Sirius touched their glasses to his and they all drank.

(:ii:)

Minerva finished her tea and scowled at the grade book on her desk. They were on day seven of her most troublesome Gryffindors going missing and her anger had shifted into a kind of calm rage that only a select few had ever managed. The worse part was, she couldn't even think of how to punish them. Poppy would kill her if she took away the woman's assistant and most of them were already spending their nights in her office, desperately defending themselves before being beaten into the ground.

"Trained," Minerva grumbled. "I'm not beating them. I'm training them. Sal beats them. He is a savage. I am an educator." She took a sip from the flask hidden in a desk drawer and nodded to herself. That made perfect sense to her, especially since her flask had been full when she sat down and was now half empty. There was a knock at her door. "Enter." The door creaked open and Harry Potter stuck his head in.

"Good evening."

"You!" Minerva snapped. "I'm going to beat the snot out of you!"

"That's fair," Harry admitted.

"Get in here," Minerva growled. The young man shuffled in leading the whole menagerie of missing Hogwarts students. "Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?" Harry glanced back at the other students and they stared at him silently. Minerva quickly realized, to her horror, that they had no idea.

"It's been a while," Hermione said finally.

"It's been seven days!" Minerva said. "You've all missed five day of classes. Five days!" They at least seemed bothered by that. "How could you possibly catch up on five missed days of classes?"

"I've missed more than that before," Harry stated. "Haven't I? What's my record for the hospital wing?"

"I think I was petrified by the first basilisk for about six times that," Hermione added. "I still finished first of my year."

"Those were special circumstances!" Minerva snapped.

"Yeah, sure they were," Harry grumbled. "Every year is a new special circumstance. By the way, everything is my fault."

"It's obviously my fault," Hermione argued. "I'm the smartest one here."

"I think we can all agree that both of them are lunatics and as one of the only sane people in this group, it's my fault," Ron countered.

"As the oldest student here," Cedric began, cutting off Luna. "I set the example."

"Is this a thing?" Cho asked. They all glanced at her and she shrugged. "Well, as a Ravenclaw and therefore the actual smartest. . ."

"Shut up Chang," Minerva growled before Hermione could do anything dramatic. "You, fifty points from Ravenclaw! Diggory, fifty points from Hufflepuff. If either of you does this again, I will triple that!"

"That seems more than fair," Cedric admitted. Minerva glared at the young man. She wanted to quadruple his points, but the bastard was just so earnest that she knew he actually meant what he said and therefore she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Diggory, Chang. Out!" To Minerva's annoyance, Cedric spared Harry a glance. The Gryffindor nodded and the Hufflepuff smiled before nodding back and leading his girlfriend out. "You lot!"

"Okay, admittedly, things did get out of hand," Ron admitted. "We're sorry about that. There is a line and we have clearly crossed it."

"You disappeared for a week!" Minerva snapped. "Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you've cause? The kind of trouble you're in?" They didn't have an answer. "All of you; just, all of you are losing one hundred points from Gryffindor each."

"Gryffindor?" Luna asked.

"And Ravenclaw," Minerva added, cursing her alcohol consumption and the fact that the blonde spent enough time in Gryffindor that she had forgotten which house she was actually in.

"Okay," Ron replied. Minerva felt her fist clench at how unbothered by that they all were. She needed to talk to Filch. Surely the man had a few ideas on how to cause repentance. She took a deep breath to center herself. Problems for later.

"Potter, your arm." Harry started to pull up his left sleeve, but froze as he caught sight of Minerva's glare. He quickly pulled up his right sleeve and held out his arm. Minerva studied the spiral of characters and did not like what she saw. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"Yeah, it's really cool," the young man stated. He flinched slightly at the glare he received again.

"The McGonagall were on these islands long before the Roman's brought the White Christ here, Mister Potter," Minerva snapped. "We trace our lineage back to before the McGonagall were even named. We were one of the reasons Hadrian took up public works projects. Now, do you have any idea what this is?"

"A prayer," Harry stated.

"A prayer," Minerva growled as she pushed his sleeve up higher. "A demand. A bargain. A threat."

"Sometimes, to get the right attention, you have to do all of those things," Harry replied.

"Old magic has old prices," Minerva stated. "Life and death. Blood and semen." To her annoyance, most of them barely even acknowledged her words.

"Well not to Her," Harry said as he stared down at his arm. "She just wants blood and I've already given her plenty. Turns out warriors who kill and subjugate their enemies and rare nowadays." Minerva did not even want to contemplate that answer.

"Go to your dorms," she ordered. "If you leave for any reason other than food, classes or to help Poppy; you will force me to find a way to make you repent."

(:ii:)

Harry walked into the common room and winced as he noticed that everyone was awake and awaiting him and his friends. "Have you spoken with McGonagall?" Neville asked.

"We have," Ron admitted.

"And?" Neville pressed. Harry glanced at his friends for a moment.

"We probably aren't winning the House Cup this year," he admitted. Neville took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Whatever," he grunted.

"To be fair," George stated. "This lot have been kind of responsible for winning the Cup three years running."

"Except the first, where Neville was responsible," Fred added, causing the last Longbottom to blush.

"As an apology," Harry stated, "we are absolutely planning the biggest party that Hogwarts has ever seen." That at least seemed to lift the spirits of everyone present and they let out a cheer.

"Apology accepted!" Fred announced.

"Pending the party being truly spectacular," George amended. Harry relaxed a little. "Bring out the box!" Harry became a lot less relaxed.

"Box?" he asked. He glanced at his friends, but they lookrf as confused as he did. Lee came running through the crowd with a large box and dumped it at Harry's feet. He snatched up a package and showed it into Harry's hands.

"Open this one! I have a bet going that it's knickers!"

"What?" Harry asked as he stared down at the package addressed to him.

"Open it!" George yelled to a cheer from the students.

"Everybody remembers that we got blown up because of a mysterious package, right?" Harry demanded. That at least seemed to curtail some of the noise as most of the students immediately took a few steps back. "Now, somebody explain this."

"You have a point," Fred admitted. "Ginny! Give me your copy."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the youngest Weasley announced as she went as red as her hair. The twins both stared at her. Finally, she reached into her robes and produced a magazine. George snatched it out of her hands and forced it into Harry's.

"This should explain everything." Harry stared down at the copy of Witch Weekly in his hands. To be more precise, he stared down at the copy of Witch Weekly with a picture of himself in his swim trunks on the cover.

"Toned, tanned, tattooed and occasionally tuxedo clad. Harry Potter has a style all his own," he read aloud. Ron and Hermione snatched at the magazine and stared down at it in shock. Harry's brain loudly drew a blank at that. "Is that a muggle picture?"

"Apparently they couldn't use the magical picture because you kept running off," George explained.

"Oh. That sounds about right," Harry admitted.

"You have got to read the column," Alicia announced. "It's hilarious. Well, it is unless you acknowledge that the woman who wrote a full paragraph about your abbs is three times your age."

"I'll do that," Harry replied blankly. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "How am I supposed to feel about this?"

"I know how I feel," Ron managed before bursting into laughter.

"Harry Potter, soon to be an international sex symbol," Hermione read. "Oh, wow. It's good that you're a man and she's a woman or else this would be horrifically creepy."

"Ah," Harry said sagely. "I get it. I feel like sleeping for a week. Good night everybody!"

-End

(:ii:)

-Author's drunken rambles. October! My favorite time of year. The air is finally starting to get cold. The days are still warm. What more could you ask for? Oh? A holiday that hasn't been commercialized to hell and back and good music to go along with it? Well, let me tell you about Halloween.

Halloween is a magical holiday that people keep trying to commercialize, but that never quite works out. Unlike Christmas, the most stressful thing about Halloween is having enough candy for trick or treaters. I know that I'm probably hurting so many edgy teenagers by saying that Halloween isn't commercial, but kindly, go fuck yourselves.

I don't care about whatever Pagan Fall Harvest Festival you're trying to push because your parents are Christians and you're in a rebellious faze. If a holiday is still more about fun and being with friends and family than it is freaking yourself out about trying to live up to somebody's expectations of how you should celebrate, that is a true holiday to me.

Plus, Halloween movies and music are awesome! You can watch kid movies like Halloween Tree and listen to kid music like the Monster Mash. Both of which, I absolutely do. You can watch horror movies like Trick 'r Treat, or any horror movie ever because Halloween, and you can listen to Marilyn Manson doing This is Halloween. That is actually super kid friendly, but it is creepy as fuck because; you know, Manson. Both of which, I absolutely do.

The variety is what counts. On Halloween there aren't really rules. During Christmas there are rules. For some reason, during Christmas, America reverts back to the 1950s. Everyone has to sing the same fucking songs in the same style. I shit you not, the department store I work at had four "different" versions of Winter Wonderland that played in the same hour. If you try to do a rock song like August Burns Red's Carol of the Bells, people freak the fuck out and start complaining that that isn't real Christmas music even though the song is an instrumental with no lyrics to offend anyone. That isn't good enough. It's too modern to be Christmas music and; frankly, it's too good. On Halloween, everything goes with movies and music. Monster Mash, Manson songs, Thriller, Creature Feature and probably some weird death metal things by groups of guys who are trying way too hard to be scary. If your holiday music is allowed to go from Michael Jackson to Manson, you have variety.

Also, controversial statement, Baby It's Cold Outside is absolutely kinda rapey. Everyone who complains that the line where the woman wonders what the man put in her drink is delusional. Well, they are if they admit that that is a line in the song. Most people will deny it and become very hostile when they find out that "yes" that is actually a line in that song.

Also, so, gun sales are still through the roof in America. Cool. I have enough guns. Well, I do unless I find a Mauser C96 I can afford. Or a Luger. . .that I can afford. Or an original Smith and Wesson .38 to round out my collection of the great American pistol manufacturer's service sized revolvers. Okay, I absolutely don't have enough guns. I recently bought a Nagant revolver. It has rounded out the collection of Russian pistols that I didn't know I had started.

So, now I have a Nagant revolver with marks from 1913, a Zastava pistol which is basically a better Tokarev and an Eastern German Makarov of questionable legality since it might be a C&R gun. I have covered the Russians from Imperial to Communist to Fascist. I mean, democratically elected government that hasn't been poisoning dissidents. I think I own more Russian design than Russians are allow to own. Go figure.

Got distracted. Anyway. Americans are still buying all the guns. Lots of them are buying their first guns. Statistically, some of my American readers have probably bought their first gun recently.

That's super cool. Welcome to the gun owner's side.

Now, I want you to do a mental exercise for me. Can you do that for your loving uncle?

I want you to find a mirror. I want you to look at that mirror and close your eyes. Now, think about the gun you just bought. Think about it hard. Now open your eyes and stare at your reflection.

You are not different. You are not smarter or dumber. You are not stronger or weaker. You are not braver or more cowardly. You are not suddenly a police officer or a soldier. You are still you. The only difference is that now you own a gun. All that means is that you can now make all of your decisions much worse. You can fuck up a lot worse and a lot more easily.

So, please do not rush out and do anything that you wouldn't do if you weren't a gun owner.

Buying a gun doesn't mean that you can now pick fights with people. It means the opposite. You should now avoid conflict even more because your conflict resolution skills now involve a lethal option and that lethal option is very easy. Talking is hard. Putting people at ease is hard. Defusing a situation is hard. Whipping out the gun and waving it around is easy.

Please, if you wouldn't do it without a gun, absolutely don't do it now that you have a gun.

Also, now that you have a gun, you need to take a training course.

What's that? You want to know what shooting course you should take?

Fuck that. You need to take a first aide course.

Patching holes is, statistically, mind blowingly, more useful that making holes.

You want to be a super cool patriot, doing what you can for this country? Awesome. Chuck your damn gun in a drawer, put a lock on it if your have kids and start carrying a trauma kit in your back pocket.

Grab a tourniquet, an Israeli bandage, a CPR face shield and some baby aspirin. You will gain the ability to help so many people.

Okay, now that was a rant.

Seriously though, fuck your super ninja swat training. Go to the Red Cross. Take a CPR course. Take a first aide course. I know that everyone has fantasies about whipping out their gun and clearing their house when something goes bump in the night. In real life, the Marines Corps would send a fucking company to clear a middle class, suburban house and people want to do it by themselves?

I kind of feel like if I need to explain what a company is to you, you're not dumb enough to go sprinting downstairs with an AR in the middle of the night.

Anyway, that is fucking dumb. If something goes thump in the night, grab your family, condense to an easily fortified location like your damned bedroom and call the fucking cops. That takes little to no training and you don't have to try to justify smoking a motherfucker because you ninja pirouetted into a room, tripped and shot someone stealing your TV. Which is actually not legal in some states and hard to justify in the rest.

It's a TV, not your wife or daughter being carried out to be auctioned.

Now, if you're motoring along and find a car on its roof, which is way more likely, knowing how to throw a tourniquet on or even maintain spinal immobilization will actually save a life and quality of life.

Love you, fuck you. Prepare yourselves for the statistically worse thing you could find instead of what is statistically everyone's favorite fantasy.

Your Loving Uncle Jack.

Also, fuck Israeli bandages. Get Oales modular bandages.

I'm not sponsored, I just like them way more.

Also, also I will deny anything written here that could be taken as legal advice when I sober up tomorrow. Or when I sober up some time on Monday.