(A/N): This chapter is… just over two months late. *sighs* Shit.

Well, twelve-hour classes a day, six days a week don't leave a lot of time for writing. Trying to write after classes have melted your brain into a pile of mush is nearly impossible.

That being said, this story will not be abandoned. I will be updating whenever possible, along with any oneshots I may sneak in in between chapters.

(A/N): Well, after looking at what I wrote for Dumbledore and The Potters in the last AN…. I was working on like 5 hours of sleep at that point, and reading it now it seems quite shallow. Whoops. Hopefully this chapter sort of clarifies what I originally meant the notes to..

1529: Yeah, plot holes are a thing till now. Hopefully the Harry's past will clear that up. As to his arrogance at the sorting: He gives 0 fucks about the British Magical community. However, I have stated that I wasn't entirely happy with the chapter, and that is one of the parts I will change if I ever rewrite the chapter. As to his reaction to Iris, knowing that she has no part in it and the irrational dislike that comes due to abandonment are not mutually exculsive. As to all the other plot holes that have been pointed out, thanks for bringing those up! I will definitely look into reworking stuff like that when I can, while trying to maintain a cohesive story….

Oridinarily Prudent: I… did not notice that. Whoops. Again, I will probably be rewriting that chapter at a future point, so that should be addressed then.

Disclaimer: Harry potter belongs to JK Rowling. I do not own Harry potter. I'm just playing in her playground.

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

"Foreign Language"

Spells

&Parseltongue&

Chapter 7: The Schools Arrive

The end of September had arrived before the Harry had received an invitation to the Teacher's lounge after dinner. He had been expecting it a lot sooner, but knowing Albus Dumbledore, one could never be too sure just when things would occur.

The raven-haired teen strode down the hallway to the Teacher's Lounge. The moonlight shone through the glass windows lining the corridor, contrasting with the flickering torches that adorned every few meters of it. He stopped in front of the wooden door; his hand poised to knock.

He inhaled deeply.

'When you're ready Harry', Isis's voice said in his head. A feeling of comfort and support suffused his being, originating from all four of his companions.

He exhaled. 'Let's do this.'

He knocked on the aged wood.

From the room, Dumbledore's voice rang out, "Come in!"

Harry pushed open the door, revealing the Teachers' lounge. A large fireplace dominated the far wall, a bunch of couches arrayed near it. A series of desks were arranged against the wall to Harry's left. A large table, one that would have looked right at home in a business conference, had it not been made of an intricately carved, hundred-year-old wood, dominated the center of the room. Seated around it were the Hogwarts professors, all of whom were looking at the raven haired boy standing in the doorway.

At the sight of the young teen, Dumbledore's brow furrowed in confusion for a second, before his eyes twinkled from his place at the head of the table as he spoke, "Ah, Mr. Peverell. Please, join us."

Harry inclined his head slightly, emerald eyes taking in the places at the table, spotting the only open seat, placed next to the Muggle Studies Professor, Lily Potter.

'Well played Dumbledore. Well played.'

As he took his seat, ignoring the emerald gaze of the woman next to him, Dumbledore continued, "We were just waiting for you Mr. Peverell. So, tell me, what are your impressions of the school?"

Harry gave the man a slight smile as he replied, "To be honest, Headmaster, I am… unimpressed."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, eyes still twinkling, "Oh? Please elaborate, Mr. Peverell."

"Well", Harry said, "The most glaring disappointment is the absurdly low standards of the school."

"Nonsense", Professor McGonagall interjected, "Hogwarts is the most premier magic school in Europe."

Harry shook his head, "Respectfully, Professor, I have to disagree. For one, the variety of classes is abysmally low. I understand the core classes, however, the number of options for electives is a mere five. Why? Surely there is no lack of space for more?"

"The teaching as well, no offense, is not something to write home about, and barely captures the interest of students, aside from a few exceptions."

A snort prompted the raven-haired teen to turn to the greasy haired potions professor as the man spoke up, "As if you would know anything about good teaching."

Harry's eyes narrowed, "I would Mr. Snape. I've learnt from a few teachers over the years, all of whom held a passion for their field. So, please trust I know what I mean when I say that the teaching at Hogwarts is, pardon my language, absolute shit."

The Head of Slytherin House sneered at the teen, "Of course you would say that, you arrogant brat. Just like your father."

"Severus!", Lily hissed from beside him.

Harry's lips curled upward imperceptibly. The man had just given him a perfect opportunity.

He could feel the smirk that Isis, Ghost and Trickshot were currently sporting.

He schooled his face into a blank mask, "I wouldn't know, would I Professor?"

Across the table, Harry spotted the confused faces of the other professors, as well as the slight flicker of worry across Dumbledore's face.

Professor Flitwick spoke up, "What do you mean, Mr. Peverell?"

Harry turned to the dimutive charms teacher and shrugged, "Only that I met the man for the first time in about thirteen years at the world cup just a month ago."

The man blinked. And blinked again, "What?"

"Well you see professor", Harry continued in a bored voice, "That's what happens when your parents abandon you at age two, because your younger sister did something you didn't live up to."

Frowning in confusion, Flitwick stared at Harry's face for a moment, before his eyes widened comically, "Harry….. Harry Potter?"

Disregarding the looks of shock across the table, Harry smiled sadly at the half goblin teacher, "I haven't been Harry Potter for thirteen years professor."

A scoff brought everyone's attention back to Snape. The greasy haired man sneered, "That doesn't disregard the fact that you still as arrogant as James Potter. Probably brought up as pampered as the ponce was as well."

'Can I manifest Harry?' Isis begged in his head, 'Come on, please! Let me rip this greasy haired shitstain a new one! Please!'

'No Isis. They don't need to know about you yet. I think I got this one.'

Harry adopted a thoughtful pose, "Well, I suppose if you call having your bones broken every week, being starved and forced to do all the chores from age three pampering, sure, I guess I am pampered"

Snape's sneer did not drop, "Lies will get you no sympathy Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed, as he pulled his shirt up slightly, just enough to reveal the patchwork of scars covering his right side, "And I suppose scars like this come from pampering, don't they professor? Also, I could have sworn I've said this before. You must not have heard me. My name is Peverell, not Potter. Maybe you should get your ears checked?", he finished in an innocent tone.

Gasps rung out across the table as the teachers spotted the scars. Dumbledore's eyes widened, losing their twinkle, his jaw slackening.

'Wait, why is he shocked? The fuck?'

Harry's mind froze in shock. Dumbledore was actually surprised at the sight of Harry's scars.

'Did… did he not know?'

'Harry, Remember the ward?' Isis's voice rang out in his head.

His eyes widened, 'Wait, it affects the caster as well?!'

McGonagall was the first to get over her shock, "Mr… Mr. Peverell, may I ask you just who you lived with?"

Harry let the hem of his shirt drop back down as he met the gaze of the Gryffindor Head of House, "Let's just say I didn't have the best of relatives professor."

The widening of the woman's eyes told him that she knew exactly who he was talking about.

Surprisingly, it was Bathsheda Babbling, the Ancient runes teacher, who spoke up next, "Wait a minute. We all knew that James and Lily had another child. Hell, you were their pride and joy. Then why the hell didn't we remember you till now? Why didn't we notice that you weren't there?"

Harry smiled at the professor, "Well professor, all I can say is that it must have slipped your mind. After all, the Commodi immemnorward is an interesting thing is it not, Headmaster?"

The young Runes Professor gaped as Dumbledore flinched, "A disinterest ward? You were under a disinterest ward?!"

Harry nodded, "Even after seven years away from it, the ward is still tied to me. Blood wards don't break that easily after all."

Professor Babbling was doing a pretty good impression of a fish at this point, "You're telling me that you had a Commodi immemnor tied to your blood?"

"Care to explain just what you are talking about for the less than fluent here, Bathsheda?", Professor McGonagall interjected, accompanied by numerous nods.

"O... Of course. A Commodi immemnor is a ward that causes disinterest inn anything under it in the minds of others. When they think of it, their minds will slip away from the subject of the ward. The harder they try to think about it, the harder it will be for them to remember and focus on it. However, casting it as a blood ward enhances the effects, and ties them to a single individual, usually increasing its effects. But it needs an intricate and detailed knowledge of Runes and…", Here, she paused for a second, before turning towards Lily, her voice approaching a growl as she continued, "Freely given blood from a parent or relative."

Lily Potter flinched as all the teacher's gazes focused on either her or the headmaster.

Harry slowly backed out of the room. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Professor McGonagall growl, "Albuuuusss….."

He snickered. 'Payback is a bitch, isn't it?'

-HP:GoT-

The Thirtieth of October saw the students of Hogwarts lined up in front of the entrance hall of the ancient castle. A feeling of anticipation weighed down the otherwise clear, pleasant evening, as the residents of Hogwarts castle waited with baited breath for the arrival of the other schools competing in the Triwizard Tournament.

Iris stood in line with the other Fourth year Ravenclaws as the Professors moved up and down the rows of students, straightening lines and fixing uniforms. Tanya and Hermione stood behind her in the line.

A couple feet beside her, standing with the other Fifth years, was her brother. The brother who refused to have anything to do with her. Though not for lack of her trying.

In the almost two entire months since she'd found out just who Harry Peverell was, she'd been trying to talk to him, to get to know him.

Well, trying was the keyword. It would have mattered to her if he was hard to talk to. He wasn't. He was fucking impossible to talk to. No matter what, or when she tried to corner him, he would always slip away. Every. Single. Time.

She would be impressed if she wasn't so fucking frustrated.

She wasn't the only one who was trying to corner him. Apparently, Harry and Tanya had had a bit of a…. falling out? Maybe?

In any case, her brother had been refusing the company of the ebony haired girl for the better part of the term, refusing to speak to her unless absolutely necessary. Though he didn't seem to be as cold to Tanya as he was to her.

Like she could blame him.

Hell, even Daphne had suddenly started observing Harry out of the blue. When Iris had brought it up, the blond Slytherin had devolved into muttering, something about not making inquiries.

That had shocked Iris. Daphne Greengrass was the confident, collected one of their group. She never muttered.

Over the past month or so, she'd also seen a shift in the attitude of the other professors towards her mother. Even now, as they walked between the rows, they kept shooting Lily Potter minute glares.

Something had happened, and Iris didn't know what. Her own refusal to speak with her parents hadn't really helped.

"Where do you think they are?", Hermione asked suddenly, breaking the raven-haired girl in front of her out of her reverie.

Iris shrugged, just as whispering broke out across the assembled students once again, people pointing to the sky over the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore's voice suddenly broke above the noise, as he spoke up from his spot at the front of the assembled students, "Unless my eyes deceive me, I do believe the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

The raven-haired girl craned her neck, spotting the dark spot marring the deep blue of the sky over the tops of the trees, slowly growing larger as it approached. The other students exclaimed loudly, throwing out ridiculous ideas as to what it was (A dragon. A house! A… flying chimpanzee? What?) as the gigantic structure drew closer, resolving itself into the shape of a powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house. A dozen massive, winged palominos pulled the impressive structure through the air, each the size of a large elephant.

The carriage cruised into a landing, bouncing upon its vast wheels as the enormous golden horses cantered to a stop, the horses tossing their manes as they rolled their fiery red eyes.

Iris couldn't stop herself from gaping. Fleur had told them that her school would be arriving by carriage. What she had neglected to mention was that the carriage would be pulled by Abraxans. And a dozen of them.

Her focus was drawn back to the doorway of the massive carriage as a set of silvery stairs drew out from the bottom of the carriage just as the door swung open.

-HP:GoT-

Fleur glanced out of the window of her room in the Beauxbatons carriage, the sea of trees that was the Forbidden Forest blurring beneath the carriage as it hurtled through the air towards Hogwarts.

Hogwarts.

She knew she should have been excited for this. It was the Triwizard Tournament! It hadn't been held for centuries! If she was selected as Champion, she could finally show all her of her naysayers exactly where to stuff it! If not, Daphne was there, and Astoria, and their friends: Iris, Tanya, that muggleborn friend of theirs, Hermione Granger, the Weasley girl, Ginny. She would have people to talk to and interact with other than the few friends she usually hung out with.

Yes, she should have been excited.

Instead a roiling feeling of apprehension had taken hold in her gut. She'd heard tales of how discriminating British purebloods were against magicals with creature blood. How they saw magicals like her as less than human.

It was disgusting on so many levels.

She shook her head, silvery blond tresses lightly flowing from side to side, clearing her mind. It was a basic meditation she practiced, the first step to the art of Occlumency that her father had promised to teach her after her seventh and final year at Beauxbatons.

And as had been the norm ever since the World Cup, the image of a pair of piercing emerald eyes flashed to the forefront of her thoughts.

She growled, and shook her head harder, trying to get rid of that sight, to push the thoughts of teen it belonged to out of her head.

It didn't work.

The image spread out from the eyes, resolving into the sight of him, emerging from the flames, taking in the scene that spread out ahead of him, before those expressive eyes filled with rage, and he was tearing into those Death Eaters with a ruthless efficiency.

She hated it, she hated the fact that he was on her mind so much, that those green eyes were one of the most prevalent sights in her dreams.

Or she would have, if he wasn't so fucking interesting.

A teenager, who held the position of Head of a family. That too, of an ancient and well-known family like the Peverells, who were assumed to have died out centuries ago.

And out of nowhere, barely three years ago, he appeared, wearing the Peverell ring, with the ability to speak a myriad of languages, even ones considered unlearnable by human magicals.

It was no wonder he was catapulted straight into an Ambassadorial position with the various magical races by the ICW.

He faces scrutiny, distrust and downright ridicule from politicians and Lords and Ladies of different countries and cultures, none of which seem to affect him.

Despite his, often impressive, achievements in his line of work, multiple appearances on the news, along with multiple appearances at parties, balls and other social gatherings, not one person can give an accurate and confident assessment of who he is as a person.

His familiarity with various people in high positions, including her father, who had – upon her requesting (read: pestering) him for information – revealed to her that Peverell was a work associate, a polite and likable teen who in his opinion 'puts his rather unique talents to use astonishingly well, helping sort out interspecies effects with a smoothness that leaves people reeling'. High praise coming from her father.

He'd also told her about what Peverell had apparently deemed 'The Luxembourg Incident.' She'd known Veela could be thirsty, but damn. That was something she'd never thought possible.

And then, what she'd seen of Peverell at the world cup. The effortless way with which he had handled the Death Eaters, the three ghostly figures that had helped him, all of it seemed like an intricate puzzle which she couldn't make heads or tails of.

But damn if it wasn't interesting.

"Fleur?", A voice rang out from the other side of the door to her room, speaking in melodious French, "Are you there?"

"Coming", the silvery haired witch called out, getting up to open the door, revealing Maria, one of her few friends at school, standing in the doorway, her blond hair flowing lightly down her back, figure perfectly poised in her powder blue uniform.

"Madame wants us all lined up for when we land."

Fleur nodded, stepping into the hall and pulling the door closed behind her, the enchantments making it lock on its own. She smoothed out a few imaginary wrinkles from her own uniform, before striking a pose and asking, "How do I look?"

"Parfaite", Maria giggled, before they both strode down the hallway, Fleur's face reverting to her usual haughty mask.

They took their places in to lines of powder blue uniformed boys and girls in the main hallway of the Carriage. Madame Maxime stood at the fore front of the rows as the carriage jerked and shuddered as it hit solid ground, the charms on the interior keeping the impact to a minimum.

The door to the carriage clicked and slowly began to pull open. Fleur could just about spot the silvery steps descending to the ground.

She watched the Madame Maxime step out of the carriage, a hand gesturing as she bowed through the doorway. The lines of powder blue begin to move, every step taken with the grace befitting a student of Beauxbatons. The blue Is like a river of ether, flowing out of the carriage.

The first thing that hits her is the cold. Merde, it was freezing! It wasn't just her as well, almost all the other students were shivering, rubbing their arms together. Their coats were thin, too thin for this cold, having been designed for the decidedly warmer climes of France.

The second thing her eyes fixate on is the fact that Madame Maxime was stepping forward, greeting the white-haired headmaster of Hogwarts, who was dressed in… a purple robe with silver stars?

Did the man have no sense of fashion?

She had to hide her grin as her Headmistress deliberately butchers the old wizard's name. It's a minor way to show disrespect, and Dumbledore knows it too, from the way his eyes tighten slightly around the corners.

Fleur tuned that conversation out as Maxime began explaining to Dumbledore the extreme care that was needed for the Abraxans pulling the Carriage, her eyes instead roaming the assembled mass of students, searching, observing. She could feel the stares, the eyes of the male students zeroing into her, and she ignored them.

The staring was nothing new. It never had been.

She picked out her cousins, Daphne and Astoria, nearly immediately, one standing impassively amidst her peers, the other nearly bouncing in place in excitement, both attired in the green of their house.

Her eyes search the blue uniforms, looking for… there. In the middle of the row for what appeared to be the fourth years, Tanya and Iris stood. Both seemed to sneaking glances at…

Vivid green eyes, lit by the fires raging all around, burning with rage, as magic responded to their owners will.

Fuck.

What was he doing here?

On the next line over, with the fifth years, Peverell stood, pulling off the blue and black of the Ravenclaw uniform quite well. His eyes swept over the Beauxbatons students, in a fashion strikingly similar to the calculating gaze that Daphne put up at times.

A rumbling sound distracted her from her observations (It was not staring. She didn't stare.)

Maria nudged her from her place beside Fleur, pointing to the lake as both schools' heads swiveled in its direction, her French excited as she gestured, "Look! The lake!"

The dark waters of the lake began to bubble, slowly beginning to swirl and churn. Then, a long pillar broke from the water, slowly growing larger as it emerged.

As it emerged Fleur realized what it was. It wasn't a pillar. It was a mast.

Sure enough, from the waters, slowly, like a dragon from its lair, the ship emerged. Gleaming in the evening light, it looked strangely skeletal, like a resurrected wreck, a ghost ship returned to the living waters once more. Dim, misty lights shone from its portholes, looking strangely like eyes of a massive beast. With a great slosh, the ship emerged from the water in its entirety, bobbing gracefully as the water around it settled, beginning its glide towards the bank.

Merely moments later, a splash was heard as an anchor was dropped into the shallows of the lake, a plank extending from the deck of the ship to thud down onto the bank.

People were disembarking, their silhouette's visible in the portholes as they moved, shadows in the twilight as they walked across the grounds.

As they approached, Fleur noticed that all of them seemed to be built quite heavily, though when they finally stepped into the light, the true nature of their bulk was revealed: heavy cloaks made of some type of shaggy, grey fur.

The man leading them up towards the castle, however, was attired differently, in sleek silver furs, matching well with his silver hair.

"Dumbledore!", His greeting was hearty as he walked up the slope, "How are you my dear fellow?"

"Wonderful, thank you, Professor Karkaroff", Dumbledore replied, a genial smile on his face.

As the Durmstrang contingent approached, Fleur took a moment to examine their Headmaster. His voice was rather silky, speaking volumes about his ability to use it. As he stepped into the glow from the front doors of the castle, she noticed that he was tall and thin, like the headmaster of the Host school, however his white hair was cropped short, and his goatee set onto a rather weak looking chin. He smiled as he approached, and his teeth, rather yellow, flashed into view as he walked to Dumbledore, shaking his proffered hand with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts", He said, smiling up at the castle, a rather weak smile that didn't approach his cold, shrewd eyes. "How good it is to be here…. How good indeed! Viktor! Come forward, into the warmth… you don't mind do you Dumbledore? He has a slight head cold."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students, the boy stepping forward to reveal a face Fleur recognized from the World Cup.

Viktor Krum.

The teen was tall and built, thick eyebrows over deep black eyes, a curved nose and a gruff looking expression set into his face as he walked forward, whispers breaking out amongst the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students as he passed.

Madame Maxime's eyes scanned the assembled students, before she started, her eyes locking on to one green eyes teen standing in blue and black. She spoke up, her accent heavy, "Monsieur Peverell! I did not expect to see you here!"

Fleur observed as the raven-haired teen faltered for the barest second, before he stepped forward with a smile.

"Madame Maxime! A pleasure, as always!", he exclaimed as he approached, "Professor Karkaroff. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Karkaroff started, before replying, "Ambassador. I hadn't expected to see you here. I was under the impression that the British Ministry did not want your ….assistance in the Tournament."

Peverell smiled, "They did not want me here in my official capacity. They said nothing about my being here as a student."

Maxime's face took on a look of confusion as she regarded the teen, "A student? So, you have decided to undertake formal education then? Why Hogwarts? I presume you would have received Invitations from multiple other schools across the globe."

Peverell merely sighed, "It is only for this year. Its… a personal favor."

Now both Maxime and Karkaroff looked undoubtedly interested. Say what you will, Ambassador Peverell was a private individual, and most would take any chance to know about his personal life.

There was nothing people, especially those high up, liked more than mystery.

The raven haired teen continued, "Rest assured though, if I do one day decide to take up a formal magical education, I will give thought to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."

"I do however, look forward to observing, and hopefully enjoying, the Triwizard tournament. I will be most interested to see how the British ministry has it play out."

Both heads nodded, apparently appeased.

"Well", Dumbledore interjected, "now that that is out of the way, I suggest we head inside. The night is getting cold, and the Welcome feast is waiting!"

Both heads nodded in accord, before directing their contingents inside, speaking with Peverell as they entered, with the Hogwarts students following behind.

Fleur audibly sighed in relief as she stepped into the warmth of the Entrance hall, rubbing the evening chill out of her bones.

As the students filed through the massive doorway into the Great Hall, the Hogwarts students taking places at their respective tables. She followed the rest of the Beauxbatons contingent to the seats that they were taking on the Ravenclaw Table, powder blue beside the royal blue of the Hogwarts house as the Durmstrang students took their seats at the Slytherin table.

She glanced up and down the table, looking for an acceptable place to sit, when she spotted movement at the edge of her vision. Tanya was waving at her, sitting next to Iris and their friend Hermione. She smiled, swiftly moving to sit down at the vacant seat next to them.

"How're you doing Fleur?", Tanya asked as the ebony-haired girl hugged her, an act that she had an interesting fondness for.

Fleur shrugged, "Not bad. I was looking forward to the tournament for quite a while. Though, seeing Peverell here was quite a surprise."

Tanya's smile dropped immediately, replaced with a guilt-ridden expression. Fleur blinked in surprise. What just…

"Yeah", Iris spoke up from next to Tanya, her tone sad, "It was definitely a… surprise."

Fleur's eyebrows were going to start approaching her hairline at this point.

She glanced at Hermione, her eyes questioning.

The bushy haired brunette shook her head, mouthing, "Later."

Fleur nodded. She could wait. For now.

She glanced around. The Beauxbatons students were still mostly bundles up in scarves and coats, looking decidedly unimpressed. In stark contrast, the Durmstrang students were shrugging off their heavy furs, looking up at the enchanted ceiling with interest, or picking up the golden plates and cups set along the tables and examining them, impressed looks on their faces.

The staff entered after the last of the students had taken their places at the house tables. They filed up to their places at the head table, their gazes sweeping over the students as they took their seats. The three Heads were the last to enter, striding towards the center of the Head table.

When Madame Maxime came into view, Fleur, along with the other Beauxbatons students, leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed, and Fleur had to scoff. If the Hogwarts pupils had no sense of respect for their teachers, that was on them.

They took their seats once more when Madame Maxime sat down to Dumbledore's left, with Karkaroff taking the seat on the Headmaster's right.

Dumbledore, however, remained standing as a silence fell over the Great Hall.

He beamed at the foreign students as he spoke, "Good evening ladies, gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests. I take great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay will be comfortable and enjoyable."

Down the table from where Fleur sat, a Beauxbatons student gave a derisive laugh, prompting a few from the Hogwarts contingent to glare at her.

"The tournament will officially be opened after the end of the feast", Dumbledore continued, "Now, I invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

Finishing his speech, he sat down, turning as Karkaroff leaned forward to speak with him.

Fleur's eyes returned to the table, where the golden dishes and platters were filling up with food. She scanned the dishes. There was a large selection of French and Bulgarian cuisines, apparently a new development, if the looks of the Hogwarts students were anything to go by.

As she began to put food on her plate, a whispering started up in the Hall. She looked up, just in time to spot Krum walk towards the Ravenclaw table, making a beeline for a raven-haired, emerald eyed teen sitting a ways down from her.

-HP:GoT-

"Harry."

Harry flinched at the sound of the gruff voice coming from behind him. It was time to face the music.

To be honest, he had hoped he wouldn't have to.

In his head, Isis scoffed, 'Yeah right.'

Students turned to stare, whispers beginning to break out from the crowd as he stood, turning to face the fur clad form of Viktor Krum.

"Viktor", the raven-haired teen nodded.

The Quidditch star met his eyes, black staring into emerald. Harry's hopes rose. Maybe….

He suddenly felt a crunching sensation from under his left eye, as his head jerked violently to the right.

Viktor had slugged him. Hard.

Harry brought a hand up to his face, the other hand coming up to stop the teachers, who had gotten to their feet in alarm.

He straightened up, coughing a few times, locking gazes with the other teen as he spoke, "I suppose I deserved that, didn't I?"

Viktor nodded sagely, "Ja, you did."

"What was that for, not visiting?"

Viktor shook his head, "No that was for what you said at the World Cup."

His fist lashed out suddenly, connecting with Harry's gut, causing the raven-haired teen to double over, gasping. "That, was for not visiting."

Harry shook his head as he regained his breath, this voice coming out strained, "You still hit like a truck."

"And you still take hits like a paper towel."

Harry grinned as he straightened up once again, "You do know that you shouldn't have taken that bet right?"

The elder teen shook his head, growling out in Bulgarian "No, I shouldn't have."

"Don't be like that batko" Harry replied, laughing, as he held his hand out, for the other teen to deposit a number of gold coins into it, grumbling all the while, "Look at it this way: I'm making money."

"You don't need that money."

"Neither do you."

"Touche", Viktor returned, switching back to English, "Now budge over."

Harry shrugged, turning back and sitting down as Viktor slid into the seat next to him, his eyes roving the spread.

"Do they not have any kufte?", Viktor asked as he started to fill up his plate.

Harry shook his head, "Not at this table. One of the others might have it?"

The bulgarian teen paused for a second, then shrugged and continued filling up his plate.

A few minutes passed before Harry spoke, "So, how is Lelya?"

Viktor gulped down a mouthful of food before replying, "You know she would murder you if she heard you call her that. She's been trying to get you to call her mayka for years."

"And I've told her that it doesn't feel right."

Viktor shrugged, "Just saying. She's somewhere between proud and pissed, I think. Proud that you've come so far, pissed that you haven't visited for half a year."

Harry winced, "Fair."

He scanned the room, taking in the foreign delegates. The Beauxbatons students sat at the Ravenclaw table, powder blue mixing with the darker blue of the Hogwarts students. His emerald eyes stopped at Tanya, who sat a fair way down the table, next to Iris Potter, Hermione granger, and… a silvery haired Beauxbatons girl, all of them talking animatedly. The silver haired teen's eyes flickered in his direction for a split second and he blinked. She was watching him as she spoke with her friends.

'She's been watching you ever since she arrived', Isis whispered.

His eyes narrowed for a moment before he managed to place her.

Fleur Delacour. Sebastian Delacour's eldest daughter.

Interesting.

Tanya turned away from the conversation, her eyes roving the table before meeting his. The previously happy spark in them dimmed a little, as her expression turned sad.

He felt his gut wrench, a sudden desire to get rid of that sadness welling up inside him, a want, a need to see her happy taking forefront in his mind. He violently pushed that feeling down.

Isis spoke up in his head, 'Harry. It's been nearly two months.'

'She hasn't apologized.'

'Have you given her a chance to?'

He started to reply, then stopped. He hadn't. While she had tried time and again to approach him.

Well… shit.

'Give her a chance Harry', Isis continued, 'She deserves that much.'

'that doesn't get rid of the fact that she judged me without asking me Isis! Without trying to know what my reasons were, she was ready to blame me. What does that remind you of?'

Stones flying through the air at a curled-up figure at the ground. A teacher screaming at a skinny raven-haired boy as other children sniggered as they watched. Tears leaking out of emerald eyes that had lost their spark.

Harry felt a comforting presence wrap around him, Isis's equivalent of a hug. He shuddered internally.

'I suppose she does deserve a chance though', he conceded.

His attention turned to the head table as the last of the golden plates were wiped clean, just as Dumbledore stood up again.

'The man really likes his speeches, doesn't he?'

A pleasant feeling of anticipation seemed to fill the hall as the aged wizard cleared his throat. Many students leaned forward, Viktor among them, staring at Dumbledore as he began to speak.

"The moment has arrived", Dumbledore began, smiling genially, "And the Triwizard Tournament is just about to begin. Before we bring in the casket, I would like to make some clarifications -"

Harry's brow furrowed as he slowly leaned forward. The British ministry's abject refusal to involve him in the planning of the Triwizard, despite the protests of many of the ICW council members, had meant that he was completely in the dark as to how they were going to select the Champions this time around.

Surely they weren't going to follow the previous tradition of using the Goblet of Fire, right?

….Right?

"- As to the procedure we will be following this year. However, before that, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" – round of polite applause sounded up "- And Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

The applause for the retired beater was much more pronounced, possibly because of his fame as a professional Quidditch player, or due to his much more likeable appearance and response to the applause, which the portly man acknowledged with a wave of his hand.

True to form, and as he had for as long as Harry had known him, Bartemius Crouch didn't smile or wave when his name was announced. Being the Ambassador for Interspecies relations, and with Crouch holding the position he held, Harry had worked with the man before. Crouch was a stickler for the rules and serious to a fault. The man's toothbrush mustache and slick hair gave him an odd vibe, especially in the wizarding robes he was dressed in now, a far cry from his usual ensemble of a neat suit.

In stark contrast sat Ludo bagman, smiling and waving excitedly at the students. Despite his friendly countenance, Harry eyed the retired Beater with caution. The man had been known to make big bets and not pay, and was reportedly overdue on a bet with some goblins.

Not a situation one wants to be in. Goblins liked their money.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked themselves tirelessly over the past few months to make the arrangements for the Triwizard tournament", Dumbledore continued, "And they will be joining the Heads of the Schools on the panel of judges."

"Now, the casket then, if you please, Mr Filch."

Filch, the caretaker, approached Dumbledore with a heavy, ancient looking wooden chest, richly encrusted with jewels. Murmurs rose from the Hall's occupants.

Harry's eyes, however, widened at the sight of the chest.

'They didn't! they couldn't be that stupid, could they?'

"The Instructions for the tasks that are to be faced by the chosen champions have been examined and validated by all of the Judges", Dumbledore said as the chest was placed on the table before him. He took out his wand, continuing to speak as he tapped the chest with it in a complicated pattern, "All the necessary arrangements have been made. Three tasks will occur, each spaced throughout the school year. These tasks will test each of the champions in a myriad of ways… Their magical prowess, daring, deductive skills, and ability to face danger will be tried, and their skills will be pushed to the absolute limits. These tasks will not be for the faint of heart."

A silence stretched across the hall, the occupants hanging on to each word that Dumbledore said.

"Three champions will be chosen to compete in the Triwizard tournament, one from each of the represented schools. These champions will be assigned points depending on how they perform in each of the constituent tasks, with the highest total after the last task taking home the Triwizard Cup!"

"To remove any bias in selection, these champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: The Goblet of Fire!"

From the now open casket Dumbledore drew an ornate, heavy wooden cup, seemingly innocuous and plain, if you disregard the fact that it was full to the brim with white flames that danced and seethed.

Harry's head hit the table, causing Viktor and a bunch of the nearby students to look at him oddly.

He had underestimated the stupidity of British Wizards once again.

The Goblet of Fire was an ancient artifact, one rumored to hail from the age of the Secrecy, a time period just after the age of Founders.

The Age of Secrecy was the time when wizards and witches started to hide their magic, not only from the nonmagical folk, but also from other magicals not in their family. This development of magic in secrecy of one's family would eventually lead to the start of Family Magics, like the three that pulsed through his own.

While this was all well and good, it wasn't the age of the Goblet that he was against. It was the Goblet itself.

The Goblet of Fire was originally believed to have been used by a secret cult, to ensure that none of its members leaked the esoteric activities that occurred within. The most obvious function of the Goblet seemed to be the creation and enforcement of magical contracts, upon the pain of the loss of the bound magical's magic itself.

But this was only its most obvious function. After the Triwizard tournaments were stopped, the Goblet was studied by researchers from a myriad of countries under the ICW.

All of them pronounced it 'Potentially Deadly'. All of them.

It was deemed that not enough was known about it for it to be put to use.

So of course, the British ministry would do that.

"Those wishing to submit themselves as a champion must write their names and school clearly on a piece of parchment, and drop it into the Goblet", Dumbledore said, "Aspirants have until the end of tomorrow's Halloween feast to put forth their names. At the end of the feast, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged to be most worthy to represent their schools. It shall be placed in the entrance hall after the feast, where its shall be freely accessible to those who wish to compete."

"I shall, of course, be putting up the necessary precautions to ensure no underage student yields to the temptation of glory", he continued, "An age line shall be drawn up around the Goblet once it has been placed in the entrance hall, so that no one under the age of seventeen may approach the goblet."

"I know that many of you wish to bring glory to your schools", Dumbledore said, his voice dropping low as the characteristic twinkle in his eyes vanished, his gaze turning grave, sweeping over them all, "However, this tournament is not something to be entered lightly. Once a champion has been selected, he or she are obligated to see the tournament through to the end, upon the pain of losing their magic. By dropping your name into the Goblet, you are signing a binding, magical contract that prevents you from forfeiting, dropping out, or missing any of the tasks. There can be no change of heart once you are champion. Be very sure that you are wholeheartedly prepared to participate before you enter your name. That is all. Good night to you all."

-HP:GoT-

Tanya stared at Harry the next day as he strode, talking to Viktor Krum ('He knows Krum! And he didn't tell me!'). Both boys were laughing as they traded friendly banter, seeming like brothers for all intents and purposes as they walked down the entrance hall towards the Goblet of Fire.

At the edge of the Age line, Harry stopped, and Krum stepped ahead, over the line, depositing a piece of parchment in the dancing white flames. When Krum stepped back out the line, Harry patted him on the back, then said something that made Krum first glare at him, then laugh, which led to Harry joining him.

She sighed. She missed that laugh. The way her worries seemed to just melt away when she heard it. He would grin in that infectious way of his, and she wouldn't be able to help but smile along with him.

And she had shoved him away.

A pang of guilt ran through her as she thought back to her actions, nearly two months ago. How could she have been so stupid? She knew him better than that! She should have known he would have had a reason.

In the corner of her mind, a treacherous voice echoed out of the dark, 'Do you know him? Do you really know Harry Peverell?'

Of course she did! Didn't she?

She'd known him for two years… most of which she had been at Hogwarts. She'd only really interacted with him for…. About six months?

Every time they had shared stories, he'd only talked of his time as an Ambassador, about the weird and funny things that other magical races got up to, or about things he'd seen, people he'd met. Never about his childhood, where he grew up, or… come to think of it much about him.

Her mind flashed back to the webwork of scars that he had shown her, his emerald eyes raging as he had pulled up his shirt to show her that she didn't know much about him at all.

And from the conversations she had with Iris, from what she had learned about how his parents had abandoned him ("They threw him away Tanya! My brother, their eldest, their son, and they just sent him away on Dumbledore's whim! Our parents could have been closer! I could have grown up with a sibling!"), from all that she had seen at the World Cup, she wondered if anyone truly did.

-HP:GoT-

Harry was grinning at Krum as the Durmstrang teen gave an autograph to yet another fangirl, his emerald eyes lit up with mirth as the other teen shook his head, exasperated with the sheer number of fangirls he had had to deal with.

On any other day, Tanya would have been lined up for an autograph from the famous Quidditch star as well. But today, her focus was the green haired, raven eyed teen next to him.

'Come on Tanya. Just… just talk to him.'

She sidled up to Harry, and took a deep breath. Then she reached out and tapped his shoulder.

The raven-haired teen whipped around, his eyes focusing on her. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Tanya felt a pang of guilt run through her gut at the though that he was so guarded around her.

"Tanya", his voice was cool, even, and try as she might she couldn't discern any noticeable emotion. Admittedly, she wasn't the best at reading cues, hell Iris was better than her at that, but the lack of the warmth she had been so used to in his tone, even if she hadn't heard it for the past month or two, was still jarring.

She bit her lip ('You can do this. come on!') before she spoke, "Harry. Can… can we talk?" Her eyes dropped to the floor, her body involuntarily bracing for his rejection.

"Sure."

Her eyes widened, face snapping back up to look him in the eyes, searching for insincerity, almost refusing to believe what she had just heard.

Had he… had he just agreed?

She glanced at Krum, who was standing beside Harry, apparently interested in the conversation as he appraised her. She spoke again, her voice a bit more sure this time, "Can we speak.. Alone? Just the two of us? Please?"

Harry stared at her, his eyes searching. As she waited, she noticed his eyes mist over a little, seemingly unfocusing, before they snapped back onto her. He nodded, slipping his wand back into its holster. She blinked. When had he drawn it?

She had never been as thankful as she was now for the seemingly endless number of empty classrooms at Hogwarts.

Harry stepped in first, and she followed, shutting the door behind her. Turning, she brought up her wand and fired off a few spells at the door.

"Privacy charms", she explained when she turned back to see Harry's raised eyebrow. He nodded stiffly, before cocking his head, his eyes taking on that misty look again. She swore she saw a human silhouette take form from behind him, before shimmering and vanishing, leaving her wondering if she'd imagined it.

"So?", He asked, "You wanted to talk?"

Tanya breathed in, before she locked her gaze into those emerald eyes, and began, "Harry… I.. Just want to say that I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't have judged you that fast, and I know is should have let you explain, but I was furious and I thought that you had been lying to me all along and that you didn't trust me and I was an idiot and I realized that Ididn'treallyknowyouandIwasscaredand -"

A pair of arms wrapped around her, cutting her off. She breathed deeply, tears staining her cheeks (When had she started crying?) as she looked up into Harry's eyes, swimming with concern, as he just held her.

"Shhh.", he whispered, "It's not entirely your fault Tanya. I'm sorry too."

She blinked, bewildered, "Whaaa?"

He chuckled, his chest rumbling slightly, causing all sorts of pleasant tingles to go through her body, "I should have let you talk to me earlier. Two months was… probably too long. Also, I probably should have told you earlier. It would have been hard, and awkward as fuck, but you cannot tell me it would have made stuff better."

She giggled, "Probably."

He pulled back a bit, and she bit back a whine at the loss of contact. Harry held her by her shoulders, emerald eyes meeting her steely grey once again as he spoke, "Tanya, I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

Tanya adopted a thinking expression, one finger tapping at her lips, pretending to consider it, before she replied, "Yes…. On two – no three conditions."

He sighed, "I suppose that's fair."

"One, you forgive me for judging you too fast."

He grinned at her, "I already have. You're not entirely to blame here, and two months was way too long without speaking to you."

Her heart beat just a little faster at that.

"Second, you tell me about your childhood. I feel like you know everything about me, and I don't know you much, if at all."

He winced, and nodded. Before his eyes went misty for a second, and he started blushing.

Tanya raised an eyebrow. What was he… oh. Oh. Dammit, now she was blushing too.

"And third, you get me Krum's autograph, and tell me how the hell you know Viktor Krum so well"

-HP:GoT-

(A/N): Well, that's chapter 7 done. Onto chapter 8. Also, if anyone is wondering why Harry avoided Tanya and Iris for nearly two months, its because 1- Harry can hold a grudge, and 2- Harry has issues from his past which Tanya's behaviour triggered, namely bad memories.

To anyone who thinks this story has a lot of clichés: There are over a million HP fanfics out there. Nearly everything has been done to death. Sometimes, clichés are unavoidable. I will be trying not to make it too boring/lame, but please bear with me if I can't do it right away.

Once again, if you see any plot holes and grammatical errors, please let me know.

As always, feel free to review!