The lights were blinding as I cracked open my eyes. I could hear faint whispers coming from the corner of the room, but they didn't seem to notice my stirring. I cracked open one eye, immediately noticing Fleur holding tight to Jason as she looked over her sister. Viktor was there as well, talking quietly with headmaster Karkaroff. Where's Luna? I thought to myself. Suddenly, I became aware of a weight pressed to my side, and I looked down to see Luna clung to my side, peacefully sleeping. Using my arm that was not trapped around her, I lightly brushed a strand of hair from her face, completely in awe of how beautiful she looked. She flinched when my hand touched her face, her eyes sleepily cracking open.

"You're awake," she murmured, closing her eyes again.

"Yeah," I rasped, suddenly very aware of how quiet my voice was from disuse.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, worry coating her voice.

"I feel great. My right side is a little tender though, but I assume it has something to do with why I'm here?"

"What do you remember?"

"I remember pulling Fleur's sister out of the water, and her being injured. I remember there was too much blood, so I tried to cauterize the wound."

"You ended up saving her life, but all the blood was not her's. You were stabbed in the side. You lost a lot of blood, Harry." Luna sounded scared. Her eyes were colored with sorrow as she reached her hand up and touched my face. "I thought I lost you."

"You're not going to lose me," I whispered, promising her, as I lean down to press my lips to hers.

"He's awake!" Jason yelled, interrupting us, and I groaned. Immediately, he began a spiel of everything that apparently happened while I was asleep. He kept saying something about how boring it was to watch a lake for two hours, but Cedric had told him of everything that had happened. He kept talking, but eventually I tuned him out.

"How are you feeling?" asked Karkaroff as he walked towards the bed. "Do you need and potions?"

"Not that I know of, but if Jason keeps talking I will need a headache reliever." At this statement, Jason immediately stopped mid sentence, and looked at me.

"Not cool man," Jason said very seriously. Unfortunately for him, it didn't last long, and soon he was laughing.

Viktor came up to the bed and sat cross—legged at the end of it. "They've started preparations for the final task," he said. "They're building a giant hedge maze in the quidditch pitch."

"What the hell? Why do they keep having tasks that the students can't even watch?" I asked.

"I do not know, but nonetheless you should be prepared," Karkaroff spoke. "I want to begin training you extensively for the final task, personally. You will meet me outside of the ship at 6:00 am tomorrow. Do not be late." His tone left no room for argumentation, but it wasn't as if I minded. A chance to be trained by a professional dueler, and a dangerous one at that, was not something I wanted to pass up.

"Yes sir," I replied, nodding my head. With one subtle nod of his head, and a barely visible smile, he left.

"Well, that's awesome," Jason spoke after we had been silent for a moment.

"Yeah, man, I'm jealous," Viktor added. "Maybe you can take us with you?" Jason nodded avidly.

"I don't know if the Headmaster would like that, but it depends on what it comes to," I replied.

"Oh, I can picture it now!" Jason said, as he threw his arm in a wide arch. "The three heroes, each with a stunning lady on his arm. They rid the world of darkness, restoring peace to wizard and muggle alike."

"Yes," Viktor joined. "Prophecies have been told of these three, and their lovely companions, for thousands of years. Stories of their bravery will continue to dazzle the minds of youngsters for years to come!" The two of them burst out laughing at their own jokes, and I couldn't help but smile at them. My two best friends, no matter how little I saw of them during this time, meant the world to me.

"Alright, that's enough for visiting hours," came the soft yet strong voice of Madame Pomphrey, the resident mediwitch. "Mr. Potter needs his rest."

—

—

"Dodge! Dodge! Run!" he was yelling from out of sight. Spells and rubble were being thrown left and right, each narrowly missing their target: me. Sweat ran like a river down my back as I breathed in a deep breath of burning air. What's burning? I thought to myself. Suddenly, a huge flaming object flew straight towards me. Quickly, I summoned a piece of rubble to interject its trajectory. As the two objects collided, they made a huge explosion that rocked the ground.

"That's enough!" he called. Karkaroff then came out from where he had been sitting. "Very good, Potter, but you're going to have to be better than that if you're going to win this tournament." I wiped my forehead with an equally sweaty and dirty sleeve as I nodded. "We'll meet back here tomorrow morning and run through it again. Next time, try not to blow up the training room."

"Yes sir," I replied, and turned to leave. I went straight to my room, intent on a bath, when I was suddenly pulled into a closet on the side of the hallway. "What the hell?" I cried. The closet was dark and nearly completely silent, save for t heavy breathing of the person who pulled me in.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, pointing my wand at the mysterious person and lighting the tip. The person was dirty and mangled, with a rat like face. He cowered away from my wand, shielding his beady eyes from the light. Suddenly, he let out a nasty sounding laugh, one that sounded like dry sandpaper and the screeching of nails on a chalkboard.

"My master will be proud of me, yes he will. I have found him, oh yes it was I!" The man's voice was shrill, as if his mind was not completely whole. "Potter will be coming with me!" The man took a step towards me.

"Incarcero—" the man grabbed my arm, and we disappeared from the spot without a sound.

—

I awoke in the dark, my hands harshly bound behind my back. I blearily blinked my eyes, attempting to figure out where I was and what had happened. Suddenly, it came back. I remembered the end of the duel with Karkaroff, and the man in the closet. I pulled at my arms in a hopeless attempt to free myself. To my surprise and pain, the harder I pulled, the tighter the bindings would get, making it near impossible to escape.

"Well looky here, Potter seems to have gotten himself in a trap, yes he does. Isn't that right? Potter can't escape, no he cannot," spoke the same voice from the room. The stunted man rounded the corner, dressed in different bits of fabric layered one on top of the other. With a shock and no shortage of disgust, I noticed my own shoes on the man's feet. That was when I noticed my own disheveled appearance. I could feel rather than see the caked mud, or it could be blood, on my face. The aches in my arms and legs was proof enough that this man had been nowhere near careful in getting me here. My feet were bare, and I could tell they were beginning to change color as the temperature was far below freezing.

"Where am I?" I asked, shocked to hear my voice come out in a quiet whisper.

"You'll see Potter! Yes, you'll see!" The man let out a harsh cackle, before he ran the other way, talking to himself about 'preparations'. Though what preparations he could possible be talking about, my mind could only come up with the worst situations.

While the strange rat faced man was gone, I took the chance to study my surroundings. The sky was dark, as if on the brink of a storm. Surrounding me were toppled and crumbling gravestones, one of which I was bound to. Looking closer, I could barely make out a name: Thomas Riddle 1880-1943. A strange name, I thought to myself, but didn't think further into it.

A little ways away was a large cauldron sitting on a roaring fire. A sickly looking green liquid was bubbling, and I couldn't even begin to wonder what it was meant for. Suddenly, the rat man returned, carrying with him a misshapen bundle. The oxygen was swept out of the air as a small and raspy, yet bone-chilling voice rose from the wrappings.

"Begin"

BACK AT THE SCHOOL

The Durmstrang ship was in an uproar. Every room, every crevice, every closet was being searched for the whereabouts of Harry Potter. There was no sign of the boy.

Suddenly, the headmaster, and lead of the search party, collapsed with a muffled scream. He clutched his left arm as his body jerked with pain.

"Headmaster!" shouted numerous students as they surrounded him. The mad tried to wave them off, but they would not leave.

"Viktor, Jason!" he groaned. "Bring me to my office." Two boys then broke free of the surrounding crowd, and pulled the man up with his arms draped over either shoulder. Together the three of them made their way through the halls of the ship, leaving the crowd of whispering students behind. Finally, they made it to the office and the two students placed their headmaster in his desk chair.

Groaning, Headmaster Karkaroff opened the bottom drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. After pulling the cork out with his teeth, he finally settled back.

"Harry is in trouble," he said finally, after a few more swigs from the bottle.

"How do you know?" blurted Jason.

"Because of this," Karkaroff said, pulling up his sleeve. On his left forearm was a blazing tattoo, blacker than anything though possible. The surrounding skin was irritated and bright red, as if it had been recently burned.

"What does that mean?" Viktor asks, staring in shock at the flaming tattoo.

"It means that he is back. Or, at the very least, well on his way."

"Do you think that's where Harry is?" Jason says.

"I'm almost positive. And if he is, then he is in grave danger." Karkaroff took a deep breath, and pulled his sleeve back down. "The Dark Lord is calling his inner circle to him, his most trusted allies. Luckily for us, I am one of them. Or at least, I used to be."

"Used to be?" asks Viktor.

"By now he knows I sold out some of his most trusted allies to the Ministry. The moment I arrive I am most likely to be killed. But, I will help Harry all that I can."

"What do you want us to do?" Viktor and Jason steeled themselves.

"I will bring you there with me, while you hide under a disillusionment charm. Your main objective is to get Harry and get the hell out of there. Fight your way out if need be, just get out alive."

Viktor and Jason looked at each other before nodding. "When do we leave?"

"Hopefully now," replied Karkaroff. "My arm is in quite a bit of pain. Are you ready?"

"Well, ready as we'll ever be. Let's go."

And they disappeared with a barely audible pop.

BACK IN THE GRAVEYARD

Four hooded figures appeared suddenly, kneeling in front of the figure now rising out of the cauldron. A thick smoke enveloped their figures, leaving the two hidden students able to sneak away. Together they crept to their friend where he was lying, bound to a gravestone with blood seeping from a gash in his arm.

"Christ, what did they do to you?" Jason whispered as they removed the cloaking charm placed on them.

"Dark ritual, evil blokes, you get the jist," Harry murmured. He had already lost a lot of blood, as could be seen by the dark puddle slowly forming around him. "For the love of Merlin, somebody better heal this damn wound before I pass out." His voice was quiet, but intense. "Then we're going to kick his arse."

"You know it," Jason replied. "Viktor, you're the best at healing spells." Viktor nodded and began casting. "Where's your wand?"

"I have it here. I don't remember doing it, but I managed to hide my wand before I passed out," Harry replied.

"Alright," Viktor says as the wound finally closes. "Are you ready?"

"Probably not, but I don't really have a choice now, do I?"

"Technically you do, but the other option ends with Voldemort ruling the wizarding world and everyone dying a painful fiery death."

"Wonderful," Harry said dryly. Grabbing his wand, he undoes the bindings holding him to the gravestone. "Let's get started then."

Hah. Fuck. Sorry.