A/N

This story has been haunting me for a couple of years now. How would Harry's absence influence the events at Hogwarts? How would the population react to a Harry who has been reared in a quite different – and far better – way? What would be Dumbledore's backup plan?

While this story still adheres to the main events of the books, some of them had different results because of his absence. One important detail of chapter one will be a little confusing at first. Don't worry, it will be explained later.

I borrowed a couple of ideas about magic from the Shadowrun Roleplay.

I have to thank my son and a very good friend/colleague of mine for helping me with the story's details and a number of logical problems. I hope you'll enjoy the result.

Little warning: bashing (mostly) of Dumbledore. In this story he won't be evil but very determined to do what he thinks will get the best result.

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Two's a crowd

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Hogwarts – Halloween of 1994

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Another year, another feast - this one only proved to be a little more opulent and special than the former ones. Eight weeks ago, her third year at Hogwarts had started; her third year in her personal hell. This place should have been a heaven though. As feared and expected it had been even worse than in her previous school. With Percy Weasley and, more importantly, Penelope Clearwater gone the bullies had started to target her even more. Luckily, Hermione had grown a thick skin by now. Two years of mocking and teasing, of being pushed around and messing with her things tended to do this to a teenaged girl. Not to forget her brush with a very bloody and painful near-death experience.

The bushy-haired girl looked around, her chocolate-brown eyes roaming the Great Hall and its hundreds of occupants. Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Gryffindors had gathered tonight without exception. Nobody wanted to miss this evening; and none of her Ravenclaws either. Hers, she sneered. They had never been hers. They had been mocking her since the Sorting Hat chose this house to be her new home and family. The Claws had never welcomed her, never stood up to her defence when Draco Malfoy and his thugs bullied and threatened her. They never said a word when the Weasleys scared her away from "their very own" Harry Potter. She only wanted to be his friend. But it wasn't meant to be.

Glancing towards the Gryffindor table, Hermione felt a wave of hate rush through her body at the sight of the redheads lording over there. Most students thought the Twins to be funny. However, she saw no humour in bullying others with their disgusting pranks. Itching powder, blotching ink and ripping bags – she had gotten used to those "little jokes", had been their target often enough in the past. Ginny Weasley had never been part of them. She actually avoided her brothers most of the time. Still, the little girl somehow sent the chills down Hermione's spine. There was something about her that frightened her in an animalistic way. Don't mess with me, I'm dangerous, was the silent message. The worst however was Ron Weasley. He never gave up on a chance to push her around. Somehow even now, belonging to different houses and years, he was able to mess with her on a nearly daily basis. Without him, she would have been a fourth year by now. Without him, her body…

A small hand grabbed her trembling one in an effort to slow down her racing heart. "It's alright." The voice was barely a whisper, prompting Hermione to look to her right. The sight of a smiling Luna bearing that far-away look she usually got on her face was enough to heighten her spirits. It drove away those sad memories and reminded her of the one good thing that had happened in her life thanks to Ron Weasley. Yes, she would always despise him and wish him to feel hurt as she did. But she would also always be thankful to him. Because of him she found a sister in Luna, if not in blood and law then in mind and heart. Hermione smiled. Yes, Luna was her sister where and when it counted. It was the only thing that truly mattered.

"It's time," a deep rumbling voice interrupted her line of thoughts, "for the Goblet of Fire to choose our champions."

Turning towards the teachers' table, Hermione nearly missed the fleeting scowl on Luna's face. The small girl, ignoring the sneers of the other Ravenclaw girls and the tension among the Beauxbatons girls visiting their table, heaped a couple of marmalade toasts onto a dish and pushed them in front of her older friend.

"Eat … you'll need it later."

Hermione lifted a single eyebrow, a gesture Luna reciprocated as if daring her to ask. After a moment of silence, with Dumbledore's explanations about the process and the magic of the choosing being only some kind of background rumble and mumble, Hermione simply sighed and obeyed. Over the past two years, she had learned never to question Luna's musings. More often than not the answer was far more confusing than before. Luna was chaos and confusion personalized – and Hermione actually liked it. This was certainly the proof of how much she had changed since the beginning of their friendship. They cared deeply for each other. They protected each other in this sea of rejection and prejudice called Hogwarts.

Barely listening to the never-ending babbling of her headmaster, Hermione's gaze passed over the other teachers. There was Minerva McGonagall, her former head of house. In the beginning, she had adored the extremely intelligent and very strict teacher. At first glance, McGonagall had been her paragon, the epitome of how a teacher should be. This had changed quite drastically over the years though. Now, she ranged barely above Severus Snape, their disgusting potions teacher. Next to McGonagall sat Madam Sprout, with the nice and calm assistant Alice Longbottom at her side. The younger woman was looking a bit sad, as usual. Then there was Filius Flitwick, the overeager yet far too often problems overlooking Ravenclaw Head, animatedly talking with Percy Weasley. Hermione assumed they were exchanging news about Penelope, Percy's regretfully absent fiancée. She missed the former head girl dearly.

Luna looked around, her eyes mostly on the ceiling of the Great Hall. Hermione assumed she was looking for Nargles, or Wrackspurts, or some other kind of creature only she was able to see. "Looney…" Marietta Edgecomb whispered, surely adding an unkindness of some sort. Her close friend Cho Chang snickered. Hermione didn't understand how a nice and intelligent boy like Cedric Diggory could be the boyfriend of such a bitch. Boys, she sighed. Apparently only appearance counted for them in the end. She glared at the girls and the whispering trailed off. They tried to look haughty, but a little tremble could be seen around their lips. Despite being two years her senior, Chang and Edgecomb had learned the hard way not to mess with Hermione, and how protective she was of her little sister.

"It's starting," Luna whispered, her eyes still at the ceiling. She seemed to be very excited about something. Her smile deepened. "Here we go!"

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"The Champion representing Beauxbatons will be … Fleur Delacour."

There were a number of angry glares from the girls and drooling male faces accompanying the blonde beauty as she strutted from the Ravenclaw table towards Headmaster Dumbledore. The Beauxbatons students didn't seem surprised, but not all of them looked happy either. Hermione was quite indifferent towards the French Champion so far. Certainly, she was more than a blonde bombshell plus Veela charm. Fleur had proven her intellect and knowledge more than once already in a couple of conversations Hermione had been a witness of. On the other hand, she often showed a disturbing lack of compassion for the less talented and her biting comments about everything British were more than a tad annoying. Preferring elegance over practicability in choosing her clothes but whining about the cold weather, Hermione rolled her eyes. There is something called a jumper, you know? Yes, it is unflattering to your figure, so what?

"Durmstrang will be represented by … Victor Krum."

Another unsurprising choice, certainly, as everybody had expected the Quidditch prodigy to represent his dark-reputed school. He left his circle of comrades at the Slytherin table – Hermione couldn't call them students with their uniform-like clothes and their martial demeanour – to accept the selection with an air of confidence. Only time would tell if it was justified confidence or dumb overconfidence. For a moment, Hermione exchanged a small nod and a tiny smile with Gregory Goyle without anybody noticing. He belonged to a handful of Slytherins who didn't behave awfully towards Luna and her, and he was the only one among them she could call a friend. His big heart and stubbornness would make him a better Gryffindor than most members of the lions' house, Hermione mused. Not that any of them would agree with such a statement.

"The third champion and representative of Hogwarts will be…"

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she noticed how Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards his preferred house, the house of brashness and boldness, even before he opened the slightly singed paper.

"…Harry Potter."

She rolled her eyes. He knew it beforehand. Around her was a moment of stunned silence, before the applause slowly arose. Naturally, the Gryffindors were the first to start the "Harry, Harry" shouting, led by a very loud trio of redheads. Only a couple of hours before the same trio had, together with a slightly panicked looking Harry, entered their names into the Goblet of Fire. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws followed their lead, far more sedate, some looking quite annoyed, while the Slytherins barely raised a hand to applaud politely.

"So, this is the reason…," Hermione mumbled. That everybody in fourth year and up would be allowed to enter, had been a surprise. "He wanted Potter… what are you doing?" Hermione tried to pull her hands away. Luna allowed none of it and continued to cleanse her hands from the marmalade with her wet handkerchief. "It's happening," she whisper-grinned, her response barely an explanation. Turning Hermione's hand to and fro to inspect them, Luna seemed to be content and let them go. "It's happening," she giggled. "Are you ready?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She loved Luna, she really did. But right now, she felt the dire urge to throttle her. She wanted her peace. She wanted to ponder about the oddness named Headmaster Dumbledore and his apparent wish to send Harry Potter into this tournament – a boy who was, as far as she knew, famous but not nearly talented enough to have the slightest chance of winning. She sighed and glared slightly, only the tiniest smile around her lips softening the impression. "What is happening?"

Luna shrugged. "No idea." She giggled happily.

Because of Luna's silly behaviour, Hermione had missed Potter's penitential pilgrimage along the Great Hall. The delegacies from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were hardly impressed by this frightened looking teenager. Hermione felt pity for him. While he often followed Ron's lead in pranking and teasing her, there had been glimpses of a softer and more demure boy in the past. She was quite certain: without the Weasleys, he wouldn't even have entered his name in the tournament. Now he was standing in front of hundreds of students, looking like a firsty between the bulky Krum and the slim but far taller Delacour.

Headmaster Dumbledore waited for the applause to subside, showing his typical grandfatherly smile with those twinkling eyes – the same eyes that now widened as a fourth piece of paper shot into the air from the still glowing Goblet and jumped into his hand.

What was happening?

Hermione gulped and glanced towards Luna. Her friend was staring at a spot near the Goblet – an empty spot as of now. She completely ignored the agitation among the judges now gathering around Dumbledore. They talked animatedly, their words hidden by a hastily cast privacy spell, their eyes wandering towards Potter from time to time. Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang, yelled something in an accusing manner. Bagman tried to sooth the waves. Crouch looked a little bored.

Unnoticed by them, the glowing around the Goblet slowly increased in brightness and started to pulse slightly. Hermione watched it with morbid fascination. Luna mumbled something about "gathering Wrackspurts". The pulsing intensified, now drawing the judges' interest as well. Dumbledore cancelled the privacy spell and hurried – surprisingly fast considering his advanced age – towards the Goblet. Before he was able to reach the magical artefact however, it exploded with a burst of light, promptly engineering all kinds of screeches around the chamber and causing many students to cower in fear.

A ball of solid light appeared ten feet above the ground, right above the spot Luna was still watching. Brimming with magic, it expanded and contracted a couple of times before it suddenly ceased to exist with another bright explosion. Hermione's eyes needed a few moments to adapt. She blinked, trying to focus on the person that was standing right there where the ball of light had been moments before.

Whoever it was, Hermione had no doubt that a fourth champion had appeared, executing quite the dramatic entrance to boot.

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Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore cursed inwardly.

The day had started so well. The tournament, happening at Hogwarts for the first time after more than two hundred years, had been meant to serve a dual purpose. On the one hand, Albus wanted to use it for celebrating his success. A hundred years ago, young Albus had been a student of Hogwarts. Fifty years ago, he had reached his personal summit: becoming headmaster of this prestigious school. On the other hand, he intended to use the tournament as a testing ground for his personal weapon… err, his protégé. A little bending of rules, a little prodding of young Weasley et voilà: a protégé awaiting his baptism of fire.

Harry James Potter had been in his care for more than a decade now. Carefully reared, he had been educated and directed towards his one goal and purpose: to help and assist Dumbledore in destroying Voldemort, hereby making Albus the destroyer of not one but two Dark Lords and immortalizing his name forever. To achieve this goal, he had revived another tradition: influencing the Goblet. While the assumptions about the Goblet of Fire choosing the champions were basically correct, it was a well-kept secret among the participating headmasters that a student could be "magically praised". The stronger and more cunning the headmaster, the more the Goblet's decision could be influenced.

Headmaster Karkaroff and Headmistress Maxime had made good use of that opportunity as well. So, in reality the whole choosing was only a big bogus to dazzle the audience. At least it had been until a fourth piece of paper appeared out of nowhere. This could easily turn into a big stinking heap of humiliation for all of them. With a fourth champion, far too many unwelcome questions could be raised about the other three. Had it been Karkaroff? Had the Durmstrang headmaster been too weak to pull off the magical heist? Actually, Dumbledore had been a little surprised about his apparent success. Perhaps it hadn't even worked at all and the Goblet had chosen Krum on its own accord. After all, the young man was well-known and respected Europe-wide for a reason.

It only got worse when Albus read the name on the slip of paper.

Harry James Potter.

Why? How could it be? He glared at the piece of paper, willed it to vanish. Harry Potter had been chosen for a second time. This was unthinkable. This was…

Like the rest of the audience, he had to shield his eyes from the brightness of the magical light. This could easily turn into his worst day since… since his sister died and his lover left him. Dumbledore cursed again. A shocked audience was watching this new event: A young man appeared out of nowhere, which everyone knew was impossible within the halls of Hogwarts. He appeared to be around fourteen or fifteen. He was tall above average and looked quite healthy, with a tanned skin and broad shoulders. Obviously, he had developed more muscles than was typical for nowadays young wizards and Albus had no doubt he would fetch the eye of more than one witch – or wizard. Dumbledore glanced to the left where the three champions were waiting and staring with wide eyes. The similarity was fetching and unmistakably. The foreigner could have been… not exactly Harry's twin but his brother or at least his cousin. The same hair, the same chin, only his eyes were of a vibrant green while Harry had his father's brown one's. The pair of green eyes was now resting on Dumbledore who stood the closest to the young man, narrowing in suspicion.

He was wearing one of those Muggle trousers called jeans or something, a check shirt and… was that an axe in his hand? It looked like one of those chopping axes Hagrid used, only smaller. No wand was visible, only some kind of knife in a belt sheath. He reeked of a mix of sweat, fir needles and fresh wood. Had he actually been chopping wood by hand when the Goblet summoned him? Albus had no doubt that this was exactly what had happened. Perhaps he was a squib, forced to do things by hand instead of using the better, magical way. The young man stared at him in a mix of confusion and rightful anger.

"What the heck…" where the first English words that left the boy's mouth, followed by a bit of French that appeared to be a string of curses. His English sounded weird somehow, Albus noticed.

"You," he pointed towards Dumbledore with the axe still in his hand, "what have you…" Dumbledore didn't feel threatened. His mind was still far too occupied wondering how to survive this impossible situation with his reputation intact. Regretfully, Severus Snape decided this to be the best moment to come to his rescue.

"Expelliarmus!" A beam of light hit the axe and wrangled it from the boy's hand. With a loud cluttering noise, it landed on the ground. Severus sneered and looked quite smug.

Albus raised his left in a placating gesture. "That wasn't necess…" The rest of the sentence never left his lips as the young man exploded into action. Drawing the knife from its sheath – it was bigger than expected and looked far more dangerous now – he raced towards Dumbledore. The headmaster tried to lift his wand in haste, but the boy was way too fast, closing the gap far quicker than should have been possible. A second spell missed him, a third was actually deflected by the knife. Albus' wand was barely halfway up as the boy jumped him, grabbing his beard with his left in a very undignified manner and pulling him to the ground. Albus was taller and certainly a couple of stones heavier than the boy. He shouldn't have been able to do this, regardless of Albus' advanced age.

But it didn't stop him. Surprise made Albus loose his grip and the Elder wand left his fingers. The meaning of this little detail, something that hadn't happened for decades, reached his mind only days later. For now, he was far too occupied being forced to the ground by a boy that could easily ruin his life if he was right about his identity, holding a very sharp knife to his throat. What should I do? By Merlin's beard, what should I do?

"FREEZE!"

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Every English-speaking Muggle teenager would have known the meaning of the word and what kind of action – or better non-action – to take. Every muggle criminal would have done the same. Regretfully, the students, teachers and guests belonged to neither group.

Screaming and yelling erupted from all sides. Some students tried to hide, other drew their wands. A couple of teachers did so as well, as did Percy Weasley and Barty Crouch, who readied themselves to spring into action. Severus Snape was only waiting for a clear shot. It required a cannonball spell and a sonorous enhanced "STOP" from Filius Flitwick to stop this mayhem. "Silence," he added. "Everybody sit down. Sit down. Now." His tiny voice growled but nobody laughed. They suddenly remembered that this little man had been a famous and respected duelling champion in former times.

"Mister Weasley, please sit back down," Minerva McGonagall came to his assistance. "You as well, Mister Crouch. Please have a seat."

"He's threatening the headmaster," Crouch growled, while Percy hastily obeyed. It had only been a couple of months since he left the school and following Minerva's orders was far too ingrained in him to do anything else.

"Really," Minerva's voice was dust-dry. "I hadn't noticed. Sit down!" Crouch's cheeks inflamed but he obeyed as well. Only now did Minerva turn towards the situation at hand, trusting Filius to keep an eye on their colleagues. Severus Snape, in particular, looked far too wand-happy right now. "There is no need for this, young man. Kindly release our headmaster. He's a bit too old and frail for rolling around on the floor."

"Fat chance!" The boy spat, prompting Minerva's lips to thin. "First I want answers to a couple of questions."

"Like what?" Actually, Minerva thirsted for some answers as well. This situation was barely tolerable as it was.

"Where am I? Who are you?" He asked without explaining whom he meant. "And why did you summon me?"

"Young man, perhaps…" Albus tried to pipe up, only to be harshly stopped by his manhandler.

"Shut up," he growled, nodding towards Minerva to answer his questions.

"I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts."

"So I assume he," he nodded towards Albus, "is your boss." Minerva nodded her agreement. "And this Hogwarts is a school for magic?" Another curt nod. "And exactly where is this school?"

The question drew some gasps. Everybody knew about Hogwarts, didn't they? Where had this boy spent his life so far? Under a stone?

"Hogwarts is in Scotland," Minerva explained calmly, her answer lacking in further details.

"Scotland," the boy frowned. "That's over in Europe, yes?" Minerva blinked.

Unbeknownst to the boy, Albus eyes widened. The answer made it clear: the boy had lived somewhere else, possibly in the USA, despite his accent sounding wrong.

Suddenly the boy's mood lifted. "It's near France, isn't it?"

"Not quite," Minerva responded. "Between Scotland and France lies England and a broad stretch of water."

The boy sighed, sounding disappointed. "Too bad. I have always wanted to visit France." A couple of Beauxbatons students actually smiled at that. His grip had loosened a bit, so he strengthened it again. "Back to my questions. Why, in the Spirits' name, did you summon me?" He looked around. "You really have plenty of teenagers at hand, so I do hope it wasn't to act as your victim in some blood ritual in honour of Samhain."

Minerva paled as did many others. However, she needed only a couple of moments to control her emotions. "Hardly. However, I have to admit I have no idea why and how you appeared among us in such a distressing manner. We certainly didn't summon you." He didn't look convinced in any way. "May I ask you your name?"

The boy narrowed his eyes. Albus, who had so far been content to let Minerva take the lead, giving him some time to ponder the situation, already moved to get in control again with some wandless magic, as the boy's sudden but feared answer stunned him.

"Evans. My name is Harry Evans."

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Hermione watched her teachers intensely. Some of them didn't react in any way to that statement. Others however…

Minerva paled a little bit and looked far more thoughtful than before, scrutinizing the boy as if she was searching for something. After a while, her expression actually softened. Severus Snape flinched and narrowed his eyes, his stare trying to drill holes into the boy. Filius Flitwick stiffened and mumbled something.

Evans, Hermione mused. She had read that name before, but where? It wasn't the name of one of the older and renowned families.

She didn't get much time to ponder the questions as Luna chose this exact moment to act. She hummed softly, stood up and left her place, easily dodging Hermione's hands. "Sit down, Luna," Hermione furiously whispered. Naturally, Luna didn't obey or even showed that she heard her words. With all other students still on their seats, Lunas action immediately drew attention.

"Miss Lovegood," Minerva scolded, ignoring the "Looney" mumbles from the Ravenclaw table. "Please return to your seat this instant."

Seeing that the dour professor had no more luck than she before, Hermione cursed and hurried to follow her sister. Luna actually skipped down the hall, still humming some happy melody. Hermione wasn't able to reach her in time, her slight limp hindering her. "Luna … Luna," she whispered-shouted while keeping her hand carefully away from her wand. To her relief the boy didn't look threatened. His expression was more amused than anything, amused and a tad confused. Certainly not an unusual reaction to Luna, Hermione had to admit, and far more sedate than many others in the past. Still, should he try anything against Luna, she would fillet his innards with that knife of his.

"Hello, I'm Luna." She stood barely three steps away from the boy, totally ignoring the headmaster or the other teachers watching her, and smiled her sweetest smile. The boy, who had been tense like a coil spring so far, felt a breeze of calmness wash over him. This girl was a spring of pure happiness like he had rarely felt in his young life.

Harry Evans frowned, hearing some more "Looney" calls from the crowd of students. Then he addressed her, his voice surprisingly soft, his stance more relaxed than before. He couldn't help himself. This girl somehow calmed him like only Jenny had been able to do in the past. "Hello Luna. You know, you should listen to… her." He nodded towards Hermione, who had reached Luna at last and tried to drag her away. Unsurprisingly, Luna resisted stubbornly. "I might be a psycho you never know..." He actually winked at her, earning him another smile. Harry could easily get used to those.

"This is Hermione." Luna introduced sweetly, making Hermione freeze and look like a deer caught by wand-light. "She's my sister, and a bit protective."

Harry's face softened even more and he looked thoughtful. "Sisters usually are. Mine is no different. Hi Hermione."

Sister? The Headmaster wondered. Harry has no siblings.

"Err… hello." stammered Hermione, interrupting her futile attempts to drag Luna away.

The boy didn't seem to want to threaten Luna, but she still glared at him anyway, just in case. And he had such as dangerous looking knife… a bowie knife, actually, she realized.

"I expected you." Luna startled the boy. "Not exactly you, but a… a guest." She nodded to someone invisible. "The Wrackspurts announced your coming."

There was some snickering all around but only curiosity on behalf of the boy. "Wrackspurts?"

"Yes," Luna nodded, staring into the air. Hermione used the moment to start another get-Luna-back-to-her-seat attempt.

"You have the Sight." Harry Evans' voice was incredible soft.

Hermione stopped her attempt and stared dumbstruck. This reaction she hadn't expected.

Neither affirming nor denying his statement, Luna hummed for a moment before she addressed Harry again. "You know, this isn't necessary." She nodded towards the headmaster under his knife. "Wouldn't it be more comfortable to continue the conversation upright or even sitting?"

"I happen to agree," Headmaster Dumbledore piped up from the ground. "why don't we continue the conversation in my office. Around a cup of tea, perhaps?" He really wanted to get out of here and have a chance at getting the situation under control again.

Harry Evans glanced around once more. He looked thoughtful and stayed silent for a while. Glancing towards Luna, who was still humming and looking completely relaxed, he addressed the headmaster at last.

"You'll answer all of my questions?"

"To the best of my knowledge," Albus agreed.

"And you'll allow me to leave without hindering me?"

Albus hesitated for a moment and contemplated the request. "If it is possible, yes." He stopped Harry's complaint by raising his hand a little. "We'll have to see how and why you were summoned by the Goblet."

Harry seemed unhappy but complied with a curt nod. "Will you come with us?" He asked Luna. For the first time he sounded a little shy and insecure.

"She will certainly not," Hermione argued.

"I surely will," Luna happily agreed.

Hermione groaned. She would stay at Luna's side, whatever happened.

Harry Evans actually looked relieved. With smooth moves he sheathed his knife and stood up. Hermione instinctually stepped in front of Luna to shield her, but Harry only offered her his arm. Happily, Luna accepted by skipping around Hermione, while Minerva and Percy hastened at Headmaster Dumbledore's side to help him up.

What a mess, Hermione silently groaned. Well, it can only get better now. She had no idea how wrong she was.

And all the while Headmaster Albus Dumbledore could only think: how in Merlin's name could this happen? What kind of hellish events could lead to this mess?

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A/N

Intended order of chapters:

Chapter One: Halloween 1994

Chapter Two to Eight: Events of 1981 to 1994 summer

Chapter Nine+: Events of 1994/95 (fourth year/tournament)

All in all, I expect the story to get about 25-30 chapters and hope to finish it in 2018.

I intend to publish a chapter every two weeks.

all: yes, there are 2(!) Harry Potters, at least at the beginning. Here is a question for you: would it be better for your understanding of the story, if I started to "mark" the false Harry, for example by writing §Harry§ or something similar? What do you think?