Harry was happy. No, happy wasn't right. He was free. He was flying and it made him feel exhilarated and in control. Control. That was what flying was about to him; having complete freedom and control over the next moment. When he flew, there were no rules to abide by, no crowd to please.

And maybe that's why I am so damn good at it, he thought, a painfully wide grin on his face as he stopped within inches of the ground. He flew up, ignoring the profanities coming from his eloquent best friend. Hermione may be one of the smartest people there is, but she sure can't understand what this is about.

And Harry wouldn't wish her to understand. He wouldn't wish the claustrophobic life he led, or more accurately, he was forced to lead, on her. Because I have to admit I have no freedom of choice.

Even the thought of Hermione locked in a cupboard or forced into a deadly tournament made his blood boil. Harry was far too much alike to Tom Riddle for that hypothetical situation to not turn into a bloodbath.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he flew in lazy circles, watching the passing scenery with fascination. One thing he never could share with his friends, because he wasn't articulate enough, was that Hogwarts was not a home for him because of the people in it.

No, the people of Hogwarts were idiots, much like everywhere else in the world, or everywhere else he's been in as limited as they were.

No, Hogwarts was his home because here, he had a minuscule of freedom. Here, he could take to the skies and watch the horizon and dream. Dream of a world with no judgement and no insults. Dream of a world where there was no pain and prejudice. Oh, how he loved that dream.

He loved Hogwarts because he could dream here even though those dreams were nothing but a figment of his imagination.

His musings were cut short by another flier. It wasn't hard to identify the mysterious flier because he was as good on the broom as Harry. Oh, and he was flying right next to Harry.

"I haff been votching. You fly vell," praised the Bulgarian Quidditch star.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks." He cocked his head and smiled. "If you want, I can teach you."

Victor answered with a booming laugh though there was nothing condescending about it. It was the laugh of someone with absolute confidence in his talents so had no quarrel with joking about it. "Come, ve shall practise together." With that, the Bulgarian champion sped down and zigzagged around, challenging Harry nonverbally to follow.

Harry was a lot of things, but he has never been the one to refuse a challenge, so the two seekers started on an hour-long chase. Harry chased Victor and Victor chased Harry. There were many faints and death-defying stunts that left Hermione hoarse from screaming and red from exertion.

The boys weren't even aware of the crowd that gathered to watch their half-hearted suicide attempts. They weren't aware of the cheers and yells coming from the crowd. They were doing what they loved the most, and laughing and ridiculing each other with wide smiles they almost never showed to the world.

The two adrenaline junkies barely made it to the ground before Hermione launched herself at Harry, resulting in a mess of limbs and hair on the ground. "You irresponsible, suicidal, inconsiderate arse!" the half of the mess yelled while punching, or at least trying to punch, the green-eyed wizard. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! I already had to watch you out fly a dragon!"

Ignoring Victor's snickers, Harry carefully disengaged from the bushy-haired volcano, his face red as a tomato. "Hermione!" he yelled to get his best friend's attention and to cut her tirade. "Calm down, I'm okay. Dear Victor, here, was so impressed with my flying, I couldn't say no when he oh-so-humbly asked me to teach him a trick or two. Have sympathy for the poor guy."

"Poor guy?" Victor mimicked unbelievingly while he gave a complete once-over to Hermione.

"Besides, I'm not suicidal," Harry continued, ignoring the Bulgarian's raised eyebrow and the something dark that perched on his stomach because of the look he gave Hermione. Seeing the mount Granger on the verge of another explosion, he preemptively hugged the girl. "Calm down, will ya? I'm okay."

Hermione could do nothing but hug her suicidal friend, and secret crush, back, willing her heart to slow down. "Next time you pull stunts like that, I want to be far, far away. Quidditch is one thing. This was far worse." If her voice was a little too charged, no one said anything.

Instead, Harry turned to Victor with a new gleam on his eyes that if Hermione saw, she'd hate. "Speaking of Quidditch, don't you think it's a travesty we don't get to play this year?"

"Da. I miss playing," Victor agreed, as vocal as ever.

"No. No, no. No!" Hermione shook her head rapidly. "You have enough on your plate and I fear enough for your well-being without that damn game." When she realised Harry and Victor weren't listening, she sobbed into her hands, "Why am I even trying?"

Harry nodded at his friend. "Indeed." He turned to his fellow Quidditch enthusiast. "Why don't we, the four champions, each field a team and have a little tournament for ourselves?"

"We haff to talk to the other two," he agreed.

"You talk to Delacour. I'll take Cedric. I'll talk to Dumbledore about the logistics."

With that, the two went on their separate ways, Victor followed by a gang of giggling girls, Harry followed by someone far scarier than a gang of giggling girls; Hermione.

"Harry, why must you do this to me?" asked his brilliant friend as they walked through the entrance hall. "Do you have to give me a heart attack?"

Harry chuckled. "I don't have to. Can't say I don't enjoy your worry for my well-being though."

"You enjoy scaring me?!"

Harry turned and regarded her. "I must confess I do. It is my favourite pastime activity," he said with a serious face, cackling madly inside.

He didn't know why but he couldn't help needle her. He didn't even know if he was serious or not.

"Why would you enjoy such a thing?"

Harry shrugged, "No idea." As he walked passed the giant doors of the Great Hall, he searched for his target and found him sitting on, surprise, surprise, the Hufflepuff table. "Yo, Cedric."

"What do you want, cheater," a dark-haired individual sneered, giving Harry the impression he wasn't welcome at the table of badgers.

"An intelligent conversation. So, how about you shut up and let the grownups talk?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned to the real champion of Hogwarts. The sneering individual huffed in irritation but the snort from Cedric kept his mouth shut. "Krum and I were talking about Quidditch, and we thought it would be great if we had a little tournament. Every champion will field their own team. Nothing set in stone yet as I will have a talk with our esteemed Headmaster and work out the logistics. Krum is talking to Delacour. You in?"

"Sure thing, Harry. I wanted a rematch of our last game anyway," answered Cedric enthusiastically. "This time, I'll win fair and square."

Harry grinned at the older boy. "Dream on, pretty boy."

"Any restrictions on who we can select for the team?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. As long as they are students, they are fair game. Except for the twins and the flying foxes. They are mine," he warned. "No poaching."

Cedric grinned in response. "I don't know. They might decide it's time for them to play with a better seeker."

Harry turned to the Gryffindor table, his eyes zeroing in on his teammates. "Sure thing, honey. See you around."

Ignoring Hermione's huff of "Boys!", Harry made his way to his house table and sat heavily next to the twin troublemakers, leaving a place next to him for Hermione to sit. "Victor and I are organising a Quidditch tournament. Each champion will select a team. If any of you five," he pointed at each of his teammates, "play for another champion, I'll cut you out in your sleep. Then I'll eat hearts with hot sauce and butterbeer."

The Gryffindor team and Hermione sat in silence for a moment, looking at Harry with wide eyes before everyone laughed. It was a twin who answered, "Sure thing, Harrikins."

Angelina leaned in, "I missed playing. And it will be a good chance to find and train a goalkeeper for the next year."

Harry smiled wide and put an arm around Hermione. "Then organise a small try-out. Hell, why don't you recruit reserves while you are at it? Four of you will graduate next year. This way, Katie and I won't need to build a new team from the ground up."

"Makes sense," the dark-skinned girl answered with a nod. "But what about what Dumbledore said at the Welcoming Feast?"

"I'll handle the twinkling wrinkle," Harry declared with a puffed up chest.

"Harry, show respect to the Headmaster," admonished Hermione.

Harry smiled at his predictable friend and leaned in. "Hermione, I am forced into a high-stakes, life-threatening tournament. I saved this school, I saved at least three lives in this school. I think he owes me this much." He thought about it for a moment and continued, "And, well, from my interactions with him, he would enjoy the nickname. I mean, the man loves to live up to his whacky old grandpa image. I'm sure he'd love this new nickname as well."

Hermione huffed but refrained from saying anything else which was a surprise. Harry absentmindedly snacked on various food made by the hardworking elves as he waited for Victor to show up and give the go ahead. He was vaguely aware Ron wasn't there but didn't worry. Ron would never miss out on a chance to stuff himself with food.

He was troubled as he considered why he felt the need to hold Hermione close to him. And why seeing Cho sit next to Cedric didn't make him feel as upset as seeing Krum give Hermione a once-over did.

He concluded that Hermione was much more important to him than some silly school-boy crush he had on beautiful Cho. Hermione was his best friend, someone who stood by him through thick and thin. And while he might've survived even without her help, he would be in a much darker place without her support and constant presence in his life.

His best friend brought him out of his musings by gently elbowing him and pointing her head towards Victor, who nodded his success at him. Harry gave Hermione's shoulder a squeeze and stood, making his way to the head table and in front of where the Headmaster was sitting, unaware of the studious girl following him. "Good evening, Headmaster."

"Good evening, young Harry," Dumbledore said, leaning back on his throne and regarding Harry with a kind smile. "What can I do for you this beautiful evening?"

Harry squared his shoulders and put his nervousness out of his mind. "Well, sir, the other three champions and I want to arrange a Quidditch tournament with four teams, one for each champion. I was hoping to arrange the logistics with you."

The Headmaster shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that's not possible, my boy. The staff is stretched thin as it is with all the requirements for the Triwizard tournament."

"Sir, there are far too few chances and incentives for three schools to interact with each other. Didn't you say they brought this tournament back to improve international cooperation and for us to make connections? What better way to do that than by enjoying a sport most people love?"

Dumbledore looked over his glasses and regarded his young charge seriously. "I don't think you appreciate the amount of effort the staff is putting into the preparations for this tournament, Harry. We don't have the resources or the time to make a Quidditch tournament viable."

Harry stiffened at the dismissive tone the Headmaster was using and narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I have to put my life in danger for a tournament I have no desire to compete in, but I cannot take part in a tournament I would enjoy? You are speaking as if spending two hours on weekends would put such a constraint on the staff's shoulders, it is unrealistic. Need I remind you that Madam Hooch isn't even in the school to help you with the preparations? If she's unavailable, Mr. Bagman doesn't help much with any of the preparations and I'm sure he'd love the... nostalgia of refereeing the matches. And what resources? Everyone has their own broom, all you need to supply would be the balls for the game, balls the school already have." He was making this up as he went and had no idea where this courage was coming from but he persevered.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something but Harry didn't let him. "Let's forget all that for a moment and consider what having this tournament would mean. Four champions facing off in the air, at least three of whom are seekers. That is a spectacle in and of itself. Also, you have the star seeker of the last Quidditch World Cup. He will play against the Boy-Who-Lived, the youngest seeker of the century to play in semi-official capacity in the world. If you sold tickets to the games ten sickles per attendee, you would raise enough money to build a new Quidditch pitch for Hogwarts. Or a new wing for St. Mungo's. Hell, why not have the winning team play against a professional team? I'm sure one of the League teams would love to raise their fan-base by playing against me or Krum for charity. Why not have each team design their own uniforms and sign them so fans can buy the merchandise for charity? Can you imagine how much money we can raise if you auction off a jersey signed by Krum and me? Or how much a snitch caught by the winner of our match would go for?"

Harry took a deep breath and let the tension leave his body, only now aware of the silence of Great Hall. "If you handle this right, Headmaster, you can create additional resources to do as you please."

Dumbledore looked at the hopeful faces of Harry and almost every other student in the hall. Then he turned to Madame Maxime and Karkaroff, both of whom nodded their consent, before he looked back at Harry and smiled. "Very well, then. How about you gather the other champions after dinner and meet us in my office to discuss this further? I'll ask Ludo and Barty to join us."

Harry basked in the cheers of the Great Hall and smiled back. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"You are welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile before his face turned serious. "But be warned, I expect you to take charge of this tournament. I will merely be there to support you while you deal with the details. It will be you who handles everything that comes up, scheduling, recruiting, ticket sales, sponsorships. Everything."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise and not a little nervousness before he pushed them aside and nodded. "Not a problem. I have Hermione. I'm sure she'll do an even better job than your deputy could," Harry said with a wink before he turned to the said deputy. "No offence, Professor.

The Headmaster chuckled while McGonagall merely smiled. "None taken, Mr. Potter. I'll leave you in the capable hands of Miss Granger, who is coincidentally standing right behind you with a fuming expression."

Harry stiffened and screamed 'oh, shit' inwardly. He turned around with a puppy-eyed look. "Hermione, my best friend, the brightest and most beautiful witch of her age! I humbly beg your help for this enormous trouble I once again put myself in," he announced grandly while bowing.

Hermione smiled serenely. "Oh, I'll help you. Then I will murder you in your sleep in revenge of the all the time I'll miss with this harebrained scheme of yours."

Harry gulped, nervous not because of Hermione's words but because of the calm, serene way she said them. "You are the bestest friend anyone can ever have and I'll be forever in your debt if you'd accompany me to the Yule Ball?" he asked weakly.

Hermione's surprise was only momentary. "Oh, you will take me. You will wear something nice and you will dance all night long with zero complaints," she told him with a nod. "And you will buy me books. Lots and lots of books."

"I'll build you a personal library to rival the Library of Alexandria," Harry offered.

The brown-eyed girl rolled her brown eyes at Harry's exaggeration. "Deal. Now, let's go eat before Ron finishes all the food." She turned to look at the red-head and seeing the way he was eating, added, "in Scotland."

Harry chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder. "Ron loves his food."

"I hope I can find a husband who can love me as much as Ron loves food," Hermione joked, shaking her head at the spectacle their friend was making.

"Or as much as you love your books?" Harry grinned as they walked towards their friend.

"You are not out of the doghouse, mister."

Harry's grin couldn't leave his face faster. I will pay for this for a long time.