Sorry this one took so long to get out, I had it written, I just needed to get it typed up and revised. I did this at one in the morning so please excuse any typos. Well, the main reason this took so long was because first I was studying for and taking my college finals, and then I have been working feverishly on dreads.

A friend and I are going to be vendors at an anime con nearby and I am nowhere near ready. So I wouldn't predict any more updates until mid July-ish. I might have another one up before that, We'll just have to see how much time I have.

How can I own Harry Potter when I don't even own a copy of the books? So, yeah, don't own it.

(Line)

No matter what else Harry might say about Vernon Dursley, he had to admit that his uncle was an intelligent man.

So when Harry came back to number four Privet Drive the summer after his third year and gave his family Sirius' threat, it worked for all of ten seconds.

Then Vernon realized that since he couldn't do magic during the summer, he couldn't get in contact with his criminal godfather, and since Harry had released Hedwig, giving her strict instruction not to come back until he was back at Hogwarts, before getting on the train, he was stranded.

It was then that Vernon remembered what Harry had done to Aunt Marge last summer.

Harry then received the beating of his life, Vernon carving up his back and sides with one of Petunia's good steak knives until he blacked out from blood loss.

Fortunately, Harry's magic had always had a mind of its own and tended to do as it wished, in this, and many other cases, it began to heal the boy at an extremely high speed.

So when Harry woke up, in his cupboard for the first time since that first letter from Hogwarts, all that was left of his injuries were copious amounts of dried blood and soreness. His ribs were sore, making him believe that at least one of them had been cracked or broken.

He was left in the cupboard for three weeks, Aunt Petunia coming by once a day to let him use the restroom, and they would shove sustenance through the door every once an awhile. Sometimes it would be bottled water, others an opened can of some unsavory vegetable or another.

By the end of the first month he had lost the weight he had gained over the school year. He was left with a collection of new scars and still tender ribs when the Weasleys came to pick him up for the Quidditch World Cup.

(Just a linebreak)

If there was one thing in the world that he loved with every fiber of his being, it was flying. When he was soaring through the skies he felt so safe, like nothing could touch him. The Durselys, Voldemort, Dumbledore,and all his problems stayed on the ground. All his worries, all his pain and sadness, just melted away to where an insatiable grin covered his face.

The numbers didn't matter so much when his feet were off the ground.

That's why he loved Quidditch so much. He didn't like watching as much as he adored playing but the world cup was amazing.

(Scene)

He was terrified, petrified, frozen to his seat. It was as if the gazes of a hundred Basilisks pierced his body at once as every person in the hall stared at him.

Dumbledore had just called his name.

The goblet of fire had spit out a fourth name for the Triwizard tournament and that tiny (damning) piece of paper had his name on it.

His.

Dumbledore had called his name.

Hermione shoved him, he stumbled out of his seat (when had he stood?) and into the main aisle. He began making his way towards the headmaster. He could hear the whispers all around him.

He was such a freak.

Who else could manage to be a fourth competitor in a Triwizard tournament.

He was completely terrified. He was only fourteen, how was he supposed to compete in a tournament for seventh years? The challenges were for older, and wiser students who had had four years longer to learn.

He was going to die.

Somewhere during this tournament, his Potter luck was going to run out and he was going to die.

'Dragons.' He thought. He had to fight a dragon.

Why on earth couldn't it have been another Cerberus? At least he knew how to get past those. Harry had shut himself in a broom cupboard to hyperventilate in private.

With Ron shunning him and Hermione trying to reason with the redhead, Harry was left alone most of the time.

'Dragons!' he thought again with a hysterical edge to his thoughts.

(Pay no attention to the words between the parentheses, this is just a linebreak)

'The answer is Spider!' The sphinx smirked, as if it knew something amusing that he didn't. "Why, yes. Yes it is, isn't it." And then it moved aside and let him run past.

(Here be a linebreak)

Running through the maze, his heart beating, his lung aching and his palms bleeding from where his nails kept digging into him. He was starting to get lightheaded, the stress from the tournament was costing him sleep and meals, leaving him the same weight as he had been at the beginning of the year.

Cedric racing him, then falling and oh god not one of Aragog's children! They cast the spell together and the monster was curling its legs up in death.

'Together.' They decided. They would both be champions and split the money and the fame. So they took it together and then the world was

Spinning.

"KILL THE SPARE!"

Green flash/Cedric falling/Sickening thud.

Tombstone and cauldron/Bone/Flesh/Blood.

Voldemort rising.

Dome of light and ghosts of the past (Please take my body back).

Grabbing the trophy and Cedric, (But it wasn't anymore) and spinningspinningspinning. Landing in front of the maze.

(linebreak)

Cliffhanger!

Well, I guess not really...

I decided that since I'd made you wait so long, you deserved the summer and the next year in one.

Tah-Dah!

So yeah, if you want to tell me how you liked this chapter or even hated this chapter, just press the nice button below and release your babble in my direction. It is marshmallow toasting season (as if one needs a time to roast marshmallows, psh.) so flames are also welcome.

Though I'm forced to ask, if you hate the story why have you kept reading this far into the story?

Farewell, beautiful people who have somehow stumbled onto my story. May a flaming meteor fall from the sky and into the genitals of someone you hate.

"Don't you DARE use party as a verb in my shop"~Dylan Moran, Black Books.