As it often does at Hogwarts, life moved on. Harry's sexuality was hot gossip for a week or so, but the Easter holidays began and half the school went home, and the next big topic of conversation overshadowed it, and Harry went back to his usual level of being stared at between classes. There were still a couple of persistent boys trying to flirt with him, but Harry was getting pretty good at ignoring them.
Rita Skeeter tried to fight back with an article about Harry trying to seduce Cedric away from Cho, but it was so laughably pathetic it didn't even register. The woman had lost her edge, and while Harry had no doubt she'd snoop around for some other angle to work, he'd beat her in this particular round. He just wished he was closer to figuring out how she got her information.
Luckily, Draco made a lot more headway on that than he did.
"Between you and the Weasley twins, I'm getting far too used to being manhandled into passageways," Harry remarked when Draco dragged him behind a tapestry. The blond gave him an odd look.
"Why are the Weasley twins manhandling you into passageways?" He shook his head, getting back on track. "Never mind. I have information for you about Skeeter."
Harry sobered up immediately. "What's she done now?"
Draco smirked triumphantly. "Seems your godfather isn't the only unregistered animagus we know," he drawled. It took a minute for Harry to connect the dots.
"No. Really? What's her form?"
"A beetle," Draco told him. "I found out from Crabbe and Goyle; it's how she got quotes from them for the whole Hagrid article. Pansy always met her down in Hogsmeade, but I suppose she thought the boys were too thick to tell anyone about her animagus form. Tiny little thing like that, she could get into all kinds of places."
No one would pay attention to a beetle on a wall — or in their hair. He remembered Viktor brushing the bug from Hermione's hair after the second task. That must have been how she got the information about the pair of them! "That's sort-of brilliant," he admitted. "But definitely illegal, right?"
"Maybe not Azkaban-level illegal, with her contacts," Draco said, "but if it gets out she'll never be trusted to write another article for any reputable publication. She'll be ruined."
"Oh, what a shame," Harry said sarcastically, grinning. He leaned forward to kiss Draco quickly. "I need to go write to my lawyer. You're the best!" Before he could run away, Draco grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him in for a proper kiss.
"Don't you forget it," he murmured, letting Harry go with a smirk.
It took a minute for Harry to remind his legs how to work before he could leave.
.-.-.
Easter break passed in a blur of homework, spell practice and avoiding Ron and Hermione, for Harry. Due to the tournament, he was exempt from his exams, but that didn't mean he was exempt from all the work that accompanied them. Harry didn't mind, really; it was good for him to test his skills after the year's studying, and it was nice being able to do it with the knowledge that he wasn't going to be tested on it all. He got his work done early, and spent the rest of the break researching spells that might come in handy for whatever the final task turned out to be.
Finally, on May 24th, Harry was told to meet the rest of the champions and Ludo Bagman by the quidditch pitch at 9pm sharp. He bumped into Cedric in the Entrance Hall on the way down, and fell into step beside him. "What do you think it'll be?" he asked, shivering a little as they walked out into the evening air.
"Who knows. I was talking to Fleur the other day, she reckons it'll be some sort of underground tunnel system." Cedric shrugged, and Harry contemplated the prospect.
"As long as we can still use the quidditch pitch by next year, I don't really care." Cedric made a firm noise of agreement.
The pitch had been off-limits since the second task, and when the two boys walked through a gap in the stands, Harry's jaw dropped. "Our pitch!" Where the smooth lawn had once been was a series of low hedges criss-crossing all over the surface, about three feet high.
"Hello, there!" Bagman was at the centre of the pitch with Viktor and Fleur, waving cheerfully. "Come on over!"
Climbing over the hedges, Harry and Cedric joined the others, staring around in horror. "What've you done to our pitch?"
"Isn't it brilliant? Give it a month, Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high!" Bagman enthused, his expression faltering when he saw the indignant looks on the two Hogwarts students' faces. "It'll all be back to normal by the summer, of course! Not to worry. Now, can anyone tell me what we're making here?" He asked as if they were a class of toddlers, and got four unimpressed expressions in reply.
"Maze," Viktor said eventually, and Bagman beamed.
"Exactly that, Mr Krum! The third task is really quite straightforward; the Triwizard Cup will be placed in the centre of the maze. The first champion to touch it will be the winner."
"We seemply 'ave to get through ze maze?" Fleur asked, looking down at the hedges around them.
"Well, there will be obstacles, of course," Bagman said, looking quite pleased about it. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures; there'll be spells to break, all that sort of thing. We can't make it too easy on you!"
He went on to explain the specifics, how they would go in by order of points, and beamed at them when he finished, rocking on his toes. "Should be fun, eh?"
None of the champions looked like they agreed with the assessment, but they all nodded politely. Bagman deflated at their lack of enthusiasm. "Right. Well. If you've not got any questions, we should head up to the castle; getting a bit chilly out here!"
They all turned to leave, clambering over the hedges, and Viktor sidled up beside Harry when they left the stands. "May I talk to you for a minute? Alone?" he asked quietly, his dark brows furrowed.
"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed, perplexed. He waved off Bagman's concerns and followed Viktor away from the rest of the group, heading towards the edge of the forest. "Is everything alright?"
"It is Hermione," Viktor sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "Ever since the second task, she has been… distant. She spends less time in the library, and I vonder if it is because of me?" "Oh." Harry tried to keep his face blank, wondering what the hell he could say in the face of that. "Viktor, I… it's probably just because of exams, mate. Hermione always gets a bit single-minded when it comes to academics. She's probably just too busy studying in her room to go down to the library. She doesn't like it when it gets as busy in there as it does during exam season." He hoped it was just that. Hoped it didn't have anything to do with him, or Dumbledore.
"You do not think it is because of that Skeeter voman's article? And the pus? If I haff come on too strong, been too forward…" Viktor looked distressed, and Harry clapped him on the shoulder.
"I don't think it's that," he assured, wishing he could be as confident as he sounded. "No one really remembers the article after mine came out. Just give her a bit of space while she studies, yeah?" He eyed the Bulgarian boy in consideration. "You really like her, don't you?"
"Ve do not get girls like her in Bulgaria," Viktor said, a smile tugging at his lips. "I am not blind; I know she does not haff the same feelings for me that I do her. But… I vould still like to end this vell ven I leave here."
Part of Harry was glad, that Viktor seemed to realise that Hermione was just biding her time while Ron got his head out of his arse, but it still made a pang of sadness rise in his chest. Viktor deserved better.
He opened his mouth to assure the other seeker that Hermione would be alright, when something moved in the trees behind them. He grabbed Viktor by the arm on instinct and pulled him away, raising his wand. "Vat is it?"
Harry shook his head, keeping his eyes peeled.
The interaction that followed was one of the most bizarre moments of Harry's life, and that said a lot. Viktor was wide-eyed when Harry declared he was going to get Dumbledore. "Don't leave me here vith him!" he yelped, gesturing to the babbling Mr Crouch. Harry grimaced.
"I don't really have a choice. I'll be right back!" He turned and sprinted towards the castle, only realising once he reached the stone gargoyle that he had no idea what the password was these days. "Open up, please!" he begged, nudging with his magic, hoping the castle would help him out. "It's important! I need to see Dumbledore!"
The hidden staircase revealed itself, but not because of anything Harry did. Snape stared at him from the stairwell, dark eyes incredulous. "Potter? What's the matter?" He pulled his wand, doing a discreet scan of Harry's magic, but Harry didn't have time to be thankful.
"I need Dumbledore. It's Mr Crouch," he blurted, watching Snape's eyebrows rise. "He's by the forest, I left him with Viktor — he's gone mad! Keeps talking about his son, and Voldemort, and says he needs to speak to Dumbledore, says he's done something terrible."
Snape's gaze sharpened, and he stepped out into the corridor. "By the forest, you say?" Harry nodded. "The headmaster is in his office. I will aid Mr Krum." With that, Snape disappeared, and Harry hurried up the stairs. Dumbledore was sat behind his desk, and he smiled cheerily at Harry's entrance.
"Mr Potter! What an unexpected pleasure. Is everything alright?"
"I need you to come with me," Harry urged. "It's Mr Crouch, he's by the forest. I think he's gone mad. He wants to speak with you."
Dumbledore rose to his feet immediately, his smile dropping. "Lead the way."
As Harry hurried back down to the Entrance Hall, he explained what had happened the best he could. Striding out into the darkened grounds, they both picked up the pace when they saw the glow of wandlight by the edge of the trees. Snape was there waiting, and at his feet was— "Viktor!" Harry's heart leapt to his throat, and Snape shook his head.
"Merely Stunned," he assured, his face sharp in the light from his wand. "No sign of Crouch, Headmaster. Should I go look for him?"
"No, stay here." Dumbledore murmured something, and a streak of silver — a Patronus — shot off towards Hagrid's hut. "Harry, tell me everything you can remember Mr Crouch saying."
"Shouldn't we go get Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked, eyes still fixed on Viktor's unconscious form.
"No need." Dumbledore revived Viktor himself, and sent Hagrid to fetch Karkaroff. Moody appeared — how he knew something was going on, Harry didn't ask, but Dumbledore didn't look surprised to see him. The next thing Harry knew, Karkaroff was convinced it was all some sort of plot to have Hogwarts win the tournament, Moody was off into the woods in search of Crouch, and Snape was escorting Harry up to Gryffindor Tower.
Harry didn't dare talk to the Potions Master, not with so many portraits on the walls. Heart still pounding, he followed the man through the corridors, still trying to process the events of the last half hour. "Stay in the tower," Snape instructed once they reached the portrait entrance. "Tell no one what you saw tonight. There's enough trouble as it is without rumours spreading. Perhaps it's best if you go to bed early." He gave Harry a pointed look, making it very clear that while he shouldn't tell any of his fellow students, there were two people who definitely needed to know what had just happened.
"Yes, sir." Harry gave the password and stepped inside the common room, blinking at the number of people still up and about. It felt like it had been hours since he'd gone down to the quidditch pitch, but it wasn't even ten yet.
"Alright, Harry?" Fred called from the sofa by the fire, grinning. "What's the third task, then?"
"It's a maze," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Big hedge maze, over on the quidditch pitch. I guess they're gonna fill it with creatures and spells and stuff. The Cup'll be in the middle, and whoever gets there first wins."
"Wicked," the twins murmured.
"You okay? You're looking a bit pale." That was Ginny, her brown eyes concerned. Harry forced a smile.
"Yeah, just a long day. Lots to think about. Think I'll just go up to bed."
The three Weasleys were clearly concerned about him, but didn't question it when he went up to his dorm, kicking off his shoes and squirrelling himself away in bed behind heavily warded drapes. He pulled out the mirror, speaking Sirius' name.
"Hiya, pup! What's wrong?" Sirius' grin dropped when he got a proper look at Harry's face, and Remus squeezed in beside him, looking worried.
Harry told them all about Crouch and Viktor, watching them grow graver and graver. When he was finished, Sirius swore.
"This just gets better and better," he muttered.
"I don't understand," Harry said helplessly. "How does Crouch know Voldemort's getting stronger? And why did he keep talking about his son? Who is his son, anyway?"
"Crouch's son was a convicted Death Eater," Remus explained patiently. "Sent to Azkaban at the end of the first war by Crouch himself. He died, about a year or so in; couldn't handle the dementors, I suppose."
Harry gaped. "He sent his own son to Azkaban?" Sirius was hollow-eyed, as he was whenever anyone mentioned the prison.
"His wife died soon after. She took a turn as soon as he was locked up. Grief, they say," he said quietly. "Crouch has always been firm in his hatred for dark wizards. Sounds like one of them might've got to him at last. Or he just cracked under the guilt."
"But he's been in and out of Hogwarts for ages. I see him on the map all the time." Always wandering about in the late evenings, or sometimes in the middle of the day. "If… Percy said he's been out of the office for a while. How come he's still visiting Hogwarts, if he's been sick?"
Remus and Sirius shared a look. "It's possible he's been looking for signs of darkness at the school," Remus said eventually. "What with Karkaroff about. And Merlin knows plenty of people still don't trust Severus." He scowled briefly. "But if his mind has been going this whole time, who knows what he's been after. Are you sure it's him, Harry?"
"How many 'Bartemius Crouch's can there be?" Harry retorted. Again, the pair shared a look, but they didn't say anything. Harry let out a frustrated noise. "None of this makes any sense."
"It's nothing you can do anything about, anyway," Sirius said, clearing his throat. "Just focus on the third task. A maze, you said?"
Harry had barely spared a thought for the maze all evening, and he slumped back against his pillows. "Yeah. Full of obstacles; they're a bit vague on the specifics. I suppose I'll just practice the usual defensive lot and hope for the best." All his training over the summer would be worth something; it was the most confident Harry had felt about a Triwizard task so far.
"All your little escapades at school will finally come in handy. Good experience, that," Sirius remarked with a grin. Harry snorted, remembering the obstacles in front of the Philosopher's Stone.
"Anything in particular you'd recommend I work on?" he asked, since they clearly weren't going to give him any more information about Crouch. He'd bet anything Snape would go to Seren Du as soon as he was able, and the three would talk about whatever it is they weren't telling Harry. He tried not to let it grate on him too much; he trusted them to tell him what he needed to know. If there was more information… Harry just hoped it wasn't relevant to him. People keeping things from him 'for his own good' tended to have a habit of backfiring in spectacular ways.
Conversation turned to spellwork, and by the time Harry let the pair go to bed, he was feeling a lot calmer. Still utterly confused by the whole Crouch situation, but at least people other than Dumbledore were aware of it.
.-.-.-.
Once Harry had sent a letter to Mrs Frobisher explaining Rita Skeeter's secret animagus form, it had slipped from his mind entirely in favour of all the other things he had to worry about. As such, he was surprised when three people in dark grey robes burst into the Great Hall one lunchtime, their wands raised. Harry's wand was in his hand before he could even think about it, but Neville gripped his shoulder.
"They're aurors," he breathed. Now Harry looked closer, he could see the Ministry crest on their robes. The man in front, a muscular black man with a shiny bald head, strode up to the head table.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," he greeted, his baritone voice holding a hint of a Caribbean accent. "Apologies for the disturbance, but we have reason to believe there is an unregistered animagus hiding in this school." For one heart-stopping minute, Harry thought he was talking about Sirius. "May we have permission to check the hall?"
"Absolutely, Auror Shacklebolt," Dumbledore agreed, looking vaguely bemused by the intrusion. The auror nodded, then turned back to his colleagues, nodding sharply at them. Harry's gaze fell on the one female auror, and his eyebrows rose when he realised he recognised her. Her hair was ice blue and down past her shoulders this time, but she was Charlie's friend from the Quidditch Cup. As she walked past the Gryffindor table, she caught his eye, and winked.
The three aurors positioned themselves at the edges of the hall, their spell loud and clear in the silence hanging over the students. All of a sudden, a tiny black dot rising towards the door grew larger, until Rita Skeeter was immobilised in mid-air, a look of shock on her face. Several people gasped.
"Rita Skeeter, you are under arrest for trespassing, unlawful gathering of journalistic information, and the use of an unregistered animagus form," the bald auror declared, walking calmly towards the woman. "You have the right to an attorney, but please be aware, anything you say in the course of your arrest may be used as evidence in trial." With a wave of his wand, Skeeter was on her feet with her hands bound behind her back. Only then was she released from the Immobilising jinx, and her face turned an angry red.
"Injustice!" she screeched as the aurors dragged her from the hall. "You won't get away with this! I'll have all of you sacked, just you watch!" Her words grew faint as they left the hall and shut the door behind them, and there was a long silence, before Dumbledore clapped his hands together.
"Well, that was a break from our usual afternoon routine!" he said, as if it were some sort of organised performance piece. "However, I believe all of you have classes to be getting to soon. Eat up!"
That prompted a wave of chatter to flood the hall, everyone baffled by what had just happened.
"An animagus!" Hermione exclaimed. "That explains so much! No wonder she was able to overhear Viktor and I at the lake." Harry smirked to himself, turning back to his sandwich. "Aren't you surprised, Harry?" He looked up, meeting Hermione's gaze.
"I suppose," he agreed neutrally. Her brown eyes narrowed.
"Did you have something to do with all that?" she asked suspiciously. Harry put on his best innocent face.
"Me? Never!" Beside him, Neville snorted.
"You could try a little harder to be believable, mate," he advised. "Your lawyer finally rooted Skeeter out, did she?"
Harry kept silent, merely eating his lunch with a slightly satisfied smile, pointedly keeping his gaze away from the Slytherin table.
That was one problem sorted, at least.
.-.-.
With the third task only a few weeks away, and the rest of the school in panic-mode for their upcoming exams, Harry and the other three champions were about ready to be done with it all. As the third task was almost as much of a mystery as the first — they knew absolutely nothing about what they might face in the maze — the four could often be found hanging out in empty classrooms in their free time, going over spells that might be useful. It was probably a breach of the tournament rules to all be training together, but none of them really cared, and their friends all had better things to do.
After a lunchtime session practicing shield charms, Harry headed off towards Divination, already dreading the hot, perfumed fire that burned within the tower. Summer was well and truly beginning, and Trelawney didn't seem to have noticed, still wrapped in her layers of shawls. Harry felt lightheaded by the time he sat down; trying to stay awake during the lesson was going to be impossible. Even Parvati and Lavender were looking a little drowsy after the first ten minutes.
Harry tried his best to stay awake, but between the comfortable armchair, the heat and the dimmed lights, it was a lost cause.
It had been so long since his last dream of Voldemort that Harry almost forgot what it was like, but the dread seeped in as he found himself in a room with a familiar cold voice.
When Voldemort cast the Cruciatus curse on Wormtail, Harry felt it as if he was under the curse himself. He came to lying on the floor of the Divination classroom, his hands over his scar and his throat sore like he'd been screaming. Everyone was staring at him.
"What was it?" Trelawney pressed, her eyes even bigger than usual behind her glasses. "A premonition? An apparition? You have awoken your inner eye, Potter; tell me what you saw!"
Something had awoken, but it certainly wasn't Harry's inner eye. "Nothing," he lied, pulling himself into a sitting position. His hands were trembling. "Just dozed off. I have a headache."
"Your scar." Trelawney's voice was knowing. "You were clutching your scar."
Harry didn't need to look in a mirror to know the scar in question was red and inflamed, like it was fresh. "I think I'm going to go to the Hospital Wing."
Trelawney tried to call him back so he could delve deeper into the beyond, but Harry ignored her, and all the people staring at him. Shoving his things in his bag, he hurried down the ladder and set off down the corridor — not towards the Hospital Wing, but to the dungeons.
He knocked on the door of Snape's office, with no idea whether the man was teaching a class or not. Harry was in luck; the door opened, and Snape's dark eyes met his. "Shouldn't you be in class?"
Harry waited for Snape to lock and ward the office before he sat down, spilling everything he'd seen in his vision, watching Snape's lips grow thinner and thinner with every word.
"I've been Occluding!" he finished. "My shields are always up. I even have the wardstone from Draco! Why do I still get these dreams?" Harry wasn't sure why he was calling it a dream when they both knew what it truly was; a vision, a peek inside Voldemort's head. What Harry had seen had happened, in real time, somewhere in the country.
"I suspect because it is not Legilimency being used," Snape told him. "Whatever magic still resides in your scar, it evidently left you with a connection to the Dark Lord. Some sort of mental link. Now he's regaining his strength, his mind is seeking yours more frequently. Whether he knows he's doing it or not remains to be seen."
"So he's just pulling me into his head?" Harry asked, fear gripping his heart. "Will it happen every time I fall asleep while he's still awake?" How long could a person go without sleep?
"It's too soon to tell," Snape confessed. "I've never seen anything like this before."
"Great," Harry bit out. "So I just have to live with the possibility of getting randomly sucked into Voldemort's head every time I fall asleep. Fantastic."
"You said Wormtail had failed him somehow," Snape said, bringing him back on topic. "Was there any information as to how?"
"Someone's dead, who wasn't supposed to be," Harry recounted, trying to force the dream back into his mind. "Someone sent Voldemort an owl to tell him Wormtail's mistake had been fixed. So Wormtail must not be the only one who knows where Voldemort is. Also he wants to feed me to his snake." That was said with a shrug, fairly low in priority compared to the rest of his concerns. "Who d'you think the owl came from?"
"It could be a number of people," Snape murmured. "There are many Death Eaters who managed to escape judgement."
Harry bit his lip. There was still one thing he didn't understand. "Professor?" Snape looked up. "If… Voldemort shouldn't have a body, right? He was just that weird shadow thing when he left Quirrell's head. But… how did he hold the wand?"
"It has been a long time since the Dark Lord possessed Quirrell, Potter," Snape pointed out quietly. "With Wormtail aiding him, Merlin only knows what form he inhabits now." Harry's stomach churned. "Here, take this." He summoned a vial from his shelf and passed it to Harry, the label declaring it to be a Headache-Relieving potion. "It's no ordinary headache, but that should take the edge off. I suggest you go back to your dorm and check your Occlumency shields are as they should be. After an intrusion like that, I wouldn't be surprised to find them… rattled."
Harry downed the potion, grimacing at the taste. "Will you tell Remus?" he asked. Snape nodded. "Good. I… can I go back to sleep, or will it happen again?" the vision had left Harry wrung-out, and he was desperate for a nap.
"I imagine the connection only forms when the Dark Lord is feeling particularly strong emotions," Snape said. "As long as he is done… celebrating, you should be safe to sleep. If it happens again, call for Ceri and have her bring you to me."
"Yes, sir." Harry got to his feet, leaving the empty potion vial on the desk. "Thanks. I… yeah. Thanks." He almost thought about giving Snape a hug, desperate for some kind of contact after a vision like that, but he kept his hands at his sides. Their relationship wasn't there yet. He could probably persuade the twins to hug him without asking questions, they were good about that.
Harry left the dungeons, taking his time on the way up to Gryffindor Tower. On the third floor, he paused when he heard voices. "Terrible thing, terrible thing. So close to the end of the tournament, too!" It was Minister Fudge. "With any luck, we'll find him wandering the forest and pack him off to St Mungo's. Can't say I'm surprised he cracked, what with his personal history."
"I'm telling you, he's not in the forest." That was Moody, his familiar growl echoing through the corridor. "He got out of there awfully quickly for someone who's supposedly lost his mind."
"Gentlemen," Dumbledore cut in, "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all of this. Now, shall we?" They rounded the corner before Harry had a chance to hide, and he was left stood at the foot of the stairs, wide-eyed. "Harry. Shouldn't you be in class?"
"I came over a bit faint in Divination," Harry told him, looking sheepish. "Think I've been burning the candle at both ends, y'know, getting ready for the third task. Professor Trelawney sent me back to the tower for a rest."
"Don't overwork yourself, my boy!" Fudge said, looking impatient. "Come, Dumbledore; I have meetings after this one, you know!"
Dumbledore gave Harry one last searching look, then followed Fudge and Moody down the stairs. When they were gone, Harry let out a relieved breath, carrying on up to the Tower.
So even Fudge was involved in the search for Crouch now, hmm? He wondered if they would come up with anything.
.-.-.
By the next day, Harry's little fainting spell in Divination had been passed along to just about everyone in the school. General consensus was that the pressure of the tournament had made him crack. Harry didn't really care what people thought of him; he had bigger things to worry about.
Sneaking through the Transfiguration corridor under the cover of the cloak, Harry slipped into the classroom, getting quickly to work. He cleaned off the teacher's desk with a quick spell, setting his burden down in the centre. Another series of spells had soft balls of light floating around the ceiling, and two chairs brought up to the desk. Harry seated himself in one of the chairs, and waited.
He didn't have to wait long. The door eased open, and there was an intake of breath as Draco slipped inside. "What's all this, then?" he asked, looking about the room. Harry grinned.
"Happy birthday, Draco."
Draco moved closer, his eyes landing on the small cake on the desk, a single candle burning happily on top. "Where did that come from?"
"I asked Ceri to make it," Harry admitted. "Blueberry and white chocolate, your favourite. And— here." He reached over to pick up the wrapped parcel, thrusting it into Draco's hands. "I hope you like it."
Draco closed the gap between them, ignoring the second chair and straddling Harry's lap to kiss him softly. "And you say I'm the romantic one," he teased quietly, stroking Harry's cheek. The Gryffindor smiled.
"I've picked up a few tricks here and there."
Draco leant back just far enough to unwrap the present between them, revealing a plain wooden box. He opened it with a curious frown, brows rising at the rows of inkwells inside. "It's something the twins have been working on," Harry explained, as Draco picked up a bottle of dark green ink. "Password-protected ink. You set a password to the bottle, and it dries invisible. Whoever wants to read it needs to speak the password with their wand to the paper in order to reveal the message. I thought — things might be difficult, over the summer, for you to properly write to some of your friends. With your dad, and their parents. You can share the bottles around, that way you can write to each other without getting caught."
Draco was wide-eyed as he held the bottle up to the light. "Fascinating," he breathed, then glanced to Harry. "You really do think of everything, don't you?" He smiled fondly.
Harry began to insist that the twins had done all the real work, but Draco cut him off with a firm kiss, his free hand tangling in Harry's hair.
When they broke the kiss, Draco looked towards the little cake. "I suppose I'd better blow out my candle," he mused, still seemingly quite comfortable on Harry's lap. "Don't forget to make a wish," Harry added. Draco rolled his eyes, leaning over to blow the candle out neatly.
"I don't suppose you remembered to bring cutlery?"
Harry pulled a knife and two forks from his bag, and Draco cut the cake neatly in half. It was sized perfectly for two people, just as he'd requested. Ceri had outdone herself, and the pleased hum Draco let out at the first bite had Harry's trousers tightening uncomfortably. Draco ate his entire piece of cake perched on Harry's lap, and both of their trousers were feeling pretty snug by the time they were finished.
"What else do I get for my birthday?" Draco drawled, his eyes bright in the dim light of the room, fixed firmly on Harry's. Harry smirked, letting his hands wander.
"I'm sure I'll think of something suitable."
.-.-.-.
By the morning of the third task, everyone was too busy speculating over what might happen in the task to care about Harry's sanity, or lack thereof. The students would be having their last few exams that day, and the task would happen shortly after. So far, Harry had spent the exam periods with the other champions, sometimes practicing spells but mostly just lazing about being smug at their lack of exams. He was expecting to do so again, when McGonagall came to him at breakfast. "Potter, the champions are gathering in the chamber off the hall after breakfast."
"What surprise have they got for us now?" Harry asked with a grimace, wondering if there was going to be some unexpected extra layer of difficulty. They had to do the maze blindfolded, or something. McGonagall smiled slightly.
"You'll like this one, Mr Potter," was all she said before leaving the hall. Harry stared after her for a moment, then shrugged.
"Guess I'll see you later, then," he said to Neville, finishing off his orange juice and getting to his feet. "Good luck with History of Magic!"
Neville made a face and Harry laughed, heading towards the door to the side chamber. He met up with Cedric on the way over, and eyed him curiously. "Any idea what this is about?"
To his surprise, Cedric grinned at him. "You'll see." The Hufflepuff pushed the door open, sending Harry in first. He looked around the room; Amos Diggory was stood next to a pretty dark-haired woman, beaming proudly; over in a far corner were two dark-haired people who, judging by the man's nose, could only be Viktor's parents. Near them was a beautiful blonde woman, her hand securely wrapped around Gabrielle's — Fleur's little sister. And over by the fireplace…
"Surprise!" Bill Weasley strode forward, grabbing Harry in a hug. He was quickly followed by his mother.
"The champions are allowed to invite family to the final task," Mrs Weasley explained, kissing him on both cheeks. "Dumbledore thought you might like us to visit."
"Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off work," Bill volunteered. There was a squeal by the door as Fleur entered the room, immediately rushing over to her mother and sister with a babble of excited French. Harry noticed Bill's eyes following her as she passed them.
Harry wasn't sure what would've been worse; having no family to visit, or having the Dursleys at Hogwarts. The latter made him snicker to himself; that would be quite the sight. All the same, he was glad Mrs Weasley and Bill had volunteered, even if he wasn't quite sure how he felt about the Weasley matriarch these days. The only thing that would've been better was if Sirius and Remus could have been there.
"Merlin, it's weird being back," Bill told him, his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Haven't seen the place in years. Bet it hasn't changed much."
"It probably hasn't changed much since my day," Mrs Weasley agreed. "But still, it'd be nice to take a look around."
"Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?" Bill asked with a grin. Harry looked around; all of the other champions were in with their families now. Fleur's gaze kept slipping appreciatively towards Bill, even when Gabrielle tugged on her arm and said something in French. Harry smirked at the French champion, and she gave a pointed look at Bill in reply, her intention very obvious.
"Don't you want to meet the other champions first?" Harry offered, already walking towards the Delacour family. When he was a few feet away, Gabrielle darted away from her sister and wrapped her arms around his legs, beaming up at him.
"'Arry!" she greeted brightly. Harry bent down to kiss her cheeks in a proper French greeting.
"Bonjour, Gabrielle," he said, having learnt a very basic amount of both French and Bulgarian from the foreign champions in the time he was supposed to be preparing for the third task. "Ca va?"
She babbled back a sentence that Harry only caught a couple of words of, and Fleur laughed. "Zat might be a leetle past 'is learning, Gabrielle," she said teasingly, retrieving her sister. "'Arry, introduce me to your family, s'il te plait?"
"Fleur, this is Molly Weasley, and her eldest son, Bill," he introduced, knowing Fleur would connect the dots of the surname. Fleur greeted Mrs Weasley with a polite smile, and when she turned to Bill her eyes grew darker.
"Eet ees a pleasure to meet you," she said, her voice a little husky. Bill's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
"The pleasure's all mine." He took her hand, bowing over it with a kiss to the knuckles. Behind them, Fleur's mother giggled.
"As my daughter is otherwise occupied," she said amusedly, only a trace of an accent to her words, "I shall introduce myself. I am Apolline Delacour; you must be the young man who saved my Gabrielle."
"Harry Potter," he offered, bowing in greeting. "Your daughter is a fierce opponent, and an even more fierce friend."
"You flatter me, Mr Potter," Mrs Delacour replied, eyeing her daughter proudly. Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, didn't seem to know what to make of the blatant flirting going on in front of her. Fleur wasn't even using her veela charm; none of the other men in the room were looking twice at her. Bill seemed entirely smitten without it.
Harry eventually managed to drag Bill away from Fleur to introduce the pair to Viktor and his parents, though their English was far less fluent. And there was no need to introduce the final family; Amos Diggory gave Harry an assessing look as he approached. "There you are! Bet you're not feeling so full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?"
Cedric turned red. "Dad!" he snapped, shooting his father a scolding look. "Ignore him, Harry. He's been angry ever since Skeeter's first article about the tournament. Y'know, the one where she made out like you were the only Hogwarts champion?" That article felt like a lifetime ago. Amos scowled.
"Didn't bother to correct her, though, did you?" he pointed out sharply. Harry met his gaze without flinching.
"No, I just got her arrested," he retorted, voice cool. "Did you also happen to notice I was wearing a badge with your son's name on it in the pictures? Rita Skeeter's garbage is nothing to do with me."
Amos puffed up, getting ready to respond, but his wife put a hand on his arm and tugged him away with a furious whisper. Cedric gave an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Harry. He's… difficult."
Neither of Harry's interactions with Amos had been particularly great, but Harry waved it off, smiling. It wasn't Cedric's fault his dad was a bit of a dick. "It's alright. We're gonna go for a wander; see you at lunch?"
Saying goodbye to the others, Harry led the two Weasleys out into the now-empty Great Hall, listening as Bill began to reminisce about his Hogwarts days while they strolled the grounds. He asked after Percy, wondering how he was handling Crouch's disappearance. Apparently, not well.
The rest of the Weasley family were surprised to see their mother and brother when the trio returned for lunch, and Ginny threw herself at her big brother for a tight hug, shoving Harry out of the way so she could sit beside Bill. Harry merely scooted up closer to George.
He was surprised at how frosty Mrs Weasley turned when Hermione joined them, barely greeting the girl before turning back to her children. "Mum reads Witch Weekly," George murmured in Harry's ear. "But she doesn't read the Quibbler."
Harry grimaced, but didn't say anything. That wasn't a discussion he wanted to get into when he had the task facing him in a few hours.
"Hey, Mum," Bill cut in when lunch began to wind down. "Mind if I borrow Harry for a minute? Give him a bit of advice before the task? Man-to-man, y'know."
Mrs Weasley smiled and nodded, shooing them away. Bill led Harry with a hand on his shoulder out of the hall and into a small classroom, locking the door with an impressive set of wards. Harry supposed he was a curse-breaker. "I spoke to Charlie after the first task," Bill said, leaning against a nearby desk. "He told me everything. Merlin, Harry… I'm sorry about Mum."
"It's not your fault," Harry insisted automatically. "I'm… I'm trying not to think about it, to be honest. I think Ron and Hermione are under his thumb, too."
Bill didn't look surprised. "I had a feeling that might be the case. Bollocks. Well, you've got the rest of us Weasleys. Not sure where Dad stands on the matter, mind. Haven't really asked him, just in case." Harry was happy to let Mr Weasley remain oblivious, and said as much. "Now, like I said, I spoke to Gorrak back before Christmas. He mentioned a very unique case of dark magic residue on a high-profile client that he might be putting me to work on this summer. From your letter, can I assume that's you?"
"Bingo," Harry confirmed with a grimace. "Did Charlie tell you about the magic Gorrak already removed from me?" From the way Bill's lips pursed, Harry took that as a yes. "The scar is different; he said he'd never seen anything like it. It also turns out it gives me a direct link into Voldemort's head, so that's not great."
Bill's face turned horrified, and Harry gave him the cliff-notes of his visions from Voldemort. "Blimey, Harry," Bill murmured, shaking his head. "That's one hell of a curse residue. Mind if I give you a scan?"
With Harry's consent, Bill spent the next five minutes checking him over with various spells, muttering under his breath and writing things down in a little muggle notebook he pulled from his pocket. "I swear I've seen something like this before," he murmured, putting the notebook away. "The magic feels familiar, somehow. It's hard to explain," he added at Harry's bewildered look. "I'll look into it and hopefully get you some answers soon. That's not magic you want sitting on you any longer than it has to be."
"It's so mixed up with my core, it hardly feels like foreign magic, to be honest," Harry admitted, remembering how awful it felt when Dumbledore reapplied the Compulsion charm once he was aware of his core. Sure, if he poked at it it felt a little wonky, but otherwise the magic around his scar just felt like an extension of his own, which was a terrifying prospect.
"That's not unusual; it's been part of you for almost your whole life. It practically is yours, now." Bill hummed thoughtfully, then pocketed his wand, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Come on, then; let's get you back to Mum before she comes looking for us. You can take us up to Gryffindor, I'd love to say hello to the Fat Lady."
Harry and Bill returned to Mrs Weasley, and the three of them spent the afternoon touring the inside of the castle, finding the few things that had changed since they had been students. Harry was intrigued to hear about some of the old staff members Mrs Weasley had stories of; he hadn't realised she had been at the school before Hagrid worked there. Harry had always assumed Hagrid became groundskeeper as soon as he turned seventeen, since he never finished his schooling. Then again, he often forgot exactly how old Hagrid was to begin with. It was hard to judge age under all that beard.
Bill said nothing more about Harry's scar as the afternoon wore on, though Harry caught the curse-breaker giving him contemplative looks every now and then. Harry tried not to let it make him too anxious; there was nothing he could do about his scar, and Bill would surely find an answer soon.
He just had to get through the task.