Fugitive Prince

Fugitive Prince

By March Madness

"Cook," I said, "dear Cook, if you and your brother are crazy, then so am I."

"We are not crazy," Cook said. "We are the voice of sanity in a crazy world.

"Where are your angels?" I asked. "Where are their feathers?"

Troubling a Star

, Madeleine L'Engle

Chapter XI

Harry exited the train, getting pushed and shoved along with the crowd heading up towards the castle. Some giant of a man was off to the side, swinging his lantern as he called out, "Firs' years over 'ere, firs' years over 'ere!" He wasn't a first year so he ignored the call, following the rest of the students as they headed towards a line of carriages. Harry glanced back to the half-giant, where he was directing all the first years onto small boats that would soon be heading out past the lake, and boarded one of the carriages.

And it happened to be his sore luck that one person already sitting there was none other than the Malfoy child.

Malfoy blinked in surprise than sneered. "I thought you said this was your first year here. Shouldn't you be riding in the boats?"

For a moment, Harry wanted to rewind his life to the point where he opened the door and just walked away, but he was determined not to let Malfoy get the best of him. "I said this was my first year, not that I was stupid," Harry replied in tense tones. "I do know how to read, and I have been home-schooled."

"Oh, trying to be a Slytherin?" Draco asked haughtily, raising an eyebrow. "With your heritage, you should go around being more Gryffindor."

Harry's face darkened and he entered the carriage. There were two insanely huge boys sitting opposite Draco, both wearing identical blank looks. "Move over," he ordered. They began to move, almost hopping at the tone of his voice.

"No," Draco shot back, lifting out a hand. The boys stopped, confused as to which order they should follow.

"I said move over," Harry repeated. "Now move. I won't say it again."

"What makes you think that you can just come up in here and begin ordering people around?" Draco asked angrily, redirecting the attention away from the two boys who looked caught between the two orders.

"It must be that fame thing you were talking about," Harry replied sarcastically. Then, catching himself, he sighed and looked to the two boys again. "Look, I just want a place to sit and this carriage is as good as any." This time his voice was soft but steely, as if subtly threatening them to disobey him. They scooted over, making room for Harry's slim form to sit and Draco didn't say a word about it.

The ride to Hogwarts was stuffy, indeed.

From the carriage, flying through the air, Harry watched as the last speckle of sun-drop faded, leaving behind only silver splatters for stars against the cool dark night. The lights of the castle far ahead called to him.

He had seen pictures of Hogwarts before, of the great castles with its many towers, many torrents, sitting on the edge of a cliff that lifted it to heights suitable for its greatness. He'd seen pictures of the lake sparkling with the moonlight, the Quidditch field flowing with brooms, the dungeons crawling with darkness. His mum had been a photo nut when she was younger and had never had enough pictures of her home-away-from-home, taking so many that it was possible to build a smaller but perfectly matching model of the magical castle with the moving photos. Most of the pictures were those of smiling children barely old enough to be called teens, of bright days and warm nights, of the things she had thought most important. Such pictures, pictures of a time of innocence, had always been so important to her.

As such, Harry had thought that as he got from the flying carriage, he wouldn't be surprised at the castle's appearance, that he might even be familiar with it. The scary part was that it was true. As soon as his foot stepped off, as his eyes took in the greatness of it all, he realized that he'd come home. Hogwarts was calling and now that he was here, it welcomed its son home.

Draco got out as well, his two lumbering followers trailing after. When he turned and saw Harry, staring at the castle, he rolled his eyes and said, "Are you coming or not?"

Harry shook his head slowly, letting the familiarity of it all settle away from him and set off to the castle.

The night was crowded, Harry thought, crowded with the feel of so many people. He had spent most of his life, save for the times when Leo was being interviewed or when he had gone to a city for a brief stay, with no more than ten people nearby at one time. Even as a child, he'd been brought up thinking that the world was small with very few people total. Now, with many hundreds pressing down on him, a catlike sense of exactly how near everyone was developed in Harry's head, turning him slightly claustrophobic.

"Harry? Where were you?" Ron came up from behind him. A girl with bushy hair but friendly face followed. "We looked for you on the train."

"You know Potter?" Draco asked, voice a condescending drawl.

Ron flushed and spoke against the boy, starting an argument while Harry pulled himself away, getting lost within the crowd once more of faces, of excitement. His breath caught and for a moment he felt like he was being invaded, trampled upon. The moment passed and Harry took in a deep breath, shaking his head clear of all fear and moving with the crowd, a small bubble of space unconsciously keeping the others from touching him.

They descended through the halls, talking loudly with familiar ghosts or paintings, trumping through the corridors guarded by empty suits of armors. The halls turned like a maze and the students, still talking and laughing, moved through it with an unconcerned air, treading through paths too remembered to be lost. Harry kept to himself, keeping his robes together, arms at his side, fingering his wand while watching the halls go by.

Before they knew it, the group of students reached the Great Hall, divinely lit by its thousands of candles floating overhead. As if an invisible force divided them, the students filtered off, sitting at their designed tables while never breaking in their conversation. Harry followed the closest to a table of busting talk, where books appeared from bags as soon as they were seated and summer adventures became the main topic. Draco seemed to have forgotten the mysterious new student, already consumed in deep conversation over the summer's tidings with his darker friends. Ron had also become firmly inserted in his own group of friends, laughing and sharing their funs. The girl who had been beside him was there now, showing her deep friendship with Ron with her smiles and emotions. There also was another table beside the one he now sat at where the students proudly held their heads, discussing things too distant for Harry to catch.

The front doors, closed with the students' entrance, now boomed open again and a new group now entered, led by a strict professor. They wore on their faces expressions of anxiety and nervousness, hopefulness yet fright, mixtures of wide-eyed wonder and deep-throated dread. The professor led them down the middle of the room, walking with such speed that the young students struggled to keep up, and stopped at the front of the room. She murmured some last-minute instruction, motioning to the parchment in her hand and the dingy hat place on the stool sitting beside her.

The hat straightened and a rip in its seams opened, erupting in a song of explanation that delighted the students. Harry, sitting at the back end of his table, couldn't hear it over the conversation of students still going on.

"The Sorting," a girl beside Harry whispered. "I hope we get some new Ravenclaw girls."

"Quiet," her friend hissed. "I remember getting sorted last year and it was terrifying if anything."

"Jessica Adams," the professor called out, reading the name off her parchment. A frightened little girl, looking younger than her eleven years, stumbled forward, nearly tripping on her robes and the hall erupted in laughter. Harry frowned. Was it customary to laugh at another's fall? He looked up to her and offered her a brief but comforting smile, full of the compassion he felt and, for a moment, she looked back at him and smiled back. When she reached the stool, it was with a straight back.

The Sorting Hat sat on her head for a few seconds before calling out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

And so the minutes passed, each new student getting sorted into his or her new house and each new house welcoming that student with a loud cheer, as if celebrating a victory over the stealing away of that particular student from the house he or she should have been in. None of the others tripped or stumbled, small respite for Harry.

The professor, after the sorting of the last student, nodded her head in satisfaction and lifted the Sorting Hat to move it away.

"One moment, Professor McGonagall," a wise looking elder, sitting in the middle of the professors' table interrupted her. "It seems that we still have a student needing to be sorted.

Dumbledore, Harry identified. Albus Dumbledore, head of the school. Dumbledore looked around and locked eyes with Harry, who stood as McGonagall looked around in mild confusion. Dumbledore tipped his head in a small acknowledging bow as whispers erupted across the room like wildfire. "Harry Potter, would you come up here please?"

Harry started forward, ignoring the whispers but giving a small nod when Ron waved at him, when Ginny caught his eye, when Draco smirked. He walked down the middle of the room, following the first years' path between the tables, aware but not concerned with the eyes trailing after him.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said in greeting. "This is the Sorting Hat. All you do is place it on your head and it will decide which house you belong in." Rather than tell her that living with Sirius and Remus for the past few years had given him a better-than-basic knowledge of Hogwarts, Harry simply nodded in thanks for the explanation and sat on the stool, holding the hat in one hand.

"Now I'm aware that you are older than the usual, but the Sorting Hat should have no trouble with you," McGonagall added in her final words. "So go on, put it on your head." And so Harry did.

"Well, look what we have here," the Sorting Hat began. "Looks like you were a little late. I haven't sorted anyone your age in quite awhile."

Harry tried to look up at the hat on his head. 'Uh...'

"Oh, don't worry, it doesn't mean that you can't be sorted," the hat seemed to chuckle. "It'll just take a bit more imagination."

'Imagination?' Harry's question was answered when his view of the Great Hall was suddenly frozen.

"Let's see if you have what it takes to be a Gryffindor," the hat was muttering to itself and the Great Hall was replaced with swirls and swirls of pictures, pictures from Harry's memories flashing too fact for him to place. But he could sense a pattern: the memories were starting from the present date and slowly regressing, almost like his mind was rewinding itself. The chaos froze, and Harry was startled to realize that he was watching as he was born. "Yes, it's best if we start from the beginning," the hat answered to Harry's surprise.

From then on, Harry's life was in fast-forward, occasionally stopping when the hat decided that he'd shown courage, bravery, or anything else that would make him a perfect Gryffindor. When they reached the present moment, the Great Hall was unfrozen and Harry blinked.

"Now I'm aware that you are older than the usual," she was saying, repeating her earlier words, "but the Sorting Hat should have no trouble with you." Harry looked around and saw the hall watching him with some interest. The hat, previously on his head, now sat with a suspicious innocence in his lap. He glanced over and saw Dumbledore watching with the same interest hidden in his twinkling blue eyes. "So go on, put it on your head." Harry, brows wrinkled in confusion at the repeating scene, did as he was told.

"Very good, very good," Harry caught the hat muttering muttered to itself as he placed it back on his head and the scene froze again. "But what about Hufflepuff?"

The trip was repeated four times altogether, each time with the hat starting by looking for a different trait starting with those of a Gryffindor and ending with Slytherin. "We have to go in order," it replied when Harry asked why it didn't just do Gryffindor and Slytherin, the two houses he seemed to have the most traits of. "Or else it wouldn't be fair."

For the last time, Harry's life was in fast-forward and he was beginning to feel dizzy but enlightened, having seen his life a total of four times from a spectator's view. "I think that I have my choice," the hat's voice echoed one last time in his head as it reached the Great Hall again. Harry closed his eyes to fight the dizziness.

When he blinked his eyes open, he saw McGonagall standing over him once more. "So go on, put it on your head," she ordered, not knowing that she'd already gave that exact order before.

The hat was lying in his lap, the hall was watching him, and Harry very reluctantly brought the hat back up to his head.

But, unlike before, all it did was take in a great breath and shout out, "GRYFFINDOR!" The hall cheered and Harry made his way back down to the Gryffindor table, following the way of those newly sorted.

"Harry," Ron called over the noise. "Harry, come sit over here!"

Harry nodded slightly and passed by his now-settling housemates to sit beside the redhead.

"Harry, this is Hermione," Ron introduced, gesturing to the bushy-haired girl beside him. She smiled at him. "And this is Dean, Seamus, and Neville." The three boys, sitting near and around, raised their faces at the call of their names and nodded in acknowledgement before falling back into a quiet discussion of their own. "They're the guys in our year. Over there's Lavender and Parvati, also in our year." For the next few minutes, Ron listed off the name of every Gryffindor around as if he truly believed Harry would remember each name.

He only stopped when Dumbledore, after McGonagall moved the Sorting Hat back to wherever it belonged, stood and lifted a hand for silence. The hall became silent. "Good evening, students, and welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. The first for some, yet the last for others, but I greet all with the same welcome." There was a loud cheering, some of the older students standing up and punching the air.

The headmaster smiled and cleared his throat, letting the noise die down on its own. "There is, along with the regular announcements, a very special announcement that I think shall wait until the end of dinner. Until then, enjoy your meal and your year here at Hogwarts." He clapped his hands and sat as food fit for kings appeared on the table to the astonished starts of the first years and the hungry grins of the older years.

"And that's Lee, the twins' best friend-"

"Ron, it's dinner time," Hermione chided with a laugh. "Can't you wait? Besides, I hardly think Harry's going to remember every name, are you Harry?" Ron flushed for a moment than chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess you're right."

"Did you know that those two used to hate each other's guts?" Ginny whispered loudly, making the two in question blush. "Couldn't stand to be around each other!"

"Ginny!" Hermione hissed in warning but the fourteen-year old merely laughed and waved the older girl away.

Harry looked up, interested. "Truly?" he asked, glancing between Ron and Hermione.

Ginny nodded fervently. "Yes. The screams used to echo all over Hogwarts when they fought their first year. It got better the next year, but then when they discovered that Scabbers was really... really Peter Pettigrew, Ron and Hermione became best friends."

"I heard about that," Harry commented quietly, almost so quietly that those around him had to lean in to hear him. "When did...?"

"Well," Ron scratched the back of his neck, blushing in pleased embarrassment as the attention of those nearby turned to him to hear the well loved story. He pushed away his plate and placed his elbows on the table, hunching over in a very dramatic pose. "It was on a Saturday night, two years back, just before a Hogsmeade trip and I was having trouble sleeping. So I got up and went downstairs to sit down, sort out my thoughts."

As if that was his cue, Seamus snorted into his drink. "Right." The attention turned to him as the funnyman whose breaks added life to the story. "What he really wanted to do was find a place to cry in peace. See, he and Hermione had just had another fight, just as Ron was beginning to realize that he carried feelings for-"

"Whatever the reason," Ron interrupted quickly to the chuckles of the listeners, loving every moment of it. "I was down in the Common Rooms, just sitting."

"He carried deep feelings for Hermione," Seamus added. Ron threw a look at the teen and Seamus pretended to have been stabbed in the heart, gasping and falling to the floor before getting up to the table's laughs.

"Anyway," Ron continued with an annoyed tone of voice but he was smiling and laughing with the rest of them, "I was down in the Common Rooms. Being very quiet, I might add."

"He was not," Hermione objected. "I heard him crying."

"That's only because you were coming down to cry too," Ron shot back. "Besides, I wasn't crying."

"Right," Hermione rolled her eyes to the hoots of their friends. "I came down and saw Ron crying so I went over there and we sorted things out."

"We made out," Ron whispered loudly, winking in conspiracy and Hermione whacked him upside the head, sparking more laughter. Other tables now turned to join in with the fun as the couple continued the retelling. "But, after we made out, we decided it would be nice to just stay there for the rest of the night."

"He had fallen asleep like the lazy git he is," Hermione corrected self-righteously, holding her head high to the giggles of her friends. "And he was leaning on me. I was feeling too nice to just get up and let him fall to the floor, so I ended up having to stay-"

"You sure you weren't just too comfy?" one girl asked. "Sleeping under him and all?" Hermione blushed prettily and the girl disappeared before the school's smartest witch figured out who she was and cursed her good. The laughing grew.

"Continuing on with the story," Ron went on, throwing a comforting arm over Hermione's shoulder. "We were there, sleeping, when I woke up because there was something making a lot of noise. I shook 'Mione awake and we stayed still for a long time."

"It felt like forever," Hermione agreed. "Neither of us wanted to move. I thought it was the twins, sneaking around like always, and certainly didn't want to get caught in such a... compromising position," she ended delicately, blushing again.

"Right," several people called out.

"You act like we're scary," Fred said, acting hurt. "Besides, we'd already been spreading rumors about you two for as long as you've been fighting. Everyone already believed you two had nightly romps in the fields of love. Real evidence wouldn't have changed much."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise and Ron whispered loudly, "You two better run before she grabs her wand!" The twins winked and waggled their eyebrows before shooting across the hall as Hermione stood, pitching around her robes in search of her wand.

She sat back down, flushed to the tips, but was laughing in amusement, not the least bit angered by the twins' tactics.

"After about a half hour's wait," Ron continued when the noise calmed back down.

"Five minutes, actually."

"Whatever, after awhile, just when we were about to get up..." Ron paused for suspense and even those who knew the story like the back of their hands tensed in wait, muscles taunt in anxiety. "After awhile... a man came down. Right out of my room, too! Fat, short man, moving like he hadn't had two legs in a long time, like he had forgotten how to walk-"

"I recognized him immediately," Hermione informed their caught listeners. "You'd have to be blind not to. His face is on every wanted poster, the reward for capture one of the highest. Peter Pettigrew it was!"

Harry tensed but hid it by taking a roll and tearing it up. No one noticed.

"If it was just me, I'd have screamed my head off," Ron admitted with a lowered head, grinning mouth. He squeezed Hermione's shoulders and pointed to her proudly. "But for Hermione here, I'd probably be dead. She kept a clear head the entire time. Well maybe not the entire time. I remember her asking me if there was anything we could throw to knock him out." He rolled his eyes and looked at Hermione, eyes admiring. "Honestly, I think sometimes she forgets she a witch."

Hermione smiled and pushed him away in mock indignation. "At least I remembered to bring my wand down with me." She looked up to everyone. "We nearly caught him. He was on the floor, tied up one minute but then gone! The Aurors have no idea exactly how, but the strangest thing is that after, a team of Aurors came around and place magical mice detectors all around the school." She shook her head in confusion. "Honestly, even if Hogwarts had a mouse problem--which we don't--I think the capture of a Dark Wizard more important that getting the rats out!" There were several sounds of agreement and a general sigh of satisfaction as the students made their way back to their seats, story over.

Ron and Hermione cuddled a bit before going back to dinner, making eyes at each other that left those around them in helpless fits of laughter.

Harry looked down into his lap, clenching his fists but his face was emotionless. So close. Had he been at Hogwarts, he'd have recognized Peter's animagus form immediately, having seen it in old pictures of his mum--but no, he ended that train of thought immediately. Dinner passed, leaving Harry unfilled as tension ate up his energy though he made no outside show of it.

Finally, Dumbledore stood as the last of the students finished eating, their plates clearing magically. He droned on a moment with the "usual" announcements, making the older population groan: restrictions, forbidden zones, promised punishments... When he finished, he smiled as though he shared a secret with the students and the room, begun to grow dull, picked back up its mantel of youth and life.

"Now, for the announcement you've all been waiting for: as of today, Hogwarts will be entering a contest." There were startled gasps but the hall was mostly silent, unless the sudden tension rising counted as a noise as it neatly vibrated at every chair. "Many of you remember last year's Triwizard Tournament, a test to see if countries could peacefully compete with one another. Less than two weeks ago, the Ministry of Magic in England declared the contest a success, even though our champion took second place to Viktor Krum of Bulgaria. The Ministries of Bulgaria and France repeated that declaration within days time of each other, and are now promoting a contest that will take the tournament up a step."

Dumbledore paused, blue eyes searching the room. "In the last two weeks, over forty countries across Europe have agreed to compete in a large scale Tournament." Before the noise, beginning to build up from the student body, became too loud, the headmaster stunned them by adding, "And over a hundred countries across the world have pledged to hold their own competitions, their own Tournaments."

There arose such a clamor as the hall had never heard before, the students excited beyond measure though few realized the true significance of the news. They didn't realize that, within the last few thousand years, there has never been in recorded history such a massive agreement worldwide. The Triwizard Tournament was closed down years before on the account of the rising tensions between countries as well as the dangerousness of the tasks. Some countries had even had their magical communities at war after a Tournament. Now, worldwide, the magical people were finally ready to commit themselves to a peaceful competition after last year's trial run, ready to work with those of foreign parties for a fun and invigorating time.

"You heard correctly," Dumbledore continued to the flat-out disbelief of some students. "Last Tuesday to be exact, the Ministries of the world gathered together in an unprecedented meeting to discuss fully the details of such large-scale competitions. Each Minister, however, has been magically sworn to secrecy so not even I can share the least detail of the competitions beyond the details they've already shared with us."

"At least that'll cut back on cheating," some student from the Hufflepuff table called out. Dumbledore smiled kindly at them.

"They're mad because last year, every champion knew about the first task but ours," Ron whispered in explanation to Harry. "See, the champions had to face down a nesting dragon, get past her, and grab a gold egg that was with the rest of her eggs. Cedric, last year's champion, had no idea what to do and nearly froze out there."

"If he had known and had been ready for it, we'd have won," Hermione added vengefully. The Gryffindors nearby nodded in silent agreement.

"The details I do know are this: the wizarding community, with all of the countries currently participating--and the numbers are growing daily--has been divided into seven sectors." With a wave of his wand, the lights went out and Dumbledore conjured up a large glowing globe to show what he meant. "The countries of South America will all compete against each other, as will those of North America. Those in Europe will compete against our countries, and Africa and Asia have similarly been named as regions. The many islands of the southwest Pacific Ocean have been grouped together with the continent of Australia to form the Oceania region, and the countries collectively known as the Middle East have formed their own region as well."

He waved his wand again, reliting the candles and erasing the glowing globe. His face suddenly grew serious. "As with last year, there is an age limit: seventh years only." To the groans, he raised an unforgiving hand. "This is only for your safety. The tasks that will occur this year will be... much more dangerous that those of last. I know only three, but they make me worry about the sanctity of this competition." Instead of concerning the students, his grave words only sparked excitement in the older seventh years.

"No, this is not going to be a game," he continued in his grave voice. "For those of you who wish to enter, I seriously ask that you consider exactly why you want to. The prize money, while great, is not worth the risk of serious injury. Pride may be a factor as well, but it better to have a wounded pride than to be maimed." His blue eyes sought out those of the eager seventh years, making some gulp and squirm while others stared back, stiff with pride and readiness to face their difficulties.

He cleared his throat and managed a kind smile, dissolving the room's tension. "Now, onto lighter matters," he joked, bringing out some chuckles. "Many of you remember Madame Maxine, headmistress of the French school, Beauxbatons." They nodded.

"Maxine?" Harry repeated in a whisper, sounding the name out on his tongue.

"The Ministers of Europe, gathered together, have decided that her school will be hosting the European Wizard Tournament." The room, during Dumbledore's speech, seemed to have gathered all its noise for it so erupted with voices. Students whispered excitedly with each other, talking of the French champion's boasts of her school's superiority over Hogwarts. Many of them felt that this was the opportunity to see the school first hand and correct her misguided presumption.

"The Ministers," Dumbledore explained, "felt that France was sufficient in the fact that it is a world center, renown for its mastery in the arts. And the fact that its school has been enlarged over the summer, able to fit many more students than any other school, helped with its choosing." His eyes twinkled good-naturedly.

Harry leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands forming a cup-like station to rest his chin on as he thought about the latest developments. During the war, Voldemort had had many troubles fighting against Great Britain. Alone, the country stood to face off the Dark Lord when all others had fallen. It had been a repeat-scenario of the muggles' World War II, especially considering the fact that the rest of the world was content to let Voldemort satisfy himself with Europe, too dimwitted to realize that after Britain fell and Europe collapsed, the dark wizard would come after the rest of the world. America had helped with hidden donations, secret fighters, and unseen reinforcements, perhaps being the reason Britain lasted so long alone. But of all the European world powers, France had been the first to fall.

While strong in the arts, France lacked any serious military-type training for its wizards. The British Aurors would often joke to each other that when Voldemort came to France, they fought him off with paintbrushes and stone chisels. The story often went that France boasted of its strength, of its ability to fight off any invader... yet its magical community was defeated after only a single week of fighting.

But, whenever one made fun of France's weakness, they were too willing to point out others that, instead of falling under Voldemort's wrath, joined him: Russia, Poland, Hungary, Bulgaria, Estonia--there were many. Going to France, only five years after it had managed to throw off Voldemort's dark cloud and rebuild itself... would be an interesting experience, indeed.

"We, as a school, will be journeying there in two weeks. For all of you under the age limit or who don't wish to enter, tours and travels around France should provide enough of a distraction to keep you from boredom. But those who wish to enter will be expected to stay on the school grounds at all times. We wouldn't want out champion to get lost in Paris after being chosen, now would we?"

The night was growing and Harry felt the tugging of sleep at his eyes. He silently wished the professor would hurry.

"Professor McGonagall will be standing in for me at times throughout the year when I need to be in France. Would you like to add anything, professor?" he asked, turning to direct the question to the Deputy Headmistress.

McGonagall stood, looking around the school's population as if she could already tell who would be Hogwarts's champion. "We will be staying at Beauxbatons for a single week before returning back to Hogwarts. While you are there, remember that you represent not only Hogwarts but the whole of the United Kingdoms." This comment looked to be directed to certain troublemakers--especially the twins, who grinned at the attention, winking. McGonagall frowned but didn't react further. "I would also like to say to whoever the champion is: do your best, but don't kill yourself trying to grab a golden egg from in front of a dragon foolishly, like a certain someone did last year."

Though the students laughed, McGonagall didn't look like she was joking. Her frown deepened and she sat down, turning the attention back to Dumbledore.

"Well said, professor," he said, dipping his head towards her. He looked at the students again. "I see that, for some of you, this has quickly turned into a fight against sleep. Before you are dismissed to bed, I'd like to ask that any further questions you have be directed to Professor McGonagall or myself. If we know the answer, we shall tell you but remember that this Wizard Tournament is a mystery on many fronts to us both."

He dipped his head towards the students. "Good night, and enjoy your first night back at Hogwarts."

*

"Can you imagine?" Hermione asked excitedly, leading along the group of trudging first years behind her, a Prefects badge shining brightly on her robes. "The whole world! How exciting!"

"Hermione, it's just a contest," Ron pointed out, hiding a yawn beneath his hand. "Just a contest. And for seventh years, like last year. Before you know it, we'll have come and gone from France, be back at Hogwarts, doing homework and forgetting all about it."

"Not if the twins get picked," Dean contradicted, walking behind them. Seamus and other older Gryffindors, ready to turn in, joined the first years. Everyone who wasn't ready to drop dead on his or her feet seemed to be tingling, almost floating with excitement. It was a welcome evening to end an exciting day, news still racing around everyone's skulls. "If they do, I'll bet five Galleons that you get Hermione to make posters or something, maybe even start a cheer."

Dean snorted behind him then raised his voice and cried out, "Go, Weasley, Go! Kick some French, German, Austrian, Russian-"

"We get it, we get it," Lavender protested from behind him but Dean kept on going.

"-Albania, Greek, Italian, Irish-"

"Three Galleons says he runs out of countries before he names them all," Seamus whispered to Neville, who, after a moment's thought, declared, "You're on!" and they shook.

"-Iceland, Polish, Turkish, Finnish-"

"Are nights always like this?" Harry asked delicately, not wanting to sound insulting.

Ginny rolled her eyes and declared, "Goodness, no! If they were, the whole school would be insane."

"-Spanish, Portugal, Romania, Swedish-"

"Then again," she added in a tone dripping with sarcasm. "Most of the school's already mad."

They tromped from the Great Hall and down a corridor, past several halls and continued going until Harry swore Hermione had merely forgotten the way and was simply leading them wherever her heart so desired. But then, she turned right in the Hogwarts's maze and led up a flight of stairs. When the stairs began moving with only half of the first years to the other side, Lee and the twins had jumped onto the moving staircase and swore to lead the stranded group back to the friendly zone, though it cost them their lives.

Ginny noted with no little humor that the stairs the twins had been stuck on now led towards the Slytherin's common rooms. Out of the enemy's lair and back to a friendly zone indeed.

Hermione, not wasting a moment, urged the remaining students not to worry (several first years looked at her like she was mad) and led up again towards a portrait of a very fat lady, watching them with an examining air.

"-Norway, Lithuanian, Estonian, Latvian-"

"This is the Fat Lady," Hermione introduced and Ron snickered. She whapped him playfully upside the head. "She's guarding the Gryffindor common rooms but all you need to do is give her the password and she'll move aside."

Harry watched the Fat Lady with interest. How could a portrait protect a sleeping area? One need only to threaten her sufficiently or remove her... but then again, the entrance was protected magically so there was no telling what such acts might do. Close the entrance off until help arrives? Seal the students inside with no way in or out? With magic, there was no real way to correctly guess the outcome of such wild situations.

"-Belgium, Danish, Macedonian, Czechoslovakian-"

"I think he's going to go all the way," a first year whispered.

"Naw," Seamus shook his head. "Dean used to go to Muggle School and I heard he failed geography."

"He failed?" Neville repeated, horrified. He looked back and forth between the now-struggling Dean and the smug Seamus. "You cheat!"

"-Ukrainian, Switzerland, Netherlands, Slovakian-"

"Usually," Hermione's voice continued in the background, being heard by Harry but not really being paid any other attention. She noticed the other students' wandering attention and cleared her throat noisily, gathering their slightly-abashed faces, and started over again. "Usually, the password changes once a month, in case of a leak. If you do get caught telling other houses the passwords-"

"You'll get smacked!" Seamus injected wildly.

"Seamus!" Hermione cried out. "That's not true."

But Seamus rubbed his hands together, glaring with a hilarious-but-threatening look at the first years who, dutifully, did their best to look frightened while holding back a fit of giggles. "Oh, yes it is. The day a Slytherin enters the common rooms is the day a first year gets sacrificed-"

"If you get caught sharing passwords," Hermione brushed Seamus aside, "you'll get fifty points taken away as well as a month's detention. And you won't be told the passwords for the rest of the year. Meaning you'll have to wait outside until someone lets you in."

"Mind you," Neville interrupted, sending a pleading look to Hermione to cut the bossy attitude off. "It's never actually happened to anyone before. Just, don't tell anyone the password and you'll be fine."

"Ahoy!" someone shouted from the bottom of the stairs. There was a mad rush as people ran over and looked down, ignoring Hermione's shrieks of the danger in hanging over the rail. Down, several floors below and climbing quickly with an almost urgent air, were the twins, Lee, and the group of first years left in their care. A few stories below them, climbing with a violent air, was a group of wet-looking Slytherins.

"Scourge me timbers, we be at the tower," Fred called out, faking a pirate accent, leading the pack and jumping two stairs at a time. He stopped and waved the weary but grinning first years up. "Up with ye, up with ye. Don't want the sharks bitin' at ye legs, now do ya?"

"Open the portrait!" George, Lee, and half the first years cried out.

"Get back here!" a Slytherin ordered. "You're not getting away this time, Weasleys!"

"Why, if it ain't Red Bottoms 'imself," Fred shouted, looking down at the red-faced Slytherin. "What'cha doin', climnin' me mountain?"

"Just you wait," the Slytherin promised, huffing and trying to catch up. "Wait 'til I catch you-"

"Hermione, what's the password?" Ron asked innocently, drawing the attention back to the Fat Lady.

Hermione looked flushed. "Oh yes. It's...um..."

"'Hermione!"

"Marmalade!" Hermione jerked in front of the portrait. "It's marmalade."

"Very good on bread," the Fat Lady replied as she swung open, showing the Gryffindor common rooms. The students rushed in as the twins' group barreled in behind them. Fred, still a few dozen feet away, gasped out in mock martyrdom.

"They're coming," he gasped, dramatically slowing. "Close the door--they must not get in!"

"What about you, Fred?" a first year who'd traveled with the twin on whatever prank Fred pulled asked.

"You can make it," another yelled and soon, the first years were chanting the phrase: "Come on, Fred. You can make it! Come on, Fred. You can make it!"

Fred, gathering strength from the chants, picked himself up and ran to the portrait, leaping in just as the Fat Lady swung shut. The first years erupted into a cheer, all coming up and patting Fred on the back, telling him how awesome he was and altogether engulfing him in a fit of hero-worship.

"Jeez," Ron rolled his eyes and looked away, faking disgust. At the portrait, pounding and the use of foul language could be heard as the Slytherin group reached the Fat Lady only to be turned away.

"-Croatia, Moldova, Andorra...uh, Finland-"

"You already said that!" Seamus shouted out in triumph.

"Not uh," Neville defended. "He said, uh, Bosnia! Not Finland."

"Don't try to cheat Neville," Lee advised. "Your eyebrow twitches when you lie."

"It does not," Neville protested but he brought up a hand to cover his eyebrows to the amusement of the other Gryffindors. More students trailed in, asking about the group of fuming Slytherins on the way down and cracking up when they heard the story.

The common rooms, decorated as they were in gold and red, sparked within Harry yet another sense of intimacy, of déjà vu. While the others slowed down, letting the night calm them with its sleepy touch, Harry wandered around the shimmering room, trying to recall whether he'd actually been there before... or if the familiarity was just a figment of his imagination. He wound around, letting his hands trail along the hanging draperies, the comfortable chairs, walking around to face the portraits or to warm his hands at the fire. The confidential feeling the room gave to him, comforting though it was, sparked within Harry a distinct uneasiness.

Why did Hogwarts feel like the home he lost years before, the home destroyed in the same attack that took his parents' lives?

"Harry?" Hermione noticed his thoughtful expression. "Something wrong?"

He gazed at the table with its set of wizard's chess, feeling something tugging at his heart and shook his head, hoarsely answering, "No."

Behind his back, he could feel Hermione exchanging a look with Ron and quickly said, "I'm heading down to the Owlery, to send a letter back home."

As he reached the door, Ron stood and announced that he'd be going too. "Need to tell mum about the tournament," he said in explanation, but couldn't reach Harry's eyes--a sure sign of lying. Hermione, too, remembered some important owl that desperately needed to be sent and invited herself to come along.

Harry shrugged, not truly caring.

"Harry..." Hermione faltered in her words as they walked along the school. Harry looked up to see her face torn in hesitation. "Do I... do I know you? Because it feels like we've met before."

"Yea, me too," Ron quickly agreed. "I mean, even that night you stayed at my house, it felt like we were old buddies. Course, I never met you before and everyone thought your parents were dark and all. It's all cleared up now, now that we know about Leonard."

Harry fought the urge to flinch at how easily the wizarding world excused their suspicion. "No, I don't think I've ever known you before," he answered Hermione in quick, slicing tones. Hermione bit her tongue and they reached the school's owlery in silence.

"Is that your owl?" Ron asked when Hedwig flew up, dark tips giving her a unique look. Ron's breath caught in admiration. "She's beautiful."

"Thanks," Harry replied softly, losing some of his formality at the compliment. "The dealer swore to me she was too old but she's so far proved herself reliable." Hedwig clucked in greeting, swooping down from her perch to land on Harry's outstretched arm. Harry looked her over and frowned.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, trying not to lose the fragile trust growing between the three.

"Nothing really... except," Harry held up one of Hedwig's wings. "Look. Before, only the very tips were black but now..." Now, the blackness was spreading like a disease, reaching to half-up the wing feathers.

"You don't think she's sick do you?" Ron stepped closer, examining the owl. Harry shook his head.

"I've never seen anything like it," Hermione whispered. "But it doesn't seem to be hurting her." She pursed her lips before adding, "I'll look it up, see what I can find."

Ron chuckled. "Have I forgotten to add that Hermione's our local genius?" he asked Harry. "If she doesn't know something, no student will. And her second home's the library where she spends more time than in the common rooms."

Hermione grinned proudly, taking Ron's joking tone as a compliment and Harry smiled softly. To his two new friends, it lit up his face like the sun in the sky. Before, he looked alone but not lonely, as if where everyone else yearned for human comfort he despised it, making him something more than human, something less than human. But when he smiled, his humanity showed itself to be greater than normal in the kind curves of his lips, the compassionate twinkle in his eyes.

Not noticing their stares, Harry removed a letter from his pocket, took out a quill and in gracefully spiraling letters, addressed the note to Leo. Then he tied the parchment to Hedwig's leg and lifted his arm, giving her the space to take off. Her wings spread out and she cried out a goodbye as she took to the sky, black tips fading and leaving only the white roots to sprinkle light against the moon.

Harry watched her leave and looked back to the two Gryffindors. "Ready to go back?"

Ron nodded, leading the way. Harry decided not to mention the fact that neither of them had brought the mentioned letters.

And, just as with the odd sense of déjà vu that threatened his day, Harry fell into the duo's footsteps, falling into a friendship that felt as natural as breathing. The ease of his transition into Hogwarts soothed Harry's agitation... and irritated it for some reason, as though the whole day of normalcy was an extreme act bound to fall before the play reached the second stage.

While Harry fought his rattled nerves, Ron and Hermione exchanged a look that shared their feelings: their circle of friendship was complete with this stranger. As though his entrance into Hogwarts was magic, Harry's presence made them feel whole, the return of a missing piece, and they vowed, in their locked gaze, not to let the circle be broken again.