Kill.

Hermione breathed deeply, ignoring the voice. Every little slip of Occlumency gave it ground. Perhaps it sensed Hermione's rebellion. Her confession to Luna had lifted the burden of solidarity, and it seemed to know her intentions. It wanted to fight back. It wanted to remain. It…

"Miss Granger, is something troubling you?" Professor Flamel asked.

Hermione opened her eyes, wondering how Flamel entered the room so soundlessly. Sometimes, it was easy to forget his age. Flamel had lived for centuries. No doubt he had learned his share of spells and tricks.

"Just haven't been sleeping well," she answered truthfully.

Flamel walked to his usual teaching perch, the four-legged chair that balanced on just two legs. He pointed at the device in the corner, the same one he had quizzed Hermione earlier in the year. The base of the device was two legs that formed an upside down V. Affixed at the focal point was a wheel with one spoke. At the end of the spoke was a black crystal that swung in a perfect endless circle.

"Have you figured out what it is?" Flamel asked, running a hand through his long beard.

Normally, Hermione would have fought to impress her teacher and conjecture endless possibilities, but she could not find the will to continue. Her mind had been filled with rituals, Dark Lords, and Horcruxes. The crystal at the end of the wheel seemed so pointless in comparison.

As politely as she could, Hermione answered, "I don't have a better answer than last time."

Flamel snorted, every hair of his shaggy mane dancing as he did so. "You disappoint, Miss Granger. Where is your thirst for knowledge? Where is the eager girl with all the answers?"

Flamel might have been mocking her, but Hermione found it difficult to rise to his bait. The visit to Little Hangleton had opened so many questions. Trow and Potter had the nerve to to act like this was just another lesson. Hermione had even felt guilty for questioning Potter for his secrecy. No wonder he had been reluctant to tell her anything of his meetings with Trow and Lupin. They weren't tutoring him with extra knowledge of their classes. They were training him for battle. Real battle.

"It is hard to have an answer when there are no clues," she responded bitterly.

"True that is and unfortunately, I will continue to have no clues for you."

"Then why ask?"

"Because you have always demonstrated an unending capacity to learn. Do not falter now just because you are facing obstacles."

"Even when the obstacles seem insurmountable or impossible?"

"Yes. It is when we are challenged and at our deepest point that we find the answer." Flamel leaned forward, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or you don't and you will find only despair."

Hermione scoffed quietly at his mysticism. Flamel made it sound so simple. Hermione knew better than to believe in such broad platitudes. She had a specific problem and needed a specific solution. No pep talk from Flamel was going to fix the growing darkness within her.

"Do you remember what I said about magic?"

It took considerable willpower not to roll her eyes. "There must be a balance."

"Where there is light, there is darkness and where there is darkness…"

Harry entered the room, preventing Flamel from finishing his sentence. Hermione was grateful for the Slytherin's interruption. Though she arrived early out of habit, Hermione found it gratingly annoying to be stuck in a room with Flamel. He talked in riddles and mysteries, refusing to follow procedure and logic with his teachings.

"Mister Potter, you seem better."

The lucky bastard, Hermione thought.

Slytherin had somehow conspired to win the last Battle class though everyone had seen Harry curse Blaise with Finch-Fletchley's help. If Harry was hated before, it was nothing compared to the vitriol in Trow's classroom when Gryffindor had reviewed the battle. Rivalries were nothing new to Gryffindor, but it was only the most accursed person who struck one of their own. That Harry had stunned Blaise without any consequence from Malfoy was blasphemy to the rest of the Gryffindors.

Yet, Harry was happier than Hermione had seen him for most of the year. Hermione was not privy to all of the Slytherin house gossip, but Blaise must have done something particularly vile to provoke such a reaction from Harry. Though the rest of the Gryffindors thought Potter to be a monster, Hermione knew better. Harry would not act that way without good reason.

Still, to openly strike against one's own House had never happened in all the years at Hogwarts Battle School. Perhaps others had taken their revenge away from prying eyes, but Harry had to have known everyone would see him stun Blaise. Therefore, Hermione had to conclude that Harry premeditated his actions. To what end, she did not know, but Hermione would let him have his plots. There were bigger things to worry about than petty feuds between Slytherins.

Susan and Terry entered in time for class to start, and Flamel sat on his balancing chair. He ran his hand through his long mane again, his expression thoughtful and pensive. Seconds stretched into minutes with no one speaking. The wind whistled through the open windows of the tower, but the wind was the only one making noise.

Kill him.

Hermione wanted to scream. Did Flamel like wasting their time? If Trow was to be believed, Tom Riddle was still out there and yet she was stuck in this ignominious class. Why had Snape believe her placement in this class meant anything? How he could he place Harry in this class well? Why not place Harry in Leadership where he might learn some things instead of Theory? Hermione liked to think herself able to read between the lines, and Snape was the person who existed between the lines. He was the driving force behind Hogwarts Battle School, yet she and Harry were sitting in silence for nearly ten minutes now.

She could not wait any longer.

"Professor Flamel, are you going to teach?"

"I have been teaching, Miss Granger," Flamel responded.

Incredible, Hermione thought. "You've done nothing for the past ten minutes."

Susan and Terry shared sidelong glances at Hermione's cheek, but Harry had somehow found a reason to smile. How he could smile knowing what he knew? Was she the only one not completely mad in this class?

"On the contrary, I have been teaching something very valuable: patience."

"I am patiently waiting to be taught."

Flamel surprised her by laughing loudly. He did not laugh the way she thought he would. Hermione expected a deep bellowing laugh but in contrast, Flamel's voice broke into a high squeal as he laughed. His laugh only further irritated her.

"Do you know how long I've lived, Miss Granger?" Flamel asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes quite visibly this time. "Six hundred and sixty-seven years."

"That's the Miss Granger I know. SIx hundred and some years is quite a long time, do you agree?"

"Yes," Hermione answered slowly, feeling like she was being led to a logical trap.

"For someone as old as I am, the past ten minutes are nothing. For someone as young as you, these past ten minutes might have meant everything. Which one of us is right?"

Hermione grinded her teeth.

"Neither of us are right. Time is relative," she forced herself to answer.

"No," Flamel said. "You are right. Every minute you have is important. It does not matter that I am six hundred and sixty-seven years old, every minute is precious. What does that say about patience?"

The riddle was unanswerable, something Flamel seemed to enjoy.

"It means I have to be patient, knowing every minute is precious," she finally answered.

Flamel nodded pleasantly. "Good job, Miss Granger. Look around you."

Hermione looked at her fellow Theory classmates and was shocked to find them frozen or unmoving. What spell was this? Hermione intended to stand up and inspect Harry's frozen state, but Flamel held his hand out in caution.

"Do not move out of this space, Miss Granger. It will have disastrous consequences," Flamel said.

"What is this?" She gestured around them, noticing that everything seemed to be frozen. Hermione had thought that perhaps Flamel had applied a freezing charm, but no freezing charm could be this strong. Or could it?

"This is what is called an Uninterruptable Time Bubble. We are frozen in a space of time so that we can have a quick chat about your predicament."

"Why can't we move? I've never heard or read of this spell!" Hermione was filled to the brim with more questions. There was so much to learn.

"If we move out of this space I have created, we will die," Flamel said frankly. "What we are doing changes nothing in time. Time can not be changed. Yet, I can carve out a small space for true privacy. What am I about to tell you must not be heard by anyone else."

Her mind was reeling with Flamel's words. She had longed to be involved in Harry's secretive world, but did he know about this Uninterruptable Time Bubble? She remembered he described something similar when he spoke with the Unspeakables last year. Could it be the same spell? Did Flamel learn it from the Unspeakables or did he learn it from them?

"Stop questioning, Miss Granger, and accept what I am about to tell you. We do not have much time," Flamel said, uncharacteristically rushed.

"Why don't we have that much time?" Hermione automatically asked, unable to help herself.

"This is a dangerous spell and must not be held long."

"Can I learn it?" she asked eagerly.

"It takes decades of work and there are few who know it."

"You could teach me!"

"I fear my time is coming to an end," Flamel said sadly.

"You have the Philosopher's Stone. Why would your time end?"

Flamel did not answer and snapped his fingers in her face. She pushed his hand away, but he had succeeded in snapping out of her bewilderedness. It was natural for Hermione to ask as many questions as possible when confronted with something new, but she believed Flamel when he said there was not much time.

"I know of the spell you used. I have walked this Earth for many years, and it is one I easily recognize. Tenebris Abro. The Darkest Dark. You are far from the first to try and imbue your magic with this spell. I should have warned you earlier of its effects, but I have been busy finishing a project of my own here."

"Do you...do you know how to fix it?" Hermione hesitantly asked. "I've tried to look up counterspells or other rituals, but I haven't been able to find anything in the library."

"There is no reversal of this spell," Flamel said without pity or remorse. Hermione's heart dropped to her feet at Flamel's words. Before she could wallow too far in self-pity, Flamel countered with something more hopeful.

"But it is controllable. Patience, Miss Granger. It will seek to push you and rush into decisions. It seeks to anger you and throw you off-balance. You must have patience if you are to control it. One day, there will come a time when you will not hear that voice inside your head."

"How do you know so much about this spell? I've looked everywhere and fought the barest of mentions."

"The story is long and not something we have time for, but trust me when I say to be patient. You, more than anyone else that has performed this spell, can overcome it."

For once, Hermione was filled with hope. It might have been a coincidence, but the voice was also not in her head at the moment. Flamel showed great depth of knowledge with this spell. If he was sure she could beat it, there was no reason not to be able to beat this spell.

"But listen closely." Flamel leaned forward, his demeanor urgent. "I lied to Snape in order to come here, but it is time for me to leave. A great danger approaches. Tell Trow that the snake is coming."

"Voldemort. You're talking about Voldemort! But why would you leave if you know he's coming?"

"I have not lived this long by rushing heedlessly into danger. The Philosopher's Stone gives me immortal life. It does not make me immortal. This bubble will burst in ten seconds. I must leave."

"But you can't Apparate in Hogwarts!"

"Quite right, Miss Granger. You are always quite right."

The sound and smells of the world burst to life at the end of Flamel's ten second timer. At the same time, Flamel transformed into a large bird with black feathers and a black beak and plucked the black crystal from the instrument. He soared through the air, his wingspan at least five feet across. Harry, Susan, and Terry leapt to their feet and ran to the window, watching Flamel melt into the horizon. Harry turned to her when Flamel was out of sight.

"What the fuck just happened?"

Tracey waited for Draco in one of the abandoned dungeon rooms. The castle had been buzzing with word of Flamel's dramatic departure. Students spoke of a large eagle or bird jumping from the tower, clutching a student between its talons as it flew away. Others spoke of a duel between Harry and Flamel until Flamel had fled in shame. Of course, Tracey had the advantage of hearing from Harry himself. According to him, they were sitting down one moment and the next second, Flamel transfigured into a large crow and flew away.

The door opened with a large groan and Tracey twirled around to find Draco Malfoy. She smiled nervously at him and smoothed her hands over her robes. It would have been easy to call off this meeting, but Draco had made a good point last time they talked. It was time for Harry to know how she felt.

Few words were said as Draco sat down and Tracey procured a parchment and quill from her bag. She dipped the black and white feathered quill into a pot of ink and scratched out the first words of her infamous letter.

Dear Harry.

She was tempted to scratch it out. As soon as she wrote the words, Tracey felt stupid. What really was the point in writing Harry? Why couldn't she just tell him how she felt? Then, another nervousness overtook her as she thought of the various scenarios of such a confrontation. Would Harry turn and run? Would he stammer and make up a reason to not return his feelings? Or would he say the words she had long been waiting to hear?

"Don't overthink it," Draco said, reading her mind quite well. "You're not trying to write something that he can respond to. You're trying to write your exact feelings. Don't rush it. Don't overthink it."

Tracey took a deep breath and heeded his advice. She continued to write, the words coming easier the more she wrote. Draco watched closely, correcting a word or suggesting a phrasing when it was needed, but he was not too intrusive. His presence was more settling than actually helpful in the writing.

When she finished, Tracey looked at the letter and was strangely proud of what she wrote. It wasn't perfect or some sort of grand literary work, but her feelings were written plainly and she did not lie at all. Draco's suggestions and wording were known to her, but anyone else reading the letter would have believed she was the sole author.

Dear Harry,

I love you.

I had wished to be less blunt about this, but you told me once that I was terrified of making decisions. Well, here I am. I have made my decision and I can not hold this back any longer. I do not know if you return my feelings. I do not know if you have ever felt the same about me. I do know that I can not hold back any longer.

I don't confess to knowing everything about love, but I do know that it is unhealthy to continue living with unrequited love. I thought that I could be stronger. I thought I could just ignore this growing feeling within, but I have to know and I fear not knowing. In truth, I do not think you will return my feelings, but I couldn't live with myself without letting you know.

You are my best friend. You are a great human being. Sometimes, you just don't know the effect you have on people...or me. One day, you might look back at this letter and laugh, but I hope to invoke some sort of emotion from you. I can not imagine life without you, Harry, but I am starting to imagine it. Whether or not you return my feelings, know that I have learned many things from you and I hope you can respect that.

No fear.

Love always,

Tracey

"It seems a bit sad," Tracey said after reading it aloud.

Draco smiled. "It's your words. It's perfect."

Cedric led them on several training courses and one thing became quite clear.

Hermione Granger was a poor flier.

Harry had found many reasons to laugh recently, but nothing caused him more amusement than Hermione's fear of a broom. When she commanded the broom to jump into her hand, the broom simply refused. Harry had learned enough about magic to know that magic required true purpose and understanding. Somehow, Harry doubted Hermione's commitment to flying a broom and the broom must have known.

Once Hermione's inability to fly had been established, Cedric had them run through an obstacle course to gauge their effectiveness. Roger Davies had argued against flying in public, but Harry rebutted with the fact that the other schools had known of the previous tasks already. Clearly, Durmstrang knew about the nature of the Third Task, so what was the point of trying to disguise themselves? Eventually, Beauxbatons would know. It was no great loss that they were privy to the same set of facts they had. In a strange way, there was an honor to having them all on the same playing field.

Or in this case, the same playing air.

Fred and George were natural fliers. They were unable to help themselves and threw in some tricks while they completed the obstacle course. They threw one hand in the air. They flew with no hands during loops. At one point, George flew on his broom backwards through a corkscrew. Cedric had the good nature to let the jokes slide. At the very least, they were excellent fliers.

Harry reckoned he was not too shabby either. He was a bit amateur coming in and out of his turns, but flying in a broom was exhilarating. He had a taste of these daredevil antics when he flew with Cedric away from the dragon, but it was a different feeling altogether when he rode solo. The control and freedom was addicting. After Cedric was satisfied with his rankings, they went through the motions of trying to duel in the air.

It was absurdly difficult.

Sure, if both targets were stationary and Harry was at a standstill, he could definitely hit the target with a stunner. Yet, it was rare to have two static targets. They practiced at first by trying to hit each other in the air with stunners, but they were more likely to hit someone on the ground watching than each other. Then, Cedric had them try to hit Quaffles being thrown in the air as they flew towards it at varying speeds.

After some time, Harry had a feel of just how far he had to lead his target depending how fast he was flying. Still, the stunners were largely ineffective. Harry conferred with Cedric and theorized it might be easier to use spells that had larger area effects. While his success rate was still quite low, Harry had more success capturing Quaffles in conjured nets or hitting them with conjured whips or chains.

They had been going at it for so long that the sun set and many had missed a class or two. Cedric was determined make sure they were more prepared than the first two tasks and he seemed to have more investment given his own superior flying skills. He was in his element in the air, teaching from his broom the whole time and matching everyone trick for trick and turn for turn.

After they stowed their brooms and walked back to the castle, Harry jogged to catch up to Cedric and Hermione. He did not miss their clasped hands while they walked, but Harry could not afford to give them their privacy at the moment. He coughed loudly, hoping to catch their attention, but unfortunately catching someone else's.

"Harry?" A melodic voice carried through the air.

Their path had taken them next to the Beauxbaton carriages. Harry did not need to turn around to know the owner of that voice. He would not forget that particular voice. Hermione raised an eyebrow and paused her step, but Harry shook his head. He wanted to ask her more about her conversation with Flamel before his departure, but he could wait until after the Third Task tomorrow. They had another lesson scheduled the day after the Third Task anyway.

Harry broke off from the rest of the Hogwarts group and approached Fleur. Even now, she still pulled him in easily with her powers. He could use Occlumency to block it out, but he let himself be awash wash it. Now that he knew her true intentions, Harry could not be as easily deceived by the Frenchwoman.

"Walk with me?" She had a habit of disguising a question as a command.

They weaved in and out of the Beauxbaton carriages, making Harry slightly uncomfortable with the setting. He preferred battlegrounds he knew, and while Battle class had made him adaptable to new areas, he usually had the advantage of knowing that no one else knew the layout in Battle class. This was Fleur's home territory, so Harry was on guard.

"You made no effort to hide your flying," she said in her accented English. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

Harry shrugged. "It means that you should pay attention to what we are doing."

"It would have been easy not to tell us. After all, we knew what the Second Task would be and yet I did not tell you."

"There were plenty of things you didn't tell me," Harry pointed out.

Fleur winced, her beautiful face scrunching disquietly. Pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, Fleur managed to find her verbal footing and returned volley.

"Yet, you don't seem to be telling me something this time."

"And since when are we supposed to be on a friendly discourse? Last time we talked, you confessed to plotting to deceive me."

"And I must confess something now as well," Fleur said. "Tireur will come after you."

"I remember the first time you gave me this warning. That's not particularly new advice."

"But you don't know I've been working with him the whole time. You don't know that Zabini visited him not a week ago, plotting to obtain information from you amongst other things. You don't know that we received instruction to single you out. Is that enough to win your friendship?" Fleur pleaded, her blue eyes shining brightly with tears.

Harry was weary of her subterfuge, but she seemed genuine. Furthermore, her story corroborated Blaise's attempted deceit. Nonetheless, Harry knew he could never fully trust the girl. It seemed impossible to reconcile Fleur, the girl who fancied him, and Fleur, the deceptive witch. As long as the tournament existed, they could not be together.

"Tell Tireur that I hope he flies well," Harry said with a finality. He turned to leave, knowing he had precious time to prepare for tomorrow's task.

"Harry, wait!" Fleur grabbed his wrist and turned him around. He looked at their joined hands and raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently.

"After the task, find me."

Harry nodded and she let him go.

The Third Task was tomorrow and he didn't even know the tally of points. In some ways, it didn't matter. Harry had long stopped looking at the tournament as something to be won. Armed with his information, he knew the task was nothing more than a disguised series of tests. The other schools might have taken the tournament seriously and wanted to win it for glory, notoriety, or money, but Harry wanted to win it for another reason.

Snape was wrong.

Harry would not break.

The morning of the Third Task went by without event. Classes had been canceled in lieu of the end of the tournament. Harry ate his breakfast with Tracey. She had informed him that her father would be in attendance tonight. No doubt, others from the Ministry would be watching the Third Task as well. He had eggs and burnt bacon, feeling a strange calm as he ate breakfast. Hogwarts was loosely prepared for the Third Task, knowing that it would test their flying skills but not knowing the exact objective.

It mattered little to Harry. Adaptation had been key to all of the previous task and he expected this task to be no different. As he bit down on the crunchy bacon, a shadow fell over his table. He half expected Tireur given his talk with Fleur the previous night, but when he looked up, it was someone he did not expect to see for a long time.

Blaise sat down next to Tracey, his plate full of toast and eggs. He said nothing as he ate, his fork stabbing his toast too viciously for Harry's liking. While not completely comfortable using his wand with his left hand, Harry nonetheless moved his right arm below the table and surreptitiously swiped his wand out of his sleeve. Still eating with his right hand, Harry kept his wand trained at Blaise underneath the table.

Has it really come to this?

Tracey continued to eat without any hesitation. If she seemed surprise Blaise sat down next to them, she did not show it. In fact, she looked as if she expected this sudden turn of events. Harry was careful not to jump to anger. Tracey had never given him reason to doubt her, and he did not want to lose the only person he truly trusted. Even Hermione would always have her own secrets. Tracey hid noting.

The other Slytherins must have noticed as Nott and Pansy made no attempts to hide their awkward gawking. All had witnessed their interplay during the last Battle class, but no one confronted Harry about it since Commander Malfoy had all but sanctioned the act. Clearly, the pecking order had moved Harry closer to the top than to the bottom.

"Pass the juice, Tracey?" Blaise asked, not meeting Harry's eyes.

She passed it amicably, no hint of animosity between the two. Harry still had his wand trained on Blaise. The past year had taught him to be less trusting, but Blaise was an especially special case. Up and down their relationship had went since the end of third year, and Harry had solidified his decision when he stunned Blaise in the view of the whole school. What could have possibly compelled Blaise to sit with him now?

"You two don't have to talk to each other," Tracey finally said. "I wanted to sit with both of you this morning. You told me, Harry, that I needed to be more decisive, so here it is. You're both going to sit here for breakfast. You don't have to talk to each other. You don't even have to look at each other, but this is how it's going to happen. I get one good morning from both of you."

Harry softened as he heard Tracey's desperate plea. She might have tried to keep her voice calm and measured, but Harry could hear the anxiety in her voice. He at least owed her this small peace. Nonetheless, he kept his wand trained on Blaise the whole time. He trusted Tracey. He would never trust Blaise again.

Breakfast passed mercifully quick and Harry was set to be ushered to the prep room with the rest of the Hogwarts champions. Tracey gave him a customary hug and an uncustomary kiss on the lips in the Great Hall. It was a quick kiss, chaste and sweet, but it was something she had never done before. A red tinge reached his ears, but no one dared to tease him.

Except for Hermione.

As they met in the hallway, Hermione raised her eyebrows, the ghost of a smirk reaching her face. It felt good to see her not so miserly, even if it was at his expense.

"Shut it, you."

She shook her head. Her hair had grown slightly longer since the end of the First Task, but it was still not the untamable mane that it once was.

"You must be completely blind to how she feels about you," Hermione commented.

"I'm not blind. Choosing not to see doesn't mean I'm blind."

"Then you're just a fool."

"Fool enough for you to follow along with my plan. Are you sure you don't want to ride along on my broom?"

It was her turn to blush. Her whole visage turned ugly as she scowled at him, drawing a hearty laugh from Harry. Never before had he seen Hermione so incompetent at anything. It felt good to needle her over the brooms.

"I'll do my part," she grunted. "Just make sure you do yours."

"Have I never?"

"Don't worry, former Commander, you're not immune to failure."

Harry laughed, but this time it was a self-deprecating chuckle. "I know. I've been made quite aware of that."

Hermione glanced around them and saw students milling about. The rest of the Hogwarts champions were still receiving their laudations from their housemates. Hermione had taken a quick congratulations from a few Gryffindors while Harry had said goodbye to Tracey only. Hermione must have sensed their small window of privacy as she cast a charm to prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

"Tell me again. Are you sure he said Uninterruptable Time Bubble?" Harry asked.

"I'm quite confident. Do you think this is really a good time to be testing my memory? You have worked with me before," Hermione said.

"Yes, yes, I know all about your fabled memory. Still, it seems crazily coincidental that the Unspeakables and Flamel would use the same spell - a powerful one too."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I find it hard to believe it's a coincidence, but it was what he said later that was far more interesting. He told me to tell Trow that the snake was coming."

"And did you tell him?"

"Of course! Trow didn't seem too surprised to hear that though. I don't know what I was expecting. I think that if the person who created the Stone told me Voldemort was coming back, I would be surprised and disturbed. Trow was neither."

"You'll find Trow can be surprising about a lot of things," Harry said darkly.

"It must be immediate, right? Flamel wouldn't have left right away if he didn't think Voldemort was going to reveal himself soon."

Harry shook his head. "It's hard to tell. If Trow doesn't seem that concerned, then maybe Flamel was just spooked. I don't trust Trow or Lupin, but I think they'd be more concerned if they thought Voldemort was going to come back."

"Maybe they are and they just don't want to show you? When I was growing up, my piano teacher would never told me if I was doing poorly. Something about only showing positive reinforcement. I thought it was rather silly, told my Mum and stopped going to -"

Hermione stopped mid-sentence, and Harry knew it must have been a fleeting memory of her parents. It seemed ages ago when he received the news from Neville that her parents had been killed in a car crash. Inexplicably, Hermione's face contorted through a variety of emotions. Disgust, loss, anger, and then blankness. Her Occlumency shields must have finally went up.

"Okay?" Harry asked quietly, seeing others exiting the Great Hall.

She took a deep breath, fighting with something internally. "I'm okay. Damn these brooms."

"You'll be okay. Stick close to me."

For once, she nodded and agreed with him.

The rest of their day was filled with pomp and circumstance. The Minister of Magic, a befuddled looking man named Cornelius Fudge, greeted them in their dressing room. He wore a green bowler hat and carried a nervous tic on his face. Harry shook his hands and noticed the Minister lingered for just a moment as they shook hands. Perhaps Harry was reading too much into the situation, but he recognized that flash of surprise when the Minister saw him.

There were others too. Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and mother of Susan Bones, was present. Ludo Bagman, loud and as ostentatious as ever, would be doing the introductions and presentation. Even more Ministry members showed up during the day and Harry found himself struggling to remember all the names and faces. There were Aurors and other assorted government officials. Heads of departments eagerly shook his hand while some even took pictures.

Not all of the Hogwarts group received the same treatment. Some of the government officials didn't even bother shaking anyone's hand but his. Harry had a growing sense of discontent with the whole process. He couldn't quite possibly believe a majority of these people were here to see him. While he considered himself talented, Cedric was nothing to laugh at. Roger Davies. Fred. George. Even Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecomb, the untrustworthy bitch, were no pushovers.

Then, he was alone with just his thoughts. They outfitted him in loose pants and a sturdy shirt. A cape was fixed on his neck with his name scrawled on the back. It was a perfect outfit for flying. They sat in Professor McGonagall's classroom with the shades of the windows sealed tight. One by one, they were led outside by Professor Moody until only Harry remained. As he sat and waited to be called out, the door opened once more.

Snape entered, his robes black and his expression ominous as ever.

Harry immediately came to his feet, his wand in his hand. Occlumency shields were immediately raised, knowing this was an unexpected turn of events. He had passed Snape after entering Battle class, but it had been quite a while since he spoke face to face with the Headmaster.

Come to think of it, I haven't seen the Headmaster around as much as I should have. Where has been all this time? Perhaps Flamel was right. Maybe Snape really is preparing for Voldemort's return.

"You can lower your wand, Mister Potter. I am not here to duel," Snape said as he paced around him.

Harry pointed his wand to the ground. While he wasn't actively targeting Snape, he refused to drop or stow his wand altogether. The Headmaster might have been testing him, but his bout with Trow had taught him never to drop his guard. Headmaster Snape walked away from him, looking at the walls around the classroom and the darkened windows.

"Are you ready, Potter?" Snape asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be for this."

The answer must not have been enough for Snape. He looked down his hooked nose at Harry and snidely asked, "Is that really the best preparation you have for the task? Ready as I'll ever be?"

"Cedric is ready. He's the natural flier. We're just here to help him."

"Oh? Do you not think yourself able to take on the responsibilities of being leader?"

Snape was turning nasty, so Harry responded in kind. "I carried them through the first two tasks, didn't I? Was that not enough for you?"

"You are mistaken if you think your performance in the tasks has anything to do with my judgement. At the end of the day, I am the lowest barometer of your talents. The hands you've shaken today are men and women far more powerful than me."

"And yet you're the one to see me before the task."

"And yet I am here."

Snape was being oddly open with his disdain of Harry. Harry shifted on the balls of his feet, waiting to see how long it would take before Snape would get to the crux of this conversation. Even talking to Snape was like a duel. The Headmaster never went straight to the point. He always opened his conversations with small jabs and feints, trying to sense a weakness in Harry's defense. Harry would not make it easy on the Headmaster.

It was Snape who broke first.

"Do well today, Potter. The eyes of the Ministry will be trained on you."

"I wouldn't want to disappoint the Ministry, would I? I expect they wouldn't be happy if your prized horse couldn't finish out the race."

"Your equestrian analogy is ironically quite apt. Do you know what happens when a horse goes lame leg?"

Snape's words chilled Harry to the bone. The way he crassly said it made the hair on Harry's neck stand on end. Snape had just quite calmly implied that Harry's usefulness only extended for how well he could perform. Trow had said he was the only one they could count on, but what if Trow was also bluffing. Harry suspected Snape contained information on the death of Hermione's parents. It couldn't be that he…

"Have you gone mute as well?" Snape snapped, uncharacteristically impatient.

"No," Harry quickly responded. "Just considering what the Ministry would think of you if I failed tonight."

Snape harrumphed, his beady eyes cold and glittering in the dying light of the day. Only candles illuminated the classroom and it emphasized Snape's haughty features. The Headmaster said nothing else as he exited the classroom. Moody came to retrieve him not thirty seconds later, but Snape's words still lingered with Harry. As much as he would have show no effort to contribute to the task, he would not renege on his word to Cedric. Harry promised to help and he would not let Cedric down.

He would lose this battle against Snape, but he would win with his Hogwarts teammates.

Some battles were meant to be lost.

As Harry joined the rest of the Hogwarts team, Ludo launched into his explanation of the task.

"We will be returning to the Great Lake, but this time, you will be fighting high above those icy waters! In the air, surrounded by Harpies, is a golden Snitch. Your task is simple. Fight through the Harpies and the competing schools to retrieve the Snitch. The first school to grab the Snitch and return it to their designated location will get the full allocation of points. I must warn you - these Harpies have been deprived of their usual feed and are more aggressive than usual. They are vicious and numerous and will not hesitate to harm you. Do not linger long when you grab the Snitch. Smash and grab, folks, and let's make this an entertaining end to the Tournament of Champions."

The task was simple enough. No convoluted points calculations or hostages to rescue. It resembled the First Task quite eerily. Grab an object and escape. The creatures might be different and the landscape on a different terrain, but Harry was comfortable with this objective. Their designated return locations were right beside each other. Harry looked to his right and saw the hulking form of Viktor Krum standing at the head of the Durmstrang team.

Krum nodded to Harry and Harry returned the motion in respect. Whatever else Krum may be, he had honored the debt between him and Harry. Though Harry had never seen Krum fly, there must have been a reason he was on the Bulgarian national team as only a teenager. That same adrenaline and excitement was beginning to fill his body. He was ready for battle.

The whistle blew and Harry took to the air, feeling the solidness of his broom beneath him. It wasn't the fastest broom, but it turned quite quickly and Harry had quickly become accustomed to the older model Nimbus. Harry was relieved to see Hermione quickly mount her broom and take to the air as well. As much as he enjoyed teasing her ineffective flying skills, Hermione always found a way to surprise on the battlefield.

They soared into the air of the dying, red sun, flying in a staggered formation. Cedric ran point, leading the group high into the air, their pace quick but unrushed. The Hufflepuff champion would need to survey the situation before drawing up a plan of attack. Harry flew in the back, weaving and bobbing randomly in the air as Cedric had taught him in order to avoid a sudden attack.

"Dynamic, not static," Cedric had reiterated during their quick training.

They leveled out high above the Great Lake, the school quickly shrinking behind them. The wind rustled Harry's hair and he tentatively let go of his broom, extending his hands to his sides. Fred and George laughed and imitated him. Harry grinned, enjoying the feeling.

Tonight, they would soar.

"Flamel is gone. I sent an owl to Perenelle and the owl returned without confirming the address."

"And the girl insisted that Flamel warned of the snake?"

"Yes. She was quite insistent. It's nothing we didn't already know."

"I thought you said Flamel could be trusted?"

"He can be. He owed me a debt."

"And he is gone with nothing more than cryptic warning. I entertained Flamel's eccentricities because I knew that the alchemist held great talent, but what has he done for the boy? Has he done anything?"

"He has taught them about magic."

"Nothing but unconfirmed theory and abstraction. If I wanted the boy to receive a theoretical education, I would not have changed this school."

"The school only lasts at the whims of the Ministry under an objective that was always widely controversial. It was only a fluke series of events that has lead to this change."

"Do not take too much credit away from yourself. Those series of events were no fluke. Do not play me dumb, old man. I know what you did."

"I am not proud of how I came to this task, but pride has always been a weak point of mine. Gryffindors are hard to convince."

"Gryffindors. Ravenclaws. Hufflepuffs. Slytherins. What will it matter when the Dark Lord makes his return? They will all be prepared or we will all die. It is that simple."

"Then convince the Ministry. Let us do aside with all petty politics and put our full force and effort to stopping Tom's second coming."

"Something that only I can do. Curse you. As soon as the task ends, I will head to the Ministry to convince them of the immediacy of the danger. Do you think the boy will past this final test?"

"The answer should be quite obvious to him, and for once, I am confident."

"He is ready?"

"He is not perfect, but if he passes tonight, he is ready."

"Good. It is time. I will prepare the Ministry for our plan of attack. War is finally coming, Albus."

"Do not seem so eager. It is children who you will be sending to war, Severus."

"Yes, and it will be one child who will win it."

Next Update Time: 17 days