"Inside with you! Go on!" Mrs. Weasley ushered the exhausted group into the Burrow with her husband bringing up the rear.
The house was warm against the cool of the pre-dawn morning, and Harry gratefully sank into a seat at the large wooden dining room table. The others joined him, each one letting out a small sigh as they dropped into the chairs. Mrs. Weasley bustled around, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of each one of them.
"Although I'm sure you're all plenty exhausted, there's a pinch of asphodel in it to help you sleep."
They drank the tea in silence, a smattering of thanks drifting up once finished. Harry and Hermione followed Ron up the creaky stairs, the mild heat of below replaced with a comfortable blanketing warmth as they climbed. Hermione split off for Ginny's room with a simple 'goodnight', clicking the door shut behind her.
Bone-deep exhaustion threatened to pull Harry to sleep where he stood. He blinked in an attempt to stave off the oncoming unconsciousness for just a few moments longer.
He climbed up to the transfigured top bunk after kicking off his shoes. Faint snores rose from Ron's bed before Harry's head had even hit the pillow. Moments later his eyes fell shut and he dreamed of Dark Marks and Veela.
XxX
It was a subdued week that passed at the Burrow following the World Cup. Bill, Charlie, and Percy often spoke with their parents in hushed whispers, the conversation falling away should any others wander past. Mrs. Weasley could often be found puttering around the living room each time Mr. Weasley left for work, glancing regularly at the ornate grandfather clock that held numerous monogrammed hands. Harry had offered to help her clean, often struggling with a distinct sense of wrongness as he watched someone else do all the work.
How else was he meant to earn the ticket they'd offered him?
A few days shy of their return to school, his aimless wanderings around the house and outside through the haphazard gardens were interrupted by the glint of something up in the sky that sent Harry's heart soaring to meet her. Hedwig circled the tip of the Burrow, coming to rest on his outstretched arm. He reached up and scratched the top of her head, smiling as her amber eyes closed in appreciation.
"Did you have a good summer?" he asked, removing his hand from her head.
A quick nip at his fingers told him he wasn't finished. After a quick apology and sufficient head-scratches later, Hedwig offered her leg to him. Tied with ragged brown twine was a filthy piece of parchment. Harry untied the letter and opened it, a slow smile growing on his face as he read.
Harry,
I hope you're enjoying your summer. I tried to send you letters, but your owl refused to take them. Then, yesterday, she picked up a quill and pecked me until I got to writing. Ruddy smart bird you've got here. Sorry about the state of the paper, it's a bit of a challenge to nick parchment with a dog's mouth.
He ran his thumb along the top of the letter which had small, teeth-shaped indentations.
I've found somewhere to lay low for the time being, though it's pretty far away. If you send Hedwig, it'll probably take a while to get to me. Hopefully, we'll be able to catch up a bit better now that she'll bring you letters. School will be starting up soon, won't it? I can't wait to hear about whatever ridiculous situation you manage to get yourself into this year.
Speaking of which, I never did get to thank Dumbledore for rescuing us from all those dementors by the lake. Let him know I said thanks if you get the chance. Hopefully, we'll get the whole Wormtail situation taken care of soon, and I'll be able to make good on my offer.
Take care,
Your Godfather
P.S. I was joking about getting into trouble. Keep your head down.
Harry greedily re-read the letter, savoring the faint glimmer of hope Sirius's promise offered him before ruthlessly stuffing it away. It'd been that same spark that had made the past summer with the Dursleys so much more unbearable. Somehow, the blows and shouts stung worse knowing they had almost been avoided.
A call from the back door of the Burrow snapped him from his musings and he saw Mrs. Weasley waving him inside.
"There you are, Harry," she said.
Rather than her usual gardening clothes and an apron over top, she wore a faded flower-print dress that clashed somewhat with her bright red hair.
I've just gotten back from Diagon Alley and your things are waiting for you on the table." She rummaged through a pocket sewn into the side of the dress as she walked over to him. "I told you you'd given me far too much," she said, producing a small bag he'd given her from his trunk.
With a quick shrug, he accepted the weighty pouch and slipped it into one of the overlarge pockets in his trousers. He found himself looking forward to putting on the new robes she'd gotten him. It was always a relief to have something covering Dudley's old clothes. Once inside, he grabbed the pile of books and robes she indicated as his.
"Your dress robes are in the box on the bottom," she said. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of picking something I thought might look quite dashing on you."
"My dress robes?" he echoed, frowning. "What do I need those for?"
"I'm not sure, but they were on your school list for this year. Be sure to try everything on before you leave. I can always get you different ones if those don't fit."
He nodded and carried his things upstairs. Inside their shared room, Ron hunched over his trunk, both arms rigid as he pushed on an overflowing pile of clothes in an attempt to get the lid to shut.
"You're going to break all your quills again," Harry said, pushing open the lid of his own trunk with a foot, depositing his new supplies inside. "Hermione said she wasn't going to keep lending you more."
"She's got…thousands…" Ron said between grunts. "A few more…won't kill her."
"If you say so." Harry set his things inside his trunk, shifting his invisibility cloak to the side, covering the handful of clothes he'd deemed in good enough shape to take to Hogwarts. He set the black box on top of the invisibility cloak with a frown. Whatever Mrs. Weasley got him would probably be fine, no need to burden her with another trip to Diagon Alley on his behalf.
XxX
Hogwarts loomed across the lake, lit by the occasional flash of lightning through the torrential downpour. The older students rushed for the magic carriages, leaving the first-years with the capable if sodden form of Hagrid. The half-giant bellowed a quick hello as Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran past, their hands held ineffectually above their heads. Thunder rolled on the heels of a nearby lightning strike, making Harry jump and spurring him faster to a nearby carriage.
They scrambled up the metal steps and dropped with a wet slap into cracked leather seats with Neville taking up the fourth seat in the cramped space. Strands of wet hair stuck to his forehead, and he offered the trio a weak smile.
"I'm glad it wasn't like this our first year. I probably would have drowned," he said, glancing out the window to a tree line that hid the lake from view.
"Didn't you almost fall in?" Ron asked.
Neville nodded his silent, bashful answer.
The carriage clattered along the uneven stone path, the rain drumming heavy beats upon the roof. Lightning forked across the sky, once again illuminating Hogwarts against the expansive, tempestuous sky. Once at the castle, they climbed reluctantly from the safety of the small cabin and ran for cover, their feet splashing against the slick stone.
"Over here, if you please," Professor McGonagall called, waving them to where she stood just inside the massive doorway. "Argus will have a fit if I allow everyone to track water through the Great Hall. Stand still." With a deft wave of her wand and a quick incantation, Harry felt the moisture leave his clothes, leaving only the droplets speckling his glasses. He wiped them on his shirt as they joined the other students waiting to be ushered into the Great Hall. To the welcome feast.
Being one of the last carriages to arrive, they didn't have to wait long and were soon seated comfortably at the Gryffindor table. The giant room buzzed with conversation, snippets floating by as students took their seats all around them.
The house banners hung high on the walls, with their respective point-counters sitting behind the head table. His eyes were drawn to two empty seats. One, an overlarge thick wooden chair, belonged to Hagrid, while he could only assume the other was meant for the new Defense teacher.
More fragments of conversation drifted over and he caught more mention of the World Cup. Little else had been discussed on the platform, not to mention Malfoy's crowing as he stalked the corridors of the Express, making sure to be as big a nuisance as he could manage.
The thought sapped his excitement at being back at Hogwarts. The twin Dark Marks didn't bode well for a normal year at school, though he hoped against hope that the oddity kept itself properly outside.
Conversation died out as McGonagall strode from the Entry Hall and up to a stool by the Head Table, upon which sat the Sorting Hat. Moments later, Hagrid led the mass of first-years through the middle of the hall. He took his place at the table and offered Harry a quick wave as Professor McGonagall began the sorting.
Harry's stomach growled its impatience as the final student was sorted into Hufflepuff. As if in response, the table filled with the feast. Harry looked up in surprise, Dumbledore's customary speech notably absent. Another complaint from his belly convinced him to focus on the spread in front of him, a feast in more ways than one.
He tried to pace himself. Each year previous he had overindulged, the lackluster meals the Dursleys gave him shrinking his stomach until it was much smaller than his eyes.
Taking care to only take a single piece of baked ham to his plate and serving up a helping of potatoes, he set to work. Ron piled his plate voraciously, with Hermione following suit, if a bit more subdued.
It was a struggle not to eat as fast as he could, the lingering threat of the soon-to-vanish food ever present in his mind.
He pushed the thoughts away as best he could, instead opting to distract himself by listening in on a minor argument between Katie Bell and Fred about the most important quidditch position. Hermione made a half-hearted attempt to pull him into a conversation about their classes for the year, but he suspected his less than enthusiastic reply put her off.
The near-constant knot of anxiety in his chest began to loosen, tugged free by the familiar rumble of conversation echoing through the Great Hall. He had enjoyed his time with the Weasleys, but there was nowhere in the world that felt closer to home than Hogwarts.
The beginning of Dumbledore's speech pulled him from his appreciation.
"There are a few announcements I must make before allowing you to retire to your warm, dry beds. As is standard, I inform our first-years that the Forbidden Forest is just that. Our students of second-year and below are not allowed to go to Hogsmeade," he said, a faint smile lifting his mustaches as he scanned the crowd below him. Harry thought the Headmaster's gaze lingered on him for a moment, though it was so brief he could only wonder if he'd imagined it. "It is also my unfortunate duty to announce that the Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year."
His announcement was met by an uproar of disapproval and Harry felt his heart sink as the complaints rose. There was little that was as freeing as flying on his broom, whether during a match or just to clear his head.
Dumbledore bore the complaints with aplomb, allowing the noise to die before speaking again. "I know many of you are disappointed by this news-"
"Hardly," Hermione interjected under her breath, earning her a furious glare from Ron, which she returned with a smug smile.
"-however, it is not without reason. Before we get to that, there is one other item of business we must again cover. We are all regretful that Professor Lupin had to leave us at the end of last term." Harry looked over to where Snape was sitting, looking as near to gleeful as the surly man could get. "But we have managed to secure another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the doors to the Great Hull banged open. A clap of thunder and lightning silhouetted a hunched figure in the massive doorway. He leaned on a large oak staff as he walked up to the head table, every other step punctuated by a loud clunk on the stone floor.
Harry caught a glimpse of the man's false leg beneath his ratty cloak, though his attention was drawn to the far more astonishing false eye that spun wildly in all directions. The new Professor thumped his way over to the empty seat at the head table, sitting down next to Hagrid who seemed more than a little unsettled to be sitting beside the grizzled man.
"It is my supreme pleasure to introduce, Professor Alastor Moody!" Dumbledore announced, waiting until the murmurs settled before continuing. "The final announcement, and the reason we must cancel Quidditch…" he paused, allowing the dramatic pause to lengthen until a number of students began to shift uncomfortably. "We are to have the honor of hosting the fabled Triwizard Tournament!"
He allowed a moment for the exclamations of surprise to die away.
"For those unaware, the Triwizard Tournament is a prestigious competition between the three largest European schools of witchcraft and wizardry: Beauxbâtons, Durmstrang, and of course, Hogwarts. Each school will have a champion to represent them in three challenging tasks.
"Many hundreds of years ago, the tournament was held regularly as a way to foster cooperation and friendship between the young witches and wizards of different nationalities. Unfortunately, the death toll grew too high, and it was discontinued. As an unfortunate side effect, we have grown distant from our partner schools and their peoples."
Harry goggled up at Dumbledore. Hogwarts was occasionally dangerous but hosting a deadly tournament seemed downright irresponsible. He didn't appear to be the only one who thought so as muttering had broken out amongst the student body.
"Please rest easy knowing that, thanks to a significant effort in foreign relations from our departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports, we have been able to engineer a tournament that will most certainly not include such significant and constant mortal peril.
"In October we will be hosting the other schools, each bringing along a small delegation of possible champions. The selection of the three champions will take place on Halloween. The winner will receive not only the Triwizard cup and glory for their school but also a one thousand Galleon prize."
At the mention of prize money, the concerned whispers made a shift to something far more speculative. Dumbledore's visage grew stern as he quieted the new murmurs.
"I am sure that many of you desire to compete for Hogwarts, however, there have been some necessary restrictions agreed upon and implemented for safety. We will be imposing an age limit of seventeen years and older upon the applicants who wish to compete. This measure-" he paused, holding his hands up to pacify the cries of outrage, "-is for the safety of the participating champions. We have worked tirelessly to ensure there will be little mortal danger during these tasks, but due to the nature of the tournament, there will still be significant personal risk for those involved. We believe it unlikely that any student below the age of seventeen would be able to successfully navigate the tasks we have prepared.
"The Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang students will remain with us for the majority of the school year. I know that you will be most hospitable and gracious to our foreign guests during their time with us. And now, it is late, and I have imposed upon your evening long enough. Prefects, please escort your houses to their dormitories."
Harry stood along with Ron and Hermione and filed out alongside the other Gryffindors.
"No wonder everyone was being so cagey over the summer," Ron said. "I knew Percy was lording something over us." He paused, his gaze wandering up towards the ceiling and far away. "A thousand Galleons…can you imagine…"
"You won't have to imagine little brother," George said from behind them. "We'll figure out a way to enter."
"You're going to outsmart Dumbledore?" asked Hermione.
"We'll figure something out," Fred answered. "I doubt he'll be the one picking the champions."
Harry listened with half an ear to their increasingly ridiculous plans as they climbed the castle up to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione's suggestion of going over their schedules went unanswered and he hoped he hadn't been too unkind about it.
It was nice to be back at Hogwarts, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the tournament was the shape of this year's trouble.
That night, curled in his incredible, comfortable bed in the dorm room, he dreamt of his uncle's face; glowing, vaporous, floating high in a stormy sky.
XxX
The first class of the year was a pleasant enough affair in Herbology. Professor Sprout had cultivated three dozen clippings of some sort of magical shrub, and their task had been to simply trim the plant into a neat little square. A task made slightly more difficult by the fact that it had a proclivity for dodging out of the way of Harry's shears. Luckily, Neville was seated nearby and demonstrated that the tiny plants were ticklish and exhaustible.
Following the simple lesson, they split from the Hufflepuffs to join the Slytherins at Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. Though Harry was fond of the affable half-giant, his friend had a skewed perspective on what constituted a 'good, easy lesson'. He hoped Hagrid had found something on the safer side of dangerous for their first class.
His hope flitted away as they approached the squat hut to find minor pandemonium. The Slytherins had already arrived and were standing at the edge of Hagrid's garden patch, watching the large man struggle. Hagrid held his dirty iron fire-poker in one hand, while he pat out a smoldering patch in his thick beard.
"'S alright!" he called over the murmurs and occasional laugh. "They're jus a little jumpy when they're little."
A small burst of flame from a horrible ugly worm as long as Harry's leg caught the edge of Hagrid's long hair and he let out a rough curse. "Finnigan, go get me tongs from around back by the firepit. Careful o' the apple barrels, I've got an infestation I haven't gotten around ter takin' care o'."
Seamus did as he was told, disappearing around the back of the house while Hagrid blew frantically at the burning tips of his hair.
"I can see this class will be just as useless as it always has been," Malfoy said, prompting a laugh from most of the assembled Slytherins around him.
Ron stepped forward, his hand balled into a fist, but his retort never made it out. A crash from the back of Hagrid's hut preceded a panicked shout, and Seamus burst into view, being dive-bombed by tiny specks of light. He waved the tongs over his head in a poor defense, before it was stopped by Hagrid's massive hand.
"No need fer tha'," he said, pulling the tongs from Seamus's grip. "They jus thought yeh were after wha' they think is theirs. Iron'll kill ones this small…" he trailed off.
After a short, multi-pocketed search, he produced a silver sickle and flicked it with his thumb over towards the nearby edge of the Forbidden Forest. A few of the balls of light followed the coin, while the others ceased their attack on Seamus, and bobbed in the air in front of Hagrid.
"Stingy little things, aren't yeh?" he grumbled, fishing out a golden Galleon and tossing it into the tree line. The lights zipped after it, leaving tiny trails of silver and golden light behind them as they flew.
"I oughta' take points fer tha," he grumbled, sending Seamus back to the waiting clump of students. He gestured over his shoulder with the tongs. "Fairies won't hurt ya, they jus like ter make a nuisance o' themselves," he lectured, letting the tongs drop back to his side. "The little ones won't anyway. Yeh can usually bribe 'em away with summat they like, or summat shiny."
He used the tongs to gingerly flip the worm back over, allowing it to scurry away.
"We're studying fairies this year?" Lavender Brown said, her voice a mix of surprise and delight.
"What? Nah," Hagrid said with a laugh. "We'll be workin' on these here Blast-Ended-Skrewts."
"Working on what now?" Ron asked, his gaze following the worm back to where a group of them grazed on a pile of cabbages.
"Skrewts! Ornery little things, but not so bad once yeh get ter know 'em. Despite lookin' like a worm, they're properly trainable, an' can be good guard animals. Raising 'em is goin' ter be a bit o' a class project, these jus hatched a few days ago."
"Why on earth would we want to do that?" Malfoy sneered from his place at the center of the Slytherin group. Harry saw even a few of the Gryffindors nodding their reluctant agreement.
"'Cause yeh wan' ter pass me class, Malfoy," Hagrid replied coolly, before resting his two fire pokers against the side of his hut. "I know they like cabbages, but I wan' ter see wha' else they like. I've got a few things here fer yeh ter try."
It was a stung, burned, bitten, and thoroughly irritated group that returned to the Great Hall at lunchtime.
"Do you think Hagrid would be upset if we didn't take his class next year?" Ron asked, nursing a burn on his elbow.
"It'd break his heart," Hermione said, though there wasn't much energy behind her rebuttal.
They sat down next to the twins, who were whispering to Lee Jordan with wide-eyes.
"What's got you two all bent out of shape?" Ron asked as he dropped onto a bench.
"Moody," said George.
Ron frowned at them. "Dad says he was the best the Aurors ever had, but since he's taken on so many dark wizards, he's gone a little off his rocker."
"Anybody'd be a little off if they had to handle stuff like that all the time," Harry said.
"Too right," Lee said, nodding. "He's off his rocker, no doubt about it, but the man is brilliant. Professor Lupin was good, but Mad-Eye really knows his stuff."
"His class was that good?" Harry asked, a small smile coming to his face. Even though he'd not managed to produce a Patronus during their private lessons, Harry had still enjoyed Defense Against the Dark Arts with his father's old friend.
"You'll see," Fred and George said in unison, identical mocking grins splitting their face.
XxX
Afternoon classes were far more mundane, with Professor Trelawney predicting Harry's violent end no fewer than five times. One particular prediction of cracked ribs and subsequent beheading was a little unnerving, the lingering twinge of pain in his side an uncomfortable reminder that one of those things had already come to pass.
The choking on a bug prediction that followed lightened his mood a little.
It wasn't until that evening that he finally found time to write back to Sirius and he hoped his godfather wouldn't mind the delay in his reply.
Sirius,
I got your letter but didn't get the chance to reply till now. Sorry. Thanks for taking care of Hedwig for me.
He paused a moment, tapping at his chin with the quill, deciding what exactly he wanted to list from the World Cup. Had things gone normally, he'd probably have mentioned the Veela and asked questions about the unbelievable things they could do. Or the Leprechauns, that produced gold out of thin air and transformed their bodies into light. Maybe even the two sky-blue eyes that had locked on to his as he passed by, curiosity shining behind a perfect small smile.
His ears burned at the memory of being caught staring.
With effort, he forced his thoughts back on track. Pretty women aside, he knew Sirius wouldn't appreciate being kept in the dark.
I don't know if you've heard, but there was an attack at the World Cup. I was there with my friend Ron and his family. There were two Dark Marks in the sky, and the Death Eaters killed at least one person.
Also, we're hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year. Two other schools will be coming soon. Unfortunately, that means I won't get much time on my Firebolt.
Stay safe,
Harry
With the invisibility cloak tucked away in his robe and the letter in hand, he slipped from Gryffindor Tower. Hogwarts at night was a calm, enjoyable place to walk, the mostly-quiet halls and stairways were comforting after a long day of death predictions, skrewt burns, and ticklish plants. Not to mention the rats Professor McGonagall had insisted they attempt to transform into slippers.
As he walked the halls, he heard a now-familiar sound of reuniting couples as he passed, taking care to hurry by the closed broom closets and classroom doors to offer them some modicum of privacy. He had learned not long after he'd gotten the Marauder's map that it was far better not to indulge his curiosity to find out who was 'meeting' behind closed doors.
Amidst the multitude of owls milling about in the Owlery, Hedwig sat primly on the nearest roost, almost as though she had been waiting on him.
"It's going back to Sirius," he whispered, tying the letter to her leg. "I know it'll take a while, so don't push yourself too hard."
Hedwig gave him a reproachful look before taking flight out one of the open windows.
Message sent, he returned to Gryffindor tower and slid into bed. Even if he didn't have to get up at dawn to prepare breakfast for the Dursleys in time to avoid discipline, he couldn't help but wake up early regardless. After an eventful first day of classes, a good night's sleep would not go amiss.