Summary:
Previously. . . Harry's mind is fractured but he still manages to find Rowena Ravenclaws secret rooms.
Every single student and teacher present were waiting in anticipation as the time to choose champions neared. Harry boredly waited for the students to finally silence as the three heads of the schools stood from their seats and moved to the goblet of fire. They looked at each other, nodding as Dumbledore opened his arms and offered them all his grandfatherly smile. Some smiled back, while others seemed to be displeased by it.
Harry's expression was neutral, but there was a flame raging around the library of his mind that was being quelled by whatever ghosts he had.
Dumbledore spoke, "The time has come." With such an announcement, he gave further instructions on what to do once the champions were announced. Harry merely watched back, drumming his fingers on the table and staring at the headmasters and headmistress. It seemed like Karkaroff caught his stare and tried to glare at him, but the man only received a mocking smirk. Harry stared right into the man's soul, quietly assessing how shaken it seemed.
Mind magic along with soul magic gave him that skill. He absolutely adored his own genius and watched Karkaroff quickly look away and try to focus on the champions. Even so, the way his hands trembled and seemed to sweat was an amusing sight. He turned vivid emerald hues towards their crazy DADA professor and smiled at him.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, outstretching his arm as the blue flames turned a bright red. A burnt piece of parchment flew out of the goblet and to his hand.
"Thus, the champion of Durmstrang is… Viktor Krum!"
The students clad in red coats cheered loudly as their champion stood, adjusting his uniform with a proud yet grateful grin. Nikolai was among the students on their feet, clapping his hands until they started to turn red and gazed at Viktor with such an admiring look. Harry could only stare at the adoration within purple optics, squashing the memories of Orpheus from taking control of his mind.
"The champion of Beauxbatons Academy is Fleur Delacour!"
The beautiful girl who clearly had Veela blood running through her veins. Her platinum hair that looked even better than Malfoy's swayed as she strutted towards her headmistress with absolute confidence. She gave Maxime a polite curtsy and nodded towards the other headmasters. Fleur was honorable in her own way, a grace she carried herself with as she walked towards the room Krum had disappeared to.
Hogwarts was the only one left. Students from all houses were on their feet, unable to contain themselves. Hell, he had seen Draco jolt from his seat before hastily sitting back down and coughing into his palm.
Harry was… not pleased with what was to come.
"Harry…" he heard Ron, turning to his friend who was holding his head. There was a pained expression on his face that caused Hermione, who sat on the other side of Ron to press her hand to his arm. "Oh bloody hell…"
Harry frowned as he focused on Ron rather than the announcements of the champions. Ron pressed his head against Harry's shoulder, quietly whimpering as he held his head.
"To divine does not always mean to scour the future…" Ron whispered, as if realizing something. He grabbed Harry's shoulders and quietly whispered, "Someone placed your name in the goblet… I don't know who it was… their face was covered, Harry—"
"HARRY POTTER!"
The three of them went rigid as his name was called out. Harry slowly turned towards their headmaster who gave him a disappointed look. Everyone was watching him, shocked, angry, horrified, and confused. Among them was the scowling face of Severus Snape and the pale look on Nikolai's face.
Harry slowly stood, steadying his pounding heart as he walked towards his headmaster. He kept the man's gaze, allowing himself to be… angry. Absolutely angry as his patience was snapped once again. All he could think of was how he hated this situation, how the entire school had turned against him for this.
So he showed them the impulsiveness of a Gryffindor they kept taunting him for.
He raised his hand into the air and recited words he had said only a small few times, still keeping his pace.
"I swear upon my mind and magic," he started and the teachers were immediately on their feet at the familiar words. "—that I did not enter my name in the goblet of fire… so mote it be." He finished, feeling satisfied at the horrified looks upon the staff and those who recognized the oath.
"Mr—"
" Incendio ." He murmured as flames burst from his wand and vanished upon a silent command. Everyone was silent, as if no one breathed. Harry stopped in front of Dumbledore, anger and hatred in his eyes that shook the man. "I didn't put my name in the godforsaken goblet."
Moving towards the room where the champions were in, he silently allowed his magic to spread. What his magic did was cause every single flame in the great hall to grow bigger, then screams erupted and Harry listened to them as if it were the most wondrous melody he has heard. He stepped foot into the room where Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric were waiting to be called back.
Fleur was the first to ask, "Are they calling us back?" Her french accent was thick but her English was good enough.
"Not quite, Mademoiselle Delacour." Harry politely replied to her, looking tired as he offered a sad smile. "It seems like someone has directed their malicious intent towards me. I apologize for the further inconveniences." He bowed to her, looking genuinely apologetic.
Fleur look charmed but also quite concerned for him. To Fleur, she saw a frail and skinny looking boy, pale and exhausted.
Harry, for the betterment, was actually really tired. A magical oath that involved swearing on his mind and magic was tiring. It was worse when he wasn't particularly stable. He needed a chair, he needed to sit for Merlin's sake but he stood. He stood and waitwd for teachers to starts accusing him, scolding him, and telling him how much he was a liar. He expected all of that from Snape and he had to hold out long enough.
Sit down. Sit down and rest. God damnit Mal, don't be stupid! Regulus' voice yelled in his head and Harry could almost envision the worry and fear in silver eyes he had loved so much.
In a moment of vulnerability, a moment of confusion, his eyes grew even more blurry behind the lenses he wore. The light was hurting his eyes, as he lowered his head and ran a hand through his hair.
Magic was… magic was complicated. He had risked it and his magic was basically telling him he had done something stupid. Normally, someone would simply pass out or collapse from that kind of oath, but Harry's magic was almost completely sentient. With so many lives combined into it along with his soul, it often argued with itself. Different aspects of him, his lives, were all scolding him but, at the same time, they were keeping him conscious.
"Hey… Potter, you okay?"
Harry blearily turned towards the concerned voice, realizing it was Cedric. The memory of his dead body caused Harry to turn even more pale and cold, but he shook his head and just waved him of.
Them the doors finally slammed open, multiple voices yelling over themselves.
"You foolish boy—"
"You could have just said—"
"An oath on your magic?!"
Harry held his head, furious with the loud voices that were giving him an even more intense migraine. He glared at the staff who were frightened and pale, yelling at each other and him. The only teacher who cares for him amongst the yelling fools was his dear Minnie.
"Be quiet you utter fools!" Her accent Scottish accent heavier than ever as she seethed. "The boy has risked his own magic to prove he is innocent, dare to call him a liar and I shall curse you myself!"
Harry softened, but he still felt like dragon dung. McGonagall's mother instincts must have been activated, as she was by his side in seconds. She held his arm tightly, pressing a hand to his forehead and cursing angrily once she felt how cold his skin was. He looked sickly, almost as bad as when he was in his first year.
"Harry, Harry my boy…" and such a grating voice, Dumbledore tried to guilt him for a lie. "Be honest—"
"Ask Professor Snape to grab a bottle of veritaserum and shove it down my throat, my answer will still be the same." Harry angrily hissed, leaning against McGonagall.
"Foolish boy…" Madame Maxime said in a quiet tone, her accent subtle in her tone. "Oaths upon magic and mind will drain you if you are being truthful. Oh… you fool, return to your chambers and rest. Goodness…" she sighed, absolutely concerned for the boy.
Fleur gave her a look, agreeing with her.
"But— But what of the tournament?" Karkaroff demanded, "Hogwarts has two champions, it is unjust. Had we known that your age line would be faulty, I would brought more students to be selected as champion."
This, was unfortunately, a great offense to the current Champion of Durmstrang. Krum scowled, stepping away from his headmaster as if he was the most disgusting thing in the room.
"Potter, did you ask an older student—"
"Get your damn veritaserum and I'll tell you I would rather die than take part of this damn tournament!" His emotions were a wreck. He was angry, he couldn't control himself. All he felt was anger at the mere sight of Dumbledore acting like a concerned grandfather. Snape had fanned the flames.
"What students wouldn't want the glory? I must say, you constantly suggesting the truth potion is quite suspicious." Snape scowled, "You want attention—"
"If I wanted to go through another near death experience I would have started swimming in the lake during December. I have nearly died for the past three years, what makes you think I want to risk my life again with a tournament that Hermione has repeatedly explained the kill count of?" He snapped, magic angrily flaring again. The candles in the room started to melt fastwe upon the flames he strengthened.
McGonagall, so smart and wonderful, immediately noticed his agitation and started to rub circles on his back. Then there was Cedric, the kind and considerate Hufflepuff who summoned a glass of water and handed it to him.
I want Hermione and Ron… I want Luna, was the thoughts in his mind.
There was a voice singing a quiet lullaby to soothe him. Reggie's voice.
"Severus, hold your tongue." McGonagall angrily scolded and continued on comforting Harry.
"Oh get the boy a chair." Maxime said, but summoned a chair anyways. Fleur was quick to have Harry sit on it.
Manipulative… change emotions, change opinion. A new voice started to speak. Harry still had a hand pressed against his mouth, unable to stop himself from smirking. Pity, worry, concern. Such things allowed others to adore and fear for his safety. He allowed them to see a frail image that made them all worry for him. It was perfect.
"I don't… I don't want to be in the tournament. Who even put my name in the goblet?" Harry grumbled, leaning into McGonagall's touch as she carded her fingers through his hair. "I thought you could only put your own name…"
The teachers glanced at each other, realizing their own stupidity. Even if Harry didn't put his name, that didn't mean that some students must have coerced their seniors to place their names into the goblet. Had the champions of Hogwarts been minors, children who hadn't even passed the age of seventeen. The thought made them gulp, as Bartemius Crouch cleared his throat. At the same time, Moody scowled at the man.
They discussed further upon the situation, to which Harry spoke up again. "I'm a minor! What the hell am I supposed to do with that fact?!"
Crouch flinched. The mere fact that a minor was being forced into Tournament for those of the age of seventeen was a threat to his occupation. He shuddered at the thought of any lawyer going after his head once this was revealed.
"We must make do… I am sorry, but Mister Potter has been entered. If he does not participate… he will lose his magic."
McGonagall let out a quiet gasp, holding Harry tight as she hugged him. She had her eyes closed, keeping Harry in her arms as if she would lose him. She has lost so many students, so many of her children, she wasn't ready to lose another one so early. Harry was the one she had feared losing all the time. Voldemort breaking into the castle, the Basilisk, Sirius trying to kill him. She was going to lose the boy.
"Oh dear Merlin, please keep this child safe."
Harry silently listened to her pleading, humming to himself as he allowed McGonagall to hug him. Mother… I guess… this is enough.
Harry gulped, before he turned towards his head of house. He would endure this charade. A cruel smile slips across his face as he can vividly remember what his ancestors wrote in that damn rulebook hidden in the archive.
— "In the situation of someone placing another's name, the champion shall have control of the individual who placed their name in the goblet without their consent. The individual shall be under their servitude for ten moons. Half of their magic shall be bound to the unwilling champion and they shall do everything the champion orders them, so long as those orders do not threaten the individual's life.
However, the champion shall not order their 'challenger' to harm themselves. Neither shall the champion order them to commit murder. The champion shall not risk the challenger's magic the champion shall not…"
So long as that bastard is alive and his magic well… he will do my bidding. Harry knew he won from the moment an idiot decided to sabotage him. He only wished he knew of this back in his first life.
"Someone get some treacle tarts, some muffins, and a bloody pitcher of water." Ron yelled as he and Hermione guided Harry to a chair. McGonagall sighed as she watched her students frantically follow orders.
Ron Weasley may have seemed the least impressive amongst his siblings to blind idiots, but even those idiots knew that he inherited his mother's temper and motherly instincts. They were quick to run out of the common room and search for the food they demanded. It was a sight she was familiar with. So similar to the way James would demand for treats and water for Remus.
"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger." She called out to them. Said two were quick to turn half of their attention to her, still caring for their exhausted friend. "I shall send some house elves to cater to the food Mr. Potter may begin to vomit."
"Vomit?!"
"If he does not recover by tomorrow, he shall be excused from all of his classes. Please… take care of him."
"No offense Professor," Ron cautiously said, "but no one would ever need to tell us about taking care of Harry. He's done some stupid shit these past years and Hermione and I have practically become his parents."
"Ron's… Ron's meh mam!" Harry slurred out, giggling like a fool. "'Mione's meh dad!"
Ron turned as red as his hair, scolding Harry in a way a mother would.
McGonagall smiled and nodded to them. She patted their heads and proceeded to pat Harry's. The dopey smile on his face was an almost exact copy of the same stupid smile James had when he saw Lily or that boy he was smitten with. Her heart ached as she ruffled Harry's already messy hair and quickly walked out of her house's common room.
Minerva McGonagall may have been strong, but the mere thought of losing yet another child reduced her to tears that would not stop flowing.
"I'mma… I'mma vomit—"
"Bucket! Get the bucket!" Hermione started screaming as Harry's pale face turned a garish shade of green. Fred conjured a bucket to their stead and shoved just beside Harry's bed. They had evacuated to their dorms, to which Seamus, Dean, and Ginny were guarding the door and threatening students who were trying to pry. Fred and George were helping the two of them take care of Harry. Neville was still running of to the kitchens for food.
Harry blinked for a few seconds, before grabbing the bucket and barfing his guts out.
"Why is he like this?!" Hermione yelled, scouring her books for healing spells that would relieve Harry of the pain and exhaustion. From the moment he could not rely on her book, she almost tossed it into the flames.
"Oaths risking your magic can do this to a person. Aunt Tabitha said that people who risk their magic get scolded by their magic by draining their energy and basically messing up your insides. Harry was gambling with his mind and magic. The punishment is gonna be a bloody mess." Ron explained, grimacing as he watched his best friend practically sob into the bucket and wipe what he assumed was his dinner.
"Mate, how could you do that?" Ron asked in a gentle tone, grabbing the towel and wiping Harry's sweaty forehead.
"Liar… they think… think I'mma liar." Harry cackled. "I'mma liar… but… I don't like it when— when dumbydoor calls me a liar."
Ron paused, glancing at his own hand. The vision of a man placing a parchment with Harry's name had been a shock to him. His head had pounded as those images flashed before his eyes. Harry was going to get hurt , was his only thought. Any kind of envy he felt was replaced with the underlying fear his best friend might actually die this time.
He pressed a hand against Harry's forehead, stiffening as his eyes flashed. He saw the image of Harry yelling at Snape, clinging to McGonagall as they discussed his predicament. Those images caused him to pull his hand away and stare at Harry in horror.
He had seen what happened.
"I— I— uh…" he stuttered, "Hermione, you, you take care of him. I'll look for the cure. You don't know much about oaths, so let's switch."
Hermione gave him a skeptical look, before she handed him the book and started caring for Harry. Fred and George watched as their brother shakily flipped through the pages. He looked pale and scared, both chalking it up to Ron being frightened, but it felt like there was something deeper to the situation. Still, their focus drifted back to Harry, assisting Hermione in nursing him.
They would have brought him to the hospital wing, but the thought of others just barging in and harassing him with questions appalled them. So they settled for his bed in their dorms, having taken Ron's pillow and stacking it on Harry's and covering him with Neville and Dean's blankets.
There was no such warmth upon his skin, no color that painted his face. He was pale, sweaty, and groaning out in pain. Or what they thought was pain.
"L… Luna…" he mumbled, groaning again as the damp towel pressed against his forehead.
"Luna? Luna Lovegood?" Ron repeated, looking at Harry with an incredulous look. The strange girl who he suspected was a seer seemed to be acquainted with Harry and he didn't know whether to be concerned or not. "Hermione… here, this might help."
Fred took the book, reading through the spell and glancing back at their little brother. "This is a dreamless sleep spell. Why would he need this?"
"You think it'll be good for him to have nightmares in this state?"
Fred and George cringed. Harry was prone to nightmares, they were well aware of that. Fred was quick to cast the spell, reciting the incantation for a few seconds before silvery light formed around his wand. The tendril of magic rested upon Harry's forehead, before vanishing into his flesh.
Harry started to calm, taking in deep breaths and closing his eyes. "G'night…" he whispered and offered a sleepy smile.
"Sleep well, Harry." Hermione kissed his forehead and made sure he was comfortable. The fondness in her eyes were clear, yet so was the worry for her closest friend. She cleared her throat, patting her uniform and turning on her heel. Facing the three Weasleys, she placed her hand against her hips and raised her chin in a defiant manner.
"We'll have to find who put his name in the goblet. Harry is in danger… again…" she grimaced.
"Oh bloody hell… why can't he have one peaceful year?" George grumbled, tapping his foot on the floor and his arms crossed over his chest.
"Well… the Potter luck is sometimes a bit of a bitch." Ron commented.
Hermione nodded in agreement. If there was anything that was both blessing and curse, it was the Potter luck. The damn thing had saved them so many times from the danger it attracted. "Let's start preparing for tomorrow. Merlin knows how many people are going to swarm him."
"Seamus' already planning an explosion in potions tomorrow to take some of the attention… but still…" Ron trailed off, just as a knock was heard. They glanced towards the door, seeing Neville's head pop up.
"Is Harry alright?" Neville asked, nervously closing the door behind him and glancing towards the boy that was supposed to be his god brother. He quietly approached the sleeping chosen one, frowning at how pale he was.
"High chances he might not recover tomorrow. What's happening down stairs?" Hermione inquired, sitting by Harry's legs.
Neville gulped, sweating anxiously. "Ginny's already cursed someone. She nearly made them go bald. I think you should stop her before she goes on a rampage. Poor Seamus and Dean are just standing behind her like some kind of entourage."
Fred and George were quick to run out of the room to calm their hellion of a sister. As they descended the stairs, they were just in time to hear Ginny yell, " Levicorpus! " and there was a fifth year dangling by the knees.
Harry didn't want to wake up alas, he must.
He felt how sore his body was, how damn sweaty he was to the point even his clothes were sticking to his skin. He groaned, shoving away the numerous blankets that were used to keep him warm. He glanced towards his dorm mates— Dean and Seamus were sharing a bed while Neville had his pillow over his face. Ron was on the floor, snoring like usual but his blanket was just beneath him. It was a ridiculous sight but it made him laugh softly.
"Ron? Ron?" He poked the boys head with his finger. When Ron barely awoke, he sighed and stood from his bed.
Harry snarled as he felt his sweat trickling down from his entire body, repulsed with himself. He hurried to the bathroom, still feeling groggy but conscious enough to take a shower. As he closed the door to the bathroom, he froze as he looked back at his reflection.
It wasn't him.
"Fate is cackling." His supposed reflection spoke. It was his face, but that was it. The person in the mirror wore his face but had almost white hair and black eyes. Cold and calculating with a hint of warmth reserved for him.
"Don't mention it." Harry snapped, removing his shirt and shuddering as he felt his sweat stick to it. "I was pissed, alright? You know how much I hate Dumbledore."
"Enough for you to abandon everything you've learned."
"You do not get to criticize my choices! Regardless of whether you've chosen me as your companion or not, I am human . That is why you chose me after all, remember? Or has death finally forgotten something?" Harry mocked. The notion of being criticized for having emotion was something he despised so deeply. It didn't take long for him to step into the shower and drown his thoughts away. If not for his damn reflection talking.
"I haven't forgotten…" his reflection sighed, "The question you must ask if you have forgotten that you were human. So many years of acting like a lifeless husk, a mere puppet of fate. It's been so long since I've seen so much emotion from you." The tone he used to speak irked him somehow. It just grated at him— the pure and utter relief that was in his voice.
"So you consider yourself human, master… or do you simply claim to be one for theatrics?"
The cold water slid off his body as he stared at the tiled floor. All the disgusting sweat he had felt was washed away and went down the drain. Hands pressed against the wall in front of him and cursing under his breath, yet all one could hear were the sounds of hissing. His chest hurt, grumbling under his breath as he pushed himself off the wall. The question given to him lingered in his mind as he scrubbed at his skin, washed his hair and finished. A single breath he took, inhaling deeply and holding it in for a few seconds. He let it out, and turned back to his own reflection that watched him expectantly.
"Depends on whether I can be one after all this time." He answered and got out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist and gripping the edges of the sink. Vivid emerald eyes bore into the distorted reflection of himself—a reflection of death. "One moment I am human and the next I am not. Fate wills it so."
"Go now… before the little wiccans think I've gone mad." He scowled, wiping against the mirror.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes for a moment. This time, Regulus' voice was a mere whisper and what plagued his mind was the voice of death. Are you human? Was the simple question Death has asked him. He once had the answer to it, but now it was lost to time. Was he human ? Was a question some people would murmur when he walked by amongst his different lives. A genius, a prodigy, a miracle— not human. Some of them spoke in such worshipping ways that made him want to vomit. Then there was the last question; Am I human? He had asked himself over and over again.
The scar on his forehead was faded now. A lightning bolt. It looked like those mediocre drawings of roots, spreading through a small part of his forehead. He pressed a hand against it, pursing his lips when he felt the fragment stir.
"I forgot about you." He admitted with a bitter smile. He had forgotten the fatal flaw that he had, a horcrux. The most revolting thing he could become.
Get it out. Regulus' voice said, tone angry and sending tremors through his soul. I don't want to share your soul with it!
Harry went stiff, laughing bitterly. "I'll get rid of it soon." He murmured.
Then there was a knock.
"Give me a minute Ron."
Notes:
Magical Oaths, they are complicated thing within this story. Usually, you just die of you make an unbreakable vow, but oaths that are sworn to you honesty often just makes you really tired.
Magic, in itself, is sentient. It's owner and the owners magic are not completely one and the same, they are part of each other. Magic is like your personal guardian depending on your own personality. If someone is meek and shy, their magic would be protective of them but would shy away from others.
If you gamble your magic, it simply gets 'angry' and 'scolds' you. The exhaustion is your magic responding to your recklessness, which Harry has become accustomed to. Due to his own soul's fragmenting, his exhaustion is a bit more complicated.
Then we go to Ron. His capabilities are similar to seers but he isn't... Exactly a seer. He has some relations to them and a deep connection to divination, bur he isn't completely a seer. It'll be explained in further chapters. Ron and Luna will have a very good friendship as the two who have to deal with Harry's chaoticness. (Hermione is a surprise.)