Summary:
Previously... Draco Malfoy contemplates on Hadrian Potter and stumbles upon Nikolai Markov. He also accidentally makes a Hadrian Potter cult in Slytherin.
Notes:
Quick question. Pandora in this fic is a Ravenclaw but I have absolutely no idea which family she comes. Is she a lestrange? A Malfoy? A rosier? Someone help me!
CHAPTER 20:
The first task was fast approaching. Hagrid would soon drag him to the forest to show him what he was up against. Harry had been quite amused at the memory of his original life, a moment that would become his future. He was fond of Dragons. They were ferocious creatures of— mostly— fire; And Hadrian Potter loved fire as much as he loved Money.
For days, he lingered in the room of requirements. No longer was it a mess, rather it was designed to be a dimly lit room with an intricate chandelier hanging over him. The ceilings were decorated with subtly glinting gems that would form the constellations upon the night sky. His eyes lingered on the constellation Leo, smiling to himself before shaking his head.
He debated with himself whether he should speak to Cedric Diggory. In the beginning, he had done his best to keep Cedric alive, but now the boy was simply insignificant to him. A useless individual who would cause more problems— evidence of the dark lord's return. Harry didn't really want the world to know that Voldemort would return. Revealing such a fact would cause problems and further Dumbledore's propaganda on him being the poster-boy for light. It was laughable really.
He had planned to keep the man hidden, until Harry disposed of him once and for all.
His eyes skimmed through the letter Gellert had sent him recently. It was signed with his pseudonym instead of his actual name. Spells, enchantments, even subtle runes were placed upon the parchment to make sure no one read it. Hedwig had nipped at his fingers when he tried to read it in public. Bless his owl's heart.
My demonic child,
Germany has been rather kind and Winly has been fussing about me lately. The goblins of Germany's Gringotts were rather upset that it was me who stepped into their halls instead of you. Again, I am proud that you have such influence. (Although I feel sour that they like you more than me.)
The tournament will be a troublesome thing to deal with, but I trust you shall persevere. If you cannot, then I doubt the other three will be able to survive. What is it you once told me? "The art of Victory is to know when to give up so others may perish upon your failure. Thus, it is a success regardless."
You always were cryptic with your words when you were a child. Although, I suppose I am to blame for such things. Be careful and send me more letters. Be discreet, of course.
Remember, the walls have ears. Light will try to blind you and the darkness wishes to swallow you. Resist this. You are neither light nor dark, a being of gray that cannot be tamed by either.
Ashes shall trail your footsteps until a flame will finally come and show itself to you. Shall you claim the fire?
Your most brilliant father.
He couldn't help but laugh. The letter had begun with trivial things such as where he was, and then it strayed to riddles that would have plagued others with headaches. Seers were always troublesome beings. Sometimes he wanted to bash their heads into a wall and carve their mouths open to make sure they spoke in a direct manner rather than riddles. Unfortunately, his irritating father and beloved moon were seers.
A quiet sigh left his lips as he leant against the seat he had the room summon for him. The crimson velvet was perfect, a color that contrasted his eyes. Then red eyes clouded his vision.
He snarled, unable to decipher who's eyes they belonged to.
The sound of hissing invaded his ears as he leant back on the chair and sighed. In his hands was a glass of whiskey (Thank you Dobby) and he closed his eyes and listened to the voice.
§Save me… How could you hurt me? Master…§
Amarantha's words made him flinch. Recently, she had grown more and more devastated. As if she finally realized it was her master who killed her. Harry's heart ached at the sorrow in her voice, cursing himself and clutching the emerald gem. He allowed his magic to course through it, doing his best to calm Amarantha down and show how sorry he was.
Sometimes he wanted to laugh out how easy it was to care for something not human.
Harry gently whispered, §Darling Amarantha… Forgive this fool of a master. I didn't mean to hurt you. Wait a little longer my dear, and I swear to you that you will return to your glory… I swear on it.§
Amarantha hissed back, §Save me…§
I will, just a little longer. He rubbed his thumb on the gem and took a sip of the whiskey. It burned down his throat as his magic quickly acted and resisted the alcohol. His body may have been young and vulnerable to the alcohol, but his magic most certainly wasn't.
Another countdown set off in his head: one, two, three…
An image— a memory flashed in his head, replaying like a film. The vivid image of a castle, tunnels, and secret passages he could see as he walked passed them. He felt himself walk over cold stone floors.
… four, five, six…
There was magic engraved into the walls. His fingers glided through every brick he could touch as he felt it course through his veins. A castle that would serve to protect the future of their kind. It was weaved in a complicated and intricate manner, a puzzle he wanted to solve. Dismantling it was a feat he once wanted to achieve.
… seven, eight, nine…
He took a sharp turn and was met with another tunnel. He went down, further down until his feet landed on cold stone. A circular door was presented to him and he took in a deep breath as it opened— his magic used as a key. As the door opened, he stepped through the cold chamber and stared at the magnificent beast that was bonded to him. He couldn't help the smile etching itself across his face.
His image was reflected upon golden eyes, and he saw the awful grayish hair he once was damned with.
…Ten.
The thing about being made into a public-figure at the age of one, is that oftentimes you get used to the balderdash that is reporters. He smiled, one that he had practiced countless times as he was brought by Colin Creevey to the place where their wands would be checked and a certain bug would be bothering them.
Colin. Sweet, innocent, naive, Colin. He was like the human personification of Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon. Harry entertained the boy's enthusiasm with friendly smiles and vague retellings of the most trivial things he's done. Colin, have I ever told you about the time I learned to control fire? It quite literally referred to the first time Harry used the stove to cook for his wretched relatives. I once used a weapon made of ice to scare away a scary mutt. He had thrown an icicle at a dog chasing him one time.
He planted a hand on the boy's shoulder, startling him. Colin's face turned an immediate red as Harry leaned a bit forward. "Colin, be good." He whispered and bid the boy farewell. Colin's stuttering could be heard as he entered the room, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses. Bangs swept over his forehead, covering most of his scar as he nodded towards the other champions.
"There he is! Champion number four." Harry resisted the urge to scowl as Bagman yelled. He sighed and sidestepped the man, quickly standing between Cedric and Viktor.
The two older boys glanced at each other, then towards the greedy look on Bagman's face. Harry hummed as he watched them fix their posture, along with Fleur who narrowed her eyes at the blonde woman clad in green. The older champions were clearly protective of Harry, especially after the vulnerability he showed them. Fleur had her younger sister, so it was obvious she would react this way.Viktor (from what he knew as Orpheus) always had an older brother instinct. Cedric was a Hufflepuff, he was loyal, and Harry was his junior who had looked so sickly because he was shoved into the tournament.
"Ah! May I introduce to you, Rita Skeeter. She's doing a piece on the tournament, and of course, after the weighing of the wands, there'll be a photoshoot." Bagman explained, keeping up a friendly exterior as he grinned at them. His posture was enough for Harry to clench his fist, trying not to roll his eyes.
Someone cleared their throat and all eyes were on the reporter, her venomous smile spread across her face. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a little interview with Harry before the weighing. Would that be okay?"
Viktor, who was well versed with reporters, immediately placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. He was openly scowling, eyes narrowed at Rita. Harry appreciated his concern, smiling softly before giving the older boy an assuring look. He turned back to Skeeter, who looked rather interested in interaction. Nope, gotta stop that. He thought and strided towards the woman.
"Ask away…" he said.
Rita beamed, ushering him to the same broom cupboard she has dragged him in during his first life. Harry was quite calm and Rita smiled darkly at him.
"Ehem! Testing, testing." She said and the quill began to write. Harry's eyes twitched at that.
A sighed left his lips as he snapped his fingers, Rita not noticing, and stared at the quill before averting his eyes. He had studied enchanted objects on several of his lives and he knew very well how to manipulate the magic within it to change how they worked. In this case, he had altered the magic of the quill go write accurately.
"So, Mr. Potter…" she tried, noticing that he seemed rather annoyed at being called his first name. Rita may be a bold and pretentious woman but she was obviously a Slytherin. "Why did you enter the tournament? Are the rumors of you casting an oath true?" Her eyes were as bright as the bloody chandelier in Black Manor.
Harry feigned a tired look, "I didn't want to join the tournament. Really, I am tired of such danger. The rumors are true and I had suffered for the entire night after the oath." Harry purposefully allowed his hand to reach for his neck, before abruptly lowering it. He gave her a bitter smile, "There is an awful person here that wants me to be part of the tournament. Why Professor Dumbledore did not make the age line more secure baffles me."
Rita raised a brow, leaned forward as she narrowed her eyes. "How so?"
"Ah… no I mustn't… the headmaster would not take kindly to me…" Harry gulped, immediately looking away from her.
Rita seemed to notice something wrong, brows furrowed as she quietly glanced around. There was nothing much aside from brooms, but she quickly cleared her throat and fixed her posture to look less menacing. Harry watched all this through half-lidded eyes, smirking to himself as he watched Skeeter adjust to make him comfortable. Definitely Slytherin… Wait, she should be around Bellatrix's age or at least slightly older… were they housemates?!
"Now Mr. Potter," her tone was a bit gentler this time. She was trying to coax it out of him, but at the same time she was being a bit considerate… or not. "The Headmaster will do no such thing… trust me…" she said with a smile kinder than the previous one.
Had Harry been his original self, he might have fallen for it and just cried to her. But he wasn't.
"Oh… Oh, you're right… it's just… Only Madame Maxime and Professor McGonagall were kind to me that night. Professor Snape he… he kept accusing me." Harry's voice cracked although he was annoyed he had to do such a thing. "I was so tired, exhausted from the oath and the only thing I was greeted with by my teachers were accusations. I don't want to be in this tournament, Miss Skeeter."
"Oh, dear… Go on. I would like to hear all about it." Rita said with a smile. "The tournament has been known for its death rate, did you know that?" He nodded.
Harry returned her smile, looking more innocent than the woman in front of him. "I don't want to die, Miss Skeeter. If even the Great Albus Dumbledore can't get a fourteen years old from entering the tournament, who's to say I would get out of this in one piece?"
"If your parents were here, what do you think they'd say?"
Ah, there it is… the cruel question about his parents. Unfortunately for Rita, Harry had gotten used to it since his first life. He offered a sad smile, looking away from her. "Honestly? I'd think my mother would be furious that someone had put me in this tournament. They died to save me… I could only say that both of them might rise from the grave if they heard about this incident."
Rita flinched, looking away. She looked ashamed. Good, Harry thought as he smiled darkly.
"I hope… that my mother is watching over me. I hope that with her help I will survive this dangerous competition."
TRI-WIZARD TOURNAMENT: INNOCENT STUDENT CONDEMNED TO THE FATE OF A CHAMPION. Harry could see the headlines, and his eyes saw the flash of gold. The flash of money.
The door of the cupboard was soon opened, and Harry froze as he saw Dumbledore offer him a friendly smile. He made sure his expressions were well crafted, enough for Rita to see a sense of terror in his eyes. Enough for Rita Skeeter to think that the headmaster was putting him in evident danger, a danger that the chosen one seemed to have gotten used to.
Harry wanted her to suspect. He wanted her to have doubts and begin questioning what is happening in Hogwarts. Soon, with a little push, she would discover the danger children have gone through since he was enrolled… and Dumbledore had done nothing but force Harry to clean up the mess instead of protecting the students.
The biggest mistake Rita Skeeter did was interview Hadrian Potter. She may be the interviewer but this was a story Harry was telling. He was writing it, manipulating even the perspective of Rita Skeeter. She was nothing but a puppet in a play Harry orchestrated.
Days had passed since the weighing of the wands. Harry was more interested in Fleur's wand when he was listening to Ollivander explain what it was made of. But his mind was now drifting away, tilting his head side to side.
On the left, there was a rather angry voice yelling at him, and on the right there was mad laughter. Aspects of himself, remnants of who he once was. His incarnations were more troublesome the bigger the number of his life. As it was his thirteenth life, obviously he was unlucky.
Among the voices in his head, the one loudest were that of Orpheus Black and Regulus Black. One incarnation and one ghost he was unwilling to let go of. Both were Blacks.
Regulus was scolding him, again… and Orpheus was laughing at his misery.
You fool! Hades, what the hell?! You let that woman get near you? Regulus was angry, angry that he had let Skeeter speak to him. Harry felt upset, at the same time he wanted to argue with Regulus that it was he who had taught him how to twist a story.
Although he was being scolded, he happily welcomed the ghost into his mind…
His sixth incarnation on the other hand…
Orpheus was laughing, a maniacal laughter that mocked Harry with every sound. Orpheus was… celebrating his misery.
"Shut up…" he whispered.
Emerald eyes immediately landed on the daily prophet that Hermione was reading intently. Her grip on the paper was tight, as Ron peered over her shoulder. His brows were furrowed as he took a bite of his muffin. In sync, the two turned their eyes to him. He was in the middle of eating his egg and toast.
"What is this?"
Harry simply shrugged.
The Fourth champion: the unfortunate child.
"Harry Potter, the unexpected fourth champion of the TRI-wizard tournament! Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you what our youngest champion feels about joining the tournament.
Unfortunate and tired, Mister Potter had not planned on entering the tournament after having experienced many near-death situations. It seems that the youngest champion has been anxious of his own safety since the night his name was announced.
"I didn't want to join the tournament. Really, I tire of such danger. The rumors are true and I had suffered for the entire night after the oath." Mr. Potter had said.
Now, Magical oaths are costly as most of you know. From the accounts of some schoolmates, Mr. Potter was in a dire and sick state for the entire night…
Then Harry's eyes skimmed through the article and down to the bit where he mentioned his parents.
I asked Mr. Potter what he thinks his parents would do if they were present and I was met with a son who deeply longed for his parents.
"Honestly? I'd think my mother would be furious that someone had put me in this tournament. They died to save me… I could only say that both of them might rise from the grave if they heard about this incident." Potter told me with a bitter looking smile, "I hope… that my mother is watching over me. I hope that with her will that I will survive this dangerous competition" he says finally with a longing look in his eyes.
Harry laughed maniacally at that. It seemed to startle students who were in hearing range. He took an immediate notice to them, shrinking away at his mocking laughter, shamefully tucking away their own copies of the prophet— surely they assumed he was laughing at them rather than the ridiculous accuracy of the article.
Readers, I would like to address a dire fact that seems to have gone unnoticed.
The goblet of fire was surrounded by an age-line crafted and carved by none other than Albus Dumbledore. If someone with so much ill intent for Mister Potter was able to cross the line and place his name in the goblet, who's to say he would be safe? I worry for him and as he's said, may Lily Potter's soul watch over him and keep him safe. Had the late Mrs. Potter been here, I would expect her to curse the perpetrator.
Nothing is more dangerous than a mother's love for her child."
"Well… at least she's got the last part completely correct. Mothers are dragons who spit fire when going near what they treasure most. Only fools would do such a thing with one present…" Harry laughed, pointing his wand at the prophet that had been slapped to the table. He muttered a quiet incendio, setting the prophet in flames.
Hermione and Ron jolted back, before Hermione quickly whipped out her wand and yelled the water charm. She glared at Harry, but shook her head and sighed.
"Don't do that. Ever!" She hissed, vanishing the ash that was left.
Ron was staring at him in concern, before quickly leaned over the table to whisper something. On instinct, the other two members of their group moved similarly, while Harry casted a sound barrier around them.
"About my vision… I talked to Luna about some divination and all… she uhm… she said we should try divining what I saw on sand or attempt with reflections." Ron hesitantly explained, glancing at the skeptical look on Hermione.
Harry hummed, "Geomancy and Scrying. I heard about that… let's try Scrying, alright?"
"I suppose… we should attempt it…" Hermione grudgingly agreed, "But for now we focus on your task. I'll check the library for information on Scrying, but you," she pointed at Harry, "concentrate on not dying. Neither Ron, nor I want to conduct your funeral! Understand?"
Harry snorted, "Heavens no."
Hermione merely rolled her eyes as she went on a tirade of what foolishness this tournament was for letting him enter. She was brutal upon spitting facts and even bringing up the multiple deaths that had come upon the tournament. Harry had long since dispelled the sound barrier, allowing everyone to hear every gruesome fact Hermione was able to spit out. It was beautiful really.
He watched as faces turned pale and paler, listening until they could no longer. Hermione mentioned how one champion had their arm severed due to a trial involving swords, and how one other champion had been blinded due to lightning. He was sure that one student had gotten up from their seat and ran out the hall to vomit, his friends following him. Hermione did not care and continue to ruthlessly describe the events of the previous tournaments.
It would have made him laugh.
"Mione…" Ron whispered, "Stop… You're scaring them."
"Let them listen. It's the truth. If they don't believe it then they should pick up a book." Hermione scoffed, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she glared at the eavesdroppers.
Harry chuckled, "Hermione is right. These are facts that should be known. Regardless of the unity between schools, this tournament is dangerous. Let them listen." He repeated Hermione's words with a smug grin.
Ron sighed, "It feels like I'm going to have to stop both of you from comitting murder in the future."
Gray rimmed eyes met with vivid emeralds. Hermione and Harry shared near identical grins that would make people mistake them for twins. Ron flinched when he saw those smiles, expecting chaos in the future caused by the obviously chaotic Harry, and the usually responsible Hermione. The fact that they looked nothing alike with Harry's deathly complexion and vivid green eyes, then there was Hermione's dark skin, dark brown hair, and black eyes that were rimmed with gray. Nothing about their appearances were similar, but Ron could have mistook them as siblings.
Except for the hair.
"Oh no…"
"Come now Ron!" Harry laughed, "Don't be such a worry wart."
"Come now Ronald!" Hermione mockingly repeated.
"You two sound like twins." Ron grumbled.
"Do we?" The two said in sync, startling all three of them. Hermione and Harry burst into giggles while Ron groaned and rested his face in his hands.
"Merlin, Morgana… help me." He whispered, before shaking his head and getting up from his seat. The two followed him out the hall, Harry in his usual place in between them. Although the green-eyed boy wanted to shove Hermione towards Ron, he did glance at the two. He caught Hermione stealing glances at Ron and couldn't help but grin madly.
They look like Lily and James… Harry hummed when the ghost in his head spoke again. Regulus' voice carried a small tone of sadness, it irked him, but he restrained himself. Regulus had always been quite sad when it came to James and Lily, and the part of his soul… Malcolm would silently comfort him regardless of his own pain.
"The things that love makes us do."
He felt a part of his soul hum in agreement.
The first task had finally come.
Harry had gone to Cedric, acting like the innocent and worried junior that he once was and told him of the dragons. Cedric, Hufflepuff; loyal, kind, and sweet, believed Harry and thanked him kindly. Unlike the events of the original, the group of Hufflepuff's he was with did not snarl and scowl at him. Quite the opposite actually.
They were rather friendly and thankful to him.
The four champions were in the tent. All either pacing, muttering nervously, or performing a little ritual for luck (that was apparently Cedric, who often did it before quidditch.) Harry was calm for the moment. He rubbed his hands together, tilting his head from side to side.
Again the voices were loud. One on the right was telling him to kill the dragon. It was a menacing and mad voice that clearly belonged to Orpheus. On the right, he could hear a quiet voice. A voice he hadn't heard in a long time, but he listened quietly. He listened to it whisper, telling him to tame the dragon. Use his gift.
Parseltongue could work, but Harry wasn't foolish enough to allow others to witness his skill. He hummed, quietly apologizing to the quiet voice. However, he loudly scolded Orpheus for even suggesting killing the magnificent beast of fire, the Dragon.
"What are you going to do?" He asked no one in particular. The older champions turned to him, seeming to realize that a fourteen-year-old was going up against a dragon.
I mean, I'm not exactly fourteen… nevermind, let them think that way. He shrugged, as Cedric strided to him and patted his head.
"Don't worry Harry, nothing bad will happen to you. I promise." Cedric smiled, running his hands through Harry's hair.
On pure instinct, Harry gently pushed his hand away and grumbled under his breath. Cedric chuckled, smiling brightly at him.
It's hard to forget that smile… Harry thought, How easy it was… to push away that little boy that looked so much like you…
"Aim for the eyes." Viktor suddenly said, as Fleur hurried towards Harry and brought his hands into hers.
"Dragons are ferocious creatures." She spoke, her accent quite thick as she tried to properly pronounce certain words. "But you must see the beauty in them. Mothers are often compared to Dragons for a reason. They are protective, they are possessive."
Viktor nodded in agreement, "Try not to hurt their eggs. Dragons are most ferocious when it comes to their eggs. We learn that in our fourth year when the professors show us a dragon. Usually it's the most harmless, but even the most harmless of dragons are deadly."
"I envy the students of your schools. Hogwarts has been… Well, it hasn't provided enough for us in recent years." Cedric said with a bitter tone.
"Aside from the hippogriff in third year, it's not as informative as your school." Harry shrugged, "Nikolai said some things and we started comparing our schools. Durmstrang seems better. Kinda wish I attended Durmstrang."
Viktor laughed, nodding.
Fleur, on the other hand, seemed to disagree. "Oh little boy," she said with a grin. "Beauxbatons are just as good. The architecture of our castle is clearly better than that dreary place. So cold, as I've heard." She turned towards Viktor with a smug look.
Viktor immediately glared at her. The two went off on an argument on whose school was better. The two students of Hogwarts weren't even willing to defend their own school. Harry met Cedric's eyes, nodding as they both agreed that hogwarts— the current Hogwarts, was not valuable enough to defend and be proud of. They chose to listen and they learned many things from the arguments.
It didn't take long for their headmasters and headmistress to enter the tent, looking quite competitive until they saw the friendly atmosphere between them.
Karkaroff looked appalled, while Dumbledore seemed put off by the sight. Maxime was the only one with a positive reaction, smiling proudly at them.
Harry couldn't stop himself from smirking. My game, my way.
Notes:
Just so you all know, I absolutely adore the dynamic between Lily and Regulus. I want those two to be best friends, like crazy best friends who support each other all the time. I want Regulus to be teasing Lily every time she talks about Pandora/Mary (I ship Pandalily, Marlily, Jegulus, and Jegulily). I want Lily to be there to back up Sirius when James flirts with Reggie and they go full overprotective sibling mode (bit Lily is gonna purposefully trip Reggie so James can catch him).
I want the younger siblings who have strained relationships with their older siblings and are deftly attracted to this only child with a stupid smile.
I shove that into the golden trio, but reverse, kinda... But more platonic than romantic. We have Hermione and Harry, the only child's with bad home lives and there's Ron. The kid who's got six siblings and is a ball of sunshine to those two.
Ron is their sunshine and the slightly emotionally constipated duo are his protectors. I have absolutely no idea how to put pictures in the notes so just search up the meme.
Hermione is just chaotic and does not care if the stuff she's reading is absolutely gore. In my head (with this fic) she and Harry bond by watching serial killer documentaries. Ron is the poor fool who brings them food and tries to coerce them outside the house and to touch some grass.
I just love this trip. I have absolutely no idea why there are so many fics where they bash either Ron or Hermione, or even both! Like— they are the bestest friends in canon and the should be best friends in fanon!
Also! Happy new years! This is the last chapter I post this year! Yaaaaayyy!!!! In the next ten chapters, Tom finally shows up! So stay tuned.
Sorry for not updating be hectic the last few work have really caught up to me due to having several overtime in the Hotel i work in due to several large events.