The one where Death has the most amicable break up ever, gets bribed to a sports event with hot dudes by his adopted father and then immediately regrets it

Alternately, the one where the forest is so fucking huge, like where the fuck is this World Quidditch Cup anyway, god I hate sports

So. Sirius Black is sort of a fucking lunatic.

"Oh my god," Harry says, glaring at the pardoned criminal hiding behind a statue of a marble statue of an elegant lady tangled in flowers which sits silently in the corner of the foyer of the Malfoy home, "Are you serious? Don't you have a life to get together? What do you want from me?"

"Sirius," Narcissa sighs, the woman had been sitting primly in her seat sipping tea in the same room, "please do desist, you are embarrassing me."

Lucius, who had led Harry to the room in the first place wisely stays silent even though it looks like he desperately wants to say something at Black who was sulkily coming out of his hiding place to flop unceremoniously onto the nearby couch next to Narcissa. Much to her dismay as evident by the way she inelegantly shuffles further from her estranged brother.

"Harry please," Black wheedles plaintively, "give me a chance."

"Black..." Harry sighs.

"Call me Sirius," Black pleads.

"You can't just keep showing up and pestering me like this Black," Harry groans and rubs his forehead vigorously like it could stave off the Sirius Black sized headache brewing in the distance of his mind. Mr Riddle is never pleased when he gets headaches, apparently, he gets nauseous, therefore he is hardly a fan of the white sheep of the Black family. "The only reason Cornelius hasn't called the wizard cops on you when you showed up for the third time at our family dinners is that the Ministry still feels incredibly shitty for not giving you a trial and the whole Azkaban for a billion years thing."

"I, I, It was a coincidence?" Black tries. Pathetically Harry may add.

He stares at the older man, unimpressed, "This is the fourth day since school has ended. And only one of those family dinners was at a restaurant."

Narcissa has thrown away all sense of decorum and summons a bottle of wine to pour into her porcelain teacup. Lucius looks at her, torn between disappointment, amusement and being utterly besotted with her. It would have been sort of gross if it had been someone else that didn't have the hair of angel. "I am so glad mother cut you out," she says viciously as she downs her teacup full of liquor, "Merlin I had almost forgotten you were like this."

"Lucius, I got the message you had sent, what was so urgent tha-" Severus looks like he had just stepped in a large pile of wet owl feces when he caught sight of Black. "What are you doing here?" He sneers.

"I could say the same to you," Sirius sneers back attitude immediately shifting to the defensive.

"He was invited here, unlike you," Narcissa rolls her eyes.

"By me," Lucius adds because he's always needed to be a part of a conversation. Especially the important ones.

"And me," Harry also pipes in because he knows it will offend Black to his very core and honestly, his ribs are still bruised and his arm is in a cast because of him so forgive him if he still doesn't feel very forgiving. He smiles at Severus sweet and coy, Severus, sensing the intent and clearly relishing it, smiles back smugly.

As expected, Black looks like he's been skewered alive. "I, I, you, but," he chokes, eyes darting between Severus and Harry who were gazing lovingly into each other's eyes with horror, "I thought,"

"That's right," Harry smirks at Black, crossing his arms, reveling at his floundering. "We talked about my mother, and it turns out I still want to do unspeakable things to this man, so, yeah."

"You mean you haven't already?" Lucius mutters so softly only Harry who was right at his side could hear it. Clearly, he was still bitter about the desk thing. Which was ridiculous because they were both fully clothed at the time so it wasn't like they had actually defiled anything except each other's mouths. And the insides of their pants. But that's really not here or there.

"Oh, my," Narcissa says, for the first time actually interested in the turn of the conversation has took, "I didn't realize."

"Well, Mr Potter does have a surprising lack of subtlety," Severus says, almost preening at how open the teenager was with his declaration of affection. He's fairly sure Harry's doing this on purpose to minimize the amount of accusation toward Severus of coercion and rape once the news of their relationship inevitably comes out, but then again, as sly as the boy is, he clearly enjoys being naturally quite blunt, going on crude in attempts to embarrass him. And from the way he can feel his cheeks flush, and Harry's satisfied smile, it's working.

"No, no," Narcissa waves off, "I meant I didn't realize the affection was mutual,"

The flush pricking Severus' face suddenly explodes, his skin practically burning as he stares at Narcissa who takes a good and long sip of her drink. Even Lucius was looking at her with surprise. Clearly, no one else knew she had caught on then.

"Mr Potter is my student." He says with a cool stern calm he certainly does not feel. Maybe if they were alone he would have eventually admitted it to Narcissa who seems surprisingly somewhat understanding. But he would rather die than willingly volunteer Sirius Black proper blackmail toward his person.

Narcissa catches this quickly. "Well," she amends, "maybe not the unspeakable things part but it is obvious Severus how much you favor Harry here, even more than your godson really." The last bit was said chidingly. Narcissa was first and foremost, a doting parent above all other things.

"Well If Draco continues to follow Harry's trend of needing urgent medical attention every few months I may have to rearrange my priorities as you've implied," Severus smoothly replies, making the woman smile faintly.

"Ah, well, maybe there's really no need for that," she sips her liquor. Draco has come home with only minor bruising and a vial of potions but she had heard that the initial injuries would not have made a pretty sight for her heart. She's sure the boy had exaggerated his role in the exploits, but it had been enough for Lucius and her to get quite drunk late into that night and curse Sirius, Pettigrew, Dumbledore and, once they were proper smashed, the dark lord.

"Hey, I came out better than last time," Harry protests half-heartedly.

"Yes," Severus drawls, "considering last time you were in a magical coma after killing a basilisk I honestly dread to imagine you coming out worse."

"He did what?" Black squawked. Narcissa looked a little pale at the reminder. Lucius was pointedly looking at the ground.

"He's got you there Potter," Draco drawls as he and Blaise stepped into the room, clearly impatient to see why Harry had to be taken away in the middle of their game of Monopoly. "Anyway, what is- oh dear Merlin it's Sirius Black."

"Ugh, him again?" Blaise groans like the topic of conversation weren't in the room, "Merlin he's such a fucking wanker, I had to get my shoulder reset and the only difference between the magical way and the muggle way of that is that one uses hands."

Lucius looks like he wants to admonish the young Zabini for his crude language but refrains into a silent sneer. It would have been more affronting if Harry and Draco hadn't seen him interact with Ms Zabini, and therefore are now fully aware that she terrifies the Head of the Glorious House of Malfoy to his very being. From what Draco gathers from his mother, Lucius was almost considered to be betrothed to her but the idea was never raised again once he had hit the sixth year and had apparently witnessed something that had him practically jumping into Narcissa's arms. Draco, because he loves, respects and idolizes his father has used up great deals of restraint to not bring the topic up around him but every time it's in reach you can see he clearly suffers in his curiosity, much like now.

Luckily they had more pressing matters to focus on.

"Oh bloody hell," Black says as if he just realizes he's stumbled into enemy territory, "is everyone a Slytherin here?"

"You're standing on Malfoy grounds you utter-" Narcissa leads off to furiously sip her drink before she says something uncouth in front of her son.

"Technically I'm only a quarter," Harry volunteers unhelpfully, "broke the Sorting hat down."

"I cannot believe I'm going to say this, but someone really should fetch the werewolf," Severus mutters, which really, considering his background with Remus, Harry can't help but be proud of him being the one to suggest it at all. It seems you can really bond with people through mild food-induced poisonings.

Lucius sighs but nods, "I'll do it," he says, resigned to the fact he was going to invite a bloody werewolf into his esteemed manor because his wife's crazy brother is stalking his son's best friend. You really just can't make this stuff up.

As Lucius goes to contact Remus, Harry decides to run some interference. "Black, did you even go to your Ministry appointed mind therapy today?"

"I did," Black says proudly like it was some sort of achievement. Which. Considering how hard he fought it might be. He makes an irritated face after his proclamation, "Mind Healer Windturn says it'll take around two months before most of the damage is healed, more for trauma."

Harry sighs wistfully and looks at his own injuries. Despite being nowhere as complex as Black's fraying mental state, it'll take far longer than two months for the damages in his weak body to recover. He's so fucking jealous he could actually strangle Black. "Look, Black, you're, uh..." Harry takes a moment to think, "well, you're not my parents' murderer, but really, if that's all it takes to be a godfather then there are a lot more adults out there that fit the bill a little better."


"Sirius! This is where you are?" Remus comes out of the floo, looking haggard and more than a little vexed, "For Merlin's sake I know you just came out of Azkaban but you are actually legitimately mental!"

"Moony," Sirius whines, "don't do this, you're embarrassing me!"

"You are embarrassing yourself!" Remus admonishes angrily, "I had to apologize to the Minister of Magic the other day because of you! That was the first time I met the Minister and it was to apologize for you hiding under their bed and growling. They thought you were a boggart!"

"Right," Harry winces, "Penny is afraid of large black dogs because of a thing. You know she's still sleeping with that dagger right? Cornelius is apparently scared shitless he might accidentally be skewered in the night."

"Yeah, someone should've told me about her," Sirius winces and rubs his bandaged ribs tentatively, "I thought I was going to die."

"And yet," Harry groans, "you managed to be up and stalking the outside of the Fudge villa the very next night." Black was doggedly persistent, Harry will give the fucking psycho that. Then again, if nothing else, Azkaban and hunting down Pettigrew had given the man a mental fortitude that could probably block the killing curse. Not that it stopped Pettigrew from escaping but to be fair that was really the Ministry's fault. So.

"What will it take for you to even consider me as godfather?" Sirius Black pleads.

Harry pauses. This is the first time the man has truly asked instead of demanded and begged. He could use this.

"Well," he says in exaggerated thoughtfulness and doubt, "If you really want to be my godfather, no, if you want to start being a part of my life at all-"

"Yes, anything, I want it, I'll do anything," Black agreed desperately.

Harry crosses his arms, unperturbed by the sniveling. He may be a pushover but it's not like he hasn't heard every plea in the book when sinners try to get out of Hell. "Then apologize to Severus for being such a shitty arsehole dickwad who acted like a bully overcompensating for a very, very small penis."

The room seemed to freeze.

"Oh Merlin," Remus says weakly. That was not language Harry or any young boy should be using. Even most adults really.

"Wha- I- wha-" Sirius spluttered. Harry just stares down at him serenely and sternly.

"I want those exact words," He says mildly, "with eye contact and everything." He tilts his head toward an equally stunned Severus to make sure the man knew exactly who he was supposed to make eye contact with.

"Wow." Draco breathed, even Lucius looked torn between vaguely horrified and humorously intrigued at how this was going to unfold. Narcissa looked like Christmas had come early.

Blaise just looked downright aroused, "I love it when you get all dominant like this," he groaned exaggeratedly, "so fucking hot, Merlin, tell him to get on his knees too."

Severus looked like he was shifting between wanting to suffocate the dark-skinned Slytherin and agreeing with him with equally heated fervor.

"All my friends are fucking depraved sadistic perverts," Draco muttered darkly, but he too was watching with interest.

"Language," his parents chide.

"But! Harry!- oh never mind."

"Actually, Harry is really less of a sadist, more of a-" Blaise falters under Severus' harsh and withering glare. The man had been forced to endure close proximity to dementors for weeks, near months, thanks to Harry and his unnatural affinity for them and had, as a result, evolved his evil eye to truly fearsome proportions. He once managed to cow Custard the Dementor when Harry tried to smuggle it into his bedroom and Custard tried to sneak out into their kitchen to search for the food of its namesake. "-a chaste angel, yes, he's never done a single thing that could be construed as sinful in his life, Merlin sir, please stop, I, I think I may burst into tears, and I suddenly have a rather healthy respect for Longbottom that I really wish I didn't have." Blaise's finishes quickly.

Draco snorts.

"I-I-I-" Sirius stutters. Harry just gives him a bored look and checks an invisible watch on his wrist, do wizards have watches? He smoothly changes the gesture so it looks like he's surveying the quality of his nails indifferently instead. That's better.

"We don't have all week Black," he drawled. "My new father, the Minister of Magical fucking England is waiting for me at home so we can go vacay in Bali tomorrow." It had taken a lot of pleading to persuade the man to try traveling overseas, especially somewhere as exotic as Asia, but Mrs Fudge had been on his side so his victory really had been inevitable. It helped greatly that Harry had been so very obviously injured and was equipped with a visual explanation on female muggle swimwear.

Harry briefly wonders if it is appropriate to send his professor photographs of him on the beach, wet and wearing nothing but Slytherin green swim shorts. It's probably not. Harry is totally going to do it anyway.

"Merlin you are mean," Draco whistles impressed.

"Draco, you should take notes," Lucius orders quietly, watching over the scene fascinated.

"Snivellus-" Harry makes a tutting noise and gives the man a look that would make McGonagall proud. "Snape," Black amends with gritted teeth, "I-I-I-I-I,"

"I think you broke my brother," Narcissa whispers loudly and delightedly, "Merlin, and we only gifted you a measly dementor statue for Christmas that can float."

"Eye contaaact," Harry sing-songs, giving everyone a thumbs up and a wide toothy grin.

Black makes a wounded noise before visibly steeling himself and looking into Severus dark and deeply smug eyes. "Snape." He says, "I apologize for being a... a dick,"

"I believe the exact term was 'shitty arsehole dickwad'." Severus drawls, clearly relishing the moment dearly. Harry flushes and shivers at the way the man's baritone voice curls around the crude expletives. God, what he would give to hear that voice dirty talk.

Sirius Black looked ready to fulfill the murder charge he had been just recently acquitted for, "I'm sorry for being a shitty arsehole dickwad and bullying you when we were younger like I was overcompensating for my very small penis."

"Tiny penis," Severus corrects primly.

"Oh come on! Harry didn't say that!"

"Didn't I?" Harry raises a brow, Black slumps over.

"My tiny penis." Black amends with red cheeks.

Harry decides to take pity on the man and immediately throws himself to hug Black, albeit awkwardly considering his injured arm and heavily bruised ribs. "Thank you, Black, I appreciate how much that took from you."

"Psh, it was nothing, anything for my godson," Black lies, but he's positively glowing as he tentatively hugs the boy back, "and call me Sirius."

Well, the guy does deserve to be given a bone. "Sirius," Harry agrees easily before stepping away. "But really, I was sort of doing something before you came here, so, um,"

"Oh, Oh!" Sirius flushes, finally embarrassed of his actions now that he's gotten what he had wanted. Harry wants to sigh again. Somehow he's managed to pick up another child to take care of, and unfortunately, this one came with the stubbornness of an adult and the mental instability of a legitimate crazy person.

"Yeah, course, uh, um," Sirius bits his lower lip, worrying it with his teeth, a gesture Draco sometimes does when nervous. Harry wonders if it runs through the Black family because he's never seen Lucius do that. Mr Malfoy once bit his own finger but that was probably less a habitual action and more an attempt to not scream enraged when he'd caught Severus with a hand up Harry's shirt in, apparently, his mother's favorite bathroom. Which come on. What lunatic has a favorite bathroom? Harry's been in the Malfoy Manor more than a few times now and he can confidently say, that bathroom looks pretty much like the rest of them. "So, um, maybe once you come back from uh, with your, well, Harry, do ya, well, Grimmauld Place ain't the nicest place but I'm sure by then,"

"Oh my Merlin, he's worse than when you tried to invite Harry over to your place Draco," Blaise groans.

"Nu-uh," Draco hisses, eyes flitting to his father, wary of another admonishment. Harry can relate now that Cornelius seemed to have somewhat settled into fatherhood comfortably enough to lecture Harry for a solid hour about political relations and the consequences of accidentally destroying an engagement. Which. Like. To be fair. How was Harry supposed to know the cute heir to the Valbourne Bank of Lithuania was engaged to the youngest noble daughter of the Italian minister?

Or that the guy would be so enamored and confident that he would loudly break off said engagement to try to pursue Harry.

Or that Joseph von Berne, whose family apparently had a very intense blood feud with the Valbournes, would take great offense to this new rival and challenged the Lithuanian to a wizarding duel.

Or that it would all happen in the span of a single Ministry Ball.

Well, at least it was a memorable night.

"Will Remus be there if I visit?" Harry sighs.

Sirius nods vigorously, honestly, Harry was sure the man would agree to invite Voldemort if that was what it took to get Harry to come over. Which, you know, is sort of sweet. And exploitable. "And I can bring Professor Snape?"

Sirius makes a contorted face of pure and utter agony, more than a few of the bystanders had to look away or cover their mouths to hide their amusement. Harry grinned, "I'm kidding," he says, "I'll hang out with you and Remus for an afternoon when I come back, but it's nice to know you didn't immediately reject the idea."

Everyone laughed at the expression of relief on the man's face. Severus smirks when Black accidentally catches eye contact with the other, "Yes," Severus drawled, "how very... welcome I feel."

That seemed to be the final straw for Sirius and in the end the ex-convict had to be dragged out by a very apologetic werewolf while Severus spits curses as he cleans up his bloody nose, Narcissa sighs forlornly at her broken tea set and liquor stained antique rug, and Lucius tried valiantly to fix a broken statue that was half shattered, half ground into fine powder. Harry turns to his friends, who looked as equally bemused as he did,

"So, my turn for monopoly?"

"You." Lucius points accusingly at Harry, the bane of his house's purity, "Are not allowed back into my manor."

He was invited back less than a day after he'd returned from Bali.

"Harry," Blaise says in the middle of their date. They're sitting in a muggle cafe which Blaise had only sneered at once before he had tried the food and promptly insists on coming here near exclusively. "I want to break up."

Harry, mid-chew half chokes, half swallows down his ravioli in surprise. Blaise, because he had probably been waiting for this exact moment like an arsehole, hands him a glass of water. "Excuse me?" He asks once he had gratefully drunk the drink.

"You're excused," Blaise replies primly as he focuses on curling up his carbonara around his fork.

Harry tries to glare but the tears that sprung up subsequently from his coughing session made it hard to do it well, "I meant," he takes another gulp of water. "What brought this on? I thought we were doing okay?" Harry blinks away the excess water in his eyes and then looks at Blaise worriedly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Blaise dismisses, but from the way he refused to meet Harry's gaze, he could tell that the teen was at the very least uncomfortable right now.

"Are you sur-"

"Look." Blaise interrupts firmly, "This is the first time I've ever broken up with someone so just, just give me a sec, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agrees, feeling weirdly touched and proud. Sometimes it was hard to remember he is a kid and not an adult, mainly because his inner pervert is pretty damn high-level but that doesn't change the fact that he's young and maturing. There's a tiny part of him that genuinely feels guilty of being his first boyfriend, corrupting him so quickly in life, but Harry brushes it off, after all, it's not like there aren't worse people. And to be honest, with a face as handsome as Blaise's, any future breakups would wish to be half as easy as this one will be.

"I just, I..." Blaise was blushing so hard even his dark skin was reddening, "I don't, it was meant to be easy right?"

"Um. If you mean our relationship then yes?" Harry tries, vaguely confused.

"Yeah, well, it's, it was great, don't get me wrong, fantastic," Blaise splutters, "which I mean, is sort of the problem? But not really."

"Blaise..." Harry blinks, "um, I'm really trying here but you are not really making much sense right now."

Blaise coughs, the shade of his dark skin reddening further into an interesting shade that reminds Harry of something cooked, "I just think..." he says slowly, carefully, "I just think if we keep this up, I, uh," for the first time since the conversation started the Slytherin looked Harry in the eyes, solemn but strong. Harry had to shiver a little at the intensity. Yes, he didn't need to be Love to know that kid was going to break so many hearts in the future. "I won't be able to keep our relationship just casual on my part anymore."

"You mean," Harry sips his drink as Blaise reluctantly nods, "oh."


"Well." Harry finally says, "That's.. are you sure?"

Blaise levels him with a look that truly does not suggest he may be harboring romantic feelings in regards to Harry. Hell, it's a look that makes Harry feel like he may not harbor any positive feelings for Harry at all. "I'm sure." Blaise sneers.

Harry flushes and ducks his head sheepishly, "Okay, fair, sorry,"

The tanned teen rolls his eyes, fond and exasperated and now that Harry really looks for it, a touch softer than Blaise would have looked to any other friend. Oh.

"It's hardly your fault babe," Blaise coughs again, smiling awkwardly, "I guess the cutesy nicknames have got to stop now too."

"I, well, I'll miss them," Harry confesses.

"I'll miss them too," Blaise says quietly, and somehow it didn't feel like they were just talking about nicknames. "But hey, we can still give each other shit as mates right?"

Harry scoffs, "Obviously, the only difference between now and the future is that you can't be comforted by my cruel jibes with my breathtaking blowjobs."

"Breathtaking is right," Blaise leers, and it feels a bit forced, on both ends, but the fact they can still grin and joke without either one getting mad proved how compatible they are as friends. Even if Blaise may need some time off from Harry for a while.

Leaning back on his seat, Blaise gazes a little forlornly at Harry, "But really sweetca- I mean, Harry, I think we could've been something amazing if you weren't so stuck on Professor Snape, which, as your friend I can say is super weird by the way."

"As your friend? What does that mean?" Harry asks in half-serious outrage, "You said that as my boyfriend as well!"

"Yeah, but now I can say it without fear of you withholding your pretty mouth for my pleasure," Blaise points out with a crooked smirk.

Harry rolls his eyes but it was easy to see the way his pink cheeks darkened further at the perverse compliment, "Yes, well, you weren't too shabby yourself pretty boy," Harry leers back, "and it hardly was a hardship,"

"Oh Harry, I may not have been a hardship but I was certainly har-"

"Are you kids enjoying your meal?" The waitress butts in. Well, at least she didn't ask right when Harry had stuffed food into his mouth, so that was something at least.

"It's delicious," Blaise smiles with a polite banality that completely hid the fact he was about to make what was probably a very crude dick joke.

"So good," Harry adds in, to also hide the fact the Blaise was about to make what was probably a very crude dick joke.

The waitress gives both of them odd looks like she knows they were talking about something weird yet has no evidence of it. "Well," she says a little awkwardly, her bright customer service smile still impeccably in place, "that's great."

"So great," Blaise echoes.

"Super great," Harry adds because what the fuck else could he say.

Sometimes he thinks he gets the hand of socializing but then shit like this happens and Harry honestly believes the some social skills you just have to be born with. When the waitress leaves, going off to attend to a nearby elderly couple who had signaled for the bill, Harry and Blaise make eye contact and burst into chuckles.

"Friends?" Harry asks.

"Friends," Blaise confirms wryly.

Later, after that lunch Blaise and Harry part ways. Harry had immediately gone to the alley where his bodyguards were lurking, to apparate back home but Blaise hadn't felt the same need to leave and chose to meander listlessly around the shops. It was a good thing. What he did. Blaise knew there arrangement couldn't last. He was arrogant enough to resent his second place fixture in Harry's affections but he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could change it.

It was a recipe doomed to fail at the start really. And Blaise knew that. The only reason he decided to try in the first place was that he didn't think he would care about the result in the end.

Well. He certainly cares now.


The Italian Slytherin looks up from the pavement his feet had been shuffling him aimlessly on to see the surprised features of the muggle-born Gryffindor. The friend of the Weasley, and to a slightly lesser extent, a friend of Harry's. "Granger." He greets before wincing at the way his voice catches and wobbles.

Granger looks at him in open concern, "Hey, um, are you alright?" She steps tentatively closer, "You, ah, want to talk or-?"

That's all it takes.

Blaise bursts into tears.

Distantly he can feel Granger's arms wrap awkwardly around his shoulders and confused but soothing words.

Blaise is mortified. He doesn't stop crying.

"Seriously Severus, enlighten me," Lucius swirls his glass of red wine, the picture of elegance as he sits on a gorgeous throne-like chair that sits perfectly behind a window that frames a beautiful scenic view of his garden and the night sky. Severus can just imagine the man torturing his house elves for days just to get the damn chair in just the right place so the moonlight could hit his figure in just the right way to make him glow, yet not glaringly so during the day. "Why have you not fucked Harry Potter yet?"

Severus chokes and then promptly glares at his friend. "He's a child." He growls.

"Doesn't stop you from sticking your tongue down his throat from what I can tell," Lucius mutters into his glass. "Or rutting against the child like a beast in heat."

The dark-haired Slytherin flushed and damnably says nothing. He's really starting to regret accepting the invitation for a nightcap. Lucius sighs and rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious here, if it was a matter of integrity that you will not touch Potter, I could understand, but at this point in your... dalliances with the cherished Golden Boy of Britain, I'm fairly sure that if you so much as even say the word 'integrity' you'll burst into flames."

"Integrity," Severus says pettily, but looks abashed nonetheless, "Yes, well, while that broom has long flown off, I refuse to cross anymore.. lines until Harry is officially considered an adult."

"Magnanimous of you," Lucius drawls, sounding very unimpressed, "and yet you happily skip back and forth the one line you have already crossed while testing the next one with the yearning curiosity of an infant. Forgive me if I don't see it."

Severus scowls darkly, "So what, you would rather I fuck a child?"

And here was the cusp of the conversation. Lucius leans back into his seat, eying Severus critically, "Of course I wouldn't rather you fuck a child Severus, honestly stupidity doesn't suit you despite it being a look you choose to wear constantly these days." He sneers.

Severus sneers back, his rage and indignation only held back by his shame. "It's not like you're the pinnacle of goodness either Lucius."

"I never claimed I was," Lucius dismisses easily, "besides, I may have done a lot of things under Imperius," Severus snorts, "But I can tell you with full confidence I have never done anything with a kid."

Severus squints doubtfully at the pureblood. "Harry told me you were responsible for bringing the diary that set the basilisk free onto the school."

Lucius sips his drink, then amends stiffly, "Fine. I have never directly done things to children. Are you happy now?"

"Nothing about this conversation is making me happy Lucius."

"Well, that makes us quite the pair then," Lucius huffs, "because Narcissa insisted we have this conversation in the first place."

Severus groans, "You're wife hasn't grown out of her love for gossip I see."

"Nor her love of the taboo," The other wizard sighs, "I've never seen her so excited. I blame her Black heritage really."

Severus widely says nothing, knowing full well, unless explicitly prompted, he was not to say a bad word against Lady Malfoy in front of her husband. Nonetheless, he tilts his head in silent agreement. The Blacks were known for their blatant encouragement of incest and young love. Narcissa and Black's parents had been cousins engaged the moment they were born and forced to marry right after Hogwarts at eighteen. The only reason Narcissa herself didn't follow tradition was the lack of cousins and the fact the Malfoys, who were predominantly rooted in French customs that had very little incest and far more drinking and premarital sex, had insisted on waiting until Lucius made a stable name for himself at the ministry.

"Anyway, while I'm hardly as pleased as Narcissa, I will agree that Harry Potter is quite a... unique case," Severus glares at the faint flush dusting his friend's pale cheekbones. Lucius has always been a slut for power and a pretty face. "Still, you may have support for your deviances but that does not mean you can just flaunt it around like some lovesick Gryffindor. You're a Slytherin for crying out loud, the Head of Slytherin even, you don't need me to teach you discretion."

"I'll take that under consideration," Severus says icily, "though I fail to comprehend how that relates to you expecting me to... fuck the boy." He says the last part with complete distaste.

"It doesn't," Lucius swirls his wine absentmindedly. Severus knows for a fact the man does it on purpose because of how elegant it looks. The dramatic dick. "To be honest I really only said that to see the expression on your face."

Severus was going to wring the man's neck. "I hope it was worth it." He grits out.

Lucius chuckles, "Oh definitely, but I was genuinely curious if you had a reason why you haven't done so either. Not a very good reason you've given me though. I mean, as the muggles say, you either go big or you go home. Don't pussyfoot around when you're already knee deep in the water."

"How crude." Severus raises an eyebrow and ignores the insult.

"Muggles." Is all Lucius says for explanation. To him, it was probably all that was needed really. "Surprisingly on point though."

"How did you even learn that phrase?" Severus points out, "I hardly imagine you slumming it with the muggles just so you can pick up phrases to use against me."

"If you honestly don't believe I would do exactly that just to make you uncomfortable then you must think I'm less petty than I am really," Lucius huffs out in amusement, "but no, Harry, your pretty little psychopath taught me that during Monopoly. Invested everything into making hotels that no one ended up landing and went bankrupt near immediately."

Silently Severus decides not to let Harry anywhere near any form of investment or gamble or even a lucky draw in the near future. It just seems like bad luck follows the boy like a very persistent stalker. He supposes in a way it's fair. No one could be that intelligent, charming, powerful and pretty without some karmic cosmic balance to even things out.

One could argue being born as the arch-enemy to a Dark Lord would have already balanced the scales enough but to be fair Harry Potter, was really really pretty.

"Also, when you do get around to completely ravaging Potter's virginity-"

Severus groans long-sufferingly, "Must you word it as such?"

"-please refrain from doing so under my roof."

"This is going to be so exciting isn't it?" Cornelius Fudge, British Minister of Magic looks at his deeply grumpy family. Harry was glaring daggers at his tea and Penny Fudge was actually glaring at her dagger as if blaming it for them all having to wake so early. Usually, she's quick to rise but there was an emergency in St Mungos the night before and they had to wake at four in the morning.

"No." She replies curtly.

"Mblerghfm." Harry replies incoherently.

Fudge shakes his head in tired amusement, warmth clenching at his heart at the sight of his wife and his son. His family. "Come on darling, you know how much you enjoy watching the Beaters, and Harry, your friends will be waiting for you, so… there's that."

Harry had made it very clear that while he was fond of the sport, he did not share the fanatical obsession for quidditch like many of his peers. In a way, it was a relief since Fudge himself didn't feel very strongly to the game either and didn't have to try to pretend to more than he had to in a political setting. Then again, other than the actual flying itself, the only other than that keeps Harry from loathing quidditch completely is the fact that there are a lot of attractive male players out there. And after seeing the way his adopted son had pretty much decimated the next generation of politicians into pining messes, Cornelius had little interest in expanding the boy's… hunting grounds.

They always said kids were difficult. Though he had never really understood how until he had to shoo off Harry's international and influential suitors off his lawn like pigeons. Some of them were older than he was for Merlin's sake! One of them was the emperor to a small island community somewhere off Brazil who wished for Harry to join his harem in exchange for thirty years of ore mining trade.

Cornelius had almost decked the man right there and then. As if his boy is only worth harem status. He deserves consort of higher at the very least.

Oh, Merlin, Cornelius fears Harry's flippant attitude on his sexual matters was rubbing off on him. Other than being a serial flirter though, Harry was almost the perfect child.

If only his ability to flirt wasn't so powerful.

"Nblupherlymnff," Harry groans. Apparently, the bait that is his friends, is still not enough to reel in the teenager's enthusiasm at such an early hour. At least Penny seemed slightly more enthusiastic. Then again, Fudge thought Lucius Malfoy attending a muggle farm for charity would be more enthusiastic than Harry right now.

Fudge sighs fondly at Harry being such a teenager. It was adorable. To be fair, the boy was adorable in general but watching him grumpy was like watching a kitten sulk. Still. He had important networking business to conduct, the Quidditch World Cup is the perfect place to do so, and Harry was far superior in the art of networking then his wife, as much as he adored her.

Time to pull out the big guns then.

With a flourish, the British Minister of Magic pulls out a photograph and slides it to Harry. "This," he states solemnly, "is Ivan Krum. Victor Krum's older brother. Eighteen. Working to be a Mediwizard that specializes in massage."

Cornelius could feel Harry's interest rise as green eyes glanced at the photograph and then refused to look away. Not that he could blame the boy. He wasn't gay but even Cornelius could tell Ivan Krum was quite the well-built treat.

He decides to up the ante. Ever since he'd figured out Harry's... interests, like the good politician Fudge is, he's been building up a folder of bribe material to corral Harry at his worst. So far the folder mainly contained a list of Harry's favorite food, shops, friends and a large number of eligible bachelors to potentially seduce. While he's not happy of Harry's strange vice, it is a fairly easy one to fulfill given Cornelius' position.

"This one is Francis Colman," he pulls out a second picture, this wizard is of a more common British wizarding build, thin and pale, but tall with curly blond locks and the face of a Greek god. "His family owns the largest magical botanic garden in Europe, though from what I've heard through the grapevine, the poor boy isn't taking over on account of his black thumb."

Harry snorted, his amusement brightening up his previously dim eyes, "Oh really?" he murmurs with a faint flush on his cheeks. Definitely on the hook.

One more push then. Fudge grins inwardly.

"And this-" he begins, sliding the last photo to his adopted son, "is Raphael Mathis Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy's very single cousin. Twenty-two years old. He's coming as an important up and coming French diplomat."

Fudge didn't say any more. He didn't need to. Harry took one look at the photograph, gasped and ran off to his room to get properly dressed. "Jesus Christ!" Fudge could hear him curse through the walls, "No one told me the World Cup was a hottie convention! Where the fuck is my favorite robes?!"

"You're wearing them, dear!" Penny calls out, earning the couple more cursing from their teenage son. She giggles, "Harry is such a teenager when it comes to matters of the heart. It's so cute."

"Heart is not the organ I would use to describe these matters," Cornelius mutters with fond exasperation. "Goodness me, I think the world of the child but his lust rivals those Greek gods from myth."

"Oh Corny," Penny giggles, "don't be so dramatic, the boy just likes to flirt, make out a little, you do remember who his real father is don't you?"

Cornelius snorts, "True enough, true enough. When you say it like that I'm surprised that Harry's not more of a troublemaker, though his flirtations have a far higher success rate than James Potter ever had." He thinks he should worry about how proud he sounds about that. Then again, after the von Berne-Valbourne incident, Cornelius thinks he's learned to see the bright side of a truly ridiculous situation.

Quietly he decides that he doesn't mind who Harry ends up with. Only that the man, and he's got no lingering delusions that it would be otherwise now, be kind to Harry and that it wouldn't cause some sort of magical world war that even Grindelwald could've only dreamed of. Honestly, Harry could make a very good dark lord. Fudge shudders at the thought.

"Harry hurry up or we'll be late!" He shouts. To be fair, they were all fairly early. The actual games started hours away and they hardly had to worry about seating. Still, the time before big events such as these was made for mingling and networking, and Cornelius would prefer not to waste any more time as much as he adored watching his usually intelligent and composed son squawk around like a headless rooster looking for a hairbrush.

"Coming, I'm coming!"

Penny hums as she pours something steaming hot into a muggle thermos Harry had impulse bought a while back. Penny loved the thing, takes it everywhere now. Admittedly it was quite amazing. A metal container that will keep liquids hot for long periods of time. No runes or charms necessary. Cornelius had to admit, muggles were pretty darn creative to make up for their unfortunate lack of magic.

"Tea?" Cornelius questions.

"Hot chocolate." Penny smiles.

Cornelius smiles back as Harry skids into to the kitchen, notably more awake and smelling faintly of lavender and pine, a scent Cornelius had painstakingly chosen to gift him when he came back from Hogwarts.

"Perfect." He says.

The Quidditch World Cup was not as bad as Harry had thought. For one thing, the eye candy was top quality stuff. For another stringing along all the politicians and political heirs to curry favor for his adopted father was far more entertaining after watching Quidditch nonstop for an hour. And, best of all, Harry got to absolutely horrify all his friends by not being subtle at all about doing that last thing.

"Harry, my father will freak." Draco moans as Raphael Mathis Malfoy reluctantly leaves their conversation in order to respond to an apparently urgent owl message. The Malfoy diplomat shooting Harry one last mournful look over his shoulder before hurrying to finish his business. "I cannot believe I'm jealous of the Weasleys in their poor common people area."

"Honestly Draco, you are exaggerating, me and Raphael only chatted for a few minutes." Harry loftily replies, but the sly smirk curling the delicate line of his mouth told a whole different intention.

"Oh no you don't," Draco hisses, "don't you act all innocent and like I wasn't there for the last 'chat' you had. That man with the blackthumb or whatever is still giving you looks like a besotted eighteenth-century lady."

They both glance at the far corner of the booth they were standing in, and there stood an awkwardly lanky, but rather attractive man holding a glass of something sparkling and staring at Harry through his thick glasses. When Harry made eye contact with him, the man immediately looked away with an embarrassed red flush crawling quickly up his face. Draco silently gestures to Harry, his body language practically shouting at Harry to see the devastating effects just one chat had reduced what had been probably a very aloof wizard to.

"I don't see the problem," Harry smirks. "If anything your father would be disappointed that you haven't been chatting with anyone but me and the other Slytherins, didn't he drag you from your binoculars so you could mingle more with the big boys."

"One," Draco pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off his oncoming headache, "you don't seem to see a lot of problems. It's a running theme with you actually. Two. Fuck you, Potter. Three. Raphael is the rising star in French Politics and to have him fall because he was too busy drawing tiny hearts everywhere would be a huge blow to my family. And four. Fuck you, Potter."

An elderly couple gave Draco the stink eye as they pass by. Harry shot them a pleasantly bland smile when they glance at him as he replies mildly, "I notice you didn't comment about your father being disappointed at you for your lack of mingling."

"I did," Draco sneers haughtily, "that's what the 'Fuck you's were for."

Harry tuts, "Really Draco, how crude."

"I learn from the worst."

The pair both grin, mischievous and childishly sly.

"Want to see if I can flirt our way into meeting some of your favorite Quidditch players?"

"It's about time you used your powers for the greater good." Draco sniffs.

It turns out, maybe going off on a quest of seduction wasn't a great idea.

Mostly because of the whole Death Eater raid thing.

Which. Harry would like to point out. Really not his fault whatsoever.

"Harry what the fuck," Draco hisses as they hid behind the flimsy cover of a Bulgarian flagpole to avoid the crowd of utter chaos and discord that swam around them. "Did you make out with a death eater when I wasn't looking or something?!"

"Uhhhhhh…" Technically Harry's made out with Mr 'I am Lord Voldemort' himself but he doesn't think that is the answer Draco was looking for.

'Damn right you did,' Mr Riddle says in his mind, smug and completely unasked for.

'This is technically your fault,' Harry accuses the half-soul internally.

'And technically I'm a part of you, so, the blame is shared,'

'That is nOT HOW THAT-' Harry broke off from his initial thought as he glimpsed a flash of long platinum blonde hair. "Hey, is that Mr Malfoy?"

Draco perks up visibly at the mention of his father, "What, where?"

"Um, he's over there, by the green tent, the one next to the one just set on fire, with that tall death eater-"

Immediately the Malfoy heir balks, "Death eat- no, no you must have made a mistake."

Harry looks at Draco with a mix of pity and offense, "Draco… I really don't think I did." He could never mistake that hair. That glorious, glorious hair. Quickly he changes the subject. "Look, it's really not that important, right now we need to regroup with… someone. But not my fucking useless auror bodyguards who really should have been here what the fuck, honestly."

It works. Slightly. Draco couldn't hide his distress from his eyes but he did give Harry a wobbly smile, taking comfort in the familiar rant about Harry's incompetent bodyguards during the midst of all the screaming disarray. Then, his eyes widened, "Shit, Harry, we gotta go."

He follows Draco's gaze and stiffened as one of the hooded death eaters not a few meters away, was staring right back at them. Specifically at the scar on Harry's forehead. "Fuck," Harry agrees vehemently before grabbing Draco's hand tight, "follow the crowd, don't let go, head to the forest."

Draco nods, his jaw clenched in determination while the rest of his body trembles faintly. The immortal in him croons at the front of bravery. Such a sweet soul. Outwardly, Harry shows none of this, of course, his face serious and calculating. "Don't look at the guy, pretend we haven't noticed his attention," Harry murmurs.

The blonde Slytherin cracks a weak smirk, "So, the complete opposite of what you've been doing today."

Harry huffs and rolls his eyes amusedly, "Yes you ponce, the compl- NOW!"

He's not sure, but among the shouting and screaming crowd, Harry thinks he heard the death eater curse his name. He didn't look back though. Not when he had Draco to consider. The pair's slight stature worked well for them in this particular instance at least, easily slipping between gaps between the frantic crowd and shifting into the shadows of the forest once they reached there.

"I, I think we lost him," Draco murmurs. Harry cocks his head to acknowledge his words and they both loosen their grip on each other to slump down onto the ground with short panting breaths. "Hah, shit, these shoes were not meant for, ah, Merlin, running."

"Ugh," Harry groans, "I know, my, fuck, my robes are ruined."

Draco grins, looking half high from the adrenaline and the ridiculousness of their complaints, "My hair."

"My skin," Harry makes an exaggerated face of agony, "like, damn I need a bath."

"Ugh, tell me about it, and don't even get me started on my-"

"Ah-hah! I knew I recognized that whining!" Ron triumphantly declares as he marches through the bushes behind them, causing Harry and Ron to make some distinctly unflattering sounds that may or may not be akin to a startled dolphin. Ron looked both gleeful and admonishing, "Oi, as funny as this is, you guys gotta be quiet or the death eaters might come."

"I don't know," Hermione pops up behind the redhead, pale but faintly amused, "they might think another death eater was terrorising a couple of girls and leave us alone after that.'

"Mean," Harry accuses with a pointed finger, "Very mean."

Suddenly a trio of teenagers around the Weasley twin's age burst onto the scene with wands out. When they see Ron, Hermione, Harry and Draco, they all blink and look around warily. One of them, a short brunette steps forward, "Uh, we, um, we hear… girls skrem? Trouble? Bad? Help?"

Harry and Draco looks long-sufferingly at each other as the Gryffindor pair snicker. "Um." Harry picks himself up and smiles sheepishly at the foreign newcomers. French it seems too. "Non, pardon. Mon ami et moi avons été surpris. C'est ce que le bruit était. Encore. Pardon."

The trio relax at the explanation. One of them even chuckles a little while the other two just looks relieved. "Grâce à Merlin." The brunette breathes, before looking wary again, "Still, we must, uh, leave. Time short."

"Je comprends, merci." Harry replies, turning to his friends and gesturing him to follow as the group all move deeper through the forest.

"Since when do you know French?" Hermione questions.

Harry shrugs, trying to look casual as he lies, "The Malfoys are French and attractive. I hedged my bets." And it clearly worked if the way Raphael Malfoy swooned was any indication, "I'm also trying to learn Italian for similar reasons, I mean, I haven't learned much since Blaise and I broke up-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait." Draco stops mid-stride to stare at Harry. Ron too had abruptly halted at the same time. "You two broke up?"

"Yeah, mate, what the fuck?" Ron splutters, then his eyes narrow as they catch sight of the way Hermione didn't look very surprised about this sudden revelation. Ron has gotten far more insightful these days. Harry isn't sure what to feel about that since he's really only eagle-eyed in matters related to Harry's numerous fuck ups and eccentricities. "Hermione, did you know about this?"

Hermione bit her a lip. A glaring siren of guilt.

Harry sighs. He needs to teach this girl how to lie better because come on, she wasn't even trying. "Oh shove off, Blaise dumped me like, a week ago guys. I was going to tell you both after today. Hermione knows because apparently she and Blaise stumbled across each other not too long after the actual breakup and now they're buddies. It's kind of weird but I'm rolling with it."

"Serious Harry, I love you like a brother- a brother," Ron repeats with a glare when Harry pointedly leers at him, "but your communication skills do need some work."

"Hear, hear," Draco agrees.

"Oh shove off I'll work on it."

After a while trudging through foliage like the worst hike ever, they all stop as they begin to hear the sound of increasingly desperate shouting.

"I once skewered a Kraken with only a toothpick!"

"Jim you don't even like swimming in a puddle- me on the other hand, well I'm such a good swimmer the merfolk made me an honorary mermaid, er, merman."

"Don't listen to them! They're such liars, me? I'm so honest they based veritaserum on my blood!"

"What does that even mean?" Hermione whispers with puzzled bemusement as they crept closer. As they reached a clearing everyone saw five teenage boys practically on their knees in reverence as they surround three rather stunning young ladies. Harry blinks.

"Veelas," he tells them, "strong bloodline too I guess, half-blood at least."

Of course, only Hermione and the French brunette are listening. Draco, Ron and one of the brunette's companions were staring at the veelas with dreamy desperation and hunger. The other French companion must be smarter or just more experienced at handling Veelas because he was facing away from the beautiful girls, eyes shut and muttering something in French.

"Ez part Veela. Small, small part." The brunette explains at Harry's curious glance. She shoots Harry her own befuddled look, "Et toi?"

"Gay." He answers with a crooked grin. "Very much gay."

"Ah," She nods in faint understanding, now more amused than anything.

"I once flew to Jupiter on my broom!" Ron was screaming in the nearby distance and oh, it seemed the boys had all run off toward the veelas then.

"That's nothing, Jupiter once flew to me when I was on my broom!" Draco shouts like for some reason these poor girls were hard of hearing or something. Then again, they might be after all this.

The French boy also yells out something French and boastful.

Honestly, Harry wonders how none of the death eaters have caught them yet. Also, how big was this fucking forest?!

"Ron! Malfoy! Get back here- oh dammit!" Hermione grouses as she jumps out to try pull her fellow students away from the Veelas.

"Fredrick!" The brunette snaps, but to little avail and quickly joins Hermione in trying to move the lovesick boys away.

Harry glances at the still muttering other French guy before sighing and walking toward the loud decelerations of frankly embarrassing lies. Once close enough, he raises his hand, his relatively uninjured one, and raises his companions up and back toward the bushes they had come from. "Jesus do I have to do everything here?" He mutters as he shakes his head at the sound of their yelps of indignation. He's been sternly warned to minimize his magic output lest he slow the healing process of his arm and ribs which have been lightly fractured or heavily bruised but he figures that simple levitation wouldn't do much to him anyway.

The show of magic does do a lot to the Veelas though. Immediately after he makes himself known, Harry finds himself surrounded by three gorgeous young ladies, giggling and fluttering their eyelashes at him. "Seigneur la Mort," the tallest one breathes out reverently, "I had thought you to be just a myth, a fairy tale."

"You certainly look like you belong in one," the second one giggles.

"So pretty, so powerful," the last one coos, her fingers hovering above his head as if aching to run her fingers through his wild hair.

"Oh, this is just unfair now!" Harry can hear Ron shout in the distance. "No one should be that gay and be that attractive to women that attractive!"

Harry smirks for all the wrong reasons.

The Veelas swoon anyway.

"Fuck, I think I lost my wand."

"Ron what the fuck." Harry groans.

"Speaking of what the fuck," Hermione smoothly transitions. "Harry your Veela friends are stalking us." The French brunette who introduced herself as Dee nods in agreement as she glances back warily when one of said Veelas make jealous hissing noises.

"No but, like, that's really not an issue," Harry dismisses and Dee mutters something sarcastically in French about her corpse. "Ron, we are running away from Death Eaters, your wand has literally never been more important right now."

A rustling noise nearby distracts everyone, even the Veelas who haven't stopped staring at Harry with awe for the past six minutes, and they stare at a house-elf tumbling out of the bushes. Female, Harry absentmindedly thinks, he can feel it in his bones. She seemed to struggle to move like she was walking through water.

"There are bad wizards about!" she squeakily mutters as she laboriously tries to run. "Bad wizards everywhere! Winky is getting out of-" The house elf pauses, looking up as if scenting the air before her head swivels toward Harry with wide eyes and makes an even higher pitched noise of wonder like she had just discovered the house elf equivalent of Santa.

"Oh come on!" Ron exclaims.

Unlike the veelas though, the house elf leaves, but not after giving Harry a very big bow that had quite hard to explain away.

After fifteen more minutes the group expands to fit five goblins who had been cackling over over a sack of gold they must've won in a bet that had passed by, did a double take at Harry Potter and backed up with big toothy grins, staring at Harry like he was the biggest sack of gold they've ever seen. At this rate Harry wouldn't be surprised if a herd of unicorns joined the party, this whole situation was ridiculous and seriously this forest was fucking huge. What the fuck.

"We got five goblins, three Beauxbatons students, three Veelas, two Gryffindors, one blond Slytherin twink with daddy issues, one house elf and one Boy-Who-Lived." Harry counts with his fingers before sighing loudly, "And yet not one hot dude."

"Well fuck you too Potter," Draco mildly says, "Also, why was I singled out ther-" Harry covers the other boy's mouth with his hand, silencing him.

"We got company, well, more company." He says and everyone else stills. The goblins snarl, showing off their very sharp teeth in the evening light.

"Who, who's there?" Hermione calls out nervously when nobody comes out.


Everyone gasps as something green, and glittering erupts from the darkness at the corner of their eyes, flying upward until it shoots past the tree canopy and bursts into the sky like a firework. It takes a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust, but when he does, the symbol hovering in the darkening sky was unmistakable, if a little sparkly.

The Dark Mark.

'Well. That's one way to get the message across,' Mr Riddle says in his mind, peering curiously through Harry's eyes. 'A little gaudy though,' he adds critically, sounding genuinely irritated at the artistic rendition of his little terrorist insignia, 'I mean, I get that it has to stand out in the night sky but it looks like a four-year-old dropped their glitter collection onto it.'

Harry snorts. Because it so does.

Nobody else, however, seems to share his humour as the woods all around them erupt with screaming and just generally even more panic than before. Harry actually jumped at the sounds, the sudden shift between tense silence to surround sound screeching fear was jarring, to say the least. "Shit!" He swears, his sensitive ears ringing at the cacophony.

"We have to go!" Hermione shrilly yells, not helping Harry's plight at all but it does get everyone moving at least. Draco tugs Harry frantically until he follows in a stumbling groan.

"Come on Harry," He hisses.

"I got it, I bloody got it," Harry mutters, picking up the pace, but it was for naught really as a series of popping sounds snapped around them, revealing the arrival of at least two dozen wizards all pointing their wands at them. "Ah, fuck me, see if I ever go to this stupid event again, not even for the hot single Malfoy."

"Harry can you not be appropriate for a single moment?" Ron hisses.

"Also," Draco says affronted, "what the fuck do you mean by the hot single Malfoy."

"Clearly not you," One of the goblins has the absolute gall to say as he ignores the team of wizards in favour of critically assessing Draco's looks and looking dreadfully unimpressed by what he finds.

"Oooh," Harry 'oooh's with glees, "I like you, what's your name?"

"Drigbite, Mr Potter," Drigbite introduces with a smug smirk while his fellow goblins glare hatefully at him for capturing Lord Death's favour with a single insult. "And may I say, you look-"

"OH MY GOD, SERIOUSLY?" Ron shouts, completely done, "NOW? YOU WANT TO DO THIS NOW?!"

"Ron, do you really think this is the right time to be yelling?" Harry admonishes while Ron stares at Harry with disbelief at the sheer hypocritical shit spewing out his mouth. Harry inwardly grins and thinks Ron's face is probably a national treasure. Like. The expressions he can make. Just simply amazing really. "Honestly, there's a time and place and- EVERYONE DUCK!"

"STUPEFY!" Apparently, the surrounding wizards had, had enough. Luckily everyone obeyed the order and the spell had missed by a hair. Harry can feel his eyes glowing and the creeping darkness moving in as he rage toward these insolent mortals rose. How dare they-

"STOP! STOOOP!" Harry blinked, anger and darkness vanishing as a familiar voice rang out. Everyone turns to the source and out from the bushes came a terrified Arthur Weasley, "That's my son!" he yells out.

"And that's MINE!" Fudge bellows not too far behind him, his face red and panting from exertion and rage. "What are you people doing?!"

The wizards all stepped back, looking fearful when they recognised their Minister. So not Death Eaters then.

"Minister," A surprised voice greets, "Minster, you do not understand,"

Cornelius Fudge narrows his eyes, "Mr Crouch, what is the meaning of this?" He asks, taut with a cool fury and looking every inch like a man who runs magical Britain every single day.

"It's, well," Mr Crouch falters, his sharp eyes switch targets and he turns toward Harry's group, "Which of you did it?!" He snaps, "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?!"

"We didn't do that!" Ron shouts, which is followed by various forms of indignant agreements all round.

"What proof do you even have anyway?!" Draco sneers, "Wait until my father hears this!"

"Your father is probably leading this whole mess!" Mr Crouch snaps, making Draco rear back as if he had been slapped. Draco couldn't say anything to that and helplessly looks at the ground with clenched fists. "And do not lie! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

Well Draco may not be able to say anything but Cornelius certainly had no qualms.

"Discovered at the- are you absolutely serious?!" Fudge yells, Harry has never seen him so angry, "Most of them are children! He's the Boy Who Lived! The redhead is a WEASLEY! The girl is MUGGLEBORN! The young Malfoy's father is one of my most trusted aides!"

By now all the Ministry wizards have lowered their wands and looking extremely uncomfortable. Mr Crouch was still the only one with his wand up but he was clearly weakening his resolve to do so under his irate boss' glare.

"I- they were walking in a suspiciously large group." He tries.

Fudge glances at Harry's entourage and snorts loudly. "They're grouped with a bunch of creatures and French kids- hardly a stereotypical death eater rally." He points out dryly. Harry doesn't think he's been prouder of Cornelius.

"Kids, do you see where the dark mark came from?" Mr Weasley asks, still looking a bit shaken but far more reassured now that he realises he has the actual Minister of Magic on his side here.

"Over there," Hermione points at the place where they had heard the voice. She was doing remarkably well under these conditions. Actually, all his friends were. The French students and Veela looked more than vaguely traumatised. Clearly, they've never gone through the shit he and his friends have gone through then. "There was someone behind the trees and they shouted words, it was some sort of an incantation-"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, focusing on Hermione with mocking and triumph on his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy-"

"Did you not hear what I just said Crouch?" Fudge demands, "She's muggleborn, as if she is a death eater. Also. ALSO- ARE YOU FOR FUCKING FOR REAL HERE?!"

Mr Crouch shrinks into himself, "Minister Fudge I-"

"Do you honestly believe there aren't other people in this forest? That the culprit would have, oh, I don't know, immediately run from the scene of the crime? Disapparated maybe?"


"And were you really going to accuse the fourteen year old girl about knowing too much about the dark mark just because she said that she heard an incantation?" Cornelius angrily accuses, "because I have some terrible news to tell you Mr Crouch, because I don't know what special magic voodoo you've been using but most of us have been using incantations to cast spells." He turns on the rest of the Ministry wizards, "And what are you all doing?! Check where the girl pointed, maybe there's a clue or something."

"O-of course!" They shout and quickly make their temporary escape, hoping desperately the Minister doesn't remember their faces from tonight.

"Not you Crouch." Fudge orders curtly as Crouch had been edging away to leave. Crouch stills. "Right now I couldn't trust you to find your own nose much less an actual criminal."

"I- yes, sir."

"Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's- but- blimey…"

"You've got someone?" shouted Mr. Crouch, sounding highly disbelieving but incredibly relieved that maybe something was going his way tonight. "Who? Who is it?"

One of the male Ministry wizards reemerges from behind the trees, followed by his fellow coworkers looking equally as shocked as he was. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms that Harry recognised as the house elf they saw from before.

Mr Crouch did not move or speak as the wizard places his elf on the ground at his feet. "That… this, this can't be…" The other Ministry wizards were all staring at him.

"Isn't that your elf Crouch?" Fudge says coolly. "Wonky was it? I remember thinking she was very loyal indeed."

"No- this- no!" Mr Crouch starts to run toward the place they found the elf but was stopped by the wizard who had carried her in the first place.

"No point, Mr. Crouch," He says firmly, "There was no one else there."

"Good job Mr Diggory." Fudge compliments, but his voice still lacked his usual joviality.

"Diggory?" Harry perks up, and ignores Ron and Draco's frantic whispers of 'Harry please no,' and 'Harry heel!,' and 'For fuck's sakes Harry,'. "You wouldn't happen to be Cedric's dad would you?"

Mr Diggory puffs up, his wand still trained at Mr Crouch but he really needn't have since all the other witches and wizards had followed suit and Crouch wouldn't have been able to sneeze without getting at least nineteen spells to the face. "Yes, indeed I am. My boy has talked about you a few times, Mr Potter, I greatly enjoyed hearing about the times you jumped off various floors in Hogwarts with varying results."

Harry immediately flushes and curses Cedric. At the very least, Mr Diggory seems to like him, even if it was because he had found his embarrassing escapades hilariously ridiculous.

"IT WASN'T ME!" Mr Crouch shouts frantically, bringing the situation quickly back at hand, "IT, IT WASN'T ME!"

"It would make sense if it was," One witch says, "I mean it would be just like a death eater to trick the Ministry to do their dirty work for them."


"Out of all the people we attack, we attack the group with the Boy Who Lived, a muggleborn, creatures and Beauxbatons students?" Another wizard points out, "It's a hell of a coincidence."

"If we had actually hurt them the public would have rioted," Another gasps in horror, "the Ministry's reputation would have crumbled!"

"And those weak accusations too!" Someone else shouts in realisation, "There was no way someone competent could have actually believed that tripe unless they were desperately finding a way to pin the crime on someone else!"

"And if that person had to have happened to be a muggleborn…."

"NO!" Crouch yells desperately, looking quite mad, "NO, NO, NO! IT WASN'T ME! I DIDN'T ORDER- WINKY DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A WAND!"

"Actually," Mr Diggory says solemnly, "she did." He pulls out a wand that Ron instantly recognises.

"Hey! That's mine!" Ron exclaims, surprised, "I lost it a while back!"

The ministry wizards were outright glaring at Crouch now. Somehow Harry thinks Crouch wasn't exactly a very popular person in the workplace if everyone was so quick to turn on him. Respected maybe. He was the previous minister if memory serves well, recently even, during the first war and known to be quite brutal. With a personality like that, he would definitely feared at least.

"That's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken then." A younger looking witch sneers.

"Not to mention stealing a wand, clause six, from a child too."


Just then there was another pop, and a new man appeared right next to Mr Weasley.

"The Dark Mark!" he pants, and wow was he late to the party. He looks inquiringly to his colleagues. "Who did it? Did you get them? Barry! What's going on?"

"It seems Mr Crouch used his elf to cast the dark mark, Ludo." One of the Ministry wizards, Barry, spits.

"Ludo Bagman," Draco whispers informatively to the rest. "Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Barty?" Bagman questions fearfully at Crouch.

"No, it, it's not me, I'm innocent." Crouch quivers.

'Good,' Harry viciously thinks, 'Now he knows how it feels.'

"Mr Diggory, let's question the elf," Fudge says, the stern voice of authority, "no violence, threats and, if needed, veritaserum."

Mr Diggory nods, looking unsurprised at being placed as the new leader. Crouch, sensing this, glares hatefully at the man.

Diggory raises his own wand at Winky, "Ennervate!"

Winky hysterically denies it all. No one would listen though. Hermione had to shout out for the poor elf's innocence, saying the voice that chanted the spell was far lower before the interrogation backed off somewhat. Though it hardly mattered for Winky who had to endure the insults and abuse from her infuriated master. It seemed Mr Crouch had decided to blame everything on Winky then.

They ended up having to bring both master and elf into custody for veritaserum and further interrogation. Cornelius gave Harry a huge hug and a promise that they'll get everything sorted. "I sent Penny back when the commotion started, but when I realised you were gone, you could not believe how scared I was," Cornelius says, making Harry feel incredibly guilty and every bit the child he wasn't, "heading to the forest was a good idea, but don't think for one second you're not getting your lecture for running off without telling me later."

"Sorry, dad." Harry hung his head.

Cornelius hugged him tighter before backing away with a tired smile. "Mr Weasley will bring you to the burrow, Penny should be arriving there soon when she gets my message and then she'll bring you back home."

"And you?" Harry asks, concerned.

Fudge has a steely determined look in his eyes. It's a rather new look but Harry finds he likes it. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Even if Crouch is innocent, he's two incompetent to maintain his high position. That's two false accusations against prominent individuals now." Oh right, Crouch would have been the one to condemn Sirius. Clearly, he has a habit of false accusations then. "Not to mention, he's effectively lost all trust with his coworkers. We can't exactly kick him out completely but I'm going to make sure the man won't ever get back his influence again." Fudge nods to himself, "Our Ministry needs to change. Make sure nothing like this happens again."

Harry steps forward to hug Cornelius, "I'm really proud to call you my dad." He confesses, because, well, it's true now. Harry is honestly happy to see the man as a father figure now, less like a puppet he could play with. Right now, Cornelius Fudge wasn't anyone's puppet.

Cornelius pauses, then, with a suspiciously croaky voice he says, "And I'm really proud to call you my son, Harry. You've changed me for the better." With a loud sniffle, Cornelius reluctantly breaks up the hug, "I really do have to go, son."

He walks toward the few Ministry wizards who had been waiting on him. Their own eyes were suspiciously wet as they watched them. Harry suddenly felt quite embarrassed that such a personal scene was witnessed. Then again, if it brings Fudge more supporters he's happy despite the intrusion. Revamping the Ministry will no doubt cause more than a few enemies to emerge after all.

"Be safe, dad." He calls out and he swears one of the ministry wizards actually sobs.

Coming back to Hogwarts was a bit of a relief really.

Not that Harry didn't enjoy his time with the Fudges. Their trip overseas had been fantastic, Cornelius found an interest in the ocean, and Penny had developed a bit of wanderlust after the trip. And then after the World Cup debacle, he and Fudge really bonded as father and son.

Afterwards, it was found that Winky had been imperio-ed, and that Crouch, after a wand check, was declared officially innocent. Unofficially though doubts of his character ran rampant through the ministry, news of his accusations toward the Boy Who Lived and his muggleborn friend spreading quickly, only being fuelled further by his drop from Head of Department of International Magical Cooperation to Advisor of Department of International Magical Cooperation, which everyone knew was a fake job since the new Head barely even acknowledged the furious man, much less listened to his advice.

Crouch may have wanted revenge for the consequences of his fake accusations but he hardly had the sway to carry it out. Most British wizards were peace-loving individuals who agreed more with Fudge's simple ideology than Crouch's, seeing his violent side more as a necessity during wartimes but unacceptable nowadays, and even if they didn't, the article Rita wrote smearing his name did it quite well convincing them otherwise. And it wasn't like Crouch could have asked help from the Death Eaters, not after what he did during the war. So that was wrapped up pretty neatly.

Winky had been unsurprisingly kicked out from serving Crouch, she works under Hogwarts now but Hermione had been furious when she heard the news. Apparently her main focus this year will be Freeing all the House Elves. Harry has been slowly but surely convincing her why that was a very well-meaning but ultimately not great idea.

Anyway, the rest of the holidays had been great. Fantastic really. But for the last two weeks, Cornelius had been incredibly excited and incredibly annoying about something that he refuses to inform Harry about. No matter how wide Harry's eyes get or how far his lower lip juts out poutingly.

It had been nothing but wide grins in Harry's direction and 'Oh nothing,'s and 'You'll find out soon enough,'s and, worst of all, 'You'll love it, don't worry,'s. Harry had been ready to scream and wring his neck if he had to endure another day of Cornelius hiding his work documents with his body and winking at Harry. It didn't help that Penny already knew and was just as happy to keep him in the dark like a tease.

Hogwarts seemed to share the same feelings of being happy to have Harry there by immediately tripping him the moment he stepped into the castle. But. In a fond way. Probably.

The castle has more or less cooled off her shenanigans toward Harry since he'd been in a coma- mainly because playing pranks with a coma patient is a dick move of the highest proportions, physical incarnation of death or not- but now that he was back to almost working shape, it seems Hogwarts is ready to be a complete shit again. Harry thinks he has to reevaluate his level of masochist now as he realizes he'd almost missed the harassment in a weird way.


Harry pauses his stroll with Draco and the other Slytherins and turns to smile at his Gryffindor friends. "Hey guys, heading to lunch too?"

"Duh," Ron says like Harry was insane to imply they would skip the first lunch of the school year. "By the way, what's up with your living situation?"

Harry flushes lightly but grins at how astute Ron is, no one else has even questioned where he was staying in Hogwarts yet. Though it wasn't like he'd wanted any questions raised really. "I'm sort of hoping no one else brings up the fact I'm still living with Severus still and that will last for at least four more years."

Ron snorts, "Oh come on, no self-respecting teacher would forget an underage student is living with a professor for essentially no reason."

"You wanna bet?" Harry challenges.

"Don't do it, Weasley," Draco drawls, "remember our professors let a dark lord, a fraud and a werewolf teach us and literally no one made any actual fuss or complaints."

"To be honest they problem made more of a racket about Lockhart than the other two." Blaise snorts.

"Well you can't exactly blame them, Lockhart was pretty annoying," Nott mutters.

"I wonder what sort of defense professor we'll have next," Hermione muses.

Harry laughs darkly, "New year, new possibly homicidal defense teacher. I'm so looking forward to it."

"Lupin didn't try to kill you," Ron points out sympathetically.

"Yeah because we thought there was already a serial killer after Harry for the majority of that year," Nott rolls his eyes before focusing on Harry, "By the way, did you manage to bond with your crazy godfather during the hols?"

Harry shrugs as he briefly recalls the two stilted dinners he had with Black and Remus, the one time he had gone to accompany the pair on the full moon which Padfoot tried to jump him again- much to Black's mortification and Remus' outrage, and finally one mildly successful afternoon where they chased a snitch for three hours. "Eh," he says giving the universal hand wavy gesture of so-so, "once or twice, we're getting almost halfway there. Sorta. The whole fracturing my arm and being a general raving lunatic thing is hard to get over. He's stopped stalking me at least. So."

Everyone shakes their heads. Only Harry.

"Honestly I cannot believe we lived till fourth year." Ron jokes. "After the last one, fourth year is gonna be a breeze really."

"Well don't jinx it! Good god Ron," Hermione slaps the boy's upside his head and sighs, "Next thing you know we'll be fighting dragons or something!"

"Psh, Harry'll probably seduce them or something with his androgynous body and doll face."

Harry shrugs. It was true. Well. Unless they were mother dragons or something. Parents get real protective when you potentially mix the concept of death and their children together for some weird reason.

"Wow Weasley," Draco whistled, "didn't know you knew big words like that."

"He didn't," Blaise pipes up, "Hermione taught him it."

Ron looks between Blaise and Hermione with narrowed eyes, "So. This Blaise Hermione thing is still a thing then?" He scowls.

"What, you have your own gay friend, why can't I have mine?" Hermione quips.

"Blaise isn't gay though!" Ron protests, "It's different!"

"Don't worry Weasley," Blaise rolls his eyes, "I'd hardly make a move so soon after Harry and I split apart. I wouldn't want to look crass."

"You are the literal embodiment of crass," Nott scoffs, "it's just that nobody notices because of your accent and pureblood manners."

"Also, what do mean 'make a move so soon'!" Ron squawks indignantly. "Why would you even try to make a move on Hermione!"

Hermione's face flushes in indignation, "Oh, I see, I'm not good enough to be flirted on am I?"

"What- no!" Ron protests but you could already tell from his floundering that he was going to sink and drown very fast here. "I, I just meant he's not good enough to flirt with you! Yeah! That!"

Hermione had jumped straight from indignation to outrage, "How dare you, Weasley! Blaise is my friend! You're so, so, argh!" She throws her hands up and stomps furiously away.

After a moment of watching her leave, Ron looks at his friends, confused and concerned, "So, uh, what-"

"GO AFTER HER MORON!" Everyone shouts and he does.

Nott shakes his head, "Well, at least we're normal enough for teenage drama then."

"Yeah, it's a nice change from the Misadventures of Slut King Zabini and Horny Potter." Draco snorts.

Harry and Blaise exchanges deeply unamused looks, silently agreeing that their friends were all assholes.




The Welcoming feast had outdone itself this year in Harry's opinion. Harry groans in bliss as he bites into his fried chicken, relishing the crackle of perfectly fried skin and the flood of warm savory juices that burst out of soft almost elastic white meat. Unable to help himself he shovels a piece of garlic bread into his mouth at the same time, delighting in the combination.

"Mate that looks so good, I'm gonna do that too!" Ron exclaims, grabbing a drumstick, "Ooh, I'm gonna put some roast sweet potato on that garlic bread though."

"Oh my god, you two are disgusting," Hermione says, but the gigantic pile of food she was hoarding on her plate negated the effect just a bit. After Ron went after her she seemed to have forgiven the redhead rather quickly. Harry supposes she had gotten tired of constantly fighting with her friend after all the arguing from last year. "Ron I understand but Harry, you're usually the epitome of decorum during a meal."

"Hermione," Harry says seriously as he swallows down his food, "have you even tried this chicken?"

"I'm half afraid it's cursed what with the way you two are acting like half-starved dogs around it," She confesses wryly but reaches out to grab a piece anyway.

"You have to try it with the garlic bread," Harry advises.

"Or the mashed potatoes," Ron pipes up with his mouth filled with chicken. "Yo, Neville, how's the roast lamb?"

"Sho good," Neville moaned between mouthfuls.

"Okay," Hermione admits as she begins shoveling buttery mashed potatoes on top of her garlic bread and chicken sandwich, "This is pretty fantastic."

"It's definitely the spices, seems like the Headmaster finally read the petition for more international food. Or just more variety in general really." Harry muses, "I did hear from Cornelius that Britain had traded off some house elves for foreign ones, I'm not surprised if Hogwarts got one or two switched out and taught the others new recipes."

"Huh really?" Ron blinks, then carries on eating, "Well, if they keep up this standard of food I ain't complaining."

Hermione, however, purses her lips, "But isn't that rather awful? It's not like they're cattle!"

Harry gives her a pointed look, it seems she's really on this whole house elves morality thing, she's been talking about it more and more recently. "Hermione, obviously we didn't hit them over the head and shipped them off. Think of it as a student exchange program, albeit, slightly more permanent." Hermione does seem a bit more settled at the metaphor but still seemed doubtful.

"I just, but they don't really get much of a choice do they?" She questions, "Like, they can't exactly turn down the request."

"Well," Harry muses as he slathers gravy over his cut of lamb, "in this case they can."

Hermione looks intrigued, "Really?"

"Yeah, well, this is an international exchange of goodwill isn't it?" Harry explains, and Hermione nods, "If you forced a house elf out of their home, to another country no less, they wouldn't be able to handle it. They wouldn't accept the changes in culture, they'll want to enforce the strict British standards that's been ingrained into them, and while they can't disobey an order, don't think they're not smart enough to get around more than a few if they wanted to."

"That's… that's true." Hermione says, soaking up the logic of it. Harry can see her turning the information around in her head, "And it wouldn't look very good for the Ministry if they sent unenthusiastic sulky house elves."

"Exactly," Harry sips his water, "Plus it kind of helps with your little crusade for elf rights, since any unhappy house elves might just jump onto the whole exchange thing. I mean, some of them are doing it because they genuinely want the adventure and to see another country, but yeah, it's possible a few less well treated house elves joined up because they wanted a new household to serve."

"Yeah, but wouldn't that mean the foreign elves might be forced to serve under the families that badly treated our ones in the first place?" Hermione challenges.

"Huh," That was a good point actually, "okay, fair enough." Harry admits, "but to free house elves completely is a ridiculously extreme response Hermione, and I know for a fact I told you this before."

"Yeah," She deflates, "and Blaise supported the reasons too, he even asked one of his house elves to pop by and tell me her opinion about it." Hermione stabs her chicken frustratedly, "But it's still not right! I mean, yeah, okay, a lot of them are happy but some clearly aren't, they don't even have basic rights like owls- owls!"

"Okay one," Ron says, finally deciding to put himself into the conversation after finishing his second plate of food, "don't diss owls, and two- why don't you try strive for elf rights then? Stuff like mandatory elf check-ups to see none are being whacked and shit. No need for all this free them all nonsense."

Hermione blinks, then she launches herself at Ron, giving him a tight hug, "Oh Ron you are a genius!" She exclaims.

Ron flushes bright pink, "Oh, uh, it was nothing really," He stutters, a wide, dopey grin slowly appearing on his face. Though it quickly fades into an embarrassed scowl as he catches sight of Harry's shit-eating grin.

Harry gives him a thumbs up.

Ron flips him the bird.

Once most of the feast was finished, Dumbledore clears his throat and gathering everyone's attention.

"So!" Dumbledore announces with a great big smile. "Now that we are all well stuffed, it is time for me to make the usual declarations."

"Ugh." Harry groans, filled with chicken and some frankly delicious French pastries. "I just want to sleep."

"Ditto," Hermione agrees, "Am this close to a food coma. And Ron's pretty much there."

Ron doesn't answer. Food comas. Dangerous stuff.

"Mr. Filch, our resident caretaker of Hogwarts, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended and the full list can be found in his office. There are about five hundred items now so do give it a quick check." Harry could swear Dumbledore snickered. He's a secret sadist. Must be. "As usual the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year."

Harry shares an eye roll with his friends from Gryffindor and distantly he could hear Draco scoff all the way at the Slytherin table.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Now that gets a reaction from the majority of the students.

Harry looks around with vague bemusement as nearly everyone gasped or were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.

Nonetheless, the Headmaster went on as if he hadn't just made every quidditch enthusiastic here his enemy, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy- but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

But before the old wizard could make the grand reveal he was so obviously ramping up for there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall bangs open revealing a man. He was leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak and just screaming mysterious murderer to anyone with sense. A fork of lightning flashes across the ceiling at the same time he lowers his hood, shaking out a long mane of grizzled, gray hair, and showing off his scarred disfigured face and one eye. His other eye had a sort of eyepatch securing a very creepy bulging eye that kept moving every which way.

More than a few people had to stifle their screams.

Harry just shakes his head and groans.

"The new defence professor is totally going to try murder me."

"You shouldn't judge people's appearan-" Hermione stops and sighs, "I can't even say it, he's totally going to try murder you.'

"Yeah." Ron slurs in agreement, still stuck in his food coma, only coming out slightly to be outraged about the quidditch thing.

Dumbledore, because he fucking sucks, just smiles brightly, and gestures for the man to walk over. Once he stood by the headmaster's side, Dumbledore introduces him, "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher- Professor Moody."

"Oh damn that's Mad Eye Moody," Ron mutters, suddenly fully aware of the world, "he's an auror that strikes the fear of every death eater. Harry, if he really is aiming for your life you are fucked."

"I'm so glad you're out of that food coma," Harry says sarcastically. "Really, what would I do without your constant support?"

Dumbledore clears his throat again, as if the entire student body hadn't been rendered silent by the arrival of Moody. "As I was saying, we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century."

Dumbledore's eyes glitter and thunder rumbles in the distance. Always good signs really.

"It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."






UM. THANKS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME AND THANKS SO MUCH FOR ENJOYING THIS STORY THE WAY YOU HAVE. IF YOU WANT MORE CHECK OUT MY AO3 ACCOUNT (in like, a month or two since that's how long it takes for me to write these bullshit long chapters honestly) AND -