Year 6-14: Recruitment Efforts

Harry remained uncertain about boarding the Hogwarts Express back to school up until the very last minute. He felt increasingly like he was more needed elsewhere, like his time at the castle was wasted compared to everything else he had to do. Even as the large group arrived at Platform 9 he contemplated slipping away, heading instead to his safe house and plotting his next moves in the war.

As the train whistle blew, he paused on the platform, as his friends and family members around him boarded. "Coming, Harry?" asked Neville, looking to him with a quizzical look. Several others also turned, curious what the hold-up was. Harry saw the flicker of surprise in their eyes – the fear that he might not join them, might leave them to fend for themselves.

Dahlia made the decision for him. "C'mon, idiot, we're gonna be late," she huffed, grabbing him by the wrist and all but dragging him onto the train. The moment was forgotten, and minutes later the group sat chatting amiably in a compartment, no worries in the world. It's necessary for now, Harry told himself. I'll let the others feel comfortable knowing I'm still here this term, and I can re-assess in the summer.

Besides, he did still have unfinished business at Hogwarts. In addition to his N.E.W.T. exams and the forthcoming Quidditch final, he had to keep an eye out for his loved ones, lest another near-death experience hit while he was nearby to prevent it. He also hoped to corner Draco Malfoy at the earliest opportunity and figure out what the hell he was up to.

His thoughts were far darker than the mood around him, however. "I reckon this could be our best term yet," Ron Weasley grinned. "No .'s, no N.E.W.T.'s, no basilisks, no Triwizard conspiracies...should be a walk in the park!"

"Ron, how can you be so insensitive?" Hermione groaned. "There's a war on, and Harry's mother and sister were nearly killed!"

"Key word being 'nearly'," Ron retorted. "Blimey, Hermione, I'm only trying to lighten the mood here."

"It's fine, Hermione," Harry grinned, seeing her about to jump to his defense again. "Let Ron have his fun before his team gets trounced in the Quidditch final."

"Oh, you wish, Potter!" Ron scoffed. "You may be a decent Seeker, but Hufflepuff can fly circles around Ravenclaw at every other position!"

Harry wished he could disagree, but he couldn't. Hufflepuff was a well-oiled machine, far more coordinated than Ravenclaw, and the match would likely come down to whether he could catch all three Snitches or not. But he playfully bantered with Ron about the match for a while until Hermione begged them to talk about anything else.

"What's on your agenda this term, Greengrass?" asked Ron, turning to Daphne. "Attending any more raging parties?"

"Certainly not," Daphne said, flushing at the reminder of the Christmas after-party. "I'll likely be coming to terms with my eternal solitude, given that I'll be seventeen in a month and have yet to find a suitable match."

"Oh, that can't be true," Hermione said softly. "You'll have the rest of your life to find the right person."

"Yes, I know," Daphne sighed dejectedly. "I'll find somebody to settle for eventually, and disgrace my family name in the process. It's fine."

"That's the spirit!" Ron said with ironic cheer, reaching into his bag and unearthing a chess set. "C'mon Greengrass, quit moping and play me...I've been theorizing ways to counter your Sicilian opening all weekend." Daphne rolled her eyes, but consented to the match anyway.

Daphne did not seem to be the only person with romance on the brain, either. Damian and Ginny both excused themselves shortly into the train ride, off to meet their respective partners they'd been seeing as of late. Harry's thoughts drifted to Tracey, wondering when he'd be able to see her again and steal her away to somewhere private. And Dahlia and Neville sat hand-in-hand in the corner, having their own quiet conversation separate from everyone else's...Harry wouldn't pry for details, but they seemed to be back on good terms.

In another life, Harry might get the opportunity to pursue such frivolities as teenage love. But it seemed that path was denied to him now, with the war looming large and consuming his attention. Maybe if he was lucky, he would be able to enjoy his twenties, but for now, Voldemort was all he could see on his horizon.

As soon as the train arrived at the castle, Harry had his eyes peeled, scanning the student population for one face in particular. He watched students board carriages, file into the Great Hall, and sit around the House tables, watching, searching. All he wanted was one look at that face. One brief moment of eye contact was all he needed to know if he was guilty or not…

"Look for someone, Potter?" asked Anthony Goldstein as his classmates joined him around the Ravenclaw table.

"Malfoy," Harry grumbled. He spotted the boy's cronies huddled in their usual corner: Crabbe, Goyle, Mulciber and Nott, all speaking in hushed tones but seemingly without their ringleader.

"You didn't hear?" piped up Terry Boot. "Rumor has it his mother kept him home for self-study for the rest of the year."

"What?" said Harry, turning towards the boy. "He's not coming back to Hogwarts this term?"

"It's only rumors," Terry shrugged. "Makes sense though, doesn't it? With his dad breaking out of Azkaban, he probably doesn't want to deal with the attention."

"Huh," said Harry thoughtfully. That was one possible explanation, but a far more likely one came to his mind...had Narcissa pulled him from the school for fear of what Harry might do to him? Had Snape warned her about what transpired at the Order meeting? Did Draco fear retribution for what he had done to Dahlia, and now Lily? It only further cemented the boy's guilt in Harry's mind.

But before he could consider the implications of this development, Dumbledore took to the podium to address the students. "Welcome back, everyone," said the Headmaster. "I hope you all had a safe and relaxing week off." From the worried looks of the students around the Hall looking up at him, Harry doubted that was the case for most of them.

"First, I would like to give an update on one of our own staff members," Dumbledore went on. "Professor Evans-Potter has been treated for her recent incident and is no longer in mortal danger. She will be returning to her duties as soon as she completes the healing process. In the meantime, Professor Grubbly-Plank will fill in as your Potions instructor."

Harry heard many students express relief about Lily's improved condition, as she was one of the most popular teachers at the school. What they didn't know was that she was already fully recovered from the poisoning incident. The truth was that she was still suffering withdrawals from her recent drinking episodes, for which there was no known Muggle or wizarding remedy. Apparently even in the magical world, alcoholism was so taboo and rarely acknowledged that no research had been done into curing it.

"I know many of you are also concerned about recent events out in the real world, including the break-outs from Azkaban," Dumbledore continued. "I want to reassure everyone that Hogwarts remains perfectly safe, and we have no reason to believe that you are in any additional danger. But as an added measure, the Ministry has kindly agreed to increase the Auror presence around the school to bolster our defenses."

Dumbledore gestured towards the great oak doors at the back of the Hall, where Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish stood guard. A smattering of nervous applause greeted the two Aurors, who nodded politely in response.

"I also believe Head Auror Shacklebolt would like to say a few words to you all," said Dumbledore. "Kingsley, if you will?"

Kingsley strode up the center of the room to take the podium as Dumbledore stepped down. "Good evening, everyone," he greeted them in his booming baritone. "I know that many of you will be graduating in a few short months and deciding what you wish to do with your lives. I hope you will consider joining the Auror trainee program, as we will need as many capable witches and wizards as we can get over the next few years. You will be well-compensated, and five years of Auror service will entitle you to significant benefits for the rest of your life. Additionally, all fourth-years and above are welcome to attend the Junior Aurors boot camp this summer, a two-week program to test your skills and see if the career path may be right for you. Thank you."

Kingsley stepped down as the students began to murmur amongst themselves at this new development. "Sounds kinda cool," Michael Corner remarked. "D'you reckon you'll go to the boot camp, Terry?"

"Yeah, maybe," Terry shrugged. "I'm sure Potter will be there, eh, Harry?"

"Hmm?" said Harry. "Oh...yeah, we'll see." It was heartening to hear that the response to Kingsley's pitch was positive, but deep down it worried him. How desperate were the Aurors to up their numbers that they were recruiting kids as young as 14? What would happen if they couldn't attract enough interest? Would they be forced to implement some kind of mandatory draft, like the Muggle military in times of war? He couldn't imagine a more grim outcome.

After a quick dinner, Harry stood with the rest of the Ravenclaws to return to the dorms. However, as he made his way towards the exit, he spotted a familiar platinum-blonde head near the end of the table, hunched over the table in a prone position. Concerned, he sat next to the girl and rubbed her gently on the back.

"Hey, Luna?" he asked quietly. "You alright?"

Luna stirred and lifted her head, bleary-eyed, with globs of pudding in her hair. "Hmm?" she yawned. "Oh, is dinner over? Thank you for waking me, Harry."

"No problem," said Harry, waving his wand to clear the debris from her hair and face. "Are you alright, Luna? You look exhausted."

"Oh yes, just tired from the journey, I imagine," Luna said, flashing him a strained smile. "Catch you later, Harry." And she gathered her things, rejoining her year mates pouring out of the Great Hall.

Harry watched her go, concerned. He knew that Luna's temperaments meant more than the average person, and wanted to be sure she was being watched carefully. He scanned the room, eyes landing on the Gryffindors filing out across the room and making his way over towards them.

"Demelza!" he called out. "Got a minute?"

A confused Demelza Robins emerged from amongst her friends to greet him in the corner. "I-is everything alright, Mr. Potter?" she asked nervously.

"It's just Harry," he reassured her...the younger years had an annoying habit of referring to him by his surname out of respect. "Listen, did you spend much time with Luna over the break?"

Demelza reddened slightly at this. "She came over to my house to visit for a couple days," she said bashfully. "Why, have people been gossiping about us?"

"No, I don't think so," said Harry. "I'm wondering if you've noticed anything off about her lately. Mood swings, odd behavior, anything like that?"

Demelza pondered this. "Everything about Luna's behavior is rather odd," she admitted with a chuckle. "I guess she's been more scattered and distracted lately. She was complaining about a headache on the train...d'you think she's alright?"

"I think so," Harry nodded. "Can you keep an eye on her for me? I want to know if she starts to act erratically at all, or behaves in a way that is concerning."

"Okay," Demelza said slowly. "Should I take her to Madam Pomfrey if she gets worse?"

Harry considered the question carefully. Madam Pomfrey would surely alert the Headmaster if Luna started showing signs of being a Seer, and he was afraid that Dumbledore would start to view her as a tool to be weaponized rather than a human being in need of proper counsel. "Take her to Professor Firenze first," he suggested. "He'll have a better idea of how to help her."

Demelza looked confused by this suggestion. "You don't think...Luna has the Sight?" she frowned.

"I do," said Harry quietly. "Can you keep that a secret? I worry about too many people finding out and trying to take advantage of her. Just watch out for her if you can."

"I will," Demelza nodded solemnly. "Thanks for telling me, Harry." And she hurried off to rejoin her classmates. Harry hoped the girl could be trusted – she seemed like the reliable sort, especially given that Harry had kept her secret for her earlier that year. And it was comforting knowing that Harry had an extra set of eyes and ears to keep watch over those he cared about.

On top of all of his side projects, Harry had his N.E.W.T. exams to worry about in Defense, Charms and Transfiguration. All three of his professors had ramped up the difficulty and amount of work in the return from break, citing the need for students to be in top form to have any hope of succeeding.

Naturally, none were quite as strict about this as Snape. "I will not tolerate sub-par effort on any assignments or quizzes," he sneered at the class of mostly seventh-years. "If you think my assignments are too difficult, they will pale in comparison to the real thing once the examiners arrive in June, so don't start slacking now."

Snape cast a significant look at Harry, who merely met his gaze impassively. They both knew Harry was the best student in the class – even with Snape's dedication to nit-picking every one of Harry's imperfect responses, he had been unable to grade Harry lower than an 'Exceeds Expectations' on any assignment thus far in the year.

Not that Harry much cared for his grades or exam results – he knew he could ace all three N.E.W.T.'s if they were proctored at that very moment. The material still challenged him, which was reward enough on its own – he wanted to expand his arsenal and improve his understanding of complex magic systems for the future. If he picked up even a single useful tidbit of information he could weaponize against Voldemort, the hard work would be worth it.

Most of Harry's spare time was spent in the library these days. He preferred to do his school work in solitude, but lately his extra-curricular studies required more actual research. Fortunately, he had a perpetual pass to the Restricted Section, courtesy of Professor Flitwick, and was able to delve into some of the more esoteric and 'dangerous' books the library had to offer. Perhaps it looked strange to others that he was seated alone surrounded by such dark texts, but nobody seemed to question it.

His current focus was on the magic of portkeys and how they functioned. He was fortunate to find an old 17th-century book by a Japanese wizard who had experimented with imbuing teleportation magic into an inanimate object. The footnotes indicated that his research proved instrumental to the eventual invention of the portkey a century later. It didn't help Harry with how to actually make one, but understanding the underlying principles involved was a good first step.

Then of course there was his main reason for wanting a portkey of his own: Nurmengard. Harry needed answers about the Deathly Hallows, particularly the Elder Wand, and he had reason to believe Grindelwald was connected to both. There was far more literature available about the prison, including one particularly helpful book detailing its construction and various security measures in place.

Was it madness for Harry to attempt breaking in to speak with the man? It was renowned as the most secure prison on Earth, but it also held just one prisoner and relied more heavily on magical protections than human guards. That meant Harry stood a greater chance of slipping in unnoticed – it was easier to manipulate magic into believing you weren't a threat than humans. Getting caught could cause an incident, but things were becoming increasingly dire in Britain, and Harry had to start taking more risks to stay ahead of Voldemort.

Speaking of which, he was already planning his next excursion from the castle. Things had settled a bit from the chaos of Lily's accident, and Harry was itching for some action. It had been long enough since his last visit to the underground fighting scene in Knockturn Alley that he felt comfortable returning to make some quick cash and let off some steam. His funds were quickly being depleted by the constant supply of potions ingredients he needed, plus the next item on his wishlist – a Pensieve – would not come cheap.

So that Friday night, Harry snuck out and paid a quick visit to Raven House to check on his brews. The Thief's Downfall was awaiting the addition of dragon eggs, which needed another five weeks to simmer over low heat first, while the Veritaserum could not be completed until the next full moon in seventeen days' time, when the powdered moonstone was at max potency. He placed each under a Stasis Charm for preservation before changing into his combat garb, disguising his features and Apparating away.

Harry strolled confidently down the middle of Knockturn Alley towards The Spiked Chalice. The place was crowded tonight, far more than Harry had ever seen it, perhaps due to the diminished Auror presence in the area. All the seedy individuals of society had come out to play, leering at him from shadowy corners. Good, Harry thought menacingly, leering right back without fear. I hope someone picks a fight with me. It'll be the last thing they ever do.

He entered The Spiked Chalice, which was bustling with activity, and made his way straight to the back. A man was standing guard casually outside the door he knew led to the underground basement. "Can I help you?" he asked suspiciously.

"I've already given you the password," said Harry, casting a subtle Confundus Charm from his wand hidden up his sleeve. The man blinked and shook his head lightly, before stepping aside and allowing Harry through the door and down into the nightclub.

The club floor was as loud and energetic as Harry remembered, as revelers drunken stumbled around, enjoying the drinks, the women, and other substances he could only guess at the identity of. It was more crowded than the last time Harry had visited, and he saw more hoods over patrons' faces, concealing their identities. A sign of the times, perhaps – few people wished to be spotted in such a seedy establishment, by Aurors or Voldemort sympathizers alike.

Harry did his best to blend into the crowd and not draw attention to himself. A few women sauntered by, offering bottles (or their bodies) for purchase, but Harry brushed them aside. He had to keep his wits about him tonight, lest he get caught in any unfortunate situations like in Bulgaria.

He spotted the tournament manager from last time, sitting in the corner chatting with a few scary-looking blokes. Harry made his way over to their group, lurking around the fringes until he caught the man's eye.

"Any fights going on tonight?" he asked.

"Sure are," the man nodded, tilting his head towards a sheet of parchment hanging on the wall. "Write your name on the board over there."

Harry made his way over to the board. A surprising number of people had signed up to fight tonight – over twenty names were already listed. He wondered how that would work logistically to accommodate so many fights in a single evening. But he grabbed the quill to jot down his name anyway, figuring the more people standing in his way, meant the more of his pent-up energy he could lash out with.

He froze when he spotted the last name written on the board: Reaper. Was this the same Reaper he'd fought the last time he came here? The same one that had nearly destroyed his hand with a Necrotic Curse? He was a fierce duelist, but Harry was confident he could take the man again. After all, he'd gotten better in the months since their last encounter, and undergone a blood ritual to boot. Harry scribbled his own nickname underneath – Phantom – and settled into the background to wait for the proceedings to begin.

Half an hour later, the organizer took to the stage and amplified his voice to address the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, the main attraction is about to begin!" he announced. "A record twenty-four brave souls have signed up to compete tonight, which means we'll be doing things a bit differently this evening. Fighters will enter in groups and aim to survive each round, until only one is left standing in an ultimate free-for-all!" The crowd cheered in appreciation at the promise of bloodshed.

"Let's begin our first round!" said the organizer, twirling his wand to summon the sheet of parchment from the wall to his hand. "Our first fight will be between Alpha, Punisher, Enforcer, and Phantom!"

Harry stepped forward along with three others as the organizer stepped down to greet them at the entrance to the arena. "Right, you lot know the rules," he told them. "No Unforgivables, no destroying the arena, and nothing lethal if you can avoid it. Top two in each round advance, with a winner-takes-all in the final round. Sound good?"

Everyone nodded and handed over their entry fees. Two winners per round? Harry thought, surprised. That might affect people's strategy in some odd ways – rather than a true all-out battle, it might behoove players to team up and assure themselves an easier path to the next round. And based on the way Alpha and Enforcer were looking at each other, giving nonverbal signals to one another, they must have realized the same thing and come to some kind of agreement.

The door to the arena opened, and Harry entered along with his competitors. The place was just as he remembered, albeit with more bloodstains on the wall than he remembered. Hopefully tonight would not be quite as savage as the last bouts he'd witnessed, or the Gauntlet in Bulgaria.

"Fighters, take your marks!" the organizer announced. Harry made his way to his designated starting area, trying his best to catch Punisher's eye. But the man seemed determine to ignore him, instead pacing menacingly to and fro at his own mark, eager to get started. Be smart, man, Harry silently implored him. This will be easier if we team up and make this a fair two versus two…

But it was not to be. "Begin!" the announcer shouted. At once Alpha and Enforcer began firing at Harry, forcing him to summon a powerful Protego Duri to absorb their spells. He spun to his right, only to be forced to flatten himself to the ground as Punisher also took aim at him. He'd clearly picked up on the early dynamic and decided to pick off Harry as a quick early elimination.

Moron, Harry thought bitterly. You'll just be forced into a 2-on-1 once I'm down. But there was no arguing with stupidity now, as Harry had to focus on keeping himself alive. He aimed his wand at the ground to kick up as much dirt as possible, decreasing his opponents' aim and giving him more room to maneuver under heavy spellfire.

Harry knew he'd have to do something drastic to get out of this intact. "Tenebris fumo!" he bellowed. A heavy plume of dark smoke erupted at his feet, quickly engulfing him in darkness. His three opponents briefly paused as the swirling mass rose off the ground to tower over their heads, hanging ominously in the air.

Then, the smoke lurched downward towards Punisher. The man dove out of the way, as Alpha and Enforcer wildly fired spells into the dark plume. The smoke connected with the ground and evaporated into mist, leaving all three staring at the spot where it had landed.

But what none of them realized was that Harry was no longer inside the smoke – he had Disillusioned himself and snuck around behind the latter pair on foot, Stunning the first before he could react. Harry then rushed at Alpha and kicked his wand from his hand as he wheeled around, catching him with a Body-Bind Curse and ending the bout before Punisher even realized what had happened.

"A clever bit of trickery from Phantom there!" the announcer shouted as the crowd applauded. "Phantom and Punisher advance to round two!"

You got lucky, Harry thought irritably as Punisher flashed him a thumbs-up before departing the arena. But he wouldn't chew the man out for his short-sightedness – with any luck, it would cost the man in a future round and make Harry's path to victory easier.

Harry watched as more groups of four descended into the arena. They all seemed to have learned their lesson from the last fight, treating the bout as a two versus two with the winning pair advancing. It was a bit of a lame strategy, but Harry supposed that was more a fault with the format than with the fighters.

Reaper was among the final group of four that entered the arena, and Harry watched on with high interest. He appeared to be just as dangerous as before, as he and his 'teammate' quickly forced the opposition into a corner. Reaper's teammate managed to land a Stunner to the chest of one opponent, raising a fist in triumph; then, to everyone's shock, Reaper turned and cast a Body-Bind at the man from behind, ending the fight by betraying his own partner.

"Ooh, and Reaper back-stabs his own ally to advance to the next round!" the organizer said gleefully as the crowd applauded the ruthless move. The bound man looked furious when he was freed from the curse, but Reaper could only shrug – there was nothing in the rules against it, aside from looking like a jerk, which he clearly had no qualms about doing.

"Time to begin round two!" the organizer announced. "Three more groups of four, with two advancing from each to the finals...will we see the same strategy emerge?"

Harry was not among the first group called for the second round, so he settled in to watch. The first group immediately paired off in the usual two versus two setup, but both appeared warier than usual, eyeing their 'teammates' as closely as their enemies. The fighting was more careful this time, with fighters unwilling to expose themselves too much lest their 'partner' pull a similar ruthless move as Reaper.

The fight took an unexpected turn as one of the 'pairs' turned on one another, each attempting to disable the other at the same time. Their opponents took advantage, pressing in to attack from the side, and the two saboteurs fell quickly in their haste to not get betrayed by the other.

"And the first round ends with more treachery!" the organizer said with glee. "Let's see if that affects how future groups approach the match!"

The second group of four featured Reaper, whom Harry watched carefully as he and his opponents sized one another up. They all appeared wary of one another – they'd all seen what Reaper did to his last teammate, and no one was eager to repeat the same mistake of joining forces with (or against) him.

When the fight began, no one made a move for a while, still trying to determine the dynamics of the fight. No one except Reaper, that is. He treated it as though he were on his own, erecting a brick wall to shield himself from the other two players while engaging the third in one-on-one combat. The others were slow to react to this strategy, but nobody disputed it, as the other two fighters also engaged the other in a solo bout.

Reaper won his one-on-one handily, but opted to stay hidden behind his erected wall as the other two fought. One of the other fighters was Harry's old group mate, Punisher, and he was holding his own against a diminutive female fighter named 'Black Widow' who was fighting back with surprising ferocity. She seemed to be the superior fighter, keeping Punisher on the back foot while slowly pressing forward.

This should be over quickly, Harry thought as Punisher was backed into a corner by the talented witch. Eventually she would overpower him, and she and Reaper would advance to the finals together—

But to everyone's surprise, just as Punisher was about to be felled, Black Widow was caught in the back by a Stunner, rendering her unconscious as Reaper emerged from behind the wall. "Ooh, another lucky break for Punisher there!" said the announcer. "He and Reaper advance to the final round!"

Savvy move, Harry thought. Reaper had clearly identified Black Widow as the stronger fighter, and made sure to knock her out now to prevent a stronger fighter from advancing to the finals against him.

Harry did his best to put the last fight out of his memory as he entered the arena for his own fight. The other three eyed him nervously...they clearly saw him as the biggest threat, and would likely seek to take him out of the equation early. If Harry was smart, he would seek to pull a similar move as Reaper and put up barriers around himself to force the others to go after one another instead. But he had come here to let off steam, not cower in a corner, and he would not stoop to such tactics.

"Fighters ready?" said the announcer. "Begin!"

At once Harry was forced to Shield from several curses sent his way from all directions. But the enemy fighters were more cautious this time, keeping a wary eye on each of their other competitors for potential treachery. Harry knew he would have to be proactive to take advantage of their cautious, passive approach. So he made his move early.

He fired his wand into the air and fired a powerful Concussive Charm upwards. It exploded with a deafening bang, accompanied by flares of bright light that Harry added for dramatic illusory effect. Everyone flinched, including the spectators behind the protective glass, which gave Harry time to make his move.

With the lightning speed granted to him by Phantom's sacrifice, Harry crossed the distance between him and the nearest fighter. He didn't even bother with his wand, tackling the man to the ground as hexes flew overhead from his competitors. They landed in a roll, with Harry thrusting the man forward to absorb the spells meant for him.

As soon as the body went limp, Harry kicked up another plume of dust while Disillusioning himself, crouching low to avoid detection. "Phantom is true to his name and conceals his location!" the announcer said. "Where will he strike from next?"

The other two opponents spread apart, keeping their distance from one another while watching out for 'Phantom' as well. Harry slowly crept to his left, avoiding excessive movement that would give away his position. His two opponents fired wildly around the arena looking for him, but none hit the mark.

Harry needed the other two to turn on one another to have a chance. He could attempt a 1-on-2 fight and probably win, but wanted to conserve his energy for the final, knowing he'd need it against Reaper. So he remained patient, looking for an opening.

He noticed that one of the two enemies was more paranoid than the other, constantly glancing at the other, wand twitching in his hand as though prepared to turn and fire at any moment. So Harry devised his plan, sneaking around behind the paranoid man to spring his trap.

Harry flicked his wand to summon a large boulder and fire it at the paranoid man. He instantly spun around and Banished it from whence it came – which was where the other enemy was standing. Alarmed, he was forced to block the incoming boulder as well, with each believing the other sent it. That triggered a fight, as both men turned to engage one another.

That was all the opening Harry needed. He conjured thick vines to wrap around the paranoid man's legs and drag him to his knees, before finishing him with a Stunner to end the match before either man realized what had happened.

"Another tricky move by Phantom to win the match!" said the announcer. "He advances to the final round, which will begin after a short break!"

Harry exited the arena and retreated to a quiet corner to assess his status. He remained uninjured, save for a few scrapes and bruises from rolling around on the ground. He cast light healing charms on the damaged areas before downing a Stamina Potion from his toolkit, while mentally preparing for his final match. But someone interrupted his meditation by walking up and addressing him:

"Nice work there, Thestral."

"Thanks," Harry said automatically without thinking. Then, realizing his mistake, he tried to correct himself: "Er...I mean...what did you say…?"

"Relax," said Reaper, smirking as he sat beside Harry. "I recognized your fighting style from our last fight months ago. But I won't tell anyone who you are."

Harry wasn't sure if he could trust this man, but it seemed he had little choice in the matter. "You're using the same name as before," he pointed out neutrally.

"I'm trying to make a name for myself in Britain," Reaper shrugged. "That's why I came here from the States. Aren't you?"

"Just trying to make some quick money," said Harry.

"Eh, to each their own," Reaper smirked. "But rumor has it there's more to be gained than money around here, if you catch my drift."

"Sorry, I don't," Harry said, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

"Maybe you're not as savvy as I thought, then," Reaper scoffed. "Anyway, I have a proposition for you."

"What kind?"

"We team up to begin the final round," said Reaper. "2 on 4 instead of 1 on 5...much better odds, don't you think?"

"Why would I team up with you?" Harry demanded. "I saw what you did to your last 'teammate'."

"That was different," Reaper said dismissively. "That ended the fight immediately. I need to beat five other people to win, and I know you and I are the best fighters here, so why not eliminate the chaff together then duke it out one on one for the grand prize?"

Harry contemplated this. The logic made sense – he and Reaper were the best fighters here, and teaming up to begin the fight would drastically improve each of their odds. They wouldn't have to worry as much about being felled by a stray spell early on, ensuring they'd get a chance to win on merit alone once it was just the two of them remaining. The only question was: could Harry trust Reaper's words at face value, or was this further deception to stab him in the back?

He didn't get long to think before the organizer took to the stage once more. "It is time for our final round!" he announced. "Will the remaining six fighters please enter the arena?"

Harry and Reaper headed down into the pit as the crowd buzzed excitedly for the finale. They each took their marks, looking around at their opposition. Harry wasn't worried about Punisher – or any of the other three strangers, really – but could already tell how messy things could get very quickly. The arena wasn't very large, ensuring maximum chaos, and Harry wasn't sure if he could handle five separate enemies without someone watching his back.

"Six fighters remain, but only one can win!" the organizer said. "Last man standing wins the grand prize. Fighters, are you ready?"

Harry made brief eye contact with Reaper, who gave him a questioning look. Harry begrudgingly nodded his head, accepting the bargain, and a knowing smirk crossed Reaper's expression. Hope I didn't just screw myself over, Harry thought as he lowered himself into a fighting stance.

"Begin!"

As Harry expected, it was chaos almost at once. Punisher and two of the other fighters began targeting Harry at once, forcing him to Shield and dive out of the way. He did his best to stay nimble and avoid cornering himself as his highly-skilled opponents bore down upon him. He circled to his left, hoping to find an opening to break free of their combined onslaught and return fire himself—

"On your right!"

Harry turned just in time to see another fighter sneaking up behind him, only to be felled by a curse from Reaper. The two met eyes once more; Harry flicked his wand, erecting a Shield at Reaper's back to protect him from a hex aimed at his back. Reaper nodded his thanks, and the two men met in the middle, turning to face down the remaining opponents together.

It felt good to have a competent ally to rely upon, Harry had to admit. Although they were outnumbered two to three, he and Reaper were a well-oiled machine together, effortlessly Shielding and counter-attacking to keep their enemies on the back foot. The other three fighters, who had previously been operating solo, had no other choice but to band together against the combined onslaught of Harry and Reaper.

One of the enemies had the wise idea to send a volley of transfigured spikes down the middle of the arena, forcing Harry and Reaper apart. Harry dove to his left, Shielding the incoming spells from the opposition. He returned fire, watching for any more transfigured tricks, wondering when Reaper would rejoin the fight—

Harry's senses alerted him to incoming danger, and he turned to see flames spreading rapidly towards him from his right. Rather than duck out of the way, Harry twirled his wand to summon a gust of wind around him, catching the fire and creating a vortex of heat and flames that towered overhead. The other three paused in awe as Harry's fire tornado swirled menacingly around him.

With a great roar of effort, Harry thrust his wand forward, directing the flames at his enemies in a wall of hot wind. Two were caught off-guard, their feeble Shields collapsing beneath the flames as they caught ablaze; only one was wise enough to conjure a physical barrier to duck beneath. But he was quickly Stunned by Reaper as Harry cleaned up the other two, dousing their flames before putting them each in a Body-Bind.

"A devastating one-two punch from Reaper and Phantom!" the announcer said excitedly. "Fire and wind combine for a nasty combo...I wonder if they planned that one ahead of time!"

We certainly did not, Harry thought irritably. Had Reaper intended for things to play out that way? Or was it another attempt at sabotage to take out the best fighter in a moment of chaos? Either way, Harry knew he could not trust the man now, and with only two remaining, he was able to focus his attention on Reaper at last. The man had a dangerous smile on his face, knowing that this was the true test. Harry prepared himself for a tough fight, already tired but ready to give it his all.

Reaper went on the offensive first, bombarding Harry with curses to test his defenses. Harry nimbly avoided them all, dodging the majority while Shielding only those he could not. Reaper merely gave him an impressed nod, acknowledging his quick reflexes.

Harry went on the offensive next, prodding at Reaper's Shields from multiple directions. He did not want to show off his full potential yet, allowing the man to believe Harry was only as fast and strong as he was before the blood ritual. Reaper put on quite a show of dancing and dodging the curses, earning shouts of delight from the crowd; when Harry ceased his assault, the man even turned to give a little bow to the onlookers behind the barrier above.

Is he showing off? Harry thought, bewildered. Is he more interested in impressing the crowd than winning? He filed that thought away for future use.

The fight resumed in earnest, with both sides striking and parrying with dizzying speed. Reaper looked to be enjoying himself, a feral grin on his face, as though he relished in the pursuit of violence. Harry remained calm and collected, having months' worth of practice against Dumbledore, not allowing his emotions to affect his resolve. Reaper was a powerful fighter, but he was no Albus Dumbledore. Harry knew he could (and would) win – he just had to be cautious.

Reaper made his first big move soon after, conjuring a thick hailstorm and sending the projectiles Harry's way. He responded with a blast of hot air, simultaneously melting the hail into water and blowing Reaper off-balance. Harry pressed back, increasing the intensity and frequency of his spells now to keep him disoriented. Reaper's smile vanished, replaced by a snarl as he focused every effort on staying upright and unscathed.

Reaper managed to survive Harry's onslaught and resumed his own, this time putting full power behind the dangerous curses he was throwing around. Harry did not blink, calmly batting aside Necrotic Curses and other nasty ailments he knew could be near-fatal if they connected. Reaper looked angry now, throwing a random barrage of nasty spells in an effort to end the match quickly. Harry had an idea, and began plotting how to implement it properly.

"Tenebris fumo!" Harry shouted, summoning another dark swirling cloud of smoke around himself. Reaper paused, on full alert as the smoke billowed and rippled all around, concealing Harry from view.

"Phantom pulls an old trick out of the playbook!" shouted the announcer. "But will Reaper be fooled this time?"

The smoke flitted to and fro across the battlefield, but Reaper did not overreact. He knew that Harry could be anywhere despite the smoke, Disillusioned or otherwise concealed elsewhere in the arena. Even as the smoke rushed towards Reaper he did not flinch, merely dissipating the cloud with a gust of heavy wind.

Then Harry struck from behind, launching a rapid succession of spells at Reaper's back. The man spun around and deflected them neatly, before sending a return volley. Harry spun to avoid them, but tripped over his own feet, stumbling to remain upright. One of Reaper's Stunners slipped through his defenses, sending Harry sprawling to the ground.

Reaper laughed and pumped his fist to the crowd in triumph. But a second later, he was hit with a Body-Bind Curse, toppling over like a statue. The confused crowd turned to where Harry had fallen, but he wasn't there – the real Harry was right on top of Reaper, canceling the Body-Mirroring Charm to snatch Reaper's wand from his frozen hand and hold it up to signal the true victor.

"Another brilliant display of illusions from the mysterious Phantom!" the announcer shouted as the crowd roared in appreciation. "He is the winner of tonight's event!"

Harry released Reaper from his binds, expecting the man to be bitter and angry from the loss. Instead, he merely grinned and allowed Harry to help him to his feet.

"Well fought, 'Phantom'," the man winked. "Put in a good word for me with the big man, will you?"

"Er...what do you mean?" Harry frowned. But Reaper merely departed the arena and disappeared into the crowd.

Harry followed him, marching straight up to the event organizer to collect his winnings. "Two thousand Galleons for your troubles," said the man, handing Harry a large sack of Galleons.

"Shouldn't it be four hundred extra, for 24 participants?" asked Harry.

"Er...we've had to take a bit off the top of the prize pool for added security," the man chuckled nervously. "Difficult times, as you well know."

"Whatever," Harry grumbled, shrinking and pocketing the coins. He wouldn't quibble over four hundred Galleons, especially after the last tournament organizer tried to screw him out of the entire prize. He turned and made his way towards the exit, slipping through the throngs of people congratulating him on his big win. With luck, he could escape without any further incident—

"Hey, Phantom!" a voice called out after him. "Good show in there. Let me buy you a drink!"

"No, thank you," Harry muttered, as he continued slipping through the crowd.

"Please, I insist!" the stranger said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry turned, intending to tell the man off for touching him, but his heart stopped when he saw who it was: Barty Crouch Jr., beaming at him and beckoning him to a corner booth.

Harry's mind raced with possible courses of action. Should he run? Should he draw his wand and fight? But he had no clue how many other Death Eaters might be watching from afar, if Barty was so willing to be out in the open. Harry's glamour was still intact, and Barty didn't appear hostile at the moment, so Harry reluctantly followed him to his booth, hoping to find a way out as quickly as possible.

"I admit, I am slightly let down by your victory," said Barty as he and Harry settled opposite one another. "I had money on Reaper winning tonight."

"Sorry to disappoint," Harry deadpanned.

"It's always a pleasure to see new talent appear on the scene," Barty continued. "I didn't know Britain had such freelance fighters roaming about. What's your story, Phantom?"

"Haven't got one," Harry shrugged.

"Nonsense, everyone has a story!" Barty insisted. "Your accent suggests you're British, but I feel like I should have heard of you by now with your level of skill. Where you from?"

"Australia," Harry lied. "Parents left Britain during the last war and raised me abroad."

"And who were they?"

"None of your business. They're dead now, anyway."

"Sorry for your loss," Barty shrugged, not sounding that sorry at all. He turned to flag down a passing barmaid. "Oi, sweetheart! Two Firewhiskey's for the table."

The barmaid suppressed a grimace as she passed by, but she nodded in acknowledgment. Barty gave the woman's retreating backside an appraising look before turning his attention back to Harry.

"So what brings you back home to Britain, Phantom?" he asked, lounging comfortably back in his seat.

"Heard there was money to be made here for people with the right skills," Harry said vaguely.

"Right you are," Barty nodded sagely. "But money's not all that's at stake. You could gain a lot more than some spare change if you've savvy enough."

Harry said nothing, weighing these words carefully. Reaper had alluded to something similar...did he know about Crouch's presence here tonight? How much did the American know about the ongoing war with Voldemort?

"Do you know who I am?" Barty asked.

"Nope," Harry lied smoothly. "Why should I?"

Barty chuckled; clearly he didn't believe Harry. "My wanted poster is plastered on every window in Diagon Alley," he said. "Surely you must have recognized me."

"Doesn't seem wise for you to be out in public, then," Harry remarked cautiously.

"The Aurors are spread too thin to care about what happens here tonight," Barty said dismissively. "Nights like tonight are worth the risk to make an appearance. Otherwise, I might never have made your acquaintance."

"Well...nice to meet you," Harry said slowly, uncertain what he meant by this. Meanwhile, the barmaid returned with two glasses of Firewhiskey. Barty downed his in one gulp, belching fire into the air; Harry politely declined his, pushing the glass to the side.

"What are your thoughts on this conflict Britain is facing?" Barty asked pointedly. "Do you have a dog in the fight?"

"Trying to stay out of it," said Harry. "Not interested in jumping onto the front lines."

"No, I suppose not, or you would have joined Minister Potter's little Auror brigade," Barty spat, his voice making clear the disdain he felt towards the recruitment program. "But skills like yours shouldn't go to waste as a freelancer. You could rise the ranks of power quite quickly if you pick the right side."

"And I suppose you're going to sway me to join the 'right side'?" Harry asked, sensing now where this conversation was going.

"I work for a man who is going to reshape this country into something new," Barty said, a gleam of pride and fanaticism in his eyes. "He's going to clear out the rot plaguing our society and purify the land. Those who serve him will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams. You could have power, Phantom, with skills like yours. Beautiful witches at your beck and call. Men bending the knee at your very presence. Power like that doesn't come along often, and not many know how to wield it properly. But I bet you could."

Harry very much did not like the sound of that. He knew that weaker men would be easily swayed by such rhetoric, but he also knew first-hand how many others would suffer under the reign of Voldemort. For every Death Eater given a semblance of temporary power, thousands more would die or face unimaginable loss. And that he could not abide.

But he couldn't exactly say that to Barty's face. He wanted out of this place, and quickly. But how to do so without attracting attention? He couldn't appear dismissive, but did not want to give any indication that he was truly interested, either. The last thing he wanted was for Crouch Jr. to dig deeper into Phantom's true identity.

"I'll have to think about it," Harry said diplomatically.

"Think fast, because this temporary peace won't last forever," said Barty. "If you aren't on the winning team when the moment comes, you may lose your opportunity to have everything you could ever want."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by a new arrival to their table. "Hey, boys!" said a busty young woman, sauntering up towards them with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Looking to have a little fun this evening?"

"No, thank you," Harry said reflexively, as he had to several other women earlier tonight. But Barty, who appeared to be slightly intoxicated now, turned to give the woman his full attention.

"I haven't seen you around here before, gorgeous," he grinned. "What's your name?"

"Nora," the woman said in a sultry tone, causing Harry to wonder briefly if he knew this woman somehow. "First time here, actually. Care to make this lonely girl's acquaintance, handsome?"

"That depends," said a bemused Barty. "What are you asking for your services?"

"A hundred Galleons and I'm all yours for the night," Nora said in a sultry tone.

"Ah," Barty said, sounding disappointed. "My last coin disappeared in the betting pool, I'm afraid. No discounts for an old romantic who will rock your world?"

"A girl's gotta eat, I'm afraid," said Nora, smiling sadly at him. "Unless your friend here feels like coming along for a two-for-one special…?"

"Thanks, but I'm leaving soon," said Harry, hoping this distraction would give him the opportunity to escape.

"Shame," said Nora. "You look like you would've been fun to get to know."

The woman winked playfully at Harry. Her nose twitched slightly with the gesture, and Harry had a distinct feeling of deja vu. He realized with a jolt that he knew this woman...it was Tonks, using her Metamorphmagus powers to disguise herself. Her 'Nora' persona was nearly flawless, but he could now see the traces of Tonks in the way she carried herself, in the little mannerisms he only recognized from knowing her so well. He did his best to school his features and mask his surprise. Luckily, Barty didn't seem to notice.

"We'll be continuing our conversation in private now, thanks doll," Barty said dismissively to Tonks.

"Of course," Tonks said sweetly. "Come find me if you get lonely." And she began to saunter off.

"Actually," Harry piped up, "on second thought, I'm feeling rather lonely myself."

Tonks turned, the look of surprise unmistakable on her face. But ever the professional Auror, the smile returned to her face at once. "Is that so?" she said suggestively.

"Ah, looking to sample the local cuisine, are we?" Barty said, smirking at Harry. "Very well, I suppose you've earned that much, 'Phantom'. Here, take my card."

Barty reached into his cloak and pulled out what looked like a Muggle business card. Harry held out his hand to take it, and when he did so, Barty grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer to whisper in his ear.

"It's charmed to reveal the location of our recruitment meeting an hour before it begins," Barty hissed. "If you wish to meet my master, you'll be welcomed with open arms. The storm is coming, my friend – don't get caught without a lifeboat."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Harry said coolly, accepting the card and backing away. He turned towards Tonks and casually draped an arm across her shoulders, allowing her to guide him to the exit.

Harry could feel the tension in Tonks' shoulders as they departed the club. He wondered if she planned to take him somewhere to discreetly hex and Obliviate him, or if she intended to arrest him for associating with a known Death Eater. Either way, he had no intention of making a scene and risking one of them getting hurt.

"Tonks, don't say anything or react in any way," he whispered in her ear as they passed through The Spiked Chalice and into Knockturn Alley. "It's Harry Potter. Can you take us somewhere safe?"

Tonks flinched subtly at his words, but otherwise did not react. She wordlessly held out her arm, and Harry took it, allowing her to Apparate them both away. He felt the familiar tight squeezing sensation, but when they arrived at their destination, his feet were taken out from under him, and he landed flat on his back with a groan. Thick ropes bound him in place as Tonks aimed her wand directly in his face from above.

"When was the first time we spoke, after my memory accident?" she demanded.

"At St. Mungo's," said Harry. "You didn't recognize me, but Cedric Diggory came to calm you down."

Tonks nodded in confirmation as she lowered her wand. Harry expected her to free him, but instead she rummaged through her robes for something. "Sorry, but I just have to be certain," she said, pulling out a glass cube and meddling with it. An Auror's Toolkit, Harry recognized, as Tonks uncorked one of the compartments and dumped its contents on Harry's face.

He felt the Thief's Downfall do its work as his glamour faded away, leaving him with his natural appearance. Tonks groaned at the sight of him, twirling her wand to free him as her features shrank back into the slender form he knew was her true self.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing in Knockturn Alley, Harry?" she demanded. "And why were you talking to Barty Crouch of all people?"

"It wasn't on my itinerary for the evening," Harry muttered, as he slowly got back to his feet. "Why were you there, offering yourself to Death Eaters?"

Tonks flushed angrily at this remark. "I'm on assignment," she huffed. "I was tasked with scoping out the club for any sign of recruiting. But when I saw Crouch, I planned to try and get him alone so that I could arrest him."

"Well, sorry for ruining your arrest," Harry offered.

"That's beside the point!" Tonks huffed. "Aren't you underage? What were you doing in a place like The Spiked Chalice?"

"Dueling," Harry shrugged.

"What on earth were you thinking, dueling illegally in a seedy place like that?" Tonks demanded. "You're only sixteen – people die in that club all the time!"

"Well, I won, didn't I?" Harry said defiantly. "I needed the gold, and it's easier to get without anyone asking questions." And he withdrew the sack of Galleons from his robes, enlarging it and tossing it onto the kitchen table. Tonks gawked at the size of it.

"You were the one who won the tournament?" she breathed. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Years of training with my dad, Moody and Dumbledore," Harry shrugged. "I'd really appreciate it if none of them knew about this, though."

Tonks gave Harry an exasperated look. "Your dad would have my hide if he knew I let you do something like this," she sighed.

"He doesn't have to find out," said Harry. "It wasn't my first time either, for the record. I can handle myself better than people think."

"I believe that," Tonks muttered. "I've seen memories of you fighting in the past...you were better than some current Aurors at twelve years old."

"So you won't say anything?" Harry said hopefully. "This won't be a recurring habit, I swear."

Tonks regarded him like a disappointed older sister, folding her arms in disappointment at him. After a moment of contemplation, she said, "Alright, I'll keep it to myself this once. But only out of respect for your mother...I wouldn't want to give her a heart attack about her son while she's still in recovery."

"Thank you," Harry sighed in relief.

"I do need to report to Kingsley, though," said Tonks, drawing her wand. "Expecto patronum."

A silver, nimble four-legged animal burst from her wand and hovered overhead, awaiting instruction. "Tell Kingsley I spotted Barty Crouch Jr. at the Spiked Chalice, recruiting mercenaries," Tonks told the creature. "I sensed danger and got out without drawing attention to myself."

The silver creature pounced elegantly out the window and out of sight. Harry watched it go, frowning slightly.

"Say, Tonks?" he muttered. "Is your Patronus a lynx—?"

"Dora?" came a familiar voice from down the hall. Harry turned, and to his astonishment, Cedric Diggory shuffled out into the light, looking like he'd been sleeping. "Everything alright?"

"Blimey, I forgot to muffle the hallway," Tonks muttered, blushing pink as Cedric looked confusedly from Tonks to Harry. "Harry, you remember Cedric, I take it?"

"Hey, Ced," said Harry, looking between the two. "So, erm, you two are…?"

"Yes, but I'd prefer if you didn't tell anyone about this," Tonks said awkwardly. "Aurors aren't strictly supposed to date each other, you see."

"What's going on?" Cedric asked, still looking puzzled. "Harry, did something happen?"

"I caught Harry here schmoozing with Death Eaters at a nightclub in Knockturn," said Tonks. "He's lucky I didn't hex his bits off for propositioning me."

"I was just trying to get us both out of there safely!" Harry protested, reddening at the insinuation. But he quickly realized Tonks was just teasing him; both she and Cedric chuckled at his obvious discomfort.

"What were you doing in Knockturn, Harry?" asked Cedric.

"Making some money in the arena," Harry sighed. "I'd appreciate it if you kept it quiet, though."

Tonks wrinkled her nose at this. "I don't like what you've gotten yourself into, Harry," she sighed.

"We're at war," Harry shrugged. "We all do what we need to do to survive. I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."

Tonks and Cedric looked at each other. "Alright," Tonks said begrudgingly. "But try not to get roped into any more conversations with Death Eaters like Crouch, will you?"

"I'll do my best," Harry grinned. "Also, there's something else you should know."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the business card Barty had given him. "It's charmed to reveal the location of the next Death Eater recruitment meeting, an hour in advance," he explained. "I bet the Aurors could use this to their advantage."

Tonks widened her eyes as she picked up the card. "This is exactly the kind of lead we've been looking for," she breathed. "I can certainly work with this. I'll tell them I nicked it off of the tournament victor, after the arrogant prick tried to proposition me."

"And handsome," Harry quipped. "Don't forget handsome."

"How could I forget?" said Tonks with a mirthful grin. Harry grinned back...he had missed this mischievous side of Tonks after her accident, and was glad to see she was nearly back to her old self.

"Oi, I'm right here, you know," Cedric said, feigning annoyance at their light flirting.

"Don't worry, darling, you have Harry beat in that department," Tonks said, standing on tiptoe to kiss Cedric on the cheek.

"Oi, I'm right here too!" Harry exclaimed with a laugh.

"Boys, boys," Tonks groaned good-naturedly. Then, her expression turned serious. "I don't suppose you plan on illegally Apparating yourself out of here in front of two Aurors, do you, Harry?"

"How about a bribe to look the other way?" Harry asked, indicating the sack on the table between them.

"Very funny—" Tonks began.

"I'm serious," Harry said, reaching into the sack and pulling out a fistful of Galleons. "You got me out of a scrape tonight, and I ruined your reconnaissance plans. Least I can do."

Tonks scowled, but accepted the gold he handed to her. "Tell me you know what you're doing, at least," she sighed. "As a friend, I'd hate to see you get hurt out there."

"I can handle myself," Harry shrugged as he shrunk and pocketed the sack of gold again. "It's all in the service of winning the war. Trust me, I've been fighting it longer than most."

"You know you can trust us with anything, right, Harry?" piped up Cedric. "If you ever need help, we're here for you." Tonks nodded in agreement with this sentiment.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry nodded. "Stay safe you two, yeah?"

"Back at you," Tonks said with a sad smile.

Harry nodded at the two of them before Apparating back to Raven House. He stowed the Galleons away in a secret compartment before flopping onto his cot, drained from the eventful evening. But he couldn't sleep right away, mind still racing with the night's events.

Harry worried that Tonks might go back on her word and tell Kingsley and James about Harry's presence, leading to a very uncomfortable conversation down the line. But he trusted her and Cedric to keep a secret, as both had proven to be more than reliable allies in the past. Perhaps one day he could even trust them with what he, Bill and Fleur were up to, though it was always risky to widen that circle too far. Both Cedric and Tonks were on the front lines of the war, at risk of having their memories ravaged by Lockhart, and they both revered Dumbledore a bit too much for his liking. Still, it was reassuring to know that they were in his corner.

It was then that Harry realized what he had that nobody could offer him, not Barty Crouch, not Voldemort, not anybody. He had people who cared about him, people to pick him back up when he fell. He had something to return home to, something worth preserving that he would fight to the death for time and time again. And that was worth more than any amount of gold, women or power the world could ever offer him.