A/N: You'll be all pleased to know that I have successfully plotted right up to chapter twenty-five, so that's at least ¾ of the story already mapped out. Anyway, I hope you like the chapter. For those asking about the tasks, if I told you, I'd have to “Avada Kedavra!” you. Hmm…I should put that in the story somehow.

I always forget to put this in, but not this time. Thanks again to the crew at DLP, including nuhuh, Jon and those who do a quick scan of my chapter for errors. The story wouldn't be as half as good without you lot backing me up.

When Harry had closed his eyes, he had been leaning against the tall and surprisingly strong form of Dumbledore as the two of them walked to the Hospital Wing, reluctantly using the old man as a support as his entire body throbbed with the painful after-effects of the magical contract. As he had gratefully, if not grudgingly, slid into the warm bed, the last thing he had seen before he had let the weariness overtake him was the crystal blue eyes and wrinkled face of the old Headmaster.

Twelve hours later as Harry woke up, warm and comfortable, the first thing he saw was the crystal blue eyes and wrinkled old face of the Headmaster. He eyed the man with something akin to anger and resentment as he sat up in the bed, carelessly throwing off the white sheets as he let out a loud yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth as he stared at Dumbledore rudely.

“I'm glad to see that you are awake,” Dumbledore said quietly as he sat next to Harry's bed, looking extremely pensive.

Harry scoffed rudely but didn't say anything as he stretched out his arms. He frowned as he felt cold air meet skin and glanced down to see that his robes were gone and that they had been replaced with a set of warm, if slightly small, pyjama's.

'You don't think he undressed me himself, do you,' Harry thought softly, distaste in his tone.

'I do not believe so, beloved,' answered Meciel softly with both humour and concern in her voice. 'You appear to be well. It is good that the contract seems to have left no permanent damage, despite how painful it was.'

'Urgh, pain,' Harry though despairingly. He frowned, both mentally and literally, as a thought popped into his head. 'Still, you got to wonder why a wand-wizard as powerful as this runs a school of all things. Maybe he has inclinations towards kids. Hey, you don't think that I need to worry for my innocence, do you?'

'You, my beloved, have a one-track mind,' Meciel replied in amusement and Harry felt some of her concern lift at his usual sardonic comments. 'Besides, you lost any innocence you may have had long ago, so you may be relatively safe.'

'I wasn't talking about that kind of innocence,' Harry thought with a grunt, before Dumbledore stirred, sighing mournfully and stroking his beard.

Harry focussed his gaze on the elder wizard and blinked, noticing how old and wearied the man looked as he sat there. A coil of satisfaction twisted in his gut and he suppressed a pleased smile. Good, he wasn't the only one who was suffering over something.

“I understand that you may be upset…” Dumbledore started quietly.

“Upset?” Harry interrupted incredulously. “This face isn't showing “Oh no, I just got bound into a magical contract that forces me to participate in a stupid tournament, what am I going to do?” No, this is my “Oh no, I just got bound into a magical contract that forces me to participate in a stupid tournament, who am I going to have to kill” face.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, not looking impressed with Harry's attitude as he eyes dimmed. Harry sighed, rolled his own eyes and learnt forward, lowering his voice into a mock whisper.

“Psst!” He whispered loudly and secretively, as if he was imparting on a great secret. “That means that I'm really pissed off!”

“Understandably so,” Dumbledore said quietly. “You have been forced into a tournament you did not want to participate on and bound into a contract you did not sign.”

“You see, you get it,” Harry said sarcastically, but Dumbledore purposefully ignored him as he continued.

“Rest assured that I have personally bewitched the Hogwarts Book of names to ensure that this does not happen again,” The Headmaster finished firmly.

“And...This helps me how?” Harry asked slowly.

“I thought that you may find comfort in the fact that nobody else will suffer through a situation like this by those means,” Dumbledore answered, and Harry snorted.

“Yeah, you'll find out that I only care about four people in this crappy place,” He said and gestured to himself, nodding sagely as he counted them out. “There's me, myself, I and my invisible best friend.”

“You have a right to be upset, Harry, but I do suggest that you curb your tongue,” Dumbledore suggested but his voice held not the slightest bit of anger at Harry's antics and Harry sighed in annoyance. “At least, until I have told you all that you need to know.”

“Well then, oh wise Gandalf the Grey,” Harry said mockingly and gave a little bow of his head. “Please impart your noble wisdom, and I hope that includes some more details about the crappy little game I'm stuck in and where you've put my wand.”

“You wand is right here, Harry,” Dumbledore said and reached into his purple and silver robes, pulling out Harry's gleaming wand. “I must admit, I am curious that you were given this wand and I was not informed.”

“Why would you care about my wand?” Harry asked as he snatched the wand from Dumbledore's fingers, inspecting it closely as if he suspected if had been tampered with but Dumbledore acted as if he hadn't heard the question.

“Now, as for the tournament, the First Task will be held on November the twenty-fourth,” Dumbledore said briskly. “You will not know what the task entails, but I can tell you that it will be a test of your bravery and skill under pressure. As per the rules, you may bring only yourself and your wand.”

“Whoa,” Harry yawned, blinking languidly. “I'm scared already.”

“Now, I have taken the liberty of moving your possessions out of the private rooms you slept in last night to the Gryffindor Tower,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “You will also find your new schoolbooks, which I took the liberty of buying for you.”

“School books?” Harry said slowly and scoffed, shaking his head in amusement. “Hey, I may be playing in your little game but I'm sure as hell not staying here at Hogwarts.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore enquired, cocking his head as his eyes twinkled. “But you must.”

“November the twenty-fourth, right?” Harry asked as he shrugged the blankets and sheets off him. “I'll be back for the First Task then.”

“You don't understand,” Dumbledore said. “All champions must stay within a reasonable distance of the Goblet of Fire, or else…”

“Pain,” Harry finished bitterly and sighed, thumping his hand down on the bed as he leant back. “Oh goody.”

Dumbledore, sensing an underlying river of anger in Harry, quickly brought about another subject and a smile crossed his wrinkled face as he clasped his hands together.

“Your friend, Ms Carpenter, has been very worried about you,” He said jovially, his blue eyes twinkling as Harry grunted sourly.

“She's not my friend,” Harry muttered, turning away from the old wizard and staring out of the window, apparently absorbed in the white, fluffy clouds.

“Ah, I see,” Dumbledore said with something akin to understanding, his eyes sparkling almost mischievously. “Although, I do see to recall your mother said much the same about your father.”

Harry frowned and turned around to stare at him. A cold and stone expression crossed his face and his green eyes glinted maliciously as he leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper.

“What do you think is going to happen here?” He asked quietly and Dumbledore's good mood evaporated as he noticed a glimmer of ancient darkness behind the teen's eyes - although he was smart enough not to attempt Legillimency after what Severus had told him. “Do you think that I'm going to see the light, that love and friendship will prevail over the 'darkness' in my heart and I will forsake my 'evil' ways?”

Dumbledore didn't say a word and remained silent as Harry leant forward and he inwardly shuddered as he saw a red and orange light flickering behind the green orbs, reminiscent to a blazing fire.

“I'll tell you now. I'm not going to abandon Meciel,” Harry said softly but firmly, his voice resolute and unyielding. “I will not abandon the one being that cares for me, who might even love me, no matter what you try to offer me. So don't hold your breath, or you just might die.”

Dumbledore blinked and suddenly it was Harry's turn to suppress a grimace as the old wizard's face went cold, the seemingly permanent look of joviality in the Headmaster's eyes disappearing, the benign smile curving his lips gone. It was at that moment that Harry felt a slither of fear as he gazed at the powerful wand-wizard. Despite his seven years of instruction, he knew that there would be no way he could handle himself against this seemingly experienced and powerful man in a fair fight but he gripped his wand anyway. Of course, if it ever came down to a fight, Harry would do his best to make sure that it wasn't fair.

Still, at this moment, he didn't want to make an enemy out of such a powerful man, so he forced an annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes as he leant back into his bed, the intensity in his voice gone.

“That wasn't a death threat, you idiot,” He snapped. “I meant die, as in, from lack of oxygen…because you were holding your breath. See?”

Dumbledore didn't say anything and there was a look in his eyes as if he knew what Harry had just thought about him as he relaxed, the tension leaving his body as fast as it come and the benign smile curving his lips once more.

“You'll find, Harry, that I am able to hold my breath for quite some time,” said Dumbledore, his voice rich with humour. “It's a good trait to have for a man in my position.

“Oh, just go away already,” Harry muttered and looked away from the Headmaster, avoiding those twinkling blue eyes. Despite his rude tone, Dumbledore nodded and stood up from his seat.

“Very well, Harry, I will depart,” Dumbledore said cordially but a note of warning went into his voice as he continued. “But first, I must caution you in revealing your true status to other people. I trust that Ms Carpenter and Professor Carpenter will remain silent, however, others may not and such a revelation could shake the foundations of the Wizarding World.”

“I care because?” Harry prompted slowly.

“Because when our society becomes upset, the masses demand a scapegoat,” Dumbledore explained quietly. “You would become that scapegoat, Harry, and despite your…allegiances…I would not want to see you in Azkaban.”

He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Harry alone as he frowned in thought. But he didn't get to think very long as he received his next visitor.

“Harry!” called out Amanda, a beaming smile on her face as she walked in. She was dressed in her crimson Salem robes and she had tied her blonde hair into a ponytail, which swayed behind her back as she took Dumbledore's former seat. “I was worried about you. When you didn't come back from that room, everybody thought that they had arrested you or something. But Dumbledore told us all at breakfast that you were still here and that the magical contract had hurt you because you had tried to leave the tournament, which actually surprised Ron and Neville, you know.”

“Amanda, I have two questions,” Harry said quickly when Amanda stopped talking to take a breath. “One, do you ever shut up? Two, why are you here?”

“The answer to question one is, I try not to,” Amanda answered easily. “And the answer to number two is, you're my friend, Harry, and you're in the hospital wing so why do you think I'm here?”

“I hate to burst your bubble, brat, but we're not friends,” Harry said firmly.

“Whatever you say, Harry,” Amanda said slowly, rolling her eyes with a smile on her face and Harry let out a soft growl of annoyance.

He thumped his pillow and looked around at the hospital wing, then down at himself.

“So, do you think I get out of here now?” He muttered sourly.

“I'll go ask Madame Promfrey,” Amanda said as she slid out of her seat. “I don't think she'll say no.”

Although the nurse had been strictly adamant on keeping Harry in the bed and had told Amanda as much, it was only ten minutes later that Harry was out of bed and out of the hospital wing, walking down one of Hogwart's long corridors with Amanda by his side.

“It's this way,” She said a she gestured down on the corridors and Harry followed her without another word, looking decidedly uncomfortable in his hospital gown. At least his butt wasn't showing.

“Professor Dumbledore moved stuff into the Gryffindor tower since we're staying there from now on,” Amanda continued.

Harry nodded shortly as Amanda led him through the castle, turning at several different hallways and corridors. They passed gleaming suits of armour and large, magical portraits with dozing or chattering wizards and witches and several students, who eyed Harry curiously as he stalked past them with an annoyed expression on his face.

Eventually, Amanda led him towards the end of a corridor, where a large portrait hung up on the wall. The occupant of the portrait was a fat lady dressed in pink, ruffled clothes, and she stared down at the two of them curiously.

“Harry, this is the Fat Lady, she's the guardian of the Gryffindor dorms,” Amanda told Harry, who tutted loudly with a reproachful look on his face.

“It's not nice to call people fat!” He said, shaking his head sadly. “Just because you're relatively skinny doesn't mean we all are. You have no consideration for others, do you?”

“You're funny,” Amanda said sarcastically, rolling her eyes and facing the portrait. “Just hysterical. Balderdash.”

“What did you just call me?” Harry asked, blinking in surprise. “Because it hurt, brat, it really cut deep.”

“It's the password, Harry,” Amanda said patiently. “Which you have to tell the Fat Lady if you want to get past.”

Harry turned around and saw that the portrait had silently and smoothly swung forward, revealing a round hole in the wall. He frowned and walked forward, entering the Gryffindor Common room for the first time.

The common room was a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs. The walls had been painted in a warm, crimson colour and a large banner with some kind of golden lion imprinted on it hung from the ceilings. Several fireplaces flickered with gentle flames and a window box was nestled in the wall, below a large window that showed the spectacular view of Hogwarts. Sitting in many of the armchairs were students, ranged from eleven years old to seventeen years old, and they all stared at him with a mixture of fascination and curiosity, as if he were some kind of animal from the zoo.

“Where's my stuff?” Harry asked Amanda softly, who gestured to one of the staircases at the other side of the room.

“That's the boy's fourth-year dorm,” She said, shrugging her shoulders. “I suppose it's up there.”

Harry nodded and walked forward, dodging around chairs and books as he moved across the room. As he did so, the eyes followed him unblinkingly and he let out a sigh of irritation, whirling around just before the staircase with a beaming smile on his face.

“Hey, who wants me to do a magic trick?” He asked cheerfully, although his eyes glinted with annoyance.

“What is it?” Asked one of the first years, a pigtailed dark-haired little girl.

“Watch this,” Harry said and gestured grandly to himself. “Now you see me…”

And at that he turned around and stormed up the staircase and moving out of view from the common room. At the top, he faced a stout, wooden door and turned his head, his smile gone.

“And now you don't! Let's keep it that way, okay?” He called out, before he opened the door and entered the room.

The first thing he noticed was the row of large poster beds, covered completely in colours of gold and red. He frowned as he swept his gaze up and down the row, seeing both Ron and Neville sitting on one of the beds. They had been talking to each other over opened books, although Ron looked extremely reluctant to be there, but when Harry entered they both stopped and stared at him.

“That's your bed there,” Neville said quietly, the mousy-haired boy pointing to the bed at the far corner of the room.

Harry nodded and looked around the room with disinterest, letting a yawn escape his lips as he walked over to his bed and drew back the curtains. On the covers of the bed were all of his belongings. This included all of his clothing, which seemed to have been washed and ironed, his sword- which was still bundled up firmly in the scabbard, and the rest of his loose items, including keys and his wallet.

“Did somebody wash my clothes?” Harry murmured out loud, a curious frown on his face. He was also quite surprised that the Hogwarts staff had let him keep the sword, especially considering that Dumbledore knew of his true status.

“It was probably the House-elves,” Neville supplied helpfully from across the other side of the room. “They're the ones who brought your stuff in.”

'House-elves?' Harry thought in curiosity.

'A servant class of the wand-wizards,' Meciel supplied. 'They are used for most kinds of menial labour. They are powerful in their own right, but they hold no candle to a wizard with a wand, which was why they were subjugated and tamed long ago. A house-elf wouldn't dare touch a wizard's belongings, which is probably why you're sword is still there.”

Harry nodded at both Neville and Meciel as he stepped into the curtains and pulled them across. With a single deft movement, Harry tore off his hospital gown and dressed himself up in his normal clothes. If they hadn't given back his robes, then he would wear whatever the hell he wanted to. After he was done, he made sure to carefully hide the sword under his covers and opened up the curtains.

When he appeared again, both Ron and Neville and started at the sight of him.

“Er…why aren't you wearing your robes?” Neville asked carefully.

“Don't have any,” Harry replied with a grunt as he thumbed through a small but thick book of parchment that was entitled 'Rules of the Noblest Tri-Wizardian Tournament'.

Silence filled the room as Harry started reading, while Ron and Neville glanced at each other nervously. Finally, Ron had the courage to speak to the enigmatic and, so far, mean and cruel teenager.

“So…” He started slowly. “How did you get Dumbledore's age line?”

“I didn't,” Harry answered distractedly as he browsed through the rules, frowning at the manner and style of writing. When the hell had this been written, in the Roman Times? He let out an annoyed sigh as he flipped the page, staring in incomprehension at the words.

'Allow me to help, beloved,' Meciel offered and suddenly Harry felt a small spark of warmth in his mind. When he glanced back down at the page it was covered in different words.

'What's this?'

'I am merely translating the text into phrases and sentences that are easier for you to comprehend,' Meciel said.

'Neat.'

'Thankyou, beloved.'

“Well, if you didn't get past the age-line then how did you get your name in the Goblet?” Ron asked curiously. “Did you get an adult to put it in there for you?”

“No, I didn't,” Harry snapped and glared up from the book. “I didn't put my name in the Goblet and I didn't ask somebody to put my name in the Goblet. Hell, I don't even want to be here right now. Alright? “

“Right,” Ron answered quickly, although he sounded unconvinced. But when Harry looked up again, irritation on his face and a glitter of anger in his eyes, he gulped and hastily turned away, the tips of his ears burning.

Neville cleared his throat nervously and quickly looked at a small piece of parchment. His eyes widened and he nudged Ron with his elbow, gesturing down.

“Oh Ron, we have to go!” He said quickly. “We've got Transfiguration in a few minutes.”

Harry blinked as the two boys hastily packed up their books and strode from the room, leaving him alone. He frowned in thought and rummaged through his own pockets, picking up the timetable that McGonagall had given him yesterday. Sure enough, he was also scheduled for Transfiguration.

'You should attend, beloved,' Meciel advised. 'The Professor could offer you some insight in this subject that we both lack. After all, Transfiguration can be a powerful weapon if used correctly, that much I know.'

“Oh goodie,” Harry muttered but he stood up and threw the book down on his bed. “I get to go to school again.”

Harry followed Ron and Neville to Transfiguration, unconcerned or just plain apathetic at the number of speculative glances, looks of interests, frowns of disapproval or even scowls of anger he received from the tide of students, all of whom were rushing to get to their classes. When he stepped into the classroom, he was met with a sea of stares but he ignored them as he strode through the room and took a seat at one of the empty tables.

“Mr Potter,” Professor McGonagall said from the front of the room, frowning severely at him. “Where are your proper Hogwarts robes?”

“No idea,” Harry said, shrugging and giving her a clueless look. “It was either this or the hospital gown, and while I admit that the gown showed off my spectacular body, I just didn't think it was fair for the other boys in the class- you know, envy is sin.”

“That will be fifteen points from Gryffindor for your cheek,” McGonagall said sternly and her iron-like gaze ran over the classroom, stilling the mutters and giggles before they had even started. “I suggest you watch your mouth, Mr Potter, and I suggest you find the proper school clothes for next lesson.”

Harry shrugged again and sat back as McGonagall ruffled around at her desk for something. She found it and clasping a piece of parchment in her hand; she walked across the classroom and stood over Harry's desk.

“This is a series of theoretical questions that I have taken from a series of past examinations,” McGonagall instructed briskly. “You are to remain quiet as you answer them and you are not allowed to ask any of your classmates for help. Afterwards, I'll run you through a small practical demonstration.”

Harry nodded sourly as he took the piece of parchment from McGonagall's hands and glanced over it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pen and began to read through the questions.

'Meciel, what's the Third Law of Inanimate Transfiguration?'

'The mass of a pre-transfigured object has to be similar, although not identical, mass to the post-transfigured object, if it is to remain in a stable physical state,' Meciel said evenly. 'I thought the Professor instructed you not to cheat?'

'You're not a classmate, are you?'

'Technically, I am,' Meciel answered in amusement. 'I am here to learn as much as you are.'

'Well, why don't you go and tell on me then?' Harry replied lightly and was awarded with an insincere huff from Meciel. A smile curved his lips and he bent down and started scrawling the answer to the question.

Some time later, when McGonagall had already tasked the class to some sort of transfiguration involving mice, Harry threw down his pen and glanced up from his completed worksheet. A moment later, McGonagall came over and picked it up, scanning over the answers with well-practised ease.

“Well, Mr Potter,” She said in a no-nonsense tone. “You seem to have an excellent grasp on transfiguration theory.”

“Not really,” Harry admitted lazily with a small smile. “I have something like a photographic memory. I don't actually know what most of the crap I just wrote down means.”

“Five points for language, Mr Potter,” McGonagall said absently, frowning in thought. “How are you for practical work?”

“I can turn a match into a needle,” Harry answered slowly, but he was frowning in hesitation.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, staring down at the boy in front of her, and nodded.

“Very well,” She said. “Show me.”

With a short wave of her wand, a match materialised from nothingness on Harry's desk. Harry frowned and reached into his dark overcoat. He grasped his wand and brought it out, hovering it over the match. With narrowed eyes and a focussed look, Harry jabbed his wand at the matchstick.

The match shimmered in an almost-silver colour and for a moment Harry had thought he had done it. But the shimmer suddenly flashed red and black and the match hissed and spluttered as it was consumed with flames, turning into a small pile of ash in a matter of moments. A loud crack filled the room, driving McGonagall back in surprise and gaining the attention of the entire class.

McGonagall stared at him severely as Harry shrugged, putting his wand back into his clothes with an untroubled expression on his face.

“Yeah, it tends to do that sometimes,” He explained slowly, a puzzled frown on his face as he stared at the tiny pile of ashes. “I could never really get that.”

“Well then, Mr Potter,” McGonagall said sternly. “I believe it is back to the basics for you.”

She handed him a thick tome and Harry frowned as he glanced at the title, 'Transfiguration for the advanced beginner.'

“You will read that and summarise chapter one to me in a fifteen inch scroll,” McGonagall instructed briskly. “I expect it to be handed back to me at the start of the next class.”

“Ah, yeah,” Harry said slowly, shaking his head. “I'll read the book but I'm not writing out a stupid essay.”

“Excuse me, Mr Potter?” McGonagall asked softly, her voice thick with disbelief, and the class quietened, many staring at Harry as if he were an idiot. “What did you just say?”

“I have more important things to do,” Harry answered honestly, a small smile curving his lips as his saw McGonagall's face harden with anger.

“That will be twenty points from Gryffindor for your utter lack of respect,” The greying witch said icily, staring at Harry with a harsh look in her eyes. “Mr Potter, I don't know where you attended school before Hogwarts but here we have certain expectations from our students! That includes doing your homework and showing the proper respect!”

“Look,” Harry snapped, all humour and ease in his voice gone, and the vehemence was enough to make McGonagall blink. “I may have to play in this stupid tournament of yours, but I don't have to do the damn schoolwork.”

“You will be expelled if you keep up that mentality!” McGonagall said softly, breathing heavily through her long and pointed nose, her eyes wide with anger and outrage.

“Do I look like I give a crap?” Harry replied and let a smirk cross his face. “Besides, I'm the fifth champion. You can't expel me.

McGonagall opened her mouth, her teeth gnashing together as she prepared to fiercely berate Harry, but at that exact moment a loud, clanging bell echoed throughout the castle and Harry stood up. Without another word, he strode from the room with the book clasped underneath his arm.

'That was very subtle, beloved,' Meciel said dryly.

“Everybody's a whiner,” Harry muttered underneath his breath and felt Meciel's amusement as he strode through the hallways. Behind him, he suddenly heard pattering footsteps and turned around to see Amanda rushing to catch up with him.

“That was really rude of you,” The blonde girl attempted to scolded, but a reluctant grin of mirth kept twitching her lips. “Though the look on her face when you walked out…”

“Why are you following me?” Harry asked her in annoyance, making her blink.

“I thought you wanted me to be close,” Amanda teased him, a smile tugging her lips.

“That was when I had to save your life to fulfil my debt,” Harry said slowly and made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Now I want you go to a place very far away from me and stay there.”

“What if I get hurt?” Amanda asked in curiosity.

“Eh,” Harry shrugged. “I'll send flowers.”

“So, if I was in danger and somebody was about to kill me, you wouldn't stop them?” Amanda questioned with a frown on her face.

“It depends,” Harry said.

“On what?”

“Well, if you were in danger because you did something stupid, or if I was the person about to kill you, then no, I wouldn't.” Harry answered easily, making Amanda blink in surprise.

“Oh,” She uttered slowly and gave a cheerful, if slightly nervous, smile. “You wouldn't really try to kill me, would you?”

“Keep hanging around and we'll find out,” Harry said, smiling just as widely as Amanda was.

“I'll just go talk to Hermione then,” Amanda said quickly and turned around, walking away.

“Smart brat,” Harry muttered under his breath, before he turned around and headed back to the tower.