Enemies Aligned
The rest of the train ride passed in tense silence.
Harry leaned against the window, his gaze focused on the passing landscape, but his thoughts were miles away. His mind kept circling around everything he needed to change, everything that had gone wrong the first time. The Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort’s return, Cedric’s death—he couldn’t let any of it happen again.
But now there was an extra variable in the equation: Draco Malfoy. Harry had always considered Draco more of a nuisance than a true threat, but things were different now. The two of them were stuck together, both carrying the weight of their future memories, and that added a level of complexity Harry hadn’t anticipated.
Draco, meanwhile, sat stiffly in the seat across from Harry, arms crossed, his face set in a deep scowl. He had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t trust Harry, and Harry couldn’t exactly blame him. Time travel was dangerous and unpredictable, and neither of them knew what consequences their presence in the past might trigger.
As the train neared Hogwarts, the tension between them became almost unbearable.
“We need a plan,” Draco said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was sharp, businesslike. “We can’t just waltz into the castle and pretend everything’s fine.”
Harry tore his gaze away from the window and met Draco’s eyes. “I know,” he replied. “We have to keep things as normal as possible. No one can know we’ve traveled back.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Easier said than done. People are going to notice if we start acting differently.”
“Which is why we need to act like everything’s the same,” Harry said firmly. “We go back to being ourselves—our younger selves—and we don’t give anyone a reason to suspect anything.”
Draco scoffed, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “Right, because you’re so great at blending in, Potter. You’re the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone’s going to be watching you.”
“And you’re Malfoy,” Harry shot back. “People are always watching you too.”
Draco’s eyes flashed with irritation, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned forward, lowering his voice as if he didn’t want anyone overhearing them—even though the compartment was empty. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because I don’t want my future ruined by your mistakes. If you screw this up—”
“I’m not going to screw this up,” Harry interrupted, his own irritation rising. “I want to fix things just as much as you do.”
Draco studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his seat. “Fine. But if you do something stupid, I’m not covering for you.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Like I need your help.”
Draco gave him a look that said he clearly disagreed, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his attention to the window as the train began to slow, signaling their imminent arrival at Hogsmeade Station.
The weight of their situation settled heavily on Harry’s shoulders. It wasn’t just about keeping their time travel secret—it was about rewriting history without drawing attention to themselves. And the more Harry thought about it, the more impossible it seemed.
As they stepped off the train and joined the throng of students heading toward the carriages, Harry felt a surge of nostalgia. He remembered this moment—the beginning of his fourth year, the excitement of returning to Hogwarts, the anticipation of the upcoming year. But now, that excitement was tinged with dread. He knew what was coming.
Draco walked beside him, keeping his distance but close enough that they could exchange a few words without being overheard. “What’s our first move?” Draco asked under his breath, his voice barely audible over the chatter of the other students.
“Blend in,” Harry replied quietly. “We have to act like everything’s normal.”
Draco muttered something under his breath, but Harry didn’t catch it. Instead, he focused on keeping his expression neutral as they approached the castle. It was strange, seeing everything again—Hogwarts in all its glory, the familiar faces of students he hadn’t seen in years, and the looming presence of the castle itself. It felt like a dream, as if he had stepped back into a world that no longer belonged to him.
They entered the Great Hall together, and Harry’s heart clenched as he saw his younger friends—Ron, Hermione, and even Ginny—laughing and chatting at the Gryffindor table. They looked so innocent, so unaware of the darkness that was about to descend upon them.
He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He had to keep his distance from them now, for their sake. He couldn’t let them get dragged into the mess he and Draco were trying to fix.
Draco, meanwhile, slipped away to join the Slytherins, and Harry was left alone. He took his usual seat at the Gryffindor table, forcing himself to smile and nod as his friends greeted him.
“Harry! You alright, mate?” Ron asked, grinning as he piled food onto his plate. “You look a bit out of it.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said quickly, giving Ron a forced smile. “Just tired, I guess.”
Hermione gave him a concerned look but didn’t press him. Harry was grateful for that. The last thing he needed was Hermione’s sharp mind picking apart his behavior.
As the Sorting Ceremony began, Harry’s thoughts drifted back to the task ahead of him. He and Draco needed to figure out how to stop the Triwizard Tournament from happening—without alerting anyone to their true intentions. But how?
Stopping the Goblet of Fire from selecting his name seemed like the most logical first step. If he wasn’t a champion, he wouldn’t have to face the dangerous tasks, and Voldemort wouldn’t have the opportunity to resurrect himself.
But the Goblet was powerful, ancient magic. Could it even be tampered with? And if they did succeed in preventing Harry’s name from being entered, would it change anything? Or would the timeline try to correct itself in some other way?
The questions swirled in Harry’s mind, each one more daunting than the last.
After the feast, Harry followed the other Gryffindors up to the common room, his thoughts still racing. He needed to meet with Draco—away from prying eyes—and figure out their next move.
But before he could slip away, Hermione cornered him near the staircase.
“Harry,” she said quietly, her brow furrowed in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting strange since we got on the train.”
Harry opened his mouth to reassure her, but the words died in his throat. He couldn’t lie to Hermione—not well, anyway. She would see right through him.
“I’m fine,” he said, a little too quickly. “Just…a lot on my mind.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed slightly. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell us, you know.”
Harry forced a smile. “I know. Thanks, Hermione. I’ll be fine.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and let him go. Harry exhaled in relief as he slipped out of the common room, careful not to attract any more attention.
Once he was alone, he made his way to the usual meeting spot—a disused classroom on the third floor, where he and Draco had agreed to meet in secret.
Draco was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his face shadowed in the dim light. “Took you long enough,” he muttered as Harry entered.
“I had to shake off Hermione,” Harry said, closing the door behind him. “She’s already suspicious.”
“Of course she is,” Draco said with a roll of his eyes. “Granger’s too smart for her own good. We’ll have to be careful around her.”
Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair. “We need to figure out how to stop the Tournament. If I’m not a champion, we can avoid everything that comes after.”
Draco frowned, his expression thoughtful. “The Goblet of Fire is protected by layers of enchantments. We can’t just walk up and tamper with it.”
“I know,” Harry said, frustrated. “But there has to be a way.”
Draco was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered their options. “We’ll need information. Someone who knows how the Goblet works, someone who might have access to it before the selection.”
“Barty Crouch,” Harry said, his mind flashing back to the revelation of Crouch’s role in rigging the Tournament. “He’s the one who put my name in last time. We have to keep an eye on him.”
Draco nodded slowly. “That’s a start. But we’ll need more than that if we want to pull this off.”
Harry sighed, feeling the weight of the task ahead of them. “We’ll figure it out.”
Draco shot him a look that was equal parts skepticism and reluctant agreement. “We’d better. Otherwise, we’re both screwed.”