Potions and Manipulations
As Harry stood outside, watching the Beauxbatons carriage and Durmstrang ship arrive, his thoughts weren’t on the grandeur of the moment. He already knew what was coming. This wasn’t his first time witnessing the arrival of the foreign schools for the Triwizard Tournament. Thanks to the Time-Turner, Harry had a second chance to experience the tournament—this time, with knowledge of everything that had gone wrong the first time.
In his previous timeline, Harry had been thrown into the tournament despite being underage. Someone—though he now knew it was Barty Crouch Jr. working under Voldemort’s orders—had forced his name into the Goblet of Fire, trapping him in the dangerous competition. The tasks had been brutal and deadly, but Harry had survived. This time, however, things were different. He wasn’t going to let himself be manipulated into playing Dumbledore’s game again.
Beside him, Ginny chatted excitedly, her voice blending into the hum of the crowd. Harry had learned to tune her out. After what Fred and George had hinted about the love potions, Harry wasn’t taking any chances. He was staying alert, watching for signs of manipulation from all sides.
His mind wandered back to what he knew about the Triwizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire, an ancient and powerful magical artifact, would choose the champions for each school—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and Durmstrang Institute. Each school would present its best candidates, and the Goblet would pick one from each, binding them with a magical contract to compete in the tournament’s three deadly tasks. Once your name was chosen, there was no turning back.
In his fourth year, Harry’s name had been entered against his will. But this time, he wasn’t going to allow himself to be pulled into the tournament again. He wouldn’t even approach the Goblet. He knew that Dumbledore—or those working for him—would be watching, waiting for him to make a wrong move. Harry had other plans now, and the tournament was just another obstacle to navigate.
He glanced toward the Durmstrang ship as it materialized on the lake, its dark silhouette cutting through the mist. Durmstrang’s students, led by Viktor Krum, stepped off the ship, moving with military precision. Harry had to admit, knowing the future did give him a strange advantage this time. He wasn’t in awe of Krum the way Ron was, though he remembered how starstruck his best mate had been the first time they saw the famous Quidditch player up close.
Ron, as expected, was nearly bouncing with excitement. “It’s Viktor Krum!” he muttered to Harry, eyes wide with admiration. “I can’t believe it—he’s actually here!”
Harry gave a polite nod, though inwardly, he was thinking about all the things that had gone wrong last time. Ron’s enthusiasm had been replaced by jealousy later on, when it seemed like Harry was hogging all the attention as an unexpected fourth champion. Their friendship had cracked under the pressure back then, and Harry had no intention of letting history repeat itself.
Hermione, meanwhile, was beside Ron, rolling her eyes at his hero-worship. “Honestly, Ron, there are more important things than Quidditch. The tournament itself is dangerous. People have died.”
Harry’s thoughts mirrored Hermione’s. People had died. Cedric had died. It was something he couldn’t forget. And even now, standing in front of the same crowd of Hogwarts students, knowing the delegations were arriving just as they had in his original timeline, Harry couldn’t shake the heavy weight of what was to come.
The Beauxbatons students arrived next, their massive winged Abraxans landing with the grandeur Harry remembered. The French students looked just as delicate and poised as before, led by the towering figure of Madame Maxime. Dumbledore greeted her warmly, playing the part of the charming Headmaster as always, but Harry could feel his stomach twist with mistrust. Now, with everything he knew, every move Dumbledore made seemed more calculated, more sinister.
Harry stood back, trying to maintain his distance from Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They were watching him closely these days, suspicious of his behavior. He couldn’t afford to let them see through his act. Especially with Ginny… he had to stay cautious. The last thing he needed was to get tangled in another web of manipulation, especially now that he was working with Draco.
The moment Dumbledore began speaking, Harry tuned back into the event. His voice carried over the crowd, welcoming the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. “The Triwizard Tournament is a time-honored tradition,” Dumbledore announced, his eyes gleaming, “and we are honored to host it once again. Tomorrow, the Goblet of Fire will choose the champions who will compete in three challenging and dangerous tasks throughout the year.”
The tasks. Harry’s memory flashed through each one. He knew them all—the dragons in the first task, the Black Lake in the second, and the maze filled with dark magic in the third. Each one had tested him to the brink of his abilities last time, and even though he wasn’t planning on being a champion this time around, he knew that avoiding the tournament wouldn’t be enough. There were other plans in motion, and he had to stay ahead of Dumbledore’s schemes.
Cheers erupted as Dumbledore finished his speech, the students buzzing with excitement for what was to come. Harry stayed quiet, his mind already turning to the next steps. He caught Draco’s eye across the hall—just a brief glance, but enough to let him know that they were still on the same page. The tournament might be front and center for everyone else, but for them, it was just a cover. They had a bigger mission to focus on: taking down Dumbledore and uncovering the truth.
As the students filed out, Ginny sidled up to him, her hand brushing his arm. “Just imagine, Harry,” she said, her voice soft. “If you were three year older, you’d have been the champion.”
Harry forced a smile. “Yeah, lucky me.”
But inside, he felt anything but lucky. He wasn’t going to let himself get pulled into Dumbledore’s trap again. Not this time.