Courting Destiny

Ivan Beardsley is a muggle-born of the Hufflepuff dormitory of the second year. Just like most of the students, he also seriously read the article in the Daily Prophet that morning. Next to him, sat his two best friends, reading along. The article became the front page of the Daily Prophet with a photo of Harry Potter clearly displayed there. His Green eyes flashed as if filled with magic, as his face stared right at the photographer taking the picture, before moving away in a fluttering cloak and steps like a fighter. The photo was taken just after the name of the champion of the Triwizad Tournament was announced.

THE RISE OF FAIRY TALES AT THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

As rumors have sounded, it's the whacking that makes us wonder. Is it true what happened to the selection of the champion of the Triwizard Tournament last night. The Daily Prophet exists to enlighten us all.

Yes, that's right, now the wizarding world is faced with not only three, but four champions in the Triwizard Tournament—although this more or less violates the essence of the meaning of the tournament's name itself—but we all know, who can resist the magic that binds the goblet of fire. Who else if not, he is known by the nickname Child-Who-Survives-Alive, Prince of the wizarding world, yes, who else if not Harry Potter—or perhaps more precisely the one now known by the new name Hadrian James Peverell.

Beardsley wondered, what was special about the name Peverell. But looking at the attitudes of his two friends who were born in the wizarding world, it seems that he is quite special. His curiosity was answered in the next paragraph.

This is really surprising, not only for me as a journalist, but also for me as part of the magic community. And honestly, it's strange that this news doesn't make our blood rustle and the goose bumps. How come? because the name Peverell is not an indiscriminate name in our history. No one has never heard of this extinct old surname; every witch child grows up hearing her fairy tales and retelling them to their children. The fairy tale we know as The Tale of Three Brothers. But I won't go into this in this article (see page 17 of the Obituaries section for a clearer biography of the Peverell family).

Beardsley moved the yard, but Marry immediately shook off her hand.

"Later," he grumbled, before continuing to read.

Perhaps many of us all wondered how harry potter's name came out with a name—even a surname, which is different from his colloquial nickname. It's a very old practice, which we've probably all forgotten. However, it was commonly found around the 5th century and became one of the many old ways that have been abandoned. It was a common practice among aristocrats, especially in wartime to hide the true breed from the patricians in order to protect the offspring. The practice of hiding magic names (for more details see page 10 of the magic news section).

Of course, it's true that Harry Potter is a descendant of Merlin, it's actually not surprising that Potter's name is camouflage for the hidden magic name. We know that Peverell has an old line that can be drawn far away until it meets Slytherin and Gryffindor. And it's certainly no surprise, then, that the Prince of Magic isn't just a nickname, for the single oldest lineage of the Britain Royalty.

Beardsley whistled. Does that mean he can be considered one school with the prince? Didn't it mean that Hogwarts would become an elite school, just like the schools that prince William entered? He continued reading,

It's a little unfortunate that the Prince of magic won't represent Hogwarts' school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, given that Hogwarts has its own champion in students from the Hufflepuff dormitory, who is no less brilliant, Cedric Digory. But it also gives us a new surprise with the arrival of the arcane magic school Avalon, which claims Harry Potter as part of them. The legendary magic school that until recently was only considered a myth for most wizards because of their secrecy. The Avalon magic school chose to unveil the secret of their existence in order to give back the inheritance rights of the last Merlin bloodline.

The three boys stared at each other before hurriedly turning to page 17.

Obituaris

PEVERELL FAMILY PART II

As written in the previous edition of Dialy Prophet

As has been written in the previous edition of Dialy Prophet. This article continues the author's research on the famous old Peverell family. Not much is known from the family that has the motto Malo mori guam foedari (Death rather than dishonour), more than what is part of the collection of fairy tales written by Beedle the Bard. A medieval writer from the Yorkshire area who was famous for his writings that contained many values and morals.

The surprising reality we get when trying to research further about the story. That apparently the name Peverell is indeed real, and is one of the oldest wizarding families. This family has long since disappeared without a male heir, but it is not extinct. His descendants merged into several magical noble families, such as Potter and Gaunt. Just as Peverell's name carries a mysterious power, making, even, a symbol of this family to be taken advantage of by Dark Lord Grindelward who 'stole' it as a symbol of his resurrection. Referring to the three heirloom objects in the fairy tale, the symbol closely associates this family with Death. Even when reading his motto in ancient manuscripts, the author's goose bumps looked as if Death himself was staring at the author from behind his Veil.

Is it surprising, then, that impossible things happen to our magic prince, such as surviving the Killing Curse? Is this a coincidence? Or is it because magic has summoned what is dormant for a long time in his blood.

Harry threw his newspaper on the table, he stood up and flicked his wand in a tempus whisper. He expected something like a digital number floating in the air, but all his wand produced was a spark with the cracking sound of wood cracking. Harry shook his hand in frustration.

"It's pointless," she whispered back down on the couch. "This stick doesn't admit me anymore."

Marcus sat down with his usual flat expression. Appears unaffected. "The wand chose Harry Potter. Which... you're more than that."

"That doesn't solve the problem..." Harry remembered what happened this morning. When representatives from the Ministry of Magic, Wand Expert Garrick Ollivander, and Rita Sketter came to Hogwarts in the framework of Wand Weighing; the wizard's way to test the wand, whether there is a problem or not, fully functional or not. How astonished--panicking for the representative of the British Ministry of Magic--they learned that his wand no longer worked for him. There was nothing to do, not even by Ollivander. Unless, Harry gets a new wand willing to choose him. The thing is, Harry wasn't sure there was such a wand in the man's shop. Just say it's a hunch.

"You have no vision of this? None of the other Harry-Harrys, might have a solution?"

Harry bit his lip. "There is... Harry the fool.... But you wouldn't want to see me become that version of myself... he's too crazy," Harry whispered as if he himself was worried that his sanity would diminish just by talking about another version of himself. "But he's Master wandless magic..."

"If he can, you should be able to."

If only he could be that confident in himself, as Marcus believed it. But, Harry the fool honed his skills not in a short time, and the missions he faced were far unusual. After all, the place where Harry the fool lived looked more like medieval England.

"Or you can find another conductor of magic," Marcus clasped his hand, gently. His thumb rubbed the lord's ring with a triangular symbol hidden in his dark stone, Marcus pecking the stone. Magic buzzed between them. "Losing that Holly wand doesn't mean you lost all your magic relics. Before the wand was invented, Merlin walked upfront of the earth using his staff, as did Morgana, Herpo the foul..." the man raised Harry's hand, showing his fingered ring, "Didn't that guy also wear this ring for his magic conductor?"

Harry swallowed, "Marcus." Magic ringed in his ears. The pressure made the room feel cramped. But Marcus's black eyes didn't flinch from Harry. The silver halo on his retina exudes magic.

"All you have to do is ask."

Harry whispered, "Tempus" the finger on which the ring was pinned trembled and warmed up, before a digital number floated over it. "Oh, Merlin's Beard."

Marcus straightened his back back, "Who said you need a stick." He grinned broadly. "I can't wait to see the reaction of those guys."

Harry threw a sour look at him.

Of course the matter on Harry's wand made the headline of the Daily Prophet the next day, just as it had been. Every time he walked in the corridor there was always a look of sympathy and pity that made his eyebrows not stop twitching. Fortunately, unlike his other alternatives, Harry's position in this place makes it impossible for him to be hated. No one was pinning with the words HARRY BAU, no one was whispering while pointing. Most of them could only look at Harry with a gawky look as he passed by, or squirmed screaming as if trying hard not to kiss his feet because there was Marcus. Fortunately most students can restrain themselves in their fangirls' attitude. Maybe it's worth also walking with two Vampire people.

Avalon's school involvement means there are now five tables lined up in the Great Hall. Unlike the other magic schools that blended in with the four dormitories, it seems that Hogwarts paid special attention to the Avalon school, which was only three people. There was even a new corridor formed to house the three men with four rooms available as if to also allow Harry to be part of the new corridor. The corridor now has the nickname Avalon corridor.

The entrance of the corridor was located close to the large hall. And it can only be entered if you can mention the password on the statue of the soldier guarding there. If you're trying to get in, then be prepared for your sword ability to be tested by an army in armor.

If you say you can get through that with magic, then your second test is the statue of a wizard who can curse you. It is indeed a tighter security than the principal's room. Fortunately, seeing the sword carried by the warrior statue is enough to make most wizards take a step back.

Harry had a theory about that. It may have something to do with Avalon magic. After all, the four founders of Hogwarts learned from Merlin himself. Of course, it is not impossible if they provide a special place for their teachers at Hogwarts.

Thus, Hogwarts did not really create a new corridor. It's just that, it takes a good reason to open that secret corridor again. The proof is that the bookshelves stored there are much older than Hogwarts itself.

Harry was more or less grateful that he was able to hide there. Moreover, after his uniform lost his green color, it was as if he was temporarily expelled from Hogwarts. The addition and subtraction of the value of the dormitory also has no more effect on him. He didn't think the impact would be so far. Although, he was not rejected when he entered the class, he was worried that he could not take the exam at Hogwarts.

Alexander said Harry could think of himself doing an exchange and avalon school was happy to give him a place for exams. He didn't know how the man would outsmart Harry's grades with a different curriculum system between Hogwarts and Avalon. But if the man could help him, Harry wouldn't comment much.

In the midst of all the europhia of the tournament, and the joy of the children, Harry was not complacent. The professors understood a little more about what it meant to be the champion of the Triwizard Tournament, showed his sympathy, and expressed his willingness to help Harry. But, there was nothing more intriguing to him than Barty jr's whims in his disguise.

He had already walked into this office when it was occupied by two of Moody's predecessors. As Professor Lockhart occupied, his walls were filled with pictures of himself winking and smiling. When Professor Lupin lived here, he often saw the new and interesting Creatures of the Black world, which Lupin got to study in class. But now, this office is full of extraordinarily strange objects, which Harry suspected to be the cover of the crazy character he was playing.

On his desk was something like a huge glass top that had already cracked. Harry instantly recognized it as Binoculars-Suspicious, as he himself had, though much smaller in size than Barty's binoculars. In one corner, on the small table, there was something that seemed to be a golden television antenna twisting and turning. The antenna buzzed softly. Something like a mirror hung on the wall opposite Harry, but the mirror didn't reflect the room. The shadow-like figures twitched in it, none of which were sharply focused.

"Like my Foe-Glass, hm?" said Barty, keeping her role well. He looked at Harry fixedly as if judging Harry's reaction. But, Harry was a real Slytherin. He just smiled and obliterated the emotions in his gestures.

"Ah... really interesting the things you have, sir. If I'm not mistaken, Foe-Glass is a tool used to keep an eye on enemies, right? It's interesting when your shadow is your own enemy."

The man immediately got up in a swift motion as if ignited by flames. His face was ashen. But, Harry did not flinch, still with his innocent smile, he added, "There is a muggle saying "oneself is the greatest enemy", unimaginable to me, of course a former Auror like you considers yourself the most dangerous enemy, right?"

Silence pressed between them, and did not vanish even as the iron suitcase in the room began to vibrate and stomp as if whatever was stored in it wanted to get out. Ah, it's really not safe to talk in this place. There was an eavesdrop, Harry's inner.

Harry snapped his fingers, and instantly a privacy bubble surrounded them. "Don't want anyone to eavesdrop, sir..." Harry whispered, glancing at the iron suitcase. Not caring about the man's gasp sound, Harry added, "Is there anything you want to tell me, sir?"

For a while the man opened his mouth and closed it back. Then, he gave a gesture to let her sit down. Without saying much, the man shuffled with his limping legs towards the workbench to make tea. When the cup was thrust on Harry, he just smiled without picking it up. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to drink tea from a long-held pureblood without the freedom to do anything, he wasn't sure the tea was worth drinking. Barty just dredged and took a sip of her own tea, before snaking and putting the cup back with an annoyed excpesion. Well, he should have taken care of the House Elves only.

"I've read your article."

"Hm?" Harry poked his head over.

"All the articles you wrote."

Of course. He has submitted more than a dozen articles since the first one caused an uproar in the magic community. It seems that even if many criticize his opinion, it does not prevent them from eating raw what the Child-Who-Survives-Lives professes. Especially after the Daily Prophet did not stop issuing articles about him at his request. Making his prestige even more santer heard. He wanted to show Tom, what kind of diplomacy the dark lord should do. Or even Dumbledore, what is it like to save the magic community. Restoring the balance of magic is not by means of obliterating the other.

"I listen to you, sir."

Moddy stared at him fiercely, "From what I have read and our talks yesterday, I know you don't solely support the propaganda of the white circles," the man stared at his clothes, where the Slytherin symbol was originally embedded, "You are calling for the danger of inbreeding, Squib's relationship with muggle-born borns. But you don't seem anti-pureblood with your article on Yule and Samhain."

"I hope you get to the point, sir."

"Apa kau dark lord, mr Peverell?"

Hearing that Harry couldn't help laughing, until his tears came out. But Barty's expression did not change in the slightest. He didn't joke with his curiosity, oh, what a real Ravenclaw.

"You're really funny. Just imagine if I were really a dark lord, where could I possibly confess to a former Auror? You're not as if you're talking as yourself, sir," Harry quipped. "But respectfully, I am not the Dark Lord, although I am the lord of the family whose blood is darker than the dark lord himself," Harry whispered in the end.

"I felt your magic while Samhain, mr Peverell."

"Do you think, sir?"

"It's not surprising when the name Peverell that came out replaced potter's name. Your magic is darker than any wizard I've ever met, even among death eaters. But that's not my purpose in bringing you here. I'm curious, if the word after you publish the article, nothing has changed, what are your plans mr. Peverell?"

"What makes you think I have a plan, sir? I'm still a student, anyway. Publishing such an article is not more than enough?"

"You are indeed still a student, but no one at Hogwarts holds power as much as you do," paused for a moment, "And you're a Slytherin. I never knew any Slytherin who didn't plan something."

Harry grinned, "Oh, you have a lot of Slytherin acquaintances, sir? Didn't you used to be a Gryffindor?" Harry got up, deciding to end this lip service. Barty's disguise is pretty good for others, but not for Harry who knows where to look. But, indeed, what can be expected from the disguise of the person who previously continuously obtained the Imperius curse?

Harry walked in the direction of the fireplace and lit it using magic. The cold room gradually warmed up. "I want to end the war by not imprisoning all dark wizards, by not totally shutting down access to muggles, by not killing or kidnapping muggle-born wizards, by not excommunicating half-bold."

"That's a very idealistic goal. I'm not sure anyone is capable of making it all happen."

Harry pestered, "Of course it will take a long time. And of course I can't do it alone. But I can spread the seedlings, the ripples that cause waves. Slowly there will be a movement where they do not have to be commanded to do something, but realize that it should indeed be done. I don't want wizards to lose their creativity because of blind servitude. I will only open the door as much as possible, for every wizard in this country to be able to defend his honor without being distinguished by their blood, for what right do we consider the one appropriate and the other is not, where is the lady magic herself giving her blessings?"

"But what about the safety of the wizarding world. If every muggle-born has the same rights as purebloods?"

Harry shook his head, "Oh, No. Not the same. You think there is a system in this world that really gives equal rights? Even in the muggle world itself, the more powerful a person is, he will receive more rights than others. It's already a law of nature, something that makes us survival creatures, it's the food chain, it's natural!"

"Maybe my previous words to you were not clear enough," Harry shook off his hand in passing on the newspaper located on the table. "What I mean is to integrate muggle-borns and half-bloods with the values and traditions of wizards, making them understand the significance of each of those traditions to magic. Embrace them into this community in earnest. Not just demanding them to understand, but teaching them by changing the system at Hogwarts; created a new curriculum with the tradition of wizards there, side by side with Muggle-studies. Maybe change the system in the Ministry. So, whether half-blood or muggleborn feels part of this community, not just tourists who are stopping by.

"But that wouldn't have happened if there were still no jobs that could accommodate Muggleborns. It would not be, if in the Ministry of Magic itself there was no high position that Muggleborn or halfblood could occupy. It won't be, when they still get more opportunities in the muggle world than in the wizarding world. They don't have a career in the wizarding world, sir. This kind of thing will bite us behind and become the biggest reason for the violation of the Statute of Secrecy!"

Barty leaned in with a look of interest. There was no apparent denial or annoyance at Hearing Harry's statement that he violated the pureblood principles that Toujours pur (always/remained pure). "So your next plan?"

"I'll keep writing articles. It's also possible that I'll get into politics. I want to restore the meaning of December 25th, sir. If there are fewer and fewer people practicing Yule, I am afraid that the longer the Magic will disappear from this world. And when that happens, the catastrophe is not only for the wizard, because every breath of a living being and the length of the roots of the trees penetrates the earth, there is magic flowing in it."

Harry smiled sadly, "I just want to change the wizarding world... or rather return the wizarding world to its rightful direction..."

"That' s... that's the line the Dark Lord has always said, mr. Peverell..."

"Of course. What would happen if the light lord didn't have a dark lord? The world will be one-sided. The difference is that it would be worse if one of them didn't understand its role, and pulled magic in one direction, while magic was actually a balance. There is no black, no white. There is only magic..."

"You... You're not worried at all I'm going to tell Dumbledore?"

Harry blatantly rolled his eyeballs, fucked manners, "I'm not his pawn," then with a lopsided smile, he added, "I'm even more worried that you're going to tell Voldemort about it."

Instantly the chair rolled over and the table turned upside down as Barty moved as fast as lightning stabbing Harry with the tip of his wand. The man's face was pale and his fake eyes moved wildly. Her healthy eyes looked at him intensely with a splash of madness emanating there.

But Harry's expression did not change. He remained calm as the water did not rippl.

"Mr. Peverell—"

"Bartemius..." Harry's hand gripped his arm. "Do you know. I can also remove the dark marks on your arms...." Harry smiled, "Besides, I am also Parselmouth..."

"How—"

"Oh... did I also forget to say? I'm a Seer." The man gasped. "I saw your death, Barty. On the dementor's kiss, if you continue to step on this path..." magic wafted between them, and Harry's eyelids turned white slowly, like turbid milk. Cold smoke came from his lips and nose as he sighed a sentence, "But I also saw you, standing confidently, sanely, next to me, next to Marcus. What did you choose?"

Barty sat far away. His hand was still gripping Harry like gripping a rope at the end of a deep abyss. His body trembled violently, and he rolled at Harry's feet. His voice trembled as he whispered, "My Lord..."

Harry ducked, cupped Barty's head and picked her up. Still with his eyes full of magic, Harry's fingers rubbed his cheeks and slowly moved towards the eyes. At an inhumane speed, his finger pryed open the fake eye, until Barty screamed in pain, along with the fading effect of the Polyjuice, burning Harry's magic. The face full of the wound slowly changed, showing high cheekbones, a high nose, black eyes and a pureblood typical face. "Oh, Barty... it's over. You're no longer going to have that pain. There will be no more imperius or Crucio... you will live, and you will be happy."

At the end of the sentence, the man cried to the point of misery. He hugged Harry's legs as if he saw a messiah, and his lips kept chanting spells, "My lord. My lord..."

Harry stroked Barty's hair fondly. Inside his head, he had already seen how they would become close. There are many things they will go through together in the future. Barty would be one of the few people he trusted.

Harry sighed, "Dobby."

Tar's loud voice sounded, instantly Dobby appeared, "Lord Peverell called Dobby?"

"Please get a calming draught, thank you, Dobby."

"Dobby do, lord Peverell!"

Time has been rolling for a long time. The fireplace is still burning with magic fire, but the sky has long been dark. Harry had a hunch Marcus was looking for him. But he remained calm, Marcus would know if he was in danger.

It's going to be a Long night for everyone.

"Have you calmed down, Barty?"

"My lord."

"Oh, stop that. You still have to maintain a disguise."

"No, if there's only the two of us."

"I want you to keep doing what Voldemord ordered. I want to see him."

"My, Lord! The dark lord planned something very—"

Harry shook off his ladder, "I know. Seer, remember?" Harry held his chin lazily, "Take it easy, I have a plan. Besides, do you have any plans after this?"

"After this?"

"After your mission this. You're not going to keep living on the run, are you?"

The man stammered.

Harry stared at him fiercely, "You have no plans?"

It was shocking to see Barty's cheeks flushed, "I just thought about returning to the Dark Lord's side, more than that there is no..."

Harry rolled his eyeballs. "You need to live too, Barty. You're not just his maid dark lord. Living people need identity. I hope you can think of something, such as changing to your distant cousin or something else."

Barty nodded. "I can create a new identity as a cousin living in Egypt. Coincidentally, the death of lord Crouch could be the reason for me to return to England. Since there is no successor in the nuclear family, I can come to claim the inheritance of the Crouch family."

Harry choked, "Since when did your father die?!"

"Voldemort killed him. Currently Quirrell replaced him communicated with the Ministry through the owl."

"Don't tell me that the one who came to Hogwarts was Quirrell in disguise."

"Uh..."

"Oh, Merlin Beard. I didn't see that," Harry whispered frustrated. "That makes us have to be more careful. Watch your steps Barty, especially in front of Quirrell."

"Of course, my Lord. But so do you. Severus Snape is his most loyal follower..."

"Oh, Barty..." Harry patted Barty's head fondly. "You don't have to be anxious. I can handle it," Harry stared towards the window. "I have to go back soon before the curfew." Harry said as he moved.

"Oh, my lord! I meant to tell you. The First Test for the Triwizart tournament is—"

"Dragon?" Harry stinging, "I know. Good evening, Professor." Harry said as he closed the door.

After a few seconds had passed, Barty dropped her body on the couch, before she buried her face in his arms. His back trembled, until soon there was a sound of laughter coming off. The man wiped his tears, but the smile hadn't faded from his face. If anyone sees, anyone can definitely see that there is hope in his eyes.

Harry walked in the part of the castle that led to the Avalon corridor as his arm was suddenly struck. His body instantly reacted offensively, but the familiar scent of potions made Harry float his hands and hug Severus Prince tightly.

"Mr. Peverell..."

"Professor..."

The man sighed, "Marcus is looking for you and scared the first-year child."

"In..."

After a pause, "Are you okay?" the man's hand rubbed Harry's hair.

"Now, yes." Harry broke free. "I'm a little stressed."

"It's a natural thing," the man judged Harry, "You already know what the exam is like?"

Harry nodded, "Have you come to tell me, Professor."

The man squinted, "There is no regulation that prohibits me from telling you, mr. Peverell, especially with the two principals doing the same."

"Oh!"

"Yes. Collusion and nepotism are nothing new anymore, mr Peverell. If, you already know it, you'd better rest immediately. Hogwarts champion or not, no one wants to see you burnt during the exam."

Harry grinned, rubbing his cheek against Severus' palm. "Okay, Dad..." before he broke free and left with a goodnight greeting. Leaving Severus froze there.

On the morning of November 24, all the students flocked to the arena where the first exam began. The sound of laughter and jokes instantly vanished as the roaring sound came out loud from inside the arena. The smile was replaced by a sickly pale face.

Harry sat inside his special room made of tents and rag doors. But the room was decorated with sofas, coffee tables filled with snacks and snacks. He sat down with his teacup, hearing the sound of trumpets and low boisterousness from the arena. Marcus stood behind him, his hand touching Harry's shoulder not letting go. The two vampires peeked in the direction of the arena.

Soon someone unveiled the patchwork and Alexander walked into the room with the folds of a cloak.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I don't know if there are any special uniforms for this tournament."

The man smiled, the tips of his fangs peeking slightly out of her red lips. "Ah... of course as a representative of Avalon, we can't make you wear only t-shirts and sweatpants, right?" the man lowered his gaze, judging Harry's clothes, "Or a uniform that has lost its symbol."

"What do you bring me?"

"How about trying it?"

That's why, unlike the other participants, Harry stood in front of the participant's tent in his new uniform. It is a dark robe with dark red accents that cover most of his body. The cloak fell to his feet and the Avalon symbol was clearly printed on his shoulder.

Symbols in the form of spirals, Greek letters θ (theta), alchemical symbols for fire, symbols of feminine lady earth, exalibur and apple-like circles, according to the origin of the name Avalon which means apple in celtic language, apple from the tree of knowledge

Symbols in the form of spirals, Greek letters θ (theta), alchemical symbols for fire, symbols of the feminine lady earth, exalibur and apple-like circles, correspond to the origin of the name Avalon which means apple in celtic language, the apple of the tree of knowledge.

Of course Harry would not wear the cloak when on missions. All this is just for the sake of appearance. His real uniform was under the cloak, much more practical, and tailor-made for combat. Intersecting press body, the material is made of fireproof leather, with safety on his arms, and knees, dragon leather boots that have anti-curses, some bags to hide the dagger, and and a holster wand on his arm if he says he has a stick. Undeniably, he looks badass.

As he came out, a boisterous voice and shouts rang out from the stands. But Harry's attention was focused on Marcus. The man didn't say anything, but the wrinkle on his forehead couldn't fool Harry.

"I'll be fine," he added after consideration, "I've seen it."

The wrinkle on his forehead deepened, "It doesn't make me like it more." The man cupped Harry's hand and brought it to his lips. "I am the Knight of Merlin."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"My job is to protect you. It's not just sending you suicide."

Harry rolled his eyes, "It's a tournament."

"It's slaughter."

"I'm going to live."

"Be careful, myn leafde," she whispered

Harry's eyes softened, "Always."

Harry walked into the main tent where the participants gathered. The first one he saw was Fleur Delacour sitting in the corner on a low wooden bench. He didn't seem as calm as usual, but was a little pale and sweaty. Viktor Krum looked more sangar than usual. According to Harry's conjecture, that's how he showed tension. Cedric walked back and forth. When Harry came in, Cedric smiled a little at him, to which Harry replied. Harry felt the muscles on his face stiff, as if he had forgotten how to smile.

"Harry! Welcome!" greeted Bagman cheerfully, turning to look at him. "Come in, go in, let's just say your own home!"

Bagman looked like a cartoon character who missed a big one, standing in the middle of the pale-faced champions. He put on his old robe again.

"this bag I will offer you," he lifted a small bag of purple silk and shook it in front of them "from it each of you will choose a miniature model of the object you have to face! Because... Er... the types are different. And I have to tell you guys one more thing... ah, yes... your task is to take the golden egg!"

Harry looked around. Cedric nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words. Fleur and Krum didn't react at all. Maybe they thought they would vomit if they opened their mouths. But at the very least, they both volunteered to join this tournament.... while Harry...

Bagman opened the silk bag. "Woman first," he said, extending the pouch to Fleur Delacour. Fleur put the trembling hand into the bag and took out a model of a Perfect miniature dragon-the Green Welsh dragon. There was a number two coiled around his neck. And, looking at Fleur who showed no signs of surprise, but rather resigned, Harry knew that his conjecture was correct; Madame Maxime had told the girl, what she was going to face.

The same thing happened to Krum. It brings out a female Chinese Fireball that is red. The number three was wrapped around his neck. Krum didn't even blink, just sat down again and looked at the ground.

Cedric put a hand in the pouch, and pulled the blue-gray Swedish Short-Muzzle dragon, with the number one slung around his neck. Cedric was surly. Harry didn't tell him directly, he just left a note about what they would face during the exam. Maybe it was only this second that the young man really believed that they were going to face the dragon.

Harry put a hand in a silk bag and took out the number four Hungarian Horntail dragon. The dragon spread its wings as Harry looked down at him, and grinned showing off his miniature fangs.

"Well, that's how it is!" said Bagman. "Each of you has already taken out the dragons you are about to face, and those numbers are your sequence numbers to deal with those dragons. I'll have to leave you guys soon, because I'm the one who's going to comment. Mr. Diggory, you come first. Come out straight into the already fenced arena if you hear a whistle blow, okay? Now... Harry... can we talk for a while? Outside?"

"Er... yes," Harry said. He got up and came out of the tent with Bagman, who invited him to walk somewhat away, into the middle of the trees, and then turned to face him with a fatherly expression on his face.

"You feel okay, Harry? Anything I can take?"

"What?" said Harry. "I... no, no."

"Already have a plan?" asked Bagman, lowering his voice in a conspiratory tone. "Because I don't mind sharing some clues, if you want. I mean," Bagman continued, lowering his voice even lowered, "you are the weakest, and you don't have a stick... If there is anything I can help..."

"No," Harry said, he realized it sounded disrespectful, "maybe I don't even need a wand. So, no thanks."

"Nobody's going to know, Harry," Bagman said, winking at him.

Harry, inwardly wondered, why did the man continue to insist.

There was a whistle from somewhere.

"Gosh, I have to hurry!" said Bagman in shock, and he hurried away.

Harry walked back to the tent and saw Cedric coming out, paler than just now. They just crossed paths in silence. The good luck greeting feels like a breakup forever. Harry chose to sit down and close his eyes, while waiting for his name to be called. He has already seen a lot of the destiny of this game, and he doesn't want to repeat it again by looking at it directly. He had even seen the worst possibility. As long as no one dies, it is enough for Harry.

Cheers broke the winter air like breaking glass. Krum had completed his task Harry's turn would arrive at any time. Harry got up, he had enough to wait. Then he heard a whistle blow. He walked through the door of the tent, down the tree-filled street on his right and left, and entered through a hole in the fence of the arena.

He looked at everything in front of him as if in a colorful dream. Hundreds of faces looked at him from the high tribune that had been magicily erected around the perimeter of the arena. And at the other end of the arena looked the Tail-Spiny, ducking low protecting his eggs, his wings half stretched out, his cruel yellow eyes looking at Harry. He felt like a gladiator to be pitted, but not for slaves trying to gain freedom, but only for the entertainment of the rulers. There is no significance to himself. And that's what made him sick the most.

The dragon's figure was a terrible scaly giant lizard, smashing its thorny tail, leaving nearly a meter-long curves on the hard ground. The audience was noisy once, but Harry didn't care. It was time to do what he had to do.

With a slow walk, it approached the Dragon. The head of the Hungarian Horntail looked up when he saw it. His nose exhaled sparks. Instantly people throughout the stadium fell into silence.

In the silence, his whispers sounded loudly, "$Salam, mighty dragon$." Hearing the sound, the dragon looked up intrigued.

"$Dua legs, can talk. What do you want, Two Legs?$"

Instantly the stadium was boisterously low. "HEY THIS IS NOT FAIR. HE CHEATED!"

"HE DIDN'T FIGHT?!"

Harry palped all that, and continued, $"I don't want to disturb your lair, O mighty Dragon. I want to help you. Did you know that one of the eggs you erami there is a fake? It's a magic egg that can interfere with the growth of your other eggs"$ Harry knew he was saying nonsense, but he didn't care.

$"Fake?! How can you tell it from a fake?!" $

$"Oh, that's easy for Two Legs like me. I just call him using magic, then the fake will appear by itself. The dragon as a magical creature naturally knows that the magic I use is a trick." $

$"Okay, Speaker, I'll trust you. But if you lie, I'll burn to the roots of your hair." $

$"Accio fake egg"$ instantly a golden egg shot from under the dragon's body and fell into his hands. $"Thank you for trusting me, Strong dragon, may your children grow up healthy and strong." $

The dragon just retaliated against him with a burst of smoke from his nose. Harry turned away, staying away from the arena without waiting for the judges' calculations. He really didn't care.

As soon as he entered the tent, his body was immediately hit and his face was covered with curly hair. He hugged Hermione tightly back, while behind him, Draco, Ron, Nevile stood up with a pale face. He was even sure that Ron and Draco were holding each other's hands before Draco came to his senses and shook his hands in disgust. After Hermione let go, her body was instantly lifted into a burly arm and sat there like a five-year-old child. But Harry didn't protest. He hugged Marcus equally tightly, while the man buried his head in Harry's neck.

As Harry loosened the hug, his gaze fell on Victor Krum whose lap was filled with Draco Malfoy. He didn't know how it happened, but what was clear was that his friend had now turned into a braised shrimp on the young man's lap. Ron looked like he wanted to throw up because his idol was cuddling with his nemesis.

Seth and Hacan were not in the tent. But he can feel his existence. His sensitive magic knew if the two vampires might be hiding in the form of his serendipity, staring at them from a distance. Harry knew they weren't that comfortable with humans until he wanted to get involved in the drama.

"You're in the first place, Harry! You and Krum!" said Blaise Zabini, rushing to meet them as they prepared to return to Hogwarts. "I have to run now. I had to send an owl to Mum, I had vowed to tell her what happened but it was really unbelievable! Oh yes... and they told me to tell you you have to wait a few minutes... Bagman wants to talk, in the tent of the champions."

Ron said he would wait, so Harry walked into the championship tent again with Marcus. He was sure that the man did not let go, even if he was forbidden to enter. No one can let go of Kestria with his master, anyway. That's a much older law than the Triwizard tournament.

Fleur, Cedric, and Krum walked in together. Next to Cedric's face was thick covered with orange ointment, probably his burn ointment. He smiled to Harry. "Great, Harry."

"You too," said Harry, replying smiling.

"Very good, all of you!" said Ludo Bagman, stepping lightly into the tent and looking ecstatic as if he himself was the one who had just made it past the dragon. "You guys have a long rest period before the second task, which will take place at half past ten in the morning on the twenty-fourth of February... but in the meantime we're giving you guys something to think about! If you research the golden eggs you are holding, you can see that the eggs can be opened... look at the hinges? You have to solve the clues in the egg because those clues will tell you what your second task is, so you can prepare yourself to deal with it! All clear? Believe? Well, you guys can go, then!"

Harry left the tent, still in a sling. Harry wanted to know what the other champions were doing in more detail. Later, when they cornered on a tree-lined reef from which Harry first heard the dragons grumbling, a female wizard jumped out from behind them.

Rita Skeeter! He wears a brilliant green robe today. The Lightning-Quoting Quill pen in his hand blended into the color of his robe.

"Congratulations, Harry!" he said, smiling at Harry. "How about you give me a word? How did you feel just now when facing the dragon? How do you feel now, about the giving of numbers, is it fair enough?"

"Rita." said Harry warningly, "I'll answer you when you don't use that quill." Instantly Marcus snapped his fingers and the feather burned, making the Woman scream dropping him.

"How do you feel after getting the first place with Victor Krum?"

"Compared to being happy, I feel more relieved. And I don't care about that value."

"Oh! Is it because you don't represent Hogwarts?"

"Not really. That's because I consider this Tournament nonsense. This tournament is only used by the Ministry of Magic's camouflage to cover up the events in the Quidditch World Cup. I hope they choose something more rational than gladiatorial tournaments that prey on their own children. Once I became a part of Wizangamot."

"Oh! You're interested in getting into politics."

"Of course. Have you forgotten. I'm a Lord. The Triwizart Tournament got me recognized as an adult two years early."

The woman's smile faded. "I... I'm looking forward to it, you're Lord Peverell."

Harry's smile became sharp. He believes the woman read the threats behind their conversation.

Harry did not return to slytherin house, behind Draco's whimper. He knew full well that peace would not be gained when he returned there. So, he and Marcus agreed to return to the Avalon corridor. In the common room, the three Vampires were already waiting for him. They took turns hugging Harry while congratulating him, and if Seth deliberately licked Harry's cheek a little, Marcus had already thrown him with a curse.

The five of them sat around the egg. Curious about what's inside. "Do you need to incubate it to hatch?" Hacan commented.

"I thought it was a fake egg?" Seth cast a puzzled look.

The Vampire Elder laughed softly, "It's a magic thing. There must be other ways, besides incubating it, to know what's inside. Didn't you see anything."

"Ah... I don't see the specific thing. But I have suspicions... HM... try you're a jerk, Seth."

The vampire pulled the egg closer, and with his long nails as strong as iron pryed open the top of the egg, and instantly their ears were bleeding by the sound of the ringing like Crucio's tortured man. Seth closed it hard. "Morgana's sake.... What the hell..."

"Ah... I seem to know what it is. I've heard of it during DMS meetings."

"Huh?" the four wizards looked at the Vampire Elder who was still wearing a gentle smile, but inexplicably there seemed to be an implied pain in the smile.

"There used to be a proposal to open a meeting with the choir—to make the meeting seem more formal. At first all was well, to the point where the Merpeople had to sing. Apparently that's what their voices were like," he pointed to the egg, "While singing out of the water. Since then Hymns and the like have been forbidden in dms hall."

The two Vampires laughed so hard that they rolled around. They couldn't imagine that group of Merpeoples singing together. Fortunately, they are magical creatures that are difficult to kill.

Harry couldn't imagine what if it happened in the Great Hall. Perhaps madam Pomfrey will be busy all day treating the ears.

In the end they dropped the egg on a basin of water and opened it. Suddenly, melodious singing echoed, ushering in a feeling of déjà vu to familiar music. Harry often dreamed of it in his childhood. His lullaby lyrics.

Let's look for us where our voices sound,

We can not sing above the ground,

And as you search, reflect on this:

"An hour long you have to search,

To get the one we took.

But past an hour—the prospects were black

It's too late, it's gone, it's not coming back.

They threw each other's eyes.

"The one who sings merpeople, you know... your upcoming test is underwater," Seth said.

"Our next task is to find magic that can help you breathe in water," Alexander said.

"By the way, what's going to be taken?" asked Hacan.

"Definitely something important to Harry," Sent said.

"But past an hour—the prospects were black. It's too late, it's gone, it's not coming back. It will be damaged when it passes an hour," Marcus murmured. They were all thinking hard about what kind of thing it was, as Harry suddenly chimed in.

"As long as it's not a person, yes, right. If things are damaged, it doesn't matter. But if it's human, it's different."

Slowly, they all turned to Harry with a look of horror.

"What?" Harry's sergah panicked.

"You're the Seer, Harry."

"I didn't see anything!"

"But Seer didn't just look. His remarks can also mean divination."

"Bloody hell," bisik Marcus.