2,266A/N: Hello, people!
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-Yes, I know what I am doing about Voldemort's true appearance.
-Yes, Harry is taller. But he's also healthy and whole and isn't filled with an abusive past.
-I am so excited for the first task! You have no idea!
-Poor Harry is so easy to guilt trip.
-Bellatrix is more sane in this, though still crazy, if that makes sense. She wants power first and can overlook blood if it comes to it. Mind you, she does not offer up her first born to marry Harry should he fail. She offers her youngest, who will not inherit the family title.
-Severus is too amused.
Harry glared at the Headmaster as the events of the last hour came to mind.
Hermione was bouncing excitedly in her seat because the Dark Lord was going to inform the populace of Magical Britain about the competitors for the tournament, via the Wizarding Wireless Network. That was so everyone could hear at the same time.
The man had placed the other jar for the tournament in the middle of the Ministry's atrium and with the combined entries, the competition would soon begin.
Harry didn't want to be in the Great Hall because he had some work to do in regards to his Potions essay, but nooooooo, he had to be involved because it was mandatory. The other students looked to be just as interested as Hermione, buzzing around with excitement like his friend.
Snape had amplified the sound of the Wireless to allow everyone to hear it perfectly.
The usual announcements came through along with some commercials as expected. And then, Voldemort's smooth voice came through the speakers and everyone collectively held their breath.
And so the list was read in alphabetical order. Hermione nearly squealed when her name had come up, but Harry was thinking about the fact that several other people he knew had entered. People who were affianced to others, or were dating someone at present.
Did they not care about their current relationships, or what their parents might do to them if they lost?
Thankfully, Neville didn't want to enter and Luna was much too young to enter. That left Fred and George, and Susan and Hannah.
It wasn't surprising when Parkinson and the Patils were announced to have entered themselves, but it was the name that came after them, that made his blood freeze over.
"Harry James Potter."
It couldn't be possible. He still had his parchment, folded in his satchel. There was no way that he entered the tournament himself, which meant that someone had to have entered him. But he didn't want to be in the tournament!
And the first rule was that no one could get out of it unless they were disqualified!
He completely ignored Hermione's questioning because he was trying to think of who would want to add him. It was a competition for the right to marry Voldemort and bear his children, so obviously no one would want to add more competition. Especially his fellow students since most of them knew he was one of the best to enter the school in the past few years. That meant that someone outside had entered him.
Was it to get him killed? Was it done as a prank? What was the reason for it?
And so began the turning of Harry's mood.
"With the utmost respect intended, sir, how the bloody fuck did this happen?!"
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said with a bland expression. "You would swear on your magic to have not entered yourself?"
"Yes! I still have the damn parchment!"
"Five more points. I would admit to this being a strange occurrence, but one would think that everyone would wish to vie for the Dark Lord's hand."
Harry bristled as those dark eyes trailed over him. "I don't care about his hand or any other part of him. I have a tonne of work to do this year. Going for a Mastery in two subjects at once is difficult enough as it is. I gave up Quidditch to be able to study more! I don't have time for this ridiculous tomfoolery!"
Snape merely quirked a brow in his direction. "And what do you want me to do about it?"
Harry sputtered, not expecting that. Like, he thought his problem was rather obvious. "Isn't there a way to get out of this? It's not blood or magic binding so it shouldn't count!"
He knew something had been fishy about just signing and suddenly being considered eligible to compete. He had known something strange was involved.
"As I am not the one who drew up anything for the tournament, I would not be the one to ask. Though I am positive that you will not be able to forfeit because the Dark Lord is known to 'cover all the bases' as the muggles say. He wouldn't allow any to simply take the coward's way out."
"This isn't cowardice!" Harry protested, hands flying to his hips in his frustration. "This is me caring more about my future than him."
The look on Snape's face told him that what he just said, probably wasn't good. But then again, Harry didn't give a damn because Voldemort had thousands of people to choose from if he wanted to revive the Slytherin family. The man could have just chosen one of his Knights and all of this would have been over and done with it. Harry actually had to do work to get to his goal, whereas Voldemort just had to pick someone and would most likely get what he wanted instead of going through all this drama.
Harry was not going to take any of his words back because he was so damn annoyed and he was just barely managing not to explode Snape's office. He rarely got in trouble and to have that loss of control on his record would not be good for any Masters Guild he wished to join.
"Would you be willing to voice your issues to the Dark Lord himself?" asked snape, looking interested and lightly amused. Harry felt no amusement from this.
"Damn straight I would!"
"Five more points."
Who cared? Though he was really lucky. Snape must have been feeling generous if he hadn't busted Harry and given him detention yet. Maybe this was his small mercy for the drama Harry was about to get unwillingly dragged into.
"Then here is your chance."
Snape sat up straighter, eyes focusing on something behind Harry. Harry felt a chill run down his spine at the implication of someone standing behind him and him not noticing them. That was not good. That meant going through more Auror Trials with his father and Sirius when Yule came. He hated those the most, whether they made him the best in DADA or not.
Harry turned, reluctant to see who was standing behind him because he just had a very bad feeling. He didn't want to be right, but of course nothing could go right today, could it?
And it was not going well! Not at all! Because the Dark Lord Voldemort was standing about five feet away from Harry, his eyes filled with mirth and his mouth twisted into a smirk.
"Mr. Potter, do you have something you'd wish to say?"
Harry lost all breath. He had never been this close to the Dark Lord before and had formerly remarked on many occasions that the man's presence was astonishing. Attention grasping even. To have those crimson eyes on him only, made him feel singled out. Like Voldemort was pressuring him to feel alone.
He twitched, disliking the feeling very much. In fact, he did not like it when people tried to force others to do their bidding. Or make them cower in fear. It was dishonourable.
Suddenly, he was angry again and that small trickle of fear disappeared. "Yes, actually. I do. Why the bloody hell do I have to compete if I didn't even enter myself?"
He ignored Snape's mumbled, 'Five more points.' in favour of staring the Dark Lord down and hoping that his Occlumency was strong enough to at least give the man difficult if he decided to try anything.
The attractive man looked even more amused than before. "Normally, people who speak to me in such a way, end up thrashing on the floor."
And suddenly, the cold feeling in his gut had returned when he realised that he had just cursed at Voldemort. Not smart. It was things like this that proved why he should be a Gryffindor. He didn't think before speaking!
"I have found myself interested in you, Mr. Potter, and your willingness to risk your own health just to be cheeky, now adds on to it. You aren't just talk, you are action. No many would be willing to see their words through, but you have just proven yourself."
Voldemort stepped closer, bringing he and Harry extremely close now. Harry marked the few physical differences between them. Despite Harry being five feet and eight inches in height, Voldemort still towered over him by the head and some shoulder. How tall was Voldemort?
Harry did not back away because that would be like admitting defeat and Harry did not admit defeat in anything, if he could help it. Also, he didn't want to appear weak. The man was the Slytherin of Slytherins and as such, he was good at noticing the nuances of human behavior and acting out on what he saw. Who knew what he'd do if he caught wind of how Harry was feeling so mortified and slightly terrified on the inside.
"I charmed the parchments, Mr. Potter," said Voldemort, voice practically caressing his words. "They were made specifically by me and were charmed to link the person to the tournament. Once the name is written out fully, you cannot get out unless you lose or are disqualified."
Harry huffed. "Why go to such lengths?"
"I am a very important individual, Mr. Potter. I need to be able to assess everyone's potential in every area. One such as I cannot have a weak spouse who could be a liability to the family in later years. This way I ensure that I can keep a special eye on every person entering. There are secrets involved that I shall not indulge you with, just know that your only options are to get disqualified or lose."
Harry's jaw dropped at how arrogant the man was, but also at how unfair the competition seemed now.
"I would also admit to not wanting you to lose or get disqualified so early on," confessed Voldemort, eyes suggestively trailing over Harry's face and then further down.
"W-why?" the teen stuttered, not believing that Voldemort could know anything about him in order to want him to compete.
"Well, I wouldn't wish for my efforts to enter you to be wasted."
Once again, Harry was flushed with anger. Voldemort! He was the one to enter Harry into the damn tournament!
"WHY?!" demanded the younger brunet. "We don't even know each other!"
Voldemort simply smirked again, which was beginning to get on Harry's nerves because the man was attractive and seemed to enjoy using that to his own advantage. Well, despite how Harry's groin seemed to enjoy the man's face, the rest of him was too enraged to care.
"Harry," the Dark Lord purred, "I admire your skill. For a seventeen year old, you already mastered a corporeal Patronus and that takes skill. To do it silently is even more impressive. Of course I had to measure your worth when I learned that you weren't planning on entering."
Harry was trying to find something snarky to respond with, but the most he could get was screaming profusely. Since that would probably get him in trouble with Snape at least, he withheld all of the insults just begging to burst from his mouth.
He didn't want to compete, even if Voldemort wanted him to. And if he wanted out, he would just have to get himself disqualified.
Harry's triumphant smirk must have warned the man because Voldemort opened his mouth and proceeded to dash Harry's dreams right then and there.
"Getting yourself disqualified will not only displease me, but it will also leave your friend, Ms. Granger at the mercy of the tournament, all on her own."
"Huh?"
The cunning grin Voldemort leveled him with made his worry mount once more.
"She is only a muggleborn and despite the rules given, and the fact that I don't mind, there will be others. Others who will not agree that a muggleborn who still doesn't know much about Magical Britain, should be allowed to compete. As a competitor, you would have access to all areas the competitors may go to. But if you were disqualified, you will lose all rights."
"Hermione can take care of herself!" an indignant Harry blustered, feeling his will already weakening. Hermione was his closest friend.
"In a one on one skirmish, perhaps. What if she is outnumbered? What if something terrible were to happen during the tasks or even in between them? And you realise that you could have helped had you been with her the entire way?"
Voldemort reached out and ran a cold finger across Harry's jaw, smirking when Harry very obviously shivered.
"I look forward to your performance, Harry."
The man whirled around and departed, leaving the Gryffindor where he was stood, gaping at the empty doorway.
"He just guilt tripped me!"
"Yes, Potter, that is what a Slytherin will do if they are trying to get what they want," Snape snarked at him.
The ensuing cursing got fifty points removed from Gryffindor and left him feeling even more annoyed than before.
When Harry returned to his dorm that evening, he found a small booklet on his bed, that would explain the dates of the tournament and where each task would take place. Also, it listed his rights as a competitor.
The tournament would actually be taking place at Hogwarts, so at least he didn't have to do an obscene amount of travelling for it. The number of competitors was expected to drop significantly in the first task alone. Thousands upon thousands would be entering but only five hundred were expected to make it through the first task.
The book said the first five hundred would move on to the second task. Managing to get through the task without attaining an injury would give him a hint to the next task.
The First Task would take place on Samhain, in the early afternoon. Of all the days to host the beginning of the tournament.
Competitors were allowed to bring their wands and whatever clothing they had on their backs. That was it. The task was at two in the afternoon and would last until only five hundred people passed.
Out of the five hundred remaining participants, the judges would pick twenty who showed more ability than the others. Those twenty would apparently get something extra, though it wasn't mentioned in the booklet.
And now Harry had to set aside time for this. And if he was going to be tailing Hermione throughout the tournament, then he had to make sure that he got out unscathed. One, because being hospitalised would do him no good in terms of free time, and two, he didn't want to have to heal himself. Madam Pomfrey would probably make him do it too, just to spite him.
With a groan, Harry buried his face in his pillows. Life was unfair.
Sirius Black had already begun writing out a letter to Harry when he heard his godson's name over the Wireless. Harry was more interested in school than frivolity - something he and Prongs had mourned often - and would never have entered something like this unless something changed his mind.
But what could it be?
Lily and James were completely baffled and James was even disgusted to a degree, to which Lily cuffed him upside the head and told him to grow up, for the millionth time since they had gotten married.
"There has to be a good explanation," she had reasoned. "A very good one."
Remus was the only one who hadn't had something to say and when they had gotten home that evening, Sirius pulled him aside to ask what was wrong.
"I find it strange. I don't think he would enter of his own free will, but if that is the case, the someone entered him. But none of the other competitors would want more competition, it would just make life harder for them. Harry is really skilled for his age and has the benefit of two Aurors, a Runes Mistress, and a Werewolf on his side while growing up. He has had more opportunities than most of his classmates so they wouldn't want to face him in any competition."
"Then what do you suggest happened?"
"Someone higher up entered him either for entertainment, to get back at him or his family, to mess up his concentration for his exams. So many reasons and all of them, plus the actual reason, probably aren't good."
Sirius collapsed on the sofa. "This is going to be hell."
"Yes. Harry will be in so much danger."
Sirius scoffed. "That's nothing to be worried about. Harry is going to beat everyone and then get saddled with Voldemort of all people for a spouse. That's the real worry here!"
The two sat in silence, considering all that could happen should Harry win the tournament.
The possibilities didn't even seen minutely pleasant.
The Dark Lord was seated upon his throne in his own manor, his faithful were sat at the long table provided for them, discussing the upcoming tournament with interest.
Bellatrix Lestrange was put out because her children were too young to enter into the tournament and therefore, there was no way for the Lestranges to be connected with the legendary line of Salazar Slytherin.
Lucius was proud of his son's entrance, but several of his fellows didn't feel that the blond was worth enough to even be in the tournament. An Honour Duel had already been challenged.
Some others had voiced their own opinions, until someone mentioned Potter, and then the entire table exploded in a variety of opinions.
Lucius and Narcissa weren't of a pleasant opinion, whereas Bellatrix didn't seem to mind the boy in the least. She had already gotten word of him defeating her nephew in a duel despite the teen having been taught by her personally. Bellatrix was hoping that Potter would become a Knight and replace her some day when she was too old. Others did not agree.
"The boy thinks he's worthy of our Lord," Avery sneered, much to Voldemort's amusement.
Severus did not favour the child, nor anyone for that matter, but he was of the sort to state the truth and nothing but the truth, especially when it hurt or embarrassed others. Severus leveled the man with a smirk and said, "Potter is the best student in the school at present, far above your child, Markus. If any of the children hold a right, he certainly holds far more than Albrecht."
Markus glared, hand twitching for his wand as Bellatrix cackled her opinion of the situation.
"The wee Potter will certainly make this interesting!" said the woman, grey eyes alive with her anticipation. "It'll be a treat to see what my dear cousin has bothered to teach him! The Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black should obviously be great in whatever they choose to pursue after all! He might be good enough to marry our Rigel if he manages to make it past the fifth task but loses somehow afterward."
Lucius didn't seem to like that, but since the man's own son was not even considered for the Heirship to the Black House, he would probably hold his grudge for the rest of his life.
Voldemort lounged, his book keeping half of his attention as the rest was caught firmly on his followers and what they thought of his choice.
Mulciber mumbled something derogatory, which spurred on some laughter from Crabbe and Goyle. It was then that the Dark Lord quietly closed his book and stood, drawing their attention and silence immediately.
"My friends," his whispery voice called, filling the room. "I am the one who placed Potter's name in the jar. I have decided that he is someone to take note of and my decision is final. I expect great things from the boy who shares the brother wand to my own wand, and I expect him to be judged fairly in all trials, or else."
He saw many jaws drop, Severus' included. The other man was much better at hiding it. His extensive training in Occlumency aiding him better than some of the other Knights. Still, being the owner of the wand that rivaled the Dark Lord's was big news to handle.
"That boy performed a corporeal Patronus silently, and his Patronus was a Phoenix. That tells me there is much more to him and I intend to flush all of it out one way or another."
Vanishing the book to his personal chambers, the Dark Lord concluded the meeting with, "The boy is from a line that branched off from the Peverell's, much like my Gaunt ancestor did. If anyone is the closest to deserving the position of my consort, based upon status alone, the other descendant of Peverell would precede everyone else involved."
He dismissed them then, leaving them to contemplate his words.
Potter was one of many he had his eyes on, but he was at present, the most interesting. He dared to raise his voice to his leader. It was thrilling just what the Gryffindor mindset could convince people to do. Also how easy it made it for him to guilt trip the boy into remaining in the tournament. All he needed was a way for him to stay for as long as possible.
With satisfaction practically pouring off of him, Voldemort sauntered through the corridors of his home, in search of his darling familiar.
Through their bond, he found her hunting in the garden.
§Darling, Nagini, the boy I have chosen has surprised and impressed me already,§ hissed the man, beckoning the massive snake forward.
Nagini came willingly, wrapping her large body around him. §Why do you not just choose him and mate? I desire hatchlings.§
The Dark Lord massaged the scales under his hand, his glamour falling, showing his true appearance. Serpentine, hairless, and most of all, unattractive. §I wouldn't mind it, but I have gone through all of this trouble orchestrating this event and he will prove himself capable like all the others. I require a mate who can be the closest to an equal that I can find.§
Nagini gave the serpent equivalent of a shrug. §As you say, master. But I still say that you should claim the hatchling before anyone else.§
Her idea had merit. He'd already verbally claimed the boy in front of his followers. That would protect him from any of them who wished him harm for being in the tournament. Anything else he would have to handle on his own. If he was as good as his fellows claimed, he could deal with a challenge.
§We'll see, dearest,§ promised the Dark Lord, making his way toward his private rooms.
He was looking forward to the boy's performance in the first task. It would surely be inspirational at the very least.
"How can you enter yourself?!" demanded Pansy Parkinson as she threw curse after curse at Harry, who dodged easily and without casting in return.
"You just want to take everything from us you filthy halfblood!"
"Your Lord is also a halfblood, Parkinson, I'd watch my mouth if I were you!" Hermione yelled from the sidelines where she and dozens of students stood, waiting in line to face Harry in order to get their anger out in a way that wouldn't get them in trouble.
Harry ignored the girl, redirecting her curses elsewhere and yawning just to put her over the edge.
The moment Parkinson charged with her fist raised, she lost the duel, because magic was the only thing allowed to be used.
Harry's shield deflected her, knocking her onto her rear and leaving her breathless for a few seconds.
"I have other people to duel, Parkinson. Go lick your wounds elsewhere."
The girl stomped away with as much dignity she could muster, and the next student rose to take her place.
Harry sighed. This would take a while. All because some twat waffle lord couldn't leave him alone.
A/N: Another is done!
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