The Tournament

It had taken the better part of two weeks for Albus to be granted an audience with the Minister who had remained unusually busy since the events at the World Cup Final. Although Albus had many questions pertaining to that night, there was another matter he wished to discuss with Cornelius.

"It is out of the question! Black is still at large and has been seen in the area."

"He was spotted in Germany, Cornelius. I do not believe he has any intention of coming back. Why would he?"

"To kill Harry Potter!"

"The same way the Death Eaters attempted to?"

Cornelius balked as Albus offered him a pointed look.

He had not intended to bring up the topic, but the Minister was being his ever-stubborn self and needed to be shaken from it.

"I have no idea what you mean, Albus," the man denied.

Albus released a deep sigh.

"Walden Macnair was killed during the confrontation, yet none have spoken of it, presumably by order of yourself. It is inevitable that the news will come out, Cornelius."

The Minister shook his head.

"None would dare."

"For now," Albus agreed.

He had no doubt that Harry would, if he felt there was an advantage to be had by doing so.

Albus was worried about the boy.

For a little over a week after the incident, nothing had been seen nor heard from him until he had arrived at the Flamel home.

Harry had made no mention of the World Cup and, according to Nicholas, had spent his days training from morning until night.

Albus understood that the experience was traumatic, and there was a part of him that dreaded what Harry could become because of it.

He would speak with him when the opportunity to do so arose.

"Cornelius, the Dementors must be sent back to Azkaban. Igor has made it very clear that Durmstrang will not attend if they remain in place. Olympe is also very much against them being present and will likely follow suit."

Fudge cursed under his breath.

"Fine, but there will be a stronger auror presence within the village until further notice. We cannot be seen to be doing nothing to capture Black."

Albus offered the man a bow.

"I will inform the other headmasters of your decision."

Cornelius merely grunted and waved Albus off dismissively.

Offering the man a final look of disappointment, Albus used the fireplace to return to his own office.

Dealing with the Minister was becoming increasingly difficult the longer he remained at his post.

Cornelius had become too self-assured under the guidance of Lucius Malfoy, whose influence over the man only grew.

It was concerning to say the least, and something Albus intended to watch closely.

He doubted that he could muster enough support to do much of use, but he knew he may find himself in a position, so he had to try.

Until then, it was the tournament that required his focus; a much more pleasant affair that he was excited to reprise after such a long absence.

(Break)

"POTTER!"

"Oh, shite!" Harry whispered, hiding within the folds of his cloak as he sprinted away from the furious man.

Fortunately, Hogwarts had many nooks and crannies that anyone could hide in, if only they knew where to look.

In the four years he had spent within the walls, Henry Potter had discovered many of them, some by accident, and others through his exploration of the castle.

"POTTER!"

Harry ducked behind a suit of armour just as the caretaker rounded the corner, his face red and the rest of him dripping in Hippogriff manure.

Mr Slicer had not been the intended target, but it wasn't as though he didn't deserve what he had gotten.

Henry's backside still hurt from where the man had taken the cane to him the day before, so he felt no remorse for what had happened.

"I know you're here, Potter!" Slicer growled. "When I catch you, boy, I'll give you a hiding you'll never forget! POTTER!"

Henry stifled a laugh and wrinkled his nose as Slicer sprinted past him.

That manure was rather ripe.

He waited for several moments before following the trail the man left behind and ducked into another of the hidden passages he had come across during his second year. It was this particular shortcut that would take him to his haven, a room that was the secret he guarded most closely.

No other student knew of it, and Henry wished to keep it that way.

"POTTER!"

Slicer was really determined to catch him, but as Henry finished his third pass of the wall in front of the amusing tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he slipped into the door in the nick of time.

He would have to hide here for a few hours, at least, whilst Slicer calmed down. Not that such a thing would be arduous.

The room would provide just about everything he could ever need.

Harry was amazed by what was before him.

He had not been in this part of the castle often. There weren't any rooms here, or so he thought.

Now, however, thanks to his ancestor, he would have somewhere he could go at his leisure.

The room would be an invaluable asset, if it still existed, of course.

"I think I would like some music," Henry murmured.

Immediately, a gramophone appeared atop a table, and the sounds of a classical ensemble filled the room.

"No, not now!" Harry groaned as he felt himself pulled through the void and deposited onto his bed in the Flamel home.

The room.

It would be at the top of his list to investigate when he returned to Hogwarts today. Still, it felt odd to consider that he would be going back and there was a lack of excitement, with the exploration of the room on the seventh floor being the exception.

Dying had taught Harry many things, one of them being that he needed to enjoy what years he had.

He was more determined than ever to not fall victim to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but Harry was acutely aware that it may happen no matter what he did.

Nonetheless, he would be taking as many of them with him as possible.

He chuckled at the thought of the antics of Henry Potter.

For the past weeks, he had been treated to experiencing the boys' time at Hogwarts, and he'd learned quickly that Henry knew how to enjoy himself.

He was a rambunctious child, full of mischief and not afraid to show it.

Often, Henry found himself in detention, scrubbing toilets without magic, or being caned by the caretaker, if he had done something particularly of note.

The latter had come as quite the surprise to Harry, who was pleased that Filch did not have the power to inflict such punishments. The man would spend most of his time administering them and taking no small amount of joy in doing so.

Maybe there was a vat of Hippogriff dung in his future?

Harry grinned at the thought of Filch and Mrs Norris dripping in excrement, though his expression darkened as he considered another who was a strong candidate.

Malfoy.

Having experienced what he had, Draco now felt to be nothing more than a minor inconvenience, and yet, he was the son of the man who had attempted to murder Harry.

He had considered sending Draco's head to his father, but it would only cause more harm to Harry in the long run.

No, he wanted Lucius to live with the unease of Harry surviving the ambush, and the thought that he could exact his revenge upon him at any given moment.

He would too.

Before his time was up, Harry was determined to be the catalyst behind the demise of the Lucius Malfoy.

His fingers twitched towards his wand in anticipation.

"Harry, are you coming down for breakfast?"

The voice of Perenelle calmed his thoughts, and Harry took a deep breath as he shrunk and pocketed his trunk before opening the door to greet the woman.

"It's not like you'd let me miss it," he chuckled.

The woman tutted at him and beckoned for him to follow.

"Do you have everything ready?"

"I do," Harry confirmed. "My time here has gone quickly."

"It always does," Perenelle murmured sadly.

Harry offered the woman a grateful smile.

The Flamels always made him feel welcome. Their home had become something of a safe haven, but he knew it couldn't last.

He would not be the reason that they were put in danger.

They had not lived for more than six centuries by harbouring people marked for death by dangerous people.

Finding a place of his own was something Harry had begun looking into during the days spent in Godric's Hollow. He knew residing in the village itself would be foolish, but he had become rather fond of the Welsh countryside.

With how influential the likes of Malfoy and some of the other followers of the Dark lord were, buying a magical house posed several risks.

There was a distinct possibility that one or more of them were connected to the property market, and it was not as though a home could be purchased anonymously.

No, it would be safer to find a way of buying a muggle dwelling and considering what security options he had from there.

He would tell none of his plans.

After what had happened to his parents, Harry could not bring himself to be as trusting as James and Lily, even if they had kept their circle of friends exceptionally small.

"Ah, there he is," Nicholas greeted him jovially as he entered the kitchen. "Are you ready for your return to Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded.

"I am."

"Good," Nicholas declared. "Now, eat your breakfast and we will get a little more apparation practice in before you leave."

If only Harry had been taught before the incident in the woods.

Apparating away from danger would have served him well, though he was pleased he had acquired the skill with relative ease. After only a few demonstrations from Nicholas, and a failed attempt or two, Harry had managed it.

Maybe it was his disdain for other forms of magical transport, or the knowledge that it could one day save his life that helped with his success. Regardless, Harry had taken the learning in his stride and had thrived in the art.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

Nicholas waved him off.

"Remember, not a word to anyone."

"I won't say a thing," Harry promised.

He wouldn't.

Harry had learned that it was not wise to show all of what he was capable of, and with how he had diligently spent his summer, he had no intention of doing so unless necessary.

Death had indeed changed him; the experience, the moment beyond with the cloaked figure, and through the very magic that flowed through his veins.

Despite this, not all was quite the doom and gloom he often felt.

He'd learned from the memories of Henry Potter that it would not do to forget to simply live and enjoy the simpler pursuits of life.

(Break)

As ever, Hermione arrived at King's Cross Station in good time with her parents, and she immediately watched the crowd for any sign of Harry. He had only written to her twice since the night of the World Cup; once to assure her that he was well, and the second time in his regular manner, asking how her time away from Hogwarts had been.

There had been no mention of what had occurred in the woods that night, nor anything else that would suggest that he was not himself.

That was what concerned her most. Harry seemed to be perfectly normal, though she knew he could not be. No one could after enduring what he had.

"Where is he?" she sighed as the clock neared 11am.

"I'm sure he will be on the train," her father said amusedly.

Hermione nodded and bid the pair farewell before crossing through to where the Hogwarts Express was waiting.

Evidently, someone had been waiting for her also.

"Granger, can I have a word?"

Hermione followed Cedric onto the train where he led her into an empty compartment.

"Have you heard from him?"

"He wrote to me," Hermione huffed irritably, "but he didn't say anything about, well, you know."

Cedric shook his head.

"I almost convinced myself that it didn't happen, that we didn't see him die, but we did, didn't we?"

Hermione nodded and Cedric deflated.

"I don't understand it. How did he come back? He was dead, we both saw it!"

"I know," Hermione said comfortingly. "I don't understand it either. He survived it when he was a baby. Maybe he is immune?"

Cedric frowned at the thought.

"Maybe," he conceded, "but he isn't immortal. If the Death Eaters want him dead, they will try again. They won't stop until he is gone."

Hermione had considered that very thing herself.

"He will need to be careful. Did you recognise any of them?"

"No," Cedric denied. "It all happened too fast. What are we going to do? We can't keep it to ourselves."

Hermione released a deep breath.

"Harry would be furious if we told anyone."

"Why didn't he tell Bones?"

"I don't know. He will have his reasons, but none that will lead to anything good."

"You don't think that he would…?"

"I don't know," Hermione whispered. "I thought I really got to know him when we first met, but Harry is unpredictable at times. I hope he wouldn't be so stupid."

Cedric chuckled humourlessly.

"I don't know him as well as you, but Harry is far from stupid. He's bright enough to be taking advanced lessons."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't know?"

"What advanced lessons?"

Cedric looked suddenly uncomfortable.

"I thought you knew," he murmured. "Harry takes on extra work in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Honestly, he's bloody brilliant from what I have seen."

Hermione was taken aback by the revelation.

Why would Harry not tell her he was taking advanced classes?

She didn't know, and it seemed that she didn't know Harry as well as she thought.

Hermione had not been offered advanced material by any of the Professors.

"Is he that good?"

"Apparently so. Both McGonagall and Flitwick seem to think so."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, feeling a little envious that Harry was seemingly doing so well.

"That doesn't mean he hasn't got something planned. I can't see him just letting it all go, Cedric."

"He wouldn't go after them, would he?"

"After what happened to his parents and now him, I don't know."

"Bloody hell," Cedric muttered. "What do we do?"

"What can we do?"

Cedric could only shake his head.

"We will keep an eye on him," he decided. "I don't know what else we can do short of telling someone."

Hermione nodded her agreement.

She didn't wish to interfere, but if she felt she needed to, she would speak with someone.

"Anyway, I'd best go find Cho. It probably wouldn't look good if we were found in here together," Cedric chuckled as he left the compartment.

Hermione followed a moment later.

The train had already set off and she wanted to look for Harry and Ron.

She came upon the former around mid-way down the train in the company of a group of Slytherins.

This was not good.

"I bet you soiled yourself, Potter," Malfoy gloated.

Harry laughed mockingly at the blond.

"If you want to see someone shit themselves, Malfoy, say another word and I will make that dream of yours come true."

"Are you threatening me, scarhead?"

Hermione watched as Harry's lip twitched in amusement.

"You know, I think I am," he replied as he stepped forward. "What the fuck are you going to do about it?"

Malfoy balked but was saved by the arrival of one of the Hufflepuff Prefects.

"What is going on here?" the girl demanded.

"I was just saying hello to Draco," Harry replied with a smile. "If you're wondering what that smell is, it seems he just had an accident. Go and clean yourself up, Malfoy. You're embarrassing yourself."

"I did not…"

"There's no need to explain," Harry cut him off. "I'm sure Crabbe and Goyle will help you out. They do spend half of their time sniffing your pants."

Malfoy flushed furiously but evidently thought better of picking a fight in front of a Prefect that wasn't of his own house.

Pushing past Harry, he shot Hermione a glare as he was followed by a thoroughly confused Crabbe and Goyle who seemed to have not understood what had happened.

"You're going to get yourself into trouble, Harry," Hermione warned as she caught up to him.

He merely shrugged in response.

"Malfoy's a git, and I'm not taking any crap from him. I'll be as tolerant of him as he is you."

Hermione shook her head.

Harry really was going to land himself in trouble.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"It'll take more than Malfoy to bother me."

"You know what I mean," Hermione huffed.

Harry nodded.

"I'm fine and will be as long as you don't keep mentioning it. Let it go, Hermione. What's done is done."

"Is it?" Hermione asked sharply. "Is it done?"

Harry looked at her speculatively.

"For now," he murmured as he pushed a door to one of the compartments open where Ron and Ginny were seated within.

"Bloody hell, I'd thought you both missed the train," Ron greeted them.

"No," Harry denied. "We just made it. How was the rest of your summer?"

Hermione watched him closely as the group settled in, and it wasn't long before they delved into their own activities. As always, Ron read one of his Quidditch magazines, Ginny left the compartment to find her friends, and Harry read a book that had no cover.

Hermione began reading ahead for Transfiguration and must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes, she was leaning on Harry and the sun had set.

She had not been sleeping well since witnessing what she had, but the sight of Harry upon waking eased her troubled mind.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"On the train," Harry answered with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him as she sat up.

"You know what I meant."

Harry's gaze flickered towards her briefly and Hermione tutted.

"We will be there in around fifteen minutes. We will give you some time to get changed."

Ron yawned as he stood and followed Harry from the compartment.

When she was alone, Hermione dressed in her new school robes.

For the past few years, she'd managed to re-use her very first set, but with her growth over the summer months, buying new ones had been inevitable.

"I'm done," she announced when she had packed her muggle clothes in her trunk.

When the boys re-entered, she couldn't miss the growth spurt Ron had undergone.

He had always been rather gangly but was even more so now. He stood around an inch or so taller than Harry, who though he had grown taller, the biggest difference was in his build.

Harry had been scrawny since she had known him. Now, however, his shoulders had filled out considerably. Somehow, it made him appear stronger, and more athletic than undernourished.

It suited him.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, noticing Hermione stare a little longer than was considered decent.

"No, nothing like that," she murmured as the train slowed down.

"Thank Merlin," Ron sighed. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving," Harry snorted.

He was.

There was never a time that Ron would turn his nose up at the prospect of food.

"Come on," the redhead urged.

Hermione followed behind the duo and watched in fascination as Harry approached the front of the carriage as he did the previous year. This time, it did not appear that he was soothing nothing.

There was indeed a creature there.

"A Thestral," Hermione whispered as she approached.

She immediately knew why she could see it now. She had witnessed Harry dying.

If there had been even a shred of doubt in her mind that he had not, it all but evaporated as she looked upon the odd, skeletal creature.

"Careful," Harry urged. "They're friendly enough if you don't spook them."

Hermione tentatively reached up and touched the leathery skin, backing away as the horse-like creature snorted at her.

"It's alright," Harry comforted the Thestral. "It's her first time seeing one of your kind."

The Thestral looked at him affectionately, and butted Harry with its snout.

"I'll come visit," Harry promised as Ron poked his head out of the carriage.

"Bloody hell, hurry up!" he groaned.

They entered the carriage and said nothing for the duration of the journey to the castle.

From what she had seen thus far, Harry did not seem to be rattled by what had happened; not the way Hermione was.

It almost brought her to tears to think of what she had seen, and yet, he seemed to take it in his stride.

She knew better than to question him on the matter, but she would continue to watch him.

Harry could not be entirely unaffected by what had been done to him, could he?

It wouldn't make sense if he was, but as she looked into his eyes in the light emanating from the Entrance Hall when they disembarked the carriage, none would ever guess that only a few short weeks ago, he had been murdered.

(Break)

"You seem less stressed," Remus commented as he entered the room.

"Harry is back at Hogwarts," Sirius replied as he held up a letter he had received from his godson that very morning. "I know he is safe."

"You don't trust Albus?"

"Twelve years in Azkaban has taught me to trust no one," Sirius said darkly. "Even you thought I had betrayed them."

"I don't know how many times I need to apologise, Padfoot…"

"You don't," Sirius broke in. "I've forgiven you, Moony, but no, I do not trust Albus's word when he will not say where Harry is. He was missing for a week before he turned up at wherever he stays. Anything could have happened to him."

Remus nodded his understanding.

"The Death Eaters…"

"We all know who the only person not in Azkaban they would listen to is. I promise you, Moony, when I catch up with my old friend Lucius, I'm going to remind him of what it is to cross a Black."

Sirius had been making such threats for weeks now, and Remus did not believe them to be idle.

He had been spending a considerable amount of time in the family library, and nothing good could come from reading the tomes gathered by the Blacks for several centuries.

Remus had thumbed through a few volumes himself and vowed not to do so again.

It was rather frightening what someone with such knowledge could to do to another, and here was Sirius who had been ardently against these practices, promising to exact them on Lucius Malfoy.

Not that the man didn't deserve it.

Remus, too, harboured similar urges to see him suffer, but none could feel it more than Sirius.

When Remus had returned to Grimmauld Place, having discussed the matter with Dumbledore, he'd had do his utmost to prevent Sirius leaving to look for Lucius.

It had taken hours to calm him down enough to see sense in waiting, but Remus knew he would not do so forever.

Sirius was as stubborn as they came and could hold a grudge longer than any he knew.

Even now he often mentioned his desire to throttle Severus Snape for what happened between them during their teenage years.

Perhaps a part of Sirius was unhinged, but Remus was working on it as best he could.

He certainly looked better physically, though his mental state would take years to recover, if ever.

Sirius hid his nightmares well enough. He could not, however, hide the fear in his eyes when the Dementors were mentioned, and he even kept his room stifling hot from his disdain of the cold.

Still, he was getting better with each passing day, and Remus hoped that when Harry did visit, Sirius would be in a much better place than he currently was.

(Break)

He used the magical eye to gaze around the room as he helped himself to a few sausages, remembering to take another sip from his flask. Hogwarts had been a most enjoyable time for him when he'd been younger, before his mother had died.

His father had always been a difficult man, and it had come as no surprise to Barty that he'd been disowned when his loyalty to the Dark Lord had come to light.

Karkaroff.

He would pay for allowing his name to pass his lips.

Until then, Barty had a task and also the desire to satisfy his own curiosity.

He had witnessed what had happened to Potter the night Lucius had attempted to kill the boy.

Seemingly, it had been a success, but as he had the night the Dark Lord had visited the Potters, he had survived the encounter.

How?

Barty did not know, but Potter was interesting to say the least.

He would be watching the boy closely throughout his time here and would perhaps give him just enough to put an end to Lucius.

Barty would not be given the opportunity to punish him for his disloyal ways. The Dark Lord would not allow it. However, what his master did not know wouldn't hurt him.

The thought of the suffering of Lucius and the others who had forsaken their lord brought a smirk to his lips.

"I trust your journey here wasn't difficult, Alastor?"

"It would have been much easier without this damned leg," Barty growled in response to the Transfiguration professor before taking another bite of his meal.

The woman nodded and continued her conversation with Dumbledore and Barty's grip tightened around his fork at the sight of the man.

It would only be too easy to ram it in the old fool's neck, but no, Dumbledore was to be left alone.

Barty's target was Potter.

He watched the boy for several more moments before looking away.

He had the best part of a year to see what made him tick, after all.

(Break)

The Common Room was abuzz with chatter about the impending tournament. Although Harry was looking forward to it from what little he had overheard, he was more disappointed that the Quidditch season would not be going ahead, as were the other Gryffindors who played for the team.

"It's going to be brilliant!" Ron declared. "Come on, Harry, you'll love it."

"I don't even know what it is," Harry pointed out.

"The Triwizard Tournament is a competition for the three premier schools in our part of the world," Hermione interjected. "Each school will have a champion chosen for them, and they will compete in three tasks spaced out over the year. It's really dangerous. No wonder they're only allowing students of age to submit their names. During the last tournament, a cockatrice went rogue and killed all of the champions and several others in the audience before it was stopped."

"See, brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry frowned as he shook his head.

"I don't think being murdered by a creature sounds like much fun."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't enter if you could," Seamus snorted. "A thousand galleons, Harry!"

"No chance," Harry returned.

A thousand galleons was a considerable sum but wouldn't add much to his already significant wealth.

No, he would want no part in that kind of competition.

"I would," Ron declared.

Most of the others agreed, but Harry would not be convinced.

He'd read about Cockatrice, and he felt no desire to be confronted by one, nor any other creature that could tear him limb from limb with little effort.

If truth be told, Harry was looking forward more to being taught Defence Against the Dark Arts by a legendary auror than he was watching the tasks.

That would certainly prove to be more useful to him.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Harry nodded as he stood.

"Just tired," he murmured. "I think I'll get an early night."

He did not miss the look of concern Hermione shot him as he headed towards the staircase, only to be intercepted by Fred and George.

"A word, Harry," one of them requested, both uncharacteristically serious.

They followed him into the empty dorm room and closed the door before the other removed a piece of parchment from within his robes.

Staring at it adoringly for a moment, he offered it to a confused Harry.

"We've discussed it and decided that this will serve you better than us."

"An old piece of parchment?"

One of the twins tutted and drew his wand. Tapping the parchment, he cleared his throat.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Harry's eyes widened at the familiar phrase.

"You had it!"

"You know what it is?"

Harry nodded as he watched the greeting of the map form across the parchment.

"My father was Prongs."

The twins looked at each other in surprise.

"Then you know what it can do for you," one of them murmured. "Hogwarts is probably the safest place you can be, but you never know. We'd be quite pissed off if someone managed to do you in."

"Quidditch might be off, but it will be back next year," the other added with a grin.

Harry nodded as he continued to marvel at the map.

It truly was a wondrous piece of magic.

"Thank you," he offered sincerely.

"With the tournament coming up, Merlin knows who will be coming in and out of the school."

"How did you get it?"

"We swiped it from Filch's desk during our second year. He wouldn't keep an old piece of parchment for no reason. It took us months to figure it out."

"How did you?"

"Peeves told us. He saw us with it and told us he knew how to make it work. When we couldn't figure it out, we gave in to his demands."

"We spent weeks in detention after filling Filch's office up with water."

"It was worth it though, George."

"That it was, Fred."

Peeves must have seen the Marauders making use of it throughout their time here.

"Your dad was really one of them?"

Harry nodded.

"Then think of it as us looking after it for you. Don't do anything we wouldn't, if you catch my drift."

With a waggle of their eyebrows, the twins left the dormitory, and Harry spent some time on his bed simply watching the dots milling about the castle and the grounds.

Oddly, there were rooms that Harry knew of that were not on here, but several secret passages he could make use of.

The map would certainly serve him well, and Harry wasted no time putting it to use.

Closing the curtains around his bed to make it appear that he was sleeping, he waved his wand around himself, concealing his form with the cloak.

There was no time like the present to see if the room Henry Potter had made use of was still there on the seventh floor.

Checking the map a final time, Harry carefully navigated his way through the Common Room before taking his leave of the tower where he made his way along the corridor towards his destination.

What if the room wasn't there?

Harry didn't wish to even consider the disappointment he would feel if it was not an option for him, but as he reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he took a deep, calming breath.

I need a room to practice magic… I need a room to practice magic… I need a room to practice magic…

He could have cheered with joy as a large oak door with black rivets decorating it appeared.

Without preamble, he entered and his mouth fell agape.

It had worked.

Everything he could ever need to develop his magic was within this room and Harry wet his lips in anticipation.

"Thank you, Henry Potter," he whispered as he walked around the perimeter.

There was a large desk in one corner, an enormous space that he could practice his spells, and even some shelves lined with books taking up the entirety of one of the walls.

It was simply magnificent.

"Could you give me a bath?" Harry asked.

The room shifted providing an ornate tub, and Harry wondered what the limitations of it could be.

"What about a way to see any room I wish in the castle?"

Nothing happened.

Not that Harry needed such a thing with the map in his possession.

Humming thoughtfully, he pondered what else he should ask for.

"Food?"

Again, nothing happened and Harry nodded to himself.

It seemed that there were indeed several limitations, but he remained as excited as he had upon entering.

He had no doubt that there was much the room could offer him.

"What can't you do?"

Once more, the room remained as it was.

Evidently, it would be up to him to work out what could and couldn't be achieved here through experimentation.

"Fine, can you teach me to fight?"

Even before the incident at the World Cup, it was something Harry had intended to look into, though he didn't know where to begin. He had considered asking Professor Flitwick for some duelling advice.

The man had once been a world champion, after all, so it was a good a place as any.

However, if the room could provide what Harry needed…

Instinctively, he ducked as a jet of red light was sent towards him by one of the mannequins that appeared.

"Bloody hell, STOP!" he instructed as a large hole appeared in the wall behind him. "Can you teach me to fight without trying to kill me?"

Another jet of light shot towards him, this one slower and proving to be harmless as it did not damage the wall as Harry sidestepped it.

"That's better," he sighed as he drew his wand.

Already, he had developed quite the impressive arsenal of spells, but he'd not had much practice in using them.

He'd implemented the Bludgers to aide in his footwork, but this would be much better for practice.

With a firm nod to himself, he returned fire towards the animated dummy and set to work.

Quickly, he realised the mannequin was only matching his pace.

Harry knew to get better, he needed to be pushed to his limits.

"Make it better than me," he requested.

His eyes widened as the spells came at him much faster, so much so that Harry only managed to avoid a few before he was sent skidding painfully across the hard floor.

Much to his relief, however, there seemed to be no lasting effect, and the dummy did stop when he was no longer standing.

"Bloody hell, this is going to be rough," he groaned as he stood, rubbing his sore, lower back.

Still, Harry knew it wouldn't be easy to become good enough to face what would one day come for him.

He wished that he could be like Ron and the others and not have to concern himself with it at all, but that was not the life that had been chosen for him.

No, the coming years would be difficult and arduous, and Harry needed to be ready if he wished to fulfil the promise he had made to himself by ensuring he did not leave this world without taking his enemies with him.

As he did when he felt the burden on his shoulders, he allowed his mind to wander to the deeds of the Peverells who had stood strong in the face of adversity, his ancestors that had not shied away when their enemies came for them.

Harry needed to be as wise as Ignotus, as bold as Antioch, and as shrewd as Cadmus.

He would need to embody the spirit and courage Gawain had shown, and the righteousness of Arthur.

Harry would need to be more than all of these men if he wished to succeed, and though he was far from certain that he could do all he would set out to, he would not bend nor break when it mattered.

None of the Peverells had and he wouldn't either.

"Come Death, come," he whispered as the mannequin sent a salvo of spells his way.

Only a moment later, he once more found himself falling victim to the onslaught, and yet, he stood once more. Although he was breathless from his efforts, he would keep getting up until he no longer could.