A Cloak & Dagger State of Affairs - Chapter 8

MISSION HOGWARTS

Chapter 1 - Untimely Plots

Metamorphmagus are unique in a way that cannot be explained by normal logic. They are essentially human shapeshifters who can morph into an exact duplicate of their target down to the cellular level. Blood, hormones, medical conditions; all the flaws and oddities of their target can be copied with just a touch.

Due to the extraordinary magic at work, metamorphmagus lead a relatively short life and often suffer issues with identity. Age becomes redundant since when they transform into another person, they are the same age as that person and unless they have a high degree of control over their abilities, they can lose themselves and completely forget who they were before the transformation.

Harry Potter is a fine example of a skilled metamorphmagus since he has not only imitated other humans without losing himself but created four original personalities other than his own. Such control over the mind and magic is impossible for any other wizard but it is well known that Harry Potter is not just any other wizard.

Each of his personalities have a defining trait and talent that is refined every time he becomes that person.

As of the end of year 1991, Harry Potter's identities are listed below

James Keller, age 15. He was eight years old when he landed in Detroit. (1984,1985)

Abdul Rafeeq, age 14. He was nine years old when he ran to Ahwaz. (1986,1987, 1988)

Tyson Storm, age 17. He was fourteen years old when he made the Cauldron his home. (1988,1989,1990,1991)

Harry James Potter, age 11. He was four years old when he was taken away by the Department of Intelligence. He is under the care of the Ministry with Glen Savage and his wife as his surrogate parents.

Harry ?, age ?. The one behind them all is the only way Harry describes it.

                                                                                                                        -Hugo Milner, 31st December 1991

1st October 1994

Harry Potter was making an appearance in the Ministry for Magic, showing his face to all the people that mattered and smiling and exchanging pleasant greetings. He was playing fake Harry Potter at the moment. He was the Harry Potter that the magical world expected and adored. His life story of defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort as a baby and growing up with the single minded ambition of becoming an Auror; a dark wizard catcher; to keep the public safe at nights, was the stuff of legend and bedtime stories for children of the Magical United Kingdom.

However after this Harry Potter crossed over an invisible barrier, through an invisible hole, to a department that didn't exist, his pleasant and smiling expression molded into a scowl, eyes grew darker, hair longer and wilder and face older. His body grew larger, more mature. Clothes, by magic, grew and adjusted to fit his new size.

This was Harry No-last-name; the man behind the ever changing masks. Or the real Harry Potter as he had once called it in a fit of anger in Hugo's office.

"God dammit Hugo. You can't call me back on such short notice without so much as an explanation. Do you have any idea how repulsive it is, to shake hands and be nice to those scumbag politicians? I nearly smashed Arthur Weasley's face into the wall just to get him to shut up about me visiting his office and meeting his kids who are my age and how his wife would simply love to have me over and of course the great fucking Dumbledore is a man whose ass he kisses for breakfast and sucks his cock for dinner!"

Harry was red in the face and breathing heavily while his eyes were narrow slits of fury.

"If you are done with your hissy fit do you mind taking a fucking seat and letting me bloody explain?" Hugo said this with the icy calmness of a man promising death if he wasn't obeyed.

Harry closed his eyes and counted to five while taking deep slow breaths. "Fine," he huffed and sat, suddenly looking like the poster boy for calm.

Hugo was unfazed by the sudden change and spoke as if undisturbed. "First of all you are expected to make appearances in the ministry every now and then, it's all part of the schedule. Granted this was an unscheduled call back but you know this and have been doing so for the last two years so do you care to explain why the anger now?"

Harry showed a small gap with his thumb and forefinger. "I was this close to getting Jennifer to have her birthday party at her dad's mansion. And suddenly I get a call saying haul ass to London? Do you know how much time it took me to arrange this? That girl and house are guarded worse than the hellhounds of hell!"

Hugo pursed his lips and frowned. "Ok yeah,that sucks arse for you," he admitted.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Sucks arse? That's all you have to say?!"

"Wait till you hear what I have to say," Hugo said grimly.

Harry stilled. His anger pushed away in an instant. That tone of Hugo spelt nothing good. "What?" he asked cautiously.

"There's a tournament going on in Hogwarts this year," Hugo said without fanfare. "The Triwizard tournament, it's called."

"So?"

"Three schools in Europe participate to promote international cooperation between those countries and this year it was slated to be at Hogwarts."

Harry was wondering where this history lesson was going.

"One champion from each school is chosen and Harry," Hugo leaned forward and placed his chin on his joined fingers. "Your name came out as a fourth and illegal participant."

"What?" Harry said disbelievingly.

"That's right," Hugo said, shrugging like it didn't matter at all.

"Hugo? What the hell are you talking about? Do you mind getting to the point before I start sprouting gray hairs," Harry said irritably. Here he had lost an important opportunity to sneak into Cromag's office and snoop around and Hugo was talking about silly tournaments and his illegal name apparently.

Hugo sighed and leaned back into his chair wearily. "Basically your name came out of a magical cup and bound you into a magical contract which will ensure you participate or risk unimaginable punishment should you refuse."

Harry gaped.

"But considering the fact that this happened four days ago and since then we've been in damage control mode to convince the ministry you're absolutely fine and unaffected by your name coming out of the goblet and the incident was a hoax. Probably a prank by the resident pranksters to get the very busy and iconic Harry Potter to visit their school seeing that you're unharmed and in good health for someone apparently tied in a magical contract."

"Then if the problem is solved what am I doing back here now? Couldn't this have waited for a few more days?"

"This is the longest Croaker could get Alan to hold off the Minister and Crouch from demanding to see you and convince you to participate. You're their trophy and they want to show off their prize."

Harry closed his eyes to process this sudden annoyance that had disrupted the world of James Keller.

"Please tell me I don't have to go to Hogwarts and play a fucking kids game."

Hugo smirked. There were a few things that Harry hated and interacting with teenagers who were into dating and broom closets was at the top of his list.

"You can relax," he laughed. "You're back to convince Fudge you're not going to break the rules of such a prestigious tournament just because he feels it's the right thing to do. Plus clearly you are unaffected by the contract which leads me to believe your runes are responsible for that miracle."

"Come to think of it," Harry said slowly, thinking back to four days ago. "I did feel a little light headed and weak four days back. I just thought it was exhaustion."

"Chekhov still keeping mum about them?"

"He might as well stitch his lips up forever," Harry said, scowling. It had been a pain to locate the retired intelligence officer and try to get some information about his runes out of him.

Hugo hummed. "This tournament business throws a deep wrench into your Cromag operation. I called you back so quickly because you might have to pull the plug on that mission for now."

"All that work … all gone? Come off it Hugo. Do you really expect me to give it up for what? A school tournament?"

"I don't want you to do it too," he snapped. "But sooner or later you're going to have to go to Hogwarts. Dumbledore and his connections have been putting pressure on the Minister and the DMLE for months now. Alan can't hold them back for longer. The only thing keeping them away was the fact that you've already given your OWLS and you're away with Savage to get NEWT level potions lessons from Potions Master Stevens."

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. "Alright. What are our options? On one hand I'll have to wait another year for Jennifer’s birthday but I can probably still worm my way up their social ladder and on the other I satisfy the whims of greedy politicians and go to a place that is of no consequence at all."

"First things first. You have to meet Fudge and Crouch this afternoon and prove to them you are fine and the name incident was definitely a hoax. Unfortunately they are going to insist that you go to Hogwarts anyway. It will be a great experience blah blah. And to this you are going to say fuck off in your sweetest manner and negotiate for a short term appearance as the ministry's student representative," he said. "Secondly you're missing the bigger picture here. There are only sinister reasons behind your name being put in the goblet. Can you tell me who are the two people in this fair country who want you in their hands?"

"Voldemort and Dumbledore," Harry said grimly. "Fuck. This is bad. You're thinking this is Voldemort aren't you?"

"Croaker is," said Hugo. "He says it's a gut feeling and seeing as we've been keeping an eye on Dumbledore, it has to be someone with bad intentions."

"Have you figured out how my name came out of... What was it?"

"The Goblet of Fire and yes, the authorities did. It was a powerful confounding charm. And despite clear evidence of tampering they're all spouting some bullshit of wanting to comply by the rules," Hugo snorted. "Rules bent to their own understanding," he added in annoyance.

"So... Plan?"

"Push them to allow you time till December. I think that will give you enough time to salvage the situation in the States and set it up for the future. Tell them that Savage has you working hard in order to be ready for NEWT by next year and your schedule allows you a long break in December. Of course they will try to get it changed but Alan is running interference on that front."

By now Harry was back to his indifferent self. He had calmed down, put the setback suffered in Detroit behind him and focused on the new mission ahead of him. "Whoever confounded the goblet is probably still at Hogwarts," Harry said shrewdly. "Which means he's going to try something else again."

Hugo wholeheartedly agreed. "You have to sniff him out when you get there. Whoever this is most definitely has direct contact with the person pulling the strings. It could be Voldemort but there is also a chance that it could be someone in the ministry itself. You've definitely stepped on a few toes here when it comes to whispering policy change in Fudge's ear."

"True enough," Harry admitted. "You're sure this is not Dumbledore?"

"Positive," Hugo said. "We've got a man on him."

"Alan?"

Hugo kept silent.

"Huh, fine don't tell me."

"Change back into fake Harry and memorize this before you meet Fudge," Hugo said, handing Harry a file.

Harry flicked through it. It was a detailed report on his whereabouts and activities under Savage's tutelage. "When can I go back?"

"Today if you can swing it," Hugo said. "I'll have Stacy come up with a satisfactory alibi for you."

"She's going to be pissed too," Harry warned. "She was counting on me to get into Cromag's office."

"I liked the field better," Hugo sighed, imagining the headache of explaining the situation to Stacy. "But age catches up fast."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well I can't say I don't like being back. Beats getting bored out of my skull with a spoilt daddy's girl and her silly friends," he said sarcastically.

"Such dedication," Hugo mocked. "Now get your arse out of here and go be Harry."

"Fake Harry Potter, Hugo," Harry muttered under his breath while leaving. "Not Harry."

Hugo sighed in exasperation. His method of training Harry had had some very interesting effects on Harry's psyche and shape shifting abilities. Both were intimately tied together and when Harry changed appearances, he became almost a whole other person from inside and outside.

Hugo had attempted at one point to keep Harry grounded to one personality but Harry refused. He simply said he was a wardrobe of identities. "I know who is who, Hugo and my sense of I is a collage of these identities. As the wardrobe grows larger I, who you can call Harry, will also change. So will you please quit with this real identity crap? It's fucking annoying."

But Hugo didn't stop reminding him of who he was supposed to be. He always had this nagging worry in the back of his mind that one day, an unfortunate circumstance was going to make Harry lose sense of his real identity. And if that ever happened Harry would go from being an asset to a liability.

-x-x-x-

Convincing the Minister that it was in his best interests to not participate in the tournament was quite easy, Harry mused as he made his way through the Auror offices. Getting Crouch to back off on the other hand was quite a task. The man was unusually insistent on getting him to participate and warning bells began to ring in his head.

"Crouch thinks he's talking to a fourteen year old spoiled kid who gets what he wants," Harry said to himself in his mind. "Fortunately I'm not and that was way too suspicious in my book. Can Crouch be the one who put my name in the Goblet? Lord knows he has been eying the Minister's chair for years if what I know is true. He's a cold and ambitious politician, could be the one behind all this?"

Harry began to catalog all the ministry officials whom he knew disliked him. "Crouch is the number one suspect for now but how could he possibly be connected to Voldemort? He was the rebels number one enemy during the unrest." Harry referred to what Magical Britain called a war, as a violent civil unrest roused by prominent members of the society. To him situations like these happened all the time in the underbelly of Magical society. Only they called it a hostile takeover. "And no matter what Hugo says I'm not ruling out Dumbledore. His arms are long and reach into the minds of way too many Wizengamot members."

"Potter refused."

A soft voice caught his ears and he abruptly went still.

"No, Fudge caved," the voice said. "That kid is way smarter than anyone gives him credit for."

The department was almost empty and Harry listened carefully, trying to find the source of the voice. There! Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt!

"I can't do it," the voice hissed angrily. "We will have to try at Hogwarts."

Harry leaned up against the wall as casual as you like and hung on to every word. I can't hear whoever the man is talking to. His head must be in the floo.

"Alright hold on, let me come through."

Harry heard the man stepping around and then he heard the fire flare.

"Crooked corner depot!" The man shouted and the fire roared.

"Alohomora!" Harry hissed, drawing his wand. The door clicked open and Harry rushed to the fireplace, grabbing a bit of floo powder from the table. "Crooked corner depot!" He said and disappeared in a swirl of green flames. The chase was on.

Harry burst out of the floo and he immediately reoriented his senses and sharply scanned the crowded floo depot, trying to spot a decently dressed and maybe six feet tall figure weaving through the crowd in a hurry. You could tell a lot about a person with just their voices.

The men and women coming out of dozens of floo’s every second, the huge line of angry and rowdy people urging the ones ahead to move faster so that they could leave, the foggy and dim atmosphere made Harry's task much more difficult than it ought to be.

Unconsciously his feet guided him to the exit of the depot and he quickly assessed the ones who stuck out like sore thumbs in the crowd of filthy folk. He found a few but they didn't meet the mental image of his mystery man.

There! The man in the hooded blue cloak!

Instinctively Harry knew this was his man and he quietly followed him into the oldest magical village in England.

Harry pulled up the hood of his own blue cloak and grimaced as he realized that he too stuck out of the crowd right now. But his priority was following the man and under the shadow of his hood, he morphed into Tyson Storm.

Flimsy wooden huts and tiny children playing in the dirt flanked a very crooked road that branched into the little village, Into the dark interiors of a village whose people still lived like those of the medieval period. Archaic laws and even more lawlessness dominated this village and because of it, it was isolated and ignored by the rest of Britain.

"Gah!" A seven year old boy snarled and he tried to bite the man's leg. The man gasped and kicked out, getting rid of the pest.

That's the way these kids play, Harry thought warily, recognising that glint of disturbed mischievousness. Vicious little buggers who grow into dangerous characters. That's what happens when progress is denied.

The man turned into a narrower alley sharply and deftly began to make his way through broken wood and piles of garbage. Harry followed, sticking close to the shadows and not making a sound. Finally he went up a flight of makeshift stairs made out of a pile of stones and knocked.

Harry waited with narrow eyes, wondering if this was the source of his new problem.

A weedy little man, rapidly balding and fat looking, from where Harry was standing, opened the door and hurriedly ushered the hooded man in. "Let's go, he's waiting," the fat man said nervously.

"I don't know the location," drawled the man Harry was tailing. His voice was somewhat familiar but he couldn't put a recognisable face to the voice. "That's the reason I'm here in this disgusting village, rat."

Rat? Slip loose some names already, Harry thought eagerly.

But they didn't say another word. The fat man grabbed the hooded wizard's arm and disapparated. His quandary was gone and what remained was an avalanche of questions in Harry's mind. He would have followed them still but he was not skilled in finding the point of apparition and using the residue magic to follow the trail. That skill was still a little beyond him.

Cautiously he came out of the shadows hiding him and with a nonchalant gait, walked up to the decrepit hut.

He quickly scaled the stone steps and looked around to see if anyone was looking through the windows or doors of the nearby huts. Satisfied, he cautiously looked through the half open door, into the dark interiors of the hut.

He smelt it before he saw it and suppressed his nausea at the disgusting body lying on the floor, its eyes glassy and torso cut open. Harry slapped his hand on his mouth and nose to stop breathing that foul stench that was bringing tears to his eyes.

He quickly glanced around, trying to find anything of use but it was completely empty apart from a thin blanket over which a dark skinned man with more bone than flesh lay looking like someone thought it was a good idea to rip him open, make a mess and take his organs for the fun of it.

Harry couldn't stand it any longer and he burst out of the hut and took thankful breaths of the relatively fresh air in the midst of human and vegetative waste.

With the smell gone, his thinking faculties returned to force and he frowned.

A simple plot to kidnap him had turned into a more sinister plot which somehow involved Barty Crouch, a mystery man in the ministry and a murder in Crooked Village.

Suddenly Harry grinned and he felt very thrilled. This was way better than using teenagers to get to a man who controlled a piece of the underworld. Feeling the pleasant rush of the Adrenaline leaving his system he walked back to the overpopulated floo depot, contemplating if he should mention what just happened to Hugo.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Leaving Detroit was harder than Harry thought. James had made a real emotional connection with the people who was supposed to maintain contact with. One and a half years in and out of a private school necessitated friendships and James felt his gut twist with rebellion. He was leaving a job he was working on for nearly three years and had to put in a lot of hard work and charm to get into the circle of Cromag Franklin himself. And now he had to leave. Not to mention Jenny was furious he was going to miss her eighteenth birthday and miss out on all the things they had planned on. She was so mad that James had to beg for forgiveness from her and Cromag too, for abandoning his daughter on her personal milestone. Promises had to be made and excuses had to be invented until she was pacified.

He sighed, gave one last look to the apartment he had learned to love and activated the portkey to London.

Emotional connections were ridiculously easy to break, Harry thought with a snort and he pushed back James into his mental wardrobe.

23rd October 1994

Harry was sitting cross legged on the floor of the house he had claimed as his own three years ago and was pouring over dozens of files, muttering under his breath. Presently he was carefully leafing through the file name: Davis, Tracy, and connecting the names of her family members to positions in the ministry. He had gone through the A's, B's and C’s so far and there were still quite a lot of people to go through.

But Harry patiently read every line and slowly determined the who's who presently at Hogwarts school and Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Bryan Davis," Harry muttered. "Declared pure blood five years ago."

A family could be considered pure blood if the second generation of children had magical parents. Harry thought it was ridiculous. The Wizengamot had even passed it as a law twenty years ago to give muggleborns who stay in the magical world for decades and subsequently become a complete part of its culture, a chance to afford the same privileges as a pure blooded family.

"No significant ties to the Wizengamot members and part owner of the Cleansweep Broom makers," Harry hummed. He put Tracey Davis into his unimportant pile.

Since his departure from the US, he had immersed himself into reading everything about Hogwarts,researching the students' blood statuses, including the foreigners currently visiting. More importantly, he was searching for students whose parents had motive to do insidious things to the Boy who Lived.

Malfoy, Nott, Edgecomb and Chang lay in his suspects pile. Also included were all the professors with Severus Snape right on top below who lay Albus Dumbledore. They went into his suspects pile without question. The most suspicious professor was a Professor Bixlow who taught defense for the past five years. He was a muggleborn, raised in Ukraine, with no ties to Dumbledore or any of his crew before that. He had a diverse range of knowledge and experience and traveled a little before deciding to teach at the most prestigious school of magic in Europe.

His whole background stank of fabrication and Harry instinctively knew this was the man Hugo had in Dumbledore's circle. Harry wondered who it could possibly be. It was definitely someone new or else the department was hiding a lot of its operations from him.

His eyes fell on Delacour and his memory tingled. He remembered meeting a Frenchman named Delacour just recently. He was the head of France's division of international magical cooperation and his daughter was a chosen champion. Harry eyed the picture in the file appreciatively.

He had started when the sun rose and by the time the sun started to sink, he had reached the last file with the name Zabini, Blaise on it.

"Zabini," Harry mused. Zabini was a name very famous among the high society of Magical London. Beatrice Zabini was beautiful and deadly. She looked fragile, innocent and radiant but all seven men who had married her for her charm and beauty, all died mysteriously, leaving their assets to the heartbroken Beatrice who took comfort and solace in the arms of the next loving Wizard with a lot of money. Six months after the death of her husband, a whirlwind romance would follow resulting in a lavish marriage full of happiness and joy. Two or maybe three years later, he would die, leaving her all his gold in his conveniently prepared will. The process would repeat and Beatrice was always suspected but never caught.

Harry wondered if her genes had been passed on to her son. The department knew she was part succubi and they could never gather the evidence needed to prove it. He thought about it and put Blaise Zabini in his pile of suspects. It didn't hurt to be careful.

On a related matter, the trail of the unknown wizard who was working for the persons behind his kidnapping or murder plot, ran cold in the run down hut in Crooked Village. It definitely wasn't Kingsley Shacklebolt or else Shacklebolt was an exceptional spy. The murder was unsolved and ignored. Crooked corner was a place left to fester after all. No witch or wizard living in a decent society wanted anything to do or to be done to that part of their world.

His surveillance on Crouch just brought out more questions rather than answers. The man's behavior was odd but nothing out of the ordinary for him. He went about his work as usual and looked a little sick but other than that and his quiet participation in the Triwizard Tournament, there was nothing out of place.

There were no whispers of Voldemort too and Harry was unable to find the dots that solved this puzzle. Even the fat weedy man, whose appearance he had an artist draw before obliviating him, led to nothing. His face was in none of the criminal files in the Auror department.

And if Voldemort was truly behind this plot then Harry was going to be severely pissed. He really didn't want to get caught up in the so-called war to save the destruction of the Wizarding world. Honestly it was nothing more than a regime change if Voldemort won. Granted it would be a bad thing for a lot of people but it wasn't going to result in destruction, he thought derisively. No one else viewed things like this and even Hugo was pissed when Harry voiced this particular thought one day.

The only way to gather more data was to give his to be kidnappers a calculated opening and for that he needed to be in a place where he could be grabbed. The only place that permitted the slightest chances of that was Hogwarts and on November 1st, on the eve of the first task of the tournament, Harry was going to attend Hogwarts as a student representative to the Ministry.

The decision to join Slytherin was without doubt. It was the only house which conformed to his beliefs on life and cradled a nest of influential purebloods.

On November 1st, reluctantly, Harry morphed into the respectable Harry James Potter; devilishly handsome and strong. Genius who cleared his OWLS at the age of twelve and youngest Auror trainee in History.

His body grew a little less toned and shrunk to five foot seven inches, hair grew shorter and neater with a light windswept look and a thin lightning bolt scar could be seen behind a few loose strands of hair.

His face became a little more youthful, confident which was complimented pleasantly with his dark green eyes lay behind steel circular rimmed spectacles. He was admirable in this form and feeling less than pleased, he dropped the red robe signifying Auror trainee on him.

He always felt a shudder of doom when he saw men wearing dresses and now he had to wear one as well. Harry promised himself to threaten someone somewhere and do something to change Britain's fashion style. When the magical world was completely separated from the muggle, the magical mindset was put into stasis while the muggles raced ahead, even making it to the moon and back!

"How do I look?" Harry asked Pebbles, the mirror.

"Heartbreaker," giggled Pebbles.

Harry rolled his eyes and apparated to Glen's apartment. From there the skilled Auror side along apparated Harry to the gates of Hogwarts which blew his mind away.

"Wow," he gasped, awe in his voice and eyes wide with wonder.

"Enjoy kid," Glen said, chuckling and disapparated.

Behind the massive black gates, up a long winding path through a dense forest, perched atop the highest place around, stood a magnificent stone castle illuminated by a warm yellow glow of warmth.

The cold made Harry shiver and made him snap out of his awestruck moment. He walked up to the gate and thumped what seemed to be a head sized knocker.

The sound of steel clanging against steel reverberated all around and Harry winced at the loud noise.

He waited patiently and a couple of minutes later he noticed something moving in the forest. It was a man holding a lantern and he was the biggest man Harry had ever laid eyes on.

Harry's eyes widened at the sight of him and he briefly wondered if everything and everyone was unnaturally super sized at Hogwarts.

"Who are ye?" The man asked curiously, peering with kind inquisitive eyes.

Harry quickly recovered from the sight of the seven and a half foot tall and well rounded giant whose face was practically hidden behind a bush of facial hair. "My name is Harry James Potter and I believe I am expected."

The giant's thick eyebrows shot upwards in shock and excitement. "Merlin's beard," he gasped. "The last time I saw ye, ye fit in me hand!"

Harry was curious about the relationship this man shared with his past but for now he had other things to do. "Fascinating as that is," Harry said, not unkindly but firmly, "Do you mind opening the gates? If my schedule is right, I should be just in time for dinner."

The giant nodded enthusiastically and pulled the gates open with a grunt.

Harry wondered how strong he had to be to open those gates with one hand.

"I'm Hagrid," the giant introduced. "Groundsman and the keeper of keys of Hogwarts."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said politely, following the man through a narrow path through the chilly forest. They walked for a couple of minutes in relative silence before the forest began to thin and they emerged into a larger ground which was neatly maintained with a smooth cobbled path leading up to giant oak doors embedded in a very formidable castle.

Harry couldn't stop staring at the incredible sight and Hagrid noticed.

"It takes weeks for first timers to get over the beauty o' Hogwarts," Hagrid chuckled fondly. "Come on, I'll drop ye near the great hall."

Harry nodded silently and continued his keen observation of the school. He could see a lake shimmering a little under the moonlight and he almost made out the shadow of a ship floating on it. The forest continued to grow thicker around the castle walls and Harry was not sure if it was a friendly forest.

The entrance door was pushed open with ease and Harry stepped into a large corridor that was brightly lit with a line of burning torches. The ceiling was very high and as he walked further in, he saw giant tapestries hanging in mid air. Harry brushed his fingers against the stone wall and was surprised to find it radiating warmth.

Hagrid stopped in front of yet another massive door and pushed it open slightly, gesturing at Harry to go on in.

"This is the great hall?"

"Tas' right."

"Do you mind informing Chief Warlock Dumbledore that I have arrived so that he can announce me?"

Hagrid looked at Harry strangely but complied with a nod. Harry could see rows of students inside and felt a little excited. This was going to be interesting, he thought.

He had purposely avoided on setting a time with Dumbledore and Fudge for coming to Hogwarts. He knew they would want to add their own pomp to his arrival and he was determined to avoid that. He was supposed to be trainee Auror and he was determined to act like one.

Suddenly the doors opened wide and at the far end of the Great Hall Professor Dumbledore was standing at the head of the teachers table with a very happy expression on his face.

"Students and guests of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said softly and yet his voice traveled to every corner of the hall. Within a few seconds the chatting voices faded away and everyone looked at the headmaster expectantly, wondering what this was about.

"I would like to welcome a young man to our beloved Hogwarts today. He is famous in our world and considered a role model by many. Please welcome Mr Harry James Potter."

On cue, Harry stepped in, suppressing the awestruck feeling that rose within him at the sight of the rooftop or rather the lack of it. He settled for an easy smile and let his eyes roam around the hall, catching the eyes of a few students around.

Loud delighted clapping broke out once everyone got past their shock and Harry repressed the urge to run.

Oh my god, he's actually real!

I thought he was a bedtime story our dads made up.

Can you see the scar?!

He's so handsome!

They say he's a prodigy.

Is going to participate in the tournament?

Harry ignored the burst of excited chatter and continued cheering and stopped in front of the raised platform where the professors of Hogwarts and the authorities of the visiting school sat.

His eyes twinkling brightly, Dumbledore stood up and raised his hands for quiet. Immediately the hall went silent and quietly Harry marveled at the presence the man held over his students.

Suddenly his power in Britain made a lot of sense to Harry. With students leaving the school every year, fully filled with deep respect for the headmaster, having a pull in every part of the Ministry was easy.

"Mr. Potter is here as a result of the prank pulled by unknown pranksters on the Goblet of fire."

Harry noticed most of the hall glance balefully at two ginger-heads who were mouthing something Harry thought was denial.

"Since that time, the Minister and a few more people felt it would be a good idea for Mr. Potter to experience life at Hogwarts." A low cheer filled the hall at that and the Hogwarts students looked proud. "Since Mr. Potter has already cleared his OWLs at an astoundingly young age, his participation in our home is as a Student Representative to the Ministry of Magic and I'm sure Mr. Potter would gladly say a few words to explain his role further."

Here we go.

"First of all I'm very glad to be here," Harry said. His voice was silently amplified by Dumbledore and his voice carried to all ears. "I have always heard great things about Hogwarts and I'm honored to finally get a chance to experience it. My role among you is to give you a deeper understanding of the Ministry of Magic and help you understand what the Ministry does for you and what you can do for the Ministry. Minister Fudge is of the opinion that it is far better to hear about politicians and bureaucrats from an unbiased voice in the same age group as you."

Harry paused and a quick glance around the hall told him everyone was hanging on to his every alphabet.

"Now I don't want to interrupt the meal any longer and I myself am quite famished."

Scattered laughter and warm applause greeted the end of his speech and Harry was making up his mind where to sit when Dumbledore interrupted with a polite cough.

Harry looked up curiously.

"There is the matter of the sorting of course," Dumbledore said lightly.

Harry frowned and then schooled his face into polite acceptance while inside he was grumbling. "Of course," Harry agreed with a smile. "What do I have to do?"

Fucking Dumbledore. I thought I had made it clear I wanted private chambers. Since I surprised him I can't even refuse to be sorted. Students might take that the wrong way and I can't afford that.

Expertly hiding his annoyance Harry watched Dumbledore conjure a stool and a hat beside him.

A strict faced aged woman came down from the table and picked the hat, giving Harry a fond smile. "Please take a seat Mr. Potter. I shall place this hat on you and you will be sorted."

The mass of students suddenly hushed and waited with baited breaths to watch the Boy Who Lived was sorted.

Slytherin Slytherin Slytherin.

Harry mentally prayed that he would go to Slytherin. It was the best place for him and surveillance would be easier. He knew about the apparent animosity between the rest of the school and the Slytherin's but he figured the dynamics would change if he joined Slytherin and almost all the pureblood kids would put their imaginary power behind him. All Harry wanted was their parents' power.

Slytherin Slytherin Slytherin.

But to his shock and to the delight of everyone else, the hat barely brushed against his hair before screaming, GRYFFINDOR!

The table to the extreme left exploded in thundering applause and Harry fought down his disbelief. He knew everything about the hat of course. He had done his research and he knew the hat usually had a conversation with the student it was sorting and definitely took personal preference into account. And yet in less than a second he was sorted to Gryffindor when he was praying for Slytherin.

He suppressed his anger and smiled at the screaming and jumping students of Gryffindor. The strict professor, looking suspiciously delighted at his sorting, pointed unnecessarily at the mad children he was supposed to join. He was eagerly placed between another ginger-head and a pretty blonde.

Resolving to have a conversation with the Sorting Hat when he was inevitably called to the headmasters office, Harry turned to his now fellow housemates and started to exchange names and niceties.

"Tomorrow we shall explain Mr. Potter's purpose here in much more detail but for now welcome him and prepare yourself for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

"Ronald Weasley," the ginger beside him said enthusiastically.

"Lavender Brown."

"Cromag Macgallen."

"Romilda Vane!"

"Nice to meet you all," Harry laughed. "I'm Harry, as you all clearly are aware," he said dryly.

"Welcome to Gryffindor, your royal Aurorship," chimed in the twins together.

Harry grinned and began to fill his plate with potatoes and quail. His appetite was suddenly making itself known quite painfully.

"What's Auror training like?" blurted out Ron and then his ears turned pink with embarrassment.

Harry swallowed the delicious meat and looked up to answer him. "Very hard."

"Did you really give your OWLs when you were twelve? I'm in OWL year and let me tell you it's no piece of cake!" Said another blonde witch named Katie Bell.

"With the right teachers and application of knowledge it's all quite simple."

"We have awesome teachers too," Katie protested, feeling the need to defend their apparent struggles with what Harry Potter was calling easy and almost everyone agreed with her.

"The strict witch with the hair in a bun is Professor McGonagall," Ron said quickly. "She had a gazillion masteries in Transfiguration and she’s considered the topmost expert on the field."

Harry fixed an expression of awe and gazed up at the teacher just like they wanted him to. He already knew the entire staff inside out. He had spent a month preparing after all. He knew the names of all the students in every house and he knew who all the foreigners were including their family status in their native countries.

Harry let them continue their praises about all their teachers and he listened intently when they mentioned Snape. Not Professor or Teacher but they called him Snape, the slimy git and that was enough to make Harry interested in him, more so than before. He was featured in his list of top five suspects after all.

"Snape is a potions genius with a distinct lack of humanity," Ron said, his voice full of contempt for the potions master. "He hates all the Gyffindors and is disgustingly biased towards the Slytherins," he spat.

Harry just hummed. "I'll introduce myself to them tomorrow," he mused and then blinked in surprise as the whole table went still before they all vehemently started explaining to him why exactly he shouldn't come within ten feet of those slimy, no good, dark sons of bitches who creeped about in the dungeons of the castle doing immoral and nasty things.

"I'll think about it," Harry amended, grinning. Clearly the kids took their house rivalries very seriously. He had read all about the eternal grief shared between the Gryffindors and Slytherins and made a note to find out the Slytherin opinion of Gryffindor. He was sure that would be entertaining as well.

Some people disapproved of the disputes; as Harry had read in books detailing the interesting in-house and inter-house relationships; the house system created in the school but Harry wholeheartedly agreed with the system. Many schools had competitive systems which bred ambition and character in the students. It was ideal for a boarding school where children were taught to stand on their own feet and take responsibility. He had read about how the students took things a little too far sometimes but Harry had seen enough of the Ministry and other businesses to know most childhood rivalries never extended beyond the perimeter of school unless there were some serious conflict in personalities. What did last was the lessons you learnt there.

Harry found a few who didn't rise above petty rivalries and jealousies and now his standing in the social world was stagnated at the bottom of the lake. Arthur Weasley was a prime example and judging from the state of the Gingers robes, it had done nothing good for him.

"Then there's Professor Bixlow," continued another Ginger but it was a girl this time.

"Defense against the Dark Arts right?" Harry asked.

"He's awesome," gushed some of the girls and the guys nodded vigorously. "Most of our lessons are hands on and he..." Ron, who took over commentary, lowered his voice dramatically. "He uses the Dark Arts on the NEWT students to improve their defense against them."

"Cool," Harry acknowledged.

"I'm too scared to take the Defence NEWT," giggled the blonde beside him. Lavender Brown, he recalled.

"It's not that hard once you know the basics," Harry said, slicing some sausages. "Spells are classified into a few types and every type has a common wrist moment. If you identify the wrist moments, you can defend faster than they can attack."

"You have to join the Duelling club!" An Indian girl exclaimed. Harry's memory brought forth the file on Parvati Patil. She had a twin, Padma and their father was vaguely related to the Rishi. Better keep them close too.

"I hope I stay here long enough for that," Harry said diplomatically.

"Right," grinned Ron. "However, back on track, the last and final.

"Battiest and hysterical," said the twins in ominous voices.

"Professor Sybil Trelawney," finished Ron. "Resident seer and Prophet of death and destruction."

This time Harry didn't laugh but looked at the odd woman with deep curiosity and fascination. This was the woman who made a real prophecy about him. His interest in her was quite justified.

"Every year she prophesied the death of one student."

"Has anyone died?" Harry asked curiously.

"They're still alive but when they do die you can bet Trelawney will be pointing fingers and preening her feathers," joked Katie.

An odd shiver ran down his back and he felt the slightest flicker of magic near him and that rang alarm bells in Harry's mind. He smoothly, without raising suspicion, put his hand into his robes to grasp his wand. Something or someone was watching him. Was it the person responsible for his name coming out of the goblet?

He let the voices around him carry on, nodding mechanically when they expected a response while his eyes darted around trying to catch a sign of a watcher. There! He spotted something grainy and near invisible and he twisted his wand inside his robe. It was a listening charm and an outline of an ear hung above Harry. He quickly realized it was a short length spell and the caster was probably very close to him.

His eyes began sweeping along the length of the table and spotted an oddity a little further down the bench from him.

A girl, with boyish short brown hair, sat alone, not looking or talking to anyone around her. She had a sharp nose and thin face that was tight with indifference and maybe arrogance. She sat with her back straight and legs crossed while picking at her food with impeccable table skills.

Classy, was the first word that came to Harry when he saw her. He also saw the wand in her hand subtly hidden under the table but not good enough to escape his eye. The second word that came to him was suspect and then with a tight flick of his wand within his robes, he dispelled the charm and kept his eyes on the girl.

Her only visible reaction was a slight widening of eyes and a jerk of her hand. She then quickly put her wand back inside and looked towards Harry and caught his eye for an instant.

Harry smiled at her, schooling his expression into mild curiosity but the girl turned away with disinterest and went back to poking her beef.

So this is Hermione Granger.

For the sake of appearances Harry motioned Ron towards the boyish girl. "Oh, that's Hermione Granger," he said, his ears turning pink.

"She looks quite alone," Harry commented and to his amusement all the Gryffindors around him shuffled their feet and looked anywhere but him guiltily.

"Ah yes," Ron said nervously. "I mean..."

"Hasn't she got any friends?" Harry asked, interrupting the stuttering. He knew very well why Hermione Granger was alone in Hogwarts. Her file had ended up in the interesting pile.

"There were some incidents," Ginny Weasley said carefully, coming to her brother's rescue. "She was picked on and there were a couple of fights. She nearly got expelled but it was all smoothened over. Suffice to say she doesn't talk much nowadays."

Cowards, Harry thought with a mental sigh. Hermione Granger had been friendless and teased for her over the top studious approach to academics. She was bossy and a general know it all and her peers couldn't stand it. And when it got out that a muggle born witch was shunned by her own house, every prospective bully took it upon them to tease and humiliate her.

It was all very manageable. Hermione ignored them and no one got hurt until one day the Slytherin's had taken things too far and struck her. Hermione had instinctively struck back and then things got sore. In her third year she was attacked in the corridor after an aggravating potions lesson. She had fought back but in the end she was beaten badly. The culprits were suspended for a week and the school thought the matter over but no one realized that thirteen year old Hermione was far from considering the matter over. Her blood burned with the sting of injustice and her heart thirsted for revenge.

"What happened?" Harry asked interestedly.

"We don't know," Ginny confessed. "All we know is that Hermione confronted them one by one and sent them all to the hospital wing."

Harry knew exactly what she had done. She had stunned them and bound them in a classroom then stripped them and welted their naked arses with a leather belt until the welts were harsh, red and swollen. They were discovered the following morning by horrified fourth years sobbing, bound and naked. Eventually they all pointed fingers at Hermione, demanded she be expelled and their parents even tried to file a lawsuit against her. But there was never any proof to be found and veritaserum could not be given to a minor. Hermione was left alone and she learnt the value of fear and power.

The students were traumatized but what Harry found fascinating was that this girl had done the deed five times. The same routine with the same amount of anger and rage if the descriptions of the bruises was anything to go by. To do something like this five times required a new level of thirst for vengeance and Harry was looking forward to meeting this girl and finding out why exactly she was spying on him.

"All we know is that the Slytherin's never so much as glanced at her out of fear and she herself changed dramatically. She went from a miserable bushy haired bookworm to cold, indifferent and downright scary. She cropped her hair short and boyish and even her submissive style of walking became threatening and defensive. Her know it all attitude became even worse and anyone who dares to tease her find themselves staring down the glowing end of her wand. She's closed up behind this armor and treats everyone with contempt."

Harry looked at Ginny as she ranted and she blushed under his gaze.

"We've discussed this quite often. It's been stressful at times," she said embarrassed. "We've even tried to earn her forgiveness but it's like talking to a broken wand."

Harry smiled reassuringly, putting rest to her fears of having offended him. He turned once more to look at the stoic girl and couldn't help but disapprove of her choice. She had turned towards the cold indifferent and be a recluse attitude as a defense mechanism. It wasn't a combination Harry would advise but he supposed it was her choice.

"Don't forget the name," chirped Dean Thomas.

"What name?"

"Ruthless Granger," chimed nearly ten students together and they quickly glanced at Hermione, fearing that she would have overheard and murder them in their sleep.

But Granger ignored them and relieved sighs were exchanged around him. "So what else do I need to know around here," he said finally changing the topic and they eagerly began to talk about their favorite time pass: Quidditch.

Harry fixed an eager look on his face and mentally sighed. This was going to be a tiresome mission.

-x-x-x-x-