Chapter Text
Harry Potter stood in the void resembling Kings Cross station with his former headmaster. Moments before he was staring down a killing curse from Voldemort, and now was trying to grapple with the possibility that he was dead, yet at the same time not dead.
“I’ve got to go back, haven’t I?” Harry asked.
“That is up to you,” Dumbledore replied.
“I’ve got a choice?”
“Oh yes.” Dumbledore smiled at him. “We are in King’s Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to… let’s say… board a train.”
“And where would it take me?”
“On,” said Dumbledore simply.
“If I did go back,” Harry began after a long moment of silence, “what if... do I get a choice of when I go back to?”
Dumbledore scrunched his face in concentration. Such a thought had obviously never occurred to him, but considering the circumstances. “Maybe. If not back to the forest, where and when would you go? A specific date?”
Harry had been thinking since he was alone in the tent with Hermione about when his life took him on the path that led here. “My fourth year,” he said confidently. “The Halloween feast when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire. I know that’s our best chance to stop Voldemort before he causes all this damage.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore said, nodding. “I admit I have no idea what will happen.”
“I don’t either. Neither of us has been dead before.”
Dumbledore let out a laugh, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as well. The idea was absurd. He didn’t have a time turner, and how would everyone react if a second, older version of himself just walked into the Great Hall as his name was coming out of the Goblet of Fire?
“Good luck, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Remember your Occlumency when you get back. No one can know the truth about you, not even me.”
“How will I tell you about the horcruxes?” asked Harry, suddenly feeling very dizzy.
“What are you talking about?” he heard a voice ask.
***
Harry turned his head and saw Ron Weasley looking at him from across the table in the Great Hall. He had set his utensils down on his partially finished dinner and was examining his friend.
Harry immediately noticed this was not the Ron Weasley that had been fighting alongside him and Hermione the last 24 hours during the Battle of Hogwarts. This was a younger, more immature Ron.
“Sorry, was lost in thought,” Harry replied, hoping to not have to answer more questions. Harry surreptitiously turned over a spoon on the table so he could see himself in the reflection. Sure enough Harry looked as he did before the Triwizard Tournament, like a 14-year-old.
“That was a bloody good feast,” Ron commented. “The house elves outdid themselves tonight. I want to keep going, but I don’t want to miss the ceremony because I had to run to the loo.”
Harry drew his eyes away from Ron and took in the Great Hall. The battle scars he had seen hours before he traveled back naturally weren’t there. The house tables were crammed with students from the three schools participating in the Triwizard Tournament, and his eyes scanned over all the classmates who to him had died hours ago. They were all alive, and each face reminded Harry of two parts of his mission: stop Voldemort’s return and save as many people as he can.
“Who do you think the goblet will pick?” Ron asked after a sip of his pumpkin juice.
Harry knew the answer, but wanted to try and get ahead of the fight they’d had the last time around. “Dunno, maybe a Hufflepuff,” he said. “I want a normal year of school. Merlin knows I’ve earned it.”
“I’m hoping for a Gryffindor, obviously,” Ron added. “Knowing your luck on Halloween, you’ll get picked as a fourth champion or some bullshit like that.”
“Don’t joke like that,” scorned Harry. He wondered if Ron was part seer, but pushed the thought away for the moment as Dumbledore got to his feet with Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. ‘Here we go again,’ Harry thought. ‘Really need to sell this.’
Harry watched with the rest of the Great Hall as events unfolded as they had the first time through. Viktor Krum was selected for Durmstrang, Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons, and Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts. Harry ignored Ron’s outcry at Cedric’s name being announced, and Harry made sure to congratulate Cedric as he passed on his way to the chamber behind the teachers’ table.
Harry sat down and put a hand on his goblet, readying himself for what was about to come.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real --"
But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
The fire in the goblet had just turned red again, sparks flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out "Harry Potter."
Harry made a show of raising the goblet over his head and shouting “Oh come on!” as he threw it to the ground. Since the hall had gone silent with his name being read, the goblet’s clattering echoed through the hall.
While Professor McGonagall went to whisper to Dumbledore, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. “Why did you put it out in the universe, Ron?” Harry spat, making sure to keep his voice from carrying. “Are you sure you aren’t part seer or something?”
Both of them stared back at him blankly. At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.
"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.
Harry took the long walk to the head table and stopped squarely in front of Dumbledore. “I didn’t put my name in,” he declared for the hall to hear. “There better be an investigation into this!”
“We’ll sort this out,” the headmaster assured. “For now, head on through the door.”
Harry sighed and trudged along the teachers’ table toward the antechamber. ‘Hopefully most of the people bought it.’
***
The meeting with the champions, teachers, and ministry officials went as it did previously. Harry had to bite his tongue and not tell Professor Snape to shove his opinions and greasy head up his own ass. He opted to sit a short distance away from the other champions while the adults talked. Viktor and Fleur shot glares at him while the professors spoke, but Cedric could sense Harry’s discomfort with the situation.
“Professor Moody” was presenting his “fourth school” theory, which Harry knew to be what he really did, when Cedric sidled over to him.
“Did you put your name in?” asked Cedric softly.
“Obviously not,” replied Harry. “Professor Moody is onto something. I don’t even know how to do the confundus charm.”
“You shouldn’t,” Cedric confirmed. “Unless you’re really ahead in Charms. Professor Flitwick taught it to me as part of my O.W.L. year.”
Harry noticed the discussion had started to quiet. He motioned for Cedric to pay attention to what was about to happen.
Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch stepped forward and walked them through the first task, which would be held toward the end of November. The students were dismissed, allowing Harry and Cedric to make their way through the dimmed Great Hall.
“I wanted one normal year of school,” Harry admitted. “I could watch this tournament, work on classes, and just be a kid for a while.”
“You seem to be a magnet for trouble,” Cedric observed.
“Everyone is going to think I cheated to get into the tournament. You are the official Hogwarts champion, and I’ll shout it in the Great Hall tomorrow if you want me to.”
“I don’t think it’s gonna be that bad,” replied Cedric with a smile. “But I won’t stop you.”
Harry let out a laugh, the first moment of levity since his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. “As soon as you walk in tomorrow.”
Harry and Cedric bid each other good night, and Harry watched Cedric disappear into a door to the right of the marble staircase. As he made the trek up to the Gryffindor Common Room, he started making a list of his objectives now that he had years of extra knowledge.
‘Stop Voldemort from coming back, keep Cedric from dying in the graveyard, out Barty Crouch Jr., tell Hermione how I feel about her, destroy the other horcruxes, stop Umbridge as soon as possible.’
Harry was still considering items for his ever-growing list when he reached the Fat Lady. He braced himself for the coming wall of sound as the door swung open, and allowed the pairs of hands to drag him into the Common Room.
"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.
"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.
"I didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how -"
But Angelina had now swooped down upon him; "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor-"
"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.
"We've got food, Harry, come and have some-"
Harry drew his wand, put it to his through and muttered “Sonorus” like he saw Minister Fudge do at the Quidditch World Cup.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Harry’s magically enhanced voice boomed over the partiers. The crowd quickly stopped talking and turned to face him. “I did not put my name into the Goblet of Fire! Professors Dumbledore and Moody think someone confunded the Goblet and put my name in under a fourth school. Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts champion. I wanted a normal year and a seventh-year Gryffindor like Angelina to represent the school. I appreciate this party, but I really want to try and have a normal year of school. I think I’ve earned it with how much I’ve gone through the last three years.”
Harry ended the spell and put his wand away. The mood of the assembled students had been dampened by his declaration, but Harry still grabbed a butterbeer that Lee Jordan had offered him.
“Lavender, has anyone seen Ron and Hermione?” he asked after a long draw from the bottle.
“I think they both went up to bed,” Lavender Brown replied. “You need me to get Hermione for you?”
Harry shook his head. “I’ll talk to her in the morning. Thanks though.”
After finishing the bottle of butterbeer and politely declining the other food and drink offered to him, Harry excused himself from the party and made his way up to his dorm. Just like before Harry found Ron lying on his bed, but unlike last time Ron was in his pajamas.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier, are you sure you’re not a seer?” Harry asked in greeting.
“What does that mean?” Ron snapped back.
“You said I’d probably get picked as a fourth champion, and it happened,” explained Harry. “How many times have you mentioned stuff off-hand that actually comes to pass?”
Ron’s expression softened as he thought about odd predictions. “Holy crap, I might be a seer. Think I should tell Trelawney?”
“I wouldn’t,” Harry said. “She’d probably get jealous of you.”
Ron sat up in bed. “I heard what you said down in the common room. Half the school might’ve heard, honestly. Professor Moody might be onto something.”
“He’s right,” Harry confessed. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I’ll check with Hermione in the morning. She probably has a few more theories about how my name got in there. You believe me though, right?”
Ron looked at Harry, but didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know,” he finally said softly.
Harry’s rift with Ron in their fourth year drove him closer to Hermione, but stopping it before it formed was a minor goal Harry had. “Why don’t you help me prep for the tournament?” Harry offered. “Someone gotta be trying to do me in, and you won’t be in the line of fire like last year with Sirius damn near ripping your leg off.”
Ron subconsciously rubbed the leg Harry’s godfather had grabbed in his attempt to get Peter Pettigrew. “I’m not studying more than I have to.”
“I won’t ask you to,” Harry conceded, “but I know I’ll need strategies to survive the tournament. And I don’t know a better strategist in the castle.”
Ron managed to smile at Harry’s praise. “Let’s talk more tomorrow,” he said as the smile turned into a large yawn.
Ron pulled the curtains of his bed closed while Harry began to get ready for bed. The rift was still going to form, Harry knew, since both of them had developed feelings for the third member of their trio the first time through. He didn't know when Ron had started to notice Hermione, but Harry had known since the Quidditch World Cup that he wanted to be more than friends with her. Harry considered his options and began to formulate that part of his plan. By the time he climbed into his bed, he had a few ideas of who could woo Ron while he pursued Hermione.