A/N: Pretty much what the title says.

Disclaimer: Just a plot bunny that decided to burrow in my mind. Now it has a solid place to stay! Don't own Harry Potter.

It all started with the Triwizard Tournament. I know what you are thinking. Not that one; where I- a shy, innocent adolescent wizard took part in. Not one where everyone ganged up on me one moment and loved me to bits the other. No, I'm certainly not talking about that, right now.

Hermione Granger, in her infinite wisdom and anal retentiveness declared, that the Triwizard Tournament should once again be revived with appropriate adjustments be made to 'ensure that none of the accidents happen like before.'

God, I can still hear her snooty voice. I honestly tried. Honestly! I tried to tell them that not to do it. When they didn't listen, I begged them not place 'Goblet of Fire' as an impartial judge.

God, I can still hear her annoying voice. 'Proper traditions must be followed'. Had been her reply. Anal retentive bitch!

And so, I watched with bitter amusement the proceedings to the first task, the second and the third. Death swooped in like predator. Indiscriminate in her choosing and killing all three participants. I wanted to be all smug to go about telling them. I told you so! But I couldn't bring myself to do that.

I knew Goblet of Fire like no one else. Fifty years. That's the time I had dedicated studying enchantments and curses and other things like binding magical oaths and such. The things that purebloods took for granted and no one ever bothered to tell first generation witches and wizards.

That was what they were calling muggleborns now.

Lot of things had changed over the course of seventy years. Pureblood faction had mellowed out when their kids couldn't produce a single heir. Funny how that changes things. Funnier was riling them up and getting them to confess that they were wrong about the whole thing. I could see their constipated faces in their wedding photographs. Made me laugh everytime.

But it was done.

Hermione had taken her studies with renewed vigor and had masteries in three subjects. Three! Personally, the Potions one was just to mock me. The whole Voldemort dying thing and discovering things that I never wanted to discover about Potion Master Severus Snape.

Hermione had acted all smug and rubbed it in my face how narrow vision I had in my entire life.

OF COURSE I HAD NARROW VISION! I HAD A MURDEROUS DARK WIZARD TRYING TO KILL ME! I had replied back and stormed to Gryffindor room and that's where I found the three things I clearly remember throwing them away.

The broken wand was no longer broken, nor the ring. I clearly remember putting cloak inside my trunk.

A year passed and I came to know my friends in much, much detail. They had cashed in on their fame and fortune. Ron, twisting and turning stories, much like he did in the third year. By his account, I wouldn't be alive if he hadn't saved me in the frozen lake. It was true but the way he told it, I was all but an insignificant thing who only delivered the last blow to Voldemort while he did the rest.

Perhaps it was better, now that Ron had found fame and boat load of girls giggling about around his arms. I thought at first. But then, they just left me behind. Like I was a thing they didn't need it anymore. The other thing I found in a year's time was that the potions had stopped affecting me entirely. I discovered that when I found Ginny bemoaning to Molly Weasley about 'How it wasn't working!'

Call me slow. But that's when I really started questioning my friends. When I discovered their entire plot, I got down on my knees and thanked, 'the powers that be' that I wasn't a puppet obeying Ginny's every command.

And that's when I discovered that I was the Master of Death. I had imagined, expected someone. Man, women, someone. Instead, a powerful wave filled my senses.

Strong ancient and unyielding.

Five years passed. I already regretted coming clean about why potions didn't work on me. Hermione and I had a huge row. I had to be all smug and snarky to her. I wanted to rub it in her face, you see! The answer to the question she was quietly researching for past three years. My Magic. And I told her so. My magic was so deathly, that it destroyed anything and everything foreign. The only way for them to work was to include a part of my blood in potion making.

Don't ask me how that works. But apparently it just does! Spells, potions and even wards broke if I really wanted to. She accused me of going dark and using Blood Magic. It escalated further from there. Things were said that weren't meant to be spoken out.

Ten years passed. Hermione Granger had become Headmistress. Ronald Weasley had become the Head of Auror Corps and Ginny Weasley had become the star seeker for Holyhead Harpies. Naturally, all three were against me and created all sorts of problems which I didn't expect.

Patience was a virtue I had long learnt when dealing with them. I didn't do anything against them but didn't give an inch of satisfaction to them either. At the end of it, I viewed all of this as a childish squabble and I decided it was time for Harry Potter to die. Purebloods wanted it, my friends wanted it and even I had begun wishing it so.

Last I heard was some law purebloods were trying to pass to acquire the gold in my vaults.

In came Harrison Evans. Funny how a name change would let the world see you in completely different light. Funnier was Hermione Granger requesting my 'expertise' in many of enchanted items in Hogwarts.

Which brings me to the Triwizard Tournament and the Goblet of Fire. I tried to tell them. I really did. That things was filled with so many enchantments and wild magic that it was an entity on its own. She was a basic bitch on most days and downright nasty near Halloween. When students died, people wanted a scapegoat.

Any guesses?

I haven't really understood what drives the herd mentality but fuck it! After seventy years, I snapped and decided to fuck with the whole of Wizarding World. And that's when I had a nasty idea. The kind which made me cackle with unholy glee. If I could go back in time, to the original tournament, what would I do instead?

Harry closed his journal and looked at out of window. The train began to slow down. He could see Hogsmeade village around and he let a feral smile plaster on his face. This was going to be so much fun!

'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire!' He thought as he made up an proper title, thinking about what heading he should give to this page entry.

'No.' He shook his head and another came into the mind. 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Darkness!'

'Good enough.' His mind nudged back but he really wasn't feeling it. 'Dark Wizard Tournament- The Goblet of Darkness!'

"Yes!" Harry shouted out, and cackled once more and thought about his past seventy years. Or was it the future of past seventy years? Or past of future seventy years...

It didn't matter which way one would look at it because he was about to fuck it all up!

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