Note (1): This story will be based on actions of my characters in Free Play or otherwise inspired by the characters in my 'party' in a particular scene. There is no guarantee that I will finish this story, but I will put a list on my profile of stories I've given up on, if anyone else would like to adopt them.

Idea: 4th Year - The Third Task - 'Harry' turns out to be Flitwick.

Pairings: None

Note (2): Not good Dumbledore but not evil Dumbledore for this story either. Just manipulative.

Word Count: 680

"Mr. Potter?" Filius Flitwick asked. He was the Charms Teacher at Hogwarts. Harry didn't answer, so Flitwick assumed he was asleep. Flitwick leaned over to shake him awake by his shoulder, but stopped cold.

Harry Potter's eyes were open and had an empty dead look to them. For a moment, Flitwick thought he actually was dead, but then the green eyes focused on him.

"Professor."

"Mr. Potter, are you alright?" Harry snorted.

"I'm on yet another dangerous adventure, and no one seems to care that I didn't put my name in the cup, meaning that someone else did, most likely to try and kill me. And I've got that feeling again. So, no, Professor Flitwick, I am most definitely not alright."

"I see. I apologize for asking such a senseless question," Flitwick said, sitting down next to Harry. It was only then that Flitwick realized Harry wasn't that much taller than himself. He had always seemed short compared to Mr. Weasley, but then, only Hagrid wasn't short when compared to the hot-tempered red-head. "Tell me, what feeling do you mean?"

"The same one I got around Quirrell, before and during our attempted rescue of the stone. The one I got around Lockhart just before he tried to obliviate me and Ron. The one I got around Scabbers before we knew he was an animagus, and the one I got just before he escaped. Something bad is coming Professor. And I don't think I'm going to make it out alive this time."

"Your mother got the same feeling sometimes."

"She did?"

"Yes. And she was never wrong," Flitwick stood up. "Come with me Mr. Potter. I will ensure you live through this tournament, if I have to take your place to do it!"

Flitwick led Harry up to his office, then to a much more comfortable room behind it.

"Do you know how to use floo powder, Harry?"

"Yes."

"Ah, good. You're mother didn't learn to use it until she was sixteen. Anyway, here we are." Flitwick took a handful of powder, before offering the floo pot to Harry. Harry took his own handful, and Flitwick put it back on the mantle. "Now, we're going to Gringotts, but the floo address is Grueck Parzna Grinbo Kyargott. Did you get that?" Harry tried to repeat it. Flitwick corrected him a few times before he got it right.

"Good. It's in Gobbledegook, the goblin tongue. It means The Great Bank of the Honorable Grin of Clan Gott. I'll go first. Wait thirty seconds, then follow me, alright?" Harry nodded. "Good." Flitwick threw the powder into the fire, stepped in, and cried out the address.

Harry flew out of the fireplace, and landed in a heap in front of Professor Flitwick.

"Oh dear. I thought you said you knew how to floo," Flitwick said, helping him up. "You have to start walking while you're in transport." Harry dusted himself off, and then followed Flitwick down a hallway.

"It would have been nice if someone told me that before. I've been falling out of fireplaces since before second year."

"You didn't get the travel guide with your information pack then. Not surprising, most muggleborn don't bother getting it till later anyway."

"What information pack?" Flitwick stumbled a little, but continued on.

"You didn't get the information pack? The one every muggle -born and -raised student is supposed to get? An extra list should have come with your supply list, with several books holding information to those new to the Wizarding World listed on it."

"I didn't get one."

"Well, we'll stop by Flourish and Blotts to get the books later, then." Flitwick continued leading Harry through the twists and turns, mumbling under his breath in another language. Harry assumed it was Gobbledegook, as it sounded similar to the bank's floo address. They stopped in front of a door with a sign on it. The sign had strange looking runes on it.

"Parzna Sirole," Flitwick read, finger following the runes as he did. He then did it again, but this time in English. "Bank Archive. In we go."