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Chapter 1

A Change of Direction

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~~~ The Headache of Divination ~~~

"It might be supposed," declared Professor Trelawney in her soft, misty voice late in the September of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, "that the meaning of each card is quite fixed and not open to other, more subtle interpretations..."

Lavender Brown's mouth opened in a big round 'O' but no sound came out.

Harry, too, suppressed his instincts, swallowing a low moan as he rolled his eyes in Ron's direction. He was certainly feeling drowsy from the dense fragrance that hung like a cloud in the Divinations classroom but that was not the main cause of his discomfort. A headache was threatening and he was bitterly regretting ever opting for the subject of foretelling the future. He had already sneaked a look at his top card and had, for once, been hopeful that the teacher could find nothing ominous in it.

"Swaps?" Ron hissed softly to Harry, "I got Sun, Moon, and Stars which can't be good all together in the daytime surely? What you got?"

"Some bloke with a bent leg," whispered Harry, sliding it over in return for one of Ron's.

"Miss Patil, my dear, if you would, please?" intoned Trelawney supplementing her speech with a dramatic flourish of her arms.

Almost trembling, Parvati turned over her first card. "It's... the Hierophant!"

Ron tried – but failed – to suppress a snigger. It came out like a snick. Trelawney rounded on him, her eyes, mantis-magnified by the thick lenses of her spectacles, blinked as slowly as an owl in the gloomy crimson haze.

"Mr Weasley, if you would offer your insights?"

"Erm... might it be a sort of elephant only... uh... higher?"

A long sigh of disappointment came from between the professor's lips. The breath went on and on, and Harry wondered idly if she had truly expired standing up. Hopefully, he thought, with a gleeful malevolence. However, there was enough air remaining for her to faintly expend a last extended gasp with, "Your first card, Mr Weasley?"

Ron turned over the one which Harry had slipped to him.

"Uuh... it's just some poncey git with his leg cocked over.."

"Fool, Mr Weasley! You've played the Fool card! What of your other two? Relationship is everything in the Tarot, as I'm sure you already know."

"Mmm... the Sun and... let's see... the Stars," he replied, acting as if he didn't already know.

"Well, I think then you might expect a foolish, heated exchange before nightfall, don't you?"

Harry felt the teacher's beady eyes fall upon himself and he winced. Next to Potions, Double-Divination was his second worst nightmare and the migraine was worsening. His scar was beginning to prickle with pain and he rubbed at it ferociously. Another hour of this and he'd explode.

"Mr Potter? Could you...?"

He snapped over his card which he knew was the Moon card but he hadn't seen the other two yet.

Professor Trelawney shrieked then sank (carefully) onto a nearby pouffe, hand clutched theatrically at her throat, and with eyes (almost) closed.

"My dear boy – my poor dear boy – no – it is kinder not to say – no – don't ask me..."

I won't, groaned Harry to himself. He looked at the man-in-the-moon face crudely drawn on the ancient card. "Umm... I'll be going on a journey beyond this world where I shall need to escape a raving bug-eyed creature before I can get back?" He stared with some significance at Trelawney's copious eyeballs.

"I'm afraid you will not be returning, Mr Potter." Sybil Trelawney was now fanning herself with the loose end of her knitted shawl; watery eyes rolled up to the ceiling shrouded in the coloured mist.

There was a brief silence during which everyone was staring at Harry, transfixed.

"Brilliant!" Harry cried, and clambered up noisily onto his feet. "I'd better get my spacesuit on right away then, hadn't I?" He stomped off towards the trapdoor then whirled around. "You know what? Hermione was right – you're a total fraud! I quit!"

He looked over at Ron. "Coming?"

Ron mouthed back silently, "Can't – Mum – would – kill – me."

They exchanged several hot glares and mouthed curses.

"Fine!"

As Harry descended the ladder he slipped down three rungs and banged his arm which didn't help his temper one bit.

From above, he could hear Trelawney's voice, "Was it something I said?"

Then the trapdoor slammed shut and he was alone, slowly being coated in what appeared to be powdery tea dust drifting down from overhead.

.

~~~ The Patience of McGonagall ~~~

Harry banged the brass lion doorknocker on Professor McGonagall's office door so hard that its growling complaints were still echoing down the hallways as the Deputy Headmistress burst out with a very concerned look on her face indeed.

"MISTER Potter! What is all this racket? Why are you not at your lessons?"

"Sorry, Professor," replied Harry rather meekly. "I didn't know my own strength." The doorknocker rolled its eyes and folded its forepaws in stern disbelief.

McGonagall frowned. "You'd best have a good reason for disturbing my morning. Come in at once."

Harry followed the professor and accepted the seat in front of her desk.

"Well, Potter? What is it?"

"I, erm... quit... that is, I wish to mmm... request a change from stupid fortunetelling to uuh..." – his eyes fell upon a ruffled red ink quill that was tussling a showy black plume as it attempted to mark a column of percentages on a heap of Transfiguration homework – "to... yes, to Numerancy – I mean, Arithmancy." He nodded, rather too enthusiastically in McGonagall's opinion.

The Professor's mouth was set in a firm line; Harry knew that was not a good sign.

"Do you even know what Arithmancy is, Potter?"

"Course I do!" huffed Harry, "It's numbers and er... adding and..." – he tailed off into a mumble as he watched the teacher's expression – "It's predicting the future as well, isn't it?"

"It is indeed – but a more respectable form in my opinion," she added. "However, changing elective subjects mid-term is not to be taken lightly; you will have a lot of catching up to achieve. I will give you this one opportunity but I do not expect students to flit from subject to subject on a frivolous whim. I want your word that you will study diligently and not waste Professor Vector's time."

"I will! I will!" cried Harry. "Hermione will help me catch up; it's only a few weeks after all. She did the same, no problem."

McGonagall stared at Harry as if she thought he had gone quite mad.

"Miss Granger did not switch electives – she was already taking Arithmancy. She merely gave up Divination so she could focus better on that subject. Furthermore, that was LAST year, Potter!"

She went over to a prodigious wallchart scroll that hurriedly unrolled sideways as she drew near. "Fortunately for you, Seventh Year Advanced Arithmancy is treated as a separate subject so you do not necessarily need to stay on an extra year for that."

The Professor's finger jabbed at the chart then glanced at her wristwatch before turning around to face Harry again. "The next Arithmancy class is about to begin. I suggest you hurry. I will inform Professor Vector."

Something tenuous and filmy, like a ghostly cat, sped from the end of McGonagall's wand and disappeared up through a corner of the ceiling.

"Thank you, Professor!"

Harry whirled around to leave but continued his spin to face the Deputy Headmistress once more. She had been anticipating it. "Class 7A," she said dryly, folding her arms in a resigned fashion.

Harry continued one more spin, almost without pause, "Erm..."

"Seventh floor, Potter, Next to Room 7B and 7C believe it or not – near to Gryffindor Tower. You do know where that is?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor!" cried Harry dizzily as he raced off, slamming the door behind him so hard that the doorknocker's eyes bulged.

.

~~~ Finding One's Place ~~~

When Harry arrived, the door to Class 7A was already closed and he could hear the class underway. He peeped in.

"Come in, Potter, find yourself a seat," called the pale-faced witch from the head of the class. Her long black hair swirled like a cast fishnet as she made a quick head gesture towards the rows of desks before her, then resumed her lecture.

"We shall move on now to the various groups of evaluation," she announced to the class.

Harry looked wildly around for Hermione then faltered. Before him was a sea of young faces, almost all looking his way – little third-year faces. Some eyes were wide with apprehension – even alarm – at seeing the Boy-who-lived in their midst, while a few others, mostly girls, smiled coyly at him and tilted their heads on one side to give him the best view of their profile.

"Erm..."

"What is it, Potter?" barked Vector. "We haven't got all day."

"Fourth year ... I'm a fourth year. Am I in the wrong class?"

"Potter, the Arithmancy course begins in third year. You..." – she poked a bony finger in his direction – "are a beginner. Now hurry along and sit down."

Harry took a few hesitant steps. One mousy-haired youngster was gesticulating excitedly at the empty seat on his other side; it was Colin Creevey. Harry groaned inwardly. No way could he face four years of continuous undiluted hero worship. But every position appeared taken; had he any choice?

He took a couple of paces slowly forward down the aisle. A big-boned, bloated girl (who reminded Harry of Vincent Crabbe apart from the shadowy suggestion of a moustache) plonked her voluminous bag down in the path ahead and smirked at him over her shoulder. Harry veered across to the leftmost aisle and spotted a couple more empty chairs, one next to a hairy student feathering her ear with a quill, and the other picking his nose – but at least they were of the few showing no interest whatsoever in his arrival. I'd rather be ignored than drooled over.

He dropped into the seat next to the ear-tickler and shrugged mournfully back at Creevey's disappointed expression as if somehow it couldn't be helped. He mouthed some invented words for the boy to puzzle over in support of his ploy and to ease his guilty feeling.

"That is the essential theme of the next few lessons but I'd now like you to study these pages in more detail for the next thirty minutes before we discuss them. You may confer quietly with your partner. Carry on."

Harry stared at the empty double desktop he shared with the queer quill girl as he realised he had no books. She continued to stare out of the window. At the same time he became conscious of an unpleasant odour from her direction; it reminded him of Hagrid's slurry pit in summer. Nose-picker two seats down suddenly seemed more attractive. A surge of stench intensity made him grimace and he struggled to hold down his breakfast. Now he knew why this seat had been empty. He looked up hopefully at Professor Vector who was quietly marking papers.

The teacher must have felt his eyes on her for she looked up. "Help Potter get up-to-date would you, Miss Lovegood?" Then the woman resumed scratching away with her quill.

Harry turned to the girl beside him but all he could see was the back of her long, straggly, streaky-blonde hair. She seemed to have something like beans clipped on her ears which dangled and swung as she very... very... slowly turned her head to stare dreamily at him through her forgotten quill. "Mmm...? Oh! ... I think you're Harry Potter."

"Yes, I know I am." Is she totally barking?

She lowered her feathery plume below her eyes like a Victorian lady's fan. "You're sitting next to me."

He struggled to be pleasant but the eye-watering smell was choking him. "Uuh... yeah."

Harry tried a polite smile but he knew his jaw was set wide open like the toothy rictus of a TV presenter who had died of an over-prolonged grin. But at least he wasn't the only one looking odd. There were several bottle stoppers she had tied with string around her neck causing Harry to picture her as a mad brewery worker warding off spirits.

"Excuse me," he added in a low, frowning-kind-of-voice, "but, erm... what exactly is that?" He pointed at the cork necklet against her throat.

"My perfume? Oh, it's just something I found on the floor of the bog and scraped it up."

She cast a quietening charm around them both (for the privacy of which Harry was grateful) slid her open book halfway across between them, then startled Harry by lunging at it with two thumbs. "We're in this section between here and here, but I'm afraid it won't make any sense to you whatsoever."

"Out the bog?" squeaked Harry, faintly.

"Yes, the marsh near where I live. It's thousands of tiny flowers called exultantis – the carefree plant – oh! you thought I meant the toilet – that is SO funny!" She burst into giggles and although the sound felt belittling to Harry's self-esteem, for some reason the action released a more pleasing fragrance that was altogether airy and fresh and so light that he wanted to breath in huge gulps to get enough of it.

"Well... it's not... too bad now," mused Harry. "Pleasant actually."

"Yes, it changes to keep away unwanted creatures and attract only the right sort. It probably means you want to pollinate, I suppose. That's nice."

Harry spluttered, coughed, and his eyes screwed up tight with embarrassment. "I do NOT want to–!"

But the girl had exploded into additional giggles which made her even more aromatic and less irritating than before. As they subsided, she said, "I'm Luna." She had declared her name as one explaining a mystery.

After assessing him thoughtfully for a few moments, she continued, "I'll show you my note cards. They're easier than reading the book because I wrote them."

Harry watched as, from her bag, she retrieved a score of small blank cards, rapidly shuffled them, then handed seven of them to Harry. "That's the essentials. As you learn each one I'll test you."

"But they're..." His eyes opened wide. The cards were no longer blank. Instead, they were displaying numbered lines of colourful, decoratively-scripted handwriting depicting character types, strengths, and weaknesses. Here and there were interwoven little pictograms of people and trees and strange creatures with too many limbs. The top card had an explanation of how to work out the numbers from someone's name so he began with that, and answered Luna's questions as he proceeded. It seemed incredibly simple.

As he neared the last card he noticed many lines had faded away on the earlier cards.

"That means you've learnt those," explained Luna.

With much head-shaking, Harry disagreed, pointing at an especially large gap. "I've not got a clue what that line was. How am I supposed to revise?"

"You mean you can't recollect the wording of the line itself. But Professor Vector isn't going to ask you what was Line 2 on Miss Lovegood's fourth card, is she?"

"Well... yeah, I mean, no, but..."

"But if she asked you to predict – in your own words – just one or two of Miss Lovegood's positive characteristics, what would you say?"

"That's easy. You're a... let's see..." – Harry quickly added up some numbers in his head – "a definitive Five so... probably unpredictable, changeable, and adventurous – hard to pin down might be a better way of putting it."

Luna smiled.

Harry smiled.

She shuffled his cards. "Let's carry on with the ones that are still visible."

Fifteen minutes later, Harry's cards were all blank. "Keep them with you and examine them from time to time to see if lines reappear – then learn those again."

"How do the cards... I mean, how do they know what you've learnt?"

"It's a very powerful charm. My mother invented the spell to help me study. The creation of it took all her magic to produce. It killed her."

Harry's jaw dropped and the cards fell from his hands.

"I'm sss... I'm sss..."

"Sorry? Thank you. It was very sad to lose a parent – but you know that, don't you, Harry Potter?"

He scooped up the cards again and riffled through them, unable to concentrate, wondering how to change the subject. He could tell she was examining his face with great interest. A curious emotion made him bite his lip. "What about your other cards?" He signalled towards her bag.

"Not so important for now. I'll teach you those over the next week or so. You have enough to carry on with today's class." She pointed to the open book.

"Erm... Leu... Leu... uuh... Leuleuleu..."

"Luna."

"Yeah, all your cards were blank when you first shuffled them. How did you know which was which? I mean, which was Card 3?"

Luna giggled. "It was the third one down of course, silly!"

Harry wryly slapped his forehead, realising as he did so that his headache had gone and his scar was no longer tingling, and if his ladder-bruised elbow still ached, why then, he was completely unaware of it. Maybe Arithmancy wouldn't be so bad after all...

.

~~~ No Shame ~~~

"That's enough History homework," sighed Ron, throwing down his well-gnawed quill. "I'll finish it after dinner." He glanced across at the common room's clock and groaned. "Nearly another fifty minutes to go. How about a game of Exploding Snap before we eat?"

Harry laid aside his own papers and looked up, obviously thinking about it.

Hermione's eyes glared at them both but it was Ron who received her broadside. "That's not fair, Ronald, others are still trying to concentrate!"

"Yeah, like, erm, let's seeee..." – his head twisted around left and right without really looking – "ONE person that–"

But he was interrupted before he could finish – "Who's that weirdo chatting to the Fat lady?" Seamus had called as he came in through the portrait hole. He strode over to Dean who had his legs stretched out before the fireplace.

Hermione huffed, "Well, didn't it occur to you that he probably wants to speak to someone in Gryffindor! The least you could have done was–"

"It's a stupid Ravenclaw girl. YOU let her in if you want." Seamus dumped himself down on the arm of Dean's chair.

Hermione pulled a face then called out to the room in general, "Anyone expecting a friend?"

Only a couple of faces swivelled half-heartedly her way. Ron was getting out his chess set. Hermione went over towards the exit. Harry and Ron began coaxing their pieces into position.

From the door, Hermione called with a puzzled expression on her face. "Harry? Someone for you."

"Hello, Harry." It was Luna. "Are you ready?" She hobbled forward a few steps. Harry saw she was wearing only one shoe.

The youth stood up slowly, conscious of many eyes turning his way. Hermione was still lingering near the visitor. Somehow Harry's collar began to feel tight and hot. "Er... what for?"

"To help get you up-to-date, of course." Luna held her cards aloft.

Harry walked swiftly across to her, lowering his voice as he did so. "Now?" he hissed. "Vector meant just this morning's class, didn't she?"

"No, up-to-date means up-to-date. It will take a lot more sessions. Bit by bit, you see?"

Harry's eyes darted nervously at Hermione who was rooted wide-eyed by their side, then over his shoulder at Ron. Finally, he gestured ineffectively with his eyes for Hermione to give him some privacy. He became aware that his face was rather flushed. "But..."

Luna looked slightly crestfallen. "Oh... you're ashamed of me in front of friends in your common room, I can tell. That's alright, we can go to mine if you like or we can stand in a storeroom if you don't want to be seen at all."

Eyes flaring, Harry, averting his face from Hermione's scrutiny, said through gritted teeth, "Luna I'm not ashamed of being with you, it's just that–"

Hermione was wrinkling her nose. "Storeroom?" she smirked under her breath as she walked slowly by Harry and headed back to Ron.

"Don't worry, Harry, a lot of people think I'm a bit odd," said Luna, then she added hopefully, "You do still want to share with me in class though, don't you?"

Feeling smaller and smaller, Harry looked wildly around for an escape. "Here, let's sit at this corner table..."

She followed him, then, once seated, examined his expression closely. "Has my fragrance turned putrid again? It does that when–"

"No, it's fine. Look–"

Luna's face brightened. "Oh, good. It's horrible if someone smells isn't it?" She began shuffling her cards.

"Why'd you use that stuff anyway?"

"Oh, Daddy said it would help keep predators away and only attract those you can trust."

"Does it work?"

"Only a little. They borrow things – Predators, I mean. People can be very strange, don't you think? I mean, what would anyone want with a single shoe? It could be Professor Moody, I suppose, but that wouldn't fit. Did you know he showed us an Unforgivable last week? Why would anyone not want to be forgiven? It makes no sense."

"Bad people, Luna. There really are people who are just plain bad."

"Do you suppose Professor Mad-eye might be a wicked person, then? He might be, you know. I don't think he likes me."

Harry sighed. They were too far away to be heard but out of the corner of his eye he was aware of Ron corkscrewing his finger and grinning at him, while Hermione was sporting a more serious expression. In fact, though Harry was trying not to notice, it did seem that the whole roomful of Gryffindors was avidly watching him and his guest.

"Shall we begin?" she said. "I'll need to run upstairs for my dried seaweed before dinner so we don't have very long to work."

"Uuh... seaweed?"

"I crumple it over my turnips. I think they appreciate it. You should try it sometime."

"The elves will provide that for you if you ask them nicely," Harry said without thinking. He smoothed his palm over the table top, not looking at her.

"You're good to them, aren't you? I've seen you. I think you're a good person, Harry Potter."

Harry squirmed in his seat and managed a coughing fit before croaking, "Erm... thanks." Somehow, the fragrance had become even more refined, with moments of exquisite delight as he started breathing again. But over her shoulder he saw Hermione frowning.

.

~~~ The Voice Of Reason ~~~

With Luna's help over the next few weeks into October, Harry caught up with the rest of his Arithmancy class. The magical cards had made the task so much more efficient that he enjoyed the sessions – but Ron thought it was hilarious that he was enrolled in a third year class and he never missed a chance to taunt Harry about it. So much so that Harry was considering asking Hermione if she might now help him make up the whole third year course so he could move up to fourth year. Several days passed before he had a chance to speak to her alone.

"I suppose it might be possible over two years hard work," she mused, "then you could join me in the sixth year class."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, but then a light frown crossed his forehead and he rubbed his scar to cover up his expression with a hand.

"Harry, don't take this the wrong way but..."

"What?"

"She's... have you ever wondered why you...? No, of course not."

"What?" he said more earnestly.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I think she might be using... an enchantment."

"Who?"

"Er... you know..."

"No, I don't!" snapped Harry. "Look, if you've got something to say then say it plain."

"Being so snippy just proves you know! Luna Lovegood, of course! Who else could I mean! I think that foul stench she uses is... well it's exultantis; I looked it up. It's part of a group of beguiling plants. It might even be used in..." – she looked furtively around her before continuing in a whisper – "love potions."

Harry forced a dry laugh. "It's just a stinky bog plant that keeps away hostiles and attracts..."

"Yes?"

Pollinators. Harry would not speak the word aloud. "Harmless insects."

Hermione scrunched up her face in a very negative, disbelieving way, then she softened her expression. "I'm just saying – oh, Harry, please be careful! You have many enemies. Don't let her get you alone."

"Hermione!" laughed Harry, "No way could someone like Luna be working for Voldemort!" But in his head a small voice seemed to say, Could she?

.

~~~ Cake and Eat It Too ~~~

Strangely, by the end of the month there had been no opportunity for Hermione to teach Harry anything, for he always seemed to have something else to occupy him whenever she asked. She took to staring wistfully up the boys' dorm stairs occasionally, wondering who might be up there with Harry, or springing open storeroom doors as she passed them, much to the growing annoyance of whoever was walking with her.

Such was the mood when she and Ron walked down with the rest of the school to meet the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons who were arriving to participate in the Tri-wizard Tournament.

"Still looking for mice?" grumbled Ron, as he narrowly dodged a door that Hermione had swiftly peeked through.

"Just one," Hermione answered cryptically. Strange that Harry didn't come back from Potions with us.

She need not have worried, Harry was already ahead of them, having come with Neville via the library from the final class of the day.

"What you reckon, Ron?" greeted Harry. "Will they all be steaming in through the gates on the Hogwarts Express? Neville thinks they'll Portkey here."

"Dunno," said Ron. "Maybe Apparate? Here's your cloaks. I stuck your schoolbags by your beds. Did you get the book you wanted?"

Hermione gave Ron a funny look.

"Thanks, Ron, yeah," said Harry, pointing sideways as he shruggled into his cloak.

Neville held aloft a fat volume entitled, The Tri-wizard Tournament: Rules & Schools "It's dead good – loads of stuff about them. Wait till you see the head of Beauxbatons!"

"Studying up on the competition, eh, Harry?" called Fred.

"Always pays to keep one step ahead," quipped George.

Harry shook his head, grinning. "No way am I entering. Anyway, the book's not for me."

Hermione frowned. Who then? And where's Luna? And why couldn't she get it herself? And where would he give it to her? She looked wildly about but could not see the girl. She decided to check the storerooms again on the way back.

They did not have too long to wait. An enormous blue carriage pulled by great golden horses flew in with the Beauxbatons. So huge were the beasts that their mighty wings blew over one unfortunate student who stepped too close, and even the trees in the Forbidden Forest swayed until the spirited creatures finally settled down. Not long after, the Durmstrangs arose in a galleon from under the lake, spraying those Hogwartians on the front row with cold water.

Soon they were all headed into the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast. Hermione hustled ahead, dragging Ron with her, and quickly hogged the right hand bench so Harry and Neville had to sit opposite them with their backs to the Ravenclaw table. Luna wasn't visible anyway because her table was overcrowded with the extra Beauxbatons students.

By the time they had all podged themselves on roasts and hams and delicious desserts, Hermione noticed that Neville had pushed aside his final empty dish and was browsing the library book with great interest.

"Ah... so... that was for you?" she said, as casually as possible.

"Yeah, I'd used all my library quota so Harry got it out for me in his name," replied Neville, turning a page and gazing at a long list of regulations. "These traditions go back centuries..." he murmured. There was a note of awe in his voice. "Sounds really dangerous. Entrants have actually died!"

As he spoke, Professor Dumbledore rose to present the magical 'competing-champions-selector' – the Goblet of Fire, flickering with blue-white flames. It was to be placed behind an Age Line in the Entrance Hall, he told them, for participants to put in their names on the morrow.

As the feast came to a close, the Weasley twins began discussing how they might get past the age limit. Ron grinned at them, listening in. Most everyone was looking up and down the Gryffindor table to see who else might be entering.

Hermione frowned. "Ron, where's Ginny?"

"Hospital wing," he said absently, his attention still on his brothers.

"What!"

"Visiting that Lovegood girl," continued Ron, matter-of-factly. "She got wafted over face down in the mud by one of those big horses' wings; it was hilarious! I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart but she went too close."

Harry half-rose out of his seat then sat down again. "She knows Ginny?"

Ron turned his attention back from the twins. "Yeah, their family doesn't live far from The Burrow."

The commotion of students leaving the hall increased.

"Coming, Harry? Neville?" said Hermione. "We can hear better what's being said in the common room."

Neville closed his book, and stood up, leaning to dash, then he rebalanced himself to grab a few of the last remaining cakes and buns which he stuffed in his robes, mumbling, "Uuh... in case, uuh... you know... anyone who might be hungry..."

"Harry?" repeated Hermione, looking back from a few steps ahead of Neville.

"Erm... yeah, sure."

When they arrived in Gryffindor Tower, Ginny was already there – at the window looking out. She came nearer the hearth to join the others.

Neville was frowning at a large apple pie in his hand as if wondering how it got there. "Guess I'm not hungry anymore..."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Don't sling that away! I'll eat it if you're full!"

"Sure, you're welcome," said Neville, off-handedly, "no use wasting good food." He quickly produced a custard tart and a couple of éclairs which he laid across the pie. From somewhere, he dug out a large goblet of pumpkin juice and handed it to her.

"Oh, Nev, you're a hero," squealed Ginny. "I'm ravenous." Neville pinked a little and buried his face in his book again.

"How was erm... what's 'er name?" said Harry as he examined the back of his fingernails. Immediately, he felt Hermione's eyes on him.

"MmmWhooo?" munched Ginny.

"Uuh... Lovegood wasn't it?"

"You mean, Luna?" smirked Ginny, after swallowing some juice.

"Oh, is that her first name? I wasn't sure."

"Well, she's fit but with a very changed appearance," frowned Ginny. "Her hair turned permanently ash-grey so she's had it cropped ultra short. At least now you can see her pig tattoo properly."

"Oh, no!" cried Harry, "that's..."

"What does it matter to you how she looks? Ash makes her look mature, and fuzz is as good as flow when it comes to hair."

Hermione cut in, "Harry, you look quite... disenchanted."

"Well, I... that is... I'm sure she looks fine, and so long as she's happy, that's what matters."

"Yet you seem disappointed."

"Not at all." Harry squared himself up. "So long as she's recovered enough to help me catch up with Arithmancy. That's all I meant."

"But Harry," said Hermione, "you've already caught up with the third years – with Luna herself, in fact. You don't need to sit with her anymore or do extra work in her company. I'm sure she's got better things to do."

Harry froze, looking very thoughtful.

"So why so gloomy?" said Ginny.

"I'm not. I'm fine!" snapped Harry.

"Good!" cried Ginny, grasping his hand in hers. "Then come and enjoy the view with me." She dragged him to the window she had vacated shortly before. "There, what do you think?"

Harry glared and frowned at her and at his own reflection in the window. Yet her cool fingers were against his face, turning his head.

He squinted at what he saw down near the path to Hagrid's hut.

"That's her, isn't it? She's... she's helping Hagrid feed those Pegasus-things..."

Ginny nodded. "Abraxians."

"Her hair hasn't changed at all!" he went on in a heightened murmur. There was such relief in his voice that Ginny laughed.

"What the hell did you say it was grey for then?" He rubbed the slightly-steamy pane of glass with his sleeve to see better.

"Oh, perhaps it changed back when the horse's snort wore off?" said Ginny, heading for the table where she'd piled Neville's food stash. "That makes one think, doesn't it?"

Harry swung back angrily into the room. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," said Ginny, poising a big, juicy, chocolaty cream éclair before her lips, "that even when the most important thing is the taste, you still prefer your food to look sweet, don't you?" She stuffed half the cake into her mouth and stared meaningfully at Harry as she chomped.

Hermione frowned at him, shaking her head.

For a few seconds, Harry glared at them both, then he flung his hands in the air, cried "Girls!", and stomped off upstairs to the boys' dorm.

Ginny stopped chewing to listen. Hermione cocked her head on one side. The faint sound of the opening of a window above could be heard. The two girls looked at each other with very different expressions.

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~~~ The Fourth Champion ~~~

"Harry Potter!" declared Dumbledore, holding up the final piece of parchment that had come out of the Goblet of Fire.

Harry sat in the Great Hall feeling numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly. It was not possible for him to be selected as a champion in the Tournament.

A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

"But I didn't..." Harry shook his head in disbelief, looking to his friends for an explanation and support.

Ron and Hermione stared back open-mouthed. Ginny, eyes wide with astonishment, had her knuckles pressed to her lips in shock. Neville, pale-faced, was looking at everyone in turn.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Harry stumbled forward; it seemed to take forever to even reach halfway to the Headmaster's table. A muttering of 'Cheat!" came to him all the way from the Hufflepuff table. Something small, blade-like, and sharp-cornered was thrust into his hand from nearby, and an ink pellet swished over his head by inches. His mind was too deadened to react to any of the taunts. Hermione had started him walking, and now his feet continued to take steps like a dumb clockwork toy.

"Through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.

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~~~ Without Risk ~~~

"The question is, what are we to do?" fretted Bagman. "Barty?"

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the Tournament," intoned Crouch. "It is a binding magical contract that cannot be revoked."

Harry looked desperately around the small room into which he had been directed, but the portraits lining the walls offered no gestures of comfort, and even the suits of armour appeared hostile with swords and spears raised. He became aware that an object was still digging sharply into his palm. He glanced down. It was a blank white card. He knew whose it must be, so he frowned, utterly perplexed, before risking another look down at it. Three words began to appear, written in a decorative script: ACCEPT WITHOUT RISK

Karkaroff, the head of Durmstrang, cried, "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards–!"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter!" cut in Moody, "but ... funny thing ... I don't hear him saying a word."

"I accept, but without risk," Harry heard himself declare in a tiny voice.

Karkaroff laughed. "What did he say?"

"Utter nonsense, there is bound to be risk," sneered Snape. "It's not enough to cheat his way in, the boy is now seeking to be favoured."

"No..." Crouch's face looked ill in the shadowy, glittering light from the fireplace. "He may be right. I believe a section of Article 12 of the Charter of Contracts allows for such a caveat in commercial transactions. I shall need to check if it applies to the Tournament, of course..."

"How would Potter know that!" snarled Karkaroff.

"Hermione might have mentioned it ... or maybe I read it somewhere."

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime.

"What do you have there, Potter?" said Moody.

"Nothing" – but Mad-eye had already summoned the card from his hand and was holding it up close to his magical eye. The card was completely blank on both sides.

"Just something to make notes on if I needed it," Harry said quickly. Nervously, he fumbled a pen from his pocket and dropped it on the floor. While recovering it, he kept his head low for longer than needed; his expression was being scrutinised closely from all directions.

"It doesn't look good for you, Potter," growled Moody, thrusting back his card.

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~~~ Doubts and Disbelief ~~~

Such was the attention, good and bad, that assailed Harry during the rest of that evening, he was in a state of nervous collapse by the time he managed to drag Neville up to the dormitory with him.

They found Ron lying on his bed, still fully dressed.

"Ah, there you are," Harry said. "Listen, we–"

"Oh, hello," said Ron, in a funny sort of voice. He was grinning – though it looked a very odd, strained grin.

But Harry was preoccupied. "The book, Nev!" And when Neville looked back at him blankly, he cried in a kind of panic, "Your Tournament book!"

"Oh, right..." Neville retrieved it from his trunk and Harry practically snatched it from his hand, fumbling through it as he fell upon his own bed to get comfortable. "Rules... Rules... Rules... Ah, here it is!" He read it aloud, " Article 12 shall apply in conformity with School Regulation 41, Section (2) being for the general protection of students."

He grinned up at Neville, probably the first genuine smile that had shown on his face since his name had been called. "What's it mean?"

Neville looked at him dumbly, then examined the entry when Harry held up the page to him. "No idea, Harry. I know no more than you do."

"But you've been reading this book for ages!"

"Neville took it back from him and browsed the section, hoping for the answer to pop into his head. "Why'd you want to know, Harry?"

"Wh–?" Harry was astounded. "Why?" he repeated, then blinked a few times. "Because someone's trying to kill me, that's why, you prat!"

Harry turned to Ron who, by now, had sat up, swung his legs over the side of his bed, and was staring back at him.

"Tell, him, Ron," said Harry.

"Why would anyone use such a complicated way to kill you?" Ron's voice was flat, without warmth or humour.

There was an instant in time when Harry realised why Ron was behaving oddly. "Y-You... you don't believe me either! Ron, I did NOT put my name in that Goblet!"

"If you say so." Ron lay down again, wrenching the hangings shut around his four-poster, and muttering, "I'm not stupid, you know."

"You're doing a really good impression of it," Harry snapped. He looked across the chamber for support, but Neville was putting his book away in the trunk again, and had his back to him.

Harry knew he needed urgently to speak to Luna, to make her explain what she had meant by the message on the card, but it was Saturday, and the next Arithmancy class would not be until near the end of the following week. He had no idea where the Ravenclaw common room was and he wasn't about to ask either Ron or Neville.

Hermione! She'll know! He looked at his watch. It was late. Surely, Hermione will believe me? Wouldn't she? He sagged back onto his bed but it was a long time before Harry Potter fell asleep that night.

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~~~ Clearing the Air ~~~

Breakfast must have already begun when Harry awoke on Sunday morning, because everyone had already departed. The air in the common room was stale from the previous day's celebrations but he couldn't face the rest of the school yet so he headed out the portrait hole – only to come face to face with Hermione.

"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast which she was carrying in a napkin. "I brought you this ... want to go for a walk?"

"Good idea," said Harry, gratefully.

They walked past where the Durmstrang ship was moored on the lake, munching their toast, and thinking what to say.

"The question is, who did put your name in?" Hermione said finally, not noticing the expression of relief and gratitude that swept across Harry's face upon hearing her words. "It was obviously very advanced magic, far beyond any student."

"Ron doesn't think so," said Harry, gloomily. "He thinks I lied."

Hermione paused in her stride. "He doesn't, you know, not really. Oh, Harry, isn't it obvious? He's jealous!"

"Jealous!" cried Harry, spluttering toast crumbs into the chilly air. "What, jealous of being murdered!"

"Look," said Hermione patiently, resuming their walk, "it's always you who gets all the attention – I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously, "I know you don't ask for it ... but, well, you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous – he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just once too often..."

"Yeah, well, it's time he grew up. Maybe he'll think differently once I end up dead or–"

"Harry! That's not funny!" She sighed. "There has to be a way out somehow. An official protest or something."

"Well, there isn't. I've agreed to it anyway."

"You've WHAT! You don't mean you've told them that?"

Harry nodded as he began another slice of toast. "It was Luna's idea."

"What!"

He explained about the message she had passed to him.

"Oh, Harry, don't you see? This may be worse than we thought. Her enchantment might not be only to erm... perhaps it's mainly to gain your confidence. I always thought it a bit odd."

"Odd? What that she might... kind of, like someone like me!"

"No, no, just the opposite! Someone like her would be lucky to– I mean..."

"You think she's worthless don't you? Only good enough for someone as... as useless as me."

"I didn't mean it like that!" snapped Hermione. "But you have to admit she is rather weird, and as for that smell..."

"It's fine when you get to know her!"

"Exactly! Don't you think that's strange? She's controlling you, Harry, and now–"

"But you said yourself that it took advanced magic to get my name in the Goblet! I suppose now you think she's some stinky, hairy, fat old Death Eater bloke in disguise, is that it?"

"Well, no, but she might have an accomplice, don't you think?"

But Harry had turned very pale, and threw the remnants of his toast into the lake which he then stared at mournfully.

"Oh, Harry, you've not... you've not... kissed her yet, have you?"

"Of course not! She's only been coaching me in Arithmancy. I hardly know her!"

"But you were thinking about it."

Harry didn't answer. It didn't help when Hermione tried to reassure him that Luna probably wasn't a big old fat man after all. He rubbed the back of his hand vigorously across his mouth and spat with disgust in the direction of his floating toast.

They resumed their walk.

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

I expect this to be only a few chapters long – maybe six or ten, I dunno; Novella length rather than a novel. I'm really developing a Harry/Hermione fic (wrote quite a bit already) but this Luna & Tournament idea popped into my head and it pushed me faster than my other story. I had to go with it or die. So, I figured... I'd go with it.

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

- Hippothestrowl

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