A/N: There will probably not be a chapter next week, as I am going to be taking a trip to see my best friend; I have not seen her in six years and my time may be monopolized by her.

o0O0o

Harry was saved from his homework, if briefly, by a soft tap, tap on the window. Harry looked across the now empty common room and saw, illuminated by the moonlight, a snowy owl perched on the windowsill.

"Hedwig!" he shouted, and he launched himself out of his chair and across the room to pull open the window.

Hedwig flew inside, soared across the room, and landed on the table on top of his conjured spheres.

"About time!" he exclaimed, hurrying after her.

Harry hastily untied the message from her leg and sat down to read, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

The letter was short and looked as though it had been scrawled in a great hurry. Harry read it aloud:

Harry —

I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumours that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore — they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.
I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius

Harry looked at Hermione, who stared back at him.

"He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "He's coming back?"

"I shouldn't have told him," Harry said gravely. "It's made him think he's got to come back! Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me!" he babbled, his volume steadily increasing.

Hedwig hopped from his knee over to Hermione, ruffling her feathers.

"I haven't got anything for you," he said to Hedwig, his voice softening. "Sorry. You'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig gave him as sympathetic a look as an owl could manage, and took off for the open window, brushing his head with an outstretched wing as she went.

"Harry," Hermione began, in a pacifying sort of voice.

"I'm going to bed," said Harry shortly. "See you in the morning."

Upstairs in the dormitory, he pulled on his pyjamas and got into his four-poster, but he didn't feel remotely tired. His head was spinning and he couldn't get it out of his mind that this was his fault. The dormitory was completely silent, and, had he been less preoccupied, Harry would have realised that the absence of Neville's usual snores meant that he was not the only one lying awake.

o0O0o

Early the next morning, Harry woke with a plan fully formed in his mind, as though his sleeping brain had been working on it all night. He got up, dressed in the pale dawn light, left the dormitory, and went down to the deserted common room. Here he took a piece of parchment from where Hermione had been working on Arithmancy (he was sure she wouldn't mind) and wrote the following letter:

Dear Sirius,
I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting, I was half asleep when I wrote to you last time. There's no point coming back, everything's fine here — did I mention I've switched from Divination to Ancient Runes? Don't worry about me, my head feels mostly normal; the only thing that gives me headaches these days is Ron. We've had a bit of a falling out.
Harry

He then climbed out of the portrait hole, up through the silent castle, and finally arrived at the Owlery. Cold and drafty, it made Harry shiver, and he hurried over to Hedwig. It took him a moment to persuade her to wake up, but she stuck out her leg and allowed him to tie his letter to it.

"Just find him, all right?" Harry pleaded, stroking her back as he carried her on his arm to one of the holes in the wall. "Before the dementors do."

She nipped his finger and hooted softly in a reassuring sort of way. Then she spread her wings and took off into the sunrise. Harry watched her fly out of sight with the familiar feeling of unease back in his stomach. He had been so sure that Sirius's reply would alleviate his worries rather than compound them.

"That was a lie, Harry," insisted Hermione over breakfast, when he told her what he had done. "You didn't imagine your scar hurting and you know it."

"I know, but I don't have an awful lot of choice here, Hermione. He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

Harry worried for weeks about Sirius's response. Nothing could keep his mind off of it, no matter how hard he tried — he couldn't stop himself from looking around anxiously when the post owls arrived. He had nightmares of dementors corning Sirius down some dark London alley every night. The only respite he'd had was Hermione's birthday — he'd gotten her a heart-shaped friendship necklace on Fred and George's advice. The heart was cut down the middle in a lightning bolt pattern, like Harry's scar, and had a twin necklace that Harry kept hidden under his shirt. Hermione had definitely appreciated the gift, but Fred and George seemed more pleased with the result than Harry had.

He wished he still had Quidditch to distract him from Sirius, though. Nothing got the mind out of a dark place like working yourself to exhaustion. On the other hand, his classes were steadily ramping up, and Harry was beginning to enjoy them the same way he'd enjoy Quidditch any other year.

Ever since that night where he'd accidentally conjured those spheres, he'd been having a much easier time with Transfiguration. He assumed it was because he'd unconsciously gained some sort of understanding, perhaps Hermione had helped with it, but the specific reason evaded him. Professor McGonagall was certainly pleased with his progress either way.

Ancient Runes was surprisingly interesting to Harry. After he'd caught up with the rest of the class, he'd been surprised to learn that he wasn't too bad with them. Their applications certainly interested Harry.

Of all of his classes, Moody's Defence Against the Dark Arts was the the most demanding. To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

"But — you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a clear space in the middle of the room. "You said — to use it against another human was —"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," growled Moody, his magical eye swivelling onto Hermione and fixing her with an unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way — when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely — fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

Hermione turned very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry grinned, knowing that she would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Harry watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching.

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: Jump onto the desk...jump onto the desk…

Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.

Jump onto the desk…

Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain. Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.

No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice firmly. No, I don't really want to…

Jump! NOW!

Harry looked up, and the sensation washed away. He stumbled and fell to one knee, but stood and smiled proudly.

"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, no longer in his head. "Look at that, you lot...Potter fought! He fought it, and he beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that's where you see it — very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"

o0O0o

"The way he talks," Harry said as they walked out of the Defence class an hour later (Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces three times in a row, until it barely made Harry pause), "you'd think we were all going to be attack any second."

"Yes, Harry, but don't you think it's important?" asked Hermione as they walked to dinner. "His whole thing about Constant Vigilance could be important one day."

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education and growth!" she told them, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer —"

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" interrupted Dean Thomas indignantly.

"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger and Mister Potter remain the only people in this class who have managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"

Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself. Harry, meanwhile, looked embarrassed — he insisted that it was more of an accident than anything real.

Ron had been amused when Professor Trelawney had given him top marks for his charts, but wasn't so quick to share with Harry and Hermione. He still held a grudge against them.

Professor Binns of the History class had assigned them weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes, and they all took it deadly serious — he had hinted at poisoning a student before Christmas to see if their antidotes worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behaviour.

"I will not," refused Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of those foul things during lessons, thanks."

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, his smile fading, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

The Gryffindors had roared with laughter, recalling how Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.

When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to a large crowd of students. Harry and Hermione muscled their way through the crowd and found a sign, reading:

Triwizard Tournament

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

"Only a week away!' said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him…"

"Cedric Diggory," said Harry thoughtfully. "He must be entering the tournament. He's the Seeker for Hufflepuff, probably losing his mind without Quidditch this year…"

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the students. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Harry went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying around: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

Harry noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of the inhabitants, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming, and Argus Filch was becoming ferocious to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-years into hysterics.

Other members of staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Longbottom, get a hold of yourself, and kindly do not reveal that you can't perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated lavishly overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each representing a Hogwarts house, and a central one bearing the crest of Hogwarts.

Harry and Hermione sat down beside Fred and george at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" Ron butted in, sitting on the other side of them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," jabbed George.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling. She told us to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"I wonder what the tasks are going to be," wondered Harry. "You know, I bet I could do them. I've done some dangerous stuff before…"

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the task."

"Who are the judges?" asked Harry.

"Historically, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on a rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her, and with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read the books she had, said: "It's all in Hogwarts: A History. Though, of course, that book isn't entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title, or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."

"You never cease to amaze, do you?" admired Fred. "You've read more in just those three books than I have the past few years…"

Harry shook his head, laughing, and applied himself to his scrambled eggs. A sudden whooshing of feathers overhead signalled the arrival of the post owls. Harry looked up at once, and saw Hedwig soaring toward him. Hedwig fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily.

Harry pulled off Sirius's reply offered Hedwig his bacon rinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that nobody was listening in, Harry read out Sirius's letter in a whisper to Hermione.

Nice try, Harry.
I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me. Just watch out for yourself and don't forget what I said about your scar.
On a different note, congratulations on taking up Runes! As much as I disapprove of taking on extra work, I'm proud that you're willing to do it.
Sirius

"He's right. Hedwig will attract too much attention. She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding...I mean, they're not native birds," agreed Hermione.

Harry rolled up the letter and slipped it inside his robes, wondering whether he felt more or less worried than before. He supposed that Sirius managing to get back without being caught was something. He couldn't deny either that having Sirius nearer was reassuring; at least he wouldn't have to wait so long for a response every time he wrote.

"Thanks, Hedwig," he said, stroking her. "I won't be using you to send messages to Sirius anymore, okay? It's for his safety, and yours as well."

She hooted sleepily, dipped her beak into his goblet of orange juice, and took off again, desperate for a good nap in the Owlery.

There was an air of anticipation that day. Nobody could stay focused in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry and his classmates hurried up to Gryffindor tower, deposited their bags and books as instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hal.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front...no pushing…."

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Harry, standing between Ron (much to his annoyance) and Hermione, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation in the front among the other first years.

"It's nearly six. I wonder how they'll be coming?" wondered Hermione.

"Broomsticks?" suggested Harry.

"I don't think so...not from that far away."

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving. Everything was still and silent as to be expected of late October in Scotland. Harry wished they'd hurry up.

At last, Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers —

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" searched several students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick — larger than hundreds of them — was hurtling across the sky toward the castle, growing larger with each passing second.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!" gushed Dennis Creevey.

As the gigantic shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them. A dozen winged horses, all elephantine palominos, pulled the massive carriage at a tremendous speed.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land with a bone-rattling crash. The horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground.

A second later, the carriage landed too, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery eyes. Harry had just enough time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage — a shoe the size of a child's sled — followed by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage was immediately explained.

Hagrid was the only comparison Harry had for a person of this size. He doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow — maybe simply because he was used to Hagrid — this woman seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and opals gleamed at her throat and on her fingers.

Dumbledore began to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madam Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a thick accent. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you."

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her hands carelessly behind her.

Harry, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madam Maxine, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them wore cloaks. A few had scarves or shawls around their heads. From what Harry could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?"

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses —"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges."

"My steeds require — er — forceful 'andling," doubted Madame Maxime. "Zey are very strong…"

"I assure you that Hagrid will be up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," assured Dumbledore, also bowing. "Scotland invented that drink, I'm sure your horses will be pleased."

"Come," Madam Maxime commanded her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Beauxbatons' horses snorting and stamping. But then —

"Can you hear something?" asked Seamus.

Harry listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them out of the darkness: a muffle rumbling and sucking noise, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed….

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position atop the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the now-roiling lake. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor.

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool — and then Harry saw the rigging.

"It's a mast!" exclaimed Harry to Hermione.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look to it, as though it was a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle…but then, as they drew nearer, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing some sort of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore! How are you, my dear fellow?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff."

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good…. Viktor, come along, into the warmth…you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As they boy passed, Harry caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He recognized him immediately, even without the hiss Ron left out.

"It's Krum!"

o0O0o

A/N: This chapter was finished about 5 minutes before being uploaded, and may have a few errors. Things are going to start changing more and more as chapters are written. Sorry for the lateness, work had me pretty locked up.