Champion of Fire (HP FF)
Halloween had always been a difficult day for Harry Potter.
As far back as he could remember, he never had what one would consider to be a 'good' one.
Growing up with his aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and their son Dudley Dursley, it had never been a good day. He was kept locked in the cupboard beneath the stairs, never allowed to join Dudley or go out Trick or Treating on his own. No costume, no candy, no movies, nothing. He was more or less used to that sort of treatment from them though. To him, it was a fact of life. Dudley would get everything save for the chores and that was the only time Harry had more than his cousin.
One year, he thought he would have a good Halloween. For once, Petunia asked if he wanted to go out. She even allowed him a costume. He had been so happy. Then, as they were about to leave, she made a remark that it was strange that Harry could be so happy on the day that his parents died. He had not known that before and definitely did not enjoy the event anymore. He was then told that he was ungrateful for all the hard work she had put in for him and he would receive nothing of the sort from her again.
He was oddly okay with that.
Since learning that he was a wizard, and that magic was real, Halloweens had still been difficult. Despite being many miles away from the Dursleys, being in an authentic castle attending a school of witchcraft and wizardry, the day had always done its best to be a trying one for him.
His first year, a troll was released into the school. He ended up confronting the troll with his best friend Ronald Weasley and becoming friends with his other best friend Hermione Granger, so in the end it was one of the better ones. At the time however, after shoving his wand up the troll's nose and being almost pasted by the troll's club, it was a pretty bad one.
His second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened and after spending an uncomfortable time at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party, which was as awkward as it sounded, they stumbled upon the petrified cat of the school's caretaker and he was accused of doing the deed. Which then led to a very uncomfortable year where people thought he was the Heir of Slytherin and was trying to murder all of the Muggleborn students in the school. Which was frankly ridiculous considering one of his two best friends was Muggleborn. Despite things turning out well and him proving his innocence, it was once more not a great Halloween.
Last year, his third year, had also been rather uncomfortable. Sirius Black, who coincidentally was Harry's godfather, had come to Hogwarts and tried to enter Gryffindor tower, sending the whole school into lockdown. The problem was that Sirius was, and still was, an escaped convict from the Wizarding Britain's prison of Azkaban, and people thought he was there to murder Harry. Thankfully that was not the case and he was after a traitor and one of the people responsible for the deaths of Harry's parents. Unfortunately, he had not been cleared of his charges and was still being sought for as a wanted criminal. In hindsight, that was not that bad of a Halloween.
Now it was Halloween night of his fourth year at school, and at first it was looking to be a good one. He woke up, no one was trying to obviously murder him. He had a decent day of classes with his friends, enjoyed a good feast. The school was hosting the TriWizard Tournament, a grand competition between chosen Champions from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang, schools of magic all. The three Champions had been selected by the imposing Goblet of Fire: a grand artifact made from wood that held a large fire that burned brightly and fiercely.
The Goblet had crackled and roared and each time, spat out a scrap of paper with the name of the school's Champion. Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts, Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons, and Viktor Krum for Durmstrang. And that should have been the end of it.
But because it involved Harry Potter and because it was Halloween, it was not.
The fire had risen a fourth time and a confused Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, had caught the fourth scrap and had read the name out loud.
Harry Potter.
Harry had sat there dumbly, even more confused. He had not put his name into the Goblet of Fire. There had been an age requirement and he was too young. Also, while he had a fleeting thought of a dream of competing, he actually never wanted to. He had too much attention as it was and he knew that he would not be ready for it since the TriWizard was designed for students that were at the end of their schooling.
He flushed when heads turned to stare at him. The majority of the expressions were unkind, angry even. It made him think back to his time in second year and being the recipient of so much hate and suspicion then made the sensations come back tenfold now. He was going to sit there and try to ignore the situation until Dumbledore beckoned him, and he slowly and unwillingly rose to his feet. He looked pleadingly at his friends and Hermione's expression of confused sympathy and worry clashed with the very odd expression that Ron wore.
Harry walked woodenly, trying to ignore the silence that pressed heavily upon him, by all the students and teachers that were watching. As he approached the Goblet of Fire, he gave it a very hurt and angry look, blaming it for the current situation.
Then, as if feeling his ire, the fire rose even higher. A huge roar filled the Great Hall, causing many to cry out and the fire turned into a raging inferno that was just barely being held by the Goblet. Harry stopped walking and shielded his eyes from the fire's brightness and before his vision shimmered, he thought he saw a face in the flames. A woman's face, made from fire and flame. She looked at him and winked, mouthing something before the Goblet shrieked and it felt like the whole castle was shrieking with it.
Harry covered his eyes against the intense blaze of fire and light and was thus unprepared to be hit by something flying out of the Goblet. It was something big and heavy, flying out of the Goblet with considerable speed, knocking him over head over heels. He hit the ground, winded, barely hearing more shouts and cries of alarm. His head was ringing and he groaned with pain, blinking against white spots in his vision.
He paused when there was another groan of pain, one that sounded a lot like him.
As the spots faded, Harry blinked a few times before his eyes went wide as he stared at the someone, not the something, that had come out of the Goblet and had laid him flat. The person was a man, a few years older than him. He also wore round glasses. He also had very messy black hair. When the other man sat up and opened his eyes, they were also a very vibrant emerald green. When the other man rubbed his forehead, he revealed an identical lightning-bolt shaped scar.
Harry Potter sat there and stared at an older, but an undeniable, Harry Potter.
"Bloody hell," the older man said. He glared at the Goblet of Fire sitting on the plinth in the middle of the Great Hall. "You know what, I don't regret breaking you at all! That hurt!" He hissed in pain and annoyance that slowly faded when he looked around the Great Hall. His eyes widened as he took the scenery in, looking at the people. A look of great confusion crossed his features as he saw the other students, flinching a little at some of them and the professors. He finally turned and locked eyes with Harry.
"Holy crap, you're me," both Harry and the older man said, pointing at each other with disbelief.
"At least I think so," the older man said, peering closely at a flummoxed Harry. "You're Harry Potter?"
"Yeah," an equally flummoxed Harry said. "You?"
"Yup." The older allegedly Harry looked around once more and visibly brightened. "Wait, hold on, is this Halloween? Quick, what year is it?"
Harry blinked a few times. "It's 1994," he said slowly. He blinked again at the smile that appeared on the older Harry's face. It was from ear to ear, a smile of pure delight and wonder.
"It can't be," older Harry whispered. He clenched his hand hard and looked at the back of his right hand. He then looked at younger Harry's right hand and his grin became something more than joy. It had a tinge of pure hunger to it. "But if it is…fuck it."
He turned to younger Harry. "My…I mean our name just came out of that?" He pointed at the Goblet beside them.
Younger Harry nodded dumbly.
"I need you to trust me," older Harry said urgently. "You do that, I can get you out of this tournament and I can fix so much at the same time. We can have a much better time of it this go around. Do you trust me?"
It was a very odd question in an increasingly odder situation. Harry looked around and everyone seemed to still be frozen in shock with some slowly coming to their senses. "Why?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the older man. "Why should I?"
"Because I can make things right," older Harry said. He looked pleadingly at Harry and there was a hint of something else in those eyes. Something that Harry recognized.
Desperation.
"You swear that you're…Harry Potter?" Harry asked, fully realizing how stupid it sounded.
"I solemnly swear," older Harry replied with utter sincerity.
Harry hesitated for a brief second. He looked at the Goblet, at the Fire within. "Okay, I trust you," he said at last.
"Brilliant!" Older Harry jumped to his feet and faced a still visibly confused staff of Hogwarts and visiting professors. "I, Harry James Potter, accept the nomination to compete in the TriWizard Tournament!" He ignored the exclamations of shock and confusion, turning to help younger Harry up to his feet."
"You cannot!" Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang yelled.
"Wasn't asking for permission," older Harry said, giving the man a cold look. "I'm Harry Potter, my name came out of the Goblet, and I accept."
"You cannot be," Minerva McGonagall said, staring at the two Harrys. "That is Harry," she said, pointing at the younger one. She looked further befuddled at older Harry's beaming smile at her.
"Right, and so am I," older Harry said, unperturbed. "Also, it's so great to see you again!" He smiled winningly at her who in turn looked even more confused if slightly touched. He turned to look at the other officials and professors. "To save further protests and explanations, the Goblet of Fire is a powerful magical artifact, right? It not only chooses and makes binding contracts and agreements, but it can also punish those that break them, right?"
"That is correct," Bartemius Crouch said, the Director of International Magical Co-operation for the British Ministry of Magic.
"So if I shove my arm into the fire here, the rest of me should catch on fire too if I am not who I say I am, right?" People gasped as older Harry thrust his right arm into the Goblet without a second's hesitation. Instead of screaming in pain and agony, he stood there at ease, smiling lopsidedly for long moments before he pulled his arm out of the fire, unscathed. He waggled his fingers at the onlookers. "Not even the lightest of burns."
Dumbledore coughed lightly. "I suppose we must accept your word at face value," he said slowly.
"Great! Oh but first, hey Al!" older Harry called.
Alastor Moody, the scarred ex-Auror and current Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, looked back at older Harry, a look of blank astonishment at having been addressed in such a way. His magic blue eye rolled and roiled and he scowled deeply. "What?"
"Quick question. Which did you lose first: your eye or your leg?" older Harry asked glibly, eliciting more shock and gasps from the watchers. "Which one did you care more about?"
Moody glared bloody murder at older Harry. "None of your damn business, I should kill you for even asking."
"Aw don't be like that Al old buddy," older Harry said, making even his younger counterpart stare at him over his lack of self-preservation and common sense. "You know you like sharing the story as a talking point."
"It was my eye and I'll take one of yours in a second," Moody growled dangerously. He was unprepared for the smile on older Harry's face and other people, such as Dumbledore and McGonagall, took a sharp look at Moody with clear surprise and suspicion.
"Hmm, nope, that's not right," older Harry tutted. "The right answer is that chunk of your nose and face, you always cared more about that. Trick question sure which is a bit unfair, but the real Moody wouldn't have missed it." His hand shot up as Moody moved and suddenly Moody was flung into the air, flying straight up into the enchanted ceiling. He screamed as he was flung upwards and he flew so high, he was lost to sight.
Before anyone else could act, older Harry gently but firmly pushed younger Harry back and drew a large circle with his wand. A shimmering barrier of magical energy surrounded the open space, blocking off the students and the rest of the Great Hall. He looked up into the enchanted magical sky and took a ready stance, wand at the ready while the professors streamed onto the floor, pulling the students back.
A dot of red grew in the ceiling and then the dot became a stream of roaring fire, crashing down on older Harry. Screams and shrieks filled the air and younger Harry looked on in horror as it looked like the older version of himself was being immolated before him. Moody came flying down and he used a last burst of flame to slow his descent, landing heavily and wincing as his weight slammed onto his prosthetic leg. He grinned savagely, staring at the fire that obscured older Harry's form.
His grin melted away as the fire was sucked into a round ball that older Harry held in his left hand, making circular motions with his wand. Older Harry grinned back; eyes sparkling. "What's the matter? Scared to see your old master's trick? I learned a few things, here's another!" He stabbed his wand tip into the swirling inferno and pulled his arms apart. The ball of fire became a long lash of flames, forming a whip with the wand as the handle. He cocked his arm back and snapped it forward, sending the whip right at Moody.
Moody blasted the whip away from him but arched his back in pain as the lash curled around the blast and the tip of the flame whip slashed across his back, scorching through his clothes. He shot out a torrent of water but older Harry snapped the whip back, spinning and slashing it across, striking Moody across the chest and sending him to the ground. Moody groaned in pain and shouted when older Harry wrapped the lash around the prosthetic leg and ripped it clean off the man's body. His shouts became screams as he was then struck with the prosthetic again and again.
"Is he beating him with his own leg?!" McGonagall cried.
"It looks like it," Filius Flitwick gasped.
Dumbledore said nothing, trying to overcome the magical barrier that older Harry had erected. He frowned, feeling the barrier resisting his attempts and he doubled his efforts.
Older Harry flourished his wand and Moody skidded across the ground, kicked in the rear by the prosthetic. Before he could recover, he was stunned by the Stunning Jinx and older Harry gently set the leg down and dispelled his whip with a snap. "That's for you, old man," he said to himself with satisfaction. "Told you I'd do it if I got the chance." He looked up as the barrier finally was dissolved and looked faintly surprised when many of the professors were pointing their wands at him. "What's wrong?"
"You assaulted a professor and you have the gall to ask 'what's wrong'?" Pomona Sprout asked incredulously.
"Oh right, you all don't know yet." Older Harry calmly walked to the prone form of Moody and took out the man's flask and opened it, tipping it to the side. A thick fluid plopped onto the stones, splashing loudly. "This isn't Moody, unless Moody drinks Polyjuice Potion for the taste and even though he has really bad taste in alcohol, he's not that bad." At Dumbledore's gesture, he tossed the flask to him
Dumbledore smelled the flask before handing it to Severus Snape who sniffed delicately, and then nodded. "Then who is it?" Dumbledore asked.
"Bartemius Crouch," Harry announced. "Oh wait." Before anyone could act, he shot another Stunning Jinx at Bartemius Crouch, in mid indignant protest, who slumped over. "Junior," he finished to gobsmacked expressions. "Who is the son of Bartemius Crouch Senior over there and who is also under Junior's Imperius Curse."
"Impossible," Snape gasped.
"Improbable," older Harry corrected. "But it's the truth." He gave Snape a complicated look. "It's actually good to see you too. Never thought I'd say that, ever, unironically."
"Do you have any Revealing Solution?" Dumbledore asked Snape who was staring back at older Harry. The man gave the headmaster a vial and Dumbledore approached the stunned Moody and poured the contents onto the man. He incanted swiftly, waving his wand over the prone form and looked on grimly as the man's features changed. The magical eye popped out and rolled wetly over the stones and after a few moments, the man lying on the ground was no longer Alastor Moody, but instead a younger version of Bartemius Crouch.
He looked at the older Harry who was smiling pleasantly back before he took a deep breath. "Filius, Pomona, take the students back to their common rooms and dormitories," he said. "Igor, Olympe, please do the same with yours. Minerva, take the Crouches back to the Infirmary with Poppy and Severus. Secure them separately and carefully. I will send Fawkes to the Ministry and request the Aurors to come with the Minister."
He turned back to the Harrys. "And…Mister Potter and Mister Potter, perhaps you should wait for us in my office. There will be questions."
"There will be answers," older Harry said evenly. He grinned again at Dumbledore's look and soon he was following Dumbledore whistling jauntily while the younger Harry followed beside him, looking even more confused than normal, yet feeling oddly better about everything.
-0-
Harry looked up at his older counterpart sitting beside him. The pair had been escorted to Dumbledore's office and left there waiting while the rest of the school dealt with the aftereffects of the incident. Older Harry looked at ease, smiling softly as he looked around the office with fond interest. They had been sitting there alone for some time.
"Uh, I'd like to ask a few questions," younger Harry said slowly. He blinked when the older him held a finger to his lips and made a surreptitious hand motion. When older Harry gestured for him to continue, he asked, "What was that?"
"Privacy charm, to prevent eavesdropping."
"We're alone."
Older Harry nodded his head at the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses of the school. "Not with them there. They'll listen and tell Dumbledore and whoever else what we said. Now they can't. See how pissy they look now? Nothing we're saying is going past the charm I cast and even our lips will be moving strangely." He waved brightly at the portraits who scowled and shook hands angrily back at him.
"You can cast wandless and silently?" Harry gasped.
Older Harry nodded. "You will too. Just takes practice and effort. I'll teach you. I mean, if I can do it, you literally can do it too."
"So…we're really the same person?" Harry asked, feeling oddly silly.
"Yes and no. We're both Harry James Potter, but I'm thinking from different times and…realities? Dimensions?"
"That's a thing?!"
"Sure. I mean, there are time turners so we know time travel is a thing. As far as different realities go, I'm thinking so. I learned that it's possible and might try to confirm that here later. I mean, I kinda know it's for sure. 'Cause first of all, I'm obviously older than you."
"Sure," Harry nodded.
"But last I knew, I was 23 or so, where now I think I'm younger than that," older Harry said. "If it were just time travel, I'd be waking up as you."
"That'd be weird," Harry shivered.
"Right? But since we aren't in the same body, and that I'm older than you and I'm back here, I think it's a combination of time travel and the different dimension thing. Which is kinda lazy imagining if you think about it but I'm not complaining," he chuckled.
"So you're from the future then."
"Sure looks it."
"What happened?"
For the first time since he appeared, the older Harry turned solemn, looking withdrawn and haunted. He cleared his throat roughly. "Nothing good," he said softly. "Lotta bad really. Which is why I'm happy to be here now because I have the chance to make sure things don't happen the same way."
"That's possible?" Harry asked.
"I think so. Like Hermione said during the time turner thing my third year, or your last year, we can't see ourselves during time turning and can't mess with things to preserve the future. Which means that it can be messed with. And I aim to do it."
"What if that messes with your future?"
Older Harry snorted. "I'm hoping it will. It's not worth trying to keep it safe, trust me."
"Wouldn't that…do something to you?" Harry asked softly.
Older Harry shrugged. "Maybe. Don't care. Still going to do it."
"Why?"
Older Harry looked at him. "Because it's terrible," he said plainly. "A whole lotta bad happens and if I can prevent you from going through it, prevent a lot of damage and do some good, then I'm going to do it. If I disappear because of it, fine. It'll be worth it." He let out a long weary sigh. "No one should go through that shit and one of us deserves a good life."
"Oh." Harry looked up at his older counterpart with a complicated expression.
"It'll be my choice," older Harry said comfortingly. "I bet you're like me where we both never had a lot of choices up until now, right?" He smiled sadly as his younger version nodded. "And not a whole lot of people help us out a lot, right?"
He clapped his younger counterpart on the back. "Well, you know what they say, if you want to do it right, you do it yourself. So I'll do it myself for myself and yourself and it'll be like yourself doing it yourself."
Harry smiled a little. "That's a bit confusing."
"A bit," older Harry said with the same smile. "Don't worry. I want to do this. And I'm going to do it my way, and make sure you and me make it out of this the best way." He took a deep breath. "And maybe have a little fun this time around at the same time."
He looked at younger Harry. "But we have to be a team, okay? They're going to ask questions, try to muck things up. But as long as we stick together, they won't be able to. I need to know I can trust you too, and that we're in this together. If we don't work together, I'll still do it but it might not turn out as well or as easily."
Harry looked at the older version of him, thinking hard.
"Ask me something," older Harry said suddenly. "Something you've never told another soul. Something that you know only you would know, which if I know it, would prove we're the same Harry, just slightly different."
Harry thought for a long time. "How many lightbulbs were there?" he asked.
Older Harry smiled sadly. "Two. One was always broken. They used to replace the other one with dying bulbs and forget to replace it a lot. One time they accidently put in a new one and it was nice having a bright light under the stairs."
"We really are the same," Harry whispered.
"We are," older Harry nodded. "So if you trust me, you're really trusting yourself. And I solemnly swear that everything I do is to ensure a better future for you."
"And for you," Harry said.
Another sad smile crossed the older Harry's lips. "God and Magic willing, yes."
After a small moment of silence, Harry held his hand out. He smiled as the older Harry gripped it firmly and they shook. "I trust you," he said, and meant it.
"Brilliant," older Harry said with that same giant smile he had when he saw the Great Hall in its entirety. "Things are going to be so much better this time. I swear it."
He snapped his fingers and the privacy charm dispelled. Tilting his head, he turned back to Harry and grinned lopsidedly. "Looks like they're back and we're going to have some company, finally. Sit back, and enjoy the show. It's going to be a good one."