"Well, I'm still going to do my best. I wonder if your ministry will regret their decision, Harry. Monsieur Fudge looked very angry with your father."
"Er, yeah. I hadn't exactly planned on announcing that Voldemort was back, it just sort of happened. I was nervous," Harry admitted. "But I think it all worked out. The people should know if there is a danger."
He wondered if Viktor's guess was accurate. If his entry had been arranged by the Ministry instead of Voldemort's forces. That would be comically good luck for Voldemort, who would be trying to gain power regardless. The government might have unknowingly made that easier by offering Harry on a silver platter. Still, it made more sense for it to be Voldemort. Or maybe it was Voldemort through Crouch who had convinced Fudge it was a good idea?
It was all much too confusing. Hopefully, whoever it was, they would indeed regret their actions as Harry proceeded to accidentally blabber his way through foiling everyone's plans. If the game was rigged, then it was rigged. He could probably win anyway, and at least he'd have a sick-ass trophy when all this was done.
"There are many stakes in this game, and if your guess is correct, then there are people coming after you. I know we are competitors, but I will keep an eye out for you. You're still a child, it's not fair." Fleur said. Viktor nodded in solemn agreement.
"I appreciate that you both believe me about not putting my name in," Harry said.
"You say you did not do it. You are small child. Why would I not believe you? We could die in the tournament." Viktor shrugged.
"Yeah, let's aim for no deaths this year," Harry said. "I sincerely hope that the worst part of this tournament is dealing with the press."
"I do not talk much in interviews so they do not ask many questions. Your mistake to have good English." Viktor said with a laugh.
...
By the light of the full moon, Harry set off alone deep into the woods surrounding their cottage. Sirius had been worried, as apparently such things were unsafe, but he and mama had a mountain of corpses to get through in their quest to learn about Voldemort's past so he only gave a cursory complaint and ensured Harry was sent off bundled in a warm jumper.
Sirius' ever-increasing parental concern was sweet yet unnecessary. There was nothing in these woods that could frighten Harry.
As he walked through the silent forest, uncertainty dredged from within. Harry was not nearly as spiritual as mama was. He'd been exposed enough to the Christian normativity of muggle society to be suspicious of her belief in the Death Gods. Death was probably real, but in like a non-literal way, he'd assumed. As a concept, not a deity. Sure magic was real and it came from somewhere and their necromancy was also blessed by a nebulous someone. Sure.
Here he was, looking to ask for a blessing from Death itself.
All the necromantic divinations in the past had worked, but he'd never had to bargain for those before, a sacrifice was enough. They were impersonal, granted by the laws of magic. Or so he'd assumed. Was he special? Was he truly touched by Death, an honored servant of the Underworld as mama had been preaching to him since she'd received her own divine intervention to come rescue him? That had to be proof of it. She'd come for him, and not of her own volition. She'd been sent by Death to teach him.
Divination, fueled by corpses or not, tended to be vague. Most of the study was about how to best interpret what you were shown, not how to see in the first place. He'd tried everything he and mama could think of and he had to show for it was something related to the elements. Fire, water, and earth. That was much too vague for mama, who had been considering torturing the information out of Minister Fudge, much to Sirius' horror before Harry had agreed to try this ritual out first.
Having walked for a good hour or so, he finally found a spot that looked good enough, a small clearing he was pretty sure he'd gone flying in a few times before. Settling in on the ground, Harry laid down on his back and looked up at the light of the moon. While he didn't have a passion for astrology, the beauty of the night sky was indescribable. Utilizing space math, he located the rough position of Pluto (not that it was remotely visible with the naked eye) and ran through the directions mama had given him. There was not really a way to mess this up, she'd said. He just had to believe.
He lit the small, unscented candle he'd brought and set it down at his left knee. This was to represent his physical connection with Pluto. Hopefully. If there was one thing Harry was less confident about than religion, it was his ability to perform complex math in his head.
.....
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