Lightning Strikes Twice (Harry Potter)(Time Travel)

A/N: Here's the new Chapter! Which also means the next four chapters are up on my Patreon for early access as well as the chance to vote on the direction of the story!

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The aftermath of the First Task and unintended consequences~

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The two of them make eye contact for a split second. Fleur looks at him, clearly expecting him to rub his victory in her face like the brat she thinks he is. But Harry… Harry offers her nothing but the smallest of smirks and a simple nod before turning away. He could have gone to Fleur right then and there and rubbed it in, but what would be the point? Harry knew Fleur Delacour quite well. If there was one thing that the beautiful French Witch could be described as, it was prideful.

And to be fair, she had every right to be proud of her beauty and her skill as a witch. Certainly, the beauty aspect came from her being part Veela, a species of magical creatures who, as far as Harry knew, literally couldn’t BE ugly. But her skill as a witch was not in question. However the damnable Goblet of Fire worked, it didn’t pull the worst or the weakest from its options. So at the very least, Fleur Delacour was the best choice that Beauxbatons had.

That all said, Harry wasn’t going to be the one to confront her. He would let her come to him on her own time, because he knew Fleur’s pride wouldn’t allow her to discard their wager if he never brought it up again. No, the very idea that she’d loss and their bet hadn’t been resolved would eat at her until she was forced to approach him all on her own. It might take her a few days, but Harry was confident she would come to him before the end of the week.

For the time being, he was happy to ignore her, to make her stew in her loss and leave her wondering why he wasn’t rubbing it in. Frankly, Harry was more interested in finally finding out what had happened with Cedric Diggory.

As it turned out… going in blind against the Swedish Short-Snout had not served the Seventh Year Hufflepuff well. He’d done his best from what Harry was able to glean, but his best with zero preparation simply wasn’t good enough. Cedric had been evacuated to St. Mungo’s with burns caused by magical dragon fire across his entire body, and there were questions about whether he would be able to even show up to the Second and Third Tasks.

That led Harry to wonder how the Goblet of Fire’s magical contract would treat such injuries. As far as he was aware, the magically binding contract that the Goblet enforced would only break upon death. And Cedric was not dead. Would they be forced to carry him to the last two tasks, making sure he satisfied the bare minimum requirements for participation? That sounded… rough to say the least.

Harry was sure that the doctors at St. Mungo’s would do their best for Cedric, but dragon fire was no joke. Magical Healing was powerful, but then… magic of all forms was powerful. And it wasn’t just dragonhide that was resistant to magic. Cedric might not ever fully recover. He might not ever fully heal either.

With that in mind, feeling a little guilty over his lapse in letting Cedric go into the First Task blind, Harry swore to himself that if it came down to it, he would surreptitiously go and make sure Cedric’s contract was broken before the Goblet could try to punish him for his inability to compete. It was the least he could do, even if it would probably raise questions and might even spark an investigation.

In the meantime though… Harry found himself as Hogwarts’ only remaining Triwizard Champion. Sure, Cedric wasn’t technically dead or even fully out of the tournament by the Goblet’s reckoning. And sure, also by the Goblet’s reckoning, Harry was representing some fourth, nonexistent school in this damnable competition.

But as far as the student population of Hogwarts was concerned, Harry was it now. He was their last chance at winning and sticking it to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Of course, this didn’t mean they were all suddenly unified behind him. In fact, the school was rather split upon somewhat odd lines. The Slytherins all still hated him on principle. And the Hufflepuffs, grieving over Cedric’s injuries, had turned their grief into distaste and dislike for how well Harry did.

But it wasn’t just the Gryffindors who were sickeningly proud of his performance and latching onto his success as if it was their own success. The Ravenclaws were overjoyed as well, mostly because Harry’s showing had shown a competence for spellcasting that left many of the more knowledgeable ones in awe of him. If there were any students at Hogwarts who could understand exactly what he’d done to defeat the Hungarian Horntail, they would be Ravenclaws… and apparently that respect and amazement had spread through the house of blue like wildfire.

Regardless, Harry found himself bombarded more than ever before and this time around, forced to put up with it. They weren’t willing to let him out of their sight for even a moment, and so Harry found himself dragged to the Great Hall for dinner where both Gryffindors and Ravenclaws vied for his time, and then dragged back to the Gryffindor Common Room for a frankly ludicrous celebration party that went on far too long.

He didn’t need sleep as much anymore, not with the magic he had at his fingertips… but the rest of them were fools to stay up as late as they did. Well… fools and one particularly hunted witch.

Funnily enough, Ron didn’t approach him throughout the night, despite Harry remembering the boy trying to make amends at the end of the First Task back in the original timeline. This time around, Ron hadn’t seen just how dangerous the Hungarian Horntail really was. He hadn’t seen Harry have to use every ounce of his skill in flying to secure the egg, only to STILL get hurt.

All he’d seen was Harry using magic in a confident, no-nonsense way and ultimately dominating the encounter with the Hungarian Horntail right there on the spot. And that, it would seem, kept Ron at bay, keeping him from approaching Harry to try to repair the bridge between them.

To be perfectly honest, Harry didn’t mind. He didn’t hate Ron, but he also didn’t need Ron. Hermione on the other hand…

“Harry…”

Hermione breathes his name out in a sort of awe as she finally manages to get him alone. The party in the Gryffindor Common Room has died down at long last, with only a handful of people scattered here and there. Most have FINALLY gone to bed, which is good because Harry’s pretty sure he sees the sun peeking through a window, showing that it’s become so late it’s starting to be early.

And yet, Hermione is still there, waiting. Clearly, whatever exhaustion she was feeling was entirely overwhelmed by the weight of the things she’d learned from the breadcrumbs he’d fed her. With a sigh, Harry reaches out and takes Hermione by the shoulder… and for lack of a better word, he refreshes her. A small surge of magic is actually all it takes, causing her eyes to widen, her back to straighten, and a healthy inhale as she stares at him in shock.

“Better?”

His cheery smile is met by a slight blush as Hermione hesitantly nods.

“Y-Yes… better.”

He just hums in response and waits for her to turn things to the conversation he’s expecting. But to his surprise, that’s not where Hermione starts.

“Harry… you told me that you weren’t going to try. That you were just going to show up and satisfy the Goblet’s requirement to participate. You said… you said you’d figured out the loophole.”

Harry chuckles at the look on Hermione’s face. He’d recognized the disappointment in the brunette’s brown eyes back then, when he’d put forward the idea of not actually trying and just participating by showing up so that the Goblet didn’t take one’s magic. Now there’s more disappointment, but for the exact opposite.

He’d tease Hermione about being unable to make up her mind one way or the other, but truthfully, he understands her position perfectly. She hadn’t understood the danger before. She hadn’t thought the Triwizard Tournament would be THAT bad. But after seeing what happened to Cedric, Hermione clearly wished he’d stuck with his original plan of just participating, getting bad scores, and keeping his magic secure while also keeping himself safe at all costs.

Shaking his head, Harry’s eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I never told you I wasn’t going to try, Hermione. I simply told you that there WAS a loophole… not that I was planning to use it. As I’m sure you saw, I didn’t need it. I was perfectly safe the entire time.”

Hermione flushes at that, glancing off to the side for a moment before slowly nodding. Then, under her breath she lets it come out in a rush of air.

“… You were amazing out there, Harry.”

Harry grins, knowing full well that she’s not embellishing it remotely. In her eyes and the eyes of everyone else, he WAS amazing. Of course, for Harry’s purposes, he was nowhere near ready to take on the world’s greatest challenges just yet. Nobody was ready for what was to come. To that end…

“Let’s talk about what you wanted to talk about earlier, Hermione. When you approached me before the First Task.”

A jolt goes through Hermione at that, and she looks up at him with a pained, exhausted expression despite the boost of energy he’s just given her. But this isn’t physical exhaustion. No, this is mental.

“Harry… is it… is it really as dire as it looks?”

Nodding, Harry lets out a sigh.

“Yes. The Magical World, and not just here in Great Britain, is getting smaller and smaller. We’re shrinking in real time… not because the Purebloods are backwards inbred hicks dressed in fancy clothing, though they are. And not because of all of these Dark Lords and their wars killing off our best every other generation, though that certainly doesn’t help. No… magic itself is disintegrating right before our eyes, Hermione. And the rest of them are too blind to see it.”

Hermione’s breath hitches and she looks at him, fearful of what he has to say. Harry doesn’t let that stop him. He continues on, solemn as the grave.

“The muggle world advances… and the wizarding world stays stagnant. We knew that already, you and me. It was rather obvious, wasn’t it? But I don’t think either of us fully understood it before. What does it mean when the Muggle World grows more and more expansive, more and more packed full of magicless people… and technology? It’s funny how they all acknowledge that muggle technology doesn’t work well in places like Hogwarts that are steeped in too much magic. It’s criminal that they never thought to wonder if it could possibly go the other way though.”

The brunette looks horrified.

“We have to… we have to tell someone, Harry. I looked into Japan, like you asked me to. Their magical community moved to Sapporo decades ago, but it hasn’t helped. Even leaving the main island behind hasn’t kept them from slowly decaying. And if you’re right and its worldwide…”

Hermione trails off, unwilling to say it out loud. So, Harry says it for her.

“If things continue apace, magic won’t exist within a hundred years, Hermione. But if things are accelerated for any reason… like for instance, a Nuclear War… then magic will die out all the faster.”

It wasn’t just Nuclear Radiation. It was muggle technology in general. All of those radio waves, all of those transmissions. In the past hundred years, Earth had become inundated by muggle accomplishments. There were thousands upon thousands of satellites surrounding the planet now too. Wizards and witches liked to claim that electricity didn’t work in highly magical areas. But the truth was, magic was starting to feel the bite of non-magical areas more and more.

That said…

“The answer isn’t to tell anyone, Hermione. They wouldn’t listen to us if we tried. And even if they did listen to us, what do you think they would do? If we could convince the Wizengamot and then the ICW of the existential threat, do you think they would react responsibly or reasonably?”

Hermione looks stricken, but he can already see in her eyes that she’s imagining the worst case scenarios. Or at least, she thinks she is. Harry knows from experience that Hermione can’t even begin to comprehend how bad it could really get.

“We have a small window, ‘Mione. A small window of time in which to find a solution. Those in charge right now, if they could even be convinced of the issue at hand, would burn it all down before they actually thought to find a way for us to properly coexist. I don’t want that. I want to find a way to bring technology and magic together. I want to make it all work. And to do that… I need your help.”

The wide-eyed look she gives him makes it clear she’s shocked by his declaration. But Harry can tell that the little boost he gave her is already wearing off. She’s dead on her feet and this conversation isn’t helping. So, grabbing her by the shoulders, Harry pulls Hermione in and presses a kiss to her forehead, making her go still.

“… Get some rest, Hermione. We’ll talk more soon, I promise. But don’t despair. Don’t give up hope. There IS a solution… and together, you and I are going to find it.”

He gently pushes Hermione towards the stairs leading up to the girl’s dormitory and watches as she silently makes her way up them. He watches her go for a moment before heading to bed himself. Even for him, that conversation had taken a lot of energy…

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The next morning, Harry is in better spirits… especially when he sees the Daily Prophet’s frontpage headline.

“KARKAROFF SORE LOSER?”

The article, penned by none other than Rita Skeeter herself, is a scathing indictment of Karkaroff’s unwillingness to let Harry have a score higher than his own school champion. There’s also mention of Cedric’s injuries and the dangers of the Triwizard Tournament, with Rita making sure to get jabs at all Dumbledore and Maxima as well as the Ministry Officials behind the tournament’s revival. But the majority of the article is lambasting Karkaroff for daring to give Harry such a low score when he’d clearly done the best of all three Champions and deserved TENS across the board.

Amusing to say the least, given Harry hadn’t even asked Rita to write such a shining piece for him. More than that though, there was a small note tucked into his copy of the Daily Prophet. A note that Harry suspected he knew the origin of immediately.

Same place tonight? Make it worth your while.

Rita wanted another rendezvous at the Room of Requirement. And Harry was inclined to give it to her. The only decision he needed to make was whether she’d only be getting another story out of him in exchange for her body, or if he was going to… ramp things up a bit.

[ ] Push a little harder this time, probably feeding her something more recent and juicy in order to get her compliant - 19%

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