A/N: This is one of my ten Patreon-Funded stories. Currently up to date with all my other public websites, with four chapters of advance content always available on my Patreon at all times. Updates once every two weeks. Enjoy!

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“-arry Potter!”
 
Where is he? No, more importantly, when is he? Has it worked? Has he managed it? Harry’s head is swimming, his senses barely registering. Getting his mind in order is a matter of some difficulty but takes no longer than a handful of actual seconds. In the end, it’s not as though he’s overwriting another mind entirely. He is who he is.
 
Ultimately, it’s more like memories he hasn’t had a reason to think about in quite a few years are suddenly much more vibrant and in the forefront of his mind. Memories of his earlier life. Memories of a cupboard under the stairs, of a letter to Hogwarts. Of years spent in the school, both wonderous and terrifying in equal measure.
 
The first thing he registers about his surroundings is just how many people he’s surrounded by. The sheer number of bodies damn near gives Harry a heart attack. He almost goes for his wand, unused to being surrounded on every side without at least a wall at his back. But in the end, he manages to hold off as he figures out that he’s not in danger.
 
He’s in the Great Hall, which means it HAD worked. Time Travel. Helluva a drug, heh. Still, he’d spent so many of his formative years in this place. Feasting day in and day out. Knowing he was in the Great Hall and surrounded by Hogwarts Students wasn’t very helpful. He needed to know what year it was. Not that he knew WHERE he was, he needed to know WHEN he was.
 
Slowly focusing on his immediate surroundings, Harry lets out an explosive breath… only to realize everyone is staring at him at the moment. Not just those immediately around him, but everyone in the Great Hall is looking his way. Fuck, Ron and Hermione look so young.
 
… It probably says something that even having everyone staring at him doesn’t really narrow down the exact time period all that much. Though, the fact that it’s night time at least precludes this from being an End of the Year Feast. At the same time-
 
“Harry! Harry, my boy! Please, up here!”
 
Dumbledore. Harry blinks as his eyes are immediately drawn up to the High Table where the Hogwarts Faculty normally sit. Except it’s not just the High Table right now. In front of it, there’s also a massive, familiar chalice. Harry blinks as he takes in the view of the Goblet of Fire, along with Headmaster Dumbledore right beside it holding a slip with Harry’s name on it.
 
It’s in that moment that he finally catches up to the end of his newly vibrant early memories as well. Oh sure, he recalls what happened in his Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years as well as the years after Hogwarts just as easily, but there’s a difference between recalling something and having just lived it. The start of his dreams with Voldemort are fresh in Harry’s mind now, as is the mixed bag that was the Quidditch World Cup. Great show… poor after party.
 
Arriving back in this moment specifically was irritating to say the least. Slowly, Harry begins to rise from his seat. It was almost as though Magic was punishing him for his hubris. He’d been allowed to go back in time against all odds, but in doing so, he’d found himself bound to this stupid fucking cup again.
 
He would have preferred the start of the Year instead of this, if only so that he could have chosen whether he wanted to let his name get added to the Goblet or not. But… beggars couldn’t be choosers, he supposed.
 
Wordlessly, Harry walks the length of the Great Hall. Everyone’s eyes are on him, but now that he knows where he is and has full access to his senses, he’s not concerned. There ARE threats in this room, but none from the students. Not yet anyways.
 
Entering the side chamber where the other Triwizard Tournament Champions are waiting, Harry pays the three no mind. They all ask him questions, but their words barely even register. He’s already planning out his next steps, already considering his next move.

Distantly, he’s aware of Ludo Bagman entering the room right behind him and all but having a seizure over how excited he was. The man was relatively harmless though, so Harry lets him be, his mind still racing as Ludo brings the others up to speed. There’s so much to do and so little time. Honestly, he’s not sure he can afford to be bogged down here for too much longer. This was dealt with swiftly enough in the previous timeline, right?
 
The door behind him opens again and this time Harry finds himself forced to pay a bit more attention as a number of powerhouses step into the room. His hackles are unconsciously raised just by finding himself in the presence of the three School Administrators, along with Mr. Crouch, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. For a moment, Harry considers removing the Imperius Curse from Mr. Crouch… but holds off for now.
 
“Madame Maxime! Say it is a joke! Zis quiet little boy can’t possible be expected to compete!”
 
Harry tilts his head to the side at that, Fleur’s words some of the first to actually register and pierce through the fog of planning currently draped over his thoughts. ‘Quiet Little Boy’ indeed… heh, he’d be sure to show her otherwise later, but for now he wasn’t inclined to rise to the bait. In fact, once he gets over the immediate fight or flight response that comes with being in a small enclosed space with this many threats, he finds he can’t be bothered to rise to the occasion whatsoever. Let Dumbledore figure this out. That was what happened last time, right?
 
Except, within minutes of Harry once again checking out on the conversation, there’s a pair of wizened old hands on his shoulders and a grandfatherly face looking him in the eye.
 
“Harry.”
 
To his credit, the Headmaster has some concern in his gaze, as though he’s worried by Harry’s listless reaction to all of this. He doesn’t understand that it’s not because Harry is shellshocked, but more because none of this truly matters.
 
“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?”
 
The question is spoken calmly, but the accusation inherent in it is… irritating to say the least. Finally, Harry actually remembers how this whole conversation went. Right, they were trying to make him out to be the bad guy here. They were trying to blame it all on him. Perhaps not Dumbledore… but everyone else wanted to pin this whole shitshow on the youngest person in the room. What a bunch of scumbags.
 
Slowly, Harry’s emerald gaze pans over the room, taking in the unfriendly faces all around him. When he finally looks back to Dumbledore, he can’t help the scoff that spills forth from his lips, leading the Headmaster to let go of him and frown as he takes a step back.
 
“Right, because that’s the most reasonable explanation here, isn’t it? It was all my fault.”
 
Most of the people in the room bristle at his lack of respect, but Harry isn’t done. Glaring now, he scowls.
 
“Me, a Fourth Year, managed to surpass the Age Line of the Greatest Wizard of our Age. Then, after I did so, I somehow managed to trick an ancient artifact into putting me in a Fourth School all on my own.”
 
There’s a beat of silence before Dumbledore interjects again, likely to head off any angry outbursts from the others.
 
“Did you have an older student put your name in the Goblet of Fire for you?”
 
Harry can’t help the bewildered look on his face, truth be told. He vaguely remembers this question from the last time around, but now… well, he’s had a long time to think about how stupid it was.
 
“Why would that even be an option, Professor?!”
 
The aged Headmaster looks taken aback by his question, and so does everyone else, allowing Harry to continue on.
 
“What the HELL was the point of having an Age Line if younger students could have just paid off older students to put their names in for them?! What kind of magically binding contract allows for that sort of loophole in the first place?! For that matter, what sort of magically binding contract allows for THIS to happen?!”
 
He can tell his words are having some effect on those in the room. Karkaroff looks like he’s sucked on something particularly sour. Maxime at least looks thoughtful. Dumbledore has a grimace, and the three actual Triwizard Champions are all blank-faced and wide-eyed as Harry makes some very good points. On the other hand… there’s always Severus Snape.
 
“And what exactly are you claiming happened, Potter? Because from where I’m standing, it’s quite obvious you’ve done what you always do and found a way to circumvent the rules.”
 
Looking at the man who played no small part in siccing Voldemort on him and his parents, it takes every ounce of self-control Harry has not to whip out his wand and kill Snape on the spot. But no, it wouldn’t do to reveal his hand too early. He needs to be free if he wants to get things done, not locked up in Azkaban. Although, he will need to make a trip there some time soon… just not in chains with his wand snapped if he could help it.
 
Before Harry can answer, an unexpected savior does it for him.
 
“Don’t be daft, Snape. You know what he’s claiming. And he’s right too.”
 
Mad-Eye Moody enters the room and immediately occupies everyone’s attention. But then to be fair, someone like him just had a presence to him… even when he was actually a polyjuiced Death Eater in disguise. His magical prosthetic eye spins this way and that, before focusing on Harry even as his remaining real eye sweeps over the assembles wizards and witches.
 
“Boy’s right. What was the point of an Age Line if anyone could put anyone else’s name in the Goblet, eh? But that’s not even what’s important. Wouldn’t be a problem if he’d come out as the Hogwarts Champion, would it?”
 
Madame Maxime frowns at this.
 
“But ‘e is ze ‘Ogwarts Champion! A second one!”
 
Shaking his head, ‘Moody’ takes a swig from his flask. Once again, Harry is struck by the urge to Expelliarmus the man’s flask out of his hand. Let the Polyjuice Potion spill all over the floor. But no… no, that would be a bit much this early in the game.
 
“He’s unaffiliated. A fourth nonexistent school. Potter is an island unto himself in this Tournament. Which is exactly what whoever put his name in wants.”
 
There’s a beat as everyone processes that. Of course, not everyone understands what he’s getting at.
 
“Zis is still outrageous! ‘e now has a chance to compete for ze honor and glory and a thousand Galleons besides! Zis isn’t fair!”
 
He’d forgotten Fleur was so… bratty when she was younger. Not that it makes her any less beautiful, Harry must admit. She could throw a full-blown tantrum and she’d still somehow manage to make it look sexy. That said, she’s clearly wrong about some things here, and Harry sees no reason to let Barty Crouch Jr. as Mad-Eye Moody do all the talking.
 
“I have no need for the glory or the gold. I’m the Boy-Who-Lived. And my bank account at Gringotts certainly isn’t hurting, even after over a decade of neglect. By comparison, competing in a school tournament isn’t going to make me any more of a celebrity than I already am.”
 
In truth, he could always use a little more gold. And a thousand Galleons wasn’t anything to scoff at either. At the same time though, the truth rings in his words. For some, it sways them even more to his side. For others, like Snape, it only makes them angrier. The Potions Professor is scowling furiously now, as Harry’s disguised Death Eater ally backs him up.
 
“Damn straight. And more than that, Potter isn’t strong enough to fool the Goblet of Fire. None of your students are. Which means someone with the magic to cast a very powerful Confundus charm wanted to make sure the boy competed. They hoodwinked an ancient magical artifact, just as the boy said. You think a Fourth Year is capable of that?”
 
“… But why? Why sign Harry up for a fourth school like this?”
 
Cedric Diggory’s confusion is palpable as he finally speaks up, his brow furrowed. The Hufflepuff Champion has been listening to Harry and ‘Moody’ quite closely, and Harry can say they’ve swayed him considerably already. But at the same time, he still doesn’t truly understand. To be fair, he’d willingly signed up for the Tournament, so of course he wouldn’t.
 
“Heh, to try and get him killed, of course.”

The room explodes as everyone tries to talk at once. Cedric just blinks, even as everyone else reacts with disbelief or derision. Harry, meanwhile, finds himself a bit lost in thought. Even as Karkaroff derides ‘Moody’ as paranoid and Barty Jr. turns things back around on the other wizard in spectacular fashion, Harry is more focused on what he wants to do next.
 
Because… in truth, he didn’t have to deal with this shit if he didn’t want to. The Triwizard Tournament represented opportunity, there was no doubt about that. Even with his claims to Fleur that he needed neither the glory nor the gold, he could certainly make use of both. More than that, his participation in the Triwizard Tournament represented a clear and direct path to not just Voldemort, but his followers.
 
Harry knew where Voldemort currently was. He could hop over there after getting a couple of other things done and deal with the Dark Lord with a snap of his fingers. But Voldemort’s followers were a little more difficult. He knew who they all were of course but getting them all together wouldn’t be something he could just pull off at any time.
 
On the other hand, being bound to the Goblet of Fire for a year would be annoying. It wouldn’t limit him all that much, but it would require him to be present for each of the Tasks when they arrived. Tasks that he could excel at, and in doing so attract the eye of many a witch.
 
He had to consider precisely what he’d come back for. He was here to stop the end of the world. Did he have time for this stupid school tournament? More pertinently, was he ready to deal with the fallout of breaking the contract?
 
Because he could do it. Without suffering any of the consequences, even. Harry knew full well how to break the magically binding contract with the Goblet of Fire without being hit by the backlash. However, there would still be fallout. There would be questions that he probably wouldn’t want to answer.
 
As Dumbledore finally brings the debate to a close and Bagman takes the opportunity to jump in and get started on the instructions, Harry makes his decision then and there. He can’t afford to be anything less than decisive. The world is depending on him.