Chapter 30: A Turn of Tides and the Whisper of Hearts
The Great Hall was abuzz with energy. The soft clinking of cutlery and murmurs of students gave way to hushed awe whenever Harrison Strange Potter passed by. His footsteps were silent, but the weight of his presence reverberated through the very walls of Hogwarts. As he made his way to the Gryffindor table, students from all four houses turned to look at him—not with fear or envy, but with admiration. Respect radiated from their eyes, and for the first time since his arrival at Hogwarts, Harrison felt completely accepted by the student body.
He wasn't just the top duelist in the Under-17 tournament or the heir to ancient power. He was their champion—chosen by the Goblet of Fire not for a trick or political maneuver, but for his deeds in this life and echoes of countless ones before.
Fred and George whistled loudly as he sat down, clapping him on the back. Cedric gave him a respectful nod from the Hufflepuff table, while Lee Jordan leaned over with a wide grin.
"Did you see your mural in the Entrance Hall? They've enchanted it to show all your past incarnations fighting giants and monsters! Blimey, I didn't know you could punch a Titan in the face."
Harrison chuckled softly. "He deserved it."
"Understatement," Penelope whispered from the Ravenclaw table, smiling warmly.
Clarissa, sitting beside her in sleek Slytherin robes, gave a small, pleased smirk. Her eyes glinted as if daring anyone to speak ill of him.
A Journalist's Redemption
That morning's edition of the Daily Prophet brought with it a shockwave of unprecedented proportions. On the front page, nestled beside a magically moving portrait of Harrison conjuring the cosmic wings of Horus, was an open letter written by none other than Rita Skeeter.
"I Was Wrong: A Public Apology to Harrison Strange Potter"
For years, I've written columns fueled by rumors, innuendo, and half-truths. I have pursued headlines, not honor. But Harrison Strange Potter's truth is undeniable. This boy—no, this Guardian—has fought gods, traveled through time, and borne the weight of prophecy in more lives than I can count.
He stood in front of the Wizengamot and passed judgment on Peter Pettigrew. He uncovered the truth about Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. He carries the legacy of civilizations long forgotten. And I, Rita Skeeter, beg forgiveness for the role I played in doubting him.
To Harrison: I failed to see the greatness in front of me. I hope you can one day see me as more than just a vulture of ink and lies. Yours, Rita Skeeter.
The hall had exploded into whispers when the paper had arrived.
"Did Rita Skeeter just admit she was wrong?"
"She even begged! Like, literally begged."
"She must really be scared of him."
Harrison read the letter without any reaction, simply folded the paper and handed it to Penelope, who blinked in surprise.
"You're not going to say anything?" she asked.
"Actions are louder than words, Penny. She wants to earn back the world's trust? Then she needs to show it."
Clarissa nodded approvingly. "Good answer."
Whispers of the Heart
Later that evening, Harry Potter walked with Hermione and Ron toward the Gryffindor Common Room, still distracted by a thought he couldn't shake.
"You're still thinking about that letter, aren't you?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Harry replied, pulling the parchment from his pocket.
The handwriting was elegant, looping letters that hinted at someone refined and deliberate. The words were kind, deeply personal, filled with admiration and support. But it wasn't just the content—it was the way it felt. As if whoever wrote it knew him deeply.
He read it aloud again:
Dear Harry,
You are more than a scar or a prophecy. You are brave in ways most people overlook. You care too much, and that's your strength. I hope one day, you'll know who I am. Until then, keep being the boy who believes.
Yours always,
A Friend.
Ron groaned. "Could be anyone. That handwriting looks like a girl's. Maybe Ginny's trying to be sneaky."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be daft. Ginny can barely write her own name without dotting it with a heart. This is someone else. Someone… thoughtful."
Harry's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. "I think I know who it might be."
They both turned to him.
"Who?" Ron demanded.
Harry hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Not yet. But I will soon."
A Feast of Fate
That night, the Great Hall gleamed with floating candles and jack-o'-lanterns. Halloween was in full swing. The Goblet of Fire continued to burn in its chamber, awaiting its moment. But for now, it cast an ambient blue glow over the Hall.
Dumbledore stood once more and raised his hands. The Hall fell silent.
"Tonight, we celebrate the legacy of unity between magical schools, the resilience of our youth, and the promise of a new era of peace and truth. As you all know, the champions for the Triwizard Tournament have been chosen. Let us raise our goblets to Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons, Viktor Krum of Durmstrang, and Harrison Strange Potter of Hogwarts!"
A thunderous applause followed, echoing through the enchanted ceiling above. Thunder rumbled faintly, but no rain fell.
Harrison raised his goblet in acknowledgment but kept his eyes on his friends—Fred and George doing a mock bow, Neville looking starstruck, and Harry grinning like a proud brother.
Penelope and Clarissa raised their glasses as well, eyes glowing with pride.
Sirius, from the staff table beside Professor Flitwick, gave Harrison a wink.
Nightfall
Later that night, Harrison stood on the Astronomy Tower, the stars reflected in his eyes.
The whispers of the cosmos, the shifting tides of fate, all quieted in that singular moment of peace.
A letter in one hand—Harry's anonymous love note—now replicated by a magical trace. The identity would be revealed soon. But Harrison didn't pry. It wasn't his story to meddle in.
He looked to the stars, knowing that beyond this peace, storms would soon come.
But he would be ready. Because he wasn't just a champion.
He was the Guardian of Time. The Champion of Chaos. The Sorcerer Supreme.
And above all, he was the brother, friend, and protector that this world desperately needed.