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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Lord of War

Chapter 2 - Hollowed Nights

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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
October 31st, 1993

Barty Crouch moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard. . . very important."

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges."

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment... I've left young Weatherby in charge... Very enthusiastic...a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise." (1)

Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left together. Once he entered the Great Hall however, he was beckoned by the gruff voice he'd come to know as Mad Eye Moody's.

"Potter. A word, if you will." Mad Eye motioned to Harry with a nod. A small shrug to Cedric Diggory and they parted ways. Harry walked the now silent halls of Hogwarts with the eccentric Dark Arts professor. They soon arrived at the Moody's Spartan office at the end of the DADA classroom.

"Potter, how do you feel about your participation in this tournament? Frightening, I would imagine."

"I'm more worried about what people are going to make of all this. They're all going to think I submitted my name somehow," Harry said, remembering the dark look he got from his best mate when his name emerged from the goblet. "There's no way I can explain all this properly, which only makes this whole sodding situation that more complicated!"

Realizing what he had just said, in front of a professor no less, made him flinch a bit. "Er- sorry about that, Professor."

Moody smiled in amusement. "Quite alright, lad. It must be a lot to take in considering you'll be competing in this tournament barely on a fourth year education. Experience, in many of life's challenges, is everything."

Harry could only nod morbidly in agreement. He had only recently accepted the fact that he was obligated to compete in the tournament. Now, on top of that, he was made to realize just how ill prepared he was in comparison to the other champions. The other three champions had at least two more years of knowledge and experience to draw from. Harry only had a couple run-ins with a pretentious Dark Lord and a rather lucky encounter with a few hundred Dementors months before.

"The reason I've brought you here was not tread on the obviously delicate situation, but rather offer a way to remedy your inexperience."

Harry was curious. "But, sir, Mr. Crouch said to receive no help from the staff."

"So you realize the level of trust I am offering you, eh, Potter? I never planned on sticking around as the permanent DADA professor, and Albus understands that. While I could care less about losing this job, I rather we kept this between ourselves. After all, we both know you of all people would find a thorough training regimen most beneficial." Moody fixed Harry with a hard look, both eyes locked.

Harry understood Moody clearly. He would need this training if he was to ever survive another encounter with the Dark Lord, which, with his track record so far, was more than likely. Following school rules was never Harry's cup of tea either. He understood that rules were meant to be bent, even broken, if things had to done.

"Why now?" Harry asked. "I was never offered any help before? Is this tournament really so dangerous that Dumbledore fears I might die or something?"

"Dumbledore has nothing to do with this, boy. This offer comes directly from me and no other. And if you accept, it will remain that way."

Thinking about it, it was not a bad idea at all. He would be learning from an ex-Auror, and a very renowned one to boot. But his immediate concern was the tournament, of course. This would help him immensely, leveling the playing field between him and the other champions.

His friends would have to be kept in the dark which he figured was also a good idea. No need to worry Hermione with his training, or be bombarded with questions of his progress. Ron... Well Ron would probably be more jealous then concerned; or relieved that he's not a part of it, if the training proved to more than he could handle.

"What do I have to lose?" Harry stated rather than asked.

"What indeed, Mr. Potter." Mad Eye Moody grinned wickedly, satisfaction oozing from him, obviously pleased Harry was going along with his plans. "Before we continue however, we must form a wizard's oath that whatever is said or done within this room stays between just us, unless we specifically state otherwise, agreed?"

Harry nodded his approval, and a within a minute their oaths were confirmed with and smooth flash of ambient magic.

"Now that that's settled, I would like to show you something." Reaching inside his long dark cloak Moody pulled out a familiar looking small golden hour-glass. "What do you know of time-turners, Harry?"

Looking dumbfounded for a moment, surprised by seeing another time turner so soon, he thought back on what he knew. It was just last term when he and Hermione used one to save both Sirius and Buckbeak. He was beginning to wonder if the rarity of the item was overstated.

"A friend of mine, Hermione Granger, used one last school year to manage her extra classes." Seeing Moody's calculating look he continued hastily, "With both Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall's permission, of course."

"Truly an ambitious young witch, to use such an item for something so... uninteresting as extra classes," Moody said.

Harry shook his head. "You don't know Hermione," he said with a small smile.

"Well that saves me from having to explain things to you. Needless to say, this is an item not to be used trivially. But, like I said, your situation calls for drastic measures, eh?"

"With the first task less than a month away we are going to have to use this wisely. And if we do this just right we can squeeze in about a week for every day. That should give us. . . Somewhere around half a year between now and November twenty fourth," said Moody.

Half a year! Bugger it all! "People will notice if I disappear for almost a month. How could that possibly work?"

"At the end of each week we will exit the time loop and go through the day for just that reason. Once you've done that you're free to re-enter the loop until the next day, real-time. And if anything should go wrong, or if any of your friends begin asking questions I'll sort it out. Your only concern should be on your training." Moody answered.

Well then. "Where am I going to train? I don't imagine we'd be exactly inconspicuous in a classroom, will we?"

Moody dug another object from within his coat pocket, this one a bit larger. With a flourish of his wand the object enlarged into a large chest, as tall as Harry's waist. Walking around the chest, Harry sized it up.

"What's this then?" he asked.

"This is a wizard's chest, like the one I have over there," he said pointing to the other, darker, ancient looking chest. "Inside there are a dozen bedrooms, and just as many training rooms. It's stocked with all training material I thought you might be able to use.

It was Harry's turn to look at Moody a little calculatingly. "So you must have figured I would accept your training then. I mean, all of this must have cost a fortune. What if I would have refused?"

"If there's one thing I'm good at, Potter, it's my ability to judge people. I've been watching you sinse I arrived here. What I saw was not what I had expected. Forgive me for assuming, but I once believe you would be nothing but a spoiled child." Harry looked unimpressed with those words, but allowed the old man to continue. "However once I arrived I quickly realized it was just the opposite. You see, Dumbledore filled me on minor detail of your life, such as your situation with your Muggle relatives. Knowing that, combined with the way you carried yourself, as if the world itself was on your shoulders, I knew I couldn't have been more wrong. You have a great sense of humility that most children your age simply don't have. It took me only a week to get a good feel of your character. It was then that I knew, given the right reasons, you would accept this training, if only to better yourself to protect those you care about. When your name came out of the Goblet, well, I figured sooner was better than later."

Harry remained silent. His life sounded like a tragedy coming from the old man. He never thought he could be read so easily, not that he was being subtle, or anything. He disliked the fact that yet another person assumed his life was dandy because of his fame, and he definitely disliked the fact that someone, even a Professor, was more privy to his psychological standing than he himself was. Something about that seeming too disconcerting.

"You make it sound as if I'm someone special." Harry joked lamely.

"Are you not? First person to ever survive a killing curse; surviving basilisk poison; one of the two known living Parslemouths; and repelling over a hundred Dementors with a single patronous charm. Are you not special, Harry?"

His jaws tightened, not willing to answer that question. Moody simply did not understand. "So when will this start?" he inquired.

Moody only smiled knowingly at the blatant change of subjects. "Tonight, if you're willing."

"Tonight? You want to start tonight? Don't I need to . . . I dunno, prepare or something?"

Moody shook his head. "No. Come as you are, lad. We could get in a couple days before breakfast."

"Not to worry. First day is only an assessment of where we should begin, and you can rest after."

Not seeing any fault in Moody's logic, he followed the Dark Arts Professor down into the trunk. What he found within was not quite what he expected.

Unlike Moody's Spartan office the trunk was fully furnished, and resembled, what he could only assume, was a pureblood sort of layout. Thought the overall theme was much brighter than what he witnessed from the Slytherin's dungeon his second year. There were copious amounts of red, gold, brown, and silver decorations. Everything looked elegant and expensive, yet simple enough to actually seem useable, rather than for show.

"Magic truly is a great, innit." Harry was marveled by the size of the place in spite of being in such a small trunk.

"Follow me, Potter."

Walking down a large stone corridor Harry was surprised to hear other people coming from the opposite end. Looking around Moody he could see another Moody coming towards them, his wooden leg clanking along just like to one in front of him. Harry staggered a bit when a twin copy of himself trudged along behind the other Moody with a heavy scowl plastered on his face.

Looking closer, Harry 1 could see that nearly the entire right side of his copy's, Harry 2, face was bruised and pinkish. Harry 2 was also clutching his left arm, apparently wounded.

"Bloody wanker," Harry 2 nodded towards Moody 2, "Watch out for his Bombarda hex, it's something wicked."

Harry 1 gulped, "Er- sure. Will do."

Harry 2 sighed, "No, you won't." And he continued behind Moody 2.

Once the original pair reached a large wooden door they proceeded inside were they stood in huge room the size of a Quiddich Pitch, it's walls decorated with various sorts of magical training devices, many of which Harry never seen before. There were large windows high along the walls which were enchanted to bear a bright midday sun, shining the training room with its golden rays. Following Moody into the center of the room Harry was sizing the place up until Moody brought him back into focus.

Brandishing his wand, Moody said, "All training rooms have been warded to withstand nearly any magic forced against it. As you may have guessed, it took a pretty sickle to make it this way, so please feel free to give me your all, Potter."

"Yeah, sure," he said somewhat unintelligently.

"Now, first order of business: I want you to attack me as best as you can."

"Wh-What?" Harry asked dumbly. "Just attack you? Now?"

"Yes, boy. What'd you expect, boggarts and chocolate frogs? This isn't exactly a counseling session now is it?"

Moody's words hit home. Harry was now irate. Moody was obviously taking cheap shots at Professor Lupin and the brief training he received the past school year. He also began to wonder just how much Moody was told about his life.

Harry brandished his wand, visibly heated. He took a basic dueling stance and began sizing up his opponent. Seeing the vicious look on Moody's face, and his wild eye spinning dangerously, Harry was poised to move at a moments notice.

After a long beat, Moody's hand fired off a spell so fast Harry barely saw the wand movement at all. A pink-ish red curse rocketed towards his head but Harry slid out it's trajectory quickly. Two more spells, just as fast as the one before, shot in rapid succession. Dodging the first, the second fizzled on Harry's quickly erected golden shield.

Moody looked amused. "I see. You've honed your agility, eh? Well, how 'bout this then!" Moody unloaded with a steady stream of hexes, curses, and charms. He had Harry dodging and weaving nearly two minutes until the boy was sweating. "You like to move around a lot. While impressive, you must remember to shield yourself first and dodge second, only if you think the spell is more than you can swallow. You're a wizard, Harry, not a damned muggle."

That was quite unexpected. Professor Moody would be one of the last few people he would've expected to make such a bigoted comment. Too many people in the wizarding world looked upon muggles with contempt. They chose to see only the cons of muggle world without acknowledging the benefits. The world was changing around them, yet most magical folk chose to hold on to some misguided pretense of tradition. Wizarding kind would have to join the 21st century one day, why not sooner rather than later?

"Reducto!" Harry screamed. His hex crashed into the marble just before Moody, showing the ex-Auror in rocks and debris. The ground rumbled with the impact of another 'Reducto!', this one shattering Moody's wooden stump. Unable to keep his balance, the old man went sprawling onto his back almost comically. Before his wits were about him, there was a tennis shoe pressed down to on his throat, pinning him.

"And you, Professor, are too stationary. Perhaps loosing a few pounds around the middle would help with your footwork?" Harry felt a huge swell of pride wash over him. Here he was, a fourth year, besting an ex-Auror. Maybe the jab at the man's weight was a bit uncalled for, but boy did it feel good.

Mad Eye Moody, however, did not look pleased. "You cheeky bastard!"

With rejuvenated vigor the man screamed, "Loctare!" Harry's wand arm was overwhelmed with sudden pain and he unwilling dropped his wand. Moody 'Reparo'ed' his shatter stump within mere seconds. With a wave of his wand Harry was shot away viciously as if shot by a canon. Harry's rag doll body tumbled to a stop twenty feet away from Moody, were he lay panting for air.

Harry fought desperately to rise back to his feet, unwilling to give up just yet. He quickly swallowed the bile that rose up, blood rushing from his head, slightly dizzy. Pain shot through his arm as he used it to push himself upright. With clenched teeth, he stifled a groan that was fast to escape.

His glasses were nowhere to be found, rendering him half blind. With a hazy vision he could barely make out his holly wand two feet from Mad Eye.

"Never grow overconfident, lad. Finish the job and move on. Leave the rest for a Medi-witch to sort out, understood?"

Harry listened on, clutching his right arm which was still searing with pain, yet oddly bearable. His twitching fingers went unnoticed by Mad Eye, as did the wand that was gradually sliding towards him at a steady pace.

Harry had no pretense on wandless magic, only that it was rare, a lot like parseltongue. And if parseltongue was an ability exclusive to less than a handful of wizards, like wandless magic, then he knew he was more than likely capable of doing it also.

Harry was not an ordinary wizard, and he was slowly beginning to understand that fact. Something within him was too different, fundamentally different. A normal life would forever elude him. Danger always loomed his way, yet he always met it head on, and that would never change. He was chasing a dream of a "normal" life while the dreams of others were chasing him.

The holly wand jumped into Harry's outstretched left hand. Upon contact Harry erected a golden shield to block a swift hex from Moody. He could see the look of astonishment on the Auror face through the shimmering golden dome. Moody had not expected that.

Without his glasses, Harry's accuracy was shot, and they both knew it. Direct spell fire would get him nowhere at that point. Harry needed a high percentage spell, a spell that needed no real target, and a spell that would work by knowing just the target's general area. Unfortunately for Harry, he could count the number of high percentage spells he knew on one hand. This had better work. "Accio!" he cried.

With a fierce jerk, Moody was yanked towards the young green-eyed wizard. With a swift "Petrifcus Totalus", Moody was bound, and once again, found himself under the young wizard's sneaker.

"How was that then?" Harry asked, this time foregoing the bravado.

Mad Eye smiled wickedly despite his predicament, which didn't bode well at all for young Harry. "Not bad, lad. Just . . . one thing."

Harry, still in elation of his successes, failed to disarm his opponent. Looking down at the last moment, Harry met a 'Bombarda!' jinx head on, with his right eye.

Harry was set screaming bloody murder as the pain laced through his face. The body bind on Mad Eye broke and the old wizard was about again.

Stifling his pain took great effort, but Harry managed to focus once more. He glared wickedly at Moody, his right eye bloodshot and surrounding area badly bruised.

Moody jabbed his wand forward but Harry erected another golden dome in less than a second. Oddly enough no spell came high or low. 'A feint!' Harry realized, a bit too late.

A large object from training room walls was flying at him from behind, but by the time Harry noticed, it was already upon him. The boy was knocked unconscious on impact from a huge apparatus, but sustained no serious injuries.

"Amateur mistakes," Moody said, looking down at the battered and bruised boy. He himself was wheezing a bit, sweating nearly as much as Harry. "Not bad, Harry. Not bad at all."

Mad Eye Moody removed a silver hip-flask and took a swig of its contents, the disgust showing on his face.

"What are they feeding you kids these days?" he asked himself. "You're a decent enough wizard as it stands. Hopefully by the time I'm done with you, you'll be able to survive the next encounter with the Dark Lord. This is all I can do to help you."

Unbeknownst to the older wizard however, he had set forth a series of events that would more than prepare young Harry to "survive" an encounter with the Dark Lord. He would find the very means to fight back, and in the end, earn the title of The-Boy-Who-Lived.

'After this, my debt to you will be fulfilled, James.' Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody thought. He levitated the unconscious body of Harry Potter out of the training room.

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Azkaban Prison
October 31st, 1999

Dusk.

The night had reclaimed Azkaban with the passing of the sun over the horizon. The stormy gray clouds above and frosty atmosphere told of an impending storm. The Prison's dark silhouette fell over the eastern shore allowing a clear path of shadows that lead directly to shore.

'That's my way off this rock. Instincts are kicking in full force now. Even the whispers agree.

'Slipping past the Order and Ministry wasn't as difficult as I thought. Vigilant lot, they are. Looking around, all I see are witches and wizards who're preoccupied tending their wounded and bidding final farewells to their fallen. Lucky for me the bulk of their forces have withdrawn into the prison itself.

'Voldemort's long gone. And if they think they'll take me back to that slam, then they'll have another thing coming. I'll die before I go back to that hellhole.

'Better not give these arseholes the chance.

'There's an unmanned boat just out of the immediate area of this island. Only 8 kilometers out, not too far.

'The sea below looks like it can swallow a man alive in mere seconds. The terror is there, under the anticipation, buried deep inside. The animal side is thrilled. 'S been a long time since I've felt this alive.'

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Harry gazed over a steep cliff, determination written across is face. He strolled back several paces, turned about, and sprinted towards the ledge as if he was shot from a canon. He launched himself high towards the heavens and at the apex of his leap he dove into the furious ocean below.

Once he resurfaced, his muscular limbs propelled him through the violent currents. The waves were a brutal obstacle to overcome, but he quickly learned that it was best to swim under them, lest he be pushed back to were he started. The sentient-like magic within Harry converted a small fraction of itself into needed stamina. After an hour of non-stop swimming against currents that could sink large ships, Harry made it to his destination.

Reaching the wooden vessel, Harry used one of the ropes hanging overboard to pull himself up onto the deck.

The ocean had washed away some of his previous dirt and grime. Harry now stood with poise, seemingly unfazed by the challenge of the sea. He schooled his breathing in seconds and his fatigue was washed away with the sudden downpour of rain.

Most would consider it suicide to attempt swimming in Azkaban's seas. One of the reasons the prison was built in such a location was to eliminate that very means of escape.

Harry undid the magical anchor of the ship and prepared for his departure. When he was ready to set sail a loud crack of apparition was heard behind him.

Turning around he found a haggard and rotund man, undoubtedly another Azkaban inmate. He was clutching his torso shivering, teeth clattering from the frosty night air, dark hair matted onto his head from the thundering rain. The overweight man's encrusted thin cloths brought him no warmth.

"Get off the boat," Harry growled.

"W-What?" asked the prisoner disbelievingly, eyes growing wide at Harry's demanding face and intense emerald eyes. "P-Pl-Please you gotta help me, mate! I'm an inmate, like you!"

"I don't give a fuck. They have magical trackers back there, I'm sure, and I guarantee that little stunt you just pulled triggered a few of 'em. Now get the fuck off this boat."

"Y-Y-You can't do that! They'll-" The plump man didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. Harry shot forward at the unfortunate man and dropped low at the last second. Harry slinked around and behind the man and wrapped his right arm snugly around his collar. With a simple tug of his shoulder Harry snapped his neck.

The limp body fell to the deck with a thud. "Now look what you made me do."

After he threw the body overboard, Harry looked to see if his dead friend had attracted any attention from the island. Sure enough, he could make out many small pricks of light coming from the tips of various wands. He was far enough away to tell that they couldn't distinguish his ship from the blackness of the night. Calculating his odds, he figured he only had about ten minutes to get the hell out of Dodge.

Harry moved to the back of the boat and aimed the open palm of his right hand at the ocean below. Instantly the ship began to move away from Azkaban as he pumped a steady stream of raw magic at the sea. Harry kept the amount of magic used to a bare minimum to avoid detection, though wandless magic was damn near untraceable except to the most intricate of magical trackers. If he maintained his current speed he would reach shore within a few days.

As the ship sailed through the storm, Harry formulated his next plan of action, knowing full well he'd have half of magical Britain after him.

'I'll have to rejoin the 'civilized' world once again,' he thought, 'After nearly five years of torment and solitude, they better be aware of the fact that I'm not the person I used to be. Hell, they better hope I don't ghost their backstabbin' asses.'

Memories of people he once called friends plagued his mind. A cinnamon-haired, bookish young woman entered his thoughts.

'Gotta find Hermione. She's as close to an ally as I'm likely to find, as well as the only person I know who can outwit the cleverest of men. If there was ever a chance of putting this war behind me, it's always been through her.'

'Hope she's still in the business of aiding escaped convicts.' Harry chuckled darkly.

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Author's Commentary

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(1) - Everything before this point was taken directly from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and was used to my benefit, to help set up this chapter.

And there you have it folks, the extremely overdue update. Chapter 3 is almost complete, so bear with me. With me being big into the arts scene, I've manage to find a few good images from around the net. These images just screamed to me; they truly belong in the LoW universe that I'm creating. I'm very envious of the people who created them because their talent is so profound, at least to me! My meager art skills are garbage compared to what I've found. You can check them out in my profile. If there are any broken links, please let me know.

-Afro