HP: Panem et Circenses

January 15th, 1996

Dark, rainy clouds drifted across the ceiling of the Great Hall. Beneath them, at the head of the Ravenclaw Table, Fleur Delacour spun her finger in slow, steady circles while reading in her journal, a small smile on her red lips.

Tristan watched as the silver spoon in her mug of hot chocolate mirrored her motion and kept stirring until a generous amount of whipped cream had completely melted away.

'It's been over three days since we got back and she still just sits there.' A soft pang rose in his breast. 'All that talk about being different and now she acts like nothing's happened at all.' He fed the pang to the hollow emptiness right beneath his heart. 'In another life we could've been great together, Fleur...'

"Look at me, everybody," Valeria ridiculed, imitating his voice. "I am Tristan Peverell and Fleur Delacour means nothing to me..."

"She doesn't," Tristan asserted. He tore his gaze away from Fleur and leveled his sister with a flat look. "I'm only keeping a close eye on her because she's still my competition in the tournament."

"Uh-huh, sure." Valeria rolled her eyes. "Curious how you don't search for Viktor Krum first thing in the morning when you enter the Great Hall."

"She's got you there, big brother," Galahad snickered, loading his plate with a second serving of pie.

"Hanging around with 'dorks has rubbed off on you already. Krum didn't finish first in the last task," Tristan replied, nodding toward Fleur. "She did."

'Because Fleur Delacour always finishes first...' Wry humor tugged at his thoughts. 'At least that night she did...'

Tristan resisted the urge to grin and buried the humor together with the image of her faint blush on pale cheeks. 'Because winning is all she cares about...'

"You seriously need to stop acting like some lost puppy," Valeria murmured. "I've never seen you like this before. It's pathetic how you stare."

"I'm not staring, I'm observing," Tristan huffed, gesturing to a trio of Ravenclaw fifth-years, who gaped at Fleur with glassy eyes. "See those idiots over there. They're staring."

"Everyone in Gryffindor thinks she's really pretty," Galahad shared, munching on his pie with a small frown. "First thing Cormac McLaggen from fifth-year did when we arrived back at the castle was to ask me if you were still dating her in secret. Apparently, she wouldn't tell him."

"Probably because McLaggen couldn't put two words together when he asked her out," Tristan, snorted, daring another quick glance over to Fleur and smothering a flare of ugly discomfort.

'She's said no to all of them so far.' He watched her take a small sip from her hot chocolate and lick her lips. 'I thought she'd jump at the opportunity to try and make me jealous with one of them...'

"Urgh, will you stop it already!" Valeria flicked him hard against the head. "If Galahad and I have noticed it, do you honestly think someone as observant as she hasn't noticed that you kept staring over?"

"Whatever, fine." Tristan gritted his teeth, concentrating hard on avoiding her direction for the rest of his lunch.

A fivesome of seventh-years stood from the Hufflepuff table in a swell of giggles. Adelaide's girlfriends shot him smug faces and flashed him an all too familiar front page of the Daily Prophet as they followed her out of the Great Hall.

"Stupid cows. Shouldn't seventh-years have some other issues to worry about?" Valeria rolled her eyes. "You tried to apologize and ended up drenched in champagne. What more do they want you to do?"

"I don't really care," Tristan shrugged. "Let them giggle and gossip."

'It's what the shallow, little people have always done.'

"In a few weeks... they'll be cheering you on... for the task again," Galahad slurped with a mouthful of pie. "Which reminds me... now that we're back at Hogwarts... Will you finally share some clues with us?"

"Is that why you've decided to join us for lunch at the Slytherin table today?" Tristan glanced over at him in amusement. "You should know that I don't open up easily, Galahad. It'll take more than a shared meal to spill my secrets."

'I wonder if Fleur ever came back to my secret room during the break?' Tristan turned the thought over in his head, forcing himself not to glance over at her. 'Thank Merlin I didn't tell her how exactly it opens. It should take some time to figure it out, even for her.'

"But we're your family!" His brother swallowed another spoonful and pouted. "Come on, please."

Tristan laughed. "If Aurelia's pout doesn't make me spill anything, why would you think yours could? She's much cuter than you."

Silver flickered in the corner of his eye and the grin died on his lips. Fleur rose elegantly and floated past the tables out of the Great Hall without acknowledging him in any way.

'Only her pout got the job done...'

"The second task is only little more than a month away," Valeria murmured, following his line of sight with a deep frown. "You could at least share something with us."

"I don't want to spoil the surprise." Tristan glanced at his wristwatch and gulped down the last few sips of his pumpkin juice. "Time for classes now anyway. I'll be off."

"Traitorous coward," Galahad muttered.

"We can't all be honorable Gryffindors like you, baby brother." Tristan ruffled his brother's hair on his way past him. "I'll see you tonight at dinner. That is if you want to give it another try instead of sitting with your 'dork buddies again."

Throngs of students from all four Houses lingered by the entrance hall. They darted aside to make way for him; watching him with the faint gleam of excitement in their eyes and conversing in hushed whispers of marvel.

Tristan aimed for the Giant Staircase when a foursome of Slytherins stepped into his path.

'I should've known this was coming...'

He let his wand slide down his sleeve, resting just above his palm as he calmly strode closer, coming to halt right in front of his warily looking housemates.

"Abraxas, old friend, I haven't seen you in ages." Tristan spread his arms invitingly. "I'd hug you in greeting, but I just had lunch and your robes look even fancier than they did last term. Twilfitt and Tattings' latest collection, I assume?"

"Peverell... as entertaining as ever." Malfoy wore his trademark sneer though his gray eyes flashed like blank steel. "We didn't get the chance to speak at the Bones' Manor. Although you seemed rather... busy that night anyway."

"What can I say, it's been a busy term for me, my friend." Tristan's smile turned cold and hard. "Although you probably can't relate, with how much free time you've been given. Don't be shy now, show us that tan you've worked on while you were on vacation."

Stifled chuckles slipped from the surrounding students.

"Go ahead and squawk and make your little jokes," Malfoy snarled. "We will have the last laugh soon enough."

"No tan then?" Tristan quirked an eyebrow and sighed. "Fine. You didn't gain any more freckles either, Crouch, so what about you, Lestrange? Did you let your brother finally catch a peek of yourself tanning topless?"

Diana Lestrange's violet eyes bulged in their sockets. Next to her, Brutus growled like a threatened dog, hand twitching to his wand.

"Uh, uh, uh." Tristan's wand slipped into his palm and he waggled his finger playfully. "That wouldn't be very wise, would it? Remember how you guys fared last time?"

"Last time you fared far worse than we did, Peverell." Caspar Crouch's voice dropped to whisper. "I remember you crawling away from us like some cockroach, bleeding... whimpering... and whining in pain."

'Only to come back stronger than ever.'

"And yet I am here." Tristan twirled his wand, black mist swirling around his fingers. "Attacking me is fair play. But I haven't forgotten, nor forgiven, what you've tried to do to my brother."

Malfoy feigned confusion. "We don't know what you're talking about, Peverell."

"Of course, you don't." Tristan inclined his head, shooing them away with his wand. "Better run along now. Passing your NEWTs will be enough of a struggle with how many classes you've missed already. You don't want to make it even worse, do you?"

They each shot him a final glare, or in Malfoy's case a sneer, before turning and striding down toward the dungeons. The small crowd dispelled in whispers of disappointment and Tristan hurried up the steps.

'I'm already late, perhaps I should just skip.' He skittered around the corner leading to the transfiguration classroom. 'But there's always the chance we'll do something interesting.'

"Quickly find your seat, Mr. Peverell. We will be performing complex magic today." McGonagall strode from the office the moment he entered and addressed the already seated class. "In front of each of you is a bowling ball, and no we are not bowling today. Today we will be transfiguring this bowling ball into a balloon. Let's begin."

"Definitely should've skipped this lesson," Tristan muttered, slipping into his seat and scowling at his bright orange bowling ball.

"Wands away. We'll cover the theory first." McGonagall levitated a piece of chalk and began writing down line after line on the huge blackboard. His peers hastily scrambled through their bags, sharing parchment, quill, and ink among each other and hurrying to keep up with her furious pace.

"I don't need to copy any of this stuff." Tristan rolled his eyes as the fifth hypothesis appeared on the blackboard. He rested his head on his hands and let his gaze travel out the window and to the edge of distant pine trees, blocking out McGonagall's obnoxious voice as best as he could.

'Something important... an hour's time... in the Forbidden Forest.'

Tristan opened his bag and slid his wand into his palm, moving both hands under the tabletop. A droplet of crimson dwelled from his thumb after pricking it with the tip of his wand and he pressed it to the leathery bound of his journal.

He silently flipped through the pages; long sequences of runes, tiny crossed-out annotations, and complicated matrices flashed past his eye until he reached the very end with his notes on the second task.

Forbidden Forest - Creatures I might encounter:

Harmless:

Mooncalfs

Unicorns

Bowtruckles

Thestrals

Dangerous:

Blood-Sucking Bugbears

Hippogriffs

Centaurs

Deadly:

Acromantulae

Trolls

Cerberus

'Well, according to the rumors, there's one I should add.' He picked up his quill and scribbled werewolves (?) underneath the Cerberus. 'Not that it'll matter, the task will be held during the day and I've already checked if there'd be a full moon.'

He flipped through the following few pages, rereading the long list of useful spells he had researched for each of the creatures he might encounter.

Tristan smothered a faint smile. 'And if it all goes wrong, I still know quite a handy fire spell that'll get me out of most trouble.'

He drummed his fingers on the bowling ball and went back a few pages until he stumbled over the cleanly-written runic sequences that were skipped earlier. His eyes dipped lower to some of the annotations he had written next to them.

Enhances reflexes, physical speed, agility, and strength. Probably painful with how significantly it'll impact muscular tissue and joints. Only requires blood for sacrifice. Estimated recovery time less than 12 hours thanks to previous ritual.'

Hot whispers of temptation fluttered through his breast and he felt an itch in his fingers.

"All those attributes would've been dead useful in the first task already. Depending on which creatures I'll encounter, the same holds for the next one." Fleur's smoldering gaze and the azure flames flaring bright in her palms danced before his inner eyes.

"This could increase my chances to win against her… And I'd really like to win against her now..."

A sparkle of pride flickered up from somewhere, talking in a high, smooth voice. 'But wouldn't victory taste even sweeter if you'd beat her without the help of rituals?'

"Perhaps it would." Tristan played with the thought, chewing on his lips. 'But I've already performed one anyway, so would it even matter at this point?'

"Mr. Peverell- Mr. Peverell, are you still with us?"

Tristan flinched and hastily shut his journal close.

"Uhm- yes, Professor," he cleared his throat and glanced up, catching the entire class staring over their shoulders at him; Diggory and Davies snickered, carrying matching, ugly smirks.

"I'm very glad you are," McGonagall huffed. "Surely you also paid attention to what I've been teaching up here, so you won't mind transfiguring your bowling ball into a balloon for me, Mr. Peverell, will you?"

'Might as well give it a try.' Tristan skipped over the countless lines of theory up on the blackboard and shrugged. 'Shouldn't be too difficult. It's just magic and intent...'

He poked the bright orange bowling ball with the tip of his wand, meeting unyielding resistance. Before his mind's inner eye, the ball's mass slowly escaped through the three finger-sized holes at the top. Simultaneously, its entire surface thinned to a width bordering full transparency.

Tristan gave his wand the tiniest twirl and let his magic flow freely. The bowling ball kept its bright orange color but changed into a perfectly round balloon.

"Here you go, ma'am."

Tristan flicked it with his index finger, sending it floating over his peers' heads to McGonagall at the front. The majority of the class gaped at him open-mouthed, glancing perplexed between him and the professor. Diggory's and Davies' triumphant smirks turned into scowls.

"But- but he didn't even say the incantation you taught us, Ma'am," one Weasley twin complained.

"And neither did he do the wand motion you showed us, Ma'am," the other one added challengingly.

McGonagall scrutinized his balloon with thin lips before stabbing it with her wand; the class flinched back in their seats from the loud pop.

"Mr. Peverell has a rare talent in the field of transfigurations, quite similar to-" she swallowed whatever words would've followed and sighed, "-what I meant to say is that Mr. Peverell has enough power and, as you've seen, is so reckless as to ignore something as... mundane as wand motions and incantations."

The class murmured to themselves; Diggory's and Davies' scowls only deepened further.

"We're known to be quite reckless as well, Professor," one Weasley quipped, earning nods of encouragement from his twin. "Does that mean we can give it a try?"

"No, absolutely not." McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's bad enough to have one pupil ignoring my instructions, I will have no more. Back to work now, everybody. And don't you dare try and replicate what Mr. Peverell attempted."

His peers groaned in frustration and turned their attention back to their own bowling balls.

'Attempted, huh?' Tristan smothered a snort. 'We'll see about that.'

He stored his journal safely in his bag, duplicated an unoccupied bowling ball, and repeated his feat a few more times. Soon, almost a dozen bright balloons floated through the classroom, much to the amusement of the Weasley twins and irritation of McGonagall.

Finally, the bell rang and Tristan leaped from his seat, shrinking his bag and storing it within his uniform.

'Time for another quick practice session down in the Chamber before dinner starts.'

Tristan strolled out of the classroom and headed down the corridor leading back to the Giant Staircase. The throng of students ahead of him grew thicker and suddenly turned into an unmoving crowd; loud noises spilled over their heads.

"What's going on?" some younger-year Hufflepuff asked his friend. "We'll be late for potions."

He received a mere shrug in response and both boys rose to their tiptoes to peek over the crowd. A sudden yell pierced through the murmurs like a knife. "Get off me!"

'Valeria.'

Cold panic clutched its icy fist around Tristan's pounding heart, stealing the breath from his lips. He ripped his wand from his sleeve in a flood of freezing, black mist and dashed forward through the pair of 'puffs, cutting his path through the crowd like a scythe through a flower field.

A foursome of broad-shouldered Durmstrangs blocked the entrance to the staircase. Behind them, Tristan glimpsed golden curls sprawled over the stone tiles.

'No!'

His magic screamed in fury. Black mist shredded the sleeve of his uniform and lunged past his fingers, twisting around the Durmstrangs' knees like a gaping maw of needle-like teeth and forcing them to the ground in howls of agony.

Tristan leapt over them. Viktor Krum stood above Valeria, his wand trained at her face and blood trickling from his nostrils. Her school supplies were scattered out around them and she clutched a slim golden chain within white knuckles, glaring up defiantly.

"Krum!"

Boiling fury burst in Tristan's chest in a silent roar. Ebony vapor lunged from the yew wand with a piercing shriek of steel through glass. His magic tore at Krum like an angry cloud of jagged thorns. It charred the flesh of Krum's finger like a thousand razor blades and broke his bones with audible cracks.

The Bulgarian dropped his wand with a cry, clutching his bleeding, ragged limb. Tristan lunged past him and squatted down next to Valeria.

"What happened?" He ran his eyes up and down her body. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she shrugged and rose back up to her feet, dusting off her hands on her skirt. "And for the record, I scored first blood."

Krum's furious shout in his native tongue boomed over Tristan's shoulder. He whirled around, batting aside a duo of sickly orange spells in a bright shower of sparks. His magic lurched like a serpent and swallowed the third beam of light before coiling back tight around his wand in low whispers.

Four grim-faced Durmstrangs limped behind Krum with their trembling wands pointed at him. Cold fury swelled in Tristan's breast. The dark mist curling around his wrist left his tattered uniform fluttering like the curtains of an open window in the storm.

"Try me," he whispered and drew Valeria firmly behind him. "One step closer and I'll forget everything there is to know about international magical cooperation..."

A collective gasp ran through the crowd of Hogwarts' spectators. The Durmstrangs took trembling steps backward, staring at him with eyes widened in fear and robbed of any determination.

"No, come back!" Krum clutched his injured hand to his chest and flexed the fingers of his left hand tightly around his wand. Blood sparkled on his crimson uniform and his black eyes burned with rage. "Ve vill kill-"

"What in Morgana's name is going on here?!"

McGonagall burst through the crowd; fury hovered behind her thin-rimmed spectacles and her wand was already drawn. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime accompanied her.

'Great.' Tristan scanned the crowd. 'At least Fleur-'

Fleur Delacour stepped out of Madame Maxime's massive shadow and tossed a long braid of platinum hair over her shoulder. Her cool blue eyes took in the scene, flickering from Krum to Valeria before resting on Tristan.

'Oh, I bet you love this, don't you, Petite Fleur?' Tristan cursed inwardly. 'Your two competitors are at each other's throats so shortly before the second task...'

"Viktor!" Karkaroff tackled some second-year Gryffindor and hurried to his champion. "What happened to you, Viktor?" He gasped as he studied the bleeding hand. "Tell me, who did this? Who?" He followed Krum's line of sight and withered. "You?!"

"Yes..." Tristan said. "Me."

"You-" Karkaroff's fingers twitched to the wand on his belt.

"Go ahead." Tristan raised his higher. "Give me one reason..."

"Enough!" McGonagall stepped between them. "I demand an immediate explanation." She pointed at some random person in the crowd. "Ms. Bell, you will tell me what happened here. The rest of you, off to your classes immediately! Anyone left here in five seconds who isn't supposed to will serve detention with Mr. Filch until the end of term."

The crowd flinched back and scattered in frantic whispers, leaving behind some fifth-year Gryffindor, whom Tristan remembered having played Quidditch against. Madam Maxime and Fleur showed no intention to move.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "I do not believe your involvement will be necessary either, Olympe."

"D'accord, Minerva." Madam Maxime nodded reluctantly and placed one massive arm on her champion's shoulder. "Allez-y, Fleur. Back to the carriage."

"Oui, Madame," Fleur's reply was as impassive as her expression. Her eyes left Tristan as she turned on her heels, sending silver hair rippling.

McGonagall waited until they descended the steps, then spun around. "Your account, Ms. Bell?"

"Oops... sorry." Katie Bell blushed crimson. "The Durmstrangs blocked the corridor and wouldn't let her-" she pointed at Valeria, "-pass. They argued about her necklace. Viktor Krum tried to grab it and-"

"-grab it, you say?" McGonagall interrupted in bafflement and whirled on Krum. "You assaulted one of my students, Mr. Krum?"

"Da." Hatred practically leaked from Krum's eyes. "She dares vear his filthy sign." He thrust his uninjured hand at Valeria. "She vears it openly on her chest. To mock us!"

McGonagall took a deep breath. "Thank you, Ms. Bell, you may go."

She waited until her Gryffindor had vacated the corridor, then turned back to Krum with lips thin as a razor.

"You cannot simply assault another student for wearing a sign, Mr. Krum. And what sign are we even talking about here?" She whirled back and forth between Valeria and Krum. "Ms. Peverell, enlighten me please."

"It's not a sign, it's a crest," Valeria muttered and skipped around Tristan, though he remained tightly by her side. "This was a Christmas present from my parents." She handed her necklace over to McGonagall and scowled at Krum. "It belongs to-"

"-Grindelvald!" Krum spat. "That is Grindelvald's sign."

"No, it's not," Tristan snorted, his left hand slipping underneath his shirt to pull out his amulet. "This is the crest of our family, the Peverells. It has been for over two thousand years, long before Grindelwald was born."

McGonagall studied the arrangements of lines with a small frown before handing it back to Valeria.

"They're lying!" Krum roared. "I recognized it at vunce: Grindelvald carved it into a vall at Durmstrang ven he vos a pupil there. He killed my grandfather and the family members of many others." He turned to McGonagall and thrust out his uninjured hand accusingly. "How can you just let them valk around, boasting it openly?"

'Even Karkaroff doesn't rectify him.' Tristan noticed, watching Durmstrang's headmaster with a frown. 'Why would Gellert Grindelwald perpetuate my family's crest in his school?'

"Sorry for your grandfather, but this belongs to my family," Valeria repeated. "We won't stop wearing it for you, no matter what you mistake it for."

"I valked past that sign for several years, I know it vell!" Krum growled and tore himself free from Karkaroff's grasp. "We will teach you a lesson like we did those idiots who copied it onto their books and clothes, thinking to shock, make themselves impressive."

"You will do none of that, Mr. Krum." McGonagall declared, her eyes briefly flickering to Tristan's piece of jewelry. "I have seen Ms. Peverell's father wear that same crest back when he went to school here eighteen years ago and I believe them when they say it belongs to their family. Even if it were Grindelwald's sign, that hardly justifies assaulting a younger girl."

"You speak of assault yet Viktor is the one that has been attacked and possibly maimed for life by your students," Karkaroff barked, looking as furious as his pupil. "An eye for an eye. We demand retribution."

"You won't find any at Hogwarts, Igor." McGonagall rose to her full height, almost matching Karkaroff. "I welcomed you and your students into my school and this is how you repay my hospitality? Mr. Krum may visit Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary but once his treatment is completed, no Durmstrang student will set foot into this Castle again without my explicit permission."

"You will regret that decision." Karkaroff spat to her feet in disdain. "And Durmstrang will have its justice, one way or another."

"I suggest you leave at once, Igor," McGonagall replied calmly, though her voice turned cold as ice. "The only reason I'm allowing you to stay on these grounds is that I'm bound to do so by the Goblet."

"Come, Viktor." Karkaroff beckoned Krum to turn.

The latter winced at the sudden movement and clutched his hand. Tristan snorted.

Krum's eyes flashed murderously. "You vill die in the next task, Peverell. I vill kill you for that."

"Really?" Black mist flared up and curled around Tristan's wrist before he shoved his wand back up his sleeve. He offered Krum a sharp, cold smile. "Good luck then."

McGonagall shook her head in frustration as she watched them leave. Then she spun around to Tristan, tapping her foot impatiently and stemming her hands on her hips. "So?"

"Uhm..." Tristan blinked. "I'm not sure what you'd like me to say, ma'am..."

"Well, I doubt it was necessary to shatter half of Mr. Krum's hand, Mr. Peverell."

"And I don't trust stunners, Headmistress, especially not when my family is on the line," he replied coolly.

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Mr. Peverell, you're excused with a firm reminder to avoid violence. Ms. Peverell, I would like you to accompany me to my office for a... chat on how we can avoid such incidents in the future."

"Why? She didn't do anything wrong," Tristan inquired before his sister could. "Krum tried to take her necklace and she repelled him adequately."

"Krum should really consider himself lucky I didn't have my wand at the ready," Valeria muttered under her breath.

McGonagall sighed tiredly. "You will not be punished for defending yourself, but I still insist you come with me, Ms. Peverell,"she repeated firmly.

"Fine," Valeria flicked her wand, mending the strap of her school bag and summoning its contents. "See you at dinner," she added to Tristan.

"I'll save you some desert," Tristan whispered and blew her a kiss. "Have fun."

She made a silly face and followed McGonagall up the staircase to her office. Tristan waited until they had rounded the corner; then the calmness dropped like a mask and anger boiled back up within him.

"First they came for Galahad, and now they came for Valeria." He balled his fists, nails digging deep into his skin. "They won't ever stop coming for people I care about..."

"I will kill you for that."

Krum's furious face hovered before his mind's eye and the determined promise echoed in his ears. Tristan turned and skipped down the steps to the second floor.

"I have to be ready for when the day comes."

He slipped into Myrtle's bathroom and opened the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, descending down into the darkness.

"No more stupid risks. No more holding back. I will show them what happens to those who dare mess with anyone I care for."

Salazar Slytherin's gigantic statue rose from between the two pools of black, motionless water. Tristan enlarged his bag and skimmed through it for his journal. Once more he pricked his thumb with the tip of his wand, pressing it onto the cover.

"If the obstacles in my path won't lessen, then I simply have to become better at overcoming them."

Tristan flicked through the pages until he found it, eyes scanning over line after line of his notes and reading the annotations one more time.

"I have to become better than them. Better than Malfoy and Crouch and Lestrange. Better than Viktor Krum-" silver blurred before his mind's eye and red lips curved into a smirk, "and better than Fleur Delacour." His voice echoed back from the walls, pillars, and dark pools of water.

"You would've probably understood me, Salazar."

Tristan placed the book down on the cold, hard stone tiles to his feet and stripped out of his school uniform. Purple ribbons of magic spewed from his wand and twisted into replicas of the runes on the page.

"It's the only way," Tristan murmured, trailing the tip of the yew wand over his forearms and wincing at the sharp sting.

Crimson first trickled, then streamed from the gashes. Dizziness invaded his mind, obscuring every coherent thought in thick fog as the runes around him flared brightly. The initial sting turned into searing agony and Tristan bit his tongue so as not to scream.

'And I'll endure it.'

Limbs spasming wildly, he dropped to his knees; the Chamber of Secrets and his ancestor's statue blurred into darkness.

'Because it's the only way to greatness...'