Percy Jackson and the Triwizard Tournament (Goblet of Fire)

Chapter 28: Sweet Dreams

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me! If Jackson isn't glued to Potter all the time, tell him he's gained an ally," he looked at her smugly, "Me."

Thalia was too flabbergasted, horrified, and disgusted to even respond. She just shrugged in understanding, and stormed off.

Malfoy smirked, waving an odd goodbye to the fleeing figure, and returned towards the dungeons.

In the meanwhile, the dedicated huntress resumed her mission.

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The pale boy returned to his dreams. By the third time Harry had become accustomed to the wizard's ... well, if he even was a wizard... odd, mute behaviors. The boy seemed to be comfortable in working in almost absolute silence. And when he did speak, which was very little he might add, it sent a chill up his spine.

There was nothing peculiar about his voice, it just seemed frightful. Hell, he couldn't even tell what accent, though it was foreign, because of the few words he spoke.

This time, the stranger ventured to a second home, but it wasn't a rusty, ancient, or manor-like as the Riddle home. In fact, it looked like a normal, suburban home. Harry saw the faint title 'Moody' engraved alongside the mailbox, the red flag alongside the steel compartment was swung up at a 90-degree angle into the air. But the home was obviously abandoned for at least a few months.

Though it wasn't very visible to the quaint home's first impression, the mailbox was the first visible factor that the owner had rushed off, and in quite a hurry. A letter was smashed against the side of the metal flap, dirt crusted alongside the hinges of the tin, metal-like, old, contraption. A piece of parchment was half-inside the mailbox, half-poking out and at the mercy to the cold, night wind. Newspapers which Harry had recognized from weeks, almost months back, were wedged inside the small container as if there was no more room. Harry didn't doubt that there wasn't.

Secondly, the front door remained ajar. Who would leave their home without even the slightest recognition or thought of security? The pale boy noticed it too, as he rushed inside; firmly resting one hand against his hip, gripping onto his deadly sword.

As he ran through the threshold he reached for his weapon, now hold it dangerously and expertly in front of him in preparation for a fight. He entered a small living area, where a desk and table where turned aside. Papers, most commonly wanted posters, were scattered on the creaky, wooden floorboards.

The pale boy took in the scene, as his eyes darted to a dark corner of the room. His grip on the sword quivered, as he chucked it against the wall. Rubbing his hands through his hair, he shouted in rage, before kicking at the fireplace's mantle, "Dam it!"

His gaze returned to the corner, as the dust clotted against what appeared to be a perfectly rectangular clearing. Obviously something was there before, but recently moved based off the unusually clean corner.

Whatever used to be there, and whatever had happened in the house...

Harry knew it hadn't been any good.

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The clearing in the Forbidden Forest finally grew silent around 1 in the morning. Thalia knew, for she had been hiding behind the same, old log as she waited for the wizards to leave.

It was odd that Thalia had just then noticed the tents. They somewhat lined one side of the oval-shaped perimeter in which the dragon's were imprisoned. But apparently those few on guard duty had fallen into a deep sleep, which was all she really thought had some matter of importance at the moment.