JIMMY EVANS

Chapter 1: The Fourth Champion

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out —

"Harry Potter."

The sound of his name reverberated into the sudden, stunned silence. Harry's heart dropped. So, he thought, this is how they try to kill me this year. And by the looks on his housemates' faces, they all believed it, not to mention the foreign headmasters and the rest of the students. All were either stunned, angry, or somewhere in the middle.

And in the back room, as they all argued about how unfair it was for Hogwarts to have two champions, Harry just thought about how it was yet another attempt on his life that people somehow thought he wanted. And he'd had enough.

"No."

The various champions and authority figures in the room stopped talking to stare at him. Dumbledore started to speak. "Mr. Potter—"

"No. I didn't enter, I don't want to compete. What happens if I refuse?"

Moody scoffed. "Don't be daft, boy. That contract'll snap your magic like a twig!"

At the end of his rope, Harry snarled back at him. "Will it kill me? Because I don't doubt this bloody contest will!"

"Quiet!" shouted Dumbledore. Then more calmly he said into the silenced room, "Mr. Potter has every right to know the consequences should he fail to compete, as do you all. Refusing the obligation created by the magic of the Goblet of Fire will not cause death, as breaking an Unbreakable Vow would. But if you reject it's fire, then it will bind yours as payment of the debt. You would have no more access to magic than a squib. It wouldn't actually remove it, but you wouldn't be able to use it. And it shouldn't take effect until you don't show up for the First Task. That's on the twenty-fourth of November."

Harry nodded, and turned to leave the room. "I'll be in my dorm." Then he stalked out of the room by a side entrance that he knew would lead to one of the corridors rather than to the Hall. He didn't want to be ambushed by the students. He needed to think. So he went up to his dorm as quickly as he could, but instead of staying there, he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and headed right back out again. From there he went to the Astronomy Tower, and conjured himself a small three-legged stool with a soft cushion and sat down on it. He slipped the Cloak around his shoulders and arranged it so that everything, including the stool, was hidden.

A life without magic. He knew it would be hard. He hadn't kept up with his Muggle school subjects, so he'd be three and a half years behind everyone else. He supposed it was possible to get caught up, but where would he go? Not back to the Dursleys, certainly. If he was going to run away, it wouldn't be back to them. No, he needed a plan, and he had less than a month to come up with one.

Somehow, Harry wasn't surprised when both Ron and Hermione came up to join him in the Tower. Hermione quietly said, "Cedric told us what you said."

Ron said, "Are you really going to give up your magic?"

He nodded, then remembered they couldn't see him. "Yes. I'm just tired of it all. I can't get through a single year without someone or something trying to kill me, and I'm either revered or reviled by everyone other than you two and a couple of others." He sighed. "Does that make me a coward?"

Hermione reassured him, "No, it doesn't. It makes you human."

Ron said in a small voice, "I have to admit, Harry, I thought you'd done it on purpose until Cedric told us what you said. I'm not proud of that, and I see your point. I would probably have been an insufferable git this year. I hope you can forgive me."

Harry smirked beneath his hood. "At least my dramatics are saving our friendship, then. Of course I forgive you. You're only human, too." He pulled off the Cloak and folded it up, slipping it inside his robes and under the waistband of his pants so he wouldn't lose it.

Hermione asked. "So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet. I'll have to get caught up on my Muggle school subjects, and I doubt I could really hide anywhere in the country without some wizard or witch recognizing me. Maybe I can emigrate to the States? I don't know. There are a lot of things I'll have to put together, no matter where I go. But since I won't be needing to hide from wizards any more, there's no reason to stay with the Dursleys. That's something, at least."

Hermione said, "I'm going to owl my parents for some ideas. If nothing else, they'll be able to find you a way to get back into school. But Harry, please promise you'll stay in touch with us?"

He gave them both a watery smile. "Of course." Then he hugged them both, and they left together to return to the dorm.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

For the next three weeks, Harry scrambled as much as he could. He didn't bother going to classes, and he ate his meals in the kitchen rather than go anywhere near the rest of the student body. There were no punishments they could threaten him with since he intended on leaving the school, anyway, and only one had the heart to assign any detentions, anyway. That one was, of course, Professor Snape, but Harry refused to go despite the man's threats. After all, what could they do, but expel him? Dumbledore tried many times to convince him to compete, to save his magic, as did Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey, but he was sure of what he was doing.

He got in touch with Gringott's and requested all of his account information so that he could access his funds from the Muggle world, including a debit card with a £500 daily limit. It would be sufficient to get him started anywhere in the world, and he knew that with the amount of money in his vault, he need never worry about being without financial recourse.

What he did have to worry about was being an unattached minor with a severe educational deficit. This was where the Grangers came in. Mr. Granger had a cousin in the States, specifically in San Antonio, Texas. He and his wife were willing to foster Harry, even to the point of sponsoring him for citizenship if he wanted to go that route. His name was Michael Evans, and Harry thought it was a true omen, as opposed to what Professor Trelawney spouted. His mother's maiden name was Evans, so no one would look sideways at his being fostered by a man named Evans if he started going by her name instead of his father's. So he had his full legal name changed to Harry James Potter-Evans, and on the student visa application it was noted that he went by his middle name, asking to be called James Evans, or Jimmy. It wouldn't be a lie, just a different way of saying the same thing.

Michael Evans and his wife, Carlene, wrote him a letter, sent via the owl Hermione's parents kept, and gave him a list of things he was going to need to bring with him. They also assured him that he was going to be enrolled in a fast-track remedial program that would get him up to grade level, what they called in America the tenth grade, by the time he started it next year. They also sent a bunch of information about San Antonio and Texas in general. One thing caught Harry's eye for sure, and that was Lackland US Air Force Base, home to the 737th Training Group, where you could go after graduating high school to become a member of the Air Force. And after you became a member of the Air Force, you could learn to be a pilot.

Suddenly, Harry knew exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up.

Still, he wasn't looking forward to 24th November. He didn't have any illusion that losing his magic was going to be a fun process. Madame Pomfrey had made it a point to get out one of her medical textbooks and let him know exactly what he was in for. She had, in fact, demanded that he be in the infirmary at the appointed time or at the First Task having changed his mind. It was going to hurt, like losing a limb, and like losing a limb, he'd still be able to feel that pain, if in a muted way, for the rest of his life. But he'd be alive.

He'd sent Hedwig to Sirius, letting him know what he was about to do, and told her to return his reply to his new address in the States, because he'd be there by the time she arrived. He'd scheduled his flight to San Antonio International Airport, and Michael would be picking him up there. He just about expected Sirius to show up there at some point, but he wasn't certain.

He sent Aunt Petunia an owl with all of the necessary paperwork for her to transfer custody to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, along with self-addressed and pre-paid envelopes to send them to the man in the US. He was not surprised when she signed and sent it all in record time, especially given the £5,000.00 he included with the package and the promise that it would disappear if she didn't sign and send them.

Hermione and Ron had been ranting about how unfair this all was, as had the rest of Gryffindor, so he called a House meeting on the night of the twenty-third. Every student in Gryffindor piled into the Common Room, even to the point of the older students sitting on floating cushions and the younger ones sitting on the stairs. He told them to support Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts Champion, because he was. He told them that it was his choice to leave rather than be forced to compete in the Tournament, and he told them that it meant he would soon be a squib. Angelina Johnson asked, "Is there no way to just cancel the Tournament or something?"

Harry shook his head. "No, because the legitimate Champions are bound to it as well, and that would just cause them to lose their magic as well."

Fred and George stood up, along with Ron and Ginny, raising their wands into the air. All of Gryffindor soon followed, saluting Harry. George said, "Never were there a truer Gryffindor..."

Fred finished, "than he who stands before us."

Then together they said, "Hail Harry Potter!"

The rest responded, "Hail the Lion of Hogwarts!" It was a traditional salute, usually reserved for the best student in each graduating class. But no one held back, acknowledging Harry's sacrifice for what it was.

Ron helped him pack his trunk, and Fred cast a permanent Feather Light Charm on it. Harry wrote his formal resignation from Hogwarts before going to bed for the last time in Gryffindor Tower. Ron said, "I hate this, Harry. It's not right, what's going on here. You won't forget us, will you?"

He shook his head. "No way, Ron. You're still my friends, and I'll keep writing. I'll still have Hedwig, after all, and maybe I can come visit some time. And I can't take my broom, so I want you to have it. You try out for the team next year, all right?"

Ron's eyes widened. "Really?!"

"Yeah. I'll bet you make a heck of a Chaser!"

That got the conversation on to Quidditch, and off of Harry's impending loss of magic for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Professor McGonagall arrived to escort him to the Tournament. He handed her his resignation instead, scrolled and sealed, and picked up his trunk. "I'll be headed to the infirmary, instead."

She looked upset. Actually, that was an understatement. "Are you sure about this, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes."

Ron and Hermione stood next to him. "We're going to keep you company, mate," said Ron. "There's no use in you going through this alone."

Harry smiled, and said, "Thank you. Both of you."

When they got to the infirmary, however, they found Madame Pomfrey unconscious on the floor. Harry and Professor McGonagall had their wands out in a second, with Ron and Hermione not far behind. They didn't even consciously recognize the figure who stepped out at them, but all four fired spells at him. Hermione had petrified him, Ron had used the spell that had backfired on him last year causing him to begin belching up slugs, Harry went for simplicity and fired a tickling jinx and Professor McGonagall, a much more seasoned (and vicious) dueler, transfigured his clothing into chains. The effect was, um, interesting, to say the least.

Harry went to check on Madame Pomfrey, checking her pulse. But she was alive, just with a major bump on the head. The Professor conjured her Patronus, which was a ghostly version of her own Animagus form, and sent it to the Headmaster to let him know what had happened. They got the mediwitch onto a cot, but then Harry's time ran out.

Down in the Quidditch pitch, the Champions had each drawn a tiny dragon from the bag. And when a fourth hand did not present itself, the flames of the Goblet of Fire suddenly glowed an angry red, streaked through with orange and yellow. The flames contracted into a single point, and then a strong pulse of magic suddenly boomed out of the cup in a wave. It passed through all things harmlessly, until it reached Harry in the infirmary. There the ancient magic of the cup dug into his core and bound it up tighter than a goblin's fist. The pain of it was intense and sudden, for all of two seconds, and then Harry hit the ground and knew no more.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

When Harry woke, it was dark outside of the infirmary window. Which told him he had been unconscious all day. And—he took a deep steadying breath. He was no longer a wizard. He was now a squib. He didn't really feel any different, but he figured that would set in later. For now, he reached for his glasses where he knew they'd be on the bedside table.

Once he could see again, he sat up in the bed. His head was still aching somewhat, but he was mostly okay.

"Oh, Harry, thank Merlin you're all right!" That came from Hermione, and he turned his head to see her sitting up from where she'd been curled up in a chair.

"How is Madame Pomfrey? Who attacked us?"

"They took her to St Mungo's Hospital in London with a nasty concussion, but they thought she'd pull through just fine. And the man who attacked us was Polyjuiced, pretending to be Professor Moody. But he was actually someone named Barty Crouch Jr. Apparently, he was trying to help You-Know-Who to regain a body and come back to full power. But he needed you to do that for some reason, and tonight was going to be his last chance to get you, so he ambushed us." She shook her head. "Some kind of nasty black stuff oozed out of your scar for an hour or two. Professor Dumbledore actually swore when he saw it! But it stopped, and you survived."

Harry was frowning. "Did he say what it was? I mean if he swore when he saw it, then he must have recognized it, right?"

She said, "He said a word, but I didn't recognize it, and I didn't want to leave you in here to investigate."

He smirked at her. "Something was capable of keeping you out of the library?"

She smacked him lightly on his arm, rolling her eyes. "Well, you're feeling better." Then she sighed. "It's too bad we couldn't have figured out what was going on before today. Then maybe we could have done something to keep you from losing your magic."

He gave her a smile. "It's all right, Hermione. I've accepted it. And really, thanks to you and your family, I'm going to be just fine back out there in the Muggle world."

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Potter," came a voice from the door. It was Minister Fudge, and he was quite obviously angry. "Because that's where you'll be living! And I am quite flummoxed as to why you would ever think that this was a good idea!"

"That's none of your business, Minister," said Professor Dumbledore. "Mr. Potter has made his decision and accepted the consequences of that decision. Now he must live with them in the best way he knows how, as soon as he is recovered enough to travel. Now, I must ask you to leave. This is an infirmary, not a debate stage, and the patients need to be resting."

Fudge huffed off, rudely slamming the door on the way out, waking Ron in the chair next to Hermione. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you, sir." He paused, then asked, "What was the black stuff that came out of my scar? Hermione said you recognized it."

Dumbledore sighed and conjured another chair. He usually didn't seem old, despite his visible age, but he did today. "That substance was the residue of a particularly foul kind of magic. It is called a Horcrux, a portion of a person's soul that has been put into a container. Anything can be that container, even another person. And it is so foul because in order to create one, you have to split your soul in the first place. You have to commit a cold-blooded murder to create that split. So long as the piece still lives, so will the murderer, albeit in a very different form."

Harry blanched. "Then it had to have been—"

"Voldemort, yes. But with your magic bound, the Horcrux could not access it either, which caused it to die. Of course, there is no reason to think that he only did this once. In fact, I am fairly certain that there are more of them out there. But at least you need not worry that he will ever require you to make his resurrection possible." He sighed again. "I am only sorry that we could not find some way to help you, Harry. The wizarding world has lost a very bright light this day, and will be all the dimmer for it." He shook his head. "Your trunk is still in here. Will you be needing help to get home to the Dursleys?"

Harry shook his head. He did not, of course, have any intention of telling the man where he was really going. "I've already made arrangements. Gringott's is sending some sort of transport. I'm to take the eight o'clock train tomorrow and they'll pick me up at King's Cross." He smiled a little. "I suppose I'll see you in twenty years, or so. After all, my own children will still be magical, and I'd love for them to come to Hogwarts."

The aged wizard smiled brightly at him. "I look forward to it." Then he straightened a bit in his chair. "You may no longer be a wizard, but you are now and have always been a great person, and you're growing into a fine young man. I know that it's been said before, but I still think we can expect to see great things from you, Harry Potter, even if they are in the Muggle world and not the wizarding world."

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Most of Gryffindor went down to Hogsmeade to wish him well in his new life. He boarded the train, promising to write soon, hugged Ron and Hermione, then went to find himself a cabin. It wasn't hard, as the train only ran during the school year when there was a ticket bought, and that meant it ran only once a week because very few people used the train to get to London. They usually just Apparated or Flooed in. He hung out the window for a while as the train left the station, waving to everyone and watching Hogwarts fade in the distance. Then, as soon as he could no longer see anyone, he sat down on his bench in the cabin and, with no one there to see it, he curled up and let his tears finally fall.