Title: Professor McGonagall - Part I: The Goblet of Fire
Author: Rita Screecher
Author email: ritascreecher@excite.com
Category: Humor/Romance
Keywords: Fourth year, Professor McGonagall
Spoilers: All four books, especially the fourth book (obviously)
Rating: PG
Summary: A retelling of Harry Potter and Co's fourth year, from Professor McGonagall's point of view. Of course, I took a few "creative liberties"...:)
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.
A/N: Um...yeah. Would you like a brownie? *offers*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This is the first part of a planned five part series, detailing the events of the Triwizard Tournament during Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts, from Professor McGonagall's point of view.
Part I: The Goblet of Fire
It was Friday. Professor McGonagall, though eager with the anticipation of the Welcoming Feast that night, still expected lessons to go on as usual. Her afternoon Transfiguration class, however, thought the opposite. Charmed parchment airplanes whizzed through the air, trying to strike victims as they stood in their seats, blocking them with even more charms. No one was paying attention to McGonagall.
"And so, according to the findings of Defonity the Mad," she said loudly, trying in vain to make her class listen, "the reason younger wizards usually have trouble Transfiguring anything inanimate into something animate is because they have yet to develop the maturity and intelligence to grasp the magic behind it - can anyone tell me what I just said?" she called over the din. No one seemed to hear her. McGonagall tried to calm herself down. Giving everyone detentions for the next week won't help, she told herself.
"Professor?" a voice called out. McGonagall whirled around, a smile returning to her face.
"Yes, Catherine? Do you have a question on the lesson?" See, just stick to it, and the students will listen to you -
"No, Professor, I wanted to ask if we could be let out now."
Professor McGonagall stared, speechless at the boldness of her student. Her favorite sixth-year student, in fact, but still! "Are you mad?" McGonagall finally managed to say. "There's a whole hour left in the lesson!"
"Half an hour, actually," Catherine corrected her. "With the Welcoming Feast and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang coming and all." She smiled sweetly. "Well? Could we? We have to get ready, you know, to make ourselves presentable for the other schools. You don't want them to think we're scruffy and half-rate, do you? We want to put our best foot forward, right?" She looked around at the rest of the class for agreement, and the sixth-years collectively nodded energetically.
McGonagall sighed. It was only one day...and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were coming...and it was no use trying to teach, after all, if they refused to listen. She looked around. For the first time during the entire lesson, the class was silent and all looking at her expectantly. The parchment airplanes were suspended in mid-air, also unmoving. McGonagall opened her mouth, hesitated, and -
"No," she said, surprising everyone, but at the same time, surprising no one at all. The airplanes fell straight down to the floor along with the expressions on everyone's faces. "Sit down. This lesson will go on as planned. Dumbledore has already been generous enough to allow a half-hour more to get ready." She eyed the class beadily. "Sit down, I said."
The class obediently sat.
"Take out your textbooks."
The class obediently took out their textbooks.
"Turn to page 465."
The ruffling of the pages signaled their compliance.
"Take out your wands."
The class produced their wands.
"Now, repeat after me: We will leave class quietly and not cause any commotions in the hallway, to avoid getting both you and me in trouble."
The class obediently repeated the sentence. Grins spread throughout the room.
"And if I do find that any of you have caused any sort of disturbance, I will personally make sure that Professor Moody turns you into a ferret. I'm sure that you've all heard about Draco Malfoy's unfortunate incident by now."
The class was quietly gone in a second.
I'm getting too soft, Professor McGonagall sighed. But it is the Triwizard Tournament, after all...
She gathered up her books and headed to her office.
***
"In line, Gryffindors, in line..."
Professor McGonagall walked up and down the entrance hall, trying to get everyone in order.
"Weasley, straighten your hat," she snapped at Ron Weasley, who was standing next to Hermione Granger and Harry Potter as usual. He guiltily tried to get it in order, but succeeded only in making it look even worse. McGonagall gave up and turned to Parvati Patil, who had fastened an enormous butterfly to her head.
"Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair," she fussed. While Parvati scowled and struggled to remove it, McGonagall looked up and down the line.
"Good as it gets," she muttered to herself. Raising her voice, she said, "Follow me, please. First years in front...no pushing...we'll all get there in time."
McGonagall led the Gryffindors out the door and down the steps, behind the Ravenclaws. They all lined up in front of the school and stood there to wait, some shivering from the cold. McGonagall repeatedly alternated between checking her watch and peering up at the sky.
"They said they'd be here at six," she said to Dumbledore, who was standing next to her.
"Patience, Minerva," Dumbledore murmured, who was also watching the sky. He smiled suddenly.
"Aha!" he called out, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
Everyone began looking in different directions. "Where?"
"There!" Someone in the crowd pointed over the Forbidden Forest, and everyone turned to look.
"It's a dragon!"
"Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!"
The students and teachers fell silent as a powder blue carriage the size of a large house soared towards them. Twelve winged horses the size of elephants pulled the carriage through the air effortlessly. The front three rows of students nervously took a few steps back as the carriage landed with an almighty crash.
The Beauxbatons delegation had arrived.
***
Having greeted Madame Maxine and her students, the school turned back to wait for Durmstrang to arrive. It was getting darker and colder by the minute, and the students from Beauxbatons were obviously ill dressed in their thin silk robes. McGonagall stamped her feet to get warm. Everyone was getting impatient, when suddenly -
"The lake! Look at the lake!"
The crowd, as one, turned and peered down at the lake, which was no longer smooth and still. It suddenly formed a whirlpool in the middle, as though it were a bathtub and the plug had been pulled. A ship slowly rose out of the heart of it, and finally, it had emerged entirely, bobbing on the surface. It glided to the bank, and from their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they could hear an anchor being thrown into the water and a plank being lowered. They watched as people began to disembark and walk up towards the castle.
"Dumbledore!" a tall, thin man at the front of the small parade called out. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. McGonagall looked at Karkaroff with distaste. She had never liked this man much, and had her reasons, not that she would ever tell her students about it.
"Dear old Hogwarts," Karkaroff said, smiling up at the castle. McGonagall shuddered slightly at his cold expression. "How good it is to be here, how good...Viktor, come along, into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."
The school began to murmur excitedly as one of the students stepped forward. Without looking, McGonagall knew that it was Viktor Krum. Always liked to show off, Karkaroff did, she thought. Not that he usually had much to show off.
"After you," Dumbledore said, smiling, and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students filed back up the steps and into the castle, with the Hogwarts students bringing up the rear.
***
Dumbledore stood and the Great Hall fell silent, expectant, waiting.
"The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first," Dumbledore said, "let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Lugo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
Professor McGonagall applauded politely along with the cheering crowd. Bagman waved, beaming. Crouch did not wave nor smile.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxine on the panel that will judge to champions' efforts. The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Argus Filch placed a wooden, jewel-encrusted chest on the table before Dumbledore. The students began murmuring and craning their necks to get a good view of the chest. McGonagall smiled at the sight of little Dennis Creevey standing on his chair to try and see it properly. If only he could properly Transfigure that needle, she thought.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways...their magical prowess...their daring...their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped the top of the chest three times. The lid slowly opened. Reaching inside, Dumbledore pulled out a large, rough wooden cup, full with dancing blue-white flames. Then he closed the lid and placed the goblet on top, where it was clearly visible.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champions must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
"To insure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
The students got up from their respective tables and began to slowly file out the door, chattering excitedly. McGonagall caught snatches of conversation about the Age Line and Aging Potions. She chuckled to herself. Did they really think the professors of the school were that dim?
The Hall was finally empty, and only the teachers lingered, talking to one another.
"Professor Dumbledore," she called out to the Headmaster, who was chatting amiably with Professor Snape, who looked quite moody for some reason. McGonagall wished she could turn his frown upside down. Dumbledore turned.
"Yes, Minerva?" he replied.
"You don't think that anyone underage will try to ask someone else to submit their name, will you?"
"I don't believe so. Even if they do, there's a slim chance that the Goblet of Fire will choose them as a champion," Dumbledore said. "I have already gotten a good idea about who the three champions will be this year, and I assure you, not one is underage. Everyone younger than seventeen is simply not well-equipped for such a challenge."
"But I'm just saying..."
"My dear, if it really concerns you that much, I'll have one of the professors be watching the Goblet of Fire to make sure that no one does. Ah! Professor Moody! He won't take any fuss and nonsense from anyone." Dumbledore smiled. "Well, off to bed now, after a quick mug of butterbeer. Good night, Minerva."
"Good night, Professor Dumbledore."
***
The next day, Professor McGonagall spent her evening before the Halloween feast helping out with decorating the Great Hall with jack-o-lanterns and candles. It had taken her a while to fit one of Hagrid's enormous pumpkins through the double doors of the Hall, but she finally gave up, Transfigured it into a tiny gourd, and Transfigured it back after she had gotten it where she wanted. Then it had taken her another hour carving a perfect likeness of Professor Snape on it. When asked about it by one of the students, she blushed and said, "He's...always wanted a portrait of himself...done on a...pumpkin." The student stared at her for a while, then, comprehending, hurried off to snicker with his friends.
After the golden plates had finally cleared, Dumbledore stood. Everyone looked at him, suddenly silent. Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxine looked as tense as the students did. Mr. Crouch looked bored. Ludo Bagman was grinning and winking at random people. McGonagall was nastily reminded of Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore began. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - here Dumbledore indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He waved his wand, and at once, all the candles except those that glimmered inside the jack-o-lanterns were snuffed out. The Goblet of Fire was now shining more brightly than anything else in the entire Hall (With the exception of Professor Snape's beautiful eyes...McGonagall thought dreamily).
A little thrill ran through the Hall. McGonagall, feeling it, tore her gaze from Snape and turned to look at the Goblet. The flames had turned red, and sparks were flying from it. Suddenly, a slightly charred piece of parchment, propelled by the flames, fluttered out of it. The crowd collectively gasped.
"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore proclaimed, "will be Viktor Krum."
The room burst into applause and cheers. Viktor rose from his position at the Slytherin table and all heads followed him as he made his way along the staff table to disappear into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor! Knew you had it in you!" Karkaroff boomed from his position next to Dumbledore. McGonagall glared at him from the safety of the darkened room.
Another piece of parchment shot out of the goblet. Dumbledore grasped it and read, "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
If some heads had not turned for Viktor, they certainly turned for this girl. McGonagall watched her as well, noting her strong resemblance to a veela. (Perhaps she has some relatives that are, McGonagall mused. I'm sure the boys will be happy that she's one of the three champions. I wonder if Snape will be...)
The Hall fell silent once more. The Goblet of Fire turned red once more, and from the tip of the tongue of the flames, Dumbledore plucked the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table was in ecstasies. Every single one had jumped to his or her feet, and they screamed and stamped their feet as Cedric made his way down the Hall and into the chamber. At last, the applause died down.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore said. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"
Dumbledore stopped. He was staring at the Goblet, which had suddenly turned red again. A long flame shot into the air, and Dumbledore automatically reached out and grasped the fourth piece of parchment. He stared at it. There was a long pause. Clearing his throat, he read:
"Harry Potter."
Every head in the Great Hall turned to stare at the Boy Who Lived, who was sitting in his seat at the Gryffindor table, apparently as stunned as everyone else. There was no applause, only angry murmurs. McGonagall's head whirled. She had to do something.
She stood and swept past Ludo Bagman and Karkaroff, and bent down next to Professor Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore. I know what you are thinking. We cannot put Harry's life in danger, but at the same time, we cannot refuse to allow Harry to participate, for the magical contract is binding. You of all people should understand this."
Dumbledore nodded and stood up. McGonagall quietly returned to her seat.
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
Harry got to his feet and walked up to the staff table. Every single eye was upon him, and McGonagall wished she could do something to lessen the tension.
"Well...through the door, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry Potter disappeared into the chamber. The Hall immediately erupted into furious chatter. Ludo Bagman stood and hurried into the chamber after Harry. A few minutes later, after a short regrouping, Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Karkaroff, Madame Maxine, Snape, and McGonagall herself followed. McGonagall closed the door behind them.
"Madame Maxine!" the Beauxbatons champion said, striding over. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" Madame Maxine said angrily.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore. Two Hogwarts champions?" Professor Karkaroff's voice was like ice. "I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
"C'est impossible," Madame Maxine blustered. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression," Karkaroff continued, "that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore. Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape spoke up. McGonagall's heart sank a bit. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here -"
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore cut him off, and Snape fell silent. Dumbledore now directed his gaze to Harry Potter.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?"
"No," Harry replied.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"
"No."
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" Madame Maxine cried. McGonagall could no longer contain herself.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," McGonagall burst out. "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line."
"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said mildly. McGonagall made a noise of disbelief.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well that you did not make a mistake!" she said angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good for everybody else!" She glared at Snape. Just because she liked him didn't mean that she was going to start changing her opinions on everything. If he didn't like Harry Potter, by God was she going to try and change that.
"Mr. Crouch...Mr. Bagman...you are our - er - objective judges," Karkaroff started. "Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Mr. Crouch replied, "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well," Bagman beamed, "Barty knows the rule book back to front."
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff heatedly. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But Karkaroff," Bagman said, "it doesn't work like that. The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"
" -in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff exploded. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff." Everyone's head turned, and there stood Moody, who had just entered the room. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
"Convenient?" Karkaroff said. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
"Don't you? It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if he came out."
"Evidently," Madame Maxine blurted out, "someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!"
"I quite agree, Madame Maxine," said Karkaroff. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards -"
"If anyone's got reason to complain," growled Moody, "it's Potter, but...funny thing...I don't her him saying a word..."
"Why should 'e complain?" Fleur Delacour stamped her tiny foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody.
An extremely tense silence followed. Ludo Bagman, in an attempt to clear the air, said nervously with a little chuckle, "Moody, old man...what a thing to say!"
"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff nastily. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."
"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet..."
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Madame Maxine threw up her hands and very nearly took off Snape's nose.
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament...I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is," Karkaroff said coldly, "though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," retorted Moody. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you ought to remember..."
"Alastor!" Dumbledore said in a warning tone. Moody shut up, but watched Karkaroff squirm, satisfied.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, addressing everyone in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"
"My dear Madame Maxine, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
Madame Maxine did not reply, only glared. Looking around the room, McGonagall found that she was not the only one unhappy with the results; Snape looked furious, and Karkaroff looked as though he was about to explode. Bagman, on the other hand, looked excited.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said cheerily. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
"Yes," Mr. Crouch said, "instructions. Yes...the first task...the first task is designed to test your daring, 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 wnads. 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.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore. He was looking at Mr. Crouch, concerned. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry. 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?"
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Bagman said cheerily. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch.
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxine - a nightcap?" Dumbledore offered. But Madame Maxine had already taken Fleur and was leading her out of the chamber, talking to her rapidly in French. Karkaroff and Krum exited as well.
McGonagall suddenly felt very tired.
"You'll excuse me, won't you, Dumbledore," she murmured to him.
"Of course," he replied. "See you in the morning." He touched a hand to his hat and smiled. McGonagall managed a smile in return and hurried out the door, her head spinning. She was walking down the steps, trying to steady herself on the banister, when she suddenly tripped. She gave a little squeak and toppled down the remaining few steps, where she lay there on the ground, laughing at herself.
"Are you all right?" a voice appeared from above. She looked up, and to her dismay, realized that it was Snape. He quickly strode down the steps, his robes billowing out around him, and knelt beside her.
"I'm fine," she said, and struggled to push herself up from the stone floor. He offered her a hand, and she took it gratefully. She looked up at Snape.
"Don't be so hard on Harry Potter," she murmured. Snape's face changed. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but McGonagall had already begun to stride away. She felt his gaze on her retreating back.
"I liked your pumpkin," she heard him say faintly, and she smiled and turned the corner.
Author: Rita Screecher
Author email: ritascreecher@excite.com
Category: Humor/Romance
Keywords: Fourth year, Professor McGonagall
Spoilers: All four books, especially the fourth book (obviously)
Rating: PG
Summary: A retelling of Harry Potter and Co's fourth year, from Professor McGonagall's point of view. Of course, I took a few "creative liberties"...:)
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.
A/N: Um...yeah. Would you like a brownie? *offers*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This is the first part of a planned five part series, detailing the events of the Triwizard Tournament during Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts, from Professor McGonagall's point of view.
Part I: The Goblet of Fire
It was Friday. Professor McGonagall, though eager with the anticipation of the Welcoming Feast that night, still expected lessons to go on as usual. Her afternoon Transfiguration class, however, thought the opposite. Charmed parchment airplanes whizzed through the air, trying to strike victims as they stood in their seats, blocking them with even more charms. No one was paying attention to McGonagall.
"And so, according to the findings of Defonity the Mad," she said loudly, trying in vain to make her class listen, "the reason younger wizards usually have trouble Transfiguring anything inanimate into something animate is because they have yet to develop the maturity and intelligence to grasp the magic behind it - can anyone tell me what I just said?" she called over the din. No one seemed to hear her. McGonagall tried to calm herself down. Giving everyone detentions for the next week won't help, she told herself.
"Professor?" a voice called out. McGonagall whirled around, a smile returning to her face.
"Yes, Catherine? Do you have a question on the lesson?" See, just stick to it, and the students will listen to you -
"No, Professor, I wanted to ask if we could be let out now."
Professor McGonagall stared, speechless at the boldness of her student. Her favorite sixth-year student, in fact, but still! "Are you mad?" McGonagall finally managed to say. "There's a whole hour left in the lesson!"
"Half an hour, actually," Catherine corrected her. "With the Welcoming Feast and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang coming and all." She smiled sweetly. "Well? Could we? We have to get ready, you know, to make ourselves presentable for the other schools. You don't want them to think we're scruffy and half-rate, do you? We want to put our best foot forward, right?" She looked around at the rest of the class for agreement, and the sixth-years collectively nodded energetically.
McGonagall sighed. It was only one day...and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were coming...and it was no use trying to teach, after all, if they refused to listen. She looked around. For the first time during the entire lesson, the class was silent and all looking at her expectantly. The parchment airplanes were suspended in mid-air, also unmoving. McGonagall opened her mouth, hesitated, and -
"No," she said, surprising everyone, but at the same time, surprising no one at all. The airplanes fell straight down to the floor along with the expressions on everyone's faces. "Sit down. This lesson will go on as planned. Dumbledore has already been generous enough to allow a half-hour more to get ready." She eyed the class beadily. "Sit down, I said."
The class obediently sat.
"Take out your textbooks."
The class obediently took out their textbooks.
"Turn to page 465."
The ruffling of the pages signaled their compliance.
"Take out your wands."
The class produced their wands.
"Now, repeat after me: We will leave class quietly and not cause any commotions in the hallway, to avoid getting both you and me in trouble."
The class obediently repeated the sentence. Grins spread throughout the room.
"And if I do find that any of you have caused any sort of disturbance, I will personally make sure that Professor Moody turns you into a ferret. I'm sure that you've all heard about Draco Malfoy's unfortunate incident by now."
The class was quietly gone in a second.
I'm getting too soft, Professor McGonagall sighed. But it is the Triwizard Tournament, after all...
She gathered up her books and headed to her office.
***
"In line, Gryffindors, in line..."
Professor McGonagall walked up and down the entrance hall, trying to get everyone in order.
"Weasley, straighten your hat," she snapped at Ron Weasley, who was standing next to Hermione Granger and Harry Potter as usual. He guiltily tried to get it in order, but succeeded only in making it look even worse. McGonagall gave up and turned to Parvati Patil, who had fastened an enormous butterfly to her head.
"Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair," she fussed. While Parvati scowled and struggled to remove it, McGonagall looked up and down the line.
"Good as it gets," she muttered to herself. Raising her voice, she said, "Follow me, please. First years in front...no pushing...we'll all get there in time."
McGonagall led the Gryffindors out the door and down the steps, behind the Ravenclaws. They all lined up in front of the school and stood there to wait, some shivering from the cold. McGonagall repeatedly alternated between checking her watch and peering up at the sky.
"They said they'd be here at six," she said to Dumbledore, who was standing next to her.
"Patience, Minerva," Dumbledore murmured, who was also watching the sky. He smiled suddenly.
"Aha!" he called out, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
Everyone began looking in different directions. "Where?"
"There!" Someone in the crowd pointed over the Forbidden Forest, and everyone turned to look.
"It's a dragon!"
"Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!"
The students and teachers fell silent as a powder blue carriage the size of a large house soared towards them. Twelve winged horses the size of elephants pulled the carriage through the air effortlessly. The front three rows of students nervously took a few steps back as the carriage landed with an almighty crash.
The Beauxbatons delegation had arrived.
***
Having greeted Madame Maxine and her students, the school turned back to wait for Durmstrang to arrive. It was getting darker and colder by the minute, and the students from Beauxbatons were obviously ill dressed in their thin silk robes. McGonagall stamped her feet to get warm. Everyone was getting impatient, when suddenly -
"The lake! Look at the lake!"
The crowd, as one, turned and peered down at the lake, which was no longer smooth and still. It suddenly formed a whirlpool in the middle, as though it were a bathtub and the plug had been pulled. A ship slowly rose out of the heart of it, and finally, it had emerged entirely, bobbing on the surface. It glided to the bank, and from their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they could hear an anchor being thrown into the water and a plank being lowered. They watched as people began to disembark and walk up towards the castle.
"Dumbledore!" a tall, thin man at the front of the small parade called out. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. McGonagall looked at Karkaroff with distaste. She had never liked this man much, and had her reasons, not that she would ever tell her students about it.
"Dear old Hogwarts," Karkaroff said, smiling up at the castle. McGonagall shuddered slightly at his cold expression. "How good it is to be here, how good...Viktor, come along, into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."
The school began to murmur excitedly as one of the students stepped forward. Without looking, McGonagall knew that it was Viktor Krum. Always liked to show off, Karkaroff did, she thought. Not that he usually had much to show off.
"After you," Dumbledore said, smiling, and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students filed back up the steps and into the castle, with the Hogwarts students bringing up the rear.
***
Dumbledore stood and the Great Hall fell silent, expectant, waiting.
"The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first," Dumbledore said, "let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Lugo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
Professor McGonagall applauded politely along with the cheering crowd. Bagman waved, beaming. Crouch did not wave nor smile.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxine on the panel that will judge to champions' efforts. The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Argus Filch placed a wooden, jewel-encrusted chest on the table before Dumbledore. The students began murmuring and craning their necks to get a good view of the chest. McGonagall smiled at the sight of little Dennis Creevey standing on his chair to try and see it properly. If only he could properly Transfigure that needle, she thought.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways...their magical prowess...their daring...their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped the top of the chest three times. The lid slowly opened. Reaching inside, Dumbledore pulled out a large, rough wooden cup, full with dancing blue-white flames. Then he closed the lid and placed the goblet on top, where it was clearly visible.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champions must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
"To insure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
The students got up from their respective tables and began to slowly file out the door, chattering excitedly. McGonagall caught snatches of conversation about the Age Line and Aging Potions. She chuckled to herself. Did they really think the professors of the school were that dim?
The Hall was finally empty, and only the teachers lingered, talking to one another.
"Professor Dumbledore," she called out to the Headmaster, who was chatting amiably with Professor Snape, who looked quite moody for some reason. McGonagall wished she could turn his frown upside down. Dumbledore turned.
"Yes, Minerva?" he replied.
"You don't think that anyone underage will try to ask someone else to submit their name, will you?"
"I don't believe so. Even if they do, there's a slim chance that the Goblet of Fire will choose them as a champion," Dumbledore said. "I have already gotten a good idea about who the three champions will be this year, and I assure you, not one is underage. Everyone younger than seventeen is simply not well-equipped for such a challenge."
"But I'm just saying..."
"My dear, if it really concerns you that much, I'll have one of the professors be watching the Goblet of Fire to make sure that no one does. Ah! Professor Moody! He won't take any fuss and nonsense from anyone." Dumbledore smiled. "Well, off to bed now, after a quick mug of butterbeer. Good night, Minerva."
"Good night, Professor Dumbledore."
***
The next day, Professor McGonagall spent her evening before the Halloween feast helping out with decorating the Great Hall with jack-o-lanterns and candles. It had taken her a while to fit one of Hagrid's enormous pumpkins through the double doors of the Hall, but she finally gave up, Transfigured it into a tiny gourd, and Transfigured it back after she had gotten it where she wanted. Then it had taken her another hour carving a perfect likeness of Professor Snape on it. When asked about it by one of the students, she blushed and said, "He's...always wanted a portrait of himself...done on a...pumpkin." The student stared at her for a while, then, comprehending, hurried off to snicker with his friends.
After the golden plates had finally cleared, Dumbledore stood. Everyone looked at him, suddenly silent. Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxine looked as tense as the students did. Mr. Crouch looked bored. Ludo Bagman was grinning and winking at random people. McGonagall was nastily reminded of Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore began. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - here Dumbledore indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He waved his wand, and at once, all the candles except those that glimmered inside the jack-o-lanterns were snuffed out. The Goblet of Fire was now shining more brightly than anything else in the entire Hall (With the exception of Professor Snape's beautiful eyes...McGonagall thought dreamily).
A little thrill ran through the Hall. McGonagall, feeling it, tore her gaze from Snape and turned to look at the Goblet. The flames had turned red, and sparks were flying from it. Suddenly, a slightly charred piece of parchment, propelled by the flames, fluttered out of it. The crowd collectively gasped.
"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore proclaimed, "will be Viktor Krum."
The room burst into applause and cheers. Viktor rose from his position at the Slytherin table and all heads followed him as he made his way along the staff table to disappear into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor! Knew you had it in you!" Karkaroff boomed from his position next to Dumbledore. McGonagall glared at him from the safety of the darkened room.
Another piece of parchment shot out of the goblet. Dumbledore grasped it and read, "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
If some heads had not turned for Viktor, they certainly turned for this girl. McGonagall watched her as well, noting her strong resemblance to a veela. (Perhaps she has some relatives that are, McGonagall mused. I'm sure the boys will be happy that she's one of the three champions. I wonder if Snape will be...)
The Hall fell silent once more. The Goblet of Fire turned red once more, and from the tip of the tongue of the flames, Dumbledore plucked the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table was in ecstasies. Every single one had jumped to his or her feet, and they screamed and stamped their feet as Cedric made his way down the Hall and into the chamber. At last, the applause died down.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore said. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"
Dumbledore stopped. He was staring at the Goblet, which had suddenly turned red again. A long flame shot into the air, and Dumbledore automatically reached out and grasped the fourth piece of parchment. He stared at it. There was a long pause. Clearing his throat, he read:
"Harry Potter."
Every head in the Great Hall turned to stare at the Boy Who Lived, who was sitting in his seat at the Gryffindor table, apparently as stunned as everyone else. There was no applause, only angry murmurs. McGonagall's head whirled. She had to do something.
She stood and swept past Ludo Bagman and Karkaroff, and bent down next to Professor Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore. I know what you are thinking. We cannot put Harry's life in danger, but at the same time, we cannot refuse to allow Harry to participate, for the magical contract is binding. You of all people should understand this."
Dumbledore nodded and stood up. McGonagall quietly returned to her seat.
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
Harry got to his feet and walked up to the staff table. Every single eye was upon him, and McGonagall wished she could do something to lessen the tension.
"Well...through the door, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry Potter disappeared into the chamber. The Hall immediately erupted into furious chatter. Ludo Bagman stood and hurried into the chamber after Harry. A few minutes later, after a short regrouping, Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Karkaroff, Madame Maxine, Snape, and McGonagall herself followed. McGonagall closed the door behind them.
"Madame Maxine!" the Beauxbatons champion said, striding over. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" Madame Maxine said angrily.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore. Two Hogwarts champions?" Professor Karkaroff's voice was like ice. "I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
"C'est impossible," Madame Maxine blustered. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression," Karkaroff continued, "that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore. Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape spoke up. McGonagall's heart sank a bit. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here -"
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore cut him off, and Snape fell silent. Dumbledore now directed his gaze to Harry Potter.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?"
"No," Harry replied.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"
"No."
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" Madame Maxine cried. McGonagall could no longer contain herself.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," McGonagall burst out. "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line."
"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said mildly. McGonagall made a noise of disbelief.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well that you did not make a mistake!" she said angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good for everybody else!" She glared at Snape. Just because she liked him didn't mean that she was going to start changing her opinions on everything. If he didn't like Harry Potter, by God was she going to try and change that.
"Mr. Crouch...Mr. Bagman...you are our - er - objective judges," Karkaroff started. "Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Mr. Crouch replied, "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well," Bagman beamed, "Barty knows the rule book back to front."
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff heatedly. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But Karkaroff," Bagman said, "it doesn't work like that. The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"
" -in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff exploded. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff." Everyone's head turned, and there stood Moody, who had just entered the room. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
"Convenient?" Karkaroff said. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
"Don't you? It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if he came out."
"Evidently," Madame Maxine blurted out, "someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!"
"I quite agree, Madame Maxine," said Karkaroff. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards -"
"If anyone's got reason to complain," growled Moody, "it's Potter, but...funny thing...I don't her him saying a word..."
"Why should 'e complain?" Fleur Delacour stamped her tiny foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody.
An extremely tense silence followed. Ludo Bagman, in an attempt to clear the air, said nervously with a little chuckle, "Moody, old man...what a thing to say!"
"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff nastily. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."
"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet..."
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Madame Maxine threw up her hands and very nearly took off Snape's nose.
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament...I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is," Karkaroff said coldly, "though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," retorted Moody. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you ought to remember..."
"Alastor!" Dumbledore said in a warning tone. Moody shut up, but watched Karkaroff squirm, satisfied.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, addressing everyone in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"
"My dear Madame Maxine, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
Madame Maxine did not reply, only glared. Looking around the room, McGonagall found that she was not the only one unhappy with the results; Snape looked furious, and Karkaroff looked as though he was about to explode. Bagman, on the other hand, looked excited.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said cheerily. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
"Yes," Mr. Crouch said, "instructions. Yes...the first task...the first task is designed to test your daring, 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 wnads. 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.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore. He was looking at Mr. Crouch, concerned. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry. 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?"
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Bagman said cheerily. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch.
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxine - a nightcap?" Dumbledore offered. But Madame Maxine had already taken Fleur and was leading her out of the chamber, talking to her rapidly in French. Karkaroff and Krum exited as well.
McGonagall suddenly felt very tired.
"You'll excuse me, won't you, Dumbledore," she murmured to him.
"Of course," he replied. "See you in the morning." He touched a hand to his hat and smiled. McGonagall managed a smile in return and hurried out the door, her head spinning. She was walking down the steps, trying to steady herself on the banister, when she suddenly tripped. She gave a little squeak and toppled down the remaining few steps, where she lay there on the ground, laughing at herself.
"Are you all right?" a voice appeared from above. She looked up, and to her dismay, realized that it was Snape. He quickly strode down the steps, his robes billowing out around him, and knelt beside her.
"I'm fine," she said, and struggled to push herself up from the stone floor. He offered her a hand, and she took it gratefully. She looked up at Snape.
"Don't be so hard on Harry Potter," she murmured. Snape's face changed. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but McGonagall had already begun to stride away. She felt his gaze on her retreating back.
"I liked your pumpkin," she heard him say faintly, and she smiled and turned the corner.