Christopher Chant and the Goblet of Fire
Summary: Christopher may not be Chrestomanci yet, but he's already representing his world in a magical tournament. He's always wanted to go to a magic school – Hogwarts sounds perfect.
AN: This is my first attempt at fanfiction. I absolutely love Diana Wynne Jones, and when I heard she had passed away I wanted to do a story in her honor. I love Christopher Chant and I think he would love Hogwarts. I don't own Christopher or Hogwarts, though.
Chapter 1
There was silence in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Everyone was staring at Harry Potter, whose name had just emerged from the Goblet of Fire as the Fourth Champion.
Harry was stunned silent as well, as he stumbled up to the front of the hall where his Headmaster, Dumbledore, stood.
"Well… through the door, Harry," Dumbledore said, lacking his usual smile.
The silence continued after Harry left the room, as everyone was trying to figure out how to react to this unexpected development. Suddenly, everyone's attention was drawn to the Goblet once more, as the flames once again turned a bright scarlet. This time, though, instead of merely disgorging a name as it had done four times before, the flames leapt higher and higher until they were towering over everyone in the hall. A clear, bell-like voice rang throughout the hall, saying a strange word that nobody seemed to recognize. Perhaps it was a name? It said, "Chrestomanci."
And then, again, "Chrestomanci."
Some of the students were stirring in their seats, and Dumbledore's eyes were just beginning to resume their usual twinkle, when the voice repeated for the third and last time, "Chrestomanci."
Then the flames were gone and, as everyone blinked at the sudden darkness, they saw that a young man had appeared in front of the goblet, seemingly out of nowhere, without any kind of fanfare or the pop of a typical apparition.
The first thing everyone noticed about this new figure was that he looked ridiculous. Well, perhaps somewhere between ridiculous and regal. He was wearing a tiger skin with various bangles and trinkets on it, a gold band around his head with some kind of brooch pinned to the front, and several gold necklaces, as well as a rope of pearls.
Dumbledore, however, seemed pleased by this development and gave the new arrival a warm smile. "Ah," he said, "So you must be Chrestomanci?"
"Well, yes – I suppose so," the stranger said, glancing around the room, "At least for the moment." He paused, and then asked resignedly, "So, where am I now?"
"I believe you would call this world Twelve B," said Dumbledore. "Now, if you could just follow me to where the other champions are waiting, I can explain everything to you there." He glanced over at some of the other people at the front of the hall and added, "You should come as well, my friends. No use explaining more than once."
"Twelve B?" repeated the stranger, as he followed Dumbledore, and some of the other adults at the head table rose to follow him, "Well, that's not too far off, then. At least it's not Eleven. I can wait around for a bit, but there are some people expecting me, and if I don't come back, they'll probably show up here."
"Not to worry," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly as he ushered the young man through the door ahead of him, "I'm sure it will all work out."
Dumbledore and the boy, followed by several others, walked in on a plump older man cheerfully exclaiming, "Harry will just have to do the best he – "
"Madame Maxine!" a silvery haired girl burst out as she strode over to a large woman who had just entered behind Dumbledore, "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
Madame Maxine drew herself up in an imperious huff. "What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" She threw a scathing glance at the boy in the tiger skin and added, "And who is zis ruffian zat you greeted so calmly?"
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said the tall, thin man standing beside her. "Two Hogwarts champions? Three? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school was allowed more than one champion – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
He gave a short and nasty laugh.
"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxine, "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave so many champions. It is most unjust. And zis new boy – 'e does not even go to 'Ogwarts!"
"Peculiar, indeed," said the tall man, his cold eyes resting on the stranger, "He looks like he must be too young, as well." His gaze shifted to Dumbledore as he continued, "We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out the younger contestants, Dumbledore, and that outsiders were not allowed at all," he wore a steely smile but didn't seem very pleased, "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates for our own schools."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said a dark man from the corner, "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," said Dumbledore firmly, "But I believe we have a more important matter to deal with before we can discuss Harry's." He finally turned back to the boy in the tiger-skin, who had been watching the argument with an air of bemusement. "I believe we owe you an explanation," he began.
"Yes, please," agreed the young boy.
"There is a tradition in our world in which our three schools of magic, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang, get together to hold the Triwizard Tournament, in which a champion is chosen from each of the schools to compete in three tasks. The instrument which we use to choose the champions is called the Goblet of Fire, a magical device which was a gift to our world from Chrestomanci a long, long time ago." Dumbledore smiled, "Do you see?"
"Not quite," said the strange boy, "I still don't see why I'm here."
"Just a few moments ago, the Goblet did something it has never done before. It chose a fourth champion. I assume this triggered it to call for you, in an effort to correct itself." He peered at the young man from over his half-moon spectacles. "Am I correct in assuming that you have just recently been appointed Chrestomanci?"
"Well – yes," the boy said uncomfortably, "It's more of a temporary fix than anything. But I can take a look at the Goblet if you want."
"Indeed, that would be most kind of you," Dumbledore said warmly. "Now that that is settled," he turned to Harry, "I may ask you, Harry; did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"
"No," said Harry, as the attention of the room swung back to him. There was a soft noise of impatient disbelief from the shadows.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.
"No," said Harry vehemently.
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," a stern-looking older woman interjected, "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.
"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said the woman, "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 enough for everybody else!"
She shot a very angry look at the man still lurking in the shadows.
"Mr. Crouch… Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our – er – objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
The cheerful man who had been talking as they walked in wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at a gaunt man who was standing outside the circle of firelight.
He responded curtly, "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, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said the boyish man, beaming and turning back to the others, as though the matter was now closed.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "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, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "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!" exploded Karkaroff. "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," growled a voice from near the door. "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?"
A grizzled old man with a multitude of scars had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.
"Convenient?" said Karkaroff, "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." Despite his disdainful tone, his hands were nervously clenching themselves into fists.
"Don't you?" said the old man quietly, "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that Goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
The argument continued back and forth between the suspicious old man and the skeptical Headmaster and Headmistress, until Moody began exclaiming about what a powerful magical object the Goblet was, and how difficult it would be to trick, and the stranger saw a need to interrupt.
"I'm sorry, but this is taking far too long," he said, "Why don't I just take a look at this Goblet thing and let you know what's wrong with it – then I can finally get some rest. I've had a bit of a long day."
"An excellent suggestion, young man," said Dumbledore, "Moody, why don't you go bring us the Goblet so that we can examine it together."
As Moody left, muttering under his breath, Karkaroff's attention swung back to the stranger in their midst. "And who are you, exactly? Where did you come from?"
The young boy gave him an unimpressed look and said simply, "I'm Chrestomanci."
Karkaroff decided to ignore his tone and turned to Dumbledore. "Well, Dumbledore? You seem to have some knowledge of this boy, at least."
Dumbledore merely gave him a smile. "Why, I'm surprised at you, Karkaroff. Surely you did some reading on the history of the Triwizard Tournament before attending? It was many centuries ago, but I believe the Tournament was started with the help of a Chrestomanci, to help settle a certain dispute between our schools. He kindly left us the Goblet of Fire so that we could continue the tradition with a perfectly impartial judge, and apparently," he glanced at the young man who had appeared, "he included a failsafe."
Karkaroff looked like he wasn't convinced, but Moody had just reentered the room carrying the Goblet, which now looked like an ordinary, if rather heavy, cup without the flames it had been spewing before.
"Ah, Moody, thank you," said Dumbledore, "if you could kindly hand it to Mr. Chrestomanci, then, I'm sure we can resolve this to the satisfaction of all involved."
Moody stumped over, but hesitated before giving him the Goblet. "What are you?" he asked abruptly, his blue eye focused keenly on the young man in front of him, "You're not a wizard, are you?"
"I'm an enchanter, not a wizard," said the boy, plucking the Goblet from his hands, "And it's just Chrestomanci, thank you, not Mr. Chrestomanci." He held the Goblet up to catch the flickering firelight and his eyes went unfocused like he was looking at something else. "It's no use," he said after a moment, "it's done now, and I don't know enough to see exactly what happened. We'll have to wait for Gabriel to get here, which shouldn't be too long, actually."
As if on a signal, a great boom echoed throughout the castle, shaking the halls.
"That's probably him now," said the young man, handing the Goblet back to Moody, "I hope he isn't too mad. This time it wasn't my fault at all."
AN: Sorry if there are any mistakes, it's been a while since I've read both of these books. A majority of the dialogue is, of course, straight from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, but hopefully the following chapters will be more original.