Chapter 2
by Skysaber
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Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He could not have heard correctly.
There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Great Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.
Looking down on this from above, Azalea would have smirked if an owl's beak could have managed it. However could anyone believe that boy had done this? He was so obviously gobsmacked it was ridiculous! Had she looked so lost, alone and confused when this had happened to her?
Well, if it had there was even less excuse for people to have treated her as they did.
And what was with this school? This creepy silence was such a change from when the Hufflepuff table had raised such an uproar for Cedric, every puff on their feet stamping and screaming their approval just moments before.
Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept passed Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.
Azalea would have frowned, again, if an owl's face could have handled such an expression. From appearance it was easy to guess that McGonagall was trying to intercede with the Headmaster, who himself was acting surprised, as though being forced by circumstances to send Harry to participate regardless.
But she knew how easily appearances could deceive around the Master Manipulator. All the world was a stage to him, and he the best actor of the lot.
Down below, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, open-mouthed.
"I didn't put my name in," Harry protested blankly. "You know I didn't."
Both of them stared just as blankly back, and Azalea knew from experience that he wouldn't be getting any help from them.
At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall. "Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
Seeing the boy so lost and alone, knowing this was the end of what happiness he had at Hogwarts and that the long slide had begun into the wizarding world losing its wonder and his home and sanctuary becoming near terminally degrading and abusive to him, Azalea had begun to act long before she made a conscious choice to intervene.
Changing into a copy of her own long dead but fondly remembered white owl, Balthazar, and hoping no one noticed she was female, Azalea swooped down out of the rafters and settled on the shoulder of the boy who looked so much like her father, giving his ear an affectionate nip just as her own owl had long ago done.
Everyone seemed to accept her presence, in fact her appearance and unspoken vote of support seemed to steady Harry, so whatever flaws there were in her disguise they were not being noted yet.
Suddenly a perverse desire seized hold of the girl as Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly, forcing her to spread her wings to compensate or be thrown from off his shoulder.
This day, this hour, had been the beginning of the end for her in her own wizarding world; and from what she could tell in the moments she'd been there everything seemed identical for this boy who looked just like her father. Even her gamble about impersonating an owl she had once owned seemed to have paid off.
So assuming that the default was for things to be more alike than they were different, which evidence seemed to bear out so far, why not change things to the way she wanted them to be? Before she'd lost all hope of reconciling with her wizarding world she'd had more than a few daydreams about this time, about how they might have gone differently, dreams of how she might've been accepted instead of vilified if things had been just a bit different.
It required a little blood contact to execute her plan, but that was easily arranged by adding a little pressure to one of her talons, as if uncertain of her grip. Instantly her mind was in the boy's body, taking control while he was too dazed to do anything else - a variant of the technique Tom Riddle had used on her in the Department of Mysteries.
Harry's body went from gawking and uncertain to powerful and poised, stopping before he reached the head table to throw his shoulders back and declare. "Headmaster Dumbledore, esteemed guests," the boy's head nodded to each in turn, "I would like to declare here and now that I did not enter my name into this contest. I did not arrange for it to be entered, nor did I give permission to be entered, and I would like to withdraw as I believe this unlawful and involuntary entry to be yet another attempt on my life. I swear this is so!"
Azalea in Harry's body held his wand aloft as the tip glowed white with the clear, bright aura of a true oath. The hall gasped and the whispering redoubled.
She could feel hundreds upon hundreds of eyes upon them. The shocked gazes of the teachers nearly stared a hole through her, while Harry was still curled up in shock at the back of his own mind; but at least he wasn't contesting her control of his body, even though it looked like the owl on his shoulder had gone to sleep. Luckily bird talons were designed to hold on, even during sleep.
She'd just cost Harry the 'poor unfortunate soul, too shocked to think' image. But no one had ever believed her innocence from that source anyway. So might as well try for an alternate approach. At least this way there was magical evidence to support her claim.
It would be a mite harder for Dumbledore to start those ugly rumors against her now. Not that she believed that would stop him, but it would be a trifle harder.
"Well... through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.
Lowered the wand, whose tip was still brightly glowing, Azalea cocked Harry's face up at the old man, confident her Occlumency shields could hold up to any assault short of a wand powered incantation. "So you are ignoring my request to be removed then?"
Once more Professor McGonagall stood and whispered urgently in the Headmaster's ear. But once more whatever objection she'd made, if it was an objection, got ignored. Heck, for all the good it had done, she might have whispered baseball scores to the old crackpot. The only thing it did was shore up the old man's image as a kindly grandfather listening to all sides yet forced by circumstance into this course of action anyway.
Not that she believed that for a moment. Circumstances danced to Dumbledore's control, NOT the other way around!
"I'm afraid I have no choice, Harry," Dumbledore intoned in sorrowful tones.
"Not to disrespect you, Headmaster, but bullshit!" Azalea shot back at him, shocking the whole audience. "I was looking forward to a nice quiet year of not having to fight for my life, for a change. I DID NOT ENTER! Lacking all other options, you and the other headmasters and headmistresses can declare this contest a draw, releasing all of the contestants. After all, you are the judges, that *is* within your authority, and this whole event was only being held to promote school unity - a goal hardly achieved when it is felt Hogwarts is cheating by having double the champions of any other!"
There came some angry mumbling among the various schools over that allegation, and Dumbledore had to feel the glares of Karkaroff and Maxine on the back of his head.
But Dumbledore had never been able to be ruffled by so small a thing as that. "I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Harry. The goblet's fire has just gone out. It won't reignite until the start of the next tournament."
"Then start another in a week!" Azalea insisted.
Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore soothed, "I'm afraid that won't be fair to the other champions who have already been selected, Harry. After all, they want to compete."
"And who says it won't just select them over again? They are the best, aren't they?"
"They will have graduated by the time we may begin again, Harry."
She noted Dumbledore did not state any particular reason for that delay, and privately she was certain there was none. The long lapse in holding this event proved there was no set time scale to these things, in her opinion. But she didn't think her audience would buy her side if she stood there debating the particulars of the function of an ancient magical artifact with someone as esteemed as Dumbledore.
So she chose another tack to pursue.
"They're also considerably older and more trained than I am, and the tasks will be geared to their level. You'd risk my life over their having a shot at a little glory? Fine!" Azalea folded Harry's arms over his chest. "The goblet's only job is to select contestants - it has done so! Declare it a draw to release us from the contract, then have them go on with this tournament without a magical constraint - or have them enter into a new one of a different sort if you're so all-fired insistent they have to be forced into this!"
"I can't do that, Harry," the old man told her, now offering no excuse.
"Why?" She was determined not to let him off the hook.
There were now quite a few angry glares or confused and puzzled glances being directed toward Dumbledore as it became increasingly clear that Harry Potter wanted no part in this - but the Headmaster wasn't letting him out, despite several very reasonable suggestions.
"The rules of the Tri-Wizard Tournament forbid it."
"Ah, the 'I know better than you do, shut up and do as you're told' approach," Azalea got angry, and the face she was wearing reflected that. "Already the fact that we've got FOUR champions breaks all the rules and makes this no longer a *TRI*-Wizard tournament at all! You DARE to stand before me *dripping* with all the political authority the magical world knows how to give, holding more offices than any wizard before you has held - EVER, and DARE to whine 'We are helpless'? NO! I refuse to believe that! It doesn't work that way. Every participating school except for this one hates the very idea of me competing. You could redraw those rules right here and now to remove me if you were willing. No! The only reason you are hiding behind any of these flimsy excuses is because you WANT me to face this death trap! Just as you have flung me into danger *every year* before this one!"
"Nevertheless..." Dumbledore began, shocking several of his listeners.
"Save it," Azalea snapped. By now half the hall was white-faced, many in anger, several in shock at the dressing down she was giving this most respected figure. "When I first was told about this school it was billed as the safest place in the magical world. Since coming here, however, I have been assaulted by Death Eaters, dementors, trolls, and fought a thousand year old basilisk to save YOUR career after it had already petrified students. I have fought Voldemort IN THESE HALLS! Survived attempts on my life by professors YOU hired! Been endangered by rogue bludgers, sent to face Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest on a simple DETENTION! And to top it off I have been mocked and ridiculed as I fought for my life, and the lives of my fellow students at this supposed institution of learning. And as if that weren't enough now you want to thrust me into danger yet again."
She drew her current body up, glaring at him. "Albus Dumbledore, it is clear to me that you are seeking to take away my life by any and all means at your disposal. The fact that you have the Death Eater who targeted my parents and the Longbottoms to Voldemort here on staff as your closest advisor ought to be evidence enough of that!"
In the background, Neville gasped, his face now turning white.
"McGonagall has..." Dumbledore began, his voice taking on his 'I'm annoyed now' tones.
"You use her to handle your administrative duties, because you've got too many jobs to do any of them well," Azalea rolled over his objections. "But whenever there's conflict between her and Snape you *always* side with Snape! Always! That by definition makes him your most trusted and therefore closest advisor! And the fact that you hold the one person aside from Voldemort most responsible for my parents' deaths as your best friend says enough about your motivations to make everything else clear."
Dumbledore, appearing aggrieved, opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off by raising her wand and declaring, "I now formally withdraw myself from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and shall never more be a student of it!"
The flare off the top of the wand she held was blinding. Gasps ran the length of the Great Hall, as if what went before had not been shocking enough.
Dumbledore's look was pained. "I'm sorry, Harry. But you must still compete. And you must still represent a long established school. Therefore..."
"Albus!" McGonagall hissed, this time loud enough to be heard by the entire hall. Her own distress over her student's recent oath and departure of their school was plain to behold.
Taking hold of this opportunity, Azalea declared, "Since you still insist on endangering my life yet more," she turned to look around the Great Hall expressively, "and since all schools now present already have representatives, in order that things remain equal and fair among the schools themselves I shall be forced to champion one not present."
Dumbledore's face now looked stricken as she concluded, with upraised wand, "So long as I am being forced to compete in this tournament, I shall do so as the Salem Witch Institute champion!"
Once more the flash of white light out of the tip of the wand she was holding was blinding, and the robes she had on spontaneously transformed into the appropriate uniform for the school she'd just named.
OoOoO
She'd never expected giving old Bumbles-more a public scolding to have felt so GOOD!!
Quite therapeutic.
She hadn't been able to help herself and giggled as she'd skipped out of the Great Hall to wait with the other champions, noting as she left that the looks on all the headmasters' faces were now equally unhappy. But Maxime and Karkaroff at least looked a little vindicated, while Albus was purely mortified.
The room she was in was the same as before, lined by paintings of witches and wizards and with a handsome fire roaring in the fireplace opposite. If she'd had any floo powder on her she would have used it then, but she didn't.
Victor, Cedric and Fleur were all grouped around the fire. Fleur looked up when the door opened and admitted one more. Throwing back her sheet of long, silvery hair that Azalea'd envied once or twice, the veela demanded, "What is it? Do zey want us back in ze hall?"
Harry didn't know how to explain what had just happened, but he wasn't in the driver's seat, and Azalea could and did. "No, I'm afraid not. Dumbledore decided on his own authority to include a fourth school against everyone else's wishes. Now it looks like there are four champions instead of the three we were all expecting; and altogether against my will I am forced to compete, so am representing the Salem Witch Institute."
She wasn't going to bear any blame for this without a fight. Oh no! Not *this* time! Put the load back on Dumbledore, who'd caused it. And it felt good in a way she could not describe to be standing up for herself through what had before been one of the most traumatizing, confusing and unsettling experiences of her life.
It was cleansing in a very good way, exorcising some of the demons of her past.
There came a moment of silence. Victor guffawed. Fleur looked stunned, while Cedric was confused. Leaning forward, the lone Hogwarts champion asked, "Potter? How did you come to represent an all-girls school?"
Azalea felt shocked, having gotten so caught up that for a moment she'd forgotten she was there in control of her male double's body and not simply reliving these experiences in her own past. Then at once she recalled it was four years in the future that she'd been at Salem for her remedial 'catch the Hogwarts graduate up to the rest of the world's standards' courses, and only that year were they beginning to become an open enrollment school.
Her shock was bad enough to shake her control, and the original occupant of that body chose to overcome his own confusion and shock long enough to throw her out. Azalea, back in her original if shapeshifted form, took wing to fly up to a shadowed corner on top of a bookcase. Looking down on the confused boy as he collected himself, she had to remark, if only to herself, "Well, at least he got the *boy's* version of the uniform!"
Actually, she'd been rather happy at Salem, which was why she'd picked them. There was the standard two year drop in grade for anyone transferring out of Europe, but overall the environment had been so improved without all the prejudices of the old world that it had been the most enjoyable educational experience she'd had in a formal school environment.
Far from being hated, to the boys she'd been just a pretty face with a cool accent. And to the girls someone 'in the know' about some of the worst scandals then facing Europe. She'd also been so newly gone from England back then they weren't trying nearly as hard to get her to return, and most of that was attempts to convince her, not kidnap her.
If she'd not been so newly burned by all the betrayals, she could have made much more out of that experience than she'd done, maybe even made some lasting friends instead of passing acquaintances. But still Salem ranked among the better periods of her life.
The door behind Harry opened again and a large group of people came in: Ludo Bagman, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape - because Dumbledore never went anywhere without his Death Eater pet (Azalea forgave herself for being a little bitter, but there was no better excuse for that creep being present in this conference at this time when the only role he served was to insult and belittle Harry at a time when he very much did NOT need to be insulted).
Hmm, come to think of it, the boy had gone and withdraw into shock again. In a heartbeat his pet owl had rejoined him, once again on his shoulder, just as the buzzing of hundreds of students on the other side of the wall got cut off by McGonagall closing the door.
"What is THAT slimy haired *creature* doing here!?" Azalea demanded at once, pointing one of Harry's fingers she once again controlled at Snape. "As near as I recall, he has NO position of authority over me, no part in the tournament, and no reason to be here. As he is a personal enemy to both me and my family I demand he leave *at once*!"
Snape's black eyes lit up with an indignant fire Azalea had never seen before. Gone was the lust and covetousness, replaced wholly by disgust and anger. "You arrogant! Aaargh!"
The blasting curse that took his arm off at the shoulder was one of the most satisfying thrills Azalea had ever experienced in her life, even if the attempted rapist bastard had dodged at the last second so it only took off his arm instead of blown his chest wide open. But at this close range, with no prior notice of attack, he'd had no chance to escape it all.
The room exploded into motion. When it was done Harry was seated on a sofa, bound up in ropes. Snape was gone, but so was McGonagall, who presumably had left to take him to the hospital wing, and the occupants of that small chamber were regarding Harry with a mixture of concern and fear.
Azalea simply lifted Harry chin in response. "As a contestant in a life or death struggle, I felt my life was endangered by the presence of a known murderer with a grudge against me and my family, and acted accordingly."
Her glare dared them to respond. You could have heard a pin drop.
Dumbledore looked as though his puppy had just died. He *knew* the law supported her on the grounds she had just stated. Hmph. Well, if Snape had never been told to keep his distance for her protection, maybe he would now - for his!
That was his good arm he'd just lost, too. Awful hard to mix potions with your off-hand.
Fleur found her voice first. "You cannot mean zat zis wild leetle boy ees to compete also! Zere must be some mistake!"
"Yeah. He can't compete, he's too young," Cedric was shaking his head.
Victor Krum kept his silence, but his gaze was far from friendly.
Fleur crossed her arms and again tossed her wave of silvery hair. "Zis joke, eet ees in vairy poor taste."
In sepulcher tones devoid of any degree of merriment whatsoever, Dumbledore replied, "I am afraid no one is joking, Miss Delacour. Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Therefore he is bound to compete."
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Author's Notes:
The short form of it is our little Azalea Potter thinks nothing of taking drastic measures to remove her enemies. She's been driven to extreme measures long ago, and finally had enough to the point where nobody who offends her is safe. No one.
But she's also far from dumb, and won't act if she thinks the cost is greater than the reward. She also won't be seen, too often, to break the rules as that just gets the government on your back early, and she's had far too much of that already.
However, she has an exacting knowledge of just how far to push those rules and still get away with it, including all sorts of exemptions and loopholes.
As for Dumbledore not noticing Harry is possessed, take your pick: either he is more innocent than the scheming headmaster Azalea knew in the world she left behind, in which case we have the bumbling fool who makes well-meaning mistakes and never noticed that Quirrel was possessed either, or that his best friend was being impersonated by a Death Eater, or we have the manipulative bastard she knows so well, in which case he is just pretending not to notice while he formulates a response.