Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 7
Harry sighed and attempted to smooth down his hair a bit before he walked into McGonagall's office. He mentally prepared himself for a violent tongue-lashing which he knew was coming. It wasn't the first time he'd been in a fight during his Hogwarts years. And from past experiences he knew that McGonagall did not approve of any sort of violence between students, as expected from a teacher, but she especially did not approve of muggle fighting methods. Harry was fairly certain that she would be less angry had they used there wands instead of fists.
Slowly he opened the door. The deputy headmistress was sitting behind her desk, stacking papers neatly. She didn't even look up when he walked in, only saying, "Sit down Potter." He obeyed the order and planted himself in one of the red chairs that was in front of her desk. Only then did she look up, folding her hands under her chin. "Now, explain to me what possessed you to get into a fight."
"He insulted my mother, Professor. And before that he was just doing anything to get under my skin."
"And then?"
"I punched him," Harry answered truthfully.
"And in front of those from the visiting schools. You understand I'm sure, that this does not make a very good impression. To use such muggle methods! You should know better by now!"
"I know."
McGonagall sighed tiredly. "Every year you've gotten into a fight with Mr. Montague along with Mr. Warrington. Surely you understand that by now!"
"I do. But that doesn't make it easier not react when he insults my parents."
"Very well. However it doesn't matter who started what. You cannot walk away unpunished. You will serve detention will me as well for the next two weeks. You are dismissed."
"Yes Professor," Harry said, feeling slightly relieved as he walked out the door. Had McGonagall gone soft over the summer? That wasn't nearly as bad as what he'd expected to be the best case scenario! But still, two weeks detention? He might have not entered the tournament willingly, but he was still a champion and he needed time to train! The first task was to be able to face the unknown. How the hell was he supposed to know what the unknown was? He had to be as ready as possible, cramming spells into his brain and things like that! The first task was in a little over three weeks and he had to spend two of them in detention, most likely grading papers!
With another long sigh Harry entered the common room. He dropped onto the couch next to Jill and Arianna. "Hey."
"We heard about the fight," Jill said immediately. "Nice job with that asshole Montague. We heard that you broke his nose."
"Yeah. He deserved it though."
"I'm sure he did," Arianna said. "We've seen the buttons people have been wearing. Montague was the one who made them."
Harry nodded. "I figured as much. But they don't bother me. I even took one… though I don't know what happened to it during the fight. I mean, Cedric is the real Hogwarts Champion. As I said last night, though I doubt you believe me, I didn't enter myself and I don't know who did. And the Potter Stinks part, well come on. What the hell kind of insult is that? If it said, 'Potter Has No Family and Ought to Off Himself Like his Parents' then I might be pissed."
Jill flinched at the insult he made up. "Then what got you so pissed off?"
Harry shrugged. "Just Montague being Montague." He sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "Two fucking weeks of detention though. Surprised she didn't take my badge away."
"She probably knows that it wouldn't be much of a punishment."
Harry looked up at Angelina's voice. He blinked once in surprised. That was the first time she'd spoken to him since the night before. "Ange…"
"I need to talk with you."
Harry didn't like the sound of her words, but he followed her anyway to a secluded corner. He could feel the eyes of Jill and Arianna on them. "What's up?"
Angelina held out her fist and Harry looked at her in confusion before holding out his hand, palm up. She dropped something into his hand and Harry didn't even need to look to know what it was. The necklace he'd given her the week before for her seventeenth birthday. He looked at her with a pained expression, seeing tears in her chocolate brown eyes. "I'm sorry."
It was over, Harry knew that. It had been over the second his name came out of the goblet. And she still didn't fucking believe him! Swallowing his anger he looked at the necklace. It was made of pure silver and had a little lightning bolt on it. He closed his eyes and grabbed her hand. He placed it back into her palm and closed her fingers around it. "Keep it. I don't expect you to ever wear it again, but I still want you to keep it. I still care about you, even if this didn't work out. You were one of my first friends you know, and I have never lied to you." He smiled sadly. "About anything big anyway. See you later." With that he stuffed his hands into his pockets and left the common room again.
What now? He wondered as he walked down the corridor. He continued wondering what there was to do for a while longer before he decided that now was the only time he would get to prepare himself for a while as he figured that his detentions would start the next day. He turned on his heel and headed for the library.
…
Herbology was a complete drag the next day. Mostly because he had it with the Hufflepuffs who were all pissed at him. Even Professor Sprout was incredibly snappish with him when normally he was one of her best students. Cedric shot him several apologetic glances and Harry just shrugged, silently saying that it didn't bother. But when Sprout barked at him after Lee had made a mess by showering him with dirt and she claimed that as a prefect he should have had some control over him, Harry smacked his shovel onto the table and glared.
The door to Greenhouse five suddenly opened, most likely saving Harry from a detention and his house from losing more points. It was Gryffindor third year Colin Creevey, a mousy looking boy who was actually one hell of a photographer. "Sorry Professor Sprout, but the Champions are needed. Mr. Bagman requested them. I think it's for photographs."
"Very well. Cedric, Potter, go on," Sprout waved them off.
Gratefully Harry gathered his things and dusted off his hands. Off course they would choose now for photographs, when he was covered in dirt thanks to a certain Gryffindor. He and Cedric followed the third year up to the castle, staying completely silent while the boy chattered on about how exciting things were going to be.
"So what are the photos for… I don't know your name actually."
"Colin Creevey. And I think they're for the Daily Prophet."
"Great!" Harry groaned. "More publicity! That's exactly what I need!" he said sarcastically.
Colin stopped outside of a door on the first floor. "Well this is it. Good luck Harry, Cedric!"
The two teens looked at one another before Harry shrugged and opened the door. He was fairly certain that he'd never been in this room before, like eighty percent of the rooms that were in the castle. It was fairly small and all of the desks had been pushed to the sides to create a large space in the middle where three of the desks sat. They were covered with a long length of red velvet and five chairs were behind them. Ludo Bagman sat in one, and a blonde witch in bright magenta robes sat in another. Quite simply put, she looked like an uptight bitch. He whispered so to Cedric who chuckled.
"That's Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet. Dad says never to believe anything she writes and to word yourself carefully around her. She's apparently great at twisting them to read something completely different. I'd be careful if I were you."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said before going over to the side of the classroom and hopping onto one of the unused desks. His eyes scanned the room once again. Karkaroff was the only judge other than Bagman there. Krum was standing in a corner, doing the same thing Harry was. Cedric had gone over to where Fleur stood and was beginning to make conversation. There was another man there, a photographer by the looks of it, who was staring at Fleur opening, with an expression that Harry didn't like at all. With a small sigh he slid back off the desk and approached the man. Some people just couldn't control themselves. And she was only part veela! He tapped the man on the shoulder.
"Hey, Buddy! You know it's not polite to stare." He growled, nodding over to Fleur who was now watching the scene with Cedric.
Before the startled man could answer Bagman called loudly, "Ah, it's our fourth champion!"
"You mean you didn't see me walk in?" Harry asked, though he had looked Bagman straight in the eye when he and Cedric entered. Bagman was only just trying to avoid a confrontation. And apparently he didn't hear Harry's question, or rather he chose to ignore it completely.
"This is Rita Skeeter," he continued. "A reporter for the—"
"Daily Prophet. I'm aware."
Bagman coughed. "Yes. Well she's here to do a small piece about—"
"The Tournament," Harry cut if off again, earning him a few chuckles. "I guessed."
"Oh I don't think it will be a small piece," Skeeter said, eyeing Harry like a piece of meat. He glared back. "If you don't mind, Ludo, I would like to speak to Mr. Potter. The fourth champion, you know. It might add a bit of spark."
"Certainly!" Bagman cried.
Harry made to protest but Skeeter already had his arm in a death grip and she dragged him out the door, only to stop in front of a small door not far away. A broom Cupboard. Harry remembered hiding in there once with the twins after running away from Mrs. Norris. He backed away a little. Nothing good happened in broom cupboards. Actually, that was a lie. Many good things happened in broom cupboards, but nothing Harry wanted to experience just now. But once again, before he could protest the reporter had thrown open the door and ushered him in.
"Ah, cozy isn't it?" she asked with a small, predatory smile once she had made herself comfortable on a bag of… grain? What the hell was grain doing in here? Without seeing any other option other than bolting out the door which would bring many repercussions in the future, Harry sat down on an upturned bucket. Skeeter pulled candles out of her crocodile skin bag and lit them before retrieving parchment and a bright green quill. "You don't mind if I use a Quick Quotes Quill, do you Harry?"
"Ah… no. I guess not." Harry shrugged, having no idea what one of those was.
"Very good. Now, what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"
"I didn't enter," Harry answered, watching the quill begin to write. The parchment, floating in the air, was tilted so he couldn't see what was being written. "I haven't got a clue how my name got into the Goblet."
Skeeter raised a darkened eyebrow. "Don't worry about getting into trouble Harry. People love a rebel."
"Well I'm not rebelling. I didn't enter my name!"
Skeeter didn't seem to take notice and asked, "What are your thoughts about participating in the upcoming tasks? People have died before haven't they?"
Harry shifted on the bucket. This was most certainly not cozy. "Yeah, they have, but the tournament is supposed to be safer this year. I guess I'm kinda nervous though."
She carried on briskly, the quill flying over thee parchment at a speed in which Harry was surprised that the thing was forming words. "But you faced death before haven't you? Do you think that the events of that night made you keen to prove yourself to the world? Do you remember that night at all? Do you remember your parents?"
Harry gritted his teeth for a moment. This woman was pissing him off. "Once again, I did not enter my name. I never wanted to compete in the first place, before I even knew of the age restrictions. I do remember that night, and yes, I do in fact remember my parents."
"How do you think they would feel now? Angry? Worried? Proud?"
"We're done here," Harry said abruptly. He stood from the bucket and threw open the door, stalking back into the room with the other champions. They were all seated in four chairs near the door and all of the judges had arrived, along with, much to Harry's shock, Ollivander the wand-maker. Harry sat down in a seat next to Cedric as Skeeter entered the room, looking slightly flustered.
"Ah, now that we have all arrived, let us begin the Weighing of the Wands!" Dumbledore announced, his eyes twinkling toward Harry. "May I introduce Mr. Ollivander who will be examining the wands of our champions to ensure that they are in good condition for the tournament."
"Mademoiselle Delacour, we will start with you," Ollivander said. Fleur stood and walked gracefully up to the wand-maker, handing him her wand. He looked at it carefully, murmuring out how the wand was designed. Nine and a half inches of rosewood, containing the hair of a veela. One of Fleur grandmother's. Or grandmuzzer's as it had sounded with Fleur's accent. Ollivander produced a bouquet of flowers which he handed to Fleur and she sat down. Harry zoned out for the examining of Krum's and Cedric's wands. It didn't interest him all that much.
"Mr. Potter, you next. On your feet now!"
Harry realized that his name had been called more than once while he had zoned out. He stood up from his chair and took his wand from the pocket of his school robes which were hanging on the back of his chair. He walked over to Ollivander and held out his wand. "Sorry about that, Mr. Ollivander."
The old wand-maker chuckled. "Ah yes, I remember this wand very well, like it was just yesterday in fact! Made of Holly, eleven inches long. Contains a feather from the tail of a phoenix." The very same phoenix that had given up a feather for the wand that had chosen Tom Marvalo Riddle. Harry remembered that fact from what Ollivander had told him six summers before. The wands were twins, Ollivander had said, and that it was strange that this wand had chosen Harry while its twin had chosen the man who had attempted to kill him when he was three. "Looks to be in fine condition, although it doesn't look to have ever been polished once."
Harry grinned and tilted his head. "Didn't know you were supposed to. Well that explains why everyone else's wands are always so clean."
Ollivander threw his head back in a bout of hearty laughter. He continued to examine his wand further until he made a fountain of wine shoot from the tip. "Yes, still in good condition. Here you go, Mr. Potter."
"Now that the wand weighing has finished, I suggest we all go down to dinner as lessons are to end momentarily."
"Photos, Dumbledore!" Skeeter shouted and Harry rubbed his temples. "We still have to take photos for the paper!"
"Ah yes, I'd forgotten about that. Very well Ms. Skeeter."
It was a grueling fifteen minutes of taking different shots. Madame Maxime kept casting everyone else in her enormous shadow to begin with, and then Skeeter insisted that they take photos of just the champions. Harry stood in the back, being the tallest. Cedric stood to his left and Krum to his right. Krum, Whom Harry had thought would be used to these things, was mirroring his own annoyed grimace. Fleur, standing in front of Harry, didn't seem to mind the pictures at all. Just when Harry thought that it was over, they were forced to take individual shots. By this time he had loosened his tie which suddenly seemed too tight and his hair was even messier as a result of him running his hands through it with agitation. And then Skeeter wanted shots of Cedric and Harry together, as they were champions of the same school.
"Thank Merlin that's over!" Harry burst out as he and Cedric raced from the room to get down to dinner.
Cedric laughed. "How did the interview go?"
"Terrible. First of all, it took place in a fucking broom cupboard." Cedric nearly tripped over his own feet at that statement. "Second of all, she continuously asked me about my parents. I'm sure that'll go great in the Prophet with what you told me. Tomorrow's headline: Boy-Who-Lives Remembers!"
"She really asked you that?" Cedric asked in shock. He shook his head with annoyance. "My dad was right about what he said about her."
Harry nodded in agreement. It was strange talking to Cedric. They were in the same year, but Harry had never really talked to the teen all that much, save for a few words in passing. "And she didn't believe me either about not entering the tournament. Like most people I suppose. She told me that everyone loves a rebel."
"Well don't let it get to you. I must say, for a Gryffindor, you've done pretty well with that for the most part. Personally, from the rumors I've heard—not saying they're true or anything—you tend to get into a lot of trouble when it comes to dangerous situations. And I've told people to stop wearing the badges by the way. They don't seem to listen though."
Harry shrugged. "The badges don't bother me."
"Well they bother me. They're supposed to be supporting the school. And you go here in case you didn't notice, so they ought to support the both of us. Hogwarts win, right?"
Harry grinned. "A Hogwarts win."
…
Two weeks passed. Harry spent most of his time in the library or the room of requirement. Champions didn't have to go to classes, so Harry skipped most of his. The twins, Lee, or one of the girls (excluding Angelina) joined him to help out when they could; testing his spell work, or quizzing him of the spells he'd learned.
In these two weeks, Harry and Cedric were more civil than they had been their entire Hogwarts lives. Neither went out of his way to talk to the other, but they would greet one another in passing and occasionally if Harry was looking particularly annoyed Cedric would say, "Hogwarts win." That seemed to be their motto.
Finally on November 16th, a week before the first task and a Saturday, Harry got a letter from Sirius. It was only a few words and Harry couldn't help but feel incredibly disappointed by it. Be in the Gryffindor common room and one am. And that was all.
With a sigh, Harry decided that he'd done enough training and that he might as well go down to Hogsmead with the rest of the school. He changed into new clothes and tossed his sweaty ones onto the ground. They would show up clean and folded on his bed that night. Apparently the elves knew of the room. He ran down to the entrance hall and passed Filch who checked his name off a list. He arrived at the carriages just in time to see Jill, Arianna, Sam, and Sam's Ravenclaw boyfriend, Brian Adams. He rushed up to them
"Hey, mind if I ride with you?"
Arianna gave him a curious look as the carriage started moving. Harry walked alongside it. "Don't you normally go with the twins?"
Harry started to jog. "Yes, but I didn't think I was gonna go today." He jogged a little faster to continue keeping up with the carriage. "I decided to at the last minute. Besides, Angelina is probably with them and that might be an awkward ride. So can I hop in or what?"
They were all laughing at him. Brian held out his hand and Harry grabbed it and leapt up into the carriage. Brian helpfully pulled him in and Harry shut the door as he sat down next to Jill. "Thanks."
"No problem," Brian shrugged.
"So what do you plan on doing today?" Jill asked him curiously.
"Go to the Three Broomsticks probably. I might head to the bookstore to see if there's anything there that might help me out."
"The first task is in a week isn't it?" Brian asked. "I heard Emily Bronks and Dane Foley talking about it the other day."
He was talking about the Head Girl a Ravenclaw herself, and the Head Boy, a Gryffindor. Harry nodded at the question. "Yeah. In case you haven't noticed I've barely been in any classes other than Defense and Runes. Maybe Charms or Transfiguration sometimes."
"What's it about?" Arianna asked excitedly.
"Facing the unknown."
"So you don't know what you're facing?"
Harry gave Jill a smart ass smirk. "Miss Cohen, I do believe that's what was meant by the word 'unknown'."
"Prat!"
Harry chuckled and smiled his most charming smile before turning to look out the window, not noticing the girl practically melt under his stare. He was good at that. He figured it was his eyes.
They pulled into the Hogsmead station and Harry hopped out of the carriage. It seemed slightly more crowded, nearly everyone from the visiting schools having come to the village. He turned and helped Jill and Arianna down from the carriage before bidding them farewell and walking in the direction of the bookstore. On his way there he ran into of all people, Hagrid. And he literally ran into the large man who felt more like a brick wall, having been zoning out and looking everywhere except where he was going.
"Oof!" he gasped, nearly falling backwards. He caught himself just in time and looked up at his old friend. "Hey there Hagrid!"
"Harry! I've been meanin' to talk to yeh!" Hagrid beamed. "Yeh 'haven't been to my class much these days though."
"Sorry, Hagrid. I've been rather occupied, training for the tournament."
"That's actually what I needed to talk about. Just ah… come ter my hut at midnight, alrigh'?"
Harry frowned. He was supposed to meet Sirius an hour after that and it might be cutting it pretty close. But Hagrid's face had suddenly turned very serious so Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there."
