Chapter 7:
All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter
A week or so later, Harry found himself in the Headmaster's office once more. Oddly, he was not there to be punished. He had asked to meet with Dumbledore to discuss Voldemort. If the old man was surprised by the topic, he hid it very well.
Harry was pacing the office absently, noting some of the trinkets he had once destroyed were resting in their proper places. "Voldemort is going to return soon," Harry said with conviction. "I know that. I am hoping he will come back the same way this time that he did last time. I don't much like surprises."
Dumbledore seemed to be in a mood, because he was once more speaking in riddles. "Fate shines upon us as ever she will."
"What the flying fuck does that mean? Are you on something?" demanded Harry. "I thought I was crazy."
Harry would have sworn that the Headmaster actually smirked at him. It was such an un-Dumbledore-ish thing to do that Harry blinked several times. "I merely mean that things will happen as they will, and we will have to accept them as they come. You are a very skilled man, and I know you will be able to stay safe."
There was a moment when Harry considered sending Dumbledore to the loony bin. He gave serious consideration to the old man's sanity. "I'm talking about facing Voldemort, the Dark Lord, and you tell me you know I'll be safe. Tell me, Old Man, is God telling you these things directly, or is he talking to you through furry little creatures?"
"I'm not crazy," Dumbledore claimed. "I simply know that everything will work out."
"Of course. Say, if you're ever this sure about lottery numbers, will you let me know?" asked Harry. He rolled his eyes and stopped pacing in front of a particularly interesting object. "What is this?"
"Hmm." Dumbledore stood and moved around his desk and stood just behind Harry and slightly to the left and spoke softly as he said, "This is an old artifact. It belonged to my father, and I believe his father made it more than a century ago, before I was born. When activated, it can detect sincerity in the voice. I will admit that I turn it on occasionally when students are sent to talk to me."
"I broke this, in my fifth year. Threw it clear across the room. I remember the little mark, here." Harry couldn't help but duck his head, even though Dumbledore couldn't see his face. A gentle hand fell onto his shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, Harry. That mark was my grandfather's signature, worn down over the decades. Even the best preservation charms degrade eventually. My grandfather, Wulfric Dumbledore, made a living creating interesting objects. It never made him rich, but it made him happy. He made several of the items in here. They were some of the few things left to the family by the time my mother died."
"Oh," Harry said quietly. "I feel really bad now. I hope you weren't too angry with me for that."
"I can assure you that I was not, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Some of these things mean nothing to me."
Harry was silent for a moment before he said, "Voldemort is going to return at the end of this year. Are you ready?"
He heard Dumbledore draw a long breath. "As ready as I can be. Are you ready?"
"To do it all over again?" Harry said in almost a whine. "No. I'm too old for this shit."
The Headmaster let out a deep, rumbling laugh.
Ron and Harry braced themselves as they ascended the ladder to the Divination room. They had been planning to do something fantastic in that class, and they had finally built up the steam to do it.
Not courage, because they were Gryffindors and needed no help with courage.
No.
They finally built up the determination to stay awake throughout the entire lesson.
Harry entered the room first and bounded to the back of the room to get the best view. Ron joined him at the back table and they dropped their heads together to plan their attack. The class started and most of the students settled down. Seamus, however, was reading a dirty magazine. He did not even bother hiding it under the table or behind a book.
Five minutes into the dreadful class, Harry used clever illusion charms to cause the area around Ron to darken. The air crackled and it looked like lightning flashed around him. His eyes turned white and he began speaking. His voice had deepened until the cadence made the windows rattle.
Ron recited the well rehearsed words. They had enjoyed the excuse to watch Lord of the Rings several times.
Trelawney's face was a ridiculous mix of excitement and fear. When Ron returned to normal, he belched and settled down. He looked around with an expression of curiosity, noticing several people staring at him. "What?"
The professor went into a twenty minute rant that liberally applauded Ron and his use of the third eye of his chi, or whatever. Ron was asked to interpret his words. "I think… I think it means Harry and I need to go to the kitchens. I don't know why. I think something's going to happen there. We need to be there."
Just like that, Trelawney wrote them a note allowing them to spend the rest of the period in the kitchen.
After visiting with Dobby and eating sandwiches, the two teens went to Transfiguration. It seemed that word reached the professor before they got there. She gave them her sternest look. McGonagall did not say anything, but she called on Harry and Ron and inordinate number of times, asking them the hardest questions she could come up with.
In order to maintain their cover, they had to get some of them wrong. Because of that, McGonagall assigned them extra homework. Harry weighed the pros and cons, and decided that it had been worth it in the end.
January seamlessly morphed into February, and the Second Task loomed ever closer. Harry was not worried about that, though. He had promised to help Hagrid with his lesson plans, and due to an emergency delivery of a thestral mare, Hagrid had not been able to meet with him until the first week of the second month of the year.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged through the snow to Hagrid's hut, hardly able to wait for the roaring fire they knew awaited them. The hut was as it always was, and Hagrid was glad for their company.
They spent several hours discussing various magical creatures that the classes could study. Hermione was partial to hands-off classes, with emphasis on theory, preferably taught in a classroom.
Hagrid, however, refused outright to lecture in a classroom. He argued that if the creatures lived outside, they should be taught outside. Harry and Ron agreed, and thus outvoted Hermione. Lessons were set up for the rest of the year, with Hagrid only mildly disappointed with the lack of adventure in his classes.
They sat around drinking tea until dusk, when Hagrid ordered them back to the castle, a sparkle in his eye.
Saturday morning, Harry found himself in McGonagall's office, discussing various methods of transfiguration. She asked why he was curious, but Harry danced around an answer. He really wanted some ideas for the Second Task, but wanted to give her plausible deniability about helping him. She had very strict morals, after all.
The middle of the month slowly approached, and the castle was filled with a tension that gave Harry a headache. To alleviate this stress, Harry walked around the hall singing from class to class. People shot him annoyed looks when he suddenly turned toward them and bellowed lyrics.
They tended to call him rude.
Harry referred to himself as 'moderately inebriated'.
The morning of the Second Task was cold and wet. Ron and Hermione had gone 'missing' in the night, and Harry distantly wondered if Ron had put up a fight. He entertained himself on his way to breakfast by imagining just what Ron would have said when the situation was explained to him.
As usual, Harry ate more than a human's share of food for breakfast. He could not explain what made him so hungry all the time, but since returning to the past, Harry felt the urge to eat constantly.
It was much colder out by the lake than in the castle. Harry stood waiting for the task to begin, and watched the other champions. Cedric looked determined, but he seemed to be talking to himself under his breath. Fleur looked a little pale, with just the slightest tinge of green. Viktor looked the most normal of them, with his dark eyes gazing over the lake.
The clock began ticking, and the crowd cheered wildly. The other three instantly did their bits of magic and went forth into the water. Harry stood on the shore and waited until the jeers and taunt became truly nasty.
Fred and George, who had quite a bit of money on Harry, yelled the loudest. Harry turned to face them, giving them a stern look. "Have faith," he ordered.
With dramatic flourish learned from years of politicking and entertaining, Harry swung back around to the lake and lifted both arms to shoulder level. He closed his eyes and did his best to concentrate.
Transfiguring water was a complicated task, especially if one did not intend to transfigure all of the water. Harry caused some of the water to turn into a very long slab of rock that sat flush the water level and reached clear across the lake. Harry placed the backs of his hands together in front of him, and then sharply moved them about a foot apart.
The thick sheet of rock split in two and separated, slowly making a dry pathway across the lake by separating the water.
He chose to transfigure the water into rock instead of just parting the water because the transfiguration did not require constant concentration. Ron was in the middle of the lake, awake because he was no longer submerged.
Ron freed himself of his restraints and began a walk back to the bank. When he reached Harry, he clapped him on the back. Harry released the transfiguration and turned to the judges and gave a dramatic bow. Bagman announced, "And Harry Potter finishes in five minutes."
When the task was over, Harry was awarded a perfect score. That put him way ahead of the other three.
Harry and Ron entered the Gryffindor common room after the task was over, and found that it was full to bursting with Gryffindors waiting to celebrate. Never one to let a part go to waste, Harry and Ron dashed up to their dorm, grabbed a couple of bottles, and returned to the crowd for a wild night of partying.
The next morning in the Great Hall, most of the Gryffindors looked tired, and rather hung over. Harry and Ron, fresh as daisies, entered with a bounce in their step. "Hello, Gryffindors!" Harry called as he past. "What a beautiful, bright, sunshiny day!"
That several dozen people were giving him dark looks did not faze Harry at all. "Why are you not sick?" Dean demanded.
Harry looked back over his shoulder at him. "Alas, young grasshopper, you will learn."
"I hate you."
Harry continued down the table, earning himself more angry stares. "You know, I'm feeling a little unappreciated. Y'all were more than happy last night. Especially you, Parvati," Harry said with a leering look. Parvati blushed brilliantly and giggled.
"Mr. Potter, what is going on here?" McGonagall asked, having snuck up on him.
"Well, I damn near just wet myself. Why would you do that to me?" Harry asked. "And why are you here? You're in my way a bit."
"Pardon me?" the professor asked dangerously.
"Oh!" Harry said, his eyes lighting up with realization. "You're old, I forgot." Harry then yelled, "You're in my way!"
Fred and George, who were sitting close by, were staring in gobsmacked horror. "Harry's going to die," Fred whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.
"We'll give him a hero's burial," George added solemnly.
McGonagall remained surprisingly calm. She continued to stare down at Harry for several moments. "No offense, but you look like a cat in heat about to pounce. If I had some innocence, I'd fear for it right about now."
"Have you been drinking?" McGonagall asked.
"Can I get a time frame on that question? Like, do you mean in the last ten minutes? Or the-"
"Go to my office, Potter," McGonagall ordered.
"Fearing for my innocence as I do, there is no way that I, as a perfectly defenseless child, enter an office with you, without a third party, to protect my-"
"Now, Potter. Why don't you quit while you're ahead?"
Harry began slowly walking backward, away from the professor. "I can't remember the last time I was ahead. I remember the last time I got head -Hi, Parvati- but not-"
"POTTER!" McGonagall yelled, losing her cool.
"WHAT?" Harry replied in kind from twenty feet away.
"Get out of here before I hex your testicles off!" snapped McGonagall.
Harry nearly tripped in shock. "Oh, you're a cold bitch." Harry turned and began walking from the hall in earnest. "See if I ever send my kids to this nuthouse. This place is full of psychos, murderers, and angry lesbians."
In McGonagall's office, Harry sat on the desk, meditating. When the Deputy Headmistress walked in, she said, "If I didn't know what is wrong with you, I would have you committed, Potter. You're a damn fool, you know that."
"This angry talk is turning me on," Harry commented without opening his eyes.
"The Headmaster is furious," McGonagall continued, ignoring Harry's words.
"The Headmaster is unaccustomed the people around him expressing free will," Harry said. "You seem to have forgotten that I was a co-ruler of all of the magical people of Great Britain less than a year ago. The Headmaster and I are both used to getting our way and not being questioned. Until recently, I was in shock. I never expected to see Dumbledore again. He was my hero when I was a kid. I idolized him. But as I grew up, I learned he had flaws just like anyone else. But then I came back, and he was Dumbledore. Part of me still saw him as a hero."
"And that feeling has left?"
"Oh yeah. I've got dirt on him, now."
McGonagall told him to stop acting like an idiot and send him to his next class.
February slid away and turned to March, reminding Harry that Voldemort was that much closer to returning.
Fred and George had heard the story of Harry and Sirius pranking Remus and had decided to try out something similar. Breakfast one morning soon after the second task, Harry was sitting next to Ron and talking about quidditch. They were up very early, earlier than most, and only a few other people were eating. In fact, half the staff and three Ravenclaws were in the hall, but no one else.
Harry's head snapped up when he heard a scream. Two seventh year Slytherins, a couple, had walked into the hall. As they did so, all of their clothing vanished. Several Slytherins that had been a few steps behind them rushed forward to help, but their clothes disappeared as well.
Snape and McGonagall quickly conjured clothing for the students. As Harry turned to Ron, he caught Dumbledore's eye. The headmaster sent him a curious look, but Harry shook his head and continued to speak to Ron. More Slytherins entered the hall and found their robes removed by magic. The twins were in hysterics as the students tried to conjure clothing only to find that all they could conjure were sundresses.
It took a long time to calm down the ensuing mayhem. The twins were sent to the Headmaster's office, though they did not seem particularly repentant as they continued laughing.
Harry walked into the common room after dinner and sat on one of the comfy chairs.
"Hey, Harry-" Ron's words were drowned out by what seemed like an explosion.
It took several moments for Harry to orient himself, but he soon realized that there was at least two dozen bludgers rocketing around the common room. Harry tried to get them under control, but a spell had been placed on them to repel most magic.
Many older students, therefore, undertook the task of manually stopping the magical cannonballs.
It took a while, but the bludgers were confined in a magically-locked trunk. The common room was in shambles, and quite a few Gryffindors had mild to moderate injuries.
The Hospital Wing filled soon after. There were several broken bones and bloody noses and bruises. Harry tried to explain the situation to Madam Pomfrey, who furiously flooed the Headmaster.
The man stepped through with a look of anger that he rarely wore in front of students. He traded several words with Pomfrey, and then turned to Harry. His expression melted into a warm look, apparently out of reflex.
"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked, as he stepped toward the teen. "Are you in any pain?"
"No sir," Harry answered. He felt a hot surge of anger rush up his spine, but he forced it down. He had been attacked and had barely been able to defend himself. "Just a few broken ribs."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "I think we will have to discuss the meaning of 'alright' sometime in the future, Harry. Who did this, son?"
Harry shrugged, and with a wicked grin said, "I don't know, sir. But I'll make sure you know right after I find out."
"After you seek revenge, I presume? I think not. Leave this to us, Harry. We'll deal with this. It will be fine."
Ron's birthday also happened to be the day that the Headmaster discovered that there was a small, fanatical group of Slytherins responsible for the bludger incident. Their ringleader, a fifth year named Albert Mosley, was suspended for a week. The other six were given a month of detention.
Fred and George had been suspended and assigned detention and made to apologize to the entire Slytherin house. It had been quite a spectacle. Fred and George had finished each other's sentences, and made the whole incident seem like the Slytherin's fault.
Harry got Ron a ten year subscription to a kinky porn magazine for his birthday. Feeling a bit mean, he let Ron open the present in the Great Hall, right after the owl delivered it to him. Apparently even the cover, a woman in a skimpy leather outfit, was too much for poor Ron. He screeched and threw the magazine.
Seamus snatched the offending item and laughed madly. "Do you know who this is? She left Hogwarts last year; she was a Ravenclaw Prefect!"
"No!" Dean yelled, grabbing the magazine from Seamus with gleaming eyes. "Oh sweet lord, it is. I remember her!"
McGonagall swooped down upon him like an angry nun during mass. "Hand over that filth now, Thomas. I swear if you so much as open that, I will-" The professor stopped dead with a hand over her mouth. "That is Danielle!" she gasped.
Harry leaned over the table and said, "Says she goes by 'Madam Passion' now." Harry sincerely did not expect to be slapped across the back of his head. So when it happened, he squeaked and recoiled. "Hey. Not nice."
"You are not nice, Mr. Potter," she snapped. "Go to class, before I decide to beat you to death with a plate."
"Aye, aye." Harry stood and moved several paces toward the door when he turned and said, "Of course, you might want to talk to someone about this unnatural anger, and- Oh my god!" Harry took off running as McGonagall used her wand to send a plate at him.
The rest of the day was spent joking and laughing. Harry was more than excited that he was able to celebrate his best friend's fifteenth birthday again. The first one hadn't been that great.
The day ended in the dorm, with Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville throwing a party for Ron. It was two in the morning when the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall entered. They looked at Neville and Seamus, who were wrestling, and at Dean, who was cheering them on, and Harry, who was tending bar, and Ron, who was taking a shot.
McGonagall looked to the Headmaster and said, "So, Albus, which do we make a prefect next year? In fact, I'll leave it up to you. Goodnight."
After she left, Dumbledore looked at the boys, who were all frozen in place, staring at him. Dumbledore turned to Harry and said, "Did you think this wasn't expected?"
"Um."
"You will all write me an essay on… Harry, name a topic you have not written an essay on for me."
"Um. Well. Maturity?" Harry suggested.
"Maturity, then. On my desk Monday morning. Is that understood, boys?"
"Yes, sir," the chorused.
Dumbledore nodded and walked out the door.
It was several days later that Hermione received a shock. There was an article in Witch Weekly about her. She was lambasted as a harlot. And her parents had been spied on, and her room invaded. There was a detailed description of her bedroom at her home, and it made her out to be a nut.
"Of course I don't have magical items in my room! My family is muggle! Oh, I could just picture the look on my Aunt Gina's face if she saw a spellbook on my desk."
Harry nodded. "It's true. There's no magical crap laying around my room at the Dursley's."
"See!" Hermione said. "Oh, god. Harry, there's an article here on your room. And Ron's, as well. Actually, she couldn't definitely tell which room was Harry's. There's a master bedroom, his cousin's room, and two guest rooms. And Ron, the orange is blinding."
"Orange is a great color!" defended Ron.
"Where is your bedroom, Harry?" Dean asked. "Why couldn't that cow find it?"
Harry took a bite of waffle and said, "I borrow one of the guest rooms during the summer."
"Good lord, Harry, you make it sound like your family doesn't like you."
Harry stared Neville. "You're putting words in my mouth, Neville. I never called them my family."
Before Neville could puzzle that out, Parvati and Lavender walked up to her. They stood across the table from her with their arms across in front of them, and weight thrown on to one hip. Harry recognized that from his daughter. He read the look as 'We're angry little teenage girls'.
"What, are you ashamed of being a witch or something?" Parvati demanded.
"Yeah, Granger."
"There are laws regarding leaving magical items around muggles. I'm following the law," Hermione snapped.
"The law doesn't matter, Granger. You're ashamed of being a witch."
Hermione stood up and started for the door. "This is ridiculous."
The two girls followed. "Well, what is it, Granger? Are you ashamed?"
Hermione stopped and whirled on her. "Did it ever occur to you, you twat, that muggles may hate witches? That if my family found out about me, they would hate me? My uncle is a minister in our church. You've heard of muggles burning witches at the stake? That's him. He would do that. So, no, I am not ashamed; I am cautious. Now back off!"
Harry surreptitiously waved his wand and caused the two girls to fall flat on their faces. Hermione stormed off as students laughed at Parvati and Lavender.
The next morning, owls flooded the hall to deliver mail to Hermione. Most people were shocked that she would hide her heritage. There was a general outpouring of anger. Hermione held her head high, however.
Talk at dinner that night turned to quidditch. With an international quidditch star in their midst, there was a sharp divide in opinion. Some people sucked up by favoring Bulgaria, but Colin was not to be dissuaded.
"Harry Potter is the best seeker in the world," the young Gryffindor said. "He makes Viktor Krum look like a ninny."
Colin's not-yet-deep voice travelled around the room, silencing everyone. That Viktor was sitting next to Harry, and therefore not far from Colin did not help.
"A ninny?" Viktor asked. "Vell, ve shall see! Harry Potter, I challenge you to a Seeker's Duel!"
All eyes were on Harry. He had a spoon of oatmeal in his mouth, and slowly turned to look at Ron, who looked faint. "Very well. I accept. When?" Madam Hooch was suddenly behind them. "Holy shit, woman, were you even in the hall a minute ago?" Harry demanded.
"That is of no concern, Potter. I am the resident quidditch expert here. Nobody flies unless I greenlight it. As you both know, the quidditch pitch is off-limits for the time being."
"Vell, I am sure that I could find another pitch to use. I haff some connections."
"Right! I will arrange it with the Headmaster," she said. She bustled off toward the staff table.
"Is there something wrong vith her?" Viktor asked.
"Quidditch fanatic."
"Oh."
The upcoming Seeker's Duel further divided the school. Dumbledore told Harry that McGonagall had brought him a pair of arguing students that had escalated to violence- in McGonagall's classroom.
Mid April brought the Duel. Dumbledore escorted Viktor and Harry to the English National Pitch. It was larger than the Hogwarts pitch, but smaller than the World Cup.
There were several reporters and Ministry personnel present. Harry turned to Viktor and said, "Gee, can't two famous blokes have a moment of privacy?"
The Bulgarian smirked at him, his heavy brows drawn together in amusement.
A Seeker's Duel was a game often played by seekers, or used in Quidditch try-outs. It consisted of releasing a snitch and two bludgers, and the first seeker to catch the snitch won. It was exactly like Quidditch, without beaters, chasers, keepers, or a Quaffle. Even so, it had a tendency to last much longer than a full game. The snitch seemed to know it was the center of attention, and therefore played it up.
The two seekers walked out to the center of the pitch, almost feeling the heat of flashbulbs on them as they did so. The stadium was no where near full. For security reasons, the public was not allowed to attend. Dumbledore, who was sitting near Arthur Weasley, made sure of that.
Madam Hooch, who was to monitor the duel, walked up to them. Both were flying Firebolts, so they were evenly matched. She looked between them and nodded sharply. "This will be interesting. Potter, no dirty tricks. Krum, try to look a little happy. Ready? Good!"
The witch raised her gloved hand, which held the golden snitch, and released it. The three of them mounted brooms and took off. While the outcome was exciting, most of a Seeker's Duel was very boring.
The bout between Harry and Viktor lasted six hours. Several times, they had seen the snitch and made for it, but had been thrown off by the other. In the end, they both dove for the ground where they could see the little golden ball that spelled victory. However, Harry was smaller and lighter than Viktor, and he travelled much faster. His fingers wrapped around the snitch with Viktor half a broom length behind him.
They clapped each other on the back, smiling. Pictures were taken and questions asked. The two seekers eventually broke away and returned to Dumbledore, who was smiling widely.
"Well, I must admit, that was a bit of a surprise!" the old Headmaster said. "Sorry to say it, Harry, but I would have put money on Viktor."
Harry pouted, but smiled when Viktor stuck his tongue out at him. It was refreshing to see the famous, surly seeker acting a bit childish. Dumbledore smiled again and held out a Portkey. "This will take you to the hospital wing. There are showers there you may use, and feel free to rest up a bit before you face your admirers." He sent them off with a wink.
By the time the two made it to the Great Hall, there were showered and rested. Entering the hall, they were bombarded with a quadrillion questions. Most were shocked that Harry had won, but Colin felt vindicated. Harry looked him in the eye and said, "It's good to have friends like you, Colin. Thank you."
Colin was ecstatic to be called Harry's friend. He nearly skipped away.
The time soon came for Bagman to show the Champions what the Third Task was going to be. Harry kept his competition behind after Bagman left to discuss a plan of attack. He told them that he had overheard some professors talking about what was to be in the maze, and that he had a better idea.
They agreed to his plan, and they all left. When Krum asked to talk to Harry, as he had the first time, Harry went with him to the edge of the forest. Barty Crouch Sr. appeared and went on ranting and rambling. Harry sent his patronus to Dumbledore and watched it gallop off. Viktor stared at him in shock.
"What, did you think I was just a pretty face?"
Dumbledore arrived just a few moments later. He escorted Crouch away and gave Harry a significant look.
He met the old man in his office hours later. "Please, have a seat. How you managed to get in here without the password and the door locked is a secondary concern, I suppose," Dumbledore said. "That was a wonderful patronus, Harry. Truly fantastic. Barty Crouch has been taken to St. Mungos for the time being. He will be closely monitored. What is going on?"
Harry looked around and then back to the Headmaster. "I don't think that is the best idea, sir. Some things have to happen the right way. Big events depend on it."
Dumbledore gave him a long look, and then stood up and moved around his desk. He sat on the edge in front of Harry and then leaned forward. Harry leaned back in his chair, not sure if the old man was really upset or not. "Harry, child, you should know that I do not enjoy not knowing what is going on around me. I will put it this way. I will not act on anything you tell me, as I will trust your judgment. And, if you do not tell me in the next five seconds… I will curse you."
"What kind of curse?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore's answer had him spilling his guts. He told the whole sordid story. "You mean to tell me that the Alastor Moody I have trusted since September is not Moody?" demanded Dumbledore. "And you knew? And you didn't tell me?"
Harry was sure that Dumbledore was actually a little angry. "Well, sir, like I said, Ron and I decided that we need things to be as close to the first timeline as possible. I'm sorry about that, sir. It's not like we don't trust you, or anything. Just, the less people that know, the less chance of something going wrong. We wanted- Will you stop looking at me like that?" Harry asked. Dumbledore was giving him a disappointed look.
"Oh, alright, fine," Dumbledore said. He stood in front of the fireplace and summoned small bottle of whiskey, uncorked it, and drank it straight. "I can not believe that there has been a Death Eater in my school for months and I did not know. I feel like a fool. I have not felt this stupid in a long time."
"Since you blew up the table with your father's wand?" Harry asked with mock sympathy.
Dumbledore's head snapped around to him, and then the old man growled, "Aberforth."
For the next month, it seemed as if the only thing anyone could talk about was the final task. People speculated, and bets were placed, and fights were started.
Minerva McGonagall sat in the staff room one night with many other professors. They were mostly grading papers and talking. She was explaining her reasoning behind Harry Potter's outstanding performance in the tournament. None of the other professors could explain his sudden leap in academic skill.
She couldn't very well tell them he was actually 58; they would commit her.
She was just then grading the fourth year's papers, and she came to Harry's. They students had been told to choose their own topic, and Potter had chosen '100 ways to use transfiguration in a duel to the death'. Minerva shook her head and sighed.
"Potter has simply seen the light, I suppose. He knows now that wizardry is not all matchsticks to needles, and that he must apply himself. Albus had a very stern talk with the boy about maturity, and it must have stuck. Well, you know, he is still just fourteen. And he is his father's son."
"Not a comment, Severus," Pomona said fiercely. "James was only ever terrible to you out of jealousy. It was easy to see he fancied Lily from the word go. And you two were quite close."
Severus made a face. "So once more, we write off James Potter's arrogance as okay. Lovely." The angry man stood and left the room. Before the door closed, Albus stepped through with a cheery greeting.
He sat next to her, as was his custom, and asked how everyone was doing. They responded as they usually did. "It seems a Mister Johnson and a Mister Vorhees have been sent to the Hospital wing, Filius. They are, of course, to be given detention for fistfighting, correct?"
"Of course, Albus," Filius said easily. "Though their reasons were particularly interesting. It amazes me still, after all these years, how no student is ever at fault. Simply misunderstood."
Albus smiled. "If the students were as innocent as they made themselves out to be, Hogwarts would be a much less interesting place. Of course, I remember years and years ago, when a student or three decided to sneak out to Hogsmeade in the middle of the night. Right into the pub owned by the Deputy Headmaster's brother."
"That's quite enough, Albus," Minerva said primly. Pomona Sprout and Rolonda Hooch were blushing.
"I think that it is natural for people to blame others. It is very hard to accept responsibility," Albus said, giving the three women a look.
"Alright!" Pomona said. "We did it. But it was Minerva's idea!"
"Hey!"
Albus smiled at them. "It only took fifty years to get a confession. Don't you feel better now?" He did not wait for an answer as he continued the conversation. He explained the protocol for the Third Task, and asked several teachers to act as minders.
The professor's feelings leading up to the final task were mixed. Some felt excited, while some felt worried. There was no denying the thrum of excitement in the air as the day drew closer.
Albus kept his own reservations to himself. He knew that Voldemort was going to attempt to return to his body during the Third Task. He knew that Harry would have to fight him. Albus had every confidence in Harry and his ability, but he still got a rush of fear up his spine every time he thought of the boy facing down Voldemort.
Harry woke early the morning of the Third Task. He had a lot of plans to set in motion.
Cedric Diggory marched toward the quidditch pitch with determination. He had made a promise, and he intended to keep it. If all went to plan, Cedric would soon be an undisputed winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Fleur Delacour swept to the Hogwarts pitch with grace and poise. Her stomach fluttered with unease as she thought of the deal she had struck. Underhandedness and deception were foreign to her. Unlike most people like her, she usually got what she wanted through hard work and persistence. Not to mention more than a little skill. But, if all went to plan, Fleur would soon be an undisputed winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Viktor Krum stomped to the Third Task. Being famous had made him cynical at a relatively young age. He trusted few, and it had served him well. The accord he had agreed to was something he would never have done, if he did not trust his friend implicitly. If all went to plan, Viktor would soon be an undisputed winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Harry Potter damn-near skipped toward the Maze. He had eaten too much sugar at breakfast.
Albus Dumbledore watched the four young people before him as they stared at the maze with fierce looks. He stomach was in knots, but as always, he plastered a serene smile on his face as he prepared to watch the students enter what Harry had told him could be a death trap.
The whistle sounded, and Harry did nothing. Cedric was released to enter, and he also did nothing. Same went for Fleur and Viktor.
However, on Harry's nod they all moved to a separate corner of the maze and raised their wands. "Incendio!" they chorused.
It took a few different spells, but in a matter of moments, the maze that had been so carefully crafted was reduced to ash. The creatures that had been painstakingly placed inside early that morning were loosed, sending the crowd into a mild panic.
A mighty sphinx was hard enough to deal with without it being annoyed by screams. The four champions, however, quickly and efficiently dealt with the beasts using combined rope spells.
All that was left was the cup, in more or less the center of the ash pile. The four champions approached and stared at the culmination of their efforts. Harry raised his wand, and with a loud bang, the Cup split into four pieces.
As one, they reached to the piece closest to them.
Fleur was ecstatic. Harry had promised that she would win, if she helped him. He had been right. She felt a tie was reasonable; it beat coming in last.
Harry reached for his bit of the cup. He struggled to pull all of the portkey magic into his slice. It had been hard to convince the other three that the Cup would have to be broken. The thought had offended them at first. But, if they all grabbed it straight away, all four would have been led to the graveyard.
He had wanted to get the maze part of the night over with as quickly as possible; Harry wanted to preserve all of his energy for Voldemort.
Cedric looked down at the four pieces as they reached for them. He noticed something right away that he didn't like. Harry was reaching for the largest. Well. . .
Viktor caught a dark look passing over Diggory's eyes, and he followed them to Potter's hand. Hey, Potter was reaching for the biggest piece. How was he to know whether or not the person that picked up the most of the Cup wasn't the winner? Potter could have deceived them after all.
Albus watched in confusion as, quite suddenly, Cedric and Viktor reached for the same piece Harry was aiming for. In a flash, three hands had latched on.
The last thing that was heard before the three boys were whisked away was Harry yelling, "Idiots!"