"Harry?" Cedric asked, confused as to why the boy was in the antechamber with the rest of the Triwizard Champions. "Do they want us back out there or something?"
Harry shook his head, and moved to lean up against a wall near the door. Fleur Delacour looked like she wanted to approach, but remained rooted next to her Headmistress, a large woman who could probably give Hagrid a run for his money in an arm-wrestling contest. Krum remained stoic, but his Headmaster, a pencil-thin man, sneered at him with yellow teeth. A portly blond man was eying him eagerly, tapping his fingertips together in excitement. Next to him stood a gaunt, grey-haired man. He simply looked bored.
A moment later, Dumbledore strode into the room, McGonagall on his heels. She had been the only staff member to remain in the Great Hall.
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall cried, "What have you done!?"
Dumbledore raised a hand, signalling the woman to calm down, which she reluctantly did. He was the next to speak. "Mr. Potter, did you, in any way, attempt to enter this Tournament?"
Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore nodded.
"Dumbledore, what is going on?" the French Headmistress asked tensely. Everyone in the room switched their attention to Dumbledore, even the stoic Krum and the bored man.
Dumbledore took a deep breath. "The Goblet of Fire has chosen a fourth Champion." He gestured towards Harry, and the shouting started.
"Is this a trick to give Hogwarts a better chance to win!?" the large woman yelled, stepping forward menacingly.
"Hmph. I thought this was supposed to be a fair Tournament, Albus," the yellow-toothed man drawled. He did not look as amused as his tone suggested. Professor Sprout just glared at Harry. As Cedric's Head of House, she likely did not appreciate what looked like an attempt to steal her student's spotlight. Professor McGonagall was staring sternly at him, appalled that he would do something this disgraceful. In fact, the only person not furious with him was Dumbledore. And the other students, but they were simply confused.
"This is no trick!" Dumbledore thundered, his magic pouring out of him and pressing down on everyone. The clamor was silenced instantly, replaced by the primal fear of being faced with something much stronger than them. "I have not yet told any of you, but-!"
"Headmaster," Harry interrupted. He shook his head at the old man, who relaxed marginally.
"... Mr. Potter is correct. This does not concern any of you. However!" His magic rocked the room once more. "Mr. Potter is innocent- he is a victim in this case. He did not enter this Tournament willingly, and I kindly ask that you all remember this little fact."
With that, the pressure faded, and Dumbledore reverted back to the genial grandfather he usually was. The other inhabitants of the antechamber were shaking slightly, but they eventually gathered themselves.
"Now, I will turn things over to the Ministry officials."
The blond man stepped forward. "Hello! I am Ludovic Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports! I also played as a Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, and was even chosen to play on the English National Quidditch Team! This is my colleague, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation! Now, the rules. Since the Goblet of Fire creates magically-binding contracts, none of the Champions- including Mr. Potter- may back out. You must all compete in the challenges, of which there will be one on the first of every month." At the shocked looks from the students, Bagman's smile grew larger. "Yes, that includes tomorrow, the first of November. I suggest you rest well tonight, or you may find yourself performing unsatisfactorily. Merlin knows you'll need as much energy as you can get… Anyways, you four may not receive help from absolutely anyone for anything directly Tournament-related, to reduce the possibility of cheating. However, since you will likely be very busy prepping for the challenges on your own, you will be exempt from classes and your end-of-year exams! Isn't that nice?"
When nobody commented, Bagman looked a bit put out, but he regained his cheer quickly. "Well, that's all from me! We'll be doing the Weighing of the Wands now, so if you're ready, Mr. Ollivander?"
The wandmaker entered the room, smiling gently. "Yes, thank you, Ludovic." He turned to the four students. "Well, if you all would show me your wands? I'll simply be making sure they are in working order. Let's start with… Hmm, how about you, Miss Delacour? Ladies first, you know."
Fleur stepped forward, and handed a red-tinged wand to the old man. He turned it over, examining it, before swishing it once to produce a bouquet of flowers from its tip.
"Rosewood, nine and a half inches, with a core of… Veela hair, hmm? Curious, most curious- those tend to be quite picky with who they allow to wield them."
"It is a hair from my grandmother," Fleur stated proudly, and Ollivander nodded.
"Yes, of course. If it is from a family member, then the chances of rejection are lowered drastically. Well, this wand is in working order, Miss Delacour. Thank you. Would you like to go next, Mr. Krum?"
Krum stepped forward, nearly shoving his wand at Ollivander, who simply smiled at the uncaring aggression. "A creation of Gregorovitch, eh? His wands are a bit too stiff for my taste, though there is no denying his skill in his craft. Hornbeam, ten and a quarter inches, with a core of dragonstring." A flick produced a forceful jet of water, which slammed into a far wall before the wandmaker cut it off. "I pronounce this wand in perfect condition. Mr. Diggory, you are next."
Cedric stepped forward, gently handing his wand to the old man, who smiled encouragingly at him. "Ah, one of my own. I remember the day you came to my store, Mr. Diggory; your father was so proud that you would be going to Hogwarts, just like him. Ash, twelve and a quarter inches, unicorn hair core. This particular unicorn was rather stubborn about parting with one of his tail hairs- nearly gored me with his horn! Ah, good times…" A casual wave created a flurry of bubbles, which popped with exaggerated sounds. "You've cared for this wand well, Mr. Diggory. It works fantastically. Now, we finally move onto Mr. Potter."
Harry strode forward, flicking his wrist to empty his holster, then handing the stick to Ollivander. The old man frowned.
"Hmm... " The look on Ollivander's face unsettled many people. "Holly, eleven inches exact, with a phoenix feather core… Mr. Potter, what have you done with this wand? The core is very nearly burned out, and you've had it for only three years! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if…" Ollivander swiped with the wand, and it produced a torrent of sparks for all of two seconds, before it suddenly stopped. Ollivander sighed. "I was expecting that… I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but this wand will no longer perform magic."
Gasps were heard around the room, none louder than the gaudy, bejeweled spectacle-wearing witch who had followed Ollivander into the room earlier. She seemed more ecstatic than horrified, however. A man holding a camera stood next to her, and a quill and notepad hovered over her shoulder. The feather was moving furiously.
"What exactly does that mean, Mr. Ollivander, that Harry's wand won't perform magic?" she cried, voice layered with sickly sweetness.
"It is fairly self-explanatory, Ms. Skeeter, so I will assume you were asking about the burned-out core. Such an event is very rare, and usually only happens when a wand is used extensively, made to channel massive amounts of magic without much rest. Wand cores can usually heal themselves over time, but they must be given that time, else they will fracture beyond repair, as Mr. Potter's wand has done."
There were galleons in Skeeter's eyes, and she eagerly tapped the shoulder of her companion, who seemed rather annoyed. He still moved forward to get a few closeups of the dead wand in Ollivander's hand.
"What will this mean for Harry and the Tournament?" Skeeter asked, turning to Bagman this time.
"Mr. Potter will still have to compete, but he will be at a severe disadvantage until he can procure another wand. Unfortunately, since the first task is tomorrow, he does not have the time to do so beforehand."
Skeeter looked ready to combust with excitement. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Dumbledore cut her off.
"Well, I believe that the ceremony is complete. Thank you for coming, Garrick. It's always nice to see you."
"Thank you for having me, Albus. I look forward to your next visit, Mr. Potter." With that, the wandmaker left the antechamber.
"Time for pictures!" Skeeter cried, seemingly having forgotten about her previous questions. Harry made to turn and leave, but a wrinkled hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Come now, Mr. Potter- a simple picture will not kill you."
Harry exhaled a bit heavier than normal, but complied with the old man's gentle command. The Champions were lined up, with Krum and Harry being pulled slightly forwards, to emphasize their selection to compete in the Triwizard Tournament.
"Ah, Harry, could you please pull down the collar of your robe? And maybe open your eyes?" Skeeter asked. When Harry made no move to do either, she sighed, and gestured for her colleague to simply take the picture anyways. The four were shuffled around a few times, taking a couple of solo pictures, before Skeeter was finally satisfied. Then, other people with cameras came forward from their positions at the back of the room, and it was their turn to take pictures.
The whole ordeal took about a half-hour, and Harry was very close to burning everything near him to ashes. However, the photographers finally announced they were all done, and Harry sighed inaudibly. He turned to leave, but was once more grabbed. This time, it was by the taloned hand of Skeeter.
"Wait, Harry, would you like to say anything regarding your placement in the Tournament, or perhaps the loss of your wand?"
"No."
Skeeter yanked him closer to her, pressing herself up against him. "Are you sure, Harry? We could always have a private interview in a broom closet, you know…" Her minty breath washed against his ear, which twitched a bit at the unexpected stimulation.
Harry scowled, breaking his calm facade for the first time that night, and heated his arm up enough that it burned Skeeter. She leapt back with a yelp, which drew attention from the rest of the room. Harry started walking again, this time with Skeeter trailing after him. She seemed to have learned her lesson about touching him, but that was it.
"Wait, Harry! You owe it to your fans across Britain to answer our questions! Nobody knows anything-!"
The slam of a door cut her off.
The four Champions stood in a tent the next morning, accompanied by Bagman.
"Well, kiddos, this it! The morning of the first task! Excited?" Cedric was the only one to smile at the blond, though that was just because he was the nicest. Krum scowled, Fleur looked bored, and Harry's eyes weren't even open. Bagman wondered, not for the first time, if the youngest amongst the group had somehow fallen asleep standing up. He ignored it, though.
"Er, I'm sure the suspense just has you shocked into silence. However, fear no more, because you'll find out soon! You only need to hand over your wands!"
This time, the Champions actually were shocked into silence. Harry was the first to give the man his wand, but that was because it made no difference whether he had it or not, considering the broken core. Reluctantly, the other teens followed suit. Then, Bagman jauntily skipped out of the tent, leaving a group of stunned young adults in his wake.
"What just…?" Cedric asked, but couldn't even finish his question. Nobody said anything after that until they were called out by one of the Tournament staff.
They were each positioned in front of a white line, equal distances away from each other, and looking up at the massive, stone wall looming over them. Small, colored rocks poked out from the side.
"Welcome, witches and wizards, to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament! Today, we'll be watching our four- yes, four- Champions race to the finish in this obstacle course! For those of you who don't know, an obstacle course is a Muggle invention, which lines up a series of challenges that the participants must work their way past. In addition to that, we've decided to go all the way, and take the wands of the Champions! They'll be doing this like true Muggles, using nothing but their own physical abilities! No brooms, no potions, no items, just their own muscles."
A portion of the crowd was outraged, but the vast majority seemed quite interested, if their cheering was any indication. Bagman basked in the applause for a moment, before returning to his duty as the announcer.
"We'll be putting up a course-wide Silencing Charm, so that the Champions don't hear what I'm about to say. Wouldn't do for them to actually know what they're getting into, right?" Bagman gestured to a group of people below the stands, who were crouched over a large rune array. They seemed to activate it, because all outside noise suddenly ceased. The only thing Harry could hear was his own breathing, and that of the legitimate Champions.
Harry stood all the way on the right, the rest of the Champions to his left. Fleur, directly next to him, decided to strike up a conversation.
"So, your real name is Harry Potter?"
"Yes."
"Why did you say it was Hadrian Black?"
"Is there something wrong with that?"
"Yes. You lied to me."
Harry twisted his head so he was looking at her. "Is there something wrong with that?" he asked again, in the same tone. Fleur huffed.
"Why did you lie to me?"
"Why wouldn't I lie to you?"
"Because… It is rude."
"That means nothing. I had no obligation to tell you the truth. If not for the Triwizard Tournament, you would have never seen me again, and then the point would be moot."
"Yes, but the Triwizard Tournament is happening, and you are right in front of me."
"...Fair enough. That doesn't change my reasoning. I had no idea about the Tournament back then, and thus had no reason to expect to ever see you again."
"And yet, I am right in front of you. I would appreciate it if you did not lie to me again."
"Fine. I will not lie to you." Something about his tone made Fleur suspicious- especially the way he turned his face forward when he said it.
"Was that another lie?"
"Perhaps. What will you do about it?"
"This." A pink aura, visible only to Harry, began emanating from the French girl, billowing out like a cloud of smoke. A few wisps washed over Krum and Cedric. The Hogwarts student turned to look at the source with a dopey grin. Krum simply raised an eyebrow. Harry tilted his head in thought.
"...Are you a Veela?"
Fleur's smirk faded away, and she reigned in the aura. She seemed oddly put-out about something. "Yes, I am. How did you know? Was it my undeniable beauty?" Now she was becoming haughty.
"The aura you give off is the same as the Bulgarian cheerleaders from the World Cup."
Krum stifled a chuckle, but his choking noise caused Fleur to glare at him. He pointedly did not look at her. She turned her glare back on Harry.
"And? So what if I give off the same aura as those bimbos?"
Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His shock was dispersed by a white, glowing number three suddenly appearing in the air. It morphed into a two, and Harry understood that it was a counter.
"I think you should focus on the task," Harry told Fleur, who was rather irate at her question being ignored. However, she did as the emerald-eyed boy suggested, and turned to face forward, crouching slightly so she could get an explosive start. She was at a bit of a disadvantage; Krum was an international-level athlete, so he likely did intense training every day to keep in shape. Cedric and Harry were males, and so naturally developed to be physically superior, at least a little bit. She was hoping that, being three years younger, Harry would be lacking in that department. Unfortunately, considering how he was a good inch or two taller than her, it was unlikely. Even worse, she had no clue about the illegitimate Champion's grasp on wandless magic.
Specifically; Sticking Charms. The instant the white figure in the sky became a massive zero, Harry burst forward, the same as all the other Champions. However, while they ran to the base of the wall and grabbed onto the nearest handhold, Harry jumped at the stone, and began running straight up it. For a long moment, the older teens were frozen, mouths gaping. Krum, who had even reached his second handhold already, fell back to the ground in shock. By the time they recovered, Harry had already cleared the top of the wall, and was running down the opposite side. Once he reached about twenty feet above the ground, he jumped off, allowing his legs to absorb the impact. They twinged a bit in protest, but he ignored them.
Harry ran for less than a minute before he came to the next obstacle; a pit of mud. The only method to cross seemed to be a single, foot-wide plank of wood. If two people reached this obstacle at the same time, they would likely have fought to earn the right to cross first. Since Harry was the only one here, though, he continued unimpeded. A series of guillotine-esque blades swung by like a metronome, following a certain timing. They reached within inches of the piece of wood, so there was no chance of simply ducking them. He would have to dodge them.
There were about five seconds where the blade would be far enough away that Harry could pass without risking it suddenly turning and chopping him in half. It was a bit slow going, having to match the timings, but there were only ten pendulums. Plus, when Harry started rushing, twisting slightly to avoid close shaves, the distance between him and the end of this particular obstacle began to melt away. In less than five minutes, he cleared the mud pit, and began sprinting on the straightaway.
The third obstacle was something he vaguely remembered seeing on the playground at his Muggle primary school; monkey bars. They hovered ominously over a pit, and Harry could see the metal spikes gleaming menacingly at the bottom. He leaped up, wrapping hands firmly around the first bar. Then, he swung his legs up so that his feet were touching the second bar, and used his magic to Stick them there. Then, he turned around, and began to calmly walk towards the other side. He applied a few Sticking Charms to his baggy robe, preventing it from being pulled up- down, actually- over his face. A few feet away from the end, he noticed that the bars were somewhat hotter than before, something he only noticed because of his experience with sensing temperature shifts. To test it, he stood on the last rung for a good thirty seconds, and concluded that the bars heated up the longer you hung on them, forcing the Champion to push forward faster. Once he determined that, he dropped to the ground, flipping to land on his feet, and once more broke into a sprint.
Obstacle four was a rope swing. Four ropes were tethered to the side Harry was approaching, tied around metal stakes hammered into the ground. For a moment, Harry considered being a total bastard and releasing the other three ropes, but decided against it. There was being pragmatic, then there was just being cruel. Harry untied only his own rope, wrapped his hands firmly around it, and ran off the side. Using a Sticking Charm to enforce his grip, he swung for a few seconds, hanging over the black chasm, before letting go and sailing the last few feet to the other side. Since he didn't stumble or come to a stop, Harry was able to use that momentum to propel him into a full run.
The fifth obstacle was a bit different. Rather than something which altered the terrain, there were Bludgers filling the air. They looked to be the same color as the Bludgers used by the Hogwarts Quidditch teams, which were about five-pounds in weight, but Harry couldn't be sure if they were the same. Either way, it would be wise to not get hit; five pounds or twenty, a Bludger could still break bones, especially with the speeds they moved at. Having eyes in the back of his head- and all over the rest of his head, for that matter- would be quite useful. Harry bolted forwards, bending as low as he could without sacrificing speed, to make himself a slightly smaller target. For the first five feet, the Bludgers simply buzzed angrily, as they began to notice him. Then, the mayhem started. The brown orbs flew after him, occasionally slapping into each other and rebounding. As they got closer, the friendly-fire was much more noticeable, and the sound of clanging metal filled the air.
The first twenty or so Bludgers were easy enough to dodge, by simply ducking and tilting in certain manners. A few even got stuck in the ground due to the speed they were going at. However, after that, the Bludgers seemed to wisen up. The ones that missed were used as bumpers for their comrades, allowing them to switch directions near-instantly. Soon, a net of iron balls were formed around Harry, simply surrounding him, while ten Bludgers were inside, bouncing around and using the recoil of colliding with the pseudo-net to jump right back into the fight.
Harry was thankful he'd taken up acrobatics, because the flips and twists he was pulling off now would have been impossible otherwise. However, between all the dodging and near-misses, his progress across the field was stagnating, and that was simply unacceptable. With a growl, he swiped a hand in a wide, sweeping gesture. Ice shot out, freezing many of the Bludgers where they floated. A few Bludgers slammed into the ice moments later, breaking through it and releasing their brethren. Harry called forth another wave of ice, this one directed towards the wall directly in front of him. For a moment, it simply made it harder to get past, but then the frost came to the same fate as its predecessor. When it shattered, the Bludgers that had been frozen fell out of formation for a moment, which Harry took advantage of. He squeezed through the gap, turning sideways to fit. It didn't matter if he was touching the Bludgers that made up the net; since they were nearly stationary, they wouldn't have the force to break him like a twig.
Once Harry was out of the dome of death, he used both hands to freeze the entire thing, drastically reducing the amount of projectiles hounding him. With that done, he turned on his heels, and took off. The next few Bludgers to come after him received the same fate, until Harry was clear of every Quidditch Player's worst nightmare.
The sixth obstacle consisted of a bunch of holes in the ground. Apparently, they also spit fire, which Harry only found out when one went off, a jet of flames rising to burn inches away from his face, luckily missing his billowing robes. The teen iced the ground five feet in front of him, and ran uninterrupted. The fire burned through the ice soon enough, but he was already past the jets that were going off, and soon, he was past the entire obstacle. It would normally have required a fair amount of deliberation on where to put your feet, to prevent getting cooked. Fortunately, Harry was not normal.
Obstacle seven had a bunch of floating platforms on a pool of water, perhaps ten feet deep. The water was clear enough that Harry could see a swarm of slimy, tentacled creatures swimming around. They weren't octopuses or squid, but Harry had no clue what they were, so he simply resolved to stay away. Their menacing yellow eyes and sharp teeth helped him make that decision.
The first platform he landed on rocked dangerously, causing ripples to spread across the water. Below the surface, the creatures went into a frenzy, and began swimming for the disturbance. The second platform was immediately assaulted by the beasts, their tentacles attempting to capsize him. They would have succeeded, too, if Harry didn't simply freeze the water, and the majority of the monsters. After that, it was simply a matter of creating an ice bridge. He decided to leave it like that, as a little gift for the other Champions. Since it was November, the temperatures were low enough that the tiny iceberg would still be around by the time everyone finished. Probably.
Obstacle eight seemed innocent enough. There were a series of pillars sticking up out of the ground. Harry couldn't see any runes carved into them, nor did they seem to be made of any special material. Just simple stone. Harry warily took a few steps forward, then immediately jumped back when one of the pillars slid across the ground. It nearly slammed into him, but Harry had backed out of its range, and it retreated for the moment.
This seems almost like the Bludger obstacle, but only the one pillar reacted…
Testing his theory, Harry moved two feet over, and attempted to move forward. This time, he was not attacked. Not until he moved in five feet, and a pillar off to his left shot over. They were incredibly quick, much faster than the Bludgers. However, they only moved in certain directions, it seemed. He just had to be a bit careful.
With that in mind, Harry made extensive use of his omnidirectional vision to avoid any of the pillars, whether they be in front of him, to his sides, or behind him. There were a few close calls, though. One pillar ended up inches away from while he was focusing on another, and he ended up having to freeze it. Aside from that, Harry performed an intricate dance, weaving through the shifting pillars, and eventually coming to the end in one piece.
The ninth obstacle was a riddle. Specifically, a riddle from a sphinx. With the head of woman, and the body of a lion, the creature painted a disturbing sight, despite all the things Harry had seen. He maintained a fair distance, because those claws looked rather sharp.
"Greetings, Champion."
"Hello."
"I suppose you will be wanting to pass by me?"
"That is my plan."
"Then, you must answer a riddle. Or, you can refuse, and we will fight. What is your choice?"
"I choose the riddle."
"Fair enough. Know this, however; if you fail to answer correctly, then we will still fight. Are you prepared?"
"Yes."
"Very well. This is my riddle; What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?"
"...Is this a spelling-based riddle?" Harry asked.
"I can tell you no hints." Yet, she nodded. Apparently, there was nothing against gesturing. Harry was silent for half a minute or so, before finally coming to his answer.
"Is it the letter m?"
The sphinx nodded, taking a step to the side. "It is, indeed. You may pass, Champion. May you fare well in your future endeavors."
Harry nodded at the demi-human, and ran past. A minute or two later, Harry crossed the finish line, and sound came back to the world.
"And Harry Potter has finished first! It's like he didn't even notice the illusion!" Bagman shouted.
Illusion? It must have been pretty weak, then… I didn't even see a flicker.
Unsure what to do, Harry simply stood there for a moment, observing the crowd. Quite a few- mostly Hogwarts students- were making rude hand gestures, jeering and booing him. A few times, he heard the word cheat being tossed around. Eventually, one of the Tournament staff came to collect him, leading him to a medical tent. Inside, Madam Pomfrey was waiting, and she cast a series of diagnostic charms. After a barrage of light- which Harry still could not make sense of- she nodded in satisfaction.
"Well, you seem to be in tip-top shape, Mr. Potter. Good job on not making more work for me." Harry smiled at that, though it was hidden by his high collar. Poppy had a special place in his heart, since she frequently treated his injuries. Definitely not without complaint, but in those moments, Harry was able to imagine what it would be like to have a caring mother. Or perhaps a doting grandmother, considering the Healer's age.
With his medical examination done, he was sat in a chair, and told to wait until the other Champions finished. With nothing to do, he dozed off.
"Now, we'll be showing the scores! They are calculated based on the amount of time a Champion took to complete the course, and for how many mistakes they made. Starting at fifty points, competitors lose five points for every ten minutes it takes them to finish, starting after the half-hour mark. Then, they lose a further two points for each mistake," Bagman explained. "Now, in fourth place, we have Mr. Cedric Diggory! He finished at sixty-three minutes and twenty-seven seconds, fell into the quick-hardening mud under the Balance Beam, was burned in the Field of Fire, got hit by two Bludgers, and was hit three times by the Shifting Pillars! This comes to a final score of twenty-one points! Don't lose hope, Mr. Diggory, there's still another seven tasks to go!"
Cedric smiled sadly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His robes were stained brown, and one of his sleeves was looking a bit charred.
"Next, in third place, Miss Fleur Delacour! She finished in fifty-five minutes and thirty-four seconds, fell flat on her face after a ten-foot drop from the Rock Wall, got clipped by a Bludger, and was hit twice by the Shifting Pillars! She earned thirty-two points!"
Fleur was scowling at the blond man, put out by how casually he talked about her failings. She looked ready to strangle him, if the curling of her fingers was any clue.
"In second place, Mr. Viktor Krum! He finished in forty-two minutes and ten seconds, got his shoulder destroyed by a Bludger, and was burned twice in the Field of Fire! He walks away with thirty-nine points!"
Krum was stoic as ever, though the muscles in jaw were bulging a bit as he clenched it in irritation.
"And finally, in first place, Mr. Harry Potter! He finished in twenty-three minutes and fifty seconds, and didn't make a single mistake! How in Merlin's name did he do it!? Either way, he leaves the first task with the full fifty points! That's all for today, folks! I'll see you all next month for the second task!"
"Good morning, Griphook."
"Hmph. Wizard."
"I'd like to speak with Nagnok."
The goblin grunted, and walked out from behind his desk. Harry followed, and a few moments later, he was sat in the same office from over a year ago. Griphook left, muttering things in a language Harry couldn't understand, but assumed they were derogatory.
"Ah, Mr. Potter. It has been a while. What business do you have?"
"My rings have changed." Harry pulled up his left sleeve, revealing the rings on his left hand. Unlike before, when they only covered from the knuckled to the first joint, they now reached up to the second joint. Nagnok blinked.
"Well, given that you are not yet seventeen years of age, it seems you have somehow become emancipated. Do you have any idea how that may have happened?"
Harry tilted his head in thought. "The rings changed as soon as I was selected to compete in the Triwizard Tournament."
"Ah, yes. The selection was done by the Goblet of Fire, was it not?"
"Yes."
"Well, I suppose that explains it. Those chosen are bound by a magical contract to compete. However, magical contracts only take hold with those recognized by magic itself as an adult. Since you weren't yet recognized in such a way, the Goblet forcefully emancipated you. This has happened a few times before- nothing to worry about. So, what will you do with that information?"
"... At the moment, nothing. I have other things to worry about. Thank you for your time, Nagnok."
"Well, should you change your mind, you may always return. Good day, Lord Potter."
"Ah, Mr. Potter! Congratulations on your emancipation! I suppose you're here for a new wand?"
Harry nodded, not even questioning how Ollivander knew about something that he himself had only found out about today. The old man was even more enigmatic than the Headmaster, and Dumbledore wore those gaudy, multi-colored robes!
"Well, I doubt you'd like to spend hours looking for another match, considering how long it took the first time. Luckily for us, you already have something you can use!"
Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't follow."
"I didn't expect you to," Ollivander said, waving him off. "Now, why don't you summon the Sword of Gryffindor?"
"...I don't think the Summoning Charm works from that far."
Ollivander sighed. "Not with magic, Mr. Potter- call it through its connection to your blood. Simply think about having it in your hand."
Harry held out his left hand, and thought of holding the intricate, ruby-encrusted, gold hilt. An instant later, he felt the familiar weight in his hand, and was quite surprised.
"Since when could it do that?" Harry asked absently, turning the blade over in his hand like it was a foreign object.
"It always could; one of the enchantments added by the crafters. Now, imagine it in the same shape as your wand."
Harry did so, and was amazed when a completely smooth, eleven-inch-long rod of silver sat in his hand. Surprisingly, it weighed no more than a wooden stick. It was perfectly straight, with none of the knots or dents of a typical wand. It didn't even taper off to a point, like most wands did. It would be more accurate to call it a baton, if anything.
"Will this allow me to do magic?" Harry asked, waving the metal rod around. The movements were a bit shaky, since he typically used his right hand to perform magic. He'd have to adjust one of his hands- either learn to use the sword in his right, or use a wand in his left. He'd rather be able to switch forms in an instant without having to take time to switch hands. He was leaning more towards changing wand hands, because all he did these days was simply flick. It'd been a while since he'd performed the proper wand movement for a spell he wasn't in the process of learning. His aim was going to be atrocious for awhile, though.
"I assume you mean because it has no core?" A nod answered the old man's question. "Yes, it will. As I said, it is linked to your blood, and will be able to draw magic from you. However, without the secondary core to refine the magic, you may find yourself overpowering your spells for quite a while. You will also be able to perform fewer spells than before; one of the advantages of secondary cores is that they can convert natural magic from the air into a spell, which will handle some of magical cost. Without that second core, spells will draw all their power directly from you, and you alone. Fortunately, since you're young, your core will simply be forced to grow much larger, to compensate. Or, your core will remain the same size, while managing to contain more magic, resulting in higher potency. Or both. It depends on how hard you push yourself- although, if you managed to burn out a phoenix feather core in three years, I don't think that will be much of an issue," Ollivander finished wryly. He seemed a bit upset about that.
Harry slipped his basilisk-hide wand holster off his right forearm, and latched it onto his left. A few practice flicks assured him that he would be able to adjust to this new arrangement, given time.
"I do believe that is all, Mr. Potter. Good luck with the Tournament!"
Harry nodded at the eccentric wandmaker, and left the shop.
"Harry!" Fleur cried, walking over quickly to catch up with him. He was just returning from one of his morning romps in the Forbidden Forest-which had replaced his daily jogs- and unfortunately exited the tree line near the Beauxbatons carriage. Fleur had, coincidentally, just walked out of said carriage, along with a posse of other French girls. They giggled when they saw him, which irked the deepest recesses of his soul.
"Miss Delacour," he said politely, hoping that the curtness of his greeting and quickening of his pace would make the platinum-blonde understand he did not want to speak. He could feel his good mood souring by the second.
"Do you have a moment to spare? Me and my friends would like a tour of the castle."
"Unfortunately, I am quite busy at the moment." Fleur seemed rather put out at that, and looked about to give up, much to Harry's delight. He didn't have anything against the girl, he'd just rather not talk to strangers. There were few people he felt comfortable around these days. Unfortunately, Fleur got support from an unlikely source; a silver-haired Third Year. He'd seen her approaching from a mile away, but didn't quite anticipate her course of action.
"Harry," Luna said airily, sounding oddly like she was trying to scold him, but was failing on the account of her wide smile. It reminded of Petunia and Dudley, a thought which sickened him to his core. "It's quite rude to lie to people, you know. Especially our friends from over the river."
"Hoh? So, you are lying to me again, Harry? That's the third time in as many meetings." Fleur was more amused than angry. Pity. If she was furious with him, she would be more likely to drop the topic and leave him alone.
Deciding that being distantly polite wasn't going to get him out of here, the emerald-eyed boy turned to rudeness. "They are no friends of mine."
"Well, that's the point of them coming here, isn't it? So that we can all become the best of friends!" Luna replied cheerfully.
"Then, I have no intention of becoming their friends."
Luna twirled in circles, moving until she stood in front of him, then reached up and lightly tapped her palm against his nose. "Bad doggy! No being mean to the nice French people!"
Taken aback, Harry couldn't stop the guttural growl which ripped from his throat. It cut off when Luna jabbed a finger at his face forcefully, wiggling it. "Very bad! No growling at your friends!"
Harry pulled down his collar slightly, and leaned forward quickly to grab Luna's finger between his teeth. He applied pressure until she yelped, then let go. She pulled back, wrapping a hand around the digit.
"You bit me!" she whined, tears in her eyes, and Harry found himself feeling somewhat guilty. He awkwardly patted the girl on her hand, the excess material of his long sleeves dragging against her face.
"Er… Sorry?"
Luna shook her head stubbornly, silver hair waving wildly. "No, sorry isn't good enough! You have to make it up to me!"
"Um… Okay. How?"
"You have to take the nice French people on a tour of the castle!"
Harry gaped at the girl, thankful his mouth was hidden, and that nobody present was tall enough to see down his collar. "...Is there another option?"
Luna tapped the bottom of her chin idly, then grew a sly grin. "I'd accept a kiss! On the mouth, of course!" She emphasized her point by pointing at her puckered lips.
"As you can see, this is the Forbidden Forest. It is home to an acromantula colony, centaurs, unicorns, and whatever the hell Hagrid's been breeding lately. If you'll follow me…"
"Oh, poo!"
Harry sighed tiredly. He was escorting Fleur back to the Beauxbatons carriage. At some point, her entourage had all vanished, claiming exhaustion, or hunger, or some such garbage. Even Luna left, saying she thought she had seen a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
Fleur giggled at his fatigue. "I must remember to thank Luna. You are quite the skilled tour guide, Harry."
"Yeah? Well, don't expect it to happen again. Next time I see Luna, I'm running for the hills…" he muttered, and Fleur laughed again, sounding like the wind chimes Petunia had forced him to hang from her whitewashed porch.
They finally reached the French residence, and Fleur spun around so that she was facing Harry, her back to the stairs. "I had fun, Harry! We should do this again sometime!"
"Don't count on it."
Fleur quirked her lips into a smirk, having expecting that answer. She motioned for Harry to come closer, cupping her hands around her mouth as if to whisper something. With a ragged sigh, Harry stepped closer, tilting his head so she could have access to his ear.
With lightning-quick speed, Fleur hopped up, pressing her lips to his cheek. With a red tinge dusting across her face, she turned around, scaling the stairs to the carriage quickly.
"Bye, Harry," she said coyly, wiggling her fingers in a delicate wave, and vanished behind the door. Harry stood there for a good minute, staring off into the distance like a soulless husk. Then, he shook his head like a wet dog. Turning on his heel, he strode powerfully back to the castle.
"So, Harry-"
"Not one word, Neville."
"What? I just wanted to know if you could help me with this one spell."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Although, how was your date?"
A flood of Stunners slammed into the Longbottom Heir, and he hit the ground, out cold.
Worth it.
"Alright, witches and wizards, I hope you're all ready for the final competitor of the second task, Mr. Harry Potter! And it seems he picked the nastiest of the bunch; the Hungarian Horntail!"
Said beast was currently roaring wildly in the center of the stadium, standing over her nest of eggs, eyes roving in an effort to watch every single one of the people in the stands, ensuring they didn't try and attack. It would have been an amusing sight, to see a dragon spinning around like a top. It was much less funny when he remembered he was going to be facing that dragon right now. It was also fairly sobering once he heard what she was yelling.
"Oath-breakers! Egg-destroyers! KIN-KILLERS!"
Apparently, Parseltongue extended to dragons. He had no clue what she was angry about, and resolved to find out at a later date. Preferably when he wasn't right in front of the angry dragon.
Harry tapped his wand against his leg idly, staring at the dragon. She finally seemed to notice him, and narrowed in on the human that dared to approach her babies with laser-focus. It was a good thing she was chained, and more interested in standing protectively over her nest, otherwise she'd have simply lunged across the distance and devoured him. Silencing Wards went up over the arena, blocking out the screams of the crowd.
With a few waves of his wand, Harry cast as many concealing spells as he knew. Disillusionment, track-erasers, scent-removers, silencers. Then, he started tossing up distractions all over the arena. A few stones were Transfigured into feral dogs, chained to the ground, and a Sonorous enhanced their barking to the sound of artillery shots. A dozen Transfigured and Engorged lions charged forward, spreading out in a semicircle, but keeping their distance. They'd close in once Harry gave the order. He had to time it just right, though; too soon, and might trigger the fire breath, which he didn't want to be caught up in. Too late, however, and he'd probably already be dead. A flock of Conjured- and also Engorged- birds joined the perimeter of lions, ready to harass the dragon's eyes with sharp talons and pointed beaks.
Just to be safe, Harry Transfigured a thick stone dome to encase the eggs, not willing to risk their safety in the onslaught. Then, he began walking to the left, circling around the beast. Slowly at first, but gaining speed once he saw that the dragon's eyes were trained on the many adversaries right in front of her. Once he reached the flank of the Hungarian Horntail, he started to approach her. When he was few dozen feet away, he commanded his animal battalion to rush. At the same time, he broke into a sprint, even changing into his wolf form to get some extra speed.
Things went wrong the instant the dragon opened her mouth. She blew a massive cone of white-hot fire with such speed that it evaporated half of the lions instantly. The remaining six were taken care of with a sweeping gesture, joining their brethren in a fiery doom. Then, the Horntail aimed upwards, waving her head side to side a few times, bathing the birds in flames. They burned to ashes in moments, and soon, the only things remaining were the dogs. They kept barking, but to no avail. The dragon's attention had been caught by something else.
If Harry were in his human form, he might have felt sweat dripping down his forehead and the back of his neck, awed at the amount of devastation that a single, continuous jet of fire could wreak. He'd severely underestimated the Horntail, and knew he'd pay for it when she turned her reptilian eyes on him. Despite all the spells he'd used to hide his presence, she could still sense him somehow. Unfortunately, he was too close to try and retreat now, so he pressed on. When he was underneath her belly, he shifted back to his human form, dropping every spell he'd cast to focus fully on his next few moves. He continued running towards the dome hiding the eggs, fully aware of the claws that nearly cut him in half. With a flick of his hand, it opened halfway, and he hit the ground in a slide, slipping into the midst of the nest. With another wave, he closed the dome over him, just in time to feel it heat up drastically from being bathed in dragon fire. Within moments, it felt like he was boiling alive.
Harry placed his palms against the top of his meager protection, ignoring the way his hands burned, and pushed as much magic as he could into the creation of ice. With an earth-shaking tremor, the arena went silent, and the stone barrier cooled down. For a long moment, Harry remained still, ensuring that he was safe. When he didn't hear another roar from the mother dragon, he inferred that he was fine for the moment. He heaved a sigh of exhaustion, peeling his hands off the inside of the dome, paying no mind to the fact that the majority of his skin was still stuck to it.
He picked up the golden egg he was tasked with retrieving, wincing at how it rubbed none-too-gently against his raw, bleeding palms. A thought caused his Transfigured protection to recede, and Harry stared at what he had done. Over his head, there was a glacier of ice, completely encasing the Hungarian Horntail. However, she definitely wasn't frozen. Upon walking out from underneath the trapped beast, he saw that her eyes were once more spinning madly, slit-pupils even thinner than before due to her apocalyptic rage. Smoke poured from her nostrils in thick, black clouds. With heavy breaths and labored steps, Harry limped out of the arena. He definitely didn't want to be around when she melted or broke her way out.
"Mr. Potter, does the word limitation mean nothing to you!?" Madam Pomfrey shouted, ripping the golden egg out of his hands and tossing it on a nearby table. He hissed when his burned hands were abused more, but other than an apologetic glance, Poppy didn't seem very sorry. She bustled him over to a bed and sat him down on it.
"Look at this! The skin on your palms is completely gone- third-degree burns, without a doubt! And your arms!"
Confused, Harry glanced down at his arms, and paled. A forest of icicles was sticking out of the flesh, ripping holes through muscle and cloth indiscriminately. His basilisk-hide wand holster was ruined, punctured no less than a half-dozen times, his wand nowhere to be seen. Harry was idly surprised that he was even able to move his arms at the moment.
"Um… Sorry?" Harry asked, dazed with fatigue, but the glare on the Healer's face only intensified. She walked away rummaged around in a cupboard, and came back with an uncorked potion bottle in her hand.
"Drink!" she commanded, shoving the opening of the vial between his lips. "You'll not want to be awake for this, I should think."
Moments later, Harry slipped into a deep sleep.
Of course the obstacle course was easy for Harry. He mastered wandless Sticking Charms, and does parkour/acrobatics every day as part of his training. Don't think he'll just be cruising through this Tournament, though. As you've seen with the dragon, he will mess up. Then again, I don't think any wizard can truly be prepared for a dragon. Speaking of which, how was that?
How about that French girl? Too much?
Harry won't be getting muh benefit out of being Heir- Lord, now- to multiple houses, besides a boatload of cash and some political power (and some badass rings) He already both of those, since the Potters were rich, as well as powerful, and he's the Boy-Who Lived. This is just adding to it, which he doesn't really need. Since I'm not political-savvy, I've decided Harry won't be either, just so I don't have to try and wrap my head around that mess.
Yes, tasks every month.
