Author's Note: Good morning friends!
For whatever reason, this was one of the first scenes I thought of when I started preparing to write a sequel. It's been stuck in my head ever since, and it's a relief to finally have it written. Something about it just feels right.
Thank you to those who are still following my story, I hope it is living up to expectations!
-Emmette
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Over the next two weeks, the pressure of the upcoming Triwizard Task built with each passing day. Harry grew more and more nervous; he lacked confidence in his abilities, being at such a disadvantage to the other three champions. This lack of confidence messed with his concentration, leading him to begin making the most basic of mistakes in his classes, thus lowering his confidence even more. It was a vicious cycle.
The Durmstrang students did their best to help, taking turns teaching him jinxes and counter-curses that they thought might prove useful. They had their own pressures to deal with, however; Karkaroff did not approve of the amount of time they spent with Harry, particularly after Poliakoff reported that Viktor and his friends were 'aiding the enemy' with their magical tutoring. Karkaroff began coming up with every excuse imaginable to keep his students busy and alienated from the other schools. When they did manage to see Harry, their visits came with challenges of their own; Viktor seemed to be growing more and more distant, and his scowls, though never directed at Harry, were seeming less and less like part of his mask.
Harry had help from other sources, of course; either Fred, George, Hermione, or Ginny were with him almost constantly by the last few days before the task, taking it in turn to give him pep talks, talk him down from a panic, or simply distract him from the tournament altogether. This last, admittedly, had become more and more difficult as the days wore on.
Even outside of Hogwarts, Harry had support. After writing to Mrs. Weasley, she and Arthur had both sent Harry long letters, filled with encouragement and assurances that they believed him and were there for anything he needed. A week before the task, Erol had shown up at breakfast nearly catatonic after flying in a care package from Molly that contained homemade teas and soups that she promised would be soothing for a nervous stomach. Harry, who had already begun dreading the rich food from the Great Hall, had been immensely grateful. Other Weasleys sent their own regards, as well. Bill had written to Harry and sent him his personal notes from preparing for his Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT practical. Hermione, knowing Bill had received an "O" on the exam, was practically salivating over the treasure. Even Charlie had managed a quick note, though his had been rushed: apparently, a handful of dragon handlers at his reserve had been approached by the Ministry itself to take part in a very secretive mission. They weren't even being told what it would involve until they agreed to take part and swore an oath of secrecy. Charlie had just barely made the cut to join the team, and it was clear that he was ecstatic over the opportunity. Still, he had found a spare moment to write and wish Harry good luck before going to officially accept the offer.
Finally, there was Sirius. Harry and his Godfather had continued to write to each other every day through their charmed boxes, and Dobby showed up twice with goody baskets of sweets, Zonkos products, and very, very colorful socks, which Sirius and Dobby had chosen together. From what Harry could tell, the questionably-sane elf and his overly-eccentric Godfather had hit it off and were well on their way to forming a strong (yet very strange) friendship. Harry was both amused and pleased for both of them. Dobby had taken to scolding Sirius whenever he came up with a particularly reckless plan, somehow able to overcome his natural aversion to disagreeing with 'his human' if the alternative was putting Sirius's well-being at risk. Secretly, Harry felt that the animagus had gotten exactly what he needed in the mothering creature who was also pleasantly immune to all forms of pouting, whining, and sulking.
Whether it was a result of his Godfather's relatively safer lifestyle or simply the tournament taking over all his worrying capabilities, Harry had finally started to let go of the overwhelming concern that Sirius would be captured or injured. He was basking in the adult attention and had to admit that he loved the idea of having Sirius so close by in case he needed him. Really, the only downside to their arrangement had come three days prior to the first task, when all the champions had been given official notice of a special breakfast hosted for the champions and their families the morning of the task. Sirius had been disappointed at first, when he realized that he would not be able to join Harry as his family for the event. When Harry admitted that he was sure even the Dursleys wouldn't be showing up, Sirius had become outright distraught at the idea of his pup being left completely on his own. Harry did his best to assure his Godfather that just the thought that Sirius wanted to be there was special enough, and that Harry would be fine simply eating at the Gryffindor table with Hermione and the Weasleys, like usual. At Harry's insistence, Sirius stopped bringing it up, but Harry had a feeling the older man hadn't actually let it go.
xXxXxXxXx
Harry was practically shaking as he made his way down to the Great Hall the morning of the first task. He had tossed and turned all night, waking repeatedly from nightmares of increasingly deadly obstacles he could be forced to face in the morning. When he woke around four in the morning after a particularly chilling scenario of the champions being dropped in the heart of Aragog's acromantula hive while the perimeter was patrolled by basilisks, Harry finally gave up on sleep altogether and sat slumped in front of the common room fire, staring unblinkingly into the flames until the rest of the Gryffindors began trickling down for breakfast. He ignored everyone until a very pale and wide-eyed Hermione showed up with the most pitiful excuse for an encouraging smile he had ever seen. Harry rose silently, and let her lead the way down to breakfast.
Before he had even made it to the Gryffindor table, however, Professor McGonagall came striding swiftly towards him.
"Potter! Finally. Didn't you receive your invitation to the Champion's Breakfast this morning? Hurry now, the family portkeys will be activating in five minutes." Harry blinked stupidly for a moment before her words registered through the fog of panic that seemed to have settled around him.
"Oh. That's alright professor, I'm happy just eating here. I'm sure my relatives won't be coming," Harry said with a shrug, missing the flash of anger in Hermione's eyes before she simply became sad and looked away. Thankfully, no one else was near enough to hear the conversation. McGonagall, however, would not be swayed.
"That was not a suggestion, Mr. Potter. You will accompany me at once; I won't have you reflecting poorly on Gryffindor or Hogwarts in any way. This breakfast has been generously prepared for you, and so you shall attend." Harry's stomach sank, but he saw no way around it. Giving a shaky smile in response to Hermione's concerned look, he sighed and turned to follow the stern Scotswoman from the hall.
Neither spoke as she led him briskly down a series of hallways. At first, Harry thought they were headed towards Dumbledore's office, and he wondered how the headmaster planned to fit all the champions and their guests in amongst his many many silvery trinkets. Then he wondered if perhaps the portkeys were set to deliver the guests to Dumbledore's office, but that the breakfast itself would be held elsewhere. He was actually warming up to this idea, thinking it would be far less embarrassing to simply stay behind as though waiting for his relatives to show up late, and then slip away once the rest of the champions had left for their meal, not having to face them again until the task itself.
Things were never that easy for Harry, however. Roughly two dozen meters from the stone gargoyle, McGonagall turned suddenly and ushered Harry in through an ornately decorated doorway, where he found Fleur, Cedric, and Viktor already waiting with their respective headmasters and headmistresses by their sides. Emil was also there, lounging against the wall near Viktor, and gave Harry a small nod and soft smile when he saw him, but Harry was alarmed to see a dark, worried expression behind the smile. Harry followed Emil's gaze as he looked pointedly in Viktor's direction, and found the other Bulgarian staring at him, an almost desperate gleam to his eyes. Karkaroff must have noticed where he was looking, however, for he placed a strong hand pointedly on Viktor's shoulder, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. The Gryffindor did his best not to think about what all of it meant, instead looking around the room in hopes of a distraction.
There were four elegantly set tables, each in their own corner, and Harry sighed as he realized he really would be utterly alone. He glanced up at McGonagall, who was apparently waiting with him until the portkeys activated, no doubt asked to fill the role so that Dumbledore would not need to be in two places at once. It made sense, Harry supposed; McGonagall was both his head of house and the Deputy Headmistress. Besides, Harry still saw Cedric as the true Hogwarts Champion, so it never crossed his mind that Dumbledore could have been waiting with him while Professor Sprout stood in for the Hufflepuff.
At the very least, Harry didn't have to wait long before a soft whoosh of air announced the first group's arrival.
"Fleur!" "Mon chéri!" Harry couldn't help but smile as a tiny replica of Fleur Delacour tore free of her parents' hands the moment she appeared and practically leapt into her sisters arms, the elder daughter seeming equally pleased with the reunion. Another whoosh of air, and Cedric's parents arrived. His father, Amos (whom Harry recognized from his trip to the World Cup) immediately swept his son into a bone-crushing hug—much to Cedric's discomfiture. His mother simply smiled adoringly at the pair, brushing a hand lovingly against Cedric's cheek once his father finally released him. Cedric leaned ever so slightly into the gentle touch, and Harry had to look away, a painful lump rising in his throat as it once again hit him all that he would never have thanks to Voldemort.
Thankfully, a distraction appeared seconds later as a large, intimidating man and gorgeous, petite woman appeared with a fourth whoosh. Emil immediately straightened up and stepped forward next to Viktor, who was shaking hands with the towering man. Harry watched the older seeker interact with his parents, finding it rather easy to connect these people to the couple Viktor had described in his summer letters. He was so intent on memorizing every detail of the reunion that he almost missed the fourth and final whooshing sound. The light clattering that followed, though, caught his attention… and, humiliatingly, the attention of every other person in the room as well, as they all looked down to see the tin can that served as the Dursley's portkey lying on the stone floor, no passengers in sight. Beside him, McGonagall drew a sharp breath as though shocked and angry, but Harry just sighed and picked the can up, turning it over in his palm absently before setting it gently on the table.
"May I return to the Great Hall now, Professor?" He asked hopefully, trying to keep his voice low, though he had the sinking suspicious that the others were still listening. McGonagall must have felt similarly, for she pinned each of the three groups with her most scolding glare, nodding sharply as though to say 'that's whay I thought!' when conversation immediately sprung up again. Only then did she sigh sadly and shake her head.
"I'm sorry Potter, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch were very insistent; all the champions are to—Mr. and Mr. Weasley, what do you think you are doing? This is a private event!" Harry's eyes widened and he spun quickly towards the door, where Fred and George had entered wearing the most bizarre mixture of dress robes and Gryffindor Quidditch gear. The twins, of course, were hardly daunted by the stern reproach, but to Harry's surprise they actually held their hands up in an almost placating gesture, stepping into the room cautiously and answering in a quiet, respectful manner.
"We know, professor. It's—"
"—a special breakfast, for the champions—"
"—and their families. We're—"
"—here to share a meal with—"
"—our little brother," they ended together hopefully, and in that moment Harry thought that meeting Fred and George had perhaps been the best thing that had ever happened to him.
McGonagall looked torn between enforcing the rules as they were intended and wanting to give this support to Harry. She squinted back and forth between them and Harry, and some of the need he was feeling must have shown on her face, for she sighed deeply and shook her head before relenting. She did, however, severely warn the twins against any shenanigans before asking sarcastically,
"Is there any other 'family' showing up for Mr. Potter that I ought to be aware of?" When the twins glanced at each other significantly rather than immediately denying it, her eyes narrowed.
"Well…"
"…now that you mention it…"
"…there was a bit of 'extended family'—"
"—that were hoping to join us," they said slyly, and Harry gaped as the rest of the remaining Dream Team members filed in, all dressed similarly to Fred and George. As the three Chasers joined Harry and the twins by their table, one final person appeared in the doorway: Oliver Wood, who had graduated the year before.
"Oliver?!" Completely floored by the appearance, Harry had rushed forward and thrown his arms around his old Quidditch mentor before he even had the chance to think through his actions. The Irish man merely lifted him up and swung him in an easy circle, laughing brightly before setting him back on his feet and tousling his hair teasingly.
"How's the YOUNGEST QUIDDITCH PLAYER IN A CENTURY?" Oliver asked, deliberately raising his voice while waggling his eyebrows towards the tables where the Krums and Diggorys sat. Harry blushed and shoved at the Keeper playfully, but even the older boy's mischief couldn't pull the smile from his face. Harry shot a questioning look at the twins while the others settled, eager to find out how all this came to be.
"A little birdy—"
"—by which we naturally mean dog—"
"—and by dog we mean animagus—"
"—may have mentioned the breakfast in a letter—"
"—along with his wish that his 'pup' didn't face it alone," they explained quickly, keeping their voices at a whisper while each taking an arm and leading him to an open spot at the table. Harry, if it were possible, became even more thankful to have Sirius in his life.
The meal that followed was fun and light-hearted, filled with laughter and reminiscing for Harry and his friends. Rarely had the little Gryffindor felt so loved and supported. As their appetites began to slow down, Oliver and the team gave Harry the usual pre-game speech. Harry scoffed, telling Wood there was no way he could win this one for him. He tried sound blasé about it, but he had a sinking feeling that his guilt shone through anyway. He was suddenly very afraid of letting his captain and his team down. Harry hadn't realized his eyes had fallen down to his lap until cool hands were framing his face and gently lifting it, Oliver meeting his eyes with an intensity Harry couldn't remember seeing even during the man's fiercest training sessions.
"You come back to us safe and let me congratulate you at one last Gryffindor after-party, and you'll have made me incredibly proud." Harry nodded, too emotional to answer, and Fred and George decided to step in. They tutted teasingly at Harry, though in a much gentler fashion than most would have thought them capable of.
"Easy, Harry—"
"—brace yourself. The mushy moments—"
"—are just getting started," they warned. It was then that Harry noticed the Katie, Alicia, and Angelina walking around the table with hands held behind their backs. As one, they revealed their gifts: a well-worn pair of fingerless Quidditch gloves, shin guards, and wrist braces respectively. Each bore faded Gryffindor emblems, and Harry saw immediately from what was missing from their own outfits that they had all brought a piece of their own uniform for Harry to wear into the task with him. The girls' slimmer forms would make their equipment a better fit for Harry than from the other men on the team, and sure enough the items attached snugly as the girls helped him into each one.
"So that you'll have your team with you when you're on the pitch today," Katie explained.
That set, Harry was momentarily blinded as his outer robe was yanked up over his head, and then a familiar soft material was replacing it. Harry was just happy that twins had gone against form and actually pulled his arms through the sleeves of the Weasley sweater they were pulling into place.
"Just because we're the only Weasleys here at the moment…"
"…doesn't mean the rest of the family isn't here for you in spirit, Harry," they said, oddly sincere for the two mischief-makers. Harry was already feeling overwhelmed when Fred carefully slipped a small square something from his pocket.
"Don't be mad at us for snooping…" he started hesitantly.
"…you know we really can't help ourselves…"
"…and we made a copy—"
"—so you don't have to worry about damaging it!" They assured hastily, just as Harry reached out and took the photograph, turning it over to see the laughing, smiling faces of his mum, dad, and Sirius. It was taken on their wedding day, and the groom and best man had hoisted the bride up onto their shoulders as though she had just achieved Quidditch victory for Gryffindor. Lily was swatting at the two men with her bouquet, but she was laughing brightly as snow swirled lightly around her and whisps of bright red head fell gently around her face, falling free from the complicated knot she had worn for the ceremony. It was one of his favorite photos in his album, the page always bookmarked with a lily-patterned ribbon that Ginny had once given him.
"Your parents will be watching you too, Harry," George whispered carefully, so that only the little seeker could hear. Harry could only stare at the photo for a long minute, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. The twins started shifting anxiously, and the rest of the team were watching nervously now as well. Suddenly, Harry launched himself into the twins arms, whispering thank you over and over. The twins didn't even hesitate before hugging him back, fiercely, and when Harry finally pulled away he saw that all the girls were blinking rapidly, their eyes suspiciously bright. Even Wood had to clear his throat gruffly a couple of times before telling the team authoritatively that it was their honor-bound duty to see Harry down to the task, and they had best head down now if they wanted to be able to get there early and snag the best seats. He exchanged a knowing look with Fred and George over Harry's shoulder after glancing around the room at what had become an overly curious audience. The twins nodded, letting the Keeper know without words that they, too, wanted Harry out of there before he realized that he had become the center of attention. The Gryffindors quickly ushered Harry out of the room, laughing and cheering and generally causing a raucous, all to keep their littlest team member distracted from the approaching task.
xXxXxXxXx
Viktor smiled sadly after the Gryffindors as they bustled noisily out of the room, his own eyes rather bright. A soft hand on his wrist pulled him back to the moment, and he looked up to find his mother smiling knowingly at him.
"They certainly made hasty retreat," she remarked mildly, and Viktor could tell she was trying to give him the option to talk about Harry or smoothly change the subject.
"Da. Harry hates being the center of attention," he said after a moment's hesitation, giving far more away than he realized both with his tone and the easy use of Harry's first name.
"The Boy-Who-Lived, unhappy with attention?" Stefan questioned skeptically, and Emil wisely replied before Viktor could get upset on the little Gryffindor's behalf.
"Yes; almost as strange a thought as a world-famous Quidditch player shying from the spotlight, wouldn't you say?" he asked in a deceptively light voice, and the Krum patriarch had the good grace to look at least a little sheepish about jumping to conclusions about Harry based solely on his celebrity status.
"Have you any idea what the photograph was of?" Milena asked, gently steering the conversation away from conflict. Viktor hesitated longer this time, but in the end he turned to his mother with an unreadable expression.
"I vould imagine it vas a picture of his parents," he said. Then, after a deep breath, he offered the words that would tell his parents with finality just how important Harry Potter was to him.
"I very much doubt that anything else could have pulled such a response from my Little Survivor."
Viktor ignored their wide eyes and the startled looks they exchanged, staring over at the now empty table and feeling his gut churn with worry. Under Karkaroff's watchful eye, there had been no opportunity to warn the smallest champion about what he had learned the night before. His Harry was about to be put up against a dragon, and the child had no idea what was coming.
