The flashback scenes will be continuing for a while. I know some of you have said that you'd prefer for them not to be there, but I do have them there for a reason. It answers questions (in a roundabout way) that I'd have to answer myself otherwise.
Chapter 8: The Four Champions
December 14, 2000
Harry blew out a plume of smoke, his breath condensing in the bitterly cold air. He pushed his glasses up his nose, grimacing at the cold rims, and rubbed his hands together in their gloves. He threw a pitiful look over at Hermione, who simply looked cross.
"It's our turn, Harry," she muttered in a reprimanding tone. "It's too dangerous for the students to go to Hogsmeade otherwise. You brought it on yourself, you know."
"It wasn't my fault that the potion exploded," Harry grumbled. "I swear…Malfoy distracted me."
"You didn't add the leeches at the right moment," Hermione said. "Of course it exploded."
"I know, I know. Severus already gave me the lecture."
Hermione sighed, taking pity on her friend. "You know, you have gotten better. This was a very advanced potion, and they do tend to explode."
"Neville exploded cauldrons in first year," Harry pointed out.
"Well…that was Neville," Hermione edged.
"He has a talent," Harry admitted, sighing ruefully. He stared longingly at the Three Broomsticks and then at the students that were milling in the shops around them.
"I don't understand why he had to come along," Hermione muttered as a blond Slytherin stepped out of Honeydukes to approach them. "Couldn't he just have stayed in the castle?"
"I volunteered to watch him," Harry said. "So when I'm assigned to Hogsmeade patrol, he comes with."
"But that's illogical! Wouldn't it be safer for him inside the castle?"
"Wizards are rarely logical, Granger," Malfoy said, having overheard the last bit. He pulled up the high collar of his jacket. "By the way," he told Harry, "there are a group of third years in there fighting over Sugar Quills."
Hermione reacted instead of Harry, growling menacingly, "Oh for God's sake! It's just Sugar Quills!" Still muttering angrily under her breath, she stomped off towards the shop to break up the ensuing argument.
"Is it really necessary to do that?" Malfoy asked Harry, staring after her. "They never did when we were in school."
"You didn't hear what happened last time, then. Two third years were fighting over whom would get the last casket of Dungbombs and the next thing the supervisors knew was that the whole store had gone up in smoke. It's fixed as you can see, but we keep a closer eye on these things now."
"Who were the supervisors?"
"Ron and Neville."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "No wonder."
Harry sighed aggrievedly and called over to some fifth years, "If you're that cold, get into the pub and drink a Butterbeer. There's no use arguing over whose turn it is to cast that Warming Charm."
The fifth years eeped and scrambled, causing Harry to send a silent prayer up to the skies.
Malfoy snickered at his expression. "You have the ears of a bat, Potter."
"Eavesdropping Charm," Harry said. "I always keep one up in places like this."
"I wonder if that's what Snape had in his classes?" Malfoy murmured, frowning thoughtfully.
"You'd have to ask him," Harry said cheerfully.
Malfoy shot him a glare. "Why don't you?"
"Ah no. I'm not your lapdog, Malfoy. Just because I vouched for you doesn't mean squat."
Malfoy shrugged. "I didn't expect it to."
Neither of them pointed out the obvious fact that Malfoy still wasn't trusted. He was tolerated and treated respectfully and he did the same in kind, but no one had explicitly said that they trusted him. Severus had told Harry he didn't intend on going back to Voldemort, but they didn't know whether he had any ulterior motives, as he did know Occlumency and could be hiding those thoughts from Severus.
Hermione didn't come back immediately, leaving Harry and Malfoy standing in the cold, watching their charges all eventually wander into the Three Broomsticks. The two stood there silently for another moment before mutually agreeing to head in there as well. They'd just taken a step towards warmth when there was a small explosion and the roof of the pub caught fire.
Harry and Malfoy whipped out their wands as the screaming students fled the building.
"Sonorus," Harry said. His voice was instantly magically amplified. "Everyone, get behind us!"
The students did as he ordered, although the seventh years remained congregated around the two.
Harry kept his eyes on the burning pub and so didn't notice when a blank-eyed student threw a ball at him.
Malfoy did and shouted, "Potter!"
Suddenly sensing some strange traveling magic heading towards him, Harry whirled, only to find the ball hitting him on the chest. He felt a pull behind his navel and felt someone slam into him from behind just as the definitely unauthorized Portkey snatched him away.
He slammed into the ground somewhere dark and smelly an instant later and hit the ground. When he noticed that the area was clear except for Malfoy's signature, he got to his knees, muttering, "Bloody hell… I hate Portkeys…"
"Speak for yourself, Potter," Malfoy groaned, rolling onto his stomach. It had been he who had slammed into Harry from behind. "I despise them."
"I abhor them," Harry retorted, raising his wand. He tried to light it only to find that his magic wouldn't work. "Bugger. No magic?"
Malfoy got to his feet, trying his wand as well. "Looks like it," he agreed grimly. "We're stuck, then."
Harry went slightly cross-eyed as he focused on the magic around them. It was a new ability that he'd been practicing since he'd splinched Voldemort earlier that year. Although Severus had at first thought it had been some sort of lucky fluke that had caused the Dark Lord to splinch and had tried to recreate it, they'd discovered when Malfoy came that he could sense and twist magic. So far, he'd only been able to sense magic when focusing extremely hard.
"I could untwist it," he murmured, craning his head as he followed the streams of invisible magic.
"What are you blathering about, Potter?" Malfoy snapped. "We're stuck in the cells of Malfoy Manor. No one's ever been able to do any magic here before."
Harry raised his wand and began performing a series of flicks, poking and prodding at the magic around them. He finally hit the right snag and pulled at it, unraveling the rest of the magic around them.
"Nothing works, Potter. I told you—"
"Lumos." Harry's wand lit in a satisfyingly silver glow, cutting off Malfoy mid-word.
"Wha—?" Malfoy whipped out his own wand. "Lumos." When his wand lit as well, Malfoy's eyes bugged out. "Bloody hell! How'd you manage that?"
Harry shrugged, not trusting Malfoy enough to explain his odd talent. "You said we were at Malfoy Manor? Maybe your wards need refreshing."
"Our wards do not need refreshing," Malfoy said snottily. "They simply are."
"'They simply are,'" Harry mocked, rolling his eyes. "Brilliant, Malfoy. That sounds ridiculously stupid. Got anything else movie worthy to say? Maybe that you never knew what a charmed life you led until you found yourself lying in the dark and damp dungeons for a crime unknown to you?"
"First of all, Potter, what in bloody hell is a movie? And second, Malfoys are not stupid."
"No, of course not. Their brains are just demented."
The Slytherin narrowed his eyes. "I don't suppose you want to find a way out of here, do you?"
"'Course I do!" Harry hissed. He glanced askance at the door, feeling what lay beyond it. There was nothing in close proximity at the moment, although he knew somebody would be coming soon. "Besides, Malfoy, why the hell did you grab onto me anyway when the Portkey was thrown? You should've stayed back in Hogsmeade."
Malfoy looked uncomfortable. "I don't know."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? That has to be the lamest answer anyone's given to a question. One doesn't just throw oneself onto someone who's about to be taken by an unauthorized Portkey going who-knows-where. So let's try again: Why'd you grab onto me?"
Scowling, Malfoy turned away. "You're the only one who even talks to me like a decent person."
"That's not true. The others—"
"'Hello, Mr. Malfoy. How are you this fine day? All right? Oh, very well, I have some exams to grade…'" Malfoy's voice sounded bitter. "I don't converse with anyone. You're the only one who talks about regular things like the weather—"
"The weather?"
"—about things that went on back in Hogsmeade last time—"
"You asked."
"—and letting me watch while you brew potions! Snape barely tolerates me as it is and that's because my father and he have bad blood—"
"What about him and my father?"
"—McGonagall eyes me like I'm a firecracker about to go off any second, Granger's giving me the stink eye anytime I go anywhere near her, and Weasley keeps offering me snacks that'll turn me into animals!"
Before Harry could address the litany of complaints Malfoy had brought to his doorstep, he sensed Dark Magic approaching the door. Alarmed, he looked at Malfoy.
"Somebody's coming!" he hissed. "Someone with the Dark Mark."
"Nox," Malfoy said hurriedly and was followed by Harry. "Get behind the door, Potter. They might think they only got one of us."
"But—"
"Just do it!"
When Harry didn't immediately move, Malfoy seized Harry by the jacket and threw him behind the iron door just as it swung open. He pointed his wand directly at the incoming person.
"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy's wand was ripped from his hand and flew into the Death Eater's hand. "Well, well… What do we have here?" The voice was smugly satisfied. "Little Draco Malfoy…all alone?"
"What do you think?" Malfoy spat, his face furious.
Harry peeked through the bars to see Augustus Rookwood's face. Wasn't he supposed to be in Azkaban?
"The Portkey was thrown at Potter," Rookwood said, pointing his wand at Malfoy's chest. He remained outside the door, which was where the wards supposedly ended before Harry had unraveled them. "So that begs the question…where is he?"
"Not in here obviously," Malfoy said, sticking his nose in the air. "Why don't you go run along and tell your master that his brilliant plan to capture the Boy Who Lived epically failed?"
Rookwood's face twisted into blind fury. "You—" He raised his wand. "Crucio!"
The Unforgivable hit Malfoy, causing him to keel over as he burst into screams of agony.
Harry couldn't take it anymore. He pointed his wand directly through the bars. "Stupefy!"
The red Stunning Spell hit Rookwood directly in the face and threw him into the doorframe. Harry slipped around the door and seized Malfoy's and Rookwood's wands, pocketing the Death Eater's. He dragged the man inside the room and checked on Malfoy, who was shivering in remembered pain.
"T-t-thanks, P-Potter," Malfoy stuttered, accepting Harry's help.
"Let's go," Harry said, pulling him out. He closed the door behind him and focused on the wards he'd dropped earlier. The remnants of the magic were still there and he just had to twist them back into place. The fact that it was getting easier and easier every time he accessed this power probably should have worried him more.
Harry drew Malfoy into an alcove at the bottom of the stairs leading to the cells. "Do you know how to get out of here?" He extended his strange sense to the upstairs floors and found that there were quite a few Death Eaters there. "This place probably has a ton of wards against escaping since Voldemort's taken over." His scar tingled numbly as he said the name, just like it had since the madman returned.
Malfoy scoffed, his eyes shining. "He'll have forgotten one thing. He can't change them because he's not a Malfoy. Only Malfoys can change them, and he's either killed them all or driven them off. I'm the only one who can change the wards now."
"Brilliant. Disapparate already then!"
As Harry said that, though, Malfoy looked sheepish. "One thing, Potter… I never actually learned how."
Harry stared at him in disbelief. "But…but you're the heir! How's that possible?"
"My father never thought he wouldn't live long enough not to teach me," Malfoy said defensively. "Besides, he and my mother were on house arrest. It's not like I needed to know before."
"So this place has anti-everything on it?"
"Not for Malfoys…but the Dark Lord's placed his own wards on the place."
Harry thought back to what he'd been reading in his Auror textbooks. "But…but doesn't that mean you should be able to take those off? They conflict with your manor's natural wards…"
"Potter, if anyone's trained to take wards down, it's you. You're the one trained to be an Auror, remember?"
"I didn't train to take wards down, Malfoy. It's the Dark Wizard catching profession, not the ward breaking profession."
Before the two could argue the point more, they heard shouting from upstairs and a loud stomping noise. They shared two "Oh, bugger" looks before pelting down the corridor.
"If I'm right," Malfoy panted, "then this corridor leads to a tunnel that goes out of Malfoy Manor. The plans are old and I don't think the Dark Lord's looked at them. The only reason I know is because I snuck into the library!"
"You? Sneak?" Harry snorted derisively and then decided his breath was better spent on running.
"Shut up, Potter."
Malfoy pulled Harry to a stop beyond a certain door and used his wand to tap a stone. The wall drew aside to reveal a hole and he pushed Harry into it, sealing the entrance behind him after stepping inside.
"Further down and we should be able to Disapparate," Malfoy said.
"Just you or can I?" Harry asked.
"Both of us. Why?"
"I could get us somewhere safe," Harry said, thinking of the Headmistress's office, which was where his friends probably were at the moment in a right state of panic.
"This isn't safe?"
When the wall behind them began to slide open, Harry shot Malfoy a sarcastic look. "No, it isn't! I thought they didn't know!"
"Apparently I was wrong!" Malfoy began running again.
A shout ran from behind them. "There they are!"
Harry swore and ducked under a tree root from ancient times. Malfoy ran past him, using his wand to light the way. Unfortunately, the shadows it cast caused Harry to miss seeing a protruding stone in the ground and he tripped over it, sprawling on the ground.
He half expected Malfoy to continue running and leave him to his fate but was surprised when he was hastily heaved up and shoved forward.
"Go!" Malfoy hissed. He cast a shield to block the first curses sent their way. The Death Eaters were too close to avoid now.
"Why—"
"Do you really think I'm that important?" Malfoy's shield was wavering. "You're the one fated to destroy the Dark Lord. If something happens to you, what do you think will happen to everyone else? Bloody hell, go, Harry!"
"Not without you, Draco," Harry said firmly, grabbing the blonde's arm. "Protego!" His powerful shield spread across the entire tunnel and he threw Draco behind him. "Reducto!" The curse hit the roof of the tunnel and Harry began running, grabbing Draco's arm as he did.
"Are you mad? We'll be trapped, too!" Draco gasped, gazing fearfully upwards at the caving-in ceiling. "In five—"
Harry felt the Apparition wards end and turned on the spot, Disapparating directly into the Headmistress's office with a loud pop!
Clutching one another, Harry and Draco gasped for breath, dirt streaking their faces and dust pillowed on their hair. They'd evidently interrupted a loud argument by the red faces. Minerva was sitting behind the desk, face pale and drawn. Hermione's face was ashen and she had a wand clutched in her hand. Ron had apparently been gesturing furiously as his arms dropped to the side. Severus had been pacing, as he put down his foot almost absentmindedly.
Taking a single deep breath before pandemonium broke out, Harry turned to Draco and stuck his hand out. "Hi. I'm Harry Potter."
For a full five seconds, Draco stared at his hand before finally breaking into a tentative smile and taking it. "Draco Malfoy."
October 31, 1994
The next day found Harry inspecting the Marauder's Map and looking for a specific person who was ensconced in the library. Ron and Hermione were still in the dorms and Harry knew he had about half an hour before he was expected down in the Great Hall with them.
Once in the library, Harry tucked the map away and made his way to his objective: Draco Malfoy. He put up Muffliato and a Notice-Me-Not Charm to ensure that their conversation would remain private. Then he sat down directly across from the Malfoy and leaned down on the table, resting his head on his arms and looking up at Draco from woebegone eyes.
Draco started upon Harry's arrival, slamming his book closed. "You!" His voice was loud and he instantly looked around, sighing in relief when Irma Pince didn't come swooping down on his head. He lowered his voice and hissed, "What are you doing here, Potter?"
"You've been avoiding me," Harry complained. "I thought we were friends?"
Draco glared furiously at the Boy Who Lived. "We," he sneered, "are not friends, Potter. Nor will we ever be."
The irony burned. Harry blinked innocently at him. "We shook hands!"
"That means absolutely nothing," Draco informed him. "You forced me into it." His eyes narrowed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a Slytherin."
Harry raised his eyebrows and tried his best to make his face the picture of innocence. "Me? A Slytherin?" He looked down at the crest on his robes. "I'm still a Gryffindor last time I checked."
Draco leaned forward to hiss in Harry's face, "I'm not buying it, Potter. Your little amnesiac act isn't cutting it for me. If you really did have amnesia, you wouldn't remember a thing about magic. It isn't that selective that you'd completely forget about me and no one else."
"You know what amnesia is?"
Draco raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "I'm pure-blood, Potter, not stupid. Now, what are you playing at?"
Harry picked himself up from the table and leaned back in his chair, recognizing the game was up. Perhaps he could twist this for his own benefit. "Well…I never figured you for someone who'd know something as common as a Muggle affliction."
Draco looked annoyed. "I didn't at first," he admitted. "But I looked through all the wizard afflictions before thinking that since you live with your Muggle relatives that it might be something Muggle." He placed the book he'd been reading on the table, which Harry recognized as a Muggle one on medical problems.
"You just found this out about five minutes ago, didn't you?" Harry asked, amused.
"I didn't get the book until yesterday," Draco said defensively.
"Mm-hmm." Harry pursed his lips in an effort not to smile.
Draco tried to salvage the situation. "You haven't answered my question: What are you playing at?"
"I'm tired of fighting," Harry said bluntly. "It's stupid, childish, and serves absolutely no purpose other than losing points and landing us in detention."
"What? You're saying you grew up?"
"In a matter of speaking, I suppose that you could say yes I did."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "I'm not buying it. Who put you up to this? Wanted to see how long you could string along Draco Malfoy without him catching on?"
Harry burst into laughter. "You think I'm doing this to make fun of you? Draco, you're not even worth the effort."
"Don't call me that," Draco snapped.
"I'll call you what I like," Harry said sharply. "We're not enemies, Draco."
"We're certainly not friends either, Potter."
"Whatever suits you then," Harry said dismissively. "Now, Draco, you wanted to know why you?"
Draco folded his arms across his chest and glared defiantly at the black-haired wizard.
"I'll take that as a yes," Harry said. "I know your father's a Death Eater – don't give me that look, Draco – I've seen him. He was in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. Your mother might not have been one, but she's in no way innocent. I know that you've been primed all your life to take up that role…the perfect little pure-blood heir…the perfect follower of the Dark Lord…"
"You're calling him the Dark Lord," Draco observed, not denying Harry's allegations.
"Got your attention, didn't it?" Harry grinned and snatched the book up that Draco had been reading, idly flipping through the pages. "Now…do you know what you're getting into when you're thinking of becoming a Death Eater?"
Draco snatched the book back and dumped it into his book bag. "What do you care, Potter?"
"Care to elaborate, Draco?"
"You know what I mean. You're a Gryffindor, I'm a Slytherin. You're Dumbledore's Golden Boy and I'm the prince of Slytherin. Neither of us have anything to do with the other except when it comes to fighting."
"Everyone deserves a second chance," Harry said quietly, remembering the scared adult who had come to Hogwarts seeking refuge. "Regardless of whether that person is a Malfoy, a pure-blood, a Death Eater in training, or a spoiled bigot."
Draco scowled at that as all those terms described him to a tee. "Would that extend to my parents as well? Or are you just preaching out of your ears?"
"Arse, Draco. Ears just don't carry the same weight." When he received a glare in return, Harry continued, "Yes, Draco, even your parents. That is, if they're ever intending on deserting Voldemort." Draco winced and Harry rolled his eyes. "As it stands, I don't know where their loyalties lie but you—"
"You have no clue where my loyalties lie, Potter," Draco said in a low voice. "I could go straight to my father to this and tell him the Light's Golden Boy is trying to recruit Slytherins to his cause. Where would you be then?"
"Well, first of all, Draco, the threat of going to your father is absolutely pathetic and in no way becoming of a fourteen-year-old wizard. Second of all, why would you tell him? Why would he even believe you? Oh, he might suspect something but there's no reason to think that those suspicions would stick. After all, I am a brash Gryffindor and utterly incapable of thinking."
Draco was looking sick. "Right…"
"So with that matter settled," Harry continued, "I'll go on to say that I know you haven't yet chosen. Your parents have trained you in case their master rises again and even if he doesn't you'll be the perfect little pure-blood wizard who hates Muggles, Muggle-borns, Squibs, and anything else that doesn't fit into your perfect little world. But the problem, Draco, is that you don't know what you're getting into."
"Are you telling me that he's going to come back?" Draco asked slowly.
"I've faced him once in my first year and while he wasn't alive in the strictest sense of the word, he certainly wasn't dead. I'd say it's a very safe bet that he won't remain 'dead' for long." Harry tapped his fingers on the table. "There's something brewing, Draco; something big."
"What – are you a Seer now?"
"I don't hold any stock in most of that rubbish," Harry said, waving his hand towards the ceiling. "But it's a gut feeling and I've learned not to ignore those. Something's going to happen, and it's going to happen soon."
"The tournament's going on," Draco pointed out dryly.
"Aside from that." Harry fished around in his robes and pulled out a vial filled with a silver liquid. He placed it on the table and pushed it towards Draco. "I know you still need help deciding."
"Memories, Potter?" Draco didn't touch it. "Why should this help?"
"They're not my memories, per se," Harry said slowly. "They're Voldemort's."
Draco stared at the thing as if it would attack him. "What the hell are you doing with his memories?"
"They were in my head, of course." Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco's gobsmacked expression. "You didn't seriously think I just came away with a scar on that night, did you?"
That part was an outright lie but Harry figured it wouldn't hurt. They were his memories, but they were memories he'd acquired from staring through Voldemort's eyes. Thus, they were technically Voldemort's memories.
"It won't hurt you," Harry said amusedly. "It's just a vial of memories."
"And where do you think I'd be able to view them in the first place?" Draco asked.
"You're a Malfoy, Draco. I'm sure you've got a Pensieve stashed away someplace. And if that weren't true, you could put it in your head, though I wouldn't recommend that because of the content…"
Draco's eyes flickered from the vial to Harry and to the vial again. Then he took a breath and grabbed it, slowly shaking it back and forth. "And when I'm done?"
Harry hid a smile. His plan had worked. Slytherin as he was, Draco couldn't turn down an opportunity to gather information on something that could potentially ruin his future.
"When you're done, you know where to find me."
By the time Harry made his way to the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione were already there. Hermione handed him a plate of toast and some eggs, which he gratefully accepted.
"All the Durmstrang lot has put their names in already," Ron informed him. "But no one from Hogwarts has yet."
"Maybe they put it in last night after they went to bed," Harry suggested after a mouthful of bread.
"Where were you earlier?" Hermione asked. "We looked but couldn't find you."
"The library. I thought you might like to read this," Harry said, handing Hermione a thick tome. "It's got a lot of information on house-elves."
"Oh, thanks." Hermione seemed startled. "I really didn't expect this, Harry."
"Yeah, why'd you do it, Harry?" Ron groaned, looking at the huge book.
"So we don't find ourselves in over our heads because our best friend decides to campaign for house-elf rights," Harry said, shrugging. He'd just swallowed a mouthful of eggs when Colin Creevey came up to him.
"You going to put your name in as well, Harry?" the small third-year asked eagerly.
Harry raised an eyebrow, sure that this hadn't happened last time. "Why should I? I'm fourteen."
Colin looked confused. "Yeah but you're Harry Potter."
Harry heard Ron scoff but ignored it. "So? I'm not exactly eager to go risking my neck out there. Besides, why would I put my name in something that would land me right in the papers? If anything, you should probably ask those two," Harry said, nodding towards the Weasley twins that had just entered.
"Done it," Fred whispered triumphantly to the trio. He didn't see Colin's disappointed look.
"What?" Ron asked.
"The Aging Potion, dung brains," Fred said.
"One drop each," George said, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."
"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee Jordan said, also grinning.
"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," Hermione warned. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."
"He did, I'm sure," Harry whispered to her as the three troublemakers ignored her.
"Ready?" Fred asked the other two, quivering with anticipation. "C'mon then – I'll go first—"
Though he remembered what happened last time, Harry couldn't help but watch again with barely hidden amusement as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out and stepped across the Age Line. When nothing happened immediately, George also followed with a shout of glee.
Then there was a large explosion of smoke and the two Weasleys were thrown back, each sporting identical long beards. They looked at one another, exclaimed loudly, and tried to see if they would come off.
"I did warn you, you know," Dumbledore said in an amused voice. The Headmaster had just entered the entrance hall.
"I knew it wouldn't work," Hermione whispered, already browsing the book Harry had given her. "It's Dumbledore we're talking about here."
"Would've been cool if it did work," Ron said moodily. "Hey, Harry…I know you didn't want to enter but if it had been me…"
"I would've supported you all the way, Ron," Harry said instantly, seeing what Ron was getting at.
"Not that it would have worked anyway," Hermione said testily. "You're fourteen, Ron. Wizards older than you have died in this wretched thing."
"Wretched?" Ron mouthed to Harry.
Harry simply shrugged and took another bite of his now cold eggs. He grimaced and started on his toast, only to find that it had turned soggy in the interim. Rolling his eyes in disgust, Harry dumped the plate and stalked off towards the dungeons with a quick goodbye to his friends. He had a friend to see about a nutrition potion.
Later that evening in the Great Hall, they were waiting eagerly for what would occur that night. Fred and George were clean shaven again and didn't seem as disappointed as Ron had expected.
"Hope it's Angelina," Fred told them.
"So do I!" Hermione agreed. "Well, we'll find out soon!"
The Halloween feast didn't last long enough for Harry's taste, although it was too long for everyone else.
Why was it that he was getting nerves now of all times? He knew that this needed to happen in order for everything else to fall in place.
He'd survived last time when he really was fourteen. He would be fine this time.
"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione whispered. "You look kind of ill."
Harry smiled weakly. "Fine, Hermione." He locked eyes with Ron, who seemed to understand Harry's ill feeling.
When the feast was cleared away, Dumbledore stood up, catching everyone's attention. "Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber"—he indicated the door behind the staff table—"where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He took his wand out – which Harry couldn't hear anymore since he'd clamped his Occlumency shields down so forcefully even touching things felt weird – and waved it once sweepingly, extinguishing all the lights except those inside the carved pumpkins. The Goblet of Fire continued glow brightly with iridescent blue flames that hurt anyone's eyes that looked at it for too long.
"Any second," Lee whispered, two seats away from Harry.
The flames of the goblet turned red suddenly and spark began to fly. A tongue of flame shot into the air and a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it.
Dumbledore caught the parchment piece and read it by the light of the goblet's flames. "The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."
"No surprise there!" Ron shouted as a storm of applause and cheering swept the hall.
Krum rose from his seat and disappeared into the aforementioned chamber, though not before Karkaroff had boomed, "Bravo, Viktor! Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and cheering died down and everyone's attention was once again riveted on the goblet. It turned red a few seconds later and a second parchment was ejected.
Dumbledore read this as well. "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
"Blimey, Harry, it's that girl!" Ron shoved Harry in the shoulder and the Boy Who Lived nodded slowly, barely registering the contact.
"Oh, look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said, meaning the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.
Harry didn't look as he had squeezed his eyes shut. The noise of the hall was too much for even his Occluded senses and it was taking most of his restraint to just sit there and not do anything. If he even tried to focus on anything besides maintaining his shields, he knew the results wouldn't be very pretty at all.
When Fleur had also disappeared into the side chamber, there was another hush. The Goblet of Fire turned red once more and threw out another piece of charred parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore called with finality, "is Cedric Diggory!"
Harry's head sank to the table as the loudest cheering yet erupted in the Great Hall. His heart was thundering in his ears, and his muscles were vibrating with restrained tension.
Almost… Almost… He had to relax.
He inhaled deeply and gradually straightened, feeling the energy around him dissipate slightly as everyone's excitement died down.
He noted Hermione's worried look and gave her a wan smile, though he knew it probably looked absolutely pathetic.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore finally managed to say as the din died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"
The Headmaster stopped speaking and it was evident to everyone why this was so as the Goblet of Fire's flames had once again turned a ruby red. A long flame shot out of it, bearing a fourth and final piece of parchment.
Dumbledore slowly reached out a hand and took it, gazing at it for a long minute. When he finally cleared his throat and spoke, it was to say the two words Harry had been waiting for: "Harry Potter."
Although his name had been called, Harry didn't immediately react. He sat there for a long moment, scanning the hall and skimming over the staff table. Crouch Jr. looked rather triumphant, although it was hard to make out under his mutilated visage. Severus's face was carefully impassive, but then he was well aware of what to expect. Minerva was whispering into Dumbledore's ear.
Finally, Harry's eyes turned to Ron, who had turned ashen. He looked at his friend for a long moment, heart thundering in his ears, before Ron finally nodded.
"Go, Harry," he whispered. "I know you didn't do it."
Harry swallowed, feeling the magic of the goblet settle beneath his skin and bind him to participating in the tournament. Feeling like all his limbs were weighted down, Harry relaxed his Occlumency shields slightly as the din that had made the Great Hall such a nightmare to be in wasn't there. He slowly began making his way down to the staff table.
As he came up there, he locked eyes with Hagrid, who seemed absolutely stunned, and Dumbledore, who wasn't smiling at all. Turning away as he went to the side chamber, Harry looked for Draco and found the Slytherin in the midst of the students, looking absolutely ashen; surprisingly, he met Harry's eyes and tipped his head forward slightly.
Bolstered a tad by this show of support, Harry turned into the antechamber, the silence of the hall echoing behind him.
Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire and silhouetted rather impressively by the flames.
Fleur noticed when Harry walked in and threw her long silvery hair back over her shoulder. "What is it? Do zey want us back in ze hall?"
Harry simply shook his head and waited, his entire body as taut as a drum string. He didn't dare Occlude as ferociously as he had in the hall, though. He needed his wits about him here.
There was a noise of scurrying feet and Harry whirled to find himself face to face with Ludo, who abruptly took him by the arm and didn't know how lucky he was to not find himself on the business end of Harry's wand.
"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm and oblivious to the tension in it. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen…lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three champions. "May I introduce – incredible though it may seem – the fourth Triwizard champion?"
Viktor Krum straightened, his face darkening as he inspected Harry, who stared coolly back. Cedric looked nonplussed and was looking from Ludo to Harry and back again as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
Fleur simply tossed her hair back and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."
"Joke?" Ludo repeated, sounding bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
As the champions absorbed this information, Harry said through gritted teeth, "Please let go of my arm, Mr. Bagman."
Fleur frowned contemptuously as Ludo did just that. "But evidently zair'as been a mistake. 'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."
"Well…it is amazing," Ludo said, rubbing his chin and smiling down at Harry, who had resorted to staring into the flames. "But, as you know, the age restriction was really only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet…I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage… It's down in the rules, you're obliged… Harry will just have to do the best he—"
The door behind them opened again – Harry flinched and edged his wand back into his holster – letting Dumbledore, Crouch Sr., Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Minerva, and Severus inside. The Potions master locked eyes with Harry once and inclined his head, shifting to the back of the crowd.
"Madame Maxime!" Fleur said immediately, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
Madame Maxime was looking thoroughly impressive drawn to her full height. "What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said, smiling coldly. His blue eyes were like steel as they went over Harry's form, although he quickly took them off as Harry's emerald gaze glared daggers at him. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me that the host school is allowed two champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
"C'est impossible," Madame Maxime said, her hand resting on Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"Are you suggesting, Igor, that Potter crossed the Headmaster's Age Line by himself?" Severus asked coldly, his black eyes glittering.
Dumbledore was looking at Harry now, who met his blue eyes easily. He could hear the singing of the Elder Wand; the old wizard seemed to grip his robes absentmindedly, although Harry could see that he was clenching something.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
"No," Harry said truthfully.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry kept his face blank as he said, "No, I didn't."
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" Madame Maxime cried.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," Minerva said sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that—"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," Madame Maxime said, shrugging.
"Ma'am, with all respect," Harry said, "if two of Hogwarts' finest students"—there was a cough from the shadows that sounded suspiciously like it came from Severus—"couldn't cross the Age Line, what makes you think a fourteen-year-old could have?"
"Yes, exactly!" Minerva said. "Harry is only fourteen. Dumbledore certainly did not make a mistake with the Age Line that would only allow Harry to cross it! And if we have made the matter quite clear that Harry did not cross the line and did not give his name to an older student to put inside, then I fail to see what we are even doing!"
"How did his name get into the goblet then?" Karkaroff demanded. He turned to Crouch and Ludo, who had been silent up to now. "Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, you are our, er, objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular!"
Ludo wiped his face with his handkerchief and looked at Crouch, who was on the outskirts of the circle of firelight.
He spoke in his usual curt voice. "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," Ludo said, beaming and turning to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," Karkaroff said, an ugly look crossing his face. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But, Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," Ludo said. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out – it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament—"
"—in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff snapped. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
Harry braced himself as he felt Crouch Jr.'s Dark Mark approach. At the same time, Moody's voice came from the door:
"Empty threat, Karkaroff. You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
Harry locked eyes with Severus, who shifted slightly in the shadows in acknowledgement. Folding his arms across his chest, Harry shifted his stance and tried his best to look like a nervous fourth-year who was in over his head. He wasn't sure if he succeeded or if he just looked like he was sulking.
"It's very simple, Karkaroff," Crouch Jr. was saying. "Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" Madame Maxime sniffed indignantly.
"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," Karkaroff said, bowing. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards—"
"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," Crouch Jr. growled, "but…funny thing…I don't hear him saying a word…"
"Why should 'e complain?" Fleur burst out, stamping her foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping for weeks and weeks! Ze honor—"
"Why should I complain?" Harry interrupted, catching everyone's attention. "It's not going to do anything. Like Mr. Crouch said, it's a binding magical contract. I have to compete…regardless of whether I want it or not. And I have to tell you that I'm not happy about it. Who cares about the honor? I like my life where it is – in my body and not flying through the sky."
"Maybe that's what someone is hoping for," Crouch Jr. said. "That you're going to die for it."
There was a tense silence at his words before Ludo anxiously said, "Moody, old man…what a thing to say!"
"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," Karkaroff scoffed loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination, too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."
"Imagining things, am I?" Crouch Jr. growled. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet…"
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Madame Maxime demanded, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" Crouch Jr. snapped. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament… I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school to make sure he was the only one in his category…"
Harry saw Severus move to speak but the Potions master was beaten to the punch by Karkaroff. "You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is – though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Crouch Jr. snarled. "It's my job think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff – as you ought to remember…"
"Alastor!" Dumbledore warned.
Severus made his move then. "Perhaps Igor is merely suggesting that if you suspected something like this to happen, you would have been watching the goblet for foul play."
Crouch Jr.'s stolen magical eye whirled in Severus's direction. "Well, Snape, one can hardly keep an eye on everything, can they? Perhaps you'd like to take the honor?"
"As much as I detest Potter," Severus said silkily without missing a beat, "I would have to decline the honor. Even I do not wish to see him meet his match in the tournament."
Dumbledore intervened before the conversation could become any more hostile. "How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore they will do…"
"Ah, but, Dumbly-dorr—"
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
As Madame Maxime could think of nothing to say and neither could Karkaroff, the conversation was taken over by Ludo.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he asked eagerly, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
After a moment, Crouch seemed to come out of a reverie that Harry recognized as Imperius-induced. "Yes, instructions. Yes…the first task…"
Moving into the fire, Harry could see that Crouch looked ill. Judging from Severus's expression, he caught it as well.
"The first task," Crouch began, "is designed to test your daring so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…very important…
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the judges.
"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests." He turned to Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," Dumbledore said, looking at Crouch with concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," Crouch denied. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment… I've left young Weatherby"—Harry restrained a snort—"in charge… Very enthusiastic…a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"
Harry found himself feeling a little sympathetic for Percy.
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" asked Dumbledore.
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Ludo said so brightly that Harry wanted to cringe. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," Crouch said dismissively.
When Madame Maxime and Karkaroff also left with their champions despite Dumbledore's invitation, the Headmaster turned to the Hogwarts champions.
"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," Dumbledore said, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are wishing to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Nodding, Harry once again locked eyes with Severus and left with Cedric, gladly leaving Crouch Jr. behind.
The Great Hall was deserted and eerily illuminated with the lights in the pumpkins. Harry had to swallow and blink back the memory of the castle burning to the ground.
Thankfully, Cedric distracted him. "So," he said, smiling slightly. "We're playing against each other again!"
"Not much playing, to be honest," Harry said. "I'm just going to be running around, trying not to get killed, while you'll be calm and collected and passing the tasks like they're exams."
Cedric grinned at that. "Come on… You can't be serious. You did put your name in, didn't you? How'd you manage that anyway?"
"I'm fourteen, Cedric. If Fred and George, two brilliant pranksters, couldn't get past that Age Line, what makes you think I could? Besides, you heard Moody. If I'd actually entered, it would've been under Hogwarts. Either way, the goblet only takes three different champions but didn't this time because it was Confunded."
"Right…" Cedric only looked half-convinced. "Well…see you, then."
Before Cedric went off, Harry called after him, "Look, Cedric…I didn't want to be in this tournament but I am. Good luck, all right?"
"You, too, Harry."
Harry nodded at Cedric and headed towards his dorms. Although it would've been the truth the first time, this time it was a complete and utter lie that he didn't want to be in the tournament. But to keep up the charade of being fourteen, he had to lie through his teeth.
Stopping outside of the portrait, Harry's jangled nerves already tingled with stress. He inhaled deeply, clamped down his Occlumency shields as tightly as he could, and said the password, stepping into absolute calamity.
His reflexes enabled Harry to avoid the worst of the din and he scrambled up the stairs into the dorm, closing the door behind him with a relieved sigh. When he turned around, he found both Ron and Hermione looking at him.
Harry blinked, surprised. Annoyed that something like this had gotten past him (he would've been killed if it had been anyone else), he dropped his shields and kept the bare minimum.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, reaching out to wrap him in a hug. She noticed him stiffening and pulled away. "Are you all right? You were looking so ill before…Ron told me you thought something bad was going to happen."
"And it did," Harry said quietly, untangling himself from Hermione as politely as he could. He flopped down on a nearby bed, checking to see that it was Seamus's. "Neither of you guys believe I put my name in that goblet, right?"
"I believe you," Ron said. "I wouldn't have…before I mean…" He was referencing the other night. "But you looked really sick before it happened, Harry…I'd have to be an absolute git not to believe you."
"There's no way you could have put your name in," Hermione agreed. "It just makes me wonder who did."
"Moody reckons it was someone who wants to see me killed," Harry said offhandedly. "Neither Karkaroff nor Maxime were exactly happy with me being the fourth champion so I figure it wasn't them."
"Well, Moody was a really great Auror," Ron said, frowning. "If he thinks that, it must be true…"
"Yeah, well…I think it's downright suspicious, if you ask me," Harry said, leaning over his knees. "Karkaroff said something about Moody's paranoia… It got me thinking that if Moody really was that paranoid, shouldn't he have been keeping an eye on that goblet?"
"It's not like he expected anything to happen, did he?" Hermione asked.
"But that's why he's called Mad-Eye Moody," Ron said reasonably. "He's considered mad because he's so paranoid. And that's what paranoia's about: preparing for things even though they're not expected. Harry's right…if he was that paranoid, he should've anticipated something like this happening."
"Maybe he did and that's why he looked so cross," Hermione said. "He was looking mad when he went into that chamber after you," she told Harry. "He's probably upset that he didn't stop it from happening."
"Maybe…" Harry shook his head. "Look, it's late and I'm tired. I really wasn't feeling well earlier." He looked seriously at his best friends. "You two know that I'm really thankful you're by me, right?"
They smiled. "Of course, Harry."
Smiling back at them, Harry was utterly thankful that they were his friends even now. He knew his behavior had been off-putting at times and Hermione was getting suspicious. Despite that, they still stuck with him. They weren't the friends he'd fought with in the war, but they were the same people.
January 9, 2001
"Potter, are you absolutely sure about this?" Draco whispered to Harry.
"What? You aren't?"
"Well, no… It's Snape."
Harry shot his friend a grin. "Come on. Either you're in or you're out." He waved the package he held under Draco's nose. "I'm not giving it to him for you."
"He still doesn't trust me!" Draco said desperately.
"He relies on you," Harry said. "Trust isn't something he'll give easily. I think there's only one person he actually trusted completely…"
"And he's dead," Draco said gloomily. "Brilliant, Potter."
"If it makes you feel any better, Ron and Hermione aren't exactly on the in with him either," Harry said. "It can't hurt, Draco. I'll vouch for you."
Draco didn't say anything else and allowed Harry to knock on Severus's door. It opened silently, revealing Severus's scowling face.
"Harry," he said curtly. "Malfoy…"
"Happy Birthday, Severus," Harry said cheerfully, pushing the present at Severus. "Can we come in?"
Draco smiled weakly at his former Head of House and held up his own gift. "Er…Happy Birthday."
Severus stared at the two wizards for a long moment before sighing and letting them in. "You'll never let it rest, will you, Potter?" he complained to Harry.
Harry laughed. "Should I, Severus? It's your birthday."
Grumbling, Severus let them into his sitting room and was nonplussed to find a birthday cake there made to his specifications.
Harry took a seat, inwardly grinning as Draco lingered uncertainly by the doorway. This could go a long way towards bonding the two Slytherins.
