A/N: I figured you would prefer a faster update to a longer chapter, so here it is! Review!
disclaimer: 'taint mine, except for Emma ^^
Enjoy!
Chapter 9
"Harry Potter." Dumbledore's voice echoed across the quiet Hall. A fourth champion? Everyone, including me, was speechless. How could this have happened? And why did it happen to Harry (again)? I sat there in shock, like almost everyone else, as he made his way to the side chamber, unable to move.
As soon as he'd disappeared through the door, however, I jumped up and followed the headmaster, not caring who else came. Knowing my nephew, he wasn't going to be happy.
Ludo Bagman, who had followed me into the antechamber, was chattering away about how 'extraordinary' the whole situation was. I was having trouble restraining from hexing him into next week.
I walked into the room, and saw Harry standing there, the other champions staring at him. He looked so lost and forlorn, my heart clenched. I didn't waste a second, running over to him, and giving him a hug. He buried his face in my shoulder. "I didn't do it," he whispered, barely loud enough for my enhanced hearing to pick up.
I tightened my hold on him. "I know."
Just then, I heard Bagman introduce Harry as the fourth champion to the other students in the room. I glared at him over my nephew's head (which was quite the feat, considering he was barely two inches smaller than me).
There were the usual protestations, but Bagman assured the champions that there was no backing out at this stage.
I released Harry and rounded on him. "What do you mean, 'there's no backing out at this stage'?! He is fourteen years old, and if you think for even one second that I'm going to let him compete in a tournament with far more trained students, than you're sorely mistaken, Mr Bagman," I said, my voice cold as ice.
The Ministry official looked decidedly uncomfortable, but was saved from answering as Albus, Madame Maxime, Mr Crouch (I spared a glare for him, he had sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trail, after all), Karkaroff, Minerva, and Snape. I vaguely wondered what the latter was doing there, but then decided I really didn't care.
I barely listened to the conversation they started, my gaze intent on the highly uncomfortable teenager in front of me. He tried to give me an encouraging smile, but failed miserably. My attention was drawn back when I heard Snape say that it had been Harry's fault.
"Excuse me?" I said, hoping I'd misunderstood him. The potion's master merely raised an eyebrow at me. A greasy one at that, I noted.
"You can't possibly believe that- no wait," I said, interrupting myself, "of course you can, you're a grudge-holding, bigoted asshole, of course you can. What are you even doing here? You're not his head of house, or his guardian, and you're not a judge or a headmaster."
"Emma, mind your language, if you please," Albus said, his gaze reproving. For someone who'd lived through two wars, he sure was sensitive about politeness.
"I'm sorry, Albus. He's a grudge-holding, bigoted professor," I amended poisonously. From the corner of my eye, I could see Harry's lips edge upwards a fraction. Snape just glowered at me. If looks could kill, I'd be pushing daisies already.
"Emma," Albus said sternly. He wasn't amused. I shrugged in apology. At 29, I was still a teenager at heart, so sue me.
"I already told Mr Bagman that I'm not going to let Harry participate," I said icily, daring anyone to contradict me.
"He may not have a choice," the headmaster replied. I frowned.
"What do you mean? I'm his guardian. Until he's 17, I make all legal decisions for him, he can't enter the tournament."
"We must abide by the rules, and the rules clearly state that those people whose names come out of the Goblet, must compete. It is a magically binding contract," Crouch said. I was really starting to hate this guy.
Karkaroff then insisted on having to redraw the names from the Goblet, and, after Bagman stated that this was impossible, threatened to withdraw from the Tournament.
Before I could form a witty retort to this, Moody stalked in. I hadn't even heard the telltale sound of his wooden leg on the stone floor. "Empty threat, Karkaroff," he growled. "You can't leave your champion now. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?" The ex-auror limped off towards the fireplace, where Diggory stepped out of his way.
"Convenient? I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody," Karkaroff said.
I followed Harry's gaze to the European headmaster's hands. They were balled up. I'd have to remind myself to commend him on his observation skills. A detail like that could save your life in a fight.
"Don't you?" Moody said quietly. "It's very simple. Someone put Potter's name in that Goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
Madame Maxime sneered that it must've been someone who wanted Hogwart's chances to go up, Karkaroff concurred.
I had to bite back a laugh. "Seriously?" I asked incredulously. "If someone wanted to help Hogwarts along, they wouldn't have chosen a 14 year old, barely trained boy, they'd have chosen another 7th year, like Thornton, our best DADA student… No offence, Harry," I said. He simply shrugged, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
"I agree, if anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," Moody said. "But… funny thing… I don't hear him saying a word–"
Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, seemed to think it was an honour to serve her school in this manner, and that the money and fame you got from it were reward enough.
I scoffed. "What does he need money for? We're one of Great-Britain's wealthiest families, and he has enough unwanted fame."
"Eet is ridicule! Zis is a chance many would die for!" Fleur countered.
"Maybe some's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl. An extremely tense silence followed the professor's words. I hadn't even considered that. What if a Death Eater was behind this? I bit my lip, and unconsciously reached for my ward's arm.
"Well, there's nothing new." Had I not been an animagus, I wouldn't have heard the whispered words coming from the teen beside me, as it was, I didn't think anyone else had. The words sent a stab through my heart. No 14 year old should be this used to the idea that there were people out there who wanted to kill him.
I tuned the rest of the conversation out, only storing that the Goblet had been confounded in the back of my head, as I slipped an arm around Harry's shoulders. I wanted nothing more than to shelter him from the world, and to make this all go away, but I knew that wasn't possible. And, more importantly, I knew Harry would never let me.
Making a decision, I interrupted the conversation. "He'll compete," I said, ignoring the incredulous and slightly betrayed look Harry sent me. "But only on one condition."
Crouch raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"
"Given Harry's age, I move that you make an exception to the rule that teacher's are not allowed to help, in my case. I'm his guardian, and he's entering a potentially lethal competition, designed for adults, I should be able to help him," I said resolutely.
Crouch looked like he was about to argue. For someone who this much of a stickler to the rules, it surprised me a little that he'd sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trail, without so much as blinking. Bagman interceded, and for once, I was grateful. "Seems fair to me, what do you think, Barty?"
Crouch merely pressed his already thin lips even closer together. Bagman sent a questioning look towards the heads of the schools. Albus locked eyes with me for a second, and gave a nod. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were far more grudging.
And so, Harry Potter was about to endanger his life once again.
A/N: Review?
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