Author's notes:
Here begins Harry at his snarky best.
Standard disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. Thank you JKR for letting us play with your toys.
I will continue to use the occasional song lyric in the story and will give credit at the time when needed.
This is the fifth book in my Slytherin Harry series.
Book 1: Harry Potter and the Muggle's Daughter
Book 2: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Book 3: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
Book 4: Harry Potter and the Blood Traitor's Daughter
Book 5: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
If you haven't read books 1-4 you won't know what's going on. But the bonus is you've got four completed books before you even get to this one!
HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE
CHAPTER X
Then Why am I a Champion
HPHPHP
Aware every eye in the hall was on her Daphne sat at the Hufflepuff table in shock. Of course they weren't looking for her, but everyone knew Harry sat with her on his left and Ginny on his right. Only Harry wasn't there. Nor were Ginny, Luna or Hermione. It was just her and Neville.
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Where is Harry Potter?" he demanded.
"Go get him," Daphne hissed. She stood. "He's not here, Sir." Neville was already running out of the hall.
"What do you mean he isn't here?" Professor McGonagall demanded. She had stood from her place at the head table.
"I mean he isn't here, Ma'am," Daphne said.
"And why isn't he here?" Karkaroff demanded. "Does he think this is some kind of joke, to put his name in the Goblet and then not even be here? Does he mock us?"
"Harry, did not put his name in the Goblet!" Daphne said forcefully.
"Pleaze," Madame Maxime said. "'Is name 'as come out of zee Goblet, 'e must 'ave placed 'is name in."
"He didn't," Daphne snapped. "If you knew him at all you'd know he didn't." She focused on Professor McGonagall. "Please, Professor. Neville's gone to bring him. He hasn't been to the feast the last two years either. He hates Halloween and he thought the tournament was idiocy. I knowhe didn't put his name in the Goblet."
Dumbledore spoke up. "Minerva, please intercept Mr Potter in the entry and bring him to the anterior room. Champions, judges, if you will follow me, we shall get to the bottom of this and make a determination of how to proceed in private." He walked off without another word. Professor McGonagall hurried to the entry hall. Madame Maxime gave Daphne a last sneer before spinning around and hurrying after Dumbledore.
As quick as that Daphne was left in the Great Hall with every eye that remained on her. Nearly all of them were decidedly unfriendly. She raised her chin. "You all think you've been wronged," she said firmly. "You think he cheated. Well this tournament is a fool's folly. Harry said as much from day one. I don't expect you'll believe me, but you'll see. Viktor, Fleur, Cedric, they are going to rue the day they put their names forth and I will stake my life on Harry's word that he did notenter his name." Head high she calmly walked across the length of the hall and out the doors.
Neville raced down the lawn for the stadium. "Harry!" he shouted skidding through the tunnel onto the pitch. "Harry!"
"We're up here, Neville!" Luna waved from high atop the Slytherin section. Neville raced for the stairs and tore up them. He burst out of the stairwell. "Harry, you need to come quick!"
Harry stood, grimacing at the loss of Ginny's fingers massaging his temples. "What happened?"
Neville slid to a stop, breathing heavily. "The Goblet. You're name came out of it." Harry rocked back on his heels.
"What!" Hermione shrieked.
"His name came out of the Goblet. He's a champion," Neville said. The four stood there in stunned disbelief.
"Fuck," Harry muttered. "Son of a—"
"That's impossible!" Hermione cried.
" —Knew something was going to happen—"
"Actually it's not," Luna said.
"—Damn Fudge—"
"Luna!"
"Well it's not. Even if Harry didn't enter himself, someone else could have."
"—Damn Bones for not backing out of it—"
"Why would someone do that!"
"Because they're trying to get me killed, Hermione!" Harry exploded. "Why do you think?"
"Don't say that!" she screamed. She hit him in the shoulder. "Don't say that!" She hit him again. "Don't say that! Don't say that!" Harry grabbed her in his arms to stop her hitting him. She instantly broke down and buried her face in his chest. "Don't say that," she hiccupped.
"Shush," he soothed. He looked over her shoulder for Ginny. She was pale and shaking. He shifted Hermione to the side, making room. "Come here." She stepped to him and he wrapped her into the embrace.
Luna stepped in and wrapped them all in her arms. "It will be all right," she soothed.
Harry glanced at Neville. "Mirror Sirius for me."
"Yeah, sure." He pulled his mirror form his pocket. "Sirius! Code Red!"
"You can't," Hermione whimpered. "You can't."
"Hermione," Harry tried gently.
She pushed back from him. "Let's just leave," she said frantically. "We'll withdraw right now. Lily and Mrs Tonks and Remus and Sirius can teach us or we can go to Ilvermorny in America or, or…"
"He can't, Hermione," Luna said gently. "You know he can't."
"But…"
"It's a magically binding contract, Love," Luna said. "I hope I'm wrong, but if his name came out of the Goblet he has to compete. If he doesn't, it will be his magic against the Goblet."
"But."
Luna placed her hand over Hermione's mouth. "No buts." Hermione started sobbing again. Luna pulled her tight. "Shush," she kissed her crown.
"Sirius is on his way," Neville said quietly.
Harry sighed. "Right, come on then."
Professor McGonagall stood on the front steps with Daphne beside her. "There," she said quietly.
"Ohhh, he looks angry," Daphne said.
"You can't even see his face."
"It's the way he's moving."
Professor McGonagall tipped her head. "Yes. I see what you mean."
"Professor," Harry said on reaching the landing.
"Harry."
"I want you to know, this is it. Once I get through this year I'm never coming back to this hell hole again."
"And if there's any way at all of him getting out of this idiotic mess we're withdrawing immediately," Hermione said.
"All of us are," Ginny added. Neville and Luna nodded their agreement.
McGonagall nodded. "I do not blame you in the least. Now come along."
Harry gave Hermione's hand a squeeze and let go. He turned to Ginny. "I'm so sorry."
She covered his mouth with her hand. "You have nothing to be sorry for." Harry took her wrist, kissing her fingers before backing away. "See you."
"I'll be here."
He gave her a tight smile and turned to follow Professor McGonagall.
Daphne caught his hand on the way by. "Neville told you, it's Cedric, Fleur and Viktor?"
Harry paused. "Is he mad?"
"I'm not sure."
"All right. Thanks." He squeezed her hand and disappeared into the castle.
Harry entered the room to hear Professor Moody's gravely voice. "The obvious reason is someone's trying to get him killed." He took quick stock of who was present. Bagman and Dewer were standing behind a desk. The Goblet, still with blue flames dancing in its cauldron, and a large stack of disheveled parchment sat on the desk. Karkaroff, Maxime and Dumbledore were all standing in the center of the room. Professor Moody was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Viktor, Fleur and Cedric were all standing near a fireplace. Professor Sprout was beside Cedric. Professor McGonagall remained behind him.
"Don't be ridiculous," Karkaroff snapped.
"Why is it ridiculous?" Harry asked. Everyone turned to him. "A Death Eater tried to kidnap me last year. If anyone here knows just how foiled Death Eaters retaliate it's got to—"
"Mr Potter," Dumbledore cut him off severely. Karkaroff glowered at him with hateful eyes.
Fleur seemed to have been waiting to explode and in the short silence did so. "Zis!" she exclaimed, gesticulating her hand wildly while advancing on him "Zis little boy is to compete against moi?"
"Back of blondie," Harry retorted, "before I deflate your opinion of yourself."
"'ow dare 'ou!" she shrieked. For a second it looked like she was going to strike him but then the air around her seemed to shimmer a bit. Harry suddenly felt light and airy and just as quickly his anger deflated in the face of her beauty. "'ou 'ave no idea wat 'ou are dealing wiz little boy. I will be only too 'appy to teaz 'ou."
An image of a young girl riding her broom flashed through Harry's mind and his head cleared. His temper surged. "I know exactly what I'm dealing with, Princess," he snarled, stepping to her. Her jaw dropped.
"Miss Delacour," Dumbledore's voice reverberated through the room. Harry clenched his hands tightly. By the goddess did he hate Dumbledore's magic. "You will desist with your actions. As will you, Mr Potter." Her mouth snapped closed. Harry smiled mockingly. She backed away.
"Oui, 'eadmaster." She shot a decidedly less confident glance at Harry
"Sure thing, Sir." Never taking his eyes of the French witch Harry gave a mocking salute.
"Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall warned in a low voice. Harry made an effort to rein his temper in. "Sorry, Professor."
Professor Sprout stepped forward just as Sirius walked in. "I'm very disappointed, Mr Potter," she said, "that you would repay the kindness my house, and Cedric in particular, have shown you and your friends in such a deceitful manner as this."
Sirius didn't miss a beat. "Don't pretend treating someone with decency, respect and kindness makes Cedric, you, or your house paragons of virtue," he said. "It makes you not assholes. And correct me if I'm wrong, but hadn't Astoria and her friends figured that long before Harry saving her life bought him or his friends an ounce of kindness from Cedric or your house?" She said nothing and appeared properly chastised. "I thought not," Sirius said.
"'ho are you?" Madame Maxime demanded.
"Lord, Sirius Black," he said, moving to stand in front of Dumbledore. "Harry's godfather."
"But of course," Fleur sniffed, "'ou would 'ave a guardian. 'ou are under age."
"Old enough to spank your arse, Princess," Harry retorted. She turned scarlet.
"Mr Potter!" Professor McGonagall hissed angrily.
"She keeps her mouth shut, so will I."
"Enough, Harry," Sirius said. Harry said nothing. Fleur continued to glare at him. Harry smirked. "Did you enter your name?" Sirius asked.
"Nooopa."
"Did you ask someone to enter your name for you?"
"Non." Harry winked at Fleur. He was pretty sure she was primed like Mt Vesuvius.
"So, once again, Albus, you've failed to ensure the safety of the children placed under your protection and my godson pays the price." Dumbledore remained silent. "I'm to assume he has no choice but to compete?"
"The contract is binding, Sirius," Bagman spoke up. "You must be pleased.
Sirius turned on him. "Pleased my godson is being forced to compete in a tournament he did not chose to enter; a tournament known to regularly see its competitors killed? No, I am not pleased, Mr Bagman." Bagman's smile slipped. "And that would be Lord Black, Mr Bagman." No one said a word. "Where is the parchment with his name?" Sirius demanded.
"Here," Dewer said. He held out a bit of charred parchment to Sirius. Sirius glanced at it.
"That isn't Harry's writing."
The man shifted uncomfortably. "I'm afraid that does not matter, Lord Black."
Sirius turned on Dumbledore. "So you put up an age-line but didn't bother to do anything to ensure the person placing the entry in the Goblet was actually the person who would be competing? Considering the risk and the stipulation entrants be of age, perhaps a blood contract would have been appropriate?"
"Hindsight is twenty/twenty, Sirius," Dumbledore said patronizingly.
"A phrase you have spent the last three years wearing out, Albus." Dumbledore said nothing. Sirius glanced at the parchment again. "There's no school listed. Correct me if I'm wrong, Director Dewer, but was not both the participant's name and the school they represented to be written on the parchment?"
The five judges exchanged looks. Professor Moody stepped forward to scrutinize the parchment. Professor McGonagall placed her hand on Harry's shoulder; gripping him tightly.
"Does it matter?" Bagman asked.
"I don't know," Dewer said.
"Zee entry 'hould be invalidated," Madame Maxime said.
"The boy's obviously lying," Karkaroff said. "Good for us he made a mistake. He'll be removed from the tournament and appropriately punished, yes? It is quite obvious he needs it." Harry bristled but Professor McGonagall still had her hand on his shoulder and she squeezed in warning.
Moody's magical eye spun between the parchment, Harry, and the Goblet. He snatched the parchment from Director Dewer and shoved it at Harry. "Destroy it, Potter."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
Harry frowned. "How?"
"However you want. Rip it up, burn it, blast it to ashes. I should think the spell that killed those two scumbags last spring would work." Fleur and Madame Maxime looked at Moody sharply. Moody smirked at them. "He's not just a pretty face, ladies."
Harry snatched the parchment from Moody, crumpled it and tossed it in the fire. There was a loud crack and it popped back out. Unburnt, it slowly uncrumpled and lay flat on the floor. Harry stared at it.
"Damn you, Albus," Sirius muttered.
"Blast it, Son," Moody growled. "Give it everything you've got."
Harry glanced between Moody and the parchment. "Alastor," Dumbledore warned.
"It's the only way, Albus," Moody said. "He either destroys the parchment, thereby breaking the Goblet's power, or he competes. At least this way we know the answer without killing him."
Dumbledore sighed. "Very well."
"Go on, Potter," Moody said. Harry glanced at Sirius.
Looking for all the world like it was killing him to admit he was beaten, he shrugged. "Sorry, Pup." Harry's magic rippled through him.
"Get angry, Potter," Moody urged.
Harry's magic welled. Angry, he could do angry. Hermione's desperate pleading that he couldn't. Ginny's ashen face, her fear feeding into him as she trembled in his arms, Luna, the voice of reason, trying to give her best friend and her girlfriend the strength to face this latest horror. He could do far more than anger. His left hand came up and his mum's wand slid into it.
"DEFODIO," he growled softly,"MAXIMA!" A rushing, akin to every vein in his body, down to the very smallest capillaries suddenly draining of blood, washed through him. It all ran to his middle where it formed what felt a molten ball of raw power. All at once it surged up his chest into his arm and out his mum's wand. Like a spent wave having crashed on the cliffs Harry's magic spilled weakly back through his body. He sagged, weaving slightly as the spell slammed into the parchment.
It hit… and stopped.
In the blink of an eye the flames in the Goblet flared to ten times their previous size. Forcing everyone to shield their eyes. The Goblet began to vibrate and a deep moaning sound emanated from it. The sound grew and a crack bloomed red on the Goblet's base. For a moment the crack grew, but abruptly, with a great sucking sound, Harry's spell was pulled into the parchment. A burst of light exploded from the Goblet, blinding the observers for a moment. When it faded the Goblet had been changed. It no longer looked to have been roughly hewn from a block of wood but was instead smooth and black like ebony. The flame remained, blue and mocking, as it danced in its cauldron.
Silence held the room. Moody step/thunked to the parchment and picked it up. "Well," he growled, "I'd say he competes." Everyone shifted from watching Moody to watching Harry. Even Dumbledore seemed a bit shaken. Cedric, Viktor and Fleur, they were all staring at him with looks of utter disbelief. Harry locked eyes with Fleur.
"Go ahead, Princess," he mocked, "let's see you try." She swallowed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed." He turned.
"Mr Potter," Mr Dewer stopped him.
Harry turned back. "What?"
"We have to go over the instructions for the first task, Mr Potter."
Harry was very tempted to tell him, 'Task one, collect the egg from a dragon. Task two, open said egg under water to hear a clue in Mermish so you can rescue a hostage from the Black Loch. Task three, navigate a maze of magical traps and creatures to find the Goblet of Fire.' but he held his tongue. Sirius looked utterly grateful he did.
"Zis is preposterous," Madame Maxime exploded.
"Agreed," Karkaroff said. "I demand our schools be allowed a second champion also. If not, I shall take my students and leave."
"Oui!" Madame Maxime said.
"Empty threat," Moody rumbled.
"I azzure 'ou it is not."
"So you'll be leaving your champion behind to fend for herself then…?" The French witch paled. "She has to compete, same as Potter. And no one else can compete either. The Goblet won't let them."
"How very convenient," Karkaroff snapped. "Hogwarts gets two champions."
"Yes, two bites at zee apple." Madame Maxime turned on Dumbledore. "I will be protesting to all our ministries, Dumbly-dorr. Zee International Confederation of Wizards as well."
"As vill I," Karkaroff said.
"Of course you will," Dumbledore agreed. "Were I in your position I would do the same… It does not change the fact all four of them must compete."
"Completely unfair," Fleur sniffed.
"To what level do I have to compete?" Harry asked.
Everyone focused on him. "What was that, Potter?" Moody asked.
"You all don't seem to get I don't want to be in the tournament. Tell me to what minimum level I have to compete to satisfy the requirements of the Goblet and I will. I'll gladly throw the tournament and those three can have at it like they're supposed to."
Viktor stepped forward. "You vould do that?"
Harry turned to him. "Fame? I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Money? I'd wager I've got more than everyone in here, Sirius included. The challenge? Do you know what they're going to make you do? Well, in case you didn't bother to look into it before idiotically putting your name in the Goblet, let me inform you.
"Historically the first challenge is to face a magical beast; favorites have been the manticore, chimera, troll, sphinx, acromantula, dragon and once, a lethifold. They decided not to use that one again after it killed two of the champions.
"The second task is usually a hostage rescue. Shall I mention it was the death of one of the hostages the last time they held this, the third year in a row, that saw the tournament suspended? And guess what? If the person the Goblet picks as your hostage refuses to be used, it constitutes failure to compete on the champion's part. Which means it's your magic against the Goblet and we all saw just how that went for me. I don't know about you three, but I know exactly whom the Goblet is going to pick for my hostage. I'd sooner carve my heart out with a spoon than see her get hurt.
"The third challenge, it's usually some kind of obstacle course where you face magical problems and more beasts. Quite often at least one of the beasts I mentioned from the first task is involved there as well."
Harry shoved his hands in Viktor's face, showing off the smooth, scared skin on his palms. "That's what I got for fighting a dragon. Did that first year. Killed a mountain troll that year two. Managed to get out of that without getting hurt but two of my friends have permanent scars from it; thing killed my familiar too.
"Second year, I rescued my girlfriend from a dark wizard. He was going to use her in a ritual to steal her magic. Had to kill him. Before I could though I had to kill his pet basilisk. It was over fifty feet long. And let me tell you, being a Parselmouth, well the thing's eyes might not kill you but it still hurts like hell when you look in them." He raised his pant leg, exposing the scar left from being bitten. "But as much as looking in the eyes of a basilisk hurts, it's got nothing on getting bit." He dropped his pant leg. "Leaves you in a coma for weeks, takes almost a full year to get all your strength back. Tell you the truth, it still aches after a really hard run. But hey, don't worry about it. I rather doubt any of you have the venom of an adder coursing in your veins, protecting you from being poisoned in the first place, I'm pretty sure none of you would make it even three steps if a basilisk bit you.
"What I'd do third year? Only allowed myself to be kidnapped when some prick threatened to kill Astoria Greengrass. Oh, and I killed two of the three people responsible for killing Marcus Flint and his mother when they attacked the box we were in at the Harpies/Falcon match. They were the ones Professor Moody mentioned earlier.
"So yeah, if it keeps my hostage safe and me alive, I'm perfectly willing to do as little as possible. I mean after all of that, it's not like I've got anything to prove, is it? You three have at it." The silence that followed was deafening. Viktor, Fleur and Cedric were all staring at him with eyes as wide as a quaffle.
"Mr Potter, Champions," Dumbledore said, "I assure you, steps have been taken to ensure the safety of all competitors and their—"
"Then why am I a champion, Headmaster?" Harry cut him off. Dumbledore's mouth dropped, seemingly unable to believe Harry had interrupted him. "You've already lost control and it hasn't even started yet."
"All precautions will be taken," Dumbledore reiterated.
"You'll forgive my lack of faith," Harry retorted.
"I think you've made your point, Harry," Sirius said quietly. The crackling of the fire was the only sound to be heard.
Mr Dewer cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "I fear there is nothing describing to what level a champion must compete," he said. "I hazard it is up to the Goblet to decide if a champion's efforts satisfy the requirements."
"Wat dose zat mean?" Fleur whispered.
"It means," Harry said, "if you aren't dead or unconscious, you have to keep going." She stared at him. "Of course you can probably stop if your hostage is dead. I mean that would seem to indicate you'd failed to me so what's the point in carrying on then, yeah?"
She blanched and started shaking. A moment later she turned and unleashed a long string of French at Madame Maxime. She responded in kind
Harry caught exactly zero of it. He only knew the French witch was angry. Harry had no sympathy for her. Sure, he may have known the specific tasks they would face, but the history of the tournament was there for anyone who chose to research it. She'd made her bed and could lie in it for all he cared. Fleur suddenly turned on the other judges. "Can zee tasks be janged? Is it possible to not 'ave to take 'ostages?" Harry tipped his head. Maybe she wasn't the complete idiot he thought.
Mr Dewer shook his head. "The tasks are set."
"Wait a second?" Cedric demanded. "Are you telling us there will be a hostage rescue as one of the tasks?"
"I cannot answer that, Mr Diggory," Mr Dewer said.
"Why not?"
"Because that would constitute helping you, Mr Diggory; something I am expressly forbidden to do."
Cedric frowned. "But hostages would have to at least be of age, wouldn't they?" Mr Dewer said nothing. None of the judges did. "Oh come on," Cedric demanded, "Hypothetically speaking, if there were a hostage rescue, the hostages would have to at least be of age, correct?"
"Come off it, Cedric," Harry said, "they didn't bother ensuring underage competitors wouldn't be forced to compete, you think they thought about hostages?" The silence spoke volumes.
"Mon Dieu!" Fleur exploded.
That one, Harry knew. "So we're all trapped," he said. "The tasks are set. There's at least one underage participant, and if there does happen to be a hostage rescue it looks like at least half the people participating in a tournament that was supposed to be for adults will be underage. Congratulations responsible adults, I feel so safe."
"'ou will just let 'im insult us zis way?" Maxime demanded of Sirius. "'ou are 'is guardian, discipline 'im!"
Sirius snorted. "Noppa. In fact, well said, Harry."
"You did teach me everything you know. Can we get on with it? I'd like to go to bed."
"Yes, let's," Mr Bagman said. He clapped his hands awkwardly.
Mr Dewer cleared his throat. "The first task is designed to test your daring." He shifted guiltily. "As such we will not be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard—" Harry snorted. Mr Dewer shot him a look. Harry didn't back down.
"Harry," Professor McGonagall said, "you are not helping."
"I'm not trying to help, Professor."
"Harry," Sirius said sharply, "enough." Harry fell silent. "Get on with it, Director," Sirius ordered.
"The first task will take place on November the seventeenth in front of the other students and judges. "Champions are not permitted help from teachers, judges or any member of tournament staff. They are to face the first task armed only with their wands. Information pertaining to the second task will be provided when the first task is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, champions are encouraged to refrain from taking part in other extra curricular activities."
"Is that all?" Sirius asked when Dewer had finished.
"Yes."
"Good," Harry said. "I'm going to bed." He turned and was out the door before anyone could stop him. He forced himself to make it down two flights before sagging into a dark alcove. His legs still felt like jello from the spell he'd cast and it had been force of will alone that had kept him standing up there. He banged his head against the wall. "Shit. Shit. Shit." He wasn't sure how long he'd been there when he felt his mirror vibrating in his pocket. Sighing, he pulled it out and activated it. "What?"
"We're coming, stay where you are," Ginny said.
Harry sagged down to the floor. "K."
HPHPHP
The following morning neither Cedric nor Viktor joined the group for their morning workout. Harry would probably have done better to skip it as well. In retrospect it may not have been the wisest decision to test his magic against the Goblet like he had. It was his first experience where the brute power of his magic had failed him and he spent the night plagued with the thought Voldemort wouldn't have lost. So, he was exhausted from no sleep, exhausted from draining his magic and it manifested in barely being able to keep up with Neville on their run. Though it did seem to have finally gotten rid of his headache.
"That's enough for this morning," Ginny said once they'd all reached the greenhouse.
"I'm fine," Harry said.
"You're not fine. You're exhausted and the rest of today is going to be brutal. I say you're done."
"I agree," Hermione said.
"Us too," Daphne said. She tugged Luna to stand with her beside the other two girls.
Neville stepped next to them. "Me too, Mate," he said quietly. Harry eyed the united front.
"Don't test me, Harry," Ginny warned.
"Fine," Harry sighed. "You guys win." He sagged to the ground and sprawled on his back.
Neville grabbed his hand and hauled him back up. "Come on, let's get cleaned up."
An hour later Harry was sitting with his eyes closed and his head tipped back on a couch in the Slytherin common room. He had heard a number of students going past already but ignored them. It wasn't till he heard a specific door closing and a familiar pair of footsteps that he roused himself. Daphne and Ginny's scents hit him a second before they appeared in front of him. Ginny reached for his hand. "Ready?"
Harry sighed. "Not particularly. But." He took Ginny's hand and let her pull him up. It wasn't till they reached the Great Hall that they ran into anyone. The results, while not unexpected, were predictable. Within ten seconds of entering every eye in the hall was on him. Only a very few were friendly. Those at the Hufflepuff table were decidedly angry looking. They'd all heard him and his friends trying to convince Cedric not to enter. As Daphne told him last night, they now thought he'd done so only to give himself a better chance. Ginny pulled on his hand. "Come on." She led him to the Gryffindor table. Fred and George were giving them all evil looks.
"What do you want?" Fred demanded.
"Are you really going to do this again?" Ginny sighed.
"Do what again?" George asked. "Betray your brothers so your boyfriend gets a better chance?"
Ginny glowered at them. "Harry did not enter himself in the tournament."
"Yeah, right, Ginny," Fred said.
"We're not stupid," George said.
"You're doing a remarkably good impression of it," Ginny snapped.
"Just go away, Ginny," Fred said.
"Fine," Ginny said, "just remember, you can only beg forgiveness so many times." She whirled around, pulling Harry after her. Hermione, Luna and Neville quickly followed.
"Something to say, Greengrass?" George demanded.
"Only go to the library and read what happened the last time they held the tournament."
"Someone died, we know," Fred said. "It's why they stopped holding it."
"That someone was a hostage," Daphne retorted. "They almost always have hostages; someone precious to the champions. Someone like a girlfriend." Fred and George exchanged glances. "I hope," Daphne drew their attention again, "when you pull your heads out of your arses and decide to apologize this time, Ginevra is still alive to hear it." She spun on her heel and hurried after the others.
Neville was waiting for her at the door. "They decided to eat in the kitchens."
"Very well." She set off and he fell in at her side.
"Daphne?" he asked after a second.
"Yes?" "Do you think Harry and the others are still going to attend the ball?"
"As Harry has no choice but to attend, I would say yes." They walked in silence a bit further.
"You're angry with me, aren't you?" Neville said.
"It would be far quicker to name the people I am not angry with than those I am right now, Neville."
"It's because of that French girl, isn't it?"
"Her name is Fleur, Neville. I'm perfectly aware you know that."
Neville stopped and grabbed her arm. "Look, she's pretty, ok? But we know she's veela now and that hardly makes it fair."
"It doesn't seem to bother, Harry."
"No, but it is bothering Hermione." Daphne cocked her head.
"True. I shall attempt to keep in mind you are not an utter cad."
Neville rubbed the back of his neck. "So, seeing as I'm not an utter cad, do you think maybe you'd like to go to the ball with me then?"
She considered, letting him wait till he began to fidget before smiling. "It would be my honor to accompany you, Neville."
He grinned. "Brilliant." They stood, awkwardly watching each other.
"Shall we?"
"Oh, right. After you," he motioned. She didn't move. "Daphne?" he asked. She pointedly looked at his arm. "Oh, right." He offered her his arm.
"Better." She took it and set off.
HPHPHP
Cedric pulled the volume from the shelves. The tome was quite large. It would have to be though, wouldn't it; to cover every tournament? He walked to a desk tucked back in the corner, cast a charm to discourage visitors and sat down. He sat there for quite a while just staring at the title. He wasn't certain exactly why, perhaps because if he didn't look it wouldn't be confirmed just what an idiot he'd been. He glowered at the tome. It silently mocked him.
Triwizard Tragedy
The True Story of the Triwizard Tournament
Cedric flipped the cover. His fingers slid down the list of names. Of course, the last five people to check it out would have been, Angelina Johnson this fall, Ginny Weasley this fall, Harry Potter just before her, Harry again last year and Hermione Granger two years ago; three of the six people who'd tried talking him out of entering and one of the few seventh year students who, in the end, hadn't. He flipped the page.
For Anton; may there never be another.
Cedric frowned. Not exactly the most cheery of dedications. He flipped to the introduction.
I was not always this way, I confess. Like nearly every child of long running magical blood I grew up hearing the stories from, first my parents, and then my older brother; stories of Durmstrang Academy secreted high in the mountains, stories of a great tournament with pageantry, danger, daring magic and brave deeds. I grew up dreaming of the day I would see this. And that day did come for me. I made my first trip to Durmstrang the same year my beloved Anton made his last. Most wondrous of all, it would be Durmstrang's year to host the tournament. I remember the talk that year as my brother and I prepared to depart home of how this would be the largest, most grand tournament ever held and how my brother dreamed of entering and winning. Allow me to dissuade you now before you think this was a flight of fancy for Anton. The year prior, when Beauxbatons took their turn at hosting the tournament. My brother was one of fourteen students, the lone not in his final year of education, chosen by Durmstrang's headmaster to travel to France. He was not chosen as a champion that year; another from Durmstrang was selected ahead of him. I sometimes wonder though, what would be different if he had been chosen that year. Would I still be here? Or would I still, foolishly, be blind to the truth? But I digress. My brother and I went off to school and, as hoped, this time he was chosen as champion for Durmstrang. How very proud of him I was. And how very much more was I proud when the Goblet of Fire selected me as a hostage for him to rescue. Oh I was a thoughtless girl. Silly and more. I shall leave the details for later and now only say things went wrong. My life became truly threatened. But my brave Anton, my beloved brother, he completed the task. He saved his sister. But he lost his own life to do so. It took many years to recover from this. And during that time I came to see the Triwizard Tournament, not for what it was intended, but what it had become. Blood Sport. Nothing more, nothing less. I set out to learn the true history of this tragic disgrace to our heritage and to prevent what happened to my Anton from ever happening to anyone again. To my regret it took near fifty years and thirty-seven more children dead before I succeeded in bringing an end to the Tournament. This volume then, remains a tribute to them, and, as well, those one hundred forty-nine who were killed before my brother. One should not forget thirty-four spectators also lost their lives to a task gone wrong. It is my most fervent hope this volume allows us to never forget just why the tournament was brought to an end.
Cedric stared blankly at the page. Two hundred twenty-one people had been killed? He quickly flipped to the back of the book, searching.
598
The Last Tournament
The maths weren't difficult. There had been a total of one thousand seven hundred ninety-four champions. He flipped to the appendices. There had only been one thousand three hundred forty-four hostages; apparently they'd not had hostages every year. He did the maths in his head, three thousand one hundred thirty-eight champions and hostages divided by two hundred twenty-one champions, hostages and spectators dead was a bit more than… FOURTEEN! There was a death for every fourteen people directly involved in the tournament! That… That… That was insane! Everyone talked about how dangerous quidditch was. People died every year playing, usually only one or two though; one or two across thousands of matches. If quidditch were as dangerous as the tournament it would see a death every match! Cedric stared blankly at the volume. Why? Why hadn't he listened?
HPHPHP
Author's notes:
I can never seem to understand when you should write numbers out or instead use numeric figures. It seems I should have been writing them out, but it also seems like it'd be a whole lot easier to follow if it was numeric figures instead.