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Thank you for reading!
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Chapter 14: The Choosing of Champions
Finally, with a gentle motion of his hand, Professor Dumbledore had the lights dim to a soft, purple glow. The Goblet of Fire, resting upon its opulent case, was floated across the hall until it sat level with the dais which held the head table.
The blindingly blue flames in the Goblet flickered soundlessly.
"I estimate," said Dumbledore, with gravitas, "that the Goblet of Fire requires one more minute. Once each Champion has been chosen, please proceed up the hall, across the front table, thus, and into the right-side chamber to await your instructions."
One more minute, Dumbledore had said. The air was thick with expectation. Fred and George sat nearby, staring at the Goblet as though mesmerized by the bright-blue flames.
A sudden flicker, and the flames burned red, expanded and emitted a charred parchment in a shower of sparks! The headmaster caught this calmly and held it up to read.
"The Champion for Durmstrang is... Viktor Krum!"
Krum's name was cheered, loudly, as the whole hall enthusiastically applauded and yelled. Everyone wanted to see Krum compete. The flames had gone back to blue, but moments after the teenager in dark red robes had slouched by the head table and through to the connecting chamber, they began again to glow red.
A second parchment was expelled and read out.
"The Champion for Beaubatons is... Fleur Delacour!"
There was widespread applause for her too, though not so loudly as to mask sounds of outrage from the remaining Beaubatons students.
"Oh, they're all disappointed," Hermione said of the sobbing guests at the other end of the table. None were so stoic as the Durmstang group.
Fleur had flowed from her seat, approached the head table with a smile at Dumbledore, and proceeded into the chamber.
Finally, red blame burst forth and Dumbledore had caught a third parchment which would declare Hogwarts' own Champion.
"The Champion for Hogwarts is... Cedric Diggory!"
The uproar was deafening! Diggory received tremendous support, hands clapping him on the back, Hufflepuffs cheering his name, and nearly everyone applauding though he had already walkd past the head table, through the doors.
"Excellent, excellent," said Dumbledore. Once the celebrations quieted, he gestured to Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch, "Would our sponsors like to say a few words?"
"Indeed!" said Bagman, glancing at Crouch's indifferent expression. But then the middle-aged man in lime-green striped robes stopped short, eyes wide. The Goblet's flame had turned again to red.
Automatically, it seemed, the headmaster caught a parchment out of the air. He looked at it, and at Bagman, then to the hundreds of staring students.
"Harry Potter."
A wave of whispers swept through the hall. The whole Gryffindor table was staring at Harry. The other tables were staring too. Professor Dumbledore's expression was unreadable.
"Through the chamber doors please, Mr. Potter."
Harry felt as though he were paralyzed. Ron and Hermione's eyes seemed to examine him. He had to say something!
"But, I didn't enter..."
"Harry, go..." said Hermione quietly, gesturing to the front of the hall.
Harry blinked. He stepped out from behind the bench, and, somehow managing to move his leaden legs, walked towards Dumbledore. He now realized all of the teachers were gazing down at him with shock on their faces, but he was pointed to the chamber at the side and entered it, feeling hundreds of eyes on his back even through the closed door.
The chamber walls held ancient portraits of witches and wizards who looked on, curiously. There was a handsome hearth in the opposite stone wall, around which the three Champions had gathered. They were impressive, Harry thought, in the shadows cast by the roaring firelight.
Fleur shook back her silvery hair and asked, "What is it? Do zey want us back in ze hall?"
She thought he was bringing them a message. Harry just stood there, not knowing what to do or say. They were interrupted by footsteps, and Ludo Bagman popped in.
"Extarordinary," he said, "Absolutely amazing... Champions, the Goblet of Fire has just chosen, for the first time in known history, a fourth Champion!"
Harry could see doubt on their faces, as Krum, Fleur and Cedric looked round at him.
"This... leettle boy? Oh, vairy funny, Meester Bagman!" Fleur said with a smile.
"No, no, he is, he..."
But at that moment the chamber doors flew open with a flurry of movement as witches and wizards strode in.
"What is the meaning of this, Dumbly-dore?" Madame Maxine's eyes flashed. Harry had not realized before now that her eyes were like obsidian stone. They flashed in angry contrast to her olive complexion.
"Do you mean, this leettle boy is really a champion?" Fleur asked Maxime.
Harry felt a ripple of anger somewhere under his numb disbelief.
Karkaroff gave a nasty laugh.
"Yes, please, Dumbledore, explain to us when policy came to allow two Champions for the host school? We were of course under the impression your ageline would prevent younger students from entering."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Professor Snape silkily. "We mustn't mistakenly blame his protectors, when the boy has been determined to break rules since he first set foot in this school-"
"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape quieted, but still stared malevolently at Harry from behind his curtains of greasy black hair.
"Harry, did you enter you name into the Goblet?" Dumbledore asked, calmly.
"No," Harry answered.
"Did you ask an older student to enter your name for you?"
"No!" said Harry.
But other heads were shaking.
"Of course, 'e is lying!" said Maxime.
"He could not have crossed the age line, and he says he hasn't asked another student-" Professor McGonagall began.
"No! This is ridiculous. Regardless of how, surely he must be disqualified. Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, you are both impartial. This must be handled!"
Silence followed Karkaroff's tirade. Everyone looked to Mr. Crouch, whose eyes rose eerily as he stood in the dark shadows.
"We must observe the rules of the Goblet, and these rules state clearly that the names chosen by the Goblet of Fire are magically bound to compete in the Triwizard Tournament," he said curtly.
"Well! That's settled then," Bagman nervously chuckled, sweat on his forehead, "Barty knows the rules inside and out, and they seem straightforward."
"This is most unjust!" Madame Maxime protested.
"Indeed, I little expected an underhand attempt of the sort, after all of our negotiations," said Karkaroff coldly, "I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threats, Headmaster," a voice growled from the door.
Everyone turned to see Professor Moody, his eye spinning grotesquely, limping into the room.
"Your student has to compete. They all have to compete. Very convenient, I'd say, if someone wanted to put Potter forward. Extremely suspect!"
Karkaroff flinched, but his voice remained cold.
"What paranoia is this, Mad-Eye? Surely, you don't teach your students to suspect death threats around every corner?" said Karkaroff, contemptuosly.
"The students whose names are drawn must compete," Moody repeated, "Dumbledore just said so, and a powerful magical relic forgetting there are only three champions in the tournament is no mistake. Question is, who's entered the boy?"
"Zat is obvious- someone who wished Hogwarts to 'ave two chances at the prize," said Madame Maxime.
"I don't think so, this would have been a lot of work to set Potter up to enter a highly dangerous tournament, under all of our noses, too, as a matter of fact. It seems everyone here is complaining but Potter!"
"But why should 'e complain? 'E gets this chance, a chance the rest of us 'ave dreamed of, would die for!" Fleur stamped a foot in frustration.
"Maybe someone is hoping Potter will die for it."
"Moody, old friend, what a thing to say..." Bagman trailed off.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," Professor Dumbledore's voice rang around the stone room, "however, it would appear that the rules of the Goblet and the tournament require all four to compete; we must accept, therefore, that both Cedric and Harry are Hogwarts Champions."
Harry raised his eyes. Karkaroff looked livid, Snape furious and Maxime protested.
"But, Dumbly-dorr-"
"Dear Madame Maxime, if you have a suggestion, I'll be delighted to hear it."
At her silence, it was Bagman who jumped in.
"Excellent! Well, Champions," he rubbed his hands together cheerfully, "let us kick this off, shall we? Barty, will you start us off?"
"Yes. The instructions. The first task."
Barty Crouch looked ill, Harry thought, and skull-like as he explained in a bored tone that the task would be on November 24th, in front of a stadium of spectators, they were not to have help from anyone in the tasks, and would be armed only with their wands. They would be exempt from year-end exams.
"Yes! Now, the First Task is designed to test your daring," Bagman beamed at Fleur, Harry, Cedric and Krum.
"You won't be told what you will be facing; Courage in the face of the unknown is very important!"
"Thank you, Mr. Bagman, Mr. Crouch. Would anyone like a nightcap?" Dumbledore suggested.
Karkaroff and Maxime, however, were already moving to the door with their champions. Harry wished he could leave too. But he was still under the intense scrutiny of three of his professors.
"Come on, then, Barty, I'm staying! I mean to say you look awful, a good night's rest would do you wonders, I'd say."
"No, Ludo, I'll be needed at the ministry. Good night, Headmaster," Crouch nodded curtly.
Off you go too, then, Cedric, Harry," Dumbledore said, "and enjoy celebrating with your houses."
Harry took off through the door.
"So, we're pitted against each other again," Cedric smiled.
"How did you get your name chosen, anyway?"
"Didn't. I didn't enter myself," Harry said.
"Alright, then," said Cedric, skeptically, "Good night!"
He obviously didn't believe Harry. Would anyone besides Ron and Hermione believe Harry hadn't wanted to be Champion? He approached the portrait hole to Gryffindor tower with trepidation.
A wizened, old witch from a portrait in the chamber, below, had appeared at The Fat Lady's side.
"So! Who's been named the school champion then?" said The Fat Lady.
"Balderdash," said Harry.
"It most certainly is not!" cried the ancient, gray witch indignantly.
"No, no, Vi, that's the password," The Fat Lady soothed her friend, and her portrait swung open.
A roar hit him in full as the entire population of Gryffindor tower descended on Harry, competing to hand him butterbeer, food, and to ask how he'd fooled the Goblet.
"How did you enter?" they kept asking him.
"I didn't!" He denied vehemently, but no one seemed to hear him. The students, who just wanted to celebrate a Gryffindor champion, had all but forgotten Diggory and, worst of all, Harry's two best friends were nowhere near.
Fred and George pushed Harry into a central couch, and Lee draped a Gryffindor banner over it like a throne. Someone put something like a crown on his head, and still they pressed in on him, talking loudly at him, pushing food into his hands.
Giving up on answering anyone, Harry noticed Neville was a few feet away, watching him with an oddly worried expression on his round face. Glancing around first, Harry turned toward Neville.
"Neville, get me out of here," he mouthed.
Neville's eyes widened, and he ducked down, immediately lost amongst a cluster of chattering fifth years. Harry didn't know where to look. He could hear spirited students talking to him and about him, as though through an echoey tunnel.
Suddenly, a chain of explosions startled the common room! Harry barely had time to search out the source before Neville had reappeared around the end of the couch and grabbed him by the arm.
Harry stood up, gratefully ducking behind Neville as they crept up the stairs.
"I knicked Fred and George's wet-start fireworks. You can go ahead, I'll watch the door a minute," Neville said with concern, when they had reached the fourth years' door. "You're alright?"
"Yeah, I just want some quiet."
Neville nodded.
Inside the dormitory, Harry crossed to his four-poster, wrenched the curtains open and sat, dazed, on his bed. It was a long moment before he registered another presence and learned where Ron had been. Ron was sitting on his own bed, staring over at Harry.
"So?"
"So," said Harry.
He was trying to sort the thoughts spinning in his head. Dumbledore was letting him stay entered. Snape had accused him of entering his own name. Moody had believed someone wanted to kill him. Maxime and Karkaroff had been livid. Fleur's voice, "Leettle boy", and Cedric's polite disbelief were still vaguely irritating.
"The portrait lady, Violet, said Dumbledore is letting you be Champion..."
"Yeah."
"So, then, how did you enter?" Ron asked curiously.
"I didn't enter, I was telling the truth. I couldn't have passed an age line Dumbledore set down."
"Right, so someone else entered you. You can at least tell me the truth," he said, "and I don't know why you'd bother to lie, anyway. Everyone knows you've entered, and Violet told The Fat Lady you're not in trouble. A thousand galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to write tests this year, either..."
"I didn't enter!" Harry said, trying to sound alright, but he felt wearied from saying it over and over.
"I always told you I wasn't interested..."
"Fine. Only, you never did say you weren't going to enter, and you were the one who mentioned entering at night in secret. And you've got the invisibility cloak," Ron added, suspiciously.
"Don't believe me then, if you think you're so smart," Harry said angrily.
He yanked his curtains closed with malice. He felt choked. He'd been sure that at least Ron would believe him. It seemed the whole school was ready to believe Harry was an attention-seeking cheat.
-Hermione:-
Hermione watched the Great Hall empty slowly, and overheard partial conversations about Harry being a cheat and stealing Cedric's thunder. She surreptitiously made her way to the chamber door, stopping just outside to listen.
The professors had hurried in moments earlier, after dismissing the students to bed. She overheard Dumbledore speaking.
"Harry, did you enter you name into the Goblet?" Dumbledore asked, calmly.
"No," Harry answered.
"Did you ask an older student to enter your name for you?"
"No!" said Harry.
There were noises of disagreement.
"Of course, 'e is lying!" said Maxime.
"He could not have crossed the age line, and he says he hasn't asked another student-"
Hermione gasped in disbelief. Though shocked that older students could enter younger ones, in a binding and legal competition, she continued to listen intently.
"...rules state clearly that the names chosen by the Goblet of Fire are magically bound to compete in the Triwizard Tournament," Mr. Crouch was saying.
Just then she heard a scrape and shuffle. She jumped, and saw Professor Moody approaching from her side of the door. He raised his one eyebrow at her, said nothing, and entered the chamber.
"Empty threats, Headmaster," she heard Professor Moody growl, "Your student has to compete. They all have to compete. Very convenient, I'd say, if someone wanted to put Potter forward. Extremely suspect!"
She heard a Karkaroff object, then Professor Moody's low growl again.
"The students whose names are drawn have to compete. Dumbledore just said so..."
Did Professor Dumbledore say that? Hermione thought it had been Mr. Crouch's voice, defending the rules.
"...and a powerful magical relic forgetting there are only three champions in the tournament is no mistake. Question is, who's entered the boy?"
Hermione was flabbergasted. She couldn't tell whether the others had been convinced that something dangerous was afoot, but she heard Professor Dumbledore agreeing with Professor Moody- he was keeping Harry in the tournament! Could that be lawful, he a minor, and without a parent's consent? Could they not somehow dispute the magical contract?
Hermione turned on her heel and swept across the hall. She'd go to the library and find out just which kind of magical law was keeping Harry in the tournament. After all, given his connection to You-Know-Who and his age, he could be in far more danger than any other of the champions.