Chapter 35
It was the opening feast for their fourth year. For once, Alex was sitting at the Slytherin table. The other Slytherins ignored him. They had gotten used to his not sitting at the table during meal times over the years, but those in his year still glared at him every once in a while. Alex paid them no mind; they were all insignificant to him and not worth the time it would take to learn and remember their names.
Dumbledore stood up and the hall quieted down.
"I have a few announcements to make," he said. "First, we shall not be holding the House Cup this year."
There were yells of protests at this. From the Gryffindor table, Oliver Wood looked distraught. Dumbledore held up his hand and the hall quieted down again, reluctantly.
"Instead of the House Cup, we will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament," he said.
There were murmurs of confusion among the students.
"Three schools participate in the tournament and three champions are chosen to represent each school. Whoever wins the tournament wins a trophy, eternal glory, and a prize of 1000 Galleons. The tournament consists of three tasks, each more difficult than the last." Dumbledore paused to breathe. "The two other schools who will be participating in the tournament are Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute," he said. "They will be arriving in two days time and they will be remaining here at Hogwarts throughout the year. That's all for now; please enjoy the feast."
Two days later, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived in a carriage pulled by pegasi and a large ship that burst from the Black Lake, respectively. Later that night, the two schools performed their welcoming performances before sitting randomly at the four tables. Food was delivered to the tables and students from all three schools starting eating, the tension breaking after a while. After they'd stuffed themselves with desserts, some Hogwarts students had never seen before, Dumbledore stood up and got their attention.
"Now, I'm sure you are all wondering how the champions for the three schools will be chosen," Dumbledore said.
He gestured to a tall golden structure beside him. The gold-colored wall melted away, revealing a tall goblet with blue fire burning within it.
"The Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore said. "Those of age who wish to participate in the tournament may enter a slip of paper with their name on it into the goblet. On the day of the choosing of champions, it will spit the champion's name out."
Dumbledore looked at them all, eyes serious now.
"I will tell you all this now. Only students 17 and older may enter their names," he said. "You may not ask an older student to put your name into the goblet. For safety precautions, an age line has been placed around the goblet to ensure only of-age candidates are able to place their names into the goblet. As for those who are chosen for the tournament, you may not back out of the tasks at any time. Once you have been chosen, you must compete in the entire tournament or there will be dire consequences. Think carefully before placing your name into the goblet."
Dumbledore sat back down. A few moments later, a student from Beauxbatons stepped through the age line and placed her name into the goblet. After her, a student from Durmstrang did the same.
"That's Viktor Krum," Ron hissed excitedly. "He's a famous Quidditch player! I can't believe he's actually here in front of me!"
"Why are you telling us this?" Alex asked in a bored tone.
The twins were sitting next to the trio as they watched Cedric Diggory put his name into the goblet.
"You guys need to get into Quidditch," Ron grumbled. He perked up a second later. "I wish I could enter the tournament. If I won, I would have eternal glory! And 1000 Galleons!"
"You can't enter the tournament. You're only fourteen," Hermione reminded him.
"I said I wish I could enter; I didn't say I was going to try to," Ron retorted.
Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open and a man with a peg leg and strange eye came in, drinking from a flask. As he did so, he glanced around in a paranoid manner as he walked down the aisle. Dumbledore welcomed him with a smile and twinkling eyes.
"Ah Alastor Moody, thank you for coming," Dumbledore said.
"I had nothing else to do," Moody replied, placing the flask into his jacket.
"That's Mad-Eye Moody," Ron hissed. "He's a former Auror and now he's part of the Order."
"What's he doing here?" Eric whispered.
"Probably because of the tournament," Hermione whispered.
"I've seen him a couple times, but he still scares me," Ron muttered.
Alex rolled his eyes and turned to his twin. Harry was staring at Moody with a strange glint in his eyes. Alex leaned in towards the younger twin.
"What's wrong?" Alex whispered.
Harry looked at him. "Something's not right about that guy," he whispered back. "He smells weird."
"You can smell something from all the way here?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow in slight disbelief.
"With practice and a couple of experiments on enhancing my senses, of course," Harry said.
He turned back to continue studying Moody.
"What does he smell like?" Alex asked.
"A potion," Harry said. "It isn't one I brew too often, but it is familiar enough. There are too many scents in the hall for me to confirm it though. I'll need to get closer to investigate."
Alex sighed softly.
"Don't get caught," he said.
"I would never, Alex," Harry said, looking offended. "This is me we're talking about."
Alex grunted in response. Harry tilted his head.
"You aren't going to try to stop me?"
"There's no point," Alex said, taking a sip of his tea. "You would do it anyways."
Harry chuckled.
"You know me so well, Alex."
That night, a dark figure went into the Great Hall. The hall was only lit up by the blue fire of the goblet. Just before the figure could step past the age line, there were soft footsteps behind them.
"So, you aren't Moody after all," Harry said, smirking.
The figure turned around. Harry's smirk grew.
"Barty Crouch Jr," he confidently intoned.
Barty narrowed his eyes at him and whipped his wand out, pointing it at Harry.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Calm down, junior," Harry said, holding up his hands. "You wouldn't attack a defenseless kid, would you?"
Barty tensed up and Harry knew he was about to fling a spell at him. Harry lashed his hand out and tore Barty's wand out of his hand. Barty's eyes widened in shock. Harry caught the wand effortlessly.
"Let's have a civilized talk," Harry said, rolling the piece of wood between his fingers. "You wouldn't want to draw attention to yourself, right?"
Barty reluctantly relaxed, but his eyes watched Harry constantly.
"So, I know you are a Death Eater, therefore the only reason why you would be here is if the Dark Lord sent you here," Harry said. "The real Moody must have been captured and he's being held somewhere."
Harry held up something in his hand. Barty growled when he recognized the item as his flask. Harry opened the top and sniffed.
"Polyjuice," he said. "It was so familiar in the Great Hall during the feast, but I couldn't quite place it with all the different smells. That means you have Moody somewhere where you can keep getting his hairs for the Polyjuice potion."
"How do you know that?" Barty asked.
"I've brewed potions all my life," Harry said. "Of course I would be able to tell which potion is which. Now then, tell me why you are here."
Barty tensed up again.
"Why should I?" he demanded.
"I could easily out you to Dumbledore here and now. All I have to do is run and get the nearest professor. It only takes a little bit of acting," Harry said, casually checking his nails.
"Are you blackmailing me, boy?" Barty growled, taking a step forward.
Harry held up Barty's wand in a hand.
"Careful there, Barty, you wouldn't want me to break your wand, right?" he asked slyly.
Barty froze in his tracks.
"Tell me why you're here," Harry said. "I can easily deduce it, but this is easier."
"Who are you?" Barty demanded. "You are no ordinary kid."
"Let's just say I have an affiliation with the Dark Lord and leave it at that," Harry said.
"You could be lying," Barty said.
"Tick tock," Harry said. "The longer we stay here, the more likely you will be caught."
"You'll be caught too," Barty said smugly.
"No, I'll be labeled a victim of a Death Eater who managed to sneak into the castle," Harry said. "You are considered a madman and so nobody would believe anything you say, Barty Crouch Jr."
Harry chuckled darkly. Barty glared at him murderously, his fists clenched so hard they were bleeding.
"Fine, I'll tell you," Barty gritted out. "The Dark Lord has sent me to enter Potter's name into the tournament."
"Oh? How interesting. I thought that might be the case," Harry said.
"You knew and you still had me tell you?!" Barty snarled in rage.
Harry bent Barty's wand a little as a warning. That stopped any sort of rampage Barty was on the verge of.
"I had a hunch; that's all. You confirmed it," Harry said in a light voice. "There's no reason to get upset. So, the Dark Lord wants to confront Eric Potter...or he wants to get rid of him, seeing how dangerous this tournament will be. If Potter gets chosen by the goblet, he'll have no choice but to participate in the tournament."
Harry sighed in amusement. He tossed Barty's wand back. Barty caught it and pointed it at him immediately, opening his mouth to say a spell.
"Don't bother; I'll just block it," Harry said, walking to the door. "Focus on your mission, Barty. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about you."
Harry paused and looked over his shoulder. Barty hadn't moved a muscle, his eyes locked on Harry.
"If you need any more Polyjuice potion, I'd be happy to make it for you," Harry smirked slyly. "Bye bye~"