Chapter 54: Reluctant Champions
Calling this unexpected turn of events 'stressful' would be a gross understatement.
Sure, he had dropped his name into the goblet. It was what would have been expected of him, and it was an easy enough task—there was no reason not to do so, and the consequences should his parents find any reason to look more closely at his behavior…
Well.
It wouldn't be worth it.
He hadn't even considered the slim chance he'd actually be chosen.
So when he heard his name read out to the hall, Cassius froze.
He did not react.
Sans murmured something, but he may as well have been in screeching mermish for all Cassius understood of it. Stress was crawling up the back of his throat, ice cold and sharp edged, but he refused to react.
A hand set on his shoulder pulled him back into action.
"you got this, cass," Sans said, voice quiet.
Standing, he replied, "Of course."
To him, the words sounded hollow: ringing as a distant lie. But he pushed on, one foot after the other, until he had made his way out of the Great Hall. He ignored the jeers of the crowd, which were not nearly as bad as the sparse polite clapping.
The back room the champions had been directed to was large enough for a fireplace, a chandelier of flickering candles, and not much else. There were portraits up on the walls, and the wizards and witches painted therein were watching them with quiet interest.
Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, was standing primly to one side of the fireplace, while Viktor Krum stood on the other. Krum glanced up when he arrived, giving him a slight nod and shifting over as if to make room.
Cassius was thankful, though he'd never admit as much.
"Hello again, Krum," he greeted.
"Call me Viktor, please." Krum—or rather, Viktor—smiled slightly. "After all, vee are both champions now."
"Just as I had hoped," Cassius deadpanned.
That small smile gained a commiserating touch. "Indeed."
They fell into an almost companionable silence.
One which was broken just a moment later when the door opened—briefly letting them hear the hum of conversations beyond—and they were joined by a fourth student. Harry Potter shifted uneasily in the entryway, twitching nervously when the door shut behind him with an almost foreboding thud.
"What is it?" Delacour pushed back her silvery hair, head tilted in question. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"
"Uhm, no…? Actually…"
Cassius may not have known Potter very well, but he could read the anxious resignation in that expression plain as day. Shock, too, in a way, but not necessarily surprise: a strange combination he personally associated with feelings of 'I saw this coming purely on the basis that reality hates me'.
But why would he…?
No.
No way.
But this is Potter, and if there is any trend to be found in the past few years, it's that trouble always seems to follow in his wake. The question was at the tip of his tongue, but Cassius didn't get the chance to ask before the door swung open once more.
As it turns out, he got an answer anyway.
"Extraordinary!" The newest arrival, Ludo Bagman, gripped Potter's arm so tightly that the boy winced. "Absolutely extraordinary! May I introduce—incredible though it may seem—the fourth Triwizard champion?"
Well, damn.
Viktor straightened, his already stern expression darkened further by either disbelief or concern. Given the way he glanced over Potter, as if sizing him up, it was probably some combination of both.
Personally, Cassius couldn't decide what reaction would be appropriate. He thought maybe he should be acting annoyed or affronted by this news: after all, having a second champion from Hogwarts did somewhat lessen the importance of the role. Not that he had even wanted it in the first place.
Mainly he just felt sort of… neutral about the whole thing.
"Oh." Shifting in place, Delacour smiled thinly. "Zat is a vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."
"No, no, not a joke at all!" the man replied, looking somewhat bewildered but no less enthusiastic. "Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
"Then evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said, frowning.
Viktor nodded in agreement.
Rather than thinking through the implications of a fourth champion being chosen, Mr. Bagman instead just waved it off. "Oh, I know this is all quite unexpected," he said. "But procedure is quite clear, and the rule barring those under the age of sixteen was only just put in place for this tournament. It doesn't—"
"Mr. Bagman, you seem awfully pleased about this," Cassius remarked abruptly, eyes narrowed, "despite the obvious trickery that must have happened to make such a thing possible."
"Trickery?" he repeated, dumbly. "What do you—"
He was interrupted by the door opening, revealing a rather large group of people and the sounds of a burgeoning crowd-wide argument. All of the headmasters and Mr. Crouch, as well as Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape: the room was barely large enough to hold all of them.
Still, the Beauxbatons champion somehow found enough space to dramatically sweep over to her headmistress. Madame Maxime was an imposing figure, especially when standing at her full height—she took up most of the room just by breathing.
"You cannot allow zis to proceed!"
The other headmaster, Professor Karkaroff, was in clear agreement. "He certainly cannot, it would be blatant favoritism!" His eyes were colder than his insincere smile. "Surely you don't intend to allow your school two champions, Dumbledore?"
"But Harry's name came out of the goblet!" sputtered Mr. Bagman defensively. "At this point, we can't very well have the boy not compete—"
The remark was stopped short by a loud clang from the Great Hall: somewhat muted by the stone wall, but still strikingly loud. In fact, for just a moment, it cut off the conversation entirely.
"What was…?"
"Harry," said Dumbledore, quickly taking advantage of the brief lull before any further bickering could continue. "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"
"No." With a slight scowl, the boy added, "I already told you that."
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"
Cassius blinked, surprised and a little alarmed. That was a serious oversight, if it would actually work. Or possibly, the suspicious part of him whispered, it was an intentional loophole.
Either way—left accidentally or on purpose—that's worrying.
"No," Potter repeated, vehemently.
Plainly, that defense was not enough for the Beauxbatons headmistress. "But of course 'e must be lying!"
"I'm not!"
His protest was ignored.
"It's not surprising that he would lie," sneered Professor Snape, disdain written all over his face and all but dripping from his tone. "The boy has been nothing but trouble since the first day he stepped into this castle."
Professor McGonagall stepped up then, setting a hand on her student's shoulder. "Harry couldn't have gotten past the Age Line. If somebody else put his name in, requested to or not, we can hardly blame him for his name being chosen!"
The whole slant of this argument really didn't make much sense to Cassius. After all, nobody had even brought up the strangest part of this entire situation: that a fourth name was chosen at all.
"Regardless," Madame Maxime said, peering down at them imperiously, "'Ogwarts simply cannot 'ave two champions."
"Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman," Professor Karkaroff said, turning to them with his sickeningly sycophantic smile. "You are our objective judges, of course. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
"We must follow the rules," Mr. Crouch replied, after taking a very long moment to think things through, "and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
With a grin, Mr. Bagman nodded. "There you have it, then."
"As if nothing about this is suspicious," Cassius sarcastically muttered. "Are they seriously letting this happen?"
Though he had kept the gripe relatively quiet—wanting to avoid the attention of the arguing adults—Professor Snape still gave him a sharp look. And it would seem that Potter had heard the remark, too, based on his quick glare.
Cassius just rolled his eyes.
If the Gryffindor wanted to be snippy with him just for acknowledging that this whole situation was suspicious, he wouldn't try to dissuade him. No doubt Potter was under the assumption that the other champions would all be against him—especially the Slytherin champion.
Leaning close enough to be heard at a whisper, Viktor asked, "Vhat do you mean?"
"Pardon?" he replied, a bit distracted.
"Are they… not serious?"
"They are, that's the whole problem. I don't care how Potter's name ended up in the goblet," Cassius replied, keeping his voice down. "Plainly security was lacking on that front, if anyone could submit any name. I want to know why a fourth champion was chosen at all."
Viktor gave him a sidelong glance, still keeping an eye on the growing argument between the headmasters. "That is a good point."
"If something has already gone wrong," muttered Cassius, mostly to himself, "then there's sure to be other problems later on."
"Vhat should vee do, then?"
Leaning back against the wall, Cassius sighed. "I'm not sure. There's not much we can do individually."
"Then… perhaps vee should be working together."
He blinked, surprised at the offer. "I… you would…" Taking a breath, he swallowed the doubts he had been about to voice. "That would certainly help. Safety in numbers, I suppose."
Viktor agreed, nodding. "It vill be safer for the four of us, certainly."
"Yes… wait, four?"
It took Cassius an embarrassingly long moment to parse out that implication, and in that time Viktor had already approached the Beauxbatons champion.
"Vee think it vood be best to vork together," Viktor began, keeping his voice low, "given that already—"
She cut him off with a prissy huff. "Do what you will." Eyeing them both with suspicion, Delacour added, "I 'ave no need of your help, if it would even be help."
And with that, she stepped away from them.
(As best she could, anyway. It was a very small room.)
Arms crossed in that standoffish way his house had long since perfected, Cassius remarked, "Is she really going to let us conspire together? That seems rather counter productive, assuming she truly aims to win."
"Pride," Viktor offered. "I have known team players before who vere… not actually good at playing as a team. They vant to do it all on their own."
Having spent plenty of time over the field himself, Cassius understood the difficulties of self-important teammates. Competition had been especially 'fierce' these past few years, though he doubted that Delacour would try anything as underhanded as he had heard suggested at the Slytherin team practices.
The fight for the Inter-House Quidditch Cup tended to wear down any joy he may have had for the sport.
Even so: "It's not as though we were asking her to sacrifice her chance at victory," he grumbled.
At least it didn't seem like she was going to tell the professors. Cassius suspected that she would not have hesitated to, had they not extended her an invitation. Potter was, unfortunately, still stuck squarely in the midst of the bickering adults: if they were to give him the same offer, they would need to find an opening some other time.
On the topic of the still-ongoing argument, Professor Karkaroff had just started ranting about how dishonorable it would be to allow Potter to compete, and how he had expected all along that Dumbledore would try to pull something so dishonest. He even threatened to pull his school from the tournament entirely. Viktor bristled, both alarmed and annoyed.
"You can't go anywhere, Karkaroff," growled an unfortunately familiar voice from the doorway. "Not with your champion already caught by the contract."
Professor Moody darkened the threshold, his uneven posture cutting a strangely foreboding silhouette. His mismatched gaze scowled across the whole group, from the headmasters and professors, to Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch, and finally to the four students—settling on the two Hogwarts champions for perhaps a breath longer than the rest.
He limped over to the fireplace, and continued, "It's binding, and won't come loose 'til the end of the tournament." When he grinned, it looked darkly amused. "Pretty convenient, eh?"
"Moody, what are you trying to imply?" Professor Karkaroff was aiming for disdainful, or at least disinterested, but he ended up landing a tad short.
"Can't you tell?" He looked over everyone again, but his eerie blue eye remained glued on the Durmstrang headmaster. "Somebody put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
"Somebody 'oo wanted to give 'Ogwarts an upper hand, no doubt!" Madame Maxime interjected.
Cassius felt vaguely insulted by that.
"That certainly seems to be the case!" Karkaroff agreed. "Rest assured, I will be lodging complaints with the Ministry and the International Confederation of Wizards about this clear favoritism—"
"Favoritism?" Moody barked a rough laugh. "Are you blind? This is a blatant attempt on the boy's life!"
"An attempt on his—?!" Mr. Bagman spluttered, aghast.
As for Potter… he seemed remarkably unsurprised. Interesting.
"That is just your ridiculous paranoia speaking," said Professor Karkaroff, adopting an air of incredulity. "You're jumping at shadows, Moody."
"We can discuss this further at another time." Dumbledore still had his usual smile, but there was something in his tone that brooked no argument. "Regardless of how this situation has come about—or why—it seems to me that we have no choice but to accept it."
"But—"
"For now," he pressed on, folding his hands together calmly, "both Cassius and Harry have been selected to compete. Therefore, they must do so."
"Dumbly-dorr!"
"My dear Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
The uncomfortably tense silence that followed was answer enough.
"Ah, well, I suppose we must finish this," Mr. Bagman piped up, and though he looked somewhat nervous, he still sounded excited. "We must give our champions their instructions, after all."
"Yes…" murmured Mr. Crouch. "The instructions… first task…"
He seemed strangely detached, as if not entirely awake.
"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament," he began, "and will face the first task with… only their wands…"
In fact, after he had stepped into the firelight, it was clear that Crouch looked ill: there was a distinctly unhealthy pallor to his skin, and dark bruises under his eyes.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," Mr. Bagman stepped in, grin firmly in place despite the somewhat concerned glance he sent the other man. "As such, we can't tell you the particulars. Courage in the face of the unknown is an admirable trait in a wizard!"
"The first task is on the twenty-fourth of November," continued Mr. Crouch, though he still didn't seem quite all there. "It will take place in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions will only receive information regarding the second task after successfully completing the first."
There was a distinctly empty pause.
Watching him drift again, Cassius frowned. The man had seemed a little off earlier, but this behavior was definitely strange.
Not that he could do anything about it.
"Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament," Mr. Crouch said, finally, "the champions are exempt from end-of-year tests."
Well, at least that's good news.
There wasn't much else to say at that point.
Setting one huge hand on Delacour's shoulder, Madame Maxime led her out of the room without another word to the rest of them. She and her student were having a rapid exchange in French, and Cassius was suddenly uneasily questioning his earlier assumption: he didn't think she would tell the professors about the offer she had rejected, but he wasn't sure.
Either way, it's too late to do anything about it now.
Then Karkaroff beckoned to his student, gesture sharp with annoyance, plainly expecting him to follow him out.
"Professor," Viktor said, rather than silently join his headmaster, "May I haff a moment before vee go?"
The headmaster didn't look pleased at that, expression turning thunderous, and Viktor definitely didn't shift such that Cassius was positioned just a step shy from actively between them.
Still, the man did nod. "See that you return posthaste," Karkaroff said, stiffly. "There's no point wasting time, after all."
The implicit insult was not missed.
"Yes, sir."
And so it was that the last three champions stepped out of the small room together, in an uncomfortable silence. The Great Hall was completely empty now, and the carved pumpkins were the only spectators to their quiet walk.
Well.
If he was going to ask for cooperation, there would be no better time than now.
"Potter?"
The youngest champion started when he heard his name called. "Uh… yeah?"
"This tournament is already shaping up to be more dangerous than we had first expected." At his somewhat skeptical nod, Cassius continued, "As such, would you be willing to work with us?"
Viktor nodded, supporting the request.
"Would I…?" he half-echoed, then his eyes darted toward the Slytherin and it was clear what he was going to say next. "I don't know."
That's… not what Cassius had been anticipating. He had thought it would be a definite 'no', not something so noncommittal: especially given the boy was a Gryffindor.
"I mean, I'd appreciate the help, but…" Potter continued, before deciding to just cut to the chase. "You're planning something."
"Of course I'm planning something, I'm a Slytherin." He quirked a brow, amused almost in spite of himself, and added, "My plan is to not die when more inevitably goes wrong in this tournament."
Viktor blinked, then looked at him in confusion.
Not sure what else to say, Cassius asked, "What?"
"You are Slytherin?"
"Yes?" That was not a question he had expected. "Is that a problem?"
"No, but," he frowned, and somewhat hesitantly finished, "you are… wearing blue?"
Cassius glanced down at his school robes, as if he needed to remind himself that, indeed, his tie and badge had been the wrong color for the past two days. As were Potter's, he realized somewhat belatedly: the Gryffindor was in yellow, rather than the usual red.
"Yes, well. For the record, the change in color was certainly not my idea." Though he would never consider himself the prankster type, Cassius couldn't help but smile just a little. "Though, I must admit, it has been entertaining."
Rather abruptly, Potter's still-suspicious expression shifted to surprise. "Wait a second…" He squinted at him, as if not sure he had seen correctly. "Did you help the Weasley twins set this up?" A pause, and then, even more incredulously, "Wait, then— Do you know Sans?"
"How— Er…" Cassius quickly caught himself, and tried for a graceless recovery. "Why would I know him?"
Potter raised a brow. "Okay, you definitely know him."
He scowled back.
Looking back and forth between the two of them, plainly amused, Viktor stated, "Yes, vee know Sans. He has sat vith us at meals."
"…That's where he's been sitting?"
Defensively, Cassius retorted, "Is there some problem with that?"
"Yes." The conviction in his voice quickly fell to puzzled, and Potter frowned slightly. "Or, well, no? I guess."
Their small group settled into a somewhat uncomfortable silence, as neither of them knew how to advance the conversation from there.
After a moment, Cassius tried, "So, do we have an agreement? We will all work together to try and make it out in one piece?"
Potter froze, and for a moment his expression looked absolutely flummoxed: it would seem he was just now processing the realization that a Slytherin, of all people, was offering genuine assistance. No doubt that was more shocking than being selected as a fourth champion.
"Alright," he said at last, though not without some hesitation. They had just reached the entrance, and Potter pushed open the door. "If Sans is willing to put up with you, I guess you can't be that bad."
"Same for you," Cassius quipped back, holding out a hand.
Though he did still hesitate—which was just good sense, really—Potter returned the handshake firmly.
With that, it was time for the three of them split off their separate ways: Viktor leaving through the castle doors, and Potter heading for Gryffindor tower. But Cassius paused, sending one last look to the extinguished goblet at the far end of the Great Hall.
He would need to be incredibly careful about this, as he had been careful about many things since being freed of the Imperius Curse.
But… he could manage that.
Perhaps this wouldn't be too bad.
And at least now he had something of a plan, going forward.
Author's Note:
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.
Teamwork makes the dream work, Cassius.
Happy Halloween, in advance!
(Or belated, based on the time in-chapter.)
Odd question here, but, given the restrictions of the pandemic, does anyone have any interesting trick-or-treat ideas? The current scheme at my place is to use one of those dinosaur extendo-grabber toys to dispense candy!
When I read through this fourteen days ago, planning to post, I realized it was very short and basically just the original chapter from the book. So I spent the past two weeks re-vamping it. It still has a lot of overlap with the book (and a lot of borrowed dialog), but overall it is much improved.
Writing scenes with direct parallels from the book can be pretty tricky. I feel like I read how it went, then had so much trouble coming up with my own writing!
Updates are typically on the first of the month.
(It's like my two stories temporarily swapped posting days!)
Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites!
Edit:
So, as you've no doubt already noticed, I unfortunately didn't get the next chapter ready for the 1st of November. Based on what I did manage to write, though, we should be fine for December. Sorry for all the delays, I really wish reality could chill for a month or two. Oh well.
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And remember that you don't need to tell anyone who you actually vote for: that's your business, and your business alone!
Stay safe out there! See ya on the flipside, everyone!
