Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Press and Warner Brothers, not me.
A/N: Fanfiction recommendation of the day: "Reunion" by Rorschach's Blot. Really, all of his stuff is brilliant, check out everything. But this little gem is my favourite, it really distils the wit and punch that is RB and bundles them up in a neat little time travel tale.
Chapter 7 – The Grand International Thaumaturgical Tournament
21 November 1997
"Ugh. Firewhiskey, Tom. Quickly."
"Sure thing Rita, what's your chaser?"
"More Firewhiskey."
"You're the boss," Tom said cheerfully, picking up a bottle of Ogden's finest and pouring out a small glass for the reporter.
"Leave the bottle," she commanded, throwing back the glass in one gulp.
"Rough day?" asked Mafalda Hopkirk, sitting down beside her at the bar.
Rita Skeeter, ace muckraker for The Daily Prophet, waited until Tom had walked away to serve a group of souses at the other end of the bar, before answering. The Leaky Cauldron was filled with patrons who generated a low rumble of voices and laughter. Perfect background noise to interfere with eavesdropping. Out of sight she waved her wand to cast a Muffliato spell around the two women. One couldn't be too careful when you were as notorious as she. Plenty of the great and the good of magical Britain had her in their crosshairs.
"Been searching for a brat all over the Muggle side for the past fortnight. And what do I have to show for it? Bupkes! The kid's a bloody ghost. And not the useful kind." She poured herself another glass.
And much, much worse than a cold case: in the time she'd been away, she'd been scooped. Thrice! Stupid werewolves chose the worst possible moment to go rampaging. And then there was the potential extinction of three ancient Pureblood Houses. And then all the dragons shipped in from overseas for the thrilling First Task of the G.I.T.T. had to mysteriously vanish. Such delicious, juicy, super-public scandals, and Rita Skeeter herself was reduced to follow-up stories. Unacceptable!
"Missing child?" asked Mafalda. "Not really your style, is it m'dear?" She nursed a small tumbler of sherry.
"Nah, one of the Pureblood Houses' outcasts. Turns out they threw him away a mite too early, now they're having second thoughts. Seems their sprog's a bit more valuable to them than they originally thought, if only 'cause others want him as their own chesspiece."
"You have my condolences," sympathised Mafalda. The two middle-aged witches clinked their glasses together in solidarity.
Plenty of Houses had expelled offspring that they'd found less than desirable for whatever reason over the centuries and millennia. It was standard practice in Pureblood circles. Once the outcasts disappeared into the Muggle world, it was Mordred's own work to track them down if they didn't wish to be found.
"I have it on good authority that Bones is keen on finding the brat. If I can get to him before she does …" Rita left the rest of the sentence unfinished. Being able to embarrass both an old Pureblood House and the Minister of Magic in one go would be a wonderful coup.
"If you think that's tedious and irritating, try tracking down underage magic-users," Mafalda grizzled. "There's always one or two here and there that fell off the grid, but there's this one case that's been driving me barmy for the past three years."
"Mm-hm." Rita had foregone the glass in favour of swigging directly from the bottle. The animagus only listened half-heartedly as the bureaucrat waxed at great length about the troubles she faced. Then sat up straight, shaking the boozy haze from her mind. "Wait a tic, did you say that this person's both unregistered, underage and under your tracing spells?"
"Yep. Curious isn't it? The only way a child can get the Trace is to go to Hogwarts and be registered. But if they went to Hogwarts and got the charm applied, why doesn't the Ministry have their records on file?"
"What was the last instance it was recorded?"
"Outside of Hogsmeade, a few weeks back."
"And the first?"
"Some middle-of-nowhere place in Muggle Surrey."
Synapses began to spark in the back of Rita's brain. "And that was three years ago? Any idea what the spells were?"
"Ummmm," Mafalda's eyes glazed as she struggled to recall the information. "Confundus Charms I think …"
"Mafalda, I'd very much like to see all the records the IUoMO has on this mystery person."
"You know I can't release classified Ministry records to the press …"
"I can make it worth your while," Rita wheedled. "I happen to know of a certain Muggle bar where a certain Auror likes to go for drinks … you may have heard of him: tall, dark, handsome and single … may have been exiled from a prominent Dark House … may be a dog animagus … I might also know his preferences when it comes to the fairer sex …"
"Well …" Hopkirk hesitated, but Rita caught the flash of lust in the spinster's glazed eyes.
"And don't worry about your job. I know how to protect my sources. It'll be our little secret, just the two of us ..."
I
IIIIIII
I
23 November 1997
Bella placed the matchbox-sized trunk onto the ground and tapped it with her wand, unshrinking it to its ordinary size. She opened the lid and reached down to help the adults climb out.
"Ugh, what a way to travel. Again," grumbled Myra.
Mathilda Grimblehawk, Sage Bragnam and Myra Curio clambered out and organised their teams. Each led a crew of 6 rendering specialists this time.
"And we're back in this cheery place," observed Mathilda, looking around at the dank gloominess of the Chamber of Secrets.
"Still a secret," Tom reminded them. "How long do you estimate it would take to dismantle these babies?" She swept her arm back to draw attention to the dragons sprawled around the Chamber's black stone floor.
The 21 workers of Longbottom's Rock Bottom Prices creature plant stared in absolute shock.
"7 live dragons and 23 fertile dragon eggs," reported the young witch. "Shall we sign a contract with the same rates as for the Basilisk? 40% of the gross sales revenue for us, and your complete secrecy as to our identities?"
The crew was still frozen, drool dripping from their open mouths.
"I thought I was shocked by a 60-foot Basilisk," muttered someone, "but this …"
"Better get cracking, I've no idea how long the potions will keep them comatose for," Bellatrix smirked.
That lit a bluebell flame under their backsides! The teams hurriedly assembled their equipment and began the arduous task of reducing the frightening beasts to usable materials.
"So how long do you think it will take for you lot to finish?" asked Tom, as she and Myra signed the new contract.
"I'd guess at least 4 or 5 days," Myra replied. The woman still seemed to be in half a daze.
"I hope you brought your magical tents and food like last time? Good. Then we'll return down here in the evening every two days to see how you're progressing."
"You know … I've heard on the grapevine that the Ministry was going to transport several dragons from the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary to Hogwarts this year …"
"Oh is that so?" Tom asked with disinterest.
"Yes … apparently they're going to be used as part of that grand international competition Hogwarts is hosting …"
"Sounds like the government's pulling out all the stops."
"It does doesn't it? It's very surprising that you'd provide us with dragons, which are thought to be extinct in Britain, at the exact same time …"
"What an amazing coincidence," Bella deadpanned.
"Sure is …"
"Is that coincidence going to be a problem?" Tom's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Not at all!" the woman backpedalled. "We've already made a binding agreement to keep all this quiet and none of us have any interest in losing our magic! … it's just that … well … supposing that a certain Ministry spent a lot of time and money to borrow certain hypothetical dragons from another country, and said hypothetical dragons went mysteriously missing, and then a hypothetical company suddenly started selling large amounts of dragon-derived materials on the market … well, certain questions would be asked and suspicions raised …"
She trailed off. Tom and Bella shared a glance.
"Then I'd hypothetically suggest that the hypothetical company either sell the hypothetical materials through their overseas contacts to avoid said suspicions. Or sell the hypothetical materials directly to the Goblins, or the Veela Enclave, or the Vampire Covens, or the Gnomes of Zurich. The magical ministries have little oversight over those groups and their business dealings," said Tom dismissively. "Now if we're done indulging in pointless flights of fancy, Bellatrix and I need to go finish our homework. We still have nine feet of parchment on the exceptions to Gamp's Law to give Professor Potter on Monday."
The two 14-year-olds trotted away, the giant serpentine gates grinding closed behind them.
I
IIIIIII
I
25 November 1997
"Report!" demanded Chief Auror Pius Thicknesse as he arrived en scène.
"Chief, as you know Junior Auror Tonks and I have been investigating the circulation of illegal Time Turners. We have reason to believe that Mundungus Fletcher is involved in their distribution, but we've never been able to catch him with the evidence as of yet," reported Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. "We followed a lead that indicated he had a safehouse hidden in these woods where he stored the contraband and … we found the house …"
Thicknesse scowled. That bald thief had been a bane of the DMLE for decades. "So does it contain any fenced items?"
"Uh, we're not sure …" Shacklebolt scratched his head.
"What do you mean you're not – oh my Merlin …" the Chief Auror whispered.
Before him stood a ramshackle house, or what was left of it, since the structure could barely be seen. The shack and most of the fields and forest surrounding it were thickly entwined with spider-thread as big as ship cables. Enormous dark shadows could just be made out scuttling to and fro amongst the tangle of white.
"The horror, the horror ..." Thicknesse couldn't help recoiling a few steps. The rest of the Auror squad were also keeping a healthy distance. Shaking his head to snap out of it, he demanded, "Where's Robards? Isn't he supposed to be our resident expert on magical beasties?"
"Afraid he and Proudfoot are still at Hogwarts, trying to get a bead on those missing dragons."
"Any results so far on that?"
Shacklebolt grimaced. "Apparently the trail leads into the middle of the forest and then just … stops. They've had the professors help turn the entire school grounds upside down and not so much as a scale to be found."
"Bill Weasley let slip over drinks last night that a large number of dragon parts have recently been sold to Gringotts branches across Europe," offered Tonks.
"Of course the goblins'd be neck deep in it. Greedy little imps," Thicknesse growled. He had little liking for the disgusting creatures. "Keep watching them, see if you can set up a sting with a fake buyer."
"Yes Chief! Uh, what about …"
"Send for the DRCMC," he ordered grudgingly. This situation was clearly beyond the capability of his Aurors, they needed to call in specialist help. Even if he had to deal with that woman.
A short time later Gethsemane Prickle, the Director of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Apparated in, to be joined by a gaggle of her Ministry flunkies. The stern, no-nonsense woman afforded the Aurors but the briefest of nods before setting her minions to swarm all around the edge of the site.
After an hour of investigation, she approached Thicknesse and Shacklebolt. "Who's residence?" she asked in her usual sharp, clipped tone.
"We believe it belongs to one Mundungus Fletcher, ma'am," stated Shacklebolt. "Small-time hustler, typically involved in petty larceny and fencing of stolen goods. I've never known him to be involved in anything like … well, this." He gestured helplessly.
"Fool tried to start his own Acromantula farm, apparently by himself," she explained. Her pale eyes flashed in cold disapproval. "You can see the results. Where's this Fletcher now?"
Thicknesse's gaze turned to Shacklebolt who turned to Tonks, who'd been hovering a polite distance away.
"None of my contacts have seen him for several months," she said. "For all we know he could be inside one of them." The metamorphmagus' left ear pointed to the gargantuan web.
"And they're welcome to him," Thicknesse muttered under his breath.
Prickle groaned and rubbed her temples. "At least we now know where Hagrid's missing Acromantula colony went."
"How do you reach that conclusion?" asked the Chief Auror.
"Since Acromantulae are native to South America and not South Scotland, I'd say it's a fair assumption – you're the Aurors, you do the Arithmancy," the Director snapped. "Professor Hagrid's been writing to my department every other week for the past year whining about his Merlin-be-damned missing spiders!" She beckoned one of her lickspittles. "Send a message to Hogwarts and get him here pronto – he's so keen on these monsters, he can take responsibility for them."
The Ministry officials did as they were bidden, and were soon the object of fulsome and loud blubbery thanks from the delighted half-giant. Prickle eventually grew tired of all the hugging, and 'suggested' Hagrid get cracking on relocating the colony.
Auror and Creature specialist alike watched in amazement as the Professor, singing merrily in an impressive baritone, skipped through the nest, the giant sinister webs tearing and snapping like cellophane as he passed through. One by one, he'd seize an Acromantula and stuff the struggling beast into his super-sized mokeskin pouch.
Another round of effusive thanks and then Hagrid Apparated to the Hogwarts gates. Humming to himself, he trotted up the path, into the castle, and up to the Teacher's Conference Hall on the fifth floor with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.
Alas, the participants of the current meeting – which involved professors, members of the G.I.T.T. organising committee and the Minister of Magic herself – were in a far less sanguine mood than Hagrid. And they were less than amused at the half-giant's attempts to 'quietly' slip into the Hall and take his seat.
"Ahem, as I was saying," Amelia Bones reiterated, once the ear-splitting screeching and groaning of chair and floorboards fell silent, "we have no choice but to proceed on the assumption that the dragons will not be found prior to the First Task."
Aurors Robards and Proudfoot hung their heads in shame.
"My administration and the Hogwarts faculty are already a domestic and international laughingstock, what with the unauthorised champions being chosen, the sabotage of an ancient magical artefact, the destruction of Lestrange Manor, the theft of 7 extremely rare and valuable magical creatures – creatures might I remind you all, that were on loan from a foreign government! I've had Minister Krum screaming at me over the Floo for three days straight," she bit out. "And now the bloody Goblet of Fire has vanished – this fiasco is Not Acceptable!"
"Minister Bones, Hogwarts cannot be held responsible for what happened to the Lestranges –" Dumbledore began.
"Shut up," she said calmly. "The highest priority right now is to salvage what dignity we have left and ensure that the First Task is worthy of the name. Come on people, the G.I.T.T. was supposed to outshine the old Triwizard Tournaments in every conceivable way, and yet every Triwizard in history had no problem providing dangerous creatures for the contestants to battle, unlike now! What suggestions do we have?"
"How about a round-robin Quidditch tourney," said James Potter immediately.
"Seconded!" grinned Ludo Bagman.
"Stargazing knowledge quiz," sneered Regulus Black.
"Potion brewing contest," chirped Lily Potter.
"Duelling competition, sudden-death eliminations," riposted Filius Flitwick.
"Seconded!" said Barty Crouch Sr.
"Caber toss and maide-leisg," said Minerva McGonagall.
"Deep-diving competition in the Black Lake," proposed Barty Crouch Jr.
"See which of the little cretins can endure me whipping them for the longest," suggested Filch.
The Minister sighed to herself. The suggestions weren't bad – most of them – but there was nothing inspired. Nothing outrageous. Nothing that would capture the international imagination. Her eyes drifted across the room and settled on the beaming Hagrid. His childish happiness was in stark contrast to the general mood. For some reason, it really curdled her butter at this moment.
"What are you so darn chipper about, Professor Hagrid?" she demanded irritably.
Hagrid blinked in surprise at the unexpected attention, but gamely explained his recovery of the missing Acromantula colony. The news occasioned more than one sigh of relief from the Hogwarts faculty. Though no-one had any love for giant man-eating arachnids, Hagrid's endless moping about the disappearance of Aragog and his kin had driven them all up the wall.
"Acromantulae eh?" mused Bones. A smile slowly spread over her weathered face.
I
IIIIII
I
1 December 1997
"So what are you planning to do with it?" asked Harry, eyeing the Goblet of Fire suspiciously. It may sit there, unlit and inert, but Harry wasn't fooled by its innocent appearance, nosireebob!
"I'll have Dobby store it in my bedroom at home until after the First Task, just in case the elves come looking for it in here," replied Tom. "Then I'll go over every single enchantment and rune with a fine tooth comb. I want to know whether it can bind people magically without their consent, and whether it can strip people of their magic. And if so, how. Hmmm I think I'll see if Mr Lovegood can help me out over the Christmas holidays."
"Let me know what you come up with." The mere thought of all that research gave Harry a headache. "Any idea what the new Task is?"
"Unfortunately no. Everything's being organised away from Hogwarts at some unknown location, very hush-hush; not even Dobby and Winky have been able to unearth anything … Cheer up, whatever it is, it can't be worse than dragons, right?"
"Don't tempt Fate."
The two tensed when the door of the Come and Go Room burst open, but relaxed when their frizzy-black-haired confederate entered, levitating an unconscious body behind her.
"Any trouble?" enquired Tom.
"Naw, got within a foot of him under the Cloak," smirked Bella, dropping Draco Lestrange unceremoniously onto the ground. "His little followers didn't notice a thing. Probably 'cause there weren't any." She plucked a long, blonde strand of hair and dropped it into the bubbling cauldron. The potion hissed and fizzled.
"Looks good," Tom observed, bottling the completed brew into dozens of small phials. "Should last a full hour, but there's no way to tell without taking it. If you start to feel yourself reverting, no matter how recently you drank, swallow another dose immediately."
"Gotcha." Harry slipped the phials into his secure pocket.
"Go get 'em, Tiger!" cheered Bella.
"Um … one last thing …" Tom chewed her lip bashfully, eyes downcast … then suddenly threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth firmly against his!
Harry froze as he felt her soft lips move across his own. A crackle of electricity ran up his spine and he shivered in excitement. His scar blazed with white-hot fire. Harry's arms instinctively reached out to embrace her, but she tore free and sprang backwards away from his grasp.
"For luck," she panted, rubbing her lips, face and ears scarlet.
Bellatrix stared at the two in surprise. "Took her long enough," she said under her breath. A complicated expression flitted across her aristocratic features. "Oh what the heck!" She launched herself at Harry and planted her own enthusiastic smacker upon his lips.
"For more luck," she giggled, her own cheeks dusted with red.
Harry swallowed several times, a poleaxed expression on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but the girls shoved him out of the Come and Go Room and slammed the door.
"Birds," he muttered. "Barmy, the lot of 'em."
The wizard raced down the corridor and stairwell at a fast clip to burn off the sudden and unexpected surge of adrenalin running through his body. "Bottoms up." In an empty alcove he paused to drink one of the phials, and felt the familiar transformation brought about by Polyjuice Potion morph his body. Draco's body was taller and lankier than his own, with longer limbs and fewer muscles … softer, it felt softer and squidgier. He jogged the rest of the way, occasionally jumping or skipping to adjust to his new centre of gravity. His goal was the Champion's Tent by the Quidditch pitch.
"Nice of you to show up, Lestrange!" snapped Neville.
The Longbottom scion dragged him past the Auror guards into the tent and thrust a sock into his hand. Harry felt the familiar tug of a Portkey behind his navel, and stumbled to the ground as they hit their destination. As usual.
He shot an evil glare at the giggling Neville, who didn't bother helping him regain his feet.
"Wonderful, another tent, totally worth the trip," he grumbled, dusting his robes off. Their location looked identical from their starting point, except for the presence of the other Sacred Bands waiting in their designated sections. "Any idea where we are?"
The Longbottom heir threw him a look of open contempt. "What, Daddy Dearest forgot to tell you about the Task before Greyback munched him? Sucks to be you then," he mocked, before strolling away to join his sister.
Harry stared at his wake. The boy's behaviour was understandable in a way – he thought he was talking to Draco, for Merlin's sake – but Harry was honestly shocked by how rude and arrogant this version of Neville was. He had no frame of reference for how to deal with the guy: over the past three months he'd had no chance to approach his former friend.
The layers of friends and hangers-on were an effective barrier to keep him from speaking with the wizard, let alone getting a chance to chat one-on-one. His classes were mostly with the Hufflepuffs, and during mealtimes he was either at the Ravenclaw table or was shanghaied by Ron, Ginny, Walter or Dean to sit with Charlie and the twins at the Gryffindor table. It wasn't lost on Harry that the Potters and Longbottoms always sat on opposite ends of the table, and never the twain did meet. Bella had informed him that he, she and Tom were considered part of Charlie's entourage by the general student body, though why that would be he couldn't fathom. So there had been no opportunity to feel out the Longbottom faction.
Nothing that can be done about it for now.
Harry made his way to the opposite side of the tent to where the Ilvermorny and Mahoutokoro champions were chatting. The four students fell silent as he approached.
"Ah, sorry for interrupting," he scratched his head in embarrassment. "I just want to ask something: your names are Anthony Goldstein and Rolf Scamander, right?" he asked the two Americans. They nodded warily. "Any relation to Newton Scamander, Proserpina Scamander-Goldstein and Queenie Kowalski-Goldstein?" They shared a surprised glance.
"Um, yes, they're our grandparents," Anthony answered, a flicker of suspicion lurking in his blue eyes.
"Good, here you go. A friend of mine asked me to pass these along to you," Harry passed them invitations to Christmas at the Granger household.
"A friend?" Rolf held his parchment with two fingers and fired a series of detection spells from his wand as if he were afraid it'd burst in a hail of bubotuber pus at any moment.
"Yep, your grandparents used to tutor him and his friends before they went to Hogwarts," Harry said vaguely. He hoped they wouldn't ask him why the scion of the Dark knew a bunch of Muggleborn nobodies.
"Uh thanks," said Anthony, staring hard at Harry.
"No problem. Contact details are enclosed. Good luck with the Task." Harry waved and turned away.
"Wait!" said Anthony. Harry paused. "You know, you seem a lot nicer than you usually appear, Mr Lestrange."
"Oh yes, well, in public one has to act a certain way … it's required of Slytherins you see …" Harry hedged.
To his surprise, the others accepted his lame excuse without batting an eye, and he was somehow dragged into their conversation for the next few minutes.
"You know, there's something I was wondering …" he started, not quite sure how to broach this subject. In his past timeline he'd paid little attention to any of his fellow students whose surnames weren't Granger, Weasley or Malfoy, but even so he was fairly certain that Anthony Goldstein, the Patil twins and Su Li had attended Hogwarts in his year. "Um, weren't you guys supposed to be students at Hogwarts, not Ilvermorny and Mahoutokoro?" he blurted. Dang it, that was smooth, Potter!
"How on earth did you know about that?" Padma Patil blinked in amazement.
"Wow, the Lestrange family's intelligence network is as impressive as I've heard," added Su Li.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but my parents were all set to have me enrol in Hogwarts, but all the disappearances put them off," explained Anthony. "They decided to send me to school across the pond, to an institution that didn't have a reputation."
Padma and Su nodded in agreement.
"Reputation? Disappearances?" Harry felt bewildered. Why hadn't he heard any rumours along those lines in all the years he'd spent at Hogwarts?
"You mean you don't know?" Su demanded incredulously. "You must know!"
"Huh?"
"The disappearing students," Padma explained with great patience. Seeing his blank expression she added, "You know: every few years, a Hogwarts student will just up and vanish without a trace! Poof! Right from their beds while everyone is asleep! And no matter how much people search, they're never seen again …"
"At first people called it the Slytherin Curse," Su said. "'Cause it was only Slytherins who'd be taken. But then it started happening to Gryffindors too. And then in the rest of the Houses …"
"I heard the Headmasters upgraded the castle ward schemes three times in 30 years, to strengthen its defences and block outsiders, and none of it could stop the phenomenon," Anthony added.
"Makes you wonder what really happened to the poor things," said Padma wistfully.
"My cousin told me that they're whisked away by the Fae to Annwfn," said Rolf.
"I've heard some say it's caused by the spirits of Muggles that Salazar Slytherin murdered with his secret monster, who are out for revenge," said Padma.
"My godsister Cho thinks Hogwarts is a giant top-secret testing facility and all the students are lab-rats for the Department of Mysteries," said Su. "The ones who disappear are failed experiments that the Unspeakables remove and throw through the Veil of Death."
"I've heard they're abducted by aliens and taken away to other star systems on giant round spaceships," said Anthony.
The others stared at him in disbelief.
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," sniffed Rolf. "If it were Heliotropes or Leprechauns or chupacabra or dodos, that'd at least be plausible, but aliens? Come on …"
I
IIIIIII
I
"Ladies and gentlewizards, I now declare the First Task of the Grand International Thaumaturgical Tournament – has begun!" Ludo Bagman's enhanced voice boomed through the stadium. The crowds cheered and screamed.
Harry looked around. He finally recognised where they all were: the same place he'd watched the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys, an event that felt like it'd taken place centuries ago.
Instead of the Sacred Bands challenging the Task one after the other, the organisers had obviously decided that it'd be far more entertaining to the masses to have them all compete simultaneously. Harry could see the other teams spread out at even intervals along the edge of the stadium floor, waiting to charge forward. He shared a nod with the Mahoutokoro team and a thumbs-up with the Ilvermorny team, to Neville's consternation.
"The winning pair will be the first to grab the golden egg at the very peak of the obstacle course. They will receive 10 points automatically. Our esteemed judges will also allocate points at their discretion to those Sacred Bands who show particular ingenuity and cunning with both their magic and their teamwork, so there's no room for individual showboating. After all, there's no 'i' in Sacred Band! All participants are once more encouraged to showcase the highest principles of sportsmanship and fair play in front of the world."
Yeah right, Harry rolled his eyes. The inclusion of all the Potter and Longbottom children had scrambled the planned team structure. Now Hogwarts was the sole school with two Bands, and each team consisted of three members: Neville, Allison and Draco; and Charlie, Ivy and Rose. Was it unfair to the other competing schools? Absolutely. Was there anything those schools could do about it? Nope. That's what happens when you entrust your international competition to an unreliable piece of magical junk.
Headmaster Dumbledore stood up from his place at the judges' desk. With a great swish of his wand, the illusion spells covering the stadium disappeared. The grounds, which had appeared as a great empty space a moment before, shimmered and revealed what resembled an enormous jungle-gym … covered in enormous cobwebs. Dozens of enormous Acromantulae hissed and chittered in rage at all the unexpected, unwelcome attention from the humans. The crowd gasped in horror.
"Acromantulae! YEAH! WOOOOO!" came a solitary scream of delight.
Harry couldn't help himself. He doubled over and laughed and laughed until he feared he'd bust a gut. There was no doubt that was Bellatrix screaming in joy at the top of her lungs. The teen witch's delight at carving her way through the disgusting spider monsters was unparalleled. Of course she'd be euphoric at this turn of events. There was also no doubt that Tom was out there beside her, scheming for a way to get these Acromantulae to Myra Curio.
"What the Hel is wrong with you, Lestrange?" demanded Allison Longbottom. The girl put her little fists on her hips.
"All the inbreeding in his family must've finally taken effect," sneered Neville.
Harry couldn't reply, he was still gasping for air in great, heaving sobs. His two teammates took several steps away from him.
"Contestants," screamed Bagman, "You may begin NOW!"
The Longbottom siblings didn't bother to wait for the third member of their trio, and shot forward in tandem. The other 7 Sacred Bands also dashed towards the spider nest as fast as their legs could carry them. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw the little DelaCour girl unleash a holocaust of flame to incinerate her team's way through the sticky threads. The beasts shrieked in pain and the familiar scent of burnt spider assaulted his nostrils. That kid's got the right idea at least.
Harry casually strolled after the Beauxbatons pair, in no particular hurry, along the scorched pathway the Veela had burned through the course. The Goblet forced him to compete in the Tasks, but didn't require him to try very hard. And he had no reason to improve Draco's social standing by putting on a good show, or – Merlin forbid! – actually winning this stupid event. He felt surprisingly calm – it wasn't Harry Potter everyone was staring at this time, it was Draco Lestrange. So it didn't matter one whit if he screwed up or made a fool of himself today. And Acromantulae were one of the few magical species (alongside Basilisks and Dementors) that he was quite familiar with, after having spent half a year cleansing the Forbidden Forest of the nasty blighters.
"Hmmm, where am I?" He looked around. During his wool-gathering he'd somehow made his way to the highest level of the obstacle course. Spread out below him, numerous students were engaged in violent combat with giant spiders. Spellfire flashed and crackled as far as the eye could see.
"Hssss!" The largest Acromantula he'd ever seen (besides Aragog) charged at him.
"Confringo!" The Blasting Curse hit its bulls-eye, transforming the monster's head into a fine spidery mist.
"Chk chk chk chk!" chattered another one, diving at him from the other direction.
"Diffindo!" The Severing Charm struck the middle of its thorax, bisecting the unfortunate creature. Harry jumped to the side on reflex to avoid the spray of purple blood.
"Come at me, you eight-legged vermin! The doors of arachnid hell are opened wide for you!" Harry bellowed, wand outstretched, doing his best imitation of Bella in a blood-frenzy. "Huh? Where'd they all go?"
Besides the two cooling corpses beside him, the rest of the colony seemed far more interested in eating his fellow teenagers at the lower levels. Shrugging, he sat down on the nearest lump to wait for the Longbottoms and Potters to catch up.
"Ouch, this is one uncomfortable rock. Feels like metal," he grumbled, standing up and brushing the cobweb remains from his seat. "What on earth?" He lifted up the large golden egg. "Oh no. You've got to be kidding me –"
"AND LESTRANGE HAS OBTAINED THE GOLDEN EGG!" Bagman shrieked at the top of his lungs. "HOGWARTS WINS!" The hordes of spectators screamed and laughed and cried in absolute frenzy. Harry idly wondered if a soccer riot was about to break out.
I
IIIIIII
I
The party in the Slytherin common room had been going on for three hours and was still raging wildly. The golden egg was set up like an idol atop a shrine in the centre of the room. Harry surreptitiously emptied another phial of Polyjuice into his goblet of Butterbeer and rejoined the chugging competition.
Every single student in the House of Snakes made it a point to shake his hand and congratulate him personally. Most emphasised that they'd always believed in his victory, and plenty made 'offhand' comments about their families' staunch and long-standing connections with House Lestrange.
"Draco!" Harry turned, and recoiled reflexively. Pansy Parkinson fought her way through the well-wishers and hurled herself into his arms. "I knew you could do it! I'm going to demand my father re-instate our betrothal contract!" Harry stiffened at the awful realisation that Pug-faced Parkinson of all people had a surprisingly soft, curvaceous female form – one that was pressed hard against him. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his tongue as the girl mashed her lips against his and snogged him thoroughly as the bystanders cheered.
"How dare you!"
Parkinson's lips and tongue were suddenly torn from his. Harry rubbed his eyes and saw that a short blonde had dragged the girl away. He vaguely recognised her as a fifth-year that shared some classes with Tom and Bella.
"Get out of here, Greengrass!" sneered Pansy. "He's mine!"
"In a Hippogriff's eye! Astoria has greater claim to him than you," sneered a taller blonde who arrived to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the first. The two girls bore a striking similarity, sisters most likely.
"Is that so? Last I heard your House cancelled the betrothal with Draco," mocked Pansy. "In favour of … Zabini wasn't it?"
"And that's different from your family how?" Astoria shot back.
"It's different because Draco has no interest in being with an undeveloped shrimp such as yourself," Pansy sniffed.
A wicked smirk graced Astoria's face. "Let's find out shall we?" And launched herself at Harry. For the second time in as many minutes, the boy was vigorously snogging an attractive Slytherin.
Harry's forehead exploded in pain. The world spun and dissolved into stars. Behind the waves of agony, he could feel a terrible rage seething and churning.
"Are you okay?" a bystander demanded. "Is your forehead bleeding?"
"Yeah, I'm okay … too much to drink … need to sleep … going to dorm …" he managed to gasp out. Somehow the wizard managed to ditch all the helpful students who wanted to accompany him, and staggered into the seventh-year boys' dormroom. Two boys were already asleep in bed. He dragged himself to the adjoining bathroom.
"I know you're there," he hissed, rubbing his scar to reduce the throbbing.
Bella and Tom threw off the Invisibility Cloak. Both girls glared at him with cold, empty, accusing eyes.
"I had to play the part!" Harry protested. "I was acting!"
Tom merely sniffed in scorn and pointed to the showers. Bella wordlessly levitated the unconscious Draco slung over her shoulder into a stall. Extracting a bottle of Butterbeer from her robe pocket, she poured half the contents down his throat, and the other half all over his head and chest.
The trio huddled under the Cloak and made their silent journey back to Ravenclaw Tower.
I
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I
7 December 1997
Harry walked with Dean to Hagrid's hut for their Care of Magical Creatures class. It was their sole class where Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were paired. To the boys' surprise, they found their Professor blubbering into the shoulder of Potions Professor Lily Potter. The redhead patted his neck (the farthest she could reach) comfortingly as she made soothing noises that were overwhelmed by his mighty sobs. The gathered teens looked at each other awkwardly, wondering if they should say something or sneak away.
"Oh hello," Lily finally noticed their presence. "Professor Hagrid needs some … personal time today. So I'll be looking after you for this session."
"Are ya sure, Lily?" the big man sniffled. He dragged a filthy rag from his pocket (which looked it used to be one of Dumbledore's garish robes) and blew his nose deeply. The girls turned green and didn't try to hide their revulsion.
"Positive," Lily said firmly, looking a touch green herself. "Now go rest."
"A'right," Hagrid nodded, sagging against the hut. The building shuddered and creaked under the weight. "Guess I'll go see how Grawp's doin'." Eventually he composed himself enough to stand upright and trudge off into the forest.
"Professor, what's wrong with Professor Hagrid?" asked Hermione in concern.
"Oh he's just a tad upset about his pet spiders," Lily sighed. "You know how his Acromantula colony in the forest migrated south a while back? Recently it was rediscovered, and he was able to relocate it back to Hogwarts grounds. The G.I.T.T. organising committee decided they'd be perfect for the First Task – I presume you all saw what happened?" The class nodded. "Half of the spiders died in that battle royale. And now we've just discovered that the survivors have mysteriously vanished as well. Professor Hagrid took it a bit hard. He was in the middle of constructing a nest, where he could keep a closer eye on them."
She gestured towards a half-built wooden monstrosity wedged between the hut and the pumpkin patch. The students' eyes widened in horror as it dawned on them just how close they'd come to being forced to take classes right next to a slavering horde of man-eating giant arachnids.
"While we're on the subject of the G.I.T.T.," Lavender Brown interjected breathlessly, "Is it true that there's going to be a formal ball soon?"
The corner of Lily's mouth quirked upwards. "It's supposed to be a secret until the official announcement next week. But I suppose including dress robes in your school supply lists this year was a dead giveaway wasn't it? You didn't hear this from me, but yes, on the 25th of December Hogwarts will be hosting a grand Yule Ball to celebrate the Sacred Bands. It will be open for all Hogwarts students of fourth year and older."
That set off a round of mumblings. The girls beamed in excitement, while the boys' eyes widened in even greater horror.
"Now that the important things have been squared away, it's time to get on with the trivial matters – such as your lesson," Lily smiled, vanishing the half-giant drool on her shoulder. "What has Professor Hagrid been working on with you?"
"Blast-ended Skrewts, Professor," Hermione replied promptly. She pointed to a stack of crates stacked neatly beside the hut.
Lily frowned. "I've never heard of them." Levitating one of the crates over to the grass in front of her, she cautiously opened the lid. "Egad!" She backed away in disgust upon catching sight of the eldritch abominations contained therein. "What in the name of Pheidippides' sandals are those things?"
"I believe it is a magical hybrid species, cross-bred between a Fire-crab and a Manticore most likely," stated Hermione, looking equally nauseated.
Maybe I should swipe a couple for Bella and Luna, thought Harry. That might get me out of the doghouse faster.
The putrid scent of rotting fish and crustaceans drove the class backwards. Several Ravenclaws cast Bubble-head Charms on themselves.
On second thoughts, Dan and Emma may kill me if the house ends up smelling of teenage mutant lobstrosity.
"Alright class you have a free study session," Lily announced to general cheers. "Can someone volunteer to help me with these … Skrewts?" Harry raised his hand. "Thankyou Mr Granger."
The rest of the students ambled back to the castle. Hermione shot Harry a suspicious look, but didn't linger either.
"Mr Granger, I need you to keep what happens this afternoon a secret," said Lily. Her face was dead serious. He nodded. "Good. This is a difficult situation. The only reason I agreed to allow you to help me was because you're part of Charlie's entourage."
What? When did I swear fealty to the mini-Lockhart wannabe? Why does everyone keep assuming that?
"These Skrewts are almost certainly a blatant violation of Ministry bans on the cross-breeding of dangerous magical species," the crimson-haired teacher continued. "If the DRCMC gets wind of it, Professor Hagrid would be in a lot of trouble. Possibly even serve a stint in Azkaban. So it's extremely important that nobody realises this. I hope none of the students put two and two together."
"I haven't heard anyone discussing things like that on the grapevine," Harry said uncertainly. When it came to schoolyard gossip, Bellatrix was a much better source. He ignored it for the most part.
"That's a relief. Now we need to get rid of the evidence as soon as possible. I feel bad for Professor Hagrid, losing two monster species in one week, but it's for his own good. Better than being in Azkaban."
"I agree," said Harry. "And I think I know how to dispose of them." He removed his tiny expandable trunk from his pocket and placed it on the grass. "Never leave home without it," he grinned at her look, tapping the lid with his wand. When it returned to its correct size, he started floating the crates down into its depths.
"Where do you propose we take them? The Forbidden Forest seems the obvious choice," Lily said.
"I have a better place," he replied. She raised an eyebrow but didn't demand answers. The two of them finished loading up their illegal cargo and Harry reshrank the trunk. "Come on." Harry led his mother through the school gates and past the Hogwarts ward-line. "Can you Apparate us to Diagon Alley?" He gave her his best approximation of Bella's puppy-dog eyes.
"You better be on the level," she grumbled, pulling her hood over her head for disguise, and taking his hand.
'Crack'!
Harry led her by the hand past the Auror checkpoints to their destination. Lily's lower lip (all that was visible of her face) held a conflicted moue as they entered Longbottom's Rock Bottom Prices.
"Hi Mathilda."
"Hello Harry, what've you got for us this time?" Mathilda smiled, guiding the pair through the side doors and into the rendering facilities. "Who's your friend? You're always surrounded by pretty ladies, such a little player aren't you … wait a minute … holy smokes, you're Lily Potter!" she exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.
"Can you keep your voice down?" Lily hissed. "I'm trying to be incognito here. And I'll never live it down if people find out I visited this shop of all places!"
"Standard secrecy contract," Harry reminded her.
"Fine, fine, spoil all my fun," the woman reluctantly calmed herself. "So what beastie have you brought me? … Eeeeew, what in Mordred's name are these revolting things? They look like deformed shell-less lobsters with scorpion tails attached … did that one just shoot sparks out of its tuchis!? Where the heck did you find them?"
"Uh, we found them infesting Dumbledore's hidden closet," he said.
"Huh?"
"Oh yeah, he hadn't touched that closet in years. It's where he keeps all his fashionable clothing."
"Hmm, I guess that makes sense. Merlin knows the old coot must not've cracked it open for my entire lifetime," mused Mathilda. "Must be caked in a metric ton of dust."
"It sure was," Harry agreed grandly.
"Makes you wonder what else may come out of the closet."
"Huh? Anyway, you reckon there's anything salvageable here?"
The worker cast a number of detection charms.
"A bit here and there. I suppose I could give you a Galleon apiece," she said dubiously. "And that's only because you're a good business partner."
"That'll have to do," Harry sighed. He signed the contract and pressed the bag of gold into Lily's hand.
"Did you really have to choose a Longbottom company?" the Professor complained as they walked down the Alley.
"Do the Potters own any companies that would be useful for this?" Harry challenged.
"Touché."
A feeling of dissociation washed across Harry. It was so strange to be strolling through Diagon side-by-side with his mother, sharing friendly banter. This was hands-down the most time he'd ever spent one-on-one with the woman, and the most conversation they'd ever had outside of basic classroom discussion. And it was even stranger that he felt so comfortable in her presence. Almost automatically the pair fell into a comfortable rapport. The barrier of academic professionalism that she'd always wielded like a shield to keep him at a distance like the rest of her students, had mysteriously disappeared. Now the unfamiliar feeling of intimacy was disturbing and disorienting.
Part of him wanted to hug her with all his might and never, ever let go. She was part of the reason he'd abused Time in the first place, and there was a deep longing within him for them to join as a proper family.
Another part of him wanted to rant and scream at her, demand why she abandoned him to the Dursley's tender mercies. Was he really so deficient that they couldn't bear to have him around, even if he didn't have any magic? What kind of mother threw away her own offspring like a defective drill bit off the assembly-line at Grunnings? How could she bear to even look into the eyes of her three other children, knowing what she'd done?
Another part of him was simply annoyed that Lily Potter didn't recognise her own eldest son, even when he'd been in her class for three months. Even when he was standing right in front of her. Sure he'd dyed his hair brown and was wearing brown contact-lenses, but his features hadn't changed, his voice and mannerisms hadn't changed. They couldn't be that different from his counterpart's, right?
Unable to resolve the conflicting emotions that warred within him, Harry fell silent for the rest of the trip back to Hogwarts.
I
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I
10 December 1997
"Hey Hermione, you free for a bit?" Harry asked hesitantly.
She looked up from her textbook.
"What do you want?"
"Just a brief chat. It's almost time for dinner so I know you won't be sticking around the Library for much longer."
"Fine." She arose and returned her tomes.
The pair found an empty classroom.
"So what's up? You figured out who's trying to kill you yet?"
"I wish. The suspect list is way too long at the moment."
The witch made a gesture to encourage him to get to the point.
Harry hesitated for a bit before he spoke. "Hermione, I admit, I don't know what to make of you. I mean, I didn't know what to make of the other you either, not for the longest time … I told myself I understood what you'd be going through … I've gleaned bits and pieces about your school life over the years from our letters and your discussions with your parents –"
"Plus your gossipy watch-portrait."
"Plus my gossipy watch-portrait, yes. Give her a break, magical paintings have little to do except gossip ... It's a completely different thing to see you here in Hogwarts with my own eyes. I'm honestly surprised. Even though we're in different houses, I've made it a point to watch you for the past few months, you see … not in a creepy-stalker sort of way!" he protested. "In a protective-friend sort of way!" The scowl on her face was not encouraging. He took a few large strides backwards just to be safe. "What I mean is, your social life here is very … uh … different to what I expected …"
"I don't like where this conversation is going, Harry," she growled.
"I always knew you're not the most outgoing person …"
"Don't go there …"
"But I never expected you to turn into the unapproachable Ice Queen of Hogwarts!"
"I'm warning you …"
"Even without the mountain troll snafu to grease the wheels, I'd hoped you'd find a way to bond with some of your fellow students …"
"Last chance to back away …"
"I guess I was wrong," he sighed. "You've never had a single friend the entire time you've attended Hogwarts, have you?"
With a snarl of rage, the girl brandished her wand – only to discover her hand was empty.
"I had Dobby confiscate both of our wands," he smirked. "Better for our health, considering what short fuses both of us have. We're still bound by that magical contract."
"What do you want from me, you vexatious schistosome?" the witch demanded. "I already agreed to let you stay at my house and get adopted into my family. What more could there possibly be? Do you just get your kicks out of enraging me!?"
"I'm not trying to enrage you, I'm trying to ask you to the Yule Ball!" he blurted.
She glared at him. Harry sweated.
"Oh I see," she said coldly. "Poor ickle Granger has no friends, so the Great and Wonderful Wizard Harry finds it in his heart to ask her on a pity-date. Such magnanimity!"
"That's not the reason I'm asking you," Harry said wearily. He rubbed his forehead. "I'm asking because you're my friend and I want to spend time with you having fun."
"Don't patronise me, Harry. You've got two little fangirls who hang on your every word who'd love to attend the Ball with you. Go with one of them. Heck, go with both, I couldn't care less!"
"It's probably healthier for the three of us to keep our distance for a while ... But that's not the point. The point is, I want to go with you," the wizard said stubbornly. "Tom and Bella will understand." I hope.
Another silence hung in the air. The girl and boy stared at each other.
"The Hermione you were friends with disappeared the moment you decided to screw with Time," she said finally. "You and I are landlord and tenant. Nothing more."
She turned and trudged out of the room.
In the end, the Grangers and Lovegoods all returned home for Christmas break. No-one spoke a word the entire train trip.
Next time on ATTR: Chapter 8 – The Second Task