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: "In This World and the Next" by RobSt. This one distils the core elements that typically appear in RobSt's extremely-popular stories down to their purest and most tightly-plotted form, in my opinion: Harry/Hermione shipping; humour; super-smart, super-powerful, super-articulate 11-14 year olds; time travel; parenthood; lordships and vast wealth; magic bethrothal rings; telepathy; true love; comfort and healing; good goblins; extremely evil and incompetent Dumbledore, Snape, Ron, Molly, and Umbridge. If you enjoy these things in your HP fiction, give RobSt's stories a try.
Chapter 8 – The Second Task
25 December 1997
"And I win again!" crowed Dean.
"How on earth are you so good at gobstones?" Charlie grumbled. He and his friend sprawled across the thick, Gryffindor-red carpet of James and Lily's private quarters at Hogwarts. A merry fire roared in the fireplace and glowing pixies danced around the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. The house-elves were busily removing the scraps of wrapping paper that littered the room. Ron and Walter were immersed in a game of wizarding chess.
What was unusual was the presence of Neville Longbottom and his toady Seamus Finnigan, who were playing Exploding Snap at the table. The fact that Neville, Seamus, and Alice Longbottom (who was bustling around in the kitchen with his mother) were spending Christmas with the Potters was a worrying sign. That meant that things were very serious at the Wizengamot today.
In the wake of the shocking werewolf attack on Lestrange Manor back on the 15th of November, the august members of the Wizengamot had sprung into action: they scheduled an emergency plenum for the 19th. Which of course meant it would be another month or two before the meeting was actually held, to allow enough time for backroom deals to be agreed, gold to change hands, draft Bills to be prepared, overseas members to be recalled, and members hidden behind their wards like the paranoiacs they were to be coaxed to scuttle to the Ministry of Magic.
As a result, the Wizengamot sat for its emergency session a mere 40 days after the instigating event – a new record. Many observers were shocked by the assembly's unexpected efficiency. The like hadn't been seen since 1750, when Minister of Magic Albert Boot managed to successfully call an emergency meeting a brisk 56 days after Urg the Unclean and Vargot the Vicious kicked off the Great Goblin Rebellion.
The delays meant that the assembly took place on Christmas Day. On the upside, that meant the debates were short and the voting expedited, so the members could finish up and get back to their families (and presents) as soon as possible. On the downside …
"It's worse than we feared," announced Frank Longbottom to his wife. The sitting room was suddenly swarming with witches and wizards garbed in their plum-coloured robes of office, who poured in through the door. The teenage boys were crowded out of their chairs and floorspace to cluster in an unused corner.
James located a bottle of Firewhiskey from his liquor cabinet and began passing out glasses.
"The Saving Wizarding Britain Act 1997 mandates the extermination of every werewolf, vampire, giant, dragon, Sphinx, Basilisk, Hag, Banshee, and Harpy on British soil, effective immediately. Oh, and Acromantulae too for good measure – some of the old geezers must've been watching the First Task. The Act's not limited to the DMLE and DRCMC either: every British citizen has the right to kill these beings on sight, and the Ministry will provide a monetary bounty for every kill upon proof of execution," continued Frank.
"Oh sweet Morgana, no," groaned Lily.
"I'm afraid so. And there's more – all Goblins, Veela, and Succubi who are not members of diplomatic delegations, students or staff of Hogwarts or visiting foreign schools, or employees of Gringotts are exiled from Britain. They must be gone from British territory within six months. Any of them found after that are subject to the same kill-on-sight mandate," said Arthur Weasley.
"At least we managed to carve out those exemptions. We don't want to humiliate Britain by expelling some ambassadors or G.I.T.T. champions because they're the wrong race," added Tiberius Ogden.
"Centaurs and Merpeople are also banned from leaving their designated reserves," Arthur concluded.
"It's every Pureblood bigot's wet dream," Alice said sourly.
"I know Greyback's rampage was awful, but isn't this reaction over the top?" demanded Lily.
"Behold the power of paranoia," commented Professor Filius Flitwick, who'd just arrived.
"You're not wrong, Filius," Frank said, nursing his glass of booze. "The Dark are whipping up fears of another Goblin Rebellion; you know the last one started when the werewolves joined forces with Urg and Varlot to lay siege to Godric's Hollow."
"And Minister Bones allowed this?" asked an appalled Professor McGonagall, entering the room.
"She didn't have any choice, she couldn't stop the tidal wave. Rita Skeeter's been in fine fettle – she picked her timing perfectly. As soon as the First Task was over, The Daily Prophet published that special edition about the event," James said, tossing a copy of the offending paper onto the table.
The banner headline read, International Champion, Hogwarts Prefect, Shining Hope of Britain, and Tortured Soul. Underneath the headline was a giant photo of Draco Lestrange's bewildered face. In his hand he held the golden egg while the crowds behind him cheered.
"Page after page of melodramatic sob story about 'Hogwarts' Greatest Champion': his tender love for his family and his tragic loss at the hands of bloodthirsty werewolves," James summarised in disgust. "Umbridge read it out in full in the chamber – reduced many members to tears."
"Since when did Umbridge have the right to speak in the Wizengamot?" asked Alice, sitting down on her husband's lap.
"Haven't you heard? Arcturus and the Dark faction pushed for that odious woman to be promoted to Deputy Director of the DRCMC. They did some deal with the Grey behind Bones' back; the Minister's on real thin ice at the moment, she couldn't prevent the promotion. Mark my words, she's eyeing Prickle's chair," said Amos.
The Minister, Directors and Deputy Directors of the Ministry all had honorary seats in the Wizengamot, complete with full powers to speak and vote. Giving Umbridge a voice in the inner workings of government was not a good omen.
Headmaster Dumbledore arose and turned the group's attention to Gethsamene Prickle, who had remained taciturn so far.
"Director Prickle, in your opinion, what will be the effect of this Law on the magical creature populations?"
The formidable woman slung back her Firewhiskey and belched a mighty flame.
"Fenrir Greyback has spent the last 30 years terrorising the werewolf packs of Britain and Ireland into submission; most of their alphas owe their fealty to him. Greyback's survived a kill-on-sight order from the Ministry for over two decades, this new Act won't intimidate him. Which means he and his packs aren't going anywhere. The ones this law will most affect are the few unaffiliated packs, and the 'tame' lycanthropes. Individuals like your Professor Lupin who live amongst the human population, have regular jobs, lock themselves away during the full moon, and are productive members of society. These groups will be forced to either pledge allegiance to Greyback for protection against the wizarding community, or flee to other countries. I predict that within a few months, every remaining werewolf will be under his control. The Wizengamot has just handed the Atlantic Isles to Greyback, lock, stock and wand."
Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks nodded grimly in agreement with her assessment. The rest of the witches and wizards muttered uncomfortably.
"There are very few vampires in Britain; I expect they won't bother to fight the trend. They have kindred in other countries, and national borders mean little to them. They'll likely relocate elsewhere in Europe. The problem there is that they'll complain to their sires and monarchs about their mistreatment. I expect relations between the Ministry and the European Covens will become quite frosty for some time. Vampires have long memories and don't forget slights easily."
Prickle paused for a minute to let her words sink in.
"The unaffiliated Goblins, Veela and Succubi will flee back to their ancestral Enclaves in Europe. Again, you can expect relations between Britain and said Enclaves to remain frosty for a long time to come. Gringotts will likely be a state of cold war with the Ministry for the foreseeable future, but Dirk can tell you more about that than I. All Acromantulae we know of are dead or have mysteriously vanished; nobody will complain if those vicious predators are made extinct. There are no dragons, Sphinxes or Basilisks in Britain in the first place. Hags, Banshees and Harpies have no constituency and no political allies and so no-one will care if they live or die, or where they go as long as it's far from British shores. Centaurs and Merpeople only want to be left alone, so the Act will suit them fine and dandy. The giants have long chafed at being confined to their official colony. I expect they'll relocate to Scandinavia, where their treatment is much better than here. Durmstrang has a long-standing agreement with the giant communities: the giants provide labour for construction projects, which are extremely difficult for humans in the icy wilds of far north Sweden, in exchange for food, shelter and hunting grounds."
"Alas, I fear magical Britain will be greatly diminished for centuries by this Law," sighed Dumbledore.
Dirk Cresswell stood and began his presentation about the complex relations with Gringotts.
As he spoke, Lily scooted the teenagers out. "Okay boys, you're up to speed. There's nothing you can do about it right now. Time to go get ready for the Yule Ball."
"But that's three hours away!" Charlie protested.
"So you'll have plenty of time to shine yourselves up. The girls have been preparing since morning," Lily replied.
"Everyone knows girls are mental," Neville declared with great authority, to general agreement.
His Potions Professor raised a brow. "I'm sure your mother, grandmother, Miss Longbottom, and Miss Abbott will be ecstatic to know about your views of them."
Neville paled.
"We'll just be going now!" Ron said hastily making a run for Gryffindor Tower, the others hot at his heels.
Three hours later, a chastened yet much shinier Charlie, Neville, Ron, Seamus, Dean and Walter put the finishing touches to their dress robes and emerged from the Gryffindor dorms to find their dates.
"Over here!" Charlus' sisters waved them over to the entrance, where they had congregated with Cedric and …
"Viktor Krum!" Ron shrieked. He pounced on the bemused Quidditch star and began to pepper him with rapid-fire questions while pumping his hand vigorously.
"How on earth did you manage to snag Krum as your date?" Charlie asked Rose.
"I got Dad to ask a favour of Minister Krum. They used to be competitors in the international Quidditch leagues for years, remember. Until they retired and became g-men."
"You actually pay attention to Dad's tedious war-stories?" Charlie asked with considerable incredulity. "I always tune him out by the time he gets to the British national championships."
"Your loss," Rose smirked. "Besides, coming to Hogwarts is good for Viktor too. It's his first chance in ages to spend time with his sister."
"Oh yeah, the Durmstrang Champion," said Dean. "Is it true she's Veela?"
"Yep," Rose replied. "The Federal Union of Magyarország-Bŭlgariya-România has the highest percentage of Veela in its population out of all magical countries, and their Quidditch cheerleading teams are entirely made up of Veela athletes. Viktor told me it's common practice in the F.U.M.B.R. for Quidditch stars to marry their cheerleaders, and his parents were no exception."
"Guess that explains the magnetic attraction," Charlie chuckled, nodding towards the exuberant Ron's attempts to get Viktor to autograph his pecs.
"Afraid Veela traits only pass from mother to daughter; we're once again stuck with pure Weasley idiocy," interjected Ivy. "Can we get a move on? If we wait any longer I'm worried for the virtue of our esteemed Bulgarian visitor." She slipped her arm into Cedric's and dragged him out of the common room.
Rose grinned and rescued a rather shell-shocked Viktor from Ron's fever-grip.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley," thundered a very hacked-off Lavender Brown, hands on hips. "If you'd rather have had Krum as your date to the Ball you should've told me weeks ago!"
I
IIIIIII
I
The doors opened and the Ballroom was filled with the flashes of camera bulbs and the cheers of the onlookers as the G.I.T.T. Champions entered with their dates.
James Potter, former international Quidditch star, former Chief Auror, current Wizengamot member and current Hogwarts Transfiguration Professor could only beam in pride as he watched his children's stately parade before the world media. As the host institution, it was only natural for Hogwarts to ensure its own students led the procession. Charlie and Ginny waved regally, perfectly calm in the midst of the media maelstrom. Neville and Hannah Abbott beamed and hammed it up for the crowd as was their wont. Ivy and Cedric smiled at their fans with the usual cool detachment. Allison and Seamus blew kisses. Rose and Viktor grinned and laughed at the energy of the room. Streamers and confetti swirled around them. It was enough to bring a tear to a father's eye.
The only downside was that Draco Lestrange, as the one who'd singlehandedly won the First Task, had pride of place and was first in line. Watching the Pureblood-purist ponce posture and preen was enough to make James feel putrid. The boy had even been tacky enough to escort two dates at once! Pansy Parkinson hung on his left arm, and Astoria Greengrass on his right. How gauche. He had expected Narcissa to have trained the lad better. But then again, they were of the Dark. Who knew how those sickos' minds worked?
The Professor tuned out the rest of the Sacred Bands and slipped through the crowd to find his old friend. "Dmityar! So good to see you again!"
Dmityar Krum, former international Quidditch star, former wizarding labour union leader, and current Minister of Magic for the Federal Union of Magyarország-Bŭlgariya-România grinned wolfishly and gripped his hand in his standard bone-crushing grip. "And you, my friend. What a wonderful Yule event; I must thank your daughter for her idea, having Viktor and Viktorya both together with us tonight gladdens my and Bogomila's hearts no end."
"Splendid! Our families must really spend more time together – it's almost criminal how we've lost touch over the years. If you have enough free time, Lily and I would love to host you all at Potter Manor for the Christmas holiday period."
"Alack, Bogomila and I are booked solid. We are scheduled to stay with her extended family at the Veela Enclave for the next three weeks."
"Three weeks with the Allure assaulting you from all sides? You have my sympathies."
"A man can only do his best, my friend. And speaking of doing one's best, do you know if your Auror colleagues have managed to locate our absconded dragons yet?"
James winced. "I'm afraid there's been no sign of them," he admitted grudgingly.
"That is a pity. The Romanian Governor is most agitated. She has been extremely vocal on the subject in my office every other day. Frankly, Howlers are preferable to the pitch of that woman's voice. It has become especially difficult since she noticed that there has been a large increase in the amount of dragon-derived potions and hides and other materials circulating on the market recently."
"Is that a fact …?"
"Indeed. Many parties in the Grand Wizarding Council are demanding that the F.U.M.B.R. enact economic sanctions against Great Britain until they are repatriated, or equivalent compensation provided. The weight of public opinion is behind this push, and I fear I am powerless to prevent it. And that unfortunate Act your Wizengamot passed earlier today will only exacerbate the tensions."
"I see," he muttered, glancing around to try and see if his wife was nearby to save him from this topic. The Potter luck was on his side tonight – he spotted Lily Potter and Bogomila Krum a short distance away. He hurriedly waved for them to join him.
Lily giggled at the look on his face, but obligingly steered the blonde Veela towards their husbands.
"My dear you are as radiant as ever." Minister Krum kissed Lily's hand gallantly. James, not to be outdone, did the same for Bogomila.
"Zhames you look vonderful," she trilled. "Teaching must zuit you. Zuch a lucky voman Lily is."
"I was going to say the exact same thing about Dmityar's luck," the wizard shot her his patented Potter Lady-killing Rougish-grin.
"Pardon me," a smooth baritone voice interrupted what was shaping up to be a long bout of mutual admiration.
"Minister DelaCour," Dmityar shook the tall dapper gentlewizard's hand firmly.
"Achille, please, we are all friends here at this wonderful international cooperative event. Professors Potter and Potter, we have not yet had the pleasure. Achille and Apolline DelaCour, at your service. And of course, there is no need for introductions for my wife's illustrious companion."
Achille DelaCour, former Hit Wizard, former Chairman of the Assemblée Nationale, and current Minister of Magic of the République Magique Française, introduced his wife and her dance-partner, one Albus Dumbledore, former Hogwarts Transfiguration Professor, current Headmaster of Hogwarts, current Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and current Supreme Mugwump of the I.C.W.
"Madame Apolline is most spirited on the dance floor, Minister DelaCour," Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling. "I haven't felt so spry in decades."
"It is Fortune who decided we should encounter each other at this juncture – I understand you were discussing the most recent legislation of the British Wizengamot, yes?" Achille enquired.
"Well –" James hemmed and hawed.
"Excellent. I must take this opportunity to express my Ministry's deep objection to today's enactment of the so-called Saving Wizarding Britain Act 1997. Magical France considers the Law a gross violation of the principles of liberty, egality and fraternity, an appalling gesture of bigotry against Europe's non-human magical citizenry, and a slap in the face to the conventions of the I.C.W. If the Wizengamot does not repeal it post-haste, I'm afraid my Ministry will be forced to take concrete steps to demonstrate its displeasure."
The three British wizards grimaced.
"The F.U.M.B.R. is in complete agreement with France on this matter," Krum added his two Knuts.
"I do believe the two of you may be over-reacting …" began Dumbledore.
"Over-reacting?" demanded DelaCour. "Both Minister Krum and I have Veela wives, to say nothing of our Veela daughters competing in the G.I.T.T.! The Act makes us seriously consider whether our family members' safety can be guaranteed while they remain on British soil."
"In addition, both our countries have many magical citizens of non-human ancestry who will be protesting most loudly to us as soon as the Act is published in our newspapers," said Krum.
"We all know that the effect of the Law will be a mass exodus from Britain. Where do you think will be the destination?" noted DelaCour. "Our Ministries are now forced to prepare for the care of unknown numbers of refugees in the near future."
"Minister, it may be best if you raise these issues with Minister Bones when she arrives," Dumbledore stonewalled.
"I'm afraid your Minister will be able to do little, for two reasons," sniffed DelaCour. "The first is that she is in too precarious a state: only several votes shy of being dismissed, I believe. And the second … do you not think it strange that she is not present at the Ball tonight, nor is any representative of her DMLE ...?"
Dumbledore, James and Lily scanned the crowds. There were indeed no Aurors or DMLE officials in sight.
"I received word from my agents a mere half-hour ago," Achille said heavily. "The news of their expulsion from Britain has reached the giant colony. In response, the giants have mobilised. One Gurg is leading his clan south towards Fort William. The other Gurg is heading east towards Hogsmeade. At their current speed they are likely to arrive within two days. I believe the DMLE is marshalling its forces to take action as we speak."
"You're sure!?" Lily demanded.
"Oui. I suggest keeping the news secret, at least for tonight. No sense ruining the Yule Ball festivities."
I
IIIIIII
I
26 December 1997
The Granger family's Boxing Day celebration was a roaring success. The Lovegood, Scamander and Goldstein clans had accepted the Grangers' invitation, and the mansion and yard overflowed with chattering denizens of the wizarding world enjoying a pleasant, albeit chilly, winter day in the Muggle world. Nothing a few warming charms couldn't fix. Bellatrix spotted the two Ilvermorny Champions Anthony Goldstein and Rolf Scamander chewing the rag with Luna and Harry. He and Hermione were clearly still avoiding each other, as the witch was at the opposite end of the house to him; at the moment, she was engaged in a spirited debate with Horace Slughorn and Tilden Toots.
Dobby and Winky had confirmed that the Trace charms on Harry and Hermione had disappeared at some point during the last month, but the ones on Tom and Bella (who were still underage) were still active. They kindly cast their blocking magic on the two 14-year-olds to keep the Ministry's crooked beak out of the Grangers' shindig.
Bella wasn't keen on being around strangers, so she searched out Madame Kowalski-Goldstein and parked herself by the old lady's side, and refused to budge – until Tom caught her eye from across the room and gave her the sign. Bella nodded, made her excuses to her former tutor, and corralled a bemused Xenophilius Lovegood upstairs and into her bedroom.
"Ta da!" With a flourish, Bella dragged the belle of the ball out of her underwear drawer – a certain unlit ancient magical artefact.
"The Goblet of Fire!" gasped Xenophilius.
"Sure is!"
"Where did you get this?"
"Nicked it," said Bella proudly.
He sighed in exasperation. "What happens to little girls who pinch things they aren't owning?"
"'Grand Old Aunt Morgana comes, takes their noseys and their thumbs'," Bella chanted grudgingly.
"Correct."
"But – but – but this horrid thing forced Harry to compete in a deadly contest! And – and – he may be a two-timing prat who kisses slags, but if he doesn't finish the challenges, it's gonna rip out his magic, and maybe Tom's too!"
"Well we don't want that," he conceded. "Luna and I have grown quite fond of having Tamsin and Harry around. Let us have a goose at this artefact ... or was the expression, to have a gander …"
Xenophilius produced two long rolls of parchment from inside his robe and lay them flat upon the floor. The wizard then fired a complicated detection spell at the Goblet. The room lit up with an image of numerous glowing runes in a complex sequence, hanging in mid-air as if from a Muggle projector.
"Hmmm, intriguing," the Lovegood patriarch murmured to himself. With another swish of his wand, the rune sequence was replicated on one of the parchments. He cancelled his original spell and shot off a different detection charm. This time, the room lit up with sequences of hovering numbers. These were added to the second parchment. He pocketed his wand and the room returned to normal.
"Starting without me?" pouted Tom, closing the door behind her. "Where's Luna?"
"Making cow eyes at that Rolf bloke," sniffed Bella. "I didn't want to disturb the little lovebirds."
"Let's take a closer look." The wizard was too absorbed to pay attention to their banter. He moved the parchments to Hermione's reading desk and the three clumped together to pore over the data. "Whoever enchanted this device was crazier than a Blibbering Humdinger high on snozberries," he concluded. He tapped one section with a long, gnarled finger. "What do you see here, my students?"
Bella frowned. The passage seemed incomprehensible to her.
"Um … the chain of Ansuz-Jera-Berkana-Thurisaz-Othila … a string wound around something …?" ventured Tom hesitantly.
"Close. This part connects the Goblet's enchantments to the surrounding ward scheme. In effect, it interacts with the nearest ward in order to extract certain information, which it then processes through this runic sequence here." He tapped a different section.
"Huh?" That didn't sound useful at all, in Bella's opinion.
Tom gave a gasp, and shot out of the room like a bolt out of the blue.
Xenophilius made a gesture. Bella shrugged. She had no idea.
A minute later, Tom raced back into the room holding aloft the Marauder's Map she'd liberated from Harry's trunk. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good!"
Lovegood's white eyebrows rose high above his head as the seemingly blank sheet of parchment filled with diagrams and names. "Extraordinary …"
"You said the Goblet collected information … like the names of the contenders!" Tom said in triumph. "Just like Harry's Map, the artefact must link up with the Hogwarts wards to identify the individuals whose names are cast into the flames. That's how the Goblet's able to figure out who's who, and which people to bind! How else would a glorified cup know who the heck Neville Longbottom or Draco Lestrange are? And that's also why it doesn't matter whether you enter your own name or somebody else's, nor your underlying intent – unlike any other magical contract, for the Goblet the only thing that counts are the names themselves!"
Xenophilius' eyes shone as he continued to examine the Map, eyebrows dancing merrily atop his skull. "So the famed Hogwarts wards are able to ascertain the True Name of everyone within their boundaries … and some ingenious souls have discovered a way to piggyback onto them … I think it's time for a special edition of The Quibbler!"
"Hmmm, doesn't this also imply that the Goblet can only magically bind people who are inside Hogwarts at the time of the selection?" pondered Tom.
"Explains why the other schools don't choose their own champions at home and only send the Sacred Bands to Britain," said Bella. "The short-listed candidates had to be physically inside Hogwarts for them to be considered by the Goblet."
"Sorry to interrupt, but you three should really get downstairs, something big's happening." Hermione's portrait poked her head into Bella's watch-face.
"Can't it wait?" Bella grizzled. They were just getting to the good part.
"No. Newt Scamander set up his Wizarding Wireless set and you won't believe the news … anyway, just come down, it's easier if you hear it for yourselves."
"I don't like the sound of that," scowled Tom. They hurried to the living room to join the inhabitants who were enraptured by the solemn voice of the wireless news announcer.
"The Wizengamot passed a Law expelling the giants from the UK," Harry summarised for them in hushed tones. "They got pissed, so they're rampaging through the Muggle and magical worlds."
Bellatrix felt faint. Giants were a nightmare to deal with. The buggers were insanely strong, more magically-resistant than dragons, smarter than Acromantulae, had no obvious weaknesses like Basilisks, and were enormous to boot!
At that moment, an owl flew through the open window and dropped a bright-red letter onto the floor.
"Howler!" Hermione yelled out in alarm.
Before anywizard could react, the Howler floated into the air and opened itself. The assemblage braced themselves, but were in for a surprise: although loud, there was no ranting or screaming of the sort that these missives usually entailed. Instead a stentorian voice proclaimed:
"*The Ilvermorny Sacred Band – Anthony Goldstein and Rolf Scamander – are required to present themselves at Hogwarts immediately. In light of the state of emergency declared by the Ministry of Magic, the G.I.T.T. organising committee and the G.I.T.T. judges have decided that all Champions are to assist the Aurors in repelling the giant menace from the town of Hogsmeade. Participation is mandatory, and is considered the Second Task of the G.I.T.T. Points will be awarded commensurate with each Band's efforts to subjugate the perfidious Gurg Golgomath and his murderous clan!*"
Anthony and Rolf raced for the door.
Harry slipped away from the bedlam and made for his bedroom. He secured his Invisibility Cloak, Polyjuice phials, wand, and broomstick. Turning to go, he found his path blocked by three pale witches at his door.
"I guess I'm off," he said awkwardly. He scratched his head. He hadn't had a proper conversation outside of daily necessities with Hermione, Tom or Bella since their tiffs nearly a month ago, and had no idea how to mend bridges. "Um, if I die, use a Time Turner to come save me."
That didn't seem to help. The three girls looked stricken; Bella seemed a hair away from bursting into tears. Harry squirmed helplessly.
Deciding he was out of his depth and could deal with the situation later, he opted for retreat. "Dobby! Take me to the closest park."
'Pop'!
"Thanks, Dobby! Are there any Muggles nearby?"
"No, Magnificent Master Harry, this park is being empty."
Harry nodded in thanks to the small creature, and summoned the Knight Bus to bring him to Hogsmeade.
"Oh Harry …" his watch whispered as they surveyed the devastation. Harry grunted in agreement. Half of the magical village had been razed to the ground. Smoking piles of rubble lay as far as the eye could see. In the distance, a clump of wizarding tents near the gates of Hogwarts was the destination to which dozens of refugee groups poured. A tiny Rubeus Hagrid could be seen guarding their retreat, wielding what looked like half a telegraph pole as his weapon.
The boy swigged a dose of Polyjuice, and then Draco Lestrange leaped into the fray. Hopping onto his Firebolt, he lifted up 50 feet into the air for an eagle-eye view.
I sure hope nobody notices that there are two Dracos running around in the Second Task. As long as I stay away from where most of the Aurors and Champions are congregated, I think I can avoid detection.
The epicentre of the battle was a short distance from the Shrieking Shack. Even the blind would have trouble missing the location of a clan of enraged giants. And these giants were unleashing terrible roars of bloodlust, surrounded by bright flashes of light and terrific booms. The ground trembled every time a giant stomped or fell down, or somebody set off a Blasting Curse.
Harry could see Aurors and Hit Wizards racing from house to house, conjuring barriers wherever they went to shield themselves from the boulders and pieces of houses that the giants hurled at them. From behind cover, they would take turns unleashing combined barrages of offensive magic that bounced off the titans' resistant hide. Sacred Bands were scattered amongst them adding their firepower. It was like watching a swarm of fire-ants trying to take down a herd of elephants.
'Poof'! A blast of magical phoenix fire and Headmaster Dumbledore appeared amidst the carnage, flanked by Flitwick, McGonagall, Black, Sprout and his parents.
Thank Merlin, Harry sighed in relief. With Dumbledore and the Professors here, the situation will be resolved before long. I just have to do enough to count as participation in the Second Task … hold the phone, what's that …?
On the other side of Hogsmeade, three smaller giants were sneaking towards Hogwarts, aiming to enter the castle grounds from the rear. 'Sneaking' being a relative term of course. However, all the defenders were engaged and there was nobody free to bar the monsters' approach.
"And Bingo was his name-o."
Draco Lestrange Mark II flew over to intercept. He had spent the Knight Bus ride discussing with Portrait-Hermione how to take down a giant. Their conclusion was, unsurprisingly, that there was very little he could do. His skills were those of an average seventhie student of Hogwarts … aside from one trump card that would have to make do. Harry remembered a passage from Splinter of the Mind's Eye, that Mind Magics can have a strong influence on the weak-minded, which applied to monster as well as man.
He landed on the roof of a three-storey house in the giants' direct path, so that he could be roughly at their eye-level. He focused on the foremost brute, who seemed to be the leader of the trio. It showcased black, broken teeth and fingernails and a necklace of bones hung from its thick neck.
Hopefully this thing is weak-minded enough …
Staring into its yellow eyes, he gathered up every ounce of magic he possessed. "Confundus! Destroy your two companions! They are your foes!"
Beasts like trolls and giants were too stupid and primal to understand complex commands. But it was possible to brute-force the simplest instructions into their thick, sloping skulls. It was all a matter of magical power.
Harry and the giant stared into each others' eyes for a long moment, as the wizard strained every magical and meat-based muscle. Though simple, a giant's mind was also one-track and therefore focused enough to withstand most outside influence. But the giant was also in the height of battle-frenzy. Instead of changing its desires, Harry aimed to redirect the frenzy away from the castle and towards its subordinates.
Just when he reached the end of his rope and his body about to collapse, the giant howled and half-turned away from Harry, slamming a haymaker into the side of the second giant's head. As that giant staggered, the leader spun to the opposite side and swung its enormous club into the third giant's gut. The group devolved into a vicious battle royale that flattened this section of the town, but finally ended with the trio battered, bloody, bruised and insensate upon the snow-covered ground.
Harry sank in a panting heap against the shingles.
"Very impressive, child!"
He jerked around in surprise. He was sure he'd been alone.
In the air above him, the sky began to shimmer. A Disillusionment spell dissolved, to reveal a middle-aged witch with white fluffy hair and brightly-coloured horned spectacles atop a broomstick. She grabbed the camera hanging around her neck and began snapping pictures of him and the unconscious giants.
His eyes widened. He recognised the sharp face from the farcical Weighing of the Wands ceremony in his previous timeline. "Rita Skeeter?"
"Oh you've heard of me – always so gratifying to meet a fan of my work. Yes, I am indeed Rita Skeeter, the greatest journalist in Britain. Pleased to make your acquaintance at last, Harry James Potter."
He started in astonishment. "How in Merlin's name did you –" and hurriedly slapped a hand over his mouth.
"Too late dearie, you just outed yourself," Rita giggled.
She landed her broom gingerly on the rooftop beside the boy.
"You have no idea how long I've been searching for you, child. How about a little exclusive interview?"
Harry thought quickly. Now that the notorious gossip-monger knew who he was, he'd lost all control of the situation. And he'd already exhausted most of his magical reserves. It would take some time before he was up to spellcasting again. The only feasible option was to play along for now and see if he could minimise the damage. Or better yet, stall for time until he found an opportunity to nail her with an Obliviation.
"Okay Rita you're on," he said. Her sharklike grin grew wider. "But not here on the battlefield. Let's go to Diagon Alley. I know a place where we can be alone."
"Ohhhh my stars and garters," Rita clutched her pearl necklace with one hand and fanned herself with the other. "Such a smooth talker. I bet that's what you say to charm all the ladies, Harry."
He rolled his eyes at her theatrics. Sure, I'm a real Don Juan – if I wanted to be flayed alive by two of the cleverest and most powerful witches on the continent.
"But is it alright to leave? Aren't you forced to complete the Task to the end? What about your little friends? Aren't you going to rejoin them? Don't you want to hear your score?"
"The Goblet requires me to compete in the Tasks, nothing more. I've already taken down three giants – that's plenty enough effort! – and I don't care about scoring," he replied, ignoring the rest of her rapid burst of questions.
"If you're sure, dearie." Her arm pulled him against her chest in an intimate embrace.
'Crack'!
"This isn't what I had in mind when you said we could be alone together," the reporter complained several minutes later, as the pair sat in front of Ted Tonks at the offices of the law partnership of Tinker and Tonks.
"I thought signing a contract was the first step to any business relationship," he blinked, his wide eyes guileless. It was a pretty good imitation of Bella's expression, if he did say so himself. Ted's face twisted as the man desperately held back his laughter.
"Hah! Better stories than you have tried to tie me down with secrecy contracts," Rita sneered.
"Tie you down? Not at all," Harry improvised frantically. "It's to help both of us out."
"How so?" Scepticism dripped from her voice.
"Are you familiar with Muggle tabloids?"
The disgust on her face answered that question. Luckily for Harry, Aunt Petunia had been addicted to gossip rags, and there were always plenty around at Privet Drive. Reading old editions had made up a significant part of his non-school reading when growing up.
"Muggle journalists have realised that it's no good to simply dump everything you know on the public in one go. They find it's much more lucrative to spoon-feed juicy information to their readers over a long time," Harry explained. And boy how he'd had to listen to his aunt rant about that topic often enough. "They know the best thing is to cultivate a long-term source who can provide them with what they need on an ongoing basis."
"Teach your grandmother to suck eggs," Rita shot back. "Are you telling me you can do more for me than embarrass the Potters and Bones?"
"Oh yes," Harry grinned. "Much much more! I've been around, Rita. I've seen the dark underbelly of society. I know a lot about things that are going on all over Magical Britain, not just with the Potters. And I'm very good at finding out a whole lot of other things people want to keep secret. All that information could be yours."
The reporter still looked unconvinced.
"How about a free sample then? You studied at Hogwarts didn't you? Surely you've heard of the fabled Chamber of Secrets of Salazar Slytherin. How would you like to be the first reporter to ever visit there in a thousand years? The first to expose its mysteries to the wider world?"
"Pull the other one Harry, it's got Nifflers attached."
"Try me." Harry held her gaze firmly. A flicker of doubt flashed through her eyes.
"If I may interject," said Ted smoothly. "We could include penalty clauses in the contract that would cause … unpleasant circumstances to a party who misleads the other party. For example, by falsely promising story leads ..."
"It's up to you Rita," Harry said, feigning nonchalance. Drops of sweat rolled down his back. "You can screw me over and get, what? A single scoop. Or you can play ball with me and get access to stories none of your competitors could even dream of for years to come."
Rita chewed on that for a while.
Finally she said, "Alright kid, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time. But if you're leading me up the fairy pathway, I'll make you wish you never returned to the magical world!"
"Fair enough. Mr Tonks, the contract if you please …"
In the end, they agreed that Harry would provide a certain amount of information about himself and topics of interest to Rita's readers. In exchange, Rita would keep his location and activities secret, unless both parties consented, and avoid any lurid suggestions about him in print. Absolutely no Quik Quotes quills. The contract was binding for one year.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Harry said. "Mr Tonks, I did promise Rita a private room for an interview …"
"Say no more. You can use our debriefing room, it's unoccupied today."
Once the room was locked and secured, Harry asked, "Out of curiosity, how did you find me?"
"Funny story. A lot of people have been searching high and low for you ever since your name popped out of the Goblet of Fire."
"And yet none of them ever succeeded like you," Harry pointed out.
The witch's lips curled smugly. "I spoke to a source in the DMLE who has been tracking a mysterious underage magic user for the past few years. The first spell was recorded at the exact same location as your former Muggle guardians' residence … a Confundus Charm. Shortly thereafter, they suddenly decided to flee to an undisclosed location before anyone from the Ministry or House Potter could come asking questions about what happened to the kid they left there. Suggestive, very suggestive. The last spell was recorded several weeks ago … and then nothing. You may not know that the Ministry Trace dissipates naturally at some point during a wizard's 17th year of age. Indicating that this mysterious person is now 17. Put two and two together and it's not hard to conclude that ickle Harry Potter has been a bad bad boy."
She sat down and began preparing her quills and notepads.
"But that would imply that he's not a Squib like everyone's claiming, and the Potters lied about it for reasons unknown. And if he's got magic, that means he's magically bound to compete in the G.I.T.T. like the rest of the Potter and Longbottom sprogs. But since there's been no word about Harry Potter competing, then either: he became a Squib for real, the Ministry is lying about the Goblet's powers, or he is competing on the sly. All I needed to do was become invisible and watch the champions very closely. Imagine my surprise when I noticed two Draco Lestranges fighting giants. I had a chat with the first one, realised he's a complete cretin, and moved on to you. Paydirt."
Harry clapped. "Brava. That is impressive." He innards tugged in admiration for her sleuthing abilities, no matter how much he loathed the blood-sucking leech.
Rita took a theatrical bow.
"If only you used your powers for good …"
"What was that?"
"I said I'm amazed you'd be bothered reporting about a single abandoned Squib, instead of a massive giant assault on Hogsmeade! I'd've thought you'd be chasing the much bigger story ..."
"Oh but I am, dearie, make no mistake about that," she smirked. Her hand unconsciously lifted to stroke a gold chain that peeked out from her décolletage. Harry's eyes widened.
"You've got an illegal Time Turner!"
Rita flinched.
"Now who's the one who outed herself?" Harry grinned. "So there's another Rita out there writing up the battle of Hogsmeade as we speak …"
"How do you know about Time Turners?" the witch demanded, a hint of shrillness now seeping into her tone.
"I told you, I'm very good at finding out secret things." Harry replied, backing away, wand clenched in his hand. He didn't like the hard look in her face. "Don't worry Rita, I won't leak your secret – there's no way I'd backstab a trusted business partner …"
She continued to stare daggers at him, body tensed.
"Think you can take on a G.I.T.T. Champion one-on-one in a fair fight?" Harry challenged. He took a wide stance, tilting his body diagonally in a classic duelling position. It was a bluff of course, he could barely cast a Lumos right now, but he was ready to summon Dobby and Winky to his aid at any moment.
The reporter closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "How did you know?" she asked again with forced patience.
"I'll make a deal with you – you tell me how you got it, and I'll tell you how they ended up circulating on the black market."
"I blackmailed a local con artist named Mundungus Fletcher into handing one over," she admitted. "Not that that matters anymore, the fool's spider-chow. Now spill!"
Harry explained how a certain someone filched the devices from the DoM's Time Room and on-sold them to Borgin and Burkes and Cobb and Webbs, who in turn had Scabior's Shipping Supplies try to smuggle some out of the country.
"Who exactly was that 'someone'?" Rita demanded, quill scribbling frantically.
"A greedy Unspeakable named Augustus Rookwood." Harry had come across the name in his research on the Death Eaters. The man was the only Unspeakable ever convicted for being a follower of Voldemort, and sent to Azkaban for life. Harry had no idea what the creep was up to in this timeline, but he figured it couldn't be good. He felt no guilt throwing him under the Knight Bus. "Ably assisted by another Ministry employee named Walden MacNair." Take that you sadistic animal-killer!
Rita frowned. "And you know all this how?"
"Who do you think tipped off the DMLE to make the busts?"
She opened her mouth to challenge him, but the wizard cut her off. "And that's all I'm prepared to say on the subject … hm … it won't be long now." Harry could feel the Polyjuice about to wear off. Within moments his body reverted back to its normal state. Rita readied her camera.
"Your hair's brown."
"Muggle dye."
"Dear me, that won't do at all. Hold still, I'll put a Glamour spell on you." She waved her wand and his hair returned to its original midnight-black colour. "And wear these." A pair of old-fashioned spectacles was shoved into his hands.
"Why?"
"These are the same brand of glasses your father is famous for wearing. With them on … ah yes, the resemblance is uncanny! Nobody would ever doubt you're James Potter's son! Now why don't you stand in front of the window … no, no, you need to pose more heroically! Perhaps stare out across the horizon with a majestic gaze …"
I
IIIIIII
I
"… and after she finishing interviewing me, she Apparated us back to Hogsmeade and I smuggled her down into the Chamber of Secrets. Bloody witch poked around in there for hours, snapping pictures galore. When she was finally done, I came home. And that's everything," Harry finished.
He gave an almighty yawn. It had been a long day and he was exhausted.
"What if Skeeter decides to screw you over after all?" Bella asked bluntly.
"Then the contract will do all sorts of nasty things to her."
"I don't know, a person as cunning as she seems to be must have all sorts of ways to find loopholes," worried Hermione. "She's got her own Time Turner too." Tom and Bella nodded in agreement.
"If she betrays me, I'll use the gold Time Turner to go back to today and obliviate her until she's the one lying in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's."
Tom giggled. "We'll make a Dark Lord out of you yet, Harry."
"It's really worrisome when it's you telling me that, Tom," he muttered. "And one more thing – why are the three of you in bed with me?"
"You saying there isn't enough room?" challenged Bella. Her arms tightened around him. "A King-size too small for our great and powerful giant-slayer?"
"It's not a matter of space –"
"Shut up and go to sleep, Harry," murmured Hermione snuggling closer.
I
IIIIIII
I
"Woof!"
The large black Grim yelped in protest when the proud eagle-owl dropped its burden unceremoniously atop its head.
"Stupid bird, that gave me a paper-cut!" growled Sirius, morphing back into his human form. He shook his fist at what was now a mere speck in the wild blue yonder.
"What does the letter say?" asked Remus. The werewolf was stretched out on a deckchair nearby. The past month and a half of sun, surf and outdoor barbeques had done wonders for the Professor's tan and physique.
"Judging from all the florid calligraphy I'd guess it's from my dear former family," said Sirius. The Auror rubbed his forehead at a spot now sporting a slight wound that bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain scar on a certain green-eyed wizard. "Welp, the day we were expecting has finally arrived, Moony. My dear grandpa Arcturus has ordered me and my 'degenerate cronies' to vacate Black Island forthwith."
"I'm amazed House Black didn't bar you from the island the moment you ran out on them all those years ago."
His friend shrugged. "Probably didn't occur to them. Not like any of those ghouls ever used this place. Far too much sunlight, garlic and good feelings all round," he chuckled. "Wonder what's changed now?"
"How long do we have until the wards eject us?" Remus asked.
"About –" but Sirius didn't get to finish his sentence before what felt like an invisible freight train slammed into the duo.
The Marauders shrieked as their bodies were jettisoned far out into the ocean, as if shot from a trebuchet.
"Must've … broken the … world belly-flop record …" spluttered Sirius, clutching his stomach in agony.
"Incoming," gasped Remus, pointing to the skies.
The pair were forced to shield their heads as their possessions began dropping into the sea around them like Muggle artillery shells. The extra-large grill/smoker caused a particularly impressive splash-blast.
"Look Moony, our wands!" Sirius grabbed the floating sticks and tossed Remus his cypress and unicorn-hair ten-incher. Several Summoning Charms gathered their scattered belongings and eventually they were able to stuff them in a sodden heap into their trunks. Thank Merlin the trunks were buoyant.
"We've lost our communication mirrors," the werewolf groaned in dismay. "Probably on the seabed by now. What do we do?"
"I vote we swim to Nassau," his friend suggested. "We can write Prongs from there. It's about 30 kilometres; less than the English Channel. Casinos, booze, amusement parks, Muggle babes in bikinis, and all the Tylenol you can drink."
"You do know you're not supposed to chug –"
"Point Me Nassau!" Sirius cast. The wand spun in his hand and pointed south-west. He cradled their two trunks to his chest and changed into Padfoot. Nobody knew where the clothes and possessions of an animagus went whenever they turned into their animal self. For some reason, whatever inanimate objects the wizard was wearing or touching at the time of transformation would disappear into the ether, only to reappear on them when they regained their human form. It was a great advantage in situations like this one.
With an encouraging bark, Padfoot paddled ahead towards the south-west, leading Remus through the wine-dark sea.
Next Time on ATTR: Chapter 9 – The Widening Gyre