No Time For Losers

by DZ2

As the Fourth Champion, Harry took his bow. His curtain call. They brought him pain, betrayal and everything that goes with it. He thanks you all: The Tournament's no bed of roses. No pleasure cruise: it's Harry's challenge before all the betrayers, one he will not lose! Darkish Powerful Harry;

1. A Hero's Curtain Call

No Time For Losers: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.

Plot: As the Fourth Champion, Harry took his bow. His curtain call. They brought him pain, betrayal and everything that goes with it. He thanks you all: The Tournament's no bed of roses. No pleasure cruise: it's Harry's challenge before all the betrayers, one he will not lose!

Author's Note: So, I imagine taking a closer look at the title and summary, you can guess where inspiration struck me for this one? And you'd be right – do not own the original lyrics to the song, btw, obviously it belongs to Queen – but…well, what can I say?

Inspiration's weird and so am I.

Don't like it? Don't read on, then.

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my good friend JustBored21 for being my second inspiration for this story: my recommended reads are Trickshot and Apex by JustBored21, Aspirations by megamatt09, The Rise of the Last Potter by HPfanfictioner66, The House of Potter-Greengrass by WolfgangNH, Magicks of the Arcane by Eilyfe, Harry Potter and the International Triwizard Tournament by Saliient91, Kill me if you can by PercyPendragon3, We Are Eternal by KhaosOnion and Harry Potter and the Potter Grimoire by IamZerokun

Key Pairing: Harry/Ginny

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: A Hero's Curtain Call

"Harry Potter?"

"Fuck me!"

Suffice to say, even Albus Dumbledore was surprised to hear such a crass remark leave the lips of the Golden Boy of Gryffindor, following the old man's reading of the boy's name, announcing him as part of the Triwizard's Champions' Selection. Even as Dumbledore looked up to where Harry's anger-filled exclamation had come from, however, he was surprised to see the boy rise up from his position near his fellow Gryffindors before, instead of moving towards Dumbledore and joining the other Champions in the nearby antechamber, Harry scoffed before he turned on his heel and walked out of the hall.

"Once…just once…that was all I wanted…was that too-fucking-much to ask for?"

Harry's personal cussing and mutterings followed him all the way out of the Great Hall.

It was only when the doors to the hall closed behind him that the rest of Hogwarts saw fit to complain and mutter among themselves.

NTFL

As for Dumbledore, he didn't know how to feel: on one hand, the Tournament would force Harry to confront his destiny, especially since Albus had smelled Tom's hand in this year's events, ever since the Dark Mark had appeared over the Quidditch World Cup.

The subsequent return of the Death Eaters and the raging paranoia that had risen up because of it was just the icing on the cake.

Of course, Cornelius put it down to drunken pranks and even said the Muggles' deaths at the Cup were staged, which, thanks to a conveniently-quick move on the part of the Aurors, Crouch and even the Obliviators, Albus had wondered if someone else's hand was guiding Fudge here.

Someone named Lucius Malfoy, for example.

And now, Tom was showing his hand again with Harry being put into the Tournament, named as an impossible Fourth Champion, which, from the sounds of things, wasn't going down all too well with the rest of the school.

Albus could even see Harry's usually-loyal friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, whispering among themselves, the redhead's envy and displeasure at this turn of events so obvious on his face, it was a wonder the boy was even a chess prodigy. More-importantly, Albus could guess that such emotions were more-based around the idea Albus suspected had been incepted by his brothers' failed attempt to deceive the Age Line.

As for Miss Granger, she just looked annoyed, if not frustrated and, as he brushed a Legilimency probe over her thoughts, Albus didn't know whether to be amused or disappointed at the fact that the only thing she was annoyed at was that Harry had managed to defy Dumbledore's magic.

Great Merlin's ghost, didn't these two know what loyalty was, much less who they were talking about?

Dumbledore didn't need eyes in every portrait to know an encounter between the so-called Golden Trio was inevitable.

He just hoped Harry's friendship was as strong as Lily's love had been: even someone with Trelawney's often-broken Seer's capabilities would know how much the boy would need it by the time Tom showed his hand and brought their inevitable encounter to fruition.

In the meantime, Albus needed to decide how he was going to steer Harry in the right direction, preferably without being accused of cheating for helping his second Champion as much as he knew Pomona and the Puffs would help Mr Diggory.

There could only be one Hogwarts Champion.

Even Dumbledore knew that.

NTFL

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck all this bullshit about fucked-up, arsehole, dick-spewing excuses about bastard rules and Age Lines and the rabid, menstruating dragon its Mother rode in on!"

Suffice to say, there wasn't one member of the Hogwarts student body who would have been surprised to see the walls of Gryffindor Tower turn blue with Harry's rage-driven cuss-fest. Fortunately, with everyone else doing who-knew-what down in the Great Hall, Harry was alone in the fourth-year dormitory, doing everything he could to vent his frustrations while, at the same time, he was quickly packing up everything he owned, shoving it into his trunk as quickly and messily as he could.

"One year," growled Harry, slamming his trunk shut, even as he snapped, "Was that too much to ask? Just one fucking year without these bullshit life-or-death encounters coming after me? I mean, I'm not even bastard-seventeen yet, so how in the name of the Devil's whore Mother and the clapped-out cunt she birthed him with am I even part of this fucked-up Roman Gladiators wannabe?"

Had anyone even heard the language spewing from his mouth, Harry would have actually dared to thank Vernon Dursley and his rat-infested sewer of a potty mouth for giving Harry the means to know a lot of these cuss words and swears, even the big C word and the imagery that his mind came up with, consumed by rage as he was.

Personally, it felt nice for Harry to have a chance to vent, especially with the cussing and the swears, without someone berating him for his language or trying to tone him down and tame his ire.

For fuck's sake, wasn't he allowed to be angry?

He was a teenager with emotions flying higher than his Firebolt could go: what was he meant to do?

Invest in a bleep machine that'd cover up every expletive just because some interfering busybody wanted him to be the perfect little boy?

'Oh sure, of course I'll be a good boy,' thought Harry, grabbing the edge of his trunk as he dragged it out of Gryffindor Tower. 'And then, when this good boy gets his fucking head ripped off and stuffed up Voldemort's ass, at least you can put that on my tombstone, can't you, Mrs Weasley? Or perhaps you would like that, Hermione? Yeah, I can see it now: here lies Harry Potter, a good boy who ate his vegetables, said his prayers and even said thank you when Voldemort made pretty red colours fly out of the boy's neck.'

Suddenly, as this crazy, if not insane thought crossed his mind, Harry found his ire and anger replaced by a low, disbelieving chuckle that, before he'd even reached the portrait hole, turned into gales of full-blown laughter as he found his insane imagery making him roar with laughter, humour replacing anger and amused disbelief replacing outrage.

'Sweet Merlin's shrivelled testicle; where do I get this stuff?'

It was during his uncontrollable, rib-straining, tear-jerking gales of laughter that Harry found himself no longer alone in Gryffindor Tower, most-notably because of how the portrait hole reopened, admitting the rest of the Gryffindors back into their Common Room.

However, when the Gryffindors saw and heard Harry Potter rolling around on the floor, slamming his fist into the ground as he laughed uncontrollably, many of them chose to believe that the Boy-Who-Lived had finally, irrevocably, snapped his last wit and been driven to the point where his only salvation was to be taken away by the men in white suits.

When Ron and Hermione joined the sea of confused lion cubs, however, barely two seconds ticked by before Hermione yelled, "HARRY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE? GET UP OFF THE FLOOR THIS INSTANT! YOU'RE EMBARRASSING YOURSELF!"

"Oh…oh, hiya, Granger; I thought I heard your dulcet tones," drawled Harry, wiping tears from his eyes, even as he rose up before he chuckled softly as he asked, "Hey, win a bet for me, will you, Granger? Does my gravestone mention me saying my prayers and thanking old Riddle-Me-This for painting me pretty colours when he offs me again? Or is it just some bullshit excuse for support for the Boy-Who-Lived?"

The sarcasm that filled Harry's voice as he mentioned his unwanted title was obvious, even to someone as dense as Ronald Weasley, who scoffed as he insisted, "So, it's true, then? You did put your name in that Goblet?"

"Well, everyone but me believes it, so it must be true…whoa, déjà vu," laughed Harry, waving off the confused, alarmed looks from the rest of the Lions' Den, even as Harry added, "What? Oh don't tell me you've forgotten, Weasel-Bee: then again, it's obviously taken you less time than it does to lift a fork to your mouth for you to forget we're supposed to be friends…partners…brothers-in-arms…so, yeah, what was I saying?"

"You were going to tell me how you cheated your way past Dumbledore's magic!"

"Um, I think you'll find that's Professor Dumbledore, Hermione," retorted Harry, earning a dumbfounded look from Hermione while several of the Gryffindors sniggered as Harry laughed, "Wow, I've been waiting four years to say that. What catchphrase of yours shall I say next, Little Miss I'm the Brightest Witch Since Lily Potter Because I Say So, Therefore It Must Be True…wow, that's a long nickname; maybe I'll take a page out of old Snivellus' book and just call you an Insufferable Know-It-All, what do you guys think?"

"You're mad, Potter!"

"Actually, I'm a Leo, but thanks for trying, McLaggen," argued Harry, before he turned and, hefting his trunk, he added, "Now, if you lot don't mind, I've got places to go, lives to live and choices to make, namely about the three most important people in my life."

"Well, at least you're smart enough to ask for help," insisted Hermione.

Harry, however, blew a raspberry as he added, "Um, no, Insufferable Know-It-All; I was talking about Me, Myself and I; after all, judging by the sea of constipated faces and limp-dicked excuses you've all come up with…"

"Harry, watch your language."

"Why? Is it going to do magic tricks?"

As more sniggers followed Harry's retort, the emerald-eyed scion scoffed as he asked, "Wow, what happened to you, Insufferable? What? Did you skip puberty and go straight to the habit and the vow of silence we all wish you'd take for at least five minutes, so somebody else can remind the rest of them that there's more students in Hogwarts than Hermione the Insufferable Know-It-All Granger?"

"Harry, you're being ridiculous!"

"Yeah, I know," sighed Harry, adopting a look of mocking pity before he winked slyly as he asked, "Fun, huh? I bet my new favourite dog would be pissing himself laughing if he saw me now…but we'll never know and, now I think about it, I have you to thank for that, don't I, Granger? I mean, I know you're a cat person, but to deprive someone else the right to a dog…that's just cruel. Maybe I should start a new SPEW…hmm…what could I call it? The Friends Against Canine Enemies Squad? FACES for short, what do you think SPEW-Master Granger?"

"It's not Spew…"

"Pfft, whatever," drawled Harry, dragging his trunk past the Gryffindors as he added, "Stupid insufferable know-it-all, she doesn't even understand the real meaning behind magic and the bond between an elf and its master…ooh…I know; why am I dragging my trunk like this when I have a willing member of staff to do it for me?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

As though responding to her, Harry smiled slyly before he spread his arms as he addressed the room, "Fire in the hole…DOBBY!"

Not even Alastor Moody's roar of CONSTANT VIGILANCE could make the Gryffindors jump as much as Harry's leonine roar did; while many of them, mostly the first-years and those who'd never even known Harry could roar like that, jumped at least a foot off the ground, Harry smiled proudly when a loud snap announced the arrival of Dobby the House Elf.

"Harry, you can't! That's slavery!"

"No, that's Dobby," said Harry, looking down at the elf as he added, "Dobby, as your master, I command you: take my possessions somewhere very safe and, once you've done that, go around Hogwarts, kitchens, dormitories and Common Rooms…oh, and the Library too, and destroy any and all knitted booties and bobble hats that this Insufferable Know-It-All has left to try and trick House Elves into freedom!"

"Yes, Master Harry," replied Dobby, who seemed to glow for a moment as he accepted and embraced his Master's order; when the glow faded, Dobby was dressed in a small, black-and-red-coloured uniform with a stag's head printed on his left-hand side.

While Hermione was beyond-horrified at what Harry had done, Harry just hummed carelessly as he watched Dobby leave, taking his possessions with him; once the elf was gone, Harry drew in a long, deep sigh before he looked up to a stunned sea of crimson.

"So…is it weird that I rather enjoyed hearing someone else bow down to my wishes instead of being the monkey dancing to the tune of an egomaniac, an idiot, a thoughtless nitwit and a pathetic waste of oxygen…oh, and Ronald Weasley too?"

"How dare y-"

Before Hermione had a chance to strike Harry, clearly intending to scold him for his actions, the emerald-eyed scion stopped Granger dead in her tracks, holding her hand in a vice-like grip that, to Hermione's alarm, actually began to redden and burn as some unknown magic scalded her skin.

"OWWW! HARRY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! THAT BURNS! STOP IT! I'LL TELL DUMBLEDORE!"

"Professor Dumbledore," chorused Harry and several of the Gryffindors, while Harry pushed Hermione away, watching her fall over the arm of the nearest chair, where she landed in a heap as he added, "And I can't stop it, Granger; remember? My loving Mother, you know, the real brightest witch of the past one hundred years who isn't you and never will be? I seem to remember telling you about the power of her sacrifice and how anyone who intends me harm can't hurt me…fortunately, you're a girl, so I can't hit you."

"You Dark Wizard!"

Ron charged at Harry.

And Harry decked him with a right hook that would have made Tyson jealous, even as Harry shook his hand, as though the effort had harmed him, before he scoffed at Ron, who was now supporting a pretty bad nosebleed.

"But you, I can hit, Weasel-Bee and, tell you what, I'll even give you that free shot…you're probably used to freebies by now anyway, so consider it the last one you get from me."

"I…you…we…through…"

"Fine," said Harry, brushing a speck of dust from his robe as he added, "I've got more important things to focus on, anyway; you know? Places to go, magic to master, Tournaments to win…just one of the perks of being little old me: famous Harry James Potter, aka The Boy-Who-Is-Champion-Of-Himself…hmm…needs a better title…anyway, ciao…DOBBY!"

To Hermione's horror, Dobby appeared and took Harry away just as quickly as he had done his Master's possessions, leaving the Gryffindors alone with the moaning, bleeding moron and a beyond-furious, burned not-the-brightest witch of her age.

As the portrait hole finally closed, clearly recognising no-one else was going to leave, Ron's anger only grew when his own sister said what many of them were thinking.

"So…which one of you two geniuses thought you could actually tickle a sleeping dragon and not get burned?"

NTFL

When Dobby dropped Harry off, the young wizard was a little surprised to see that the elf had brought him to a luxurious-looking room, which was currently occupied by a low-burning fire, as well as a warm, welcoming smell of freshly-baked bread, which Harry found unusual, but he didn't complain too much about it.

Instead, he turned to Dobby before he asked, "Where have you brought me, Dobby? Not that I'm complaining being away from the headache and the idiot, but still…this isn't Hogwarts, so where is it?"

"The safest place on Planet Earth, Harry."

As soon as Harry heard that voice, he gasped as he spun around, just in time to see a shaggy-haired man with baleful grey eyes and a warm, but also sad smile on his face, standing near the low-burning fire in the hearth. In one hand, the man held a small vial of potion, which he threw to Harry, who caught it out of reflex, even as the man smiled at him.

"Welcome to Potter Castle, pup: your ancestral home and the place where I've got a funny feeling, you'll be going through quite the change in the days ahead…but first, why don't you take that Calming Draught and sit down, so we can talk about this latest batch of insanity?"

"Which bit, Sirius?" asked Harry, though not before he chose to forsake the potion and, instead, he crossed the room and embraced his godfather fondly, earning a soft laugh from Sirius as he tousled his boy's hair and held him close.

After a moment, Harry wiped tears from his eyes as he looked up to his godfather before he smiled coyly;

"The bit where I'm put in a Tournament I'm not even old enough to write my name on a bit of paper…or the fact that my godfather, the Prisoner of Azkaban, is apparently playing squatter in my family's old home? Take your pick, Padfoot; trust me, we've got all night."

Blimey, talk about a stunning start: in being named the Fourth Champion, Harry seems to have gone off the reservation, but will he be any better or worse off when the adrenaline settles?

Also, having, apparently, chosen to sever all ties with the Insufferable Know-Nothing and the idiot who clearly deluded himself into thinking he could freely attack the best Defender in Hogwarts, how will Harry deal with this latest bit of bullshit to be thrown onto his already-formidably-sized pile?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Sirius fills in a couple of blanks for Harry, before he gives him an option to take back control of his destiny and, even better, keep it!

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