AN: Alright guys, let's start this bloody Tournament.
As always, let me know what you think about the chapter!
Also, if you have ideas or suggestions for the tasks, send me a pm or mention them in your review.
I do, of course, have some ideas myself, but it's always nice to see what my audience might enjoy.
Chapter 31
October 15th, 1994
Harry was completely convinced that something was going on with the female student population at Hogwarts. Within the last four weeks in the castle, he had been asked on a date to Hogsmeade well over ten times, even though no actual Hogsmeade weekend had been confirmed yet.
Whereas he previously thought that his popularity after the world cup had been at an all-time low, it seemed as that had not been the case. Instead, Harry Potter had never been more popular especially among the witches...at least among three out of the four houses...
From his year alone, Mandy Brocklehurst, Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, and Megan Jones had asked him if he was interested in spending some more time with them. To his shock, even girls a year or two above him had openly shown their interest, including Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell and the Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang, who had started smiling and winking at him from her spot at Ravenclaw table.
Naturally, as a boy going through puberty, Harry enjoyed the attention quite a bit and even started the light occasional flirt with a couple of them. To be fair, one could not really blame any of the girls for finally taking notice of him...
He stood taller than any in his year, rivaling many of the fifth and sixth years. Even through the wide and loose Hogwarts robes, one could spot the obvious athleticism. Add to that, his trademark emerald green eyes, the high cheekbones, and strong jaw... Harry had even agreed to let Sirius cut his hair before the world cup. It was as unruly as ever at the top, but he had cut it a bit shorter at the sides, giving him a stylish new look.
In addition, Harry's entire demeanor radiated a sort of confidence and calmness many of the girls found attractive. Everyone knew he was very bright and the best in his year, however, he never publicly bragged about his academic achievements or showed off, unlike a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor.
Still, Harry was not really interested in dating any of the girls at Hogwarts right now. Besides Daphne Greengrass or Susan Bones, he did not find any of them that attractive, anyway. Unfortunately for him, those two girls still did not speak to him, each for their own reasons.
But even those two paled in comparison to Fleur Delacour, who for some reason, seems to be a benchmark for girls now... Truth be told, she was everything he would be looking for in a girlfriend:
She was an extremely talented witch, both powerful and smart. She valued family just as highly as him and would always stand up for what she believed in. Harry did not even need to mention her obviously incredible looks, but to him, they were more like the icing on the cake...wrapping up the entire image of the french beauty.
But realistically speaking... Would he even have a chance? Even accounting for the time turner, he was still more than two years younger... Fleur had just turned 17, she was an adult, while to everyone besides Salazar, Harry still barely turned 14.
Certain things spoke in his favor, however... Veela were naturally attracted to powerful wizards and Harry would most certainly count himself amongst those. Unlike any other boy his age, he could also withstand her allure and not become a drooling mess in front of her... In any case, Harry decided to just wait and see how things develop between the two.
From her letter, she seemed to really enjoy his gift for her and she would be here in Scotland, in two weeks already. They would have more than enough time to get to know each other better this year, anyways.
For now, he should focus on his other projects. Each day he was making a little progress with either Apparation, passive Legilimency, or the new creation of his spell. Harry had also restarted his Animagi lessons with McGonagall. He had not practiced over summer, because he just had better things to do, like preparing for the Championship or spending time with Sirius.
The dueling practices with Flitwick were on hold as of right now. There was still a lot Flitwick could teach him, but it just was not a priority for Harry, as of right now. Instead, Harry again found himself in the company of Salazar, debating and arguing over large pieces of parchments with complicated models and calculations. The two had yet to have a real breakthrough when it came to Harry's dragonfly spell.
"Alright...I will just give this one a try and see how it goes. If it fails, we will just take a different approach to it." Harry rubbed his eyes and stood up.
"Temporalis Anisoptera!" Harry spoke and imagined the thin body and transparent wings of a common dragonfly.
To his and Salazar's amazement, a single insect erupted from the tip of his wand and promptly fell to the floor. Harry chuckled: "It works, but the wings are too small to hold its body weight, yet. However, that is something we can easily fix. Maybe we can even further manipulate the wingspan."
Salazar seemed very proud: "Excellent work, Harry. This is huge progress already. Within only four weeks, we developed the first part of the spell. Next, we can work on the individual design of the dragonfly, before trying to conjure multiple of them. For now, however, you should get some sleep, my heir."
Harry nodded and took his leave from the chamber. He had successfully created his own spell...now it just required optimization.
October 22nd, 1994
Another week had passed and once again Harry was corresponding with Sirius via the two-way mirror:
"I just don't get those dreams, Sirius. It's like back during the first year, when Snape tried to intrude my mind. Even after building up my strongest shields before going to sleep, I still hear the voices. There are no images to the dream... only the three different voices, I have heard so far."
"When did you have the first dream? And who do you usually hear?" Sirius frowned and narrowed his eyes in concern.
"The first one was at some point before the World Cup. The last one, last night, and maybe one or two in between. The only voice I certainly recognize is Wormtail's...but I think the second one might belong to Voldemort. I have no idea, who the last one belongs to."
Sirius did not look happy at all: "What are they usually talking about? Can you try to write down some details as soon as you wake up?"
"That's the point...even with all my exercises for the mind arts. I can't really concentrate on the dreams the next morning...all I know is that they are planning something."
"Well, stay on alert, as always, and make sure to write anything down, as soon as you can remember more. If Wormtail truly found his old master, then it can't be something good...especially for you, Harry." Sirius replied carefully.
"Thanks, Padfoot… you always know how to cheer me up." Harry laughed.
"Be serious about this, Harry! And no! Don't you dare say it!" Sirius added.
"How can I be Sirius when that's you already.!" Harry grinned and ended the connection. It was time for breakfast and DADA class afterward.
Half an hour later he sat down behind his usual desk in the DADA classroom. To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.
After Granger threw a fit and started arguing about the legality of the entire thing, Moody had to shut her up, so that they could finally start. Harry watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence.
Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Longbottom performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state.
Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it. Pathetic...Harry thought. He did not exactly like the idea of someone performing a spell on him, but he was eager to find out how well he could deal with the curse.
"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."
Harry calmly moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"
It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. But something was wrong...this euphoria had to be fake.
He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, but still aware of everyone watching him. And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: "
"Jump onto the desk...jump onto the desk…"
It only took Harry a couple of seconds to boost up his Occlumency shields and push the echoing voice far away. Instead, the faint outline of Moody's ugly face returned in front of him.
Harry grinned: "Why don't you jump yourself, Professor?" Before fully breaking the curse and finding himself back in the classroom. With a wide-eyed professor in front of him.
Moody started barking his laughter: "That's how it's done, Potter! Excellent job!"
He turned to the rest of the students that were staring at Harry in disbelief:
"Look at that, you lot . . . Potter fought! He fought it, and he even beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that's where you see it — very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have no chance controlling you!"
Moody performed the curse a couple more times on Harry and each time it was thrown off within a couple of seconds. Once again, Harry was more than glad for picking up the book on the mind arts during his first visit to Diagon Alley.
October 30th, 1994
Today was Friday and the day the delegation from the two other schools would arrive. A couple of days ago, a notice had been put up on the blackboard in the Great Hall.
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.
Potions was finally over and Harry and the rest of the Hogwarts students quickly made their way to the front of the castle to greet the foreign witches and wizards. Dumbledore was the first to spot the arrival of the Beaoxbaton delegation.
Harry could make out an oddly shaped object that flew over the Forbidden Forest towards the castle. Upon closer inspection, it seems to be some sort of carriage, pulled by giant horses...and definitely nothing close to the other suggestions made by various Hogwarts students.
The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed — then, with an almighty crash the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground.
A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery-red eyes. Harry just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars, the crest of Beauxbaton before it opened. He felt his heart beating faster...Any second now, he would see Fleur again.
A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully.
Then Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage — a shoe the size of a child's sled — followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.
That must be Madam Maxime, Harry chuckled. She and Hagrid would probably get along, Harry mused, as Dumbledore greeted the foreign headmistress. However, he quickly averted his attention back to the entrance to the carriage, where the first students had started stepping out.
With each student, Harry became more nervous. He would have thought that Fleur would be the first to present herself proudly to the Hogwarts population. After almost 20 french students, Harry started almost doubting that she would still appear.
Then he saw her. Fleur Delacour gracefully stepped out of the giant carriage. She had put her long platinum hair in an elegant braid and wore her light blue uniform just like the rest of her school. She had wrapped a scarf around her neck and Harry couldn't hide his grin when he noticed the blue hand-knitted mittens on her hands.
Her deep blue eyes searched the crowd of Hogwarts students for something and Harry realized that many heads around him had started to take notice of her. He almost wanted to wave at her or run over to over, but instead, he simply kept his eyes on her and waited until she would see him...it wouldn't take long...any second now.
Her curious eyes finally found him, standing in between the Ravenclaw students. Her expression changed into a bright lovely smile and Harry could swear that her allure was running wild, judging by the fact that many boys next to him started gaping and drooling.
The french headmistress had been conversing with Dumbledore so far. She gestured for her students to follow her and Fleur visibly pulled herself together, her head held high, and gracefully strode behind her headmistress. She did not look back at him... That was the Fleur Delacour he had gotten to know, Harry grinned.
He couldn't care less about the arrival of the Dumstrangs...all he wanted to do, was go find Fleur and give her a tour of Hogwarts. But he resisted the urge and remained with the rest of his house. They would have more than enough time soon.
A few minutes later, someone started shouting.
"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!" From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all.
Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor… What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool… and then Harry saw the rigging...
Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes.
Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
Students in red uniforms, covered in heavy fur cloaks got off the ship and made their way up the castle. Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously, as soon as their leader, the headmaster of Dumstrang, Igor Karkaroff, arrived in front of the castle and shook hands with Dumbledore.
Karkaroff had been a Death Eater and saved himself by ratting out a couple of his mates. Sirius told him that he wasn't exactly popular in Azkaban. Surveying the tall and broad-shouldered Durmstrang students, Harry thought he spotted a couple of familiar faces from the recent Championship. He wondered who was most likely to be named Champion for their school.
His question was answered soon after. "It's Krum!" Someone yelled within the mass of Hogwarts students and for a second Harry spotted the prominent curved nose of the Bulgarian Seeker he had watched at the World Cup. This would make things interesting…
Harry did not know how skilled Krum was with a wand. He was an admittedly good flyer, maybe one of the best in the world, but other skills seemed more important in a tournament like this. Still, it would be interesting to see him in action.
Apparently, many of the females at Hogwarts lost their nerves at the sight of the international Quidditch star. Harry could hear a couple of them talking about giving autographs with lipstick... so desperate…
The Hogwarts and Durmstrang students made their way into the castle and to the Great Hall. The Beauxbaton students had decided to sit down at the Ravenclaw table. Harry grinned...was Fleur responsible for that? He quickly found her, sitting at the middle of the table, a couple of boys drooling and staring all around her.
Harry decided to walk over to her seat, just as the Dumstrangs decided to sit down at Slytherin Table. Harry couldn't care less. His eyes were fixed on the patch of platinum blonde hair. Fleur saw him coming and their eyes locked onto each other. She stood back up from the table when Harry was only a couple of feet away.
"Monsieur Potter." Fleur greeted him in French and expectantly held out her hand. "I have not expected to see you here." The corner of her mouth barely twitched upward.
Many students and even teachers were watching their reunion now with interest, especially some of the Slytherins.
"It's a pleasure to welcome you at Hogwarts, Mademoiselle Delacour." Harry flashed her cheeky smile and bowed low to grace her knuckles with his lips.
Fleur started laughing, pulled him back up, and took a step forward. She threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug and Harry inhaled the familiar scent of cinnamon and Vanilla. Even in her school uniform, her body felt incredibly soft against his hard chest and torso.
Fleur let go of him but not before giving him a lingering kiss on his cheek and whispering: "Thank you for the mittens, I have no idea what I would do without them." She grinned.
Harry gulped. The spot where her lips had connected with his skin was still burning. He was proud of his confident, calm demeanor, but Fleur Delacour once again had him blushing like a ten-year-old.
"It's good to see you, Fleur." He finally managed to say before taking a seat next to her.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
Harry and Fleur exchanged a brief smile.
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation. His eyes narrowed involuntarily.
The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.
"You should try the Bouillabaisse, Harry," Fleur mentioned at his side.
"Bless you, Fleur," Harry replied cheekily and earned himself a sharp elbow to the rips for his comment. He took a couple of spoons and had to admit that it was pretty good. Then he noticed all the boys around them staring at Fleur.
"Guys, keep your eyes to yourself, come on...we have guests." Harry spoke up.
When the boys gave no visible reaction, he took out his wand, and with one fluent motion, the cup in front of each of the boys emptied its contents into their laps.
"Shit, thank you, Harry. I don't know what caught me there." Terry was the only one that acknowledged what just occurred. The others just stared at Harry angrily.
"Thank you, Harry...but you did not need to do that. I have gotten used to the stares." Fleur whispered in his ear.
Harry tried to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine at the feeling of her impossible hot breath. He shook his head: "I know you can handle them yourself...I just don't like how they represent my school." Harry explained.
"Not everyone can have your control, Harry." The Veela gave him a wink and Harry quickly returned to his food as he felt the blush creeping into his face. What the hell was going on with him?
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year.
But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" — there was a smattering of polite applause — "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts." At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen.
Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch." Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. "As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup.
The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire." Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.
Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall. "Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward.
Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract.
There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
Fleur and Harry had been listening intently to the speech. Madam Maxime rose from her seat and gestured for her students to follow her.
"I will have to return to the carriage, Harry. Care to give me a tour of the castle tomorrow?"
"Of course. Good night, Fleur." Harry squeezed her hand briefly before the French witch rose from her seat and left the hall, followed by the stares of the boys around her. Harry noticed that especially the Slytherins seemed to have developed an interest in her.
He looked over to their table and noticed that many eyes turned to him as soon as the Veela had left the hall. Harry flashed them a grin as if to tell them 'just try me' and made his way out of the Great Hall. He had to brief Salazar on everything.
Down in the Chamber, Salazar intently listened as Harry retold Dumbedlore's entire speech and the rules of the Tournament.
"This is good for us, Harry... The Goblet is impartial. It does not care about age, only about the best possible candidate. I guess once you enter your name, it will judge you by magical skill, strength, and personal character, to determine the best competitor.
Without the age line, you could easily enter and win. I doubt the Goblet would choose any other Hogwarts student over you."
"I have an idea on how to cross the line, already... I think my cloak might work, but of course, I'd have to test it. According to the story by Beetle, the cloak hides the soul of the user... During the summer, Sirius and I ran some tests on it and found out that a person under the cloak can't be found by the Homenum Revelio spell, which searches an area for souls.
You can also cross many complicated wards while under the cloak, simply because the ward scheme does not actually recognize anyone approaching. I am positive Dumbeldore age line works identically, unless he put up any measure to keep specifically me and my cloak out of it."
"It's a very interesting theory, Harry. Your cloak might actually work to pass it. However, have you thought about whether you truly want to compete or not?"
Harry frowned. He had given the topic some time: "I think I do... I don't care about the Galleons, but they are nice to have. However, winning will once again prove my superiority and let people know that I am not to be messed with. The title of Winner of the Triwizard Tournament might also be useful in the future.
And if all those reasons were not enough, it's a nice challenge and a way to test my magical skill and knowledge against the best Europe has to offer."
"How will you deal with the reaction of your classmates and teachers?" Salazar asked curiously.
"I don't really care what they think. I won't be the only underage student that will attempt something. They can't really blame me for trying. If this actually works, Dumbledore's reputation will take the hit for being unable to correctly cast an age line."
"That's all sounds nice and well...but what about the reaction of a certain French witch." Salazar grinned.
Harry gulped: "Yikes...I have actually not thought about that. I think she might understand though... She would appreciate the competition as long as it stays friendly. But yeah... we don't really have the best track record when it comes to facing each other in anything competitive..."
"Well if you're gonna enter yourself, you will have to do it tonight. It would be unwise to reveal your family heirloom to the world. Let's work on your spell for a couple of hours and you test your theory about the age line in the early morning." Salazar suggested.
Five hours later, around three am in the morning, Harry came to a decision. He would give the whole thing a try. He ripped off a piece of parchment, scribbled his name and the school on, and made his way up to the castle. Salazar wished him good luck and advised him to come back down as soon as he knew.
Under the cloak, Harry silently left the entrance to the Chamber on the first floor and took the staircase down into the Great Hall. He checked the map. Noone was anywhere close, as of now. Harry slipped through the doors and walked up to where the Goblet stood in the middle of the Hall. He could see the bright white age line all around it.
Well, let's see if you are as smart as you think, Harry…
He took a tentative step over the age line and now stood right in front of the wooden Goblet. Harry almost laughed out loud. He couldn't believe that it actually worked. He was about to pull out his piece of parchment to enter it into the flames when he heard the doors to the Great Hall creak open.
Harry quickly checked if he was fully covered by the cloak and stepped out of the age line, away from the Goblet. Whoever had entered was using a strong disillusionment charm, but Harry could hear the unmistaken CLONG of Mad-Eye-Moody's wooden leg, making its way from the entrance to the Hall all the over to the Goblet.
Time for another test for his cloak. Moody's magical eye was extraordinary. He could see through tables and even walls, but could he see through an Invisibility Cloak from Death itself.
It seemed it couldn't, as Moody continued his path to the Goblet. By now, he had stepped over the age line. Harry held his breath. He was only a few feet away from the Auror... one sound or move and he will certainly be caught.
Moody must be searching for something within robes because Harry could hear the rustling of clothes and parchment. Then, Moody's long thin wand appeared seemingly out of thin air, directed at the Goblet.
"Confundo!" Moody growled and the entire goblet shivered in a faint red glow for a second. Next to Moody's wand, a piece of parchment appeared out of nowhere. Harry only had a second to read the name on it before it was dropped in the flame and accepted by the Goblet.
Harry Potter
His thoughts were racing. What the hell was going on? Why would an Auror, a friend of Dumbledore, enter him in this competition? Was this another one of Dumbledore's tests for him? Like in the first year?
The disillusioned Moody exited the Great Hall. As soon as the familiar CLONG was out of reach, Harry released his breath and pulled out the Marauder's Map. Something suspicious was going on.
Right there...a pair of footsteps made its way back from the Great Hall to the Defense classroom and office. However, the name next to the tiny pair of footsteps left Harry perplexed and at a loss for words…
Bartemius Crouch