Welcome, everyone, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! As we're continuing forward with the adventure, I'll just say this:
Disclaimer: I have no ownership of HP save for OC's.
Now, here's...
Chapter 17: No Turning Back
Enjoy, one and all!
Both champions looked very much caught off guard by Marcus' statement.
"But, Mar-kees," said Fleur. "Surely, zou must be kidding!"
"Does it look like I'm joking right now?" growled Marcus.
"Vell, vis is perfect," said Krum, who approached Marcus with an odd look of satisfaction on his face. "I'd thought I'd have to take care of this matter some other way, but it seems fate has smiled upon me."
"What are you talking about?"
"You, Marcus Villiams," said Krum with his thick accent, "are the reason my Quidditch family is depressed right now, fighting their tears at night because of their loss to the U.S. All-Stars this past summer. When I heard that the Triwizard Tournament vas taking place at Hogwarts, I did not hesitate to join, for I knew I would run into you eventually. If I cannot have my vengenance on the U.S. All-Stars, I will have the next best thing: Defeating the one who gave that team that despicable strategy, Marcus Villiams!"
At his last sentence, he pointed a finger directly at him to emphasize his point.
Marcus found himself quite floored with what Krum was saying to him.
"So, you're telling me that you came all the way to Hogwarts from Durmstrang, put your name in for contention for the Triwizard Tournament, and got chosen, all for the simple fact of exacting your vengence on me, just because the U.S. All-Stars implemented my Quidditch strategy?"
"That is exactly my point," said Krum with a straight face and fire in his eyes.
Marcus scoffed and said, "So, this is Viktor Krum, highly famed International Quidditch Seeker of the Quidditch World. Consider me very much unimpressed."
Marcus enhanced his vision as he looked at Krum's face and continued, "You came to me looking to settle the score of a matter that you couldn't handle accepting the truth. How pathetic. Well, guess what, Krum? Here I am, ready to go. But, why wait for the Triwizard Tournament to play out? I'll duel you here and now and really show you just how pathetic you really are."
Marcus summoned his wand, gripped it, and pointed it at Krum, who got out his own wand and pointed it at Marcus. Marcus could see that Krum wasn't going to back down, which he welcomed. He wanted this, if nothing else, to release all this pent up anger and aggression.
Suddenly, Marcus heard the door opening up from behind him, which broke his concentration, making him look behind to see who it was.
He was utterly bewildered to find Harry standing at the entrance, wearing a look of bewilderment himself.
"Harry, what the hell are you doing here?" asked Marcus, not liking what he was seeing one bit.
"Perhaps he is bringing us back to ze Great Hall, to make sure we receive our instructions," said Fleur.
Before Harry could say anything, there was a sound of scurrying feet behind Harry, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.
"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentleman...lady," he added, adressing them all. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth Triwizard champion?"
Marcus saw Viktor Krum straighten up, his surly face darkening as he surveyed Harry. Marcus himself felt completely blindsided while Fleur tossed her hair smiling and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."
"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Marcus still felt too blindsided to say anything. Fleur, however, frowned.
"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptously to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."
"So am I!" said Marcus, finally speaking, yet in an angry tone. "Yet here I am, chosen as Hogwarts Champion! I'll be sure to inform the organizers of this tournament how dissastisfied I am of this outcome!"
"Well...it is amazing, to say the least," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry and Marcus, unaware of his anger. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And, Marcus, as both your name and Harry's came out of the goblet...I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage...It's down in the rules, you're both obliged...you and Harry will just have to do the best you -"
The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Marcus could hear the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall before Professor McGonagall closed the door.
"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
"Okay, so how is it that it's okay for me to be selected, but not Harry?" asked Marcus in an angry tone to Fleur.
"You 'ave proven your worth to be here, Mar-kees," said Fleur flatly. "He -" Fleur pointed to Harry -" has not!"
Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.
"What is ze meaning of this, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions, both underaged? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school could do as they pleased - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
He gave a short and nasty laugh.
"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"It's not one's fault but Potter's and Williams', Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for the boys' determination to break rules. They have been crossing lines ever since they arrived here -"
"No one asked for your biased opinion, you -" Marcus started to retort.
"That's enough," said Dumbledore firmly, and both Snape and Marcus went quiet, though Snape's eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.
Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Marcus and Harry, both of whom looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.
"Marcus, Harry, did you two put your names into the Goblet of Fire?" he asked calmly.
"No," said Marcus and Harry. Marcus was aware of everybody watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.
"Did either of you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire on your behalfs?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.
"No," said the boys vehemently.
"Ah, but of course zey are lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.
"They could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.
"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you and Michael did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Marcus and Harry could not have crossed the line themselves, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that they did not persuade an older student to do it for them, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"
She shot an angry look at Professor Snape.
"Mr. Crouch...Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. he had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"
"- in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from the near door.
"You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete," stated a familiar voice. "They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. It's pretty convenient, isn't it?"
Moody had just entered the room, followed by (to Marcus' utter horror), Michael Williams, his father. Moody limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.
"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody, Williams."
Marcus could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody and Michael were saying was barely worth his notice, but Marcus wasn't fooled. Karkaroff's hands were balled into fists and his eyes were full of a mixture of anger and fear, his eyes fixed directly upon Michael Williams.
"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter and young Williams' names in that goblet knowing they'd have to compete if their names came out."
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.
"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards -"
"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter and Williams," growled Moody. "but...funny thing...I don't hear them saying a word..."
"That's because I'm too livid to speak to speak out about it," thought Marcus.
"Why should zey complain?" burst out Fleur, stamping her foot. "Zey 'ave ze chance to compete, 'aven't zey? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"
"Maybe someone's hoping Marcus and Harry are going to die for it," said Michael in a tone of stern anger rarely heard by Marcus.
An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "Michael, my dear man...what a thing to say!"
"We all know Michael Williams' way of thinking falls under Moody's, who considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff loudly. "Apparently, it wasn't enough for Moody to ensure his replacement at the Minstry models after him, now he has to go and teach his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."
"Imagining things, are we?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put Potter's name in that goblet..."
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" roared Marcus, finally having enough.
All eyes were on him as Karkaroff said, "It doesn't surprise me that your boy would say outlandish statements, Michael!" Karkaroff then turned to Marcus with a cold stare and said, "Well then, boy. Humor us all and tell us your line of reasoning."
Marucs, however irritated he felt from Karkaroff's statement, said, "It would've taken an exceptionally powerful Confundus Charm to bamboozle the Goblet of Fire into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. If kept along this line of theory, whoever was reponsible for this - this setup - they would've submitted Harry Potter's name under a fake fourth school, to ensure no doubt that Harry's name would be chosen."
"The boy has a point," said Moody. "The Confundus Charm would be the only spell that would allow the perpetrator to carry out his plan successfully."
Not being able to say anything against Marcus, Karkaroff turned to Moody and said coldly, "You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is - though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday present contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice.
"It's our job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you no doubt would remember long ago..." Michael said in a low voice, but yet loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Michael, Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly. Marcus wondered for a second who the second person could've been, but then "Mad-Eye" could hardly be Moody's real first name. Moody and Michael fell silent, the latter of whom was staring down Karkaroff with such anger and hate that set Marcus on edge. Karkaroff's face was burning.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have been no choice but to accept it. Both Marcus and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.
"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes...the first task..."
He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Marcus thought he looked ill. He could see the dark shadows setting beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Marcus, Harry, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard...very important...
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.
"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."
Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...Very enthusiastic...a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!" He then turned to Michael and said, "How about you, my good man? Going to stick around?"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.
"Only to talk with Marcus and Harry," said Michael in a stern tone. "Then, I'll take my leave."
Marcus didn't like what his father said one bit. Surely, his father didn't believe that him and Harry entered their names in for contention?
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.
But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Marcus could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall, with not a whole lot of their conversation being very favorable of Harry. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, but not before Krum shot Marcus another death stare, which did nothing more than irritate him.
"Marcus, Harry, I suggest the two of you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure the whole of Gryffindor House are waiting to celebrate with you both, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
"They will have to be deprived a little bit longer, Dumbledore," said Michael. "I wish to speak with the two of them alone."
"Michael -" said Professor McGonagall in worry.
"Everyone, please leave," said Michael in such a tone of finality that it left no room for debate.
One by one, everyone else except for Marcus, Harry, and Michael exited the room.
Once the three of them were left alone, Marcus said immediately with a bit of fear, "Dad, please tell me there is a way to break this contract. There has to be!"
"Marcus, the Goblet of Fire's contract with the champions is exactly the same as making an Unbreakable Vow," stated Michael. "If you break it, you die, no questions asked."
Marcus blanched and didn't press the matter.
"But, Mr. Williams -" Harry started to say.
"I don't have much time to spare, so I ask that the two of you please remain silent while I'm talking," said Michael. It wasn't an order as it was more of a request. "Now, I don't know how this came to be, and I'm very much unhappy with the situation, but I know for a fact that the both of you are innocent. But, I will be one of the few who will think this way. Everyone else will think that you two entered this tournament of your own accord. All this being said, I will be investigating this matter, so I need the two of you to not dwell on this situation and focus on getting through this tournament, all right?"
Both Harry and Marcus nodded their heads to let him know that they understood.
"Now, a bit of advice before I go," said Michael, "You two were expressely told that you couldn't receive help from your teachers. That does not mean you can't receive any help. Look to other students, books, old information you have already learned and -" he looked directly at Marcus - "even recently acquired information as well."
"Figures he would know that I took his Duplication Spell book," thought Marcus. "I'll take this to mean that his spell will be very useful to me and that I should learn it as quick as I can."
"I think that's all that I can say for now," said Michael, grabbing a bag of what Marcus knew to be Floo Powder. "The two of you should head back to the Gryffindor common room. It's not nice to keep a party waiting."
He then threw a pinch of Floo Powder at the fireplace, said, "Ministry of Magic!", and stepped through the fire, disappearing with the green flames.
"All right then, Harry, let's go," said Marcus.
As they were making their way to the entrance hall, Harry said, "Well, Marcus, what do you think of this so far?"
"I think this is absolute bullcrap," said Marcus. "Instead of just going through this year with a sense of normality, I get pulled into this tournament I wanted no part in, and my competition is the following: A girl who's a blast from my past, an international Quidditch Seeker who hates my guts and seeks vengence against me because of a strategy I made up in Quidditch Camp, and one of my best and closest friends since before we made our way to Hogwarts."
"I don't get it," said Harry. "How come we're the ones who get pulled into things like this?"
"Easy," said Marcus. "Because we're famous for stopping the most prominent Dark wizards in recent history, and they both want us dead."
"You really think that's what all this is about?"
"It's hard to think not to," said Marcus. "Voldemort wants you dead because you thwarted his plans and the Dark Prince still has me marked for murder. They're just using the Triwizard Tournament to do it, that's all."
"I think we should just focus on getting through this tournament, like your dad said, then we can worry about all that," Harry stated.
"Yeah, you're right," said Marcus. "That reminds me, do you know what this makes us?"
"No, what?"
"Rivals," said Marcus with a smirk. "Think about it: All the things we've accomplished in our time here at Hogwarts has been done together. This'll be the one time we get to compete against each other."
"Yeah, you're right," said Harry with a smirk of his own.
"As such, there will be no helping each other," Marcus said. "I may not want to have been in this tournament, but now that I am, I will win it." He then stuck out his hand and said, "May the best wizard win."
"Same to you, Marcus," said Harry, who shook it.
They didn't realize that they were in front of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor until they were done shaking hands. Marcus then noticed that there was a wizened witch who he recognized from the side chamber and reasoned that she must've dashed all the way up to the Fat Lady just to beat them there. She certainly was sitting in the paiting rather smugly beside the Fat Lady, which only served to irritate Marcus. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at them with the keenest interest.
"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"
"Balderdash," said Harry dully.
"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.
"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Marcus and Harry into the common room.
The blast of noise that met the boys' ears when the portrait opened almost knocked them backwards. Next thing they knew, they was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and were facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.
"You should've told us the both of you had entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.
"How did you two do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.
"We didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how we -"
But Angelina had now swooped down upon them; "Oh, I'm so glad that two fellow Gryffindors were chosen!"
"You're going to make Gryffindor House proud, boys, I know it!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.
"We've got food, Marcus, Harry, come and have some -"
"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast -"
Marcus wasn't going to tolerate the "party" one bit. He pushed and shoved his way up to the dormitory room so that he could get changed into workout clothes and go to the Room of Requirement.
However, once he did enter the dormitory room to find Ron lying on his bed, still fully dressed.
"Ron!" said Marcus, feeling a little bit on edge. He didn't know how he was going to handle the whole debacle.
When Ron saw Marcus entering the room, Ron got up from the bed, walked over to him, and said to him in a rather rude tone, "There you are, Marcus. I thought for sure you would've gotten caught up with the party."
Feeling a bit apprehensive, he said, "Well, I've got to get to my evening workout session. I'm already late as it is. Speaking of which, Ron...you know I didn't enter my name into the Goblet of Fire, right?"
"Of course you did," said Ron in that same rude tone. "You put on such a strong front in front of everyone, but deep down, you just couldn't resist the challenge presented in front of you. You may have fooled everyone else, Marcus, but not me."
"You're doing a damn good job of being fooled," said Marcus, now feeling a bit livid at Ron's remarks.
"You don't have to keep up the charade, Marcus," said Ron, looking quite angry. "It must've not been all that difficult with the whole of Hogwarts supporting you. I bet you convince Diggory to put your name in the Goblet of Fire when no one else could see it. That sounds like something you would do, after all."
"I'm not going to tolerate the prattling of an immature idiot," said Marcus as he finished changing into his workout clothes. "I'm going to head out now. Thanks for the 'support', asshole."
"Piss off, Williams," said Ron as Marcus cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself, making his way to the Room of Requirement.
The Dark Prince stood, waiting in a mansion that was currently unoccupied. He hoped the owners wouldn't be back for another hour or so and, even if the owners did, he knew he would just have to deter them long enough for him to do what needed to be done.
Suddenly, there was a pop! and, standing next to him was a cloaked person who the Dark Prince instantly recognized.
"Well, that took long enough, servant," stated the Dark Prince in a cold manner.
"A thousand apologies, my Prince," said the servant, who got on one knee and bowed his head.
"Just give me the report," said the Dark Prince, still using the same cold manner as before.
"The Champions for the Triwizard Tournament have been chosen," said the servant, still bowed and on one knee. "For Durmstrang, it is Viktor Krum, the acclaimed Quidditch Seeker. For Beauxbatons, it is Fleur Delacour, whose knowledge of magic is quite advance for someone her age. And Harry Potter was selected as the fourth champion, in accordance to the Dark Lord's plan."
"And who was selected as the actual Hogwarts Champion?"
There was a slight pause before the servant stated, "M-Marcus Williams, my Prince."
The Dark Prince looked at the servant, who hadn't moved, and grew an amused look on his face and said, "Good, good. And you're absolutely sure of Marcus Williams being the Hogwarts Champions?"
"I would put my life on the line, My Prince," said the servant without hesitation.
The Dark Prince took a sharp breath of elation and said, "Well done, my servant. You have been officially promoted for you prompt servitude, unwavering loyalty, and advanced skillsets. I expect great things in the future from you, my servant."
"Whatever you wish, it will be done," said the servant, who Disapparated with a pop!
"It's nice to see that everything is falling in place as well as they have," thought the Dark Prince with satisfaction. "Now, all I need is those other servants to show up."
As if on cue, the Dark Prince heard two more popping sounds and turned to see two more of his servants, both cloaked, both already bowing on one knee before.
"Ah, right on time," said the Dark Prince. "I see you were successful in acquiring my needed servant for my next task."
"Yes, my Prince," said the servant.
"Consider the debacle at the Quidditch World Cup forgotten," said the Dark Prince. "You may go."
Once the servant Disapparated, the remaining servant said, "My Prince, I did not realize you needed me in such a manner."
"Oh, servant, you sell yourself short," said the Dark Prince in a tone that displayed his never ending confidence. "You may not be much of a duelist, but your talents are such befitting this task I'm about to assign to you."
"A task?" asked the servant.
"Yes, of course," said the Dark Prince, who took out his scroll of parchment from his cloak. He handed the scroll to the servant and said, "Take this scroll, servant, and Disapparate back to your home. Upon arriving there, you are to isolate yourself within a room and memorize all of the contents listed on that scroll. Once you memorize every single detail, you are to do exactly as it says. Once completed, you will wait for my summons, and while you wait, you will go about your everyday business and lifestyle."
"Is this all that you ask of me, my Prince?" asked the servant.
"Should this succeed, yes," said the Dark Prince. "If successful, you will be heavily rewarded and you will no longer be my servant. Am I understood?"
"Yes, my Prince."
"Now, go," stated the Dark Prince.
The servant then quickly Disapparted with a pop!
"Now," said the Dark Prince, "I suppose I should see how Riddle is doing.."
He then Disapparted to the Riddle Manor and, after arriving safely, opened the back door, made his way up the stairs, and into the room that contained Lord Voldemort.
"I'm sorry for the late arrival, My Lord," said the Dark Prince, giving him a slight bow. "I had to ensure that everything was carried out exactly as you ordained."
"Has it?" asked the cold, sharp voice of Voldemort.
"Harry Potter's been selected as a fourth champion from the Goblet of Fire, just as planned," stated the Dark Prince.
"Good, good," said Voldemort, his satisfaction lost within the coldness of his voice. "We have given the nudge we need to ensure the success of my plans. Once my faithful servant has fufilled his task, Harry Potter will be within my grasp."
"All because of your guidance, my Lord," said the Dark Prince, slightly bowing again, though he silently scoffed at the ridiculous, cowarding shell of a wizard.
"And I heard that Marcus Williams was selected as Hogwarts champion," said Voldemort. "Is this true?"
"Nothing escapes you, My Lord," said The Dark Prince. "Yes, this is true, Marcus Williams is in the Triwizard Tournament, as well."
"The son of Michael Williams had better not foil my plans, Dark Prince," said Voldemort in a cold tone much more empthasized than before.
"Why, my Lord, we couldn't have asked for a better situation," said the Dark Prince with a smirk on his face. "Just like Bertha Jorkins in Albania, we could use this in a way that would not only benefit us, but open the way in such that would not be possible otherwise."
"Hmm," said Voldemort. "Very well, Dark Prince. I leave you the task of informing my faithful servant of the slight changes in my plan."
"It will be done, My Lord," said the Dark Prince as he exited the room, but not before he cracked a sinister grin on his face...
When Marcus arrived in the Room of Requirement, he was greeted by Lorelei and Cedric, both of them wearing expressions of worry.
"Marcus, there you are!" Lorelei said. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Not in the slightest," said Marcus, whose senses started to go out of whack the moment he left the Gryffindor common room, "I ended up being in the tournament I wanted no part in, and now I'm left with no other options but to participate and Ron's turned into a self-brainwashed asshole." He then looked to Cedric and said, "I'm really sorry, Cedric. I thought for sure you would get chosen."
"That's all right, Marcus," said Cedric. "Quite honestly, I feel relieved that I'm not in it, though this does leave you in quite the mess."
"That's an understatement!" said Marcus. He was quickly losing his temper, as his senses were going even more haywire than before. Not only could he hear the vast amount of Hogwarts students talking inside the castle and the alluring smell of food coming from the kitchens, he could even feel something different about the air. Something about the air seemed...heavier, somehow, like a substance he could mold to him or manipulate.
His anger only continued to rise as he half-roared, "Senses, knock it off!"
"Marcus, your hands!" shrieked Lorelei.
Marcus, still quite angry, looked down at his hands and noticed that they were on fire. However, the flames weren't hurting his hands, which surprised him. Rather, it was as if it was obeying him somehow.
The flames disappated, leaving Marcus to say, "Hmm, let me try that again!"
This time, he enhanced his vision to see just what this heavy substance in the air he was feeling.
What he saw floored him.
Infinite amount of tiny, colored energy spheres were dancing in the air, like fireflies in an open field.
"All right, let's try that again," thought Marcus.
He allowed to let his anger rise and, as he did so, he saw all of the red energy spheres coming towards his hands, gathering more and more.
With a forced yell, the fire once again erupted in his hands.
He then cupped his fingers and saw that the fire condensed itself into fireballs, which were starting to get hotter and hotter.
Finally, he let the fireball disappate as he looked at the shocked faces of Lorelei and Cedric.
"Marcus Williams, you are full of surprises," stated Cedric with awe.
"I've been told," Marcus stated flatly. "All right, it's down to business. I have until November the twenty-fourth to prepare for the first task, so I'll have to change my workouts drastically to train for it."
"Did they say what the first task would involve?" asked Lorelei.
"Nope," Marcus responded. "Go figure, right? Anyway, I know that I really need to crack down on the Duplication Spell, as well as a number of offensive spells."
"I'll help you train, Marcus, in any way I can," said Cedric.
"Me too," said Lorelei, who suddenly hugged him out of nowhere. "You won't be going through this tournament alone, Marcus Williams...not if I have anything to say about it."
Marcus found himself blushing quite deeply as he stuttered, "Um, w-w-well, thanks!"
He then saw Twink flying out of the hood and pointing to himself, floating in front of his face.
"Wait, you too, Twink?" asked an astounded Marcus. "Are you sure?"
Twink then zoomed around the Room at quick speeds, showing how useful he could be.
Marcus looked to the ground, the tears of joy welling up from his eyes. He knew, from this point on, he had to do whatever it took to survive - no, thrive - in this tournament, to show everyone that Marcus Williams is a capable wizard.
Marcus looked up, his face full of determination, and said, "All right, then! Let's do it!"
And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on the story, as it'll help me refine my skills as a writer. Or, if you want to ask me any questions, don't hesitate to send me a PM and, I promise, I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!
