Author's note: Sorry that I haven't posted in ages, I've had a really busy couple of weeks. I hope you all enjoy the next chapter of my story; it is based solely off the chapter after Harry's name is chosen, because that chapter in the Goblet of Fire has quite a lot of content that is important to this story. A reminder that while I use the dialogue and characters, I don't own them. (I'm not sure why I need to say that, this story isn't for commercial purposes, just me and you readers, and it's obvious I don't own HP, but most fics I read say this so I figured I should.)
Harry sat there numbly, aware that every person in the Great Hall was now craning their necks to look at him, Ron and Hermione. He was stunned. Shocked. This was a dream. This could not be happening.
No one applauded them. Instead, voices filled the air, quiet at first, but steadily growing stronger. They were angry, Harry realised. At him and his friends.
Professor McGonagall stood swiftly, and strode over to Professor Dumbledore. She bent down and whispered urgently in his ear. Dumbledore merely looked bemused. Then he frowned, and nodded.
Harry turned to face Ron and Hermione. They were frozen, seeming as shell-shocked as Harry felt. Beyond them, the Gryffindors sat open-mouthed, staring at the three fourth years whose names had been called out from the Goblet of Fire.
"Did you put our names in?" Ron asked Harry hoarsely. Harry sat back a little, surprised.
"No, of course not. How could I?" he replied, trying to sound a tad indignant, but in the end sounding rather confused, and slightly afraid.
"Dumbledore set the Age Line, Ronald. Not even a wizard as good as Crouch could fool it. Honestly, you know none of us could've done this." Hermione's voice was tight, yet she still put a disparaging tone into it. But Harry knew she was stressed and terrified; she only ever called Ron by his full name when something was very wrong. (or when she was annoyed at him)
Harry tried not to let that sink in too much.
He looked over at the staff table. Dumbledore was turning away from Professor McGonagall to speak. Hermione shot Harry and Ron a distressed look. As Harry was sitting next to her, he grabbed her hand and gave it a little squeeze, his meagre attempt at comfort. She smiled at him gratefully.
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger, up here, please!" Dumbledore called commandingly. Harry gave Hermione's hand another quick squeeze then let go, standing shakily. Hermione rose next to Harry, and across the table, Ron stood, his usual I-don't-care aura completely dispelled.
Then Harry froze. He couldn't do this.
"Go on!" Hermione whispered urgently from behind him, giving him a little shove. Harry forced himself to walk. He felt as if he had the worst case of pins and needles ever; he could barely move. He trod slightly on the hem of his robe as he walked between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, Hermione in tow behind him. Across the table, Ron was walking as steadily as he could manage. It was the longest walk Harry had ever done. The staff table never seemed to draw closer, yet the angry voices of those around him never failed to break into his shocked haze. But finally, he reached the table. Ron was already waiting, and he grimaced at the pair of them.
"Through the door." Dumbledore instructed them. His voice was flat, but not cold. Harry felt ever so slightly relieved, but that feeling dissipated when he turned to face the door. Steeling himself, he lead his friends; his Champions, he realised, through the door.
They found themselves in a smaller room, the walls lined with moving portraits all staring curiously down at them. A roaring fireplace stood in the centre of the back wall. In front of it stood nine figures. The other Champions. They all looked much taller than they had in the Great Hall. Krum looked intimidating and threatening. His fellow Durmstrang Champions-Harry had forgotten their names-circled around him, both protectively, and as if they were awaiting orders. Fleur Delacour paced back and forth, muttering to the other Beauxbatons girl; Camilla? Harry guessed, although that didn't sound quite right. And Cedric stood next to the other Hogwarts Champions, talking quietly. They seemed to be in the best of spirits; the Champions from the other school just appeared impatient and bored.
When they noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione, they all stopped talking. Then Fleur Delacour tossed her shiny, silvery hair back. "What is it?" She asked bluntly. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall? Or are each of you to give us a meesage? Or take uz somevere?"
She thought they were messengers, Harry realised dumbly. He didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't sure how to explain what happened.
Hermione coughed slightly from behind him, clearing her throat. "Not exactly," she said nervously.
"Vot do you mean?" Krum asked, looking curiously at Hermione.
Ron stepped forward, eager to get the chance to tell Krum something. "Well, we were actually-"
Footsteps echoed behind them, and a parade of people entered the room; Bagman, Professor Dumbledore, Mr Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall and Snape.
"Extraordinary!" Bagman exclaimed. "Absolutely incredible!" He hastened over to Harry, Ron and Hermione, squeezing in between Harry and Hermione. Then he reached his hand around Harry, squeezing his right arm, and did the same to Ron. Hermione squirmed, squashed between Bagman and Ron. Then, thankfully, Bagman released them, stepping forward a little.
"Ladies and gentleman, may I introduce-impossible as it seems-the fourth Triwizard team?"
The Durmstrang trio straightened up, Krum the most. His expression darkened as he eyed Harry and Ron. Then his eyes reached Hermione, and his expression shifted slightly.
Cedric looked bewildered, as did the Hogwarts Champions-Murray and Craig, Harry remembered. They looked back and forth, as if they thought they had misheard Bagman.
Fleur Delacour, however tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."
"Joke?" Bagman replied. "No, no, this isn't a joke, as much as you'd like to believe it!" He gave a cheery laugh that echoed horribly around the room. Harry cringed. "But these threes' names just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
Krum frowned, as did Cedric.
"But evideently, zair 'as been a miztake," Fleur said condescendingly, as if she were talking to a small child. "Zey are too young. Zey cannot compete."
"Well…it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as their names have come out of the Goblet… I mean, I don't think they can pull out at this stage… it's in the rules, they're obliged to compete." Harry felt something heavy in his chest, and Hermione drew a sharp breath from next to him. "They'll just have to do the best they can…"
But it seemed Fleur had had enough. She strode over to Madame Maxime, who was watching Bagman, Harry, Ron and Hermione with contempt. "Madame Maxime! Zey are saying zat zeeze leetle children are to compete also!"
Despite his numbness, Harry felt a ripple of anger. Little children? He heard Ron harrumph quietly. Hermione didn't react, however. Harry looked at her, and she was clearly thinking at triple speed, futilely trying to find a way out of their predicament.
Madame Maxime drew herself up to full height, which was a pretty impressive height.
"What is ze meaning of ziz, Dumbly-dorr?" She said imperiously.
"I'd quite like to know that myself," Karkaroff said slyly. His smile was steel, his eyes chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts teams? I don't remember any rule saying the host school was allowed two teams." He laughed nastily.
"C'est impossible." Madame Maxime proclaimed. She rested her hand on Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two Champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out the 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 is no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff." Snape said softly, his black eyes alight with the chance to put Harry in serious trouble. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potters' determination to break rules." Every time he said Potter, he spat the word out as if it tasted unpleasant. "Potter has been crossing lines since he arrived here-"
Ron stepped forward, red and angry. His hands were fists by his sides. Opening his mouth, he nearly yelled at Snape, before Hermione put her hand on his arm.
"Don't react, it's what he wants," she muttered quietly to Ron.
"Thank you Severus," Dumbledore said warningly. Snape fell silent. Then Dumbledore looked down at Harry, Ron and Hermione through his half-moon spectacles.
"Did any of you put your names, or each others' names, in the Goblet of Fire?" He asked them calmly.
"No." Harry replied. Ron shook his head.
"Definitely not," Hermione answered. Fleur harrumphed and Snape clicked his tongue in disbelief. Dumbledore ignored them.
"Did you ask another student to enter you?" Dumbledore continued.
"No," Harry said, starting to feel annoyed. The other two gave similar replies.
"Ah, but of course zey are lying!" Madame Maxime cried. Snape curled his lip.
"They couldn't've crossed the Age Line," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "I'm sure we all know that."
"Perhaps Dumbledore made a mistake with the line," interjected Karkaroff smoothly.
"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said politely.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" Professor McGonagall said angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry, Ron, nor Hermione could have crossed that line themselves, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that none of them persuaded an older student to do it for them, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"
She shot a glare at Snape, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime.
Mr Crouch then spoke for the first time. His voice was curt. "We must follow the rules. And the rules clearly state that those whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire must compete. Therefore Mr. Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are obliged by the rules to compete."
"Well, that's that, then!" Bagman beamed.
"I insist that we each get to redraw names, and submit another team." Karkaroff said icily. "The Goblet shall be set up again. It is only fair, Dumbledore."
"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that." Bagman said gleefully. "Once the Goblet of Fire has burned out, no more Champions can be selected,."
"And the Goblet cannot be relit," Crouch added. Then he said no more
Karkaroff snorted. "Come, Viktor, Sabin, Petya! We have some planning to do." He shot a glare and swept out of the room. His Champions followed, no longer looking intimidating, not in Karkaroff's wake.
Madame Maxime harrumphed. "Fleur, Camille, Sacha, come with me!" She commanded. "Clearly zere is nothing to be had 'ere."
And the Beauxbatons team left too, jabbering rapidly in French. Harry was sure they were saying nasty things about them.
Dumbledore didn't seem bothered. "Cedric, Clarence, Jacob, Harry, Ronald and Hermione, I suggest you all go to bed. I am sure Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are wanting to celebrate with you, and I suggest you do not deprive them of this prime opportunity to cause a great ruckus that remains unchecked." He smiled.
Cedric nodded at Clarence and Jacob, and the three left. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. Both were still clearly dazed.
"Let's go." Harry muttered urgently, and the trio left the room, casting glances behind them furtively.
The Great Hall was empty now. They quickly rushed between the centre tables, and were soon climbing the staircases up to Gryffindor tower. They were on the third staircase when Ron stopped.
"What the bloody hell just happened?" Ron asked hoarsely. Harry and Hermione stopped walking.
"I dunno, to be honest." Harry said. "What are we gonna do?" He added.
"There's nothing we can do, Harry." Hermione answered quietly. "We have to compete. You heard Mr Crouch."
Ron frowned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Harry and Hermione stared at Ron. "Of course it is!" Harry exclaimed. "This tournament is dangerous. People die in it."
"But the glory of winning. The prize," Ron said dreamily. "And people think we entered ourselves. Thanks to the person who did enter us, though!"
"Ronald, be serious." Hermione instructed, but distress leaked into her voice. "No one entered us in this tournament because they wanted us to get rich, or famous."
"What do you mean?" Harry and Ron chorused.
Hermione sighed.
"Someone did this to hurt us. Or…to get at Harry, maybe," she said anxiously, twisting her hands.
Ron snorted. "You're starting to sound like Moody."
"No, I'm not Ronald! I'm just saying, we could be in real danger."
"The tournament isn't meant to be safe. That's why we need Gryffindors to represent Hogwarts." Ron answered heatedly.
"Don't you get it? This tournament could kill us!"
"Only if we're not cautious," Ron began.
"Ron, this isn't normal. We shouldn't be competing!"
"Huh! Fine, you pull out-"
"There's no pulling out," Harry muttered, but Ron either didn't hear him or ignored him.
"-but I'm staying, I want the prize money."
"This is about more that just money, Ronald!" Hermione cried.
"Easy for you to say, you don't have to worry-"
"Shut up!" Harry yelled at them both. They fell silent. "Okay, I get that you want to do this Ron, but we'll be lucky if we just survive. Let's not think about winning. Hermione's right, this is dangerous. And the only way we're gonna get through this is by working together, as a team. We can't argue, or fight, okay?"
They both nodded, a little shamefaced.
"It's gonna be okay, you know that?" Harry pulled Ron and Hermione in for a group hug.
"We'll be fine." Ron said, far too cheerfully.
"It'll be okay." Harry said. Hermione said nothing, she just squeezed them both tightly. Then they broke the hug apart and continued climbing in silence for a while.
Then Hermione spoke, for the first time since Harry had broken up the argument. "I'm glad I'm with you two. I don't think I could do this if I were with strangers."
"Yeah, same." Ron said.
"Me three." Harry added.
"We can get through this. I trust you both," said Hermione.
"That'a good. After over three years of running around as best friends, fighting You-Know-Who occasionally, I'm glad you trust us, Hermione." Ron said sarcastically.
Hermione glared at him. So did Harry.
"I was joking!" Ron said. Neither lifted their glare. "Honestly! I was just trying to lighten the mood."
Harry relaxed, and after a moment, Hermione did too.
"What I meant is that I trust you both with my life." Hermione corrected.
"That's good," said Harry seriously. "Because you may well need to."
Hermione sighed.
"Hey-no doom and gloom stuff!" Ron mock ordered. "Let's go celebrate!" He jumped up the last few steps and gave the Fat Lady the password. She muttered under her breath, something about noise and sleep, and swung open, revealing the Gryffindor common room.
People were everywhere. Food was everywhere. Banners and streamers were strung up all over the room. It was a true party.
Music was blasting, people were screaming. Then, slowly, people stopped talking, turning to look at Harry, Ron and Hermione. Then they began clapping and cheering.
Ron jumped through the hole, into the party, and Harry and Hermione followed, reluctant, but knowing they had to.
They had no other choice.