It was a very exhausted Harry who rolled painfully out of bed late the next morning. His balance was spinning somehow, his muscles burned, and the waking noises of teenage boys stirring sent little stabs of pain through his already sensitive head.
Harry had no idea why the organisers had felt compelled to set the first Task on a weeknight, but he sorely wished for the weekend to come sooner.
As he half-fell out of bed and felt the bite of the chill morning air, the fact that Crookshanks got to sleep in late rankled. Harry could hear the kneazle's gentle snores from a couple of feet away, even as he rushed through getting dressed. Mild resentment lingered, even as Crow and Neville accompanied him down through the warm common room and into the cool, stone corridors towards breakfast.
"How are you feeling?" Nev asked carefully, waiting until they were a few feet beyond the Fat Lady before attempting to draw Harry into communication.
"Nggh," Harry groaned.
He could almost hear Neville biting his tongue, and Harry made a concerted effort to shake his head gently and wake a bit more up; he hated how sometimes Nev was so kind as to hold back with Harry. They should be better friends than that by now.
"Sorry," he mumbled after a beat. "Wait – I'll try again." They kept walking, and Harry raised his wand arm so that Crow could come down to perch on his wrist, the familiar scent of his dander and the gentle, whumping rhythm of his wingbeat bringing the bird down to rest while he collected his thoughts. " I'm exhausted. I, um, didn't sleep as well as I wanted to last night – I'm blaming the partying," Harry lied carefully. "The Tower was so wired, and I'm sure that I heard someone – prob'ly the twins – set off those blasted fireworks after midnight. The noises went on for aaages."
"Er…did they?"
Harry let the shoulder that didn't have Crow on it do a little half-shrug. "Yeah? Maybe you slept through it – I came back really hyped up myself so I lay awake for a while. The adrenaline, you know. I realised quite late that I'd kind of underestimated my task at first yesterday," he meant: the horcrux, "and the shock of it all only set in rather late. I think I'll be a bit useless today, I'm not gonna lie."
Neville hummed in acceptance.
"At any rate, I was rather surprised that you got the boys to sleep so early as it was."
His taller friend snorted.
"Rather than the party, they'd rather bask in your glory," explained Neville, his voice sounding far too cheerful for Harry's taste. "But otherwise? Yeah, fair enough. Yesterday was a right disaster for most of the castle, let alone the Champions, I guess. Let me know if I need to take you to the hospital wing for a check-up or a potion, or anything won't you?"
"Not Madam Pomfrey!" Harry flinched, causing Crow to shuffle his feet and chatter a complaint in his ear. "I'd sooner faint in a potions class that let that witch get her hands on me. She's half-convinced I should be dead, you realise, and would treat me accordingly. If I fall into her evil clutches..."
Bedrest inside Hogwarts was the last thing he wanted.
Neville was far too amused for Harry's comfort.
Nevertheless, it was cheerful small talk, and Harry had woken up a bit by the time he and Neville slipped into their seats at the long Gryffindor table.
"Oh, you're up!" Hermione's voice made Harry jump, and there was the sound of paper rasping as a page was turned from where she seemed to be sitting at the table. "I thought you might want to sleep some more this morning, or I would have waited. Harry, you're going to want to read the paper this morning I think. I've pretty much finished with this - I paid the owl for you. Do you want it now, or later?"
Harry let his hands wander over the table, finding the porridge bowl and locating his cutlery while he turned the question over in his mind.
He was much better with his spellwork these days, and merely tapped his wand twice against the breakfast bowl to have a thick stream of porridge flow from the serving bowl to his, and it landed in the shallow vessel without a single splash. The creamy, oaty scent woke him up some more, and he had the breakfast jug pour him some pumpkin juice with another quick twitch of his wand.
"Now is good, I suppose. I can take it and read it later on in the day," Harry figured.
But as Harry had half suspected, the wonderful lad Neville soon offered his help, and Harry found himself chewing breakfast quietly while Neville crinkled open the Daily Prophet on his right and began to read the front page out loud.
"Oh! Hermione's right, Harry. This is all about yesterday - and I've just realised but you might not have known what was going on for the rest of us. Let's see...what should I start with?"
"Top left," Hermione suggested. "Harry, does Crow want me to cut up some bacon or sausage for him?"
Crow perked up at the question, and started hopping down Harry's arm without waiting for his response.
"Yes please," Harry told both his friends, and so Neville took a deep breath and began talking in a surprisingly unfaltering, smooth voice.
"'Fudge Flounders!' is the first article, by Rita Skeeter," Neville read out, "which won't surprise you. Here we go:
'The British Ministry has been caught with their pants down this week, as crimes and secrets have been discovered at Hogwarts, the location of the first attempt at cooperation of the international ministries of magic since 1952.'"
"Huh," Harry interrupted.
Hermione snickered. "Oh go on, that's nothing."
Neville did.
"'Foreign dignitaries are furious that their best and brightest students have been put at unforeseen risk in the British-organised Triwizard Tournament. The Bulgarian Ambassador to Britain says, 'As stupid as an ass, the pumpkin-head – that Fudge man – wouldn't know his job if it punched him in the face. Our Krum deserves competent organisation at the least.' French Minister of Magic similarly claims, 'For good reason have we avoided Britain for years. Now we have that good sense confirmed.' Russian head of the Department of External Relations has told Ministry officials and reporters, 'We have long wondered about the United Kingdom's international relationships, and this explains much.' Blimey, Harry! Serves him right for that fuss he made over you - was it only just yesterday morning?"
"Yes, but go on," Hermione insisted.
Neville coughed to clear his throat. "'Readers will wonder what great failure Fudge has managed now, to draw such ire from his diplomatic colleagues, coming as it does at the end of years of merely mildly ineffectual leadership.'"
Harry put down his porridge spoon to take a gulp of pumpkin juice, and absently noted that Neville's voice was trying to suppress a chuckle.
"'The infamous convicted Death Eater Bartemius Crouch Jr., now recognised as the historic first successful escapee of Azkaban, was arrested on castle grounds mid yesterday afternoon, having been identified as casting the Unforgivable Imperius curse on his father and Tournament organiser, Bartemius Crouch Sr. Originally identifying the criminal as ex-auror 'Mad-Eye' Moody who had 'finally given us an excuse to lock him up,' Fudge was further embarrassed when his media statement was rescinded mere minutes later; 'Moody' was revealed to be a polyjuiced Bartemius Crouch Jr., who was revealed publicly when his potion ran out during the Ministry press conference. As Fudge squeaked and ran off stage, calling out, "Assassins!" the public kerfuffle of the aurors remained on the scene for some time.'"
The noise of the Great Hall began to pick up as more and more students wandered into the hall, and Harry felt for the plate that Hermione pushed towards him, fumbling around until he found a piece of pork sausage which he then fed to Crow, on his shoulder. "That should be good news for Sirius, I guess."
"There's more," Hermione told him.
"'Fudge's administration was then further thrown into discredit when it was revealed that the reason that Crouch Jr. was alive and able to cast the curse was that his father, Crouch Sr., had broken him out of prison personally, kept him' – blimey! I can't believe...listen to this, Harry! – Crouch Sr. 'contained and controlled for years under his own Imperius, and had done so while being an active participant and member of the British Ministry of Magic at a senior level.
'With Fudge having recently described Crouch Sr. as a 'ministry man' and 'trustworthy bloke,' 'someone who knows what's what' and being '[Fudge's] top pick to whip up the Tournament and show these visitors why Britain is the greatest place in the world,' insult was added to injury as onlookers and overseas spectators have made much of Fudge's incompetence throughout their own press all over Europe.'"
Harry heard Neville crinkle the paper. "It continues on page three, apparently. Should I go on?"
"Not yet," Hermione instructed cheerfully. "Read the next article first. That one." Harry felt her robe sleeves skim over his forearms as she reached over him to tap at the paper in front of Neville.
"Alright then," Nev agreed. "There's a blinking huge photo of you swooping over your dragon, and the title is 'Foreigners Furious!' by...anonymous, but probably Skeeter again, from the style. Here I go:
'Recent revelations have caused the efficacy and safety of Britain's Triwizard Tournament to be challenged by the visiting Headmaster and Headmistress of Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic.
'International audiences were already up in arms about the unexpected inclusion of underage participant, Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter, who has long claimed that his name came out of the Goblet of Fire 'due to no actions of [his] own,' mysteriously entered into the Tournament under an inexplicable fourth school of magic.
'Minister Fudge has recently complained that the young Potter child was 'playing in deep waters' and should 'back off from his political aspirations and leave the politicking to the adults'. International media and public opinion have long been divided over Potter's Triwizard claims. Now, however, Potter's honesty and integrity are proven: outside, criminal influence has been proven to exist, and the Boy-Who-Lived's previous claims of worry and concern over foul-play are justifiable. Turn to page 5 for a comprehensive list of his lawyer's contributions to the day.
'Fellow champions, Cedric Diggory (17, Hogwarts), Fleur Delacour (18, Beauxbatons), and Viktor Krum (18, Durmstrang), have now all raised concerns that their previously assured safety is only an illusion.
''We were promised security,' the attractive Delacour mentioned to this reporter, her willowy frame and delicate build looking fragile as she spoke. A stoic Krum added cynically, 'This is very unprofessional; event integrity is the foundation of all worthwhile competitions.' Headmistress Olympe Maxine has already been heard threatening to withdraw all her students from Britain for their safety. 'If the British Ministry is as incapable as it seems,' she has told her students, 'then you will all be returned home. Fleur and I will remain alone, and our [French] Ministry has already promised our own private protection squad should your safety continue to be at risk.' And again, this one continues on page four."
"Keep going," Hermione instructed. "This one next."
After a gulping sound that told Harry that Neville had paused to wet his throat, his friend's smooth voice continued.
"'The Chaos As It Happened'. Oh, this seems to be a reconstruction; that's handy.
'What began as a normal if exciting day of the First Triwizard Task was driven off the rails in a process that has now made headlines across Europe. Sources suggest that an influx of high-level diplomats and legal specialists are consequently converging on Scotland to do damage control and defend their clients from the ensuing mess.
'What really happened that fateful day? Why have…" Neville let a small sigh escape. "Let's see…bunch of questions implying incompetence. Subtle hints at systemic failures of politics…yada-yada-yada… 'This reporter has poured herself into research, interviews, and official ministry records to reconstruct the following:
'Beyond the inexplicable inclusion of an underage orphan as fourth entrant into a tournament for three, the specific events of the First Task were further thrown into disarray as a routine inspection team, present only due to the demands of Harry Potter by way of his legal counsel, the dapper Mr. Lloyd-Elliot, discovered an alarming phenomenon in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The aurors, who will remain unnamed for the duration' …blahblahblah… 'were alerted to nefarious conduct by a ministry-calibrated Sneakoscope going into alarm shortly before noon. Fudge's ministry, petulantly unhappy with Potter's concerns, at first failed to allow more aurors to attend the call, stating, "We shouldn't go looking for trouble in case we find it." This changed when it was revealed that the Hogwarts' teacher and ex-ministry auror, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, was acting with malicious intentions and responded problematically to the standard ill-intent diagnostics subsequently cast upon him from a distance. Only at this point were comprehensive backup allowed, and one does wonder what the outcome of the day would have been if not for Potter's stalwart insistence of foul-play in the face of Ministry pressure.
'At any rate, support was called for immediately, and students, staff, and other bystanders were subtly herded away from danger while the more specialised investigative team flooed in from the Ministry.' Let's see," Neville murmured. "You'd left with McGonagall –"
"Professor McGonagall, Neville."
"Yes, her – already by then, but 'Mione and I were still in the Great Hall. I didn't notice anything at the time. It goes on: 'Having been alarmed by the initial investigative team, the further, larger task force attempted a peaceful arrest before noon. An unusually ineffective attempt at resistance was made by 'Mad-Eye' Moody, but he was taken into legal custody shortly thereafter.
'Having verified that ill-intentioned law-breaking was afoot during the day of the Tournament's First Task, an in-depth investigation was belatedly begun across the whole of Hogwarts Castle and grounds. Students and staff at this stage were isolated in their common rooms for their protection, allowing ministry aurors to investigate unimpeded.' There's a bunch of details about what they checked for…ooh, you'll like this snippet: 'At this time, ministry officials, alerted by the fuss at the auror's offices, arrived demanding that the Dark Magic be ignored in preference of "a well-organised day." Ministry representatives were heard to exclaim, "well, we can't rightly make a fuss about a small thing like that when there are foreigners here for the competition."
'Nevertheless, a full and rigorous investigation was made at the instigation of Madam Amelia Bones and Potter representative Mr Lloyd-Elliot, and it was discovered at approximately 12.30 that lead Tournament organiser, Ministry Department Head, and well-known pureblood, Bartemius Crouch Sr., had been operating under the orders of a powerful Imperius Curse for some time. The presence of this Unforgivable, placed on the organiser of such a prominent international event, finally brought the entirety of the British auror corps to investigate the site. This reporter can reveal that only a skeleton crew of eight aurors remained in London to complete their standard duties.
'Requested by Potter legal aid, Mr Lloyd-Elliot, several months ago, a complete and comprehensive investigation of the castle and grounds was finally attempted from 1pm. While aurors refused to give formal statements to the press, this reporter has discovered that over one hundred illegal items were found within and around the school.
'Despite the revelations, Tournament organisers and ministry officials onsite attempted to claim that "everything's fixed now, so why bother", but further drama erupted when the newly arrested "Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody" revealed himself to be the Department Head's son, Bartemius Crouch Jr., most famous for his role in historic Death Eater activities and long presumed dead and buried.
'The incident becoming clearer, the real Alastor Moody was discovered some forty-five minutes later, having been kidnapped, confined and used as the source of materials for the polyjuice potion that had hidden the conspiracy.
'Despite Ministry Fudge's protestations, from this time up until 7.30 at night, Hogwarts was in a lockdown; only the aurors, a small contingent of overseers, and the dragon-handlers required for the First task remained at large. The foreign schools are believed to have contacted their ambassadors and diplomats at this time.' The rest seems pretty standard," Neville concluded. "You know: the blame game. Fudge quotes, that sort of thing."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "'One hundred illegal items' found? Where from? The students?"
Nev's voice nodded. "They did a check of the common rooms and dorms and all. Not the trunks, funnily enough, this was just stuff floating around the Towers or whatever, presumably classrooms, staff residences…you get the idea."
"The Weasley twins must be pissed," Harry mused.
"Oh no. Not at all," Nev told him. "They weren't caught up in this at all. Merlin only knows how."
Hermione spoke up, her voice sounding vaguely surprised. "Apparently some Ravenclaws were caught with a little potion-brewing station set up, and have been selling love potions and study-potions. Memory potions and so on. Professor Flitwick is rather unhappy with them."
Neville swallowed a mouthful of his own before adding, "It seems Fudge can't complain about Durmstrang's Dark Arts anymore, the foreign schools were excluded from the search – diplomatic immunity or whatever – but Hogwarts and Professor Dumbledore have come under fire for incompetent supervision and endangering children."
"I…" There was a surge of emotion – vindication, perhaps? – in Harry's chest and a whirlwind of thoughts careened through his mind too fast to grab hold of. He had too many thoughts he didn't know what to say, so he soon found himself to be scraping the bottom of his bowl of porridge and let his spoon fall with a subtle rattle. "So…Britain's looking pretty bad right now?"
"You're not," Hermione offered. "You, your lawyer and Madam Bones have come out of this looking pretty good."
That was the plan, Harry almost said before remembering to bite at his lip instead. All that organisation, his secret pen-palling around with Skeeter had been to build her up to this moment. To look better than Fudge, at a bare minimum.
It looked like it had worked, but the true test would be the next few days.
His day continued, during which time Hogwarts was shocked at the Breaking News and its fall out and Harry moseyed around the castle like a sleepwalker, his routine began to get back to normal.
He retrieved the mirror from Kreacher – who scolded him for his recklessness for a solid hour before relinquishing the little enchanted glass, and then used it to speak to Sirius, where he got the best extracts from all the foreign papers that his godfather could get his hands on: the European papers loved Harry right now, the "lone voice of reason" in Britain and whatnot.
Crookshanks forgave Harry for his horcrux hunt eventually – Kreacher's telling off the most significant contributor – and Harry, Kreacher, Crow and Crookshanks all managed to Turn back a bit to sneak out into the Forbidden Forest where they safely stabbed the Horcrux to death, to the satisfaction of all in the know.
Out in the midday forest, dim snippets of sunlight breaking through the foliage to give Harry light without the magic of Hogwarts blinding him, Harry found a spot not too far away from where he had died. It seemed fitting to him, to kill a bit of Voldemort close to where Voldemort had killed him, but of course he couldn't go to the actual clearing because the Acromantulas were there.
The ensuing scream, shrill, piercing and malevolent, that erupted when Harry stabbed straight through the jewellery box and into the ring itself silenced the forest for a long moment.
He saw to his amazement that all the exquisite magic that covered the box, the ring, Voldemort's curses or whatever, popped into non-existence like a shimmering bubble.
Still bent over the smoking package, basilisk fang still clasped in his hands and acrid smoke billowing like a cloud of black death, Harry found himself suddenly ready to flee.
His muscles were taut, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck sensitive, and all the birds and insects surrounding him were suddenly as silent as the grave.
Kreacher lurched to his feet defensively while Crow and Crookshanks were on guard around Harry, their eyes wide and fixed on the forest around them.
"…Young master Harry," Kreacher's gravelly voice broke through the bubble of extraordinary silence around them.
Harry twitched.
He fought to catch his breath, lungs heaving for some reason, before he muttered a shocked-sounding, "Yes?"
"We is not staying here, Kreacher is thinking."
Crookshanks silently got to his feet, staring fixedly at something in the distant green.
"That…would be fair," Harry agreed. "You reckon the Acromantulas will come?"
Still not looking at Harry, Kreacher tensed further. "…Kreacher is thinking he is not hearing…?"
"Giant man-eating spiders?" Harry clarified. "They live a little further thataway. I don't think they'll come running towards the death scream, but I wasn't expecting…"
With more effort than it should have taken, Harry unclenched a hand from where he still held the poisonous fang and gestured around him at everything. "That."
He should have, Harry knew, but sooner or later he would learn to consider all the consequences of his actions ahead of time. For example, right not, leaving would be the best choice.
"I'll just, ah…" Harry added, and set about transfiguring a little box to brush all the wreckage into.
The jewellery box itself crumbled into dust and flakes as he moved it, and the ring shank had melted into molten gold and sunk into the forest dirt a bit – he was lucky the forest floor was damp, because it was still warm when he dug it out.
What did catch Harry's attention was the undamaged black stone that innocuously rolled out of the debris, completely unharmed by the basilisk venom or the force of Harry's stab. The bisected triangle with inner circle was resting half-hidden by the bottom of the stone when it came to a halt, and Harry found himself frowning and unsettled as he picked up the Resurrection Stone and tossed it into the conjured box with the rest of the horcrux remnants.
"Young master," Kreacher insisted, and Harry looked up from the last of his patch of cleaning.
"Give me three minutes," Harry protested, and after he tucked the evidence of his horcrux hunt away into his mokeskin pouch, he spent a solid minute fumbling through the same pouch before he gave up.
"Accio sage snippet," he finally managed, twitching his wand, and a three-inch stem zoomed towards him from somewhere deeper in the forest.
He caught it with the sure fingers of a Seeker and placed it on top of where he'd just murdered the ring.
"Incendio," Harry muttered, and a low, slow fire blossomed at the tip of his wand, causing sage-smoke to hang low over the area and cut through the heavy smell lingering in the air with a refreshing green scent.
"Aguamenti," Harry finally murmured, stifling the fire and washing the tiny ashy remnants with the purest of water.
With a final hand, he reached out with his right hand and stirred the sage-ash-water mix into the forest floor, disturbing the smudge-remnants, and then he stood up to follow his family out of the forest.
"Just in case," he told Kreacher with a shrug. "It feels better somehow now, but you're not wrong. We should go."
Only one more thing of note really occurred that day for Harry, although of course the Ministry and aurors and Mr Lloyd-Elliot and all were probably very busy with the fallout from yesterday.
The Daily Prophet published an evening edition of the paper, which was read out loud to Harry over dinner.
"Blimey, Harry," Neville told him over his mashed potato. "I didn't know you'd given an interview to Skeeter!"
Harry shrugged, his mouth conveniently full. "Mmmhmm."
"It says here, you're being 'strong' about the whole debacle. 'The young Boy-Who-Lived, famously orphaned just over a decade ago in another conflagration of Dark Magic and sinister plotting, claims he is, 'just doing his best to survive' whatever life-threatening challenges come his way."
Harry swallowed. "That's about right, I guess."
"Oh! And it wasn't just you either. 'Close friend and classmate Ronald Weasley describes Potter as, 'a stand-up bloke who always helps people, no matter how busy or stressed he seems to be feeling'. Slytherin rival, Draco Malfoy, who competes with Potter both on and off the Quidditch-pitch says, 'He's pretty decent actually. You'd expect Potter to be stuck up with his fame and all, but he's really generous with his time and energy. He's helped half the Slytherin Quidditch team learn the Patronus, you know.'
'Further investigation supports this claim. 'Oh yeah, he's happy to help out as often as someone needs him to,' Lucian Bole (18, Slytherin Beater) told this reporter. "Uncommonly patient, he is. Even when I smash Bludgers at him on the pitch.'
'Ravenclaw second-year, Benedict Basset (12) says, 'If anyone can win this Tournament, Mister Harry can! He saved my life last year already and he's so good with his wand!'
'He refers, of course, to an incident last year where Ministry prison guards, the Dementors of Azkaban escaped Ministry control and attacked Hogwarts students during a quidditch game. (For more recent examples of Ministry mistakes, please see page three). Potter singlehandedly saved the day, rescuing the falling Basset, who had fainted from Dementor exposure, before fighting off the horde of Dementors who were going in for a Kiss, before Hogwarts teachers finally drove them off.
'Potter went on to state, "I just did what anyone would have done," despite evidence that no other student or staff was as quick of the mark that day as he was. The humble boy added, "I've got so much support from my family and friends: my godfather Sirius Black is just great, and my lawyer Mr Lloyd-Elliot (of Lloyd-Elliot Associates) is amazing, plus I've got really good friends in Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger amongst others. 'Nev', Potter explains, 'is just like a brother to me, and I know he's got my back no matter what happens.' Merlin, Harry, you didn't need to say that about me!"
"What? It's true!"
"Merlin, Gran's going to be impossible." Neville shuffled where he sat before going on. "'And Hermione' – a pretty muggleborn witch most famous for her razor-sharp wit and academic excellence, and Potter's closest competitor for top student in their year, 'is just like a sister to me'."
The other boy paused. "Er…does Hermione know that?"
"Know what?"
There was a pregnant kind of pause. "Nevermind then."
Dinner went on.
