Chapter 25: TEST OF MOODS
All the Gryffindors except Harry exchanged shocked looks. Harry, the single most stubborn seventeen-year-old about not entering his or her name into the goblet had just done so just to prove himself against Malfoy.
"I'm hungry, let's go eat," said Harry shortly, ignoring them, and Raides, with a truly evil glance at Malfoy, followed him into the Great Hall.
Having seen the Great Hall during Halloween six times before, there wasn't anything unusual this time around. The regular candles that littered the air were replaced by pumpkins. Raides snarled at one that reminded her of, well, her.
Harry took a seat at the Gryffindor table, Raides curling up on the floor behind him, and was shortly joined by Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Craig and James.
"Harry what was that all about," said Hermione, her voice shaking slightly when they all sat down.
"My thoughts exactly," said Ginny. "Come on, Harry. You didn't want to enter for MONTHS and you just go ahead and do it just to get back at Malfoy?"
Harry never knew Ginny to be taking part in his personal dilemmas, she usually left that for her brother, let alone even knowing about them.
"What, are you two talking to her about me now, too?" Harry asked. "But now everyone should be happy now that I've put my name in. And stop staring at me, it's giving me the creeps."
"Harry, come clean, what is it?" asked Ron.
Harry couldn't pinpoint it either but he knew that if it was this time last year, he would not have done what he had done just now. On the other hand, he'd not been hiding anything too serious that was greatly affecting his life. And furthermore, he couldn't see a thing wrong with himself. What was Ron playing at? Harry asked himself...
"You're kidding, right?"
"What d'you mean 'kidding?' For crying out loud, you've been refusing entry into the tournament since I mentioned it to you, I'd have thought -- and everyone else, like Dumbledore, Cho and Sirius -- you wouldn't want to be involved again after how horrible it was the first time around."
Ron said all this very quickly.
"So?"
Filch had come in at that point, the goblet in one hand and the stool in the other. He was carrying it up the Hall and placed it in front of Dumbledore's empty chair when he reached the staff table. A moment later, Percy strode in, Bagman at his side with Madam Maxime and, reluctantly, Karkaroff taking up the rear. Karkaroff seemed to be keeping his distance from Madam Maxime and the side of her face that had to look at him was twitching every now and then. Harry had the distinct feeling that she hated him for something and it seemed to be unsettling Karkaroff.
All through the Halloween feast, Harry was jumpy and irritable and generally hard to talk to. His attention was up at the staff table in the Goblet of Fire where he knew his name would be coming out as soon as everyone finished eating. Everyone was much slower to eat this night than last and, being the second feast in two days with lots of food, lots of drink and lots of Harry snapping, it was hardly a surprise.
Dumbledore had come in somewhere in the middle of the feast with Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. Dumbledore seemed to have purposely went between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, taking the time to speak with Dudley for a short moment before continuing up. Harry had a quick but horrible thought that Dumbledore, too, believed Dudley had been sorted into the wrong house.
At long last, when all the plates had cleared and everyone quickly silenced themselves, Dumbledore rose to his feet. Hermione was giving Harry a commiserating look as he stared up at the goblet, much like what everyone else was doing.
"The goblet is almost ready to make it's decisions for champions for each school, I estimate about two minutes," said Dumbledore. "Now, when I call out the champions' names, if they would please come up to the front of the Hall, go along the staff table and enter through the door into the next chamber." He pointed a long finger toward the door behind the staff table. "There, you will receive instructions for the first task. Mr. Potter, the dragon made of light, if you will," he added, glancing sidelong at Harry and winking at Professor McGonagall's red face.
Dumbledore took out his wand and sweeped it across his front and at once, every candle in the great -- every single one -- was extinguished. Harry barely had enough light coming from the goblet to know that he wasn't hitting anyone on the head with the Staff of Cybele. But eventually, the light dragon was once again soaring overhead to many gasps and stares of students, foreign and local alike. It was even more magnficient inside the Great Hall, lighting up the walls and the tops of students' heads as it passed, making a great big figure eight. The dragon was so large and the Hall so tiny that it was wrapped around twice.
The light Goblet of Fire's blue-white flames were miniscule in comparison to the tremendous light given forth by the dragon overhead. Even so, everyone was watching and waiting, some turning slightly blue from forgetting to breathe. Dean Thomas kept checking his watch.
"C'mon already," hissed Susan Bones from the next table just as someone over at the Slytherin table muttered something very rude under his breath.
"It didn't take this long last time, did it?" said Neville.
"Whatever," said Harry. "I just wish it'd hurry up!"
"So you can make a prat of yourself in front of the whole school?" Hermione muttered.
Harry shot her a venomous look and said, "Nobody asked you."
Hermione folded her arms and looked back up at the goblet with everyone else.
Suddenly, the flames inside the Goblet of Fire turned red again and sparks were emitting from it. A second later, a burst of flame rose into the air and a scorched piece of parchment flew out of it -- those who hadn't seen this three years ago (and some who had) gasped. Dumbledore reached a hand out to grab the parchment.
"The champion for Durmstrang," said Dumbledore in a loud, clear voice, "will be Sebastian Leon."
"Who?" said Ron, but his next words were drowned out as an explosion of applause broke out over the Slytherin table where all the Durmstrang students were sitting.
A boy that looked more like he was in his twenties than his teens stood up from the Slytherin table. Sebastian had dark hair, a gaunt but fairly handsome face and, unlike the rest of his classmates, no pimples.
"He's the Durmstrang heart throb, that one," said Hermione.
"Going to fall in love with him like you fell in love with Viktor Krum?" said Ron testily.
"Oh shut up," said Hermione.
Sebastian walked proudly up to the staff table, turned right, walked along it and exited through the door behind it.
"Excellent, Sebastian!" thundered Karkaroff so amazingly loudly that even the people outside the castle could hear him. This caused Madam Maxime to give him such a heated look that even Professor Snape would have been frightened. Karkaroff quickly desisted his ravenous clapping and sat down.
When the clapping, stomping and chatting died away, everyone began looking attentively at the goblet again which, not a moment too soon, had it's flames go red once again.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "will be Adrianne Delacour!"
Harry saw Professor Delacour up at the staff table stand up, beaming to her young sister, and start to clap particularly loudly.
"Will you look at that," said Ron quietly, pointing at two girls Adrianne had been talking with -- but they didn't see because they weren't exactly looking up.
The two of them and one farther down the table were all overcome by tears and Harry didn't think they were tears of joy. One of them was simply complaining that she broke a nail but Harry suspected it was because she hit the table: the tips of her fingers were red and there were claw marks.
Adrianne, too, disappeared into the side chamber and silence fell, once again, this time so still Harry could make hear the sounds of the dragon part the air as it soared overhead. The Hogwarts champion now, and a handful already knew who it was going to be. Harry felt extremely pleased with himself; when his name came out, the Great Hall was going to explode with applause (all except for the Slytherins, of course).
And the flames of the Goblet of Fire glowed red once more, showering the nearby area with sparks and a tongue of flame burst into the air, sending a final piece of parchment fluttering to the top of the table. Even Dumbledore's hand was shaking, Harry saw. But, fingers nearly missing it, he grasped the piece of parchment on the table, missing it as it flew through the air. Dumbledore's face glowed and there was a sparkle in his eyes as he read for all to hear.
"And the Hogwarts champion," he called, grinning so broadly that he almost couldn't speak, "is Harry Potter!"
When the roar of applause filled Harry's ears to the point of making them hurt, it was like someone switched a dial inside of him. A minute ago, he would have been jumping for joy but now, now it was like someone had just pulled the shades off his eyes and told him to go live with dementors, hearing his mother's screams replayed in his head until his dying day. And this showed very loudly on his face as evident by the look of nothing short of absolute terror on Ron's, Hermione's and Ginny's face.
"Go up, Harry, go on," said Hermione, trying her best to sound comforting. "You don't have a choice..."
"Yeah, I don't have a choice," said Harry, trying to find composure, "but I could always kill myself..."
"Do not -- say that. You go up there, get into the tournament and we're going straight to your dormitory to talk."
Harry shook his head madly, put his hands on the table and, feeling weak in the knees, stood up.
Every single pair of hands along his path tried to shake one of his out or pat him on the back and many people stood up to clap. Several people were chanting his name but none of this was of any help: he still felt like someone had told him to go relive his parents' deaths again. And after what felt like several hours, he had reached the side chamber and the door leading into it, Hagrid along with several other professors congratulating him as he passed.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily, trying and failing miserably to make himself heard over all the noise.
The small chamber was full of many paintings of witches and wizards. A fire was roaring in a fireplace opposite the door, adding a nice touch to the coziness. Harry had been in here before when he had been selected as the fourth champion but the atmosphere from then to now was hardly any different -- at least, for him.
Adrianne Delacour and Sebastian Leon were standing around the fire and at least this time they were about his height and not horribly intimidating. Sebastian was positively beaming, looking overly happy and not realizing that the tournament itself was likely to tear him to pieces, Harry thought, him being so proud of himself and everything...
Adrianne was smiling for the moment she saw Harry but hadn't yet read the look on his face.
"What is wrong?" she asked him, cocking her head and sounding sincere.
Harry didn't know what to say, so he sat on a chair next to the mantelpiece, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. "Don't ask," he said gloomily, "just don't ask."
At this, Sebastian seemed to lose some of his own composure.
"Are you not proud to bring glory to Hogwarts?" he said, clearly wondering how Harry could not be one hundred percent proud to be bestowed the honor of being Hogwarts' very own, wonderful champion.
Harry felt like smacking him, but restrained himself.
A load of footsteps echoed into the chamber from the Great Hall and Ludo Bagman joined the three of them, accompanied by Percy. He looked down at the incredibly unhappy face in which is own boyish grin dulled for a moment but then he smiled once more and said, "Why the long face, Harry? C'mon! This time you're prepared!"
Harry looked up at him, gave him a short grin that satisfied Bagman and began looking at his own feet again.
The door opened once more, this time letting Madam Maxime and, looking very distressed at having to be so near her, Karkaroff.
"Vell done, 'Arry," said Madam Maxime. "I knew from your performance during ze last tournament zat you 'ad eet." She was smiling, evidently trying to give him some friendly confidence.
Karkaroff did no such thing.
"She is right, you know, Harry!" said Bagman.
Even Percy joined in.
"Things are looking up, Harry!" he said, trying his best to drop his usual strictly professional manner. "No Dark wizards put your name in the goblet this time, did they?"
"Maybe," said Harry.
Everyone chose to ignore this profound word but Percy particular seemed to be highly affronted. They didn't seem to understand and Harry didn't have the heart to tell them why he had put his name in the goblet in the first place. He was further less likely to tell them of the shock he was now experiencing now that the reality of what he had done had time to sink in.
Bagman, to relieve his feeling of unease that was undoubtedly coming from Harry, began rolling on the balls of his feet. "Instructions!" he barked and Harry jumped.
"Yes, yes," said Percy. He let out a cough and was suddenly fumbling with a piece of parchment inside his robes. "The first task is engineered to put your daring to the test," he said, reading off of it and then turning to face Harry, Sebastian and Adrianne, "and so we're not going to be telling you what it is. At the risk of repeating Mr. Crouch's words --" and he let out a short cough, evidently still proud of Mr. Crouch even though he was now dead "-- courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality as I'm sure, well...
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-eighth in front of the staff, students and the judges.
"You are, of course, not allowed to ask for or accept help of any kind from teacher or student alike," Percy went on, his eyes flickering towards Bagman who gave a short, guilty laugh, "to complete any task in the tournament."
Bagman had tried to help Harry but he had refused each time. It would seem Percy since found out, though he didn't wish to make a scene.
"You will face the first challenge armed with only your wand, which will be tested shortly to make sure it is in full working order. Information on the second task will be given when the first one is over. Last but not least, owing to the very demanding and time-consuming nature of the Triwizard Tournament, all champions are exempt from end-of-year exams."
Adrianne looked delighted to hear this but there was a noticeable slouch to Sebastian's appearance. Harry was forcefully reminded of Hermione.
Percy turned to Dumbledore who had just entered the room.
"That is everything, isn't it?" he said.
"Indeed," said Dumbledore, glancing curiously at Harry. Not wanting to get involved at the moment, he too chose to ignore it and turned to Karkaroff and Madam Maxime. "So then, can I interest the two of you in a nightcap? Harry, may I suggest you head back to your common room to celebrate. I hardly think, owing to the fact that I never managed to get everyone to quiet down, that anyone in Gryffindor Tower will be sleeping tonight," he said, his eyes twinkling.
"Go on, Adrianne," said Madam Maxime kindly just as Karkaroff motioned for Sebastian to follow him, "back to ze carriage to celebrate vith everyone."
Harry, wanting to melt away, slouched out of the chamber and into the Great Hall after everyone else. The light dragon was still flying about overhead and Raides was waiting for him, having perched herself atop the middle of the staff table. He grunted, she transformed into the staff and Harry removed the dragon. Karkaroff was the last one to exit the Hall, looking uncertainly at the enormous back of Madam Maxime.
Feeling his spirits at an all time low and wanting to be alone in the deserted Great Hall, Harry didn't even let Raides transform back into the great lion; he clutched her tight in his hand and deactivated her. She lay stiff, lifeless, dead in his hand, unable to speak, think or, for that matter, unable to do anything but magic.
Looking all around as he slowly walked between the empty Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, he could see in his mind's eye Ron, Hermione, Ginny and himself along with everyone else waiting, silent, tense when someone else's -- anyone else's -- name would come flying out of the goblet. At this point, he would have been happy if even Malfoy was in the tournament. Harry stopped walking and watched as the images unfolded before his eyes.
Standing next to him, nothing but a ghost in his head, was the image of Ron sitting down, a great big smile on his freckled face and biting his lip so hard that Harry thought it was going to bleed. The sound of everyone's bated breath was echoed, as though distant and the ceiling of the Hall was a hundred feet in the air. And there, one seat down, was himself, bright-eyed, smiling and shaking with excitement, looking hopefully at Ron while all of Ron's fingers, his legs and his eyes were crossed.
Harry watched as his shadow was hardly able to contain himself with Hermione at his other side and then, suddenly, Dumbledore called "And the Hogwarts champion will be... Ronald Weasley!" Ron stood up and Harry began clapping so hard that his hands instantly turned as red as Ron's face. Hermione and Ginny had both given Ron a hug, Harry gave him a friendly pat on the back and, standing to his full height, Ron walked proudly up to the top of the Hall. The Gryffindor Table exploded into ravenous clapping and stomping, yelling themselves hoarse.
But then Harry looked down and the shadow of everyone simply vanished. The sounds became quieter and quieter as though from further away until he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his own breath. He started his walk again and, in no time at all, found himself in front of the Fat Lady.
"Hogwarts champion again?" she said, red in the face and a cup that Harry strongly suspected was of rum in her hand.
"Priscus Veneficus," said Harry.
"Tut! And you're hardly any happier than last time!" she shouted, swinging forward to admit him as Harry put his hands over his ears to prepare for the roar from inside.
Even with his hands clamped over his ears, he was almost blown backwards.
"Harry!" shrieked several people the instant he'd been spotted.
"Hogwarts champion! Again! And this time you entered yourself!"
"You did it! Well, you had to know!"
"Of course you knew the moment you entered your name, you were gonna be called!"
"Where's Ron and Hermione?" said Harry, his face mirroring Percy's usual one.
At that instant, someone grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd of hands, bodies, Gryffindor flags trying to get wrapped around him, food and drink. Without Fred and George there was nothing from the kitchens, unfortunately. He turned to see Hermione looking gravely at him but he was thankful she was pulling him away from the crowd of very unwanted cheers and yells. Ron was already sitting on his own four-post bed, his cloak slung over the canopy. Harry had the impression they were preparing for his arrival.
"Okay," said Ron, once they all sat down, "explain."
Harry took off his cloak and threw it in the middle of the circular room. He sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees once again but this time he folded his hands. Harry didn't stay that way very long. After a few seconds of trying to think of what to explain, he let his left arm dangle limp and rested his chin on his right palm but didn't stay very long like that, either, having switched hands just two seconds later. Then he held his forehead up with the palm of his hand and a moment later, held it up with both palms, his eyes now closed. Now he was running both of his hands anxiously through his untidy, black hair and back around to his neck, holding that up with his palms.
The only words he had decided on saying were, "I don't know."
"What d'you mean 'you don't know?'" said Ron, both disgusted and disbelievingly. "You were telling everyone -- for months -- that you didn't want to enter and I would have to agree after what happened last time. Suddenly, one joke from Malfoy and you're happily -- or at least I think, none of us sure could tell from the way you were acting -- entering your name with who knows what spell. We sure didn't learn those in class!" he shouted incredulously.
"What do you want from me!" Harry barked hotly, his sadness leaving him in an instant. "I don't know, okay?" he said, shaking slightly with anger.
"What are you yelling at him for?" said Hermione, her voice higher than usual, too.
"Oh that's great, both of you get on my case."
"Get on your case, yes, that's what we're trying to do, Harry." Harry got the sarcasm but chose to ignore it.
"I can easily tell. And isn't this familiar? We were all chatting happily when I told you lot I can --"
"It's almost like you have the -- the --"
"The what?" said Harry, daring Ron to say it.
"The You-Know-What!" shouted Ron in a high pitched voice.
"Now we have another Voldemort?" said Harry scathingly. "Go on, I thought that once earlier. But how? How can I?"
"Harry --" said Hermione.
"Forget it," said Harry, throwing himself backwards on his four-poster, "just go, you aren't helping any."
Ron shot Harry an extremely angry look and when he took a step closer to Harry, who's eyes were now closed, Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"C'mon, Ron," she said testily. "If he doesn't want us, let him sit there and figure it all out himself. He sure seems to like doing that lately."
Harry didn't watch her go but quickly found himself highly upset and saddened again as was evident by the sniffles and the watering at his eyes. The Mark of Ancients... How could it be back? He'd been there when it was removed, he hadn't been able to make his skin glow that perfect white nor even glitter golden since that day.
But something just didn't tick right. He layed there, for a good five minutes, listening, but not really paying attention, to the noises coming from down the spiral staircase and trying to make his skin glitter or show some sign, any sign, of the Mark of Ancients. Balling his hands into fists, squinting his eyes, feeling his arms from wrist to shoulder through his robes... nothing... After he figured it wasn't going to happen, he simply stopped.
Things didn't exactly seem to be going his way. He'd blown off Ron and Hermione successfully once now and there weren't any doubts in his mind that it would happen again... and again, and again and still more times until they didn't want to come back at all. This had, unfortunately, happened in his fifth year when the Mark of Ancients was running through his veins. Harry had, in a long series of unnerving mood swings, warded off all his friends. Hermione went off crying and Ron stalked away angry. He had no intention whatsoever of repeating the experience, though the way things were going, it looked like if he didn't come up with something quick, it would be repeating itself all over again. If it did happen again, this time at least he didn't think he'd be tricked into thinking he had a long lost sister that would later only turn out to be a ploy on his already saturated head. Also, at least now he had Sirius to talk to as last time Sirius was in Azkaban.
Currently, there wasn't much for Harry to do. It was either go down into the common room and be badgered by all the celebration-happy people, stay where he was and sulk, or go find Ron and Hermione and try his hand at an apology. None of the options looked very appealing but as the only other one was sleep, he thought he'd get a head start on how he would apologize to Ron and Hermione tomorrow morning -- because he definitely wanted to do that, though he couldn't bring himself to as of now.
And then his mind fell on something even more unpleasant: the dream. Feeling miserable through and through, he had a strong feeling it was going to run across his eyes when they closed to drift him off to sleep. His eyes rolling in disgust, Harry found himself changing into pajamas to prepare for sleep and he could never recall dreading it so much. Maybe if he did it now he'd have the dream while everyone was still celebrating -- without their person to celebrate with -- no one would hear him if he happened to... scream?
His insides writhed guiltily. He would have to tell someone especially considering there was a great chance, with them in the same room as him, they'd hear him if he did anything. What was he going to say otherwise?
"Oh, no, I just put my hand on a pin. I'm okay, really."
"Your hand's not bleeding."
But that sounded very dumb in his head alone. Perhaps --
"I'm okay, it was just a nightmare."
"Harry, you never have nightmares where you wake up screaming. It sounded like you were about to be killed."
And that wasn't much better. What about --
"That was just a dream about -- about -- er -- it was -- and I --"
"Yes?"
Only two people at Hogwarts would fit the bill. Yes, thought Harry, I'll just... just keep it quiet until I have it and then, then I'll tell. He would like to have used someone's once-great advice where they said "just put it out of your mind," but now he knew better. It was better to tell, better to not be lazy, because every time he hadn't gotten something off his chest, it stayed on it and ate through it.
All the Gryffindors except Harry exchanged shocked looks. Harry, the single most stubborn seventeen-year-old about not entering his or her name into the goblet had just done so just to prove himself against Malfoy.
"I'm hungry, let's go eat," said Harry shortly, ignoring them, and Raides, with a truly evil glance at Malfoy, followed him into the Great Hall.
Having seen the Great Hall during Halloween six times before, there wasn't anything unusual this time around. The regular candles that littered the air were replaced by pumpkins. Raides snarled at one that reminded her of, well, her.
Harry took a seat at the Gryffindor table, Raides curling up on the floor behind him, and was shortly joined by Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Craig and James.
"Harry what was that all about," said Hermione, her voice shaking slightly when they all sat down.
"My thoughts exactly," said Ginny. "Come on, Harry. You didn't want to enter for MONTHS and you just go ahead and do it just to get back at Malfoy?"
Harry never knew Ginny to be taking part in his personal dilemmas, she usually left that for her brother, let alone even knowing about them.
"What, are you two talking to her about me now, too?" Harry asked. "But now everyone should be happy now that I've put my name in. And stop staring at me, it's giving me the creeps."
"Harry, come clean, what is it?" asked Ron.
Harry couldn't pinpoint it either but he knew that if it was this time last year, he would not have done what he had done just now. On the other hand, he'd not been hiding anything too serious that was greatly affecting his life. And furthermore, he couldn't see a thing wrong with himself. What was Ron playing at? Harry asked himself...
"You're kidding, right?"
"What d'you mean 'kidding?' For crying out loud, you've been refusing entry into the tournament since I mentioned it to you, I'd have thought -- and everyone else, like Dumbledore, Cho and Sirius -- you wouldn't want to be involved again after how horrible it was the first time around."
Ron said all this very quickly.
"So?"
Filch had come in at that point, the goblet in one hand and the stool in the other. He was carrying it up the Hall and placed it in front of Dumbledore's empty chair when he reached the staff table. A moment later, Percy strode in, Bagman at his side with Madam Maxime and, reluctantly, Karkaroff taking up the rear. Karkaroff seemed to be keeping his distance from Madam Maxime and the side of her face that had to look at him was twitching every now and then. Harry had the distinct feeling that she hated him for something and it seemed to be unsettling Karkaroff.
All through the Halloween feast, Harry was jumpy and irritable and generally hard to talk to. His attention was up at the staff table in the Goblet of Fire where he knew his name would be coming out as soon as everyone finished eating. Everyone was much slower to eat this night than last and, being the second feast in two days with lots of food, lots of drink and lots of Harry snapping, it was hardly a surprise.
Dumbledore had come in somewhere in the middle of the feast with Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. Dumbledore seemed to have purposely went between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, taking the time to speak with Dudley for a short moment before continuing up. Harry had a quick but horrible thought that Dumbledore, too, believed Dudley had been sorted into the wrong house.
At long last, when all the plates had cleared and everyone quickly silenced themselves, Dumbledore rose to his feet. Hermione was giving Harry a commiserating look as he stared up at the goblet, much like what everyone else was doing.
"The goblet is almost ready to make it's decisions for champions for each school, I estimate about two minutes," said Dumbledore. "Now, when I call out the champions' names, if they would please come up to the front of the Hall, go along the staff table and enter through the door into the next chamber." He pointed a long finger toward the door behind the staff table. "There, you will receive instructions for the first task. Mr. Potter, the dragon made of light, if you will," he added, glancing sidelong at Harry and winking at Professor McGonagall's red face.
Dumbledore took out his wand and sweeped it across his front and at once, every candle in the great -- every single one -- was extinguished. Harry barely had enough light coming from the goblet to know that he wasn't hitting anyone on the head with the Staff of Cybele. But eventually, the light dragon was once again soaring overhead to many gasps and stares of students, foreign and local alike. It was even more magnficient inside the Great Hall, lighting up the walls and the tops of students' heads as it passed, making a great big figure eight. The dragon was so large and the Hall so tiny that it was wrapped around twice.
The light Goblet of Fire's blue-white flames were miniscule in comparison to the tremendous light given forth by the dragon overhead. Even so, everyone was watching and waiting, some turning slightly blue from forgetting to breathe. Dean Thomas kept checking his watch.
"C'mon already," hissed Susan Bones from the next table just as someone over at the Slytherin table muttered something very rude under his breath.
"It didn't take this long last time, did it?" said Neville.
"Whatever," said Harry. "I just wish it'd hurry up!"
"So you can make a prat of yourself in front of the whole school?" Hermione muttered.
Harry shot her a venomous look and said, "Nobody asked you."
Hermione folded her arms and looked back up at the goblet with everyone else.
Suddenly, the flames inside the Goblet of Fire turned red again and sparks were emitting from it. A second later, a burst of flame rose into the air and a scorched piece of parchment flew out of it -- those who hadn't seen this three years ago (and some who had) gasped. Dumbledore reached a hand out to grab the parchment.
"The champion for Durmstrang," said Dumbledore in a loud, clear voice, "will be Sebastian Leon."
"Who?" said Ron, but his next words were drowned out as an explosion of applause broke out over the Slytherin table where all the Durmstrang students were sitting.
A boy that looked more like he was in his twenties than his teens stood up from the Slytherin table. Sebastian had dark hair, a gaunt but fairly handsome face and, unlike the rest of his classmates, no pimples.
"He's the Durmstrang heart throb, that one," said Hermione.
"Going to fall in love with him like you fell in love with Viktor Krum?" said Ron testily.
"Oh shut up," said Hermione.
Sebastian walked proudly up to the staff table, turned right, walked along it and exited through the door behind it.
"Excellent, Sebastian!" thundered Karkaroff so amazingly loudly that even the people outside the castle could hear him. This caused Madam Maxime to give him such a heated look that even Professor Snape would have been frightened. Karkaroff quickly desisted his ravenous clapping and sat down.
When the clapping, stomping and chatting died away, everyone began looking attentively at the goblet again which, not a moment too soon, had it's flames go red once again.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "will be Adrianne Delacour!"
Harry saw Professor Delacour up at the staff table stand up, beaming to her young sister, and start to clap particularly loudly.
"Will you look at that," said Ron quietly, pointing at two girls Adrianne had been talking with -- but they didn't see because they weren't exactly looking up.
The two of them and one farther down the table were all overcome by tears and Harry didn't think they were tears of joy. One of them was simply complaining that she broke a nail but Harry suspected it was because she hit the table: the tips of her fingers were red and there were claw marks.
Adrianne, too, disappeared into the side chamber and silence fell, once again, this time so still Harry could make hear the sounds of the dragon part the air as it soared overhead. The Hogwarts champion now, and a handful already knew who it was going to be. Harry felt extremely pleased with himself; when his name came out, the Great Hall was going to explode with applause (all except for the Slytherins, of course).
And the flames of the Goblet of Fire glowed red once more, showering the nearby area with sparks and a tongue of flame burst into the air, sending a final piece of parchment fluttering to the top of the table. Even Dumbledore's hand was shaking, Harry saw. But, fingers nearly missing it, he grasped the piece of parchment on the table, missing it as it flew through the air. Dumbledore's face glowed and there was a sparkle in his eyes as he read for all to hear.
"And the Hogwarts champion," he called, grinning so broadly that he almost couldn't speak, "is Harry Potter!"
When the roar of applause filled Harry's ears to the point of making them hurt, it was like someone switched a dial inside of him. A minute ago, he would have been jumping for joy but now, now it was like someone had just pulled the shades off his eyes and told him to go live with dementors, hearing his mother's screams replayed in his head until his dying day. And this showed very loudly on his face as evident by the look of nothing short of absolute terror on Ron's, Hermione's and Ginny's face.
"Go up, Harry, go on," said Hermione, trying her best to sound comforting. "You don't have a choice..."
"Yeah, I don't have a choice," said Harry, trying to find composure, "but I could always kill myself..."
"Do not -- say that. You go up there, get into the tournament and we're going straight to your dormitory to talk."
Harry shook his head madly, put his hands on the table and, feeling weak in the knees, stood up.
Every single pair of hands along his path tried to shake one of his out or pat him on the back and many people stood up to clap. Several people were chanting his name but none of this was of any help: he still felt like someone had told him to go relive his parents' deaths again. And after what felt like several hours, he had reached the side chamber and the door leading into it, Hagrid along with several other professors congratulating him as he passed.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily, trying and failing miserably to make himself heard over all the noise.
The small chamber was full of many paintings of witches and wizards. A fire was roaring in a fireplace opposite the door, adding a nice touch to the coziness. Harry had been in here before when he had been selected as the fourth champion but the atmosphere from then to now was hardly any different -- at least, for him.
Adrianne Delacour and Sebastian Leon were standing around the fire and at least this time they were about his height and not horribly intimidating. Sebastian was positively beaming, looking overly happy and not realizing that the tournament itself was likely to tear him to pieces, Harry thought, him being so proud of himself and everything...
Adrianne was smiling for the moment she saw Harry but hadn't yet read the look on his face.
"What is wrong?" she asked him, cocking her head and sounding sincere.
Harry didn't know what to say, so he sat on a chair next to the mantelpiece, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. "Don't ask," he said gloomily, "just don't ask."
At this, Sebastian seemed to lose some of his own composure.
"Are you not proud to bring glory to Hogwarts?" he said, clearly wondering how Harry could not be one hundred percent proud to be bestowed the honor of being Hogwarts' very own, wonderful champion.
Harry felt like smacking him, but restrained himself.
A load of footsteps echoed into the chamber from the Great Hall and Ludo Bagman joined the three of them, accompanied by Percy. He looked down at the incredibly unhappy face in which is own boyish grin dulled for a moment but then he smiled once more and said, "Why the long face, Harry? C'mon! This time you're prepared!"
Harry looked up at him, gave him a short grin that satisfied Bagman and began looking at his own feet again.
The door opened once more, this time letting Madam Maxime and, looking very distressed at having to be so near her, Karkaroff.
"Vell done, 'Arry," said Madam Maxime. "I knew from your performance during ze last tournament zat you 'ad eet." She was smiling, evidently trying to give him some friendly confidence.
Karkaroff did no such thing.
"She is right, you know, Harry!" said Bagman.
Even Percy joined in.
"Things are looking up, Harry!" he said, trying his best to drop his usual strictly professional manner. "No Dark wizards put your name in the goblet this time, did they?"
"Maybe," said Harry.
Everyone chose to ignore this profound word but Percy particular seemed to be highly affronted. They didn't seem to understand and Harry didn't have the heart to tell them why he had put his name in the goblet in the first place. He was further less likely to tell them of the shock he was now experiencing now that the reality of what he had done had time to sink in.
Bagman, to relieve his feeling of unease that was undoubtedly coming from Harry, began rolling on the balls of his feet. "Instructions!" he barked and Harry jumped.
"Yes, yes," said Percy. He let out a cough and was suddenly fumbling with a piece of parchment inside his robes. "The first task is engineered to put your daring to the test," he said, reading off of it and then turning to face Harry, Sebastian and Adrianne, "and so we're not going to be telling you what it is. At the risk of repeating Mr. Crouch's words --" and he let out a short cough, evidently still proud of Mr. Crouch even though he was now dead "-- courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality as I'm sure, well...
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-eighth in front of the staff, students and the judges.
"You are, of course, not allowed to ask for or accept help of any kind from teacher or student alike," Percy went on, his eyes flickering towards Bagman who gave a short, guilty laugh, "to complete any task in the tournament."
Bagman had tried to help Harry but he had refused each time. It would seem Percy since found out, though he didn't wish to make a scene.
"You will face the first challenge armed with only your wand, which will be tested shortly to make sure it is in full working order. Information on the second task will be given when the first one is over. Last but not least, owing to the very demanding and time-consuming nature of the Triwizard Tournament, all champions are exempt from end-of-year exams."
Adrianne looked delighted to hear this but there was a noticeable slouch to Sebastian's appearance. Harry was forcefully reminded of Hermione.
Percy turned to Dumbledore who had just entered the room.
"That is everything, isn't it?" he said.
"Indeed," said Dumbledore, glancing curiously at Harry. Not wanting to get involved at the moment, he too chose to ignore it and turned to Karkaroff and Madam Maxime. "So then, can I interest the two of you in a nightcap? Harry, may I suggest you head back to your common room to celebrate. I hardly think, owing to the fact that I never managed to get everyone to quiet down, that anyone in Gryffindor Tower will be sleeping tonight," he said, his eyes twinkling.
"Go on, Adrianne," said Madam Maxime kindly just as Karkaroff motioned for Sebastian to follow him, "back to ze carriage to celebrate vith everyone."
Harry, wanting to melt away, slouched out of the chamber and into the Great Hall after everyone else. The light dragon was still flying about overhead and Raides was waiting for him, having perched herself atop the middle of the staff table. He grunted, she transformed into the staff and Harry removed the dragon. Karkaroff was the last one to exit the Hall, looking uncertainly at the enormous back of Madam Maxime.
Feeling his spirits at an all time low and wanting to be alone in the deserted Great Hall, Harry didn't even let Raides transform back into the great lion; he clutched her tight in his hand and deactivated her. She lay stiff, lifeless, dead in his hand, unable to speak, think or, for that matter, unable to do anything but magic.
Looking all around as he slowly walked between the empty Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, he could see in his mind's eye Ron, Hermione, Ginny and himself along with everyone else waiting, silent, tense when someone else's -- anyone else's -- name would come flying out of the goblet. At this point, he would have been happy if even Malfoy was in the tournament. Harry stopped walking and watched as the images unfolded before his eyes.
Standing next to him, nothing but a ghost in his head, was the image of Ron sitting down, a great big smile on his freckled face and biting his lip so hard that Harry thought it was going to bleed. The sound of everyone's bated breath was echoed, as though distant and the ceiling of the Hall was a hundred feet in the air. And there, one seat down, was himself, bright-eyed, smiling and shaking with excitement, looking hopefully at Ron while all of Ron's fingers, his legs and his eyes were crossed.
Harry watched as his shadow was hardly able to contain himself with Hermione at his other side and then, suddenly, Dumbledore called "And the Hogwarts champion will be... Ronald Weasley!" Ron stood up and Harry began clapping so hard that his hands instantly turned as red as Ron's face. Hermione and Ginny had both given Ron a hug, Harry gave him a friendly pat on the back and, standing to his full height, Ron walked proudly up to the top of the Hall. The Gryffindor Table exploded into ravenous clapping and stomping, yelling themselves hoarse.
But then Harry looked down and the shadow of everyone simply vanished. The sounds became quieter and quieter as though from further away until he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his own breath. He started his walk again and, in no time at all, found himself in front of the Fat Lady.
"Hogwarts champion again?" she said, red in the face and a cup that Harry strongly suspected was of rum in her hand.
"Priscus Veneficus," said Harry.
"Tut! And you're hardly any happier than last time!" she shouted, swinging forward to admit him as Harry put his hands over his ears to prepare for the roar from inside.
Even with his hands clamped over his ears, he was almost blown backwards.
"Harry!" shrieked several people the instant he'd been spotted.
"Hogwarts champion! Again! And this time you entered yourself!"
"You did it! Well, you had to know!"
"Of course you knew the moment you entered your name, you were gonna be called!"
"Where's Ron and Hermione?" said Harry, his face mirroring Percy's usual one.
At that instant, someone grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd of hands, bodies, Gryffindor flags trying to get wrapped around him, food and drink. Without Fred and George there was nothing from the kitchens, unfortunately. He turned to see Hermione looking gravely at him but he was thankful she was pulling him away from the crowd of very unwanted cheers and yells. Ron was already sitting on his own four-post bed, his cloak slung over the canopy. Harry had the impression they were preparing for his arrival.
"Okay," said Ron, once they all sat down, "explain."
Harry took off his cloak and threw it in the middle of the circular room. He sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees once again but this time he folded his hands. Harry didn't stay that way very long. After a few seconds of trying to think of what to explain, he let his left arm dangle limp and rested his chin on his right palm but didn't stay very long like that, either, having switched hands just two seconds later. Then he held his forehead up with the palm of his hand and a moment later, held it up with both palms, his eyes now closed. Now he was running both of his hands anxiously through his untidy, black hair and back around to his neck, holding that up with his palms.
The only words he had decided on saying were, "I don't know."
"What d'you mean 'you don't know?'" said Ron, both disgusted and disbelievingly. "You were telling everyone -- for months -- that you didn't want to enter and I would have to agree after what happened last time. Suddenly, one joke from Malfoy and you're happily -- or at least I think, none of us sure could tell from the way you were acting -- entering your name with who knows what spell. We sure didn't learn those in class!" he shouted incredulously.
"What do you want from me!" Harry barked hotly, his sadness leaving him in an instant. "I don't know, okay?" he said, shaking slightly with anger.
"What are you yelling at him for?" said Hermione, her voice higher than usual, too.
"Oh that's great, both of you get on my case."
"Get on your case, yes, that's what we're trying to do, Harry." Harry got the sarcasm but chose to ignore it.
"I can easily tell. And isn't this familiar? We were all chatting happily when I told you lot I can --"
"It's almost like you have the -- the --"
"The what?" said Harry, daring Ron to say it.
"The You-Know-What!" shouted Ron in a high pitched voice.
"Now we have another Voldemort?" said Harry scathingly. "Go on, I thought that once earlier. But how? How can I?"
"Harry --" said Hermione.
"Forget it," said Harry, throwing himself backwards on his four-poster, "just go, you aren't helping any."
Ron shot Harry an extremely angry look and when he took a step closer to Harry, who's eyes were now closed, Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"C'mon, Ron," she said testily. "If he doesn't want us, let him sit there and figure it all out himself. He sure seems to like doing that lately."
Harry didn't watch her go but quickly found himself highly upset and saddened again as was evident by the sniffles and the watering at his eyes. The Mark of Ancients... How could it be back? He'd been there when it was removed, he hadn't been able to make his skin glow that perfect white nor even glitter golden since that day.
But something just didn't tick right. He layed there, for a good five minutes, listening, but not really paying attention, to the noises coming from down the spiral staircase and trying to make his skin glitter or show some sign, any sign, of the Mark of Ancients. Balling his hands into fists, squinting his eyes, feeling his arms from wrist to shoulder through his robes... nothing... After he figured it wasn't going to happen, he simply stopped.
Things didn't exactly seem to be going his way. He'd blown off Ron and Hermione successfully once now and there weren't any doubts in his mind that it would happen again... and again, and again and still more times until they didn't want to come back at all. This had, unfortunately, happened in his fifth year when the Mark of Ancients was running through his veins. Harry had, in a long series of unnerving mood swings, warded off all his friends. Hermione went off crying and Ron stalked away angry. He had no intention whatsoever of repeating the experience, though the way things were going, it looked like if he didn't come up with something quick, it would be repeating itself all over again. If it did happen again, this time at least he didn't think he'd be tricked into thinking he had a long lost sister that would later only turn out to be a ploy on his already saturated head. Also, at least now he had Sirius to talk to as last time Sirius was in Azkaban.
Currently, there wasn't much for Harry to do. It was either go down into the common room and be badgered by all the celebration-happy people, stay where he was and sulk, or go find Ron and Hermione and try his hand at an apology. None of the options looked very appealing but as the only other one was sleep, he thought he'd get a head start on how he would apologize to Ron and Hermione tomorrow morning -- because he definitely wanted to do that, though he couldn't bring himself to as of now.
And then his mind fell on something even more unpleasant: the dream. Feeling miserable through and through, he had a strong feeling it was going to run across his eyes when they closed to drift him off to sleep. His eyes rolling in disgust, Harry found himself changing into pajamas to prepare for sleep and he could never recall dreading it so much. Maybe if he did it now he'd have the dream while everyone was still celebrating -- without their person to celebrate with -- no one would hear him if he happened to... scream?
His insides writhed guiltily. He would have to tell someone especially considering there was a great chance, with them in the same room as him, they'd hear him if he did anything. What was he going to say otherwise?
"Oh, no, I just put my hand on a pin. I'm okay, really."
"Your hand's not bleeding."
But that sounded very dumb in his head alone. Perhaps --
"I'm okay, it was just a nightmare."
"Harry, you never have nightmares where you wake up screaming. It sounded like you were about to be killed."
And that wasn't much better. What about --
"That was just a dream about -- about -- er -- it was -- and I --"
"Yes?"
Only two people at Hogwarts would fit the bill. Yes, thought Harry, I'll just... just keep it quiet until I have it and then, then I'll tell. He would like to have used someone's once-great advice where they said "just put it out of your mind," but now he knew better. It was better to tell, better to not be lazy, because every time he hadn't gotten something off his chest, it stayed on it and ate through it.