Love's Labour Lost
ScarletSerpent
Disclaimer: Although this story follows the plot of the book/movie Goblet of Fire, the plot is my own. Everything belongs to Rowling and the producers of the movies. I am not selling it, or reproducing it for profit, I swear. I am not quite genius enough to work that out.
Summary: Harry Potter is fourteen and in a lot of trouble. When confusion and dark forces combine to make a daunting fourth year, who can Harry turn to as it all falls to pieces? The story behind the story, of a love that defeats evil, but even love cannot cheat death.
Thank You to: Bengermanx (I rather liked that phrase too Glad you like it so far :-) ; dairygirl (Thanks! I think those expressions are a really important part of his character) ; sparklingdiamond180 (Thanks! Keep reading.) ; Matchstick Fighter (Thanx for reviewing! I will write as fast as I can!) ; ESP (Yeah, I read the books a long time ago. Unfortunately JK Rowling did such a good job that I would be hard pressed to write the story I want to write following the book. :-( Sorry if that is disappointing.) ; truthfulchaos (I know, the reason I decided to write a Harry/Cedric fic was because I couldn't find any! I hope this one does the pairing justice. Thank you for the encouragement!) ; Ravenclaw Rocks (This fic was the first thing that popped into my head after watching the movie the first time... The woman behind you may have been an incarnation of me- I giggled through the bridge scene too! I changed the rating to T, thoughit may be M in the future.) ; SimplyTurquoise (Thanks for reviewing! I like Harry/Cedric, even if its kind of a strange thought because of the time frame. I hope you will keep reading, though!) ; rockstarhobbit (Glad to know you will keep reading! Thank you for the review.) ; LJSkywalker (Yes, this is a Harry/Cedric, a pairing that there isn't enough of out there in my opinion... especially after that movie scene! ;-) ; Beautiful Orubus (Thank you for reviewing! I love this story too much to stop right now :-) Kari-Demon (I'm glad you like it and put me on your updates! Now I know I'll have someone who reads it, haha. Thanks for the encouragement!) ; carla (Thank you! I'm so glad you reviewed!) ; wild wolf free17 (Thanks! Hope you read on.)
A/N: I have decided that this story will ultimately follow the movie. I know that is disappointing to the more avid readers out there, but the book has so much detail that it would be difficult to follow the plot that I have outlined. I'm sorry, I have read the book, and I think they're all amazing; JK Rowling has inspired me to become the best author I can be. However, as this story has to fall within a time frame that has already been written, I am going to have to change things. The movie gives me a good outline, and I will stick to those scenes.
And so my friends, off we go once more...
Chapter Two: Turning of the Tides
To say that Ronald Weasley was furious would be a severe understatement. He was beyond rage, ire and fury; he was a seething mass of anger, entirely without an outlet. After watching his so-called best mate walk smugly from the Great Hall, no doubt rejoicing in his selection for eternal glory, not that the other boy needed it, Ron had stalked from the room. He was shortly followed by Hermione, who simply buzzed with questions, not the least important of which was,
"How did he do it?"
Ron stared glumly ahead, not bothering to dignify the question with a response. Harry was obviously much more brilliant than either of them had anticipated. It begged a question or two: if Harry had hidden his talents from them, what else could he have lied about? What other things could he have hidden? Mouth set in a mutinous line, he brushed past Hermione, ignoring her onslaught, and escaped into the nearest chair. Sinking into the plush red velvet, he stared vaguely at the wall. How could Harry just, ignore him? They had been to Hell and back together.
Suddenly, the common room exploded around him, as the occupants of Gryffindor Tower entered, debating heatedly. Questions were hurled back and forth, arms and hands gesticulated wildly. It wasn't until Neville Longbottom responded hotly to an accusation by Seamus Finnigan, "He didn't do it! Harry's too honest." that Ron let the white hot anger take hold.
"Of course he did it," Ron stated smoothly, rising from the comfort of the chair. "Harry has always been better than us, and what better way to prove it?"
A buzz of whispers echoed around the room, Ron was Harry's best friend, wouldn't he know? Seamus was the first to respond, "That's what I was sayin', y'know. The git's gotten himself a swelled head from all the attention."
Ron seethed in anger, "Too good for us. Too good for Gryffindor. You'd think he was Godric himself, risen from the grave, the way he acts." It was clear from the expression on his face that he was just beginning, "Putting on all his fancy airs. Pretending he doesn't like the fame, the glory of it all. Acting all caring and brave, honest and true, all to hide what he really thinks of us. He put his name in the Goblet to show us how superior he is. If he's a Gryffindor, I'm a toad." Ron's face turned a mottled red, "that bastard should have been in Slytherin."
At that, the room stilled into an utter silence; to accuse Harry of being a Slytherin was akin to saying the boy was Dark. Perhaps that's what he was alluding to. And, after all, wouldn't Ron know?
"Well, you're doing a pretty damned good imitation of one yourself, your Toadiness." Hermione rose, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I don't believe for a moment that Harry put his name in the Goblet of Fire," she leaned close to his face, taking him by the shoulders, her voice wavering with the force of her words, "and neither do you." She pushed him firmly back into the chair.
With that, she stalked out.
Ron shook his head, she was too weak to see it, still blinded by the brilliance that was Harry Potter, but he wasn't fooled any longer. He faced his housemates, and opened his mouth to speak, only to hear a voice coming from the portrait: Harry. At the sound of his best friend's voice, he swept the room with a quelling gaze, and escaped up the stairwell, Seamus and Dean trailing in his wake.
The actual confrontation was somewhat less than the rampaging fury that he was sure would occur. Harry seemed utterly confused, then completely irate. There was no way Ron was falling for that innocent charade this time. After his final farewell of "piss off", Ron had turned over to contemplate how it had become this way. He and Harry had been best friends, no, more than that. They had been brothers. Ron had shared everything from his family to his darkest secrets with Harry. He had loved him. He shut his eyes, blocking out reality.
How could Harry leave him behind?
With that thought, a seed of doubt wiggled into his brain and began to stew- the way that evil always seems to begin.
Confusion. It was a state of being that Harry had been inhabiting for a week now, and it seemed it was there to stay. He had become testy and snappish, spoiling for a fight, for anything that would erase the awful static feeling. Every time he saw Ron he wanted to go straight for the other boy's throat, but always stopped himself just in time; he wasn't Malfoy. The tension had mounted to an all time high, and Harry was restless, sick of the dirty looks and mocking airs. The scowls and heated looks weren't just from Ron either, most of Gryffindor and half of the rest of Hogwarts was awash with newly minted anti-Potter personas, and it was getting old quickly.
Hermione seemed to be the only one who stuck by his side, encouraging him and making certain he didn't kill Ron. Of course, she had to be on Ron's side too, it wasn't fair to stick her in the middle as they had. After one particularly nasty encounter, she had finally stormed off, complaining of being used like a messenger owl. Harry rarely saw Cedric, so there was no comfort to be sought there. The two had entirely different schedules, as Cedric was three years older than him. It was all Harry could do to remember that he had at least one staunch supporter in Cedric, and that hope nearly died every time he saw the hatred in the eyes of Ron, or the disappointment in Ginny's.
The days seemed to crawl by at a pace slower than that of a snail, classes and homework left unchecked by friends. Harry felt himself sinking deeper into the stresses of school and the tournament that he was meant to compete in. It was a week before the first challenge, and he was up to his ears in 8, 10 and 12- inch parchments on various potions, herbs and transfiguration spells. The only bright spot on the horizon was his visit to Hagrid's at seven. He knew that Hagrid wouldn't cast the blame at his feet without evidence, not after being thrown out in much the same way himself when he went to Hogwarts.
A howling wind swept from the Forbidden Forest as Harry made his way to Hagrid's hut, trudging through piles of fallen leaves. Harry wrapped his robes tighter around himself, clutching his Invisibility Cloak closer to himself. It was one thing to be asked to Hagrid's for tea, at least one knew that there would be deadly substances and rock-hard biscuits involved, but he needed his Cloak, which meant some kind of adventure, and with Hagrid, adventure was never a good thing.
Harry bit his lip and knocked forcefully on the door of the gamekeeper's hut. Barking and a few loud thumps echoed within, the sounds of Hagrid and his, er, lovely pet Fang, no doubt. The door swung open, a shadow falling over Harry's slight form as Hagrid came out, dressed in the strangest attire. An orange flower the size of Harry's head was pinned to his jacket, and he smelled strangely of oil and aftershave. Massive amounts of aftershave, Harry thought to himself, coughing into his Cloak.
"Are yeh ready to get on then there, Harry?" the enormous man asked, the steps creaking as he made his way down and towards the Forest.
The Forest, Harry knew he should have suspected this whole secrecy thing would involve the dangerous looking woods. "Er, Hagrid?" he ventured, half-jogging to keep with the giant strides of the large man. Hagrid seemed distracted, asking him questions that he responded to warily. Something very strange was underway, that he knew after noting that Hagrid had indeed combed his hair. Something very strange indeed.
A voice from ahead caught Hagrid's attention. He gave Harry one backwards glance, telling him to put on the Cloak, and motioned him forward. After watching Hagrid and Madame Maxine "greeting" eachother, he was moved... to puke in disgust, of course. It wasn't until he heard the sounds of rattling chains and roaring that he found himself looking up from the ground. The strange trio made their way towards the noises, and Harry gasped. Howling winds from the Forbidden Forest, of course not, that was too tame. Dragons. What a game.
Harry made his way from the Forest in a daze, having left Hagrid to his large love. Shaking his head, he wondered just how he had gotten into this particular situation. Nearly killed at the Quidditch World Cup, his name coming out of the red flames of the Goblet of Fire, his housemates hated him and now the dragons. Heavens knew what he was supposed to do with them. Probably play muggle football. That would fit with the absurdity of the entire state of affairs. He needed to think.
He headed towards the field, stopping to borrow one of the school's standard brooms, the quidditch pitch was the one place he could always find solace. He kicked off from the ground, reveling in the freedom of flying. For a boy who had once been a muggle, flying was one thing that would never lose its magic. He would never forget the feeling of the wind whipping through his hair, which was, he had convinced himself, the real reason that he never brushed it. Looping around the keeper goals at the end of the field, he looked out into the inky black night sky. When he was this high from the ground it wasn't hard to imagine he was looping through the stars, weaving through the universe, threading through eternity. Dragons. He shook his head tiredly, how to defeat a dragon?
Looking around the pitch, he remembered the one game he had lost. The image of dementors came flooding back to him, that feeling of having the life slowly sucked out of him. It was enough to make him waver on his broom. He looked down to where Malfoy and his cronies had attempted to recreate his fear and snorted, what complete gits. So absorbed was he in this train of thought that he entirely missed the figure watching him from the shadows.
Cedric watched Harry weave across the pitch, laughing to himself and making false grabs for a nonexistent snitch. He couldn't remember a time when he had seen the boy look more carefree. It must be difficult, he thought, to have the weight of a world on one's shoulders, and at only fourteen. When he was fourteen he had been admittedly brilliant, but even the expectations of Amos Diggory didn't quite compare to the expectations of the entire Wizarding World. His father may demand perfection, but the wizarding community demanded Harry's life. Watching Harry at that moment, arcing through the air, Cedric was certain he would never have guessed that Harry was anything other than a beautiful creature of the skies.
A/N: Thank you all so much for reviewing and sending your encouragement, it really helped! I am going to try to update on Sundays, because everyone needs a bit of a pick-me-up before Monday, eh? Thank you all again! Keep up the encouragement, please, it brightens my day every time I see a review in my mailbox. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!