AN: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter 17 - The Goblet of Fire
Harry and Daphne agreed to meet once a week for a stroll around the lake. After Harry talked, briefly, about his summer and the Ministry's interference and trial, he urged Daphne to talk about herself. Once she'd started talking, Daphne seemed to become more comfortable around him, even flashing him a ghost of a smile at some of her accomplishments over the summer. It shocked Harry how much she'd done.
Daphne Greengrass was a true heir to the Greengrass House and followed her father to several business meetings across the globe. It surprised him to learn how widespread their influence and money were. She was fluent in three languages enough to have a professional conversation on business matters. He shouldn't have been all that surprised, she was smart and driven. The Greengrass House was well-known for their money and influence. Harry expressed his admiration for both Mr. Greengrass and Daphne's hard work. His compliment got his first-ever blush from the witch. She quickly schooled her expression, but the pink tinge in her cheeks didn't fade for some time.
Not everything went as swimmingly as Harry's not-date with Daphne. The conversation with Professor McGonagall was strained and short. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, this is this is the coursework I feel you are able to handle alone, without supervision, or attending a N.E.W.T. class. I am simply astounded by the work both of you put in this summer on the material I gave you. Of everything, the only thing I could not get graded was the Defense Against the Dark Arts material, as... well, Professor Davies is a stickler for regulation. I understand his position and respect it. However, I'm pleased to announce that both of you scored at least an E in every subject I asked you to study," she beamed at them as she passed two heavy folders across the table to them. What she gave them was barely a fourth of the summer subjects they needed to learn.
"That... is wonderful," Hermione smiled as she took her assignments up and held them to her chest. "What did you choose for us?"
As it turned out, Professor McGonagall was the only one who would take the risk of giving them non-approved coursework, especially with a Ministry Official as a professor. "Bird-Conjuring Charms, Nonverbal Spells, Blackboard Writing Spells, Knitting Charms, Vinegar to wine..." Harry muttered as he read over the short list. Underlined in under subject were Nonverbal Spells. Almost everything on the list was either Transfiguration or Charms. Nothing from DADA, Potions, History of Magic, or Herbology. He wasn't going to complain about the lack of History of Magic, and it didn't surprise him that Snape didn't want to participate, but he thought Professor Sprout might give them something to work on.
"Nonverbal Spells may very well take your entire term to learn," Professor McGonagall answered when he questioned her about it. "I have a list of several books for you to read in the Library and, if you get through all of them, then I will write you a permission slip to view two books in the Restricted Section. Mr. Potter, I know this isn't the amount of coursework you and Miss Granger are accustomed to, however, this is important information and is much harder than it seems. I will be surprised if you can perform but a few of the spells and charms you know now, nonverbally, by April. That isn't to say you won't be able to do it, but I'm trying to explain the difficulty you will face. If you master this now, you will be well ahead of your peers going into your O.W.L. year."
Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He had a feeling the professor knew he wasn't all that happy with what she'd given them. It looked like busy work at best. Hermione seemed happy enough as they headed down for breakfast. She bemoaned something in her folder that Harry missed, lost in his own plans for the rest of the term.
Halloween was fast approaching, and the professors were coming down hard on the students about tiny problems with their wandwork, attitude, or behaviors. "What will a Durmstrang student think if you can't manage a simple Hardening Charm, Finnigan," Professor McGonagall huffed as she went back over the spell for the class.
"You look a mess. A disgrace to your House. Change your robes, Jones," Snape spat as he stalked past a knot of Hufflepuffs.
"Now, now, Davies, keep that head up. You'll get this before Beauxbatons arrives," Professor Flitwick coached one evening in the Dueling Club to several of the slowest duelists.
Harry ignored the frenzied behavior of the students and teachers around him as he focused on learning French, trying to understand wards, experimenting with how to enchant more efficiently, and keeping up with the requests from the twins. He looked forward to his Saturday morning walk with Daphne the next week and tried to think of new things to ask her or to talk about. After their second not-date, Harry knew Daphne was a quick study and didn't shy away from probing his knowledge on different subjects. He delighted in talking with her. She was like Hermione without a manic drive to learn more. That wasn't to say he didn't like his best friend or enjoy her company, but he did enjoy his casual talks with Daphne over the house-elf-focused arguments he'd recently had with Hermione.
Most evenings for about an hour or two, Harry and Hermione worked on her house-elf project. They often argued about why a law was in place to suppress house-elves or other magical creatures for the betterment of wizard kind. Harry stuck to the examples in the books and laws within the Ministry while Hermione tried to think of ways around or to prove his rulings inconclusive or outright false. Sometimes Harry worried that he was taking things too far but Hermione kept fighting him tooth and wand to get her way. He couldn't have been prouder of her as a friend and as a study partner. She came up with things he wouldn't have dreamed of and had to scramble on multiple occasions to counter her sound argument.
At breakfast on the twenty-eight of October, Dumbledore announced that their visitors would come sometime toward the late afternoon that Sunday. Only then would he announce the rules of the Triwizard Tournament. Professor McGonagall stood after the Headmaster sat down and went over the rules while Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were in the castle. She made it a point for the Weasley twins to not prank their guests or suffer her wrath. Fred and George appeared cowed, but Harry knew better.
"Mate, your cards are selling like crazy. I think a few students are owling them home for their parents to look at. A few Slytherins approached us about exclusive rights to sell," Fred laughed as he kicked his feet up on the desk.
"Yeah, mate. Those French basic word cards are pretty nice too. I think you'll have a rush of requests for more soon. I hear the witches at Beauxbatons are something to see," George mooned with a silly expression. Harry knew he was joking.
"We're going to wait a day or so before approaching the other school students about purchasing from us. Do you think we could get a set of cards for Russian?" Fred asked.
Harry snorted. "I can't just whip up a set of flashcards like that. I should really call them something else. They don't flash anymore," he quipped.
"Harrycards are what some of the students are calling them."
"Please... tell me you're joking... right? Fred... right?"
Harry and Daphne met on Saturday. They didn't walk hand in hand but their shoulders brushed as they walked. Harry smiled and told her about the few ideas he'd come up with for improving his potioneering. "I thought about making a spell to accurately gauge the weight of something. Some scales are off by a little bit, and if they get banged around during the course of a school year, then a student's potion-making will get affected," he explained.
"That is why you repair your scales before you use them, every time," Daphne said with a cool, superior smile.
"Yes, but then you could have a backup way to know for sure that the scale is balanced."
"There are better uses for your time. Like selling me your flashcards. You know the Greengrass House could not only fund the process but also sell your product. I'll admit the Weasley twins have done an amazing job of promoting your product..." she grudgingly said with a small smile. "However, I, and my family, could do better."
"Sell to... what, people outside of Hogwarts? The Ministry regulates what is taught here through the School Governors. I can't see Durmstrang or Beauxbatons wanting to use my flashcards."
"Harrycards," Daphne teased.
"Please... no. That is a terrible name. I'd rather have it be something like ReviewCards. You don't actually learn anything from them. It just helps someone review the knowledge they already have."
"Hmm, an idea for when we pitch it to my father."
"Daphne," Harry sighed.
"I'm just thinking of your future."
"Thinking of a profit margin," Harry laughed. He wasn't mad at her. In the short time he'd come to know Daphne Greengrass, he realized how Galleon-oriented she was. It wasn't a bad thing, just that she had great plans for her House and taking care of her family. She took the role of heir seriously.
"Are you excited for the tournament? It's all anyone is talking about in the halls."
"Not particularly. It'll be nice to watch whatever the challenges will be and maybe learn a little new magic, but overall, I'm not all that interested in the tournament. I wouldn't even participate because you represent all of Britain and the Ministry as a Champion. No sense in giving Fudge any sort of good press when he's doing such a good job all on his own," he joked.
"Learning French says otherwise," Daphne challenged as she looked him full in the face. She'd stopped walking. "They say there are great beauties at Beauxbatons."
"I'm learning French for a different reason. I'm learning it because Sirius asked me to," he lied. "I keep hearing the same rumors, and, if you allowed us to speak to each other outside of our walks here, then you'd know I have no interest in the so-called beauties from a foreign school. Besides, why would I look at other beauties when I have a lovely witch, beautiful, smart, and refined, who walks with me on Saturdays."
Daphne rolled her eyes. He could tell she was pleased with his answer as she bumped his shoulder with hers. "My sister knows something is up," she sighed. "It isn't that I don't want to see you more, it's just..."
"That Slytherin and even Gryffindor will not like seeing us together. I get that something big is happening in the Slytherin House too. You all are doing the back-stabbing games and all that. Someone must have lost their place on high," Harry joked.
"Sometimes, you're too perceptive. You'll notice that I didn't agree or disagree with your assessment," she smirked. She lay her head on his shoulder as they walked and sighed. It was the first time she'd seemed tired around him. "I can't talk about it, but no, a number of students would not look kindly upon our... meetings."
"Dates," Harry boldly said. "Dates... or I'd like them to be."
Daphne was quiet for a few minutes as they walked around the lake. They'd come up on the path to the castle all too soon and Harry would disappear to allow Daphne the illusion of walking alone. She hadn't asked him to do it, but when Harry offered, she accepted quickly. "Dates," she whispered and took his hand.
Harry felt like flying and yelling into the sky for joy when he got back to the Gryffindor Tower to change for breakfast. Hermione gave him a searching look but didn't comment on his early-morning wanderings. Ron flat-out asked where he'd been.
"I took a walk. Needed to clear my head."
"Every Saturday morning for the last three weeks?" the redhead snorted. "Come on, mate. I'm not dumb. You're sneaking off with the twins. Come on, what do you have planned?"
Harry fought not to smile. "I can't talk about it," he said and did smile when Ron pulled a face.
During the night, Harry woke in a cold sweat. His scar throbbed and a pressure behind his eyes made him dizzy. He knew he wasn't sick but something had shocked him out of a dream with Daphne walking in the hallways. The dream was hazy but he had a feeling that it went from a perfect date to a nightmare in seconds. His hands shook as he stared at the fuzzy shapes of his dormmates around the room. It took him a moment to realize he had his wand in hand as he scanned the room for whatever woke him. Taking out the Maurader's Map, he checked the entire school for strangers or the one person he dreaded to see on the Map. After twenty minutes of looking, Harry told himself that his nightmare was just that, a nightmare and not something more.
It took a long time for Harry to get back to sleep and it showed on Sunday morning when Hermione tried to talk him into going up to the study classroom. He hadn't been avoiding Room 9A, but he didn't spend more time there than he had to. So far, no one had caught on to the fact that Harry and Neville dueled three nights out of the week to near exhaustion. Hermione thought Harry was out clearing his head and walking around, Ron was with his Quidditch team and friends for pick-up games whenever he could, and Zoe had something going on with the Slytherins that took a lot of her time outside of class or studying with Neville.
By Sunday afternoon, the castle seemed to sparkle as cleaning and household spells scoured every inch of the school. Harry wondered if the house-elves were the ones to clean everything, but thought it might have been the professors. He couldn't say for sure what made him confident in his conclusion, as he hadn't seen a single professor clean anything, but his hunch felt right when he inspected a polished suit of armor.
There was an air of anticipation as everyone filed out onto the lawn in front of the school. While most of the student body was excited for the Triwizard Tournament to begin, the act of waiting for their guests seemed to heighten the sense of excitement. Harry had to admit he was even a little excited to see witches and wizards from other schools. The wait was boring, with a few pointed comments from the professors about unacceptable conduct, until someone gasped and yelled, "I see something up there!"
"The Beauxbaton delegation," Dumbledore announced from the back of the gathering.
Harry looked away from the lake and up to the sky. He wondered if the other schools would cut into his time with Daphne. Something large, dark against the clear sky, hurtled toward the castle. Harry frowned as he thought he could see the shape of a box or a house. The students around him chattered and threw out their guesses as to what was coming. A few seconds later, Harry was able to make out the distinct shape of a carriage, drawn by massive four-legged figures. The carriage turned again, moving toward the lawn at an angle.
Whoever drove the carriage was not adept at landing as the carriage, drawn by a team of twelve horses with hooves the size of dinner plates, slammed into the ground with an almighty crash that scared several students. The golden horses, looking unaffected by the landing, pranced around as the carriage itself rocked as if buffeted by a strong wind. Harry saw the crest of Beauxbatons on the carriage, two crossed golden wands, each emitting three stars. He wondered if he'd be seeing that crest a lot next year.
The door to the carriage thumped open as a golden set of stairs descended. A boy in pale blue robes appeared at the top of the stairs and quickly made his way down, flicking his wand in the process. A red carpet rolled out from somewhere inside the carriage and cascaded down the stairs. Seconds later, the largest woman Harry had ever seen stepped out and onto the carpet. She might have been taller than Hagrid, who already towered over regular witches and wizards by several hands.
Madame Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, wore a black satin dress with opals that gleamed with an internal light around her throat. Handsome and olive-skinned, the smiling woman strode down the stairs of her carriage like what Harry imagined was a queenly walk. Her large, dark eyes searched the Hogwarts student body until they landed on one person.
"Dumbly-dorr," she greeted in a deep, vibrating voice that sounded pleasant rather than masculine.
"My dear Madam Maxime, you honor me with your presence. Welcome to Hogwarts," the Headmaster said with a bright smile and twinkling eyes.
"My pupils," the Headmistress answered with a wave behind her. Harry turned to see a dozen witches and wizards in their late teens. More than a few seemed to shiver as a cool breeze ripped across the lawn. It wasn't surprising that they were cold, as their robes looked like they might be made of silk and none of them wore cloaks. The Beauxbatons delegation looked around. They didn't look very impressed by Hogwarts as they stared with pinched expressions at the massive castle.
Dumbledore and Madam Maxime spoke for a few minutes while the two groups of students eyed one another. Harry wondered what the Beauxbatons thought of the Hogwarts students. After the short conversation was over, the Headmistress beckoned her students into the castle to get warm and wait for the Durmstrang delegates. It was another thirty minutes of standing in the growing darkness and cold before someone shouted about the lake.
Harry turned to see a bubbling mass of something dark rising from the center of the lake. A great whirlpool appeared seconds later. As the swirl grew wider, a long black pole began to rise from the center of the phenomenon. The crow's nest appeared next, with someone standing on the circular platform, wand raised.
"A ship," Harry breathed as the top part of the rigging appeared out of the mist caused by the whirlpool. Students breathed their appreciation and awe as a beautiful warship rose from the depths of the lake. Dark and skeletal in appearance, the ship looked foreboding and magnificent at the same time. "That is cool," he grinned as the ship finished its rise and the whirlpool diminished to ripples on the smooth lake's surface.
The Durmstrang ship floated to the edge of the lake and dropped its anchor in the shallows. A wide plank appeared out of nowhere as a large man descended the ship to the shoreline. Silhouettes passed through the portholes of the ship as bulky figures made their way to the deck to descend.
"Dumbledore!" a man, wearing a silver-fox-fur-cloak, with sleek silver hair greeted in a booming, jovial voice. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Wonderful, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.
Harry could see the students behind the professor and realized all of them wore heavy cloaks. The students from Durmstrang didn't look impressed by the castle either by their scowls and sneers. Harry had the uncomfortable feeling he was looking at a group of Slytherins. He missed what Professor Karkaroff said as he looked over the new arrivals.
"Harry, that's Krum! Viktor Krum!" Ron hissed in his ear as he physically turned Harry to see a hulking figure appear out of the crowd of Durmstrang students.
Ron wasn't the only Hogwarts student starstruck by the international Quidditch player. Harry listened to half-a-dozen frenzied conversations about getting signed autographs from the famous wizard. The Hogwarts students made their way into the Great Hall and noticed the lack of Beauxbatons. It became clear why when the Durmstrang students didn't enter the Great Hall behind them.
Harry found a decent spot at the Gryffindor table so he could see the entire hall. It didn't take long for Dumbledore to take his place at the front of the High Table. "I present the Beauxbaton delegation," he boomed as the doors to the Great Hall burst open.
Harry watched the French witches and wizards enter the hall with birds and a song. The witches danced on tip-toe across the flagstones while the wizards conjured birds and sang in French. When the wizards finished their short song, the witches took up the song as the wizards danced behind them. In the lead, Madam Maxime strode forward, her head held high as she made her way to the High Table. Just behind her, at the head of the witches, was a blonde dancer in pale blue robes that accentuated her form as she spun and sang. Harry blinked as he felt drawn to her. It reminded him of something.
"Veela," Hermione hissed.
Harry nodded and closed down on his feelings. The allure faded as he, inexplicably, searched the Slytherin table for Daphne. She was staring right at him and raised an eyebrow. He smiled back and shook his head before pointing to her. Her eyes went wide as she looked around her, but no one was paying attention to their silent conversation, so engrossed in the dancing and singing.
"Wonderful!" Dumbledore clapped as the song ended. The whole hall applauded the Beauxbatons. Before the French witches and wizards could disperse, the Great Hall doors burst open again with greater force than was necessary. Professor Karkaroff strode into the hall with a raging fire billowing out behind him.
The display scared some of the students nearest the doors as they cowered back. The Beauxbatons scrambled to get out of the middle of the hall as Karkaroff led his delegation through their version of song and dance. Krum led the all-male group of students as dark shapes and fire lept from the staffs they carried. The flames behind Karkaroff vanished as the Headmaster of Durmstrang stomped his way toward Dumbledore.
Harry watched, his arms crossed, as an air of barely contained violence followed in the wake of the Durmstrang students. He had a feeling it was a charm or spell someone cast to add to the display but he felt it was in poor taste. The Durmstrang students didn't actually do anything other than look intimidating and stride to the middle of the Great Hall before stopping.
"Welcome, Durmstrang," Dumbledore greeted after it was clear the presentation was over.
Harry noticed the Beauxbatons found places among the Ravenclaws. They looked angry at the insult from Karkaroff. Madam Maxime didn't look very pleased either as she stared down at the Durmstrang Headmaster. "Maybe they'll sit with us," Ron breathed and stood up, waving his hand to catch Krum's eye.
Harry remained seated, his arms crossed, as he watched the Durmstrangs shoot side-long looks at the Beauxbatons as they found places among the Slytherins. It was clear there was something going on between the two schools that didn't have anything to do with the Triwizard Tournament.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts, and... most especially, guests!" Dumbledore said once everyone was seated and Madam Maxime had a conjured chair made for her at the High Table. The Headmaster beamed at the students. "I have the great pleasure to welcome you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable." The look on the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students' faces showed their feelings. One witch sniffed in derision but Harry couldn't tell who it was.
"The tournament will officially open at the end of the feast," Dumbledore continued without comment. "I now invite you to all eat, drink, and make yourselves at home."
Harry sighed as food appeared on the tables. He saw Hermione's sneer and flash of anger in her eyes as she stared at the food she knew house-elves created. The Great Hall felt crowded as students wandered around the hall and spoke with the guests. Harry ate while watching and listening to the conversations around him. He noticed a large Drumstrang student with short hair and large ears trying to talk to Daphne, who was studiously ignoring him.
"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" a heavily accented witch asked.
Harry blinked and looked up to see the witch who'd lead the Beauxbatons delegation. She had silvery-blonde hair that fell to her waist and large, deep blue eyes that seemed to draw him in. Her sparkling white teeth flashed. Harry closed down on that part of himself that felt emotions and knew something in his face must have changed, for her smile disappeared.
"Please, help yourself," he said with a wave of his hand. He'd seen the dish before but hadn't tried it. His eyes flicked back to Daphne who'd successfully run off the Durmstrang wizard. She was now staring at him with a decidedly unhappy expression.
The Veela witch leaned over and took the dish, but not before catching Harry's eye again. She looked him over, as if he were a puzzle she wanted to solve, before turning her back and striding back to the Ravenclaw table.
"That isn't a normal girl," Ron swooned beside Harry.
"She's got Veela blood," Hermione grumbled as she eyed Harry. "You glowered at her," she said with a small laugh. "Then you ignore her. I thought she was going to yell at you or something from the ugly look on her face."
"Eh," Harry muttered as he went back to watching the other students. Daphne, it seemed, had gone back to ignoring him outside of their walks.
It was halfway through the feast when two figures appeared at the entrance to the Great Hall. The two wizards threaded their way through the students with laughs and smiles from Ludo Bagman, and glares from Mr. Crouch, as they made their way to the High Table.
"I suppose they'll be the judges," Hermione said as she watched the Ministry Officials speak with Dumbledore, Madam Maxime, and Karkaroff.
As the feast ended, Dumbledore took his place once more in front of the High Table. "The time has come! The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words before we open the casket. Joining us is Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports," the Headmaster said to a small round of applause for the two officials.
"They have worked tirelessly for the last few months to arrange the Triwizard Tournament. With the help of Madam Maxime and Professor Karkaroff, we've accomplished something that hasn't been done for many years. To that, the five of us will be judges for the tasks we set for the champions'." The hall erupted in quiet conversations at the word 'champions'. "Mr. Filch, if you will," Dumbledore called.
Lurking in a corner, as he usually did, the caretaker lurched forward holding a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. Excited murmurs rose as Filch stopped in front of Dumbledore.
"Through the hard work of Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in different ways. Their magical prowess, their daring, their power of deduction, and... their ability to cope with danger," Dumbledore said as the Great Hall went quiet. No one spoke.
"Three champions will be selected, one from each of the participating schools, by an impartial judge. They will be scored on how well they perform each of the tasks and the champions with the highest marks will win the Triwizard Tournament. The impartial judge is... the Goblet of Fire," the Headmaster said as he flicked his wand.
The casket opened as a roughly hewn wooden cup rose in the air, filled to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore paused for a moment, his head bowed. The students gasped and applauded as the Headmaster levitated the goblet on top of the cask so everyone could see.
"Anyone wishing to submit themselves their school's champion must write their name clearly on a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the Goblet of Fire will return the names of the winners judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it is freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
I must warn you," Dumbledore said over the growing noise from the students. They quieted down quickly. "To ensure that no underage student attempts to submit their name, I will be drawing an Age Line around the goblet. No one under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line. The British Ministry of Magic, Headmistress of Beauxbatons, and Headmaster of Durmstrang have all agreed with the decision. Finally, I wish to impress upon each of your the severity of entering into this tournament. By putting your name in the goblet, you are signing a magical contract that you must compete in the tournament. There will be no change of heart once you become the champion. Be prepared for danger should you place your name in the Goblet of Fire. Now, that will be all for the night. I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
Harry listened to the twins talk excitedly about the Age Line and the different ways they could try to beat the enchantment. "You'll of course try to enter," one of the twins joked as they caught up with Harry.
"No way, mate. All that sounds like too much trouble. I'll help you with an Aging Potion though," he laughed.
""Brilliant,"" the twins beamed. "It would only take a sip or two to age up to put our names in," Fred laughed.
That night, Harry helped the twins brew a quick Ageing Potion. It wasn't too difficult, and the twins could have brewed it on their own, but he wanted to see what would happen with a few minor changes to the recipe. Fred wasn't sure his ideas would work but George didn't mind experimenting.
"Here, take the Map," Harry offered as he slid the Maurader's Map to George. "In case you want to put your name in the goblet tonight without anyone noticing."
"No way, mate. We want to do it where everyone can see. If you don't mind, we'd like to use the Map for a few days, though. Flitch has been trying to sniff out our storeroom and we want to find a new place to hide our stuff."
"No problem," Harry said before he thought about it. Sirius told him to check the Map regularly. He hadn't, but nothing would happen in the few days it took for the twins to relocate their stockpile. Nothing had happened so far, apart from his scar hurting that morning. "I'll need it back for another reason in a few days," he amended, just to be on the safe side.
"Going off to meet your girlfriend," George teased with an easy smile.
"Yes."
"He didn't even blush," Fred laughed. "Our young Harry isn't ashamed to be seen with a Slytherin girl."
"I like her," Harry admitted with a shrug.
The twins exchanged looks. "Listen, we don't care who you see," Fred started. "But, just keep in mind that she is a Slytherin," George finished.
"I am aware," Harry snorted.
Fred and George seemed to have a conversation with just a glance. "Just... be careful, okay, mate?" George reiterated.
"Sure," Harry sighed and shook his head. Gryffindors and Slytherins just never saw eye-to-eye about things. He didn't blame the twins. "Have a good night, you two."
As Harry headed to bed, he had a feeling he'd missed something the twins were trying to tell him. What it was, he wasn't sure. He wanted to chalk it up to the rivalry between the Houses, but something nagged at the back of his mind. By the time he got settled in and under the warm sheets, Harry figured the twins were just trying to get one over on him. She was his first girlfriend after all, and the twins loved to prank people.
The next morning, Harry walked down to the Entrance Hall with the other Gryffindors, excited to see what spells or enchantments the Headmaster put around the Goblet of Fire. "Influuntas Luminus," he muttered with his wand pointed at his face. Threads of color clashed in a bright jumble that blinded Harry. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes. Bright sparks erupted behind his eyes as explosions of color and pain stabbed at his brain. He waves his wand and gasped, "finite!"
"Harry?" a voice asked.
"One moment," he managed to get out as he opened his eyes slowly to test his vision. Only a dull throb remained from the unexpected explosion of color.
"What happened?" Hermione asked as she drew closer. "You cried out."
"I did?" Harry asked, looking around and blinking spots of color out of his vision.
"Yeah, mate. What did you do?" Ron asked as he looked around. The others seemed to ignore them, but Harry saw a few students glance in his direction.
"Used a spell to see magic," Harry muttered. "Too much light from everyone around us, the castle, and whatever Dumbledore put on the Goblet. It was an explosion of multicolored lights that hurt my brain."
"Wicked," Ron mumbled. "That sounds cool."
Harry snorted. "No, it wasn't... cool. I'll take a hot poker to your eye and see if you find it cool."
"But you could see magic!"
"Ribbons of it, sure. More like traces of magic."
"Why?" Hermione asked, her nose scrunched up.
"I just wanted to see what enchantments Dumbledore might have put on the Goblet. Well, I wouldn't be able to see them, I suppose. However, maybe I could get an idea for what they were," he amended after a moment.
"That is still impressive," Neville muttered.
"Didn't work."
"No, I suppose it didn't," the round-faced wizard sighed before perking up. "The twins are going to try."
Harry and the others watched Fred and George make a big show of drinking the Aging Potion. They'd gathered a large crowd by the time they got to the edge of a thin golden line traced in a circle ten feet around the Goblet of Fire. Hermione scoffed at their antics and boldly called them out for being foolish. Harry knew the twins probably were wasting their time, because it was Dumbledore who said he'd prevent any underage wizards from entering but thought it would be amusing to watch what happened. He knew they didn't stand a chance the previous night when he offered to help brew the potion.
Fred and George jumped into the circle at the same time. They laughed and danced for a moment, congratulating themselves. Taking a slip of parchment each, they took one step toward the Goblet, when a bright flash of white sent the twins flying backward. Fred and George crashed to the ground and slid about a foot toward the Great Hall. They looked stunned as, unbeknownst to them, long, flowing white beards sprouted from their hairless chins.
The entire Entrance Hall burst out laughing as the twins realized what happened. They grinned and loudly proclaimed that the Goblet just aged them up a little more. As they strode back toward the Age Line, a booming voice said, "I did warn you."
Professor Dumbledore, accompanied by Madame Maxime and Karkaroff, strode into the Entrance Hall from the Great Hall. "I must say, your beards are astounding. Mr. Summers of Hufflepuff and Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw both are sporting beards in the Hospital Wing. I suggest you totter off to see Madam Pomfrey and not attempt the Goblet again, Mr. and Mr. Weasley," he suggested. Lee, laughing at the twins' beards, joined Fred and George as they jovially made their way to the Hospital Wing.
The chatter over breakfast was who'd put their name in the Goblet. All of the Durmstrang students had, along with a handful of Beauxbatons students. So far, no one knew for sure if someone from Hogwarts put their name forward. Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff, Cassius Warrington of Slytherin, and Beatrice Haywood of Hufflepuff were talked about as potential champions. Angelina Johnson flat out refused to put her name in, but Andrew Cleveley, the Head Boy of Gryffindor, said he'd put in his name after breakfast. That got all the Gryffindors talking excitedly.
In a surprise twist, Dumbledore called off classes for the day, expressing his desire that the three schools intermingle. Harry saw the Veela witch talking to Cedric and a few other older students. He had a feeling she was trying to get a feel for her competition. Something about the way she moved and spoke to others made him think she was used to getting her way.
"You're staring," Hermione sighed.
"No, I'm watching. That Veela girl is acting odd," he muttered. He glanced at the Slytherin table but didn't see Daphne.
"You just like looking at her," Ginny grumbled.
"No... fine," Harry sighed and shook his head. Yes, she was pretty, beautiful even, but something was off about her. He chalked it up to her allure that could slip past his rudimentary Occlumancy or, more likely, hormones. The French Veela wasn't the only distraction he had recently, apart from Daphne. He glanced up the table at Angelina Johnson before he could stop himself.
Harry left before the others and went to the Hospital Wing to check on the twins. They laughed and joked with him about the changes they'd made to the Aging Potion not working. Madam Pomfrey overhead them and gave Harry a scolding for experimenting without bringing anything to her. "I could have told you it wouldn't have worked," the healer huffed as she eyed the three of them. "Harry, I want your word that you will not use others to experiment with your ideas. Now," she demanded.
The twins looked between Harry and Madam Pomfrey. Harry could see Fred mouth his name while George's eyebrows rose. "I promise," Harry said with a sigh. "It was safe."
"You do not have the experience to know that for sure," Madam Pomfrey argued. "Now, since I know you two have consumed an experimental potion, foolish as that is, I need to do a thorough examination."
""Wait! No!"" the twins chorused at the same time as they tried to escape.
"Sit, now!" the healer demanded. She eyed Harry to see what he would do. Shrugging, Harry sat on a stool beside the twins. He could at least support them... and maybe learn a little of what Madam Pomfrey was doing.
"So... Harry," Fred slyly commented as they left the Hospital Wing an hour later.
"I might talk with her outside of class about different things," Harry sighed. "She's the one that... healed me," he finished with a casual wave to his face.
The twins exchanged looks. "Sorry," George muttered. "We didn't mean to pry," Fred finished.
"No, it's okay. It was bound to come out at some point anyway. I'm over here enough as it is. She's helping me look into my... problem."
"Mate, we understand," Fred said quickly.
"Right, what you do with our good healer is between you two," George joked.
Harry coughed and spluttered at George's words. "Excuse me!" he shouted.
"Oh, look, Fred. Now he turns red. Maybe something is going on there," George laughed.
Harry pulled his wand and rounded on the twin. "I dare you to say that again," he growled.
"Right, it's time to check on our stock. See you later, Harry!" Fred said as he took off up the hall, laughing. George waved and ran ahead of his twin, obviously trying to put an obstacle between himself and any spell Harry might cast.
"Bloody gits," Harry grumbled and made his wand vanish up his sleeve.
With no classes to attend, Harry went up to the study classroom to see if Hermione wanted to continue her house-elf project. The room was empty, so he decided to take a little time for himself to study the books Sirius asked him to look over. The Hex-deflection book had notes from Professor Lupin scrawled in the margins and in the white space of almost every page. He went over things the book didn't talk about and ways Harry could safely practice to become used to the various methods described.
Harry knew what he should do but wasn't sure he wanted to introduce the dueling mannequin Sirius' notes described in the study classroom. Getting up, he vanished his books and notes before going up to the sixth floor. At the end of the corridor, near the East Wing, Harry started his work on changing the empty abandoned classroom into something that suited his needs. Three hours later, he inspected the transfigured mannequin. It was vaguely human in shape with a set of conjured robes to cover the torso and legs. Harry's new dueling partner had a fake wand in its left hand, extended as if ready to cast a spell.
Harry took his place near the door and raised his own wand in a mid-guard stance. "Initius," he intoned as he flicked his wand toward the mannequin.
A pale white light glowed at the tip of the fake wand. A heartbeat later, a spell shot forth. Harry stepped out of the straight-line shot and blinked. The mannequin performed the basic spells much faster than he thought it should have been able to. At regular, quick intervals, a series of charms shot from the fake wand toward Harry.
"Verso," he hissed as he swiped his wand to block a pink spell. "Dimmitas." "Defluo." Harry chanted as he concentrated on each spell the mannequin sent his way. It was easy and difficult at the same time. He knew what to expect, but if he made a mistake it would throw off his timing. To ensure he didn't get hit, or if he needed a break, he would simply step aside and let the next few spells sail past him to hit the wall.
Harry quickly grew bored. He had more fun trying to enchant the mannequin than he'd had using it. After a little reflection, he knew Neville would greatly benefit from his work, even if he didn't. The next time he and Neville went to duel, he'd bring his friend up to meet his new dueling partner.
"You've been gone all day," Hermione sighed as he took his place at the table in the study classroom.
"Eh, I got distracted," Harry admitted as he brushed a hand through his wet hair. He'd taken a quick shower before rejoining the others in the empty bathroom on the sixth floor.
"We were supposed to work on our debates."
"I've got mine ready," Harry answered and flicked his wand. The notes he'd had prepared that morning appeared on the table in front of him.
"It might be too late now," Hermione sighed. "We'll have to go down for the feast in an hour."
"That's an hour we can debate on who is right and who is wrong. I didn't think you'd give up this quickly," Harry mocked with a grin. Hermione's glare was all the confirmation he needed that she still very much cared about her project.
As everyone filed into the Great Hall for dinner, Harry noticed the Goblet of Fire had been moved to the dais with the High Table. Bagman and Mr. Crouch were already there, seated with the other professors. Moody wasn't at the table, but there was a seat open for him at the end, nearest the Staff Door.
Harry felt like the feast dragged on as everyone talked about the champion they wanted to see represent Hogwarts. Dumbledore announced that at precisely seven o'clock that the Goblet of Fire would announce the winners and to kindly be prepared a little ways into the feast. After the Headmaster's announcement, several students took their leave to use the restrooms on the first and second floors to be prepared for the drawings.
Harry blinked, drawn out of his musings, when someone gasped from the Hufflepuff table. He looked up to see a young wizard pointing at the Goblet of Fire. The wooden goblet's blue ever-burning flame turned yellow. Dumbledore stood quickly and looked down the staff table at Mr. Crouch. The Ministry Official looked confused as he looked at Bagman. The ex-Quiddich star frowned for a moment before a smile split his ruddy face, and he said something Harry couldn't hear. By Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime's expressions, whatever he said didn't please them.
"I believe," Dumbledore said over the general din of the Great Hall. "Silence!" he called, his voice projecting off every surface. The hall went quiet. "I believe we will start earlier than expected," he amended as he strode forward. Raising his hand and then lowering it slowly, every candle in the Great Hall dimmed to a tiny flame. The Goblet of Fire's blaze had turned red hot, casting an eery glow in a ten-foot radius around itself.
"It seems the goblet is ready to make its decision," the Headmaster called. "In one minute, the champions will be selected. I ask them to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and exit through the side chamber." He indicated to the Staff Door. "You will receive your first instructions there."
Harry waited with the others in silence as time slowly crawled forward. A blue spark, followed by several white flames, erupted from the center of the Goblet. The Goblet of Fire rose in the air, about a foot off the cask it rested on, and turned golden. Gone was the rough wooden cup. In its place was a finely crafted goblet of gleaming gold. Jewels appeared, like the ones on the cask, and glowed with an inner light. Many students oohed and awed at the sight. The ever-burning flame above the rim flashed red as a slip of parchment erupted from the flames.
Dumbledore caught the parchment and said, "the champion for Durmstrang is Risto Starc!"
"Aw, it wasn't Krum," Ron sighed over the clapping in the Great Hall. Harry watched a stocky wizard with a strong nose, and short, dark hair stand up at the far end of the Slytherin table. He'd been the boy who tried talking to Daphne the previous night.
Karkaroff clapped with everyone else. "I expect your best, Starc."
It took a few minutes for the clapping and conversations to die down. Dumbledore waited by the Goblet of Fire, smiling. When the flames grew red once more, the Great Hall went quiet. Another parchment appeared out of the flames, and Dumbledore caught it once more.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," he declared in a loud voice, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"Huh, that's her name," Harry muttered as he watched the French Veela witch rise with a smile and a small bow. A few of the other Beauxbaton students around her dissolved into tears. He watched as the pretty witch waved to everyone and smiled before going across the staff table and to the side chamber.
There wasn't as much cheering, as everyone knew the next person to be chosen would be from Hogwarts. While the Beauxbatons comforted their crying companions, the Hogwarts students watched the Goblet of Fire with anticipation. In minutes, the Goblet answered their silent vigil.
Dumbledore read the parchment that came out of the fire and turned to face everyone. "The Hogwarts champion," he called," is Cedric Diggory!"
The roar from the Hufflepuff table drowned out all other noise except for Ron's groan of disappointment in Harry's ear. Ron hadn't wanted the Quidditch Captain and rival Seeker from Hufflepuff to win. Harry clapped with the others and laughed when, a red-faced Cedric, almost tripped over the bench to get up to the staff table.
It took a little time for Dumbledore to get everyone settled. "Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count on all of you..." he continued, but Harry stopped listening. He was staring at Mr. Crouch who looked, if anything, angry. Bagman had a smile, and even Karkaroff seemed to be in a good mood, but the Head of International Magical Co-operation wasn't pleased with the results. "So, please, continue your feast and be ready for the coming tasks!" Dumbledore finished.
"Crouch looks angry," Harry whispered to Hermione.
"He looks sick is what he looks like. Good riddance if he keels over," she spat.
Harry shrugged and went back to his meal. The candles in the Great Hall were back to normal, and he could see several students from other houses congratulating the Hufflepuff table. Dumbledore, Professor Sprout, Crouch, Bagman, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime all started to go toward the Staff Room. Harry was about to get up from the feast to leave for the night when another shocked gasp made him freeze, halfway from standing. He turned to see the Goblet of Fire was once again emitting purple sparks and jets of red flame.
"What... is the meaning of this?" Professor Karkaroff asked, breaking the silence in the Great Hall.
"I... am not sure," Dumbledore said as he stood and drew his wand. He muttered something under his breath before his whole body froze. "It... seems there will be three more champions," he announced to a shocked audience.
"This is outrageous!" Karkaroff bellowed. "You've played us a fool, Dumbledore!"
"I have done no such thing. This," Dumbledore said with a wave of his hand at the magical artifact, "may be something else entirely. In the 13th and 14th centuries, a second was chosen, to replace a champion who'd fallen. Much like in a Wizard's Duel. It seems we must wait to see what the Goblet of Fire intends," he said in a soft, somber voice. Harry noticed that the Headmaster looked at Mr. Crouch and Bagman before turning to address the school. "If you are chosen, please enter the side room with the champions, where we will discuss the next steps." Professor McGonagall stepped into the Staff Room and closed the door behind her.
Harry sat back down, frowning. Someone whispered that it was almost seven o'clock. Were these new names the real champions then? He wasn't sure what to think about this new development. At exactly seven, the Goblet of Fire burned red once more. A slip of parchment flew into the air, and Dumbledore caught it. There was no buildup or dimming of the candles.
"Viktor Krum is the Durmstrang Champion," the Headmaster said as he looked around. Harry spotted Krum near the middle of the Slytherin Table. Karkaroff blinked before clapping loudly. "A real champion," he called over the general noise of the room. The international Quidditch star walked, neck hunched over, toward the Staff Room door.
It took some time for the students to calm down. However, as soon as the fire turned red again, the entire Hall went quiet and waited for the next name. "Pascal Dupont is the Champion from Beauxbatons," Dumbledore announced as he read the second slip of parchment.
Harry watched Madame Maxime's face as she watched her pupil swagger toward the Staff Room. Like Fleur, the wizard tried to wave and smile at anyone who caught his eye. All he got back was a polite clap or two.
Harry waited along with the others as the Goblet deliberated on the last name. It felt like an eternity before the flames turned red, and a slip of parchment flew in the air. Dumbledore caught the parchment and, for the second time that night, froze. He looked up and locked eyes with Harry. A feeling of dread washed over Harry.
"The Hogwarts Champion... is Harry Potter."
