Chapter 2: The Goblet of Fire Hypothesis
Harry Potter frowned at his dinner plate, and noticed that he was confused.
He was confused because nothing had happened at Hogwarts in the last two weeks.
Harry had attended his classes, studied for his homework, and resumed his extracurricular research activities, all without incident. The Defence professor this year was a young witch who looked overwhelmed by her new duties. She could barely speak above a whisper, so she didn't seem the type to be kidnapping students or anything. There were no mysterious locked doors, or evil bullies threatening Hufflepuffs. Usually by this point, he would have at least stumbled upon a secret meeting or found a note under his pillow. Perhaps this year Hogwarts was getting off to a slow start.
But what scared Harry the most was that maybe there were adventures going on, and he just wasn't a part of them.
This would be fine if they were dangerous Gryffindor quests. It wasn't like he wanted to put his life in jeopardy. But his Hogwarts adventures had provided key components for his research, not to mention padding his bank account at Gringotts.
To top it all off, he'd barely seen Hermione in the past few weeks. She and Harry were in different classes, since she was taking courses with the other 7th years and a couple with the 6th years. He knew she was busy, but even so, she could at least make it to lunch. He was beginning to wonder if he'd done something on the train to make her angry, but he couldn't think of what.
While Harry ruminated, stabbing his fork into the pie on his plate, he was dimly aware of the fact that his fellow Ravenclaws were chattering with excitement over something. Finally, once the dishes were whisked away, Headmistress McGonagall stood up and cleared her throat.
"Students, I have an exciting announcement. As many of you are already aware, we will be the hosts for the newly re-instated Triwizard tournament, in which students from three magical schools will select a champion to fight in magical contests. The quests will be challenging and dangerous, but well worth the prize at the end."
Harry sat to attention, wondering if this was something he should consider.
"Students ages 17 and above may apply to compete, but only one competitor from each school will be chosen. The prize will be eternal glory and the Triwizard cup."
"I heard," whispered Padma, "That last year we were supposed to host the tournament, but it got cancelled due to the general weirdness going on."
Someone nudged Harry. "You should put your name in, Harry. Then we'll be sure to win."
Other students nodded, as if it was a foregone conclusion that Harry would find a way to bypass the age limits.
"Not interested," said Harry. The task royally failed Harry's cost-benefits analysis. If he wanted to stare at a cup, he would just transfigure one. And there were far better ways to earn eternal glory.
"I will give you more instructions on the tournament later. Now, I have the honour of introducing the visitors who will be living with us for the following year. Please welcome, the fair witches and wizards of Beauxbatons!"
The school collectively held its breath as the doors to the Great Hall opened, and a crowd of students in blue robes strode inside. The girls walked in front of the boys, and after a few steps, they paused and bowed. As they did so, they sighed in perfect unison.
Harry's face scrunched up in distaste, wondering if this was some kind of joke. The wizards cast little bird charms which fluttered into the air, while the witches lifted their arms to let the birds flitter around them. A gymnast did backflips and landed beside McGonagall, and then blew a kiss at the Gryffindor table.
Harry scanned the witches, and was relieved to see that Hermione wasn't among them. He couldn't have thought of a more embarrassing entrance if he had tried.
"And now," said McGonagall, once the clapping had died down. "Let us welcome the wizards and witches of Durmstrang!"
The door burst open again, and the stern-faced students of the cold north strode in like they owned the place. Their staffs blurred in their hands as they moved them, beating them against the ground. A wizard and a witch were casting fire in the form of a shrieking dragon, and Harry decided right then and there he needed to learn that spell.
See, that was how you made an entrance. The students of Durmstrang had done everything right, entering like champions, a force to be reckoned with.
"Welcome, honoured guests!" said McGonagall, smiling warmly as the school thundered with applause. "And finally, there is one more group I would like to introduce. The Triwizard tournament will be dangerous, and to help secure the safety of all students involved, there will be Aurors and their mentees stationed at Hogwarts as well. Please welcome Aurors Lee, Crell, and Tonks!"
The doors opened again, and five black robed Aurors marched in, making no sound, performing no tricks. There was a quiet dignity to it, and Harry watched Hermione stride shoulder to shoulder with Tonks, who had turned her hair black with a single pink stripe. Hermione had her shoulders back, an impassive expression on her face, and both the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables thundered as the two girls strode past.
They took their place between the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and McGonagall continued speaking, introducing each in turn. "This is Auror Lee, recently returning from his role of guarding Azkaban. He will be teaching history this year."
Harry clapped very hard, thankful that someone had finally had the bright idea to let poor Mr. Binns rest in peace.
Headmistress McGonagall introduced Auror Crell, who would not be working at Hogwarts, but would serve as the point person for all matters involving the tournament. Then Headmistress McGonagall introduced Tonks, who would be co-teaching with the new Defence against the Dark Arts professor.
"Supporting them will be our Aurors in training, Ms. Granger from Beauxbatons." Polite applause from her classmates. "And Mr. Mott from Durmstrang." Thumping of staffs on the floor sounded from their side. "They will be attending classes with other students, and will be available for support during the rounds of each tournament. Needless to say, they will not be participating as contestants, though I do believe they would be fair contenders."
There was one final round of applause, and then someone Harry didn't recognize pulled the Headmistress aside before she could speak further. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students dispersed to different tables, and Auror Crell left the room. Harry Potter moved to go to Hermione Granger and invite her to sit with him, but she was already being mobbed by adoring fans. Annoyed, Harry Potter thought about using his own celebrity trump card. Excuse me, coming through, Boy-Who-Lived who defeated Lord Voldemort, General of Chaos and burgeoning mad scientist who takes no prisoners and can make terrible things happen with merely a snap of his fingers. If that didn't scare them off, he was sure evil maniacal laughter would do the trick.
But before he could say anything, Hermione was pulled away from the group by Tonks to join the other Aurors, who had their own private table near the headmasters.
Harry sighed, returning to his table in defeat. Upon hearing the conversation that had sprung up in his absence, however, he was immensely thankful that Hermione wasn't there.
"Are you mad? How can anyone think of Tonks when there's Marguerite Valentine?"
"I dunno, Tonks looks interesting, and sort of wild," mused Roger Davies, a slow grin spreading on his face. "I wonder if she's that kind of Defence professor, you know what I mean?"
Several boys chuckled, while a few girls shot them irritated looks.
"I think the surprise contender this year is Hermione, though," said Michael Corner. "Remember how she used to have buck teeth?"
"Right?" said Eddie Carmichael. "God bless puberty."
"I heard she glows sometimes, though," said a 3rd year. "Wouldn't that be kind of weird?"
"Well, it would certainly make certain activities more conv-oww!" The 3rd year rubbed his shoulder, glaring at the 5th year beside him, who was shaking his head.
Harry let out a loud sigh, and some of the boys flinched. "If you could refrain from rating women on a scale like you would your Quidditch players, that would be most appreciated."
"Aww, come on Harry," said Eddie. "We're just having a little fun."
"No, reading books is fun. Winning a duel is fun. What you're doing is competing to see who can embarrass themselves the most by saying idiotic things. You certainly aren't winning any points with the Ravenclaw girls."
The boys glanced over at their classmates. Several of the girls were nodding approval, while others regarded Harry with knowing smiles.
"I think," said Padma Patil, in righteous tones, "that you boys stepped in it when you started talking about Hermione."
"Exactly," said Anthony Goldstein. "Guys, it doesn't matter how pretty she is, there's a code. Younger students might not get it, but us 5th years should know better."
Harry put his head in his hands. "Uggh, that's not the point. Beauty is not what's important, here."
Blaise Zabini called out from the nearby Slytherin table, "Don't be ridiculous, it's always been Harry and Draco. Don't you read the Quibbler?"
"Blaise, stop it, you're always trying to start something."
"Well," said Padma, a finger on her lip. "That would explain a few things. Like all their not-so-secret secret meetings alone. In the dark."
Harry clenched his teeth and counted rapidly. 12345678910.
"Hermione's a bit above Harry's level, at this point," said Roger Davies. "Physically speaking, at least. Why would that goddess be interested in a bean pole?"
"That's not-" sputtered Harry.
"Oh right, of course!" piped up a 3rd year confidently, "Everyone knows boys don't like girls who are taller than them."
"That's not true," declared another girl, indignant. "Don't you think she's pretty, Harry?"
Harry had just about had it. "Alright, listen up! Yes, Hermione Granger is objectively beautiful, but what does that matter? That's not how she came to be known as the most talented witch of her generation. She did that because she's Hermione, a smart, confident Auror-to-be who should be treated with respect whether she's beautiful or not!" I thought I had done better training you guys in the principles of Enlightenment, but I guess I was wrong.
The boys and girls at the table all sat in silence for a moment.
"Wow," said one of the boys in an awed tone. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were so passionate about her."
The other Ravenclaws nodded in agreement, and Harry wanted to bang his head against the table.
"Look…okay, I could say the similar things about Tonks and Marguerite, and all the other girls here—"
"Ohh, Casanova," drawled Blaise.
Blaise was saved from Harry's fury by the Headmistress, who stood again at the podium. "Attention, everyone! It is now time to introduce the rules of the Triwizard Tournament."
Harry listened for a few moments before he decided it was safe to tune out the speech. Harry did catch that only 7th years could apply, the whole thing was very dangerous, you could only do it alone, etc. Harry tuned back in when McGonagall explained that trying to bend or break the rules of name submission would result in severe consequences, all the while giving Harry a stern look.
He held up his hands. Message received. Your goblet is safe from me.
However, even though Harry had no interest in joining the tournament, he did wonder if there was a way to rig the cup to choose your own name. From McGonagall's description, the submission process required that each student write their name and their school on a piece of paper before placing it in the goblet. If they wrote their name with a made-up school, would the cup assume the school was real, allowing a fourth name to be drawn from the goblet? In that case, there could be as many contestants as there were made up schools.
However, it was not outside the realm of possibility that the cup was sentient in the same way as the Sorting Hat, which borrowed the intelligence of the child in order to choose their house. If that was the case, then the cup might be temporarily smart enough to spot the lie.
…Then again, a skilled wizard could probably cast a charm to manipulate the cup and gain access anyway. Harry didn't know how powerful the charm would have to be, but Harry assumed it would take less power than to cast the same spell on a person. If the cup was somehow more sentient than a person, and had still chosen to live out its days as a cup, then it needed to re-evaluate its life choices.
But there was no way it could be that easy to hack the goblet. There should be a rule that you couldn't cast magic on the goblet, or that the goblet would contact administration if anyone tried funny business, or that a password was required for any goblet spell maintenance. Then again, Hogwarts security was sort of a joke. Harry would know, because he and the twins had cracked it.
After the clock struck 2:30 am, as close to the witching hour as they dared, Fred and George Weasley snuck from the Gryffindor dorms and entered the Great Hall, all their materials prepared to hack the Goblet of Fire.
Fred and George had listened carefully during McGonagall's speech about the rules and regulations for the tournament. They'd nodded at each one, knowing that these rules were sensible. It certainly didn't make sense for any wizard younger than 17 to compete, and it wouldn't be fair to the school if its champion hadn't made at least a passing grade on their O.W.L.S.
The one rule that Fred and George hadn't agreed with was the stipulation that the champion had to go it alone. Fred and George were a team, and either they would work together or not at all.
So when Fred and George Weasley filled out their card, they wrote their names in magical ink. When you looked at it one way, it said George Weasley, but if you turned your head just slightly, it said Fred Weasley. They'd gotten the idea from those muggle holographic pictures Dad collected.
Then they'd written a school name on there that they'd both agreed was the most appropriate, and walked right up to the cup. Fortunately, they were of age, so they didn't have to find a way to skip around the age line. They pulled out their wands, and held them just above the lip of the goblet, close to the blue flickering flames
"Confundus!" they shouted. Then, Fred said, in his most commanding voice, "Hello, Goblet of Fire! I know it's been a while since you woke up, and we're pleased to announce that we've added a new magical school. Please accept these students as part of the Quint-wizard tournament."
Fred and George cast in their ballot, and it floated inside, the blue flame consuming it. They waited a moment, in case the goblet was just kidding and planned on spitting it back out. When a long 20 seconds passed, and the blue flame remained tranquil, the boys grinned and turned to go. They had only walked a few steps back when, from behind them, they heard something snickering.
"Well, well, well. It amazes me that every year some upstart tries the same thing. I feel I should commend you, since only 1 or 2 contestants every year even bother to try. I told Godric this would happen."
The twins whirled around.
"Are you…" squeaked Fred.
"…alive?" finished George.
"For the moment. You know, it's so easy to give a security system false entrances, and let people wander into the trap. Far easier than telling them the system they are trying to crack is just as clever as they are. Though I do love the name Wugglybumps for a school, I may have to suggest that to Rowena someday. Hee hee hee!"
"What have we done?" whispered Fred.
"Simple. You've created life, borrowed from your own marvellous minds. Now, normally, I would just Obliviate you and be done with it, but I feel like that's a waste. I haven't done this in a while, and I'm feeling quite mischievous. Let's see…what shall I do?"
Fred and George fell to their knees, all too aware of what devilish plans the goblet would cook up. "Please don't! We promise, we'll never prank again!"
"Ha ha ha! I know! How about I serenade you? I've been told I'm quite a good singer."
The voice that came out was worse than a screeching mandrake, and Fred and George covered their ears.
"Make it stop! Make it stop!"
The voice hit a high note, and then paused abruptly.
"Now, boys, why dish it out if you can't take it? Oh, now you're crying, it's so cute!" The cup giggled, then sighed thoughtfully. "Say…I just had an idea." The light of the goblet flared. "Are either of you currently betrothed?"
The Weasley twins opened and closed their mouths, for once rendered completely speechless.
"You know, back at the dawn of magic, it was quite acceptable for a witch to use certain…charms on a man to get him to see reason. And I know just the right one to use! Can you guess what it is?" The twins cowered in horror as they realized what she would do. "That's right! Jiggly Wumps!"
Fred and George screamed and scrunched down low to the ground. Jiggly Wumps was worse than a love potion. It made you in love with inanimate objects. Like…goblets, for instance.
They waited, shivering, sweating out their fears. They could only imagine the kind of doom that waited for them, and they only had themselves to blame. They waited. And waited.
"Oh, shoot, I forgot," said the goblet. "I can't cast that kind of magic. It's beneath my dignity as a magical object." They heard a sigh, though the cup never gave any sign of needing to breath. "And I don't feel right about Obliviating you two boys, your brains have been swiss cheesed enough already. I'd ask you how that happened, but I have a feeling you won't remember."
"Then…what will you do to us?" asked Fred, his voice quivering.
"I suppose I shall do what I've always done since 5 minutes ago. Goodbye, my loves! Zippy-lips!"
Unable even to scream, the boys fled the room.
The next morning, Harry Potter fell into step alongside them as they walked to breakfast.
"How did it go?" he asked quietly.
They didn't know how he knew they'd done anything…except, well, they were the Weasley twins. Fred opened his mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat. George shook his head. "It's better you don't know, Harry."
"Yes," agreed Fred, with a shudder. "Some secrets are just better left alone."
On his first night back in Durmstrang, Draco sat on his bed, staring at the letter in his hands.
It had been a long, boring summer for Draco. He'd spent every minute in the closed space of his bedroom, studying for his OWLs. His room looked out to the terrace, near the gardens where his mother spent much of her day. He would wave at her, and if she wasn't too lost in thought, she would wave back. At times he studied in the library, when he needed a change of pace, but it was cold and large and the ticking grandfather clock constantly reminded him of time slipping away.
For weeks on end, this was his life. Study, eat, and sleep. Rinse and repeat.
Now, he sat in his dorm room, opening the letter from the Ministry with shaking hands. In elegant, flowing script, Draco read his scores: 2 Outstandings, 4 Exceeds Expectations, and one Acceptable.
He had done it. He had passed his OWLs, and as the last scion of a noble house and the only living male, that made him a legal adult.
Taking a steadying breath, he folded the letter and placed it into his bag. Then, he leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and allowed himself a contented smile. He had completed his test with flying colours, a full year earlier than the rest of his class. If he hadn't already brushed his teeth, he might have even permitted himself a celebratory snack, like chocolate or an apple. Ahh, well, there would be time for that tomorrow.
Still, relieved as he was, the OWLs were the easy part. It would take time to figure out how to accomplish the rest of his plan.
A gong clanged, and the lights faded out. The room fell silent, as even the beds refused to creak. Draco lay down, pulling up the covers and attempting to sleep.
After a few moments, he turned on his side, frowning in discomfort. There was something scratchy under his pillowcase.
Draco reached in and pulled out what felt like a letter, but he couldn't see it well enough to be sure. Draco cast a quiet Lumos, so softly that the wand barely flickered. Then, hiding under his blankets, he cupped his hand around the wand tip and squinted at the letter.
The boy has now become a man
At night he ponders his sombre plans
But if he solves my challenges
Perhaps I'll deign to dine with him
Your comrade in arms,
The Priestess
Draco froze. This had to be a trick. He flipped the paper over, searching for clues, a sign that this note was real and that Draco wasn't crazy.
An invitation from her was rarer than winning the lottery. Few outside of the ancient noble houses even knew of the Priestess, as these were the ones rich enough to pay for her services. Not even in Durmstrang, with their unusually dark curriculum, would you dare to bring up her name in class. Those privileged to know of her existence knew not to mock her in a prank. You just didn't. She could be listening.
So, considering the evidence, Draco knew the letter was unlikely to be fabricated. In that case…if it was real…
He sat there for a long time, reading the letter line by line, over and over. When the morning came, he didn't go down for breakfast. There was no time.
His mission had begun.
Notes:
I'm debating whether or not I should post a full summary as a separate chapter. For now I think I'll just stick to notes. HPMOR is extremely long (660,000 words), and that's hard to summarize well, or even accurately. But, if anyone really wants a summary or if there's any questions, I'll be happy to provide the information. :)
Sorting Hat: When Harry was sorted in his first year, he accidentally brought the hat to life by making it "aware of its own awareness." The hat didn't like this, and they had a long argument about whether or not Harry was going to become a dark wizard. The hat said that he would, and pushed him to go to Hufflepuff. Harry said no, and chose to go to Ravenclaw.
Finger Snap: Harry claims he can do anything with a snap of his fingers. It's not true, of course, but he's pretty good at making the other students think he can.
Draco's Mother: During the wizarding war, some people claimed that Draco's mother was burned alive by Dumbledore. It was only after Draco's father died that the truth came out. She'd secretly been hidden by Dumbledore in Australia, her memories locked away. The memory spell was eventually broken and Draco and his mother were reunited.
