Harry awoke the next morning feeling quite refreshed, and in spite of knowing what the end of the day held in store for him was surprisingly looking forward to it. He glanced over at the still-sleeping form of his wife, admiring her lithe, elegant body once more. He never tired of looking at her, and often still had difficulty believing that he was married to such a goddess. Even now, with her face half-buried in her pillow, arm flung haphazardly across his chest, mouth slightly open, and an occasional delicate snore escaping past her lips, she was nothing less than radiant. His eyes traced the sinuous lines of her shoulder, waist, and hip until her figure disappeared under the bedsheet. The curve of her bum beckoned to him, separated from his eyes by nothing more than a single, smooth layer of thin cotton fabric.
A day spent doing nothing but watching this vision of perfection sleep would not be a wasted day, as far as Harry was concerned.
There was a subtle shift in the rhythm of her breathing before she slowly opened one eye. As her vision focused on him watching her, a warm smile spread across her face. "Hey, you," she whispered.
"Morning, love," he said. Reaching over, he caressed her thigh as they leaned towards each other for a kiss.
"Mr Potter!" she giggled as their kiss ended. "Are you trying to get me in the mood again? Didn't you get enough last night?"
"There's no such thing as enough when it comes to you, Mione," he growled before lunging in to gently bite on her neck.
She squealed and threw her arms around him, laughing as she pulled him close. "Harry! We need to get up!"
"Don't wanna," he mumbled against her neck.
"I know, love," she said consolingly as she stroked the back of his head. "I'd love to stay here with you too. We really need to get going, though." She kissed the top of his head for good measure.
"I know," he sighed. He kissed her neck and slid his hand down her back, squeezing her bum under the sheet just to hear her squeal again, and reluctantly let her go.
"Are you ready for tonight?" she asked as they sat up.
"I think so," he said. "Barring any surprises, we know what's likely to happen and I'm as ready as I can be. I think I'm just ready to be done with it."
She nodded in agreement. "Hopefully we won't have to deal with all the bullshit they dumped on us last time," she said. "No matter what happens, though, I know Luna, Neville, and Fleur will support us." She gave him a coy smile and flirtatious twist of her shoulders. "And I'll have something special for you tonight as well."
"Can't wait," he said, leaning over to steal another kiss. "You want the shower first?"
"We could share," she teased as she stood. The sheet pulled away completely as she spun around, arms raised, revealing her full glory to her husband.
Harry groaned and unenthusiastically clapped his hand over his eyes. "Minx," he muttered. "Better not. If we do, we're not going anywhere today." His tone, however, said that he really wanted to.
"Just wait for tonight, then," she called over her shoulder as she stepped into the bathroom. She caught him peeking between his fingers and so made sure to put an extra sway to her arse as she stepped out of sight.
She couldn't help laughing as she heard him groan once more and begin knocking his head on the nearest bedpost. "Stupid goddamn sense of responsibility," drifted his voice into the bathroom.
Out of sight, Hermione smiled to herself. She was really quite proud of Harry for resisting her wiles – not that she would have denied him had he chosen to join her. On the contrary, she would have happily skipped all of their classes today for the opportunity to enjoy each other in the shower – and the tub, and the bed, and the sofa, and anywhere else they found themselves. Still, his determination to do the right thing should (and would) certainly be rewarded. And depending on how things played out tonight, tomorrow may yet find them skipping everything and just staying in.
***FTR***
After a deliberately cold shower, Harry joined his wife in their living room. He kissed her heatedly and swatted her on the arse before offering his arm and escorting her to the Entrance Hall. Neville and Luna were already waiting at the foot of the Grand Staircase, so the Potters joined them while they waited for Fleur to arrive.
Their veela friend strolled into the Entrance Hall a few minutes later, casually dropping a piece of folded parchment into the eerie blue flames of the Goblet of Fire before joining the four others. Morning greetings were exchanged, and then Fleur took Neville's arm while Hermione and Luna took Harry's. They took their usual seats at the far end of the Gryffindor table and proceeded to enjoy a quiet, leisurely breakfast together.
Before they went to their respective classes, Neville pulled Fleur to the side and told her that so long as she was interested, he would be honoured to ask her out. The smile she gave him could have melted the coldest heart. Taking his hands in her own, she kissed both of his cheeks before softly pressing her lips against his. Neville's face was burning when they separated and went to their classes, but a crucio couldn't have removed his smile.
The day's classes seemed to drag by. None of the students were really paying much attention to the lessons, and most of the professors soon gave up any pretence of trying to teach anything. Conjecture ran rampant – who was entering, who would be chosen as champion, what the competitions would entail, and much much more. And finally, at long last, everyone had returned to the Great Hall, dinner was finished, and Dumbledore stood once more before the assembled bodies of the three schools, plus the ministry officials overseeing the tournament.
The lights of the Great Hall dimmed like they had the previous evening as Headmaster Dumbledore raised his arms. "Good evening," he intoned.
"Motherfucker," Harry growled under his breath. The old man appeared to be clinically incapable of resisting an opportunity to pontificate.
"He is a bit melodramatic, isn't he?" Hermione snickered. "You'd think he was officiating at a royal worship service or something."
Unaware of the barely-audible exchange between his two biggest headaches – er, students – this year, Dumbledore continued his speech. "The moment of truth is upon us," he said in his most grandiose tone of voice. "In a moment, the Goblet of Fire, that hallowed impartial arbiter, will choose from among the submissions those three students – one from each school -who best embody those lofty ideals of their sacred halls of learning."
At the other end of the Gryffindor table, Fleur raised her eyebrows. "Is he always like this?" she asked.
Neville snorted. "He's laying it on pretty thick tonight," he admitted.
"Still," Harry added, "he has an incredible talent for speaking at great length without actually saying anything."
"It has to be the wrackspurts," Luna chimed in. "He has one of the worst infestations in the entire school."
"Prepare yourselves," the oblivious headmaster went on, "all ye who put forth your name, for the contract is binding. Whilst there is yet breath in your body, your fate is to face the impending trials with courage and vigour, should your name come forth from the goblet."
He brought the edges of his hands together, palms facing up, gesturing to the door. "The goblet is ready to make its decision," he intoned. "Let it be brought before us, that we may all bear witness to this historical moment."
A flick of his wand triggered a rising crescendo of music emanating from an unseen source. At once stately and somewhat ominous, the slow march served to heighten the anticipation that had been steadily building for the past twenty-four hours. As the music progressed, a quartet of employees from Britain's Ministry of Magic, each wearing closed black robes with a crimson sash over the left shoulder, entered the Great Hall in a two-by-two formation. In their centre they levitated the plinth bearing the Goblet of Fire and, marching in time with the slow, steady beat of the music, they advanced towards the head table.
Stopping before the regal figure of the Hogwarts headmaster, they lowered the plinth to the flagstone floor of the Great Hall before disappearing off into the shadows. They were not the focal point of the evening's events.
"Let the drawing begin." Harry ground his teeth together as Dumbledore's pompous voice filled the hall.
Everyone watched as the headmaster tapped the goblet with his wand. The slow-dancing flames suddenly erupted forth in a cone of blue fire not unlike an afterburner of a military fighter jet.
After a few minutes of silence broken only by the anticipatory tone of the background music and the hissing of the flames shooting up from the goblet, the blue fire suddenly turned cherry-red and launched a folded scrap of parchment into the air, the slightly-charred edges glowing orange. A moment later the flames reverted to their usual azure colour.
Dumbledore deftly snagged the parchment from the air without singing his fingers and unfolded it. "The champion for the Durmstrang Institute of Magical Learning is…" He looked around the hall, a stern expression on his face, as the students awaited his pronouncement with bated breath. "Viktor Krum!"
The Great Hall erupted with cheering and applause as the quidditch star arose to his feet and stoically made his way to the head table. Dumbledore gestured towards the antechamber just off the front of the hall. "Mr Krum, if you please, go ahead and stand by in the antechamber while we await the drawings of your fellow champions."
Krum inclined his head while maintaining his silence and his neutral expression alike before marching over to the indicated doorway. Once the young man was inside, Dumbledore again raised his hands for silence.
"The first champion of the Triwizard Tournament has been selected," he said. "Two more await confirmation."
The conversations died down again as every eye focused on the goblet. After a few more minutes the flames once again turned red and shot out a piece of parchment. The headmaster unfolded it and declared, "The champion for Beauxbatons Academy of Magic is…" Once more he paused for dramatic effect, and the students eagerly awaited the name. "Fleur Delacour!"
The cheers and applause was not as enthusiastic this time, and there were even several indignant shrieks of protest and at least one case of outright sobbing amongst the Beauxbatons contingent.
Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Neville all congratulated their friend as she arose from her seat. She gave them all a warm smile, then, with a significant glance at the other students from her school, allowed her face to freeze into a cold, somewhat haughty mask as she began to make her way towards the front of the hall.
The four Hogwarts students understood completely. "It must burn them up to realise that the girl they've persecuted this whole time is the truest representative of their school's ideals," Hermione commented.
Harry observed the edges of Dumbledore's eyes tighten briefly in disapproval but beyond that the old man said and did nothing. Madam Maxime, on the other hand, gazed upon her student with fond approval as she clapped her massive hands, much like a proud parent cheering for her child.
When she reached the front, Dumbledore gestured brusquely towards the antechamber. "Mademoiselle Delacour, if you please."
"Dumbledore doesn't think she should be the champion either," Harry whispered to the others.
"Bastard," Hermione muttered, while Neville actually growled deep in his throat.
Luna shook her head in sorrow. "I'm quite afraid the headmaster's wrackspurt infestation is dug in too deep," she said. "It looks like it will be directing his actions for the rest of his days."
It wasn't long before the goblet flared red once more. "The champion for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is…" He looked at each of the Hogwarts house tables, finally coming to rest on Hufflepuff. "Hufflepuff's very own Cedric Diggory!"
The House of the Badgers erupted in frenzied screaming, shouting, and dancing as the named wizard got to his feet, a broad grin on his face. Shaking the hands of his housemates, returning thanks for their congratulations, and making his way through the press of his peers slapping his back and trying to hug him, Cedric eventually found himself at the front of the hall. The Hufflepuff Head of House, Pomona Sprout, stood behind the head table beaming with pride as she applauded her student.
"It really is about time Hufflepuff was recognised," Luna remarked, applauding as enthusiastically as any of the Badgers.
Neville laughed as he saw dumbfounded expressions on quite a few Slytherins, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors. "So much for the House of the Duffers, eh? Cedric Diggory was chosen as the embodiment of everything Hogwarts stands for!"
"Hufflepuff is the house of loyalty and hard workers," Hermione said as she applauded. "At the end of the day, those traits will go further than bravery, intelligence, or cunning, and with a firmer foundation as well."
Harry nodded his agreement but didn't say anything. His sense of apprehension grew as he knew what was to come next. His wife saw his concern and reached out to squeeze his hand. He squeezed hers back, giving her a grateful smile as he did so.
"Congratulations, Mr Diggory," Dumbledore greeted the Hogwarts Champion warmly. "Go ahead to the antechamber, my boy. I'll be there as soon as…"
At that moment the goblet flared red for a fourth time. Harry groaned as another charred parchment fluttered up into the air. He'd expected it, but there was always a slim chance that things would be different. He watched closely as the headmaster caught it and unfolded it. Was that the tiniest hint of a smirk on the old man's face when he saw the name there?
The entire hall held its collective breath as they all waited to hear the unexpected fourth name. Harry just about cursed aloud as the headmaster drew out their anticipation by peering silently around the hall. Even Cedric paused before entering the antechamber.
Dumbledore's gaze stopped at the far end of the Gryffindor table. "Harry Potter," he said quietly. "Would you please join the other champions?"
Silence.
Then, pandemonium.
Accusations of cheating, angry jeers, and all manner of unsavoury names erupted from all tables.
Harry noticed that Dumbledore did not look all that surprised or put out as Harry's name was revealed. If anything, he almost seemed to be gloating. Bastard likely knew already, he silently raged. He sent the headmaster a glare of such hatred that the old man actually took a step back.
The looks he was receiving grew increasingly venomous. Before things could progress further, he stepped up on the bench and again to the tabletop, kicking dishes aside and casting sonorus on himself as he did so. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, immediately catching everyone's attention. He held his wand high, the tip glowing with collected energy. "Everyone here needs to shut the hell up, right the fuck now!" He met the angry glares with a glare of his own. "I, Harrison James Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, hereby give oath on my honour, on my magic and on my very life that I did not enter my name into the Goblet of Fire, nor did I ask anyone of age to enter my name on my behalf. So I say, so I swear." He looked around, seeing incredulous looks that he was still alive and breathing. He raised his wand, thinking of the time last night when he was making love with his beautiful wife. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he roared.
His patronus burst forth from his wand, coalescing into the form of a massive wolf instead of the stag he was expecting. There was nothing misty or ethereal about it – the silver wolf was about as corporeal as it was possible to get. He made a mental note to ask Hermione later why the form changed to a wolf.
Dead silence filled the hall as those gathered sat in stunned amazement that not only did he still have his magic, he was able to cast a patronus at such a young age. And those who had actually seen a patronus before had never actually seen one look so real. The dire wolf – for it could only be such – looked solid enough to touch. Indeed, as the enormous beast looked around the hall, some wondered if it might even start eating people.
"Now that the truth of my words has been established beyond contestation," Harry said more quietly, though his sonorus-enhanced voice still filled the hall, "I would like to apologise to Hufflepuff for this unfortunate incident. This was supposed to be your moment to shine, when everyone would be forced to acknowledge that loyalty and hard work are the cornerstones of what our school truly represents. Instead, some arsehole for whatever diseased reason chose to put my name in the goblet and somehow rig it to come out, thereby ensuring that your triumph would be overshadowed by the fucking Boy-Who-Lived being unwillingly dragged back into the spotlight." His hate and disdain for that particular title was unmistakable, so much so that none of those listening who had the slightest inclination towards fair-mindedness ever used that moniker again. "Now, as we can all no doubt deduce from the headmaster's particularly constipated expression, I am about to be told to be silent and to take my place in the antechamber. I will go to find out if anyone knows what the fuck just happened here and how in the hell this could even happen, though based on past experience I doubt I'll be told much more than empty platitudes, assuming anyone actually does know anything. No matter what happens, though, as far as I am concerned there is only one Hogwarts champion, and his name is Cedric Diggory."
Harry gave a respectful bow towards the Hufflepuff table, followed by another deeper one to an astonished Cedric, who was still standing near the antechamber door watching the drama unfold. The older Hufflepuff hastily caught himself and then returned Harry's bow with equal respect.
The applause started with Harry's friends and was immediately joined by Hufflepuff. There was no cheering or shouting, but people began rising to their feet as they clapped. Some students at the other house tables joined in, as well as most of the professors and visiting students at the other house tables joined in, and eventually most of the Great Hall was on their feet. Even some of the Slytherins participated. Harry noted in particular some of his year-mates from the House of the Snakes: the blonde "Ice Queen" of Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass; her best friend, Tracy Davis; and the quiet Italian boy, Blaise Zabini. It was no surprise that Draco and his cohorts sat in petulant silence, and he knew without looking that if he were to observe his own house table he would see Ron Weasley sulking in a similar manner to Draco Malfoy.
Harry hid a smirk as he caught sight of the headmaster's face. Goddamn, he was annoyed. The old man raised his wand, likely to set off a loud blast to quieten everyone so he could call Harry forward, but the young man pre-empted him by jumping off the table and making his way to the front of the Hall, his wolf patronus padding silently beside him. He noted with some satisfaction Severus Snape vacating his seat at the head table and hurrying out of the hall as quickly as his dignity would allow, using the walkway behind the Slytherin table so as to stay as far away from Harry as possible
Ignoring the Headmaster, he walked up to Cedric and clapped the older boy on the shoulder. "Really sorry about all this, mate," he said. "Everyone's attention should be on the tournament tonight, not the bloody Boy-Who-Lived."
"Don't worry about it," Cedric replied. "I think it's pretty obvious that you had nothing to do with it. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you got dragged into it like this."
"Appreciate it," Harry acknowledged. "Let's go see what they make of this fuck-up, what do you say?"
The two entered the antechamber where they first two champions waited.
Fleur's eyes widened as she saw her friend come into the room with an older Hogwarts student. "Harry?" she said, rushing over. "What's going on?"
"His name came out after mine did," Cedric explained. "It looks like someone sabotaged the goblet somehow and forced Harry's name out."
Fleur gasped and threw her arms around Harry's shoulders. "This is awful!" she said. "Who would do such a thing?"
"How do we know he didn't do it himself?" Viktor asked. His voice was neutral, not accusatory, but Fleur nevertheless turned on him reproachfully.
"Shame on you, Mr Krum," she said. "Your statement is forgivable only because you do not know Harry Potter as I do. If you did, you would know that he'd never do such a thing."
"Thank you, Fleur," Harry said, giving her a warm smile. "Your support means more to me than you can possibly know. However, Mr Krum's question is valid."
"Trust me," Cedric said. "After the magical oath he swore, only a complete fool would suspect he had anything to do with it. Speaking of," he added, turning to Harry, "that's one hell of a patronus you have there."
"Patronus?" a wide-eyed Fleur gasped as she looked up at her friend. "You can cast one?"
Even Viktor looked surprised at this, and more than a little intrigued.
"Yep." Still holding the blonde girl in his arms, he looked at the antechamber door as the glowing silver form of his dire wolf stalked in. An overwhelming sense of peace and well-being filled the room and swept over everyone there like a tidal wave.
"Mon dieu," Fleur whispered as her eyes closed and her knees buckled. Only Harry's arms around her kept her from collapsing to the floor. "This patronus is fuelled by your love for Hermione, oui?"
"Yes it is," he answered with a smile.
"How could you possibly know that?" an amazed Cedric asked.
"I am veela," she murmured in reply. "We are attuned to emotion, especially love." She opened her eyes again with effort. "Harry, would you terribly mind dismissing it, please? I'm finding myself… overwhelmed."
His face reddened. "Of course not. Sorry about that." He looked at the wolf intently and after a moment it faded away.
Fleur drew in a deep, shuddering breath before standing up straight under her own power. "You and Hermione are truly blessed," she said.
Viktor could only shake his head in amazement. "I have never seen a patronus this powerful," he said.
"Hell, I don't think anybody has," Cedric agreed.
The door opened again, revealing two Ministry officials, the three Heads of the schools, and Mad-Eye Moody. Harry recognised Ludo Bagman, former beater for the Wimbourne Wasps quidditch team and current Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Barty Crouch Senior, former Head of the DMLE and current Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Bagman had definitely seen better days. He grew his thinning blond hair down to his shoulders in a pathetic attempt to hide the fact that he was balding, and while he would certainly have been fit and toned during his quidditch days, that muscle had long been transformed into flab, and the rich food he habitually consumed only enhanced his portly condition. In contrast, Bartemius "Barty" Crouch Senior was meticulous about his appearance, from his neatly-trimmed Adolf Hitler moustache to his highly-polished black leather shoes. Both men's attitudes were also at odds with each other. Bagman was loud and boisterous, smiling at everyone and laughing as much as he could, every inch a former celebrity who is largely forgotten but determined to cash in on every ounce of fame that could be gotten away with. Crouch, on the other hand, was cold and stiff, a judgmental figure who had disapproval carven into every line of his countenance.
Harry despised them both equally.
Behind the two Ministry officials were the three Heads of the schools. Dumbledore currently wore his irritated expression, which appeared to be by far his most frequently-worn expression of late. Karkaroff wore his usual sneer which would shift into a scowl anytime he caught someone staring at him for any length of time. Only Madame Maxime had a genuine warm smile for him. Moody (or Barty Junior, actually) was as inscrutable as ever.
Dumbledore stalked across the antechamber. "Harry!" he demanded. "Did you put your name in the goblet?" He reached out to grab the boy's shoulder.
Harry knocked the old man's hand away. "Albus!" he barked. "Did you put your brain in the rubbish tip? Cause it certainly isn't in your head."
Madame Maxime arched an eyebrow as she looked at Dumbledore. "Really, Albus?"
"The boy gave oath, Headmaster," Crouch's voice also dripped with disapproval, but he seemed to disapprove of everything so Harry didn't really take it personally. He was pissed off at the man for smuggling his guilty Death Eater son out of Azkaban, incidentally allowing the junior fucker to mess with his life on Voldemort's behalf, while at the same time being one of the two driving forces behind making sure his innocent oath-sworn godfather was incarcerated in the same prison. Next to those sins, his disapproval of Harry's presence here was insignificant.
"So the whelp didn't enter his name," Karkaroff sneered. "I say we declare him disqualified and focus on the real champions."
"Believe it or not, Death Eater, I actually agree with you this time. Not that that means that you're right about anything else – even a stopped clock is right twice a day."
"Insolent boy! I demand you be disqualified immediately!"
"His name came out of the goblet," Crouch said, his tone changing not one bit. "It's magically binding. He has to compete."
"Four champions!" Bagman exclaimed, his foolish grin wide across his face. "Outstanding! I say, I am excited for the tournament to begin! Can't wait to see what surprises you four have in store for us!"
"Hogwarts cannot have two champions!" Karkaroff raged.
"And Hogwarts doesn't!" Harry shot back. "What do you say, Albus? Am I bound to participate in this debacle?"
The headmaster's eyes twinkled. "Harry, my boy, I'm afraid…"
"Never mind. Just shut the fuck up, you old fraud. You don't give a fuck whether I live or die, just so long as it doesn't interfere with one of your fucked up schemes."
"Harry Potter, I am your headmaster and you will speak to me with respect!"
"Albus Dumbledore, I am Lord Potter and I outrank you in every way that matters, so feel free to sod off." He waved a dismissive hand and turned to the three champions. "The idiots – sorry, grownups – have spoken. Looks like I'm going to have to participate in this thing after all," he said. "I apologise in advance for the media circus this is about to become, and I want the record to show that I participate under duress. That means, Ludo…" here he turned his raptor gaze to the washed-up sports star "…if you ever refer to me as a champion again I will declare vendetta and gut you like a fish."
The man laughed nervously and took a visible step backwards.
"You will refer to me only as an unwilling contender," Harry went on. "Oh, and before you start making a bunch of bets you can't cover, understand that I have no intention of winning this thing. I refuse to steal this opportunity from the three real champions." He turned towards the red-faced Durmstrang Headmaster. "Will that satisfy whatever passes for your honour, Death Eater?" he sneered, his voice implying that as a member of that terrorist organisation, Karkaroff wouldn't even know how to spell the word, let alone possess any. His expression was every bit a match for Karkaroff's.
"So be it," the man snapped. Oh, how he wanted to crucio this boy until he begged for mercy! But he didn't dare. The power behind that patronus unnerved him, though he'd never allow such a thing to show. Not to mention the boy was Lord of his House – those rings didn't lie. He was sure that Harry could use anything short of the unforgivables on him – and possibly even those – and given the knowledge of Harry Potter's history with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, not a soul would hesitate to exonerate him. Karkaroff had no intention of testing the boy like that.
"Anyway," Harry continued, "can you tell us whatever we need to know? I've got other things to do this evening that do not include listening to a bunch of strangers trying their best to fuck up my life yet again."
"November 24," Crouch snapped. "It will be a test of courage in the face of the unknown. And I suggest you adjust your attitude between now and then, Mr Potter."
"It's Lord Potter to you, arsehole. When you get dragged into a death-match against your will by a fucking coward who's too much of a pussy to confront you face to face, then you can complain about my attitude. Until then, shut the fuck up about it and just do your goddamn job."
Crouch stormed out of the room and after a moment's indecisive looking back and forth between his fellow ministry employee and the scowling Lord Potter, Bagman tucked tail and all but fled the room.
Dumbledore exhaled in a long-suffering sigh. "Harry, my boy…"
"It's Lord Potter to you as well, headmaster. And I've got nothing more to say to you, so just put a sock in it already." He turned back to the champions. "Mates, would you three stand with me for a moment when we leave here? I need to make an announcement and your presence will help my credibility. I just want to let the schools know what's going on and hopefully kill any rumours before they have a chance to start."
Headmaster Dumbledore tried once again. "Harry, I really don't think…"
"And that is your biggest fucking problem, Albus. You don't think. You scheme, plot, and manipulate, but you don't think. You don't think of the consequences, and you don't think of the lives you destroy."
"The Greater Good…"
"Funny how your Greater Good isn't actually that good for most people, is it?" Harry said. "Seems to me your Greater Good is just a convenient way to murder people without that pesky little thing called a conscience getting in the way, not that I think you actually have one anyway. So fuck your Greater Good, Albus."
"What… how… How dare you, Mr Potter!" the headmaster spluttered.
"Lord Potter. Whatever, I'm done with you for now."
Fleur took that moment to take Harry's arm. "Of course we'll stand with you," she said, giving the other two Champions a significant look.
"I have no objections to this," Viktor said with a nod.
"After all," Cedric added, giving the school heads (especially Dumbledore) a defiant glare, "isn't the whole point of the tournament to promote international friendship and cooperation?"
With that, Harry said no more but stepped to the door with Fleur on his arm and followed by Cedric and Viktor. The three Heads had no choice but to follow, expressions of consternation on the faces of Dumbledore and Karkaroff. Maxime had the tiniest smirk on her face as she brought up the rear.
The hubbub of all the students talking quickly died down as Harry and the Champions walked to the centre of the dais that held the head table. The school Heads stopped at the end as Cedric and Viktor flanked Harry and Fleur, who was still on Harry's arm. Harry cast sonorus on himself again as the assembly quietened.
"The same geniuses that felt that using a powerful artefact capable of implementing and enforcing a binding magical contract by doing nothing more than spitting out a scrap of parchment have also decided, in their infinite wisdom, that since my name came out of said artefact, I will have to participate despite not having actually submitted my name. I will do so, but under duress and under protest, and I plan to do nothing more than the minimum required to keep my magic. I will not be referred to as a champion – there are only three champions, as this is the Triwizard Tournament, not the Quadwizard. The champions are Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory. Period. Harry Potter is nothing more than an unwilling contender, full stop. Don't pretend I am anything more, or I will become… upset." His voice turned glacial at the end, not that far removed from the Arbiter's voice when he took possession of the Weasley account way back in Shepherd's office. He turned to look at the three Champions. "Once more, I'd like to make a public apology for any overshadowing my presence in the tournament may cause. The three of you represent the best that our respective schools have to offer, and it is disgusting that your moment has been interfered with by cowardly sneaks with nefarious intentions. In the spirit of cooperation between our schools, I for one will be supporting all three of you, and I encourage my Hogwarts classmates to do the same." He finished by casting quietus on himself.
Fleur immediately turned him around to face her and pulled him into a tight embrace, kissing him on both cheeks as well. Cedric and Viktor both came around and shook his hand after Fleur let him go.
The applause started somewhere near the far end of the Gryffindor table but quickly spread throughout the entire Great Hall, just as before. Harry hopped down from the dais, Fleur joining him at the bottom. She took his arm once more as they returned to their friends. Cedric returned to the Hufflepuffs, who swarmed around him excitedly, while Viktor rejoined the Durmstrang contingent gathered at the Slytherin table.
Fleur dropped Harry's arm just in time for him to catch the petite figure of Luna, who immediately glommed onto him. Hermione followed their blonde Ravenclaw at a more sedate pace, but when she reached her husband she crushed her lips to his in a passionate, almost-frantic kiss. The veela found herself in the arms of her new beaux almost as immediately and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," Harry said as he put an arm around Hermione's waist and another around Luna's. Without awaiting for approval from any of the Professors, he led the other four out of the Great Hall.
Dumbledore ground his teeth in frustration as he watched the defiant brat leave with his cronies. There was unfortunately very little he could do to get the boy back on the path he had set up for him while the child was yet an infant. Magically, he was untouchable. That Merlin-bedamned Head of House ring protected him from compulsions, legilimancy, and the like, while also granting him legal protection and even authority that no child his age should ever have. The magic should not have worked, yet it did – and disrupted years, even decades, of careful planning and manoeuvring. To think that all of his considerable efforts would be rendered meaningless from something the insolent child shouldn't have even known about… well, it was enough to send the most patient of men into a blind rage. He had no leverage on the boy at the moment, but when March rolled around that was certain to change. The next four months, however, were certain to be unbearable.
***FTR***
After escorting their friends back to their dorms, the Potters returned to their flat and cuddled on their sofa while passing the flask of Guinness back and forth. "How are you?" Hermione asked as she lay her head on Harry's shoulder.
"I'll be alright," he said after a moment's thought. "I'm not looking forward to the circus, but I really think it'll be better this time around."
"I'm glad." She leaned up and kissed his cheek before resting her head back on his shoulder.
"Hermione?"
"Yeah?"
"My patronus is different."
She covered her face as she remembered, embarrassed that she'd forgotten. "Yeah, that's right," she groaned.
"Any idea why?" he asked.
"Not sure. Let me think about it," she replied.
He just nodded and held her as she considered.
It was several minutes before she spoke up. "Our patroni are supposed to reflect our natures in some way," she said. "I hate to say it, but as majestic as the stag is, it's a prey animal. And let's face it, you were definitely prey before. You were just trying to be normal – nothing wrong with that – but you kept reacting to things and being led by people who did not have your best interests at heart. I love you with all my heart, Harry, but you were just a poor kid that shit kept happening to. You handled it well but you were never proactive until this time around. You are no longer prey anymore, you're a predator – and not just a predator, but an apex predator, and your patronus has changed to match."
Harry nodded in understanding. She was absolutely right, as embarrassing as it was to admit. "What about yours?" he asked.
She arched her eyebrows. "Good question," she said. She drew her wand, not moving from her husband's side, let the thought of him holding her fill her mind, and cast.
Silver mist billowed forth from her wand, coalescing into the figure of another dire wolf every bit as tangible as Harry's. "Matching forms," she smiled.
A moment later Harry's wolf was beside hers, filling the room with feelings of overwhelming love and devotion as the couple was bathed in the silvery glow of their patroni.
Harry lowered his lips to his wife's and together they reaffirmed their love as the ghostly wolves nuzzled each other on the other side of the room.
***FTR***
The next few weeks were remarkably different from the last time through. Harry was flabbergasted at the difference standing up for himself made. By addressing the issues head-on and actually talking to people instead of trying to keep a low profile and effectively hiding from everyone, he found a lot more support throughout the school. No one was able to accuse him of cheating after that magical oath he swore in front of everyone. There wasn't even a hint of Malfoy's ridiculous "Potter Stinks" badges this time.
When he was summoned for the Weighing of the Wands, Harry simply refused to go. The Ministry officials finally tracked him down to the library where he was studying with Hermione and confronted him about his absence, Bagman with trepidation and Crouch (along with his assistant Percy Weasley) with indignation. They were followed by the wandsmith Garrick Olivander, the Daily Prophet reporter Rita Skeeter (and her cameraman, whatever the hell his name was), the heads of the three schools, and the three legitimate champions, who each traded a long-suffering smile with their youngest competitor.
His eyes narrowed at the sight of the notorious gossip columnist. If that's the way they want to play it, fine.
"Mr Pot…"
"Lord Potter, arsehole," Harry growled.
Crouch flushed, while Percy looked about to explode. "Lord Potter," he ground out. "Your presence is required."
"No it's not," Harry rejoined. "Seriously, why do you insist on cheating the real champions of their due by focusing on me? You're wasting my time and theirs – but I guess that's what government does best, doesn't it? Lord knows I haven't ever seen any government do anything useful, that's for goddamn sure."
"Lord Pot…"
"No. Stop trying to railroad me. I will not cooperate with you and pretend everything is okay after you all fucked it up so royally. Go away." He shot his glare over to Skeeter. "Rita," he said, "I don't care what you write so long as everything is one hundred percent fact. If I read one lie, no matter how small, I will crush you like a fucking water beetle." He smiled coldly at her rapidly paling face. "And Miss Skeeter, for the sake of my intent, all facts must be verifiable. Unfounded conjecture, attempts to sway public opinion, inflammatory statements disguised as quotes from other sources, and any language designed to manipulate or mislead will be considered a lie. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," she said faintly.
"Good," he replied. "Your days of writing whatever poison you want are over. Do not push me on this, I assure you that you will regret every day for what remains of your pathetic excuse for a life."
Even Karkaroff was taken aback at the steel in Harry's voice. Dumbledore, of course, looked horrified.
Harry looked around and shook his head. "Since you refuse to leave me alone, I suppose it's up to me. Dobby!"
The elf appeared between the Potters and looked up at them. "Code Four, Dobs," he said. The elf nodded and snapped his fingers, causing all their books, parchments, and pens to disappear. After that he reached out, took the Potters' hands, and popped them back to their flat, leaving the apoplectic Ministry employees to proceed with the weighing without them.
Knowing what the First Task already entailed, he waited until he had confirmation that dragon handlers were present (namely by recognising Charlie Weasley during the next Hogsmeade visit) and went out for a leisurely broom flight one afternoon soon thereafter. Sure enough, he recognised the dragon pens in the expected location by the Forbidden Forest. After flying around for another quarter-hour or so, he landed and quickly jotted down notes to Fleur, Cedric, and Viktor, inviting them to the flat after classes to discuss tournament business. Dobby was only too happy to deliver the notes, a task which he accomplished quickly with dignity and aplomb.
An hour before dinner, the three Champions (along with Neville and Luna) met the Potters at their flat. "It's dragons," Harry said without preamble.
There was stunned silence for a moment.
"Pardon?" Fleur said.
"The first task. It's dragons. I saw Charlie Weasley at Hogsmeade this weekend, he's a professional dragon handler. I went out flying this afternoon and saw them myself. They've got four dragons in pens just inside the Forbidden Forest."
"Bozhe moĭ," Viktor exhaled, sitting heavily in one of the armchairs.
Fleur was trembling so much that Neville came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. She relaxed a bit, holding his arms and leaning back into his embrace.
Cedric walked over to a chair that Dobby brought in and sank into it. "Merlin help us," he muttered.
"Alright," Harry said. "I seriously have no idea what the fuck the Ministry morons are thinking, pitting us against dragons. Regardless, they have done so. I say we relax this evening and beginning tomorrow we start getting the three of you ready to face a dragon."
Fleur gently pushed Neville back into the remaining armchair before settling into his lap, draping her legs over the chair's arm and snuggling into her beaux's chest with his arm around her shoulders. Somehow she made even this most casual of poses look elegant and sophisticated.
The Potters took a seat on their sofa and Luna slipped in beside Hermione, cuddling up close to the older girl and resting her head on her shoulder. Harry pulled his flask out of his back pocket, but before he could say anything Dobby appeared holding a tray of seven pint glasses. "Thanks, Dobs," he said as he began pouring the chilled dark beer into the glasses. He handed a glass to his wife and another to Luna before taking one for himself. Dobby then took the tray to the rest of their guests, careful to not spill a single drop.
"Why are you helping us?" Viktor asked after taking an experimental sip of his beverage. It was surprisingly good beer, smooth and creamy with a unique bittersweet flavour containing hints of chocolate and coffee.
"Look, guys, this whole thing is supposed to be about promoting international cooperation and goodwill. The fucktards in the Ministry seem determined to transform what should be a friendly competition, like the Olympics, into a gladiatorial bloodsport worthy of the goddamn Roman Coliseum. That defeats the whole purpose of the tournament, don't you think? As far as I'm concerned, the organisers of this little death-match can all go to hell. Although I'm younger than you lot, I do have significant resources at my disposal, and I will happily use them all to make sure you three get to go home in one piece."
"What about you, Harry?" Fleur asked, a worried frown etched upon her face. She much preferred champagne, white wine, or a fruity cocktail to the beer she was given, but the alcohol was much appreciated.
Harry waved a negligent hand as he lit a cigarette. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Like I said at the drawing, I've no intention of winning this thing. I'll be doing the bare minimum to not lose my magic, that's it. I'm not about to risk my life unnecessarily. I've got other responsibilities now." He was only concerned that the trophy in the Third Task would still be a portkey, but he figured that if he turned in a deliberately underwhelming performance in the first two tasks it should send a clear message to Crouch Junior that his plan wouldn't work, thereby forcing the Death Eater to find some other means of getting Harry to Little Hangleton.
"And don't you forget it, mister," Hermione said. She took the cigarette from his mouth, kissed him hard, and took a deep drag on it before giving it back to him.
The two male Champions soon relaxed in the company of the others, and the seven chatted about light topics only for the rest of the evening. As curfew approached, the Potters once more escorted their friends, old and new, back to their respective quarters.
***FTR***
At breakfast the next morning, Cedric and Viktor joined the other five at the end of the Gryffindor table, as had been agreed the previous evening, right before they'd left the Potters' flat and returned to their own rooms. Before finishing their breakfast, Harry called Dobby and handed him a note for Professor McGonagall excusing Hermione and Neville from their classes between then and the First Task, as their presence was required for "Tournament Preparation." It was signed and sealed from Lord Harrison James Potter so that it could be officially entered into the students' records. Likewise, a similar note for Professor Flitwick excused Luna from her classes.
The notes delivered, the seven friends finished eating and left the Great Hall. Harry and Hermione led the other five through the hallways and stairs until they reached the seventh floor on the other side of the Ravenclaw Tower. They entered a corridor that had no windows or doors, just a single tapestry midway down the inside wall.
As they approached the tapestry, it was revealed to be a grotesque (and more than a little disturbing) rendering of a wizidiot named Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach a troupe of trolls the fine art of ballet. The imagery of twelve-foot hulking masses of bone and muscle, decked out in oversized leotards, tutus, and ballet slippers and learning to pirouette was absurd to say the least, but the tapestry was apparently based on an actual incident.
According to the story, the attempt to teach the trolls to move gracefully was doomed to failure before it even started, but the colossal brutes thought it great fun to spin around until they got dizzy and fell down. Unfortunately, one of them fell directly on top of poor Barnabas, abruptly ending his artistic attempt (and his life), and as no one ever again considered trying to teach trolls to dance, the potential of the creatures remained unknown to this day.
As their international guests curiously studied the tapestry, Harry walked back and forth in front of the blank stone wall opposite the ridiculous hanging. On his third pass, an iron-bound oaken door appeared in the wall, supported by an iron door frame. There were several exclamations of surprise from the five who had never before seen the Room of Requirement. Momentarily ignoring the rush of questions, he raised the latch and pushed on the door. It opened with the rough squeal of metal on metal, and Harry stepped inside, gesturing for the others to follow.
"Welcome to the Room of Requirement," he said as they came inside. "Or, as the elves call it, the Come and Go Room."
Inside was a comfortable seating area with sofas and armchairs circled around a low cocktail table. A large bookcase containing several hundred volumes was against the back wall opposite the door, alongside several lap desks and a table holding stacks of parchment, quills, and bottles of ink. To the right of the seating area was a dining table with seven chairs around it, while to the left lay a lengthy casting range. At the far end of the range was a life-sized wooden model of a dragon.
"Isn't this supposed to be an outside wall?" Cedric wanted to know. Like the others, he stared around at the room in amazement.
"That's right," Harry answered. "This is actually one of the most spectacular pieces of magic I've ever seen. When you pass the door three times thinking about the room you need, it will appear just as you ordered. In this case, I wanted a room to help train us to fight a dragon." He gestured towards the bookcase. "We've got books to study and an area to practice spells we find. If we need anything else short of food and drink, the room will provide it."
"And when we do need food and drink, Dobby said that he'll be happy to bring it," Hermione added.
For the first time since Harry's announcement the previous evening, the worried expressions were completely erased from the champions' faces. All three now appeared confident and determined to shine.
***Author's Note***
I'd like to make a quick shoutout to kgfinkel, one of the authors here on , who pointed out a small but significant typo in Ch 1, which has since been corrected. Thanks for the assist, sir! And to everyone else, if you're not familiar with his work then I highly recommend it. Everything I've read is excellent, and I have several of his stories in my download folder!