A/N: So, this story has been collecting dust, and I've just spent some time rereading and editing it, and since I actually like it, it's getting posted.
It's basically what the summary says it is. AU from the Goblet of Fire chosing the champions.
I just let my mind run far, far, very far away with this. So it's sort of like and AU maybe? mixed with canon? Idk, it's a fanfiction!
Anyway, I hope it'll bring someone some good reading time.
Chapter 1 October 31, 1994
A binding magical contract. The words echo in Harry's mind. A binding can be undone. Always. He has learned that much from having to listen to Uncle Vernon brag about getting out of this and that deal and contract over the years.
But this contract is magical, and Harry doesn't know anything about magical contracts.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir, what happens if one breaks a magical contract?" he asks, and all the voices around him fall silent as if struck by a charm.
"Breaking a magical contract, Harry, would lead to one's magic being taken into the Goblet. It would render the person with no more magic than that of a squib."
"What's a squib, sir?"
"A person born of magical parents but without magical powers, at least not enough to use a wand and cast spells or brew potions. Squibs can see magical communities and creatures, but the cannot be actively practising magic," Dumbledore explains.
"Thank you, professor."
Harry makes a list. On the down side: no more magic, no more Hogwarts, no more freedom from the Dursleys. On the plus side: no more magical problems, no more Voldemort wanting to kill him, no more Dursleys hating him because he has magic.
Harry remembers the time a years ago when he heard his Aunt tell his Uncle that they could apply to get him emancipated at fifteen. So, perhaps, if he returns to them a year early without magic, and if he behaves and says nothing about their treatment, they just might stick to their word. He will have to get his gold out from Gringotts and somehow convert it into muggle money and get a bank account. There's the missing years of muggle schooling to consider, but Harry thinks he can work that out. In the end, there really isn't much of a choice, he muses. He values his own life, he wants to live free and be as safe as possible as any other kid.
"I break the contract with the Goblet of Fire. I refuse to compete. I am not the Hogwarts Champion," Harry says calmly. The adult in the room pale, Dumbledore opens his mouth, McGonagall takes a step towards Harry, Moody looks mad, and then-
It feels like fire. But it's gentle, surprisingly so. Harry really thought it would hurt, having his magic taken. Perhaps, he guesses as the fire surges through him, it doesn't hurt since he made the choice knowing what would happen. Maybe the Goblet is sentient and can tell. The fire leaves him feeling a bit tired, but most of all warm and safe.
"Idiot boy!" snarls Snape and looks livid.
"How so, professor? Now you won't have to tolerate me in class anymore, sir," Harry says politely.
"Oh, Mr Potter, why would you do this?" Professor McGonagall's voice is shaky, he notices.
"Because I want to be free and safe, professor McGonagall," he answers honestly.
"My dear, dear boy," murmurs Dumbledore, and there are tears in his sky blue eyes.
"With all respect, I'm not yours, professor, but don't be sad," Harry says and then he turns to Cedric who is gaping at him.
"Good luck. I hope you win," he tells the older boy. He smiles and nods politely at the others and leaves the little chamber, heads back to the Great Hall and walks through it to the double doors, exits and hears the sounds fade away.
"Harry!" two voices cry out behind him.
"Oh, sorry! I honestly didn't see you. Thought you might have left," he says to Hermione and Ron as the catch up with him.
"We waited for you. What happened?" Hermione says and falls in line beside him.
"I broke the magical contract with the Goblet of Fire," Harry says, because it's really best to get this over and done with.
"You did what?" screeches Ron in his ear, and Harry winces.
"Is that not a good thing, Ron?" asks Hermione confused, and Harry thinks that this is probably one thing she knows nothing off.
"Not good? It's madness, that's what it is. Harry is a squib now, Hermione!" Ron rambles and his face is so pale that all his freckles look like small drops of dried, brown blood.
"Oh. Oh, my," is all Hermione responds to Ron's half shouted words.
#
In the dorm, Harry packs his things, intent to talk to Dumbledore in the morning about leaving. When the trunk is packed, he sits on his bed and looks at it, considering. Will he need the things in it? No. Does he want the things in it? Some of them. He opens the trunk again, takes out the old backpack he always keeps there and fills it with his Cloak, the Map and the photo album Hagrid gave him his first year, as well as the whistle. That's really everything Harry can think will be of any use to him in the none-magical world.
"Hey, Ron, if you want anything, feel free to take it," he tells the redhead who hasn't said a word since they got into the room.
"So, you'll just leave, huh?" Ron mumbles.
"Well, yes. There was no other choice."
Ron rubs a hand over his face, sighs.
"That was a really risky move Harry. Like in chess, you could easily have lost."
"I did lose in one way," Harry says softly, and Ron nods solemnly.
"Will you still be my friend?" he asks, and there's a nervous look on his thin face now.
"What kind of question is that? Of course I will. You where my first friend Ron, I'm not throwing you away, stupid!"
The redhead looks relieved.
"I just figured, since you gave up magic, maybe you don't want friends who have magic," he mumbles, and his ears are red.
"That's… the stupidest thing I've heard," Harry says and means it.
"Oh, well, it makes sense in an odd way, because magic people usually don't want none-magic people as friends, so I just thought it was the same the other way around," Ron half explains and shrugs.
"Wow, that's just awful."
"Mm, but it's pretty much how things are."
"Jesus heck," Harry mutters and shakes his head. "I just keep getting these titbits that prove that the magical world is nuts in some ways."
#
Hermione fills pages upon pages of her journal with every thought she has had during this evening. She can see and not see why Harry did what he did, and her thoughts on his actions are mixed. But in the end, she knows that what she, or Ron, or anyone, thinks doesn't matter. Harry is his own person, and what he thinks about his life matters most. She wonders how he will adjust to the none- magical, the normal, world. He is years behind in school, and from what Hermione knows he doesn't have much support from his relatives.
Hermione knows that her parents don't like that she went back to magic school after her first years, and they hated it after her second. And her third. In truth, Hermione isn't overly fond of her choice, but at the times the discussed it, she automatically defended when her parents talked negatively about the magical world, argued that magic's in her blood. But now, sitting in her bed in the dorm room, knowing that there is a way to take away that magic – and if there is one way, there must be more – Hermione can't help but wonder if she should follow Harry. She is fairly certain she could be of help to him. Her parents can help, too. Nodding, she closes the journal, hides it and leaves the room and takes the stair up to the boys dorm, knocks on the door to Harry's and Ron's room and waits.
"I'm thinking about leaving magic behind, if I do, my parents and I can help you, if you need," she blurts out rapidly when the doors open and shows Harry. He blinks at her, quite owlishly.
"What now?"
"My parents have wanted to pull me out of magic schooling since my first year, but I convinced them that I have magic in my blood and need school to control it, also professor McGonagall helped, but now I'm thinking that's not true, because obviously magic can be bound or taken, thus no need to control it. If breaking a contract can make you a squib, there must be a way to make me one as well, right?"
"Merlin's beard, you two get in here," snaps Ron from inside the room and pulls them inside. Perplexed by Ron's pale face, Hermione sits down on Harry's bed.
"What?" she asks him, confused. He sighs, rubs his neck and gives her a look that's almost pitying. Hermione hates those looks.
"You can't stand in the open and blab about wanting to bind you magic, Hermione. Someone can take advantage of that in a very bad way," Ron explains, and she hears that he tries to be patient, but also that he thinks this is so obvious.
"Thank you, Ron. I didn't know that," Hermione says, choosing to walk the golden middle way.
"So, what do we-"
Harry stops when there is a stern knock on the door. seconds later it opens and professor McGonagall walks inside the room.
"Good evening. Mr Potter, the Headmaster wishes for you to come to his office and talk through the recent events. You are to take you belongings with you."
Hermione understands in an instant. They are sending Harry away at once.
"Professor McGonagall, I need to see the headmaster as well," she says softly. Their Head of House withers before Hermione's eyes.
"Very well, miss Granger. As you do not seem to have any belongings with you, I shall ask a house elf do bring you yours.
"Thank you professor McGonagall."
#
Ron isn't mad anymore. He is very, very sad.
"Professor McGonagall, can I please come with?" he asks hopefully. If both of his friends are leaving, he wants to say good bye.
"I think, mr Weasley, that you can."
He nods quickly, stand up and follows behind his two friends. As the leave Gryffindor's common room, Ron surges forward between Hermione and Harry and takes their hands in his without a word and refuses to let go. He will hold on to them until the last possible moment.
#
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwup, Chief Warlock of Wizengamot, Transfiguration Master and Leader of the Light, feels utterly powerless despite all his power and glory. In front of him, on the other side of his mahogany desk, sits three students. One has to leave. One wants to leave. One stays but does it sadly.
"Mr Potter, as I just explained, you have to leave – the laws of the school are such that we do not teach squibs. A portkey will be provided to take you home. If you wish to take you owl with you, we have to order you a special form. Miss Granger, as I told you, I can bind you magic with professor McGonagall as a witness – you will not be able to speak of it to anyone who doesn't already know, and with time, your memories will grow dim, but will not vanish, merely appear as a very strange dream as to better help you to lead a non-magical life. You are allowed to keep you cat as he is not a fullblood Kneazle. A portkey can be provided to you as well. Mr Weasley, as you know I cannot bind your magic without your parents' permission, and you have not asked me to do so, so I will try my best to help you through this. If you feel the need for it, visit madame Pomfrey and ask for the dimening potion, which will help you with the memories that hurts most. Professor McGonagall, if you would please assist me?"
Minerva, who looks as beaten up as Albus felt, nods silently and brandishes her wand. Albus picks up the object that is to be Harry Potter's portkey, and together with Minerva he weaves the enchantment. The repeat this for Hermione Granger's object.
"Whenever you are ready, children," Albus says sadly.
"Ron, can you take care of Hedwig for me? I don't think she'll be safe with me now," says Harry Potter who looks much too worn out for a teenager.
"Yeah, I'll look after her."
"Oh, Ron, please don't be a stranger!" cries Hermione Granger and hugs her cat to her, as if anything else was too much.
"'Course not. But, how will we reach each other?"
"None-magic post. I'll write you and tell you how to," the brunette promises.
"I'll try and write, too," says the black haired boy.
"Alright," agrees the redhaired boy. "You two take care, yeah? Promise."
"Promise!"
Albus pinches his nose. Minerva looks pained.
"Ms Granger, if you are ready, I will do the binding," he whispers tiredly.
"Yes, professor Dumbledore."
The girl sits very still. Albus connects his own magic with that of Minerva's and wordlessly begins the ritual. When it is done, when Hermione Granger magic no longer leaps around her, he sits back in his chair and holds in the tears.
"Do you feel well, child?" he asks
"I think so, sir. It feels a little… empty."
"The feeling will fade," he promises her, and nods to Harry as well to include the boy.
"Thank you, professor Dumbledore. I know you've done what you think best," says Harry Potter, stands up and nods politely. Dumbledore bows back and watches as the dark haired boy shakes Minerva's hand, hugs his two friends and grabs his portkey. He is gone in a myriad of colours. Hermione Granger raises and repeats the process. Ronald Weasley sits frozen for a minute, and then he too gets up.
"I'll… just go back to Gryffindor. Bye, professors."
When the door swing shut, Albus takes of his glasses and weeps. He hears Minerva sniffle and offers her a handkerchief.
"What do we now, Albus?"
"We go on, Minerva."
