In the last chapter: Harry's fourth year begins and Moody/Crouch Jr. begins teaching as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. They learn more about the Unforgivables, as well as the Triwizard tournament taking place later on in the year.
A/N: Just real quick, in the last chapter, I mentioned that Draco was in the DADA class with Harry, but he's actually in the other class with the Gryffindors. Please enjoy the chapter!
The night of October 30th was charged with the frantic anticipation of the arrival of the two challenging schools: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. They were expected to arrive just after dinner. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen the students of Hogwarts finish their dinner so quickly before. He was reminded of the welcoming feast two months prior, though the wait seemed to only rile the students up even more. He vaguely wondered how any of them would manage through the year—having to attend classes and live with these students all year round if they acted like this.
He just didn't understand it. But then again, Harry wasn't one to easily excite.
Hagrid, who'd left partway through the meal, returned through the staff entrance and quietly relayed something to Dumbledore before sitting back down in his seat with a beaming smile on his face. A moment later Dumbledore stood, dessert disappeared, and the room fell silent as they watched their Headmaster step out in front of the staff table.
"Let us all give a warm welcome to the ever accomplished and elegant students of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their lovely Headmistress, Madam Maxime!" Dumbledore exclaimed as the doors suddenly opened. A group of powder blue uniformed students strode in with chins high, backs straight, hands folded behind them, and unified, near-silent steps that barely brushed the ground. A sigh of fluttering skirts and impeccably tailored blazers as they swept into the Great Hall. Every student was mesmerized by their graceful movements and breathtaking displays of wandless magic in the form of winking blue lights and little blue butterflies. They all moved in sync, bodies looking too light and defying all logic.
Halfway down the aisle, several at the back broke away—two guys and two girls—to take the performance even further by dancing together. The boys—if they could truly be considered 'boys' since they were all likely of age—effortlessly lifted the girls into the air and then they shot them forward, as one would toss a bird into open air so that it could take flight, the two girls lifted their legs before and behind them in a beautiful arch of streaming fabric before landing with little more than a soft thump and a few graceful turns before they made it to the end of the aisle with their male partners.
The towering—yet no less poised—Madam Maxime followed her students with a proud gleam in her eyes. The applause that followed was near deafening, with many male students standing up with brilliant grins as they took in the beautiful and elegant Beauxbaton girls, while the female students were a little less rowdy in their appreciative gazes on the equally impressively attractive Beauxbaton boys. Harry didn't put any thought into the way his gaze may have lingered on the broad shoulders, narrow waists, and sharp aristocratic features of the boys.
Next, Dumbledore introduced the students from Durmstrang. The Scandinavian school was nearly a polar opposite to Beauxbatons. They burst through the doors with a deep and aggressive shout as their boots echoed loudly on the stone followed by the sharp clash of their wooden staffs striking the ground in a small explosion of sparks. If Beauxbatons was soft summer rain, then Durmstrang was deep rolling thunder with flashes of lightning. Everything about them seemed hard and intimidating.
Their performance was full of harsh cries, thumping staffs, wild displays of fire-magic, and incredible feats of athleticism as they flipped and tumbled to the end of the aisle with streams fiery blaze racing alongside them. The Durmstrang students were not at all shy about releasing their magic into the room to demand the respect of everyone near. Even Harry could feel it, sitting nearest the center aisle with the other Ravenclaws and Gryffindors framing each side.
When he looked at Anthony next to him, remembering how sensitive his friend could be to magic, he noticed how overwhelmed Anthony seemed and quickly took his hand to try to help ground him. Anthony met his cool verdant gaze and nodded slightly in appreciation, though his face was still pinched in discomfort. Going one step further for his friend, Harry carefully wrapped them both in his own magic and hoped that the familiar magic would be enough to drown all of the rest out. Anthony immediately exhaled and closed his eyes in relief. Harry waited until Anthony opened his eyes again and verified that he was feeling better, before turning his gaze back on the Durmstrang performance just as it was ending. Harry kept their fingers loosely intertwined and edged off a bit of his magic without uncovering any of his friend.
Just then, the last Durmstrang student strode confidently into the Great Hall, followed by a professor and Igor Karkaroff. Harry, as well as the rest of Hogwarts, immediately recognized the student as world-famous, Viktor Krum. Unlike the other Durmstrang students who only wore the dark brown wool uniforms of their school, Viktor also wore a heavy and expensive-looking coat and fur hat. He strode quickly down the center aisle, his eyes glaring straight ahead of him and jaw clenched as if he wanted nothing more than to be done with this and out of the public's eye.
However, Viktor's conviction to ignore everyone and everything didn't save Harry from his notice as he passed. For a brief moment, their eyes locked and Harry felt the blunt press of powerful magic against his own, almost trying to engulf him from his lowered sitting position. And then, a moment later it was gone as Viktor passed and he was no longer within the Bulgarian's sights.
There was more cheering and applause before Dumbledore said a few more words of welcome and the foreign students were sent to go sit amongst the Hogwarts students. Since the Beauxbatons students would be staying in the Ravenclaw dorms, they took up the very front end of their table, looking only a little dismayed at being right next to the bright-eyed first years who tried fruitlessly to strike up conversations with the seventeen-year-olds. Meanwhile, the Durmstrang students took up the center spot cleared for them at the Slytherin table, where they found their new temporary dormmates for the year. Harry smiled when he saw Draco sitting right next to them and already slithering his way into their ranks.
Dumbledore introduced the other two additions to the staff table, Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, who would also be judges during the tournament. Then, he brought out the traditional Goblet of Fire and explained how it would choose each school's champions. An age line would be drawn by Dumbledore himself, then the students would have until after dinner the following night to enter their name. Harry already spotted a few students itching to find some parchment and a quill in order to enter their names.
They were dismissed and the Beauxbaton students followed the group of Ravenclaws up to their dorms, telling them how the 'password' worked and assuring them that they would be given riddles in French so that they didn't have to worry about anything getting confused in the semantics of a different language—even though they were all quite fluent in English.
Once they were inside, the Beauxbaton students politely excused themselves and went up to their new dorms in order to get settled and rest after their journey.
The next day was filled with excitement as student after student bravely dropped their name into the goblet. Harry didn't go and watch during his free period like a lot of the other underage students did—standing by to enviously witness the older students volunteer for the tournament—but he heard plenty through the chain of consistent gossip running through the student body. He even heard about the incident with the twins trying to dupe the age line by taking aging potions and needing to be escorted down to the infirmary with their long, grey beards.
With all the stagnant energy in the air, Harry found himself already drained before supper from just being near it all. He slowly ate his fill, still absently picking at his mashed when all of the plates disappeared and the lights dimmed almost to nothing. 'At least the dim lighting is helping to ease this blasted migraine!' Harry thought as he slowly turned to watch Dumbledore put everyone on edge by announcing that it was time to find out who would be their champions.
Harry sighed as the first bit of parchment shot out of the goblet and fluttered down to Dumbledore's waiting hand, Beauxbatons had their champion. His eyes drifted from Dumbledore as he lost interest. They slid almost unseeingly over faces until one in particular caught his attention because it was staring directly at him. Harry froze, the first inklings of dread blossoming in his gut as he took in the barely-contained vicious grin tugging at Moody's face. He looked like the definition of the 'cat who caught the canary' and Harry didn't like that look at all. The next champion, from Durmstrang, was chosen.
'Death?' Harry asked warily, worry ringing through his thoughts.
'It seems that things are not going quite as planned. . .' Death replied hesitantly. Harry's concern mounted as he looked at Moody, barely even registering the applause around him as Cedric Diggory was named the Hogwarts champion.
'What's going on? What do we do?' Harry began to panic.
'I'm afraid it's too late, Harry. I had not been paying close enough attention to that one's movements and it seems that they are taking a different route than we anticipated in order to capture you. . . You might wish to brace yourself.'
'What—'
"Harry Potter . . . Harry Potter?" Dumbledore's disbelieving voice cleaved through the silence and Harry was jolted from his internal panic.
'No.'
Harry could feel the blood drain from his face as the situation he was in suddenly became painfully clear, seeing Dumbledore's confused eyes boring into him as he clutched another piece of parchment in his hand. It took all of Harry's will to force himself out of his seat and he immediately felt Anthony's hand on his wrist, as if silently telling him not to go. Harry looked down into his friends terrified eyes and knew that he was not remaining as stoic as he'd hoped. Anthony gave the minutest shake of his head. The fear in his friend's face clamped something painfully in his chest.
"It's okay." Harry couldn't raise his voice above a wavering whisper, which only made the hand on his wrist tighten protectively.
Having no other choice, Harry stepped away from the table, his hand slipping through his closest friend's grip as he approached the dais where Dumbledore still stood. Harry chanced a glance at the students around him as he walked on numb legs, mostly they looked confused, but a lot also looked increasingly concerned for the fourteen-year-old that was just announced as another champion in the infamously deadliest competition to every be held at the ancient school.
If Harry had tried to live up to the reputation he'd had when first entering Hogwarts, if he hadn't spent the last three years doing everything he could to convey that he was no Savior, that he was just another kid, perhaps their reactions would be a lot different. Perhaps he would be met with disdain and mistrust as his peers assumed he'd illegally entered for the glory. Instead, he was faced with a sea of horrified expressions, as there wasn't anyone in that room who hadn't heard Dumbledore's many warnings about just how very dangerous the tournament could be. Everyone had liked to groan and complain about the age restriction, until they had to look into the frankly terrified eyes of a fourteen-year-old who'd just been told he would have to partake.
It felt like far too long until Harry finally reached Dumbledore and was handed the partially-burnt parchment that held his name in someone else's handwriting. Before Harry followed the other champions into the antechamber behind the staff table, Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a concerned, yet encouraging half smile.
When Harry entered the antechamber, all three champions looked at him in confusion, having not heard the commotion happening on the other side of the door after they had left.
Harry was still clutching the offending parchment in his trembling hand, knowing his face was stark white with an unhealthy pallor. Harry knew he could muster more composure even in the most dyer of times, but he also knew that everyone didn't need to see the composed, impassive mask of someone far beyond his years. They needed to see the shaken, petrified boy just barely out of childhood who had no business being in such a tournament.
Harry felt a slight burn behind his eyes just as Cedric surged forward, concern shining through his face as he glanced between Harry's stricken expression and the parchment in his hand. Harry met Cedric's gaze and pulled in stuttering breath as he felt moisture gathering in his eyes, though he knew it wouldn't turn into anything more than a visible shine that caused the older boy to grab his shoulder and the hand clenched tightly between them.
Harry didn't get the chance to say anything as the door to the antechamber burst open and the attention was pulled off of him and cast on the five future judges that had just entered the room, along with the Depute Headmistress and Moody. Maxime and Karkaroff were arguing furiously and demanding that Harry be removed from the competition, as it gave Hogwarts an unfair advantage. Understanding dawned on the other two champions, but Harry didn't take notice, as his back was turned to them.
Harry stayed close to Cedric, hoping that his small frame would look even more timid next to the older boy's considerable height and build. Dumbledore was the one to actually approach Harry, even though the other school heads looked ready to shake him into telling the truth. Dumbledore gave Harry another sympathetic look and when he spoke, he spoke softly to the clearly rattled fourth year.
"Harry, you must tell me truthfully, did you put your name in the goblet? Did you ask someone of age to put it in there for you?" When Harry met the Headmaster's eyes, he felt a slight pressure in his head. Having already guessed what Dumbledore would want before meeting his gaze, Dumbledore slid into his mind without any resistance and was allowed to see only enough to verify what Harry said. Everything important was locked away behind shields nobody but Death could break through.
"No, professor, I would never!" Harry's voice sounded wrecked and utterly frightened at the same time, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw McGonagall press a hand to her mouth and shake her head, as if she couldn't believe they were even considering such thing. Dumbledore nodded and broke their gaze by turning back to the others in the room.
Their attention turned to Barty Crouch, all wondering the same thing. Crouch seemed reluctant when he informed them that Harry was magically bond to compete, or else risk losing his magic. When that happened, Harry made sure to grab onto Cedric's wrist as if it were a lifeline and bite down on his trembling bottom lip. Cedric looked back at him, eyes pained, and reached over with his other hand to pat the bone-white hand gripping his wrist almost painfully tight. Harry loosened his grip and reigned it in a little as everyone seemed to accept his blatant fear.
The adults began to bat guesses at how on earth this could happen. Moody spoke up during a lull and captured everyone's attention.
"Someone probably put Potter's name in hoping he'd either lose his magic or die in one of the trials, entering him as a separate school." The grim statement was followed by silence as several around the room realized just what this was—an attempt on Harry's life—and now they would have no choice but to allow it and hope that they could intervene in time before something irreversible happened. Harry started at the ground, not fully trusting himself not to glare at Moody if he looked at him right then.
Dumbledore called the 'meeting' to an end by informing the four champions that the first task would take place on November 24th they would have until then to prepare themselves, and they weren't allowed any outside help for the tasks. They were dismissed without any signs of the celebration that this time was supposed to be.
They exited through another door out into a side corridor, so as to avoid any students that might be lingering in the Great Hall to gossip about what had happened. The adults didn't follow the champions, so they all stopped out in the corridor and introduced themselves to each other. The Beauxbatons champion was a polite girl named Fleur Delacour, though there was an underlying severity to the girl that told Harry instinctively not to underestimate her. Viktor also introduced himself to Harry, and as his sharp and penetrating gaze bore into the youngest wizard, Harry began to wonder if all the suspicious looks he'd gotten from the quidditch player were actually just his neutral expressions, and it had been unintentional. Harry wasn't sure about that one.
Cedric told Harry he would walk him back to his dorms, still wearing a slight crease between his brows as he watched the raven-haired boy worriedly. Harry only agreed to set the older wizard at ease and because he knew it wasn't too far of a walk to the Hufflepuff dorms. Cedric probably felt responsible for his fellow Hogwarts student, that and perhaps the short, amicable conversation they'd held on their way to the Quidditch World Cup over the summer. Whatever the reason, Harry was grateful for the support.
When they reached the stairs, Viktor descended into the dungeons and Fleur moved on ahead of them, leaving Harry and Cedric to ascend in companionable silence. Harry was glad Cedric didn't try to fuss over him or asking him how he was holding up, he knew he would get enough of that in the time to come. When they reached the Ravenclaw entrance, Cedric stopped Harry before he went in.
"I know we're not supposed to, but just know that if you need help you can come to me. You're not even supposed to be in this tournament, so I guess it doesn't really matter if I help you or not. Just . . . I'm always here if you need me." He offered haltingly, looking a bit unsure of himself and Harry suddenly wished he'd been paying attention during the selection ceremony so he could have seen Cedric right when his name was called, because the boy before him didn't look all that enthused about his own participation in the tournament. He wondered how much outside pressure took a part in Cedric submitting his name.
Harry smiled gratefully and bid Cedric a goodnight before slipping into the Ravenclaw common room.
As he'd expected, there were quite a few worried faces waiting for him when he entered. Harry wasn't surprised when Hermione jumped on him in a tight hug and nearly squeezed the air from his lungs, mumbling something against his shoulder about how awful the situation was.
When she finally pulled back, Harry was surprised when he was pulled tightly into the arms of another. It only took a moment for Harry to settle into the uncharacteristic 'public' show of affection from his close friend. Anthony was taller than Harry—no matter how many growth spurts Harry hit, Anthony was always several inches above him—which meant Harry's face ended up pressed against the blonde's chest as he held the smaller wizard close. He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed his friend to comfort him just as he had comforted Anthony the night before in the Great Hall.
When they pulled apart, Harry looked Anthony in the eye and whispered an honest 'thank you' before they stepped apart and faced the rest of their house still lingering in the common room. Harry noted another group in the back of the common room that were observing them curiously. Among the small group of Beauxbatons students were several boys and girls, including Miss Delacour. Harry ignored them for the time being and focused on the ones talking to him, telling him how worried they were when his name was called and filling him in a bit on what happened after he'd left.
Apparently, there were some students in both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor that believed Harry might have actually cheated. He could understand the mistrust from both houses, one was the house of the 'true' Hogwarts champion, and the other was infamous for jumping to conclusions, and stubborn to boot. However, both Ravenclaw and Slytherin didn't even dare to entertain the idea, which made Harry feel slightly proud.
Harry was glad he had their unwavering trust. It would make his job of actually trying in the tournament a lot easier, not worrying about having the entire school pitted against him.
Now, Harry just had to go get some parchment and a quill so he could write to his guardians, as well as Philias, and inform them of the situation. Knowing how protective both parties were, Harry knew that the backlash would be great and that it would be best to get it over with as soon as possible.
When Harry finished writing his letters, his dormmates were already asleep, so on a whim he decided to write one more. Using the same cardstock that the other note was on, no larger than a postcard, Harry wrote,
Tread carefully, for this game now has untold dangers. Not all bishops can survive the board.
-A Friend
Harry was sure to attach a note for Philias, telling him not to give the note to Voldemort until the papers released who the champions were. If Harry couldn't outright share his displeasure with Voldemort's plans, then he would warn him that 'Harry Potter' might not live through the trials and Voldemort needed Harry to survive till the end—or at least until Voldemort did the ritual—in order for it to work properly. Harry knew Voldemort had too much pride, heightened by his current insanity, to allow anyone or anything other than himself to kill Harry.
Hopefully it meant Voldemort would hold off on any added trouble until the ritual—or better yet, actually help Harry in some way.
Harry sighed and slumped back onto his bed. 'It's going to be a long month.'
