SHAMELESS PLUG: Please check out my original fiction on Amazon. Strangers In Boston, by T.S. Mann.
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Harry Black
and the Resurrection Game
Chapter 22: The Goblet of Fire (Part 1)
26 October 1994
Just outside Gryffindor Tower
7:00 a.m.
As Hermione Granger left the dorm for her morning classes, she was surprised to find Harry Black waiting patiently just outside.
"Good morning!" he said cheerfully. "I had a few questions about our Arithmancy homework, so I thought I would walk you to breakfast, if you don't mind."
The Gryffindor looked at him dubiously. "Really? How wildly uncharacteristic of you. And also disingenuous."
He gave a sour expression in response. "Yeah, I thought that was too cheerful when it came out of my mouth. Can we talk somewhere?"
She nodded and led him to a small, secluded alcove and set up the usual array of privacy Charms.
"Let me guess," Hermione started. "This is about yesterday afternoon, isn't it."
"Yeah," Harry answered. "I was worried about you."
Hermione smiled fondly but shook her head. "Harry, it was nothing. I just … needed some space."
"Come on, Hermione. This is me talking. You know, the deductive genius? Yesterday, you ran out of the Great Hall more upset than I've ever seen you. More upset than you were in First Year after a troll tried to smash us. And, I'll wager, more upset than you were after narrowly avoiding getting incinerated by Fiendfyre."
He tilted his head slightly. "And I'm pretty sure it had something to do with Giles Yaxley? Or at least, Giles Yaxley as you remember him from … before?"
Hermione flinched but then forced herself to relax. "You know, it's very annoying to have Young Sherlock Holmes for a friend. I wonder if this is how Dr. Watson felt all the time."
Harry said nothing. He just waited patiently, and when she saw he would not be diverted, the Gryffindor steeled herself before speaking.
"In … my prior timeline, Corban Yaxley became Minister for Magic, and his two sons, Giles and Albert, transferred to Hogwarts. You were gone. So were Jim, Theo, Blaise, and, eventually, even Neville. The Yaxley brothers quickly became the dominant students in their years. Also, after Dumbledore was forced out, the Yaxley Administration introduced a number of 'Educational Decrees' to correct supposed problems with how Hogwarts was being run. A woman named Alecto Carrow was brought in to teach Muggle Studies to replace Lily Potter, but she was quickly elevated to the post of High Inquisitor, and Giles Yaxley was tapped to be the head of her Inquisitorial Squad, students loyal to the Ministry who outranked the prefects! They … made it difficult for the Muggleborns."
Harry's concern was obvious. "More than difficult, I think, if just seeing Giles again gave you a panic attack."
She blinked her eyes and looked away for a few seconds. "At one point, it was suggested to me that if I continued to 'cheat' my way into better grades that put me ahead of 'more deserving' Pureblood students, it might be necessary for the Ministry to investigate my home life. 'And oh what a shame it would be' if my mother and father were accidentally killed while resisting arrest."
Harry's eyes flashed angrily. "Giles threatened your parents?" he asked coldly.
"Giles and Albert threatened my parents, along with … with several other Slytherins from the Inquisitorial Squad."
"He can't hurt you now, Hermione," Harry said firmly. "None of them can. I promise you."
Hermione smiled wanly and did her best to look like she believed him. Harry paused before speaking hesitantly.
"Would … would you like a hug?" His tone indicated that the boy was not eager to give her one but would if circumstances demanded it.
Hermione laughed. "No, Harry, I won't force that on you. But thank you anyway."
Then, her expression turned thoughtful. "There is something I would like from you though, if you don't mind."
"Anything," he replied.
"Can I borrow any Occlumency books you have? I think it's time I resumed my psychic studies."
The request caught him by surprise. "Don't you already have fully developed Occlumency shields? I remember Blaise whining about it last year."
"Natural shields to keep out a Legilimens, yes. But I stopped formal Occlumency instruction a while back, and now I regret it. I think I need a better handle on my emotions if I'm going to be sharing a school with the Yaxleys for a while."
Harry nodded. "Okay, I'll get you copies of all my books this afternoon. But only on one condition. If you're going to take up Occlumency, I want you to spend time with Ted Tonks. He's skilled at the psychic arts. Not up to Snape's level, but he's also a lot less scary. And anyway, his office is covered by a Healer's Confidentiality Oath. If it's possible for you to tell anyone about your Time-Turner adventures, I reckon it's him. And he can also oversee your Occlumency training and make sure you don't have any screwups."
She looked affronted. "I think I somewhat resent the implication that I might screw up my Occlumency training."
"Hermione," Harry said, suddenly quite serious. "Voldemort only exists because the most brilliant student of his generation screwed up his Occlumency … once."
She sighed. "Fair enough. I'll talk to him this afternoon. About both Occlumency and counseling. I mean, I've already been seeing him for that business at the World Cup, but if I am able to reveal my alternate history, I'll tell him about that too."
Then, the girl gave Harry an appraising look. "And will you be seeking counseling from Healer Tonks?"
Harry coughed in embarrassment. "Honestly? The way things are going, I may yet consider it. I just haven't had a chance to slow down and think about it. But I will. Think about it, I mean."
The two talked for a few moments more before heading their separate ways. But once she was alone, Hermione shuddered at a sudden memory. An image of Albert Yaxley gloating about what would happen to her parents if she ever dared to embarrass any of the Pureblood students in class again.
And Albert's new girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass, simply stood beside him and smirked.
Later, Harry found Hermione again just after lunch and discreetly passed her a couple of Occlumency books with transfigured covers to hide their true subject matters. She thanked him warmly and then dropped the books into her expanded bag where they joined the other controversial books that she'd acquired the night before.
The Hogwarts Charter. The Wizengamot Charter. A draft copy of Alexander McAvity's memoirs and collected speeches. And a Muggle book entitled Rules for Radicals by Saul Alinsky.
Meanwhile, the topic of books triggered a memory in Harry Black, and he took a moment to chat with Luna Lovegood, who he knew had a book of her own that he was suddenly interested in borrowing.
28 October 1994
The Prince's Lair
4:30 p.m.
Harry stared at the vial in his hand, the one containing the Weasley Twins' illegal version of the Elder Futhark Language Potion. Around him were the members of the Prince's Court: Theo, Blaise, Amy, and Ginny. The group had met to unwind after a rather stressful week of school. Thankfully, nothing horrible had happened since Tuesday. Harry had even found time to meditate for a bit and felt his mental defenses had recovered somewhat from all those shocks of the last few days.
"So when are you going to take it?" asked Theo.
"Tonight, after dinner," he finally said. "I should be recovered by Sunday afternoon at the absolute latest. What about you, Blaise?"
"Tomorrow afternoon after lunch. I want to see the Wu Xi Do Club in action, and there's no way I'll be able to get out of bed for it if I take the potion tonight."
"Since when have you cared the tiniest bit about the Wu Xi Do Club?!" Ginny asked.
"Honestly, I still don't care about it," Blaise replied. "But you said that Patil invited all the foreign students to come out and watch. And between Potter, McLaggen, and my cousin Fleur, it has the potential to be hilarious."
Theo grimaced. "Oof. Don't remind me! If Potter didn't have enough reasons to snap and embarrass himself, Cormac McLaggen is probably wearing on his last nerve. And to be honest, he's wearing on my last nerve, too!"
"Why?" asked Harry. "Is McLaggen not taking it seriously?"
"Hah!" Ginny laughed. "Just the opposite! McLaggen is apparently some kind of weird idiot savant when it comes to martial arts! The arse barely knows which end of his wand to point at someone in a duel, but he just picks up every martial arts maneuver we cover on the first try! Padma's actually worried she'll run out of things to teach him before the end of the year! And it's driving Jim round the twist!"
Everyone laughed, and then Blaise addressed Harry.
"So, are you trying to get your potion sickness out of the way, so you'll have time on Sunday to figure out how to enter your name in the Tournament?"
Harry gave him a sour look. "If you must know, I've already figured out at least three ways around the Age Line. Maybe four. But I still don't know if I'm going to do it."
"Why?" asked Amy. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"I get selected and have to actually compete in this stupid tournament on top of everything else happening this year. It will be a complete timewaster."
"You really think the Goblet will pick you?" asked Ginny in surprise.
"I would take offense to that if it weren't for the fact that I also think it's ridiculously unlikely," answered Harry. "I mean, I'm only a Fourth Year, and if the Tournament organizers have any sense, the Goblet won't pick someone who hasn't completely aced their OWLs, let alone someone who hasn't taken them at all. But one of those organizers is Ludo Bagman, so I can't ignore the possibility that the Goblet will consider how well someone can fly a broom. Or possibly just how much money they have in the bank."
"So what's the worst that can happen if it does pick you?"
"Humiliation on a national stage? I'd do my best since I'd be representing the whole school, but there is a huge gap between the Fourth Year curriculum and the NEWTs curriculum in every subject. Embarrassing myself in front of the whole nation is not an exciting prospect, even if I'll still be making money off selling the Eye-Spy recordings of me embarrassing myself in front of the whole nation."
"Do we even know what the challenges are yet?" asked Theo.
"Only in the broadest outlines," Harry replied. "Adrian did a little research while he was deciding whether or not to enter during his NEWTs year—I think he decided to go for it—and historically, the first challenge is some sort of creature-handling exercise. The second is usually either a capture-the-flag competition or some sort of treasure hunt. Follow clues to find the missing whatever-it-is. The third challenge is a grab-bag except that it's the only challenge where the Champions can compete directly against one another and can even attack each other in order to take out the competition. Regardless, it's going to take hours and hours of studying on top of my normal class load and my Prince responsibilities and figuring out where Erasmus Wilkes stashed all his loot and tracking down the Diadem Horcrux and …"
Amy sighed dramatically.
"Oh honestly, Harry, all this angsting is ridiculous. Whine all you want about your busy schedule, but we all know you're going to enter your name just to prove you can beat the Age Line, regardless of whether you get picked as Champion. So stop dawdling and just do it."
"You seem pretty sure of yourself," Harry said irritably.
"I know you, Harry. We all do."
Theo nodded. "And we all know that, regardless of what a boring hassle it would be to have to compete in the Tournament if you do get picked, you know that Jim Potter is going to put his name in somehow. And the merest thought of him succeeding at getting his name entered and then thinking he one-upped you would make your head explode."
Harry lifted his chin defiantly. "I'll have you know that what the Boy-Who-Lived thinks about me or any other topic is not something that concerns me in the slightest!"
The others just laughed.
"Yeah, right, Harry," said Ginny. "That might be a bit more believable if your eye hadn't started twitching just now when Amy mentioned his name."
The Prince of Slytherin was not amused.
29 October 1994
Harry's Room
1:00 p.m.
Theo knocked once before entering Harry's room with Blaise close behind.
"Harry?" Blaise asked cheerfully. "Are you dead yet?"
"Not yet … working on it," Harry mumbled from beneath his covers. Then, he threw back the blankets and regarded his two friends with bleary eyes. He looked ghastly pale, and the bucket next to his bed (currently empty thanks to the vanishing enchantments the Weasley Twins had helpfully put on it) attested to how sick the Language Potion had made him.
Despite himself, Blaise laughed at Harry's expression, only to sober upon Harry's reminder "your turn next."
"And once again," Theo remarked, "I am so glad I took CoMC instead of Ancient Runes. Anyway, we stopped off in the kitchens after lunch and picked you up a care package. You need to eat something to keep your strength up, so…"
He unloaded the small basket onto Harry's bedside table. "White toast (no butter), bananas, applesauce, and ginger ale. Courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves who all hope you get better soon."
"Mmm," moaned Harry appreciatively. "You were always my favorite, Theo. Blaise, you are, at best, in the top seven."
Harry pulled himself up into a seating position and took a slice of toast to munch on.
"Believe it or not, I am feeling better. I should be over it by tomorrow morning … when it will be our turn to mock Blaise for his suffering. So how was Wu Xi Do Club? As entertaining as Blaise was expecting?"
Blaise laughed out loud. "Oh, Harry. It was glorious."
Earlier that morning …
Padma Patil was quite pleased by the morning's turnout. There were now about thirty Hogwarts students who regularly attended Wu Xi Do classes every Saturday morning, though few had progressed beyond the level of novice. And finally, all of them were even wearing clothing that was reasonably appropriate for martial arts. (Apparently Parvati had shown Lavender a magazine about Muggle karate, and she'd figured out the trick for transfiguring regular everyday clothes into a passible imitation of a "gi.) Luckily, there was no Quidditch this year to interfere, though Padma was wise enough not to mention that thought to Jim, Ron, or any of the other guys in the club. And today, they were joined by about fifteen of the visiting students and a half-dozen faculty and staff from all three schools.
The Ravenclaw had prepared for this special session by drilling the club members relentlessly during the two prior sessions so that they could put on an effective (or at least "not embarrassing") demonstration of what they'd been learning. After their beginning warmups, stretches, and starting katas, she set up a schedule of practice bouts to demonstrate the differences in the four elemental styles and how they could be applied both in unarmed combat and as a form of simple wandless magic. Ron Weasley demonstrated how Fire Style could be helpful to incapacitate an attacker by striking precise pressure points on a training dummy. Theo Nott demonstrated how Water Style aided in maneuverability by dodging Stunners from five different wizards simultaneously. Colin Creevey and petite Amy Wilkes demonstrated their ability to break boards with their fists.
The highlight, however, was an exhibition bout between Jim Potter and Cormac McLaggen (who was shirtless once again!). She'd initially planned to pit Jim against either Ron or Theo, but Jim thought it would be boring since he'd been sparring against them both for over a year.
"Besides," Jim had said a few days earlier, "I kinda wanna take McLaggen down a peg or two."
"Well," she'd replied evenly, "I certainly expect someone is going to get taken down a peg or two."
Unfortunately, Jim had seriously underestimated how good McLaggen had gotten in just a few weeks. Worse, Jim himself had been distracted and irritable ever since breakfast, when the morning owls had delivered the latest edition of Teen Witch Weekly with Harry's dashing figure splayed across the front cover. He was wearing his Slytherin Quidditch uniform and was leaning rakishly against his Firebolt, and he had his head bowed slightly so that he could peer at the readers over the top of his glasses in what Lavender and Parvati described as a "sultry come-hither look."
"Bad enough," Jim thought angrily, "that Harry's a millionaire, Quidditch star, and master duelist who's living in my house! How can he be so much better looking than me if we're twins?!"
The talk all over the Great Hall about the article on Harry had already set Jim's teeth on edge, even more so when a First Year Gryffindor girl had asked him if he could get Harry to autograph her copy of the issue! Consequently, Jim was finding it harder than usual to focus on his technique.
Jim and Cormac took their places opposite one another and bowed respectfully before slipping into a fighting stance. Then, Padma gave the signal, and the fight commenced. And it was quite impressive given the amateur status of the two combatants. Plus, Cormac was doing that thing that Jim always found especially maddening: When the fight started, he'd had an intense expression on his face, but as soon as the punches and kicks started flying, that intensity faded away to be replaced with a bland, dull-witted expression, as if he was fighting while in a Zen trance. Or possibly while recovering from a head injury. Which Jim would not have minded had the annoying older Gryffindor not been a shockingly good fighter while in that headspace.
The two began to trade and block blows and kicks, faster and faster. Punch. Kick. Block. Sweep. Strike. At one point, Jim dropped into a crouch and tried a leg sweep, which Cormac evaded in some sort of cartwheel maneuver that carried him over Jim's leg to land on his feet and continue fighting. Cormac then punched Jim in the solar plexus hard enough to knock him onto his back, only for the Boy-Who-Lived to kick himself up off the ground so that he could punch the other Gryffindor in the stomach without missing a beat. The older Gryffindor groaned but didn't go down. He maintained his defense, and the two boys continued going back and forth with increasing speed, jumping higher and higher as they kicked at one another. Finally, Jim saw an opening for a finishing move and made a flying kick aimed at Cormac's chest. But to his shock, Cormac grabbed his ankle just before impact and stopped the kick from connecting. Then, he twisted his arms, causing Jim to spin around in a 360 before landing flat on his face.
"And that's enough for today, I think!" Padma called out.
Jim's expression was angry at first, but he calmed himself. It would do no good to lose his temper; he'd embarrassed himself enough that way over the years. He looked up towards Cormac, who shook his head for a few seconds as if to wake himself up from some daydream. Then, while Padma was making her closing remarks, McLaggen came over to him. With an amiable grin, he reached down to help Jim to his feet.
"That was amazing, Potter! Blimey, I thought you had me a few times!"
"You … It was a good fight, McLaggen. You're … really good at this."
Cormac's face lit up at the compliment. Then, he punched Jim on the shoulder (probably a bit harder than he'd meant to).
"Hey, call me Cormac. We've shared a Common Room long enough to be on a first name basis, haven't we?"
"Sure … Cormac. And you can call me Jim."
"Glad to hear it, Jimmy!" Jim winced at that. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go chat up some of those French birds. Maybe my Woozie Dough skills will have impressed some of them!"
Cormac turned and headed towards the Beauxbatons students, while Padma, who had finished her remarks, came up beside Jim.
"He's that good at Wu Xi Do," Jim said in amazement. "And yet, he still can't pronounce it!"
Padma laughed. "I know. My teachers in Shamballa used to say that some people would have innate skill at the art. It has nothing to do with practice or conditioning or … well, intelligence. Some people, once they start on the basic katas, just feel their magic harmonizing with the styles and pick it right up."
"Well, I'm slightly reassured to think that Cormac just randomly fell into something he's weirdly good at. No matter how much it hurts my ego … or my nose for that matter."
Jim rubbed his nose and brushed off the dirt from where he'd landed face first. Padma laughed. Luckily for both competitors, at their current level of mastery, neither Jim nor another of the other students could inflict any serious damage on another living being, even though many of them could punch boards with ease. Psychologically, however, the pain was real, if short-term.
"Well, I'm sorry you didn't beat him. But perhaps I could interest you in a prize for second place?"
"Oh?"
"Yes. There's a Hogsmeade Weekend coming up. And I seem to recall promising you a date."
Jim coughed. "Just to be clear, this is just our first official date, right?" He winced as his voice cracked on the word "right," thereby ruining his attempt at suaveness. Padma seemed to find it endearing, though.
"Yes," she replied. "If you can make it through lunch at Madam Puddifoot's without boring me with Quidditch talk or complaints about Cormac McLaggen or Harry Black, then we'll talk about a second date."
Their banter was interrupted by the sound of a covey of Beauxbatons girls clustering around Cormac, who was shirtless, sweaty, and flushed with victory. He was merrily demonstrating his technique with a bit of shadow boxing. Unfortunately, when Cormac was not in his trance-zone, he was often quite clumsy, and right now, he was so busy showing off that he failed to pay attention to his surroundings.
"Rule number one!" he said. "Never take your eyes off your oppon-OOF!"
As he spoke, he lashed out with a punch that was unfortunately headed straight for the head of a pretty blonde student. But then, with blinding speed, the girl (who seemed to act by pure instinct) grabbed him by the wrist, bent his arm up the elbow, and then jerked it down with enough force to flip McLaggen "arse over teakettle" so that he landed flat on his back.
"Ooh! Je suis désolée!" exclaimed Fleur Delacour as she bent to help the stunned Cormac back up.
"Fleur! Honestly!" exclaimed one of the other girls. "Eet ees always sometink with you!"
"I am sorry! Vraiment! He jus' startled me!" Then, she turned to Cormac. "Are you alright, Monseiur McLaggen?"
"Oh, fine, fine," he said easily. "It'll take more than taking me down to take me down!"
Nearby, Jim and Padma watched the scene with bemusement, while Professor Moody walked up behind them.
"Right, naturally," said Jim in consternation. "Cormac knocks me right on my arse. And then, a random French girl knocks him on his arse by accident. Shows me where I am in the pecking order, I reckon."
"I wouldn't feel too bad, Potter," said Moody, who was studying Fleur intently.
"Oh, Professor Moody?" Padma asked.
"Yeah, that wasn't entirely an accident. Since I started observing your little club, I've also done some research on Muggle martial arts. And I'm pretty sure that random French girl just took McLaggen down with a Judo flip!"
Later …
Harry laughed at Theo's recounting of the match and its aftermath. But then, he looked thoughtful.
"Thanks, I needed cheering up."
"Yes, well, you come and cheer me up tomorrow when I'm in my bed, moaning in potion-induced agony." Blaise turned and opened the door. "I'm off to take my own dose of misery now."
"Before you go, Blaise," Harry called out, "could you do something for me?"
Blaise turned back to his friend only to pause at his suddenly serious expression. "What do you need?"
"Well, I'm not entirely sure," said Harry, "but I think I need to finally hear from you exactly what Fleur Delacour's deal is. Don't you agree?"
Blaise sighed and closed the door once more. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I do."
30 October 1994
4:30 p.m.
It was half an hour before the start of the feast and the official Lighting of the Goblet!as Ludo Bagman's exuberant press release had put it, but Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape were not in the Hall. Rather, they had assembled at the front gates to welcome some final guests who were almost two hours late. Finally, a blue Ford Anglia pulled up beside them and parked. The driver (who was a somewhat embarrassed James Potter!) exited the front door and nodded at the three teachers before opening the back door for the passengers. The first was champion duelist Julian Montmorency, who climbed out stiffly before taking a moment to stretch his back. Only then did he step forward with a smile to greet the Headmaster.
"Albus! Wonderful to be here … at last!" The last two words were added acerbically and accompanied by a nod towards James, who flushed slightly.
"Er, yes," James said with a grimace. "I was the only person available who was cleared to drive a Muggle vehicle, but there were some unexpected detours."
Montmorency laughed. "By which he means the map provided for him by the Ministry was from the 1940s!"
"Ah well," said Dumbledore. "You are here now, my old friend!"
"I am indeed, and in the company of an even older friend! Though If I had it to do over again, I might have just Apparated."
Montmorency gestured towards the car, but to Dumbledore's surprise, it was not Nicholas Flamel who exited the car next, but rather a stern-looking woman in a Mediwitch's robes. She looked fairly young, and yet her cool expression made her look much older than her years, with her hair pulled back into a bun so tight it looked painful.
"Oh yes," said Montmorency. "Do allow me to introduce my other traveling companion. May I present Fräulein Greta Müller, who is here as Master Flamel's … caregiver."
The Mediwitch clicked her heels together and gave a very sharp nod of her head.
"Guten Abend, Herr Dumbledore," she snapped before turning back to the car. From a pocket of her robes, she produced a tiny wheelchair that fit in the palm of her hand. She placed it on the ground and then loudly barked out a German command word that caused the chair to expand back to full size. Then, she bent her head into the interior of the vehicle.
"Vake up!" she yelled with a thick German accent. "Ve are vaiting!"
"Oh I wasn't sleeping, my little thumbscrew," came a raspy voice from inside. "I was feigning death so that I could enjoy the ride in peace."
And with that, a wizened pale hand reached out for Müller to grasp, and with a grunt, the Mediwitch helped a positively ancient and decrepit man in white robes to exit the car. Though over 650 years old, Nicholas Flamel did not look a day over 3000. His skin was grey and his long hair a silvery white. His face was full of wrinkles, but his eyes still spoke of a great intelligence that was only now being betrayed by his body. Even with Müller's help, Flamel had obvious difficulty in pulling himself from the car and settling down into the wheelchair. James moved to grasp the handles of the chair to maneuver it and the elderly man away from the vehicle, but Müller slapped his hand and gave him a severe look. James held up his hands placatingly and stepped aside as Müller took over control of the chair and pushed it over to where Dumbledore awaited them.
"Nicholas, my old friend. So wonderful to see you. It's been many years since you visited Hogwarts."
"Too many. And I apologize both for my own tardiness and the late arrival I foisted on young Montmorency here. Alas, Fräulein Müller says that in my current health, I cannot risk a Portkey, let alone Apparation, and so the Ministry made alternate arrangements."
"So I see." Dumbledore called out to James. "I say, James. Is that Arthur Weasley's car?"
"It is," the ex-Auror replied. "I was assigned to deliver your last two judges from the Edinburgh airport to here and also to stick around in case Master Flamel needs any additional ground transport. For the time being, my official title is 'Nicholas Flamel's driver and bodyguard,' which allows me to visit Hogwarts without the castle going mad and trying to kill me or anything. Arthur let me borrow his Anglia for the trip. I'll be staying at the Three Broomsticks for the foreseeable future."
And with that, James turned around and tapped the Anglia with his wand. For several seconds, there was a horrific sound of twisting metal as the Anglia folded in on itself, again and again, getting smaller with each fold, until finally, it snapped shut in the shape of a brown leather attaché case, which James then picked up with one hand. The others all watched in bemusement (except for Snape, who just rolled his eyes at the display) before heading inside for the feast.
The feast itself passed uneventfully, though the students found the new layout of the hall unusual. It had been expanded again, with a raised platform that surrounded the student tables on three sides like a large "U." Dumbledore had announced at one point that they were expecting nearly 100 guests on the following night, including Minister Fudge himself, and so all Hogwarts students were to be on their best behavior. He also took the opportunity to introduce the judges once again for the Triwizard Tournament, all twenty-four of whom were in attendance.
Once the feast was concluded, Dumbledore descended from the Head Table, accompanied by Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman. The three men stood in front of the plinth bearing the Goblet of Fire, and together, they cast the spells to cancel the wards that had protected it from anyone getting too close. Then, Crouch spoke out.
"As Director for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and in the name of the British Ministry of Magic, acting under the authority vested in me by Minister Cornelius Fudge, I, Bartimius Crouch, do hereby declare that the Triwizard Tournament has BEGUN!"
As he spoke, he pointed his wand towards the Goblet, and with the final word, a bolt of flames shot out of his wand to ignite the Goblet, which then erupted in an eerie blue flame. The assembled crowd applauded loudly. Then, Dumbledore stepped forward with his wand raised, and he cast a lengthy incantation to reactivate the Age Line, which would prevent anyone below the age of seventeen from entering their names or even drawing close enough to try.
Ludo Bagman opened his mouth to say something, but Crouch angrily elbowed him in the ribs before he could speak.
"The Age Line will persist for 24 hours," Dumbledore announced. "Tomorrow night, at 7:00 p.m. precisely, it will fall. Between now and then, any students who are under the age of 17 but who have parental consent to enter the tournament may turn in their entry forms, which must be signed by both the student and at least one parent or guardian, to their school's Headmaster or, in the case of Hogwarts students, their Head of House. Entries must be submitted no later than 3:00 p.m. tomorrow so that we will have time to authenticate the parents' signatures. All of those names will be entered at once by myself after the Age Line falls. In keeping with the magical requirements of the Goblet of Fire, any students who are of age are free to enter their own names at any point between now and then."
Then, Dumbledore looked at once disgruntled and resigned.
"As I'm sure you are all aware by now, underage students may attempt to bypass the Age Line. I wish to advise you all that even if you do manage to do so, the Goblet will not consider any student under the age of 17 who enters their name without an attached parent's signature. Furthermore, in addition to the Age Line, the Great Hall will be locked with the Colloportus Charm from the moment we all leave here tonight until it reopens for breakfast tomorrow. Finally, the windows to the Great Hall will be warded to give off an alarm if any human beings attempt to pass through them.
"And on one final note, I do encourage all those who plan to enter to think carefully before doing so. While we certainly do not expect our modern Triwizard Tournament to carry any of the inherent dangers of its earlier iterations, the contest judges have only set the parameters of the Challenges. It is the Goblet itself that will set the precise Challenges to be undertaken according to those parameters, and the Tournament judges will have no discretion in altering the Challenges once the Goblet has set them. We anticipate that the eventual Challenges may call for NEWT-level expertise in Herbology, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Runeworking, to name only a few of the Challenge subjects that are potentially dangerous for those without the requisite skill and training. And once a Champion has been selected, the Goblet itself will not permit him or her to withdraw without exacting a terrible penalty on that Champion! So please. Think carefully about whether you wish to subject yourself to the awful price of being selected and then withdrawing."
There was a murmur of comments from across the room at the Headmaster's portentous announcement.
"Laying it on a bit thick, isn't he?" Theo whispered while leaning in to Harry.
"A bit. But if this penalty—which Dumbledore has not bothered to name—was set by the judges and not by the Goblet itself, I'm not that worried. Whatever it is, there's no way Dumbledore would allow a student to be hurt or worse by the Goblet if they were injured and couldn't continue to compete."
With the Age Line in place, Dumbledore called the feast to a close, and the students retired to their dorms (or their boat or carriage, as the case may be).
Later around 2:00 a.m.
The Great Hall was dark save for the eerie glow emanating from the Goblet of Fire. The room was also utterly silent … save for the barely audible clink of a magically created grappling hook as it found purchase against the sill of a window more than sixty feet above the floor, followed by a soft whirr as the magical rope generated by the Carpe Retractum Spell pulled its caster up to the window.
As she perched for a moment on the windowsill, the caster was nearly invisible against the darkened sky, covered entirely as she was by a jet black catsuit with a balaclava covering her head and goggles over her eyes. She peered into the room carefully to make certain she was alone and unobserved. Then, she carefully studied the space in front of her through the enchanted goggles fashioned to detect wards of all kinds. Satisfied that whatever detection wards covering the windows were no match for L'Inconnu's most advanced stealth suit, she was nevertheless anxious as she stretched her hand forward across the threshold of the window. With her goggles, she could see the flicker of magic sparkling against the jet-black material, but no alarm was triggered.
Fleur smiled.
Then, she crouched before making a cat-like leap to a nearby balustrade almost twenty feet away, barely catching the edge of it with her fingers before hauling herself up onto it. The other balustrades along the wall were closer though, only ten feet apart, and she jumped easily from one to the next until she was even with the Goblet of Fire and the shimmering Age Line that surrounded it. But before Fleur Delacour could lower herself to the floor to enter her name, she froze upon hearing a sound from the door directly behind the Headmaster's chair. Instantly, her wand was in her hand, and she cast three Charms in quick succession that she'd learned to cast silently before she was twelve: Disillusionment, Silencio, and Notice-Me-Not.
And just in time, for the door in question suddenly opened … only to close once more seconds later with no sign of anyone having passed through. Fleur stayed frozen with all her senses focused on the area in front of the door, but she saw nothing. She did hear something though, but she wasn't sure what. Just some barely audible buzzing sound.
Meanwhile, Harry and the Weasley Twins remained crouched under the Potter Cloak and protected by Harry's Muffliato Charm. Harry had a bag slung over his shoulder and also clutched his Firebolt in his offhand.
"So," Fred whispered, "we're in. Are we just going to stand here for a while or what?"
"Shh!" Harry hissed.
He studied the room with all his Legilimency senses actively looking for any hidden spells or traps. It had been the Twins who had gotten them this far. Dumbledore had sealed the room with an advanced Colloportus Charm. However, as Fred had been happy to explain, magical locking spells were designed to counteract magical unlocking spells. Most locking spells did nothing against an actual key meant to open the lock in question, or else the key rings carried around by Hagrid and Filch would have been pointless. And any lock that could be opened by a nonmagical key was also vulnerable to nonmagical lockpicks (a fact that Harry found interesting, and he resolved to learn how to pick locks whenever his busy schedule left time for it).
But for all Harry's Legilimency prowess, he could detect nothing. And yet, he still thought there was something in the Hall that he couldn't quite perceive but was nevertheless subconsciously aware of. Before he had time to think about it anymore, however, he was distracted by an unexpected sight: a black bird flying in through one of the high windows with a folded paper clutched in its beak. It circled the room twice before landing on one of the crossbeams quite near where Fleur was perched, still hardly daring to breathe. It looked around jerkily before taking wing once more. This time, it flew higher before abruptly disappearing completely. In fact, it had merely flown into the space between the illusion of the night sky that was magically projected onto the ceiling and the ceiling itself. Just two seconds later, the raven reappeared, now in a dead fall heading straight for the Goblet of Fire! Halfway down, the bird began desperately flapping its wings to pull itself out of its dive, and it came to rest on the edge of the plinth. It hopped around to the front of the plinth before jumping up and dropping the folded paper into the Goblet.
Instantly, the Goblet let out a gout of blue flames that startled the bird and caused it to take wing. Its course caused it to pass through the Age Line from the inside, and there was a sudden flash of light as the raven was transformed back into Jim Potter, who was promptly hurled a good twenty feet away from the Goblet and towards the sealed doors. He landed on the ground and slid another few feet.
"Ooof!" he said, before coming to a halt. Then, the Boy-Who-Lived slowly pulled himself up to his feet and brushed himself off.
"Bloody hell, Dumbledore!" he whispered loudly. "So much for this contest not being dangerous!"
He took a moment to look around the room. Then, Jim took two quick steps towards the door before turning back into a raven and flying out the same window through which he'd entered. A second later, the Potter Cloak was whipped aside, and George Weasley strode forward with a shocked expression.
"Jim Potter? Is a bloody Raven Animagus?! When did that happen?!"
"Sometime over the summer, I think," said Harry. "Also, he's an illegal Raven Animagus. Does that make it better or worse?"
George looked thoughtful. "Bit of both, I suppose."
"Well personally," added Fred, "I'm just miffed that we spent a week brewing an Aging Potion to walk past the barrier when all we really needed to do was bite into a Canary Cream and then fly right over it!"
"You both have time to run back to Gryffindor Tower and grab a couple, I think," Harry said amiably.
"Naah!" Fred replied. "Feels like cheating to just copy what Bird Boy figured out first, I reckon."
"Jim Potter is an illegal Raven Animagus," George repeated. "Un-bloody-believable."
"Well either way, he's gone now," Harry said while opening up his backpack. "And if you don't mind, I'll be going first, since I'm slightly worried about your exotic and untested potion landing you in the Infirmary. No offense, but I want to get my name in first before I have to worry about getting you medical attention."
"Fair enough," said Fred. "So what's your plan, Harry? Just fly up to the top and toss your name in like it's a Quaffle?"
"Pfft. Nothing so pedestrian, Fred."
And with that, Harry pulled a copy of Standard Book of Spells, Year 7 from his bag, along with a small box.
"Blimey," said George. "Year Seven?! What spell are you using?"
Harry smiled, opened the book to a marked page, and pointed to a particular Charm. George's eyes widened.
"You think you can cast that?!"
"Yes, actually. The spell is intended to let you animate and command objects large objects provided they sufficiently resemble living creatures, like statues or suits of armor."
"Or ridiculously theatrical giant chess sets," he thought to himself as his mind flashed back to McGonagall's trap from his First Year.
"But," he continued, "it turns out that the actual difficulty of the Charm lies in how hard it is to give life to something heavy and solid and also to give it the ability to follow complex instructions on its own initiative. It turns out the Charm isn't very hard at all when cast on something small and light that you can concentrate on fully and that won't need to move for more than a moment or two while performing a simple task. Case in point …"
With a flourish, Harry opened the box and removed its contents. The Twins were suitably confused.
"And what's that supposed to be?" asked Fred.
"My entry form," Harry said with a grin, "carefully folded into the shape of an origami spider."
With that, he turned back to the spell book for one last review of the Charm. Then, he carefully performed the complex wand movements outlined in the book while intoning "PIERTOTUM LOCOMOTOR." And after a few seconds, the origami spider's legs began to twitch, and it began to crawl around the table.
"Okay, that's just creepy," said Fred. "I think I have more sympathy now for Ron's arachnophobia."
Harry gestured with his wand and the spider moved in response, quickly jumping onto his outstretched hand and crawling up his arm.
"Creepy, yes," Harry said. "But very effective."
As he spoke, the spider finally reached his shoulder where it waited for further orders. Then, Harry mounted his broomstick and floated upwards while carefully staying as close to the Age Line as he dared. Once near the ceiling, he slowed his ascent until his head was poking above the illusory sky and he could see the actual ceiling just a few feet above. He picked the paper spider from his shoulder and then lightly tossed it up towards the stone ceiling, training his wand on it as he did. And while the spider was just a construct of paper, while under the influence of the Animation Charm, it had most of the properties of a real spider. Just before it could bounce off and fall, the spider flipped itself around so that its legs could grasp the surface of the ceiling. At Harry's direction, the spider crawled over until it was in the center of the Age Line. Harry ducked down and back up again several times to maneuver the spider so that it was exactly over the Goblet. If he was right about the mechanics of the Age Line, he would not be able to maintain control over the spider once it fell more than a few feet and was within the ward's protection, so he would only have one chance to get this right.
"Drop," Harry whispered. And with that, the spider let go, tucking its eight legs against its body as it fell. The Slytherin watched, hardly daring to breathe, as the origami spider, now once more devoid of artificial life, dropped all the way down to land right in the center of the Goblet of Fire. The Goblet shot out another gout of blue flame, and Harry gave a fist pump before floating back down to where the gobsmacked Twins were waiting.
"Way to go, Harry!" said Fred. "Nicely done!"
"The easiest 5,000 galleons we've ever made!" George added.
Harry laughed. "Pretty sure it's the only 5,000 galleons you've ever made. And happy to be of service. Now then, let's see if your Aging Potion can get the job done so we can get some sleep before tomorrow."
The Twins nodded, and Fred pulled out a vial of an orange liquid. He filled an eyedropper from it and then carefully placed one drop on his tongue before handing it off to George, who followed suit.
"You don't look any different," Harry finally said.
"We weren't expecting to," George explained. "We only need to be about six months older, after all. Ready, Fred?"
"Ready, George."
Then, the Twins walked up to the Age Line side-by-side and, after a brief pause, took a step across. For a second, nothing happened. Then, there was a bang and a flash of light, and the two Weasleys were flung out of the circle to land painfully on the floor. And to their mutual surprise, they both now sported long grey beards.
Harry chuckled. "And people say Dumbledore has no sense of humor."
He fished a vial of green liquid out of his own bag and handed it off to the Twins. "Take no more than half-a-teaspoon. It's hard to come by."
Fred sniffed the vial and then shrugged and took a small taste. Then, he hiccupped loudly, and his new beard vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Nice. What is it?" Fred asked as he handed the vial to George.
"Mandrake Restorative Potion," Harry said idly as he moved closer to the Age Line to examine it.
"What? That stuff that they used to cure all the petrification victims two years ago?"
"Yep. It's not just for reviving petrified people, though. It can instantly undo most Transfiguration-type effects on living creatures. I nicked some from the Infirmary last year. You never know when it might come in handy."
Then, Harry raised his wand and cast a very complex wand movement. The Age Line lit up briefly before giving off a number of bright sparks that quickly organized themselves into a runic matrix floating in midair. Instantly, George jumped up in excitement.
"That's a Cursebreaker's Rune Decrypter! Where the hell did you learn that?!"
"I'm a Slytherin, George. I know people. Do you know this Charm?"
"No," he said dejectedly. "We haven't been able to coax it out of Bill yet, though not for lack of trying. But I tell you what—if you teach me that Charm, I'll knock 1% off the life debt you owe me!"
Harry looked at him sharply. "You actually think knowing how to illegally decrypt rune schemes is worth 1% of your entire life?!"
George grinned. "What's the point of life if you can't spend it well?"
The Slytherin scoffed. "Your moral framework is insane! Do you know that?"
Both Twins laughed before examining the rune scheme more carefully.
"Okay," said George. "That bit right there is the trigger. If you're under 17, it triggers one of several responses. The most basic response just won't let you through at all, but there are other responses. The one that hit us targets people whose body registers as over 17, but not their minds."
Harry grew thoughtful. "So, the Age Line can't definitively know how old you are? It can consider your biological age, but can also compare it to your mental age and see if they match?"
"I think so." George pointed to a different part of the rune scheme. "This other bit here is intent-based. It can zero in on the fact that deep down, we know we're not old enough to cross the line, and that triggers a response to stop us from crossing."
"Interesting," Harry replied. "So … do either of you know the Confundus Curse?"
The Twins looked at one another in response.
"We know it," said Fred, "but we're not very good with it."
Harry shrugged. "Are you good enough to change one little fact and make each other believe that your birthday was yesterday and that you're already 17?"
Both Twins broke out into broad grins.
"I dunno," said George. "Let's see!"
Quickly, they each took another dose of the Aging Potion, as those effects had also been undone by the Mandrake potion. Then, George pointed his wand at Fred.
"CONFUNDO! Your birthday was yesterday. You are of age."
Fred's eyes looked dazed for a second. But then, he shook his head and, with a sudden confident swagger, stepped over the Age Line without incident and dropped his entry form into the Goblet. A few seconds later, he stepped back out again, and George cancelled the spell.
"Nothing to it!" he said cheekily. Then, Fred cast the same spell on George, who was equally as successful in placing his name in the Goblet.
"Okay!" Harry said while clapping his hands together. "Mission accomplished. Mischief managed. Can we go to bed now?"
And with that, the three boys collected their things and exited the way they'd come in. A few seconds later, Fleur finally relaxed and dismissed her concealment Charms. She did a graceful flip off the balustrade before grasping the support column beneath it with her arms and legs and then sliding down to the ground. Quickly, she darted over to the Goblet of Fire, passing through the Age Line without incident, and tossed her own entry form inside. There was a familiar gout of blue flame to show that her form had been accepted.
Fleur looked around the now-empty hall and thought about what she'd just observed. Illegal Animagi. Sixteen-year-old boys able and willing to cast the Confundus on each other. And a fourteen-year-old boy who could crack encrypted ward schemes with ease and who, she felt certain, could have penetrated her Concealment Charms had he not been distracted by the aforementioned illegal Animagus.
"Mon dieu," she muttered. "This place is a madhouse."
Then, she swiftly turned and ran for the far wall, where she cast her Grappling Hook Charm once more and pulled herself back up to the window. She took one last look back at the Goblet before disappearing like a thief in the night.
31 October 1994
Hogwarts Front Courtyard
4:00 p.m.
As a prelude to that evening's feast and the Goblet's selection, a large open-air tent (enchanted for warmth) had been constructed in the Courtyard in front of the entryway to the castle. There, the adult visitors and dignitaries would mingle and enjoy some light appetizers and libations while the house elves finished the last-minute preparations for the feast itself. In addition to the judges and visiting faculties, dozens of prominent wizards and witches from across Britain were on hand for what had been hailed by the Daily Prophet society pages as the social event of the season. Indeed, Rita Skeeter was not the only reporter on hand; to her chagrin, her rival, Andrew Smudgley, was also on hand, along with Winnie Greengrass of Witch Weekly, and there were multiple photographers present snapping pictures of the guests in their finery.
For the most part, the younger students had been firmly directed to avoid the tent, which led to a certain amount of grumbling on their part. But Dumbledore had chosen not to completely ban students from the get-together, as it represented a prime networking opportunity for the upper year students. And so, quite a few students—Prefects, Quidditch Captains, and other student leaders—were permitted to attend the function. Naturally, there were also quite a few younger students (whether from prominent families or who just had the right connections) who were also allowed into the tent, if not to partake in any alcoholic beverages.
One such student was Hermione Granger, who was escorting Viktor Krum around the tent and introducing him to various prominent individuals, most of whom she herself only knew by reputation. If she saw any benefit to meeting influential wizards while on the arm of one of the most famous Quidditch stars in Europe, she kept it to herself. Ludo Bagman, in particular, was eager to meet with Krum and asked if he would consider any offers from British teams. Viktor looked around for a second to see if any other Durmstrang students were listening in before allowing himself to be drawn into a conversation with the gregarious Bagman. Hermione, for her part, struggled to feign interest in Quidditch when, luckily, she was distracted by someone calling her name. It was Ron Weasley.
"Hermione! There you are! I have someone I want you to meet!"
The excited Ron rushed over with two adult wizards following behind while Hermione stepped away in their direction. She noticed that one of them was an Auror wearing a dress uniform, while the other was a civilian. It was the latter who drew Ron's excited attention.
"Leonard, this is Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor in my year, and the brightest witch I know. Hermione, this is Leonard Dagworth-Granger. He's a Healer who works at St. Mungo's in the Spell Damage Ward."
"And I'm John," quipped the Auror. "Don't mind me. I'm just here for the free meal."
The Healer elbowed the other man in the ribs and whispered "behave" before addressing the two students.
"My sarcastic friend here is John Dawlish, one of the Senior Aurors. I'm actually here as his 'plus one.' And it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger."
"I wanted you two to meet because of your last names," said Ron. "I was wondering if you might be related somehow."
At that, Hermione's face suddenly assumed a brittle expression. "My understanding is that we are not," she said somewhat coolly.
"Oh?" the Healer asked in surprise. "You've already researched our family history?"
"I … made some inquiries two years ago. I was informed rather firmly that we are not related because the House of Dagworth-Granger has never produced any squibs from whom I could be descended."
"…You made … inquiries?" Leonard said in what sounded like mild dismay.
Meanwhile, Dawlish exhaled loudly while snatching two fresh glasses of champagne from a tray that floated past.
"Hoo-boy," he said almost in resignation. "I take it you wrote to Cressida."
"I did," Hermione answered with a hint of defiance in her tone. "Her reply was quick and to the point."
In response, Leonard put his hands over his face as if trying to block out a terrible mental image.
"Did she drop the M-word?" asked Dawlish before taking a sip from his drink while holding the other glass out to his boyfriend.
"John! That's not funny…"
"She did, actually." Hermione said flatly. "There was also a threat of a defamation lawsuit if I pressed the issue."
Leonard turned back to her with his eyes wide in horror. Then, he took the drink from Dawlish's hand before draining it in one swig. Ron, meanwhile, looked back and forth between the three people, now suddenly regretting that he'd ever introduced them. The Auror, however, just snorted derisively.
"Please. Like Wizard Britain actually has defamation laws."
"You're not helping!" Leonard whispered angrily to him before turning back to Hermione. "Look, Miss Granger—Hermione—I want to apologize for anything inappropriate that Great-Aunt Cressida may have said. She's just …"
His voice suddenly trailed off as he struggled to find the right word.
"Set in her ways?" Hermione offered.
"Nah," Dawlish drawled. "She's just a greedy old bitch."
"John!" exclaimed Leonard.
Dawlish ignored his boyfriend and spoke directly to Hermione with a sardonic expression.
"Don't feel too badly, Miss Granger. I'm pureblooded going back six generations, and she treats me like scum as well."
"Johnny, please…" Leonard said almost plaintively. Then, he turned back to Hermione.
"Hermione, as Heir to House Dagworth-Granger, I wish to apologize for any insult my Head of House gave to you. And if you are willing, I would very much like to meet with you at some later time to talk with you about possibly integrating into our House at some point in the future."
"Hopefully the near future," Dawlish repeated. "Because Cressida is 127 years old. The bitch has to die sometime."
Leonard glared at his partner before turning back to Hermione with a hopeful expression.
"Give him a chance, Hermione," Ron said earnestly. "I know Leonard. He's not a bigot or anything. And he helped me out a lot. You can trust him."
Hermione wavered before nodding. "Alright. If you wish to meet with me in the future, send me an owl. We'll see what we can schedule."
"I'll be back up here before too long teaching a seminar for Alastor Moody," Dawlish added helpfully. "Perhaps we can schedule it around that."
"Oh, yeah?" Ron asked. "What will you be lecturing on, if you don't mind saying?"
Dawlish grimaced slightly and looked suddenly guilty.
"Oh, you know," he mumbled. "This and that."
Leonard looked at his partner suspiciously but did not press the issue.
Elsewhere in the tent, a small group had coalesced around Nicholas Flamel who seemed delighted at all the attention, even as his long-suffering nurse fumed and rolled her eyes at his display. The group included Dumbledore, Elphias Doge, Porpentina Goldstein, and Julian Montmerency, and they happily regaled each other with tales from their days fighting together during the Grindelwald Conflict and the Muggle War that had been its backdrop. James Potter stood nearby, and he felt oddly like a schoolboy again while standing around such legendary figures.
"So there Newt was," said Tina. "At the VE Day Victory Party in Manhattan in front of half the Magical Congress of the United States, drunk as a skunk and without any pants on! And President Seraphina Piquery herself has the nerve to yell at him for his 'appalling lack of decorum on this most sacred day!' So naturally, Albus, who was also in his cups, had to speak up in Newt's defense and say …"
She turned towards Dumbledore expectantly and grinned. The Headmaster blushed furiously but nevertheless took over the tale.
"As I recall—through the passage of time and the haze of American gin—I said something along the lines of 'It could be worse, Madam President. He could be wearing a hat as ridiculous as yours!' At which point, Tina, her sister Queenie, and Eulalie all but tackled us and Apparated us away before any Aurors could be summoned!"
The others laughed, and then laughed even harder when he added: "And if memory serves, we never did find poor Newt's trousers!"
The laughter was intruded upon by a very timid "hem-hem," and everyone in the group turned to notice two figures standing nearby: a man in dress Auror robes and a woman in black formal robes, over which she wore a bright pink satin stole that matched her pink earrings and her pink clutch purse. Albus smiled at them and beckoned them closer.
"My friends, allow me to introduce two of our Ministry representatives: Senior Auror Pius Thicknesse and Madame Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."
Albus then politely introduced those in his group, though most of them needed no introduction. After a few moments of chit-chat (marked by repeated glances towards Nicholas Flamel), Umbridge finally worked up the nerve to speak, only to swiftly descend into nervous babbling.
"Master Flamel, please do forgive my impertinence for asking … I'm sure you get asked all the time, so don't hesitate to say no if you don't wish to … it's just …"
"Out vith it," muttered Nurse Müller, which caused Dolores to blush even harder. Flamel took pity on her.
"My dear lady, please excuse my nurse. Greta's under a curse, you see. If she's not allowed to be rude to people at every opportunity, she will turn back into a frog. Now, what can I do for you?"
Umbridge took a second to clear her throat. "I was wondering, Master Flamel, if I might have an autograph," she asked earnestly.
"Of course, my dear," Flamel responded brightly. "Have you an autograph book or …?"
"Actually, sir," she said while reaching into her magically expanded purse. "I was hoping you would be willing to sign this."
And with that, she produced a moderately thick and very old book, which she passed over to the ancient wizard. He turned it over to examine the cover and gasped.
"Life in the Time of Revolution by Nicholas Flamel. My word, wherever did you find this?! It's been out of print since 1850!"
Umbridge coughed demurely. "I have a very keen interest in history, sir. And, well, my current position affords me a certain amount of luxury that I've never had before, and I have chosen, where possible, to spend it on good books about the past. I found your memoirs of your time in Paris during the French Revolution and later during the Napoleonic War in the Hogwarts Library when I was a girl and found them utterly captivating. I had to search high and low to find a copy for private sale."
"You're very kind, my dear." Flamel produced his wand and waved it over the title page. "There we are! 'To Dolores Umbridge. Warmest regards to my biggest fan. Nicholas Flamel.'"
Despite her best efforts, Umbridge tittered slightly as she took the book back.
"Has our illustrious Minister made his appearance yet?" asked Elphias Doge.
"I believe so, Lord Doge," said Thicknesse, who started looking around. "Ah, there he is!"
Thicknesse pointed to the far side of the tent, where Fudge was talking with Amelia Bones, Sirius Black, and Harry Black. James winced at the sight of both his former blood-brother and his former son, but no matter how much he wanted to talk to them and try to clear the air, he knew that the Oath of Enmity made it impossible.
"Ah yes," said Doge in a slightly strangled voice at the sight of Cornelius Fudge. "And he's wearing the lime green bowler, I see."
"Personally," said Dumbledore, "I find Cornelius's commitment to his own fashion style to be quite admirable."
Flamel snorted at his former apprentice, resplendent in robes of purple and gold. "Yes, Albus, I imagine you would."
And the Minister for Magic was indeed wearing his infamous bowler hat as he chatted with Amelia, Sirius, and Harry. For his part, Sirius had been asking some rather pointed questions about the current whereabouts of Peter Pettigrew. The Chief Auror was apologetic.
"I am sorry, Sirius. But as I told you, the trail's gone cold for the time being. Our last information about Pettigrew and Rookwood puts them in Eastern Europe, but no more recently than the start of the summer. I can only say that we have no reason to think either of them is in Britain right now."
"Other than the presence of werewolves at the World Cup finals," Sirius added sharply. Both of the Ministry officials looked pained.
"I understand your concerns, Sirius," said Fudge apologetically. "But the claims that Peter Pettigrew has some sort of control over werewolves are circumstantial and, in my opinion, highly unlikely."
Harry glowered but said nothing. The evidence was "circumstantial" only because he, Lily, and Jim had agreed to keep quiet about the role of Remus Lupin in the events that took place the previous spring in the Shrieking Shack. While he was a werewolf no longer, the fact that he had been would raise too many questions if publicly revealed. Then, Harry blinked rapidly as a sudden thought tickled the edges of his Occlumency. But he lost the thought just as quickly when the Minister addressed him.
"But enough of these unpleasant thoughts about Peter Pettigrew. Tell me, Lord Wilkes, how is your Eye-Spy venture coming along? I purchased one of your viewers myself. The depiction of the World Cup competition was extraordinary! Why it was like I was right up there with Viktor Krum himself during the finals!"
"Thank you, sir," replied Harry. "And please do call me Harry. Anyway, sales have been quite brisk so far, especially considering our 'programming' consists only of Cup matches at the moment. But—I don't know if you've heard—we have a contract with the Triwizard Tournament organizers and will be recording events surrounding it as well. In fact, there's an Eye-Spy waiting in the Great Hall right now ready to record the Goblet's selection later."
Amelia chuckled. "We should have hired you to keep one of your Eye-Spies covering the Goblet of Fire all last night. I think Albus is still worried that some underaged students might have actually gotten their names entered. I know the teachers caught two last night trying to break into the Great Hall."
"Shocking," said Harry, his face a mask of innocence. "Still, I can't imagine any underage students being selected by the Goblet, so there's probably no harm in it."
Sirius gave Harry a funny look but said nothing, while Fudge and Amelia laughed.
"I suppose you're right, Harry," said Fudge. "You know, it occurs to me … I wasn't planning on giving a speech tonight, but if your company will be marketing Tournament recordings, perhaps I should say a few words."
Harry grinned and thought that if he'd been a cartoon character, dollar signs would have just appeared in his eyes.
"I think I can do better than that, Minister Fudge. By any chance, are you familiar with a Muggle concept called 'political advertising?'"
Not far away, Fleur Delacour gave every appearance of listening to a conversation among several of her Beauxbatons peers about makeup tips while actually eavesdropping on Harry's conversation with Minister Fudge while also trying to watch Jim Potter (who was off by himself scarfing canapes while bearing a rather shifty and nervous expression). Unfortunately, that form of covert surveillance was often a bit distracting even for her, and so she was caught by surprise as she took a step to the left in order to keep Jim in view only to bump into someone in the process. It was a young man with shockingly red hair, and while trying to avoid spilling his drink on Fleur, he only managed to spill champagne on himself instead.
"Oh, excusez-moi." said Fleur with genuine embarrassment before switching to English. "I mean, pardon me."
"Oh, no," he assured her. "It's quite alright. Entirely my fault. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going."
"Please, allow me," Fleur said before pulling out her wand and vanishing the spill with a flick of her wand.
"C'est bien notre Fleur Du Mal," said Sophie Montessi with a nasty smirk. "Tellement maladroite qu'elle a dû apprendre les sortilèges informulés pour nettoyer derrière elle."
Sophie and the other girls around her laughed. Fleur flushed slightly, but before she could respond, the redhead replied in perfect French.
"Comme je le disais, l'incident était entièrement de ma faute. Et, veuillez pardonner ma curiosité, combien de sortilèges informulés connaissez-vous ?"
Sophie wrinkled her nose disdainfully while Fleur smiled at the young man's gallantry.
"Your French eez tres bien, Monsieur …"
"Weasley, mam'selle," he said politely. "Percival Weasley."
Four hours later …
As the feast drew to a close, Dumbledore introduced Barty Crouch "to say a few words before the selection." This was obviously an attempt at levity on the Headmaster's part as Crouch spoke for over half an hour, droning on about how much work had gone into making the Triwizard Tournament happen and calling out by name every single person who had played a role. He even (with obvious difficulty) welcomed Alexander McAvity in his capacity as representative of the ICW.
Everyone in the room was trying gamely to at least look like they weren't being bored to death. Idly, Harry looked over towards the back corner, where Anthony and Sue were hunched over an enchanted mirror, watching the Eye-Spy feed. Beside them, Colin Creevey directed the golden orb floating overhead with his wand as it recorded the speeches. Harry smiled. While still a bit hyperactive, young Creevey seemed to have a real gift for the visual arts, having graduated from still photos to cinematography.
Blaise leaned over to him. "Any last minute bets?"
"Surely it's too late to place a bet now," Harry whispered back.
And indeed he had reviewed the current odds with Blaise before entering the hall. As far as he knew, no fewer than ten Hogwarts students who were legal adults had crossed the Age Line to enter their names since that morning, and another dozen students who were not yet seventeen turned in signed permission slips which Dumbledore personally in the Goblet just before the feast commenced.
Diggory was still the odds-on favorite, but all three of the Gryffindor Chasers had also entered, along with Adrian Pucey (who Harry hoped might have a chance over "the Sky Badger"). As far as Harry knew, only six Durmstrang students were officially entering, five of them apparently doing so out of the mere hope that Viktor Krum would trip and break his leg before the Goblet could choose him. Harry did not know which of the Beauxbatons students had put their names in. He'd wondered if Fleur would, but thus far, the French witch had put a lot of effort into not drawing attention to herself.
Finally, Crouch got to the end of his "few words" and began the official Selection Ceremony. The man looked visibly pained as he called upon the ICW representative who would be handling the next bit. Crouch had caused a bit of a scene when Ludo unexpectedly announced to the organizers committee only a few days earlier that it would have to be an ICW representative who administered the oaths because everyone else involved was presumed to be biased in favor of one school or another. Once again, he cursed Gertrude Büstenhalter (or whatever the wretched witch's name was) for her badly-timed illness.
"I call upon Alexander McAvity, as representative of the International Confederation of Wizards, to administer the oaths."
With a smile, McAvity rose and walked down the steps to a lectern near the Goblet. Percy Weasley unfurled a parchment scroll and handed it to the man, who donned a pair of reading glasses before calling out in a loud voice.
"I, Alexander McAvity, acting as duly appointed representative of the Governing Council of the ICW, call upon the Headmasters of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Do you each swear that you have faithfully executed your responsibilities under the Tournament rules and have properly ensured that the names of all participants who meet the requirements of eligibility have been submitted to the Goblet of Fire, and that you will continue to so execute your responsibilities as heads of the participating schools?"
As he spoke, the three Headmasters all rose and held their wands aloft. "I so swear," they said in unison. Each of their wands lit up with a spontaneous Lumos, and in response, the flames in the Goblet briefly grew brighter. McAvity nodded in satisfaction.
"Next, I call upon the judges of the Triwizard Tournament. Do you each swear that you will faithfully execute your responsibilities under the Tournament rules, without bias or partiality, until its conclusion?"
The other twenty-one judges rose to join the Headmasters, and they all swore the second oath together. Twenty-four wands lit up as one.
"Finally, I call upon Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Do you swear that, as head of state for the host nation, you will faithfully ensure that the Goblet's requirements for all tasks will be complied with in accordance with the Tournament rules and the directives of the Goblet of Fire, without bias or partiality, until the Tournament's conclusion?"
"I swear," Fudge said, puffing his chest out slightly as his wand lit up.
McAvity turned to Crouch. "The oaths have been sworn in accordance with the Tournament rules and the dictates of the Goblet, Director Crouch."
"Thank you, Mr. McAvity," said Crouch before he turned to address the audience. "Next, we will submit the competition parameters to the Goblet of Fire. These parameters have been painstakingly designed by our blue-ribbon panel of judges to ensure that the competition will be as safe as possible for all Champions while still challenging their intellect, skill, and resourcefulness to the utmost. Mr. McAvity, will you please submit the parameters to the Goblet."
Percy stepped forward with a locked case, which he unlocked with a key before opening it facing McAvity. The other man reached in and pulled out a thick bound scroll, which he levitated over to the Goblet before dropping it in. The Goblet's blue flames flared up even higher.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Crouch called out, "as head of the host school, please step forward to receive the Goblet's Selection."
Dumbledore made his way down from the dais to stand in front of the Goblet while McAvity returned to his seat. The Headmaster addressed the Goblet as if it were a person.
"Let the Champions be named!"
The blue flames of the Goblet suddenly turned a vivid green. Off to the side, Percy Weasley frowned. It was a minor detail, but he did not recall reading anything about the Goblet's functioning that mentioned a color change at this point. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and a scrap of paper was ejected out of the Goblet to float down to Dumbledore's waiting hand.
"The Champion for Durmstrang," he called out in a loud clear voice, "will be VIKTOR KRUM."
The hall erupted into loud applause as Harry and Draco took turns clapping Krum on the back before he rose and headed towards Dumbledore. Along the way, he passed by several Durmstrang students in his year who all congratulated him, including Alex Nott, the Head Boy, who gave him a firm handshake and wished him luck. As he reached the Goblet, Percy directed him up around the Head Table, and he exited through a door in the back.
"No surprises there," Ron said to Jim, who simply nodded. Ron noticed that Jim seemed anxious.
"Are you okay? Look, I know you're worried about somehow getting dragged into this Tournament, but I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."
"Uh-huh," Jim replied in a tight voice without taking his eyes off the Goblet.
The applause died down, and everyone's attention was focused on the Goblet which, after a moment, flared again and shot out a second piece of parchment for Dumbledore to collect.
"The Champion for Beauxbatons is … FLEUR DELACOUR!"
Fleur rose gracefully and headed towards the Goblet, her face a mask of serene calm, as if she'd never doubted getting picked. Around her, the other Beauxbaton students looked at one another in complete shock that a girl they'd always dismissed as "competent and smart but nothing special" had been deemed the best person to represent their whole school. Several of the female students actually burst into tears.
Up at the Head Table, Gabriel Delacour looked thunderous. Harry noticed and whispered to Blaise.
"That's Fleur's uncle, right? The one who's … you know."
Blaise nodded. He'd explained to Harry over the weekend that Gabriel Delacour was not only related to the Countess Zabini by marriage, he was also a member of L'Inconnu, France's answer to the Unspeakables. Intrigued, Harry wondered exactly what it meant that Fleur's entry and selection had caught the man completely by surprise.
Finally, after Fleur too had vanished out the back door, the Goblet flared one final time. Jim leaned forward in his seat anxiously, while Harry held his breath while mentally preparing for the worst. Dumbledore caught the parchment that shot out of the Goblet.
"The Hogwarts Champion is … CEDRIC DIGGORY!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted into hysteria as Diggory rose somewhat shakily from his chair. Cho jumped into his arms and kissed him on the cheek while dozens of fellow Puffs crowded around to congratulate their school (and House!) Champion. Seemingly in a daze, Cedric followed the direction set by the other two Champions while, at the Gryffindor table, the Weasley Twins started up a cheer for him.
"KING PUFF! KING PUFF!"
At the Slytherin table, Harry Black leaned back and exhaled in relief, pleased that at least one problem had been avoided. Now, he needed only to wait for the posting of the list of everyone who'd submitted a name, and he, the Weasley Twins, and a few of their friends could collect significant winnings from his late-night entry.
Over at the Gryffindor table, Jim slumped in visible disappointment. Ron elbowed him while giving him an annoyed look, as Dumbledore said congratulatory words about the Champions in the background.
"What's going on, Jim? Surely you're not disappointed that you didn't somehow get selected for this?"
Jim opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, everyone was distracted when the Goblet flared a fourth time.
Yet another parchment shot out of the Goblet, and while surprised, Dumbledore had no difficulty catching it. But once he did, he simply stared at the writing on it for several seconds in abject confusion before he finally cleared his throat and called out.
"JIM POTTER … AND HARRY BLACK!"
There was no applause, but there was a loud muttering almost like a buzzing that swept through the Great Hall, one that was suddenly broken by the sound of one very annoyed Slytherin.
"SONOVABITCH!"
Next: The aftermath! Also, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and [insert whatever other holidays you celebrate].
AN1: Check out the Sinister Man's web presence on the POS wiki, the POS TV Tropes page, and my Discord server (through which you can see advance previews of this story as it is being written). Also, the Sinister Man would be profoundly grateful if you checked out my P*****n page and supported my original fiction. Patronage is not necessary to get the free POS previews via Discord.
AN2: A translation of the scene involving Fleur and Percy is below. Much thanks to Discord followers, Aelia and Farsight, for their help with the French.
"[Oh, pardon me,]" said Fleur with genuine embarrassment before switching to English. "I mean, pardon me."
"Oh, no," he assured her. "It's quite alright. Entirely my fault. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going."
"Please, allow me," Fleur said before pulling out her wand and vanishing the spill with a flick of her wand.
"[That's our Fleur Du Mal,]" said Sophie Montessi with a nasty smirk. "[So clumsy that she had to learn wordless cleaning charms to pick up after herself.]"
Sophie and the other girls around her laughed. Fleur flushed slightly, but before she could respond, the redhead replied in perfect French.
"[As I said, it was entirely my fault. And out of curiosity, how many wordless spells do you know?]
Also, "Fleur Du Mal" or "Flower of Evil" is a reference to a book of poetry by Charles Baudelaire (no relation to the kids from Lemony Snicket).
AN3: What the Sinister Man is reading:
Harry Potter and the Choices That Matter by adeadlife44. When Harry is 8, the Dursleys get caught and arrested for child abuse, and Aunt Marge ships Harry off to a military school where he is discovered at age 11 by Dumbledore. The result is a Harry who is much more jaded but also more self-disciplined by the time he gets to Hogwarts. Now up to Year 4.
Harry the Hufflepuff 5 by BajaB. The fifth installment of a series in which the Dursleys continually accused Harry of being lazy. And he took the message to heart by resolving to become the laziest wizard the world had ever seen. Comedy gold.
AN4: Special shout-out to all my Discord editors: An Anarchist, Anne, Leader of the Light, Callisto, Curedent, darkphoenix31, DontBanMeImScared, ElaraMalfoy99, Empathize_Not_Advise. EssayOfThoughts | Aich, Idefix, Jiiti, justanotherrandomhuman, kami, Krisni, Norégveldi, PrettyPinkCupcake, Sakkiko, and skyari. Thanks guys!
AN5: Vital Statistics: Reviews: 18,868. Followers: 20,700. Favorites: 18,019. Communities: 254 Discord followers: 5,534! Go Team POS!