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Stand Tall

Chapter XV

Ashes


Candles drifted idly across the rafters of the Great Hall as Hogwarts, a hive of excitable chatter, ate breakfast. Pancakes along with an enormous array of fruits, toppings and syrups and appeared on the tables only minutes ago, but Harry was finding it difficult to concentrate on his food. Nor did he listen to Hermione's efficient summary of the news.

It was as though everything that Hogwarts had been so far this year had been turned on it's head after yesterday's task. He had never intended to actually take on the dragon in the way that he had. 'Steal the egg' and 'don't die' had been pretty much his entire game plan. However, Hogwarts had transformed that reality in only a night of gossipy common-room and dormitory conversations into an epic tale of what might as well have been Merlin's reincarnation fighting a dragon and slaying the beast. Talk of Cedric being cheated as the true Hogwarts Champion by a cheating interloper had changed overnight into talk of glory and renown for Hogwarts' two champions.

Yesterday, he would have killed for that kind reception from the school. Today, he felt like he'd rather jump off of the Astronomy Tower than answer yet another question about the First Task.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the recognition - not really. He had acquitted himself well, and even Dumbledore had commented during the points scoring that a Fourth Year casting a shield charm that could even partially repel dragon fire was a remarkable achievement. Kindly headmaster he might be, but Dumbledore had never been one to praise a student's magic lightly. No, Harry's frustration came more from the fact that the reaction to him this morning demonstrated on just how fragile ground the school's prior treatment of him stood.

He had been disparaged and humiliated, based on convictions that could be swayed so quickly. The fact that this had happened to him before in his second year, only added to the resentment he was currently feeling.

Still, he had stolen an egg from, out-flown and then knocked a fully grown dragon unconscious. And lived. That, both Sirius and Hermione insisted, was an achievement that was worth celebrating. It had always been hard for him to celebrate and take pride in the things he had done well. At the Dursley's, to outperform Dudley in any way meant consequences; and once he had come to Hogwarts, standing out in any way reminded him acutely of who he was in this world and the tragedy that seemed to define him here. Not to mention the fact he had always been aware that Ron struggled with Harry's achievements when his own didn't match up. He had never been willing to entertain the idea of jeopardising one of his only friendships in order to stand out. Now though, pandering to Ron was absolutely out of the question and no it seemed that for one of the first times in his life, he was standing out because of his own actions and choices, not for something that happened before he could remember.

So, it was an interesting mix of emotions he was feeling when Dumbledore, dressed today in a midnight blue robe that seemed to glimmer with starlight even in the well-lit Great Hall, rose from his chair and moved to the speaker's podium. As he did so, a cascading silver chiming rang across the room, as though Dumbledore was tapping a fork against glass from everywhere in the hall all at once. The hall fell silent. Even those students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had taken to immediate silence when Dumbledore called for attention, no matter how calmly he did so.

"Good morning all." He intoned serenely, genial smile looking out across the room. "First of all, I must once again offer my congratulations to all of the Champions. A dragon is no laughing matter - as our school's motto will attest to." A few chuckles rippled through the room, though Harry suspected they were humouring the headmaster rather than genuine amusement. What bothered him however, was the fact that Dumbledore had looked directly at him as he said it; gentle smile becoming more like the kind of smile you'd share with a friend you'd made an in-joke to, that nobody else in the room would get. Dumbledore had made a similar comment to Skeeter in the Champion's tent when she was hounding him. It was the kind of thing that eleven year-old him would have loved about Dumbledore. That he had taken a moment during a speech to make a joke that only he would get.

He wasn't that much older, but being eleven felt like it was a world away now, and he couldn't help but look beyond the immense feeling of recognition and worth the gesture made him feel. In fairness, it may well have been that Dumbledore was simply making the orphaned child of two of his friends feel special. The trouble was, he didn't really believe that. It might have been a nice side-benefit for the Headmaster, but there was almost certainly more to it than that. Ulterior motives upon ulterior motives. Dumbledore wanted to make sure Harry was loyal to him, trusted him. He took opportunities to make Harry feel like they had a special relationship, but none that required more effort than the occasional cryptic conversation or sly, twinkly-eyed references.

It was just enough for someone starved of attention and affection could latch on to, but not so much that an actual, sincere relationship could form.

It was only since Sirius had come into his life, that he had been able to tell the difference.

"It has fallen on me, as the Headmaster of the hosting school, to announce the next sequence of Triwizard Tournament Events." That got Harry's attention. They had been told to keep their golden eggs, but not why. "The second task will take place at the end of February - what it is, I cannot tell you, as it is for the champions themselves to work out - they have their clue already in their possession." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Harry's mind turned directly to the golden egg. Just what was inside that egg?

"Of course, that is not all. Christmas approaches! And with it, the Yule Ball - in honour of our brave champions. A chance to laugh, to dance and to revel in the union between our three schools." A cavalcade of whispers broke out across the hall at that. Respect for Dumbledore or no, a school dance - the first in years was enormous news for a collection of teenagers. It didn't interest him particularly, but he understood the excitement.

"Naturally, there is one, final announcement." Dumbledore's demeanour had changed now. He wasn't sure if anybody had noticed it - but he had. It was subtle, but the genial twinkle, the grandfatherly smile; they had twisted, just slightly to something... else. Harry might have called it excitement. There was an edge, or a gleam of danger to the old man now that made his skin prickle. "In a week's time, an additional task will be taking place. Hogwarts will be holding the first round of a duelling tournament between the champions. Each will face each other for points and prestige - however, to ensure parity it has been agreed by all parties that Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be permitted to field an additional competitor that will be able to earn points towards their schools' totals. And of course, should they prove the victor, there will be a prize for the witch or wizard that triumphs."

Dumbledore kept talking, but Harry struggled to focus on his words as it became clear they were but window dressing for the information he'd just been given. A duel. Not just one, but a tournament. His eyes flickered around the room, towards where Cedric, Krum and Delacour were sitting and realised that they were doing the same. Each Champion, sizing the others up. As a Fourth Year, crossing wands with these older students, these far more experienced student, should terrify him. He should be sweaty palmed and anxious.

He was anything but nervous.

His fists clenched, and a grin threatened the corners of his mouth. Before, he might have been underestimated. But now there was no way anybody could risk that. He had at the very least shown that he was packing enough power that he had to be taken seriously. His skill with a wand, his ability, up against another's. He knew it shouldn't, but the thought sent excitement coursing through his veins and the risk of failure only added to that.

Besides, it would be an excellent way of judging his own progress. He knew he had to make rapid progress but how far had he come? Could he measure up to the best that the student body of these three schools had to offer?


"Thanks Dobby." Harry said with a grateful smile, as the leather-skinned impish elf levitated a plate of treacle tart towards their table in the kitchens. Visiting here after their group's practice had been Neville's idea. Apparently, he would come here to eat dinner when he didn't fancy the crowds of the Great Hall. Hogwarts' kitchens were about exactly what you would expect. A hive of excitable work, a multitude of elves like Dobby, bustling back and forth; plates and other dinnerware floating back and forth in various states of cleanliness like people at a busy London intersection. Multiple fires roared, with what seemed like innumerable pots and pans and kettles hovering above them at different heights; some being stirred magically, others with younger-looking elves hanging from ladles and spoons.

As they entered, Dobby had popped effervescently into existence, immediately babbling with excitement at the presence of 'the Great Harry Potter'. Immediately, chairs for the entire group and a table had appeared in a space in the corner of the kitchen, laid as though it were an exclusive table in a fine-dining restaurant. Dobby had taken their orders enthusiastically, before popping back not five minutes later, the food they had sheepishly requested floating around Dobby's head like planets. He couldn't help a small grin as he recalled when he had first met Dobby, and how the elf had deposited an entire desert upon the heads of the Mason family who had come to dinner with the Dursleys. Now, with two years worth of water under the bridge, Harry could finally admit that it had been pretty funny.

Dobby left them in peace with what he must have thought was a grandiose bow to the table, followed by a second, slightly deeper one for Harry and Blaise turned to him, dark eyes narrowed.

"Now Potter, I've been to innumerable, infinitely dull functions over the years, none more so than those at Malfoy Manor-"

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that Zabini - you have my condolences, truly." He tried to sound as sincere as possible, and Neville snorted into his mug of pumpkin juice.

"I know the Malfoy's elf when I see it, Potter - it would be impossible to forget even an elf with that amount of crazy. Why is it here, and why does it seem to know - and when I say 'know' please understand that what I really mean is 'worship' - you?"

Harry laughed openly this time. It certainly was difficult to forget an elf with that amount of crazy, not that he'd ever want to forget Dobby of course. Most of the time. He glanced around and saw all but Hermione, who already knew it, were looking at him curiously for the story - so he told it. Not the story of the whole second year of course, but everything that involved Dobby. The Masons, the Ford Anglia - the bludger. A titanic Basilisk nearly killing everyone wasn't exactly casual conversation material after all. Neville and Susan were appropriately humoured and shocked in all the right places, and at the part where he explained how he had freed Dobby, Susan gasped.

"He tried to-"

"He never finished the curse, so there's no real proof he was trying to kill or even attack me." He smiled at Susan's outrage. She had very quickly made herself an essential part of their group, and Harry particularly liked that she shared Hermione's sense of right and wrong, tempered with some rock solid pragmatism that she seemed to have learned from her Aunt. "There's not anything that can be done without proper evidence, so I focus on being grateful to Dobby that I never found out exactly what Lucius Malfoy was about to cast."

Susan looked thoughtful for a moment, before meeting his eyes. "Look, I know there's no proof, so can not a whole lot can really be done; but that's not the same thing as saying you should do nothing. Would you mind if I spoke to my Aunt about it, proof or not?"

"What do you think that would achieve?" He asked, not entirely sure where Susan was driving with this.

"Well, the Aurors keep detailed files on all those they suspect of serious crime. Lucius Malfoy was acquitted, but it's pretty common knowledge that his acquittal was a sham. There's just not enough evidence - from what my Aunt says, he nearly never leaves a trace of the things he's been up to, so the Aurors have never been able to get him on anything. That doesn't mean they're just ignoring things, though - they need to build a case, and have been since the war ended. Small things - breadcrumbs, basically..."

"But get enough of those small things together, and eventually something's going to stick." Harry finished, never having considered the possibilities up until now.

"Exactly," she continued, grin triumphant. "I'm not saying that my Aunt will be able to swoop in and arrest the man, but you can add your testimony to the file. Your name carries weight, and anything we can add to the file might contribute to the Aurors one day being able to take him down."

"I can't exactly argue with that logic - tell your Aunt and let her know that if she wants to speak to me about it directly, then I'm more than happy to help."

"That's all well and good Potter," Blaise interrupted, taciturn until now, "but do you not realise what a treasure trove of a resource you now have at your disposal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be dense - the elf. Malfoy's old elf. Do you have any idea how much dirt he'll have on the Malfoy's? Oh, the bonds of a family elf will stop him from telling you explicit secrets of course. But things like room locations? Layout of the manor? Possible ways in? There's no telling how much he could give you around the limits of the bond now that he has been freed. Information that, should a new conflict arise-" Blaise pressed on, eyes piercing, and once again Harry was faced with the idea that Blaise knew a lot more about why this defence group had been formed at the start of the year. "-would become immensely useful, given Lucius' likely involvement in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's inner circle in the previous war."

Before he could even begin to process that thought, Neville too, interjected. "Actually Harry, I had a thought about Dobby too." The group all turned to the Longbottom, usually content to fade into the background outside of a duel. It was rare for Neville to speak up in a conversation like this, but when he did his contributions were almost always worth listening to. "Do you suppose anybody has asked the elves about Luna? I mean, they see more of the castle than just about anyone - and they do most of their work at unusual hours too..."

"Luna went missing overnight." Harry said, awed. "How have we not thought of this before - Neville, you're brilliant!" The Longbottom flushed, but Harry was already ushering Dobby back over. "Dobby, had you and the other elves heard there was a missing girl at Hogwarts?"

Dobby's ears tucked back tightly to his head, and he grew an expression much akin to a dog that knew you were upset with it. "Yes, Mister Harry Potter sir. We is being asked already by Dumbleydore about her - we is not seeing the Lovegood girl anwheres since she vanished." Harry's heart plummeted as Dobby's words tore yet another rug out from under his feet. He had been so sure this was it.. "Wait!" He said suddenly, and Dobby cocked his head in confusion, having had no intention of going anywhere just yet. "Dobby, do you know if there are any secret passages on the seventh floor - particularly near the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet?"

Dobby wilted in disappointment once more. "I don't know of any, Harry Potter sir - the Come and Go room is the only thing near that painting."

It was Harry's turn to cock his head in confusion. "The what?"

Sneaking up to the Come and Go Room - or the Room of Requirement as Dobby had said - had taken a little doing. They had needed to separate and move to the seventh floor in pairs, Blaise volunteering to go there himself. Neville and Susan had made it there first, and were standing with Blaise in front of a non-descript oaken door.

"You got the door to appear?" Hermione asked, and Neville nodded.

"Susan and I did it together."

"You did it together? What did you try and get it to make?"

Neville and Susan looked at each other, both flushing this time. "We may, ah, have forgotten to think of something specific." Susan admitted, abashed. "We were just so excited to have found it!"

"It's fine," Harry answered, smiling. "Let's just see what it's made, shall we?"

The others agreed, and Harry approached the door, which swung open as he came towards it. Inside, a large stone room stretched before them, surrounded by mirrors on all sides. In the middle, a bright red carpet bisected the room, and a wooden hooded mannequin stood lifeless in the very centre.

"A duelling platform." Harry wondered aloud. "You must have been thinking about the defence group when you got here - at least sub-consciously - and the room made us a place to practice. This... This is perfect."

"It doesn't help us find Lovegood, though." Blaise commented and Harry nodded in agreement.

"No. But we can try different rooms for that. We should be going soon, we'll be pushing our luck trying the room for too long - But I can't leave without giving it a try."

They left the room, and the next ten minutes were spent having a different member of the group trying different variations of 'we need to find Luna', but for some reason the door wouldn't appear for that question at all. Hermione had suggested the magic that summoned rooms was being picky, and that if Luna was there, they just needed to find the right phrase. In the time that they had however, none could think of it.

Once more disappointed in their search for the missing girl, they left that night not entirely without hope. Unexpected though it may have been, the Room of Requirement represented a fresh avenue of investigation, when all others appeared to have been exhausted. And for that, Harry was grateful. He was for anything that restored his dwindling hope that they would find Luna alive, if not unharmed.

Merlin, please let her be alive.


Harry and Hermione crept back from the Room through the third floor corridor that led towards Gryffindor Tower, under the invisibility cloak and as quietly as they could. Snape had been lurking ten minutes back - they had made it around him, but weren't willing to push their luck with it.

"Granger, Potter - enjoying the midnight air?" A grizzled voice asked, and their blood turned to ice in their veins. Moody stood next to a suit of armour, masked by shadow, smirk marring his already scarred face. "Relax. I'm not here to catch you out." His glass eye swivelled towards the wall behind him. "Somebody, but not you." The eye swivelled back, staring them directly in the eyes.

"Nifty things, invisibility cloaks - don't learn to rely on them though, there are far too many ways to be caught out with them. While I've got you here Potter - how goes the preparation for the second task and the duels - discovered the clue yet?"

Harry stumbled over his words, this conversation moving far too quickly and in too many unexpected directions for him to feel on top of it. "Erm, I- I haven't but I'm working on it."

Moody reached out and clumped him on the shoulder through the cloak. "Good good, lad. Just be sure that you don't leave it too late. I'd hate to see you sleeping with the fishes thanks to this tournament." And with that, Mad-eye stumped off, chuckling darkly as though he'd just made a really funny joke that neither he, nor Hermione had gotten. Though, for somebody giving out encouragement, Harry couldn't help but wonder why that encouragement had ended sounding more like a threat.