A/N: Angsty note about updates, or lack thereof
Chapter 47: The Fourth Champion
"Harry Potter!" Albus' voices carries around the room a second time. He looks shocked, confused even, and is already wearing a frown. I get to my feet and do that awkward half-jog one does when a door is held open a little too far away. The whole hall watches me do it. Nothing looks out of place as I approach, just the entrants walking to the cup, dropping their names in, then leaving. The cup would surely bar any attempts to enter another student in the tournament. Albus holds out the slip to me, looking very somber. I take it in both hands.
"Shit." I mutter, looking up to meet Albus' eyes. "It was Crouch." I whisper, leaning in as not to be overheard. "He looks like he was cursed or something, I'd wager the imperius."
"Distressing news." Albus strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Distressing, indeed." Albus turns to the staff and beckons to them. Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch Sr., Flitwick, Moody, McGonagall, and Snape join us at the front of the hall. Why Snape? Who really knows why he does anything?
"Dumbledore? What's going on? How was Potter's name drawn?" Barty asks Albus.
"At this stage I can only guess, but I suspect foul play." Does everyone always expect Albus to know everything straight away? I mean, in this case he does because I told him, but otherwise it's unfair to assume he does.
"Foul play? But who would do such a thing?" Barty nervously fiddles with his bowler hat.
"Are we just to believe that Potter played no part in this?" Snape interjects.
"Severus!" McGonagall sounds completely aghast. Headmaster Kakaroff and Madam Maxime join the group.
"What is going on?! I was not aware Hogwarts would be having two champions!" Kakaroff manages to not completely shout his accusations.
"Eef 'Ogwarts 'as two, Beauxbatons will 'ave two too!"
"I assure you that this was not engineered by Hogwarts, but until a thorough investigation has taken place, pointing fingers will achieve nothing positive." Albus' calm voice cuts through the rising tension. "For now, Filius – could you please wait here with Mister Potter whilst congratulate the champions?"
"Of course, Headmaster." Flitwick nods quickly. I lean against the staff table, half-standing as the group shuffles away, bickering among themselves. Crouch seemed far too oblivious, it's not right. He was the one that entered my name, but the imperius curse doesn't tamper with memories. Ah, the possibility that his assailant, probably Barty Crouch Jr., removed his recollection of doing it. Either that, or he's under the imperius right now.
"Shit." I mutter.
"I concur." Flitwick says, his eyes follow my hands as I grip the table. "Mister Potter?"
"I think Barty is under the imperius right now." I quietly tell him. It's not something I want anybody to overhear, even the staff.
"Does Albus know?" Flitwick glances over at the antechamber's door.
"No." I shake my head slightly. "He only knows that Barty put my name in." This news causes Flitwick to frown heavily. Seems to be one of those frowny days. I probably shouldn't be surprised at this point, this is almost a normal day for me now. I'm even fairly confident that Hedwig, after connecting with the spirit inside the pixie's orb, can manipulate her magic, but I suppose the price for working that out is the universe deigns to put me in the tournament. Well, the universe in the form of Bartemius Crouch.
"I shall inform Albus at once. Stay here." He says, taking a step before turning around for a second. "And try not to get into any more trouble?" He gives me a strained smile before quickly heading after the others. Easy, I just don't move and nothing wil-
"Mister Potter." Scrimgeour. I should try that more often. Sure would be awful if a goblin came along with a million galleons! "Something funny?"
"No, no. Professor Flitwick said to not get into trouble, and then you appeared."
"I see." He looks at the goblet suspiciously. "Have you any… unique insights into why your name has been chosen?" He looks back at me with a, bordering on intimidating, stare.
"You'd have to ask Albus." He's better at playing the politician. I'd get far too frustrated because I've seen it's Barty. Although I'm sure Albus trusts my word on the matter. "But were I in your position-" He had turned to walk away, but pauses. "- I'd keep a close eye on Mister Crouch."
"For fuck's sake, Albus." I repeat for perhaps the fiftieth time since I've been in his office. After the initial disbelief turned to rage, then to accusations, the students were dismissed then the heads of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had a lot to say to Albus and I. I understand the frustration completely, it's totally unfair for a second student's name to come out of the goblet for one school, but I did try and explain that Cedric is the Hogwarts champion.
They weren't buying what I was selling, so to speak.
I used my cloak to sneak up here after things died down a bit.
"Indeed." Albus is leaning over his pensieve.
"I'd be more than happy to beat the snot out of him and arrest him. I really don't understand why-"
"Harry." Albus cuts me off. "Bartemius Crouch is a pillar of our community. Being instrumental in combating the forces of Voldemort throughout the war has placed him in very high standings with many people within Britain, and his more recent work has reflected positively on Britain worldwide. If you were to bring these allegations to the right, or perhaps wrong people, you would come under scrutiny and be vilified."
"When exposing a crime is treated as committing a crime, you are ruled by criminals."
"Be that as it may, some matters require some delicacy." He says, diplomatically.
"You've said it to me, so I'll throw it back – Sometimes we have to make a choice between doing what is easy and what is right." I stop pacing and lean against the sturdy old desk. Neither of us say anything for a while. "I'm scared, Albus. The death rate… there have been four Tri-wizard tournaments in which nobody has died in a task. Four. One of those saw all the contestants barred from the tournament unofficially and they all died from not going to the first event. The cup is a curse, I was hoping that it would go smoothly this time. I don't want to die, certainly not to some stupid game designed, and run, by idiots." I swallow a lump in my throat. "It's terrifying. I don't know what is waiting for us, nobody has spoken about it anywhere I've been walking, I'm out of the loop on things concerning my life, or it's abrupt end."
"Welcome to mortality." Albus smiles grimly.
"I can't even go and blow off some steam in the Chamber because I've got some delicate potions brewing that won't enjoy the explosions at all." I let out a long sigh. As much as I hate to be grouped with them, both Tom and Salazar would blast chunks of the masonry apart as I often do. Sometimes you just have to break something to release the pent up anger.
"Extra potions work?" Albus asks hopefully, also attempting to change the topic.
"There wouldn't be much point to it. Snape'll never give me any commendation for work above Outstanding NEWT grades. Hell, I could cure lycanthropy and he wouldn't even acknowledge it."
"A little unfair, don't you think?" He looks at me disapprovingly.
"Maybe you're right." I concede. "He'd probably give me detention for not focussing on his classes." This actually manages to draw a laugh out of him. "But no, it's not that. I wanted to try and make floo powder less … powdery? It's not very transportable or convenient as a powder, but because wizards are, generally, a bunch of idiots, they don't even realise how much inconvenience they are putting up with. It's just become the accepted norm to have to grab a fistful of powder."
"And you think a liquid will be less cumbersome?" He asks sceptically.
"Not at all, but a pellet would be." I hold up my thumb and index finger about an inch apart. "The problem with trying to compress floo powder is that-"
"It explodes under force." Albus finishes the sentence, or rather interrupts it.
"Precisely, It's the friction between the particles that set it off, so when I try to magically compress it, I end up with scorch marks on my table. This, in theory, will allow me to compress the floo powder without the combustion, and it will break apart when it's dropped, so it will still function as floo powder does now."
"Fascinating." He marvels. "Do you believe you will succeed?"
"I'm optimistic, but I don't think I'll get it perfect, or even correct, on the first try." It might take weeks, maybe even months, to refine it. "I'll have to submit the whole documented process, and several samples, to the Department of Magical Transport, and I'll have to test it extensively myself too, but they might just pay more attention to the project if it has my name on it." I finish with a grimace. I don't like using my name, but I'm also not very patient.
"How did you formulate the solution to the issue?" Albus drops another memory into his pensieve, then flicks his wrist to have the cabinet move back into it's less conspicuous form.
"Just sort of popped into my head. I know that there are some wizards that smuggle narcotics by hiding them from sniffers by coating them in a thin film to mask the scent, my idea was to use something similar, but the inspiration for exactly what was a medical lubrication spell, although the wand I learnt it from, that of a healer in Saint Mungo's, mainly used it for sex, some kind of fetish thing, judging by all the leather." I shrug. "I don't really get the full picture, thankfully."
"Of… course." Albus looks a bit perplexed as he eases himself into his desk chair. Poor old boy.
"So really, it was a culmination of extraordinary information in an un-extraordinary mind."
"You think so little of yourself?" He asks from behind me, my gaze idly falls on the sorting hat.
"Can you imagine what you could have done with this skill by my age? Or if Hermione could devour books with a touch?" I laugh, she'd push herself to breaking point every day. "I was sorted into Ravenclaw because I seek knowledge as a fundamental part of my personality, but maybe there's a limit to my drive to do so? I like using it too, I could learn skills that take decades to perfect and combine them together, the extraordinary part of me is that I can mix lifetimes of talent together, whereas most people can only have one life. Say, a wizard that has pursued feats of alchemy for his entire, long lived, life coupled with the talents of a dozen master duellists."
"If you can have the two skills work together..."
"I can't really think of the practical applications, but I certainly have the ability to pull it off, whatever 'it' is."
"And in the tournament? If… well, if you must compete?" I can almost feel his gaze trying to bore into my back.
"I will try my best not to die." Which includes non-tournament related death too.
"You could win?"
"Was that a question?" I turn to him and smile. "I could probably defeat the others, but is it my place to do so?"
"You are technically a champion." He reminds me, popping a lemon drop into his mouth before leaning back in his plush chair.
"If the 'leader' at different stages are required to do more difficult things, then I will take the burden of winning."
"The burden?" He arches an eyebrow.
"I don't want Cedric's hypothetical death on my conscience if I could have dealt with whatever insurmountable hurdle finishes him off." I reason.
"Just Cedric?"
"He's my friend, I don't know the other two. Although I'd still feel horrible for not doing my best to save Viktor or Allain's daughter."
It shouldn't feel like my responsibility really, there's no reason to, I suppose I can't help but try and protect people
"Would you care for some tea?" Albus offers, breaking me from my thoughts. "I daresay neither of us will be sleeping well tonight."
"A cup of tea sounds wonderful, actually. I'll have Dobby fetch my violin too."
A/N: I tried to capture Harry and Albus' banter here. I think deep down, Harry is a bit of an old man, and old men love to waffle on about things needlessly, whilst touching on some good points too.