Chapter 48: *Witty chapter name I*
"Good morning, Harry." Albus' voice is the first thing I hear as I slowly wake up, stretching out in a cat-like manner. I crack my eyes open to see that Albus is already sitting at his desk. Today's robes feature hundreds of small Union Jacks, well 'Union Flags' as we are not out at sea. I he had this one custom made for the tournament, the tiny flags are lain upon a pale blue backing material. Part of me wishes that I could also pull off Albus' one of a kind fashion, but I would never want to take the spotlight off of his robes.
I ended up spending the night curled up in front of his fireplace in my animagus form. Before I settled down, Albus explained to me Kakaroff's hearing and eventual pardon, which ties into the newly escaped Barty Crouch's story. I had to hold back my comments about Snape being named. We used the pensieve to watch Albus' memory of the trial, featuring a less moody Moody, who scored a nice hit on Barty as he tried to sneak out. I felt angry as I watched the father-son duo that played a part in my entry into the tournament.
I change back to my less-hairy body and stand up.
"Mornin'." I retrieve the teacup from my side of the desk to warm my hands, taking a sip. I wonder where the house elves get the tea from? Probably not Tesco. Wait… "Did I just proxy-kiss McGongall?"
"I don't know what mean." His innocent, yet telling, smirk is a resounding 'Yes' and he did it on purpose.
"You're an evil man, Albus." I scowl at him. It was a new cup, he had tea with her forty-four days ago and nobody has used it since then, which means this was planned, and he waited all this time to make it even better. "I would tell Sirius, but I dread to think what he'd come up with." I can always blackmail him with something, like the time he ran halfway across the castle naked and ran into Professor Sprout. She was very kind about it, but Sirius looked mortified.
"Did you sleep well?" Albus continues to write with the phoenix feather quill. The Supreme Mugwump's seal is sitting ready beside him, so it's probably something important and boring.
"Decently. I think you should get a rug to put by the fireplace though." I quickly drink the rest of the scalding hot tea. "I should head down the breakfast now, Professor Flitwick doesn't like it when I don't spend the night in the tower."
"He worries because he cares about you." He reminds me. "And Harry?" I turn to him on my way to the door. "Your robe?" He nods to my school robe, still hanging on the back of the chair. "You are to be a figurehead of the school, by choice or not. Try and look tidy?"
"When am I not tidy?" I retrieve my robe from the chair, twirling around to slip my arms into the sleeve holes.
"The odd stains sometimes on your shirts during dinner? Specifically the ones that smoke?" He looks up from his letter, peering over his glasses at me.
"That only happened once, but I get your point." I scratch my chin with a smile, I generally try and keep my appearance fairly tame. "Can't do much about the hair, though." Maybe Snape has the same problem, so he has to grease it down? I'll take the puffy look. "Good luck dealing with Barty's mess. I'll try and think of an efficient way to help." I lean one shoulder against the door frame, bracing the door open
"Are you insinuating the Government to be inefficient?" He jokes. I scoff.
"Goodbye, Albus." The door clicks shut behind me and I drop down into my animagus form once I reach the bottom of the stairs. The cold Scottish mornings are just that – Cold.
"Potter!" Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Why does Moody always insist on shouting to get my attention? "Filius said you were missing. Figured you'd be up here with Dumbledore. Why are you…?" He gestures to me. I change back.
"It's like wearing a fur coat, but over my entire body." He grunts are turns away. I jog a few steps to catch up with him as he retraces his steps down the corridor. "You should try it."
"And be missing a leg?"
"Maybe you'd be a flamingo?" I suggest, causing him to grunt again. I drop back into my animagus form and he doesn't say anything else whilst we're walking to breakfast, but does glance over his shoulder every now and then, as if he doesn't quite trust the magical eye. If you're actually being hunted, it's only good form to question the working order of your tools, just in case. Maybe his 'constant vigilance' stance is starting to creep into me.
The delicious smell of the Great Hall gradually grows stronger as draw closer, it doesn't all smell particularly edible to a wolf, but it'll do me just fine when I'm back on two legs. Moody slows momentarily before we reach the doorway into the hall, but resumes his normal pace after his eye stops spinning. Thankfully, as a wolf, I don't have to listen to every new conversation that's happened this morning in the hall's threshold, which serves me just fine. It's only the second day of official tournament-related events, and I'm already sick of it.
We make it a fair way in before I change back. I'll still see everything when I walk out, but I've learned to not underestimate how much a full stomach can do for me. I sit down beside Hermione, she'd been watching the approach. "Talk about being a teacher's pet." I joke. She lets out an almost pained laugh at the pun, shaking her head. No appreciation.
"Are you ok, Harry?" She asks worriedly. "I spoke to Luna on the way down, she said that you didn't go back to your common room last night."
"I was with Albus until pretty late, I slept in his office."
"What's happening, Harry? Do you have to take part? Can't Professor Dumbledore do something? I ordered a copy of the rulebook a few days ago out of curiosity, the library didn't have a copy." She slides the book to me. "There's nothing about four champions, only broad statements like 'All the champions', which could potentially cover more than three."
"It's out of Albus' control, really." I run my thumb over the pages, leafing through it quickly. "Bagman probably has a big say in it, but ultimately it looks like the decision falls the Barty Crouch… which won't happen." Now to digest the rules before breakfast ends. I really should get Hermione a nice Christmas present
"Why?" She frowns.
"He can't change the rules at this point actually, so it looks like I'm in this thing for real." I hand her the book back, leaning closer to her. "Crouch put my name in."
"Are you sure?" Her eyes dart up to the head table, but Crouch isn't there.
"Saw him with my own two… feet. I'll explain it all later, at lunch?" Hermione agrees quickly. "Maybe I should skip potions, nobody should have to deal with Snape this early in the morning."
"Have you ever tried getting along? You're exceptionally talented in potions, you could learn a lot if you wanted." Hermione sighs.
"Walking around his classroom during detentions has taught me more about potions, and previous potions professors, than he ever could." I smile. "I have tried being friendly with him once before."
"What happened?"
"I think I must've lost Ravenclaw about 80 points, and I had to chisel burnt-on concoctions from old cauldrons for two hours." I chuckle. "But, speaking of losing points – Did you see that rule about allowing 'study time' for the champions?" I backtrack to the rulebook. They haven't actually been edited since the previous Tri-Wizard Tournament, but Albus has said that the tasks are designed to be less dangerous, and more precautions are in place. I suspect a lot of rule governing the entry aspects are difficult to do anything about due to the goblet itself. It's old enough that the creators, and possibly any documentation about it's creation, are long gone. A, nearing ancient, artifact with incredible magical power is a tad beyond the paygrade of the office that tinkers with such things. It knows if we've been naughty or nice, watches us while we're sleeping, then fucking eviscerates our souls if we don't turn up and compete. We should have the goblet teach us potions.
"Yes. You can take additional time for private research and study in preparation for the tasks." She scans the contents page of the book, searching again for the passage.
"Ravenclaw might actually stand a chance of not being last this year if I stop turning up to potions." I reason, scratching my chin thoughtfully. "I don't want to appear inconsistent, so I should stop turning up to all of them, that would give me plenty of 'study time'."
"Harry, I will personally find a way to break into your room and drag you out of your bed, clothed or not, and make you attend. Just because another obstacle has been thrown at you, doesn't mean you can sulk all day." She says pointedly. "We will figure this out, Harry." She pats my arm.
"I do not sulk." I say, sulkily.
"And remember you promised Ginny and I to dancing lessons." She reminds me. Hopefully it won't prove to be the first, and thus far only, skill I can't absorb through psychometry. I'm required to attend the ball, as are the other champions. We probably die if we don't. My life, quite literally, depends on finding a date to a ball. Why would anyone give a giant cup power of death?
"If I manage top avoid Snape's company tonight, we can make a start? This wouldn't happen to be a plan so you can dance with Ginny, is it?"
"You can wipe that smirk off your face, or I'll do it for you." There isn't any real heat in the words, so I'm probably safe.
"How are things going with her?" I tilt my head towards the redhead down the table. "And what does she think about my name being drawn?" Despite Albus' words last night, it's clear that not everybody believes me to be innocent.
"Slowly." Hermione sighs. Poor girl. Hopefully one day she can look back and feel silly about it, or even better – recall it fondly with Ginny, but those chances are slim. "She was more interested in dancing than verbally crucifying you." I wonder if there's actually a spell to crucify a person? A quick conjuration of a cross, some high velocity nails.
"Here's the plan." I lean closer to my wild-haired compadré. "I use a confundus charm on Ginny so she think that it's a clever idea to make some love potion laced chocolates as a gift, she gives them to somebody that I will also confund- no, scratch that- She can give them to me, to minimise the spellwork and chances of failure, and then I share them with you before a scheduled dancing lesson. Next, I will make up some excuse to leave in a hurry, leaving the two of you to your own devices, giving you the perfect excuse to make your move. Months later, we, or maybe just me, will reveal to her that it was my doing, to which she will thank me, and then promptly attempt to hex me whilst you calm her down. There's only a couple of things that could go wrong."
"Only a couple?" She says incredulously.
"Well, every single part could go wrong really." I admit.
"Ignoring just how ridiculous, and convoluted, the idea is, it's completely immoral!" She hisses. "You can't just go around confounding people!"
"All's well that ends well?" I offer. "Gah!" She stamped on my foot!
"If I even suspect you've done anything to her, I'll stamp on something else much harder." She glares at me, her cheeks are now flushed.
"You wasn't this angry before I obliviated you about the last plan." I grumble.
"Harry!"
"I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Ouch!"
A/N: Distract your worrywart friend through invited violence, trust me!
Enjoy!