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Harry walked into the tent, oblivious to both the booing and cheering coming from the stands. On one bed, he saw Fleur Delacour, fairly badly burnt and being treated by a medi-witch, and on another, he saw Victor Krum, with most of his clothes burnt off, singed hair and eyebrows, and what appeared to be a broken leg. Cedric appeared to be the best off, but he was lying unconscious while another medi-witch was tending to him.
Madame Pomfrey came bustling up to him.
"Oh, you poor dear, how did you get injured? It doesn't look like anything's wrong", she said, looking more and more puzzled as she examined him.
"I'm not injured. Nothing happened."
"Not injured? Why, that can't be! Those are dragons out there!", she tutted as she busily tried to find something, anything, wrong with him. "I swear on Merlin's left testicle, I don't understand how they could put children in these competitions... I knew we'd have people getting hurt!"
"Well, I'm not hurt, Madame, the dragon was as gentle as could be, so if you will pardon me..."
"Gentle! How...?"
"If you just stick around for a bit I'm sure you'll find out everything right about..."
At that very moment, all of the judges strode quickly into the tent, murder on the face of Karkaroff, Disappointed Look #3 on Dumbledore's face, and oddly, Mme. Maxine's too, and Ludo Bagman just looked utterly pissed off. Dumbledore's beard was singed, and all of them had slightly red faces and partly singed clothing due to the parting shot of the dragon. Barty Crouch was supposed to be the fifth judge, but no one could find him, and the task must go on.
"... now." Harry sighed. "How can I help you gentlemen... and lady", he said, in a bored tone, while affectedly buffing his fingernails on his shirt and blowing on them.
Bagman sputtered. "What is the meaning of... whatever it is you did out there? We lost a perfectly good dragon and her eggs, the bloody dragon shot flame at us, apparently at your command, and what was with that two-finger salute at the end?" The other judges nodded in agreement.
Harry just looked at them all incredulously. "Professor Dumbledore, we need to talk. Now. And in private. Madame Maxine and Karkaroff, I don't know if you noticed, but each one of you have injured students. Perhaps you should pay them some attention rather then standing here demanding an explanation you have no right to. And Mr. Bagman, if I never see you again, it will be too soon."
Ludo Bagman stood there, again, sputtering. "I... I will not be treated this way by a mere student!"
Harry smiled, with no trace of amusement in his voice. "You just were. Now scram. Don't you have some Goblins to appease?"
"Wha... how did you..."
Harry waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Shoo... oh no."
Harry sighed as his day just got worse. While Ludo Bagman started to slink away, and a thoroughly shamed Karkaroff and Madame Maxine slunk off as well to tend to their injured students, the unmistakable gaudy figure of Rita Skeeter came closer.
"Harry! Our readers want a quote from you! How did you make that dragon just give you the egg? And why did you set her free?"
Harry looked at her disinterestedly.
"Why yes, Miss Skeeter, I would absolutely love to give you a quote for your readers."
Rita smiled predatorily and leaned in, her "Quick Quotes" quill trembling with anticipation as it hovered over the notepad.
"Rita Skeeter is an unregistered beetle animagus."
The smile vanished off her face like it was never there, and she turned white. "What? How did you...?" her voice trailed off as she looked over at Dumbledore and saw his face.
"Harry, I assume you can back this accusation up?"
Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Can, can't, whatever. Check for yourself."
Dumbledore looked her in the eye, and his face turned thunderous. Gone was the kindly, grandfatherly Dumbledore, and in his place was the man who defeated Grindelwald. Faster than the eye could follow, he produced his wand and stunned her. He then wrote a note on a piece of paper, made a portkey out of it, placed it on her still body, and triggered it. She disappeared.
"Professor?", Harry said. He knew that there would be a reaction, but didn't expect it to be quite that... violent.
Dumbledore removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Not here, Harry." His eyes widened. "Harry, if I were you, I would turn around right now before your friend here does serious bodily injury."
Harry got halfway turned around before a bushy-haired missile ran full speed into him. "HarrywhathappenedouttherewhathappenedwiththedragonhowdidyoumanagetosurvivewhydidyoujustsitdownohharryIwassoworried..."
He smiled and returned his friend's hug. "Not here, Hermione. I'll explain everything later. We have a lot to discuss."
She looked worried. "Are you OK?"
He released her and thought for a moment. "Actually, Hermione, no, I'm not. But we'll talk later. Right now the professor and I need to have a long talk. Right, professor?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Harry. We do need to talk about your performance today. Let's go to my office."
Right at that moment, Ron came running up, out of breath. "That was amazing, mate, what you did with that dragon, I..."
Ron's voice faded away as Harry turned around without further word and started walking toward Hogwarts, nearly demanding that the aged professor follow by his demeanor.
Ron's mouth worked up and down a couple of times, and said to Hermione, "What's his problem?"
Hermione rounded on Ron. "Oh, I don't know, Ron. Figure it out." And she turned around and flounced out of the tent, leaving a gobsmacked Ron behind.
"When did she learn to flounce?", Ron thought, amazedly.
Scene Break
On the way back to Dumbledore's office, the walk was very quiet. It was a very pretty fall day, the grass was still growing, the birds were singing (one of which, the elusive BeethovenBird, was singing a rather off-tune rendition of "Ode to Joy" - this is what happens when you're in an area saturated with magic), the sky was a perfect blue with puffy clouds skittering across it, and the grass and trees were the kind of vivid green you get when they are content after gorging themselves on high-quality water and sunlight, and run-on sentences were chasing each other around the greens, laughing quietly as they caught each other and tumbled over themselves in the thick grass. Harry was carrying his golden egg, though he looked like he wanted to toss it in the Black Lake.
Dumbledore and Harry, though, did not say much to each other, though Dumbledore did share the results of the task – Dumbledore and Maxine giving a perfect score, Bagman giving a 5 because he freed the dragon, and Karkaroff giving a 1 because 0 wasn't an option. Harry didn't care, but appreciated knowing anyway.
Each was preoccupied with the events of an hour or so ago, from their perspective, and knew the conversation coming up was not likely to be pleasant, each for their own reasons. So each chose to enjoy the perfect day as they entered the dark and oddly homelike halls of Hogwarts, and eventually ended up in the quirky office of the most powerful wizard alive. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, and Harry took his customary seat in front of the desk. Fawkes sat on his perch, trilling quietly.
Dumbledore broke the silence.
"Lemon Drop, Harry?"
"No thanks, Professor."
Dumbledore settled back in his chair. "Harry, I am an old man, and I have seen many things in my life. I discovered the twelve uses of dragon blood, so I consider myself to be fairly experienced with dragons. I have never in my life even conceived of seeing what I saw during the first task, and I must confess to being quite astonished. Whatever gave you the idea to simply ask the dragon for the egg?"
Harry leaned back in his own chair, seemingly utterly unconcerned that the most powerful wizard in the world was – politely, mind you – interrogating him. Of course, he didn't ask the dragon for the egg – he actually got the egg as a consequence of doing the right thing, but he figured he didn't have to tell the aged but flawed Headmaster everything.
"Honestly, professor, you'd be surprised what happens when you just stop caring."
Dumbledore's face went from disappointed to concerned. "Stop caring, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "That's what I said. Stop caring. As in don't care. Don't give a toss. Don't give a shit."
"What... have you stopped caring about, Harry?"
"What have I stopped caring about?", Harry scoffed. "Everything!"
"Surely you must care about your friends? Your family?"
And that's when the dam broke.
Harry chuckled quietly. "My family. Albus bloody Dumbledore has the nerve to ask me why I don't care about my family. Sir", and Harry spat out the last word, "I don't have family. You saw to that."
Dumbledore's expression turned from concern to hurt. "Harry, I didn't kill -"
"No, sir, you didn't. I know who killed my parents. I don't blame you for that. What I do blame you for, though, are the people who I was left with after they died."
"Harry, I know...", Dumbledore started.
Harry shot up from his chair like a rocket.
"NO YOU DON'T."
"Harry, I..."
"No, SIR. You listen to ME for a change. I spent eleven years of my life being treated like a bloody house elf! No one checked up on me. Even the letter you sent was addressed to me at the "cupboard under the stairs". It was only after that that they gave me Dudley's second bedroom, and then they put locks on the outside and cat flaps! When the Weasleys came to get me, they had to rip bars off the window that were supposed to keep me and my bloody owl in!"
Dumbledore's face fell. "Harry, surely it couldn't be as bad as all that..."
"It was! And don't call me Shirley!"
Dumbledore just looked puzzled at that. "Harry, what?"
Harry waved his hand. "Not important. You knew or should have known what had happened to me, and you didn't even bother to check in to make sure I wasn't being mistreated."
"But Harry, you were protected, you were fed, you were treated just as a normal boy..."
Harry's lip quivered just a little. "Yes, sir. I survived it. On that we'll agree. I survived my first eleven years. Without love. Did you know or care what you were sentencing me to? Did you even bother to find out after the fact?"
Dumbledore just sat there, and a tear leaked out of his eye.
"How could I have failed you this badly?", Dumbledore asked, almost to himself.
Harry was silent.
"Harry, I honestly thought that they would treat you as family. I truly did."
Harry sighed and looked down at his feet.
"I believe, you, professor. And that's the problem. You're so idealistic. You think the best of people, you always give them a second chance, you're willing to sacrifice the good for the sake of saving the evil. But if you want to see the price of this, look at me. I am the cost of your idealism. Even now, sir, the evil runs rampant in this school because you are so intent on reforming it you don't care if the innocent suffer.
You asked why I don't care anymore. Here's why I don't care. Because you don't. Because you, and people like you, can't be arsed to stand up for people like me and do what's right for a change. Not what is easy. And if you don't care whether I live or die, then, why should I?"
"Don't care whether...?"
"No, sir. I don't. You could kill me right now and I wouldn't give a toss. And when I realized that today, as I was walking out to meet that dragon, I realized that not caring sure does make things easier. It gives you courage. And I walked right up to that dragon and pretty much dared it to kill me."
Dumbledore wasn't sure how many more shocks his heart could take in one day. "You... dared..."
"I told you. I don't care. If it had killed me I would have been perfectly fine with that."
Dumbledore took off his glasses and put his head in his hands. If this boy was telling anything near the truth, he buggered it bigtime.
"Harry... isn't there anything you care about?"
"I don't know, sir. Maybe Hermione. The others who didn't abandon me this term, few as they are. Hedwig. That's about it. Everything else can go bugger itself for all I care."
Yep, the headmaster thought. I buggered up. How is this boy supposed to fulfill the prophecy if he doesn't care whether he lives or dies?
Harry, for his part, was trying to decide how much to tell Dumbledore. He figured the Mark of the Dragon would be a good start. "Oh, and there's something else, too. You see..."
Harry was spared continuing, though, by the door bursting open and McGonagle and Snape levitating in a straw-haired man they'd never seen before. Dumbledore stood up and said, quite authoritatively, "What is the meaning of this?"
Snape sneered at Harry, but then put his attention on Dumbledore.
"This... man... was impersonating Moody. He was taking polyjuice but it looks like it stopped working. He tried to curse us but he seems to have also lost his magic for some reason."
Harry spoke up. "I think this is the man that entered me into the tournament, Professor."
Dumbledore rubbed his forehead. It was going to be a long day. After dismissing Harry, he tossed some powder in the floo and called Amelia Bones, director of the DMLE (Department of Magical Law Enforcement). Then, in a spectacular example of setting the correct priorities as the leader of the Light, Supreme Mugwump, and Best Dressed Wizard in Beating for the Other Team Wizard Weekly, five times running, he took a headache potion. He was going to have to continue this conversation with Harry, but more important matters awaited.
Scene Change
Later that evening, after Amelia Bones left with Barty Crouch Jr., and Moody had been rescued from his trunk and sent to St. Mungos, dinner was being served in the Great Hall. Harry walked into the Hall, and everyone stopped talking, almost at once. You could hear a pin drop.
Harry looked around, and sat down at the Gryffindor table, next to Hermione. He whispered to her "come with me after dinner and I'll explain everything". She nodded.
As he started to dig into his food, the conversation started to pick up again, but one voice carried over from the Slytherin table.
"Oi, there's Potter! Did you see him hugging that dragon? Wouldn't even fight it, the tosser!"
Harry honestly didn't care, and just kept on eating like he didn't hear. The Slytherins were snickering at Draco's words.
"Hey Potter! What are you going to do next? Bugger it?"
What happened next stunned everyone in the room, not the least Harry, when Dumbledore stood up and banged his fist on the table.
"ENOUGH", he roared.
Draco looked at the head table, enraged, but with fear in his eyes as well.
"Mr. Malfoy. To your dorms. Now."
Draco stood up. "Wait till my father hears of this!"
Dumbledore turned into the man who defeated Grindelwald again. "I look forward to it, Mr. Malfoy. He and I have been needing to have a long talk about your behavior for a long time, and it's about time we had it. We will talk about your future at this school before the night is up. SIT DOWN, Professor Snape!", he said, as Snape was half out of his chair, ready to defend Draco. "There will be plenty of opportunity to discuss my actions, but now is not the time!"
As Draco stalked out of the room, Dumbledore continued.
"It was pointed out to me today that I have been doing what is easy instead of what is right. That ends today. You heads of house will be calling meetings with each one of your houses before the week is up. That kind of baiting will no longer be tolerated. Please enjoy the rest of your dinner, while behaving in a manner befitting your station."
Most of the Slytherins looked both murderous and frightened, while the rest of the school just looked pensive, though Luna Lovegood actually looked like she had tears in her eyes. Snape, however, looked murderous, and knew just who to blame. If looks could kill, Harry would be dead three times over.
Harry, though, just looked thoughtful. Perhaps Dumbledore wasn't so bad after all. He ate the rest of his dinner in pensive silence.
After dinner, Harry pulled Hermione into an unused classroom, shut the door, cast a privacy charm, and turned to his best friend.
"Alright, Hermione. I promised you we'd talk later."
Hermione bounced up and down with barely suppressed excitement, her bushy hair jiggling around like floppy gelatin. "Harry, what happened down there? Can you talk to Dragons? Are you all right? Why did you -"
Harry stopped her, and they both sat down next to each other.
"Hermione, I'm only having this conversation with you because you didn't abandon me. Almost everyone else did. Here's what happened: I gave up. I walked out on that pitch, and suddenly the reality of everything just hit me. How everything and nearly everyone in my entire life has been conspiring to kill me in one way or another, and I just... snapped. I lost my will to live. And so I just walked up to that dragon, completely and totally unconcerned as to whether it would kill me."
Hermione's lip quivered a little. "Lost your... will.. to live?"
Harry sighed. The waterworks were about to start.
"Yeah. I didn't care whether I lived or died. Still don't really. My life seems to have such little value that I'm just a pawn in everyone else's games, why should I care anymore?"
"Oh Harry!", she cried, and launched herself into his arms, blubbering like a schoolgirl, which she was, so that was OK.
Harry awkwardly patted her on the back. "There.. there?"
She finally disentangled herself from him and slapped him across the face, hard. Harry looked shocked.
"That was for almost killing yourself and making me worry! And this..."
Hermione grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him square on the lips. After what seemed lime only minutes but was just a few seconds, she released him.
"And that... that was..."
Hermione lost her nerve and ran for the door. She flung it open and ran through it, and Harry heard her footsteps receding in the distance, and as his mind finally gained rational thought, he ran after her.
A/N: I'm doing a bad thing. I don't know where this story is going. I just thought it would be a fun thing to write and so I'm writing it. Maybe it'll turn out great, maybe it won't, but to be frank, I don't know where it's going any more than you do. Will Harry and Hermione fall in love? Will it be with someone else? Will it be with anyone? I'm not a shipper, so honestly, I don't care, I could write him with anyone and be fine with it. Maybe even Pansy. I'm rather fond of Luna, what a delightful girl.
Will Dumbledore realize exactly how much he screwed up with he finds out his scar is no longer a horcrux? Or will he, instead, double down like the stubborn old man he can sometimes be? Clues are in this chapter. Apparently, Harry just knocked some sense into him. Did Hermione knock some sense into Harry? Find out next chapter!
How did Harry know all of these things? People say all sorts of things around a seemingly inanimate Goblet. Plus it can sense magical signatures, comes with the job.
Still T for now. If I'm going to explore teenage romance, it's going to be romance, not hormones. For now, anyway.
Because I am writing this on the fly, it's entirely possible some chapters could be slightly rewritten in the future. Such are the occupational hazards of being a bad boy and writing this way. Guess we'll all have to deal. I will let you know if I do.
Read? Like? Review! Thank you for the previous reviews, they motivated me to write this!