Hello! I am new to writing fanfictions so please only constructive criticism!
This story will take place during The Goblet of Fire. Going to write a small story! Pairing is Harry/Daphne with Neville/Luna and Blaise/Tracy !
I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS!
All associated elements belong to JKR
Harry awoke in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. The events of last evening fresh in Harry's mind, filling him with dread and anxiety. Flashes of red and gold streaked through his vision as he recalled the 'celebration' the twins organized in the dorm room. Gray and darkness flooded his eyes, remembering what felt like a mile walk to the chambers where the champions were waiting. Sighing, Harry reached for his wand and glasses. Sitting on the edge of his bed he thought about Ron, Seamus, and Dean, all three of them claiming he cheated his way into the tournament.
His eyes filled with tears, realizing that his so-called 'friends' believed that he would not only cheat, but lie to Dumbledore and the professors he respected. He clutched his wand and tapped his leg with it, his legs moving, feet bouncing up and down the floor. A voice in his head said one word that filled him with rage, "Malfoy". Harry remembered glancing at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, Malfoy looking smug and cracking jokes on how he would die. Decapitation, fear, whatever. Though a blonde haired witch shook her head in disappointment.
"He thinks you'll be dead. All of them do…" the voice whispered in his mind, "They all believe you are weak. Stupid. Arrogant. A cheat. A liar". Harry looked up and stared out of his bed frame, intending to respond to his inner voice, but speaking out loud quietly, "I am no cheat, no liar. I am not arrogant nor stupid. I will not die here in this death trap, I will live, and I will show them all."
That night, Harry James Potter realized something; he wanted to prove everyone around him wrong.
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The next morning came too soon for Harry. Waking up, he realized that he'd overslept past breakfast and was already late for his morning class, History of Magic. Groaning, Harry decided to skip the class, as Professor Binns would not realize a student was missing from his class. Stomach rumbling, Harry sluggishly dressed himself, and, using his invisibility cloak, decided to head to the library. Intending to complete homework for potions class, Harry couldn't help but notice that groups of students were pointing and whispering, some sniggering, others quietly laughing. Unable to focus, Harry furiously snatched his bag back up and hastily walked to the exit of the library.
Wandering the halls, Harry stumbled into Professor Moody's classroom. Finding it empty, he sighed and set his bag down next to a desk in the back. Right as he was about to sit down, a sharp, bark-like, voice cut through the silence. "Potter! What are you doing out of class?" Clunk, clunk, clunk. Professor Moody limped out of his office, walking staff in hand as he gave Harry a piercing gaze. Startled, Harry shot straight up and quickly explained, "Sir, I slept past breakfast and the start of History of Magic. I didn't want to make a fool out of myself by walking into the class late and causing a commotion. I… dunno… I just thought my dorm mates would have had the courtesy of waking me up as usual." Giving a grunt, Professor Moody stared at Harry for a minute, though for Harry, it seemed like forever, before Professor Moody grunted out, "Come in Potter, I'll make you a cup of tea and you can have a biscuit or two."
Timidly walking into the Professor's office, many objects and items caught Harry's attention. Professor Moody, removing his fake leg and sitting down, staring at Harry, gave a gruff chuckle. "Sit, Potter. I've got tea brewing already." Seeing the amazed look on Harry's face, Moody replied, "Dark detectors, curse breaking books, potions cabinet, everything standard to root out the Dark Arts." Harry, realizing his mouth was open, promptly closed it and sat in the chair Moody motioned to on the other side of his desk. "Constant vigilance!" Moody barked, "You can never know when the devils are amongst you, watching you, stalking you, prepared to strike you anytime of the day!" Harry grinned slightly before asking, "Professor, why'd you call me in here?" Moody leaned forwards, a look of deep thought crossing his face before responding, "I heard you have a knack for Defense Against the Dark Arts Potter, though your knowledge is laughable compared to your competition." Opening his mouth to object, Harry was cut off by Moody. "You are facing magic beyond your imagination Potter. If you want to make it out of this tournament alive, you best be studying or receiving extra… assistance, if you will." Giving a slight grin to Harry, he waved his wand, and the tea and biscuits flew across the room, landing on the desk.
"Sir," Harry started, trying to formulate the correct way to ask his question, "Couldn't you help me? After all, nothing states that a student cannot receive teaching from a professor, right sir?" Moody scratched his chin, then took a sip of tea before setting it down on his saucer. "Correct, Potter, though I don't play favorites." Harry's face fell after hearing this, "I do, however, believe in fairness! It is unfair for you to compete in a tournament for Seventh Years while being three years behind!" Scribbling a note on some spare parchment and shoving it aside, he looked up at Harry. "Two o'clock sharp Potter. Here in this classroom. Saturday afternoon." Scribbling a second note, Moody pushed it to Harry and stated, "Take this to Professor McGonagall. This will get you out of detention for skipping class. Don't make it a habit, Potter!"
Walking down the hallways of the castle, the bell chimes resonated through the walls, marking the end of the first class. Harry, stuffing his invisibility cloak in his bag, briskly walked to the dungeons, not wanting an opportunity for Snape to deduct points from him. Lining up at the door, sniggers and laughs could be heard behind him. "Oi, Potter!" A familiar, pompous voice called out. "Potter!" Harry ignored the calls of his name, staring blankly at the door to the potions classroom. Furious, Malfoy continued. "Potter! Look at me when I'm talking to you! Weren't you taught manners or was the concept too foreign to your filthy mudblood mother?" Shaking with anger, Harry whipped around and was almost face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. Startled, Draco stepped back and regained his composure. "I heard people have died in this tournament, haven't you Potter? You see, my father and I have a bet. He thinks you won't last ten minutes in the first task. I disagree, I think you won't last five!" Crabb and Goyle sniggered at Malfoy's comment, almost every Slytherin grinning. All but three: a blonde girl, a black haired and dark skinned guy, and a black haired girl. Looking around, Harry saw Seamus and Ron snigger as well, even laughing silently at Malfoy's comment. Just as Harry was about to reply, the door swung open with a cold, emotionless voice reaching the students' ears, "Enter."
Pouring into the classroom, Harry decided to sit in the back of the class, away from the attention, away from his former friends. A bored, chilling voice filled the room. "Today you will be brewing the Calming Draught. If brewed wrongly, the potion can induce uncontrollable sobbing." Flicking his wand, the blackboard filled with instructions. "The instructions are on the board in front of you. Begin."
Concentrating on the draught, Harry did not rise to any insults by the Slytherins, nor the harassment by his own housemates. Gliding over to Harry who was stirring his potion, Professor Snape peered down into Harry's cauldron. "And what, Potter, are you doing?" He stirred clockwise, muttering the count, then switched to counterclockwise stirs. "Potter!" Snape snapped. Harry, not looking up, replied calmly. "Brewing, sir. I am stirring counterclockwise now until the potion develops a thick consistency as per the instructions on the board and in the book." Snape, at a loss for words, as Harry had followed the instructions precisely, responded with, "Ten points for your attitude, Potter." His cloak billowed dramatically as he walked away. Harry sighed heavily and stopped stirring.
Explosions were heard and ingredients went flying, but the potions class continued normally. Neville failed to brew his potion correctly and was sent to the hospital wing, as he was burned harshly. Dean, Seamus, and Ron produced a black puddle that caused all three of them to cry hysterically while laughing. Lastly, Crabb and Goyle melted their cauldron, and a thick, dark blue, goop spewed out of the bottom, causing Professor Snape to leap up and vanish the potion before anything else happened. Snape looked up at the clock above the door, five minutes remaining until the class ended. A silky, arrogant, smug voice called out, "Those who were smart enough to follow the instructions, turn in a vial of your Calming Draught. Those who failed are assigned ten inches on why the Calming Draught requires precise measurements of ingredients and stirs."
Ladling the liquid into a vile and corking it, Harry held the vial carefully as he scribbled his name on a parchment and charmed it to the glass. Confidently walking to the front of the class, he placed his vile into the wooden holder as the same blonde Slytherin from earlier dropped her own vial beside his. Their eyes met for a second before Harry, uncomfortable, turned away and briskly walked to gather his supplies. Within the time Harry had gathered his school books and parchment, the only two people left in the classroom were himself and the unknown blonde Slytherin girl. Their eyes met once again, and she spoke in a soft voice. "I don't believe you cheated Harry Potter." With that, the girl turned away from him and walked out of the classroom, leaving a confused, though pleased, Harry Potter.
- LINE BREAK -
If Harry believed that the day would get better from there, however, he was sorely mistaken. After the bell chime rang through the castle, signifying the end of lunch, Harry, alone, quickly walked to the greenhouses. Jeers and taunts were thrown his way as Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even Gryffindors passed him in the courtyard. Fueled with annoyance, Harry sped up his pace and reached the Herbology classroom in Greenhouse One.
Waddling in with a small tree in a pot, dangling purple bulbs hanging from the branches, Professor Sprout entered the greenhouse. Huffing and setting the plant onto the central table, she looked around as the bell rang. "Good afternoon, class!" Shuffling to their spots, the students replied, "Good afternoon, Professor Sprout." Smiling, Professor Sprout motioned to the plant in front of her. "Now that we've finished with Bouncing Bulbs, we will be moving onto this! Can anyone tell me what this is?" Hermione, of course, shot her hand up, as well as, surprisingly, Neville. "Ah, Mr. Longbottom." Professor Sprout said delightedly. Neville shifted in his spot, rubbing his scorched arms absentmindedly, and shyly replied, "That's a Shrivelfig, that is." A joyful smile spread across Professor Sprout's plump face while Hermione sulked, obviously sad she couldn't answer the question. "Correct!" Professor Sprout replied, "Five points to Gryffindor! Now, can anyone tell me what this is used for?" Again, Hermione's hand shot up to the sky. However, this time, Harry's hand raised as well. "Mr. Potter?" Professor Sprout called, obviously a bit shocked, "Can you tell us what this is used for?" Harry, pondering, trying to remember something, responded, "Errr.. Shrivelfigs are used in potions, Professor. Commonly an ingredient in the Shrinking Solution." Professor Sprout gave a small nod. "Correct. Now, class, today we are planting Shrivelfig seeds! Simply take a pot, fill it about three-fourths of the way with soil, add the seed in the middle, and cover the rest with dragon fertilizer!" Confused on why he didn't receive any points, Harry simply followed instructions.
The class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs exploded with conversation after Professor Sprout released them to plant their seeds. As Harry shoveled dirt into his pot, he heard a whisper. "Psst, Potter." Ernie MacMillan hissed, "I advise you to forfeit the tournament, Cedric is the rightful Champion of Hogwarts, you cheat." Paying no attention to Ernie's remarks, Harry continued with the assignment. Harry's lack of response angered Ernie, and in retaliation, Ernie pulled his wand out and aimed it at Harry's pot. A moment later, with an explosive blast, a chunk of the pot flew off. "Mr. Potter!" An exacerbated Professor Sprout shouted, "What the devil are you doing?" Harry, dusting his robes off, replied softly, "Professor, it wasn't me, I swear it was Ernie! He cast a spell!" Furious and red faced, Professor Sprout shouted, "Detention! And twenty points from Gryffindor for lying! Bad enough you steal Mr. Diggary's title but now you're lying about my badgers! Clean up and get out!
- LINE BREAK -
Even in his own house's dorm he wasn't safe from torment. Younger years constantly annoyed him with questions, thinking he was a genius, as his name was chosen to compete, getting around Dumbledore's own age line. His own year-mates scoffed at him, besides Neville who was always in a corner doing homework, reading up on Herbology, or tending a potted plant. Older years either sneered at him in jealousy or cheered him on with bluster.
This tension and unnaturalness of the dorm room would all come to a head on the next Friday with Seamus and Ron shouting at Harry one night. Tired of the abuse and the insults, Harry ignored them, sparking outrage from Ron. "Hey scarhead! Bloody look at me when I'm talking to you! Didn't your mother teach you to respect others?" No one knew who cast first, though wands were drawn and spells flew through the air. Harry, being battle hardened after years of fighting dark creatures, subdued Ron and Seamus. Ron was petrified, face down on the floor, blood pouring from his nose slightly. Seamus' wand blasted out of his hand, as his legs and feet were stuck to the floor by ice. Harry lowered his wand and coughed as he gripped his side. A gash had slashed through his robes with red glistening from the cut.
"What in the blazes happened here?" A loud voice of disapproval and disappointment echoed in the now stunned and silent dorm room. "Well?" A snappy voice asked as Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Mistress McGonagall stepped into the circular main room. She gasped when she saw Ron on the floor and Seamus locked in ice. Waving her wand, she revived Ron, and the ice disappeared. "What in Merlin's name happened here? The banners are slashed and have holes in them! Puddles of water all across the floor! Cuts on the wall! And good lord, is that blood Mr. Potter?" "It was Potter, Professor! He started this!" replied Seamus. Students muttered and agreed, as no one clearly knew who'd fired the first spell. McGonagall shook her head disapprovingly, sighing, "A week's worth of detention and twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." Remembering he was bleeding, she snapped, "Get to the hospital wing! You're dripping blood everywhere!"
Instead of responding, whining, or complaining as was the normal for Harry, he limped past McGonagall, a trail of blood drops following him, and he slammed the portrait of the Fat Lady shut. He closed his eyes in disbelief that the twins or Hermione hadn't helped him, hadn't stood up for him, and crucially, had allowed him to be attacked by his old best friend.
Humming, Neville Longbottom, having just come back from studying exotic and rare plants with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses, accidentally bumped into Harry. "Woah! Sorry Harry, I'm so sorry! Just came back fro-" stopping mid-sentence, he gasped in horror as he saw Harry clutching his side. Blood dripped from the cut, staining his hand red as he tried to stop the leaking, "The bloody hell happened?" Sighing, Harry explained the situation rapidly. Coughing he asked, "Hey, could you move? I need to see Madam Pomfrey." Neville shook his head, pulled Harry's hand away, and wrapped his arm over his shoulder, "C'mon, you can't walk all the way there yourself. Let's go."
Stumbling into the hospital wing, Harry called out, "Madam Pomfrey, I need some hel-…" His voice faltered, and he kneeled on the floor, his wound leaking blood on the stones below him. Rushing over to the kneeling boy, Madam Pomfrey startled. Harry coughed, spewing blood onto the floor. Neville tried to pull Harry up onto his feet. "Bed! Set him on the bed!" Madam Pomfrey snapped to Neville, "He needs to lie down!" As Madam Pomfrey rushed off to procure the potions required to aid Harry. Harry leaned towards Neville and coughed, "Under my bed, my trunk, please get it, and Hedwig's cage."
Rushing off, Neville sprinted to the Gryffindor dorm room while Madam Pomfrey rushed over to Harry. Fumbling with her bottles she poured out glasses of potions and set a glass of water on the table, "Drink, Potter, drink!" She pulled out her wand and started to mutter charms over his wound. Harry shakily choked down the potions. "You'll have to stay here overnight, Potter. Afterwards, you can enjoy your weekend." Nodding and sighing, Harry lay in bed, awaiting Neville's return. Panting, running with Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage in his hands, he set them next to Harry's bed. "They're out for blood, Harry. They really don't like you after tonight. I… I don't know if you should return to the tower…" Harry sighed and responded, "I have a plan, Neville. I'll communicate with you in the library and through mail. Thank you. I won't forget this."
Little Authors Note here so skip if you don't want to read!
Hi readers! I am known as "Sip" so yeah, if you want to call me by something, it's going to be "Sip". I'm not sure if how long I'll continue this project but the idea is to make this a long series if you readers want! I'm quite new to writing stories in general as most of my writing experience is with school based assignments (research papers or timed writings). If you catch any mistakes make a comment! I'll try to respond to most comments if possible! Looking forward to writing more of this story if you guys want!
Update:
19/1/2023 - Fixed the spelling of "vial"