Incandescence
Part Eight
Champions

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. This obviously hasn't changed in a prequal and eight chapters and isn't likely to do so anytime soon. Sigh. Also, I am a medium for the Lugovaloses. Phyrrus reminds me of this constantly.

Warnings: This is slash. Obviously. You are warned again. If I get flamed, Phyrrus will be amused.

Author's Note: Well, I'm done for the summer, so updates should be regular. This is now beta'd! Thank you PrincessXXMoonXX! If you wish to thank her for her wonderful work to me I will certainly pass on the message! She's amazing and should probably get a lot more credit since my rough drafts are extrememly that.

Princess Felton2: So, I missed your birthday, I guess. . . . whoops? Here's a belated present! So, I suppose I'll just dedicate this chapter to you.

To everyone else: I loved the reviews! I've got the nicest. . .erm. . . well, I got chewed out, but in a really good way! Heh. Thanks, Rose Midnight Moonlight Black. Clearly Chara is well loved! Also, AnnF, I'm totally with you on Percy being rushed, but every time I read it, I still see Percy in it. Really smart, no common sense. And Anders. . . sadly, he's got none either. Leon can attest. And I'm glad you all liked this and reviewed! It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside!

As always, I'm going to request reivews because of the OC's, and I've never been disappointed! And this story isn't being held hostage by my school work (once I get a job that might change, but hopefully not) and I will never hold it hostage for reviews. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and I'd love to hear from you all again! Eleven more at this time before 100!

But, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!
oOooOo

On the eve of the Halloween ball, Harry had dressed up in his costume, playing with the iridescent wings that floated down his back. He glanced over the silky robes, and scowled. "I look like a girl. How did I let you talk me into this?"

Phyrrus adjusted his costume and grinned, making sure he wouldn't set anything on fire with his wings. "Because I thought you looked hot in the costume?"

"Right." Harry remembered that conversation. He'd have to have a talk with Phyrrus about tickle torture. Or just play a humongous prank on the other. Either way, he'd have to get Phyrrus back. With a vengeance. But Phyrrus was right, and Harry's costume was downright cool. White and iridescent cloth fell in waves around his thin form, though Phyrrus didn't think he looked girly. Just a little more androgynous than usual, which was fine since he was supposed to be an element and they really didn't have genders.

Phyrrus looked just as handsome as ever, his fire-like costume accenting his features and making him all the more handsome. Red, orange, yellow, and gold brought out both hair and eyes, and Phyrrus looked every bit a male. Harry was jealous. He didn't want to look androgynous. And if someone called him he girl, he was going to beat them black and blue. He hated his feminine features.

The two headed off to the party, hands clasped, and met Ron, Hermione, Cyrrus, Ginny, Draco, and Neville there. Severus and Leon were watching the little twins for the night, and Phyrrus and Harry were quite grateful. Krum was also there, though none of the rest of the group really had dates. "Hey you guys!" Phyrrus grinned. "Tell Harry how great and not girly he looks."

"Not girly?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. She looked at Harry and shrugged. "You really don't look girly, Harry. And even if you did, you certainly don't act girly!"

"Shut up!" Harry grumbled, blushing.

Ginny grinned. She loved to bug Harry. And Phyrrus was awesome, because he'd occasionally help out, unless Harry was really getting upset. And Cyrrus. . . well, she just liked Cyrrus. "Hey, Ginny, you want to dance with me?" Cyrrus held out a hand, and Ron fumed silently. Harry and Phyrrus traded smirked and turned their attention to the dance floor.

"Want to dance, Harry?" Phyrrus requested, and Harry nodded happily. The two whirled merrily around the dance floor until Dumbledore called their attention to the front of the hall.

"It is time for the champions to be chosen!" He cried, and everyone scrabbled to get seats. The house tables unfolded from the walls, settling down for the students to take seats on. Moments after everyone was seated, the goblet erupted into blue flames and spat out a slip of paper.

"The champion of Beaubatons is Fleur Delacoeur!" He called, and a pretty blond girl that Harry suspected was half-veela rose from her seat, tossing her head and smiling winningly at the students pranced up the aisle. Harry raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she blew kisses to the other students in her school.

Once more, the fire in the goblet glowed blue, and Dumbledore caught the paper that flew from it. "From Dumstrang, it will be Viktor Krum!" Harry and his friends clapped as Krum rose to his feet, shuffling down the aisle to the front of the room, waving at the other students as he passed. He offered Harry's group a wide grin, and disappeared through the same door Fleur exited through.

The goblet once again changed color and another bit of paper flew into the air. Hogwarts held its breath as Dumbledore looked at the paper. "For Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory!"

Hufflepuff screamed, and the rest of the school joined in its cheers. Cedric made his way to the front, grinning and waving to his house mates before he disappeared through the door. Dumbledore stepped foward to collect the goblet and make a speech, but the fire once more changed color and a bit of paper was thrown out. Everyone blinked in confusion as Dumbledore looked at the slip of paper in his hands. "Harry Potter."

Harry stiffened as all eyes looked to him. "I didn't enter," He told them, blankly, his voice weak.

"Harry!" Phyrrus cried, looking down at the boy. "You made me promise and now this?"

"Phyrrus, please. . . I didn't enter!" Harry cried. "Ron? Hermione? You believe me, right? I didn't enter! Phyrrus–"

Cold golden eyes regarded Harry coolly, and Harry shivered, knowing he was about to get the full brunt of the infamous Lugovalos temper. "The name is Flame."

Harry flinched as though slapped. Hermione prodded him up and forced him to walk to that door, but Harry couldn't shake the look of Phyrrus' cold golden eyes as he looked at Harry. He'd seen the look before, but never used on him. Harry shakily opened the door.

"What do they want?" Fleur asked, her French accent heavy.

Harry said nothing, just moved to sit down, drowning in his misery. He knew Phyrrus was angry, and after making Phyrrus not attempt to enter, he didn't blame the other. But it hurt to know that, for the first time, the anger was directed at him. It hurt to be told that Phyrrus no longer wanted Harry to use the name he reserved only for those he considered family. Harry buried his face in his hands, but didn't start crying. Not yet.

"He cannot compete!" Harry heard the voice of the leader of Dumstrang, Karkaroff. He shuddered, knowing they were speaking of him. "It is not fair!"

"It is a binding magical contract! He has to compete!" Dumbledore sighed. "I've tried to think of a way around this! Truly I have, but all contests whose names were taken from the goblet must compete. There is not choice. I don't want him to either! He is not old enough!"

"No, he is not. But we must all have two champions, then," Madame Maxime's voice cut through the uncomfortable silence.

"That is also quite impossible," Dumbledore sighed. "Because the goblet has gone out and will not relight until the next Triwizard Tournament."

"We have quite the issue, then," Harry could hear a new voice, a man he saw at the feast that Ron had called Ludo Bagman. "But so what? We'll just let him compete."

"I don't want too," Harry whispered as the door opened.

"They are saying this little boy is to compete!" Fleur growled, looking at the headmistress of Beaubatons.

"They are right," Madame Maxime sighed. "He is. But no one knows why or how. The goblet should not have given a fourth name, and his should not have been in it in the first place. Dumbledore is also convinced he would not enter this himself."

"I didn't!" Harry cried. "I don't want to compete! Isn't there a way to. . . let me not?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore sighed. "Your name was given by the goblet, and therefore you must compete."

Harry hung his head, only half-listening to the rules and made his way slowly up to his dormitory. Gryffindor tower was partying when he arrived, but he half-heartedly shoved his way through the crowd and to his bed. The curtains around both Phyrrus' and Ron's beds were pulled, and Harry felt his heart sink a little further. Phyrrus had never before used the bed he had at Hogwarts. He always slept with Harry. They didn't do anything, except for a little cuddling, but sleeping alone was not something Harry was used to anymore.

Picking up Phyrrus' pillow, Harry buried his face in it and began to cry.
oOooOo

Phyrrus couldn't sleep, he laid awake in his cold bed. He, like Harry, wasn't very used to sleeping alone, and he had to wonder if he hadn't been to hard on the other teen. He knew Harry wasn't in the habit of lying, and he knew Harry hadn't wanted to compete. Should he have gotten so angry over such a thing?

Phyrrus wasn't sure if he was more irked that Harry was allowed to compete when he was not, or if Harry had made him promise not to compete, but he was going to. Hearing the stairs creak, he knew the light steps belonged to his boyfriend. . . ex-boyfriend. They paused when they entered the room, no doubt taking in Phyrrus' closed curtains, and then Phyrrus heard them move to Harry's bed. The soft rattle of the curtains closing made Phyrrus sigh in relief, until he heard Harry begin to sob.

"I'm sorry, Phyrrus," Harry's broken voice drifted to Phyrrus' ears. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to compete. I'm so sorry." Choked sobs over took the words, though Phyrrus was certain Harry was trying to say more and couldn't get the words past his tears.

Phyrrus steeled himself and forced himself to remain in bed, until Harry managed another sentence. "I'm sorry, Phyrrus. . . I love you." The words were so broken and lost that Phyrrus found himself rising to his feet and heading towards Harry's bed. He still loved Harry, no matter that he was slightly vexed with the other, and couldn't just stay in bed while Harry cried his eyes out. As he approached, he could hear a soft mantra of "I'm sorry, I love you," coming from Harry's bed. Carefully he peeked into the bed and saw Harry wrapped around Phyrrus' pillow, sobbing. Soon Harry's chant changed over to simply, "I love you, I love you, I love you," and Phyrrus couldn't take it anymore.
oOooOo

Harry jumped as someone crawled into his bed and curled around him, holding him tightly. "I love you, too," Phyrrus words were soft. "I'm the one who's sorry. I know you didn't enter your name into that goblet, and I know you don't want to compete. I'm sorry I'm such an ass."

Harry latched onto the other, sobbing into his chest, pillow squished between them. Phyrrus shifted just long enough to move the pillow, and then held Harry tightly. "Flame, please. . ."

"Phyrrus, baby." Harry heard him murmured, and Harry began to sob harder.

"I thought I lost you." Harry sobbed, clinging. "I'm so sorry!"

"Shush. I was just upset that you had forbidden me from entering, but your name was called. I know you didn't want to compete. Hush, it's okay. I'm more angry with myself than anything, and I took it out on you. Shh, it's okay." Phyrrus stroked Harry's soft hair, holding him as he cried. Harry tightened his grip on Phyrrus, not looking up as he buried his face in Phyrrus' chest and sniffed.

"I thought you hated me," Harry whimpered, and Phyrrus shook his head, his own tears dripping down he face. How could Harry ever think that Phyrrus hated him?

"Never ever, baby," Phyrrus buried his face in Harry's black locks and closed his eyes, breathing in the other's scent. His bed hadn't smelt right, without Harry. Phyrrus held the smaller teen more tightly, not wanting to let go. Eventually both fell asleep, clinging tightly to each other, content to rest in each other's arms.
oOooOo

Harry's face felt sticky and tight in the morning from all his tears, but Phyrrus' arms were still wrapped tightly around him, holding him close. He turned, green eyes red-rimmed and heavy from crying, and pressed a kiss to Phyrrus' lips. Phyrrus regarded him with a warm gaze, and Harry sighed in relief. "What made you change your mind?" Harry asked, afraid Phyrrus would leave him again.

"When I heard you say you love me," Phyrrus murmured. "I realized what an ass I was, and how much I love you and need you and want you. And then it all seemed to stupid. Such a stupid thing to lose you over. You hold my heart, Harry, and I was too stupid to know it."

Harry smiled, resting his head over Phyrrus' chest, listening to the comforting pulse. "That's okay," Harry murmured, pressing a kiss over Phyrrus' heart. "Because I've given you mine."

Phyrrus tilted the boy's face up, pressing a kiss to his lips, and Harry eagerly allowed the kiss, parting his lips and letting Phyrrus explore his mouth. Phyrrus deepened the kiss, listening to Harry moan, and pulled the together, slipping a leg between Harry's. Harry gasped, and normally would have pulled away, but Phyrrus felt him halt his hands before they moved to push at him. He frowned. "Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head, even as Phyrrus backed off, cuddling Harry and pressing gentle kisses to his face and hair. "I know you wanted to push me away, so why didn't you?"

Harry blushed, ashamed. "I was afraid. . ."

"Afraid of what? I won't hurt you." Phyrrus frowned.

"Not physically," Harry agreed. "I was afraid. . . you'd leave again."

"Never," Phyrrus vowed. "I'm so sorry, Harry. But don't you ever do something you don't want to and aren't ready for. I will never leave if you push me away, especially not if its sexual. I swear that, Harry."

Harry nodded, tears filling his eyes. "I'm sorry, aru--Phy--arudo. I didn't think. . . "

"It's okay," Phyrrus murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Harry's lips. "We all get that way."

"I'm glad you stopped." Harry confessed.

"I will never do something you don't want," Phyrrus replied, content to cuddle closer to his boyfriend. "So don't worry. It'll all be okay."

"I know," Harry smiled. "I didn't think so before, but I know." He laid his head back against Phyrrus' chest and relaxed, enjoying the feel of Phyrrus' arms around him, his heart beating in Harry's ear. They stayed like that for some time before getting up to greet the day. Harry made his way to the washroom for a shower, and Phyrrus began to dress, yawning slightly.

Ron poked his way from the curtains. "Already forgive him?" Ron asked, snorting. "What'd he do? Fuck you for it?"

"Stop, Ron." Phyrrus didn't pay the insults any mind. He knew Ron was feeling betrayed and upset, especially since Phyrrus was now on the "Dark Side" so to speak. "Don't say something you'll regret later."

"About that whore? Not bloody likely."

"Harry is not a whore, Ron. Now get out before I hurt you." Phyrrus' words were even and calm, but anger burned behind the fire gold of his eyes. Ron snorted again and dressed, prancing out of the room as Harry reappeared. The smaller sighed and shook his head, pulling on his robes and running his fingers through his hair in hopes it would lay flat.

"I heard everything," Harry told Phyrrus, shaking his head. "Just. . . don't hurt Ron, okay?"

"He's insulting you. And hurting you." Phyrrus pointed out, shoulders tense.

"He's upset. Like you were. Look, it'll all work out, okay?" Harry wrapped his arms around Phyrrus' waist and tucked his head against Phyrrus' back. "Promise me."

"Unless he does something Truly deserving, I won't. I swear on my honor as a Lugovalos." Phyrrus sighed again twisted to hug Harry briefly. The two made their way downstairs, talking calmly and trading jokes. Hermione greeted them happily, as did the other Gryffindors. Cyrrus and Draco waved as they were eating, and Krum chose to join them that morning, offering Harry his apologies.

"I am very sorry you could not drop out," Krum told Harry, and Phyrrus blinked.

"What?"

"He told them he did not wish to compete," Krum explained. "Did he not tell you this?"

"We had. . . a fight," Harry admitted, hating dragging people into his business. Especially his personal business. But Krum was a friend, if nothing more.

"Ah, yes." Krum nodded sagely. "They happen."

Both boys grinned and nodded, but were content to chat about more trivial things than the contest and enjoy themselves at breakfast. Harry was glad to have a day off, because Dumbledore told him the next week would be rather busy. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect. The next day would be the announcement of who was in the tournament, and the weighing of the wands. Neither of which Harry was thrilled to hear about. Not that anyone blamed him. There would be reporters and tedium all day. And probably photographs too, and Harry still hadn't gotten over the phobia of cameras the Creevey brothers had caused. Not that anyone blamed him. The Creevey brothers were creepy. Very, very creepy.

Enjoying themselves, despite Ron's temper, the day passed swiftly, and when Harry made his way to bed he found himself very nervous for the next day.
oOooOo

It was in the middle of potions that Harry was commandeered for the weighing of the wands and pictures. Severus looked rather irritated it was during his class, and Phyrrus was feeling a little irritated since Harry was his partner. Draco was working with Cyrrus (Draco refused to work with Neville on the grounds he enjoyed his face where it was, thank you, and let Hermione deal with him) and both offered Harry sympathetic looks.

Harry waved and disappeared. Phyrrus stared at the potion. "May I follow him after I'm through, Mr. Snape?"

"Feel free," Severus muttered. "Just remember to clean up."

"Thank you, sir." Phyrrus nodded and tapped his foot, waiting impatiently for the potion to finish.
oOooOo

Harry followed Colin Creevey, who'd been assigned to get him, to a large room. It was clean, but Harry suspected that it was a recent development since the scent of cleaners hung heavily in the air. He sneezed at the large whiff of flowery perfume (stronger and more horrid than his aunt's and that was a bit of a feat).

"You must be the last champion!" A woman crooned, and Harry felt himself fighting the urge to recoil and wretch. The woman could have been lovely, but she had grown her nails out as though they were talons and painted them bright red. Her brown hair was heavily curled and practically molded to her head, and her make-up looked more like frosting she had applied liberally to her face. Harry wasn't sure he'd ever feel clean again. "So young, too!" The woman continued, either oblivious to Harry's cringe or simply not caring.

"Er. . . who're you?" Harry finally managed, then frowned. Mum Chara would certainly have slapped him for his lack of manners. It was a great thing she wasn't here.

"Rita Skeeter, of the Daily Prophet. May I have an interview? Great! Here, follow me, little more private. . ." She dragged Harry into a dusty old broom closet that hadn't gotten the same cleaning treatment as the room he'd just been in, and a few more sneezes made him wonder if a man could suffocate by sneezing.

"May I inquire what you need?" Harry asked politely, sitting up straight.

"Just an interview." Skeeter pulled out an acid green quill and parchment and set them on the box. Murmuring something to the quill, Harry watched in fascination as it scribbled away across the page. She turned back to Harry and began firing off questions that Harry never quite had a chance to answer, though the quill seemed to think otherwise. Harry frowned.

"You know, you seem to be getting a lot more out of this than I'm telling you," Harry frowned. He had dealt a little with the press after Sirius' release, but since they lived in a muggle neighborhood it was easy to dodge wizarding press and muggle press wasn't nearly so interested.

"Just ignore the quill, dear," Skeeter waved a hand. Harry frowned, and made his way to the door.

"I'm afraid this will have to be cut short." Harry told her, opening it and leaving without looking back. "Good day."

Skeeter frowned. "Oh, I'll have one," She muttered, too softly for Harry to hear. "But you won't."

Harry waved to Phyrrus as he left he broom closet, grinning and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Stupid press." Phyrrus glanced to the closet in time to see Skeeter come out, and shrug.

"Oh well. Just ignore them."

"I'm getting really good at ignoring people," Harry muttered, scowling. "Though I'd like to see what she wrote. It can't possibly be good."

"I'm sure it's not," Phyrrus agreed, turning back to look at Dumbledore and Ollivander. "Looks like Ollivander wants to see that wand of yours, baby."

Harry snorted, but took his wand to the front. It was smudged, because he hadn't had time to clean it. Chara had shown him how over the last summer, but school had made him busy. And it was a great consolation to know that it was nowhere near as bad as Phyrrus'. He couldn't compare with River and Rayne, however. They kept their wands very, very clean. If they had a choice, both girls probably would have worn gloves to handle them. Ah, neat freaks. Where would the world be without them? Harry nearly snickered at the thought.

"Ah, yes. One of mine," Ollivander smiled, his silver eyes glittering. "Holly and phoenix feather. I remember it well, my boy."

Harry chewed his lip, nervous that Ollivander would say something about his wand's connection to Voldemort, but it seemed he needn't have worried. Ollivander just shot some water from it and handed it back. "Working order." He approved, and gave Harry a wink. Harry grinned in reply, feeling much better knowing that at least two people believed in him.
oOooOo

"I don't believe this!" Hermione shouted, slamming the paper down on the table. The force of the blow sent the dishes rattling and a few of the students had to lift their goblets hastily for fear of losing the contents. Harry glanced over at the Daily Prophet and sighed. He should have known something terrible would happen after he cut that Skeeter woman off yesterday during their interview. The entire article about the Triwizard Tournament was about him, with the last contestants names thrown in at the back (Cedric's was entirely forgotten) and horribly misspelled.

"I knew she got more out of my grunts that what I told her," Harry mumbled, glaring at the paper. "Excuse me, I need to write a letter to the editor."

"More fame, Harry?" Krum asked, grinning. "I am a little upset that the other champions are not recognized. And that the other Hogwarts Champion is not even mentioned.

"Tell me about it," Harry grumbled. "I'm going to give them a piece of my mind, and have as many people as possible do the same. That's horrid of them! They shouldn't stiff you lot like that!"

"Nice to know you are noble," The French girl commented, overhearing the conversation. "But that will not win you the tournament."

"I know." Harry frowned at the other, raising an eyebrow. "You don't have to be a jerk about it."

Phyrrus snickered at Harry's remark, and shook his head. "Come on, Harry. We'll be late to class otherwise." Harry nodded in agreement and followed his boyfriend from the hall, rolling his eyes. This was a complete and utter disaster, that was certain. He didn't want to be a champion, and he didn't want the fame that came with it. Growling, Harry stalked toward his dorm, Phyrrus following behind with an amused look on his face.
oOooOo

Rita Skeeter hung around the school like one of the ghosts that wandered the halls, trying to get Harry's friends tell her that Harry was a horrible person. Harry's friends, fortunately, were fairly intelligent. Even Ron kept his mouth shut, though Harry wasn't sure why. Glaring at Harry ever moment he got, Ron was making Harry's life miserable, and the only reason that Phyrrus didn't attempt to rip his spine out was because Harry would have protested.

Personally, Ginny was disappointed with her brother, and told Ron as much. Ron ignored her, but it made Harry feel better. "Don't worry about it," Ginny advised. "He'll get over himself."

Harry cracked a smile at her smart remark, and nodded. He'd have to keep that in mind. He also had to keep in mind that the first tack would soon be upon them and he had no idea what he was doing. That was not a comforting thought. Pushing the matter from his mind, Harry concentrated on studying as much as he could. He knew he'd need all the help he could get.

That and he and Phyrrus had to learn to better control their ever growing bond. Harry was startled to discover just how much power could be shifted over the bond. Phyrrus, despite being magically weaker than Harry, was still a fairly powerful wizard, and Phyrrus, wielding Harry's power, was quite formidable. Especially when he converted it to fire. Which he enjoyed.

Harry huffed. Pyroes.

Still, having Skeeter around was going to send him into conniptions fits, and when the final two judges showed up, Harry wanted to run away. The first task was just over a week away, and Harry was terrified. Hermione glanced at the two men at the table. "Isn't that fat one Percy's boss?" She whispered, and Ron looked up--he was sitting near Hermione but as far from Harry as possible--and nodded.

The first man was Ludo Bagman, a man Harry had met at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry was not thrilled. Bagman was slowly gaining a belly that he hadn't had in his days of Quidditch, and his blond hair and wide blue eyes made him look like a little boy in a man's body. Harry shivered. He'd rather look like a half androgynous male than a little boy for the rest of his life. The other man was Bartimus Crouch. Balding and old, Percy often complained that his boss couldn't seem to learn his name and enjoyed ordering others around like he ruled the world.

According to Anders, who had meet the man twice when Percy had been forced to invite him to dinner, he was a stickler for rules and if anyone so much as suggested that he might have broken them--or even had distant relatives that had broken them--one was most likely to get attacked verbally. Anders had found that out the hard way. And he still hadn't made peace with the man. Phyrrus grimaced. "If what Anders said is any indication, he won't like me."

"Yeah, well, Uncle Leon's due in Saturday. He won't like Uncle Leon either," Harry pointed out, raising an eyebrow. As summer and term both wore on, most of the group that had visited the farm considered Phyrrus' family their own and added the appropriate honorific, i.e.: aunt, uncle, cousin, mother or grandmother. Harry was no exception.

"That could be interesting," Hermione muttered, frowning. "A man that doesn't like Lugovaloses in a castle with five of them. At least, five by name."

"Yeah, this could get really ugly really fast, especially since Anders, Cyrrus, and I are three of Uncle Leon's favorites." Phyrrus agreed. Everyone winced. Ugly would be an understatement if Leon got defensive of his nephews, especially his favorite nephews.

"This could be very. . . interesting." Hermione sighed, burying her face in her hands and knowing fully well that interesting was a vast understatement.

Well, when the fireworks went off, most of the group planned to be very, very far away.
oOooOo