Year Four: The Goblet of Fire

The three magical schools of Europe compete for eternal glory in the form of the Triwizard Tournament. Death Eaters are rising, gathering followers to join Voldemort. Dark times are approaching, threatening everything Marie loves. It's time for bravery. To be the light in terrible darkness...

Chapter Seventeen-Madness

"Oh, bloody hell."

The seventh year's empty plate was promptly filled with letters the following morning. He shifted through some to find that they were all unmarked. Marcus gave a hard sigh, knowing full well what the unifying theme was going to be. They were from readers of the Daily Prophet who felt outraged by Rita Skeeter's portrayal of him in her latest article. Deciding not to even bother opening the letters, he pushed them off his plate.

"Mate, I think you'll want to read this one," spoke up Bole. He handed the letter to his friend and Marcus let loose a hard breath as the Flint family seal came into view, the icon identical to the one stamped on the ring he wore on his left hand. For once, his appetite was forgotten as he ripped the letter open. Howlers weren't his mother's preferred way of scolding, she was far too discreet for such public anger. She was known for being proper and composed, her face an impassive mask. Her disapproving voice was already playing in his head as he read her neat script.

Son,

I am disgusted with your behavior as depicted in the Daily Prophet. Your father's being questioned at work about the curse and it is entirely your fault. It is in your best interest to throw away your improper fascination with the Rogue girl. Even with your deformity, she is not worth the attention of a Flint. Champion or not, she is of lower class and a charity case taken on by the Malfoys. Do not sully our family's good name by carrying on with this sordid affair. You are enough of a disappointment without the addition of this ragged orphan with no distinguishable blood line-

Marcus didn't bother to read the rest of the letter, burning it to a crisp with his wand. A low growl formed at the back of his throat and Bole scooted aside to create some distance.

"Flint? You all right?" he asked carefully, suddenly very aware that he was within arm's reach.

Marcus didn't seem to hear him as he glared at the ashes that were previously written words from his mother. The ever familiar anger was rising steadily within him, hot and empowering. The rage was blocking out everything, lending his muscles the troll strength as they coiled tightly under his skin. It was one thing for his mother to speak down to him like he was nothing more than an animal, that was normal. To be expected, really. It was another thing entirely for her to slander Marie in the same fashion. He had dropped his wand onto the table, opting to clench his hands into fists instead.

"Flint, you've got to relax, mate," Bole tried to console. He didn't hear his teammate talking, Bole's voice not even registering. Dark grey eyes remained focused in a glare, as if he could burn the ashes again with his radiating hatred. He couldn't move from his spot at the table, the red hot anger rooting him to the spot. Other students were getting up from the table, the crowd not as busy as it was the weekend, leaving the older student alone at his place. Bole had quickly scrambled away in his attempt to create distance.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had to reign in his temper, but it was difficult to apply the thought. He just kept hearing his mother's voice in his head, her distinctively frigid lilt echoing and striking Marie down as if she was as terrible as someone with troll blood flowing through their veins. A growl sounded and he clenched his teeth together, chest heaving.

No. He needed to calm down. Gingerly, he managed to lower his head onto his folded arms, doing his best to swallow the anger that was rising up like a sickness within him. It was burning under his very skin, trying to claw its way out of him.

"Marcus?"

Her voice was like a shot of clarity and his red tinted vision began to ebb away. Blinking in confusion, he slowly lifted his head to see Marie standing beside him with Bole cautiously behind her. He was still angry at what his mother wrote, but her voice was fading away in his mind. His grey eyes focused on the girl, the ability to shove the anger aside coming to him a bit easier now.

"Marcus, are you all right?" she asked gently, daring to take the open seat beside him. Alarms went off in his head. Part of him wanted her to be by him while the other half was worried that he might hit her. He didn't dare say anything, the growl dying in his throat. She spotted the pile of discarded letters and her expression fell. Green eyes looked at him with such regret, face paling.

"I-I'm so sorry," she apologized, voice shifting to a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Marcus. I didn't-I didn't mean for any of this to happened. I'm sorry..." She started to leave but he reached out and snatched her wrist before she could make any distance. Startled, she looked back him in surprise and didn't dare to move.

He was overly aware of how fragile the bones in her wrist were as his large hand encircled them without any difficulty. It would just take one good squeeze and he could crush them, nothing more than tooth picks. Marie made no move to pull her wrist free since she knew it would be a pointless effort. Just barely, he gave the slightest pull for her to sit back down and she complied without question.

"Stay...please," he managed, his voice low. Marie and Bole shared a look and the boy left them alone, majority of the Slytherin vacant now.

"Of course," she promised.

She managed to maneuver his hold, his fingers pliable to her, and shifted his grip so that he was holding her hand rather than just her wrist.. Using both of hers to cradle his single hand, Marcus closed his eyes once more, forehead resting against his free arm. His shoulders began to relax and his breathing continued to even out. The anger was slowly slipping away from the front of his mind, the heat settling back into normalcy. He could push the anger away, it was possible. His grip tightened and Marie squeezed back in support as he fought the echoes of his mother's words. So much hate and scathing remarks in a single letter, berating him and his existence as well as Marie. He was used to his mother words used against him, but it just triggered his anger when it was directed elsewhere.

Heart rate returning to normal, he glanced back up to see Marie watching him intensely. He could physically feel her concern emitting from her like a type of beacon. Her hands remained firmly locked with his and she didn't waver for an instant. She was his ivory tower, a type of touchstone that could drag him out of a troll like rage. He may struggle with the anger and his own family drama, but he knew one thing for certain. If his mother could hear his thoughts, she would fall over in shock.

He didn't care about blood purity. After all, who was he to judge?

He just cared about Marie.

The weather shifted from the leftover cold to the kindness of spring without any difficulty. Hogwarts had returned to its normal routine and everything seemed to back in its rightful place. Marie spent time with her friends and her studies. Classes were a welcomed familiarity with the lack of dangerous task hanging over her head.

In Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid seemed to learn that the Blast-Ended Skrewts were a dangerous idea and they were learning about safer creatures. For a few lessons they studied unicorns and their fouls. They were breathtakingly beautiful with their young golden coats. While the adults didn't trust men, the fouls didn't mind the boys as much, even allowing them to pet them with the assistance of a sugar cube. Afterwards, they were introduced to Nifflers, fluffy black creatures with flat, spade like feet and long snouts. The lesson was quite enjoyable as they were each assigned to a Niffler and they tried to find the most leprechaun gold that Hagrid had hidden. Marie found them adorable while Pansy thought they were dirty, although that could as well be due to the fact that her Niffler tried to snatch her shiny watch.

Easter holiday was especially pleasant as well, more so since Draco's mother sent them a large basket of sweets (to share). The weather was also becoming more balmy as the weeks continued on, making it perfect to study outside. The drama that had occurred with the Rita Skeeter article was blown over even though it took about two weeks to finally die down. Not to mention more than one letter to Narcissa Malfoy and Remus Lupin to explain that nothing inappropriate had happened. Marcus continued to ignore most of the hate mail with the exception of the Howlers that blew up at breakfast, shouting terrible things like he should've drowned in the lake or be put down like the monster he truly was inside. The older student didn't seem to bothered by the angry readers, taking the hate rather well. It was only that first letter he received that pushed him to a boiling point. Bole told her that it was from the Flint family which was why he didn't simply just ignore it like the rest.

The worrisome tension that had evolved between Marie and Marcus after the article debuted was practically non existent now. They had decided to ignore whatever the public had to say and to just continue as they normally would any other day. As everything was clarified to Dumbledore and Snape, they soon fell back into their old routine. Pleasant chats in the library or out beneath a large tree on the grounds when it was exceptionally nice outside. Daydreaming about what the Quidditch season would have been like if there wasn't a tournament throwing everything off kilter. Quite a bit of the time, Marie would busy herself with reading and Marcus would doze off. She secretly adored the quiet moments because, if only for a short time, he didn't look like an intimidating wizard with troll characteristics that could terrify anyone he so wished. He simply looked like a boy, sleeping peacefully.

It was the last week of May, the beginning of the summer term, when Marie was reminded that she was even a champion. She had been in double Transfiguration with the Gryffindors when Professor McGonagall had called both her and Harry up to her desk at the end of the class.

"You are both to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock," she told them. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

So that night, Marie left the dungeons at about eight thirty so she wouldn't be late. When she stepped into the entrance hall, Harry just descended the staircase from Gryffindor tower. They shared a tense nod and she lengthened her stride so she could walk out beside him.

"What do you think it'll be?" asked Harry as they stepped outside. The evening air was cool and refreshing against their skin as they walked out onto the grounds.

"I have the foggiest, though I heard Fleur going on about underground tunnels," she answered with a shrug. "Something about finding treasure."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "That wouldn't be too bad. Maybe we'll be able to borrow one of the Nifflers?"

"The best task yet," she laughed.

They continued on with pleasant conversation as they walked down the dark lawn toward the Quidditch pitch. Their nice moment was ruined when they stepped around the stands and saw the extent of the field. Harry's jaw dropped while Marie covered her mouth with a gasp.

"What've they done to it?" managed Harry.

Their beloved Quidditch field was no longer sleek and smooth. Instead, there were long, low walls twisted every which way, criss-crossing in every direction.

"They're hedges!" clarified Marie.

"Hello there!" called an ever cherry voice. The twins turned to face Ludo Bagman with identical expressions of horror. He didn't seem to notice as he waved for them to join the other two champions who had arrived as well. Fleur gave Harry a bright smile, her attitude completely made over since he had saved her sister in the second task. Marie and Viktor shared a simple nod, both accepting their quiet acquaintance.

"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily, quite pleased with himself. "Growing nicely aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have 'em twenty feet high or so. Don't worry," he added, noticing the Hogwart champions' less than thrilled faces, "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

No one spoke for a moment, Harry and Marie still ruffled about their beautiful field. It was Krum who spoke up, albeit gruffly.

"Maze."

"That's right!" said Bagman, clapping his hands together. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We seemply 'ave to get through ze masze?" questioned Fleur.

"That's seems too easy," agreed Marie, folding her arms as the wind picked up. "There has to be a catch."

"Quite right, ladies! There'll be obstacles," said Ludo, now bouncing happily on the balls of his feet. He certainly was looking forward to the final challenge. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures...then there will be spells that must be broken...all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." He gestured to the fourth years and grinned. "Then Mr. Krum will enter...then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

The champions simply nodded politely. Harry and Marie were thinking along the same lines: Did they know what kind of creatures Hagrid had a fondness for? It was certainly going to be a dangerous challenge.

"Very well...if you haven't any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we? It's a bit chilly," shuddered Ludo. The spokesman hurried to lead the way and Harry was sure to step to Marie's far side to create distance between himself and Bagman, as if he didn't want to be near him.

She raised a brow and he answered her unasked question. "He badgers me about needing help with the tasks. Always trying to offer me help or something."

"Playing favorites?" teased Marie. "I'm not sure if that's entirely legal, given he's a judge."

Harry nodded in agreement. "You're telling me."

Just before they were going to head up to the school themselves, Viktor tapped Harry and Marie both on the shoulder. The two turned about with mirroring looks of confusion.

"Could I haff a vord?"

"Yeah, all right," agreed Harry, slightly surprised. The Bulgarian looked to the Slytherin.

"You too, Murray?" She had to bite back her knee jerk reaction to correct him.

"I don't mind," she confirmed.

"Vill you valk vith me?"

Harry and Marie shared a wary look before they spoke in unison. "Okay."

Ludo Bagman seemed to notice and overhear their conversation, trying to wait up for the Gryffindor. "I'll wait for you, Harry, shall I?"

"No, it's okay, Mr. Bagman," reassured Harry. Marie could see him fighting a victorious smile. Now he could shake Bagman off his trail. "I think I can find the castle on my own, thanks."

"Miss Rogue?" tried Ludo. She gave a wave as well.

"I'm equally skilled with locating the castle, sir."

The three left the Quidditch pitch and to their surprise, Viktor did not lead them toward the Durmstrang ship, which would have made the most sense. Instead, he was walking toward the forest. Concerned, Marie became very aware of her wand stored in her robe, just in case.

"What're we going this way for?" asked Harry as they passed Hagrid cabin as well as the Beauxbatons carriage.

"Don't vont to be overheard," Krum explained shortly. Marie stepped closer to Harry and whispered,

"You know, this is looking more and more like a plan to kill us."

"No kidding," he whispered back.

At last, they achieved a desirable distance from the carriage and alone on a quiet stretch of ground. Viktor Krum then turned toward them and looked Harry straight in the eye.

"I vant to know," he said, glowering, "vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny."

Marie would have giggled at his pronunciation of "Hermione" if he didn't look so serious. Harry appeared just as surprised. This certainly wasn't the way they assumed the conversation would pan out, discussing a Rita Skeeter article of all things.

"Nothing," he said. Krum's glare didn't lessen any and they were suddenly reminded of how much taller the Bulgarian was than both of them.

"We're friends," continued Harry. "She's not my girlfriend and she never has been. It's just that Skeeter woman making things up."

"Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often," said Krum, still regarding the Gryffindor suspiciously.

"Yeah, because we're friends," Harry clarified.

Marie couldn't believe she was actually witnessing such an exchange. Two famous figures discussing romantic statuses. She wanted to pinch herself to be certain that she wasn't dreaming.

"You haff never...you haff not..."

"No," Harry said very firmly. Viktor's attention then turned to the Slytherin with the same intense look.

"Is this true?"

"Absolutely," Marie answered quickly, startled. "They've only been friends, for as long as I've known them." Was that why she was brought along? To confirm Harry's story?

Satisfied with their answers, Krum looked happier. As happy as they've ever seen the stoic student in any case. He returned his focus to Harry.

"You fly very vell. I vos vatching at the first task."

"Thanks," said Harry, now grinning broadly. "I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really-"

Marie dark hair whipped as she caught sight of movement with her peripheral vision. Harry grabbed Marie and they all took a few steps back to establish distance between themselves and the Forbidden Forest.

"Vot is it?" asked Viktor.

"No idea," breathed Marie softly. All three reached for their wands in defense.

The rustling continued and she could feel her heart begin to pound as they stared hard into the dense darkness. It grew louder and closer and she physically jumped when a man staggered out from behind a large oak tree, leaning against it for support. He looked as if he had been traveling for days, judging by the state of his robes which were ripped and bloody. His face was scratched and grizzly from not shaving while his hair was mussed and in desperate need of a wash and cut.

"Is that-" started Marie.

"-Mr. Crouch," finished Harry, nodding.

If his physical appearance wasn't enough, he seemed to be muttering to himself and gesturing dramatically, as if he was talking to someone.

"Vosn't he a judge?" asked Krum, recalling the name. "Isn't he vith your Ministry?"

"Yes, but he hasn't been seen in ages," explained Marie, gaze not straying from the ragged man. "The Ministry kept saying that he was sick."

Harry dared to walk toward him and Marie just barely missed grabbing his cloak to stop him.

"...and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve..."

"Mr. Crouch?" Harry called cautiously.

"...and then send another to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen...do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will..."

His eyes were bulging as he continued to stare and talk at the tree. Nodding, he staggered and dropped to his knees.

"Mr. Crouch?" said Harry, speaking up loudly now. "Are you all right?"

Marie and Viktor dared to venture closer, curious and yet very alarmed by the man. His eyes were now rolling around in his head.

"Vot is wrong with him?" asked Krum. Marie shook her head.

"I have no idea."

"Listen," said Harry, "you'd better go and get someone-"

Marie gave a short yelp when Crouch suddenly reached out and grabbed Harry's robes, bringing him to his level.

"Dumbledore!" he gasped, eyes not quite looking at Harry, just over his head. "I need...see...Dumbledore..."

"Okay, if you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the-"

"I've done...stupid...thing..." he muttered. He looked deranged with his eyes rolling about and saliva dribbling down his chin. He yanked on Harry's robes and Marie found herself beside her brother to offer assistance and to make sure Crouch didn't try anything. "...Must...tell...Dumbledore..."

"Get up, Mr. Crouch," instructed Harry loudly and clearly. "Get up and we'll take you to Dumbledore!" The two were struggling with the weight of the Ministry official, unable to get him to his feet properly.

"Who...you?" he whispered, looking between the two. Their identical dark messy hair and green eyes were probably not helping him focus on a singular thing.

"Students from the school," answered Marie as evenly as she could. They looked back to Krum for some physical aid but he stayed back, looking extremely nervous.

"You're not...his?" he whispered. The two shared a confused glance.

"No," decided Marie.

"Dumbledore's?"

"Yes," confirmed Harry. Crouch dragged them both closer, his grip surprisingly strong for a mad man. They tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let go.

"Warn...Dumbledore..."

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let go," said Harry as they both tried to loosen his grip. "Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I'll go get him..."

"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge..." The pair were able to break free once his focus snapped and he resumed talking to the tree, as if the students didn't exist. "Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.s, most satisfactorily, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response..."

"I'll stay with him," volunteered Marie. Harry nodded in agreement, stepping away. Crouch seemed to notice the movement as he reached out and grabbed Marie's robes again.

"Don't...leave...me...!" he whispered, eyes bulging again. "I...escaped...must warn...must tell...see Dumbledore...my fault...all my fault...Bertha...dead...all my fault...my son...my fault...tell Dumbledore...Harry Potter...the Dark Lord...stronger...Harry Potter..."

"I'm going to get Dumbledore," reassured Harry. He looked quickly to Krum. "Stay with her!"

He started to sprint across the grounds before Krum could properly protest. Marie looked back to Mr. Crouch who was tugging her robes so that she was kneeling down at his level. His eyes were unseeing as he searched blindly.

"...Harry Potter...my fault...the Dark Lord..." he muttered.

"Harry Potter is all right," she tried to reassure. "Everything's all right, Mr. Crouch, he's gone to get Dumbledore now. It'll be just a moment..."

He shook his head. "...My fault...it's my fault...the Dark Lord...he's stronger...my son..."

Marie could only listen, completely uninformed as to how to handle the raving madman. Viktor was little to no help as he hung back, well out of arm's reach. She settled for simply telling him that it was all right, over and over.

It seemed like ages since Harry left them when really it was only minutes. Crouch switched between talking to Weatherby-the-tree and snippets of vague sanity as he insisted that he needed to see Dumbledore with the same thread of guilt and that whatever happened was his fault.

"He'll be back soon," she said for the umpteenth time. "Dumbledore will be here any minute now..."

"He is taking a long time," commented Viktor, still very nervous and he wouldn't step any closer to Crouch. Just as Marie was about to open her mouth to respond, there was the distinct sound of someone moving through the woods and she froze.

"Did you hear that?" she asked quietly. The foreigner gave a stiff nod, hand clenching his wand tightly. The sound happened again and they both flinched, looking around for a source only to see nothing. Viktor started to shift out of her line of sight as Crouch was still holding her robes tightly.

"Viktor, don't! We should wait!" insisted Marie, craning her neck just as he stepped out of her range of vision.

"Viktor!" she called out. "Viktor, come back here-!" She could hear his footsteps returning and she managed to loosen Crouch's hold, finally standing up. Just as she turned her back to the Ministry official, there was a surge of magic. Red light sprayed from her back as she was knocked to the ground by a nonverbal spell. Face down in the grass, wand rolling away from her limp hand, everything went black in an instant.

REVIEW! Whew, another day, another chapter! I love it, so much fun! Things are building up now just before the dramatic third task! All sorts of good fun! Bit of Marcus and his temper (talk about mother problems), little similarity moments for Marie and Harry this chapter which I found quite fun and Rita Skeeter issues being worked out on all accounts.

(Oh my gosh, we are so far in this story and making awesome time! I'm so excited!)

Next time: Crouch's disappearance, Snape/Karkaroff stand off, and prepping for the third task!

I hope you enjoyed!