Chapter Six: The Triwizard Tournament
Fourth year began without anything particularly special happening, and for someone going through a pretty serious identity crisis this sort of situation was perfect for Harry. He hoped this year would be easy, and he could focus on what to do on his fifteenth birthday.
Ron, Hermione, and Harry had already stayed up many a night, plotting different ways to cover up Harry Potter's 'disappearance' in order to make the 'reappearance' of Antonius Malfoy less suspicious. It's not like they could tell the wizarding world who Harry Potter really was. It would cause mass panic for a multitude of reasons, and Harry would be handed to Voldemort on a silver platter. After all, the Malfoy's would be willing to give Harry up at the first command their 'Lord' gave them.
All in all, this made the announcement of the Triwizard tournament all the more disappointing for Harry, and he told Ron and Hermione this.
"Can't I have one normal year?" He asked, "Just one? I don't want these other school here and a life-threatening tournament and reporters calling on the walls."
Hermione gave him what might have supposed to have been a comforting smile and said, "At least the spotlight will be off you, right?"
"Yah," Ron agreed, "People will be so busy admiring the competitors they won't care about you."
Harry smiled, "In a weird sort of way, that's actually comforting. "
Then It was Halloween, and everything fell apart.
Finally, the choosing of the champions was over, and Dumbledore went to make his end speech when the fire in the goblet turned red again. Sparks were flew out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out -
"Harry Potter."
Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly. This kind of thing always happened to him. He felt like crying and laughing at the same time.
There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.
Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.
Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, open mouthed.
"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."
Ron and Hermione looked back at Harry with faces full of pity. They knew this wasn't what he wanted in any way shape or form.
At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.
"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push. Ron gave Harry a comforting pat on the back as he went to get up.
Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an immensely long walk; the top table didn't seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each were a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.
"Well...through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.
Harry moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished and stared at Harry as he passed like everyone else. Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him.
The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.
Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.
"What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"
She thought he had come to deliver a message. Harry didn't know how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the three champions. It struck him how very tall all of them were.
There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.
"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen...lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth Triwizard champion?"
Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, very funny joke, Meester Bagman."
"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned.
"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."
"Well...it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet...I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage...It's down in the rules, you're obliged...Harry will just have to do the best he -"
The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.
"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
Somewhere under Harry's numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy?
Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
He gave a short and nasty laugh.
"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here -"
"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.
Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked calmly.
"No," said Harry. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.
"No," said Harry vehemently, angry now at the comments and questioning. "In fact, if you want me to I will renounce my right at champion right here and now. This is the last thing I want to be doing, and I refuse to compete."
Karkaroff Smiled, and said, "This makes sense Dumbledore, the boy wants to renounce his championship, we must let him, as to make this competition fair to the other competitors.
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
Harry snorted, "Well, do the rules say anything about people whose names come out of the Goblet that refuse to compete?"
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front, so he mustn't be wrong" said Bagman, sweating nervously and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
Harry looked at Bagman in shock. How could this man decide what he should do with his life just like that? It was ridiculous! "How dare you!" Harry said, "I won't let anyone decide what I do with my life like that! Do I look like a gullible infant to you? That's it! I'm done with this tournament!" Harry made a move to walk out the door when a voice interrupted him.
"Empty threat, Potter," growled a voice from near the door. "You can't leave now. You've got to 've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
"What do you mean, binding magical contract?" Harry asked.
"Exactly what I said Potter," Moody continued, "Your name came out of the Goblet, and the second that happens the magic of the artifact latches onto the magic of the person the name belongs to and it forces them to compete or die. It's the same reason no one except the champions can compete. The goblet won't let anyone whose magic doesn't match a name it has chosen compete. Do you want to die, Potter?"
Harry gasped. This was bad. This was very
bad. He wasn't born Harry Potter. This potion concealing his identity might not show his true appearance, but it sure didn't mask his magic. If what Moody said was true, and it probably was, the second he tried to complete a task, he was dead.
When Harry began paying attention to the conversation again he heard, "-first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges," Crouch was saying.
"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."
Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...Very enthusiastic...a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore. Harry couldn't believe how calm and flippant the headmaster was being about this whole issue. He acted as though this was perfectly normal.
"Come on, Barry, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.
But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.
"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Harry left the room as quickly as possible, leaving Cedric far behind. As the door shut behind him he could already hear the beginning of Snape's rant against him.
Harry didn't know where he could go. He needed somewhere safe, somewhere no one could find him. He needed to think. He needed to be alone. Suddenly he knew where he could go. Harry ran up to the third floor, and quickly made his way up to the girl's bathroom, making sure no one saw him, before slipping inside.
He hissed §Open§ and then the top of the sink floated upward, and the chamber of secrets was open. Harry jumped down the pipe, and landed once again in the pile of bones. This was the perfect place to think, and clear his head. After all, he was the only person who could access the chamber.
As he walked through the corridor he was blocked by the pile of rubble. Harry took out his wand, and said evanesco, effectively vanishing the rocks. He wished had known that spell second year. He made his way into the actual chamber, and his eyes fell upon the dead basilisk. With a sigh, Harry sat down in front of the head where he had stabbed the basilisk through the brain with the sword of Gryffindor.
How could he fix this mess he had been thrown into? He couldn't compete because technically Harry James Potter didn't exist, and therefore he couldn't complete any task, but he couldn't not compete, because then everyone would expect him to die.
He sighed, again looking over at the basilisk head. As he stared at the rotting corpse of the king of serpents the answer came to him. He couldn't figure out why he hadn't thought of it sooner. It was so simple.
Harry Potter had to die.
Author's Note: And another chapter gone. I am overjoyed with the response to this story, and reading the reviews people leave is one of the coolest things ever. Seriously, reviews make my day, so please review and tell me what you think. I take their advice to heart. If you don't like something, tell me, and I might change it.