Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!
Posted January 29, 2014
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Fallout from the attack in Atlantic City; Harry reacts poorly from the message he receives from Dumbledore about the Tournament; and, though Harry is forced into the tournament, the Commonwealth provides a possible solution to Harry remaining in the castle, much to Dumbledore's frustration.
10: THE RELUCTANT CHAMPION
November 1 – 8, 2004
"Good of you to come, Commander," said Mrs. Trent, her face still taught. "Tell me, did you clear any sort of operation with this office involving a non-magical target within foreign borders?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Sorry. You're sorry? Or is it that you're not understanding?"
Mrs. Trent slammed a stack of papers on the table in front of him.
"Why don't you have a look at the brief."
Brandon opened the folder, and quickly scanned the first few pages in front of him and made a face, up to this point still confused as to exactly what was going on.
"This for real?"
"You tell me, Commander. It was your little project I helped conduct an investigation for in September."
"I did instruct Lieutenant Commander Jorgan to assemble a detail."
"Which then did THIS."
Mrs. Trent slammed a recent satellite photograph on the table. It clearly displayed the plume of smoke rising from a location in Atlantic City.
"The government is up in arms, Commander! American mundanes, hundreds of them, witnessed magic this evening! Dozens were killed, many were seriously wounded. The American Department of Magic and the Canadian Ministry of Magic are both demanding answers... what are we supposed to tell them?!"
"I... I don't know, ma'am."
"I. Don't. Know. To HELL you don't, Commander! The Queen is demanding answers! Were you aware Mr. Potter was attending the event?! He could have been killed!"
"Please tell me he's okay."
"We're still out of contact. And believe me when I tell you, should he be among the casualties, I will hold you personally responsible. For now, you will be visiting with her majesty to answer for this. Be lucky if you survive with only a demotion."
Mrs. Trent took a deep breath to calm herself.
"As it stands. You will submit all documents and other such media detailing this planned action on my desk no later than tomorrow at the close of regular business hours. That includes the names of all those who are working on this action. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Consider yourself dismissed."
"Yes, ma'am."
It was a very subdued Commander who left the irate department head's office.
The large group landed rather roughly in the common room of Harry's rooms in the Hall of Attainment. Tommy landed in a heap on top of Harry's trunk, sending a pile of items scattering in all directions. The others landed no easier, one of them in fact landing on Sirius' bed.
"Shor's balls," Harry muttered, realizing they'd not made it in one piece. The old man was dead.
"Justin, get back to the Commonwealth, make sure they know we're okay... and bring someone to deal with these guys," said Mazhe, from a sitting position on the floor.
"Here. My satchel. Should be a fistful of calming draughts inside," said Justin, pulling his satchel off his shoulder, and retrieving his government credentials from inside. He left it on the table.
"Where... where is this place?" Tommy asked, trying to sit up.
"Ditto," said another of the group. Clearly, everyone was quite disoriented from the trip.
"Just sit down. Stay where you are. Gods, this is... I can't describe this."
"Harry, I'm so sorry," said Justin, turning Harry to face him, "If I'd known—"
Harry blew out a breath, trying to relax. The events which had unfolded in a matter of minutes... were above and beyond what he'd already experienced. That was saying something, considering the numerous bandits, rogue mages, and other such encounters over the years in Skyrim.
"I... it's not your fault."
"Still, we should've just got the hell out," said Mazhe, "This was... Gods... I'll always have your back, Harry, but you have to pick your fights. This... tonight... wasn't your fight."
"When WOULD it be my fight, Mazhe?! When I'm old and grey? And meanwhile these guys just keep killing and maiming and destroying. And where the hell was the Ministry... or the Commonwealth for that matter?!" Harry erupted.
"I'm sure we'll have some answers shortly. I'll be back soon." Justin activated the floo. "Ministry of Defence!" and he was gone in the green flames.
"This is so messed up," said Tommy, pulling his knees up to his chest. "What... what the hell was that?"
"Just be ready for the unbelievable," said Mazhe, daring to approach the young warrior. "I'm Mazhe."
"Tommy. Tommy Riordan."
"What happens to us?" questioned another member of the group.
"The Ministry of Magical Catastrophes will be brought in within the next hour or so. Your memories will be adjusted, and you'll all be sent on your merry way. At least that's what I understand. I've not had to deal with... this," said Harry.
He blew out a breath, then gestured a hand at the door leading out into the rest of the tower, sealing it off.
"He's using magic," Mazhe explained, seeing Tommy's confusion.
"Real magic? Right."
"How do you explain your no-longer-injured shoulder?"
"I, uh..." Tommy banged his head against the stone wall. "God, this is so messed up."
"Harry, we could give them all dreamless sleep potions," Mazhe suggested.
"No. Awkward way of sending someone by floo powder," answered Harry, with a shake of the head.
"Floo powder... that's what the other guy did... a few minutes ago," Tommy guessed.
"Exactly."
"You're cold." It wasn't a question. "Here."
Harry pulled open his trunk, and dug out the jumper Mrs. Weasley had made for him the previous Christmas.
"I'll need it back, one of my friends' mums knit it for me and gave it to me for Christmas."
"Where's your mom?"
"She died protecting me from similar people who attacked us this evening," answered Harry, with a weak smile. "I lived because she died."
Tommy looked at the ground, feeling bad for asking the question. He slid the jumper on over his head, then looked at his gloves.
"Uh... d'you mind, giving me a hand with these?"
"Oh." Harry simply gestured with a hand, and his gloves vanished, to instantly appear in his lap. Another gesture of the hand, and the miles of white tape instantly vanished, to land in a pile beside him. And yet another gesture banished the mess into the fireplace.
"Jesus. You know how long it takes me to do that?"
"Hours?"
"Maybe not hours, but..." Tommy simply shook his head. Everything he knew was turned on its head. It was that simple. Given, he was likely not going to remember any of this by morning, but it didn't mean he didn't appreciate what the teen-aged wizard was doing.
"I'm curious to know... what did you do... just before the match ended?" It was the referee.
"Completely forgot about that," said Mazhe, and Harry gave a nod, again thankful for the distraction. Reality was still not fully set in for Tommy. His brother was gone, and the realization was going to be a painful one.
"I don't know what it was, really," Harry answered, "It's a different language. Watching you fight your... um, fight your opponent earlier, it was brutal. Mey kendov—Foolish warrior."
"We had to do it... there was—"
"Things to sort out," Harry guessed. That got a sad nod from the fighter.
"But... kid... that wasn't what made the... we... I felt it in my bones when... he shouted," said the referee.
"I think the entire arena heard him," said Harry, "He's known to be loud sometimes."
"Hey! I resent that!" Mazhe mock-retorted. "Seriously, we don't know exactly what it was. Viik..."
"Defeat," Harry translated.
"What kind of language?" asked another of the group.
"A language spoken by dragons, a long time ago," Harry explained. He got very doubtful looks in return.
"They no longer exist. This was thousands of years ago." A half-truth, but it would suffice for now.
"Good to know, I guess."
The flames in the fireplace roared to life, and Justin stepped out of the flames.
"Harry, need to add a blanket access rule for now, Aurors from the Valicadia Ministry of Justice."
"Got it."
Harry went over to the fireplace, and modified the access list to accommodate the Aurors. Seconds later, the fireplace roared to life again, this time expelling two crimson-robed Aurors.
"'evening, Mr. Potter. None of you were injured in the mishap?"
"No, sir," Harry answered, "Just ended up with a few additional passengers."
"All of which should be grateful for your actions. Mr. Fraser, you of course already know you're needed back at the Ministry once you gain a few hours' rest," said the second Auror. The pair of them closely resembled each other, and Harry was then wishing this to be over and done with before Tommy could grasp at he'd just gone through, namely his dead brother.
"Yes, I'm aware, thank you. Now. These folks..." he gestured to the group who had gathered around the table, "Need to be processed and returned where they belong. Everyone, just answer the questions honestly, and the Commonwealth will see that you're well-looked after. Compensation will be awarded, and although it cannot undo the extreme and callous nature of what happened, take it with our sincerest apologies."
Justin turned to Tommy.
"Mr. Riordan. Her majesty has granted you political asylum given your, um, current and past circumstances. And, given the, uh, severity of what you've just been through..." Justin pulled out a wax-sealed letter from his pocket.
"Wait." Mazhe fished another calming draught out of Justin's satchel.
"G-good idea," said Justin.
"My brother... my pop... they're gone."
"We're sorry, Tommy. You have no idea."
Tommy took the offered potion, and consumed its awful contents.
"They're nasty, but they work," said Harry, offering a hand. "Come have a seat where it's a bit more comfortable."
"If you've got everything in hand..."
"Wait. Tommy," said the referee.
"Yeah."
"Your brother won, but given the, uh—"
"His kids."
"We'll see to them," said Justin.
"Doesn't have to be right this minute," said the first Auror, "Lots of fish to fry with this mess. Word is Mrs. T. is in a fury right now, not sure what about, but something to get her all stirred up, it's nothing good."
The pair turned to the group of strangers.
"All right, let's get you all back to the Ministry so we can get this sorted out."
Tommy watched as the group was shepherded through the fireplace. Only after the last of them were gone, did he turn his attention to the sealed letter, sealed the old-fashioned way by a wax seal.
"Gods, I've met her majesty personally, and I've never received a letter from her," said Harry, lightly.
"Your country has a queen."
"Wonderful lady. Down to earth, very kind—at least most of the time. This evening's events have her in a fury, I can tell you that much," said Justin, as Tommy broke the seal, and pulled the letter from inside the envelope. It, too was of yellow parchment, with deep-blue ink forming the words on the page.
Mr. Thomas Riordan nee Conlon
Care of Mr. Harry Potter,
Hall of Attainment, College of Winterhold,
Skyrim Province
Dear Mr. Riordan,
Please allow Us to extend Our deepest sympathies during this dark occasion of your life. It pains Us greatly to know that our world and its actions are the reason behind your pain on this day. Rest assured, We are beside you in your grief, your anger, and your tears, as we all ask the same question: why has this happened?
That said, We also decree that you are henceforth protected by all the laws and weight We bear, granting you political shelter and asylum within Our sovereign territories.
I personally send my own condolences, and may you find strength and friendship amongst those in your company. Young Harry is a personal ward, and I would ask that you consider doing a personal favour, and offer him lessons in your skill set. Our Department of Information informs me you have previous military training, amongst other things. I believe that such a distraction may be a boon to you at this point in your life.
Sincerely,
(An elegant signature was penned here)
H. R. M. Queen Susan II
"She's kidding." Tommy tossed the letter on the table, and leaned his chair back on two legs. "Worst night of my life after... after... Jesus Christ..."
"How about you get some sleep... take this beforehand, you won't dream while you sleep."
"Thanks."
"Trust me, I think we'll all be needing that," said Harry.
"You're really... a ward of the state?"
"Since I was six," Harry answered. "My relatives were neglectful and abusive. The Commonwealth rescued me."
"Wish someone could've rescued us," Tommy muttered.
"Your childhood was no picnic either, I take it."
"Nor was mine," said Mazhe, "I know all too well what it's like. We know abuse comes in many forms. Still gonna pay old Grelod a visit one day..."
"Not today, Mazhe. Just leave it for now," said Justin.
"Tommy, c'mon, you can borrow Remus' bed for the night. He's still in London, settling affairs," said Harry, gently tugging on the older man's sleeve. He sluggishly got to his feet, and Harry led him over to Remus' compartment.
"Sit. Now drink this. It tastes nasty, but it works."
"Uh, thanks."
Tommy consumed the contents of the potion, and swung his legs up onto the bed, and stretched out.
"The bathroom is through that door. And seriously, need anything, wake one of us up."
"Though he shouldn't wake up for at least eight hours, Harry. None of us will."
"That's the point." Harry turned to cross the room, but Tommy grabbed his shirt sleeve.
"Thanks."
"It... you're welcome," Harry answered.
It was nearly 10 am before anyone stirred. The table was already set with a light brunch: scrambled eggs, home fries, sausages, toast, and pancakes, all being kept warm by a warming charm.
After a quick shower to clean up, Harry quickly knelt in front of the fireplace to call Alice and Will, only to discover the fire would not connect.
"Justin!?"
"Harry?"
"Why won't the floo work?"
"You light a fire?"
"Of COURSE I lit a fire, Justin. Bloody hell."
"Sorry."
Justin swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, then crossed the floor to kneel beside Harry at the fireplace. He poked at the fire with his wand.
"The floo's been put into lockdown."
"Your mobile. Call the Ministry, find out what's going on."
"Aye aye, captain," said Justin, with a mock-salute. He went over to the table and took a seat, digging for his mobile phone.
"Uh, Harry?" Tommy had also sat up, and set his feet on the floor.
"You feeling all right? Wait... don't answer that." Harry crossed the floor and held out another calming draught.
"Can't just keep me numb forever."
"Until we get to see a mind-healer. They'll be able to help you reconcile your thoughts. Smile in the knowing of your blood, that in the end they did not hate you."
Harry and Tommy locked eyes for a moment.
"My last living relative hated me because I was a wizard. She and that oaf of a husband forced me to live in a cupboard under the stairs."
"Really?"
"I swear it. They're locked away in a Commonwealth prison now... so a certain meddling old fart doesn't get any further ideas on setting them free."
"We'll solve him eventually, Harry," came Mazhe's sleepy voice. "'s too early, go back to bed."
"Already missed half my morning training with Balimund."
"We're leaving in fifteen minutes, whether you guys have eaten or not," Justin threatened.
"Sure it's a good idea, taking... well..."
"I think it'll be brilliant. Something to keep his mind occupied." Harry glanced at Tommy. "'course, he's gonna need something more suitable for the weather here."
"Where we headed?" Tommy asked.
He resigned himself to the fact he was expected to go along. They weren't exactly friends, but not exactly strangers at this point. And they were being kind to him. He had nothing to lose by sticking around.
It was 10:45 before they arrived in Riften by port key.
"Mr. Potter. Running a little late this morning," said Balimund.
"Forgive us," said Harry, "Some rather disturbing events unfolded in the world I'm from. It was a difficult night for us."
"Then perhaps you might want to spend the day seeing to your person, Harry. Your mind will be troubled by your heart," said Balimund, kindly.
"I. I can't do that, sir. I can't let things such as... what happened last night... get in the way of my lessons and my training."
"If you are sure you can pay attention. Perhaps if you might just observe today." Balimund eyed the newcomer in the group. "Your group has grown by one."
"Balimund, this is a new friend, Tommy. Tommy, this is Balimund. He's been teaching me smithing."
Tommy simply nodded at the old smith. His eyes kept being diverted by the many distractions in the strange place they'd landed. The settlement was medieval, that much he was able to ascertain. It was beyond puzzling, but somehow... maybe that was how the magical world worked.
Harry, meanwhile, had hoisted himself up on a short wall nearby. Maybe observing things was the best thing for now.
"S-so, is all the magical world like this?" Tommy asked, as he hoisted himself up on the wall beside Harry.
"Uh, not exactly," Harry hedged. He wasn't sure if Tommy was ready for the naked truth just yet. "Just be ready for anything. Gods, I'm still learning about what magic can do. Oh." Harry gestured at a scabbed-over wound below Tommy's eye. "Episkey."
"Shit. Didn't realize that was there."
"I can fix a lot of things now. Healing spells are right useful. Now some things, it's better to let a healer see to them, but... cuts, sprains... your shoulder... I'm strong enough that I can do it."
"Strong? Harry, you're one of the strongest mages at the College," said Mazhe, "You'll be teaching there full-time one day."
"Unless Sir Malcolm Davis Institute can woo him," said Justin.
"Unlikely," said Harry, with a shake of the head and a frown, "I'm not very happy with the Commonwealth right now. They should've been there within minutes. You work for the government, Justin! They let us all down."
Justin frowned. "You're right, they did. But count on this. The government is doing an investigation and they will figure out what happened and why things broke down as they did. It wasn't our finest hour."
"Not your finest hour."
Tommy turned to face Justin, an angry snarl plastered on his face.
"My brother and my pop are gone. Not your finest hour, right."
"It's not his fault. None of us could've known," said Harry, quietly, "Krosis."
"Sorrow," Mazhe whispered, remembering the translation.
An hour later, the group descended into the Ratway, and finally into the Ragged Flagon for lunch.
"Looks like someone ran off with your coin purse, lad," said Brynjolf, seeing the group enter.
"Bad business last night, Brynjolf. A lot of people died."
"Today will not be a good day for training then." The Nord could easily read the young wizard.
"As much as I would like to... I guess not. We're not likely going to be pleasant company today." The group claimed one of the tables, and a fourth chair was pulled over for Tommy.
"Bryn, this is Tommy. He, uh, lost family last night. You remember what we explained about the killing curse?"
"Aye."
"It was used a number of times last night."
"I wouldn't consider travelling the countryside a way of dealing with that sort of grief," said Delvin, from the table next to them.
"Nor is being holed up at the College," answered Justin, with a frown.
"After lunch, let's take a port key up to the Throat of the World—or the gate to High Hrothgar. The air and the view might be a good tonic for the soul."
"A mountain?" Tommy guessed.
"Highest peak in Skyrim," said Delvin. "You lot have been there?"
"A couple of weeks ago," Harry answered, as Vekel placed bottles of mead on the table in front of them.
"I'm game then," said Tommy, as he pried the top off the bottle. He read the label: Black-Briar Mead.
"Well..." said Justin, raising a bottle. "To loved ones lost, we will meet again, for death is only the next great adventure."
Tommy hesitated, seeming to weigh Justin's words, but gave a weak smile, and raised his bottle. One could hope, after all.
Justin took a long swig off the bottle, leaned back in his seat, and began to softly sing:
Non nobis domine, domine,
Non nobis domine,
Sed nomini, sed nomini
tuo da gloriam.(1)
Tommy wasn't the only one who collapsed emotionally, as it all truly hit home as to the extent of that previous evening's tragedy. Harry knew of what lay in store in his future, but the disaster they'd just been through spelled it out crystal clear. Many more would have their lives prematurely ended long before the final confrontation. Hell, Voldemort wasn't even afforded a physical form at this point! And still, he and his followers were able to unleash unholy hell on innocent, unsuspecting victims!
CRACK! Sirius appeared not far from the tables, and his face instantly showed relief, finding Harry's.
"Merlin... glad you're safe, Harry."
"Sirius."
"You weren't harmed?"
"N-no. We... I think Mazhe nailed one of them with an ice spike. They were Death Eaters, Padfoot!"
"We know they were." Sirius pulled a chair over from the nearby table, and space was made for the newcomer. "Mr. Riordan, I'm guessing?"
"Tommy."
"Sirius Black," Sirius answered, offering a hand. They briefly shook.
"The floo was sealed when we left—"
"Still is, Harry. Remus and I had to convince Guardian Elaine to make a special port key so we could get through."
"Given the government's state, I'm shocked they did," said Justin, shaking his head.
"Harry, uh, you need to know..." Sirius pulled out a parchment from his robes. "You know about the Triwizard tournament, right?"
"So Ron and Hermione have told me. What about it?" Did he really want to know?
"They drew the names for the champions last night at dinner. Four names."
"And..."
"Triwizard tournament... as in three," said Justin.
"So someone tricked it into coughing up an extra contestant. It's magic, I'm guessing here, right?" said Tommy.
Harry felt a stone drop into the pit of his stomach.
"That useless. Meddling. Wanker!" And Harry cut loose with a string of colourful language never before heard in Tamriel. Mazhe arched an eyebrow, while Justin was doing his best not to laugh.
SMASH! A clay pitcher on a crate nearby disintegrated into a million pieces.
"I'll strangle the man with his own beard!"
SMASH. A bottle of mead was the next to fall victim, as Harry flew out of his seat, and stormed away.
"Uh, I..."
"Don't worry about it. He's got every right to be angry right now," said Sirius.
Mazhe, meanwhile, dropped a bag of coins on the bar.
"Harry didn't mean anything by it. We're sorting out some bad business right now."
"Most unsettling he is able to do such things," said Vekel, as he tucked the bag of coins away.
"His magic is different than that of Skyrim, we all know that."
"What sort of tournament?" Tommy asked.
"The Triwizard Tournament. It's being hosted at Hogwarts for the first time in years," Sirius explained, "Hogwarts is a magical school, much like the College, but it's targeted toward young witches and wizards learning the basics of the craft."
"And who is the, uh, meddling wanker?"
"Oh. Albus Dumbledore. Harry has a number of issues with the old man right now, and this latest stunt only adds to the pile."
"Can't Harry just say no?"
"No. A magically binding contract is exactly that. Now obviously, someone else has put his name in, but the magic doesn't discern who did it. Only that the name on the paper has entered the tournament."
"Humph. Lots of ways that could be abused."
"The headmaster, meanwhile, was only concerned about preventing younger students from entering."
"Have you heard anything about the Commonwealth's response?" Mazhe asked.
"No. I was more focused on getting back to Skyrim."
"Really need the floo reopened. Maybe we should get back to the College," said Justin.
"If you guys wanna go." Harry had returned to the group, but did not sit down. "I'm going to borrow the training room for a bit, that's if Mercer doesn't mind."
"I can't see him putting up an argument, lad. Go work out your frustrations."
"I'll come with, and conjure some soft targets for you," Sirius offered.
"Can you make them into effigies of Dumbledore?" asked Harry, with a scowl.
It was the middle of the afternoon before Harry and his godfather reappeared in the Ragged Flagon. The others were still gathered around one of the tables, and Tommy was again unconscious, slumped at the table.
"What happened?" Harry asked, suspiciously.
"He was about to go ballistic. I stunned him," Justin answered apologetically.
"As soon as the floo is reconnected, we need a mind healer."
"Why are we making it our problem, Harry? It's the Commonwealth's issue, isn't it?"
"Mazhe, even you should know what it's like to be abandoned. I'd be feeling overwhelmed right now, being dropped into a strange place with a bunch of strangers around me, after suffering a terrible loss," Justin answered, "He's lost most of his family in a matter of minutes."
"It comes back to what he wants," Harry answered, "I know the Commonwealth will look after him no matter what—though it sounds like they're kissing his arse at this point."
He picked up a half-empty bottle of mead and took a long swig.
"That's mine by the way," Justin scowled.
"Mine now," Harry answered, and drained the bottle. Justin made a rude gesture, and Harry stuck his tongue out.
"Real mature, Harry."
"It's getting on in the afternoon. I'm going to Apparate back to the College and see if the floo has been reconnected," said Sirius.
"We're headed to High Hrothgar. Here, I'll make you a port key so you can get back to us." Justin picked up the now empty bottle, and touched it with his wand. "Portus."
"I'll meet up with you all in a half-hour then." Sirius collected the port key and popped away.
The bizarre sensation of travelling by port key woke Tommy up, and he found himself being gripped tightly by Mazhe, while Harry helped keep his hand on the object. They all landed roughly in the snow, and he was assaulted by the bitter cold of the high altitude.
"Sorry about earlier," Justin apologized, and helped the man to his feet. Harry and Mazhe climbed to their feet.
"Where are we?" Tommy asked.
"The highest peak in Skyrim. Or just below the summit. Look." Mazhe pointed to the north, where they could barely make out a stone structure standing out against the winter landscape.
"Our first port key ride last night dropped us there. That's the College of Winterhold."
"Air's pretty clear here."
"Only thing that messes with the view is the weather. This is as good a place as any to clear your head," said Mazhe.
"What... what happens to me now?"
"Mr. Riordan, you've faced the worst our world has to offer, and survived it. The Commonwealth will definitely help you out, but... given what happened, we won't send you away. Better to sort things out in the company of friends, than to go it alone," said Justin.
"I don't play well with others."
"We aren't going to leave you to your own devices, mate."
"Why do you care?" Tommy cast a glare at Harry.
"I'm pissed and hurt that this entire ordeal happened, Tommy. The bastards walked into a place packed with non-magical people and started cursing. Because you came with us... you survived... but I know you likely wish you hadn't."
Tommy nodded slowly.
"No shame in that, but just don't try to, uh... you know," said Justin. That got another glare from Tommy.
"This whole mess... something still feels off about it," said Mazhe.
"Agreed with that," said Justin, with a nod. "It's interesting the Queen gives him political asylum. He's being allowed to stay in the country, while everyone else is sent back to the U.S. after having their memories modified."
"They know more than they're letting on," Mazhe guessed.
"The letter mentioned my fighting skills," said Tommy. "She asked me to offer training to Mr. Potter."
"Well. Isn't that interesting," Justin scowled.
"Let me guess. The Ministry has a file on him."
"The Ministry has files on a lot of people, Harry."
"You're sayin' your government was spying on me," Tommy summarized.
"Likely. I've never been in the Department of Information, but I have a pretty good idea of the manpower behind it and so on. My credentials don't let me into their department, but, given most of the government's computers are magically augmented, I need not go further, right?"
Tommy again slowly nodded, quickly understanding the point. With magic on their side, it was unlikely very many regular computers would be able to keep them out. If this foreign country he found himself in wanted information on someone, it was a sure bet they would find it.
With a sudden blur a short distance away from the group, Sirius arrived, bringing with him a letter.
"Sirius."
"Harry. The floo has been reconnected... and this was addressed to you." Sirius held out the envelope. Harry opened it.
Harry,
I am unsure of whether you are aware of it or not, but the Triwizard Tournament is being held at the school this year. Last night, the Goblet of Fire cast forth the names of the champions who will compete. Instead of drawing only three names, a fourth was also drawn: Yours, Harry.
I must ask you return to Hogwarts as soon as possible, since your name coming out of the Goblet does signify a binding magical contract, and you are required to participate in the tournament.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
"Bloody wanker," Harry muttered, dropping the parchment into the snow at his feet and sending a blast of orange magic at it. The offending parchment burst into flames, the ashes being blown away by the swirling wind. He turned to his newest friend.
"Tommy... I may be in need of your, uh... whatever you might be willing to teach me. Say, two hundred galleons a week."
"What's that in American?"
"Um, current exchange, roughly two-thousand U.S. A week," answered Justin.
"Deal."
"Let's get back to the College then," Justin suggested, "I'll contact the Ministry of Health and have them send a mind-healer through."
"Part of the requirement of you working for me is that you have to talk to them," said Harry.
"How will they help?"
"You know about a Psychiatrist?"
"I'm not—"
"No, of course not. A mind-healer is someone far more effective. They use several tools, including Legilimency, to help you sort through some very ugly shit you've just been through," Justin explained.
"What about... something that happened before that?"
"Sure. It's your session, you take it in whatever direction you want to go."
"You've had to see one before?" Harry guessed.
"When I was ten, a boy of about eight was crushed by a streetcar while trying to cross the street in front of the school. It was messy," Justin answered.
He pulled out a Frisbee from his satchel, and touched it with his wand. "Portus."
They arrived back at the College to find Will and Alice waiting, as well as Guardian Elaine, and a young witch in lime-green healers' robes.
"Madam Guardian," Harry greeted, with a bow of the head.
"Mr. Potter. It is good to see you again, although I do wish this meeting was under better circumstances."
"Likewise."
"Harry. Are you all right?" Alice asked.
"I was uninjured, if that's what you're asking."
"I insist you speak to Miss Ferris, she is a healer specializing in the mind-arts. You are mature for your age, but you're still only a fourteen-year-old boy, Harry."
"I... I know."
Tommy arched an eyebrow. "Shit, I thought you were at least eighteen."
"Growing up here made me that way. Tommy, this is Alice and Will, they work for the Ministry of Social Services. Alice rescued me from my rotten relatives when I was six, and they've sort of seen to my case since. Finally, Guardian Elaine... probably one of the most important people in the Commonwealth."
"He knows his history," said Elaine, smiling briefly, "Now I only wish to intrude for a few moments, if only to insure you are well, Mr. Potter."
"No physical harm done, but... Shor's balls... complete utter disaster. Do... do we know how many were killed?"
"The number's topped three hundred so far. Non-magical search and rescue services are still pulling people out of the wreckage alive," answered Will.
"Is the Commonwealth helping?" Tommy asked.
"No. You have to understand, Mr. Riordan, the Commonwealth's primary directive in this situation is to ensure that, a) our identity has not been compromised, and b) the Statute of Secrecy is not breached. Given the extraordinary circumstances last night, we have three different magical governments involved cleaning up. It may seem callous, but there would be much more serious implications should the magical world be permanently exposed to the non-magical world," Elaine answered.
"Have they confirmed it was Death Eaters?" Justin asked.
"No. Though it's pretty much a sure bet. The Department of Information is reviewing the security footage, as well as what was broadcast on television," answered Will.
"Charlie foxtrot," Tommy muttered.
Harry arched an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"Military code for cluster fuck," Tommy answered.
Mazhe smirked, while Justin did his best not to laugh, given the circumstances. Tommy had summed it up quite nicely.
"Mr. Riordan. I am Healer Ferris. Won't you come with me?" The healer offered a hand.
"Uh, sure."
Healer Ferris was a patient woman, spending several hours a day with Tommy, helping him to sort through the overwhelming reality he now found himself in. She also spent some time with Harry, although it was far less necessary. The boy was bothered by the events, but considering those he cared about came out of the incident unscathed, he only spent one session.
For that reason among others, it was actually several days before Harry finally decided to answer the headmaster's summons back to Hogwarts. November 4 saw them travel back to Trevelyan, where Sirius helped Tommy get a few changes of clothes among other things. Up to that point, he had been borrowing stuff off of Justin. Mazhe was a closer size match, but considering the type of wardrobe he had, it wasn't exactly practical. He had also been given a ring which negated the effects of Muggle-repelling wards. If he was to be a part of the group, it was only fair he have the same privileges.
It was November 6 when the four of them, as well as Sirius and Remus, travelled by floo powder back to the Three Broomsticks. There, they were met by two lawyers from the Crown Attorney's office. From that point, it was the lengthy walk up to the castle itself. To the casual eye, it looked like Harry was surrounded by non-magicals. And Harry himself, went with a pair of jeans, a tee shirt and an olive bomber jacket. His wand was jammed in the front pocket of said jacket, but he still looked like a Muggle.
As they stepped through the doors of the Great Hall, the noise level rapidly diminished, as every eye found its way to them. Harry simply took a deep breath, and the group began to cross the large room.
Tommy, meanwhile, was astounded by the room into which they had stepped. It was as if there were no ceiling at all, with the night sky providing the canopy. There seemed to be thousands of candles suspended in mid-air, casting a warm glow about the room. He'd certainly seen enough magic over the past few days, but here and now, he knew he was bathing in it, almost literally.
They finally arrived at the head table.
"Harry, I'm pleased you were at last able to return to us," said Dumbledore, pleasantly. "I do have to wonder, why you might have this number of people with you."
He had to hide a frown, seeing both Sirius and Remus with the group. Both had been potential tools Harry had easily ripped away from his grasp.
"If we might take this up to your office, headmaster. This matter is best not discussed in public," said the Crown attorney, curtly.
"I would also like to have Professor McGonagall present," Harry added. "I don't trust you."
"I see."
A short time later, they were seated around a table the headmaster had conjured in his office.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, we are here by the Queen's directive. I'm Albert Sampson, and this is Joyce Connor of the Crown Attorney's Office. Given that her majesty's ward has not been in England's borders since near the end of June, the crown is investigating how exactly his name came to be entered into this tournament."
"We are equally concerned, Mr. Sampson," said McGonagall, "All of us are in agreement that Potter should not be expected to participate, given he is not of age here."
"What is the English Ministry doing about this?"
"There is nothing we can do, Mr. Sampson," answered Dumbledore, with a sad face, "The Goblet's choices are final and binding."
"Even if the person didn't enter it willingly. Gods, you would think such an ancient and powerful artefact would have some sort of... intent ward on it or the like," said Mazhe.
He reached up and flipped his hair out of his face. He still had it shaved off on both sides, but it was now long enough to reach down to his shoulders.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, mister..."
"This is Mazhe," said Harry, "One of my friends from Skyrim. And Justin, and Tommy."
"How did this goblet thing work?" Tommy asked.
"Students simply wrote their name on a scrap of parchment, and placed it into the goblet," answered McGonagall.
"Professor, how many times do we write our names on assignments and that sort of thing?" Harry asked, scowling.
"Many times, Potter."
"So, let's say that, someone old enough... I dunno, a Ravenclaw seventh year... found an assignment signed by Dennis Creevey... and they tossed it into the goblet. If he was chosen, would he have to compete?"
The headmaster momentarily stared at Harry.
"Well, headmaster? We're waiting," said Miss Connor.
"Even as dire an implication as that is, yes, he would be required to compete."
"I wonder what Colin and Dennis' mother might think of that," Harry wondered aloud.
"Or the parents of any student," Justin added, grimly, "A pretty skewed way of running things, Professor."
"It's done now, though, isn't it," said Mazhe.
"That it is, mister... err... Mazhe," said Dumbledore, again wearing a sad expression. Tommy's attention, meanwhile, had been turned to Fawkes, who rested on his perch, watching the proceeding.
"I would welcome the Commonwealth's outside eyes in gathering an understanding into how this came to happen," said McGonagall.
"Minerva."
"Don't 'Minerva' me, Albus! A fourteen-year-old boy has been entered into a tournament designed for those of age, despite your best efforts!"
"I'm guessin' here, but it sounds like someone wants Harry dead," said Tommy, turning his attention back to the meeting.
"Where is the Goblet now?" asked Mr. Sampson.
"Locked up in the anteroom off of the Great Hall," answered McGonagall.
"We'll be bringing in a team from the Commonwealth's federal crime scene unit, along with two unspeakables from our department of arcane sciences. We'll tear it apart if we have to," said Miss Connor, "Perhaps bring in a team of curse-breakers if necessary."
"I have to object—"
"WE OBJECT TO THIS TRAVESTY OCCURRING IN THE FIRST PLACE, HEADMASTER!" Mr. Sampson erupted, "You have meddled with her majesty's ward enough already, and she is truly tiring of your interference. Do not believe yourself beyond our reach, headmaster."
"I do deeply regret that young Harry is being once again subjected to such an event," answered Dumbledore, sadly, "But indeed, even uncovering what transpired to lead us to this point will not release him from the tournament."
"Fine. So I have to compete."
"Equally, it also means you are required to reside at the castle with your classmates. I do apologize for this interrupting whatever schooling you now have in place, however—"
"Actually, that is not entirely correct, Albus," Remus spoke up, "Given Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts champion, it would be inappropriate for Harry to take up residence in the castle for the duration of the tournament—outside his attending classes, if he so desires it."
"Harry was sorted into Gryffindor—"
"As a Hogwarts student, Professor. Harry did owl you a letter stating he has withdrawn from the school this past July. Whether or not you wished to accept it, Harry no longer sees himself as a student here," said Miss Connor.
"The Commonwealth will have a solution in place by Monday afternoon at the latest," said Mr. Sampson, "In the meantime, it is my understanding the castle has a set of rooms for visitors."
"It has been a number of years since they have been used, but yes, there is such accommodation," McGonagall agreed. "Musy," she called out, to no one in particular.
Pop. "Professor McGonagall called for Musy?" the house elf asked. She was dressed smartly in a little uniform.
"Could you see to the set of visitors' rooms on the fourth floor?"
"Right away, Professor!" The elf popped away. Tommy was unfazed, having already met Dobby back in Skyrim.
"Minerva, I must object—" said Dumbledore.
"No, I must object, Albus! Potter is simply a guest of the school, equally as much as the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. You cannot afford to enforce a double standard."
"Thank you, professor."
"Equally important. We are employing the services of a mind healer from the Commonwealth. Which fireplace would be convenient for her to access?" questioned Miss Connor.
"If not, we'll be simply walking down to Hogsmeade in the morning," said Harry, bluntly, "A guest rather than a student and all."
"I think Madam Pomfrey would be more than happy to accommodate you with that matter," said McGonagall.
"My I ask why you would be needing such services?" Dumbledore asked.
"You can ask, but no, we're not gonna tell you."
"Harry..." Mazhe again put a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"He doesn't need to know. Though he probably already knows, considering the news."
It took only a moment for the realization to set in for Dumbledore.
"You were at the event Death Eaters allegedly attacked last Sunday," he said simply.
"Except this time, rather than flee as I did in Last Seed, we stayed and helped."
Dumbledore regarded Tommy for a moment. "And this explains your presence."
"It does, I guess."
"Care to guess what Tommy, Mazhe, and I have in common, headmaster?" Harry asked, darkly. "Wait. Don't bother."
"Now Harry, I take exception..."
"No, headmaster, 'I' take exception to being dragged back here, when this past July I swore up and down I would never come back. Considering there are very few people within this castle's walls I trust at this point, I insist on having my circle here at my back, just so there aren't any accidents or other misunderstandings."
That got a surprised look out of Tommy.
"We will do our best to accommodate you all for the next few days," said McGonagall.
"Thank you, Professor."
"I guess we're finished here. Though just to be clear, it will take very little for us to pull Harry away from the school and back to the Commonwealth, and only bring him for the tasks," said Sirius, "It would go against the spirit of the tournament, but I think that's already been violated by whatever underhanded manner was used drag my godson into it. I reiterate Tommy's comment from earlier, it's as if someone's trying to get him killed."
"If we might take our leave then. Be aware, headmaster, we may still have questions regarding this incident," said Miss Connor.
"I will show you to the guest rooms," McGonagall offered.
The set of rooms were nicely decorated, affording them a view of the Black Lake.
"Sure you don't want to stay here in the castle, pup?" Sirius asked, as the group took up seats in the common room.
"No. I don't want to be here any more than I need to. Every minute I'm within this castle's walls, is one more minute the meddling old man has time to pull some sort of stunt. I'm missing class time back in the College because of this, all my lessons in Riften now out the window... Azura curse them all!"
"Come Monday, we'll have a solution in place," said Miss Connor, "It's one you will have to see to believe, the rest I'll leave as a surprise."
"Harry, you still might want to consider attending class here," said Sirius, "Take advantage of what's being offered."
"I... I suppose. I did enjoy Care of Magical Creatures last year," Harry conceded, "And it was easier with a professor explaining things in Ancient Runes."
"I'll speak to Minerva and get your schedule then," Remus offered.
"Great. Whether Dumbledore likes it or not, I'm not slowing down to dance to the beat of his drum," said Harry, darkly.
"What will we be doing while you're in class?"
"Whatever you want," Sirius answered, "Though I wouldn't suggest going far without one of us. Equally, for the next while, you'll be tied up in the mornings seeing Miss Ferris. Doing so is not an option."
"I get it."
"Good."
"For whatever reason, the government believes you have something to offer Harry, Mr. Riordan," said Miss Connor.
"My skills as a fighter. But... but why me? Can't your guys do better?"
"We don't know why," answered Justin. "I know mixed martial arts isn't as popular in the Commonwealth, and to have both skills, it's pretty rare I think. I mean, I'm sure the Department of Information could get us some statistics on that, but... you get my point."
"Whatever the result, I'm open to whatever you can show me, Tommy."
"Do you have any sort of exercise regimen?"
"No, not really."
"You do now."
Less than an hour later, there was a knock at the door. Remus opened it to reveal Ron, Hermione, and the twins.
"Hi guys!" Harry grinned, quickly crossing the room to meet them. "Come in... bloody hell."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione cried, giving Harry a tight hug.
"I'm all right... air, Hermione."
"Sorry. We were all worried when your name come out of the goblet. There was no way you did it willingly! What did Professor Dumbledore say?"
"I have to compete anyway. Magically binding contract, right?"
"How come you're not staying in the dorm with us then?" Ron asked.
"Because I'm not a student here anymore. Cedric's the Hogwarts champion, and me staying in the castle would take away from him."
"But..."
"Ron, really," said Hermione, giving him a swat. "It makes sense! So the Commonwealth is supporting you instead."
"Exactly, miss..."
"Granger, Hermione Granger. And this is Ron, and his brothers, Fred and George."
"Joyce Connor, from the Commonwealth's Crown Attorney office. My colleague, Albert Sampson. We'll be staying close to Mr. Potter throughout the tournament."
"Dumbledore looked like he'd swallowed a very sour lemon when they introduced themselves in his office," Harry smirked. "Come join us."
He sat down beside Mazhe, making room for Ron and Hermione on a vacant couch. The twins took to a pair of chairs.
"Wait. I know you. Seamus showed us pictures he printed on his, uh—"
"Computer, Ron," Hermione finished.
"Yeah, that's it. You're Tommy Riordan. Pounded the piss out of a guy a few months ago. Seamus was raving about it all night the first night back."
"Guys. Some terrible things happened to him and us too, a week ago. Just,"
"I'm not glass, Harry," Tommy said quietly.
"No, but... Ron has a tendency to not exercise tact sometimes."
"'s okay. Guess that's what got me to SPARTA. Seems so long ago now. Gotta wonder, the guys back at that gym."
"The Commonwealth could probably make some quiet enquiries," said Justin.
"Right. Enough of that," said Harry, deciding it best to shift the conversation into safer territory. "What's the Dark Arts Defence professor like this year."
"Wicked scary, but he knows his stuff," answered Ron.
"He's a retired Auror or something," said George.
"Rumor's that half the inmates in Azkaban are there because of him," Fred finished.
"Sounds like we lucked out this year."
"Does that mean you're joining us for class?" asked Hermione.
"At least for some of them. I'm going to have to change my schedule back in Skyrim, and I won't be able to teach at the College, but I guess... it's actually not going to be too disruptive, at least come Monday."
"What happens Monday?"
"Mr. Potter gets his own private quarters outside of the castle. Since both foreign schools have their own quarters and so on, it's only fair," said Miss Connor.
"Would it be possible for these guys to come visit me?"
"I think something can be worked out," said Mr. Sampson.
Monday, 8 November, 2004 / 8 Sun's Dusk, 4E199
"Harry, I, uh... maybe I was seein' things, but... I could've sworn you came out of the bathroom twice early this morning," said Tommy.
"Maybe you need to take more dreamless sleep potions," said Justin, smirking. That earned him a rude gesture for the effort. Harry only rolled his eyes and grinned at the banter. "Deja vu maybe?"
"I guess." Tommy, Justin, Harry, and Mazhe had just finished their morning jog, which took them nearly around the Black Lake, and were then walking back toward the castle. It had been taken at a slow pace, just so they could get used to the routine.
"Question was, what was he doing up so late, given how early we're up in the morning," Justin wondered.
"Couldn't sleep."
"I back up my previous statement."
"You know they're addictive, Justin."
"Hey, that looks like Mr. Sampson and Miss Connor," said Mazhe.
"Detour, guys. Maybe our accommodation is arriving," Harry guessed. He'd barely got the words out of his mouth, when there came a God-awful CRACK which resembled a clap of thunder. Then, in the blink of an eye, an enormous object appeared over the Black Lake, the likes of which only one of them had seen before.
UP NEXT: The Commonwealth provides something astounding for Harry's accommodations during the tournament, something neither the headmaster, nor the Ministry likes in the least; an incident after class results in tighter security around Harry, and a very nasty message being delivered to the headmaster; and the first task of the tournament has a rather unexpected outcome.
AUTHOR NOTES:
(1) According to Wikipedia, translates to: "Not to us, not to us, O Lord, But to your name give glory." Those who are not aware, it is an old chant, and while some might argue it doesn't fit with what happened, Justin sings to recognize it could have been a lot worse, simply offering up thanks that all of them had escaped unscathed.