The next morning at breakfast, Harry told Tracey and Draco about his discovery. They decided that Tracey would focus her research on dragons and their weaknesses, to see if there was anything else to be learned. Meanwhile, Harry and Draco would practice flying, so that Harry wouldn't be rusty when the time came for the first task.
After he was finished with breakfast, Harry went over to the Gryffindor table and pulled Hermione aside. He told her about the task and his plan to out-fly the dragon on his Firebolt.
"That's fine, but how are you going to get your broom?" Hermione asked.
"I… hadn't thought of that?" It was true—Harry had been so excited to have a plan for the task that he had forgotten entirely about actually getting his broom.
Hermione smiled. "This is why you keep me around. We need to start practicing your summoning charm—it should do the trick quite nicely."
As Harry returned to his table, he glanced around the lunchroom. Fleur Delacour seemed distracted at the Ravenclaw table. She had a small (and extraordinarily fetching) frown on her face. Still, the frown seemed quite out of place. Generally, Fleur was the picture of composure, and it was the wizards around her who were driven to distraction.
Harry looked toward the end of the Slytherin table, searching for Krum. Krum was surrounded by Durmstrang students. Their heads were lowered, and they were whispering to one another. As Harry passed them, he realized that they were speaking some eastern European language. Whatever they were speaking about, they wanted it to be kept secret.
The sudden changes in Krum and Delacoer's behavior left no doubt in Harry's mind that Karkaroff and Madame Maxime had told their champions about the dragons. Who wouldn't be suddenly worried, once they realized that their first task was likely to kill them?
Harry glanced across the hall at the Hufflepuff table. Cedric Diggory was laughing and smiling, slapping one of his friends on the back. Diggory didn't look worried at all… because Diggory didn't know about the dragons.
Harry felt a surge of intense guilt. Diggory was the only champion who didn't know. Even if Harry notified Dumbledore that Karkaroff and Madame Maxime knew about the dragons, Dumbledore was far too honorable to give Diggory any assistance. Telling Cedric would mean giving up an advantage he had over one of his opponents… but Harry's conversation with Charlie the previous evening had shown that good deeds can lead to rewards, even if the benefits aren't immediately visible. Besides, Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself if he kept quiet and Cedric was subsequently roasted by a dragon.
When breakfast ended, Harry sent Draco and Tracey ahead of him to Transfiguration. "I'll catch up with you in class."
Harry moved to follow Diggory through the halls. Diggory was surrounded by his usual entourage of Hufflepuffs. It took Harry several minutes, but he was finally able to get a clear line of sight toward Diggory's bag.
"Diffindo." Harry fired a quick cutting curse, and Diggory's bag split open, spilling books all over the hallway.
Cedric frowned and looked down. "Go on ahead," he said to his friends. "No need for all of us to be late."
As the hallway began to clear, Harry stepped forward and helped Diggory collect his things. Diggory frowned. Diggory had been cool toward Harry ever since Harry denied placing his name in the Goblet, and Diggory had grown even moreso after the lunchroom incident with the "Potter Stinks" badges.
Harry handed Diggory a quill and some parchment. "The first task is dragons," Harry muttered.
"What?"
"Dragons," Harry said more clearly. "There's one for each champion. And watch out for the back end of the Hungarian Horntail."
"You can't be serious," Diggory said.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Harry said as he stood. "I'm late to class."
"Why are you telling me this?" Diggory asked, also standing.
"Because Krum and Delacour know. I know. And now you know."
"But why?"
"I'm not in this thing to win it. I'm just trying to get out alive." Not true, but Diggory would believe it. "And I'd rather have a Hogwarts champion than one from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons."
"Well, thanks," said Diggory.
"Sure," said Harry. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before Harry spoke again. "I really have to get to class."
"Me, too." Diggory nodded his head at Harry, then turned away, carrying his books in his arms.
As Harry walked down the corridor, a voice called out. "That was a decent thing you did there, Potter. I'm surprised."
Harry turned. Mad-Eye Moody clomped out from behind a suit of armor, where he had been eavesdropping on Harry's conversation.
"Helping Cedric with his books?" Harry said innocently. "I was just being courteous." Harry wasn't going to admit to cheating in front of Mad-Eye. With Mad-Eye's grudge against Slytherins, it seemed likely that the Defense professor would turn Harry in to the tournament authorities.
"I'm not talking about that," said Mad-Eye, undeceived. "Follow me." The professor began clomping away. Harry followed quietly.
Mad-Eye led Harry into his office. Harry had been here before—it was where Lupin had taught Harry how to cast a Patronus charm to defend himself against dementors. Moody's decorations were far different, however. Harry cast his eyes over the various pieces of equipment, wondering what their purposes were.
"Those are my dark detectors," Moody said offhandedly. "I considered leaving them packed for the year, but complacency gets you killed." Moody waved a hand at a chair. "Have a seat."
Harry sat. Moody began to speak as he rounded his desk.
"You're a mystery, Potter," Moody said. He dropped heavily into his chair. "I haven't gotten a handle on you, and that makes me suspicious. What sort of game are you playing?"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked. He wasn't going to volunteer any information that Moody could use against him.
"One day I see you casting curses at the lake, and the next day you argue in favor of Unforgiveables in my classroom. I've met dozens of wizards who went dark, and the better part of them started out like you. But then Hermione Granger agrees to help you with the Tri-Wizard tournament, and there isn't a more upright and responsible student in all of Hogwarts. And now I see you warning Diggory about dragons, as if you actually had some sort of conscience knocking about in that head of yours." Moody frowned. "You're not acting consistently, and that means that you're playing some sort of game. I don't like games. So, I'm giving you a chance to tell me now: what are you up to, Potter?"
"Nothing," Harry said.
"Don't give me that troll vomit," Moody snapped. "Every Slytherin is up to something. It's in your nature."
"Is that why you hate us?"
"I don't hate you, Potter. I hate what you turn into."
"So all Slytherins are Death Eaters, now?" Harry folded his arms. His attempt to change the subject had been successful. "Do you realize how crazy you sound? You're talking to Harry Potter."
"Dark wizards existed before the Death Eaters were founded, Potter, and they'll exist long after the Death Eaters have been forgotten. Any time ambition is combined with a lack of moral fortitude, you have a recipe for a dark wizard. And I've seen precious little moral fortitude coming out of Slytherin house." Moody squinted his non-magical eye. "Last chance to make a good impression, Potter. What's your game?" Apparently, Harry's attempt to change the subject had not been made as subtly as he thought.
"My game? It's a great lot of fun," Harry said snippishly. "I call it, 'try to stay alive.' It all started first year, when I saved Hermione from a troll, then confronted Lord Voldemort himself. Next, when I was twelve years old, things got even more exciting: a basilisk controlled by the ghost of Voldemort terrorized the entire school. I saved us from that one, too. Last year, I was stalked by a crazed dark wizard who had escaped punishment in Azkaban, and I was attacked by a werewolf, and my soul was almost sucked out by rogue dementors! How exciting! And this year… this year takes the cake, because I'll be risking my life not once, not twice, but three times, and that's just in the tournament! And we haven't even started talking about the dark wizard who submitted my name in the first place, in yet another attempt to kill me!
"So what's my game? STAY ALIVE. Why am I learning curses? SO I CAN STAY ALIVE. Constant vigilance won't do a damn thing for me if I can't defend myself. Given the choice, I prefer to be alive and struggling with the moral dilemmas raised by my use of curses, rather than dead because I only knew how to transfigure a pincushion into a hedgehog."
Harry was breathing heavily after his rant. He could feel the blood that had rushed to his face. He probably shouldn't have lost his composure, but it felt good to shout at Moody for once, instead of Moody barking at him. But another part of Harry felt ashamed that Moody had gotten to him. After all, Snape had tried this same trick during detention when Harry was a first year, and it hadn't worked. Why did Harry let himself lose his temper like that?
"Are you done?" Moody asked.
Harry stared at him, stone-faced, and said nothing.
"Why did you tell Diggory about the dragons?" Moody asked.
"Because it would be nice to see a Hogwarts champion in the tournament, and it certainly won't be me."
"A Slytherin hasn't helped a Hufflepuff since Salazar and Helga were alive and building this castle. Try again."
"I was overcome with school spirit. What more can I say?"
"Stop giving me that troll vomit, Potter, and start giving me some real answers!"
"What do you want to hear? That I told Diggory because it was the right thing to do? Because I didn't want to see a good guy get killed because he didn't know what to expect? You'd laugh in my face." Harry turned away. "Think whatever you want to think, because nothing I'm going to say will convince you otherwise."
Moody leaned on one elbow and began tapping a finger against the side of his face. His magical eye spun wildly in its socket, looking all around the room.
"The arguments that you made for the Unforgiveables. I'd heard them all before."
"Yeah, I got that impression," Harry said. "You were baiting me."
"I was baiting the whole class," said Moody. "You're the only one stupid enough to take it. Even Crabbe and Goyle were smart enough to keep quiet."
"So?"
"There was something interesting about your argument. You missed a couple of obvious justifications for use of the Unforgiveables. Do you know what they are?"
"Clearly I don't," Harry said. "Or else I would have brought them up in class."
"The first argument you forgot is known as 'upping the ante,'" Moody said. "It goes like this: when a dark wizard uses an Unforgiveable, he has raised the stakes, and now Unforgiveable curses may be used against him."
"So what's the problem?"
"The problem is that our society likes to capture criminals and have trials. We're not in the business of slaughtering those who are accused of crimes, no matter how vigorously they defend themselves from arrest. And just one Cruciatus or Imperius will ruin all the evidence and confessions in a case—everything thereafter will be completely inadmissible at trial."
Harry frowned. Something in Moody's argument seemed off, somehow, but Harry let it go. "And what's the other argument?"
"The other argument is known as 'retribution' or 'just deserts.' If a criminal uses an Unforgiveable, then he gets what he deserves if one is used against him."
"And what's wrong with that?"
"You tell me," Moody said. "You're the one who claims to have a conscience."
Harry briefly considered parroting Moody's words about a society of law and order liking trials. But before he spoke, a flash of insight burst into his mind. Harry knew what had seemed wrong about Moody's first explanation—it was too logical. Too pragmatic. Too Slytherin.
"You were lying when you explained why 'upping the ante' was wrong," Harry said.
"Was I?" Moody said.
"Yes. 'Upping the ante' isn't wrong because it prevents us from having a proper trial. It's wrong… because it's wrong. And it's the same with retribution."
"Care to be a little more articulate?" Moody said, rolling his magical eye dramatically.
Harry almost started yelling at Moody again, and he fought to control his temper. Ultimately, he imagined how Hermione would answer the question, and did his best to speak in her voice. "Neither 'upping the ante' nor 'retribution' actually provides a moral justification for using an Unforgiveable Curse. They aren't arguing that using the Cruciatusor Imperius is the right thing to do—they're arguing that we should ignore the fact that Cruciatusor Imperiusare wrong. Those arguments are wrong, in the sense of flawed logic, because they do nothing to change the fact that the Unforgiveable Curses are wrong, in the moral sense."
"You're darn right!" Moody roared. "We might make an honest wizard out of you, yet!"
"Gee, thanks," Harry said, rolling his eyes.
"Would you be surprised to know that the Ministry authorized its aurors to use the Unforgiveable Curses against suspected Death Eaters during the war against Voldemort?" Moody asked.
"YES!" Harry said angrily. This was the first he had ever heard of it. "If our own government has used them, then why are you giving me such a hard time?"
"Are you really foolish enough to think that actions are moral simply because they are authorized by the government?" Moody asked. "Governments have done awful things to their own citizens for as long as governments have existed."
"Then why are you even bringing it up?" Harry asked.
"Morality isn't defined by what you cando to another person, and isn't defined by what is legal to do to another person. Morality is concerned with what you shoulddo to another person." Moody sat back and folded his arms. "Something inside you made you realize that neither 'retribution' nor 'upping the ante' give a moral justification for the Unforgiveables. It's the same part of you that prevented you from coming up with those arguments in the first place. You should listen to that part of yourself more often, because not many Slytherins do."
"What a wonderful lesson about morality," Harry said flatly. "And here I thought you were just going to teach us about Defense."
"Careful with your tone, Potter."
"So you can slander Slytherin all you want, but I can't say anything back?"
"Yes."
Harry frowned. Hypocrite.
"Let's try this," Moody said. "You're at the beach and you see a man who is drowning. What do you do?"
Harry didn't respond.
"Answer me, Potter, or I won't write you a pass for your next class. What do you do when you see the drowning man?"
That was totally unfair. Harry wouldn't have been late by more than a minute if it hadn't been for Moody. Then again, Moody didn't seem to be in the business of fairness.
"I try to help him," Harry said, finally.
"How?"
"I throw him a rope, or something that floats."
"He's too far away."
"I use a summoning charm to bring him to me, or I banish the rope toward him."
"He's too far for your spell. The man is slipping under the water. He can barely stay afloat, and not for much longer. What do you do?"
"I call for help?"
"Nobody else around. It's just you."
"Fine. I swim out to help him, because that's clearly what you want me to say."
"You could stay on shore, if you want."
Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I swim out to help him."
"Why?"
"Because he's dying," Harry said. Wasn't it obvious?
"So what? Why is his death something you should prevent? What's your obligation to him? It isn't a crime to stay on shore, and it's safer for you. Why get in the water?"
"I just… should. It's the right thing to do." Harry shook his head. "It sounds so stupid to say that out loud."
Moody leaned forward. "Let's start this whole conversation again. Tell me… why did you tell Diggory about the dragons?"
"Because it was the right thing to do," Harry said quietly.
"Correct," Moody said. "So why were you so ashamed to admit it?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Moody held up a hand.
"Don't answer," Moody said. "Just think about it. Where did that idea come from? At what point in your life did doing right thing become something you should be ashamed of?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. He got Moody's point. The answer was Slytherin, or people in Slytherin, or when he was sorted into Slytherin, or some variation on that theme. Well, Moody could shove it. He didn't understand. In Slytherin, altruism wasn't rewarded—it was scorned, derided, and taken advantage of. But there was nothing wrong with using things to put yourself ahead in life. Nobody ever said that you had to help others at your own expense. And if Mad-Eye thought differently, then he had clearly earned his nickname for more than his eye.
"What's your plan to deal with the dragons?" Moody asked.
"Why do you care?"
"I enjoy two things, Potter. One: catching dark wizards. Two: ruining the plans of dark wizards. Keeping you alive through this tournament will help me do both."
"So you don't enjoy teaching?" Harry asked. "Maybe I should tell Dumbledore that."
"He knows that I hate teaching," Moody said. "Especially brats like you and Malfoy. I'm here as a favor, and nothing more. Now, stop changing the subject and tell me how you plan to deal with your dragon."
"I'm going to out-fly it on my broom," Harry said.
"And how will you get a broom?" Moody asked. "Outside equipment isn't permitted."
"I'm a wizard, aren't I?" asked Harry. "I have a wand. It'll get me what I need."
Moody nodded. "That should do well enough." Moody pulled a piece of parchment from his desk and began scrawling on it. "Here is your pass to class. Do me a favor and don't get yourself killed."
"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically. He snatched the pass from Moody's hand. Before the professor could respond, Harry stormed out of his office.
He did not like Mad-Eye Moody at all.
A/N: Lots of people have wondered whether or not Harry would tell Cedric about the dragons. Hopefully this chapter has explained what was going on. I think Harry has a deep, fundamental part of his character that wants to do what is right… but he's also learning to stifle that part of himself.