A/N: I'm sorry if this chapter seems a bit short and boring, especially following the first chapter. Don't worry, there's much more in store further on in the story, we just need to get there! I'm going to take my time and give this story the development that I've been waiting to see from others.
This chapter is likely to be the most 'book-compliant' addition to this story, so naturally much of it is directly inspired by the fourth Harry Potter book. Going forward, there will be much less of this as the plot evolves, but I needed a starting point. I'm super excited for the upcoming chapters where I can really get the fun started!
Disclaimer: Again, I don't own Harry Potter or any associated characters.
Sorry to my beta reader marvelousromulus for my atrocious grammar
"Get up Harry, I'm starving."
Harry's eyes shot open and he jolted up in bed. He was sitting in his four-poster bed at Hogwarts and standing next to him, peaking through the scarlet curtains was none other than Ron Weasley.
A lump caught in Harry's throat and he felt his eyes start to water. He slid out of bed and grabbed a startled Ron in a bone-crushing hug.
"Mate-" Ron said, shuffling awkwardly in Harry's embrace. "Early breakfast is great, but I wasn't really expecting this kind of reaction."
"Sorry," Harry said, stepping back. "I didn't exactly sleep well last night."
"Oh," a still bewildered Ron said. He lowered his voice. "Was it another nightmare? Did your scar hurt? Maybe you should send another letter to Sirius."
"No!" Harry said quickly. "It's just- just an ordinary nightmare. Nothing to be concerned about."
"So breakfast then?" Ron asked hopefully.
"Yeah mate, just give me a moment to change."
Drawing the curtains back around his bed, Harry buried his face in his pillow as frustrated tears threatened to leak out.
Ron was alive. And Sirius too, Harry thought as he let out a quiet sob.
Gathering himself, he took a shaky deep breath. He was just beginning to wrap his head around what lay in store for him. It was a task of monumental proportions, and Harry was a scrawny fourteen-year-old.
At least I have Hermione to help me.
A few minutes later, Ron and Harry walked down the stairs to the common room to find Hermione waiting for them on a couch, staring into the fireplace.
She glanced up as they approached her, and her eyes met Harry's. Remembering Death's soulmate revelation, his face tinged red.
Hermione turned a light shade of pink herself, opening her mouth to speak until she saw Ron.
"Ron?" she gasped, jumping to her feet. "I haven't seen you in so long," she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug.
"What? Hermione, you saw me yesterday," Ron said, thoroughly confused.
"Right, of course," Hermione said awkwardly as she pulled away.
"Let's just go eat," Ron said, leading the group out the Fat Lady's portrait with Harry and Hermione in tow.
Letting Ron take the lead, Hermione dropped back next to Harry. After walking in silence for some time, Hermione finally broke the silence.
"We're really back," she said incredulously. "Losing to Voldemort, Death, the office… It was all real."
"It was," Harry agreed, still in shock.
"I still can't believe it," Hermione breathed. "Three whole years Harry. So many dead."
"We can make it right this time," Harry said, looking at her. "I'm going to need your help, but you already knew that."
She nodded, giving him a small smile. "I know, there's just so much we have to fix."
"We'll do this, Harry," she said reassuringly. "Together."
As they entered the Great Hall, the Goblet of Fire stood in the center before them, the thin age line encircling it glowing a soft gold. Harry's heart skipped a beat upon seeing the artifact.
"Do you think Crouch put my name in yet?" Harry whispered to Hermione as they sat down right across from the Goblet.
"He probably put it in during the night," she whispered back, disapprovingly glancing at Ron as he helped himself to a platter of toast set on the table. "Even if he didn't, I don't think stopping him or even revealing him as a fraud would be a very good idea this early."
"Why not?" Harry asked, looking on as Ron devoured two pieces of toast at once. He had hoped to at least get out of participating in the tournament and the subsequent fallout of his selection as the fourth champion.
"If we change things this early, all our knowledge about future events will be useless," Hermione said softly. "Especially since we know Voldemort will be in the graveyard during the third task. Besides, we don't even have a plan yet."
An excited laugh from the entrance drew their attention. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan approached them with triumphant smiles on their faces.
"We've done it," Fred whispered to the trio eagerly, taking a vial of yellowish liquid out of his robes. "Cooked it up just this morning."
He turned to George, who produced a vial of his own. "I figure one drop should do it, we only need a few more months or so to pass."
"We're going to be rich," Lee Jordan exclaimed, rubbing his hands together.
"Ready Fred?"
"Ready George."
"Bottoms up," they said in unison as they each drank a drop of the potion. They hopped across the age line together, prompting applause from the students in the hall who had now gathered to watch the twins' antics.
"It's not going to work," Hermione said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, but we're already in the circle Granger," George teased, wagging his finger at her. "So it has worked, hasn't it."
Suddenly, he and Fred were thrown from the circle with a sizzle, landing heavily on the floor. Much to the amusement of their onlookers, the twins now sported long gray beards. Harry chuckled, and even Hermione cracked a smile as the two began arguing over the failure of their potion.
As Dumbledore entered the hall and instructed Fred and George to head to the hospital wing, Dean and Seamus sat down near Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Hermione stiffened next to Harry, who gave her a concerned look.
"So what are we gonna do today?" Ron asked, his mouth still full of toast.
"Oh, maybe we should go see Hagrid," Harry said nonchalantly. He had a lingering suspicion of what caused Hermione's reaction and needed a bit of a reprieve himself.
"That's a great idea, Harry," Hermione said hastily. "Why don't we go now?"
"But I'm not done," Ron protested.
"Come on Ron," Harry said as Hermione set off for the exit. With a groan, Ron grabbed an extra slice of toast as he followed Harry and Hermione out of the castle.
"What happened back there?" Harry asked Hermione on their walk to Hagrid's hut. Ron was a few paces behind him, munching on his toast as he watched the Beauxbeaton students troop up to the front gate, a Veela girl catching his eye.
"It was Dean," Hermione stammered, her eyes glistening. "I watched him die, Harry. It was horrible."
"It's almost surreal to think about," Harry said solemnly. "We lost Hermione, lost everything."
Hermione stopped walking, nearly crushing Harry as she wrapped her arms around him.
"We can't let it happen again," she said, her voice quivering. "You can't die-"
"Hey guys," Ron interrupted, wiping crumbs off his pants. "Hagrid's, remember?"
They broke apart, and Hermione wiped her eyes as Ron gave them a curious look. Shaking his head, he continued down the path to Hagrid's, with Harry and Hermione following.
Harry had missed Hagrid. Upon his return to Hogwarts for the battle, Harry had been too preoccupied to see him. He faintly remembered some mention of Hagrid fighting off acromantula in one of the castle's corridors, but that no longer mattered.
It's a new timeline, Harry reminded himself.
"Hagrid!"
Hermione launched herself at Hagrid as he rounded the corner of his hut, and did her best to envelop him in a hug. He chuckled heartily as she withdrew, noticing his clothing for the first time.
Once again, Hagrid was dressed in a large brown suit, with his ridiculous yellow-checkered tie and greased hair. Madame Maxine is in for a treat, Harry thought to himself with a chuckle.
After gawking at Hagrid's unusual outfit, Hermione quickly rallied herself. "How are the uh… blast-ended skrewts," she said, remembering the creatures Hagrid had been breeding that year for the Tournament.
"Got 'em in boxes now," Hagrid said, glancing towards the pumpkin patch. "They've begun killin' each other, need ter keep 'em separate 'cause they're needed for the Tournament."
"Can' go tellin' yer too much," he said with a grin as he ushered the trio inside for tea. "Gon' be spectacular, that I'll say."
Tea led into lunch with Hagrid, which was pleasant, even if they didn't eat much of his mystery 'beef' casserole. As it grew dark, they bid Hagrid goodbye, and Harry even wished him luck with a specific Beauxbeaton's headmistress.
"I hope you and Madame Maxine work out," Harry said to him with a wink as they exited the hut.
"Huh?" Ron blubbered as Hagrid turned beet red. They waved goodbye as they started up the path back to the castle. They turned around only after spotting Madame Maxime and the rest of the Beauxbeatons students making their way over to Hagrid before they went up for the feast. While Harry would definitely tease Hagrid about it, he had no desire to see their flirtations.
Hermione nudged Harry, motioning towards the lake with her head at the Durmstrang group that was also making their way to the front gates.
"There's your Yule Ball date," Harry said playfully, pointing out Victor Krum from the pack.
Hermione glared at him, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.
The Great Hall was almost full as they entered and sat at the Gryffindor table. The star-studded ceiling above them shimmered brightly as thousands of lit candles danced just below, casting their light across the hall. Moonlight from the enchanted sky spilled along the arches, giving them an almost ethereal gleam. It was noisier in the hall than this morning, as Hogwarts was playing host to two other schools, and frenzy of the Goblet's approaching selection could be felt throughout the room.
"I forgot how beautiful this was," Harry sighed.
"Me too," said Hermione.
Further down the table, a beardless Fred and George laughed in unison as they regaled everyone with their most recent endeavor. The Goblet of Fire had been relocated in front of Dumbledore's chair by the teacher's table, a pale blue glow emanating from its fire.
Dinner was served, but Harry found himself unable to eat. He knew what was about to happen, but he couldn't stop the feeling of impending dread. All around him, the Hall buzzed with excitement and anticipation, but he and Hermione could only sit and pick at their food as they waited for the inevitable.
Platters cleared themselves, and the Hall grew silent as Dumbledore stood, flanked by Igor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. Ludo Bagman, the organizer of the tournament, eagerly looked at Dumbledore, while Barty Crouch Sr leaned against the wall off to the side, appearing as apathetic as ever.
"The Goblet is just about ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "We anticipate it will only be about a minute before the champions are chosen. Remember, once chosen, champions will gather in the next chamber for further instructions."
A buzzing filled Harry's head as his breathing quickened. This was it.
Hermione's hand grabbed his arm.
"Harry," she said soothingly. "Take deep breaths, it'll be okay."
"Who do you think it's gonna be," Ron said, turning towards them.
Her hand left Harry's arm, leaving a tingling sensation where she had touched him.
"I have a pretty good guess," Harry said sincerely.
Taking his wand out, Dumbledore extinguished the candles in the Hall with a swish, leaving the room eerily lit by the enchanted ceiling above. The glow of the Goblet now filled the Great Hall, which seemed to be holding its breath collectively.
Suddenly, the Goblet flared red, and a scorched parchment burst from it in a sea of sparks. It fluttered downwards, only to be caught by Dumbledore.
"The Durmstrang champion," Dumbledore read, his voice echoing throughout the room.
"Victor Krum," Harry whispered so only Hermione could hear.
"Victor Krum."
"I knew it," Ron exclaimed as a wave of applause tore across the silent room, with Krum rising from his seat and walking past Dumbledore towards the next chamber. Harry scanned the room for the disguised Barty Crouch, ignoring the furiously clapping Igor.
He found him leaning against the wall by the door to the champion's chamber. Their eyes locked, and Harry stared at the imposter. The fake Mad-eye gave him a nod before reaching for his flask.
The Goblet turned red a second time as another scrap of paper floated out of it, gently settling on Dumbledore's palm. He opened it gingerly, reading it before announcing: "The champion for Beauxbeatons will be," he paused dramatically, "Fleur Delacour."
The half-Veela stood confidently, striding towards the door near Fake Moody as her platinum hair glimmered in the starlight from the ceiling. Just like last time, two Beauxbeaton girls broke down in tears.
The anticipation in the room was palpable as Fleur left the Great Hall. Only the Hogwarts champion remained to be chosen, but who would it be…
If only they knew, Harry thought as a newfound dread swept over him.
Flames arced from the Goblet as Dumbledore grasped the third piece of parchment from it.
Hermione leaned towards Harry. "Cedric Diggory," she whispered.
"Finally, the Hogwarts champion," he said. "Cedric Diggory."
The Hufflepuff table exploded in cheers, drowning out Ron's protests. Students stamped their feet, whistled, even banged on the table. The ruckus went on for several minutes, only dying down once Dumbledore raised his hand for silence.
Harry watched the handsome Hufflepuff sixth-year politely nod at Dumbledore before making his way to the door in the back. He wouldn't die this time, not if Harry had a say in it.
Harry calmed down slightly as his resolve to save Cedric solidified. But as Dumbledore spoke again, he felt his apprehension grow even stronger.
"Congratulations to our three champions," he said brightly. "But, in the end, only one can win the Triwizard Cup," he said, grandly gesturing to the gleaming cup that had, until that point, sat unnoticed on the teachers' table in the Great Hall. "I encourage each and every one of you, not just from Hogwarts but also from Durmstrang and Beauxbeatons, to give your support and encouragement to your champions. This Tournament-"
The Goblet of Fire burned a brilliant crimson one final time. A small, charred parchment shot from a tongue of flame, flitting around the unlit candles floating above. It drifted downwards as the entire Hall watched in stunned silence. Reaching up, Dumbledore caught the paper, holding it carefully in his palm as he glanced at the name written on it.
Harry's chest constricted, and he felt Hermione's hand grasp his under the table, their fingers interlocking as the room around them waited with bated breath.
Dumbledore stared at the parchment for what seemed like an eternity, before finally looking up.
Hermione squeezed Harry's hand anxiously.
Even though he knew what was coming, Harry's heartbeat quickened as Dumbledore opened his mouth.
"Harry Potter," Dumbledore said quietly, his searching eyes finding Harry.