Hello lovelies! Thanks so much again for all the reviews!
Also, thank you Gurgaraneth for pointing out a mistake in the last chapter: Oliver Wood should indeed not have been there since he graduated the year before. i somehow thought that was only at the end of Harry's fourth year.. I will make sure to remove him from any scenes I put him in after this. ^^''
Enjoy!
Chapter eighteen - Chosen Champions
Peering over to the Ravenclaw table, Harry tried to make out which one of them could possibly be Dixie Étourneau. The Great Hall was abuzz with noise as all of them ate, excitement over their newly-arrived guests reaching heights that were usually reserved for the End-of-year feast. All were still impressed by the method of arrival of both schools. It was nearly the last day of October now, one day before Halloween. He could hardly believe that two months of school had passed already, time really flew by. Hermione made sure he kept track of schoolwork and had devoted massive amounts of time that Harry hadn't expected her to have, to teaching him Runes and Arithmancy, joined sometimes by Ginny, who both wanted to help Harry and pick up some of Hermione's knowledge on Runes.
Class went by much faster now he actually paid attention, than it had when he'd tried to pass time by counting the seconds until his lessons ended, an irony he hadn't ever thought possible. No wonder Hermione always thought there was no time for anything. The dreams he'd been having also had not altered his perception of time for the better, often confusing him when he woke up. He knew he dreamt of Voldemort, and that they were filled with topics of magic, but annoyingly, most content of those encounters slipped from his waking mind. It made their connection more useless than Harry had hoped it would be, and he wondered if that was only the case on his end, because Voldemort still continued to visit him regularly.
To take his mind off the topic of the Dark Lord, Harry looked over to the Slytherin table where the Durmstrang students were sat, including the very same famous Seeker that had won the match at the World Cup, whom Ron wouldn't shut up about. Krum was currently talking to Malfoy, who had unfortunately not exactly kept his word. While he hadn't given Harry much trouble all month, Malfoy had tried his best to avoid the other teen at all costs, even though it meant that his reputation hadn't recovered much. Had his words shaken Malfoy that much? Or had the blond perhaps received a letter from his father, advising to stay away from Harry?
He switched his gaze back to the Ravenclaws and the students of Beauxbatons, his task of trying to find Dixie not made easier by Ron, who impatiently asked every few seconds for Harry to point her out. It was made even more difficult by the people blocking his view and the fact that all Beauxbatons students, whether male or female, wore nearly the exact same robes. While he could not deny that the azure outer robes of pure silk were beautiful, it wasn't helpful to differentiate people like in Hogwarts, where the cut on the robes differed by sex and the colours matched one's House. Finally, he thought to see someone who fit the look on the pictures: long, curly blond hair and light-brown eyes -although from this distance, the eye colour was a bit harder to see so he wasn't entirely certain still-. He hesitantly waved when she looked at him. By the sudden wide grin he received in response, he'd been correct.
All through dinner, Ron kept complaining about the unfairness of their guests having to sit with the other houses and rooming up with 'nerds and slime balls', for which Parvati Patil threw Ron a dark glower over the table, obviously not appreciating the comment as her sister was in Ravenclaw. Harry couldn't blame his friend too much though, also wanting to get to know the twenty-three newly arrived guests. He thus only nodded and made affirmative noises at the appropriate moments in Ron's rant. An added factor to Ron's foul mood sat at the teacher's table. Apart from the new headmaster and headmistress, the organisers of the Tournament had also been invited: Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch senior. The latter had, according to rumours, fallen gravely ill and not left his house for the past three weeks however, and had thus been substituted by Percy Weasley, as Crouch's personal assistant. Percy looked as proud and pompous as ever, clearly feeling up to the task. Harry wondered about whether Crouch was really ill, or if Voldemort had already kept his promise to Barty: in return for his aid in the resurrection ritual, the Death Eater had wanted the head of his father. It made Harry uncomfortable to think about, since it didn't really rhyme with the beliefs he followed Voldemort for now.
His attention was pulled to the teacher's table once again as he continued eating and observed the new faces in the meantime. They hadn't been officially introduced yet by Dumbledore, but Ron had whispered Bagman's name to him and something about the man having played Quidditch. He was a round-faced, cheerful man who looked like he refused to accept that his age had any influence on his life. Madam Maxime sat next to him, a woman just as tall as Hagrid, though he didn't think she could be a half-Giant considering the fact that one had to be proficient at magic to run a school for magicians, an impossibility for any Giant descendants according to Voldemort. Lastly, there was Karkaroff, who received dark looks from Moody, which sparked Harry's interest further. He knew nothing about the headmaster of Durmstrang apart from his appearance: a surly, nasty face that made him look like one of those shady men that Harry wouldn't want to bump into in Knockturn alley. He hadn't even followed his students' example: all of them had taken their fur coats off to show blood-red uniforms that rather looked a lot like the battle-robes Barty had worn before.
Damn, he really missed Barty, Harry suddenly admitted to himself. He kept comparing or relating everyone and everything to either him or the Dark Lord. Up until now, only Alastor Moody had, ironically, liven up to either of them teaching-wise. He started tapping his fingernails on the wooden surface while he ate some soup. Barty and Moody... that annoying feeling of something of importance slipping past him made itself known again. Moody and Barty... Hadn't there been something worth of notice related to them? Hermione gave him a disapproving look as he quietly growled into his soup, accidentally making a few droplets fly off the spoon and land on his friend. He kept having a foul mood over his own frustrating brain until the dishes vanished from the table and Dumbledore rose, welcoming the foreign students and introducing their guests properly. He also explained the procedures of the coming Tournament, opening a chest to reveal a roughly-hewn wooden cup from which blue flames sprouted.
Harry stared into the fire with fascination. It was obvious that he still lacked much of the necessary fundamentals of magic, but even he could see that this object was heavily enchanted. From the given explanation, it seemed to be comparable to the Sorting hat, although instead of dividing people by determining their most present traits, it chose a single person from each school who was the most capable of them to represent their group. It almost sounded as if the Goblet of fire had its own consciousness, using only handwriting somehow to find out what school a person was from, what their level of strength was, and possibly even take personality into account. To figure out all of that at once was more complicated than Harry could understand. With his current knowledge however, no-one could fool him about this cup being created with light magic only.
With excited whispers, the Hall started to clear out. Thinking it would be odd not to, Harry went over to the Beauxbatons students, receiving a few very disapproving glares from them. He could imagine that none would be happy to see a young teen with unruly messy hair and not the greatest looks try to mix with them instantly. The sneers turned into surprised looks however, when Dixie stepped forward, squealed 'Harry!' and gave him a tight hug. Those spells from Barty were really something... her eyes glowed when she finally broke the hug and held him at arm's distance. ''Survived eeven wizout me, how surprising,'' she grinned.
''As if you would have survived two minutes without a tour guide!'' he huffed, curious about her open personality. Most of the French students had looked pretty reserved.
''All of you, I'd like to introduce Harry. Harry Potter, he was an absolutely gentleman and aided me in my summer project. I'd suggest all of you to be nize to him if you don't want to get on my bad side.'' A few rolled their eyes or turned away, not feeling very threatened. Harry was pleasantly surprised by her accent. It wasn't nearly as audible as from what he'd heard from most of her peers until now. The H's sounded rather forced and airy but it was much better than the way many others just omitted the letter altogether. ''I need to go now Harry, we'll catch up later, yes? Then you can also introduce me to your friends!'' She turned around and hurried after the Ravenclaws to be shown the dorms all guests from Beauxbatons would reside in. Harry smiled after her, having the odd feeling of really having been friends with this person for a while. It might not be that difficult keep up pretences. He was incredibly glad that Voldemort had not chosen some of the other students he'd seen here, especially the one girl serving them bouillabaisse before, who had had all eyes in the hallway on her when revealing her silvery hair and elegant walk. Harry only didn't understand why she had turned Ron into such a stuttering idiot. The boy had said she was a 'Veela', but that didn't tell Harry much.
''Wow, she's really great!,'' Ron now said, staring with open mouth. ''She hugged you!''
''That's what friends do,'' Hermione spoke with annoyance. ''We hug too!''
''Yeah but with you it's different!''
Harry tried to keep out of it by striking up a conversation with Neville instead. The poor guy seemed terrified by even the thought of watching this whole Tournament. He also kept shooting nervous glances at the head table. After they'd more thoroughly covered the Cruciatus curse in class, Neville had freaked out and it seemed he had had a few talks with Moody. Whether those had helped or worsened the situation, Harry didn't know. Still talking, they walked out, ignoring Hermione trying to recruit everyone she came across for her new-founded organisation S.P.E.W., on which he had mixed feelings. Forcing people to give you money just to shut up didn't sound like a solid foundation for success.
''So what do you think about this Tournament Harry?'' Neville asked him. ''You looked like you knew some of the people from the other schools?''
''Only one of them, Dixie. She's from Beauxbatons and we met in summer. I'm not sure if I should cross my fingers for her to be chosen as champion or the opposite. She seems very excited to participate and prove her worth but this entire thing sounds like suicide. I'm happy about the age line, now no-one will try to pressure me into joining.'' he threw a look at Ron, who just grinned.
''Come on, it would be fun! Dumbledore wouldn't actually let anything dangerous go on, right? And just think of the money, and the glory and fame Harry!''
You never cared for fame, did you?
Voldemort's words hit him like lightning and he abruptly halted at the memory, his heart clenching as he met Ron's confused gaze. How was it possible that his former worst enemy understood him so much better than the person he'd shared most of his time with for the past three years? ''Nothing,'' he said after a moment in reply to his friends' questioning gazes, taking brusque strides to catch up. He didn't talk much with either Ron or Hermione anymore after, although they didn't seem to notice, speculating too much over the Tournament and who would put their name in tomorrow. Harry wondered if he should even go look or not, not exactly wanting to waste his free Saturday, more interested in reading. He'd finished both Voldemort's own book as well as the one with the hand on the cover that dealt with the theory on sacrificial magic. He'd now started reading an interesting one on the cultures of various magical beings.
In the end, he did just that, spending most of his time in the boy's dorms, only joining up with Ron and Hermione for a quick visit to a rather flustered Hagrid who had put eau the cologne in his beard for some reason. The only real good news they heard all day - the blast-ended skrewts starting to eat each other- was delivered in such a grave tone that Harry didn't have the heart to openly celebrate it. When it was finally time for dinner, he was so engrossed in his books once more that Ron had to come get him.
''Come on Harry, why've you been in here again? Is it really that interesting what some dusty old vampire said two-hundred years ago? Quidditch being taken away really took its toll on you, didn't it?'' Harry gave him an apologetic smile and put the book away.
''Maybe, we should go fly together at one point, that would do me some good.'' Ron's face lit up at the suggestion and Harry also got enthusiastic at the mere thought of taking to the skies again. Feeling so free was the best thing in the world, even rivalling Voldemort's magic racing through him. Ron got him up to speed on everything that had happened since their visit to Hagrid: from the Twins trying to trick the age line and growing beards to listing everyone from Hogwarts who had put in their name.
''I don't understand why anyone would want to do that with everyone gawking at them,'' Harry commented as they sat down at the dinner table. ''I would definitely have put it in at night when no-one was looking to avoid the stares and expectations.'' '
Ron shrugged. ''Some people want their friends to see how much they are willing to risk. Speaking of which, I heard that your friend from Beauxbatons was disappointed in you lack of support.''
''Shit,'' Harry cursed, glancing over at the Ravenclaws, totally having forgotten that it would be strange for him to not be present as Dixie put in her name.
''You should go to her,'' Hermione suggested. ''To not make things worse. Now is your only chance. Whether she'd picked or not, it would look bad to apologise after. Either you'd look like you are just sucking up to the new champion again, or you are rubbing salt in her wounds after finding out that she wasn't chosen.''
''You're right, thanks 'Mione, what would I do without you?'' She only answered with a faint, proud smile as Harry stood up and tried not to look too guilty when going over to the Ravenclaw table, where he received many strange and hostile looks. It wasn't common to switch tables, certainly not when there was tension and in-house rivalry going on about who'd become Hogwarts champion. Only siblings or really tight friends sometimes dared to go over to another house's table... ''Dixie,'' he spoke, catching the attention of the girl. She gave him a hurt look that made him feel even more like a jackass. ''Sorry I wasn't there before when you put your name in. I kind of wanted to stay away from the crowds, you know? For some reason, whenever I am at some important event, either something horrible happens or people make a fuss about my presence. One would think they'd be over that after a couple of years but there you go.'' He threw her his best begging look that also worked on Hermione sometimes with homework. Dixie's expression defrosted somewhat and she patted the spot next to her on the bench, which he took.
''You're right, it was stupid of me to expect... anyways, I don't even know if I'll get in right? It all depends on ze chosen tasks. I'm a weak dueller, but if zey choose things with lots of preparation time involved or puzzles, I should have a good chance.''
''I didn't know that the tasks themselves are used to determine the Champion. Thought it was based mostly on magical strength.''
''Not as far as I know. The cup is given information about ze tasks and then picks zose people most suitable.''
''I see,'' Harry mused. ''I guess that is fair. It would be more difficult on strength alone if one person highly specialises in the magic necessary for those challenges whereas another doesn't.''
''Exactly. Now, hurry back to your seat, it should begin soon!''
While he had told himself to not get excited over this thing, Harry couldn't help but get carried away with the rest of the crowd, loud speculations being made over who the three Champions would become. The entire Gryffindor table hoped for Angelina, including Harry, even if that would make it more difficult to cheer Dixie on if she became the Beauxbatons champion. He ignored the accusations around the table of him 'fraternising with the enemy' in favour of discussing possible tasks and weighing the dangers. The dinner seemed to last an eternity before the food finally vanished and Dumbledore stood, raising his hands in a request for silence, which for once instantly was granted. Everyone, even the teachers and judges -well, except for Snape, who as always looked as if his mere presence was too good for this world- leaned forwards in expectation. At Dumbledore's request, they all waited another few long minutes before the fire in the goblet all of a sudden turned a bright red instead of its previous icy blue flames. One could have heard a needle drop in the hall as everyone held their breaths, a charred piece of parchment floating down after being spit out- until a wrinkled hand caught it.
''The Champion of Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!'' Dumbledore's voice echoed through the Great Hall.
''No surprise there!'' Ron yelled in Harry's ear as thunderous applause went off. Harry actually did find it surprising. That someone was good at Quidditch didn't mean they were intellectually or magically up to something like this. It only went to show that multi-talents really did exist. Krum didn't react arrogantly or surprised, walking up to the teacher's table with a curt stride as if he wanted to get it over with. Maybe international Quidditch stars wanted just as little attention as Harry wanted for his 'famous' status. Intriguing. Even before Krum reached the door through which he had to go behind the head table, a second piece of parchment was shot out.
''The Champion of Beauxbatons. Fleur Delacour!'' Harry instantly looked at Dixie's disappointed face and gave her a sympathetic look, secretly happy that she would not play a main role in this Tournament. It would be much harder to keep a low profile and just enjoy his school year when being friends with one of the Champions. He only looked up again as the last piece flew from the fire.
''The Champion of Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory!'' Angelina huffed but gave a general thumbs up to the Hufflepuff table. ''Better than a Slytherin,'' she shrugged. ''I can deal with one from Hufflepuff.'' Harry clapped for Cedric too.
''He went part of the way with us to the World Cup,'' Ron told Harry. ''He's okay I guess, but his dad is an arse. Wouldn't shut up about Cedric 'beating' you once at Quidditch, he's the Hufflepuff seeker. His dad didn't like my reminder of that that particular match was only won because you were attacked by Dementors and fell off your broom.''
''Thanks for defending me mate,'' Harry laughed. ''I hope Diggory has it in him to win this from Delacour and Krum.''
''Sure thing, I hope so too and-''
The hall suddenly fell silent again as for a fourth time, the flames turned bright red. Harry felt as if his insides were suddenly being twisted. Why did things at Hogwarts never go as expected? Somehow, his feeling of dread worsened in the two seconds that it took Dumbledore to grab hold of the parchment and read it. It no longer came as a surprise to him when the headmaster read: ''Harry Potter.'' There was no school name mentioned further. Perhaps there didn't need to be. He refused to get up at first, hoping he'd wake up from a nightmare.
''Harry Potter!'' Dumbledore spoke louder even as the other Heads and the jury rushed down to discuss what had just happened.
''I didn't put my name in,'' he said weakly. ''You know that I didn't.'' He received no answer, being pushed up by other people, forced to walk through the aisle with weak legs and confusion. Whispers broke out and he missed both the murderous look Ron threw his way and the baffled one of Dixie. After an eternity of stares, he faced Dumbledore, whose face was more serious than Harry had ever seen it, all twinkles and smiles gone. It couldn't have been Dumbledore's plan to test him this time then.
Oh.
Harry nearly gasped for breath as he finally, finally understood what was happening. That first dream in which Voldemort had invited him... the man had warned him. How could he have been so dense? The Dark Lord had literally told him that he'd participate in a large event as a test. What else could have been meant with that? He didn't know what to feel even as he went through the door behind the teacher's table, refusing to meet the gazes of the other champions as parts of the muddled dream suddenly cleared up in his mind.
...test your current powers and widen your horizons on magic, dark magic specifically... need to both see how you deal with overcoming problems as well as to have you publically using sacrificial magic.
He'd even specifically been sent all those books for this, he now realised, wanting to bang his head against the wall. The only thing left to figure out was how Voldemort had managed to trick this well-guarded magical cup into believing that Harry wanted to and was fit to participate. He underwent the anger of those around him as Madame Maxime declared him a liar and Karkaroff blamed Dumbledore for Hogwarts having two Champions now. At which point Moody spoke up:
''It's not like that, Karkaroff. There was no school listed on the parchment. Besides, if Harry here would have simply put in his name, it should still have chosen only one Champion, and I can bet that Diggory is more suited than Mr Potter. No, someone specifically wanted to force the boy to participate. And is anyone hearing him complain?
''Why would he complain?'' madam Maxime scoffed. ''He gets away with this, can try to hog all of the prizes-''
''There's a good reason this Tournament demands a minimum age of seventeen from its Champions,'' Moody scoffed. ''Potter won't be seeing any prizes unless you think that a fourteen-year-old from Hogwarts can beat your own champion, who is in her final year?'' The woman looked offended at the mere suggestion and stayed quiet after, only throwing Harry dirty looks. A hand clapped on his shoulder again and Moody tried to look into his eyes. ''You alright kid?'' his tone was softer than it had been before and as Harry looked up, he saw worry shining through the one real eye. Although Harry didn't confirm or deny it, the man turned to Dumbledore. ''It can't be that it was Potter, it would take an incredibly powerful Confundus to trick the Goblet into thinking four schools participated instead of three. Potter's name was most likely added under a fourth school as the only participant, forcing him to compete.'' At that, Karkaroff shot forward and started arguing about Moody's credibility, while Harry fell back into thoughts.
He desperately wanted to know if he really was forced to compete but kept his mouth shut. This was Voldemort's doing. Voldemort, who most definitely did not want him dead this time. A test, the man had said, an opportunity to learn more. Harry took a deep breath. He could do this, somehow. He did have the added benefit of literally being unkillable by anyone but himself and the Dark Lord. It would, however, be a hassle to rely on that without being able to show that he had additional magical protection. After much further arguing by Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, the question was brought up anyways by McGonagall, who demanded to know if her student could avoid going into a death trap. Percy, who had been suspiciously silent up until that point, cleared his throat and stepped forward.
''The Goblet of fire creates a magically binding contract that cannot be broken. He has to compete, it is clearly stated in the rules.''
''And what would the consequences be if he didn't?'' McGonagall demanded.
''The rules are absolute,'' Percy insisted.
''Now listen young man, I-''
''Minerva.'' Dumbledore warned her. It was as if McGonagall's face sucked in on itself, all wrinkled trembling anger, her mouth pursed as she tried to prevent herself from letting out a stream of colourful insults. ''Very well, Harry will have to compete. We must remember that the Tournament this year will be highly guarded and we have medical experts at the ready. We shall do all we can to ensure the safety of all four Champions. Now then, Percy, Ludo, if you would please not let our Champions wait much longer, this is a good time to finally reveal more to them about the first task.''
Percy, who had composed himself again, took the lead: ''This first task will test you courage and takes place on the twenty-fourth of November, giving you almost a month to prepare. All of the other students, teachers and jury alike, will watch the task. Accepting help from teachers or members of the jury is not allowed, nor are you allowed to bring any objects apart from a wand with you. The second task shall be given after the first one has been completed. You shall not have to partake in the spring exams, in order to concentrate further on the Tasks. That was all,'' he decided, putting away the paper from which he had been reading. Knowing Percy, he'd put everything in bullet points. It had certainly sounded like it.
''Well then,'' Dumbledore spoke, smiling again. Harry tried his best to look anywhere but the man's eyes. ''You had all better head to your dorms to celebrate.'' Somehow, Harry thought there would be little to celebrate for him. He didn't expect a great welcome.
The room cleared out and Harry lingered behind a bit, not too keen on going back to the dorms. Finally, he sighed, prepared to face whatever was waiting for him, and went to the door through which Diggory had just disappeared, only to be stopped by Moody calling out. He hadn't even noticed that the man was still here. ''Potter. Come with me to my office, we have something to discuss.'' It didn't sound very friendly but then again, he didn't expect much friendliness this evening in the first place.
''Why not,'' he answered, trailing after his Defence teacher through the Great Hall and dark corridors after, following him to the third floor. It had been a while since he'd been in this office, Harry mused. Odd, he'd rarely been in the office of any teacher apart from his head of house and Snape, but had somehow come here in three different years now, all under different teachers. He'd helped Lockhart sign his fan mail under the blinking teeth of the wall of Lockhart photos. He'd had tea with Lupin a few times and been shown the Grindylow, the entire aquarium gone now. And now he was here with Moody, all items of Lupin having been replaced by strange instruments.
''How do you feel about all of this?'' the man asked. ''You didn't answer me before.'' Harry groaned softly and sat down on a wooden stool.
''I honestly don't know? Certainly not prepared. This thing is supposed to be incredibly dangerous, I heard people died in it before, and it is designed for people who are older than I am and know a lot more.'' He halted any further comments when something drew his attention, a black trunk that stood next to Harry starting to rattle and a muffled scream coming from it.
"I wouldn't bother telling you what's in there. You wouldn't believe me if I did," the other said with a grin. Harry kept his eyes glued to the trunk nonetheless, a vague memory taking shape in his mind. Moody and Barty... Barty had mentioned the name before... I got Moody, using his own traps against him. Harry could slap himself -a common occurrence this evening it seemed- and looked at his teacher again, speechless as the Knut finally dropped. No wonder that none could compare to Barty. No wonder that Harry had had such a weird feeling all this time, no wonder that there had been concern in the man's eye before. You okay kid? Why would a stranger, teacher or not, have cared?
''Potter?''
Harry couldn't help but grin maniacally. Despite his own stupidity and horrid memory, he was absolutely ecstatic about his discovery. Barty was here, he wasn't alone, wouldn't have to keep his secrets in.
''Evan is fine again,'' he smiled.
Barty huffed. ''Took you long enough kid, I didn't know you were so dense as to not recognise me for two entire months. I kept dropping hints like crazy.''
''Why didn't you just tell me?'' Harry asked, getting up from his stool, hesitating for a moment. This may be Barty, but the Death Eater was still disguised as a very grumpy ex-Auror and hugging him felt strange. Barty seemed to have no such reservations, for he was with Harry in two strides and gave him a short but tight embrace that was made a bit more unpleasant by Moody's strong-reeking leathery robes.
''Merlin, it's so good that you now know. I was explicitly forbidden from revealing myself unless you figured it out on your own,'' the other scowled. ''Part of the test you know.''
''Yeah, about that. What the hell! Does he really believe that I can get through this thing unscathed? Never mind people not being able to hurt me on purpose, what about monsters, animals, plants, debris flying about? What if a rock flies through my eye socket and gets into my brain?''
Moody grinned. ''Why do you think I'm here kid?''
Harry gave him a suspicious look. ''I'm not allowed to receive help from teachers. Besides, how would this be a test for me if you help? Wouldn't that compromise Volde- our Lord's purpose?''
''Why would it? Look, we've told you before that his aim is not to harm you anymore. This is a test, sure, but more in the regular kind of sense, not the 'just see how you don't get killed' way. Also, I would be giving you more of a disadvantage if I didn't help. Krum may look like he isn't into this, but Karkaroff is relentless and will do anything to see that his Champion wins. And Miss Delacour isn't as fragile as she looks either and has much that she wants to prove to herself and others. Her Headmistress will definitely tell that girl anything she knows. It's tradition to break this whole set of rules and instead try to sneak around to get information you're not supposed to, because all other Champions will do the same. The only person who doesn't want to do that is Dumbledore, since he is all for fair play, ironically putting both you and that Diggory boy in a bad starting position compared to the other schools. So don't be afraid to try underhanded methods to find out what you need. As for my role, as this is definitely still a test from our Lord, I'm not allowed to tell you much or outright give you solutions, but I'll drop hints here and there and if you've figured out the task and chosen a way to tackle it, I'll teach you how to best do so. Remember, one of our goals is to introduce heavy magic to the public, so you should focus on those books you received to find useful spells and such. I just seriously hope that you pick up on my hints faster now you know I'm going to give them than you did before, kid.''
Harry started pacing, unsure as to how to reply to this. The Tournament before him just sounded like a gigantic unknown monster that he had to tackle without any clue as to how. He only stopped when he saw Barty's face, eyes narrowed at Harry and anger suddenly radiating off the man. If there was one thing that always put him on edge around Barty, it was the sudden mood swings. ''What?''
''Do you have any idea how many people would die to get this chance?''
Harry shrugged. ''Look, I know that many want fame and glory and whatever-''
''I am not talking about the Triwizard Tournament,'' Barty scoffed. ''What I am pissed about is how you take it for granted that the Dark Lord has his personal attention on you and takes care of your education. It took most people years to be allowed even a glimpse of him, to speak to him, to feel his magic. Yet you are making demands of our Lord and then do not even have the guts to follow up on the duties he gives you? Who do you even think that you are?'' He came closer to Harry again, voice changing to that familiar growl, which sounded even a lot more threatening coming from Moody's throat. ''You told him that you wanted to be useful. Well, you can be by doing this. Show your peers, your teachers and the press the magic that we all strive to have our world embrace, further your own abilities and contacts. You were handed this opportunity on a golden platter by the most powerful man in the world and you complain?''
Harry looked down as he let the words sink in. He was really good at messing up his own life, wasn't he? ''Okay,'' he whispered. ''I get it, I'm sorry.'' Barty sneered once more and then turned around, walking to one of his spinning instruments, checking on them.
''One more thing,'' Harry asked, frowning. ''Your father... he was supposed to be here, right?'' Barty's looked at Harry over his shoulder, a sadistic grin spreading over Moody's face hat told everything. ''I see, guess I will never meet the man in person then.''
''Not a loss for you, I assure you.''
''I guess I'll be going then, they might think I've been eaten by Karkaroff or so.''
''Be careful around that man, I mean it,'' Barty warned him. ''He used to be a Death Eater of the Inner Circle and was captured after the Fall of our Lord, only staying out of prison by giving up the names of several high-ranked other Death Eaters... He's a coward and a traitor, much like Wormtail was.''
''The Dark Lord really knows how to pick his followers, doesn't he?'' Harry spoke with raised eyebrows. Barty threw him a glare.
''Just like your parents knew how to pick their friends,'' he threw back. Harry balled his fists, trying not to show how much those words affected him. It had been a low blow but then again, so had his own words been.'' Anyways, Karkaroff is a wild card. He both lost his previous status and gained a new position after the war, I do not know if he harbours ill intentions towards you or not. That he used to be buddies with Snape right before it all went to shambles is probably not going to be favourable to you there.''
''Great,'' he sarcastically drawled.
''Evan.'' The serious tone make him pause and thoroughly look at the Death Eater. ''I think you are taking all of this too lightly. Perhaps we went a bit easy on you during summer.''
Easy? Harry thought. That was going easy?
''What you need to understand is that all of this will decide the course of our country, our people. You have chosen to play a role in this, so now you are not going to be simply let off. I expect you to give this your all, even when our Lord is not here to reinforce that statement with his presence, words or powers. You are being depended on. Do your best, I'm not hearing any excuses.'' Harry nodded mutedly. It wasn't as if he didn't know any of this, it was just a lot easier to face anything when he tried to tackle it with cynicism.
''I've already finished a few of the books I was sent,'' he spoke, wanting to show that he was doing something to improve himself. ''As well as having started to study Runes and Arithmancy. I'm sorry if I gave the impression that I disregarded our Lord's expectations. I'll give everything I have in this Tournament, and will come to you if I have trouble tackling spells I want to use.''
''Good,'' Barty answered, finally relaxing. ''It is really great to see you, kid,'' he suddenly grinned again, ruffling Harry's hair. ''Now go, I get that you might not be accepted with open arms after today, but keep your head up and know that I am very proud of you.'' He was bid farewell with a wink and a thumbs up. A small smile spread on Harry's face as he finally returned to Gryffindor tower. It was good to have friends. Scary friends sometimes, but friends nonetheless.
So, Harry finally caught up to a few things haha. To those who are not a fan of OC's, don't worry, Dixie will not play a major role in the story.
Also, yes, I am absolutely putting Harry in the Tournament, I didn't start this story specifically in Harry's fourth year to then not have him participate. He'll have to suffer through but hey, at least he knows that no-one is actively trying to get him killed this time!
Read and Review please!
xx GeMerope