A/N
Welcome back to another chapter of Amidst Enchantments. Enjoy!
Chapter 3 -The Warmest of Welcomes
"Oui, 'Arry. We travelled past a reserve for magical creatures; a herd of pegasi wanted to befriend the Abraxans but fortunately we stayed on course," said Fleur, eyes full of mirth. She took the break in the conversation to spoon some more bouillabaisse into her mouth, her eyelashes fluttering shut in delight at the taste of the soup.
"So," started Fleur, turning to Hermione, and flashing a smile. "'Arry has mentioned how much you love your studies, Hermione. Which is your favourite?"
"My favourite is Arithmancy," came Hermione's short reply, her face closed.
"C'est bon. I love Arithmancy, I'm sure we can look at a few things together?" Fleur asked. Her smile died a little as she received a non-committal nod in return.
"And Ron, what about you?" Fleur tried, " 'Arry has told me that you love chess and quidditch? What did you make of the World Cup Final?"
Ron stared vacantly back at her, mouth wide. Harry swore he could see a bit of drool beginning to form.
"Ronald," hissed Hermione, elbowing him in the side, glaring at Fleur.
"Wh- what is it?" said Ron, as if waking from a slumber.
"Never mind mate, it's fine," Harry said. He appreciated Fleur's attempts, but it might be best to leave it for now. He certainly didn't like how Hermione was glaring at Fleur though, like it was her fault Ron couldn't compose himself. The mood soon picked up again as in between bites of food Fleur was animatedly telling him about Calliope and her first month with the little ball of fur.
"She is growing zo big already, 'Arry. The little monster keeps paddling on all of my quilts and whenever I move at night she jumps on my feet," Fleur switched to French, thankfully speaking slow enough that Harry could follow what she was saying, "her little claws are already like needles but she is just so precious!"
Harry indulged her change in language, "I can't wait to meet her Fleur! She looked adorable in the photo you sent."
His change to French brought Fleur's attention back to him. Smiling widely, her perfectly straight, white teeth peeking out from behind her lips, she praised him, "'Arry! Your accent has improved so much! We will just have to keep practising."
The duo continued exchanging as they ate. Harry was thankful that Fleur didn't seem to notice the continued looks from the boys sitting at their table and was more than content talking to Fleur. "This is so much better than through letters," he thought, idly moving the last of his veg around his plate.
Soon, hundreds of dishes vanished with a faint poof, replaced by dessert. Harry eagerly served himself some treacle tart.
"Would you like to try some, Fleur?" He asked.
"Oui, but only a small piece," she replied before swiftly nabbing a small forkful of treacle tart from his own plate. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she savoured the bite, lips curled around her fork. Humming in consideration, she removed it slowly from her mouth, "mmmm… A leetle too sweet for me, I think," she decided, giving him a quick wink as she set her fork back down.
"All the more for me then," Harry managed in reply, his cheeks flushed ever so slightly but his voice even.
A loud clapping of hands from the front of the Hall drew his attention away from Fleur. Professor Dumbledore stood behind the golden lectern depicting an owl with outstretched wings, waiting for the chatter to die out. The light from the floating candles in the hall bounced merrily off of his half-moon spectacles, setting his eyes aglow before dimming to a soft, low light.
"I am sure I am speaking on behalf of us all here at Hogwarts when I bid our guests a very warm welcome," he stopped, momentarily raising his goblet in a silent toast.
"Now, I am sure you are all just as eager and excited as I am to begin the Triwizard Tournament, but I beg another moment of your attention as there are some announcements to make first," the Headmaster had to clear his throat loudly to subdue the whispers that broke out across the hall.
"The most important thing to the committee in charge of the tournament is the safety of each and every one of you." Dumbledore gestured to two men sitting at the edge of the top table. Bagman and Crouch looked out at the Hall, one the picture of childlike excitement and the other looking vaguely bored. "As announced at the beginning of the year there will be an age limit imposed, such that only those who have gained their majority may enter their name for the tournament."
There were some downcast and miffed faces across the Hall, particularly from those who were just missing out or amongst those who didn't actually realise how dangerous the tournament could be, blinded by the fame and money on offer.
"Names will be submitted to an impartial judge," Dumbledore paused for effect before slashing his wand rapidly in a diagonal motion, "The Goblet of Fire."
Before him appeared a wooden goblet, sat upon a stone plinth and ringed with thousands of tiny runes, mere scratches to Harry's eyes at this distance. The Headmaster waved his wand a second time and the goblet erupted into hot, blue flames which danced merrily from within the goblet. The heat of the flames spread throughout the Hall, causing Fleur to sigh in contentment beside him.
"Those wishing to enter their name must write their name and school on a piece of paper and pass it into the goblet before this moment tomorrow night," Dumbledore continued, "I myself will be casting an age ward around the goblet, which itself can also distinguish an immature magical aura from those past their majority."
"With that said, I hereby declare the Triwizard Tournament open, and I wish you all a good night!" He clapped his hands twice and the house tables were emptied of their serving dishes and plates, the light of the candles brightened to their usual merry radiance.
Movement all around them resumed as most students were excitedly talking to their friends, making their way out of the Hall. Harry too began to get up before a perfectly manicured hand with pointed, black, shiny nails stopped him gently.
"You promised me a tour of the Castle, 'Arry," Fleur said, looking at him, "are you free tomorrow morning?"
"Yes, of course. Shall we meet after dinner in the Entrance Hall?" Harry nodded behind him to where the river of students was pouring through the tall, wooden doors.
"Oui, that eez acceptable." Fleur replied, letting go of his arm before she too, rose from her seat. "I shall see you tomorrow then, 'Arry."
Embracing his friend once more, Harry said goodnight to her as she rejoined her schoolmates and left the Great Hall.
The next day
Harry was waiting only a few minutes after breakfast in the Entrance Hall before Fleur entered from the grounds. She was wearing jeans with comfortable looking boots, a warm jumper underneath a thick coat and a scarf wound round her slender neck. Her sapphire blue eyes lit up as she spotted him, twirling her wand around her and banishing her scarf and coat back to her carriage.
"Good morning, Harry," Fleur greeted him in French, a glint in her eyes.
"Good morning, Fleur. Slept well I hope?" Harry replied in English.
"Yes, thankfully the carriage is as warm as the Castle. I can't imagine how miserable it must be on that ship the Durmstrang students have." Her face grimaced in partial disgust.
"Yeah, that must be dreadful! You'll need to show me the carriage sometime soon though, Fleur." Harry said. "I've really got to meet Calli!"
The sides of Fleur's plump, pink lips drew into a wide smile as he responded, happy he had replied to her in French.
"Shall we begin the tour then, Harry?" Fleur asked, eyebrows raised. "We can go and visit her after we finish."
"Sure, let's do it."
He began the tour, laying out as much of Hogwarts before her as he could, pointing out the Castle's eccentricities as they went. He was thankful he had read up more on his French since meeting Fleur. Spoken quickly it was too much for him, but Fleur seemed to understand that and kept at a pace he could understand.
They stood at the top of the stairs now, looking back down at the Entrance Hall. "The four hourglasses represent the points each House has," said Harr, pointing at four gleaming gold hourglasses that stood at the opposite end of the Hall to them, different coloured gemstones gleaming from within each. "The House with the highest number of points wins the cup at the end of the year, ours is the red one, for Gryffindor."
"The one with the least within it?" she said, shooting him a sideways glance.
"Yes, Fleur, that one," Harry sighed as her face broke into a smirk.
He began to lead her higher within the Castle, the Grand Staircase spread before them, taking them higher as they hopped between the moving staircases. Fleur's long, blonde hair was swishing about her head as she took in their surroundings, listening keenly to Harry's explanations as they went.
"That's Damara Dodderidge," Harry said, pointing at a portrait of a witch in a dark robe, covered in crescent moons. "There's a secret passage behind her that goes to the Clock Tower."
Fleur had to grab onto Harry as one of the staircases shifted unexpectedly, the stone banister next to Harry saving them both from falling over. They meandered down corridor after corridor for what seemed like hours, making Harry incredibly grateful he had spent as much time learning about the Castle as he had over the years. Upwards they climbed until they reached the entrance to Hogwarts' tallest tower.
He led her to past the enormous armillary sphere to the balcony on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower. Fleur gasped, taking in the scenery before her. The mountains enclosing Hogwarts valley stretched before them into the distance, the great lake to the side of them and the forest stretching alongside and up them, like moss creeping up a wall. The view was certainly spectacular, Harry's reaction in his first year had been remarkably similar to Fleur's.
"Oh, 'Arry! It's so beautiful up here," she gushed, hands clasped in front of her.
The two stood side by side at the balcony, shoulders touching slightly. Like usual around her, Harry felt at ease, and couldn't help but feel he felt it more so than when around Hermione and Ron. Turning towards Fleur he told her what he hadn't yet of his last two months, letters only being able to convey so much. Eventually he told her of his latest news, their last letter occurring before he had found out his results.
"I passed my OWLs, Fleur," he said, proud of his efforts, "I'm now just catching up on what I've missed with the NEWT classes so far this year."
The French witch squealed in jubilation and drew him in, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks, hugging him tightly before releasing him. Harry had lost every mental function he possessed as he struggled to stop himself turning the colour of a beetroot. Losing that battle, but only slightly, the pink faced boy thanked Fleur, still flustered.
"I will help where I can of course, 'arry," she said easily, "but I still think you know much more than you've let on about some things. I can't wait to see what we can do together this year!"
Regaining his composure he smiled at her, "Me neither, Fleur. It should be amazing!"
He then asked her the one question that was on his mind.
"So, why are you entering the tournament?"
"I want to show myself to the world 'Arry. They see me for my face, or my body, or even my heritage. I want to show them that there is so much more to me than that. I want to face the challenges and triumph through them." Fleur spun away from the balcony and took his hands in her own. "I know I can do it and so does my family and you as well 'Arry. But- but to be able to show everyone watching that I can do it would. It would be a huge step forward for not just my career and dreams but also for other Veela out there. The work I have put into my studies should be enough validation, but I can't help but strive for more. It's like nothing I do is ever enough, not for me and not for those around me. Do you understand?"
Fleur searched his eyes as he swallowed, his voice steady as he replied.
"I do Fleur. Coming into this world at eleven, everybody already expected the world from me. I mean- come on? I stopped the dark lord didn't I?" he rolled his eyes. "That's part of why I always strive to be better, to do more. It's why I threw myself into my books, it's why I trained so hard on the field and for quidditch and it's why I understand to a certain degree what you mean. I want to be better. I want to be better than what everyone expects me to be.
"That said, I also want to be able to enjoy the time I have with you this year. I want to work on some personal projects and get through this NEWT work without having to worry about some death-defying caper like the last few years. Despite that I still can't help but feel that there's something waiting around the corner for me, my luck never lasts." Harry lamented, before looking up into her eyes, "Hopefully meeting you can be a turning point for my luck." he finished softly.
Fleur's face could have lit up the darkest of dungeons. She smiled beautifully back at him before speaking once more. "We shall have the absolute best of years together, 'Arry. I'm sure everything will work out."
Squeezing his hands once more she let go and turned back towards the window, still smiling. Harry took the chance to look at her, taking in her figure. Fleur was stunning, he had known this from the moment he saw her, yet it always took him by surprise just how much that was true. She stood close to six feet tall; a height Harry was still a good few inches away from. Her long, golden hair tumbled down her back towards her behind where her curves were definitely evident. Harry had no idea how he was able to keep himself from being flustered most of the time but knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. His friendship with the French witch was fast becoming one of his most treasured possessions.
The duo remained in the tower for a few minutes more, just enjoying the quiet and each other's company. Leading her back down to the Entrance Hall, they dipped into the Great Hall where Fleur submitted her name to the Goblet. She strode past those present, her head held high. Crossing the age line she threw her entry high into the air. It drew a graceful arc before gathering speed, shooting into the middle of the goblet. Many of the students present cheered and jeered as she did so but turning around and striding back to where he stood, her eyes never once strayed from his own.
They made their way down to the Beauxbatons carriage, the sun peeking through the clouds and onto the grounds. Hitting the carriage, the sun made it gleam in pastel blue, reminding Harry of the sky on a clear winter's day. Upon entering, he took in a large Entrance Hall not unlike those he'd seen in photos of an old French chateaux. A large set of highly polished wooden stairs led up to a second floor where the signs pointed towards different classrooms. However, they didn't climb the stairs, Fleur had instead taken his hand gently and led him down one of two corridors. Her hand was warm and soft in his own as she eventually stopped in front of one. The number 36 glowed a soft white on the frame as she tapped the doorknob with her wand before entering.
"Welcome, 'Arry," Fleur said grandly, gesturing to her room at large. A four-poster bed sat in the middle of the back wall, the pale blue, silk sheets neatly made, a small black ball curled upon one of her pillows. A desk sat against the wall to the left, sandwiched between a door to the bathroom and a rectangular window. The other wall was home to a magnificent antique wardrobe, a large mirror upon the centre door. A shorter vanity stood at its side, photos of her family sitting on top, beaming from within the frames. Much like most of what Harry had learned about Fleur, the room was neat and ordered, from the stack of books and parchment on her desk to the careful arrangements of photographs on her vanity.
Harry looked back at the window, only just realising it should only be showing the wall to the room next door in it. Seeing his quizzical look at the window, Fleur sated his curiosity: "It shows the outside from the view of the carriage door. Those who room on the other side of the carriage see it from the door on the other side."
"Fleur, this carriage alone is a magical masterpiece! The enchanting must have taken years," Harry gushed, excited by yet another magical marvel.
"Oui, it has been in the possession of Beauxbatons for 'undreds of years and was a gift from Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel themselves!"
She softly padded to the bed and scooped up the small black cat from her pillow. Moving back towards Harry she held out the kitten to him. "She looks so cute with the kitten," thought Harry, holding his thoughts in as he gingerly took Calliope, bringing her close to him. He stroked the soft fur on the cat's head as she batted playfully at his hands, wide eyes following the movement of his fingers. Soon growing tired of the play the kitten's eyes drooped closed as it seemed to snuggle into the warmth of his chest.
Lost in the moment, a small click gained his attention as he looked up to see Fleur lowering the camera in her hands. She laughed at having caught him off guard but waved away his weak protests.
"Gabby made me promise I would take plenty of photos this year whilst away, 'Arry. You wouldn't deprive 'er would you?" Fleur pouted at him, whatever indignation he had quickly crumbled away.
"Er- No, I mean, I guess not," he replied bashfully, hands still full of sleeping kitten.
Taking her cat back Fleur beamed, "Good, she is terrible when she doesn't get what she wants."
Fleur moved back to her bed, popping the cat down in the same spot she was taken from, a soft meow emerging from the black ball.
"Now, tell me about your classes, what do you need to catch up on?"
For the next few hours, the two talked and talked. Harry told her of the issues he was having with silent casting and Fleur spoke of her own, having gone through it all in her own schooling.
"It's almost like my magic is fighting against me on some things. Like at first, if I were to try and vanish a snail the shell might be left behind for example. Now with the NEWT level spells it's almost like my magic is… stifled? For lack of a better word."
"Ah, I think I might know what it is. I had a similar issue when I moved to silent casting. The problem is that you need both intent and visualisation. If you don't focus hard enough on both your magic tries to close the gap. Not a terrible thing as it can work but it won't do so all the time. You have to will your magic enough to act and specify through visualising the results. Try it!"
Fleur swished her wand neatly, summoning a few buttons which she swiftly transfigured into snails. Drawing his wand, Harry brought what he wanted to happen to the front of his mind, visualising the exact spaces the snails occupied as being empty. A swift flick of his wand saw his mental image come to life.
"Extraordinaire! That's great, I struggled for a while with multiple banishments."
Happy with the progress he had made, Harry brought the subject onto runes. They quickly rounded out their joint knowledge of runes, Harry broaching the subject of the veil she was gifted.
"So, did you bring the veil your Papa gave you?" Harry asked curiously.
"Oui, give me a second," Fleur rummaged in her wardrobe for a second before withdrawing a small ornate box which she opened, drawing forth the veil from within. "Careful, 'Arry, it's quite delicate. Have a look at the stitching though and see what you can tell."
The term 'runes' itself was a bit encompassing. Runes had been in use since the early centuries A.D. by the Germanic peoples of early Europe. The 'Ancient Runes' they studied in class did cover those languages of course, namely Elder and Younger Futhark but they also covered the languages of the ancient Mediterranean like Phoenician, the symbols of the people of Central America and the languages of the ancient peoples of the far east.
Proficient with the languages taught at OWL level, Harry had a good grasp of both Futhark languages and was decent at some of the Mediterranean languages, even if Linear B did trip him up sometimes. He was infinitely glad of his early interest in the subject, having picked up a starter book a year early, at the beginning of his second year. The veil in his hands however sung to him in a cacophony of languages. He recognised the symbols of the Minoan empire, but he could also establish some arrays that were there for stabilisation. Upon spotting the Minoan flowing seamlessly through the array into what he thought was Ancient Chinese he realised that the creator of the veil was a genius.
"Fleur, the work on this is absolutely amazing! I can only grasp half of what is going on. I can see the peace runes here," He pointed to some Carthaginian runes, "but I'm totally lost trying to piece the languages together. I've only ever seen three strung together like this and the connecting runes are like none I've seen before."
"It is incredible isn't it? According to Papa it was once the veil of Roxana, the wife of Alexander the Great," Fleur expounded, just as excited as Harry was. "She came from eastern Persia and with the reach of Alexander's empire the melding of magics was the perfect storm."
The duo poured over the veil for a while longer, Fleur pointing out what she knew of the languages that Harry didn't and vice versa. The talk remained academic for a while but slowly drifted towards Harry's friends.
"Your friends didn't look that keen to see me last night, 'Arry," Fleur stated, "Is everything okay between you all?"
"We just seem to be drifting. Hermione and I used to be so close but whenever I speak about something I'm enjoying or achieved in my studies her enthusiasm or happiness will only appear if she can do it too. If it's something she can't do she just gets closed off, so I've just stopped trying to be honest. I let her lecture me when we're together, but to be honest I just drone it out in my head.
"Ron and I… Well, it's strange. We used to be thick as thieves but this last year I've noticed how jealous he gets. Like if we win a quidditch game or if I even buy something new then he just seems to resent me for it. I can understand it to a point, he's the second youngest in a large family so a lot of his stuff is handed down but still? Doesn't he know I would share it all if he only asked? He's been spending more time slacking off with some of the other boys in the dorm this year, so we've naturally started drifting apart too."
"It can happen Harry. When I underwent my maturity and gained my allure, the friends I had in my year grew more distant and jealous." Fleur paused, her eyes sad as she continued. "They grew jealous of something that they didn't understand and instead of trying to progress with me they grew away from me. It's nothing wrong with you yourself, but just a part of maturing faster and growing up quicker. If they cannot accept you for who you truly are and who you want to be then why waste your energy on them?"
Harry thought about her words, feeling them resonate quite deeply. He gave her a weak smile letting her know he appreciated it before changing the subject to something else. Fleur got them some snacks to tide them over as they continued chatting. He asked her more of growing up in France and was enthralled with the happiness she spoke of. Long days with her parents at the beach in the summer, chasing fireflies with Gabby and the occasional ski trip in winter. Her face grew inquisitive as she asked him of his own childhood: "What about you, 'Arry? What did you enjoy when you were little?"
He froze in his seat, thinking quickly of what to tell her of his time at the Dursleys.
"Fleur, my- my relatives and I, that is, we- we don't exactly have the best of relationships," he began, hesitantly, "my childhood was limited for lack of a better word. I didn't get to do much of what other children did."
He slowly told her of his upbringing, the words coming easier and more quickly as he continued. Fleur's face went from concerned to worried to angry and back again a number of times, cursing up a storm of French that quickly Harry struggled to make out all of what she was saying. Her accent became much more pronounced in her incensed state.
"They kept you where?" her eyes glinted dangerously, and Harry swore the room became several degrees warmer. "'Arry, if I ever catch up to them there will be nothing left when I am finished." she promised darkly.
He tried to reassure her, telling Fleur of his plans for the following summer. "Now that I've sat my OWLs I plan to petition the Wizengamot for emancipation this summer. I'll never have to see them again. And because I have enough gold to look after myself, certainly enough to see me until I've finished with school, it should help sway them."
It took Fleur a few minutes before she had calmed down. "I swear, 'Arry, we can do everything that you 'ave not. If you visit me this summer we can do so much together. We can go to the beach and swim all we want, we can mess around at the park and play muggle sports. I have never gotten along with someone like I do with you and I'm sure Gabby would love to join us if you wanted."
The thought of a summer like the one Fleur described filled Harry with no small part of longing and hoping for it.
That evening, the Great Hall
The roar of nervous energy within the Hall was silenced as the doors shut with a tremendous bang. Headmaster Dumbledore strode between the long tables, violet robes fluttering behind him. Reaching his golden lectern, he spread his arms wide and as they did the night before the candles dimmed.
"Well, it seems the moment we have been waiting for has arrived," he began, looking out at the hall over his half-moon glasses. "Many of you have submitted your names but only three shall be forced back out. I believe that the Goblet has almost reached its first decision."
A few moments later the dancing cerulean flames within the goblet turned a deep, scorching red. The change made Harry swallow deeply shifting in his seat, his gut churned making him deeply apprehensive of what was to come.
He felt a squeeze on his arm and turned to look at Fleur. "It'll be okay, 'Arry," she whispered, her eyes filled with concern and understanding. "No matter what 'appens we shall both get through this." Her words calmed Harry somewhat, making him awfully glad he had told her of his worries for the tournament.
A whooshing noise filled the Hall, the red flames from the goblet bursting upwards, before crashing back into the cup the wind from sudden movement rushing over the assembled crowd. The cup lit up once more in blue light as it spat something small skyward.
Dumbledore's long fingers shot out and grabbed the paper on its downward spiral. "The champion for Durmstrang… is Viktor Krum!"
The sea of green and black cloaks at the Slytherin table erupted into cheers of "Krum! Krum! Krum!" as they pounded the wooden table and stamped on the flagstones. Krum stood up from the middle of the table and strode down the aisle, his head held high and cloak fluttering in his wake.
Reaching Dumbledore, he shook his hand and was then ushered through a door to the Antechamber. "Excellent, Viktor! As I suspected," came the very loud shout from the Durmstrang Headmaster as Krum passed by. The noise died away as the goblet once more went through the motions of selecting a name, the wind ruffling Harry's hair as another name was shot into the air. It felt like butterflies were loose in his stomach, the anticipation eating him up from the inside as he awaited the call for the Beauxbatons' champion.
"The champion for Beauxbatons… is Fleur Delacour!"
Harry spun towards her so fast he almost got whiplash. They beamed at each other as polite clapping filled the hall from the Beauxbatons contingent. Catcalls from some of the boys in the hall were ignored as a couple of French girls actually burst into tears.
"Congratulations, Fleur! It couldn't have been anyone else!" Harry said, his arms encircled Fleur before she rose gracefully from her seat, shot him one more megawatt smile before she strode purposefully down the aisle. Fleur must have been slightly overwhelmed as her allure washed out in waves, Harry felt it ebbing and flowing before Fleur reigned it back in as she reached the front of the Hall and disappeared into the Antechamber.
Within the Hall the tension seemed to build once more to a far greater height than before, so thick it could be cut with a knife. The Hogwarts champion was next, and her students' excitement was building, read to explode like a cork from a bottle. For the third time the goblet threw up great, red flames before winking out and flinging a name high into the air.
Summoning it to him, Dumbledore opened the folded piece of paper and read out the contents. "The champion for Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory!" The Hall erupted into cheers, most of the Hufflepuff table surging to their feet in jubilation. Diggory, the only seeker to beat Harry, was grinning from ear to ear. His back was slapped, and his hand shaken as he extricated himself from the bench, walking to the front and into the Antechamber.
"Fantastic! Now that we have our three champions," began Dumbledore loudly, arms spread and beckoning for quiet. "It is now up to each of you to throw your support behind our three champions. Your support will be essential, and I am sure this year will prove to-"
Dumbledore was suddenly cut off, the goblet once more roaring, drowning out his words. The hall was deadly silent as another name shot into the air. Overcoming his shock Dumbledore reached forward, grabbing the paper.
He had a double take before voicing the name at an almost whisper. "Harry Potter."
Harry's heart leapt into his throat, his mouth as dry as a desert. Muttering began across the Hall, the top table was ablaze in activity, Bagman and Crouch both rushing towards Dumbledore. Maxime and Karkaroff did not look pleased, the latter's face twisted in anger. Harry swallowed deeply, praying that the name was wrong.
"Harry Potter," Dumbledore called once more, much louder than the first time. "Up here if you would, Harry."
Harry gulped once more before he rose from his seat. Every single pair of eyes in the Hall zeroed in on him, his cheeks grew flushed at the attention. His eyes sought out Hermione and Ron across from him and was met with stony distrust in the face of the former and raging jealousy in the other. "I- I didn't-" Harry's words died in his throat as they evoked no reaction from his friends, their faces as if etched from stone.
Climbing out from the bench, Harry's face set into one of grim determination. He straightened his robes and strode towards the front, only slightly more hesitant than the other champions.
"Sir, I swear- I haven't-" Dumbledore raised his hand, his face still calm but his eyes conveying his alarm at the situation, looking searchingly into Harry's own.
"Into the chamber please, Harry." He clasped Harry's shoulder. "I promise you we will try and sort out this state of affairs. However, for now please join the other champions."
Harry nodded before acquiescing. His feet carried him autonomously to the door, mind entirely occupied with the questions racing through it. It wasn't until the cool metal of the door handle met his hand that he regained his awareness. Casting a look back at the still silent Hall, a sea of faces stared right back at him. Dumbledore, the other school heads, Crouch, and Bagman were huddled together, gestures flying wildly. Turning back to the door, he twisted the handle and pushed.
Entering the room, the Hall behind him erupted in noise, alerting the occupants of the room to his presence. Shutting softly, the door blocked the sound of the Hall completely as Harry looked up at the other champions. They each stared back but Harry was only focussed on one of them. Deep, blue eyes met emerald green as they flashed in concern.
"'Arry? What's happened? Are you okay?"
All he could manage was his own confirmation of his fear. "My- my name came out of the cup. I'm the fourth champion."
Fin
Thank you all for reading! Please leave a review and I'll see you in the next chapter.
My schedule might hit some delays in the near future so please bear in mind that the updates will come but they may be slightly late.
Take care,
SOB
