there is an announcement at the end of the chapter
Chapter 18
Taking the "Tri" out of the "Triwizard Tournament"
Yesterday, the hotly anticipated Triwizard Tournament kicked off with a bang. The goblet of fire, an ancient artifact tied to the Triwizard Tournament, in a ceremony last night gave the names of the champions that are to represent their institutions of learning in the prestigious event.
However, readers, not everything went as planned; instead of one name for each of the three participating schools, twelve names were selected in four teams of three...
The Prophet, or more accurately Rita, went on to explain what had happened and how the Ministry-sponsored event had been tampered with in an attempt to kill the Boy-Who-Lived and his teammates. It even went as far as to question how the Ministry could sponsor an event using a device that required a magically binding contract like the Goblet of Fire, and not provide adequate security to protect the next generation of British witches and wizards. It then accused Ludo Bagman, the head of Magical Games and Sports, and Bartemius Crouch of incompetence, and called for a full DMLE investigation into the death threat that was on '"Team Potter's'' entry
Harry mused about how glad he had talked to Rita the day before, as he read the copy of the Prophet that had been delivered to him that morning, along with a note from Rita telling him that this copy of the paper was free and asking him if he could get the other champions to agree to an interview. He didn't know if he could get them to agree, but he could try. He didn't think he would get far with Flint, but Ali would at least listen to him and make up her own mind. Krum would be possibly the hardest, as he had experience dealing with the press and would probably have other ideas, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.
Harry passed the paper to Hermione (who was trying to read it over his shoulder) and returned to his breakfast of a few pieces of toast with some strawberry jam. He would normally eat a bit more, but if they were going to be exercising right after breakfast it wasn't a good idea to have a heavy breakfast. He would make up for it at lunch. Hermione was following his lead and keeping her breakfast light, but she had opted to take advantage of the fact that the house elves were including croissants on the breakfast menu to accommodate their French guests.
Speaking of French guests, Fleur took a seat across from them and helped herself to some coffee and croissants, and after a polite morning greeting Harry passed her over a small black drawstring bag.
"Whats this?" Fleur asked, surprised.
"Something I made for you last night." Harry replied.
Fleur opened the bag and tapped out two wooden rings onto the palm of her hand. "You made me rings?" Fleur asked cautiously.
"The rules of the tournament say we are allowed to use enchanted items we make ourselves. I designed these last year, Hermione and I each already wear a set that I made." He held up his right hand so she could see a similar wooden ring on his hand.
"What do they do?" Fleur asked, a little disappointment in her voice. It wasn't a gift from her betrothed, it was a tool from a teammate.
"You put the master ring on the first finger of your wand hand, and the second ring goes on your wand. Like this.'' He held his wand in his hand so she could see that the rings would touch. "If you drop your wand or get disarmed, you can just channel a little magic into the ring and your wand will come flying back to your hand in the perfect casting position."
"You designed these? As a third year student?" Fleur was surprised.
"Harry is pretty good at developing enchanted items. He developed my hairband and tail sock as well, and he actually holds a patent on the rings, they are now being sold in Diagon Alley." The pride was evident in Hermione's voice as she boasted about Harry's achievement.
"That is pretty amazing Harry. Thank you." Fleur smiled at him, and for a second his heart skipped a beat. If he didn't already have Hermione, it would be easy to fall for the French temptress. But he did have Hermione, so instead just nodded.
The first day of training was a total disaster. They had used the Room of Requirement to give them somewhere out of the way of everyone to train. Neither of the girls did well in the physical training, neither Harry nor Hermione had been able to pick up the spells Fleur was trying to teach them, and as for working on their flaws, the closest they got to progress was admitting they had them. Harry was sure that if the tournament wasn't holding their magic hostage, the three of them would have quit that day. Instead it was three tired and frustrated teens that dragged themselves to bed that night, dreading doing the whole thing again tomorrow. Harry looked over at his mother's school chest before falling asleep. He had intended to open it this evening but he was just too tired. He hoped he would get the opportunity tomorrow.
-ϟϟϟ-
He watched as the two figures walked up to the big house in front of them. The smaller of the two was carrying a bundle in his arms. The bundle was the only thing that was important. The bundle was Master. The other two were disposable, Master had said that, he had said that right in front of them but they didn't have the ears to listen or the tone to speak so they knew nothing of their Master's true thoughts.
They walked up to the door of the big house. The taller of the two hit the door a few times and waited. The door opened, revealing a small creature that was wearing a ragged bit of cloth. The tall one pointed her stick at it, and the creature screamed in agony so loud it hurt. The shorter of the two pointed its wand at the creature, a red light burst forth, and the creature dropped limp on the floor.
"What did you do that for? I was having fun," The tall one pouted.
"Your fun may have just lost us the element of surprise!" The short one was quiet but his voice had a hard edge to it.
"We know he isn't home right now." the tall one argued back.
"We suspect he isn't home. if we are wrong, we will have to fight now."
"I pre-"
"Enough." Master hissed at them. "Wormtail is correct, my dear Bella, you will be punished for this later but now we need to work. Get inside and bring the elf."
"Yes my lord." The tall female shook, and he could smell the fear that was in her sweat now. Soon her screams would entertain Master, and maybe he would get to eat well tonight.
He grew bored of all the waiting and made his way through the tall one's legs and through the door. The creature smelled like it had soiled itself, whether that was its natural state or the result of what the tall one did, he didn't know and didn't care.
He sniffed the air. "Master, I smell two men and this creature that live here. One of the men is away, but one is still here. Can I have him?"
"We will see, my pet, we will see. He may be of use to me alive. Nagini said there is a man here. Bellatrix, find him and bring him to me."
"yes my lord, anything for you my lord." the tall one spoke before leaving the room.
It didn't take long for the tall one to find her target. "Barty! My sweet boy! What has he done to you?" They could all hear the shouts echoing through the old manor as the tall one screamed as loud as she could.
He slid across the floor and around the short man, climbing up him so he could look at Master. The thing in Wormtail's arms wasn't human, it was some grotesque parade of a human child that was just wrong.
Miles away Harry woke up with a scream.
-ϟϟϟ-
Harry sat up in bed, the dream he had still vivid in his mind, and his scar felt like it was on fire. He rubbed at it reflexively, trying to get the pain to lessen, but it did no good; it still hurt and the skin felt fever hot under his fingers.
That thing, whatever it was, he knew who it was. Voldemort. He had seen that face before, sticking out of the back of professor Quirrell's head. He knew who was with him as well: Bellatrix LeStrange and the man he now knew to be Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, the traitor who had sold out his parents to Voldemort despite the fact that he was supposed to be one of his father's best friends.
Harry considered going and informing Dumbledore of what he had seen, but decided against it, because what had he really seen? Voldemort had broken into a house, presumably to hurt someone, but which house? In which country? All he had to offer was the name Barty and he had a house elf. Plus he wasn't feeling particularly fond of the headmaster right now after he had sent the two aurors to terrorise Emma and to take him back to the Dursleys over the summer. He would tell Hermione in the morning and send a letter to Uncle Moony when Hedwig got back from London. Hermione had sent her parents a small novel of a letter that Harry guessed was filled with what was happening with the Triwizard Tournament and Fleur suddenly turning up and being betrothed to him.
He tried to go back to sleep, but the pain in his scar (while lessened and improving) was still too much for him to sleep through. So, he climbed out of bed and over to his mother's old trunk and opened it. There were a few things inside, but he just grabbed the two letters that were on top and addressed to him. He returned to his bed, cast a spell that Hermione had found that allowed you to create a floating ball of light, and opened the first letter.
My son Harry,
Happy 11th birthday!
This is the strangest, most morbid thing I have ever done, and if you have spoken with your uncles you know I have done some pretty strange things in my time. But your mother seems to think this is a good idea. I can see her logic, if the worst happens you will at least have this letter. I will say, though, I hope you never read it, or if you do it's because I found it at the back of a cupboard one day when you are in your late twenties and we can sit down and read it together as a curiosity. But, as you know, there is a war on and I might not make it.
So the first thing I want to tell you is that I love you and your mother with everything I have to give. It's just how us Potter men are; once we find someone, we never let go. Of course, you were the first Potter to find your someone so young, you screamed for a week when we brought you home from the French villa, and I am sure it had more to do with you leaving your new veela girlfriend behind than it had to do with how much you hated portkeys.
By the way, if you still can't stand portkeys and Apparition, you should check out the Potter family's book of magic. Aversion to portkeys and Apparition are indicators you may have inherited the Potter family gift, though you have just as much chance at receiving the Black family gift from your grandmother Dorea, who was a Black. If your hair keeps changing colour, go speak to your cousin Nymphadora Tonks. She has the Black gift and can walk you through it.
If I am gone there is probably no-one left to tell you what it means to be a Potter. I don't have any siblings, at least none by birth, none who are Potters. So as much as I trust Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail to try to explain it, I'm going to try here as well.
The Potter family may not be the richest family, nor do we have a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, nor do we have the purest of blood by the standards of the blood snobs. But our family is old, older than the Wizengamot, older than Hogwarts and older than a lot of the pureblood houses.
The name Potter comes from a muggleborn wizard, Linfred of Stinchcombe, who lived a little over 1100 years ago. He was a true muggleborn, not the son of a squib or some other long lost relative of some long lost wizarding family like most muggle born today. It is from him that the Potter family gets its gift.
He was a gifted potioneer for his time, and invented a number of potions we still use today, including Pepper-up Potion and Skele-Gro. He eventually married a woman who was from an older family and the two of them took the name Potter, as in a person who makes and pots potions, clay pots being used far more than glass at the time.
The Potter family has, ever since then, been a cornerstone of Britain's wizarding world. Our potions are used every day, we have had Quidditch stars, inventors (the self stirring Cauldron was one of ours). The Potter family may not be the richest or the most prestigious, but there is a history to be proud of.
I hope I get the opportunity to tell you this in person, but in case I don't I just want to say: I love you son, more than you will ever understand until you have a child of your own. And, as long as you try your best, do what you think is the right thing, and never give up just because a job is tough, then when we see each other again you will find me to be the proudest father ever.
I'll be watching out for you.
Do your best.
But don't forget to have fun.
Love Dad
Harry felt the tears as they made their way down his face, but he couldn't keep himself from rereading his father's words a few more times before he picked up the letter from his mom.
My darling boy,
If you are reading this, then I didn't make it, I'm so sorry pumpkin. I wanted to be there to watch and help you grow up. I had such plans for you, a little brother or sister, teaching you about the joys of the muggle world. I wanted to show you rollercoasters and biking, teach you to swim. But I guess that if you are reading this that never happened. I hope you can forgive me for not being there.
So this may be my only chance to tell you about myself. As you probably know I am a muggleborn, a distant relative of a Weasley squib who lived a few generations ago. My friend Alice, your godmother, thinks that's why I'm the first whom anyone in the Evans and Jones families can remember to have natural red hair. I learned I was a witch really young, a boy who lived in my area was a wizard and recognised my accidental magic for what it was and told me about the magical world.
We were friends for a long time, but he joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's group when we were still at school. I couldn't stay friends with him after that, and after an argument where he insulated my heritage I walked away and never spoke to him again. That was also the incident where I started to fall for your dad. James was always a big child, but when I was upset, instead of his usual jokes or pestering he brought me a cup of tea and just sat with me. It wasn't much, but it was the start.
In our final year, your dad and I were head boy and girl. Your father had done a lot of growing up by then, and I agreed to go on a date with him. We were brilliant together and we quickly came to love each other and were married at 19. I know that may sound normal to you raised in the magical world, but I was raised in the Muggle world and it was more normal to marry a little later, maybe 22 to 25. But I love your dad enough that it was the best choice I ever made.
Now for some advice. I know it's no real substitute for growing up with your parents, and as much as I hope I can be there for that, just in case I'm not, here is what I can do.
In the world of love, never take your partner for granted. You already have a connection with a lovely little girl. But life rarely goes smoothly: whomever you end up with, always remember to be there for them on their worst days as much as you want to be with them on their best.
Do your best in school. Hogwarts is a brilliant place, but it's easy to get distracted. No matter what anyone else says, you'll need to put down your broom and pack away your pranks enough so that you can study. Both your father and I walked away with seven N.E.W.T.s, there is no reason you can't do the same.
Never forget to have a little fun. A lesson I learned from your dad, life can be hard and sometimes it downright sucks. Take some time to enjoy your life.
Nobody is perfect and you fail sometimes. That's ok. Just pick yourself up and decide where to go from there.
Try to be a good man, be kind and compassionate when you can, and stay by your convictions to stand up for yourself and people who can't stand up for themselves.
Soon you will be off to Hogwarts and you may be worried about your sorting. Don't be. It doesn't matter how you go about something, be it by going boldly forward like a Gryffindor, hard work like those in Hufflepuff, book smarts like the Ravenclaws, or even more subtle means like Slytherins, what matters is what you stand for. There are good people in every house, your auntie Andromeda Tonks was a Slytherin for example. We will be proud of you wherever you end up.
If I don't make it, you should get this letter on or just after your 11th birthday, so if I couldn't be there to say it, happy eleventh birthday. I hope you have loads of presents and I hope you have fun. I and your dad put together this trunk for you to take to school with you. It contence should make school a little easier.
Do your best Harry and remember,
I will always love you.
Mum
Harry was crying freely by the end of his mother's letter. However, as much as he was upset at the loss of the life he could have had, he now had his mother's words of advice to him and proof that she wouldn't have cared about his Slytherin side. He had worried for so long about that he had forgotten it. It was like carrying a rock around in his pocket for so long he forgot about, but now that the rock was gone he felt lighter.
The pain in his scar had lessened to the point where it no longer troubled him. He put the letters back in their envelopes and put them back in his mother's trunk before climbing into bed and falling asleep.
-ϟϟϟ-
Harry and Hermione were sitting in the common room, chatting. The two had decided that sitting together before breakfast was the only way to get some quality Fleur-free time. It was the morning after Harry's dream and he was telling Hermione about it.
"I don't know Harry, it's not like you have had dreams about Voldemort before. Not like this anyway, I know you have had nightmares, normal nightmares I mean. Could this be just that, a nightmare?" Hermione asked
"With my scar hurting like that?" Harry pushed.
"A coincidence, maybe?" Hermione didn't even sound like she believed it.
"Possible but I doubt it. He is trying to come back. With LeStrange and Pettigrew helping him, he has made progress. And as he is stronger, the link between us, whatever it is, is picking up more. At least that's what I would put my gold on." Harry's argument seemed to sway Hermione.
"Then you need to send a letter to Director Bones."
"Director bones? It will be too late for her to do anything, we don't even know what country he is in. What can she do?" Harry asked, confused. "I was going to write to Moony."
"You should still write to Moony, but Director Bones may be able to work out where Voldemort is and what he is doing. if they can work that out, maybe they can work out where they will go next."
The two stayed seated a little more before Harry let Hermione drag him up to the owlery so he could send off his letters. Hedwig was still out on Hermione's delivery, so Harry had had to use school owls. Hedwig would probably use it as an excuse to extort more bacon from him if she found out, but Harry wanted the letters done with.
-ϟϟϟ-
Harry looked up at the owls as they came pouring in over breakfast. He was looking to see if Uncle Moony or Director Bones had sent him anything after he mailed them yesterday. However, there were no owls winging their way to him, but there was one for Hermione. Hedwig landed on the table next to Hermione and held her leg out so Hermione could untie the letter from her parents.
Fleur cooed at Hedwig. "What a beautiful owl, he is gorgeous."
"She," corrected Hermione as she stowed the letter from her parents in her bag so that she could read it later when she had more time. "And she is Harry's owl. But she also insisted on carrying my mail."
"I'm not surprised the owl insisted on carrying your mail. Owls are good at seeing the bonds between people. But it's definitely a he, female snowy owls are gray, not white. It's the males who are white." Fleur stated.
"Well, unless Hedwig stole an egg and put it in her cage, she is definitely a girl, maybe a little unusual… uh, unique," Harry changed his word after the owl in question shot him a look.
"Well, she is certainly beautiful." Fleur complimented Hedwig, who puffed herself up at the praise. The three of them continued with breakfast, both Hermione and Fleur sliding Hedwig pieces of bacon from a platter in the centre of the table. Harry picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet that someone had left on the table, intending to just look over the headlines, but he was immediately captivated by the front page.
Head of International Cooperation Murdered!
Last night the Ministry announced that the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch, was found dead and that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was treating the death as suspicious.
Director Crouch's body was discovered in his family Manor yesterday morning by officials after his recently acquired elf (see page 5 for why Director Crouch needed a new elf) raised the alarm at the Ministry of Magic. Aurors immediately rushed to the scene, finding his body; a DMLE investigation of the body revealed signs that the death was not natural, but the DMLE is not releasing the information at this time. However, one of the younger aurors was seen to be disturbed, though whether that was due to a gruesome death, knowing the victim, or some other reason is unknown.
Bartemius Crouch has served in the Ministry for most of his career, first in the DMLE where he rose to the position of director, then after the end of the blood war he transferred to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Recently, he was one of the people behind the revival of the Triwizard Tournament, where he was to act as a judge in the upcoming tasks.
It is unknown who will be next to take up the post of Director for DIMC, but as junior member of the department Percy Weasley said, "Mr Crouch was a man of great learning and vast experience, he leaves some pretty big boots to fill. I hope whoever gets the job next can live up to that."
Bartemius Crouch is the last of his house, his only child (convicted Death Eater Bartemius Crouch Jr.) died in Azkaban shortly after the end of the blood war.
The article went on to say more, but Harry was captivated by the picture that was on the second page. It was a red brick manor house with green ivy crawling over the brickwork. The caption read "Crouch Manor - scene of the crime". Harry recognised it clearly. He had seen it before, 2 nights ago in his dreams.
Voldemort had killed director crouch.
Harry showed the article to Hermione and fleur. While Fleur looked at the article, Harry gave Hermione a look telling her there was something specific he needed to talk to her about. Hermione nodded understandingly to him but not getting what he wanted to talk about
"Hedwig, are you up for a flight back to London?" Harry asked his owl.
Hedwig looked at him with an expression he interpreted as "I just got back from there. Couldn't you have given me the letter last time?"
"Sorry. I only just now needed to send a letter off." He explained, trying to placate her.
Her expression softened and she shuffled over to him and started nibbling on his fingers before she clicked her beak three times.
"Three strips of bacon. You just had a load from Fleur and Hermione. You'll be sick," Harry said.
She clicked her beak three three more times.
"I still want to know where you learned extortion, but fine. If you get sick, it's your fault." Harry caved to his familiar. "Hermione, can I borrow a quill and some parchment?" Harry asked, knowing Hermione always carried some in the bookbag he had gotten her. She nodded and slid the bag over to him and he helped himself. He used them to write a quick note to Director Bones. The note explained how he recognised the Crouch Manor from his dream. He just hoped that she didn't think he was crazy. He folded the letter closed and sealed it with a quick sticking charm, before tying the letter to Hedwig's leg and started to feed her the requested bacon.
Once they were finished with breakfast, the three of them made their way up to the Room of Requirement. They had started to make a little progress yesterday: the two girls were able to complete his physical workout without stopping for a break, Fleur was teaching them each a different type of shield spell, and they had each made a little progress on working together. Hermione had come up with a bunch of little games that each worked on a useful skill for them while also forcing them to work as a team. The evenings were free, now that they had finished their half-term homework. Harry was focusing on an idea for a new enchanted item that might help, at least if the task involved fire like the name suggested.
-ϟϟϟ-
Director Bones reread the letter she had just received. it was from Harry Potter, and she had dismissed the first letter from him as a nightmare. The letter had explained about discovering a teacher was possessed with a spirit of Voldemort when he was eleven, about how his scar would hurt in his presence, and about a vision he had had of voldemort that he believed was real because his scar had hurt.
It seemed obvious to her what had happened. A free death eater or a Voldemort sympathiser, Quirell had decided to trick Harry into believing his own personal nightmare was real. A few glamors mixed with maybe a confundus charm and the poor boy would go through life constantly looking over his shoulder. Then he had had a nightmare and had woken up with a headache in his groggy state, confused the headache for a pain in his scar, and jumped to the wrong conclusion. The letter had been a waste of her time, but given that there actually were people out there trying to kill Mr. Potter, she couldn't blame him for being overly vigilant
But then they had gotten the alert from the house elf. She had dispatched Aurors to the scene, who had called her in soon after. When she had arrived, the details were remarkably similar to Harry's 'vision'. She had briefly filed Harry as a suspect in her head, but had dismissed the idea just as quickly, as Harry had neither a motive nor an opportunity. Yet Harry's letter had matched perfectly with the house elf's story. He had answered the door, as was his duty, and there were a man and a woman at the door. The man was holding a bundle of blankets that may have held a baby. The woman had hit the poor creature with a curse and the little thing had fallen unconscious soon after that. She had asked the elf if the man might have stunned him but the elf was in too much pain at the time to notice.
The idea that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in fact alive, and now had two of his people back was getting stronger, was terrifying. But she was almost able to convince herself it was a coincidence; after all, why would He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named risk everything to kill Bartemius? As much as the two men had hated each other, attacking Bartemius was a big risk for no practical benefit. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was smarter than that.
Then the second letter had arrived from Harry, and all her doubt was squashed. She had never questioned that Harry was telling his version of the truth, only whether Harry's truth was a reflection of reality or of a phantasm brought on by the stress of having someone trying to kill him. Now she had a letter in her hand saying he had recognized the Crouch Manor from his vision, and she believed him. There wasn't anywhere near enough evidence to do anything with, but she believed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was still alive. And that as a side effect of surviving the killing curse, Harry and he were connected somehow.
The question was, what was she going to do now?
A/N
announcement - I now have a (sorry ff cencers the name aparently but if you want to offer patranige you should get the idea. Or if you say "pay try on" out loud that might help) account if you go to their website and search for lowten maybe even with a forward slash after their URL then will find that its posable to read chapter 19 today 'YAY'
I will still be posting the chapters here for free. none of you will miss anything if is not for you. but I will be working to have two chapters ahead. I may do some exclusive posts to there but they won't be part of the best laid plans series.
i hope you'll give it a look