CHAPTER FOUR
The Advent of the Exceptional
Harry had put his foot in his mouth with Megan.
The awkward atmosphere in their compartment never entirely recovered after the bomb he'd dropped on her. With both courage and responsibility, Harry ditched his friends when the trolley witch came by, using the appearance of confectionary as a distraction so he could slip away and sit with Lisa and her friends instead.
After, when he joined the other boys in a carriage on the way to school, Michael was swift to tell him of the damage he'd caused.
"Megan didn't say a single word all day." The frustration was clear in his voice. "She even pretended to go to sleep for a while. It was awful."
"It was awkward." Terry corrected. "What?" He asked when Michael glared at him. "I'm not allowed to feel uncomfortable?" Michael was about to respond angrily, but Anthony was quick to interrupt.
"Are we going the right way?" He asked, his face pressed against the window. Michael slid along the bench to join him.
"No, but everyone else is headed this way as well." He pointed out the carriages ahead of them. Harry wasn't sure if this distraction was deliberate on Anthony's part at first, but when he glanced back at him with a small smile, he had to give him credit for his continued skill at diffusing tension from a room.
The reason behind the carriages' scenic route through Hogsmeade was made clear when they arrived at the Great Hall. The new batch of First Years had arrived before them, and a handful had already been sorted. Harry figured the teachers changed the traditional order of things to keep the older students from getting restless due to the higher number of students that needed to be sorted.
It was a good idea, as by the time the last stragglers entered the Great Hall, the Sorting Ceremony was only halfway complete. Harry was beginning to regret sitting next to Terry, as his leg was bouncing up and down incessantly. It was making him antsy too.
"Stop it," Harry hissed at him. "You're putting me on edge." He tried to distract himself by counting how many students went into each house. Hufflepuff got the most, as usual, and Ravenclaw got the least, which was some small relief. Ravenclaw Tower was packed enough for his liking.
Lisa, who was sitting on Harry's other side, glanced around him to smirk at Terry. "It's a good thing you grew a bit, Terry. We can finally tell the difference between you and the First Years now."
"At least one of us has changed," Terry scowled back at her. "I still can't tell the difference between you and the back end of a Flobberworm." Lisa hissed in outrage, and just as Harry was about to find somewhere else to sit, the last First Year was sorted into Gryffindor and Headmaster Dumbledore got to his feet. He moved through the teacher's table as though it were an illusion and stepped up to his flying boar-emblazoned podium.
Dumbledore beamed and opened his arms as if he wanted to embrace them all. For a man wearing sky-blue robes with images of fluffy clouds drifting across the surface, he carried himself with an impressive amount of confidence.
"As the Headmaster of this school, it is my honour to welcome the fortunate few who have been given an invitation to this grand institution, and my privilege to welcome back those who have earned their place! While I am sure each of you is as hungry as I am, there are a few things that need to be said before we can begin our feast."
"Firstly, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to any student who is not accompanied by or has the express permission of a member of staff. Many Dark Beasts lurk beyond the school's Barrier, so this rule exists only with your safety in mind." Harry allowed his eyes to drift to the invisible ceiling, trying to pretend that Dumbledore's eyes weren't flickering directly between The Marauders.
"Secondly, I am happy to inform you that the foul-mouthed statues, busts, and suits of armour have been dealt with over the summer." There was a smattering of laughter around the hall and Harry was certain that Dumbledore was looking directly at him and his friends now. "Whoever was responsible for such a well-laid enchantment, please present yourself to Professor McGonagall at your earliest convenience. One hundred house points will be awarded if you claim responsibility." The laughter only increased at such an obvious trap and Harry could see the Headmaster's moustache twitch even from this distance.
He and his friends exchanged grins. After taking their exams back in June, The Marauders had gone on a bit of a rampage throughout the castle. They had dared each other to commit increasingly stupid stunts in an attempt to one-up each other. Harry's idea with the statues had been difficult to pull off, but very worth it in the end.
"Lastly," Dumbledore spoke louder now, to be heard over the chuckles. "It gives me great pleasure to formally announce this year's Triumvirate!" He waved them up from their seats as he named them. "Elizabeth Hawthorn! Henry Potter! Cedric Diggory! Please stand!"
Forcing his face to appear blank with Occlumency, Harry rose to his feet and glanced at his teammates. Eliza appeared as unaffected as he wished he truly was, while Cedric was smiling happily as though he didn't find the sudden attention off-putting at all.
"These three will be our representative team for this year's Triwizard Tournament! Please give them a round of applause!" Harry wasn't all too sure of the wider school's reaction to this instruction, as he was almost deafened by the claps and cheers of the Ravenclaw table. He remembered how grumpy they had been three years ago when Ravenclaw had been the only Hogwarts house without a representative. He knew they were just happy to have skin in the game this time around.
Dumbledore waited patiently for the cheers to quiet before continuing, this time speaking directly to the Triumvirate. "Remember, the entire world will be watching you. The honour of this school rests on your shoulders." He paused, as though giving them a moment to let that warning sink in. Harry distinctly remembered him saying something similar to the previous representatives. It hadn't encouraged them either. "You carry our hopes with you." He finished solemnly, as though he were trying to rub it in. "Now then," he clapped his hands together. "Tuck in!"
The moment Dumbledore clapped his hands together, a feast appeared on every table. There was a lot to tuck into, every kind of food a growing boy could desire, but Harry couldn't even finish a single plate. While he wouldn't admit it to anyone, the battle in the Patagonian Desert had rattled him but not for the reasons one might think. The Triumvirate's training sessions over the last week did little to alleviate his worries. They had only increased them.
As these thoughts continued to swirl around his mind, Dumbledore finally brought the feast to an end with another clap of his hands. The dishes were cleared away in an instant and he sent them all off to bed. On the way up to Ravenclaw Tower, Lisa brought him out of his mood by slipping her hand into his. She smiled up at him when he turned to her in surprise.
"You seem grumpier than usual," she explained.
Harry did his best to smile. "Grumpy? Me? Never!" Lisa rolled her eyes before leaning up to give him a quick kiss.
Maria, who had been walking with Eddie and the rest of her year mates behind them, tutted as they stepped into the common room. "Honestly Harry, right out in the open? So scandalous."
"Nah, don't you know?" Eddie asked her. "Our boy likes putting on a show."
Harry, who had been about to ignore them in favour of heading straight to bed, now moved to join them by the fireplace. "What do you mean?"
Maria raised her eyebrows. "You don't know?" She opened her bag and pulled out a copy of Witch Weekly. "It was on the lunch trolley. I'm surprised you didn't see it." She offered the magazine to him and, with a sinking stomach, he took it. The headline read:
Potter and Quill for the Bard's Drummer Caught Canoodling!
The picture beneath was of Harry and Lisa on the beach in the Patagonian Desert, their visages well-lit due to the bonfire they were sitting in front of. Again, the moving photograph was an endless loop of them snogging.
"They're becoming obsessed with you," Maria informed him. "Four issues in August and you and your girlfriend got the front page in two of them."
Eddie snorted. "The Boy-Who-Lived is finally old enough to be caught doing something interesting."
"I resent that," Harry complained, even though his mind struggled to connect the dots. "I've done plenty of interesting stuff before."
"Oh?" Eddie looked intrigued. "With whom?"
Harry rolled his eyes but felt his cheeks heat up. His mind automatically went to the night he'd spent at Sara Bridger's house. "I didn't mean it like that! Get your mind out of the gutter." He ignored their snickers as he examined the front page again.
It hadn't escaped his notice that Lisa had let go of his hand and disappeared upstairs before he could read it.
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Megan had thought Third Year classes were tough, but last year's workload was nothing compared to this year's.
The teachers were acting like they would be sitting for their OWLs next week instead of two years from now as they assigned more essays and reading assignments than ever before. It was only the first week of the year and she had already seen more of the Library Tower than the Hufflepuff Basement.
Megan felt her soul being crushed with every new piece of homework that was handed out that week. She doubted anyone else in the castle was happier than she was when classes wrapped up on Friday. While her Housemates seemed happy to put their work off until Sunday night, Megan wouldn't be able to relax until it was all done, so she made her way to her usual desk on the very highest floor of the library.
Normally, Susan would have joined her, but she'd earned herself a meeting with Professor Sprout after talking back to Professor Archibald earlier today. Because she was so nice these days, Megan had almost forgotten how sharp-tongued her best friend could be when irritated.
More than once this week, Megan had asked the Ravenclaw boys to meet up with her so they could do their homework together, but somehow, they always managed to get it done during their free periods. She would've thought they'd be struggling more, as they were working towards the full thirteen OWLs compared to her nine, but the workload never seemed to bother them until end-of-term exams rolled around. She had no idea how they managed schoolwork on top of their Cadet duties and extracurriculars. Megan had already been forced to quit Drama Club this year just to keep up.
However, now that she was aware of his newfound interest in her, Megan had managed to convince Michael to meet her here earlier today to help her with her Arithmancy essay. While Originating Equations still made her head spin, it wasn't the real reason she'd asked him to meet her.
"Hey." Michael's familiar voice caused her to look up from where she was arranging her textbook and notes on the table. Even though she'd seen him an hour ago in class, his wavy blonde hair was neater- as though he'd used the Hair-Styling Charm on it- and his collar was missing the ink stain she'd noticed earlier.
"Thanks for coming." Megan made sure to give him a wide smile, and her stomach clenched with guilt when he returned it. "I've been thinking about dropping this class. Every time I just about manage to wrap my head around one topic, Vector introduces another two. It drives me crazy."
Michael was quick to reassure her as he took the seat across the table. "Everyone hates Arithmancy, even Anthony, and he's good at it." He smiled at her. "You've already got into the OWL class, which is more than half our year can say, so you're already doing pretty great."
"I didn't think of it like that." Megan had wanted him to sit next to her, but she would have to make do with leaning over the table so that their heads would be close together. She wasn't experienced in this sort of thing, but she thought it was a good sign when he swallowed thickly. "Shall we get started?"
Michael nodded and focused on his notes, as though to distract himself from her proximity. He was surprisingly patient with her as they worked together, never getting frustrated the way Susan sometimes did. Once again, she privately wondered how two people so different could even be siblings.
When she finally got what Vector had been droning on about, Megan delicately placed a hand on Michael's forearm. While she'd first chosen this spot to hide from the girls who had once bullied her, it was now useful to her for privacy. "You're a great teacher."
With their work complete, there was nothing to distract Michael from his nervousness. "You think so?" The tips of his ears started to pinken. She supposed it was easier for him when he was the one making moves on her.
"Yes," she smiled. "You're a real Ravenclaw."
Michael chuckled. "I don't know about that. I have to spend hours studying just to keep up with the other guys."
Megan shrugged. "Well, I'm glad I asked you. Things are still a little awkward with the other boys, especially Harry." They weren't. The two of them had played tic tac toe in Runes yesterday instead of paying attention to Professor Babbling's lecture, but she needed a segue.
Michael grimaced. "I'm still sorry about that. I promise he didn't know a thing about your mum," he explained again. "He can be insensitive sometimes, but never to a friend." He paused. "Not on purpose anyway," he corrected.
Megan nodded slowly. "It's just…she's my mum, you know? But she's also a stranger. I know so little about her, it's like-"
"-you think you might never fully know yourself either." Michael finished. All traces of nerves were gone and his eyes grew distant. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
Megan's eyes widened, as though she hadn't chosen her words with deliberate care. "I am so sorry." She squeezed his arm. "I didn't even think."
"It's fine." Michael's eyes focused on her once more, and he looked at her with blatant empathy. "You know, there's no reason for us both to feel this way."
"What do you mean?"
"I think I might be able to arrange a meeting between the two of you. If you want."
Megan didn't have to fake her surprise this time. She hadn't expected it to be this easy. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to get into trouble because of me."
Michael nodded. "It won't be easy, but I'll figure it out."
"Thank you," she said with gratitude that didn't have to be faked. She leaned further across the table to kiss him on the cheek.
Michael blushed and guilt twisted her stomach into knots.
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Harry was starting to think he didn't stand a chance.
There were only two and a half months until the competition deadline, but members of the Art Club were already working on finalising their submissions. If they weren't making it, they were practising or planning what they would make.
With his technique improving over the summer, Harry had felt confident that his piece would be accepted by the Memphis Art Gallery. However, reality hit him across the face during the Art Club's first meeting of the year. There were twenty hopefuls from Hogwarts alone, and as the competition was open to any witch or wizard aged eighteen or under, he felt the odds of his piece being among the fifty selected were slim to none.
Around him, students were transfiguring marble and charming paint, and here he was working with a canvas and a paintbrush. Even though a few others were doing the same, he still felt like an idiot. It was a Wizarding art gallery. Of course, they would be looking for magical artworks for their exhibit.
He was so busy doubting himself that he didn't get any work done during that first meeting. He stayed behind as everyone else left to help Andrea Watkins put her giant canvas in her extendable bag. Or he was supposed to. Truthfully, he was more of a hindrance than a help as he was so taken by her painting.
"Is this your submission?" He asked. It was an oil painting of a giant bird flying into the clouds, the desert town below in the shadow of its wingspan. It was only half-finished, but the colours were mixed well into beautiful golden shades and the sun's rays peeking out from the clouds were highlighted well.
"Yes," Andrea smiled sheepishly. "It was supposed to be a first draft, just to get the outlines and composition right, but I got a little too into it." She shrugged. "I'll keep it and see if I can improve on it with another canvas, but I think this is all I've got."
Harry was still staring at the painting. "It's a Thunderbird," he said finally. That was obvious by its unique tail, but even though the Thunderbird was a distant figure, high in the sky, her combination of brushstrokes and shading made the texture of its feathers look...well not real, but something that he could reach out and touch. It looked like more than just paint on canvas.
Andrea hummed as she finally got the bottom of the canvas in her bag. "Our parents took us on holiday this summer and we saw one fly over this Muggle town in Arizona. Right before it went into the clouds and started raining..." She paused and pictured it. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I had to paint it."
He was surprised to hear that. "So, it wasn't your original idea?"
"I was always going to paint a creature," she shrugged. "I want to apprentice with the Beast Guild when I graduate, so when I saw a magical creature in its natural habitat? It was fate." Andrea hefted her bag over her shoulder and waved at him. "See you later."
"See ya." Harry turned to face the front of the room, only to find Aurora already waiting for him. "Sorry, didn't mean to keep you waiting."
"That's okay," she said lightly. "You seem restless."
Harry shrugged. "I just got knocked down a peg, that's all."
She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. "How so?"
He sat down. "I'm not as confident in my concept as I was before."
"If you don't even feel confident in your work before you paint it-"
"-then it won't come across properly to the viewer," he finished. "I do pay attention, you know."
Aurora chuckled. "That's good to hear. But you still have ten weeks before the deadline. That's plenty of time."
"But there'll be hundreds of submissions, and I'm not even the best in this room. Not even close."
She didn't let him get down on himself. "Think about how much you've improved since you joined this club. Think about how much you've improved since the competition was announced. Your work may not be immediately eye-catching, but it does invoke emotion and that's more than I can say for many."
"Yeah?"
Aurora nodded and leaned forward. "But do you want to be an artist?"
Harry was taken aback by the sudden question. "I want to make art, but not to make a living off it, no."
"Then that should take the pressure off, right?"
"But if I'm not competing, then I won't do my best."
She frowned. "You're certainly a complex creature, aren't you?" Harry scowled at her but she ignored it. "Look, just try your best to win and if you don't-" She shrugged- "it's not the end of the world. There'll be other contests."
Strangely that reminder did make him feel better. "You know, I have some ideas about what I want to paint." He pulled out a stack of sketches he had made during the club instead of painting. Aurora's eyes widened and she glanced at the clock. She probably regretted encouraging him now.
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Harry hung upside down above the forest clearing, his boots fused to the wide branch of an ancient tree.
He watched as Eliza and Cedric fought their three opponents without him. In the fortnight since the Duelling World Cup, he had learned- quite brutally- that his involvement only got in the way of their already established dynamic.
Harry and Eliza had similar styles of fighting: reckless offensive manoeuvrers and minimal defence. They both preferred speed, flexibility and attacks fired from all angles, which paired perfectly with Cedric's chosen approach. Their Hufflepuff teammate rarely moved at all during duels, preferring to dig his heels in and keep control over his environment. This allowed him to protect himself and his partner.
While Eliza attacked their opponents, Cedric kept watch over her back, but he struggled when it came to looking out for his other teammate as well. Harry didn't blame him. He knew he would make the same call if it was any of his best friends on the line.
Still, as he was tired of getting struck unexpectedly from unseen corners, he had decided to hang back and act as his team's ace in the hole. Now, disillusioned and with a bird's eye view of the three-on-two fight, Harry was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Any second now, Harry thought. Just fall back on your usual spell-
Bingo!
As Cedric took down Richard with an Explosion Curse and held off Tonks, Kingsley ducked under Eliza's flame bindings and countered it with his favoured electric-coated knives.
Harry twirled his wand and cast, Depulso! Restituo!
Harry had seen Kingsley surprised before, but never to this extent. The knives were banished right back at him without Eliza casting a single spell before Harry's Switching Spell made them switch places with the still-hurtling fire cords. Kingsley had only just prepared to vanish the knives, but that spell didn't work on the flame bindings, so he was quickly downed.
It should have been child's play for Eliza to now join Cedric in subduing Tonks- what with the opening he had just given her- but she seemed just as startled as Kingsley was. It was only Harry's Shield Charm that saved her from getting stabbed.
Tonks adapted to the situation first. She stuck from above Kingsley's falling form with an Impediment Charm that managed to land on Eliza's already immobile form.
Annoyed, Harry gave his position away by firing down on Tonks with a chain of Marital Spells. He didn't think it was necessary to land an attack, just force her to retreat or succumb to one of Cedric's spells. It took a moment, but when she blocked his Nightmare Hex and dodged his Mouth-Sealing Curse, she walked right into the Expulsion Curse that Cedric sent her way, taking it in the gut.
"And that's that." Harry sighed, glad to end the long day of training with a win. Finally releasing his suppressed Mana, all conscious inhabitants of the clearing looked up as he allowed his Disillusionment Charm and Fusion spell to fail. He dropped from the branch, flipped in the air and landed in a crouch.
"What was that?!" Moody demanded. He stomped into the clearing from where he had been lurking in the shadows. "You left your team to handle the bulk of the duel."
Harry shrugged. "We're learning to duel as a team, not a duo. I found a way to make myself useful and it worked."
Now that she was released from the Impediment Charm, Eliza was quick to let him know what she thought of that. "Making yourself useful? That's a nice way to say you were hiding."
Harry bristled. "I was waiting for the right moment. A moment I found and you almost squandered."
"How was I supposed to know that was you?!" She demanded.
"Here's a tip for the future: any time something unexpectedly brilliant happens, assume it's because of me." There were snorts and snickers from the others, but he paid them no mind. "If I give you an opening, you take advantage of it, alright?"
All trace of emotion left Eliza's face. At first, he thought her anger had started to cool, but her next words made him realise that it had simply coalesced with something greater: her pride. "You're telling me how to win? Did you forget who's Captain? Did you forget who beat who?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm ready for a rematch. Are you?"
Eliza was about to answer, but he never found out if she was going to accept his challenge or not, as Moody finally put his foot down. He stomped his metal leg to get their attention. "That's enough!" He barked. "I can't believe this even needs to be said, but no duelling amongst yourselves! You three need to be learning how to work together, learning each other's strengths, not weaknesses."
"Why am I getting shouted at?" Cedric asked no one in particular.
Moody pinched the bridge of his ruined nose in frustration. "Just go back to the castle. I can't stand the sight of you brats right now." He turned away from them and began stomping in the direction of the school gates. "We'll pick this up first thing tomorrow."
Harry wasn't the only one to groan at the news that their Sunday was now spoken for as well.
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He went home that night.
He told himself it was because he slept better at Brightstone than he did at Hogwarts, but that was a lie. He needed to speak to someone, and while he knew his friends would always be happy to listen, he only wanted to speak to his master right now.
Harry expanded his senses the moment he stepped through the fireplace, and he immediately knew that no one but Nicolas was home. Knowing Remus was at school, and trying hard not to think about who Maia would be with on a Saturday night, Harry made his way across the covered bridge and down the stairs to Nicolas' lab.
He entered without knocking and perched himself atop one of the many worktables. He watched as his master worked on a device that looked like an armillary sphere but with more bronze rings. As he watched, Nicolas pressed the flat of his hand against one of the rings before withdrawing it. When he did so, an intricate Runic Complex was revealed, having been imprinted with just his palm.
As he attached the now completed ring to the others, he addressed Harry. "I didn't expect you home tonight."
Harry shrugged. "I didn't expect to be home tonight."
Nicolas hummed and flicked his wand. Two chilled bottles of pineapple soda appeared, and he handed one to Harry. "You wouldn't come down here if you didn't want to talk about it." His master grimaced from a sip of the drink. It was too tart for his liking but he always kept the house stocked with it because it was Harry's favourite.
"You're right about that." Harry quickly gave him a rundown of their training with Moody, before getting to what was bothering him. "I mean, I don't know why we're even bothering. When it comes to teamwork, there's no way we can catch up to the likes of the Molotov twins in just a couple of weeks." He shook his head. "We only have sixteen days before the Preliminary Rounds begin. There's just no way."
Nicolas had continued working on his Artifice while he was speaking, and he turned the rings counterclockwise as he responded. "What do you think Moody should be teaching you instead?"
Harry lowered his half-empty bottle hesitantly. "Well…I think we should go back to working on our strengths like we were doing all summer."
The Artifice began making clicking noises as its rings were turned this way and that. "But what happens if you come across a superior opponent?"
Harry frowned. "We wouldn't have a superior opponent if he would just push us to become better individually."
Nicolas chuckled. "Hand me that bell jar, would you?"
Harry glanced at the shelf he was gesturing to and tapped the glass jar that contained a Shrivelfig plant with his knuckles. "This one?"
"Yes." When Harry handed it to him, Nicolas delicately removed the plant from the jar. "Tell me, what is it that has you so rattled?"
Harry blinked. "What?"
"You were fine a few weeks ago, and now suddenly you're back to square one." He tutted as he held the Shrivelfig in one hand and fiddled with the Artifice with the other. "You're back to acting like the angry little boy I first met who was never satisfied, no matter how much he learned."
"I don't-" Harry tried to defend himself, but Nicolas cut him off before he could.
"You've come so far since then, and I'd hate to see you backslide, so tell me the truth." He looked Harry in the eye now. "What rattled you?"
Unable to keep pretending, Harry clenched his jaw and told the truth. "I saw the Molotov twins win the Doubles Championship and fought alongside one of them during the battle later that night." It was embarrassing to admit, even to himself, but keeping it bottled up had only hindered his progress over the last couple of weeks. "I thought that by taking down Dolohov and becoming part of the Triumvirate I would have managed to close the gap between myself and the other representatives, but…" he paused, slowly shaking his head. "I'm still lagging."
Nicolas had no sympathy for him. "Well, what did you expect? You have three years less education than both Eniola's grandson and those Molotov boys. It's only natural for you to struggle to keep up with them."
Harry threw his free hand in the air. "Then what's the point in me even competing?! If I can't close the gap in time-!"
"I never said that," Nicolas stressed. "I just said that you shouldn't have expected anything else."
Harry frowned. "What? I'm not following."
"They were always going to have the advantage over you, and you were wrong for forgetting." Nicolas swore under his breath as he struggled to fit the Shrivelfig inside the opening he'd made in the Artifice. "You knew that truth once upon a time. You saw yourself as the underdog, but you've become arrogant and forgotten this crucial fact somewhere along the way."
"I didn't forget! I just hoped that-"
"Ah, see? That's your problem: you had hope!" Harry stared. Nicolas frowned and seemed to rethink what he'd just said. "Wait, I phrased that wrong. What I meant to say is, you've set yourself down a hard path, and judging your abilities inaccurately will only get you killed in the end."
He suddenly realised Nicolas was saying this to prepare him for a lot more than just the Triwizard Tournament. The words of the prophecy rang in his ears.
Disciples ascend or fall at their master's desire.
"You're a brilliant boy, Harry," Nicolas said with startling sincerity. "Think about how much you've grown since you first held a wand. Think about how much you could grow in the years to come. Is there any doubt in your mind that you can become even better than you are now?" Harry shook his head. "You're as talented as anyone who has ever touched a wand. I know this for a fact."
Harry swallowed thickly. Those words, coming from someone who had seen so much of the world…
He had never been so praised. "What do you think I should do?"
Nicolas considered. "With everything you have to accomplish, time is your greatest enemy. You've already achieved so much, but whether out of pride or forgetfulness, you keep failing to use all the tools you have at your disposal."
Harry allowed himself to smile. "Cedric and Eliza can be annoying, but I wouldn't call them tools."
Nicolas nudged him, chuckling. "From now on, you're only allowed to complain about failing after trying everything you possibly can. I refuse to let you feel defeated before the game has even come to an end."
"Good idea." He would take those words to heart.
Of course, Nicolas had to go and ruin it. "However, should you lose, I will deny any involvement with you. A weak apprentice would only sully my enigmatic reputation."
Harry shook his head, still amazed at some of the things that came out of this man's mouth. No other adult he knew would ever say something like that to him. At least the ones who liked him anyway. "Yes, master."
Nicolas smiled as he finally got the Shrivelfig inside the opening without damaging it or the Artifice. He gestured for Harry to come closer. "Watch carefully." He spun the rings and Harry watched, amazed, as the purple fruit hanging from the Shrivelfig grew and ripened, before rotting as it remained unpicked. Then, as the rings spun themselves in the other direction, the plant became young once more as the entire thing shrank into a tiny green sapling.
"Time goes by so fast," Nicolas said wistfully as they watched the plant sprout, grow, die and repeat within the temporal loop. "From my perspective, you'll accomplish everything you've ever dreamed of in the blink of an eye. I'm certain of it."
Harry released a breath he didn't know he was holding. The tightening band of stress around his chest loosened as he was once more reassured by his mentor's faith in him.
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That night, Harry didn't stay in Brightstone House after all.
After sending a note with Argos, he stood in the corridor outside the Slytherin common room hours after curfew and waited anxiously for Eliza to come out and meet him. He stood there, wondering if she would accept his request for a meeting, or if she would simply ignore him and go to sleep.
Just when he had begun to convince himself that she wasn't coming, the blank stone wall rumbled as it moved to the side, creating a doorway for the dark common room within. Eliza stepped out, walking towards him in bare feet, unbothered by the cold stone floor.
"Erm...hey there." Harry wanted to palm his face for such a dumb greeting, but the sight of Eliza in pyjamas- like an actual human being- caught him off guard.
"Hello." She replied blandly.
"Look, I'm sorry for picking fights with you." Harry blurted out, just wanting to get it over with. "Seeing the Molotovs and Adebayo in action just got in my head. I'll be a better teammate from now on." He waited for her to acknowledge his apology so he could go, but she simply stared. When she finally spoke, it wasn't the acknowledgement he expected.
"You've been a brat to me all summer," Eliza pointed out. "Since way before the Duelling World Cup."
"What?" Harry stared at her, aghast. "You started all those arguments."
"I was being friendly!" Eliza threw her hands in the air, looking more frustrated than he'd ever seen her. "Teammates are supposed to tease each other, right?"
Harry froze. He thought back to all the things she had said to him since their duel in April, and he realised he might have got it all wrong. "Oh." He had been so intimidated by her that he'd construed every joke and teasing remark as a challenge. "I didn't get that." He felt like the biggest idiot in the world. "Sorry."
"I know you and Cedric are both part of that secret society he tried to hide from me-" Harry's eyes widened, but she paid him no mind- "and I didn't want to be the odd man out."
"That's exactly how I felt!" Harry said quickly. "You two grew up together, live together, are on the same Cadet Squad. Come on, which one of us has more reason to believe that they're the odd man out?"
Eliza considered that. "This is all Cedric's fault, isn't it?"
"That git is friends with everyone." Harry nodded seriously. "We should let him have it next time we see him."
They both smiled at each other for a moment, but reality came to ruin it. "Look, it's nice that you want to make peace or whatever, but it's way too late. We leave for Memphis in two weeks."
"No way." Harry shook his head. "We haven't taken advantage of everything at our disposal." He deliberately avoided the word "tools".
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we should stick to what we did today."
Eliza gave him a flat look. "You mean when you got me cursed?"
Harry was unapologetic. "It was the only time we won today." He reminded her. "Besides, you and Cedric work well together, and any integration I make will only slow you both down, so just let me do my own thing." He wasn't ignorant of what he was asking of her. "I know it'll be hard to constantly adjust to whatever I come up with on the fly-"
"Let's do it."
Harry paused before asking, "Really?" He hadn't expected to agree so easily.
Eliza shrugged. "Yes. I mean, we have a fortnight to get it down, and it did work today, so…" she trailed off with another shrug.
Harry smiled. "Thanks, Captain." He offered her his hand. After a long moment, Eliza shook it.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Due to a series of unrelated events, the boys had never celebrated Michael's birthday before.
They hadn't been friends with him during their first year, they had been ignoring each other during their second and were trapped in Basic Training during their third. So, this year, on the seventeenth of September, Harry, Anthony and Terry decided to go all out for Michael's fifteenth birthday.
In the morning, they surprised him with presents in his dormitory before escorting him to breakfast. Michael was so happy with the coconut pancakes they had gotten the Automatons to make for him (the same kind his adoptive mother used to make) that he didn't even protest the transfigured gilded crown Terry made him wear.
"It's the birthday crown! You have to wear it!" Terry insisted. "It's tradition!"
"We've never done this before." Anthony pointed out.
"It will be a tradition." Terry corrected. Harry privately swore that he would never wear that gaudy thing. Anthony didn't look any more pleased with the idea either but Michael didn't seem to mind.
However, he did take it off for their pick-up game of Quidditch with The Marauders. Fiona, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, had been kind enough to book the field for Saturday morning before unofficially cancelling practice. As such, they had the Quidditch pitch to themselves.
They stopped around midday for a barbecue at Hagrid's house. Their giant friend and the other Marauders gave their presents to Michael while they scarfed down burgers and hotdogs. Before they didn't have any room left, Hagrid went inside and brought out the cake he'd baked.
"Happy birthday, Michael," he said once the candles were blown out. Hagrid started to smile but quickly hurried things along when Michael looked like he was about to start crying. "I know your appetite, lad. The biggest slice goes to you."
The party had to wrap up after a few hours as Harry, Anthony and Terry took Michael off school grounds and apparated him to Holyhead. When he realised where they were, Michael fist-pumped. "Harpies vs Bats? How'd you get tickets for this? Everyone wants to see this match."
Harry gave Terry a warning look when he made to speak. "It wasn't cheap," he lied. In reality, he had contacted Mundungus Fletcher when Eddie told him the unscrupulous wizard was a part-time scalper on top of everything else he did. However, he didn't want Michael to know. He had an unfortunate history of trusting the man and almost getting them killed because of it.
"You guys are the best," Michael said once the match was over. His voice was hoarse after ninety minutes of cheering for Harpies (his favourite team since the fiasco with the Falcons). "Seriously, this was the best birthday ever."
Anthony, the biggest of them, was carving a path through the static crowd and glanced back at Michael. "Your birthday's not over yet."
That evening they threw a pool party in the Prefect's Bathroom. Despite its name, it was more akin to a swimming pool. Why else would it have a diving board?
It would've been more convenient to host this in the Room of Requirement, but not every guest was a Marauder. They had also invited Susan, Megan, and the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team. It seemed rude not to after Fiona had done them that favour with the pitch. Also, Lisa had invited herself along as well.
A few days earlier, Harry had been in the common room, finally cracking open the ninth and penultimate Captain Armstrong book, The Emperor's Revenge. It had come out in July, but he'd been too busy to read it. So, of course, the moment he finally sat down to do so, he was interrupted.
"Aren't I invited?"
Harry looked up and blinked. He was so enraptured in the book that it took him a moment to remember where he was. "What?"
"Aren't I invited?" Lisa repeated, a little annoyed now. "To Michael's party?"
Harry shushed her and looked around, but no one was within earshot. "We're trying to keep it a surprise," he said before her words caught up to him. "You're invited. But you can't invite anyone else."
She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means don't tell Padma. We don't need another repeat of the World Cup."
"You should probably tell that to Terry. I overheard him and Eddie talking about it earlier."
Harry swore and got up to find him. It was only later that he regretted inviting her. He had done so on a reflex. Now, as she walked up to him in her swimsuit, he found it hard to remember why he was keeping her at arm's length to begin with.
Lisa sat down beside him on the pool's edge. "This is fun," she said over the music. The sounds of Siren Call were distorted by the barren walls and water, making it sound louder than it was. "Thanks for inviting me."
"You don't have to thank me." He kicked his legs in the water, distracting himself from how close she was sitting. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her in a two-piece swimsuit. They had swum together in the river that wrapped around Brightstone House a few times before. But now that he was unsure what to think of her, her proximity felt more torturous than thrilling.
"Maybe I want to thank you." Something in her voice made him face her. Lisa's look was one of excited nervousness- the same expression she'd wear when they were alone together in her bedroom. "Not here though. Your room? After?"
Harry was relieved to have an honest excuse. He would have crumbled otherwise. "We're all crashing in Terry's room tonight," he said easily. "We still have one more surprise for Michael."
"Oh." Her look of embarrassed disappointment was enough to make him feel bad. "What-?" She was interrupted when Fred tried to do a backflip off the diving board, only to belly flop on the water. As his twin resurfaced with a roar of agony, George fell to his knees in laughter and hammered the tiled floor with his fist.
"I'll give it a go!" Harry quickly declared. He got up and walked over to the diving board. The following diving competition went on long enough to keep him from being alone with Lisa for the rest of the party.
It was past midnight when they all left the Prefect's Bathroom and went their separate ways. When Michael tried to return to his room, they stopped him and nudged him into Terry's.
"One more surprise to go," Anthony said as he closed the door.
"Seriously?" Michael shook his head in disbelief. "Today was already amazing. You've already done more-" he stopped talking when he noticed the cauldron on Terry's table. It contained a sunshine yellow potion that emitted a peppermint aroma. "No way," he said. "Is that-?"
"The Exlir to Induce Euphoria?" Terry said proudly. "Some of my finest work. Not even any side effects. Tested it myself."
"This is so illegal." Despite his words, Michael looked excited.
"It's illegal to sell and possess." Harry corrected.
"We are in possession."
"I don't see any illegal potions." Harry turned to Anthony. "Do you?"
"Nope. Terry?"
"Illegal potions? No, this is just an experimental potion of my own design," Terry said innocently. "Who wants to test it with me?"
Michael grinned. "Give it here."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Harry had watched the Opening Ceremony for the Triwizard Tournament three years ago, so he was already prepared for what it would entail.
Still, the showmanship that had been displayed was so grand that he'd almost been put off from competing. His only relief was that Eliza seemed to hate the prospect of it as much as he did, but he'd overheard Cedric promise more than one of his friends a shout-out when he was on the Odeon.
Aware that the entire Wizarding World would have their eyes on their students, the Hogwarts staff had provided the Triumvirate with brand new gear on top of the ones they were already given for training and events. Harry judged them to be ceremonial, as the armour was more majestic than practical, and the armoured vest was emblazoned with the Hogwarts Crest.
A private meeting was held in the Headmaster's Tower between Dumbledore, the four Heads of Houses and the Triumvirate. The students were asked (or more accurately, ordered) not to embarrass themselves and the school that had educated them.
It was all fairly standard and expected, but Harry was surprised when Professor Flitwick gently tried to convince him to get a haircut. When he protested, Vector immediately joined in, always happy to make her least favourite student unhappy when she could get away with it.
Professors Sprout and- much more surprisingly- McGonagall swiftly came to his defence. "Let the boy take care of his appearance, Filius," she said. Even though they were sitting at the same level (with Flitwick on a stack of cushions) she somehow managed to look down her nose at him.
"He is representing Ravenclaw House-!" Flitwick started to argue.
"He is representing all of Hogwarts!" McGonagall corrected.
Flitwick narrowed his eyes at her. "You're only saying that because you don't have a representative of your own."
McGonagall gasped in outrage at that accusation, and Harry quickly gave in to getting a haircut just to keep the peace. He ignored both Cedric and Eliza as they had fallen into silent hysterics at the chaos his hair had caused.
It wasn't all bad as he was months overdue for a trim. Instead of letting the Automaton do it like usual, he'd asked Maia, the most glamorous person he knew, to cut his hair. He was quite pleased with the result: his curls weren't too short and his scar was still covered. His godmother even called him dashing.
His friends didn't seem to agree.
"I never realised how small your head is," was the first thing out of Terry's mouth.
"Well, at least it looks better than when you used to cut it with a Severing Charm," Anthony snickered.
Harry sighed before turning to Michael. "What about you? Anything to say?"
"Me? No." Michael said innocently. "Quick question though. Did you donate all the hair you cut off? I hear some Yetis could have used it for warmth."
"I hate all of you," Harry grumbled, but that didn't stop them from cracking jokes at his expense.
When the big day finally arrived, Harry, Eliza and Cedric were seen off by their friends and family at Hogsmeade Station. As his group crowded around him, Maia was the first to wrap him up in a tight embrace. "Don't let Moody get to you again," she advised. "You're always at your best when you focus on your goal and nothing else."
"I'll keep focused." He promised and hugged her back. He smiled teasingly at Felicia over her shoulder as he did so. "I didn't expect you here, Captain, but I appreciate it."
"It's the least I could do." Felicia shrugged sheepishly. "After all, one of my Cadets is in the Triwizard Tournament. You're making me look good. I might even get a raise."
Harry rolled his eyes at her as Maia finally let him go. As the two of them went off to the side and started speaking lowly to each other, Remus approached and handed him his travel bag. Somehow, he looked more even nervous than Harry felt. "I know how important this is to you," he began. "But just…trust your instincts, alright? They've always served you well. Almost always." He corrected. "I mean-"
"I know what you mean," Harry reassured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks." Remus heaved a great sigh, looking relieved that he hadn't made a mess of things before stepping towards Maia and Felicia. He stopped halfway when he noticed how close their heads were. He glanced back at Harry, who gave him a little shove to interrupt them, smirking as he did so. Then he went to join his friends.
"No Lisa?" Terry asked, looking pleased.
Harry shrugged. "We said our goodbyes already." He ignored the snickering and teasing that followed his statement. He thought it was better for them to get the wrong idea than let them know he was avoiding her again. They had made it pretty clear that they were sick of their melodrama. He was too.
Michael gave the Hogwarts Express a wary glance. "I wish we could go with you. It'd be better if the four of us could compete together."
Anthony rolled his eyes. "It wouldn't be called the Triwizard Tournament if we could have a four-man squad."
"You know what I mean." Michael looked at Anthony meaningfully until he wilted.
"Yeah, you have a point." Anthony sighed and turned to Harry. "Something bad always happens when you go off on your own."
"Not always." Harry corrected. "I once went to the bathroom without you and only four assassins came to kill me. I would hardly count that as something."
"I'm being serious," Anthony said. Harry could find no trace of humour in any of their faces. Not even Terry's.
"Alright. I'll be careful." He acquiesced. "Promise."
"Good, but just because we can't be there is no excuse for you to start slacking," Michael warned. "You better let the world know how brilliant Hogwarts is."
"Don't embarrass us out there," Terry warned. "I'll never live it down if you get knocked out in the preliminaries."
It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "Prelims?" He snorted. "I'm planning on winning the whole damn thing." He shouldered his travel bag and strolled towards the Express, but he didn't miss Terry's response.
"Yeah, but doesn't everyone go into it with that mentality?"
Harry stopped in front of Nicolas. His mentor had just stepped away from Dumbledore; the two had been conversing quietly by the train's newly-fitted double doors. He waited for a minute for his mentor to say something both profound and encouraging, but Nicolas just put his hand on his shoulder and said, "Make me proud."
Harry grinned. "By the end of this thing, people will stop you on the street and go, "Aren't you the Nicolas Flamel? Harry Potter's mentor?" No one will ever remember you for anything else."
Instead of growing haughty as he'd expected, Nicolas just smiled wistfully. "That'll be the day." He walked away without another word. Harry stared after him for a moment, surprised, but shrugged it off.
As he boarded the train, Harry glanced at Cedric and Eliza who were still with their parents. Mr Diggory had his hands on his son's shoulders and looked like he was talking at a mile a minute. For some reason, he was choosing this moment to impart wisdom to his son. Cedric looked utterly exasperated.
Mrs Diggory was fussing over Eliza, who looked as though she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. As her foster mother worked over her hair, Harry caught her eye and smirked. When she gave him a rude hand gesture in return, Mrs Diggory began to scold her.
"Hurry it up!" Moody suddenly roared, sticking his head out one of the compartment windows. "We're on a schedule here!"
Harry moved to one side to allow Dumbledore, Eliza and Cedric onto the train. Then he stuck his head out of the window to wave at his family and friends as the Hogwarts Express began to depart. Cedric joined him and the two kept waving until the platform disappeared into the distance.
The next time I see you guys, I'll either have qualified for the Three Tasks or be returning home a complete failure.
That thought was both electrifying and nerve-wracking.
Dumbledore was smiling genially at the two of them when they finally brought the heads back inside, but Eliza just seemed embarrassed by their behaviour. "It might be a good idea to be seated in your carriages for take-off," he advised. "Things can get a little rocky at the start of the trip."
Harry took off running for the back of the train before the other two could even move. He had already decided he wanted the last carriage for himself, as it was sure to have the best view of the passing vistas during their flight.
He was right.
Opening the door to the final carriage, he was greeted with, not a small room with benched seating along the sides, but a grand one-bedroom home. Throwing his travel bag down on the sofa, he took in the sight of the Scottish Highlands through the three large windows along the walls of the living room.
The only thing that could make this better was-
"Nice," Harry said happily when he saw the ceiling had been charmed invisible too. Just like the Great Hall and the Ravenclaw common room. He was starting to wonder if this room had been crafted to his specific tastes. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to figure out which carriage he would have gone for.
When Harry was just about to investigate what the bathroom situation was like, he felt the train begin to rise and he almost lost his balance. Despite what Dumbledore had said, Harry had expected the Express to stick to the tracks and only take to the air once they reached Platform Nine and Three Quarters in London.
Still, as Harry crashed down on his sofa, he was glad for the early take-off. It allowed him to watch the earth fall away from sight until even the mountains he'd been peering up at before were replaced with fluffy clouds.
As they wanted their Triumvirate to be in the best condition imaginable when they arrived at Memphis, the Hogwarts Staff had gone overboard with the compartments. Not only was the bed the biggest and softest he had ever slept in (even outdoing the Room of Requirement) the bathroom rivalled the one belonging to the Prefects.
Harry was certain they asked his friends or the school Automatons for advice as even the cool box and pantry were filled to the brim with his favourite drinks and snacks. When he needed something more filling, he went to the front carriage. It had been transformed into a dining car with Automatons ready to make whatever meal they could desire.
Between all of this, the twelve-hour flight wasn't nearly long enough, especially as he spent most of it sleeping. He groaned when he felt the train start to slow down and heard the train conductor's voice from invisible speakers. "We will be arriving in Memphis in fifteen minutes and touching down in thirty. Please be ready to depart as the Hogwarts Express will have to make space for those that arrive after."
Fully dressed in his ceremonial gear and looking as good as he felt, Harry met everyone else by the wide double doors that had been installed for the Opening Ceremony. The Odeon was playing in one corner of the corridor, showing the start of the tournament.
Dumbledore examined them all silently but found nothing to criticise about their appearances. Normally, he wouldn't be in the position to judge anyone, but even he had cleaned himself up a bit. His long hair and beard were thoroughly combed and the flowing robes he wore were royal blue, which was much more sensible than his usual fare.
Harry couldn't blame him. Acting like you didn't care about appearances was only cool when you were on top, and after Hogwarts' performance three years ago, they were quite far from the summit.
The five watched the Odeon in silence. Most of the other twelve premier schools of magic arrived before them, then a few schools of lower prestige akin to Rosewood's or Wendell's, followed by two Citadel teams. One school flew in a giant carriage pulled by a golden Pegasus, while another arrived aboard a menacing black ship that rose from the depths of the river and was pulled towards the arena with its tattered black sails.
Harry watched the ceremony, increasingly aware of Dumbledore's growing annoyance as they were made to wait after (what was commonly considered to be) subpar schools of magic. His blue eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the first Citadel teams that arrived on golden thrones carried by giant metal golems and the second that rode in on steeds formed from fire.
"We'll be arriving next," Moody said suddenly. His one good eye was fixed warily on Dumbledore's back as another team appeared in the wake of a conjured tornado. The Headmaster nodded stiffly as the Hogwarts Express descended from the clouds above the Capital, still brooding on how many schools had bested Hogwarts last time.
As the train came in to land before the arena, Harry resisted the urge to fidget or check his appearance again. He didn't want his mounting nerves to get the better of him. It took no small amount of Occlumency to smooth his features into his best aloof expression, as it was always better to look disinterested than nervous.
The moment the train touched down and came to a stop, the wide double doors opened, and golden steps shimmered into existence before them. Dumbledore stepped out first with a jovial smile and Eliza followed, looking just as focused and serious as Harry hoped he did. As her second, Harry followed after her, and Cedric came after him with Moody bringing up the rear.
From his position at the front of the train, the conductor set off the firework sequence from the roof of the Hogwarts Express. While other teams had used beautiful displays of magic and fearsome creatures to enhance their entrances, Hogwarts made do with a firework display that had been created by Dumbledore himself.
When the teachers had mentioned it during the preparation meeting, it hadn't sounded all that impressive to him. But now, as the Custodians held back the crowd that had come to watch in person at the barricades, he could hear their loud awe at the display. It was almost enough to make him turn around and watch.
However, he held himself back as there were hidden Odeon operators present. There was a chance they would capture his reaction and play it in the highlights later on. He'd rather be considered boring by the viewers than easily distracted by his rivals.
It took only thirty seconds to reach the arena, but it felt more like thirty minutes. Nerves were beyond him at that moment, but he could still feel the emotion trying to wheedle its way past his mental defence.
"Are you alright?" Cedric asked him quietly once they were inside. "I think you stopped breathing for a second there."
"Did I?" Harry did feel a little breathless. "I didn't notice."
Cedric gave him a worried look but was prevented from saying anything when two members of the organising staff hurried towards them. They ushered the Triumvirate forward to the arena floor and escorted Dumbledore and Moody to the private boxes with the other Headteachers, Team Coaches and Citadel Commanders and Captains.
There were fifteen teams lined up before them in front of a massive stage, and they were quickly shown to a specific spot to line up in. The minutes ticked on as hundreds of other teams arrived and lined up on the arena floor, filling up all the available space. As the ninety-minute mark came and went, Harry became glad he was standing between Eliza and Cedric; the lack of space prevented him from fidgeting.
Glancing up to distract himself, he saw that hanging from the barricade before Dumbledore and Moody was a massive black banner with the Hogwarts Crest and school motto emblazoned across it.
Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.
Never tickle a sleeping dragon.
Looking around, he saw that the other teams had the same, though the Citadel representatives had to make do with the Auror Crest and motto. He distracted himself by taking in their various words.
Victory comes from habit for Uagadou. Mahoutokoro's Tenacity can conquer even Titans. Koldovstoretz had The closer the trees, the mightier the forest...
When he ran out of mottos, Harry lowered his eyes and finally noticed the eyes that kept flickering towards him from the other competitors. Which intrigued them more: his age or his family's fame? Either way, he didn't like the idea of having a target on his back. He would've liked to smile challengingly at them in return, but he kept his eyes fixed on the stage and his features under control.
He could see Eliza was doing the same thing. She hadn't moved a single inch in the two hours they had been standing there. However, Cedric was far too friendly for his own good; he kept smiling at anyone who glanced his way. Harry had to stop himself from nudging him. It would be bad if anyone perceived their behaviour as discord within the team and targeted them because of it.
Or maybe I'm just overthinking it. Harry withheld a sigh. This was why he hated having too much time to think. When he wasn't able to leap into action, his thoughts always ended up spiralling.
Finally, the last team arrived and lined up alongside the rest. A plume of white mist flew into the arena through the open roof and landed on stage. When the fog lifted it revealed Lord Akingbade in his full Magister regalia. He must have cast a wandless Sonorous Charm on himself, as his words were clear to everyone in the arena without him having to raise his voice.
"Over six hundred years ago, the Second Magister created the Triwizard Tournament to bind the remnants of the old Wizarding empires together in competitive spirit and a celebration of all the talent the coming generation had to offer. His idea was successful and it grew into a tradition that he never dared hope for. However," Akingbade paused as his eyes traced over the students, "it is no longer used to bind the already bound, but as a stage to display the talent of the greatest sorcerers each generation has to offer."
"In this world, monsters walk among us and demons lurk in every shadow. To provide the necessary reassurance of security to our fellow witches and wizards, we need to first know who the greatest of us are and that they come from every corner of the world." The Magister didn't have to say that everyone who had ever held his title, the ones who were entrusted with all the power and authority that the Wizarding World could give them, were each the Triwizard Champion of their generation.
"This is your one chance to show the world what you are capable of." Akingbade rumbled. "Do not squander it." With that, he turned away and flew back into the sky in a missile made of white mist.
"Now there's a man who knows how to make an exit," Cedric mumbled.
Harry definitely would have elbowed him that time, but his words were only audible to him as a buzzing of whispered words had overtaken the arena. While some seemed unaffected by the Magister's speech, others looked awkward and even more looked put off by it. The difference between Auror Cadets and Professional Duellists had never been clearer to see.
What interested Harry most of all were the few who stood taller under the weight of Akingbade's words- Ekon and the Molotovs among them. Like him, they seemed eager to prove themselves.
One thing they all had in common was how distracted they were by Akingbade's speech. So much so, that it took them a minute to realise another wizard had taken the stage. It was only when he called for order with the use of a Sonorous Charm that everyone quieted down and listened to him.
"Thank you," the pale, diminutive man said with the air of a substitute teacher who had finally managed to get control of the class. "I am Master Benoit Devereaux, and I will be the Head of the Assessing Team for the 1994 Triwizard Tournament." He paused for a few seconds, as though holding for applause. When he was greeted with nothing but silence, he moved on. "Everyone here has passed the initial qualifying examinations, which is no small feat, so I want you all to give yourselves a big round of applause. Go on!" He started clapping and, once it became obvious that he wouldn't stop until they joined in, they half-heartedly did the same.
As Harry clapped, his eyes followed the silver Ouroboros that glinted beneath his cuff. How could such a man have become a Master of the Magisterium? Once again, he was forced to accept that outward appearances weren't any indication of power.
"However," Devereaux said sharply when he finally stopped clapping. "That was the bare minimum! For us to know if you are worthy to compete in the Three Tasks, you will first have to pass three Preliminary Rounds." He announced this dramatically, as though it wasn't common knowledge to anyone who had seen a previous Tournament on the Odeon. "The first two rounds are not for the faint of heart! We will test your intelligence, skill, courage, teamwork, and strength of will."
"Those of you who manage to pass will then be wheedled down in a duelling tournament until we are left with three teams to compete in the Tasks of the Triwizard Tournament." Devereaux paused then, waiting. The reason why only became clear when a hand was raised. "There will be no time for questions!" He exclaimed as though he hadn't been waiting for exactly that. With far too much glee, he declared, "Prepare yourselves!"
Suddenly, hidden by the packed earth of the duelling arena, runes became visible as they flared bright gold. The air left Harry's lungs as a familiar hooking sensation came from behind his navel. With a flash of blinding kaleidoscopic light, he and thousands of other competitors were pulled into the ground towards parts unknown.