Chapter Sixteen
Apologizing to George turned out to be much easier than apologizing to Fred. His calm, rational, easy forgiveness had given her far too much surety that Fred would be the same. He so rarely held grudges in general, and they weren't dating so it was far easier to apologize when she didn't have to open up about every horrible emotion she'd felt in the last six weeks. Not only because it wasn't necessary, but also because great shows of emotion tended to make Fred very uncomfortable.
He seemed very happy to have her grovel at this point, however. She'd done him a personal wrong by vanishing his potion, apparently. Although, truthfully, she was pretty sure the fact that he was talking to her — with a big, stupid grin on his face — meant he had forgiven her, and was merely trying to make her life difficult for the fun of it.
"How many times would you like me to say I'm sorry, Fred?"
"Try one thousand. One for every minute it took me to brew that potion you vanished."
"That's ridicu — it took you one thousand minutes to brew an Ageing Potion?" she said incredulously, momentarily distracted from their banter by the absurdity of the statement. "That's sixteen hours, Fred."
"Well, how many hours does it take you then, smarty pants?"
"One?" she said as if this should have been overly obvious. "It's a basic potion, for God's sake."
Tori snorted at the eye roll Fred gave in response to this statement, and when he retaliated by pushing her through an open classroom doorway, she nearly tripped him on the way down the stairs to the Halloween feast. George rolled his eyes and put himself between them before the two of them could severely injure the other, and motioned at Fred to carry on with his original conversation.
"Yes, well, since we didn't have the world's best, most arrogant Potioneer to help us, it took us a bit longer than usual," Fred said, humoring his twin, despite the cocky grin he sent in Tori's direction that earned him an irritated snarl.
"A bit longer than usual," Nessa repeated with an eye roll. "It took you a ridiculous amount of time actually. Clearly, you should have tried harder to stay in Potions —"
"Don't be rude, munchkin," Fred said casually, skipping down the last staircase cheerily. "As I recall, your Transfiguration skills are quite terrible. Didn't your opera glasses keep hooting like an owl?"
Indignant, Nessa whirled on her best friend. Tori grinned at her and shrugged, not even attempting to deny that she was the reason that he knew about that particular ordeal.
"What?" she said. "He needed something to cheer him up. I provided."
Nessa raised an eyebrow at her in challenge and opened her mouth to say something ultimately embarrassing for Tori as well — like the time that she'd been trying to add legs to a teacup in Charms, but ended up adding another set of legs to Professor Flitwick instead — but she was interrupted by a booming voice coming from the doors of the Entrance Hall.
"'Lo, you lot! I was jus' wonderin' if yeh'd gotten rid of them beards yet!"
Nessa turned to meet Hagrid's greeting with one of her own, but the sight of him caused her to choke on the words instead. She felt Fred, George, and Tori's shock at his appearance next to her, although she didn't look to confirm that they were gaping at him as well.
He was with Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons delegations, but he was dressed…not at all like himself. Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. That alone would have been cause for concern, but it certainly wasn't the worst of it; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what Nessa could only assume was axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches on either side of his head. Perhaps he'd been trying to get it into a ponytail like Bill's, but found he had too much hair. The look did not suit him at all.
Nessa was beginning to heavily debate whether she should even ask what he was wearing — she wasn't as close to him as her brother, so it might have just been rude to mention it — but Tori solved the debate for her.
"What are you wearing?"
Nessa had to clear her throat pointedly because the look of disgust was clear in not only Tori's tone, but the look on her face. Hagrid turned red as a tomato at the question. Fred and George were still gaping at him like fish.
"Bit o' an exciting evening, ain't it?" Hagrid said, fidgeting with his tie uncomfortably. "Got ter look me best, don't I?"
Tori looked like she might tell him that his best was…well, truly horrible, honestly, but she met Nessa's warning look and cleared her throat instead.
"Er — yeah, no, right, that's — good thinking, Hagrid," she said slowly, clearly trying to regain her wits enough to hold the conversation with the huge man.
Hagrid seemed to relax a little at her praise and grinned at her before turning a misty-eyed look to the giant woman standing next to him.
"Yeh've met Madame Maxime, 'ave yeh?" he said, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically breathy quality and waving between them.
"'Ow do you do?" the woman said respectfully, her pupils waiting patiently behind her, looking slightly out of breath themselves, clearly worn out from having to keep up with their superior's enormous strides.
Nessa opened her mouth to respond, but Hagrid's gesturing had left a truly horrible smell in its wake and she coughed instead. Fred stopped gaping immediately, closing his mouth very quickly and trying to contain his own cough as the smell hit him. Nessa stepped closer to him in hopes that the usual smell of gunpowder would override the scent of Hagrid.
"Bes' be off, I suppose," Hagrid said, still looking at Madame Maxime as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful in all his life. Nessa sincerely suspected that he didn't even remember what they'd been talking about to begin with.
Before any of them could muster up the strength to tell him goodbye, he was leading Madame Maxime and her pupils into the Great Hall without any further comment. The four of them stared after him in confusion. Nessa was not entirely sure she wanted to know what his problem was, honestly, because she strongly suspected that he —
"He fancies her," said a voice from behind them.
Nessa whirled around to see her brother, Ron, and Hermione standing behind them. Harry was grinning at her in amusement at her wordless shock.
"He was supposed to walk up to the castle with us," he explained, nodding after the groundskeeper. "He ditched us when he saw her walking across the grounds."
"What is that smell?" Tori said, covering her nose with her uniform sweater.
"Eau de cologne," said Ron in a mock snooty voice. "Be lucky he washed most of it off before he got here."
"Well, I — it's nice he…has someone, isn't it?" Nessa queried, still entirely unsure what to say at this point. The look of him was still imprinted in her mind's eye and she was sort of trying to forget it. But it certainly explained his odd behavior that morning when she'd been outside with George.
"Not if he looks like that, it isn't," Tori grumbled, shaking her head and suddenly remembering that they were supposed to be going to the feast when the Durmstrang students began filing into the Great Hall in front of them. She followed, dragging her friends with her. "If he's going to be greasing his hair like that, perhaps his being single is a blessing for us all."
When they entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table.
"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?" George said, suddenly coming to his wits again and straddling the bench next to Nessa, looking up at the Goblet of Fire eagerly. "Not as if he can just date anyone, is it?"
"Yeah, don't suppose he can just shag a normal girl, do you?" Fred queried absent-mindedly, looking up at the Goblet himself.
Tori gave him a blank look that he didn't appear to notice, as Harry and Ron cleared their throats uncomfortably and Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair, despite her disapproving look in Fred's direction.
"I hadn't given it much thought actually," Tori said drily. "But thank you for saying it out loud."
Nessa laughed and Harry took his opportunity to change the subject entirely, reaching forward to grab some mashed potatoes.
"I assume the three of you have made up then?" he said, looking at Nessa and the twins in turn. "You seem to be taking your disappointment about not getting in fairly well."
George re-shifted in his seat to face toward the food in front of him, dragging his gaze away from the Goblet with great difficulty. Fred shrugged in response.
"Well, it's important to be adaptable, Harry," he said cheerily, and then grinned at Nessa mockingly. "You know, because otherwise you end up with a stick up your —"
He swore viciously when Nessa kicked him hard in the shin before he could finish the sentence. George chuckled beside her when she only smiled sweetly at his twin's glare.
"It's a work in progress," Tori said in response to Harry with a pointed look. "Anyway, who do you think Hogwarts champion will be?"
"As long as it's not a Slytherin, I'll be able to sleep tonight," Ron groused, glaring over at Malfoy, who was speaking with Krum again.
"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred.
"So do I!" said Hermione breathlessly, looking up at the Goblet herself. Nessa wasn't entirely sure she agreed with the sentiment; Angelina was a perfectly nice girl, but she knew her in passing, and she was sort of hoping that it would be someone she didn't know. "Well, we'll soon know!"
"Diggory entered, didn't he?" Harry asked Nessa casually. "Do you think it could be him?"
Fred and George shared a look, but didn't comment, thankfully. Nessa looked over at her Hufflepuff friend, who looked in a very good mood, laughing uproariously at something one of his friends had said. He grinned widely and waved at her when he caught her looking at him. She waved back at him, smiling weakly, and sighed softly.
"Yeah, I do," she said to her brother absently.
Again, however, she sincerely wished it wasn't him. It was selfish of her, she knew, and she should have learned from her mistakes with Fred and George, but she really did not want to watch him risk serious injury for the majority of the year. The thought of it didn't make her want to throw up as much as the thought of the twins or Harry entering, but she was sure that would be different when she was actually watching him compete — if she had to watch him compete. It threatened to be a rough year for her if he was chosen as Hogwarts champion.
The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days — Nessa went for comfort foods more than she did the more extravagantly prepared foods of the previous evening, and didn't eat much still, even under George's annoying, careful eye. For another, the impending Champion selection was causing an anxious, excited air in the room that her brain could not distinguish from her previous anxiety, so it was a low roil at the pit of her stomach again. The students in the hall were constantly craning their necks, looking impatient, fidgeting restlessly, and some — Fred and George in particular — kept standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet. It was clear that everyone just wanted the plates to clear and hear who had been selected as champions.
At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.
Nessa's gaze, however, was locked on Professor Moody, who was watching the Goblet of Fire with the most rapt attention she'd seen from him on only one other occasion — when he'd been teaching them Unforgivable Curses. Even his magical eye, typically whirring rapidly at mealtimes, was trained on the object, and he took a long pull from his flask as he watched it.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore, dragging Nessa's attention back to the situation at hand. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicated the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes…A few people kept checking their watches…
"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered, four seats down from Nessa, winking at her when she looked over at his excited words. She smiled back — he'd been the easiest of the three to apologize to, merely waving her apology away as if he'd forgotten the event entirely.
Nessa's attention pulled immediately back to the goblet when the flames inside turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.
Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Despite her own clapping, Nessa rolled her eyes at this, although Ron's love for the man was certainly admirable considering he hardly knew him. She watched as Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"
The girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement as far as Nessa was concerned. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
"Well, that'd be why they weren't picked then," said Tori with a disdainful roll of her eyes at the show of emotion.
"Be nice, Victoria," Nessa scolded. "Maybe they needed the money for something important."
Tori gave her a disbelieving look and rolled her eyes in response.
When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next…
Nessa's eye went immediately back to Cedric, who was already looking at her. "Wish me luck," he mouthed pointedly and she smiled nervously at him, despite her own secret hope that he wouldn't be chosen, and mouthed, "Good luck."
At least if he were chosen — and wasn't hurt too seriously — she could be proud of her friend for his strength and bravery. She could be big enough to admit that…she hoped.
Nessa took in a slow breath as the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion," he called, as Nessa sat with her breath frozen in her chest, "is Cedric Diggory!"
There was an uproar within the hall from the Hufflepuff table. The sound made her ears throb, even as the butterflies in her stomach fluttered lightly that he'd actually been chosen. The feeling didn't last long because she was laughing at how excited and happy her friend looked to have been chosen as champion. Every single Hufflepuff at the table had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly. Nessa was the loudest of the Gryffindors — and her friends; Fred and George were frowning only slightly — to voice their excitement for him as he was slapped on the back of every person he passed. He grinned at her, and, still laughing, she shook her head, but mouthed "Congratulations!" at him anyway.
Hufflepuff deserved a hero.
As Cedric disappeared through the side chamber with a final wink in her direction, the applause continued. Indeed, it went on for so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"
But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. He stared at it for so long that Nessa straightened immediately, a sudden, very familiar unfurling in her stomach signaling the dread that was building. In her experience it was never a good sign for her when something unexpected happened at Hogwarts, but she tried to convince herself that it couldn't be her worst nightmare because it was impossible. Someone had just managed to trick the goblet somehow and that was none of her business so long as it wasn't —
"Harry Potter."
Two words.
Simple ones, even. Ones she'd uttered so many times in her sixteen years of life — in anger, in pride, in pity, in exasperation, with so much love she could barely even put it into words. They had nearly lost all meaning to her. Two words that she'd said for her entire life, more familiar to her than even her own name.
And they sent her entire world crashing in around her.
"What did he say?" she whispered, her voice cracking with the desperate hope that she'd heard it wrong. Her friends had gone very still beside her, and Tori opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Nessa couldn't tell if it was shock that kept her from speaking or concern that if she did that her best friend might be sent into a spiral of panic. "What did he say?"
The words were so loud that all three of them jumped, looking at her in obvious concern this time, but she couldn't even feel it through the growing panic. Her brother, who sat on the other side of her, grabbed onto her forearm so hard that she would have winced had her body not been tingling with numbness, all of her faculties rushing to fuel her brain's sudden call for fight or flight.
His grip was tight enough, however, that she remembered that he was the one that had reason to be concerned at the current moment, but it was his whispered, "Nessa," that nearly broke her.
Her head snapped to look at him at the pleading in his voice. She knew immediately — by the tone and by the numb shock on his face — that he had not put his name into the goblet. That he wasn't pleading for her to forgive him for entering his name when he'd said he wouldn't.
No, he was begging her to tell him that he was dreaming, that it was a lie, a nightmare they'd both conjured up on the same day. That he was pleading for her to get him out of this situation. Her brother, who had fought Voldemort twice in three years and won. Her brother, who so rarely showed any fear — or, even more rarely, vocalized it aloud — even when he'd thought a mass murderer was seeking him out to murder him.
Her brother, the bravest soul she'd ever met in all of her life, was scared now. Was begging her to save him.
She didn't even know what she could do for him. Didn't know enough about the tournament or the Goblet of Fire to know if it was even within her power to save him from competing.
Could she convince the teachers that he was too young to compete? That whatever consequence of breaking the contract was worth it if it meant he wouldn't be dead?
Could she take his place instead? Because she would — in a single heartbeat. Her life meant nothing to her compared to his, and she knew far more magic — had practiced even spells that were neither taught within the school's walls and ones that were not yet within her own year of school. She'd be public enemy number one — something her social anxiety would loathe entirely — and she'd truly be testing her own bravery and self-doubt at every task, but if it saved her brother from taking her place, she'd do it anyway, and put every ounce of her being into it without question.
Her mind raced for a solution, for an alternative, while the rest of the school attempted to come to grips with what was happening.
There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat, staring at his equally frozen sister, as if that eye contact was the only thing keeping either one of them breathing.
Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly. Harry seemed to be coming back to his senses a little, as Nessa scrambled to think of something that would get him out of this mess of God knew who's creation, and looked at each of them in turn before settling on Ron and Hermione.
"I didn't put my name in," he said blankly. "You know I didn't."
God, but then who in the hell had?
Both of them just stared blankly back at him, clearly trapped within their own surprise.
At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.
"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
"Go on," Hermione whispered to Harry, giving him a slight push.
It was Nessa's own arm that shot out this time, as if her grip alone could keep him from competing. She was shaking her head desperately, the panic like a balloon in her chest, expanding and expanding until it crushed the breath in her lungs. It was George who reached around to pry her fingers from Harry's shoulder and back into her lap, his grip strong and comforting despite the fact that she could still feel him mostly frozen with shock behind her.
Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, not looking at a single person he passed. She tracked his movement the entire way with her eyes, feeling like she was watching her brother's walk to the gallows. It felt like it took forever, and the buzzing in the hall grew louder and louder the closer he got to the staff table.
"Well…through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.
Harry moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was sitting at the edge closest and she saw her brother look at him for some sign of…anything…but he looked completely astonished himself as her brother disappeared through the door along the teacher's table.
"Well, we have our champions," Dumbledore said, his voice stern and calm, despite the angry buzzing coming from around the room. It silenced immediately as everyone looked up at him as if he held the power to change the outcome of the goblet's decision. Ludo Bagman got up and followed her brother through the side door, looking astonished himself. "I know this is certainly unexpected and likely has evoked several emotions for all of you. It is with my — and the Ministry's — deepest apologies that this mistake was made. I assure you that we intend to determine how this happened and do our best to correct it, if we are able, but, for the time being, we do have four champions —"
There was an uproar immediately, from the Hufflepuff table particularly, but Dumbledore merely raised his hand, palm facing outward, and they silenced, looking murderous.
"It is still my greatest hope that you will give your support to each of your champions as they face what lies ahead for them. The first task will take place on November twenty-fourth in front of all of the students and the panel of judges, armed only with their wands," Dumbledore said, looking out at them all. There was another moment of silence before he said, "Off to bed, all of you. Quietly."
They did not go quietly, all of them chattering angrily as they made their way past to the exit to go back to their common rooms. Nessa stood hastily, eyeing the teachers at the staff table as they swarmed Dumbledore. Maxime and Karkaroff were furious, Snape looking much the same. McGonagall and many of the other teachers looked very concerned, and Moody's magical eye was whirring. Crouch, oddly, still looked very bored.
"Where are you going?" Tori said, sharply when Nessa began shoving her way toward the staff table.
"I'll see you in the common room!" Nessa yelled back, ignoring the hiss that she earned from a passing Hufflepuff. George, however, did not ignore it, grabbing the younger boy by the collar of his robes and whispering something to him that caused him to pale and scurry off without another word or look back in her direction. "I'm checking on Harry!"
" — you can't mean that he must compete, Dumbledore?" Sprout was whispering worriedly. "He's so young!"
"Shh!" McGonagall said to her, eyeing Nessa as she neared. "Miss Potter, you should be heading to your —"
"All due respect, Professor, but that's not going to happen," she said immediately. McGonagall's lips thinned at her response, but Nessa was already looking up at the Headmaster. "I want to see my brother."
"Miss Potter, we will speak with him and you can —"
"Take points from me if you must," she said, her gaze still locked with the Headmaster and her tone pleading, even as her words were directed at her Head of House. "Give me detention, expel me, I don't care. But I want to see my brother. As far as I'm concerned, I'm entitled to —"
"Entitled?"
"Yes, entitled," Nessa said to McGonagall, her voice firm but respectful. She liked McGonagall — trusted her even — and knew she would do her very best to keep her brother safe in any and all circumstances, but she wasn't willing to back down from her position, unless Dumbledore forced her to. His opinion trumped everyone else's, and he cared for her brother more than he let on. "My aunt and uncle could care less if he dies tomorrow, and he has no one else to advocate for him, other than the teachers. As far as I'm concerned, that makes me his guardian. So I want to be there for whatever discussion you have about his competing." She looked back at Dumbledore, who was considering her over his half-moon spectacles. "Please, Professor," she said desperately. "He's all I have."
Whatever fight McGonagall had prepared for deflated from her immediately at these words and Nessa was fairly certain there was pity in her gaze as she looked at her, but she didn't care. With a nod at Dumbledore, he bowed his head in acquiescence at Vanessa, who smiled at him gratefully.
"Very well then," he said kindly. "Snape, Moody, McGonagall, come with me. The rest of the teachers, monitor the corridors, if you would. Make sure there are no angry students out of their beds."
Nessa didn't bother waiting to see them all obey, pushing past Maxime and Karkaroff to keep stride with Dumbledore as he followed in the champions' footsteps through the side door. They were in a smaller room now, lined with paintings of witches and wizards, all whispering to each other rapidly. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite them, Cedric, Fleur, and Krum in a semi-circle around it. Her brother stood awkwardly as far from the other champions as he could, and he whirled when the door opened again.
"Harry," she breathed when his eyes locked with hers. She was in front of him immediately, pulling him into her and breathing him in as if she hadn't seen him in weeks. She pulled away, holding him at arm's length, and trying to control her panic enough that he wouldn't notice it, but her concern for him was obvious. "Are you alright?"
Harry did not have the time to respond. Fleur already looked on the verge of anger, so Bagman, who was standing next to Harry, must have already informed them of what had happened, and she stomped over to her Headmistress immediately.
"Madame Maxime!" she said at once. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
Nessa rolled her eyes at the theatrics, but tried to remind herself that this must feel terribly unfair for the other champions. Of course, that seemed like such a small thing in comparison to the real and actual problem here, but what did she know?
Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier above them, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me that the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
He gave a short and nasty laugh, and Nessa decided immediately that she did not like him. Aside from his obvious simpering toward his most famous pupil — who was still by the fire and looked like he could truly care less how many champions there were; for that alone, Nessa liked Krum more than the others, truth be told — he was also a wise-ass and she liked that very little.
"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice, as Nessa whirled on him. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here —"
"Do you even listen to yourself?" Nessa said to him angrily. "Your job is to advocate for the students in your school! All of them! So don't talk about my brother as if —"
"Thank you, Severus, Vanessa," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair. Nessa eyed him angrily for only a moment longer before nodding apologetically to her headmaster.
Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry, who looked right back at him. Nessa felt her chest swell with pride a little that he didn't back down, given the circumstances, but it was short-lived.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"No," said Harry, his voice calmer than she would have expected it to be. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows. Nessa glared at him.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.
"No," said Harry vehemently.
Nessa put a hand on his shoulder in a show of support. He was an inch or two taller than her already, so she had to reach up slightly. It was an odd thing to notice at a time like this, when the anger in the room was near bursting.
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.
Professor McGonagall stepped up behind her and Harry, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.
He hadn't. Nessa had seen it work herself and there had been several younger students that had needed to be de-bearded.
"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.
Ugh, the politics again, Nessa thought in annoyance, her eyes rolling disdainfully.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily, her hands tightening on her students' shoulders. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"
She shot a very angry look at Professor Snape, and Nessa felt her heart swell again for the older woman. She was intimidating and a little scary, but she was no-nonsense when it came to her students. She deserved the world, and Nessa was seriously considering giving it to her somehow.
"Mr. Crouch…Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Nessa wasn't entirely sure that irregular was the point here. Of course it was irregular — it was the Triwizard Tournament. It had nothing to do with being irregular, as far as she was concerned. All she cared about was whether her brother had to compete. What his options were.
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out — it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament —"
" — in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" said Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from near the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
Moody limped from out of the shadows and toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.
"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
Nessa watched Karkaroff in interest, tilting her head curiously. She could tell that he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away. They were balled into fists.
"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in the goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.
"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. Nessa rolled her eyes again. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards —"
"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," growled Moody, "but…funny thing…I don't hear him saying a word…"
"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for!"
"This is ridiculous," Nessa snapped angrily. "He's Harry Potter, for fuck's sake! I assume, even in France and Bulgaria, that his name is well-known! He doesn't need honor! And we have plenty of money! I'll give you the thousand Galleons myself, if it's so important to you!" She rounded on Dumbledore next. "And I don't care what Harry's doing, I'm complaining on his behalf — this is madness! He's just a boy, for God's sake! He's lived his entire life with people staring at him and whispering about him and poking at him like he's some lab rat for their amusement —"
"Nessa, it's fine —" Harry said, reaching out to grab her hand and trying to calm his sister.
"No," she said firmly, ripping her hand from his grasp. "It isn't. No one else in this room is talking at all about you as if they care for your well-being, so long as Karkaroff gets what he wants, and Fleur gets her glory and Galleons," she glared at each of them in turn, but only Fleur had the mind to look slightly ashamed. Nessa whirled on Dumbledore again. "He's fourteen. All of them have the advantage here — he knows only half of the magic that they do. I hardly call that 'two bites at the apple', do you? This has nothing to do with giving Hogwarts an extra shot at winning and you know it!"
"Well, what else could it be?" Fleur said, eyeing her with interest.
"You said this is a chance many would die for, did you not?" growled Moody. "Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it."
Nessa had thought it herself, but hearing it voiced aloud was so much worse. It wouldn't have been the first time that someone had tried to kill her brother, and she severely doubted it would be the last if Trelawney's prediction turned out to be true, but she had been trying to convince herself that getting her brother killed was merely just an anxious thought that she couldn't suppress. Apparently, it hadn't been because someone else was saying it aloud, and there was a tense silence that followed with which none of the Hogwarts teachers denied the comment.
Bagman, looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "Moody, old man…what a thing to say!"
"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too —"
"Yes, because trying to kill Harry Potter is severely unheard of," Nessa drawled sarcastically. "Never before seen. I can think of no one in the world who might want him dead, can you?"
McGonagall placed her hand on her shoulder again and squeezed.
"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet…"
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament…I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…"
Interesting, Nessa thought idly.
She'd suspected that the Confundus Charm had been to convince the goblet that Hogwarts got two champions, but it made much more sense, logically, to submit under a fourth school that no one else was from.
More foolproof, a guarantee that his name would be chosen, rather than two random Hogwarts students.
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, "and a very ingenious theory it is — though, of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff — as you ought to remember…"
What the hell did that mean?
"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly.
Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction — Karkaroff's face was burning, as Nessa looked shrewdly between him and her professor, trying to determine under what circumstances the other headmaster could possibly know that on a personal level. One that didn't include him being a Dark wizard himself, that is.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do…"
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr —"
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid.
"A binding magical contract," Nessa said, looking at her headmaster. "What does that mean?"
"It means he is forced to compete, girl," Moody growled.
"My name isn't girl," Nessa snapped, and McGonagall snorted quietly from behind her. "And I know that. What I'm asking is: what does Harry stand to lose if he doesn't compete?"
"His magic," Dumbledore said calmly, eyeing her sadly over his spectacles. "The contract is explicit in that they are required to compete should their name be chosen —"
"And there's no loophole?" she said, desperately. Her brother would rather die than lose his magic, she knew, and she wasn't entirely sure she could blame him. Not to mention that she really couldn't afford to have him lose his magic when there was a potential for some crazed lunatic to come back into power with an unknown reason to want him dead. "He didn't enter his name. Why should he be forced to suffer the consequences of someone else's actions? There's no exception for this?"
"There isn't, Miss Potter," said Crouch from behind her. "There is no specific rule that states that the person who is chosen has to be the one to enter their name in the first place. The contract is bound to the name only, selected from the pool of names it is given from each school. The goblet has no means of determining who entered each specific name; only that it was submitted."
"Bound to the name only?" she said. "So I can't take his place?"
"Miss Potter —" McGonagall reprimanded.
"Nessa, no!" Harry said in surprise.
"You are not of age either!" Karkaroff boomed in irritation.
"Well, clearly, I don't care!" Nessa snapped at him. "I'm older than him. I stand a much greater chance of coming out of it unharmed than he does. I'll even throw the damn thing, if you want! And what difference does it make if it's an option? Four champions is four champions."
"Harry must be the one to compete, Vanessa," said Dumbledore gently. "The age restriction was only put in place as of this year. Previous tournaments have had no such restrictions, and there is no rule that states he is too young to compete. And as the contract is bound to the name, you are unable to take his place in this. It must be Harry."
Well, that was it then, wasn't it?
Put so baldly, and with no other alternative in mind, she had no idea how to spare her brother from having to compete. Not a single clue how to curb the anxiety that was threatening to crawl its way out of her throat, despite the tight grip she was attempting to hold it with.
The silence was heavy again, near everyone in the room livid at the turn of events. The only people who didn't appear to be were Dumbledore and McGonagall, who were both looking grave, and Nessa, whose gaze fixed on her brother's immediately after the words resounded around the room. His eyes matched hers in every way, and it was almost like staring back at herself in the mirror, except his face looked much calmer than she would have been.
"I'll be fine," he said to her. "This isn't my first dangerous burden, right?"
She wished she could laugh, but the reminder that he had been within this position before only made her want to rip every one of the paintings off the wall and throw them into the fire. It was so unfair. She wanted him to enjoy his childhood. People only got one of those, really, and he'd already been robbed of so much at this age. Adding this to his already heavy burden was playing with fire.
There were only so many times a person could go head-to-head with danger and escape unscathed.
"Well, should we crack on, then?" Bagman said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. Truthfully, he looked rather excited. "Got to give out champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
God, this was really happening. She was not dreaming this.
Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.
"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes…the first task…"
He moved forward into the firelight and Nessa had to swallow the gasp she wanted to emit at his appearance. Close up, he…well, he looked rather ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.
Was it the stress of losing Winky? Or something more serious?
Everything in her wanted to start asking him a plethora of questions, but he spoke again before she could go full mother hen.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…very important…The first task will take place on November twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."
Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment…I've left young Weatherby in charge…Very enthusiastic…a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"
Nessa would normally have found amusement in this observation of Percy Weasley — or at the very least at the fact that his boss had still not learned his proper name — but she was eyeing the older man with a rapt sort of attention and the words hardly registered.
"Are you feeling alright, Mr. Crouch?" she queried cautiously. He looked over at her slowly, as if he'd forgotten she were even there. "You're — have you been ill at all? Eating? Sleeping?"
He stared at her for a long moment as if completely baffled by the question before his face took on a stiff, curt smile.
"Yes, I'm feeling just fine, thank you," he said. "But I must be off. There is much to do yet before the first task. I'll be seeing you again very soon. Good evening."
Nessa watched, brows furrowed, as he left the room. He was acting very oddly indeed. His movements were slow, almost lethargic, and he had been…so utterly uninterested in the events of the evening. She'd expected him to be more baffled by the goblet's choice of a fourth champion, even if the rules required her brother to compete. As far as she'd seen at the World Cup, he'd been particularly adamant about rules. The only other person she knew who was a bigger stickler for them was Percy, and she sort of thought that even Percy was more laidback than his boss.
But he'd hardly batted an eye at the fact that someone had so easily broken them to admit a fourth player. His only mention of the rules had been to say that Harry was forced to compete now, and nothing more.
And she didn't particularly care what he said, he looked horrible. There was no chance that he felt "just fine."
It was Dumbledore's voice that pulled her attention away from the door through which Mr. Crouch had disappeared. She jumped a little when she noticed Mad-Eye Moody glaring at her with his non-magical eye, as if she'd done something of great offense to him.
"Harry, Cedric, Vanessa, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at all of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Harry glanced at her, but she only smiled at him weakly.
"Go on," she said softly. "I want to talk to Professor Dumbledore."
Harry gave her a wary look.
"Nessa, I'll be fine, don't —"
"Go, Harry," she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.
He stared at her cautiously for a long moment before sighing heavily and nodding at Cedric. She squeezed her brother's hand as he passed her, looking behind her to the headmaster once again.
"Just don't expel her," he said, only half-joking. "She's — er — passionate."
Nessa scoffed and rolled her eyes, but she thought she heard Dumbledore chuckle quietly from behind her. She was likely imagining it. Cedric stopped by her for a moment, pulling her into a one-armed hug and smiling at her gently.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" he said.
"Of course," she said, nodding. "Congratulations."
It sounded hollow now, considering everything she was trying to work her way through at the current moment. He grinned at her anyway, kissing her on the cheek before following her brother through the door back into the Great Hall.
She stared after them blankly until Dumbledore spoke, "What can I do for you, Miss Potter?"
She shook her head to dislodge the racing thoughts and focus on her professor again. Bagman, Snape, McGonagall, Moody, and Dumbledore were the only ones left within the room, but Nessa's gaze fell on Bagman first and she smiled as politely as she was able.
"Can we have a moment, Mr. Bagman?"
He appeared surprised at this request, looking at Dumbledore for direction.
"I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall for a nightcap, Ludo," Dumbledore said simply. "Assuming you are still interested, of course?"
"Of course, of course, Albus," Bagman said, his excitement returning immediately. "I never say no to a nightcap! Much more exciting here than in the office!"
When he disappeared through the doors as well and she no longer heard his footsteps echoing, she said, "You said that the Ministry had taken precautions to ensure that no student would find themselves in danger of mortal peril."
It wasn't a question, really. She knew he'd said it, and she was really only bringing it up because these precautions had been in place for contestants much older than her brother.
"They have," he agreed. "And I have overseen all of those precautions myself. The safety of my students is of the utmost importance, Vanessa."
She could tell by his tone that she was treading a dangerous line, but she was either too numb or stupid to care.
"I'm not suggesting otherwise, Professor," she said. "And I understand that there have been no age restrictions in previous years, but —"
"I assure you that the tasks are not impossible for him to complete," the headmaster interrupted. "He may need a little…extra assistance but given his proclivity for putting himself in harm's way, there's no reason for me to believe that he is incapable of competing, even if he had a choice in the matter. I will keep a very close eye on him, I assure you."
They stared at each other for a long moment, but she knew without explanation that he would not lie to her. She didn't like the idea of her brother competing at all, and she was believing less and less that Hogwarts was the safest place in the world to be at this point, but there was no one as powerful as Albus Dumbledore and she had to trust that he would do everything within his power to protect her brother.
"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I'm pushing my luck here, I know, but…well, what did Professor Moody mean when he said that Karkaroff knew that it was his job to think as Dark wizards do?"
Dumbledore was looking at her with a hard expression now, and McGonagall gave Moody a withering look. It was Snape, however, who answered her.
"Karkaroff used to be a Death Eater."
"Severus," Dumbledore said warningly, but the damage had been done.
Nessa gaped at him, opening and closing her mouth wordlessly.
"I — I beg your pardon?" she said in alarm. "A — a Death Eater? How is that —"
"Professor Karkaroff made some grave mistakes in his youth, Vanessa," Dumbledore said firmly. "He has made amends since and was not charged for his allegiance. It is my sincerest hope that you will not hold this against him nor spread this information to anyone, including your brother."
She gaped at him.
"I — and you trust him? You don't think that he —"
"I have no reason to suspect him for entering Harry's name, no," Dumbledore said. "There is nothing for him to gain in doing so. You saw him here yourself, did you not?"
She had. And anger like that was not easy to fake. Entering Harry's name would make his own school less likely to win, which was clearly an idea that he found distasteful. And she was not stupid enough to believe that he would be within Voldemort's good graces, if whatever had gotten him acquitted were anything that denied his allegiance to him or his followers. He was not a good man, she was almost sure of that, but it didn't mean that he was to blame for their current predicament.
"Fair enough," she said, nodding at him. Dumbledore seemed surprised by her easy acceptance of this answer, but he covered it well. "And do you think — I mean, is there reason to believe that this is — that Voldemort could have…"
Moody looked rather livid at the use of the name, which surprised her, considering Dumbledore was such a strong advocate for using it, but he bit his tongue. Dumbledore, however, was looking at her as if trying to calculate how much information he should divulge to her.
"It is unlikely that Lord Voldemort could have entered his name into the goblet," he said eventually.
"But not impossible," she pushed.
"No, not impossible," he admitted. "But I think it rather rash to concern yourself — or Harry — with this theory until we know more. I have no reason to believe, at the current moment, that this is his plan. Until then, I implore you to focus more on how you can support your brother through the tournament."
There was something he wasn't saying, she could tell. If Remus had heard the whispers, then she had no doubt Dumbledore had heard them as well, and he was aware of Trelawney's prediction as much as she was. The fact that neither McGonagall, Snape, or Moody looked alarmed by the current conversation was a likely sign that he had shared this information with them, which couldn't mean anything good.
But regardless of the fact that he was clearly hedging, trying to provide her with as little information as possible, she didn't entirely disagree that her energies could be best put to use in helping her brother through the tasks.
And 'not impossible' was as close to an assurance that she needed to assume that big moves were being made outside these walls.
"Thank you, Professor," she said softly. "I — I appreciate you for…humoring me, I suppose. And for letting me come back here with you. Harry is…"
There were no words that could explain exactly what her brother meant to her. Caring for him had been her sole purpose in life for so many years. He had been the only thing to get her out of bed for the first twelve years of her life, when she'd been so miserable and alone that life had felt meaningless to her. They were all each other had, outside of their friends, and the thought of losing him in any capacity felt like a knife twisting in her chest.
She would get him through this tournament alive if it killed her.
"He is important to us all, Vanessa," Dumbledore said quietly. "You are not alone in your fight to protect him."
Maybe so, but she was the only one she really trusted to give their entire being into doing so. But she didn't say that; instead, she smiled weakly at him and offered a quiet goodnight before leaving the room, through the empty and silent Great Hall.
The numb shock of the evening was only starting to wear off then, with nothing in front of her to fight for, and no other questions to ask herself or her teachers that would give her as much information as she could have on the situation. Information was power, but there was not enough of it in this case to settle the roiling in her gut.
She had only just reached the fifth-floor corridor, outside the prefects' office that it hit her: Her brother was a champion in the Triwizard Tournament.
She stumbled as her legs gave out from underneath her and only had time to grab onto the doorknob and lower herself to the ground before the sobs started.
Why must Harry go through so much? I hardly even want to think about how much Nessa is going to have to deal with before the end of this series. Gods above.
Also, it was never mentioned why exactly Harry was forced to compete outside of it being a 'binding magical contract,' so I'm taking some liberties here obviously. I've wracked my head over and over for what the possible consequences of breaking that contract could have been that no one got him out of the entire thing, but losing his magic is what we're settling on. It was either this or death, which seemed too extreme for a school competition, and there is genuinely no other consequence that I can think of that would be worse off than his competing.
It is the biggest question that's been in my head since reading the books for the first time, and it's never getting solved LOL.
Anyway, see you soon!