Chapter 14
Harry took a deep breath as the memory finished playing inside his head and he was brought back to the present.
His eyes found her again. It happened in an instant but it was enough for Harry to know that she was the girl he was waiting for.
Their eyes met only momentarily and the girl tore her eyes away from him just as immediately and proceeded to slowly walked down the steps. By now all of Beauxbaton's students were converging around their headmistress. One of the girls saw her and immediately grabbed her hand and pulled her to join them.
"Scotland isn't that cold," said Hermione who was at that point eyeing Fleur with no small amount of distaste. "And yet she's acting like we're snowed six feet under."
Harry glanced at her. He of course could not blame her one bit for what she had just said. Hermione in this timeline had yet to know Fleur that well. She will eventually. In a way, Hermione was right. The days were getting colder but it was not enough to cause the girl to cover up from head to toe. Not yet anyway.
There was far more valid reason for Fleur to cover herself. This was one fact that Harry was well aware of.
Her beauty.
Fleur once told him that she became aware of that one 'advantage' she had after she reached puberty. Her social life took a deep plunge after that. Jealousy. One by one her friends deserted her until at one point she was in danger of becoming an introvert. Every night she would cry herself to sleep, wishing that things would go the other way around. She began to sow distrust of the humans and wizards alike for their failure to understand the real nature of herself.
Luckily, her mother came to the rescue. Appoline explained and taught her daughter everything there was about being a veela. She told her that was something every veela would have to go through in various periods of their life. Their beauty can be a curse or a blessing depending on the situation and in Fleur's case, the problem was a lot more pronounced given that even among the veelas, her beauty stood above the rest. Her mother told her to continue to keep her head held high no matter what.
That somehow only provided little relief for Fleur. While she began to understand why her friends reacted to her that way, it still hurt her to no end.
It was not until her third year at Beauxbaton that things started to change. It began with a boy, a sixth-year student to be exact, and supposedly the most popular guy in the French magical school. He tried to 'get fresh' with Fleur on that fateful day. She retaliated and in the end, the boy suffered third-degree burns and was forced to stay at Hotel-Dieu de Paris, an old hospital in Paris that also happened to provide treatments and special wards for France's magical community, for the rest of the school year.
Fleur was nearly expelled from Beauxbaton due to that incident and would have been so if she could not prove the boy's wrongdoing. However, on the brighter side, it did open the eyes of the rest of the female students of Beauxbaton. They finally realized that she was not what they thought she would be and rallied behind her. Cassandra Osman was the first to offer Fleur an apology post-incident and soon, the rest of the girls in her year followed suit. Cassandra eventually became Fleur's closest friend and confidant. Cassandra, who was older than Fleur by a few months, became overprotective of Fleur.
Together with a few other girls, they formed what would then be known as the Fleur's Squad.
Harry remembered vividly the time when he had to go through their interrogation after his marriage proposal was accepted. It was something Bill had to go through as well, Fleur told him. The difference was that he got the worst part compared to Bill. Harry might be 'The Boy Who Lived', or after the defeat of Voldemort as 'The Chosen One', the squad still treated him like any other guy who tried to get close to the veela. He survived them though.
Ron's stomach growl woke him up from his stupor. The redhead was grumbling at the same time. He had become impatient and probably wished that all of them could retreat back into the warmth of the castle right that instant.
Harry turned his attention back to the Beauxbaton delegates. At this time, Dumbledore was instructing Professor McGonagall to escort their French guests to the waiting lobby near the Entrance Hall. McGonagall obliged.
Harry's eyes followed Fleur's receding back as she followed her friends and her headmistress into the castle. He was hoping that she would give him a glance or two before she disappeared inside the castle. He did not get what he wished for, much to his disappointment. But perhaps he should have expected that. Earlier when their eyes met, Harry saw no recognition in her eyes. She was looking at him in the same way she looked at everyone else. There was no warmth and no love in it. At least that's what he thought. This could only mean one thing.
The Fleur who had just arrived at Hogwarts was not the same Fleur who spent seventy years of her life with him.
Well, he wouldn't expect it anyway. His Fleur is dead as he recalled. She's not coming back. It would be he who would be returning to her, not the other way around.
Harry once again fell into deep thoughts as the new conclusion that he made began to haunt his mind.
"Oh come on!" Ron suddenly grumbled. He woke Harry from his stupor. "How much longer do we have to wait? I'm cold and starving."
"Be patient," said Hermione who had turned her attention from the Beauxbaton delegate back to the sky. "They'll come soon. It won't be long."
"I know they'll be coming but when?"
"How would I know?! Just be quiet, Ron!" She scolded him.
"How do you reckon they'll be coming?" asked Seamus, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address the trio. He had been watching the Abraxan winged horses that pulled the Beauxbaton carriage. "You think their horses will be much bigger than the Beauxbaton?"
"Well if they're much bigger than this lot, Hagrid won't be able to handle them. That's for sure," said Hermione.
The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, leaving a stream of yellow, pink, and greyish glow in the western sky. They continued to stand in silence, slightly shivering now, and waited for the arrival of the second delegates.
"Can you hear something?" someone suddenly blurted out.
"It's coming from the lake!" said the other.
Indeed at that very instance, a loud and eerie noise came drifting towards them. Harry turned his gaze towards the lake. Just as he had expected, the once-calmed surface of the water was disturbed.
Huge bubbles formed on the surface of the lake, waves crashing the lake's muddy shores, and from the middle of the lake, a huge whirlpool took form.
A long black pole rose from the center of the whirlpool.
"It's a mast!" exclaimed Dean Thomas.
Slowly but surely, an old but magnificent-looking ship rose from the depths of the lake. Looking more like a pirate ship from the 15th century, the ship came out completely out of the water and glided smoothly across the turbulence surface of the lake towards a newly constructed pier. The ship's crew threw down the anchor into the water once it made port. A plank together with its own handrail and wide enough for two medium-sized people to walk side by side on it, extended towards the pier. The ship's side hatch opened and people began to disembark.
Harry recognized that ship. It was the ship of Durmstrang.
"Cool," cooed Lee Jordan. "So they came here by a submarine. Classy."
Dumbledore stepped forward and went to greet the man who was leading the Durmstrang delegates.
Harry of course recognized that man. Igor Karkaroff. The Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute.
"Albus Dumbledore!" Karkaroff called heartily as both men shook hands. "How are you, my friend? How are you?"
"Blooming," replied Dumbledore as they both continued to shake hands. "And I thank you, Professor Karkaroff."
Karkaroff let go of Dumbledore's hand and looked up as he admired the castle towering high above them. "Ah, Hogwarts," he drooled. "How good it is to be here. How good."
He then pulled one of his students towards him and said, "Come here, Viktor. Let's get you into the warmth. You won't mind, Albus? Viktor has a slight head cold."
"Of course not. Please, come. Let's make everyone comfortable," said Dumbledore, gesturing the newly arrived delegates into the castle.
Ron suddenly shook Harry's arm. "Harry! It's Krum! It's Viktor Krum!"
"I don't believe it!" Ron said in a stunned voice. "Viktor Krum! Here! In Hogwarts!"
Ron certainly was not the only one who was excited by the appearance of a Quidditch star at Hogwarts. As they filed back into the castle behind the Durmstrang, Harry saw many Hogwarts students, both male and female, jumping up and down and craning their necks as far as they could go, as they tried to catch a glimpse of the world-famous Quidditch player.
"For heaven's sake Ron, he's just a Quidditch player," said Hermione sternly.
"Only a Quidditch player?!" said Ron, looking at her as if she had grown two heads. "Hermione, he's one of the best Seekers in the world. You saw him at the Quidditch World Cup! No idea he was still in school! I'm getting his autograph. Do you have your quill with you?"
"No, I haven't. All of our bags are inside the common room, remember?" said Hermione.
Hermione tutted impatiently as the trio walked past several girls squabbling over lipstick. "Do you think he will sign my hat with lipstick?" one of the girls was heard asking.
"Honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes at them.
Just as they entered the Entrance Hall, Dumbledore led the Durmstrang delegates to the waiting lobby on the right. The rest of the Hogwarts student proceeded into the Great Hall.
"There are still four house tables within the hall," said Ron as the trio took their seat. "I reckoned they would have to share the table with any of the houses. Move over, Hermione. Make some space."
"For what?!" asked Hermione sharply.
"For the Durmstrang! They're going to sit here at our table!"
Hermione gave Ron the look that said that she would not hesitate to hit him on the head with one of the golden plates if he muttered another word.
Harry said nothing. His mind was more preoccupied with Fleur. He silently admitted that while he had a solid plan regarding Voldemort, he had no idea on what to do with the girl. All this while his only thought was to see her again, actually seeing her is a different matter altogether. How will he approach her? He can't just go to her and say 'Hi! I'm Harry Potter. I'm your husband. We're married!' He wasn't that stupid. He doubted anyone else would be that stupid to think that would work either. Furthermore, as far as he could remember, back in the past Fleur tended to surround herself with her friends. She never ventured out alone. He also knew how protective of Fleur her friends were. They never let her out of sight. Approaching her or trying getting her to be alone would be difficult.
Sure enough, both delegates led by their respective headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall entered the Hall moments later. They lingered momentarily at the door before Madame Maxime pointed her students towards the Ravenclaw table. Professor Karkaroff meanwhile simply let his student choose. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall then escorted Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime towards the teacher's table. The Beauxbaton students lingered at the threshold for a moment before they did as instructed. Only the Durmstrang remained indecisive.
"Oi! Oi! Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed, standing up, raising his hands and waving as hard as he could that he nearly hit Hermione's face to get the Durmstrang lot's attention.
Poor Ron. He just gawked in disappointment when he saw Krum and his fellow students make their way towards the Slytherin table. Adding insult to injury, Krum chose to sit beside Malfoy, much to Malfoy's heir delight.
"Yeah, that's right. Smarm up to him as much as you can, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly as he sat back and watched Malfoy lean in to speak to Krum. "I bet Krum could see right through him. He gets people fawning over him all the time. Where do you think they will sleep, Harry? We could offer them our dormitories. Krum can sleep on my bed. I won't mind kipping on a camp bed the whole year."
Hermione snorted at this.
"They will be sleeping in their boat, Ron," said Harry who was watching Fleur all the time Ron was talking. She at that time was talking to a fellow student sitting next to her. "It's the same thing with the Beauxbaton."
"Well that can't be right," said Ron. "I'm sure it won't be as comfortable as our dormitory, Harry."
"I thought so too the first time I saw that tent your dad pitched at the World Cup," said Harry. "Imagine my surprise when I take a look inside. Anyway, you don't see them bringing in their luggage, do you?"
"We didn't bring in our luggage too, Harry. The house elves did that for us."
"I don't think Hogwarts house elves have the jurisdiction to enter the boat and the carriage, Ron," said Harry patiently. "There is a reason why Durmstrang and Beauxbaton kept their school's location a secret."
"Shush," interrupted Hermione. She then nodded toward the teacher's table. Everyone, both humans and ghosts, had settled down. The staff entered, filling up the teacher's table and taking their seats. Madame Maxime took a seat at Dumbledore's left-hand side and Karkaroff at his right. Dumbledore then stood up and silence fell over the Great Hall.
"Good evening students, ghosts, Ministry officials, and particularly our honored guest," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming all of you to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
Not all of the foreign students shared Dumbledore's enthusiasm. While the Durmstrang delegates had comfortably made themselves at home, the Beauxbaton students on the other hand were a lot less enthusiastic. They were looking around at their surroundings with gloomy expressions.
"They aren't looking too happy, are they?" said Hermione as she continued to observe the Beauxbaton students. "Not a surprise actually. It was said that their campus is a lot better and modern than ours. But ours isn't that bad. They could at least show some appreciation or at least try act polite."
"The tournament will officially be opened at the end of the feast," continued Dumbledore. "I now invite all of you to enjoy our hospitality and make yourself at home."
Dumbledore then sat down.
As expected, the plates in front of them filled up with food. Only this time, there was more variety for them to choose from. The Hogwarts elves clearly had pulled out all the stops in preparing the dishes that not only catered to the British taste but also to the French and the Bulgarian as well.
"What's that?" asked Ron, pointing at a large dish of stewed shellfish that stood beside a plate of large steak-and-kidney pudding.
"Bouillabaisse," answered Hermione as she piled her plate with some of the bouillabaisse.
"Geisundheit," said Ron. He thought Hermione was sneezing.
"It's French," explained Hermione. "I had it the last time me and my family went to France. It's very nice."
"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to a slice of black pudding.
Harry watched with bated breath as Fleur began to undo her shawl. Long and gleaming silvery white hair fell over her shoulder. She then slowly took off her scarf.
And the Great Hall became strangely airless.
There, sitting at the Ravenclaw table was a woman with such breathtaking beauty anyone had ever seen. She seemed to emit a faint silvery glow herself. Her skin was perfect, soft, pale, and looked creamy. Her eyes were sparkling bright blue and her naturally pink lips looked inviting. Virtually all of the Ravenclaw blokes stopped eating, mouths wide open as they looked at her with astonishment. The Beauxbaton male students weren't spared either though they did have more self-control. They simply shook their head and continued eating.
Harry might have lived with her for the last seventy years, but even he silently admitted that he could never get used to her beauty.
Fleur slowly reached up and began to tie her hair into a ponytail, leaving a few strands fencing her face. Ignoring all the attention and appreciation she received from the males around her, she filled up her plate and began to eat.
Hagrid sidled into the Great Hall via a door behind the teacher's table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end of the table and waved at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The trio noticed one of his hands was heavily bandaged.
"I guess Hagrid has finally found out what the skrewts like to eat," said Ron. "His own fingers."
The feast continues. The plates kept on refilling themselves once they were empty. The food was endless. The quality was superb. The house elves outdid themselves this time, pulling no stops in preparing the dishes the best way they knew how.
The food managed to take Fleur off Harry's mind. While eating, he decided to put aside Fleur momentarily and simply enjoy the food. After all, she will be staying at Hogwarts for the whole year. There would be enough time for him to decide what he needed to do about her. The variables were plenty and he needed to be careful. After all, this was the teenage Fleur that was sitting two tables away from Gryffindor, not the more mature adult Fleur. A solution will present itself in due course, he was sure of it. For now, he just wanted to enjoy what that night had to offer.
He was trying the shkembe, a Bulgarian tripe soup when all of a sudden he felt someone standing in front of him. He looked up and saw it was one of the Beauxbaton girls. And no, it wasn't Fleur.
The girl was Cassandra. She was smiling at him. Like all the people who met him before her, her eyes made the familiar flick to his scar.
"Excuse me, Monsieur," said Cassandra to Harry. "Are you still wanting zhe bouillabaisse?"
Harry said nothing at first. He just sat there staring at her. He felt odd. The plates would refill themselves once it empty and that would include the bouillabaisse. Surely the plates at the Ravenclaw table would act the same way as the plates on the other tables so instead of handing over the dishes as requested, he blurted, "You already ran out of bouillabaisse?"
Cassandra's smile turned into a frown. He could see Cassandra became deeply annoyed with him.
But before he could do anything else, Hermione lifted the said dishes and passed them over to Cassandra. "Sure. Here, you can have it. We're done with it," she said, smiling at Cassandra.
Cassandra returned the smile and gladly received the dishes. "Zhank you," she said. She then glanced at Harry, again with no small amount of annoyance, and gingerly brought the plate back to the Ravenclaw table.
Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "I thought you hated the Beauxbaton lot."
"I don't hate them, Harry," replied Hermione with an air of impatient. "I just feel that they should at least show some form of courtesy. You saw how they reacted to our school. And I'm not going to let her stand awkwardly in front of everyone for so long. People are watching."
Harry looked around and sure enough, all the males inside the Great Hall were looking at Cassandra as she navigated her way back to her seat. And they were more impressed when they saw she was sitting right next to Fleur. Many of them became completely forgotten about their food the moment they saw Fleur. Even the Gryffindors who sat the furthest away from the Ravenclaw table were not spared.
Cassandra was a very pretty girl. And so were all of the girls within Fleur's squad. Of course, their beauty was incomparable to Fleur.
"Although," added Hermione as she doled more salad into her plate. "I also have the same question as you were. You know what? I don't think she was coming for the bouillabaisse."
"Well, what else there is?"
"Well, she can easily get the dishes from any other table nearest to her but instead she chose to travel all the way to the other end of the hall. And as we all know, the plates will refill themselves many times over until near the end of dinner so there is no question about them running out of any dishes. Don't you think it's obvious? She was coming for you," said Hermione, glancing meaningfully at Harry.
Harry paused at this. He turned to look at the Ravenclaw's table and sure enough, Fleur and her friends looked to be in a deep discussion. That plate of bouillabaisse remained untouched.
Ron suddenly leaned sideways towards him. "I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" he said to Harry, his food is all but forgotten. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"
Hermione tutted impatiently.
"Who?" asked Harry. Although he had a hunch on whom Ron was talking about.
"That! See her?" said Ron, pointing at Fleur. "Never seen anyone like her! She's probably a veela if I've ever seen one!"
Harry did not offer a reply. Fleur was indeed a veela. A full-blooded veela. Not half or quarter veela like everyone was led to believe.
He saw ChoChang who sat not far from Fleur and began to make the comparison.
Nope. They definitely did not make them like that at Hogwarts.
"When you both got your eyes back into their sockets, you might want to check who had just arrived," said Hermione briskly. She was pointing up toward the teacher's table.
All thought of Fleur flew out of Harry's mind when he saw who had just gate-crashed into the party. Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch, and of course, Percy Weasley. The three went on to shake hands with everyone at the teacher's table before they took a seat.
Harry's attention went toward one particular person who was sitting at the teacher's table.
'Mad-Eye Moody'.
He could see a deep hatred 'Moody' harbored towards his father when they both shook hands and every now and then after Mr. Crouch took his seat, 'Moody' glanced at his father.
"What are they doing here?" asked Ron.
"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, remember?" said Hermione. "Apparently they're here to observe the launch."
"Oh."
The dinner's second course came. Ron was busy examining an odd sort of blancmange closely. He then pushed the dish a little to the right, hoping that any friends of Fleur would see it and once again come to get it. However, Fleur seemed to have eaten enough. She was now chatting with Cassandra.
Fleur was surrounded by her squad. From Harry's vantage point, he could see Cassandra Adeline Osman, Marianne Belle Dionne who sat on Fleur's right-hand side, Adrienne Aime Petit, Camille Louise Moreau, and Aurelie Annabella Lavinge. The last three sat on the opposite of Fleur. There were actually more of them but Harry could not remember their names. All of them were beauties in their own right. Of course, Fleur outshone them all by a large degree.
Once the golden plates were wiped clean, Dumbledore stood once again. A pleasant sort of tension filled the air. Every pair of eyes within the hall turned towards the headmaster as they eagerly waited for the announcement.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin. However, I would like to lay down the procedure that we will be following for this tournament before we unveil the casket."
"The what?" asked Ron.
Harry just shrugged.
"But first, let me introduce, for those who may not know, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was a round of applause for both Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman. Unlike Crouch, Bagman jovially waved back to the students when his name was announced.
"They must be too proud to clap their hands," commented Hermione.
"Who?" asked Ron.
"The girl who took the plate of bouillabaisse earlier from this table. And her friends."
Harry who was a little bit preoccupied with the happenings at the teacher's table turned to look at the Ravenclaw table. Indeed, unlike everyone, Fleur and her friends did not clap at all. Fleur's expression was unreadable as she continued to gaze towards the teacher's table.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch had worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangement for the Triwizard Tournament" Dumbledore continued. "And they will be joining myself, Madame Maxime, and Professor Karkaroff on the panel that will judge the competitors' efforts."
Another round of applause.
"Now, Mr. Filch. The casket if you please."
Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the hall, approached Dumbledore carrying a large wooden casket encrusted with jewels. He gingerly placed the casket on a small table Dumbledore just conjured and stood back.
There was a murmur of excitement erupted between the students as they continued to observe the casket.
"The tasks for the eventual champions had been scrutinized carefully by the panel set up by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," announced Dumbledore. "As per agreement, there will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, that the champions will be expected to face. The tasks had been designed to test the champion's magical prowess, bravery, deduction ability, and of course, the ability to cope with danger."
The murmurs died as the students' concentration on Dumbledore's speech heightened.
"One champion will be selected from each participating school," Dumbledore went on. "They will be marked on how well they do within each task and the champion with the highest score wins the Triwizard Cup."
Dumbledore extended his hand and touched the edge of the casket. The casket magically melted away, revealing an old and large wooden cup. As if on cue, blue and white flames immediately erupted from within the cup.
"Anyone who wishes to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly on a piece of parchment and drop it into the goblet. You will have twenty-four hours in which to put your name forward. Tomorrow night on Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet shall be placed within the Great Hall tonight where it will be freely accessible for anyone who wishes to compete."
Silence.
"However," continued Dumbledore. "To ensure that no underage students yield to temptations, an age line will be drawn around the Goblet of Fire. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be permitted to cross the line and submit their name. I would like to impress upon any of you who wish to compete that this tournament must not be taken lightly. Once selected, a champion is obliged to see the tournament through the end. There must not be any change of heart for a binding magical contract will be enforced the moment your name is selected. Use the twenty-four hours wisely. Now that you are all fully fed and would be looking forward to a good night's rest, especially our guests, we shall adjourn for now. Good night to all of you."
Dumbledore then sat down and began to have a serious discussion with the rest of the committee members at the teacher's table.
"An age line?!" said Fred, observing the teacher's table. "That wouldn't be any problem, would it? All we need would be a little bit of aging potion to trick it. Once our name is inside the goblet, they won't be able to do anything, right?"
"I don't think anyone below seventeen should enter," said Hermione. "We haven't learned enough."
"Speak for yourself," said George. "You'll try and get in, won't you Harry?"
Harry just shook his head.
"Okay then. The lesser they are the bigger our chances would be. Come on you two," said George to Fred and Lee Jordan. "We got plans to make."
"What about Ludo?" asked Lee Jordan as he stood and began to follow the twins out of the Great Hall. "He's already here, you know."
"We'll deal with him later," said Fred. "Right now we have a much bigger fish to fry."
"Come on, Harry," said Hermione. "Let's go back to our dormitories. Ron?"
But Harry held her back. He pointed towards the Great Hall entrance which was now jam-packed with students trying to get out. "Let's wait until it clears a bit."
"Oh, okay." She then sat back down.
"I wonder where he will be sleeping tonight?" asked Ron as he tried to look through the crowd for Viktor Krum.
"Who?" asked Hermione.
"Krum."
"Urghh!"
But his query was immediately answered when Karkaroff began to herd the Durmstrang students. "Well, back to the ship, then," he was heard saying. "Come, Viktor."
Madame Maxime also began to hustle her students. Harry just watched Fleur, who now had her shawl and scarf back on, and her friends lined up and began to make their way towards the exit.
Harry turned his attention towards the teacher's table after Fleur disappeared from his view. He saw Dumbledore briefing the staff under his care. One thing was missing though.
Or rather someone.
'Moody'.
Harry subconsciously gripped his wand. Whatever reasons 'Moody' had for leaving early, it won't be good.
1.30 am later that night…
Hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, he set out alone towards the Great Hall. He found the door into the Great Hall remained open when he arrived, supposedly to give students full 24-hour access to the Goblet of Fire. It was ironic to be honest given the fact that students were not allowed to be in any of the corridors past curfew. He was pretty sure that even the Durmstrang and the Beauxbaton students were not allowed to be outside their dormitory during curfew. They didn't even care to put someone to guard the Goblet. As it was shown in the past, magical lines weren't enough. It was this kind of hastily made decision of not using any extra precaution that led him to become the unwitting champion during the last Triwizard Tournament in the past.
Harry stood at the entrance to the Great Hall. He looked around. No one else was there except him.
Satisfied that he was the only one there, he walked towards the Goblet of Fire and stopped just outside the golden line that was drawn in a perfect circle around the goblet. Blue and white flames danced merrily along the brim of the cup, giving the hall an eerie glow that was reflected off the stone walls.
He took off his cloak and knelt. The golden circle glowed brightly when he muttered a few incantations and waved his hand over it.
"None below seventeen," he whispered as he continued to read the golden circle's properties. His eyebrows creased. "Anti-aging potion. That's it? Only the aging potion? Damn it, Dumbledore! You fool!"
Harry retracted his hand. The glow immediately dimmed. He stood up and gazed at the goblet. He would have thought that given what had happened nights before, the headmaster would have put up extra precautions starting at the beginning of the tournament.
Clearly, he was wrong. Harry shook his head. It seemed to him that it was now up to him to set things right and not the way it had previously been. An extra ward will need to be set up around the goblet.
He took out his wand and began to wave it around the goblet. The tip of his wand glowed when he muttered the required incantation. A thin blue circle followed by a slightly larger green one formed outside the original golden circle. Harry then began to program the line to do what he wished. The blue circle will act as a deterrent to any attempt to put his name into the goblet. The green one will shoot a spell that will reveal the one who tried to sabotage him. Once that was done, Harry waved his wand the final time to lock and conceal both circles from eyesight.
Satisfied that everything was now in place, Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over him and retreated to the furthest corner of the Great Hall. And with his wand at ready, he waited.
It did not take long before he sensed someone was coming. He gripped his wand tightly.
A tall, dark person appeared at the doorway. He stood there for a moment, looking around.
Harry's eyebrows creased. He could not see the man clearly within the cover of darkness but he could make the outline of that person. Much to his surprise, that man was not 'Moody'.
The man, upon seeing that he was the only one there, entered the Great Hall. After closing the door behind him, he marched up towards the Goblet of Fire.
Harry gasped when the light from the goblet's flame shone upon the man's face. /Professor Karkaroff/?
Karkaroff stopped just outside the golden circle. He fished a small paper out of his pocket and with bated breath, Harry watched him step over the line.
Then it happened.
There was a loud bang, and Karkaroff was unceremoniously thrown out of the golden circle and landed with a mighty crash just near the entrance to the Great Hall. A spurt of green light then shoots out from the goblet and hits Karkaroff directly on his chest.
Karkaroff began to groan in pain. He cupped his face as it slowly melted away, revealing the true person beneath it.
Barty Crouch Jr.
Barty touched his face. His eyes widened in horror the moment he realized that his face had returned to its original form. Still covering his face, he immediately got onto his feet and fled the scene.
Harry was breathing hard. He stayed put at that corner of the hall as his mind was busy processing everything that he had just seen.
It took a while before he finally moved away from that location and towards the goblet. He stopped. His eyes darted between the goblet and the now slightly opened Great Hall's door.
His ward. It worked perfectly just as he expected.
The next morning…
It was Saturday.
His eyes fluttered open. He looked to his left and right. Everyone else was still fast asleep. He closed his eyes, only to have it opened once more seconds later.
He groaned. What he would not give to have an extra few hours of sleep.
He was still very tired. All he wanted that morning was to have a proper sleep and to be able to wake up late. Unfortunately, his eyes betrayed him. They refused to grant him any more sleep. The feeling of exhaustion did bother him actually. He knew that it had something to do with what he did last night but still, it did not make sense. All he did was set up extra wards around the goblet and that was about it.
"Maybe I just didn't get enough sleep," he muttered.
Sighing, he got off his bed and made his way towards the bathroom. After a few splashes of water onto his face, he walked back towards his bed and put on his glasses. He then turned his gaze towards the window.
It was a cloudy morning. Grey clouds hung over the horizon and covered the whole of the Scottish skies. Right from his vantage point, he saw the Beauxbaton carriage and the Durmstrang ship. There were lights coming out of the windows. It seemed that even during the weekend, both the Beauxbaton and the Durmstrang students tended to wake up early. Nearby at a makeshift horse stable, Hagrid was busy attending to the Beauxbaton horses. Quidditch's pitch loomed a little bit farther away.
Quidditch! He had forgotten all about it.
It had been long since the last time he played Quidditch - work, family, and Voldemort notwithstanding. He then remembered by this time, he just gotten the new Firebolt racing broom from his godfather. What better way to re-brush his Quidditch skill than to ride on it?
Harry immediately changed out of his pajamas and into a pair of shirts and trousers and headed towards Gryffindor's broom locker downstairs. He opened the locker and there it was, the Firebolt. He took it off its stand and ran his fingers along the polished surface. He smiled. It still looked brand new.
Back in the past, he used his Firebolt during his early days as an Auror until the Ministry appointed special high-speed brooms specially for Auror's use. Those brooms were really good. Better speed, quicker burst of acceleration, and better maneuverability. They weren't as good-looking as the Firebolt though. The Ministry-issued brooms looked very utilitarian but they served him and the Aurors really well.
He got out of the Gryffindor Tower, heading towards the Entrance Hall. But halfway there, he stopped. All of a sudden, a crazy idea came into his head.
Harry smirked. "Well, why not?" he muttered. He turned back and set out on different route, this time towards the Astronomy Tower.
He walked over to the edge of the tallest tower's balcony once he arrived and looked down. Everything looked so small from that height. And without further ado, he threw the Firebolt over the edge.
And then he jumped.
Harry closed his eyes. Morning air rushed past by as he continued his fast descent towards the ground. A huge dose of adrenaline rushed through his veins and for the first time ever since his return, Harry felt truly alive.
His eyes snapped open just before he reached a few feet above the ground. He immediately snatched the broom in front of him, mounted it, and blasted his way to the sky.
He did not get far when he heard cries from below. He looked down and discovered that Madame Maxime and the rest of her students including Fleur, probably on their way to breakfast, were watching him just a few feet below. Their faces registered shock and awe.
Harry just shrugged. It was far too late for him to stop now. He leaned forward on his broom and sped off into the distance.
Higher and higher he climbed until finally like a bullet shot from a cannon, he punched through the early morning cloud and into the warmth of the morning sun. He hovered above the cloud for a moment, soaking in every warmth the ray of sunshine provided.
It was surreal. It was beautiful. It was like heaven on earth. And his mind traveled back along the road of the past towards the memory when he carried Fleur for the first time on his Firebolt, just the both of them, high up into the sky to admire the rise of the morning sun. And they did it every weekend.
The memory went away as fast as it came.
After he had his full dose of early morning warmness, he tilted the broom downward and the Firebolt began to dive. Once again he punched through the thick morning cloud. Faster and faster he fell. Once again the cold morning air rushed past by.
Harry was blinded and deaf to everything around him. And he found out that he didn't care. Not in the slightest.
Below him was the Quidditch pitch. It got nearer and nearer by every second and just as he reached close to the ground, Harry suddenly pulled up. His feet graced the ground and with the speed of a bullet, he flew around the pitch, winding his way around various pillars that supported the spectator's stands, whizzing his way in and out of the pitch with unparalleled agility and doing every flying style he knew of.
Throughout all that, he smiled. This was it. This was what he was. This was where he belonged. High up in the air with no one else around. He was in his element. He was the strongest. He was immortal. He was unbeatable.
Harry spent nearly half an hour at the pitch before he finally sped away towards the lake. He went down low. His feet brushed slightly with the surface of the lake. He leaned forward and with a loud boom, the Firebolt blasted through the air toward the castle. The surface of the lake rocked as huge waves followed in his wake.
He whizzed around the castle towers, going around, up and down, and finally made a clean land back at the Astronomy Tower.
He was sweating and breathing hard and yet he had never felt so alert and energetic. Gone is the exhaustion and the tiredness he felt before.
Harry smiled.
Yup. He still had it. And he was better than before.
Harry returned to the Gryffindor Tower minutes later. He went to his dormitory after storing his broom. It was empty. Ron and the rest of his dorm mates must have gone to breakfast.
Harry did not mind at all. He had fun. He took his towel hung nearby and proceeded to the bathroom to take his morning shower.
He arrived at the Great Hall fifteen minutes later, expecting both Ron and Hermione to be at their usual spot. They were of course but unfortunately, what he did not expect were the looks he received from everyone that currently resided within the hall.
The Hall suddenly turned quiet.
There were whispers and from where he stood he could see that everyone was looking at him. Even from the Beauxbaton and the Durmstrang delegates and the teachers as well.
"Okay. What did I do this time?" he muttered.
From the Gryffindor table, he could see Seamus slowly standing up, followed by George, Fred, Lee, and Ron. The five of them then began to clap.
The rest of the Gryffindor, upon seeing this immediately followed suit. There was also a deafening roar of whoops and whistles.
Harry was indeed taken aback.
One of the Gryffindor seventh-year students pulled his hand towards them and along the way to his seat, he received pats on his back, congratulatory handshakes, hugs, and everything.
"That was wicked, Harry!"
"The best flying I had ever seen!"
"You showed Krum how it is done!"
"The best seeker of the century!"
"Oliver would be so proud!"
"You showed them, Harry!"
Harry finally reached his seat. Seamus and Ron both were grinning madly at him.
"We didn't see it," said Ron, as Harry sat down. "But everyone who saw you told us you were fantastic."
"Urmm… what?"
"Harry," leaned Seamus towards him. "Is it true what they say about you jumping off the Astronomy Tower and only mounting your broom just before you hit the ground?"
Harry was about to answer when George interrupted. "It is true. We saw it all. It wasn't just us, you know. The Durmstrang and the Beauxbaton saw it all too. At least that's what we heard. You were damn fast, Harry. And the way you maneuver your way around the Quidditch pitch... Never saw anything like it and we are teammates!"
"Don't forget when he shot down from the sky and only pulled up just before he hit the pitch ground," said Fred.
"And the lake," added Lee impressively. "Any faster and you'll sink the Durmstrang ship."
"Yeah, it made me wish there would be Quidditch this year. With that kind of performance you put out, we will sure to blast every other team to bits," said George.
Everyone within the vicinity nodded in agreement.
Only Hermione did not share their enthusiasm. She simply looked at Harry with deep concern. "That is quite irresponsible of you, Harry," she said softly. "You could get hurt."
Ron who sat beside her rolled his eyes. "Come on, Hermione. Lighten up. Harry's fine. Look, no scratches."
"He will be if he's not careful!"
But Ron just waved her off. "Stop worrying, Hermione. Look, he's fine. He faced worse things than these before. He'll be okay."
Hermione did not say another word.
Harry looked over her shoulder towards the Ravenclaw table. He saw Fleur and the rest of her schoolmates whispering among each other. Fleur in particular was staring at him from time to time. Her eyebrows creased. It was the same thing with the Durmstrang. Viktor Krum himself was looking at him with great interest.
The situation at the teacher's table was not that different either. McGonagall shook her head at him though. Both the headmaster and the headmistress from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton were watching him with great interest. Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, raised his glass to him when their eyes met. 'Moody'? As usual, he did not appear at breakfast. Harry did not worry about him though. He had gone too deep, that Barty Crouch Jr. could no longer back away.
Harry sighed. This was certainly what he did not expect, the kind of attention he was receiving at that point. Remembering that he had not yet taken his breakfast, he decided to push the matter temporarily aside took a toast, and began to munch on it.
He was halfway through his toast when he noticed that the hall once again suddenly turned quiet. He looked up and saw Viktor Krum, standing right in front of him.
"Harry Potter," greeted Krum. He extended his hand towards him.
Harry immediately put down his toast and reached out to shake hands with Krum. He noticed that the Bulgarian seeker had a really firm handshake.
"Nice to meet you," he said.
Krum smiled and nodded. "I know you from that scar. It vas a very good flying you did back there," he said. "I vatch it all. I take it that you play Quidditch?"
Harry nodded. "Yes. Yes, I am. These are my teammates, Fred and George Weasley. They're both beaters," he said, pointing towards the twins.
Krum nodded at the twins before he turned his attention back to Harry. "And you are a seeker, yes?"
"Yes. How do you know?"
Krum smiled widely. "Only a seeker flies that good. Do you hav any plan thees afternoon, Harry Potter?"
"Urm, so far no."
Krum's smile widened. "Meet me at the Quidditch pitch thees afternoon at 4.00pm. Bring along your broom."
Harry turned to look at the twins. Both George and Fred said nothing. They simply nodded fervently.
"Yeah, sure," Harry gave his answer. "I'll see you there."
Krum nodded satisfactorily. "And if everything really goes vell," he added. "Perhaps ve could hav a friendly match between your team and the Durmstrang."
Once again Harry turned to look at the twins. George and Fred turned wide-eyed and nodded even more fervently that their heads were in danger of falling off their neck.
"Yeah, that will be great. You brought your team along?"
"Yes," Krum nodded. He pointed towards the rest of the Durmstrang students who were sitting at the Slytherin table. Some of the Durmstrang boys waved at Harry. "Ve vere among the hopefuls but only one of us vill be selected. It vould be great if ve could occupy ourselves vith something else other than the tournament."
"Well, in that case, you got a deal, Krum," said Harry, extending his hand.
Krum shook his hand. "Call me Viktor. I vill see you thees afternoon, Harry."
"Of course, Viktor."
Krum then took leave and walked back to the Slytherin Table.
Harry sat back down. The rest of the Gryffindor stared in disbelief at him.
"Holy shit," said George.
"Holy crap," added Fred.
"Holy errr… dung," finished Lee Jordan.
"That was unbelievable, Harry," said Ron. "A one-on-one with Krum and a friendly match between Gryffindor and Durmstrang? That's mighty wicked, Harry!"
"Yeah I know," said Harry.
"We have a problem though. Oliver Wood just left. He graduated, remember? We don't have a keeper," said Fred.
"And also a captain," pointed out Lee Jordan.
"That's easy to settle," said George. "We can select one of us to become the captain. But what we desperately need is a good keeper. Remember that we're not playing against a house team. We're going to play against the Durmstrang and Viktor Krum happens to be in that team."
Everyone within the vicinity nodded in agreement.
"How about you guys call back Oliver," suggested Seamus. "He certainly won't pass the chance to play against Krum, would he? Come on! We need to make this match happen! This is our only chance!"
"Yeah, we heard you. I think we could. I'll ask Angelina," said Fred. "In the meantime, we need Harry to discuss with Krum on when the match will be held. We may need some time before we can sort everything out."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, sure. No problem. I'll talk to him this afternoon. I'm sure he'll understand."
"Alright, cool," said Fred. "I'll get Angelina." He, together with George and Lee Jordan, immediately took off.
Harry sat back and began to ponder what just happened.
His eyes traveled towards the Ravenclaw table. He saw Madame Maxime come towards her students and began herding them towards the Goblet of Fire.
Fleur stood. She gave Harry a quick meaningful glance before she joined the rest of her schoolmates.
That afternoon, near 4.00 pm…
The news of the 1-on-1 between Harry and Viktor Krum and the impending friendly match between Gryffindor and Durmstrang traveled like wildfire. It got everyone super excited. Harry did not believe it at first but both Professor Karkaroff and Professor Dumbledore had given their permission for the match to happen at a date that will be determined later on.
Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell came racing towards him when they heard the news after breakfast. They threw him a bone-crushing hug, telling him that this was something they would never expected to happen. Angelina then immediately dashed to her dormitory after informing him that she would write to Oliver that very instance.
Ravenclaw keeper Grant Page and Herbert Fleet from Hufflepuff, knowing that the Gryffindor team did not have a keeper of their own, offered them their service. Harry's teammate, intending to keep the players only among the Gryffindor, of course, did not give any reply at the beginning. Harry however did urge them to consider their offer given that the Gryffindor team would practically be representing Hogwarts in the match and there won't be any guarantee that they could get Oliver.
It was ten minutes before 4.00 pm. Harry, clutching his Firebolt and escorted by all the Gryffindor, walked down the castle ground towards the pitch. He saw that the pitch stands were full to the brim.
Virtually everyone had gone down to watch him and Krum slugged it all out.
Harry and his teammate entered their locker room.
"Well, good luck, Harry," said both Fred and George, shaking his hand.
"We'll be rooting for you, Harry," said Angelina Johnson as she gave him a tight hug.
"Show him, Harry," said Katie Bell, also hugging him.
"You can do it, Harry," said Alicia Spinnet. She then planted a kiss on Harry's cheek.
Harry watched his teammate exit the locker room with amusement. To be honest, he did not even know if there would be any slugging. Krum did not even tell him why he wanted to meet him at the Quidditch pitch. He could simply just want to talk.
He turned, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the pitch.
He was greeted by a deafening roar of applause. Harry looked up and saw Viktor Krum, hovering alone high above the pitch on his own Firebolt, waiting for him.
"Okay," he muttered. "Let's get this show started."
He then mounted his broom and sped off towards Krum.
Author's note: Please read my bio.
To be continued…