Dumbledore spoke with assurance, "The goblet is almost ready to announce its decision. In about a minute's time, I estimate. When the champions' names are called, please make your way up to the top of the Great Hall, walk along the staff table, and enter the next chamber behind it. That is where you will receive your first instructions."
He pulled out his wand and made a grand gesture with it. Suddenly, all the candles except for those inside the intricately carved pumpkins went dark, leaving the room partially shrouded in shadows. The Goblet of Fire now glowed more brightly than anything else in the hall, its blue-white flames shining intensely and almost painfully on the eyes. Everyone waited expectantly as Dumbledore continued.
"Just a few seconds now..." Lee Jordan whispered to Harry from two seats away.
And just like that, the flames inside the goblet turned red once again, sparks flying out of it. A moment later, a fiery tongue shot into the air and a singed piece of parchment fluttered out - causing gasps to echo throughout the room. Dumbledore swiftly caught the parchment and held it at arm's length so he could read it under the glowing blue-white light of the flames once more.
"And the champion for Durmstrang is…" Dumbledore exclaimed, his voice strong and clear as he read off the parchment. "Viktor Krum."
"No surprises there!" Ron shouted as a wave of applause and cheering erupted in the Great Hall. Harry watched as Viktor Krum stood up from the Slytherin table and made his way towards Dumbledore. He turned right, walked alongside the staff table, and disappeared through a door leading to another room.
"Well done, Viktor!" Karkaroff's booming voice rang through the hall, drowning out the applause. "I knew you had it in you!"
The sounds of clapping and chatting gradually died down as everyone's attention turned back to the goblet. Suddenly, it turned bright red once again and a second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by flames.
Dumbledore announced, "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
"Ron, it's her!" Harry exclaimed as the Veela-like girl gracefully stood up and shook her silvery blonde hair before making her way between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
Hermione pointed to the remaining Beauxbatons students who seemed disappointed. But "disappointed" was an understatement for two girls who were now sobbing with their heads on their arms after not being selected. Harry couldn't help but feel sympathy for them.
Silence descended once again as Fleur Delacour disappeared into the side chamber, but this time it was a tense silence filled with anticipation. The Hogwarts champion would be chosen next... And just like that, the Goblet of Fire turned red again, sending sparks flying and a tall flame shooting into the air. From its tip, Dumbledore extracted the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion," he announced, "is Cedric Diggory!"
Ron tried to protest, but his voice was drowned out by the uproar coming from the Hufflepuff table. Every member of the house was on their feet, cheering and clapping as Cedric passed by them with a wide grin on his face and made his way towards the chamber behind the teachers' table. The applause for Cedric continued for so long that it took a while for Dumbledore's voice to cut through it once more.
Wonderful!" exclaimed Dumbledore as the commotion finally ceased. "Now, we have our three champions confirmed. I do not doubt that all of you, from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, will offer unwavering support to your champions. Your cheering and encouragement will make a significant difference—"
But Dumbledore's words were cut off abruptly, as his attention was drawn elsewhere. The fire in the goblet had once again turned red and was now shooting sparks into the air. A stream of flames erupted, carrying with it yet another piece of parchment. Without hesitation, Dumbledore reached out and grabbed the parchment, holding it up for all to see. He paused for a moment, staring intently at the name written on it before clearing his throat and announcing —
"Harry Potter."
Every head in the Great Hall turned as one to look at Harry, their eyes wide and curious. He felt like he was in a dream, his mind buzzing and numb all at once. A deafening silence filled the air, broken only by the faint sound of angry whispers and shifting chairs. Some students stood up on their seats to get a better view of Harry as he sat motionless, stunned by the unexpected announcement.
At the top table, Professor McGonagall had risen from her seat and made her way towards Dumbledore with urgency, passing by Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff on her way. She leaned in close to whisper something urgently into Dumbledore's ear, causing him to frown in concern. Meanwhile, Harry's attention was drawn back to Ron and Hermione sitting beside him; beyond them, the entire Gryffindor table was fixated on him with open mouths and wide eyes.
"I...I didn't put my name in," Harry stammered, his voice blank and disbelieving. "You know I didn't."
Both of his friends looked just as shocked and confused as he did.
But at the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up and called out to Harry again with authority.
"Harry Potter!" he exclaimed once more. "Up here, if you please!"
Hermione gave Harry a slight nudge, urging him to go forward. "Go on," she whispered. "And I don't believe you."
Harry gingerly rose to his feet, trying not to trip on the hem of his flowing robes. He stumbled slightly as he made his way towards the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Every step felt impossibly long, as if the top table was moving further away with each passing moment. The intense gazes of hundreds of students bore into him like piercing searchlights. The buzzing chatter in the Great Hall grew louder and more chaotic with each step Harry took. It felt like an eternity before he finally reached Dumbledore at the head of the teachers' table, all eyes still fixed upon him.
Dumbledore's face was serious and stern, his usual twinkling blue eyes now hard and unreadable. "Through the door, Harry," he said firmly.
(Line Break)
"That was the first domino to fall in a series of unfortunate events," said Harry, his voice laced with regret. "If only I had realized sooner that the entire school was already whispering."
Aurora's cat-like eyes narrowed into slits as she interjected, "In that magic school, rumours travel faster than they do in the Summer Court and Winter Court combined."
"How is that possible?" asked Titania, her regal voice tinged with curiosity.
"You should have seen what happened in his second year," said Aurora, her tone heavy with significance.
"Daughter, what exactly happened during Harry's second year at Hogwarts?" inquired the summer queen of the Fae, her golden hair shimmering in the soft light.
"In my second year, a girl by the name of Ginny Weasley was being possessed by a diary and opened the Chamber of Secrets," explained Harry. "Because I can speak to snakes, everyone thought I had opened it and was attacking muggle-borns. They completely ignored the fact that my mother is a muggle-born. It wasn't until I slayed the giant serpent inside the chamber of secrets that the insults ended." His words were heavy with the weight of past injustices and misunderstandings.
(Line Break)
With a heavy heart, Harry walked along the length of the teachers' table, passing by all his familiar professors who now seemed to look at him differently. Even Hagrid, usually full of warmth and cheer, stared at him in shock without any sign of recognition or greeting. Finally reaching the door at the end of the hall, Harry stepped into a smaller room lined with portraits of witches and wizards.
As soon as he entered, every portrait turned its attention towards him, their painted eyes following his every move. One wizened witch even flitted out of her frame and into the one next to it, where a wizard with a large walrus mustache sat looking equally surprised. The two began whispering frantically to each other as Harry stood there feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable
Three figures, Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour, were gathered around the lively fire. The dancing flames cast a flickering light on their faces, making them look strangely impressive and almost mythical. Krum stood hunched and brooding against the mantelpiece, his dark eyes fixed on the crackling embers. Cedric, hands clasped behind his back, gazed into the depths of the fire with a contemplative expression. And Fleur Delacour, her long silvery hair cascading down her back like a shimmering waterfall, turned to face Harry as he entered the room.
She cocked her head to the side, silver eyes questioning. "What is it?" she asked in her lilting French accent. "Do they want us back in the Great Hall?"
She assumed he had come with news from the judges. But Harry didn't know how to explain what had just happened at the lake. He simply stood there, taking in the sight of the three champions before him. It struck him how tall and imposing they all were.
A sudden flurry of footsteps echoed behind him and Ludo Bagman appeared in the doorway. He quickly guided Harry forward by the arm, drawing him closer to the trio of champions by the fire.
"Extraordinary!" he murmured in amazement, squeezing Harry's arm tightly. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen, and lady," he added with a small bow to Fleur Delacour, approaching the fireside where they stood in shock. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth Triwizard champion?" Viktor Krum straightened up, his dark expression growing even more brooding as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked thoroughly perplexed, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion as he looked from Bagman to Harry and back again, certain that he must have misheard what Bagman had just announced. On the other hand, Fleur Delacour merely tossed her long hair over her shoulder with a coy smile and said, "Oh, very funny joke, Mister Bagman."
"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!" At this revelation, Krum's thick eyebrows furrowed slightly while Cedric's polite bewilderment remained unchanged. Fleur's perfect features twisted into a frown as she remarked disdainfully to Bagman, "But evidently there has been a mistake. He cannot compete. He is too young."
"Well... it is quite amazing," Bagman replied thoughtfully, rubbing his smooth chin and flashing a wide smile down at Harry. "But as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And since his name did come out of the Goblet... I mean, I don't think there can be any backing out at this stage... It's written in the rules that he must participate... Harry will just have to do his best."
The heavy, ornate door creaked open once again, and a crowd of distinguished figures entered: Professor Dumbledore leading the way, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. A hushed buzz of excitement emanated from the hundreds of students waiting on the other side of the wall before Professor McGonagall firmly shut the door behind them.
Fleur immediately strode over to her headmistress with urgency in her step. "Madame Maxime!" she exclaimed, gesturing towards Harry. "They are saying that this little boy is also to compete!"
Beneath his numb disbelief, Harry felt a surge of anger rise within him. Little boy? The words stung like an insult.
Madame Maxime stood at her full height, towering over everyone else in the room. Her elegant head almost brushed against the candle-filled chandelier above, and her imposing figure was accentuated by her massive bosom swathed in black satin.
"What is the meaning of this, Dumbly-dorr?" she demanded imperiously.
"I would also like to know that myself," added Professor Karkaroff icily. His steely smile did nothing to hide the sharp edge in his voice, and his cold blue eyes glinted like chips of ice. "Two champions from Hogwarts? I don't recall anyone informing me that the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
He let out a short, unpleasant laugh that echoed through the room.
"C'est impossible," exclaimed Madame Maxime, her voice booming and commanding attention. Her enormous hand, adorned with many superb opals, rested heavily on Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," sneered Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were now frozen with coldness. The air around him seemed to chill as he spoke.
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," spat Snape, his dark gaze smouldering with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here —" The tension in the room was palpable as Snape's words hung in the air like a thick fog, adding to the already icy atmosphere.
Harry's voice rang out, laced with fury and frustration. His intense green eyes blazed with anger as he shouted at Snape, the man who seemed to take pleasure in belittling and bullying him in class. "Shut the Fuck up, Snape!" Harry spat, his words dripping with venom. "I don't give a fuck about this mother fucking tournament. I don't give a fuck about you who constantly belittles and bullies me in class. You are nothing but a fucking childhood Bully in an adult's body!"
"Detention Mr. Potter," yelled Snape
"Fuck you! you fucking mother fucking bitch!" yelled Harry, "I am not attending any more of your mother fucking Detentions! you fucking death eater!"
Harry's outburst sent shockwaves through the room, a silence so profound it felt like the air itself had frozen. Dumbledore's expression tightened, an unusual severity replacing his usual calm demeanour. The room, charged with tension and disbelief, seemed to hold its breath.
"Harry," Dumbledore's voice was calm yet carried an edge that demanded immediate attention, "this is not the time nor the place for such language or accusations." His gaze, though not unkind, was firm, holding Harry's in a way that suggested the gravity of the situation.
Fleur, Cedric, and Krum looked on with varying degrees of astonishment and discomfort, none of them accustomed to witnessing such raw, unfiltered anger, especially not in the dignified presence of their headmasters and professors.
Professor Dumbledore towered over Harry, peering down at him with piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a million secrets. Behind his half-moon spectacles, the twinkle in those eyes was barely discernible, but Harry could sense it nonetheless.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked calmly, his voice low and steady.
The room was tense and silent, all eyes on Harry as he responded. Snape's disapproving scowl lurked in the shadows, while Madame Maxime's imposing figure loomed behind him.
"No," said Harry firmly, meeting Dumbledore's gaze head-on.
Snape scoffed quietly, clearly not believing a word of it. But Dumbledore continued undeterred.
"Did you ask an older student to put your name into the Goblet of Fire for you?" he pressed on.
Again, Harry vehemently denied any involvement in the matter.
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime in her thick French accent. Snape sneered and shook his head in disgust.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," Professor McGonagall interjected sternly. "I am sure we are all in agreement on that point."
Madame Maxime shrugged nonchalantly, dismissing McGonagall's words. "Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"It is possible, of course," said the wise Dumbledore with a slight tilt of his head.
The usually stern Professor McGonagall was now red-faced and fuming. "Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" she exclaimed angrily. "This is utter nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and since you believe he did not persuade anyone else to do it for him, that should be enough for everyone else to trust as well!"
Her gaze sharpened as she shot an accusatory look at Professor Snape, who met her eyes unflinchingly.
Karkaroff's oily voice oozed once more as he addressed Bagman and Crouch, "Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you can see how irregular this situation is?"
Bagman wiped his boyish face with his handkerchief, looking back and forth between Karkaroff and Crouch who stood outside the circle of firelight, his face hidden in shadow. The darkness gave him an almost ghostly appearance, making him seem much older than he actually was. When he finally spoke, it was in his usual curt tone.
"We must adhere to the rules," he stated firmly, "and the rules clearly state that those whose names are drawn from the Goblet of Fire must compete in the tournament."
"Barty knows the rule book like the back of his hand," Bagman beamed, turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime with a satisfied smile. He seemed confident that the matter was now closed.
But Karkaroff was not so easily appeased. His unctuous tone and false smile vanished, replaced by a scowl that twisted his usually pleasant features into something grotesque. "I insist on resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," he demanded, his voice dripping with venom.
Bagman's expression faltered. "Karkaroff, you know it doesn't work like that," he tried to reason. "The Goblet of Fire has already chosen the champions. It won't reignite until the start of the next tournament—"
But Karkaroff would hear none of it. "I demand that the Goblet be set up once more," he interrupted fiercely, pounding his hand on the table for emphasis. "We will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
Bagman's face fell in defeat, but Dumbledore remained calm and composed as ever. "Karkaroff, as I have told you before, that is not how it works," he said firmly.
"Enough!" Karkaroff exploded, his temper finally boiling over. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I never expected such a blatant disregard for fairness! I have half a mind to leave this competition right now!" His outburst echoed through the chamber, leaving a tense silence in its wake.
As soon as Karkaroff finished his threat, a low and menacing voice growled from the direction of the door. "Empty threat, Karkaroff," said Mad-Eye Moody, his gait toward the fire impeded by his limping leg. With each step he took, there was a loud clunk that echoed throughout the room. Karkaroff tried to maintain an air of disdain, but his clenched fists betrayed his true emotions.
Moody continued in a quiet tone, "Don't you understand, Karkaroff? It's all too convenient. Someone deliberately put Potter's name in that goblet so he would have to compete." Madame Maxime chimed in, stating her agreement and adding that it seemed someone wanted Hogwarts to have an extra chance at winning.
Karkaroff bowed to her before declaring his intention to lodge complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards. However, Moody interjected with a sneer, pointing out that if anyone had reason to complain, it was Potter. But strangely enough, Potter remained silent.
"Why should he complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, her foot stomping in frustration. "He has the chance to compete! We have all been hoping for this for weeks! The honour for our schools! And a thousand Galleons in prize money – this is an opportunity that many would give their lives for!"
The air was thick with tension as Harry's voice boomed through the room, his anger radiating off of him in waves. He slammed his fist down on the table, causing a red glow to emanate from it and heat to ripple through the wood, bending it inward. His eyes blazed with fury as he spoke, his words laced with curses and venom. The other students at Hogwarts had never seen Harry like this before - so full of rage and bitterness.
"Why the fuck would I care about fucking money?" he yelled, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "I have three vaults in Gringotts, I am the Scion of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and I have enough wealth to sustain generations upon generations." His chest heaved with each word, his fists clenched tightly.
"And as for eternal glory!" he spat out, his face contorted in disgust. "Name one fucking past champion! Just one!" He glared at the others around him, daring them to speak up. When no one did, his anger only grew more intense.
"I motherfucking thought so!" he exclaimed, his voice rising even higher. "So much for fucking eternal glory! You motherfucking assholes!" He gritted his teeth and let out a growl of frustration.
"On top of all that," he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I am also the infamous boy who fucking lived. My fucking name will be known throughout history books for fucking generations to come." A hint of sadness crept into his tone as he mentioned his deceased parents.
"My parents died while I fucking survived," he concluded bitterly. His intense gaze swept over the group once more before storming out of the room, leaving a trail of angry energy behind him. "And every day of my short and pathetic life, I wish I died With my fucking Parents that Day"
(Line Break)
"As I stormed out of the room in a fit of anger, my footsteps echoed loudly against the hard stone floors. The sharp gazes of the entire student body followed me as I made my way through the corridors," recounted Harry, still fuming from the altercation. "It was like reliving the Chamber of Secrets disaster all over again."
"I remember you confiding in me that you thought you could rely on Hermione and Ron," said Aurora sympathetically.
"But I was wrong," replied Harry bitterly. "Ron accused me of sneaking past the age line using my invisibility cloak without any evidence. And Hermione, she claimed she didn't know how I did it but she still believed I had put my name in the Goblet of Fire."
"The lack of common sense among wanded wizards never ceases to amaze me," remarked the Summer Lady with a shake of her head.
"You're spot on about that, Aurora," agreed Harry. "The only means of defence to prevent underage wizards from entering was an age line."
Titania let out a tinkling laugh. "Oh, there are plenty of ways to get around that! You could carve your name and an extra school onto a rock and toss it over the age line. Or have an owl drop your name into the goblet. An older student could even write your name and submit it for you. You can have a Brownie put your name in the goblet. The possibilities are endless."
Curious, Harry asked, "What's a brownie?"
"To wanded wizards they are called House-eves, they are known as House-elves," explained Titania, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "But in reality, they are Brownies or household spirits. They serve as loyal servants to their assigned homes, their magic symbiotically intertwined with that of their masters'. Without serving a household, they would slowly wither away."
(Line Break)
Harry stormed his way through the castle, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls as he made his way to the Gryffindor dormitory. His heart pounded with relief when he found Ron lying on his bed, still fully clothed in his school robes. He looked up, a strained and slightly forced grin on his face as Harry slammed the door behind him.
"Where have you been?" Harry demanded.
"Oh, hello," Ron replied casually, though there was an odd tension in his voice.
As Harry's eyes fell on the scarlet and gold banner still draped over his body, he realized he had forgotten to remove it. With a hasty gesture, he tried to pull it off but found it tightly knotted. Ron remained motionless on the bed, watching as Harry struggled.
"So," Ron said, at last, breaking the silence. "Congratulations."
Confused, Harry stopped his attempts at removing the banner and turned to face Ron. There was something off about the way Ron was smiling - more of a pained grimace than genuine happiness.
"Well . . . no one else managed to cross the Age Line," said Ron in disbelief. "Not even Fred and George with all their tricks. How did you do it — use the Invisibility Cloak?"
Harry shook his head slowly. "The Cloak wouldn't have helped me in this situation."
Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, I see. If it was the Cloak, you would've told me, right? It could cover both of us, couldn't it? So you must have found another way."
Harry sighed, feeling frustrated. "Listen, I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must have done it."
Ron cocked his head to the side, confused. "Why would they do that?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harry replied honestly. He didn't want to sound melodramatic by saying "to kill me."
But Ron's eyebrows shot up so high they almost disappeared into his hair. "Come on now, Harry. You can tell me the truth," he said reassuringly.
"If you don't want anyone else to know, I understand, but why bother lying? You didn't get in trouble for it, did you? And that girl Violet who helped us with the Fat Lady's portrait already spilled the beans about Dumbledore allowing you to compete. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And no end-of-year tests! Sounds like a pretty sweet deal."
"I swear, I didn't put my name in that goblet!" Harry exclaimed, starting to feel angry at Ron's doubt.
"Sure, sure," said Ron skeptically, mirroring Cedric's tone earlier. "But this morning you said you would've done it last night when no one was around..." he trailed off with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm not stupid, Harry," he added in a serious tone.
"You're doing a really good impression of it," Harry snapped back, feeling irked by Ron's insistence on questioning him.
"Is that so?" Ron retorted, his face now void of any forced or genuine smile. "We all know you have a thing for danger."
"What the hell you are talking about" demanded Harry, as Ron pointed his wand at Harry. Causing Harry to grab his wand.
"We all know you put your name in the Goblet, Harry you can stop lying" sneered Ron, "You nearly got me killed in first year while going after the stone, and second year while going after the snake, and last year because of the Dementors"
Harry's grip tightened around his wand, his pulse racing with anger and betrayal. "I've told you, Ron. I didn't put my name in the Goblet. Why can't you believe me? Do you think I would lie about something like this?" His voice cracked with emotion, a mix of frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface.
Ron's expression softened slightly, but the skepticism didn't entirely leave his eyes. "It's just... you always end up in the middle of these things, Harry. It's hard to believe it's always by accident."
"Ron," Harry said, his voice low and steady, "think about it. Why would I want to enter a tournament that's known for killing participants? Especially when I've had enough trouble with Voldemort as it is? This... this isn't about seeking glory or getting into more danger. Someone's making a move against me, and I need you to trust me on this."
The room fell into a tense silence, both boys staring each other down, wands still in hand but the initial aggression slowly dissipating. The mention of Voldemort seemed to have a sobering effect on Ron, reminding him of the gravity of their situations in past years.
After a long moment, Ron lowered his wand, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I... I want to believe you, Harry. I do. But you are a liar, Are friendship is over, sleep with one eye open because I will hurt you if I see you again you are an embarrassment to Hogwarts and an embarrassment to Gryffindor, your parents will be ashamed of you."
(Line-Brake)
"That night, I slept in an abandoned classroom with my things hidden," said Harry to Queen Titania.
"What happened Next?" asked Queen Titania as she listened to Harry's Story.
"Well the entire school turned on me, I had to watch my back to constantly dodge whatever curses the other students sent at me. I had to use a brownie called Dobby to bring me food and eat in the chamber of secrets," replied Harry.
"It only got worse as time wore on," said Harry…
(Line Brake)
And cut...
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This fic is based on Awaken Sleeper by Water Mage please read that fic.