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The Rules Of The Game
"Can't a bloke have one quiet year without someone trying to kill me?" Harry grumbled loudly as he entered the small room, his voice echoing off the ancient stone walls.
The space was warmly lit by the fireplace raging on the wall opposite the door. Multiple trophies were piled all over the room, and plaques and portraits covered the walls. The lingering smell of smoke from the fireplace mingled with the mustiness of the rarely-used chamber, creating a unique but unpleasant odour.
Three champions turned to face him, their expressions ranging from curiosity to annoyance. Cedric stood a few feet away from Fleur and Viktor, who looked like they were having a conversation before Harry strode into the room.
"Potter, what are you doing here?" Cedric asked, concern furrowing his handsome features.
"Someone used a confundus charm on the Goblet," Harry replied with a sigh, running a hand through his unruly black hair. "Now I'm the fourth champion of this blasted Triwizard Tournament."
Cedric let out a surprised chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've never met someone with worse luck than you, Harry."
"Tell me about it." Harry rolled his eyes, a sarcastic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You'd think after being attacked by Dementors last year, I'd be due for a break."
"You were attacked by Dementors?" Fleur asked, her heavy French accent adding an air of disbelief to her words. "How?"
"During a Quidditch match," Cedric explained, his eyes glancing between Fleur and Viktor Krum. "Harry fell from his broom and spent two days in the infirmary."
"Really?" Fleur's large blue eyes widened, while Viktor raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by this revelation.
"Yeah," Harry interjected with a grin, attempting to sound nonchalant. "All part of the Hogwarts experience, apparently."
Just then, the door swung open, admitting the headmasters of the three schools, Barty Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Igor Karkaroff, Durmstrang's headmaster, stormed into the room in the middle of a heated argument with Hogwart's headmaster.
"Two champions. This is not fair for the other schools!" Karkaroff argued, pointing an accusatory finger at Dumbledore, who remained composed under the scrutiny.
"Harry was entered into the tournament unwillingly," Albus replied calmly, meeting Karkaroff's glare with a steady gaze. "He has already stated that he will not be competing for Hogwarts, but as an independent agent."
Cedric looked at Harry, confusion written all over his face. Harry offered a reassuring smile that seemed to only deepen the Hufflepuff's bafflement.
The room buzzed with tension as Karkaroff continued to argue, clearly unhappy with the situation.
"Nonetheless," Madame Maxime, Beauxbatons' headmistress, interjected in a voice as grand as her towering figure, "the draw should be repeated."
"It must!" Karkaroff chimed in eagerly. "We don't even know if Potter himself wasn't the one confounding the Goblet to be able to compete."
Harry felt a surge of anger at Karkaroff's insinuation and clenched his fists. He glared at the Durmstrang headmaster before commenting with icy sarcasm, "Do you really believe that a fourth-year student can cheat an ancient magical relic with the added protections created by Dumbledore himself?" Karkaroff's expression became uncertain, his sneer faltering under Harry's fierce gaze.
"Madame Maxime," Barty Crouch jumped in before another objection could be made, "the draw is magically binding. All four champions will have to compete."
Harry took a deep breath and addressed the room. "Let me make this very clear: Cedric is Hogwarts' champion. I will be competing as a free agent, under protest." Madame Maxime and Karkaroff exchanged uneasy glances.
Ludo Bagman enthusiastically leapt into the conversation, seemingly unaware of the mood in the room. "This is so exciting! The first time ever with four champions! We're making history here, folks!"
Harry rolled his eyes internally at Bagman's misplaced enthusiasm. The man seemed more interested in the novelty of the situation than the potential dangers it presented.
The door to the small room burst open, and Alastor Moody hobbled in, his magical eye spinning wildly as he surveyed the tense gathering. "I've examined the Goblet further," he growled, his voice like gravel. "Whoever charmed it hid their magical signature well. I did everything I could, but that lead will take us nowhere."
With his current knowledge, Harry was able to appreciate fake Moody's work. Barty Crouch Junior, wearing Moody as his mask, must have hidden his own magical signature while examining the Goblet. Harry was surprised at the impostor's competence and decided to keep an eye on the disguised Death Eater.
"We must proceed." Barty Crouch Senior sighed, rubbing his temples. "The first task will test the champions' courage and ability to think on their feet. Of course, it remains a surprise." He glanced at the four champions, his eyes lingering on Harry with a mix of concern and curiosity.
Harry felt a twinge of guilt at his unfair advantage over the others, knowing not only what each task entailed but also possessing far more training and experience. He resolved to help the other champions as much as possible.
For Harry, this tournament was just another obstacle in the way of eliminating Voldemort, but for the other three champions, this tournament was an important achievement.
"Good luck, champions," Crouch Senior said, his voice heavy. "You'll need it."
The champions were dismissed, and the tense atmosphere in the small room seemed to dissipate as they prepared to leave. Before they could scatter to their respective corners of Hogwarts, Harry called for them, halting their departure.
"Look, I just wanted to say how sorry I am that I'm even in this tournament," he began, his gaze flicking between Fleur's striking features, Viktor's stoic expression, and Cedric's warm smile. "Even if I didn't enter myself, this was meant to be about the three of you. I know the press will make a big deal of the unexpected fourth champion, and I don't want to steal your thunder."
Harry's words rang somewhat hollow in his own ears, as the truth was, he had known he would be part of the competition. The necessity of his presence gnawed at him, but his resolve to protect them all remained steadfast.
Cedric was the first to respond. "Don't worry, Harry. I know you didn't enter willingly. I'll make sure the people in my house don't blame you for any of it."
This surprised Harry, as it hadn't happened in the other timeline. He grinned at Cedric, genuine gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thanks, Cedric. That means a lot."
Viktor merely nodded to Harry, his taciturn nature providing an air of solidarity. Fleur, however, appeared more conflicted, her delicate features caught between acceptance and frustration.
Eventually, she sighed, offering Harry a small nod. "I suppose it is not your fault."
With their goodbyes exchanged, the champions set off toward their dormitories, each lost in thought as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors of Hogwarts. Harry's mind swirled with plans and strategies, the weight of the tasks ahead intermingled with the burden of his secrets. He wanted to help the other champions as much as possible, but he needed to stay focused on his ultimate goal: defeating Voldemort.
Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower. The castle's familiar nooks and crannies comforted him, its secrets long since unravelled in his past life.
Cedric's support was unexpected. Perhaps this time around, he could build new alliances, allies who would stand by him when it mattered most. It was a novel feeling to have Cedric on his side from the beginning, and Harry allowed himself to indulge in a moment of optimism.
"Password," said the Fat Lady, her voice slurred from the large goblet of wine she held in one hand.
"Balderdash," Harry replied, giving the password to the portrait guarding the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. The portrait swung open, revealing the common room beyond.
Upon entering, Harry found the common room buzzing with anticipation, his fellow Gryffindors clearly torn between elation at their housemate's selection and suspicion at the cause of his involvement.
"Harry!" Hermione broke the silence, rushing forward to wrap him in a warm embrace. "I'm so sorry you have to go through this. It's so unfair, I can't believe the professors haven't done something about it!" Her words tumbled out in a torrent, her bushy hair tickling his cheek as she hugged him tightly. "I'll read every book I can find about the tournament to find a way out of it."
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, returning her hug with equal fervour. "But it's okay. I can do this."
Surprise flickered in Hermione's eyes, and Harry realised he couldn't remember a time when he had hugged her back so willingly.
Hermione looked at Harry as if she wanted to say something, but after looking around at all the students gathered, she seemed to think better of it. She gave Harry a look that said 'We'll talk later'.
Emboldened by Hermione's support, the other Gryffindors began to approach Harry, their sympathy and encouragement washing over him like a warm tide. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, grinned at him with their usual cheeky mischief.
"Harry, mate," said Fred, clapping him on the shoulder, "you're going to do great!"
"Absolutely!" chimed in George. "You are bound to finish this thing with most of your limbs still attached to your body."
Harry laughed genuinely. This was already so different from his last timeline, where he had bitten his tongue and kept his feelings bottled up. Speaking out had made all the difference, showing him that people were more than willing to rally around him when given the chance.
In the corner of the Common Room, Ron stood watching the scene unfold, his expression conflicted. His face seemed torn between worry for his best friend and the green-eyed monster of jealousy. Harry knew that Ron would always be like a brother to him, but he worried about whether the changes he'd made to this timeline were enough to keep Ron firmly on his side.
As if sensing Harry's gaze, Ron looked up, meeting his eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he seemed to make up his mind. Striding forward confidently, he approached Harry and nodded.
"Mate," he declared, "you can win this thing."
Harry put an arm around Ron's shoulders, pulling him into a rough embrace as he whispered his thanks. Ron patted him on the back, brushing off the sentiment as though it were nothing, but the bright smile on his face betrayed his true feelings.
With a fond farewell from his fellow Gryffindors, Harry climbed the winding staircase to his dormitory, the cheerful chatter of his housemates fading into the background.
As he entered his room, Harry felt as if the adrenaline of the day had left his system and his body suddenly felt heavy. He approached his bed, looking forward to nothing more than to colapse inside of it.
"My bed," he murmured under his breath, "My beautiful, beautiful bed". He quickly changed into his pyjamas and crawled between the crisp sheets, exhaustion weighing heavily on his eyelids.
"Talking to yourself now, Harry?" a voice quipped from a nearby bed. Dean Thomas' lighthearted tone was accompanied by a mischievous grin, visible even in the dim light.
"No," Harry replied, grinning back despite his tiredness. "Just having a chat with my imaginary friend."
"Sleep would do you good, mate," Seamus chimed in, yawning from his own bed. "The madness is starting to show."
"Thanks for the advice," Harry said wryly, but there was no bite to his words.
As he lay there, staring at the canopy above him, Harry's thoughts whirled like a maelstrom. His past had been fraught with pain and loss, and the weight of his experiences threatened to crush him. But here, in this new beginning, things were already different.
Sleep quickly claimed Harry Potter.