Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Third Champion
It was Halloween and, as every year, the Great Hall at Hogwarts was decked out in autumnal decorations. Pumpkins of all shapes and sizes floated above the tables, glowing in the warm light of countless candles. A faint scent of cinnamon and steaming Cauldron Cakes permeated the air, heavy with the excited voices of students. This time, not only the residents of Hogwarts had gathered in the hall for the feast, but also the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, who had arrived the day before.
The meal had just finished and now everyone was waiting, hosts and guests, students and teachers alike. For apart from the foreign guests, this was the other, the most important thing that made this Halloween different from those of previous years.
Two months had passed since the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament, and today the champions of the three schools would finally be chosen. Two months of excitement, anticipation, dreams of glory and honour would finally reach their first climax today. At least for some of them.
Harry stifled a smirk as he glanced around the hall. His heart pounded excitedly in his chest. Yes, two months of waiting, of planning, of impatient expectation would finally come to an end today for them, for Daphne and for him.
For the past two years, they had not taken part in the general Halloween celebrations, instead having their own little magical adventures, but that too was different today. Today they sat together at the Gryffindor table. Across from them were Ron and Hermione, who, like everyone else, had their eyes fixed on the Goblet of Fire in front of the teachers' table. It had only been placed there tonight, after spending the previous twenty-four hours in the Entrance Hall, so that anyone who, for whatever reason, thought themselves worthy enough could put their name in it. If they were of age, that is. An Age Line had been created by Dumbledore himself to ensure this, for who could imagine being able to overcome the mighty magic of the great Albus Dumbledore?
Harry's suppressed smirk turned into a suppressed grin, although his heart was still beating hard in his chest. He wasn't the only one.
Daphne's hand gripped his so tightly it almost hurt. His girlfriend was as excited as he was, as was everyone else in the hall, if not more so. She had dressed up especially for their big, bold day. Her long, jet-black hair fell sleekly over her shoulders, her lips, which she occasionally bit nervously, had a reddish tint, and the silver accents of her jewellery sparkled like the sharp gleam of a shadowy blade. Even in her ordinary school uniform, worn by hundreds of other witches in the hall, she managed to look prettier than any of them. Elegant, mysterious, dangerous. He really was a lucky wizard, Harry thought.
And hopefully he was about to get even luckier.
Dumbledore rose from his chair and stood beside the Goblet of Fire. The hall was quiet as a mouse as tension spread like an invisible net over those gathered.
"Well, the moment we have all been waiting for has arrived," Dumbledore said. "When I call the names of the champions in a moment, I would ask them to come to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table and go through to the next chamber." He pointed to the door behind the teachers' table. "There they will receive their first instructions."
Dumbledore took out his wand and made a great sweeping motion; at once all the candles except those in the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semi-darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone brighter than anything else in the hall, the glistening blue-white light of the flames almost painful to the eyes. Everyone stared at the Goblet, waiting. Daphne's grip on Harry's hand tightened. Her manicured fingernails dug into his flesh, but he barely noticed as he, too, stared at the Goblet in fascination. As did every other human soul in the hall. Seconds passed like hours.
Then – suddenly – the flames in the Goblet turned red again. Sparks flew from the embers. The next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out – and the whole hall held its breath.
Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length so he could read it in the light of the fire, which had returned to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read in a clear, strong voice, "is Viktor Kum."
"Well, who would have thought!" Ron shouted jokingly as applause and cheers rippled through the hall, not just from Durmstrang students, as the famous Quidditch player had fans in the other schools as well.
Harry saw Viktor Krum get up from the Slytherin table and walk over to Dumbledore with a hard, determined look on his face. Someone took his duties seriously, he thought. How sweet. Krum turned to the right, walked past the teachers' table and disappeared through the door into the room beyond.
Gradually, the cheering died down. All eyes returned to the Goblet of Fire, whose flames were once again turning red. A second piece of parchment flew from the embers, lifted by the heat. Dumbledore caught it again.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," he said, "is Fleur Delacour."
There was another round of applause, though slightly less than Krum's, as the girl who looked so much like a Veela rose gracefully, tossed her silver-blonde hair back and swept between the tables of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.
As Delacour disappeared into the side chamber, another silence fell over the hall. This time, however, it was a silence so stiff with tension that you could almost taste it. Now came the name of the Hogwarts champion.
Harry leaned forward tensely as he thought back to the previous night, which had perhaps, hopefully, changed everything that was now to come...
The Entrance Hall of Hogwarts was almost completely dark, no torches burning on the walls, no lamps shining under the high stone ceiling. The only light came from the Goblet of Fire, which stood majestically in the centre of the hall, exactly where it had been placed earlier in the day. The flickering light of its blue and white flames cast ghostly shadows on the high walls.
There was absolute silence in the hall, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire in the magical, ancient artefact – and the soft voices of two teenagers approaching from under an Invisibility Cloak.
"Ouch! You've stepped on my heels again!"
"Sorry. But you're just taking too small steps."
"I'm not. I'm starting to get the feeling you just like bumping into my bum!"
"I refuse to answer that. Look at the map instead. Everything still in the green?"
"Yes. Filch is still in his office, probably getting drunk again. There's no one else in this part of the castle either. Lupin on the third floor is moving in the opposite direction. We've got a clear path."
Harry nodded and tore the cloak from his and Daphne's heads. They were still several metres from the Goblet of Fire, which was surrounded by a shimmering silver line that ran in a circle around it. This was Dumbledore's Age Line, designed to prevent underage students from putting their names in the Goblet of Fire. The first obstacle in their way.
"I could even imagine we could cross the line under your cloak," Daphne said thoughtfully. "As detached as it seems from the magic of the world."
"But let's play it safe," Harry said. "I don't want it to end up like the twins."
"Of course. I don't think a beard would suit me."
Daphne took a deep breath before pointing her black wand at the Age Line. Her chest rose and fell slightly, her eyes closed, and in the next moment Harry felt her magic wash over him and the surrounding area like small, shallow waves of warm water. It was a subtle magic, not meant to tear down their Headmaster's dams in one mighty act like an imposing flash flood, but to work through them, slowly softening and infiltrating them until the dam in one place was weak enough for the water to penetrate. At least that's how Harry imagined it. He knew that Daphne preferred to think in terms of knots and threads and such when she wove her impressive magic.
After a minute or two, Daphne finally opened her eyes again, a satisfied smile playing around her lips. "Done. Right in front of us, the enchantment has been loosened enough for us to pass through. I'm almost a little disappointed in Dumbledore. Or maybe he didn't try so hard."
"He probably wasn't expecting an enchantress as talented as you," Harry said. And it was true. Daphne simply had a knack for this sort of thing, she always had. For as long as he had known her, she had taken great pleasure in weaving enchantments into objects – his glasses, their wand holsters, their rings – and, more recently, removing enchantments from other people, like the one that had bound the cursed portrait of Sirius's mother to Grimmauld Place.
But the great masterpiece was yet to come.
After they had both crossed the Age Line without a hitch, Daphne looked at the Goblet of Fire before them. "This will be more difficult. The Goblet... it almost feels alive. A bit like the Sorting Hat. It will take strong magic to fool it. I'll have to pull more than a few threads here..."
Daphne closed her eyes again as she pointed her wand at the Goblet. The blue and white flames danced across her face, transforming her tense features into a play of light and shadow. A facial muscle twitched now and then, but that was the only visible movement in the physical world.
In the threads of magic, however, Harry knew that it looked very different. At that moment, he imagined his girlfriend to be a bit like a spider, sitting in the centre of her web, tugging at a thread here and there, drawing her prey closer, bit by bit, but inexorably. Only, of course, Daphne was much prettier than any spider. And sexier.
Harry stifled a chuckle at the thought. Instead, he kept his eyes on the Marauder's Map, but nothing changed. As if fate had smiled on them, not a soul moved in their direction. They were completely alone. And that was a good thing, because this time it took longer than with the Age Line. Much, much longer.
The distant castle clock struck midnight, then one o'clock, and Daphne still stood motionless before the Goblet of Fire, her wand raised and her eyes closed. Only the unbroken stream of magic emanating from her let Harry know that it was still his beloved girlfriend standing there, and not a lifeless statue.
But then, as the castle clock struck two o'clock, there was a sudden change. Daphne's body began to shake, a little at first, then more and more. At the same time, her magic erupted, and what had been a steady trickle became a torrent, rushing towards the Goblet like an abyss.
Harry reacted instinctively, without thinking. He placed his hand on Daphne's shoulder, which had become quite warm, as if her blood itself was on fire.
Take my power, he thought determinedly. Take it and use it. We are one.
His magic merged with Daphne's as it had countless times before. If anything, it got easier each time, even under these circumstances. A warm sensation gripped Harry and as he felt the familiar bloody taste on his tongue, he swallowed hard. Now his magic was flowing into the Goblet as part of Daphne's.
This was the breakthrough. Harry felt it clearly. And for a moment he saw what Daphne saw, not with her eyes, but with something more powerful, deeper: A dark ball of dark threads, so tightly woven that it was impossible to tell the beginning from the end. But woven into this powerful magic was a single bright thread of green and gold, clearly distinguishable from the others, yet not like a foreign object. It looked as if it had always been there.
The next moment, Daphne opened her eyes. Like the thread, they were bathed in a glow of green and gold. An exhausted but genuinely happy smile adorned her face, which had gone a little pale.
"Thank you, Harry," she whispered, "and sorry I had to use a bit of a crowbar here."
Harry squeezed her shoulder gently. "No problem at all. And you're amazing, Daph, you know that?"
"Hmm, I don't think you've told me that often enough."
They both laughed with relief as Harry reached into his cloak and pulled out the piece of parchment they had prepared. Without hesitation, he threw it into the Goblet of Fire, the flames flickering briefly. Now they had done what they could. Everything else was out of their hands.
"Do you think it will work?" Daphne asked.
Harry shrugged. "We'll find out tomorrow night."
The whole hall watched intently as the fire in the Goblet turned red once more; sparks flew from the embers, the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore drew the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts Champion," he called, "is... Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass."
This time no one clapped. A stunned silence fell over the hall, faces and bodies frozen in time. Only the corners of two people's mouths turned very slowly, very slightly, into triumphant smiles.
It worked, Harry thought. We've done it.
Then chaos broke out.
Ron and Hermione's heads snapped round, along with every other head in the hall. Disbelief was in their eyes as they stared at them, mouths agape.
"Harry... Is this true?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded. His grin widened and spread all over his face. "Yep. We put our names in the Goblet."
As if that had been the trigger everyone had been waiting for, loud murmurs erupted. The air was filled with the hum of voices from hundreds of throats as everyone who could speak shared their thoughts with those around them, and Harry's words spread like wildfire across the hall, from student to student and teacher to teacher.
At the podium, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime had stood up and hurried over to Professor Dumbledore, where they were now gesturing violently at the old man.
"Let's take our place among the champions then, shall we?" said Daphne, rising from her seat. The bond between them vibrated with self-satisfaction, but it was also written all over her pretty face.
Harry stood up as well. "Yes, they must be waiting for us."
All eyes followed them as they walked past the teachers' table to the door through which Krum and Delacour had disappeared. Snape looked at them hatefully, McGonagall thoughtfully, and Hagrid looked utterly bewildered, as if two of his rock cakes had come to life and were dancing the tango in front of him – Harry felt a feeling inside him that he couldn't describe. The friendly half-giant might have been his first friend in the wizarding world, but he had no idea who he was now. What had become of him.
They stepped through the door and found themselves in a smaller room lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A beautiful fire blazed in the fireplace opposite.
As soon as they entered, the figures in the paintings turned towards them and some began to whisper wildly to each other. Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were sitting by the fireplace. In front of the flickering fire, their faces looked relaxed and determined at the same time, but when they saw Harry and Daphne, the ambiguous expressions gave way to clear confusion.
"Who are you two?" Delacour asked in a thick French accent. "Where is the Hogwarts champion?"
"You're looking at them," Harry replied without hesitation.
Daphne nodded. "We will be your opponents."
Delacour's and Krum's faces after hearing these words were a small reflection of the Great Hall moments before. Confusion, disbelief and bewilderment alternated. Krum frowned as he scrutinised them from under his heavy eyebrows. Delacour blinked, once, twice, three times, before she suddenly threw back her long silver-blonde hair and began to laugh. Her laugh was bright and clear, yet to Harry it sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.
"Oh, you two are so funny. I didn't know you Brits had such a sense of humour. Fabuleuse!"
Harry saw the smile fade from Daphne's face. She opened her mouth – and suddenly the door opened behind them. Ludo Bagman entered the room and grabbed Harry's shoulder. He tried to do the same with Daphne, but she took a quick step back.
"What a sensation," Bagman said. "What a surprise! Just unbelievable!" He turned to Delacour and Krum by the fireplace and pointed with his free hand at Harry and Daphne at the same time. "My lady, my gentleman, may I present your opponents – incredible as it may sound – champions number three and four!"
"Actually, we're only champion number three," Daphne said, but no one paid any attention to her words.
Delacour's face froze, the amusement draining from her eyes. "You... You're serious? But ... but there are two of them! And they're little children!"
Viktor Krum straightened. He looked at them sharply and his expression darkened. There was something almost predatory about him at that moment, but Harry and Daphne were not prey. They crossed their arms and held the older student's gaze until he finally snorted and turned back to the fireplace.
"Well... I mean, yeah, it's pretty incredible," Bagman said, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry and Daphne. "But I'm sure our two young champions can answer all our questions, can't they? Harry, my boy, why don't you tell us how –"
The door behind them opened again and a larger group of people entered: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Minister Fudge, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall and Snape. Behind them, Harry could hear the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.
"Madame Maxime!" Delacour said immediately, striding over to her Headmistress. "I am told that these little children are to be the Hogwarts champions!"
The tall woman placed her huge hand, larger than Delacour's head, on her shoulder. "We'll sort it out," she said, also with a heavy French accent. Then she turned to Dumbledore, whose eyes had been fixed on Harry and Daphne, though Harry had no idea what they meant. "How can it be, Dumbledore? How can two names for Hogwarts come from the Goblet of Fire? And from two minors at that?"
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He bared his teeth in a steely, false smile. "I don't recall anyone telling me that the host school is allowed two champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He gave a short, spiteful laugh.
"C'est impossible," Madame Maxime said. "Hogwarts cannot have two champions. It is most unjust!"
"And we were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said scornfully. "You assured us of that. Otherwise, of course, we would have brought a wider range of candidates from our own schools."
"It's nobody's fault but Potter's and Greengrass's, Karkaroff," Snape said softly. His black eyes glared at them with contempt. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore just because the two of them – once again, I must stress – broke the rules. Greengrass even comes from a decent family, but ever since she got involved with Potter, she's gone downhill and –"
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly, and Snape fell silent, though his eyes still glittered maliciously through his curtain of greasy hair.
Dumbledore looked at Harry and Daphne, his expression still indecipherable. "Did you two manipulate my Age Line to let you through?" he asked calmly.
Daphne stepped next to Harry. Their hands intertwined as they returned the gaze of the assembled adults, backs straight and heads raised.
"We did," Harry said.
"Did you put your names in the Goblet?"
"We did," Daphne said. "And we made it think that both our names were one student."
"This is a scandal," Madame Maxime exclaimed loudly. The tall woman shook her head so violently and quickly that she accidentally hit the chandelier on the ceiling without realising it. "Fraud and deceit!"
Karkaroff bared his teeth again. "Is this your idea of being a good host, Dumbledore? That we allow children under your supervision to deceive us? That our own students follow the rules of the tournament with respect and decency, while your students spit in our faces with scorn and derision? That they defile the honour of the tournament before it has even begun? That –"
"That's not true!" shouted Daphne. Her hands were clenched into fists and her body was shaking. "All we did was get the Goblet to accept our names and give us a fair chance like everyone else. The decision that we are the best Hogwarts has to offer was still made by the Goblet itself! We're here on our own merits!"
Madame Maxime continued to shake her head, while her student Delacour scowled at Daphne. "The best of Hogwarts? Two insolent children?"
Harry had had enough. He gave the older girl a challenging smile. "We'll talk after the tournament, when we've beaten you."
Before Delacour could respond, Professor McGonagall spoke for the first time. "Rest assured, Miss Delacour, Mr Potter and Miss Greengrass may prove more of a challenge to you than you can currently imagine." It was clear from her tone how unhappy she was with the current situation, but at least for the moment she seemed to have found a target for her discontent. "These two are far beyond their years when it comes to magic, I can assure you."
"Proud words, Minerva," Snape said. "But let's hope no one tells their opponents how vulnerable Potter and Greengrass are to Confusion Charms. Although I'm sure the story of Black and the two of them has also found its way into the foreign papers, considering what a celebrity Potter is. Let's just hope they don't bring any more disgrace to Hogwarts."
Daphne's eyes flashed at the words of her Head of House, and for a moment Harry feared this might be the straw that broke the camel's back. He stepped beside her and took her hand. It felt burning hot.
"Thank you, Professor," he said, feigning friendliness. "Let's also talk about whether or not we've disgraced Hogwarts after the tournament."
Karkaroff snorted contemptuously. "If the situation weren't so serious, I could almost laugh at how even the teachers at Hogwarts are fighting among themselves, let alone the students fighting with their own teachers. But it doesn't help. Mr Fudge... Surely you, as the supreme, er, objective judge, would agree that this is a clear breach of the rules?"
Fudge, who had skilfully kept to the background until then, cleared his throat sheepishly as all eyes turned to him. "Well, it was Mr Crouch who knew the rules inside out, and I came in very late to act as judge, I mean, which is a great honour of course, but given the fact that it's an extremely complicated question and –"
"I think what Cornelius is trying to say," Dumbledore said, all eyes on him at once, "is that the rules of the tournament say nothing about how to deal with behaviour like that of Mr Potter and Miss Greengrass. It's never happened in all these centuries. So we have no choice but to follow the rules, which are clear. And the rules clearly state that those students whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament. These two are undoubtedly Hogwarts students, and their names, as we all saw earlier, undoubtedly came out of the Goblet of Fire. And if they are bound to compete in the tournament, then that means – I think any legal scholar would agree with me – that they are also entitled to compete in the tournament, which they obviously want so much. We can no longer exclude them, no matter how much we want to. Forgive me for interrupting, Cornelius, but I think that it what you were going to say, wasn't it?"
Fudge nodded awkwardly. "Yes. Yes, of course. That's exactly, er, what I was going to say. Thank you, Albus."
"Then I insist we make another selection," Madame Maxime said. "We'll set up the Goblet of Fire again, so that every student from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang can put their name in again, and then another champion will be chosen, so that each of the three schools has two champions. It's the only fair solution to this whole farce."
"But, my lady!" said Bagman. "That is impossible! The Goblet of Fire has just gone out. It won't reignite until the next tournament."
"I am not your lady, Bagman. And if that's the position the British Ministry of Magic insists on, then I wonder why Beauxbaton should still be taking part in this farce of a tournament at all."
"And Durmstrang!" added Karkaroff with a decisive nod that made his goatee wiggle.
During the argument between the adults, Daphne's hand had cooled in Harry's. They exchanged a look. Their decision was making waves, who would have thought. At the same time, they suppressed an amused chuckle.
"Of course you are free to withdraw from the tournament, Olympe and Igor," Dumbledore said in a conciliatory tone, "and take your students with you. But remember, Miss Delacour and Mr Krum do not have that option. As I said, all students chosen by the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament. It is an ancient binding magic, and we were aware of this when we restored the tournament."
"But I was not aware that two children could overcome your magic, Dumbledore," Karkaroff replied. A false smile flitted across his face, as false as fire made of ice. "Or perhaps you're just getting old. But I can see we've been driven into a corner we can't get out of. We let cheeky children drive us there. And now we have to live with the consequences."
"You have to," Harry said.
"You have to live with us," Daphne added. She smiled at Delacour. "I look forward to our competition, Flower."
Madame Maxime prevented her pupil from retorting by standing in front of her and looking down at Daphne herself instead. "I agree with Headmaster Karkaroff. It seems we really have no other choice. But little witch, I would advise you to be more humble. Before you trip over your own pride."
"Thank you for the advice, Madame. I won't, don't worry."
There was an awkward silence in the room for a few moments as everyone seemed to digest what had been said and experienced. No one seemed in the mood for anything more, let alone any idea of what to do next. Finally, it was Dumbledore who spoke again.
"Before we retire for the night," he said, "we should probably continue with the announcements for the first task as planned. Cornelius, Ludo, will you take over?"
Bagman's face brightened instantly. "Yes, of course! The first task!" He rubbed his hands together and smiled at the group. "So –"
"But we have four champions now," Fudge interrupted. "That throws all plans out the window."
"Oh, we'll think of something. We'll probably have to improvise a bit with the first task due to the advanced schedule, but I've already got some great ideas for the other two!" Bagman's voice was full of anticipation, like a small child receiving his Christmas present. A dreamy sparkle had come into his eyes.
"Ludo, the first task..." Dumbledore reminded him.
"Yes, yes, of course. The first task." Bagman clapped his hands again. "The first task will take place on the twenty-fourth of November, in front of all the other students and the judges. It will test your courage and ingenuity, so we won't tell you what to expect. You can bring your wands, but nothing else. Except your clothes of course, you don't have to go naked." Bagman laughed, while Delacour's eyes widened a little.
"That's all?" Harry asked in surprise. "That's all we learn?"
"Are you afraid, Potter?" said Snape contemptuously. "Not to worry, precautions are being taken to make the death of a champion extremely unlikely."
"Couldn't you at least try not to sound like you couldn't wish for anything better, Professor?" Harry crossed his arms. "Are we done here then?"
"Yes. I think we are done in this round," Dumbledore said. He wasn't looking at Harry, though, but at his colleagues. "I think the evening has been very stressful for all of us, so I will not keep you any longer and wish you all a good night. I apologise for not seeing you out, but I would like to talk to my students in private, if you don't mind."
As if by magic, the door on the other side of the room opened as soon as Dumbledore had finished. The meaning was crystal clear, and something in Dumbledore's voice seemed to stop the other headmasters from objecting again.
Karkaroff nodded to Krum before the two of them left the room in silence, grim expressions on their faces, without saying goodbye or giving them another look. Madame Maxime nodded at least once more to Dumbledore before placing her large hand on Delacour's back and leaving the room with her. Harry could hear them talking quickly in French outside in the hall before their voices faded into the distance.
Then Snape and McGonagall, as well as Fudge and Bagman, left the room after saying a quick goodbye to Dumbledore, who acknowledged this with a brief nod. Bagman turned once more on the doorstep and gave Harry and Daphne both thumbs up, a broad grin on his face. His expression froze, however, when Dumbledore raised his wand and pointed it at the door. Bagman just managed to pull his head back before the door slammed shut with a loud bang.
Suddenly the room was completely silent, as if all sounds had disappeared along with the people. The air was heavy and warm. Harry felt a bead of sweat run down his neck. He and Daphne exchanged glances, while Dumbledore still had his back to them.
The awkward silence dragged on and finally it became too much for Harry. He cleared his throat. "Um, Professor –"
"Harry, you have deeply disappointed me this evening." Dumbledore turned to face them. There was no smile on his wrinkled face. There was no sparkle in his pale blue eyes. He just looked old. "And so do you, Daphne. You kept talking about trust, but today you have done nothing but abuse and destroy trust. You wanted me to treat you like adults, but today you are acting like petulant children, filled with false pride, vanity and selfishness."
Harry frowned, while Daphne rolled her eyes.
"Please don't preach, Professor," she said, "and if this is a great disappointment to you, then you must lead a truly fulfilling life. I mean, how do you imagine that? That we should just give in, take it all, swallow ashes after ashes after ashes, without being allowed to spit even once? It's your fault that we've become the laughing stock of the whole country in the first place!" Her voice had quickened and Harry could feel how upset she was.
"We've always stood by you, Professor," he said, perhaps to calm the waves a little. The lie came naturally to him by now. "When it mattered, in the things that really counted. In the fight against Voldemort and his legacy. And we will continue to do so. Our decisions today will not change that. That's another matter entirely."
But Daphne didn't seem to want to hear it. She snorted and made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "And it's not like we asked your permission, is it? It's our bloody right to participate in the tournament! Only the best should compete here. And we are the best! Or do you disagree? Then go on, say it. Say it to our faces, right here and now, that we're not the best Hogwarts has to offer! Say it!"
Dumbledore remained silent.
"Aha! I knew it! You can't say it! Because it's not true. We're the best, and we just took the chance to prove it."
"So much passion in your words, Daphne," Dumbledore said calmly, but his voice was filled with a strange heaviness. In the background, the fire in the fireplace crackled softly. A log broke. "So much anger and pride. I warned you, I warned you both once not to fan the embers in your souls any further, but it seems to me that my words fell on deaf ears. I look into your eyes, Daphne, and see nothing but pain."
A burning heat gripped Harry. He looked at Daphne and her eyes, her beautiful golden eyes, shone at that moment with a glorious green sheen. Her body trembled, even more than it had at Karkaroff's words, and she wasn't the only one. Harry felt it too. He could feel everything inside him tremble. How his innermost being was screaming to rip Dumbledore's throat out like a hungry crow, or at least to pull out his wand and show him what real pain was! Then he would no longer talk so wisely, Harry was sure. No, he would scream. Scream and scream and scream until there was nothing left of his legendary mind. And he would savour every second, every scream, Harry knew that. It would be music to his ears.
But... the moment had not yet come.
With all his willpower, Harry pushed back the flames inside him until he could breathe normally again. He got in front of Daphne before she could do anything stupid. Not that he really believed it – her pride alone would prevent her from losing control like that – but he didn't want to take any chances. And he didn't want to put her through any more. She had already done and endured so much for him.
"That's enough," he said firmly. "We are not here to be insulted by you, Professor. Think what you will about us, but on this one point you're simply wrong. We may be selfish, but that is because we live in a selfish world. We did not expect praise when we put our names in the Goblet of Fire, and we will not expect praise in the future, but we will regain our reputation, which you forced us to destroy. We bowed to your will then. That was our choice. But now you must live with our future choices. I don't give you the right to try and make us feel guilty about it."
Dumbledore had only looked at him as he spoke, but now the old wizard sighed softly. "I think it is a great pity that you feel that way, Harry, and that my words have left you with nothing more than the impression that I am trying to make you feel guilty. Because you are wrong. It is not my standards by which I measure you, but your own. I've always been proud of both of you, I have said that to you often, more often than to almost anyone else, let alone someone as young as you. But it was always true. I was always proud of you. Sometimes I was scared and worried too, but you always showed greatness and acted selflessly when it mattered, even when it was painful for you, showing that you were so much bigger than the eternal pursuit of fame or personal gain. But today, Harry, yes, you really are just being selfish." Another sigh of regret escaped Dumbledore. "I had hoped you would continue to use your immense magical powers for nobler purposes. But here I am, watching my hopes crumble. It pains me to say this, but today I am not proud of you. Today I am only deeply disappointed."
"You repeat yourself, Professor," Harry said. Daphne clicked her tongue behind him.
Dumbledore nodded. "Then I suppose we have nothing more to say to each other. The Goblet of Fire has chosen you, the tournament has begun, the die is cast. I only hope that one day you will realise what I have tried to tell you, and that the realisation will not be too painful for you."
"Just make sure Voldemort's Horcruxes are finally destroyed, especially the one in Gringotts," Harry replied.
"You owe us that," Daphne added. She walked past Harry, but she looked calmer now. Her eyes had returned to their usual colour. Dumbledore had never seen anything else anyway. "And we can continue to work together on this basis in the future, even if you are so disappointed in us today."
"Then I bid you good night," Dumbledore said. "And despite what has happened today, my door is always open to those who need my help, I assure you, and please never forget that."
Harry didn't need to be told twice, about the good night that is. He took Daphne's hand in his, where their fingers intertwined instantly and naturally, before they left the room with quick strides, without giving their Headmaster another look. Everything had been said, further words would be a waste.
They hurried through the Great Hall, which was now deserted. The candles had burned low and the jagged grins of the pumpkins had taken on an eerie, flickering quality. But Harry had no eyes for that. They hurried through the gates of the hall and made it even past the Entrance Hall before he pulled Daphne with him into the nearest broom cupboard.
Before the door had even closed behind them, he was holding her close and kissing her passionately on the lips. Daphne's soft lips parted willingly to his mouth, her body arching against his, and she wrapped her arms around his neck in obvious delight.
Harry's hands travelled down her body, through her soft, silky hair, over her shoulders, her back, her bottom. Daphne pressed even closer as her fingernails ran through his hair.
He didn't know how much time had passed, how long they had kissed so passionately when they finally pulled away to catch their breath, but it must have been several minutes. Their eyes met.
"That just now," Harry said, a little breathless. "In there, with the others, and then with Dumbledore – Oh, Daph, you have no idea how much I love you!"
A suggestive smile played around Daphne's lips. "Hmm, then why don't you show me how much you love me? But be gentle, or I'll hex you!"