Hermione's ears were ringing, and as Dumbledore instructed Harry to come up, she found herself getting to her feet as well. Next to her, Blaise stood too. Hermione was storming up the aisle as Dumbledore instructed Harry to go through the door, and she reached the door just as Ludo Bagman did.
"Ah, this is just for the champions," Bagman said, as Harry entered the small room behind him. "You need to sit—"
"If you do not get out of my way this instant," Hermione said, her eyes glinting as she withdrew her wand, "I will turn you into a frog."
Bagman fell back, fear flickering across his face, and Hermione marched through the door after Harry.
The smaller room had a cheerful fire and dozens of paintings of witches and wizards. Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire, Harry standing blankly in the center of the room, the others looking at him, then Fleur's eyes darting up.
"Hermione?" she asked. "Did they send you as well?"
Harry whirled around, and the relief in his eyes as Hermione swept forward and grabbed his wrist was immense. She dragged him to the side of the room, positioning herself between the door and Harry, bracing herself.
"No," Hermione said shortly. "Something went horribly wrong. This is about to get messy."
There was a sound of scurrying feet from the entrance way, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He shot Hermione a wary look, before he nodded to the other three.
"Extraordinary," he was saying. "Absolutely extraordinary. May I introduce – incredible though it may seem—" he gestured to Harry, who looked resigned "—the fourth Triwizard champion?"
Viktor's face darkened as he looked at Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed, looking from Bagman to Harry and back again as if he must have misheard. Fleur was visibly startled.
"Oh, very funny joke, Mister Bagman," she said, tossing her hair.
"Joke?" Bagman said, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
Fleur looked at Hermione in confusion. Hermione nodded grimly.
"But—he is too young—"
"Well, you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure," Ludo said apologetically. "And his name's come out of the goblet—I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage—"
The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall. Hermione could hear the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the door before McGonagall closed the door. Karkaroff went directly to Viktor while Madame Maxime crossed to stand behind Fleur, the large French woman still arguing with Dumbledore.
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumble—"
Hermione felt a wave of anger and violence flood her at the sight of the old man, one that couldn't be contained.
"How could you let this happen?!"
Hermione's voice cracked like a whip through the room, catching everyone off-guard and silencing them. Dumbledore looked startled at her sudden ire. "Dumbledore, you are supposed to protect your students!"
"Miss Granger," he said, "as close as you are with Harry, you do not belong here—"
"Don't you dare," Hermione snarled. "Harry is in my coven. Any binding magical contract he is under also directly affects me. We all belong here as we discover what has gone wrong."
There was a faint "oh dear" from the side of the room, but Hermione's gaze didn't waver as she approached Dumbledore.
"How could you let this happen?" she demanded. "How?"
"Clearly, he broke the rules!" Karkaroff cried. "What is this, two champions from one school?"
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore said calmly.
"No," said Harry.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" Dumbledore asked.
"No," said Harry vehemently.
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime.
"I'm not," Harry objected. "We—we all met before, the coven. Hermione said explicitly—"
"We discussed no one entering because we would all be affected by a binding magical contract," Hermione spat, angry. "So if Harry didn't put his name in the goblet, but he was still entered, the binding magical contract is done through the name?"
"Err—Barty might know—" Bagman turned to the entrance, where Barty Crouch was lurking in the shadows silently. Hermione hadn't even noticed him at first.
"We must follow the rules," said Crouch curtly. "The rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"So if it's 'whose names come out'," Hermione said angrily, "it's simply the name on parchment? Not the actual act of entering?"
"Miss Granger—" Professor McGonagall attempted.
"No. This is absurd. Dumbledore is meant to protect his students, and now Harry is forced to compete in this farce of a tournament and possibly die so the other four of us don't lose our magic." Hermione glared at Dumbledore, who tried again to calm her down.
"Miss Granger, I am sure Harry—"
"Is much too young to compete!" insisted Karkaroff. "I insist on resubmitting the names of the rest of my students of all ages. You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions—"
"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," Bagman said desperately. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out—it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament—"
"—in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkroff exploded. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice near the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
Moody limped into the room, his leg clunking every step of the way. His magical eye was fixed on Hermione, who glared at him, ignoring as Karkaroff went on.
"—plus a thousand galleons in prize money – this is a chance many would die for!"
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," Moody growled.
There was a very tense silence following those words. Ludo looked around very anxiously, while Crouch wore a face of stone.
"Granger's got the right idea of it," Moody said, nodding to her. "Someone went and put Potter's name in the goblet as an attack, either as against him, or one of his coven."
"Thank you," Hermione said curtly, folding her arms.
"Someone with very powerful magic would have to Confound the goblet," Moody went on, "possibly enter him under a fourth school—"
"Or Potter cheated, and this is an orchestrated cover-up!"
Kararoff and Moody continued arguing, but Hermione turned to Harry, holding him by the forearms.
"They should stop the tournament," Hermione said fiercely. "They should, and just have the other three compete without some stupid binding contract, but we both know they won't. They won't, the cowards."
"No, they won't," Harry agreed quietly.
"Then we will make a joke of their stupid tournament," Hermione promised, her tone vicious. "We will make sure you ace each task so effortlessly, so astonishingly well that it's boring to watch. That it's embarrassing, to see the proper three champions schooled so thoroughly. I will find every ancient ritual possible to get you through this alive; I will craft new rituals that steals that stupid goblet's power for yourself—"
Harry was smiling now, somehow, while Hermione ranted on. Eventually, she stopped, demanding, "Harry, don't you realize this is incredibly dangerous?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "I know."
"Then why are you smiling?" she burst out.
"Because you're with me," Harry said simply. "And you won't let anything too bad happen."
His simple faith struck her silent, and Hermione blanked, hardly knowing how to respond.
Moody and Karkaroff seemed to have finished arguing, both glaring at each other.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," Dumbledore said, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do—"
"Ah, but Dumblydorr—"
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either; Snape looked furious, Karkaroff livid, while Bagman looked rather excited.
"Well, shall we get a crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
Mr. Crouch stepped forward, nodding. His face was still expressionless, made of stone despite the drama.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told the champions, "So we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard. The first task will take place on November the twenty-second, in front of the other students and the panel of judges."
Crouch went on to explain teachers weren't allowed to help the champions, and they'd face the first challenge armed only with their wands. Harry would learn about the second task after the first, and he'd be exempted from end of the year exams because of the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament. Harry gave Hermione a hopeful look at that, but she gave him a sharp look, and he grinned abashedly, looking back at Crouch.
Once the instructions had been issued, the adults began filtering out, Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff both taking their champions with them. Dumbledore looked at Cedric and Harry, smiling at both of them.
"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
The Great Hall was nearly deserted; only Blaise, Luna, and Susan remained, sitting on the staff table nearest the entrance, and they leapt to their feet as soon as Harry and Hermione emerged.
"Oh, Harry!" Susan was on him and hugging him tightly in an instant, before pulling back, looking him over with sharp eyes. "Are you okay? We'll get you through this, we'll all get through this—"
"They wouldn't let anyone in after you," Blaise told Hermione, his tone dark. "We tried."
"Just as well," Luna sighed. She nodded to Hermione. "I set things in motion for you. You'll have to turn back, but I set word to Rita for you. I imagine you might want to get ahold of the Time Room people to get an official copy of that prophecy for publication, too."
Hermione felt a rush of gratitude for Luna.
"I don't know if we want to publish the prophecy," Hermione said, "but it's not a bad idea. Maybe later. First, we need to focus on what an absolute injustice this is—"
"So you're serious?"
Hermione looked up to see Cedric, who was looking at Harry and Hermione with curiosity.
"You really didn't put your name in?" he asked Harry.
"No," Harry said fiercely.
"Really?"
Harry's expression turned dangerous.
"Cedric, listen. I'll admit, I might have if it was just me," Harry said, his green eyes piercing, "but this puts my closest friends at risk. They could become muggles because of me competing. We can't do binding magical contracts without everyone's magic getting involved. Would you do that to your friends, for a chance at money and glory?"
Cedric fell back, his eyes flickering over Hermione.
"No," he said slowly. "No, I wouldn't. Never."
"Well, then," Harry said. He folded his arms, giving Cedric a curt look. "I know I'm not a Hufflepuff, but you're not the only ones who're loyal and care about your friends."
Cedric's eyes went to Hermione again, before he nodded.
"Okay," he said. "Well… see you, then."
Cedric left the Great Hall, leaving the coven now alone in the dark.
"Do we have a plan?" Harry asked with a sigh. "And if so, can we do it now? As messed up as it is, I'd kind of like to end this rubbish day with a party from Gryffindor."
Hermione pulled her Time-Turner from her robes, giving Harry a grim look.
"Get a Wide-Eye Potion if you need it," she told him. "This mess is going to take a while."
Rita Skeeter was startled by seeing Hermione and Harry appear in the Daily Prophet headquarters in the middle of Halloween afternoon, but she was shrewd enough to follow Hermione's silent beckoning into a conference room, which Hermione locked.
"We've traveled back in time," Hermione told Rita directly. "What we tell you does not leave this room until after it's happened, or we could cause a temporal collapse. Do you understand?"
Rita's eyes widened. "Then why come at all?"
"To give you enough time to fully tear the Ministry and Hogwarts a new one, I imagine," Harry said, looking at Hermione.
Hermione smiled grimly. "You're not wrong."
Rita listened and took avid notes as Hermione and Harry recounted exactly what had happened during the champion selection, pausing to get more details over the binding magical contract bit and age line.
"So all it did was prevent people, not names?" Rita clarified. "You are saying Harry's signature is what triggered the magical contract, not Harry putting it in the goblet – which he did not do, of course."
"Exactly," Hermione said vehemently. "And Harry had been giving autographs to people that day. Anyone could have gotten one and snuck it into the stupid cup. Granted, not anyone could Confound the goblet to think a fourth school was participating, but getting his name would have been easy enough."
After detailing how the judges refused to cancel the tournament and how now her entire coven was in danger, Hermione hesitated.
"There's more," she said carefully. "There's more, but you might want to hold it back at first and let it out in small chunks, to keep anger high."
Rita's eyes gleamed. "I'm listening."
Hermione told Rita about the prophecy they'd listened to over the summer, as well as Professor Vector's prediction tree, how she'd seen something like this happening in advance.
"I can't imagine Professor Vector would find something like that and not tell Dumbledore to try and prevent it in advance," Hermione said. "And the prophecy—maybe just mention that it exists if it helps the narrative. All it really says is… well. Nothing good. But it might help the narrative that this could have been prevented."
"Just so I explicitly understand the goal," Rita said, twirling her quill, "the goal is to skewer the Ministry and Dumbledore for allowing this travesty to happen, not to discredit the tournament as a whole."
"Oh, the stupid tournament is real, and it's happening," Hermione huffed. "Yes, Harry's a victim, but he's also a champion now, willing or not. I don't want him portrayed as a helpless victim – he's going to absolutely crush this tournament and bring shame to everyone else."
Rita smirked. "He's only in fourth year, realize."
"Do you think that's going to stop me?" Hermione snapped, and Rita laughed.
"Got it," she said. "So: if I'm portraying Diggory as the Hogwarts Champion, what do I identify Harry as?"
Hermione and Harry exchanged a look, confused, and Rita clarified.
"You said Moody had a theory that somebody bamboozled the Goblet of Fire into thinking Harry had been submitted under a fourth school's name," Rita said. "Unless there's some way of finding out what that school was, we need another descriptor for him. We've got the Durmstrang Champion, the Beauxbatons Champion, the Hogwarts Champion, and now Harry."
Her quill was poised expectantly, and Hermione gnawed on her lip.
"The Reluctant Champion," she said finally, glancing at Harry, who nodded. "He's reluctant, but he'll compete."
"All my friends' magic is riding on it," Harry said grimly. "I don't really have a choice."
Rita looked back and forth between them, analyzing, before exhaling hard.
"Well," she said lightly. "At least this won't be a hard sell."
