CHAPTER 13: Night of Champions

Hogwarts

Harry and Jasmin waited in a corner of the Entrance Hall for Fleur to come back. There was a kind of weird excitement at being together again that neither of them could really put a finger on. They simply contented themselves with small talk, something that felt good to be able to do.

"Had breakfast?" Harry asked, realizing he himself hadn't eaten anything yet.

"Non, Fleur wanted to skip it. There'll be lunch in the carriages. Our cooks couldn't start working this morning," Jasmin said, taking off her head band and letting her lustrous black hair fall down to a perfectly-proportioned waist. It highlighted her creamy complexion to produce a result of untainted beauty. Harry was definitely caught staring that time.

He just nodded silently, mentally making note of where he intended to take them first, just as Fleur came floating back, angelic as ever.

Wordlessly, he beckoned them through a door in the Entrance Hall and lead the way downstairs. They reached a broad stone basement corridor, brightly lit and decorated with food-themed paintings.

"Harry, where are we going?" Jasmin asked.

"You wanted me to be your guide. You have to let me do things at my own pace," Harry said, giving her his very best smile. She seemed to melt a little and chirped, "Kayy." Behind them, Fleur snorted.

He stopped when they reached the painting of a bowl of fruit. "I'll let the lady do the honors," he pointed at the painting, "Please, tickle the pear."

Jasmin saw that he wasn't joking and did as he asked, primly tickling the pear with her index finger. The pear giggled, squirmed and turned into a large green door handle. Harry took it and swung it wide open, revealing the Hogwarts kitchens.

Fleur and Jasmin stared wide-eyed at the gigantic high-ceilinged room with tables identical to the ones in the Great Hall above. There were large quantities of pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, presumably on counter-tops or stoves, and a large brick fireplace at the other end of the hall from the door.

When they entered, a couple of the numerous house elves that worked there came running towards them, the Hogwarts crest shining on their tea-towel togas. They eagerly asked Harry and the girls if they would like something to eat, their joy to serve apparent.

"Go on, don't hold back," Harry said, "you would hurt their feelings by not eating your fill. Besides, you should never explore on an empty stomach." The house elves nodded enthusiastically as other elves came running with chairs and placed them near a table.

Fleur walked around curiously while Jasmin, at Harry's behest, ordered for all of them. Harry explained to Fleur how the food placed on the tables here magically appeared above. "Does everyone know about this place?" she asked.

"Very few professors and even fewer students. Hogwarts likes to keep her secrets. Of course, I seem to have outed one of them," Harry said, chuckling.

Before Fleur could reply, a ball of energy had come sprinting out of nowhere and charged right into Harry's midriff. It took her a moment to realize it was a house elf. He was dressed in better clothes than the rest of the elves and was currently squealing into Harry's stomach.

"Dobby is cleaning, sir, and did not know Harry Potter had come to the kitchens. Is you being well?"

"Yes, quite wonderful actually. These are my friends from afar Dobby. They'll be staying with us this year. This is Fleur and that there is Jasmin." Harry turned to Fleur, "this is my friend, Dobby."

She was half-amused and half-amazed at what she was seeing. A wizard calling a house elf his friend and the elf accepting it without protest. There was definitely a deeper story there, she surmised.

Jasmin had started waving them over. The table in front of her had been filled with food enough for six people. In that moment, Fleur realized how ravenously hungry she was. Not another word was said until most of the food had been emptied between the three of them.

Fleur was sure she and Jasmin together had eaten nearly half of the spread. But she had never expected Harry to eat as much as he did. While nowhere close to being thin, he was still slimmer than many and his appetite surprised her.

Jasmin tried, and failed, to hide a belch. They looked at each other, the empty plates, each other again and burst out laughing.

As they left the kitchen, their pockets filled with cookies and croissants, Fleur asked Harry, "So how did you and Dobby become friends?"

"Oh, well let's see now. I'll give you the short version. Dobby was just as much of a lunatic when I first met him. Almost killed me a couple of times trying to save my life. But, he has a good heart and unlike every other house elf I know, he values his freedom. As someone who values his freedom highly, I respect that and that's why we're friends."

Fleur could tell there was so much more Harry wasn't telling, but was slowly getting used to that habit of his. It wasn't that he wanted to hide things, he was just modest and didn't like giving extended explanations.

"He... almost killed you?" she asked hesitantly.

"Well, I've always maintained he did. If you ask him he'll say," Harry put on a squeaky voice and did his best Dobby impression, " Not kill you, sir, never kill you. Just grievously hurt or maim you enough so you are not in danger."

They laughed uproariously; glad the corridor was empty. As they made their way to the door that led to the Entrance Hall, Harry decided he was going to make these girls laugh as much as he possibly could. They looked so serene and full of life.

Harry should have known it was too good to last. On their way through the Entrance Hall, they were beset by the sight of Malfoy and his entourage in a conversation with a bunch of older French students.

"Well, color me impressed, Potter," Malfoy drawled as soon as he caught sight of them, making everybody turn. "You work fast; I'll give you that. What'd you do? Offer to shine their boots in return for being seen with you?"

Harry was about to take charge of the situation before it spiraled out of control, when he caught sight of Fleur's body language. She had gone stiff and was looking anywhere but at the French students. Harry thought he recognized a couple of them from the photo shoot last night. He let the situation play out.

Malfoy was stepping forward sneering, clearly working on his next line of attack. Harry noticed an unfamiliar look appear on his face as he got a good look at Jasmin and got caught by her allure. It was almost akin to yearning. That led to another realization that confrontations seemed to make Jasmin nervous and her allure leaked out when she was nervous. Either that or Malfoy was weak as shit.

Malfoy puffed up his chest and said to Jasmin in an important voice, "You'll soon find that some of us Englishmen are of noble descent as compared to the general rabble around here. Besides, real men don't spend their time sucking up to women." He said the last bit with a nasty look at Harry.

"On that, we couldn't agree more," Jasmin replied steadily, not looking at Malfoy, but instead at Harry. "Harry, who is this?"

The French students, who had been watching, had moved closer too, along with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry decided it was time to do something.

"This is Malfoy, the village idiot. And those meatballs behind him are the comic relief," Harry said, in his dry, deriding tone. "Or maybe it was the other way around. I never could tell." Jasmin giggled. Malfoy gave him with a look of pure loathing.

"Pardon me, Monsieur," a pleasant, but confident chimed in. The tallest of the French students walked forward with a smile and an extended hand towards Harry. "I don't believe we've met. Please call me Juan. You must me Harry Potter."

Harry took the hand to be polite and shook it. A lot could be said about a person from the way they shake your hand. Somehow, the mild-mannered person in front of him and what he felt from the hand shake didn't match. It put Harry on edge.

"Hello Juan, how can I help you?"

If he was thrown off by Harry's brusque reply, he didn't show it. His smile still in place, he asked, "Taking the ladies on a tour of the castle, I presume?" His eyes flicked towards Fleur and back.

"So?"

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't mind a few more of us tagging along," he replied pleasantly. "You see; I consider myself something of an explorer. This morning when I was doing just that in the castle, I came across this wonderful rumour. One that I was able to confirm from several sources, in fact. Something about a spate of petrifications in the school, a chamber and a basilisk."

He was looking at Harry with as friendly an expression as possible, "I was hoping you could shed some light on this incident while we toured the castle." Harry definitely saw Fleur shudder a little.

He was starting to feel sorry for her now. "If you're an explorer Juan, then I can't just give away the ending, can I? I'll take a rain check on that tour. Another time, maybe."

He made to leave when he found Malfoy blocking his way, with his thugs behind him. The fact that they were surrounded by students seemed to have given him some backbone.

"You will be disappointed, Harry Potter. You might think getting her on her own is enough," Juan was saying, nodding at Fleur. "All that will happen is that you will be tempted, teased, seduced and abandoned." There was no denying the fact that there was something close to longing in his voice. Fleur looked like she was ready to run, but didn't say a word in protest.

"Tell you what, Juan," Harry said, his voice measured, "if I ever feel you have opinions worthy of attention, I'll ask. How about that?"

That definitely irked Juan a bit. While the smile remained, his eyes had lost a bit of their humor. He seemed to size Harry up for a moment before saying, "Draco just told me you'll be playing seeker in the coming matches. I suppose I'll see you on the pitch." For all the courteousness in the voice, the threat was obvious.

Harry shrugged, "I'm sure you will. In the meantime, the first event to take place will be the duel between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. Guess I'll see you there. Unless of course, you find yourself being "tempted and seduced" again."

That was when Harry realized he had been right to be wary of this guy. The insult had definitely found its mark. His smile had turned feral and there was nothing but madness and greed in his eyes. Fleur had moved behind Harry by now, something Juan did not miss. He gazed at her before turning to Harry, "We don't have to wait until then, you know."

In that moment, Harry decided Juan was going to know pain. Not that it would be particularly difficult. Harry had his wand hand hanging loosely by his side. He was sure no one knew about the wand holster and Juan was right in front of him. All he would have to do was point his hand at Juan's groin, flick his wrist and non-verbalize the bone-breaker. Juan would be on his knees, coughing blood in seconds. But… witnesses.

Most people around them had already started backing away. Malfoy and his goons were trying to flank Harry... just in case something went down. It was a tense moment. And then-

"There you are, Harry. I've been looking all over for you," a clear voice rang out. Everyone turned to find the intimidating countenance of Daphne Greengrass walking towards them from the Great Hall. A friendly smile was playing on her lips that had the Hogwarts students nonplussed, none more so than Harry. He looked at Daphne like she was getting ready to hex him and almost winced when she neared.

"Well, come on then," she ordered, pointing to the stairs. "We can't very well talk here, can we?"

Malfoy looked like he wanted to object, but the presence of Daphne and the number of people who were staring seemed to give him pass.

With a look that promised Harry a painful death, and another quick, longing glance in Fleur's direction, Juan too, stalked off.

Harry followed Daphne up the stairs leaving Malfoy standing with his goons, looking sullenly towards Jasmin, who had taken Fleur's hand in her own and followed Harry.

They climbed in silence until they reached the third floor. Daphne stopped and the others came to a halt right behind. Harry was actually glad to see the smile gone, to be replaced by her usual cold, impassive outer. The Daphne below had been so out of character from what he knew.

Daphne regarded the two veelas coolly, before saying to Harry, "I really was hoping to have a word alone. We can always do it later if now is inconvenient."

More intrigued than anything now, Harry excused himself from the girls and followed Daphne a little further down the corridor. When she stopped, she seemed to wonder how to begin.

"It's like you said, P-Harry," he saw a hint of anger in her eyes at being forced to call his name, "the first event will be the duel between us and Beauxbatons. It's only a couple of weeks away. Are you familiar with the format?"

Harry shook his head, "Just that it's seven versus seven."

Daphne took a deep breath before she started to explain in a tone very reminiscent of Hermione, "Yes, it's actually a never-before tried format. One person from each team, the starter, begins the fight. Once someone has been defeated, their team sends another member. Once a duel is over, the winner has the choice of continuing themselves or letting their team member take over while they rest. This continues until all seven on either side have been defeated."

When he didn't interrupt her while she paused, she continued, "Of course, there are several tenable strategies. But the best one, I feel, is to have your strongest duellist be the starter rather than the finisher."

Harry nodded. He still wanted to know what she wanted from him. And she got to it. "You finished on top of the qualifications." It seemed to take her a great deal of effort to say it. "Most likely there will be a vote or people will automatically defer to you as captain, even if you haven't been expressly made so. I just want you to choose the best possible strategy."

"Meaning yours?"

"If it is the best possible strategy, then yes."

Harry nodded again. Her argument made sense. He'd much rather start and punch a hole in the opposite team and have the others clean up. "Fair enough then. Was that it?" Harry had to admit, he thought there'd be more. And for the second time that day, his instincts weren't wrong.

"Well, one other thing."

"Yes, Daphne?"

"I want to be the starter," she said, looking at him defensively, as if expecting him to argue.

Harry would have liked to. But given everything, he figured, maybe throwing Daphne a bone wasn't such a bad thing. "Fine, I'll go second then."

It was a simple enough statement. But the underlying statement was that he was the strongest and he knew it. Daphne, of course, being a Slytherin, was no stranger to this sort of thing. Her eyes were ice cold as she nodded and left.

"Who's your friend?" was the uncharacteristically haughty question he got from Jasmin when he returned to where he had left them. Fleur was behind her, staring out the window.

"Not a friend. Just an acquaintance. She wanted to talk about the duelling tournament. Sorry she was being rude to you two."

Jasmin seemed to mollify a little. "Non, Harry...that's not...It was nothing," she mumbled in a small voice.

"So," Harry addressed Fleur, "How are you liking Hogwarts so far?"

To say Fleur's face looked troubled was an understatement. She looked so pained and vulnerable when she looked at him, "I'm sorry." She sounded almost ashamed.

Harry was still trying to process what was happening. A restless night, eventful day and a lot of drama was making his head ache.

Jasmin rushed to Fleur and hugged her shoulders, "Non, Bell. What are you saying? It was not your fault. Juan is a pig."

Tears were silently flowing from Fleur's eyes. Harry could not believe he was watching the same person who seemed so stand-offish and unreachable. Instead, it was like a delicate flower was fluttering before him, sobbing uncontrollably and clutching her sister like her life depended on it. Something unknown inside him roared that whoever caused this needed to pay.

"It is my fault... I was careless...," Fleur continued sobbing, "…and Juan wasn't exactly lying... I'm sorry you had to hear that, 'arry."

Harry felt like he had been punched in the gut. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why it hurt so much to hear Fleur say that. It wasn't like he had thought of her as anything other than a friend... But that didn't change the fact he had to kill Juan now.

"Well, you know... Relationships get complicated...," Harry muttered uncomfortably.

Fleur looked up suddenly, tears stopping, "Relationship?" then seemed to realise what she had implied and what Harry had understood.

"NON!" she almost screamed, making Harry take a step back in shock and Jasmin to giggle. "That's not... what I meant, you, you Bitte!" she said angrily, causing Jasmin to giggle even harder.

"What'd she just call me?"

"Penis," Jasmin supplied, blushing furiously.

"That's not very lady-like, you know?" Harry said in a condescending voice, knowing it would get Fleur even more worked up. And she did. Eventually, she was yelling in French at him loudly enough for people to peek inside the corridor to see what was going on. He just let her blow out the lines, happily instigating her some more when she slowed.

About halfway through the rant, Fleur realised what he was trying to do. And though she continued yelling, there was no denying the fondness that was growing in her heart with every angry word she said to him.

When she stopped, taking deep breaths, Harry asked, "Feel better?"

Fleur just chuckled and nodded, wiping away tears from her enchanting blue eyes. Jasmin, who had been watching the whole thing with a mixture of anxiety and amusement, came up from behind and wrapped her hands around her sister, the dark-haired veela's well-endowed chest squishing into Fleur's back. Harry looked away quickly. Watching the two hug made him feel things he'd rather not think about right now.

"I think I understand you a little better now, 'arry."

"Oh?"

"You're a jerk with a kind heart," Fleur giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing full well it was a complement, but uncomfortable all the same.

"I think I understand you too, Fleur."

"Oui?"

"You're a closet crybaby," Harry quipped.

Fleur swatted at him, not a trace of annoyance on her face. "Enough making me mad. Now be nice to me." It was phrased, delivered and sounded as a mock order, but Harry didn't miss the note of plea and hope in it. It was like his heart twinged.

He held out his hand, "Ask me for anything you like, my lady."

Fleur had asked if there was a place where they could talk, away from prying eyes and ears. Being his night-time kingdom Harry knew every nook and cranny in the castle. And he knew they would almost all be filled with people right now. There were two exceptions, and Harry had no intention of taking them into the Chamber.

Realizing that this was going to lead to a lot of questions he'd rather not answer, Harry led the girls to the seventh-floor. He hadn't been to the Room of Requirements since the night Sirius escaped and couldn't remember the exact state he'd left his workroom in.

The girls watched him curiously as he walked past three times opposite the tapestry depicting the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach trolls ballet. Both of them gasped in surprise as a door appeared out of nowhere. Taking a deep breath, he led the way in.

Harry closed the door behind them as soon as all three were in. This was his secret, most sacred sanctum and he had no intention of anyone knowing about it. Even now, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he trusted the girls enough to have brought them here.

The room was actually a little smaller than the Gryffindor common room, but more brightly lit. In a corner was a luxuriously big floor bedding, complete with pillow and blankets. Smack in the center of the room was a table and a chair, both comfortable enough. This was what the room had given him. The rest he had added on his own.

All assortment of parchments, papers, pictures and posters covered the walls. Some were quidditch posters, but most were rune charts and warding instructions. Another corner of the room housed his little spider web on Voldemort, his allies and known death eaters.

The books and scrolls Harry had received from Dumbledore were stacked neatly in piles next to his bed. These were the books Dumbledore had deemed too dangerous even for the restricted section. Some of these priceless tomes even had the original inscriptions of the founders.

"Harry, what is this place?" Jasmin asked, looking around in awe.

"This is my workroom," Harry muttered, "I haven't had any use for it this year. But," he added thoughtfully, "I might actually end up moving in here later this year. Gryffindor tower is fun and all, but I can never seem to get anything done." Of course he didn't want to mention it was also because Ron was being a prat and he couldn't seem to go more than a few feet without someone wishing him luck or congratulating him or question him or... Harry sighed and wondered if he had always been this anti-social.

"'arry, this is... something else..., " Fleur had already seated herself on the edge of the bed and was looking at the covers of the books. She looked at him with something close to wonder. "Some of these books would start a war if the goblins knew who had them. They are... 'arry, is it okay for you to trust us with this place?"

Harry nodded mutely. The fact that she had noticed it had taken a great deal of trust from his side, and had cared, was enough. Jasmin had also rushed and plopped herself next to Fleur, looking over her shoulder.

"Some of these books are on animagus...," Jasmin left the question unasked. Harry just winked at her, "Animagus transformation requires many years to achieve successfully, you know."

"'arry... What is this book?" Fleur had only found the only thing in the room that he was hoping they really wouldn't find. It was a massive black tome, the size of Fleur's upper torso. It was completely black and on its front was a small depression and a huge needle sticking out of it, it's edge glinting.

Deciding, truth was the best resort in this case, he answered, "It's a book on Dark Arts. Some would say the book."

Fleur almost dropped it, her eyes wide, "What's this needle for?"

Harry sighed, "You can't read the book without making a payment of blood. Keeping it open for long requires a constant payment. Only the person who pays their blood can read it. Couple of other minor prerequisites."

They were now both looking at it like it would swallow them at any moment. Fleur set it down gingerly. "What's in it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Things I won't speak about even if it costs me my life," he replied, face hidden. "Some things should not be spoken about."

"But...um...well, it's just that if you've read it... I've never seen you use any dark curses... Back at the world Cup, I mean... " Jasmin trailed off.

Harry just shook his head and said, "I'll use them if required. And only if required. The cost... can be quite high." From his tone, they knew the subject was not to be spoken of any more.

Jasmin sensed they had made Harry uncomfortable and cast around for a change of topic. "That's right. Bell," she rounded on her sister with her usual playful smile, "tell Harry all about your romantic relationship with Juan."

Fleur scowled harder than Harry had ever seen anyone scowl before. But, she did tell him. She told him everything from how she had trusted Juan to how it had ended. When she was done, Harry noticed a little bit of shame had crept back in.

"None of that, Fleur," he snapped at her sternly, "You took a chance with someone and it failed. There's a good chance it'll happen again. Doesn't mean you stop trying. That goes for all things in life, you know."

"Whyyy do you never sound your age?" Fleur muttered, shaking her magnificent head, "Oddball."

But there was no denying how light she had been feeling all morning, Fleur realized. Something had changed in her since shouting herself hoarse at Harry. She was even finding it progressively easier to talk about everything that had happened.

"Thanks for bringing us here, 'arry. We won't betray your trust," she said solemnly.

Harry just awkwardly shrugged and asked, "So you guys want to have your lunch here or go back to your carriage? I can have Dobby set us up a nice meal here if you like. We'll just have to share the table."

"Why, Mr. Potter," Jasmin chided him mockingly, "You cannot just ask out two women on a date at the same time. What gentleman does that?"

Jasmin had expected Harry to squirm a little. He always seemed too calm and collected to her. She wanted to get under his skin too. But Harry just replied, "On what planet did you mistake me for a gentleman?"

Fleur rolled her eyes and settled herself more comfortably against the pillows. Harry was using the only chair in the room. "Lunch here sounds nice, actually," she said lightly, enjoying the quiet.

Twenty minutes later, all three were seated around the small table that was overflowing with food. Dobby had gone overboard when presented the opportunity to serve two new friends and they were now drowning in French cuisine.

The girls both sat primly on the corner of the floor bedding, feeding themselves with poise. Harry sat opposite them on the chair, demolishing food, without a care in the world. "Where do you even put it all?" Jasmin had asked, giggling.

They discussed pointless and mundane things as they ate. Jasmin told Harry how Dominique had visited them last night in the Beauxbatons tower. Fleur's nervousness about the first duel turned to fiery competitiveness when Harry offered to beat her quickly and painlessly. And try as they might, the girls couldn't get Harry to tell them "the basilisk story", although he did promise them he'd do it some other time.

The afternoon was spent laughing and joking. At some point during the day, the idea to explore the castle had been completely forgotten.

Headmaster's office, Hogwarts

Severus Snape tapped his fingers against his forearms impatiently, waiting for the last of Dumbledore's guests to leave. He waited just long enough for the door to close and the footsteps to disappear before blurting out, "I felt it."

The headmaster looked across the room at him over his half-moon glasses. "The Dark Mark?"

"Yes, much clearer than before. I-I think I know where he is."

Dumbledore processed that for a moment, his surprise showing, "That must mean he's obtained a viable body."

"No," Snape cut him off, "It wasn't nearly as strong as fourteen years ago. I think he was calling someone to him specifically, but weak as he is, some of the others got the feedback," he added tersely, "including me."

"You think others might know?"

"I'm sure of it. There's a good chance some have already reached out to him. Provided the Dark Lord chose to stay behind and wait in his weakened form, that is."

Dumbledore nodded gravely at what he was hearing. While not as bad as getting a body of his own, Voldemort getting access to his most loyal supporters was still a nightmare, especially with his hands full with the tournament.

"I'm going," Snape said simply.

Dumbledore didn't even try to hide his surprise. "Why, Severus? You will most likely be killed."

"That's why I must go now. He'll never trust me otherwise," Snape walked forwards, unclasping his hands, "He won't kill me without finding out everything from me. I'll let him. Most of it anyway. Once he finds out how well positioned I am, I doubt The Dark Lord would want to lose such a valuable pawn."

Dumbledore'a voice was sombre, "He'll hurt you, Severus."

Snape snarled and turned towards the door, "There's no time for this. I'm off. The place is somewhere close to the town of Little Hangleton."

As he reached for the door, Dumbledore said, "Try to make it back in time for the choosing of the champions, Severus." What he really meant was, try to make it back.

Snape gave a curt nod and left, cloak billowing behind him.

As magnificent as the food was, most of it had been left untouched well into the feast. Very few people had turned up to the Great Hall that night for the food, after all.

Everyone who had turned up yesterday were present, all sitting expectantly in their seats. Unlike yesterday though, Dumbledore kept them waiting for much longer. It wasn't his decision after all. The Goblet, apparently, still wasn't ready.

Harry tried his best not to let his eyes stray towards the Beauxbatons table, something he was failing at spectacularly. He had just had the best twenty-four hours of his life and even the prospect of being chosen to compete in a deadly tournament wasn't going to dampen it. If anything, it helped. Next to him, Hermione was staring at the goblet as if willing it to make its decision quicker. She wasn't the only one either.

At long last, well after the desserts had vanished from the plates, the Goblet threw out green sparks, causing a few cheers. Dumbledore immediately stood up and approached the platform with the Goblet of Fire.

"Today would mark the official beginning of the Triwizard tournament with the choosing of the champions. A great honor and a privilege, one, that I hope, those chosen will use well. And it seems the Goblet is finally ready to give its decision," Dumbledore said in his magically amplified voice, turning off all the lights this time. The Goblet glowed in the dark, dancing with a blue-white flame unlike any other.

There were close to a thousand people packed in the room. Somewhere, the sound of a plate dropping echoed throughout the Hall. There was an intake of breath as the Goblet turned red and spit out its first name. "Viktor Krum," Dumbledore announced.

Both the Durmstrang tables were up on their feet cheering for their champion as he grouchily made his way to where the champions were supposed to congregate, face visible only due to the flash of cameras. The ensuing whispers and noise only died down when the Goblet glowed red again.

Dumbledore neatly caught the second piece of parchment and read, "Celestine Dior."

This time it was the two tables on the opposite end that erupted in joy. As the champion of Beauxbatons walked past the light of the goblet, Harry recognized the girl he had met at Diagon Alley. He hadn't even realized she had come to Hogwarts. She carried herself gracefully, acknowledging the applause without seeming too proud.

The silence that followed was absolute. It was one of the Hogwarts champion next. Harry was at the edge of his seat, hand clenched tightly on his thigh. It wasn't until this very moment, he realized how much getting chosen meant to him. Even with no idea of the dangers ahead, the atmosphere in the room alone was enough to inspire someone.

"Cedric Diggory."

Not to be outdone by the other schools, the Hogwarts students roared in full effect. Harry applauded too, sitting at first, then standing. Cedric was well-deserving, after all, he told himself, realizing how heavy his heart seemed.

Cedric too was graceful about how he acknowledged everyone, but managed to exit the Great Hall much more quickly through the door. The din continued even as the goblet turned red and spat out another name.

Dumbledore raised his voice even higher to be heard, "Rositsa Makarov"

Harry wasn't sure if it was the person or the name, but something had rung a bell. Although her face was covered, the auburn hair, medium-build, athletic figure and especially the thick gloves... Then it hit him. He was looking at the under-19 duelling champion of Europe making her way up, uncaring to the resounding applause she was receiving.

There were definitely a lot of whispers going around the Hall now, not just about Rositsa and who she was, but also how some of the champions seemed to be people who have already achieved great things. Dumbledore's voice announcing the name of the second Beauxbaton's champion quietened them down.

"Juan St. Pierre."

Although he couldn't see the tables in the dark, Harry was sure neither Jasmin or Fleur were cheering along with their schoolmates. He felt a small twinge of sadness for Fleur. She had been really looking forward to being champion and Harry completely understood. He was now in the same boat after all. Every champion that had been chosen so far was older than seventeen and were clearly forces to be reckoned with in their own right.

The silence that followed almost felt oppressive to Harry. Never in his life could he remember wanting anything more. As each name had been read, it had reminded him how far he had to go, even to catch up to his compatriots. He couldn't do it. He just wanted to scream, stand up and run towards the door that all the other champions had gone through.

Every breath in the room paused when the goblet turned red one last time. This was it. A contract was about to be sealed. A tournament about to begin... The parchment that shot out seemed to hover in the air forever as it made its way into the waiting hands of Dumbledore. His expression remained impassive when he read the name on the parchment, but as he finished and looked up, the eyes twinkled brighter than any star ever could.

"Harry Potter."

"YESSSSSS!" Harry roared as he stood up, feeling the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. His scream disappeared like a whisper in the wind compared to the noise his fellow Gryffindors, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were making. Even the Slyhterins seemed to have set aside house rivalries to politely applaud the new Hogwarts champion.

Sure, cameras flashed around him and his schoolmates patted his back, but Harry had eyes for one person only. In the glow produced by the Goblet, it's blue-white embers starting to fade, Dumbledore's face looked older than it ever had, but the pride was undeniably there. Harry wasn't sure if anyone had caught the small nod that passed between them as he crossed the Headmaster and headed into the room behind.

Harry entered the room with all the champions and immediately found himself cursing his age. All three of the boys were taller than him and even though the girls were only about his size, they were still looking at him with disdain like everyone else, Cedric, of course, being the lone exception. He stepped forward with a hand held out, "Guess I shouldn't be surprised, Harry. Congrats, mate."

"Yeah, you too man," Harry replied distractedly. The other champions were still giving him withering looks, like he had wronged them somehow. Celestine showed no sign of recognition and as snooty as her expression was, Harry couldn't help but term Rositsa Makarov as attractive. Krum had a contemptuous scowl while Juan couldn't hide his livid expression quickly enough. That, at least, gave him some comfort.

They barely had time to stare at one another when the door opened to produce Bagman, bouncing on the soles of his feet. "Wonderful! Wonderful! Congratulations to all of you. Well-deserved. We will no-" he was interrupted by Krum.

"Vat is this boy doing here? You vant us to believe he vas chosen as champion?"

Harry bit back the reply that came to his mouth. It hadn't taken him long to size Krum up either. He was everything Malfoy wished he could be, Quidditch Phenom, ladies' man, international superstar, and an egomaniac with the talent to back it up.

Bagman baby blue eyes widened a little in surprise, "...Why, yes, of course. Harry's name just came out of the goblet. Youngest champion in history!" he finished, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. The other champions looked less than impressed.

Once again, the door opened and in filed what looked like the entire teacher's table and half the visitor's gallery. Percy Weasley stood at the doorway, desperately trying to keep the reporters at bay while the two aurors beside him just watched in amusement. "-will get your photos and statements tomorrow. Right now, we need to give the champions their instructions," his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Dumbledore took one look at the madhouse behind them, sighed, and suggested they move to the Headmaster's office. As they left, the crowd parted for the headmaster, either because of respect or magic and once they were clear of the Entrance Hall, most of the champions seemed to relax and look around with curiosity as they walked.

There was a plan forming in Harry's mind by the time the large group started trooping into the headmaster's office. Or rather it had always been there, but now that he was champion, the plan would be much simpler and easier to execute. If all went well tonight, he was going to walk out of Dumbledore's office with an invaluable ally.

As soon as they entered, Harry crossed the room, opened the glass cabinet and slipped the Sorting Hat on. The Hat, instead of slipping over his eyes, constricted enough to fit his head perfectly. A few of the people who had entered along with him watched his actions with polite curiosity.

"About time kid! Mind telling me what all the hullabaloo is about?" the Sorting Hat asked in his head.

"Let's see now... I got selected for duelling and quidditch tournaments that will be seen by most of the world... And oh yes, became the champion of Hogwarts tonight."

"Never a dull moment with you, is there?"

The room had finished filling and there seemed to be just enough space given the fact all the teachers, champions, heads of school and tournament officials were all there. He heard Celestine and Juan quietly in conversation with one another in French and got the distinct feeling they were talking about him.

"Hat? You know French right?"

"I can't hear them now, but I did hear the tart wonder how a little boy was going to compete in the tournament. The slick remarked a prepubescent kid like you isn't as much of a problem as someone like Krum and Makarov. I must say, I find myself agreeing with him."

"Thanks, Hat," Harry thought back wryly. That remark about puberty stung a little, he was not gonna lie.

Crouch was speaking now, "... since you are exempt from exams, you are also allowed to miss as much class for personal training as you want, as long as at least one of the involved teachers sign off on it."

He looked around at the jam packed room, "Perhaps we should have our champions choose their advisors and go ahead and dismiss them before we continue with our discussion?" There was a murmur of assent all around.

Crouch turned to the champions, "Remember, the heads of schools cannot be chosen as your advisors. Only staff members are allowed. You will be free to approach them for any advice and they will be free to provide any help as long as they are not directly affecting the tasks. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded along with the rest, but his face was hurting from trying not to burst out laughing as the Hat silently added its own commentary. He'd never again be able to look at Madame Maxime without thinking of what she could do to Flitwick.

The other champions were picking their advisors, staff from their own schools. Both Prof. McGonagall and Prof. Moody were looking at him intently, pride and worry written large in the former's face. No doubt they wanted to help.

"Hat, how badly do you want out of here?"

"Let's see now. So many anecdotes and metaphors come to mind. Let me put it this way, kid. I want out worse than Phineas Nigellus wanted in to panties when he was Headmaster. Gave the term Head Girl a whole new meaning."

"Shit! What happened?"

"Get me out of here and maybe I'll tell you."

Harry chuckled. No one knew how to play the game better than the Hat, after all. But he had to lay down the law here.

"I have one condition, Hat. You know when I'm being serious."

"Spill."

"When I say shut up, you shut up."

Harry tried not to let the barrage of insults he was hearing in his head show on his face. It was Cedric's turn to choose an advisor. He went with Moody, who had been Harry's second choice. Securing the Hat was imperative now. After he got the Hat to agree, of course. It knew too much and had too little compunction to be allowed to speak uninhibited.

Crouch was now looking at him expectantly, as were the rest in the room. It seemed it was his turn to choose.

"Now or never, Hat."

"Drat. Fine, ya ninny. All I would have done is take your fellow arrogant fleshballs down a peg or two."

"The day I stop you from doing that... "

Harry straightened up and said out aloud, "I'll take the Sorting Hat to be my advisor." Almost all the foreign professors and champions looked surprised. But everyone who knew about the Hat were looking at him and the Hat in horror. Even Dumbledore looked worried, "Are you sure that's a good idea, Harry? It's just that... The Hat is..." Harry knew where the old headmaster was going with this.

"It's okay, Professor," Harry forestalled him, "we'll keep each other in check."

"We will?"

"Or end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Who knows? I'm trying to get you out of here."

Dumbledore was clearly hesitant about parting with something that was, for all intents and purposes, an artefact with no equal. Karkaroff seemed to sense that the Hat would be trouble. He stepped forward, curling his goatee, "This is highly unusual. Surely, the rules don't allow it?"

Crouch turned to him and answered in a clipped manner, "The rules only stipulate that the advisor must be a staff member. It does not specify any other attributes to them. I assume," he turned to Dumbledore, "since you haven't raised that particular objection, the Hat is a member of Staff?"

Dumbledore nodded, "The Hat has been a member of the Staff long before any of us even started teaching here."

"Then I'm afraid the rules are clear," Crouch said to Dumbledore, who nodded again to signify consent, then turned to Harry, "Good luck with your new advisor, Mr. Potter."

"Booyah" went the Hat in his head.

Karkaroff, however, was not planning to give up without a fight, "This is ridiculous, Dumbledore. First, a fourteen-year-old boy is chosen as champion and now you want to give him an inanimate object as an advisor? Are you trying to make this tournament out to be a joke? How can a hat even be a member of staff?"

Harry flicked his finger and said out aloud, "That's your cue, Hat. Go wild."

Some of the foreigners in the room looked at him like he'd gone crazy. Then, the wide brim of the Hat formed into a mouth. Gasps of shocks were elicited when it spoke, "Who're you calling inanimate, you spineless lickspittle? I am Godric's finest achievement and I daresay I would have achieved world domination by now if I weren't bound to this misbegotten dump. Now, wipe that shit stain off your chin before someone mistakes your open piehole for the crapper."

Karkaroff, whose mouth had fallen open, closed it like he had been electrocuted, his face flushing crimson with rage. The rest of the room looked just as stunned. Most of the Hogwarts professors were shaking their head like they knew this would happen. Both Celestine and Rositsa were looking at the Hat with unbridled curiosity and all the while, Harry was shaking with uncontrolled mirth, adding to the Durmstrang Headmaster's rage. Interestingly, it wasn't Karkaroff who stepped up to save face.

Krum's scowl had steadily deepened until he had taken his foot off the wall he was leaning on. The Bulgarian was giving Harry a predatory smile, "You Englishmen and your trinkets insult vell. Ve vill see vat you do when the dueling begins, child. I vill not go easy on you."

"That makes sense," Harry replied nonchalantly, "doesn't look like you're winning anything at Quidditch." Harry was sure Krum's hand had twitched towards his wand. His face definitely looked dangerous enough for Karkaroff to step forward and put a hand across his chest, saying loudly in English, "Don't worry, Viktor. We'll get our chance soon enough."

"Not bad, kid."

"I did learn from the best."

Things were spiralling out of control and it was obvious there was too much competitive fire in the room with all the champions. Since they were no longer required, they were informed to attend a press conference the next day, given a few more instructions on what was expected of them as champions and were let off.

As the others trooped out, Harry made sure he was last in line. He had no intention of dealing with any more drama. It had been the best day of his life, by far. And he was far too tired to even reminisce about it. Deciding he didn't have what it takes to face the Gryffindor Common Room tonight, he started off in the direction of the seventh floor, replaying the night since the moment he'd been chosen. All he could remember were looks of disdain and smirks of condescension from the other champions.

"Hey Hat! Think I can wipe those fucking grins off their faces?"

"It'll certainly be interesting to see. You'd do well not to underestimate any of them though. Other than Diggory, assume the rest have all had duelling training."

"Cool."

"I rarely find myself saying this and I would sooner let the fossil stick his aged pecker in my mouth before saying it out aloud, but thanks Harry. It feels good to be free."

"Why Hat, you're nothing but an old softy!" and Harry pulled it off his head before it could reply and traumatize him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing.