Chapter 13 - mad eye moody
Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Harry could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.
"Hey guys." Harry grinned as he plopped himself down with Ron and Hermione.
Dean, Seamus, and Ginny took the seats opposite, while Fred and George sat with the Quidditch Team.
"I heard the headmaster has a big announcement." Hermione said excitedly as they loaded their plates after the sorting.
Harry nodded and waved to Colin, who grinned with his brother Dennis next to him. Dennis had just been sorted into Gryffindor.
Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.
"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."
"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.
"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.
Harry wrinkled his nose slightly at the sight of food spraying from Ron's mouth but didn't comment, just taking a bite of his own potatoes. He spent most of the meal engrossed in a conversation with Ginny about the smaller aspects of Quidditch and whether Viktor Krum was the best seeker in the world.
Harry was brought out of the conversation by Hermione prodding him.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Help me." she said. "Ron thinks house elves deserve to stay slaves!"
"They're not slaves Mione." Harry laughed at her. "I have a house elf- Dobby. They like working and helping wizards. I even send them fabrics to make their own clothes with at Christmas."
"You should see Dobby." Seamus smirked. "Like a firework exploded on him."
"Blimey that is one crazy elf." Ron commented.
"Dobby's cool." Harry defended.
"But they're enslaved Harry!" Hermione pleaded, her eyes wide.
Harry sighed, and said, "Hermione, they aren't enslaved. If they were free they would still work for us."
Hermione humphed and turned away, choosing to start a conversation with Dean about a show on the telly that both of them watched. Harry shrugged and started talking with Seamus about a new charm he found that he wanted to test out in his duels with Professor Flitwick.
When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbhedore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.
A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Ginny gasped.
The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.
One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.
The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.
The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.
"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"
"He got scars fighting Dark Wizards in the First War against Voldemort." Harry told them in an undertone. "I read about it."
Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" said Fred loudly.
The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, and Harry rolled his eyes- he wanted to find out more.
"Er - but maybe this is not the time...no..." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.
"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."
"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry himself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.
"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."
"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This -" Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
"That's unfair!" George was still complaining as they made their way up to the common room.
"Why would you want to enter the tournament anyway?" Harry asked.
"A thousand galleons." Fred stated, his eyes unfocused and dreamy.
"We could jumpstart our joke shop with that." George finished.
"If you want a thousand galleons I'll just give you a thousand galleons.' Harry shrugged.
Both of them stopped to stare at him.
"A thousand galleons." Fred said faintly.
"We want to earn it mate." George said. "Maybe."
"Offer's always open." Harry shrugged. "You're my friends."
Later, in bed, once Harry was unpacked and his trunk's password reset, Harry thought about what it would be like if he was in the tournament. He imagined Lyra's proud face in the crowd when he won and buried his face in his pillow. He couldn't think that!
"Blast ended skrewts!" Seamus ranted as they headed to the tower to get changed. "What the fuck was Hagrid thinking!"
"I like Hagrid and all, but those are beyond." Harry grumbled.
Ancient Runes was much better, and they started off with a small rune activity. Lyra won because they were French runes, and even though Harry had learnt French over summer he wasn't as good as her.
"You can speak French?" Susan asked in in disbelief as they talked. "What else did you learn at Malfoy Manor?"
"I also learned how to speak basic Bulgarian." Harry offered. "I have no idea why Mr Malfoy offered to teach me those two languages, but I did some research and it turns out that Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are from France and Bulgaria. He was just preparing us!"
"Good for you." Hannah laughed.
"Harry!" Draco came rushing down the hall.
"Yeah?" Harry asked as they walked into the courtyard and sat near a tree.
"Theodore Nott just got turned into a polecat!"
"What?" Harry questioned, confused.
"I was arguing with him because he called us blood traitors for hanging out with you," Draco grinned, "and when he attempted to curse me as I turned my back on him Moody turned him into a polecat!"
Harry laughed, before turning to Dean, who had joined them. "Whatcha drawing mate?"
"Something." Dean muttered, turning away so no one could see his sketch.
"Pleeeeeease?" Seamus whined, flopping onto Dean's lap.
Dean grumbled and turned away from him. Harry laughed at Seamus's disgruntled expression. Harry saw a swooping eagle owl fly over to them, but this one wasn't Imperius.
"Who is this?" Harry asked Draco as he opened the letter.
"This is Bubo Bubo. He's the family owl."
Harry snickered behind his hand. "Bubo Bubo?" he chortled.
"It's a perfectly respectful name!" Draco said indignantly.
"No it's not." Ginny said. "Bubo Bubo my arse."
"It's not a respectful name Draco." Lyra laughed. "But father got the owl when he was a child and the name has stuck."
Blaise, meanwhile, had completely lost his composure and was cackling on the ground. "Bubo-Bubo?" he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye as he let out another cackle.
"Shut up mate." Draco grumbled, sending a mild stinging jinx at him.
When he didn't Lyra eyed him camly. "Blaise," she started, "I just read up on some wonderful castration jinxes. Can I test them?"
That stopped his laughter and he sat up somberly.
"She ain't joking around mate." Harry laughed as Lyra sent him a sweet smile that prophesied doom.
"Blimey!" Lee exclaimed as he flopped near them. "Moody's class is awesome!"
"He's been there." George said.
"Seen it all." Fred finished.
Excited, Seamus dove into his bag. "Damn." he said, letting the paper fall and flopping back down. "We don't have him till Thursday."
"We don't have him until Friday." Ginny shrugged. "We win."
"We have him tomorrow." Hannah laughed.
"Don't spoil it." Harry whimpered, pretending to swoon into Lyra's lap. She just laughed, a bright and airy sound, before pushing him away.
Harry sat in Defense at a table for three with Dean and Seamus and took out his book.
Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.
"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."
They returned the books to their bags, Dean looking excited.
Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.
"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures - you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"
There was a general murmur of assent.
"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark -"
"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out from the table next to Harry's.
Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled - the first time Harry had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago...Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore...One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.
"So - straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head. Harry wondered what kind of eye it was, and what spells were on it.
"So...do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"
Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron's and Hermione's. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender. Harry watched in interest. He knew the three curses, but wanted to hear what Ron would say.
"Er," said Ron tentatively, "my dad told me about one...Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"
"Ah, yes," said Moody appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."
Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Dean leaned forward in fasciantion: he had been attempting to draw spiders for a while but could never get them right.
Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"
The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.
Everyone was laughing - everyone except Harry. He had read about the Imperius curse in the last war and knew it wasn't something to laugh at.
"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"
The laughter died away almost instantly.
"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."
Ron gave an involuntary shudder.
"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.
"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.
Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.
"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"
Hermione's hand flew into the air again and so, to Harry's slight surprise, did Neville's. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.
"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.
"There's one - the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.
Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.
"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.
Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.
"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"
The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Dean leaned forward even more, examining its body and legs for color. Harry could see his hand subconsciously making the sketching movements.
Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"
At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently -
"Stop it!" Hermione said shrilly."
Harry looked around at her. She was looking, not at the spider, but at Neville, and Harry, following her gaze, saw that Neville's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.
Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.
"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.
"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse...That one was very popular once too.
"Right...anyone know any others?"
Harry looked around. From the looks on everyone's faces, he guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. Harry raised his hand this time, keeping his face stony.
"Yes?" said Moody, looking at him.
"The Killing Curse," he whispered, "Avada Kedavra."
Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.
"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra...the Killing Curse."
He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.
Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.
"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.
There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air - instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.
Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.
"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."
Harry felt his face redden as Moody's eyes (both of them) looked into his own. He could feel everyone else looking around at him too. Harry stared at the blank blackboard as though fascinated by it, but not really seeing it at all...
So that was how his parents had died...exactly like that spider. Had they been unblemished and unmarked too? Had they simply seen the flash of green light and heard the rush of speeding death, before life was wiped from their bodies? He had never seen the curse before, and never wanted to.
Harry had been picturing his parents' deaths over and over again for three years now, ever since he'd found out they had been murdered, ever since he'd found out what had happened that night: Wormtail had betrayed his parents' whereabouts to Voldemort, who had come to find them at their cottage. How Voldemort had killed Harry's father first. How James Potter had tried to hold him off, while he shouted at his wife to take Harry and run...Voldemort had advanced on Lily Potter, told her to move aside so that he could kill Harry...how she had begged him to kill her instead, refused to stop shielding her son...and so Voldemort had murdered her too, before turning his wand on Harry...
Harry knew these details because he had heard his parents' voices when he had fought the dementors last year - for that was the terrible power of the dementors: to force their victims to relive the worst memories of their lives, and drown, powerless, in their own despair...
Moody was speaking again, from a great distance, it seemed to Harry. With a massive effort, he pulled himself back to the present and listened to what Moody was saying.
"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it - you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.
"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.
"Now...those three curses - Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus - are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills...copy this down..."
They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang - but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices - "Did you see it twitch?" "- and when he killed it - just like that!"
"Are you alright mate?" Dean asked him in a low voice.
"I'm fine." Harry replied gruffly, trying to push his emotions away.
He heard the two of them whispering to each other, before they pushed him to the classroom. "Go." they said, and Harry let out a barrage of lethal spells at the wall.
"Better?" Lyra asked as Harry let out deep, puffing breaths. Harry vaguely noticed that the room was empty except for them while he stumbled over to her.
"I didn't think it would affect me that much." he mumbled.
"You saw the spell that killed your parents." she soothed, running a delicate hand through his hair. "It would affect you."
"I should be stronger than this." Harry said, taking a ragged breath.
"You've been strong for three years." she told him. "You're allowed to collapse every once in a while."
"Wanna duel?" he asked, taking a deep breath and flicking his wand out of his holster.
"Sure." she grinned, pulling out her own wand and setting a timer for five minutes.
They didn't waste any time, and Harry shot a volley of simple spells at her. She easily blocked them and sent her own volley back, to which Harry shielded while preparing to send his own spell.
"Confundo!" he muttered, knowing it would not work. He was rather confused when the spell passed right through Lyra, and his eyes widened too late. Before he could turn around a silent spell stunned him.
When he came to he found Lyra leaning over him., a smirk dancing on her lips.
"New spell?" he asked.
"Disillusionment charm." she replied. "I just learned it."
"What was the hologram?" he asked.
"I'll show it to you." They walked off to the library, thoughts of the killing curse gone from Harry's mind.
Later that evening Harry was lounging by the fire playing a game of chess with Ron when Hermione approached them, a box in her hands.
"What's in the box?" he asked, pointing at it.
"Funny you should ask," said Hermione. She took off the lid and showed them the contents.
Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S. P. E .W.
"Spew?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"
"Not spew," said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."
"Never heard of it," said Ron.
"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione briskly, "I've only just started it."
"Yeah?" said Ron in mild surprise. "How many members have you got?"
"Well - if you two join - three," said Hermione.
"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew,' do you?" said Ron.
"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status - but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."
She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them.
"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."
"Hermione - open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!"
"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."
"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked.
"We start by recruiting members," said Hermione happily. "I thought two Sickles to join - that buys a badge - and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron - I've got you a collecting tin upstairs - and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting."
"Who said I'm secretary?" Harry Scoffed. "If you think that house elves want to be free why don't you talk to them?"
"They wouldn't understand. They've been brainwashed."
"Right." Harry groaned, before pulling himself out of his lounging position and giving Hermione back the badge she had handed him. "No."
"No?" Hermione asked.
"No." he replied firmly. "I know enough about house elves to understand that what you're attempting to do is stupid and won't work. I want no part in it, seeing as how I have my own elf."
"But you should free him?" Hermione gasped.
Harry rolled his eyes and got up. "Not arguing with you again." he stated before walking up to the dorm.
"What's wrong mate?" Dean asked, lounging in bed with his sketchbook.
"SPEW." Harry returned.
"Heh?"
"Hermione's promotion of elf safety."
"Oh." he rolled his eyes, before turning to Harry with his book. "What'd Ya think?"
Harry examined the picture of a spider sitting in the middle of a thin web, with only a wet, dripping leaf in the background. It was incredibly detailed for a sketch.
"Damn." Harry whistled. "You should color that thing and hang it up."
"Give Ron a heart attack." Dean barked in laughter.
"Death by spider." he snorted, shaking in laughter with Dean.
He finally calmed down, went to his trunk, whispered the password (Silver) and pulled out his nightclothes.
Seamus entered yawning. "I reckon Hermione's gone off the bend."
"Why?" Harry asked as he attempted to comb his hair.
"Ranting about SPUD or something in the common room and stopped the twins from testing out their joke projects."
"Escaped that." Harry replied airly.
Dean had pulled out his coloring box and was using pastels to shade the spider in next to them.
"Can you wait for the foreign schools to arrive?" Seamus asked in excitement as he pulled on his nightshirt.
"Can't wait." Harry laughed.
Harry walked to the front of the DADA classroom, his body tense. This would be the first time he had one of the Unforgivables used on him.
Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"
It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.
And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing all around his mindscape: Jump onto the desk...jump onto the desk...
Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.
Jump onto the desk...
Why, though? Another voice had awoken in his mindscape. It got louder and louder as Harry tried to hear it, and Moody's voice more frantic.
Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.
Jump onto the desk...
No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly...no, I don't really want to...
Jump! NOW!
NO! The other voice said, and Harry fell to his knees, his arms shaking with the effort of pushing Moody out.
"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, and suddenly, Harry felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening, and the voice in his head seemed to get louder.
Idiot, it said. Why did it say idiot the exact way Lyra did? Harry could picture it in his mind. He would do something and she would roll her silver eyes, crossing her arms and smirking while shaking her head of short blonde hair. Painfully he pulled himself out of his thoughts to see the class staring at him.
"That's more like it! Sit down Potter. NEXT!"
After class everyone was talking about what they did.
"I can't believe you managed to repel the spell Harry." Seamus laughed.
"Yeah." Harry grinned. "It hurt though. Like I was floating in my mind."
"What'd he try to make you do?" Dean asked as he hiked his bag over his shoulder.
"Jump on the desk."
"Huh." Dean laughed. "You got it easy! I had to sing and hop!"
Workload was increasing as the end of October neared. They were assigned the memorization of three Nordic and Slavic rune charts in Ancient Runes and had to memorize even more spells for Charms. Harry's duelling with professor Flitwick had kicked up a notch and the professor had recommended he take a visit to Diagon Alley and buy himself duelling robes if they were to go any further.
Harry had convinced him to take Harry to Diagon Alley next Hogsmeade visit in November through apparition, which Harry had not learned yet. Professor Flitwick was teaching him how to incorporate charms and transfiguration into his duelling now, though Harry was better at charms than transfiguration. The best he could do was turn a conjured animal into a stone statue, and even then the statue was liable to fall apart.
He decided to stick with charms for the time being. Harry had even gotten some obscure spells that Professor Snape made when he told the professor about his hunt for more spells to learn. He won his first duel ever with Professor Flitwick thanks to the Levitation jinx.
It had surprised the professor to be lifted into the air and Harry had been able to stun him. Professor Flitwick had gone even harder on him in the next duel, and now both of them were fighting their hardest, not holding anything back.
"Harry." Professor Flitwick called him after one lesson.
"Yeah?" Harry asked as he healed a minor cut on his arm.
"You have advanced tremendously these past few years, and I would like to give you a gift, from teacher to student."
Harry stood and watched as he brought out a thick book.
"What is it?" he asked, holding to book reverently.
"It's a compendium of spells, curses, jinxes, and hexes in Latin, Greek, French, Polish, and Norwegian." he told him. "This will be the ultimate study guide for you, and I have charmed it so that if you want to add a spell you must simply write it down on an empty page in the same format as the others."
"Wow." Harry breathed, looking up at the Professor. "Thanks so much."
The diminutive professor smiled. "Good luck Harry."
"What's this?" Lyra asked as she met him after the lesson.
"A book of spells." Harry told her, fingering the leather book delicately.
"It's beautiful." she whispered in awe, tracing the glittering calligraphy that spelled Compendium: Magic.
When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase.
"What does the sign say?" Lyra asked, being slightly shorter than Harry. He had grown considerably thanks to his duelling training.
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY-STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.
"Wicked." Harry breathed after reading it. "What'd you reckon the schools will be like?"
"I heard that Durmstrang is in a really cold place." Draco told them as he approached.
"Beauxbatons is in France. Lyra told them, having attended it in her first year. "It's a beautiful place like Hogwarts, only without any poltergeists or suits of armour. It has a bunch of walls of pure glass and during winter there are ice sculptures everywhere."
"It sounds beautiful." Harry commented.
The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Harry went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.
Harry noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.
Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.
"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.
Harry had been unable to stop mild snickers since Professor Flitwick had once beat him in a duel using that spell.
When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.
Hermione was getting more annoying with her SPEW thing, and Harry had finally lost it and told her in no uncertain terms that he didn't care. They had tried reasoning with her but she kept stating that it was because they were brainwashed, and they had quit trying.
That Friday was a good day. There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. When the bell rang early, Harry, Dean, and Seamus hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.
Harry overall thought that the Beauxbatons and the Durmstrang entrances were flashy and well done. He laughed when Draco gaped at Krum, who had sat down with them, while Lyra and Daphne teased him about his man crush. Harry had already known that Krum still attended school, as the player was only 17.
The beauxbatons students were beautiful, and a stunning blonde one had Ron drooling. Dean and Seamus were immune like Harry, but while Harry knew that the two didn't swing that way he didn't understand why he was immune. Hmm. He knew she was a veela based on her looks, and he would have to ask her or do research.
When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
The blonde girl who had everyone drooling gave a small, derisive laugh.
"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her.
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red.
Harry was taking a bite of a delicious french dish and laughing when Ron wrinkled his nose at it.
It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.
Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.
"Yeah, have it," said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl.
"You 'ave finished wiz it?"
"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."
The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.
"How were you not affected mate?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.
"I don't know." Harry shrugged.
"Harry it's incredibly hard to resist the allure of a veela." Hermione told him. 'Either you practice the dark arts or you're in love."
Harry chose to say silent, not wanting to respond.
"Well Harry can't be in love!" Ron chortled.
"Harry can't be practicing the dark arts." Hermione responded.
They started arguing and Harry tuned them out.
"Honestly." Ginny laughed. "When will those two just stop?"
"I dunno." Harry shrugged.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"
"What?" Roh asked.
Harry shrugged.
"- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry thought he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."
At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways.. their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.
Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed."
"So what will happen, you think?" Harry asked.
"Diggory from Hufflepuff is entering." Dean brought up.
"Angelina wants to enter for Gryffindor." Seamus noted.
"Roger Davies from Ravenclaw and Cassius Warrington in Slytherin." Dean finished.
"Hmm." Harry hummed as he put his things away. "Cedric and Angelina seem like the best choices."
"You gotta support Angelina mate!" Ron butt in. "She's a Gryffindor."
"Cedric is my friend." Harry replied.
"He's a Hufflepuff." Ron snorted, as though it was a bad thing.
Harry stiffened. "What's wrong with being a Hufflepuff?" he asked softly, his tone dangerous. He was insulting Susan and Hannah.
Ron, seeing that Harry was angry, stayed silent.
Dean rolled his eyes and made a rude gesture to Ron behind his back, causing Harry to stifle his snort. Seamus smirked at that.
"Who do you think will be picked?" Ron asked Dean as they stared at the flaming goblet.
"Not us." Fred and George chorused, reminding of the hilarious attempt at the age line, one involving an aging potion and some very creative spells.
Dean snorted as he recalled the incident.
At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting...A few people kept checking their watches...
"Any second," Lee whispered, two seats away from Harry.
The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.
Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Harry saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, Harry thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next...
And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is…"
The hall was full of murmurs as Dumbledore paused, a confused look on his face. "Harry Potter."
Harry froze. His vision blurred and the world tilted as he tried to get a grasp on what was happening. "He was a champion."
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore roared when there was no response.
Numbly, Harry got up and walked to the front of the room. There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry.
Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.
Harry moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished and stared at Harry as he passed like everyone else. Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him.
The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.
Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.
"What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"
She thought he had come to deliver a message. Harry didn't know how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the two champions.
There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room.
"Extraordinary!" he muttered. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen...lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the third Triwizard champion?"
"I'm not a champion." was the first thing that came out of his mouth.
"Oh?" Delacour asked, arching her brow.
"I didn't put my name in, and I'm sure as hell not competing." Harry replied fiercely.
Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Fleur frowned.
"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."
"Well...it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet...I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage...It's down in the rules, you're obliged...Harry will just have to do the best he -"
The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.
"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
Somewhere under Harry's numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy?
Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "That boy is a fourth year?"
He gave a short and nasty laugh.
"He's also right here." Harry scoffed, only to be ignored.
"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave him as a champion. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked calmly.
"No," said Harry. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.
"No," said Harry vehemently.
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling at the woman.
"I did not!" Harry snarled.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.
"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"
"Mr. Crouch...Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
"This is a tournament." Dumbledore started.
"- in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "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 from 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 had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.
"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists.
"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to weaken 'Ogwarts!" said Madame Maxime.
"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards -"
"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," growled Moody, "but...funny thing...I don't hear him saying a word..."
"I've been arguing this entire time!" Harry burst. "And the simplest way to solve this is to give me Veritaserum, just enough for one question like in Veritaserum and Dare!"
"That would not excuse the fact that you must compete." Crouch growled.
"Bite my ass." Harry snarled back.
An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "My dear boy…"
"I'm not your dear boy, and I don't want to compete in this tournament!"
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Harry has been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, he will do..."
"He can'not!" Maxine burst out.
"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. Karkaroff was livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.
"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes...the first task..."
He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Fleur, and Viktor, "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...very important...
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.
"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."
Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
" I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...Very enthusiastic...a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.
"Come on, Barry, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.
But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.
"Harry, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor is 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."
Harry left.
The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.
Was anyone going to believe him, or would they all think he'd put himself in for the tournament? Yet how could anyone think that, when he was facing competitors who'd had three years' more magical education than he had - when he was now facing tasks that not only sounded very dangerous, but which were to be performed in front of hundreds of people? Yes, he'd thought about it...he'd fantasized about it...but it had been a joke, really, an idle sort of dream...he'd never really, seriously considered entering...
But someone else had considered it...someone else had wanted him in the tournament, and had made sure he was entered. Why? To give him a treat? He didn't think so, somehow...
To see him make a fool of himself? Well, they were likely to get their wish...
But to get him killed?
Was Moody just being his usual paranoid self? Couldn't someone have put Harry's name in the goblet as a trick, a practical joke? Did anyone really want him dead?
Harry was able to answer that at once. Yes, someone wanted him dead, someone had wanted him dead ever since he had been a year old...Lord Voldemort. But how could Voldemort have ensured that Harry's name got into the Goblet of Fire? Voldemort was supposed to be far away, in some distant country, in hiding, alone...feeble and powerless...
Harry got a shock to find himself facing the Fat Lady already. He had barely noticed where his feet were carrying him. It was also a surprise to see that she was not alone in her frame. The wizened witch who had flitted into her neighbor's painting when he had joined the champions downstairs was now sitting smugly beside the Fat Lady. She must have dashed through every picture lining seven staircases to reach here before him. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at him with the keenest interest.
"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"
"Balderdash," said Harry dully.
"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.
"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Harry into the common room.
Harry entered the room to silence. Everyone except for his friends was staring at him judgmentally. Then the tirade started.
"How the hell did you get in the tournament Potter?" someone called out.
"He's too young!"
"He shouldn't be allowed."
"SHUT UP!" Ginny got up, yelling at all of them. "You've all supported Harry for a long time, and now you're against him?"
"He cheated Ginny." Ron told her, coming out from the crowd. "And Gryffindor doesn't accept cheaters."
"Admit the truth Harry." Hermione said. "Who taught you the dark magic required for tricking the goblet? One of the Slytherins?"
"Why do you always think that when something goes wrong it's the Slytherin fault?" Harry replied in frustration. "They're not all evil you know?"
"They're not." Dean shrugged, going to stand by Harry with Seamus, Lee, Ginny, and the Twins.
"So you take his side." Ron sneered, the rest of the Gryffindors following him.
"He's our friend, and we thought you were his." Lee said.
"I'm not friends with liars." Ron sneered.
"There's a Gryffindor rule that we are allowed to kick someone out of the house by majority vote." Hermione pointed out.
"Well he's banned." Angelina Johnson sneered.
Harry felt a pang in his chest as the girl he thought was a friend glared at him for taking her chance at the cup.
"Fine." he replied shortly, pushing his feelings away. He stalked out, Ginny and the rest behind him. He walked the halls, not really knowing where he was going until he bumped into someone.
"Aah!" Susan let out a short scream as she fell on Harry.
Harry groaned as he got up, helping Susan and righting himself.
"What happened?" he asked.
"The Hufflepuffs were angry." Hannah said quietly. "They didn't like that you had taken Cedric's chance at being a champion, and nothing he said could calm them down. Cedric told us to go before spells were fired, and I'm pretty sure we won't be welcome again. He said that even though he wasn't chosen to be a champion, he hopes you bring Hogwarts victory."
"Same thing for us." Lyra said, striding down the corridor with Draco, Daphne, and Blaise.
"I was also kicked out." Luna said quietly, meeting them all at the intersection.
Harry smirked softly as he thought of the muggle action movies where people would all meet each other and the crossing hallways.
"Where to?" Seamus asked. "We need a place to stay."
"I can't think of anything." Harry muttered, and they all stood, occasionally offering suggestions.
"Harry!" the voice of Colin Creevey came echoing down the hall, his brother Dennis with him.
"Yeah?" Harry asked.
"The Gryffindors are trying to get into your things! They aren't able to get through so far, and when I said that they should stop they kicked us out!"
"Dobby." Harry whipped out, his voice sharp. The elf appeared. "Bring all of our things from our dormitories to a safe place until we can find a permanent chamber."
"A chamber!" Lyra snapped her fingers. "The Chamber of Secrets!"
They all looked up.
"Lyra." Draco said slowly. "Even if we get in, there is a dead basilisk in there."
"Dobby could move the big snake Mister Draco sir!" Dobby said, surprising them all, as they had forgotten he was there. "With Tilly and Flinky Dobby could do it until Master Harry trades it!"
"I can trade it?" Harry asked.
"Yeah." Blaise said. "The goblins offer a hefty price for basilisk skin, and with the money you could probably buy yourself high quality graphorn skin duelling robes."
"How much?" Harry asked.
"Probably a million galleons or so." Daphne remarked.
"Bloody." Fred stated.
"Hell." George finished.
Even Harry raised an eyebrow at that one. "Damn." he whistled.
"Dobby, Tilly, and Flinky have removed the big snake master Harry!" Dobby squeaked as he popped in.
"Thanks Dobby." Harry grinned. "Now let's go to the Chamber of Secrets."
They walked carefully, doing their best to avoid any patrols. Harry, having the Map, was able to hide them in secret corridors many times.
"We're here." he muttered as they entered Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"A bathroom?" Dennis asked, as the Creevey's had joined them. "The Chamber of Secrets is in a bathroom?"
Harry ignored them and walked over to the sink, hissing Open.
The door to the Chamber opened, and they all started.
"A slide?" Draco broke the silence. "Ask for stairs or something."
"I don't know if that's possible, but I can try." Harry shrugged. "Stairs."
To his surprise, a staircase appeared, and they all descended.
"We need light." Colin peeped.
"I learned a new spell for wandless light, but I don't know if it will work." Harry said.
"No time like the present." Daphne laughed.
"Exardesco." Harry whispered, a bright flame appearing in the palm of his hand. It was draining him too much, and with a grunt Harry extinguished it.
"I can't hold it." he panted.
"Just do normal Lumos everyone." Dean said.
They all held up their wands for light and trekked down the passage, stopping at the snake skin.
"Blimey Harry." Draco whistled. "You killed a basilisk this size?"
"Actually this is maybe half of the basilisk's actual size." Harry said quietly.
"Bloody hell." Fred whispered, his voice slightly awed.
"Come on." Harry told them. "This way."
They walked forward, reaching the snake door.
"Open." Harry hissed, and they watched as it swung open slowly.
The group filed into the room, looking around the ancient chamber in awe.
"Where do you think Dobby set up the beds?" George asked.
"I don't know." Harry said. "We should look around." he stifled a yawn.
They all searched, trying to find the way before they succumbed to sleep.
"I FOUND IT!" Astoria yelled finally, having also been kicked out of Slytherin.
There was a mad rampage to where she was, and they saw her standing at the statue of Salazar Slytherin's foot.
"What?" Seamus asked. "What'd Ya see?"
"There." she pointed to the edge of his beard. There was the engraving of a snake.
"Open." Harry hissed on a whim, and the statue slid open.
"Awesome." they breathed as they adventured in.
"It's a common room." Blaise finally whispered as they stood in the main room, using the lights from their wands to look around.
"I don't care." Harry groaned, too tired to take in his surroundings. "Lets just find the dormitories. If there's a common room, there's a dormitory."
"I found the lights!" Ginny squealed, and arching ceiling lights lit up the room.
"Good night." Harry yawned as the boys trudged up to bed from their passageway, while the girls took their own. Dobby and the others had already set their beds up. Harry was between Draco and Dean.