There was not a single cheer. Harry looked around the room, the reality of the situation not sinking in. Ron, Hermione, and Luna all gave him an identical horrified look and Harry noticed that he felt a bit faint and that his hands were shaking. The silence was broken by a terrible scraping of a chair against the floor as mama threw herself out of her seat and bolted down the aisle toward him.
"I - I didn't -" he muttered as she reached him.
"I know love, get up. We'll settle this. I refuse to let this happen." She grabbed him by the armpits and hoisted him out of the chair. Harry's body followed limply.
The Goblet burst forth another piece of parchment. Shocked, Dumbledore did not pluck it from the air until it had almost reached the ground. The world paused as he read it.
"Harry Potter," he repeated after a long moment.
The Hall erupted into chaos.
Mama half carried him out of the Hall toward the antechamber, passing the confused cluster of officials and Dumbledore who were amid a whispered argument. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum turned to face them when she slammed open the door.
"You are the third champion?" Fleur questioned in her thick accent. "You are a very small child?"
Viktor, who was a good foot taller than Harry, looked down at the boy in alarm. The two older champions shared a concerned look.
Harry was saved from answering by the rest of the adults entering the room. The loud chaos of voices came through the open door before it was closed firmly by Mad-Eye Moody, who leaned against it as though keeping guard.
"Well," The far too cheery voice of Ludo Bagman said. "We have our three champions!"
Harry tried to hide behind his mama as everyone's eyes turned to him. There was a wide range of expressions on their faces, from disappointment to anger and calm nonconcern.
"Absolutely not," mama cut in. Her voice was tight with fury, low and gravelly that sent gooseflesh up the spines of the adults. Her eyes were narrowed and burning an unnatural sickly hue. Everyone took an instinctual step away. Harry gripped her hand in his, not caring about how childish the action might make him look. Her presence and her anger assured him that she would be able to fix things. Her thumb rubbed against his palm in comfort. "Harry is underage, he is not competing."
"His name has come out of the goblet," Bagman argued, stuttering through his words as he was stared down by the terrifying aura of a pissed-off mama. "He has been chosen to compete - it's a binding contract -"
"He is too young," Professor McGonagall protested. She sandwiched herself on Harry's other side, and the furious glares from both women forced Bagman into silence.
"Exactly," Maxime said. "Why have the rules been bent to allow a Hogwarts student past the age line? This is most unfair, Dumbledore!"
"And what is this nonsense with the Goblet picking him twice? Trying to skew the results so your preferred student would win, hmm?" Karkoff argued. He raised an accusatory finger towards the man. Dumbledore held up his hands in a gesture of peace.
"I have not bent or skewed the results in any way, and am just as confused at these events as you are. Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"No!" Harry said. Maxime and Karkaroff grumbled in protest.
"Did you ask someone else to put your name in on your behalf?"
"No! I didn't want to join the tournament," he said. "I thought about it, but mama convinced me not to. And that was before I knew about the age line anyway. I don't know how to break that. I am perfectly happy playing for the Quidditch team and not being involved in this part. I don't want to compete!"
"It hardly matters," Fudge interrupted loudly. He did not look particularly upset by the situation and he clapped his hands together as though that was the end of the argument. "The rules are the rules. He has been picked as the Hogwarts champion. He will have to compete." The other two officials, Bagman and Crouch voiced their agreement.
"His name came out twice," mama yelled. "That is clear evidence of tampering. I don't give a fuck about this tournament, he will not be competing."
"Excuse me, madame. Who are you to say -"
"I am his mother," she snapped at Crouch. "And this is Harry Potter we are talking about. He has had more attempts against his life than all of you combined. Someone has put his name in this stupid cup in hopes that he dies in the tournament, and I will not stand by and let that happen."
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