The fourth year of study began as usual: the distribution of first-year students, newcomers, and changes in the teaching staff. The novelty was that Hogwarts had decided to hold the Triwizard Tournament that year. Students from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton arrived to compete against Hogwarts students.
The deadline for submitting applications (in a rather unusual way — by throwing a piece of paper with your name on it into a cup of fire) was Thursday. The only downside was that only students aged seventeen and older could participate. Many were upset by this, but Harry, for example, wasn't particularly upset that his age prevented him from participating. Moreover, he knew that it would happen anyway. It was scary and exciting. After all, it was the last year before Voldemort's return, and everything Barry Allen had been through before was just training, a warm-up, so to speak.
Despite his life here, Barry never forgot why he was really here. Four years had passed. Although he tried not to get attached to people, it was difficult for him to imagine what he would do next when he defeated the Dark Lord. Would he leave his doppelganger, who had truly become like a brother to him? Would he be able to return home after everything he had been through?
He remembered the Monitor's answer to his question about whether he could return home. The man replied that it would all depend on Barry himself, on his own decision. Of course, the young man missed his real family and his real friends. He also missed his superhero activities. But he had found his place here, and it would hardly be easy to say goodbye to it.
And yet, despite the fact that Barry Allen of this Earth and Hermione Granger, his friends, knew the truth. Despite the fact that his real father was also here in the body of his doppelganger. And despite the fact that even Kara was here, this was not his world. Barry had taken over someone else's body and was living someone else's life. Sooner or later, he would have to return...
***
The Great Hall was overflowing with people. Everyone had gathered here for one purpose — to find out who their champions were. In the middle stood the very same cup with blue flames, and around it were crowds of people eager to find out who would be participating.
"Harry" and his friends stood away from all this. Ron and Barry were betting on who would be the champion from Hogwarts, while Hermione and Caitlin were discussing the Durmstrang students. Hermione was really hoping that Viktor Krum would win, because, as it turned out, he was also there representing his school. Harry himself sat with Felicity and listened to her indignation that Ilvermorni had never participated in the tournament before. Despite the fact that she was in her second year at Hogwarts and seemed to have already gotten used to her new school, her love for her previous home had not gone away.
"The champion of Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!" Dumbledore announced loudly.The hall erupted in loud applause, and the young man stepped forward, accompanied by the proud shouts of his comrades. The cup shone again, revealing a new name. The headmaster immediately caught it and, smiling, announced,
"The champion of Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!
The girl came forward to loud applause. Her classmates greeted her just as enthusiastically, though not quite as loudly as Victor's Bulgarian supporters, for the French seemed much more reserved, but nevertheless, it was an honour for Beauxbatons that one of their students had become a representative of their school in the Tournament.
"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!
The ovation and applause that greeted this young man were the loudest, and the whole of Hogwarts rejoiced. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that he would not have to become the fourth "champion" here.
"Eternal glory," Albus Dumbledore began his speech. "That is what the winner will receive when he lifts the cup..."
Suddenly, silence fell over the hall, the reason being that the cup was sparkling again, ready to reveal another name.
"Oh, damn," Harry muttered quietly so that no one would hear him.
Dumbledore slowly approached the cup, cautiously reaching out his hand. The cup threw out another piece of paper, which Albus carefully picked up and began to unfold.
"Harry Potter," the man said in surprise, then shouted louder, "Harry Potter!"
Harry pressed himself against the bench, not wanting to leave. He mentally cursed everything in the world and began to pray that everything would be all right. At that moment, everyone's eyes turned to him, making him cringe even more.
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore shouted again.
"Harry" felt a push in the back, after which he had to stand up and go forward. As he walked, people shouted after him, "Cheater!" and "You're not seventeen!" The boy felt a huge lump of shame stuck in his throat. He approached Dumbledore, who stood there in shock, holding out a piece of paper with Harry's name on it. He took it uncertainly and turned back. Everyone was looking at him with a mixture of horror and envy. In the very corner where his friends were sitting, Harry could have sworn he saw hell.
The boy ran sharply into the room where the other champions were.
***
"Harry" returned to the Gryffindor common room, overwhelmed by not the best feelings. Madame Maxime's indignation, Igor Karkaroff's words, Bartemius Crouch's statement that the cup had chosen his name and that he was now also a participant in the Tournament — all this played over and over again in "Harry's" head.
When he entered his dormitory, the merriment that had preceded his arrival was instantly replaced by tense silence. Everyone stared at Harry Potter, who immediately ran to his room, where a new round of "teasing" awaited him.
"How the hell did you do that?!" Ron Weasley was the first to meet him.
"I didn't do anything!" Harry tried to defend himself. "I didn't throw my name around!"
"Harry" met Barry's gaze, who, thank God, said nothing. He certainly couldn't have endured the insults on his face.
"How did it get there, then?" Ron's envy spoke through him. "Who are you kidding, Harry? You've always been hungry for fame..."
"What nonsense are you talking about?" Harry frowned. "Don't you really understand that I didn't throw anything there?!"
"Well, yes, I'm stupid, aren't I?" Weasley lay down on his bed. "Stupid friend of Harry Potter.
"Okay, that's enough, you bastards!" Barry raised his voice, and Harry looked at him. The guy was really angry. He walked over to Ron. "You must be a real idiot!
"What?" Ron sat down immediately.
"What? Did you hear yourself? Harry didn't throw his name into the cup, what's so hard to understand?
"How do you know that? The cup threw out the name! It was him.
"Believe me, I know Harry much better than you do, and I believe him.
"Harry" smiled modestly, watching his brother defend him. Well, at least someone was on his side, it was little, but it was reassuring. Ron couldn't think of anything to say, so he just lay down on his bed, covering his head with a blanket.
"He's just jealous of you.
***
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