Harry should have known Ron and Hermione wouldn't stay oblivious forever.
Strolling into the common room after a quick meeting with Draco after dinner — one of their rare pre-curfew meetings — Harry was surprised to see Ron and Hermione sitting on the sofa by the fire. Hermione wasn't doing homework, which was a novelty in itself. "Where have you been?" she asked suspiciously. Harry shrugged.
"Library," he replied, his usual response to excuse his absences. Whether it was meeting with Draco or the other heirs — they'd started their own study group early, because it turned out there were quite a few intelligent people in the group, and between them they had just about every subject covered. Sullivan said his grades had never been better.
"No you weren't. I was in the library and I didn't see you there," Hermione argued. Harry bit back a sigh.
"It's a big library, Hermione. But I was there, and then I finished my Potions essay, so I went for a walk. If you must know." He sank down into the armchair, dropping his bag on the floor. "What does it matter where I was, anyway?"
"You're always disappearing on us these days, mate," Ron accused. "Feels like we barely see you anymore."
He wasn't wrong there, but Harry didn't feel entirely bad about it. There were so many parts of his life he just couldn't share with them, but a lot of them he just didn't want to. If he'd tried hard, he could have told them about his inter-house study group without saying a thing about them being heirs. Hermione was oblivious to all of that politics, and Ron actively hated anything that might give him something in common with Malfoy, so he wasn't knowledgable enough to put the pieces together either. But Harry liked having people in his life that weren't them. Ron and Hermione wanted to know everything. He thought about his first two years of school, when they acted like it was a personal offence if he didn't share every secret with them, and he went with it because he didn't know how else friendship was supposed to go. Even now they were constantly asking him if he'd heard from Sirius, as if it was any of their business. Harry was just glad they didn't know anything about the dream he'd had in the summer. And there was still that small voice in the back of his mind that said he couldn't trust them. The voice that said they were more loyal to Dumbledore than him. That voice had never been wrong yet.
"I just like having a little time to myself these days, is all."
"Hermione was wondering if you'd got a girlfriend you weren't telling us about," Ron teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry. The dark-haired boy went bright red.
"What— why would you say that? I don't have a girlfriend!" he spluttered. Ron laughed.
"Exactly, that's what I said! I said you'd tell us if you did." He sounded confident.
"Not if she's someone he thought we wouldn't approve of," Hermione retorted. She turned to Harry, giving him a sympathetic look. "If you do, you can tell us. We won't judge you, Harry."
So many answers ran through Harry's mind at that. I've been hanging out with Slytherins.I like boys. I think I have a crush on Draco Malfoy. He doubted they'd be so accepting then. Instead he shook his head stubbornly.
"I don't have a secret girlfriend," he promised.
"'Mione, did you really think someone could date Harry Potter and keep it secret?" Ron pointed out, chuckling. "She'd be all over the school with the news."
Harry grimaced. Girl or boy, he'd never date anyone who was excited by his fame like that. Surely they knew that? "If I ever get a girlfriend, you two will be the first to know," he said, confident that would never happen. He was pretty sure that girls just… weren't his thing. Regardless of the blond Slytherin who seemed to be taking up far too much space in Harry's thoughts.
He ignored Ron and Hermione bickering about what sort of girl he might date, digging one of the muggle fiction books Remus had bought him out of his bag and settling in to read. It was hard to pay attention with so much going on inside his mind — when had his friendship with Ron and Hermione changed so much that he felt like they hardly knew him any more? And why was he still trying?
.-.-.-.
Harry stormed out of Moody's classroom as soon as the bell rang, walking too fast for anyone to catch up with him. His knees were aching from slamming into the desk multiple times, and his hands were shaking so hard he couldn't get them to stop. How the hell could Dumbledore approve of that? Putting underage kids under the Imperius curse! No matter whether it was good for them to know what it felt like, it was wildly illegal, and they definitely should have been sent some sort of consent form for their guardians to sign.
He was furious and in pain and his head still felt all funny from being Imperiused multiple times, and he didn't even know where he was heading as long as it was away. Which is why he was utterly baffled when he found himself in the dungeons, outside Snape's office. He bit his lip; Sirius and Remus did say that he could go to Snape if he was having problems during the school year. The man had actually been fairly decent to Harry in Potions class so far, all things considered.
Harry knocked cautiously.
"Enter," came the curt response. Harry eased the door open, watching the Potions professor's eyebrows rise. "Potter."
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Snape raised a hand first, lifting his wand and performing several warding charms. Only then did he lower his hand with a gesture for Harry to speak. "Do you know what Professor Moody is doing in his classes, sir?"
"I know he recently performed all three Unforgivables," Snape said with a disparaging curl of his lip. "I do not know if anything more recent has occurred."
"He's putting us under the Imperius curse." Snape dropped his quill. Harry continued. "He says that Dumbledore wants us to know how it feels, so we can learn to fight it."
One of Snape's long-fingered hands rose to clasp the bridge of his nose, and he let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course he does," he muttered derisively. "Potter, you're shaking." He got to his feet quickly, urging Harry into the chair opposite his desk.
"I almost threw it off the first time," Harry told him. "Professor Moody put me under it another four times, until I could ignore his orders completely."
When he looked up a few moments later, Snape was thrusting a vial of Pepper-Up potion his way. "Five Imperius curses in a half hour period? You're lucky you can still form sentences," he muttered. "What the hell is he playing at? Dumbledore's Golden Boy is no good to him with his brain leaking out of his ears."
After the potion, Harry immediately felt better. "No one else in the class was able to throw it off. I think he just wanted to get the better of me."
"I told Albus it was a foolish idea to bring that madman out of retirement," Snape said. "He's had one too many curses to the head."
"What am I supposed to do?" Harry asked helplessly. "I can't go to Dumbledore because it was his idea. But I can't go to anyone else because then it'll be obvious to Dumbledore I'm not obeying him anymore." A thought occurred to him, and he froze. "Will he know I got rid of the Compulsion charm? Since I was able to shake the Imperius?" The charm was supposed to make him more suggestible, after all.
"If anything, this probably works in our favour. He'll believe his Compulsion charm is so strong it overrode even Moody's Imperius," Snape assured him. "But I agree, you can't say anything about it." He pursed his lips, silent for a moment. "I'm sorry to say, Potter, that I think you're going to have to just keep at it. With any luck, once you can throw off the curse every time, Moody will get bored and move on. And it is a good skill to have. Even if the methods are… questionable." He took the empty vial from Harry's still-trembling fingers, setting it aside. "Just be careful; repeated short-term exposure to the Imperius curse can be dangerous. I want you to come to me if you feel any unusual symptoms, or if he puts you under more than three times in a row again."
"Yes, sir." Harry bit his lip. "Not Madam Pomfrey?" Snape frowned in response.
"Until I have ascertained who on the staff is under Dumbledore's thumb, I think it best we keep this to ourselves," he said eventually. "Regardless of Poppy's loyalties, I don't like the idea of you spending any length of time in the Hospital Wing. It's much easier for the headmaster to access you there, with plenty of privacy in case he decides you need a little more magical control."
The thought of Dumbledore cursing him while he was asleep made Harry sick to his stomach. "Going a whole school year without a trip to the Hospital Wing is going to be a tall order, sir," he remarked with a weak laugh. Snape's lips quirked.
"I gave you those potions for a reason, Potter. And if you need assistance, you can always come to me. I assume that map of yours will show you the way to my private quarters?" Harry nodded. "Then you have permission, in an emergency, to come to me there if needed. Don't abuse that permission, Potter."
"I won't," Harry promised, and he meant it. Snape was on their side. Like Sirius said, he was basically family now. Harry didn't want to do anything to upset the truce they seemed to have reached.
"I want you to sit there for twenty minutes," Snape instructed. "Read if you must, but I need to make sure you aren't going to have any aftershocks. You can leave when it's time for dinner."
"Yes, sir." Harry dug through his bag for his book, but he didn't open it, instead leaning back in the chair and letting his eyes fall shut. If anyone told him last year he'd feel so relaxed in Snape's office of all places, he would've laughed himself sick, but it was just so nice to be somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one expected anything of him, or wanted answers. A little bit of the refuge he'd had at Seren Du.
God, he missed that place. It was going to be a long, long school year.
.-.-.
Once the announcement of the arrival of the foreign schools went out, it was all anyone could talk about. Even Draco, when he and Harry met up a few nights before Halloween, slipped in a mention of the two French girls he'd met over the summer, and how they wouldn't be coming as they were still underage. Harry couldn't find it in him to be sad about that.
At last, they were all gathered in the Entrance Hall, which was gleaming after its minor makeover. "This way, outside! Stay in line," McGonagall instructed, fussing and scolding until all Gryffindors were in neat rows by year group outside the school. The other houses were organised the same way, their heads of houses keeping everyone in line. They waited.
Harry was reluctantly impressed by the arrival of both the delegations. Mostly he was glad for the warming charms Remus had put on his school cloak before he'd packed. When the students had emerged from both the carriage and the ship, they all started to head back inside; until the Durmstrang delegation grew close enough for everyone to see their famous member. "Viktor Krum!" The whisper echoed through the crowd of students; Harry saw Krum duck his head and forge onwards, resolutely ignoring the squeals and mutters of his name. Harry could sympathise there.
"Harry, it's Krum!" Ron hissed, as if Harry might not have noticed.
"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a quidditch player," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. Ron looked at her like she'd gone mental.
Harry rolled his eyes as they descended into quiet bickering, jogging forwards a couple of steps until he was between Neville and Parvati instead. Parvati was still starry-eyed, but she was a little more composed about it. "I knew he was young, but I had no idea he was still in school!"
"Imagine trying to keep up your grades alongside a professional quidditch career," Harry muttered with a grimace.
They all settled at their house tables, and waited for the foreign students to choose their places. The Beauxbatons students decided on the Ravenclaw table, while the Durmstrang delegation — following Krum's lead — made for the Slytherin table. Harry didn't know what was funnier; watching Draco trying to play it cool as Viktor Krum sat right next to him, or watching Ron quietly fume about it.
Harry studied the foreign delegations curiously; each school had clearly sent only the students who were of age, as they had about fifteen students each. Beauxbatons seemed to be a pretty even mix of boys and girls, while he could only see two girls in the Durmstrang group. Dumbledore stood at his podium, and a hush fell over the room.
All he did was greet their guests and declare the start of the feast, and Harry was surprised at the number of foreign dishes on offer. The house elves had outdone themselves!
"Oh, you should try this, boys," Parvati urged, gesturing to a large crock pot filled with some sort of stew. "It's gyuvech, I had it in Bulgaria once with my family. It's delicious." Harry and Neville shared a glance, then shrugged, each spooning some of the stew onto their plates. The whole point of the tournament was cultural sharing, after all. Ron and Hermione were a little further down the table, and Ron finally seemed to have realised Harry wasn't sitting with them. Unfortunately — or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it — he was promptly distracted by a beautiful blonde French girl coming up and asking to take one of the dishes. Ron was completely tongue-tied over her, and Hermione waspishly gestured for the girl to take the bowl, glaring at the redhead. Harry noticed several other boys goggling at the blonde as she walked back to the Ravenclaw table.
"D'you think she's part veela or something?" Neville asked curiously, his eyes following the girl as well. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"She could be." It would explain why all the boys were staring. Did veela not affect women?
"Oi, Harry, there's room for you up here," Ron called once dessert appeared on the table, gesturing to the empty seat beside him — the seat he'd cleared for Viktor Krum.
"I'm alright, thanks, Ron," Harry waved him off, helping himself to cake. Neville snorted at the outraged look on Ron's face.
"The Golden Trio isn't so golden anymore, is it?" he murmured knowingly. Harry shrugged.
"My priorities are different now. Theirs… aren't quite matching up." He was hoping to spend as long as possible avoiding the inevitable confrontation when they realised he was mostly avoiding them. He just felt so suffocated around them. Ron especially, but if that friendship fractured he couldn't guarantee what side Hermione would land on.
When the plates were cleared, Dumbledore stood once more, and Harry realised that the two empty chairs at the staff table had been filled. When had Bagman and Crouch arrived?
Filch hauled in the huge casket, which revealed the Goblet of Fire — an impressive object, to be sure. Harry should've known the 'impartial judge' was a magical artefact. Wizards did love giving decision-making power to inanimate objects.
When they all gathered to head up to their common rooms, Harry found himself bookended by Ron and Hermione once more, though the twins quickly nudged them aside. "An age line!" Fred crowed. "That's easy to fool! And once our names are in the Goblet, we're golden!"
"How about it, Harry? Sure you don't wanna try for it?" George asked. Harry laughed, shaking his head.
"Nah, it's not for me. But good luck with that." He doubted something as simple as an Ageing Potion would fool the line, but then again, it was Dumbledore. He was all about encouraging reckless rule-breaking.
At the door to the Entrance Hall, they met up with a cluster of Durmstrang students and their headmaster, Karkaroff. Harry stepped back to let them go through, hoping Karkaroff hadn't seen him, but it was too late. The man was staring. Harry tried not to squirm; Snape had warned him about Karkaroff. The man was a Death Eater, and a slippery one at that.
Karkaroff's eyes were fixed firmly on his scar, and behind him his students were staring too, whispering to each other as they realised who Harry was. The only one not staring was Krum. "If you don't mind, Igor," Snape's voice carried over the hushed crowd. "Potter's ego is big enough as it is without foreigners gawping at him as well. His head may not fit through the door if you keep at it much longer."
Karkaroff seemed to have realised he'd gathered a crowd, and coughed, heading through the doorway. Harry shot Snape a grateful look, but the man ignored him.
And so it began.
.-.-.
It didn't escape Harry's notice that the day the names would be drawn from the Goblet was also Halloween. He woke up with a bad feeling in his gut, and slipped from the dorm before anyone else was awake, wrapped in a dark blue knitted jumper that still smelled faintly of the detergent Ceri used at Seren Du, and the cloak he'd been given for his birthday. He put the two-way mirror in his pocket on his way out, slowly drawing together a plan in his mind.
Even with the excitement about the Goblet of Fire, Harry was still up early enough that only a handful of people were milling around the Great Hall. He could get used to this; it was nice having breakfast in the quiet. He watched Cassius and a couple of other Slytherins toss their names into the flames, and smirked. Imagine if the Hogwarts champion was a Slytherin?
As things got a little busier, Harry finished off his porridge and left the hall, right as the Durmstrang delegation entered. Each of them had a piece of parchment in their hands. Harry lingered in the doorway to watch them throw their names in one by one, then slipped out of the castle and towards the lake, wrapping his cloak snugly around himself. He found a quiet little nook beside a tree near the bank, setting up his usual privacy charms before taking the mirror from his pocket and speaking Sirius' name. After a few beats, his godfather's face appeared.
"You're up early," Sirius greeted. Harry offered a half-smile.
"So are you," he pointed out. "It's one of those days."
Sirius met his gaze knowingly. "It is, isn't it," he agreed. "How are things at school? The champions are being announced tonight, correct?"
Harry told Sirius everything that had happened since he'd spoke to the man a few days ago, including his little moment with Karkaroff. The mere mention of the man made Sirius scowl. "Stay away from him if you can, Harry," he warned. "He's no good."
Harry had surmised that much for himself. "How are things at home? What are you up to today?"
"Just spending time with Moony. Gonna light a Samhain fire later. Today is… hard, for both of us." Neither of them needed to say why. The death of Lily and James Potter hung over all of them, the wound still achingly fresh after thirteen years.
"I wish I could be there with you," Harry sighed. He hated having to spend Halloween at school. Everyone was too cheerful, and something always went wrong.
"We do too, pup. Make sure someone gives you a hug today, yeah? For me. I'd tell you to go to Severus for one, but I think he might explode if you asked," Sirius joked, making Harry grin.
"Okay. You give Moony an extra hug for me, won't you? For both your sakes." One day they'd all be able to spend the day together, mourning properly. Probably not until after Harry graduated Hogwarts, but… it was a nice thought.
He chatted to Sirius about inconsequential things for a while, basking in the warm feeling he got from having an adult who actually cared about the little things in his life. Not just wanting to talk to him when he was in trouble, or in danger, or they needed something from him — one of the few adults in Harry's life who actually cared about him. Not the Boy-Who-Lived. Eventually however, Sirius had to go, and Harry pocketed the mirror with a sigh, staring out over the lake. What if he just sat there all day until the feast? What if he didn't even go to the feast? He'd find out who the champions were in the morning. He didn't really care either way.
His privacy charms made external noise a little fuzzy, so he dropped them to let the sounds of nature wash over him; the gentle lull of the lake's tide, the birds and other creatures in the forest chattering away. Very faintly, he could hear the noise of students up at the castle, but it was just far enough that he could pretend they didn't exist. Until someone cleared their throat. "Mind if I join you?"
It was Draco, his pale face half covered by his Slytherin scarf. Harry shuffled over a little, making room for the blond. "What are you doing out here?"
"Pansy wanted to try and get a better look at Krum," Draco explained. "I left her to it. Are you okay? You look sad."
"Just spoke to Sirius." Harry bit his lip, then sighed, meeting Draco's gaze earnestly. "I miss him. Especially today."
"Today? Oh." Draco quickly put the pieces together. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "It must be hard for you. Seeing everyone else so happy."
"It's not just that," Harry said. "It's… something bad always happens on Halloween. Every year. I feel like this year won't be any different, and I'm so sick of it all. I just want today to be over already." His heart hurt, his head hurt, and he was already so tired. The day had barely started and he was ready for it to be done.
"If it makes you feel better, the Weasley twins tried to put their names in the Goblet. The age line spat them back out with beards longer and greyer than Dumbledore's," Draco informed him, smiling slightly. "It was hilarious. I guess they're serious about making sure no one underage goes in."
Harry chuckled. "I wish I'd seen that." He felt a little bad for the twins, but really he was glad they wouldn't be risking their necks for some money and glory. The pair sat in silence for a while, Draco's shoulder warm against his, both of them watching the giant squid prod curiously at the Durmstrang ship. "At least tomorrow all the fuss will be over," Draco murmured. "The champions will be chosen and the rest of us can just get on with things until the first task."
"Yeah." Harry wished the tournament was the least of his problems. "Draco, I don't know what to do. I can't let Dumbledore know I'm onto him, but I can't just keep pretending I'm oblivious, it's killing me. Trying to pretend Ron's comments about Slytherins don't bother me, that Hermione's nagging isn't overbearing. I can't even hang out with Neville without them getting suspicious, let alone anyone else." The other heirs were doing well in starting some inter-house friendships, but Harry still felt trapped. "Sometimes I just want to say fuck it and come sit with you at the Slytherin table, let the pieces fall where they may. What does it matter if Dumbledore knows I've ruined his plan? He's going to find out eventually."
"Antagonising Dumbledore is a dangerous game," Draco warned. "He's more manipulative than any Slytherin, and sneaky about it. If you go against him outwardly without the proper precautions, you could end up expelled, or worse. Being the Boy-Who-Lived won't protect you from everything."
"I know," Harry said with a groan. "I know I can't. I just… it feels like I'm letting him win."
"If you were letting him win, you wouldn't be sat here talking to me," Draco pointed out. "Not every battle is a big Gryffindor confrontation, y'know. You keep telling me you have a Slytherin side; let that out to play for a while. Work in the shadows. Be sneaky." He smirked. "Beat him at his own game."
Harry let the idea roll around in his head for a minute. He'd have to start slowly. "I think I need to send some letters," he said eventually. "I'm going to need allies outside of the castle as well as in it." It was time to start letting some of his secrets out; time to find out who he could really trust. He couldn't dismantle Dumbledore's grasp on the wizarding world without some help, after all. He'd been toeing around the edge of it, afraid Dumbledore would find out and he'd be done for, but Draco was right. He had a Slytherin side, it was time to use it.
"Right now?" Draco asked, tensing. Harry shook his head.
"Later." He was far too comfortable to leave just yet. "For now I just need a bit more peace and quiet."
"Oh. I can go, if you'd…"
Harry rolled his eyes, tugging on Draco's hand before the blond could go anywhere. "You don't count, you daft git," he said with a roll of his eyes, his cheeks pink. It was definitely just because of the cold.
Draco settled back down, his hand still in Harry's. Boldly, Harry leaned in closer, letting his head fall onto Draco's shoulder. "I hate Halloween," he muttered under his breath. Draco's cheek tilted to press against his hair, his body a warm line against Harry's.
"I'm sorry about your parents," he said softly.
The pair sat there under the tree for almost half an hour, Harry's head on Draco's shoulder, breathing quietly in the cold October morning. By the time they parted — Draco worried Pansy would be looking for him, and Harry thinking the same of Ron and Hermione — Harry still had the bad feeling in his gut, but he felt calmer. More ready to face the day.
It wasn't quite the hug Sirius had ordered, but it was good enough.
.-.-.
True to his word, he went up to the Owlery after parting ways with Draco, calling Hedwig down. "Hello, girl," he greeted fondly, stroking her head. "Won't be a minute." There was a writing desk in the corner of the Owlery, and Harry dug a quill and some parchment out of his bag, sitting down with a thoughtful frown.
The first letter on Harry's list was to Bill Weasley.
Dear Bill,
Hope it's okay that I'm writing to you. You did say to keep in touch, after all. I expect the others have already told you about the tournament, but the champions get chosen tonight. From what I heard, the twins tried to put their names in, but they didn't get past the age line.
I was wondering something — you work for Gringotts, right? Do you know a goblin called Gorrak? I had some dealings with him the summer before third year, and I was wondering how he was doing. What exactly does a curse-breaker do? You said you brought home treasure — is all of your job raiding old Egyptian tombs, or do you ever break curses on people, too?
Hope you're doing well,
Harry
There. Enough of a hint for Bill to hopefully connect some dots — and enough that if Bill was in Dumbledore's pocket, he would go to the headmaster about it, and Harry would know soon enough. If Dumbledore thought Harry was aware of the curse on him, he'd no doubt start sniffing around.
He grabbed a second piece of parchment, thinking a little longer before writing this one.
Dear Charlie,
The secret is out; the tournament is almost underway. Are you planning to come watch some of it? Is that why you said you might see us sooner than expected?
It's a shame the tournament means quidditch is cancelled, though. I was looking forward to using some of the stuff I practiced this summer in a real match. I guess it'll have to wait until next year.
I'm curious — is the Ministry in Romania like the Ministry here? The Durmstang students are pretty quiet about where they're from and how things work, and I was wondering if all European wizarding communities were the same. Do they have a Wizengamot like we do? Are the seats inherited in the same way? No worries if you don't know, I just thought I'd ask. I've been looking into things like that a little more here, and I'd be interested to see if it's much different elsewhere.
Hope you're doing well,
Harry
If Bill and Charlie put their letters together, they could probably get a pretty clear idea of what Harry was really implying. Harry sealed the letters and tied them to Hedwig's leg, hoping both Weasley boys were still living at the Burrow for now. He didn't want to accidentally send her to Egypt or Romania!
She soared off into the horizon, and Harry sighed to himself, officially out of excuses for avoiding Ron and Hermione. He had other letters to write, but they could wait until Hedwig was back.
He thought about going to the library, pretending to do homework until Hermione eventually found him, but it was no use; halfway down the main staircase, he heard a call of his name. "There you are!" The pair hurried towards him. "Mate, you missed it — Fred and George tried to put their names in, but the age line wasn't fooled by the potion. They got these massive beards, it was brilliant!" Ron enthused. "Where were you?"
"Owlery." Let them think he was writing to Sirius.
"Oh. Well, we thought we'd go visit Hagrid, we haven't been to see him yet this term."
While Harry didn't really want to spend that much time with Ron and Hermione today, he couldn't think of a good excuse — and he did owe Hagrid a visit. So he found himself outside once more, this time heading towards the hut. The Beauxbatons carriage was parked close by, no doubt so Hagrid could keep a close eye on the enormous horses.
Visiting with Hagrid was just like old times — if a little bizarre, what with Hagrid wearing his interesting-looking suit. All became clear when they went to head up to the castle for the feast, and the headmistress of Beauxbatons stepped out of her carriage.
"We've lost him," Harry declared when Hagrid started walking alongside the large woman, oblivious to his student companions. Hermione giggled.
The three of them headed up to the castle, which was abuzz with excitement. They found a seat by the twins, who looked no worse for wear after their experience with the age line.
"I hope it's Angelina!" Fred enthused. "But any Gryffindor will do."
"As long as it's not Pretty-Boy Diggory," Ron muttered under his breath. Harry rolled his eyes.
It was the fastest a Hogwarts feast had ever been eaten. Everyone was wolfing down their food, desperate for the champions to be announced, but up at the head table Dumbledore seemed to be savouring every bite.
After what felt like an age, the plates cleared, and he stood.
Harry's pulse ticked up, but he couldn't tell if it was in exhilaration or dread. He still had that bad feeling, he'd been carrying it around all day, and now the champions were about to be announced his stomach was bubbling with something that wasn't entirely excitement.
Viktor Krum, the first champion. A strong choice — if Krum was as good at magic as he was at flying, he'd be a real contender. He'd already proven he could think on the move.
Fleur Delacour — the girl who looked like a veela. Harry knew literally nothing about her, but her schoolmates seemed disappointed. Though perhaps that was just because they hadn't been chosen.
When the Hogwarts champion was announced, Harry was almost knocked off his bench by the force of the noise coming from the Hufflepuff table. He beamed, getting to his feet and applauding. "Nice one, Cedric!" he called, ignoring Ron's scowl at his side. Cedric turned and grinned at him on his way up. Harry was glad; Hufflepuff deserved a little glory.
Sitting down, Harry finally let himself relax, grinning as it took several minutes for the Hufflepuffs to quiet down enough for Dumbledore to speak. There, it was done, the champions were chosen, he had survived another Halloween feast.
And then the fire in the Goblet turned red again.
Harry's heart turned to ice as the parchment shot into Dumbledore's hand. The entire hall was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone stared at Dumbledore, who stared at the parchment. Then he looked up. His eyes fixed on Harry. Oh, no.
"Harry Potter."