chapter 37

"No no. Don't jinx it even more…" Harry whispered as the hall started to quiet down again.

"Just wait…" Ron, who was used to the curse finding a way, had his head in his hands.

When the last cheer from the Hufflepuff table had died down Dumbledore started talking again. "Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, inclouding the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champions on, you will contribute in a very real -"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what was distracting him. The fire in the goblet had turned red once again and sparks were already flying out of it. A long flame came shooting into the air and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

"There it is," Ron whispered beside Harry. He nodded but didn't turn away from the piece of parchment slowly falling towards Dumbledore.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. For a moment Harry felt the air stand still, like the whole hall were filed with statues and not living, breathing, and moving people. Everyone stared at Dumbledore, who was still standing just looking at the slip in his hands. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out loud the name written. "Harry Potter."

"Called it!" Ron said, maybe a little too loud. Since no one had reacted to the calling of Harry's name, Ron's words carried far. Harry heard Draco snort. No one moved or said anything, but every eye in the hall was directed at their group, or more specifically, at Harry.

Harry, for his part, had expected this as soon as the flames turned red a fourth time. That did not mean he was going to just walk up there like the Victor, Fleur, or Cedric. He was perfectly fine sitting there and let the adults figure this mess out.

Sadly, it was not meant to be. "Harry Potter!" Dumbledore yelled.

"Fuck," Harry dragged the word out, "I have to go up there?"

"That is the curse, my friend," Ron said, not comforting at all.

"Harry! Up here, if you please!" Dumbledore's voice interrupted Harry's attempted retaliation on Ron.

"Go on then!" Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Harry had already been halfway to getting up, but with the light push, Harry trod on the hem of his robes, stumbling slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an immensely ling walk, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes directed at him. The buzzing and mumbling got louder and louder. Finally, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.

"Well… through the door, Harry," Dumbledore said. He was not smiling.

Harry turned and walked along the teacher's table. At the end, Hagrid was seated. He did not wink at Harry or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He just stared in complete astonishment at Harry as he passed by, like everyone else.

Harry went through the door, out of the Great Hall, and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of wizen people. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him.

There were, of course, only three other people in the room. Cedric reacted first, but that was only to facepalm and lowly curse (some choice words that probably only Harry could hear). Fleur was the second to react. "What is it?" she stood up from the couch she was sitting on, "Do zey want us back in ze hall?" Harry suddenly felt very stupid, just standing there, but that could also be the way Fleur was looking at him; like he was a small boy.

"Er… no," Harry finally managed to say. Before he could make his brain and mouth work together Ludo came bursting in. He took Harry by the arm and dragged him further into the room.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… lady," he added, addressing the other three in the room. "May I introduce – incredible though it may seem – the fourth Triwizard champion!"

Victor straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric just continued to curse under his breath. He had been sitting straight, but now he was leaning forward with his head in his palms. Fleur, however, tossed her hair behind her shoulder, smiled, and said, "Oh, veiry funny joke, meester Bagman!"

"Joke?" Ludo repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Victor's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric still had his head in his hands. Fleur frowned.

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said scornfully to Ludo. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young!"

"Well, I don't even want to be here!" Harry said right before Ludo opened his mouth again. "I didn't put my name in!"

Ludo just ignored him and answered fleur. "Well… it is amazing," he rubbed his smooth chin and smiled 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 of this stage… its down in the rules, you're obligated… 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 Kakaroff, Madam Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Severus. Harry could hear the bussing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall become louder as the door closed behind McGonagall.

"Madam Maxime!" Fleur said at once, striding over to her headmistress. "They are saying that this little boy is to compete also!" Harry's brain automatically translated the French.

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. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He gave a short and nasty laugh.

"C'est impossible," Madame Maxime said, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. 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."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Mr. Karkaroff," Crouch said softly. His brown eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's blatant disregard for rules."

"Thank you, Bartimus," Dumbledore said firmly, and Crouch went quiet, though his eyes still glinted with malevolence.

Dumbledore looked down at Harry, trying to make eye contact. Time to see if the Occlumency lessons paid off! Harry slowly looked up at Dumbledore, making sure to have up his mental walls and illusions.

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked with a calm voice. To anyone else it might have looked genuine but harry could see how Dumbledore's magical signature shone with happiness. Is this old coot seriously happy about this?

"No," Harry answered vehemently. He felt the pressure of someone using Legilimensy on him, the presents poking around the outer layer and illusions. The pressure only lasted a few seconds before pulling seamlessly back.

Karkaroff made a soft noise of impatient disbelief. "Did you ask another older student to put it into the Goblet for you?" Dumbledore asked again, ignoring Karkaroff.

"No," Harry was beginning to get impatient, "I have not in any shape, way, or form done anything to warrant my name coming out of the Goblet of Fire." He said vehemently.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" Madame Maxime cried out. Though Madam Maxime full heartedly believed what she had said, Fleur looked more worried.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," McGonagall's face was scrunches up as if she had eaten a lemon as she countered the headmistress. "I am sure we all agreed on that -"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," Madame Maxime shrugged dismissively.

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said, with a false air of politeness.

"It doesn't matter either way," Crouch said before McGonagall could defend Dumbledore again. "When your name is put in the Goblet of Fire you sign a magical contract, binding you – if the Goblet chooses you – to compete in the tournament."

"Then, I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," Karkaroff suddenly said. He had dropped his "pleasant" and smile. "You will setup the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It is only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament!"

Harry had half a mind to revile his name and how the contract is invalid, but just as he was about the open his mouth, he made eye contact with Severus. He felt the pressure of Legilimens, and a picture of an enraged Dumbledore pacing his office. "After the trail, last time something didn't go like he planned," Harry heard Severus' voice whisper into his mind space. "Let's talk more later, with the others too," Harry heard before the pressure left.

"Empty threat, Karkaroff!" the growling voice of Moody came 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?"

"Convenient?" Karkaroff asked. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." His magical signature was lashing out and wrapping around Karkaroff at the same time, attacking and defending at the same time.

"Don't you?" Moody said quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in the Goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out. Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it."

An extremely tense silence followed those words. Harry almost asked what was new with that but managed to choke it back down. Ludo, on the other hand, looked very anxious and was bounced nervously up and down in his feet. "Well, there… there really isn't anything to be done now, is there?"

"You are quite right, Ludo" Dumbledore said. "How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefor, they will do…"

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"

"My dear Madam Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it." Dumbledore looked at Madam Maxime like an adult would look at child that asked a stupid question.

Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious – more directed at Dumbledore than anyone else –; Karkaroff 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? Bartimus, want to do the honors?"

"The first task is designed to test your daring," Crouch told Harry, Cedric, 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!" Ludo shot in.

"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." Crouch finished the explanation before turning to Dumbledore. "I think that is all, is it, Dumbledore?"

"I think so," Dumbledore smiled at Crouch. "I think it is time everyone went to bed." He had his "grandfatherly" smile to everyone. Everyone was quick to leave out the door.

Harry heaved a sigh as soon as he was out of the Great Hall. The Great Hall had been deserted; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.

Harry had only gotten a few steps from the door before Cedric came through the door. "Potter! Wait up!" Cedric quickly stepped up beside Harry. "So, we're playing against each other again!"

"I s'pose," Harry answered non-committedly. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"So… tell me!" Cedric began with a conspiring smile. "How did you get your name in?"

Oh, so that's how it's gonna be… "I didn't," Harry answered back, already knowing that's going to be his most used phrase today.

"No, but really. You can tell me." Cedric probed again.

"I did not put my name in, nor did I get someone else to do it," Harry's voice was an octave lower.

"… Okay," Cedric said. Harry could tell that Cedric didn't believe him.

"Fine," Harry bit through his teeth before leaving up the marble stairs.