25

Draco avoided Harry completely from that day forward, even going so far as to take all of his meals in the kitchens. He turned up to any lessons they shared at least five minutes late, earning several detentions but avoiding having to look at, sit near, or have anything to do with Harry. This all, of course, raised many suspicions within his housemates, and many of the staff were keeping their eyes on him, wary of any mischief. Malfoy fended off any enquiries from his peers with a snarl and a few choice words, which had scared most away from asking a second time.

Harry, for his part, was doing a good job at ignoring all of the hurt he felt at the rejection and throwing himself into Quidditch, drinking and, to everyone's eternal surprise, studying. What he was studying was a mystery to all but Ron, Hermione and Neville, as they were the only ones whom Harry had entrusted with the knowledge of his Occlumency lessons. With all the extra effort he was progressing very well, and could now block Snape's probes nine times out of ten. He had also been reading through the Marauder's animagus notes, although this usually involved having to call Sirius on the mirrors and asking him to decipher the handwriting.

And so the next couple of weeks passed in relative peace for the two boys, and before long it was Halloween, and the choosing of the champions was upon them at last. The atmosphere was tense and excited in the Great Hall, and even Harry couldn't deny that he was interested to see who was picked. Of course, saying he was interested didn't mean that it stopped him from sneaking glances at the Slytherin table whenever he could. Viktor Krum was chosen first, to nobody's surprise, and he was quickly followed by Fleur Delacour, whom Harry wolf-whistled, causing her to blush as she left the hall. Cedric Diggory was chosen as Hogwarts champion. Harry hadn't had a chance to speak to him much since the World Cup, but the older boy grinned and waved at them as he passed. But then-

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore's voice rang out across the room, causing everyone to go deathly silent before turning as one to stare at Harry, who was sat in his chair with an expression of shock, which quickly gave way to anger.

"That had better have been a really bad fucking joke, Dumbledore," he called, struggling to keep his anger out of his voice, but not quite succeeding. Several staff members and the ministry officials looked shocked and offended at his lack of respect but Dumbledore himself took no notice, staring worriedly at the angry boy.

"I assure you, my dear boy, it is not," he answered calmly, although his troubled expression betrayed his true feelings far too easily, "Now, if you would-"

"No! This is fucking bullshit! How the bloody hell did my name come out of that goblet when I didn't put it in there?"

"You did not put your name in?" Snape's silky purr asked, before Harry could work himself up into a rant. The potions professor knew from their private lessons that once Harry got going like that, not much could stop him. "You did not, perhaps, ask an older student to put it in for you?"

"What? No, fuck no! I never wanted anything to do with your pissing tournament- I have enough attempts on my life already without bloody volunteering myself for some!" Harry looked around him, taking in the sea of faces staring back at him. Ignoring the majority of them, he focused on the three closest to him- Ron, Hermione and Neville. Neville looked worried, Hermione confused, and Ron seemed to be torn between anger and concern.

"You guys believe me, right?" he asked, not bothering to keep his voice down. Hermione and Neville nodded fervently, both too shy to speak in front of the entire school. Ron frowned sulkily and looked away.

"If you didn't put your name in, then how'd it get it?" he asked.

"I don't bloody know! Anyone could have done it- for all I know fucking Moody could have put it in there, my Defence teachers do have a habit of trying to kill me." All eyes went to Moody at this point, who scowled back at the lot of them before nervously taking a gulp from his hip flask. The accusation against his defence teacher seemed to snap Dumbledore out of his passivity, and he stepped forward, arms up in a calming gesture.

"Harry, if we could step out of the hall we can discuss this further," he said. Unfortunately, the students of Hogwarts (and those of the visiting schools) did not take kindly to being denied their entertainment, not to mention the gossip. They all began chattering as one, some yelling that they wanted Harry to stay, some yelling that he was lying (although these mainly came from the Slytherin table), and some just yelling at everyone else to shut up so that they could hear what was going on.

Harry scowled viciously- he knew that the only way to make himself heard now was by going with Dumbledore, and he hated being cooperative, especially at a time like this.

"Fucking- Pissing goblet- bet Tommy had something to bloody do with- fuck- shit, I hate my life sometimes-" Harry muttered disjointedly as he stormed out of the hall and into the small chamber where the other champions still stood waiting, wondering what the yelling in the hall was all about.

"'Arry?" Fleur asked throatily as he walked through the door, "Do zey want us out there again?" Harry closed his eyes and tried to get a hold on his anger before answering her. It would do no good to lose his friends over this.

"My name came out of the goblet after Cedric's did," he said plainly, hurriedly continuing as he saw their expressions begin to turn slightly ugly, "But I never bloody put my name in. Someone else must have fucking done it."

"But, 'Arry, 'oo would do such a thing?" Fleur asked, crossing the room in two elegant strides and pulling the younger boy into a hug. It was at that moment that Dumbledore entered the room, followed by Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch Sr., Madame Maxine, Karkaroff, Moody and Snape.

"You can't make him compete, sir," Cedric piped up immediately, "He's not old enough- it's way too dangerous for a fourth year. No offence, mate."

"Pfft, none taken. It's too fucking dangerous for anyone, if you ask me," Harry replied darkly, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke into Moody's face, who just happened to be nearest.

"The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract, Dumbledore. His name came out, and so he must compete," Crouch said, causing uproar in the small room. Fleur began babbling very quickly in French, all the while holding Harry to her side, while Cedric began to rant about how dangerous it was. Viktor Krum simply stood darkly in a corner, glaring at everyone, an action that was repeated by Snape across the room. Madame Maxine and Karkaroff bleated that it was unfair that Hogwarts had two champions, and argued with the two men from the ministry about whether or not they could draw more names. Dumbledore and Moody both simply stared piercingly at Harry, although one gaze was malicious and the other worried. Harry, for his past, stood happily (or, as happily as one could be in this situation) pressed to Fleur's side and smoked, occasionally letting loose a stream of swear words, until after five minutes he had had enough.

"Oh, just shut the fuck up!" he yelled, silencing the room easily, "I'm not competing in your pissy little tournament, so you can all go fuck yourselves." For a second, the adults looked as though they would begin arguing again, but Fleur tightened her grip around Harry and began pulling him out of the room.

"Come, 'Arry, you can stay with Beauxbatons tonight," they heard her say as they left. Harry turned and sent a smirk back at Snape, who rolled his eyes. Cedric soon followed, muttering an apology about having to get back to his housemates, and Viktor stomped out not long after. The adults were left staring at each other in disbelief, wondering how such a simple idea had gone so wrong.

Later that night...

"Wait a minute... Fleur!" Harry called up from where he was lying in a sleeping bag, on the floor next to Fleur's bed.

"Yes, 'Arry," she answered sleepily.

"Did Dumbledore say something about being exempt from end of year exams if I compete?"

"Yes, 'Arry."

"Oh, fuck yes!"