Meeting the Fourth Champion

Hogwarts, Hospital Wing,

The first thing Harry realized when he regained consciousness was that he was in the hospital wing. The second thing was that he had a splitting headache.

Groaning, Harry asked, "Why do I feel like Dragons have been playing Quidditch with my head while I was sleeping?"

The sound of someone chuckling caused Harry to look to his right where he saw his grandfather sitting patiently next to his bed.

"I believe that would be the result of your friend's rather unique application of Legilimency. I must confess, I hadn't considered that someone would willingly have their mind altered in such a fashion to surpass the age line." Dumbledore smiled. "Congratulations, Harry, it was a rather brilliant idea."

"Lot of good it did," Harry said bitterly. "All that work. Just to fail at the last second. Unbelievable."

Dumbledore lost his smile. "Yes, Harry, you were a few seconds too late. The Goblet had already made its decision. I am sorry"

"Who's the Durmstrang Champion?" Harry asked, dreading the answer. If Megara was named champion, he had a feeling Calypso was going to be taking the first Portkey back to Durmstrang, and he'd be tempted to join her.

"Your friend, Mr. Krum, was chosen. Much to Igor's delight and Mr. Krum's annoyance." Dumbledore shook his head. "I have never seen a young man more displeased to have been chosen for such an honor. Still, I'm sure he will represent Durmstrang well."

"Oh, he'll do a good job, and there could be a lot worse people chosen I suppose," Harry replied, both relieved that Kira was not selected, and curious about how Calypso was handling losing out to Viktor.

"Yes, well, there is something I would like to ask you, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes hardened ever so slightly. "Did your brother show any sign of wanting to enter the tournament?"

"Nathan?" Harry asked, surprised. "No, not really. He tried to help think of some ways past the Goblet with Viktor, Calypso, Hermione, and me, but, no, I don't think he was really that interested in entering himself. Why?"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Unfortunately, Harry, there has been a slight unexpected deviation. It seems your brother has been chosen as a champion."

Harry's eyes grew wide, and he shook his head in denial. "You cannot be serious! Nathan?"

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore said somberly.

"But Nathan can't be a champion!" Harry protested wildly. "There has to be someone at Hogwarts that would make a better champion!"

"Ah, but Nathan was not chosen as Hogwarts' Champion, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "I believe someone Confounded the Goblet of Fire into believing there were four magical schools, and placed Nathan's name as the only entrant for that fourth school."

"I suppose that's possible," Harry said thoughtfully, "but why would someone bother? It's not like Nathan could ever win the tournament."

Dumbledore grew pensive. "Your family has many enemies, Harry. I know you are not ignorant of that fact."

"You think someone is trying to kill Nathan?" Harry asked, horrified.

"It is a strong possibility," Dumbledore said sadly. "Your parents are, needless to say, irate by this series of events, but there is little we can do. The binding nature of the tournament prevents us from pulling him out without damaging his magic. Nathan must compete."

"But Nathan can't compete!" Harry exclaimed. "Sir, I love my brother, but he might not survive the tournament, let alone win. Nathan has no chance whatsoever."

"Do not underestimate your brother, Harry," Dumbledore said passionately. "He might not be as, shall we say, committed as yourself, but he has his own talents."

"Which he refuses to use!" Harry snapped. "I've tried to get him to experiment with his parseltongue, but he always says no. Nathan's not interested in honing his magic, he just wants to fool around with Weasley and play Quidditch!"

"Then you must help him," Dumbledore commanded. "Your brother will need your help, and, more importantly, your support."

"How can I help him?" Harry asked, allowing his frustration to creep into his voice. "I've trained for months to get ready for the tournament. I pushed myself every day to improve everything from Transfiguration to the Dark Arts. Nathan won't be able to grasp the magic I've been working on. Merlin, I doubt Nathan would be able to grasp some of the magic I was working on in my second year!"

"Harry," Dumbledore said patiently, "there are many solutions to every problem. You are an exceptionally talented boy, yes, but so is your brother. Work with him. Help him improve where you can, and try to find easy answers to the tasks that have been set."

"When is the first task?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"The end of November. It will be a task to judge the champions' daring."

Harry frowned. "Daring? As in magical combat, daring?"

"Unfortunately, as one of the judges, I am honor bound not to assist any of the champions."

"But I'm not a champion, sir," Harry pointed out. "So, if I had a question for you at some point over the course of the year..."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. "I would be only too happy to assist you, Harry. Provided your question is academic in origin. Now, I believe there are some people patiently waiting outside for you."

Standing up, Dumbledore walked out of the hospital wing, but before he reached the door, Harry called out, "Sir! You said I used a method you hadn't expected to bypass the age line. How would you have done it?"

Pausing slightly, Dumbledore graced his grandson with a knowing smile. "Ah, yes. Why don't you think on it, Harry. When you think you've come up with the answer, come and find me."

Without another word, Dumbledore left the hospital wing, only to be replaced by Nathan and Calypso.

"Well, it almost worked," Harry said to his girlfriend, causing her to smile. "And I guess Dumbledore was right about not asking someone else to put the name into the goblet. As much as I like Viktor, I know you would have made a great champion"

Calypso's smile grew, and she leaned over to give Harry a quick kiss. "Thank you."

"As for you, I hear you found a way to sneak into the tournament," Harry said, doing his best to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Nathan's face turned red. "I didn't enter this stupid tournament! I don't care how many times I have to say it! I. Did. Not. Ent–!"

"Nathan," Harry snapped, cutting his brother off, "I was joking. Calm down."

Nathan seemed to immediately deflate. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm just so sick of everyone thinking I put my name into the Goblet. I didn't even want to compete, and now I'm stuck in the stupid tournament."

Feeling the truth behind his brother's words, Harry said, "Yes, well, we obviously don't always get what we want."

"Harry, I'm supposed to ask just who you're going to be supporting," Calypso said, knowing her boyfriend was not in the best mood. "Karkaroff wants to ensure you remember your promise to help the Durmstrang champion."

Scowling, Harry said, "My brother comes first, Viktor will understand that."

"Viktor will," Calypso agreed. "But can you say the same of the Highmaster? Karkaroff wants to win, probably more than Krum. If you don't help, he's likely to send you back to Durmstrang. You do remember that's why we're here now, right? To help the Durmstrang champion."

"Just bloody great," Harry muttered. "So if I don't help Viktor, I'm gone?"

"Probably."

"You can help him, Harry," Nathan said quickly. "I'd rather have you here than back in Siberia."

Calypso laughed a little. "Please tell me you don't actually believe Durmstrang is in Siberia?"

"Not really." Nathan smiled for the first time since arriving in the hospital wing. "I just think it's funny."

"Alright, so I have to help Viktor or I go," Harry said. "That shouldn't be too difficult. As long as Viktor says I'm being helpful, Karkaroff won't send me home."

"True, and it's not like we're excused from our year end projects." Reaching into her robes, Calypso withdrew a bound roll of parchment. "Here is your spell list. Karkaroff told me to make sure you had it."

Unbinding the parchment, Harry looked over the first few spells for Charms. "Thanks."

"Well, I guess that's one good thing about being in the tournament." Nathan laughed. "I don't have to take any exams or even attend classes."

Harry lifted his eyes from the spell list and gave his brother a very piercing look. "You're going to go to every class, and when you're done with them, we're going to find a nice deserted corridor where I can teach you spells."

Nathan groaned. "You sound like Hermione. She's already talking about setting up a practice schedule."

"Nathan," Harry said darkly, his entire demeanor shifting instantly. "If you ignore learning magic this year to goof around with Weasley, I'll curse you so badly that you won't make it to the first task. People die in this tournament. I practiced every day for months to prepare for it, and – no offense – I know a lot more magic than you. You're going to do exactly what I say, understand?"

Knowing that his brother was serious, Nathan swallowed nervously and nodded his head.

"Good, we start tomorrow." Turning to Calypso, Harry added, "Why do I get the feeling this year is going to suck?"

Shaking her head, Calypso said, "You don't need to be a Seer to realize that, Harry. Stuck helping Krum, teaching your brother, unable to practice the Dark Arts off the Durmstrang shi–"

"I'm not learning the Dark Arts," Nathan interjected suddenly, a little worried at the casual way his brother's girlfriend mentioned the Dark Arts. "I'll do my best to practice anything else you tell me, but not that. Now, I'm supposed to meet Hermione in the library. Get better soon, Harry."

"This might be a problem," Harry muttered, as his brother left the hospital wing.

Calypso shook her head. "That's an understatement. Did you see the way he looked at me when I mentioned the Dark Arts?"

"We're going to need to be careful about what we say. My parents like you right now, Calypso, but I don't think they would understand our view of dark magic, and they would definitely be concerned with you being in a sixth year Dark Arts class." Harry grinned. "They might think you're a bad influence on me or something."

Calypso couldn't help but smile. The causal way Harry admitted to sharing her views on dark magic was a long time coming. Leaning down, she planted a small kiss on his lips. "Do hurry up and get out of here, Potter. I've seen you shake off broken bones in less than an hour. Don't pretend like a headache is going to keep you down."

As Harry called for Madam Pomfrey to get released from the Hospital Wing, he never noticed a certain spotted green beetle quickly flying out an open window.