HPF131-140

Chapter 131

After quite a few weeks of waiting, Matthias

came through with an expert at rendering

large magical creature carcasses down to

potion ingredients. The man also claimed

experience in rendering down a two hundred

year old basilisk in Bosnia.

Quietly, Harry met with the man and

Matthias in the Shrieking Shack and led them

through to the castle under disillusionment

charms at a time when they knew, from

Dobby's monitoring of the man, the

Headmaster was away from the school. Harry

quickly took both men down to Myrtle's

bathroom on the second floor, where they

met with Hermione and Daphne. He opened

the secret entrance and, together, they went

down to the chamber.

The man, Gregor Ianovich, took one look at

the carcass and exclaimed, "Slatki Milostiv

Merlin!"

Harry chuckled and said, "And, just think; I

killed the damned thing with a sword."

"I had heard of this," said Ianovich, in his

strong eastern European accent. "I just could

not belief it. And for a beast so big; this is...

how you say... astonishing!"

"So I've been told," smirked Harry. Turning to

his bondmates he saw Daphne standing

there looking gob smacked, while Hermione

was trying to stay as far away from it as she

could, while still also offering her bondmate

her support.

"Harry, when you said it was a 'big snake' this

is not the size I imagined," trembled Daphne.

"Even the memory did not do this justice.

H-How did you survive this?"

"Sheer bloody luck," muttered Harry. "And, if

it wasn't for Fawkes, I'd be dead."

While they'd been talking, Ianovich was

walking around the carcass. "Vell, it can be

done," he proclaimed. "It vill not take me too

long to render it down. But, vee needs to not

sell ingredients too fast. Zee market, she

cannot take too much, zo fast."

"That's fine," replied Harry. "Render it

completely as quickly as you can. We'll store

the components in Matthias's vaults."

"Harry?" asked Matthias.

"Better yours than mine, Matthias," replied

Harry. "You can easily get access to your

vaults; I cannot."

"Harry, we're talking millions of galleons

worth of basilisk parts, here," explained

Matthias.

"And I trust you," stated Harry. Explaining

himself, he said, "Your eldest daughter and

heir is one of my bondmates, Matthias. You

are now one of a very select group of people

I believe I... that is, we... can trust."

Matthias thought of that for a long moment

before he looked Harry in the eyes and said,

"And I thank you for that trust, Harry."

After some initial haggling Ianovich agreed to

handle the work for an agreed fixed sum, a

small percentage of the profits and a small

portion of the final rendered ingredients.

Harry was happy that the final figures

involved were actually smaller than the level

he was prepared to go, based on what

Matthias said would be likely. Ianovich would

return with sufficient containers, bottles and

other receptacles the following weekend to

handle the work.

Harry had already discovered the

Headmaster would be away from the school

the following Monday for a Wizengamot

meeting. Ianovich would go down into the

chamber, at that time, and remain until the

next weekend. He would take in a wizarding

tent and sufficient supplies to live in there

for the duration.

The weeks started to flow past. The mail

sorters worked hard to go through Harry's

entire backlog of mail and were making solid

progress. Harry had also started to receive

mail back from various witches and wizards

he didn't know who had, in part, written to

apologise they'd thought badly of him; and

to thank him for doing the right thing and

responding to every letter and gift he'd

received.

Of course, there was the near-week when

the owls had to be returned for a prior

contract, but that didn't stop the sorters

from continuing. Only the sending team had

to go on hold. It also meant the owls were

given a terrific load of work once they came

back.

The gift sorters were also going though all

the gifts and breaking them down into

categories, as per Harry's request. There

were a great many handmade gifts from

children that were set aside. And Dobby and

Winky were charged with building shelving

for the smaller gifts on the walls in the

bondmates' apartment. And many ended up

there. The larger ones were lovingly packed

away and taken to the Potter vaults for

safekeeping.

The bought non-perishable gifts were broken

down into age-related piles. And then split

again into muggle-safe and non-muggle-safe

piles. When the piles then became too large

they were forwarded on to orphanages

around the country, with the muggle-safe

gifts going to muggle orphanages. All gifts

were left without attribution so they'd be

anonymous.

The hand drawn, glued, cut-out, and

sprinkled or whatever cards Dobby sorted

into chronological order, and used sticking

charms to paste them into large wizarding

albums he'd purchased. These now

numbered over half a dozen full, and there'd

be far more before they were finished. The

bondmates spent most of their time while in

the sorting room going through these albums.

And the girls realised Harry was right to keep

them and cherish them.

"Some of these cards are absolutely amazing,

Harry," said Daphne, a little awed. "The

amount of time it must have taken these

little witches and wizards to make each one

must have covered many days."

Harry chuckled a little bit and reached for

album six. He quickly flipped through it until

he came to one particular page; and plopped

the open album before Daphne. He then

reached across and tapped one of the small

cards.

Daphne took one look at it and blushed. "I...

didn't remember making that. I do now,

though."

"It's not my intention to embarrass you with

this, Daph," he apologised. "I just thought

you'd get a kick out of it."

"Oh, I do!" she shot back. "I also remember

that was the first of the ones I made for you

for each of your birthdays."

"It's not surprising," cut in Hermione, from

where she was flipping through another

album. "In the later albums I'm starting to

see names of current students. Admittedly,

most of them are all in the more senior years;

but, I've seen a couple from our year.

"The closer we get to this year, the more

often that's going to occur. I just hope our

school mates aren't going to

be too embarrassed when they receive a

thank you letter from 'Harry'."

"I won't change what's happening just

because we personally know the sender,"

Harry firmly said. "If we did it means the

sorters were going to have to second guess

each letter to see if we know who sent it. By

not treating them any different it makes the

sorters' jobs that much easier. So, if anyone

asks, that's what we'll tell them."

"Well, the Daily Prophet 'Letters to the

Editor' section has you, again, as the second

coming," blushed Hermione. "They're singing

your praises for caring enough to write to

each and every person; in some cases,

multiple times."

"It's necessary," sighed Harry. "I'll need that

goodwill to fight against the backlash that

will occur when my name comes out of the

Goblet, and then Skeeter's bile. Hopefully, if

Skeeter does try to use her poisonous quill

against me, the wizarding public will be up in

arms before I can even sic Miss Pentridge

onto her again."

"How did that turn out?" asked Daphne.

"The other week, I mean."

"The Prophet printed its retraction; though,

it was only on one of the last pages, and in

really fine print," replied Harry. "However, as

Miss Pen... Margaret pointed out,

the Prophet now knows that if they print

untruths about me they're in for a major

legal stoush. Margaret's made it quite clear

that her demands of them the other week

were only what she considers a 'love tap' and

an introduction to what could be in store for

them in future. The next time it happens, she

brings out the legal claws and shreds them."

"That'll declaw Skeeter for a while," mused

Daphne. "However, it also means Skeeter's

now going to be after you. And, she'll dig up

as much dirt on you as she can, and make

sure it's true."

"Good," replied Harry. "I want her to print as

much truth about me as she likes. It'll make it

that much harder for Dumbledore to try and

control me... us."

He grinned at the girls as they smiled back.

After going in while Dumbledore was away at

the Wizengamot meeting - one where the

Headmaster was hauled over the coals, and

only avoided being sacked as the 'legal

action' had yet to pass through the courts -

Ianovich came out right on time. He carried

in with him a large trunk he said was loaded

down with other shrunken trunks, his tools,

his victuals and the wizarding tent.

Six days later, Ianovich had no sooner

popped out of the hidden entrance, and he

and Harry were hidden under strong

disillusionment and notice-me-not charms,

when Dumbledore hurried in. While the

Headmaster was peering closely at the now

opened entrance - and was casting spells

upon it Harry thought were designed to hold

the entrance open - the two made their

escape through the still open door.

"It appears that man vas very eenterested in

Chamber of Secrets, yes?" asked Ianovich,

once they were far enough away their

conversation couldn't be overheard.

"Yes," replied Harry. "I have it on very good

authority he was interested in claiming the

carcass for himself. I take it Matthias

explained this to you?"

"Da. He did," replied Ianovich. "This

Dumbledore... he is supposed to be great

white wizard... yet, he tries to steal carcass

from you. I think he is not as white as he

would have others believe, no?"

"No, he's not," sighed Harry.

The two met Matthias at the Whomping

Willow entrance to the secret tunnel to the

shrieking shack. Matthias was even kind

enough to press the knot on the tree to settle

it while both made it down and into the

tunnel.

"It's done?" asked Matthias.

"It is done," Ianovich firmly replied. He

handed the trunk over to Matthias and said,

"I have kept five square yards of skin, one

quart of venom, two eye strings, and one cup

of bile, as agreed. I trust I will receive the

balance of my payment soon?"

"As soon as we get to Gringotts, if you like,"

replied Matthias. "I'll collect your final

payment once I have this trunk safely

ensconced in my vault."

"I'll leave you to it, gentlemen," said Harry. "I

need to get back."

"Take care, Harry," replied Matthias.

"Da. Take care, Mister Potter; and it vas a

pleazure doing business wit you," said

Ianovich, offering his hand.

Harry shook it and said, "Try to come and see

the first task of the Tri-wizard Tournament. I

may have a second large job for you," before

he quickly made his way back to the castle

using his invisibility cloak to hurry back to

the apartment.

As he walked in and removed the cloak,

Daphne asked, "How'd it go?"

"It went off as planned," he replied with a

grin. "I collected Mister Ianovich up from the

bathroom and escorted him out to your

father, who was waiting under the

Whomping Willow. They're now on their way

to Gringotts to see the rendered products

safely into the Greengrass vaults; and Mister

Ianovich receiving his final payment.

"We damned near got caught by Dumbledore,

though. I'd only just got Ianovich out of the

hidden entrance... and both of us under

disillusionment and notice-me-not charms...

when the white whiskered wanker hurried

into the bathroom. We were lucky he

scurried right past us and went direct to the

sinks. It allowed us to slip out the door while

he had his back to us."

"I'm still having difficulty believing

Dumbledore would try to steal from you

Harry," grumbled Hermione.

"Then answer me this, love," asked Harry.

"What condition was the carcass in when you

and Ron went down into the Chamber just

before the start of the Battle of Hogwarts;

the day the three of us died?"

"It was just a skeleton," she replied,

frowning.

"The only way it could have been a skeleton

is if it had already been rendered down,"

said Daphne. "The battle was only about five

years after Harry killed it. Something that big

could not possibly have been reduced to

nothing more than a skeleton that quickly.

Especially, not something as magical as a

basilisk of that age or size."

"Uh-hmm," agreed Harry. "And, in this

timeline, it's been close on eighteen months

since the basilisk was killed. "How much

decomposition did you see?"

With a pained sigh, Hermione sadly replied,

"None. So, someone had definitely harvested

it by the time of the battle."

"I suspect Ron, of course," said Harry. "But,

from those wards and alerts Dumbledore

placed on the sinks, I think you'll find it was

Ron and Dumbledore working together. I

think Ron tried to steal it, and was busted by

Dumbledore. Then Ron split the profits with

him. Hell, Snape was probably the one who

did the rendering work. As a Potions Master

'rendering' is a skill he'd have to know."

Two days before Halloween and the two

schools were about to arrive. Classes had

finished at lunch time to allow all the

students to return to their dorms to change,

where necessary, into clean robes. Even the

evening meal was pushed back a little to wait

for both schools to arrive.

With the rest of the school body Harry,

Daphne and Hermione stood out on the

lawns of the school next to the main

driveway to await both arrivals. Of course, all

three had already been through this before,

so they were all looking to the skies above

the mountains on the other side of Black

Lake for the first speck of the Beauxbatons

carriage.

Harry spotted it and, with an outthrust arm

and pointing finger to the carriage, exclaimed,

"There!"

Chapter 132

Quite a few heads first turned to see where

he was indicating, and then looked to the

skies, themselves.

"Wow, Harry!" exclaimed one of the third

year Ravenclaws. "No wonder you play

Seeker!"

Very quickly, the entire school watched as

the carriage flew closer. Turning to where he

knew it would land, Harry watched as Hagrid

lit the red flares to show the carriage were to

land, while also waving with one in each

hand.

In a long out wide bank, the Pegasus-drawn

carriage swung about in a one-eighty degree

turn before landing with an almost-crash

between the rows of flares. Hagrid quickly

moved to steady the beasts as the carriage

door opened.

First to alight was a young boy, who jumped

out, before turning around and lowering

steps into place. Madam Maxime, bent

almost double to fit through the low door,

was next out. Dumbledore had already

hurried over to offer his arm and shoulder to

assist the much taller lady to the ground.

After watching the Beauxbatons

Headmistress alight from the carriage, Harry

turned his attention back to the lake.

However, even he was beaten to the cry

when Lee Jordan's voice rang out.

"The lake!" cried the dreadlocked boy.

As the whirlpool signifying where the ship

would rise from within spun faster and faster,

everyone watched as the main mast with it's

solitary crows' nest appeared. Then came the

fore and mizzen masts. And, finally, the

fo'c'sle with it's jutting bowsprit. Quickly, the

ship rose the last few feet before the

whirlpool suddenly collapsed, leaving the

ship bobbing gently on the surface.

Again, Dumbledore hurried down - this time,

to the edge of the lake - as students or crew

on board the ship levitated a large gangway

out from the ship's railing to rest one end on

the shore. Dumbledore had just made it

down when Karkaroff's feet reached the

bank.

While he was greeting the Headmaster of

Durmstrang, Professor McGonagall caught

the attention of the rest of the staff and the

students, and chivvied everyone inside.

Sitting in the Great Hall and welcoming the

representatives of the two schools, Harry and

the girls stayed sitting across from Luna.

Seating at the table was a little tight, with

the students from Beauxbatons electing -

again - to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Harry

didn't mind, as it meant his bondmates got

to sit even closer to him than normal.

Dumbledore ran through the same spiel

about the Goblet of Fire, and had Caretaker

Filch bring it in and to the dais. The

Headmaster uncrated it with a tap of his

wand, and saw to it being lit. Then came the

part Harry was waiting for - Dumbledore's

plans to ensure Harry's name would not

come out of it.

Once Dumbledore ran through how he was

setting an age line in place to ensure only

those students of-age could enter, with no

other 'protections', Harry rose from the table

and glared, fuming, at the old man.

Dumbledore saw Harry stand and turned his

attention to the boy. The look he received

back was filled with fury and loathing.

"Yes, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"That's it, Headmaster?" Harry shot back.

"Just a simple age line?"

Taken back a bit, Dumbledore replied, "Err... I

assure you, Mister Potter; it will be

sufficient."

Without a word, Harry bent down to his

bondmates and quietly said, "I'm going back

to the apartment. As I suspected, the old fool

has done nothing."

"But, Harry;" tried Hermione. "What about

the feast?"

"I'll have Dobby organise a meal for me," he

replied.

"We're coming, too," interrupted Daphne.

She turned to Hermione and said, "You know

what this means. Our bondmate needs our

support. Are you coming?"

With a frustrated sigh, Hermione joined

Daphne in rising and stepping away from the

Ravenclaw table to join Harry. And, without

another word, all three made their way

towards the doors.

"Mister Potter... ladies... where are you

going?" called Dumbledore.

Harry turned about and shot back, "Away

from you, Headmaster. And as far away from

that accursed artefact as I can get. An age

line, Headmaster? That's it? I thought you

took serious my fears of my name coming

out of that thing. Clearly, I was wrong." And

he turned back around, walking out the

doors with his bondmates in their usual

formation.

He knew it would cause a lot of gossip among

the students, including the two visiting

schools, but it was what he wanted. He

wanted to make sure everyone knew he had

no interest in being a competitor in the

tournament.

Once up in the apartment, Harry called

Dobby and had the hyper little elf bring the

three of them a decent evening repast.

Talking to both, he said, "He's done nothing

different. It's just the bloody age line!"

"Easy, Harry," soothed Daphne. "We know

what he did last time; but, he doesn't. It's

highly probable he believes the age line will

be more than sufficient to stop your name

coming out."

"He can't be that much of a fool," he shot

back. "Even to a... dunderhead... the easiest

way around it is for someone else of-age to

drop the name in. He's over one hundred

years old, for Merlin's sake! He can't be that

daft!"

"You think he actually wants your name to be

drawn?" asked Hermione, a little shocked.

"Yeah, I do," muttered Harry. "It would be

just another way to try and draw Riddle out

into the open. He desperately wants

everyone to know he's right, that 'Voldemort'

will return. He's that desperate he's willing to

dangle me out there as bait. I just didn't

want to believe he was so cold-hearted."

"John didn't tell you?" asked Daphne.

"No, not about this," he replied. "I think he

must've thought he'd upset me enough."

Turning back to both of them, he asked,

"What about Della and Roma?"

Daphne shook her head as Hermione replied,

"No. Nothing about the Goblet."

Collapsing into one of the couches, Harry was

about to say something when there was a

knock on the door from the statue.

Rising again, he went to the door and opened

it. Professor Flitwick stood on the other side.

Stepping back to clear the doorway, Harry

invited the little Professor inside with a

gesture.

Chapter 133

"What can we do for you, Professor?" Harry

asked the little man, as he closed the door.

"The Headmaster requests your presence in

the Great Hall for the feast, Mister Potter,"

he replied.

"The Headmaster can kiss my arse,

Professor," Harry bluntly replied. "The only

feasts mandatory for students to attend are

the sorting and leaving feasts. I

have no intention for either myself or my

bondmates to get anywhere near that

accursed Goblet."

With a curious expression back, the Professor

asked, "You honestly believe your name is

going to be chosen, don't you, Mister

Potter?"

With a knee-jerk snort for an immediate

reaction Harry cast an amused look back and

replied, "The thirty first of October? Do you

need a reminder? And, just a bloody age

line?"

The Professor looked back, a little amused.

"The Headmaster has more than adequately

demonstrated he hasn't taken my warnings

to heart, Professor," sighed Harry. "So, the

only thing I can do is stay as far away from

that... thing... as possible, and hope for the

best."

"Then, I shall let him know precisely that,

Mister Potter," said the Professor, before he

turned around and left.

The three ate their dinner within the

apartment, and used the time to go over how

Harry was going to give his vow the next

night.

They were not bothered by any other staff

member for the rest of the night.

That night, the girls cuddled into Harry and

helped him sleep. But, the next morning,

they had to face the day.

Of course, they knew the Goblet was now

resting on its stand in the Entrance Hall

almost directly outside the doors to the

Great Hall. In their formation, the three

walked down the last flight of stairs, making

sure everyone there saw them coming - and

giving the Goblet a wide birth - before

entering the Great Hall for breakfast.

As they were about to walk in, Malfoy - who

had just climbed the stairs from the

dungeons - called out, "Nice little scene you

created last night, Potter. What're you going

to do for an encore?"

"How about ending the Malfoy line?" Harry

shot back over his shoulder. Without even a

pause, he continued on into the Great Hall.

As the three were about to walk in through

the doors, they heard the hated voice of

faux-Moody. "Oh, no you don't, laddie!"

There was a sudden flash of spell fire. All

three dropped and spun with wands drawn.

And saw faux-Moody bouncing a white ferret

off the walls and floor with a hovering charm

or something.

"Oh, I forgot about that," chuckled Harry.

"Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret,"

snickered Hermione.

As they rose back up from their 'combat'

crouches, the three turned back to the Great

Hall as Professor McGonagall's voice rang out

in the Entrance Hall. "Alastor? Is that a

student? What are you doing?"

"Teaching!" roared faux-Moody.

The three, laughing, walked over and sat at

the Ravenclaw table. "Good morning, Luna,"

sniggered Hermione.

"Good morning," the younger blonde replied.

"I take it Professor Moody transfigured Draco

Malfoy into a ferret?"

Stunned enough to stop snickering, Daphne

asked, "How in Merlin's name do

you know that? There's no way you can see

out into the Entrance Hall from where you're

sitting!"

"The nargles told me," she calmly replied.

When Daphne, confused, was about to speak

again, Harry just placed his hand on the back

of hers to get her attention. When she looked

at him, he just smiled and shook his head.

She didn't ask whatever it was she was going

to ask.

Harry and the girls made sure Harry was

never seen anywhere near the Goblet.

Whenever he had to pass it, such as getting

into and out of the Great Hall, they ensured

he gave it a wide berth.

On Halloween night, the three made sure to

sit as far away from the Goblet as possible. It

had once more been moved, and now stood

just before the head table on the dais. It's

blue flames adding light to the multitude of

candles hovering in the air above the tables.

Harry reviewed the oath in his mind he knew

he would soon be making.

After the feast, the three waited with the

rest of the school, together with the students

and staff of the two visiting schools, for the

time when the Goblet would spit out the

names of the competitors.

After the feast, Dumbledore rose to his feet,

walked around the head table, and stood

next to the Goblet on it's tall stand. He told

how the Goblet would momentarily spit out

the names of the chosen champions. And

waited a few moments.

As if on cue, the flames of the Goblet flared

and turned red. The first name out was Fleur

Delacour for Beauxbatons. The second was

Victor Krum for Durmstrang. And the third

was Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts. As each

name was called, the selected champion

would walk to the door leading to the

antechamber off behind the head table.

After Diggory's name was selected, and the

recently of-age young man made his way to

the door to the antechamber, Dumbledore

began to speak about how the three

champions would be the representatives of

their schools. Suddenly, the flames, once

more, flared and turned red.

Harry groaned and dropped his chin to his

chest as the girls each squeezed his hands in

their own.

When Dumbledore snatched the small piece

of parchment out of the air he looked down

at the name upon it in shock. There were a

few moments of hesitation before he softly

called out, "Harry Potter!"

Harry began banging his forehead off the

table before him as the other students and

the staff began animatedly whispering

between themselves.

A little louder this time, the Headmaster

again called out, "HARRY POTTER!"

With a big sigh, Harry slowly stood in spot, as

the muttering died out. "I bloody told you,

Albus Dumbledore! I warned you! And, did

you listen? No. And, why? Because the great

and almighty Albus freakin' Dumbledore

knows all!"

With a shake of his head, Harry popped his

wand into his hand and held it crossing his

chest slightly to point at his heart. Clearly, he

stated, "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my

magic, my life and my very soul that I did not

submit my name to the Goblet of Fire; nor

did I arrange for another to do it for me. It is

my belief someone has used this opportunity

to submit my name against my wishes to do

or cause me harm. I have no desire, in any

form, to be a competitor in the Tri-Wizard

Tournament. As I say, so I swear!"

There was a flash of magic emanating from

Harry's magic. As he stood between the

Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables he cast a

massive shower of sparks from his wand,

which arced through the air towards the

head table, falling short.

Chapter 134

Students from all three schools gasped in

astonishment.

"If anyone tries to say... or otherwise imply...

I'm a liar, they'll face me in an honour duel,"

he firmly stated to the Hall. Glaring back at

Dumbledore, he half-snarled, "Get me out of

this, Dumbledore. Now."

Stunned, watching how Harry stood up for

himself - and crushed any chance of the

school turning against him, yet again -

Dumbledore was speechless. As with the

boy's rant to him and later to the staff, this

was a Harry Potter he didn't know how to

handle. This was a Harry Potter confident in

his abilities and place in the world.

Stuttering just a little Dumbledore said,

"Harry. You need to come up and join the

other champions in the..."

"Stop right there, Headmaster," Harry cut in.

"I want out of this farce."

"There is no 'out', Mister Potter," sighed the

old man. "Once your name comes out of the

Goblet, you must compete."

"Well, I don't accept that," Harry firmly

stated. "I'll be speaking with my legal counsel

before I accept whether or not that's true.

However, if it is, then I refuse to be

recognised as a champion. I'll be known as

the reluctant competitor, only. I may have to

compete in this farce; but, I will not be

considered a champion.

"Furthermore, any official who was involved

in setting up the 'contract' for this, I will be

seeking financial damages against. My

solicitor will be visiting you very soon."

"Nevertheless, Mister Potter," the

Headmaster said. "You need to join the

other... competitors... in the antechamber."

Harry stalked forward and, with a final glare

at the Headmaster, walked through the door

into the antechamber.

As he walked in he slammed the door behind

himself. "Stupid, daft, old fool!" he snarled at

no one in particular.

"Harry?" asked Cedric coming forward.

"What's going on?"

Harry looked up and saw Diggory first,

standing near the middle of the room and

turned slightly towards him. Standing over in

the corner was Victor Krum, brooding. Fleur

Delacour had her arms wrapped around

herself as she was standing near the fire.

Now that he was older, he recognised her

stance as one of fear, rather than being cold.

"Do zey want us back in zere?" asked

Delacour.

"No," he snarled. "Some arsehole caused my

name to be entered in the Goblet, and for

the Goblet to spit it out. I'm a fourth... albeit

reluctant... competitor."

Diggory looked about to say something when

the door opened again. In came Ludo

Bagman, Barty Crouch Senior, Dumbledore,

Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Snape and

McGonagall.

Bagman was acting all hyper-happy and

talking about how excited he was that Harry

was a competitor; while Crouch looked like

he was sucking on a particularly sour lemon.

Then in walked faux-Moody, right on time.

Karkaroff was ranting about how it was

unfair for Hogwarts to have two champions

as Dumbledore walked over and pushed

Harry against the wall with a hand on his

shoulder. Harry, forgetting this part of what

happened from before, was stunned at first

by Dumbledore's action.

Just before Dumbledore could speak, Harry

smacked the old man's hand away and gave

him a hard shove to the chest right back,

causing the man to stagger away. "Never!"

he snarled. "Never, lay hands on me again,

Dumbledore."

Dumbledore reeled back a little in shock as

the rest of the room fell silent.

Professor McGonagall gasped and exclaimed,

"Mister Potter!"

"Don't 'Mister Potter' me, Professor," Harry

glared back. "I had to tolerate my supposed

relatives laying their hands on me in anger -

otherwise known as child abuse; I will no

longer allow anyone to do it again. The next

person to try such a stunt dies by my hand."

"Well," Madam Maxime huffed haughtily,

changing the subject. "If 'Ogwarts is allowed

two champions then I must..."

"I am no Hogwarts champion!" barked Harry.

"As I said out there, I may have to compete in

this ridiculous farce, but I will not be

considered anyone's champion. Cedric is

Hogwarts's champion, not me. You can

consider me unaligned to any school."

"You are a Hogwarts student, Mister Potter,"

exclaimed Professor McGonagall.

"And what did I say would happen if my

name came out of the Goblet, Professor?"

asked Harry with a low growl. "I said I would

quit this school. Well, unlike the Headmaster

here... since he promised me my name

would not come out of the Goblet, and it

did... I quit Hogwarts! I'll be initiating a

transfer to another school at my first

opportunity."

"I won't be allowing that, Mister Potter,"

Dumbledore said quietly but firmly. "I am

your magical guardian and you will go where

I tell you to go."

"No, you're fucking not!" Harry shot back.

"Have you already forgotten that the

Wizengamot has returned my guardianship

to my rightful guardian, Sirius Black? Are you

going senile? How many times do I have to

fucking remind you of that before it sinks in?

As soon as I can get hold of him, I'll organise

for him to sign the transfer papers. Then,

I'm gone!"

"You have to be here for the tasks, Mister

Potter," said Crouch.

"Yes, Mister Crouch, I'm not an idiot,"

snarked Harry. "However, you seem to have

forgotten that the contract only requires I be

here for the tasks. That means, I only have to

be here for only three specific days of the

entire year. That's it!"

"There's also the Weighing of the Wands

and... I'll announce to you now... the Yule

Ball, Mister Potter," he said.

"If they're not specific contractual obligations

you can shove 'em up your arse, Mister

Crouch," growled Harry. Indicating Bagman

he said, "He's so bloody useless I think I can

practically guarantee Bagman, over there,

screwed up. If they're not in the contract and

if I decide not to attend them

there's nothing you can do about it."

"You can be disqualified, Mister Potter," he

shot back before anyone else could say

anything. "Both events are traditions of the

Tournament."

"And the tournament hasn't been run in over

one hundred and fifty years," Harry retorted.

"Some bloody traditions they are!"

Before anyone could retort back, Harry

continued. "As for being disqualified, that

would be perfect," he sneered. "Since I don't

want to be in this ridiculous event anyway,

getting disqualified would be the best thing

you could do for me. However, before we go

any further, I take it you all agree I have to

compete in this godforsaken farce?"

Chapter 135

"I don't," sneered Karkaroff. "Hogwarts

already has a champion."

"And I agree," Harry sneered back. "Now,

how about you clean out your fucking ears

and listen for a change, Death Eater. I've

already made it quite clear I am NOT to be

considered a Hogwarts champion."

"Mister Potter!" spluttered Dumbledore.

"Headmaster Karkaroff was cleared of the

charges of being a Death Eater; and you are a

Hogwarts student. You will show proper

respect!"

"As the muggles would say,

Headmaster, bullshit!" Harry firmly said.

"Karkaroff panicked and named names.

Because he named names Crouch, over there,

let him off. That does not mean he was

cleared. He's nothing but a fucking coward.

He was quite happy to rape, pillage and kill

innocents until he was caught; but, when he

was hauled before the courts for his actions,

he blubbered like a little girl

and pissed himself in fear."

Furious, Karkaroff glared back and snarled, "I

could demand satisfaction for those remarks,

Potter." As the rest of those in the room just

stared at Harry in various levels of shock over

his language.

"Then do it, you piece of shit!" roared Harry.

"Gentlemen!" barked Dumbledore.

"Enough!"

Harry just brushed the old man off and

turned to Madame Maxime. "I take it you

agree I have to compete?"

Reluctantly, after a short hesitation, she

nodded back.

Turning to Bagman, Harry asked, "What

about you, Useless? Do I have to compete?

This Tournament is supposed to be only

for of-age wizards and witches."

"Yes, Mister Potter, you do," replied Bagman,

a little shaken by the venom Harry was using

in his voice.

Turning to the taciturn ex-Head of the DMLE,

Harry asked, "And you, Mister Crouch?"

"Yes, Mister Potter."

Finally, turning to Dumbledore, Harry asked,

"And what about you, liar? Do I have to

compete, after you promised me I

wouldn't?"

With a sad expression, Dumbledore sighed

and said, "Yes, Harry."

"Then, be it on your heads," snarled Harry.

He turned back to Bagman and demanded,

"Since I'm now bound by a magical contract

not of my own choosing to participate in this

nonsense, I expect a copy of

the actual contract and rules of this cock-up

to be handed to me no later than tomorrow

morning before the conclusion of breakfast.

Make damned sure I get it. My solicitors will

want to go over it."

And, with that, he stormed out leaving

behind a room full of inhabitants shaken to

the core.

Walking in to the living room of their

apartment, Harry could see both girls had

been fretting for him. Both near attacked him

with questions about what happened in the

antechamber. He settled them down with

soothing words and described what had

taken place.

That the cat hadn't done it for a long time,

Harry was surprised when Crookshanks

hopped onto his lap and demanded

scratching.

"So, they all agreed?" asked Hermione. "They

all agreed you had to take part?"

"Everyone, bar Karkaroff," he replied. "But,

with him, I think he knew I had to take part,

but wanted to see if the Goblet would strip

me of my magic or not; not about whether or

not I was bound by the contract."

"So, Gringotts tomorrow?" asked Daphne.

"Yes," Harry firmly replied. "After breakfast.

I've demanded a copy of the actual contract

and told them I want the damned thing no

later than the end of breakfast. It's to be

handed directly to me by that time. Whether

or not that actually happens..." He shrugged.

"What now?" asked Hermione.

"It's time to send those letters off," Harry

firmly stated.

With a firm nod back, Hermione went into

Harry's room and came back carrying three

letters in her hands. One was addressed to

Stewart Ackerman, one to Harry's Gringotts'

Account Manager, Sharpclaw; and the third

to Sirius.

Hedwig was sent off carrying the first two.

They used a large 'school' barn owl to carry

the third.

The next morning, the three rose, readied for

the day in 'civilian' garb, and made their way

down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

They'd no sooner sat down when Professor

Flitwick hurried down from the head table

and handed Harry a sheaf of documents. "I

believe you requested a copy of the contract

for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Mister

Potter?"

"I did, Sir," replied Harry, accepting them.

"Thank you."

The little Professor hesitated a moment

before he said, "If you need help with

training for the tasks, Mister Potter; my door

is open to you."

A little surprised at the generosity of his

Head of House, Harry looked back at the

Professor and said, "Thank you, Sir.

Depending on whether we three remain at

this school or not, I may very well take you

up on that."

"You're still considering leaving us, Mister

Potter?" he asked.

"I believe I made myself quite clear,

Professor," replied Harry. "I warned the

Headmaster I believed my name would come

out of the Goblet. He did next to nothing to

ensure it did not. He has utterly failed me,

Professor."

"Indeed, Mister Potter," sighed Flitwick. "We

all have." The little Professor headed back to

the head table.

While Harry had been talking to the

Professor, Daphne had taken the contract

from his hand and laid it out on the table

before them. From each side, she and

Hermione were reading through it.

Turning back, Harry asked, "I'm right, aren't I?

I only have to be here for the three tasks?"

"Give us a minute," muttered Daphne.

"Here it is," said Hermione, as her finger slid

slowly through a couple paragraphs. "The

three tasks... You must compete... No... It

states the three tasks are mandatory, but

nothing else."

Chapter 136

"Here's the wand-weighing," said Daphne,

looking at another page. "It's a bit iffy. It said

the wands of each champion must be

checked by a competent Master in wand lore

prior to the first task. However, as you don't

consider yourself a champion..."

"Definitions," stated Hermione, moving to

another page. "Here. A champion is the

student selected by the Goblet of Fire to

represent each of the three schools... And...

the three schools are Hogwarts, Beauxbatons

and Durmstrang."

"That's Cedric, Delacour and Krum," said

Harry. "As I'm not a champion of any of the

three schools..."

"You're not required to attend," continued

Daphne. Sitting up a little straighter, she

indicated another clause. "Here's the section

on the Yule Ball," she said. "To be held on the

25th of December... mongrels; they could

have held it earlier. The three champions

open the ball..."

"And we already know by three champions

they mean the representatives for Hogwarts,

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang..." cut in

Hermione.

"... And that's it," continued Daphne. Turning

to the other two, she said, "You were right.

You're not required to participate in anything

other than the three specific tasks. We don't

even have to stay at school over Christmas, if

we don't want to."

"We can embarrass the Hell out of

Dumbledore and the Ministry," mused Harry.

"Or, use it to blackmail."

"Blackmail?" asked Daphne, perking up while

Hermione stared frowning at Harry.

"Well," said Harry sitting back and thinking.

"You want me to attend the ball, Headmaster?

Well, my bondmates would like to spend part

of Christmas Day with their families, at home.

A portkey there and back would go

a long way to seeing me being willing to

attend your Yule Ball."

"Harry!" Hermione softly exclaimed,

scandalised. "You can't go blackmailing the

Headmaster!"

"Of course he can," snickered Daphne. "It's

brilliant! We get to visit with our families on

Christmas Day and attend the Yule Ball."

The three went through more of the contract.

Harry then pointed out another section.

"Here's the part that states I'm to be excused

attending any class... And, excused attending

exams, if I like... Next is the part that states I,

and my trainers, are to be allowed to leave

the school for reason of matters relating to

the Tournament."

"That means Dumbledore can't stop you

going to Gringotts as soon as we've finished

here," interrupted Daphne.

"Are you going to the Ball, Harry?" asked

Luna from opposite.

Surprised, Harry realised he'd forgotten

about those others sitting around them.

"Sorry, Luna," he blushed. "It appears we've

been rude and forgotten about you."

She nodded and said, "It's alright, Harry. You

have far weightier matters to deal with."

Sitting back he looked at both his bondmates

and asked, "Do we go to the Yule Ball?"

Both thought about it for a few moments

before Hermione was first to speak up. "As

long as I can visit with my parents on the

day... and I can still take my break, at home,

after the Ball... I'd like to go, yes."

"Same here," replied Daphne.

"In that case - Daphne, Hermione - would

both you ladies do me the honour of being

my dates to the Yule Ball?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry; I'd love to," replied Daphne.

"I'd love to, too," replied Hermione.

"Well, that's done," said Harry with a bit of a

relieved sigh. "Now all I have to do is learn

how to dance."

"That, you leave up to me," stated Daphne.

"You just find us somewhere to practice."

"That's easy," replied Harry. "But you two

ladies are going to have to colour co-ordinate

for the night so I can wear formal robes that

match you both."

"You'll be wearing your robes with the

iridescent green lining, Harry," said Daphne.

"Pale green shirt, black tie and cummerbund,

black patent leather shoes, silver

accessories," Hermione ticked off on her

fingers.

"It sounds like you two ladies already

discussed this," tittered Luna.

Both girls grinned back. "We have," admitted

Hermione.

"We knew there was a strong likelihood of

both of us being your dates at a formal

function before long," explained Daphne.

"And, we knew we'd have to figure out ways

to colour co-ordinate. We've already worked

out green is a colour that well suits all three

of us."

"Yes," said Luna, looking between them with

a critical eye. "Deep greens. For Harry, it's his

eyes. For Hermione, it accentuates her

natural autumnal colours. For Daphne, it's

the Slytherin in her."

"How did...?" began Hermione before she

remembered. "Oh, I forgot... Sorry... You

paint. Of course you'd be able to pick out

which colours would suit."

Luna beamed happily and replied, "It's also a

good match for your natural aura. I see you

used to favour blues. But, now you favour

reds, golds, browns, and deep greens. Those

are the colours of the forest."

She turned to Daphne and said, "You now

favour silver, blues, greens, and the colours

in between. They're the colours of the sea."

Turning her attentions to Harry, she went on,

"And you favour many colours. However, you

most favour deep or dark greens, golds, very

deep reds, though not light, and most pastels.

With the exception of green to match your

eyes, yours are generally colours of air and

cool fire. They're also quite bold, which

matches your personality. All three of you

also have bronze as a matching colour. That's

why Ravenclaw colours suit you."

The three looked at one another and thought

back to their own wardrobes. It was easy to

pick out all the outfits they'd purchased from

Madam Malkin's that matched almost

perfectly what Luna described.

"Hunh!" Harry half coughed. "I think we

should have taken Luna with us when we

spent that half day at Madam Malkin's."

"Agreed," sighed Daphne. "But, at least we

now know."

They were discussing the various outfits in

their wardrobes when the owls flew in.

A rather regal looking owl landed in front of

Harry. He recognised it as the office owl for

Ackerman.

"It looks like Stewart's on the ball," muttered

Harry, untying the parchment from the owl's

leg.

While he was doing that, Daphne gathered

up the pages of the contract and cast a

replication charm on them. She then shrank

the copy down and handed it off to Harry.

Chapter 137

Accepting it, Harry tied the shrunken

contract to the owl's leg and sent it on its

way with a big slice of bacon.

Opening it, he quickly scanned through it

before he looked to his bondmates. "Listen

to this," he said. "Stewart's coming to see us

on Monday immediately after class. He's

asked for a copy of the contract..."

"Which you just sent," interrupted Daphne.

"... And he'll go over it before he comes and

sees us," he continued. "For now, I'm not to

make waves... too late... and just go along

with everything."

Hermione had the Daily Prophet before her

and read a front page article to them.

* # *

BOY-WHO-LIVED FOURTH TRI-WIZARD

CHAMPION

Last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft

and Wizardry, everything was going as

planned for the draw of the three school

champions of the Tri-Wizard Tournament,

writes Monty Wordsworth. Those plans

unravelled when, in a major surprise, the

Goblet spat out a fourth competitor, Harry

Potter (14).

It was clear young Mister Potter did not

expect this, as he was as shocked as

everyone else when his name was read out.

To show everyone he had no idea as to why it

had happened, he quickly made a magical

oath to that effect. Mister Potter made it

very clear he had no desire to participate in

the Tri-Wizard Tournament and demanded of

the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, to 'get

him out of it'. However, once selected as a

champion by the Goblet of Fire, the contract

is ironclad. Mister Potter must compete. That

will make him a fourteen year old wizard in a

Tournament designed for those of-age.

This reporter visited the offices of Potter's

legal representative, Ackerman and Co, and

spoke to Mister Stewart Ackerman. "I have

not had opportunity, as of yet, to speak to

Mister Potter about this matter," he

informed me. "However, I expect Mister

Potter to be contacting me via owl very

soon."

Said owl arrived only moments later.

The other three, true, champions are Cedric

Diggory for Hogwarts; International

Quidditch star, Victor Krum for Durmstrang;

and daughter of the Head of the French MLE,

Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons. All three are

seventeen years of age.

Questions need to be asked concerning how

Mister Potter's name was both entered and

selected by the Goblet to be a competitor. As

an ancient magical artefact, the Goblet of

Fire would require a significantly powerful

wizard or witch to confound it enough to

force Mister Potter's entrance. What is the

Ministry going to do to find out how this

happened?

Our readers want to know!

* # *

"That's better than the last time through,"

muttered Harry. "This time, it's at least the

truth."

Making sure they weren't been watched too

closely, the three excused themselves from

table and returned to their apartment.

Almost immediately, they cast

disillusionment and notice-me-not charms on

themselves and used the castle's secret

tunnels to get out of the school. They headed

direct to Gringotts.

Entering, the magic of the goblins stripped

away their charms as they walked in through

the doors. The three were met right inside

and escorted directly to the Potter Account

Manager, Sharpclaw.

"Good morning, Mister Potter," smiled

Sharpclaw as they walked in to the office. "I

see your... belief... was correct."

With an acknowledging nod, Harry replied,

"Good morning, Senior Sharpclaw. Yes, I was;

mores' the pity. I take it the paperwork is

ready?"

"Indeed," replied the goblin, sliding a set of

documents forward across his desk as the

three bondmates sat in the available chairs

opposite.

Harry sat forward and reached for the

offered quill. Sharpclaw, as efficient as

expected, had marked each parchment

where he was to sign. After carefully reading

through the documents, Harry signed his

name in each marked place; and slid the

document with the quill back across the

desk.

"Roughly, how long will this take?" he asked

his Account Manager.

"The filing will take place today," replied

Sharpclaw. "If there is no one to speak

against it within seven days, it becomes

effective immediately."

"Next Saturday, lunchtime, then," muttered

Harry.

Nodding, Daphne said, "We just need to keep

quiet about it until then, at least. Once the

seven day waiting period has passed, it

cannot be reversed."

Turning back to Sharpclaw, Harry said, "I just

have one more job for you to do today,

Senior Sharpclaw."

Nodding, the goblin slid a document each

towards both ladies.

"What's this?" asked Hermione.

"Your access to your vaults," replied Harry.

"You need only sign in the one place, where

indicated," stated the goblin, offering a quill

to each.

Daphne took her quill but paused as

Hermione said, "Harry, there's no need for

this. I don't need your money."

With an exasperated sigh, Harry replied,

"This isn't about whether or not you need my

money, love. This is about me being able to

provide for you both; plus, any children we

may have in future.

"You are my bonded; and, it's my

responsibility to care for you. If I don't do

this... or you don't accept it... that may give

others ammunition to cause our bond to be

stopped before it's even properly finalised.

"I hope that both of you, before too long, will

be Madame Potter to my Mister Potter.

Those rings you wear signify that. So, please,

accept the access, alright?"

With a sigh, Hermione accepted the quill and

signed, as Daphne did the same.

Sharpclaw took both documents and filed

them in a slot on his desk. He then snapped

his fingers and two keys appeared. He slid

one to each girl. "Your vault keys, ladies," he

said. "Please take good care of them as

you're each responsible for them. Lose them

and its nine galleons each to replace them."

Both girls picked up their keys and dropped

them into pockets.

"I believe that's it, Senior Sharpclaw," said

Harry, rising. "Thank you for your time. It is,

after all, money."

"I am at your service, Mister Potter," the

goblin replied.

Chapter 138

With both girls again in their usual formation,

the three exited the bank, redonned their

glamours, and headed for the Leaky Cauldron

to return to the school.

They re-entered the school and returned to

their apartment. Collapsing onto one of the

couches, Harry said, "A week. Just one week,

and Dumbledore can do nothing to stop me.

The Trace should be lifted... although we

know it won't... and I'll be able to do magic

outside of school. I guess I'll have to go into

the Ministry, straight from Kings Cross, to

make sure the Trace has been lifted, come

Christmas."

Frowning, he turned to his bondmates and

asked Daphne, "If I'm then emancipated, and

you're both effectively engaged to me, what

does that make you?"

"We're still underage witches," she replied.

"However, if we're married to you, then

we're automatically emancipated."

Surprised, Harry asked, "Is that possible? For

us to be married this early, I mean. I thought

it wasn't allowed until seventeen for the

wizard and sixteen for the witch."

"Normally, yes," she replied with a slight

shrug. "However, you'll be emancipated in a

week, which automatically gives you the

rights of an adult wizard. That means you can

get married. Plus, as we're you're bondmates,

we may still be underaged witches, but it

would be legal for us to marry you. At that

point, as married witches, we're

emancipated, too."

"What?" exclaimed Hermione. "But, that's

discriminatory! How does Harry being

emancipated allow us to marry him and

emancipate us?"

"Being of-age has never been a prerequisite

to marriage for a witch if a soul bond or

binding is involved," replied Daphne. "As

long as the soul bonded wizard is of-age,

everything's legal. Magic deems it so. The

only limiting factor is whether or not

menarche had taken place."

"But," spluttered Hermione, a little horrified.

"Girls as young as nine have gone through

that!"

"Not in the magical world," disagreed

Daphne. "It's always shortly after the twelfth

birthday for witches. When did yours occur?"

Hermione blushed and mumbled, "Two

weeks after my twelfth birthday." Looking up,

she firmly stated, "And that's still way too

young."

"Mine was three weeks," said Daphne. "The

first new moon after my birthday. And, how

is it too young? That's the time nature has

decided you can begin to fall pregnant.

Otherwise, why does menarche occur at that

time?"

Back in the beginning of September, Harry

would have been blushing bright red by now.

However, after all the talks

and openness they'd gone through talking

about the bonds, the initial embarrassment

was way past. Now, they could talk about

just about anything; including, apparently,

menarche.

"Menarche does not mean the female body

is ready to fall pregnant!" huffed Hermione.

"No. Correction. It does not mean

the mind of a young girl is ready for the

experience of childbirth, or to be a mother."

"It used to," Harry cut in. "Before there were

laws against underaged sex, many young girls

would fall pregnant at that sort of age. It

wasn't all that long ago twelve was the

minimum age to marry."

"That aside," said Daphne, "The topic, now,

is whether we... meaning you and me,

Hermione... are comfortable marrying early."

"My father would hit the roof," sighed

Hermione. "I know he probably has it in the

back of his mind what we get up to with

Harry; but, I can't see him being alright with

us marrying early. I think sixteen would be

the absolute minimum he'd allow. And that's

a year away for me."

"What about fifteen and ten months?" asked

Daphne. "That way, we can marry during the

summer break."

"But, you'll only have just turned fifteen,"

Hermione rebutted. "The same with Harry."

"Well, this is all just academic, for the

moment," said Harry. "The emancipation has

to get through, first. Then, I fully intend to

formally ask both your fathers for your hands

in marriage. It may be old fashioned in the

muggle world; but, it's still the right thing to

do. If they say no, then there'll be no

marriage."

"Err... Harry?" stuttered Daphne. "I don't

think you understand. Once the bonds are

finalised, and given enough

time, magic decides whether or not there's a

marriage. We only get to decide whether or

not there's a wedding."

Harry looked a little horrified before he

dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

"John didn't tell me that."

"Are we that repulsive?" asked Daphne, a

little affronted.

"N-no, no," Harry tried to back-pedal,

snapping his head back up again. "I mean... it

kind of removes the choice from you. You

don't get to decide."

"Of course we do," she shot back, calming a

little. "We get to decide how far or how fast

our bonds develop. Unless we marry first, we

know it shouldn't happen until after coitus.

However, even that might not cause the

marriage. We haven't taken that step, yet."

"It sounds like another of those errors of

knowledge relating to bonds," mused

Hermione. "We know people thought coitus

would trigger the finalising of the bond, and

doesn't; so, maybe it's more the emotional

component, again? The emotional

commitment to spending a lifetime

together."

"Possible," shrugged Daphne. Then she

laughed and said, "We're really going to have

to write a book, you know. The nonsense out

there will just confuse folks. We're the only

ones in a position to write the truth."

"Maybe," muttered Harry, thinking. "But, not

for years. In order to include enough

information to make it worthwhile, we'll

need to get pretty personal."

"Write it under a nom de plume... a pen

name," said Hermione. "We can also use

false names for the individuals in the book."

"It won't be very anonymous if we cover

three-way soul bonds," said Harry.

"We wouldn't need to," disagreed Hermione.

"From what we know already we can easily

write it to just cover two-way bonds. We

know there's no real difference between the

two. Two-way bonds are rare. How much

rarer are three-way bonds? Ours is the only

one in recorded history... magical Britain

recorded history, at least. It'd be a bit

pointless to write a book on three-way

bonds if we wrote it to provide information

for those who come after us."

"You really want to write it, don't you,

Hermione?" he sighed.

"I want to write it, yes," she agreed.

"However, I want to write it with the both of

you as co-creators. Or, at least, with your

permission."

Harry looked at Daphne, who nodded back.

"Alright, Hermione; write the damned thing

and we'll help."

"Yes!" she squealed, jumping forward to hug

them both.

Chapter 139

On Sunday morning, Harry outlined for the

other two his thoughts on how to defeat the

dragon in a rather creative manner.

"Let me get this straight," frowned Hermione.

"You want to take a plastic bag, cast

impervious and unbreakable charms on it,

enlarge it, levitate it up and over the

dragon's head, pull it down over it's head,

shrink it tight, and wait for the dragon to

suffocate?"

"Yep!" beamed Harry. "That way, I get to

claim the carcass of the beast, and all the

galleons it's worth."

"That won't work," Hermione firmly retorted.

"The plastic bag will be blown all about in

the vagaries of the wind. And, it'll be far too

difficult to manoeuvre it above the dragon's

head, opening it, and pulling it down.

However, something similar... but, heavier...

would work. You can use just about any sort

of bag.

"Personally, I think you should try for a long

banner, or something similar. That way, you

can fly it at the dragon, and wrap it around

it's head before shrinking it tight. With

impervious and unbreakable charms, it'll still

do what you want it to do.

Frowning, Harry thought about it and could

see the logic of Hermione's alterations to the

idea.

"An Incarcerous around its snout first would

also help," chipped in Daphne.

"Incarcerous it's legs and wings, too."

Nodding, Harry looked back and said, "That'll

work. Any backup ideas for 'Plan B'?"

"That depends on how accurate you are,"

thought Daphne. "Summoning the sword of

Gryffindor and banishing it right at the

dragon's heart, is one. Because it's really only

the hide of the dragon that's somewhat

impervious to magic, wait until it opens it's

mouth and cast a blasting curse in it's open

maw, is another. Both should near-instantly

kill the beast."

"Why do you want to kill the dragon, Harry?"

asked Hermione, quite concerned with what

she was hearing.

"Multiple reasons," he replied. "First, I

managed to get out of being killed by the

dragon last go around only by the

intervention of my angel; so, that method is

far too dangerous. Killing it is the safer

alternative. Two, I get to claim the kill by

right of slaying the beast, just as with the

basilisk. Three, I'll have just demonstrated

how I will not hesitate to kill anything they

put in my way; so, Dumbledore might want

to rethink sending us against the merfolk.

And four, it sends a very clear message to

Dumbledore I'm sick and tired of being

'fucked' with. I want him to think he's

starting to turn me into a cold-blooded

ruthless killer; the next Dark Lord."

"So he will then attempt to redeem you?"

smirked Daphne.

"Exactly," replied Harry. "It would be yet

another thing that'll distract him and allow

us to do what we need to do."

Surprisingly, Harry received an owl - or,

rather, a toucan - from Sirius on the Monday

morning wanting to know what was going on.

Showing the note to his bondmates, he said,

"Sirius is still out of the country, but this

implies he's now heading back."

"We've been rather lax in not contacting him

and letting him know what's been going on,

Harry," countered Hermione. "Does he even

know he's been exonerated?"

"I tried to send him an owl the next day after

the hearing. But, it flew around for a few

minutes before it came back," he replied. "I

suspect, wherever he is, he can't receive owl

mail."

"You never found out in the previous time

line?" asked Daphne.

"No," he replied. "All we know is that he

headed for 'the tropics' almost immediately

after we helped him escape from within the

tower he was locked up in here. We didn't

hear from him again until after my name

came out of the Goblet."

"It sounds like, wherever he is, he's under

the Fidelius with owl blocking wards," mused

Daphne.

"That's what Hermione and I thought, too,"

nodded Harry. "He never ended up telling us

more than it was 'the tropics', though."

"Then, if he doesn't already find out

beforehand, we'll bring him up to speed

when he gets here," said Hermione.

"No, send him an owl, now, to make sure

he's aware he's no longer a wanted man,"

disagreed Daphne. "It should make it easier

for him to travel, at least. Besides, he still

needs to present himself to Madam Bones

for the 'official' clearing of his name."

Nodding, Harry said, "I'll send Hedwig now."

And pulled over a small slip of parchment

and quill to pen a short note.

Stewart Ackerman visited with them that

afternoon, as promised. He, of course, came

prepared.

As they sat around a hastily conjured table,

the older man looked shrewdly at Harry and

asked, "First thing, Mister Potter; is for you

to tell me, right now, that you had nothing to

do with your name coming out of the

Goblet."

"I can't tell you that because I don't know,"

Harry frowned. "However, I can tell you that I

did not submit my name to the Goblet of Fire;

nor, did I have someone else do it for me. I

have been entered into this nonsense against

whatever wish I may have had. I can also tell

you I gave a magical oath with those almost

exact same words on the night it happened."

After studying Harry for a couple of seconds,

Ackerman gave an almost imperceptible

grunt and said, "Very well."

With an angry scowl, Harry barked back,

"Mister Ackerman; accept, here and now,

that I had nothing to do with my name being

submitted as a bloody competitor into this

ludicrous event, or we part ways. I gave a

magical bloody oath on it, Sir, in the middle

of the Great Hall! And, I'm quite happy to

give you a copy of my memories of that."

Ackerman winced and hurriedly

back-pedalled. "Mister Potter, I apologise,"

he tried to soothe. "I was aware of the oath

and what it meant. However, the Prophet has

already begun..." and sighed. "And, one of

the reasons you've secured our services is

because you believed the Prophet would

slander you, given the chance."

He looked at Harry a lot more shrewdly and

asked, "Mister Potter, are you... or, do you

have access to... a true seer?"

With a sigh right back, Harry replied, "Not

that I'm aware of, no. I just happen to be

quite perceptive about events happening

around me; and likely outcomes.

"For example, every year I'd been in the

magical world something bad and/or life

threatening has happened to me on

Halloween. The drawing of the names for the

Tri-Wizard Tournament was to... and did...

occur on Halloween. Ergo, the likelihood of

my name coming out of the Goblet was, in

my opinion, extremely high.

"I also have it on good authority that Rita

Skeeter has taken what I consider an

unhealthy interest in me. Miss Skeeter is

known to use untruths and blatant lies in her

articles to... shall we say... make them more

interesting. Again, it does not take a seer to

determine I can expect that vile woman to

write lies about me in the Daily

Chapter 140

Prophet. That's why I knew I would need the

services of someone of Miss Pentridge's skill

set.

"In other words, Sir, it's just a matter of

anticipating likely outcomes and being

prepared for them in advance. I... we...

anticipate probable actions, logically deduce

likely consequence, and envision outcomes.

Then we plan our responses. If Action A

occurs, we enact Reaction Plan X; if, however,

Action B occurs, we enact Reaction Plan Y. It's

really that simple."

Ackerman snorted in self-amusement before

he slowly shook his head with a wry grin.

"You have the mind of a master strategist,

Mister Potter," he mused.

"No," Harry disagreed. "We, together, have

such a mind."

Nodding, Ackerman asked, "So, you have no

idea who or why someone wanted you to

compete?"

"There are many possibilities, Stewart,"

replied Harry. "I can tell you this: Whoever

placed my name in the Goblet with the

intention of my name then being selected

has to be a suitably powerful wizard, or witch.

They have to have figured out a way to

confuse the Goblet, make it think there are

four schools competing - or just that four

names need to be chosen. Then they had to

convince the Goblet that one of the names

that needed to come out was mine. That

means I can confidently claim that it wasn't

one of the students.

"Logic dictates that then leaves one of the

staff members of the three schools, one of

the Ministry officials involved, or... unlikely...

an entirely different party who snuck into the

school and wasn't caught coming in or going

out. Of the three we believe the first is most

likely. I also believe 'who' will become

apparent if we can figure out 'why'. And vice

versa.

"There, we also have various possibilities. As

this is a competition for of-age participants,

and I'm only fourteen with a fourteen year

old's education, there's a likelihood I can

very well die. Therefore, this could be a

subtle attempt to kill me. This could have

also been done by a fan boy or girl, who

wants to see me earn even more fame and

glory, and hasn't really thought it through. Or,

someone has some other nefarious purpose

and wants to make sure I'm at a certain place

at a certain exact time; or simply might try to

beat the Goblet and sacrifice my magic.

"Personally, I think it's the nefarious deed

option. I think someone wants me to be at a

specific place at a specific time; probably to

kidnap me. As I can receive no help in the

tasks, there'll be no one close by during the

tasks that can immediately come to my aid."

With a shrug and a mock sigh of annoyance,

he said, "But, it's just a hunch."

"And your hunches are usually on the

galleon," stated Daphne.

"She's right," piped up Hermione. "You have

a pretty good habit of doing that, you know.

Almost uncannily so. Personally, I think

what you think is a hunch is when your

subconscious has already figured it out and is

trying to prod you in the right direction."

Harry just harrumphed before he thought

about it for a few moments, then nodded in

agreement. "I suppose I can't dispute that,"

he mused. "It makes a kind of sense."

Turning back to Ackerman, he said, "Anyways,

Mister Ackerman, everything we know can

be easily explained by deductive reasoning. If

you get a chance, have a look through a few

muggle bookshops for a book that covers

what muggles call Critical Thinking. I believe

you will quickly discover it would be a very

useful tool in your profession."

Nodding back, Ackerman replied, "I'll do just

that, Mister Potter. Thank you. And, I do

apologise for doubting you."

Harry waved it off and said, "Yes. Well. How

about you give us your views on the

contract."

With his own sigh, Ackerman cleared his

throat and said, "In a nutshell, you're stuck.

You have to compete. However, there are

some advantages to you out of this. Firstly,

you can go ahead and demand emancipation,

if you want it. You have the right to be seen

as an adult in the magical world, though not

in the muggle world. With the three Heads of

school, the Head of the Department of

Magical Games and Sports, and the Head of

the Department for International Magical

Co-operation all agreeing you have to

compete, they're all stating you're of-age.

That means, they effectively emancipated

you.

"Secondly, you're entitled to certain

privileges. You're entitled to skip any and all

classes, even exams. You can come and go

from the school, as you please; so long as

you're doing so for 'Tournament' purposes.

You're entitled to your own apartment; but,

seeing as you already have one, that's moot.

And, you can request special meals and times.

But, I guess, with your own elf you already

get that."

Harry and the girls were nodding along at the

right times.

"Now," continued Ackerman. "I wasn't... I

didn't understand how it was you 'knew'

what was going to happen; so, Miss

Pentridge did not come with me today.

However, I will ensure she continues to

monitor the media for slander and

defamatory remarks.

"She's also been hunting down all the

authors and printing houses of those books

about you and will soon make her move

against them. Plus, she's been tracking down

those who've used your name and or image

without your consent. The problem, here, is

that Albus Dumbledore claimed magical

guardianship over you and authorised many

of them."

Harry growled under his breath and

muttered various imprecations.

"Those, we are still going after," continued

Ackerman, as if he hadn't heard. "However,

all we can do with many of them is send legal

cease and desist notices. If

they then continue, they're ours to sue.

And, then we'll go after them for the lot."

Harry could only nod in disappointment.

"Even so," continued Ackerman. "I daresay

we're going to end up driving many of them

into bankruptcy."

Harry's head shot up at that and stared back.

"I really don't want to bankrupt them, Mister

Ackerman. I really don't want to see their

employees out of work over this."

"Then, I believe," replied the older wizard,

"That, if such a case would drive the

miscreant into bankruptcy, through us you

offer to buy them out of the remaining

debt."

Hermione frowned and said, "Explain,

please."

Ackerman switched his attention to her and

replied, "Basically, Harry claims the business

in lieu of the debt. If the debt is greater than

the worth of the business, on Harry's behalf

we make them an offer to hand the business

over to Harry to clear the debt. Unlike in the

muggle world, the wizarding world still has

debtors' prison. It's part of the minimum

security wing of Azkaban."

In shock, Hermione exclaimed, "But, that's

barb..."

"Hermione!" snapped Daphne, cutting her

off before she could launch into one of her

rants.