Harry vs Hermione

Taking out the Marauder's Map, Harry checked for Hermione Granger and found her in the Gryffindor common room. Deactivating it, he took Daphne's hand and led them forward.

"How have the teachers allowed this?" asked Daphne quietly. "I was under the impression Muggle-borns have private sessions with their Heads of House so that they could adjust to the magical world better?"

"Professor McGonagall probably doesn't even know what Granger is doing," muttered Harry. "She's the most overworked member of staff at Hogwarts. Besides, just because Granger has been informed of the culture and traditions of the magical world doesn't mean she has to respect them, does it? Haven't you listened to her go on about how wizards don't have logic?"

Daphne hummed. "I doubt there is a single person in the castle who hasn't. I don't get it. What could possibly make her say something like that?"

Harry smiled grimly as he said, "Only those who have lived in both the Muggle world and magical world will realise that Muggle logic is quite different from wizard logic, a fact which Granger, unfortunately, fails to understand."

When they reached the tapestry of the Fat Lady, they stopped.

"My Lord, my Lady, how may I serve you?" asked the Fat Lady as she curtseyed for them.

"We would like to enter the tower please," said Harry impassively.

"Of course, my Lord," she said as it swung open, revealing the portrait hole. They entered together, but Daphne stayed behind, leaning against the wall as she watched her fiancé do the work.

"Potter, what are you doing here?" asked Ron Weasley, frowning. "How do you know our password?"

"I don't need a password to enter Gryffindor Tower, Weasley," said Harry calmly as he walked forward. "I get automatic entrance. Where's Hermione Granger?"

"What?" said Hermione, looking up from her needlework. In front of her were several woollen hats and socks.

"Granger, I need to talk to you, privately," said Harry, coming to a halt several feet away from her.

"Whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of us all," said Ron, sounding annoyed. Hermione looked at Harry curiously, wondering what this was all about.

"Very well," said Harry dispassionately. He flicked his wand and said, "Accio house-elf clothes!"

Hermione flushed in outrage as dozens of hats and socks flew to him from different corners of Gryffindor Tower.

"What may I ask is this?"

"I don't answer to you!" snapped Hermione angrily. "You're not a prefect or a teacher."

"Yes, but I am an older student. I'm asking you again, what is this?"

"You already seem to know," said Hermione angrily. "It's the clothes I made for house-elves."

"To set them free?" asked Harry, his face not displaying a hint of emotion at all.

"Yes," said Hermione, sounding superior as she held her head high. "I'm doing them all a service. I can't believe witches and wizards condone slavery! The house-elves should be set free and that's what I'm going to do!"

Neville opened his mouth to reply furiously when Harry raised his hand, shaking his head at him. "And what if I told you that it won't work anymore?" he asked, with eyebrows raised. "What if I told you that I have re-bonded the house-elves you set free and that I have ensured that none of the clothes you trick them into taking will have any meaning to them anymore?"

"How dare you!" she shouted angrily, standing up to face him. "How dare you condone slavery? That's barbaric! I'm surprised that no one has tried to stop it yet; it just shows how backward your thinking is. House-elves need to be free; they need wages and sick leave and better working conditions. I can't believe the Ministry of Magic condones this! Making them your slave is monstrous! Why, in the Muggle world –"

"Oh, don't act all mighty Granger," snapped Harry, his eyes darkening slightly. "I understand that you want the best for them and I appreciate that, but your actions say different. Tell me, have you actually met a house-elf before?"

"Of course I have," said Hermione loftily. "I saw you summon that elf a year ago when you showed those memories to the school."

"That's not what I meant," said Harry quietly. "Have you personally spoken to them? Have you asked them if they're happy? Have you asked them why they need to bond with witches and wizards? Professor McGonagall must have told you, if you had cared to ask her, that the bond between a wizard and house-elf goes back for millennia. Have you ever tried to understand why that is so?"

"They're obviously brainwashed by –" began Hermione, but she was cut off.

"So, you came to your own conclusion did you?" asked Harry in a deadly voice. "That's the problem with you, Granger. You read what is given in one book, not verify it with others, not listen to others who try to correct you, not look at the real-life scenario, and jump to conclusions! That's what you have done with regard to house-elves."

"Let me enlighten you," he continued, as the entire Gryffindor House listened in rapt attention. "House-elves have always existed in our world, but they are not the only form of elves. There are Wood Elves which exist in the forests all over the world, but they are very, very rarely seen as they prefer to remain isolated due to the danger of them being hunted down. High Elves exist who are considered by many as one of the oldest sentient magic species, but they too prefer an isolated environment and haven't been spotted for hundreds if not thousands of years. Just as all of us serve a purpose and function for the society at large, house-elves are a species meant to serve. That is their function, as I'm sure it was explained to you numerous times! If you rob them of their ability to do their job, then they lose the will to live as they have nothing else to live for!"

"Slavery –" began Hermione, but was again cut off.

"The bond between a house-elf and a witch or wizard has existed for tens of thousands of years. That is the way for them to survive. Without the bond, their existence has no meaning; they were born to serve. Unlike in your precious Muggle world where humans enslave other humans, we don't do that. Because Mother Magic herself has created a species who serve us to help better ourselves so that we can improve our society. Every society needs others who cook, clean, do the housework, and take care of the children. In the Muggle world, it is done by other humans, while in the magical world it is done by house-elves. You can't expect them to accept wages because they have no use for it. What do you think they would do, go to a party? Watch a movie? Their inherent magic itself provides them with whatever they need, and coupled with the magic they get from witches and wizards ensures that they are self-sufficient. They use the magic received from the bond to reproduce, and you trying to free them shows that there is someone out there who wants to kill them all! Please, don't try to bring in your vaunted Muggle ideas into the magical world where it is neither wanted nor necessary," said Harry quietly, but firmly.

"But of course you need Muggle ideas!" screeched Hermione furiously. "The wizarding world is still stuck in the dark ages with backward and outdated traditions and only by adapting to the Muggle world can bring them out of stagnation! There isn't even the concept of divorce in the magical world, while it exists in the Muggle world. There is so much more ... Polygamy, the Ancient and Noble House system ... Only if we remove such barbaric laws and traditions could the magical world ever hope to be as advanced as the Muggle world."

This comment brought outrage from many of them sitting in the common room. Nobody missed the part of Granger called them all barbaric, and many of the purebloods couldn't believe that she would think that the Muggle world could even compete with the magical world in any way.

"Let me tell you something Granger," sneered Harry. "Don't compare the Muggle world to the magical world, and don't you dare question our traditions and beliefs and impose your beliefs on us just because you consider them beneath you. We don't want that. You think the Muggle world is superior, isn't it? Please, enlighten us. Just what do Muggles have that we don't? You mentioned divorce, right? Well, let's test that. Hey, Fred, George, do you know what divorce is?" he asked the Weasley twins sitting there.

"Ahem, no idea, Harry," said George confused. "What is that? Is it some kind of cure for a disease?"

"Aha!" said Hermione triumphantly. "See? They don't even know what it is. This proves that –"

"– divorce doesn't exist in the magical world," finished Harry calmly. "Do you know why, Granger? It's because unlike Muggle marriages, in the case of witches and wizards, the husband and wife are bonded for life. To those who don't know, divorce is a Muggle term that describes a situation where a husband and wife split after marriage and go their separate ways. You see, Granger? They're disgusted to even hear of such a thing. That's because when two people are married through blessings of Magic, it creates a sacred bond between them. They don't cheat on each other; they don't feel the need to divorce the other. Whatever we do, we have a reason. There's a similar bond between parents and their children as well. As for Polygamy, if you're interested to know, has not been seen in our world for a hundred years. It exists only in law, in case the heads of families decide to marry another to continue their line or in case people marry for love."

"The Ancient and Noble House system is archaic," said Hermione stubbornly. "It shows the magical world isn't democratic like the Muggle world. This clearly discriminates Muggle-borns as they don't have access to such influence as the Ancient Houses. We Muggle-borns face so much prosecution and we don't get high position jobs!"

"Oh, give me a break!" said Harry through gritted teeth. "Just what is it with you wanting to bring more of the Muggle world into everything? Get your facts straight Granger. Elected representatives and Magical governments have existed for much longer when Muggles were still struggling with corrupt monarchy. The Ancient Houses exist for a reason. The Most Ancient Houses are those families who were appointed by King Arthur to take care of the welfare of the British magical community nearly fifteen hundred years ago. Since King Arthur was the last magical king, we had to govern ourselves. Newer families were introduced, creating the Ancient and Noble Houses and a few centuries later, the Noble Houses. They were the ones who founded the magical governments and enacted all those laws in the first place; they were the ones to introduce the concept of elected representatives and thus, for all the work they have done, they have hereditary seats. This system of governance exists not only in Magical Britain but all over the world. Everything is regulated by the International Confederation of Wizards!"

"In our Ministry of Magic, the Wizengamot is comprised of Ancient and Noble Houses, Ministry department heads, those who are young and elderly alike, holders of Orders of Merlin and the remaining nearly half of them are elected by the people! Even being the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House isn't easy. While no one can deny us the seat, just because we were born in the family doesn't give us the right to sit there. We are evaluated by a panel of Wizengamot members who test our knowledge about magical law and if we're worthy to sit there for legislative and judicial sessions. I'm not saying those in the nobility aren't privileged, but if the society had equal standing for all its citizens, then there would be no chaos at all; unfortunately, such a society is but a distant dream."

"You mentioned Muggle-borns and their rights," said Harry, cutting off Granger who wanted to speak. "Do you realise that you're talking to the son of a Muggle-born? I'm a half-blood myself. Who told you that Muggle-borns don't get top jobs? I can give you the names of five elected members of the Wizengamot who are Muggle-borns. My mother was an Unspeakable when she was alive, and she was a Muggle-born. Dirk Cresswell, the newest Head of the Goblin Liaison Office is a Muggle-born. Twenty-five per cent of the Ministry workers are Muggle-borns. Are you saying that they aren't successful?"

"Why, have you heard of Miller's Magic Mirrors? Of course, you have. The proprietor is Serena Miller, a Muggle-born! She was named the Businesswoman of the Year in the International Magical Business Magazine and has received several awards globally and was also awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, by our Ministry of Magic. So, tell me, in which sense are we barbaric?" he sneered at the last word. "Atlantis was a thriving magical city thousands of years ago while the Muggle world was still developing rudimentary huts. Stop judging the magical world by your knowledge of the Muggle world! They're completely different! We believe the laws of Mother Magic should –"

"Mother Magic?" snickered Hermione triumphantly, as if her theory of wizards not having an ounce of logic was validated. "Now that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Magic is just a tool which can be used –"

"SHUT UP!" hissed Harry furiously in Parseltongue, losing control for the first time while other purebloods too shouted in outrage. "This is what we don't like! You were introduced to the magical world just three years ago, and you're already spitting on our traditions and beliefs which have existed for thousands and thousands of years! For Merlin's sake Granger, stop trying to convert the magical world to your so-called advanced Muggle standards! We don't want it! I'm not saying that we are perfect; yes, there is widespread corruption; yes, there is stagnation, yes, there are dangerous Dark Lords in the society, and yes, Muggle-borns do face scorn, but this is the reason for it! You enter into our world, spit on our beliefs and try to change who we are! And no one likes that!"

"You are still thinking like a Muggle, which is why you can't see it from our point of view," spat Harry accusingly. "You say that we have slaves. Have you forgotten, Granger, that you had human slaves until fifty years ago? Didn't different Muggle countries colonise different parts of the world and subjugate the natives or even eliminate them? Where were your morals then, Granger? You keep spitting on us while saying that the Muggle world is advanced. Let me tell you that until about a hundred or hundred and fifty years ago, the Muggles had nothing! It was only because of the two World Wars that made you start developing all sorts of technology. Do you think what you have done is advanced?"

"Fifty years of development will not equal the development that was present in the magical world five thousand years ago! Go to the library and read more books on magical history and you'll soon come to the same conclusion. It is because of people like you that the rest of the Muggle-borns face scorn even if they adjust to our society. Do you want to complain about discrimination? Of course, there would be discrimination if you act like this!"

"Do you think the Japanese would treat you well if you go to Japan and start spitting on their traditions and culture? The same applies here. You are essentially entering a new country. Just because we also go by the name of Britain and Ireland does not mean it is the same. There is a reason we are called citizens of Magical Britain and Ireland; this is Avalon, not the United Kingdom! We are a separate country and thus not answerable to anyone in the Muggle government, just like every other magical country in the world. We are not asking you to follow our traditions, Granger, but you have to learn to respect them since you are now a citizen of Avalon!"

Taking a deep breath, Harry centred himself, trying to control his emotions. After a minute, his impassive mask was back in place, but his eyes were still a shade of blackish-green. He saw that Hermione was still glaring at him and that no one in the common room was speaking a word. Supremely unconcerned, Harry turned around, with Daphne taking his hand in hers comfortingly and the two of them walked out of the tower.

Pandemonium ensued as nearly everyone in the common room was shooting filthy looks at one Hermione Granger.

Backward ... barbaric ... archaic ... magic is just a tool to be used...

Those words echoed in the minds of every witch and wizard present in Gryffindor Tower.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

"You okay?" whispered Dylan as they stood outside the castle on the thirtieth of October, waiting for the delegations of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to arrive.

"I'm fine," said Harry quietly, but he didn't mention that he had been training like a madman over the past month. The meeting with Hermione Granger had shaken him to the core. She was arrogant and bigoted, not to mention self-righteous. He would readily agree that he did not think highly of Muggles, but he was not a citizen of Muggle Britain and had not entered the Muggle world since the age of seven. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was a citizen of Magical Britain and for her to speak like that brought warning bells to Harry. There was no telling what she might do if she thought she was doing the right thing without realising the consequences of her actions. She was dangerous but no one else would agree with him.

Harry involuntary shivered when he thought about the scenario of Muggles knowing the existence of magic. It would be the end of the world because Muggles would never accept magic in their lives. That was the reason the International Statute of Secrecy was imposed in the first place and why it was so strictly enforced. He remembered reading about some of the Muggle-loving wizards wanting to help during the First World War. If another war breaks out in the Muggle world, it was people like Hermione Granger who posed a danger to the society. She would simply act, wanting to protect those Muggles from destroying themselves, using magic in the process. If magic was exposed to them, they would destroy witches and wizards along with each other. He was not speculating; history over millennia provided them with infinite evidence – history which Muggles did not have access to.

He only hoped such a situation never occurs in the future. The magical world had enough problems without the Muggles being one of them.

The confrontation with Hermione Granger had spread throughout the school like Fiendfyre. Harry actually expected a massive backlash, but there wasn't one – towards him, at least; not that much, anyway. Harry was right; no one wanted to give up their traditions and beliefs even if they were pro-Muggle. The Gryffindors had not forgotten the words Granger had used to describe them – backward, barbaric, archaic, and word had quickly spread throughout the school.

Even some of the teachers had grown cold towards her and Snape was actually being nastier than ever, docking points from Gryffindor every chance he could get. Draco Malfoy had loudly started talking about 'Mudbloods' until Harry had dressed him down verbally and transfigured him into an albino ferret in the middle of the Great Hall for insulting all Muggle-borns. He had gotten detention for it, not to mention had to endure Professor McGonagall loudly berating him for using Transfiguration on another student, but it had been worth it. Harry was a half-blood himself and he wouldn't take such insults to the general Muggle-born population lying down. Blind bigotry of the Death Eaters was something he did not agree with.

"So, any information on who's going to enter the tournament?" asked Harry.

"The Hufflepuffs are all talking about Cedric Diggory," replied Dylan. "The Ravenclaws don't have a strong candidate and even though you are a seventh-year student, I doubt you can enter because of what you said about the tournament's magical contract. The Gryffindors also don't have anyone strong and neither do the Slytherins."

"Diggory?" asked Harry, frowning slightly. "Yeah, I shared classes with him for two terms. He's a smart bloke, from what I remember. Maybe he'll do a good job, who knows? He could surprise us."

"What did Dumbledore want with you?"

"Oh, the usual," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "He heard about my confrontation with Granger and decided to instil the virtues of Muggles. He said that they are a fascinating race and that we must learn to be more like them. He also said that I should learn to forgive and forget."

Dylan cringed. "I bet you didn't take that rather well," he said.

Harry snorted. "You think? I told him to bugger off and walked out of his office. I have an aversion to dragon dung and Dumbledore produces it in bulk. He accused me of going dark and I was quite curious as to why he ever thought I was a so-called light wizard."

Dylan burst out laughing. Soon, the delegations of the two schools arrived and they were led inside the castle. Harry sat down next to Dylan as he listened to Dumbledore's speech, even though his mind was drifting. Schooling his features, his face was back to its expressionless self as the food appeared.

"Is that French food?" asked Dylan curiously.

"Yes," said Harry. "You might want to try it; I certainly enjoyed it during my trip to France two years ago."

The Great Hall looked a lot more crowded than usual, which it was. There were about two hundred students from the two foreign schools put together and they were sitting at all four House tables. Unknown to Harry, several of the new female students were staring at him unashamedly. While Harry wasn't vain, there was no denying the fact that he was the best-looking male at Hogwarts. When his gaze drifted to the Slytherin table, his eye twitched in annoyance as he observed several of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang boys eyeing Daphne, a few brave ones actually flirting with her.

Daphne felt someone staring at her. She smirked as she saw Harry looking at her, his anger –and dare she say it, jealousy – barely concealed to her. Wanting to nip things in the bud before Harry actually killed someone – she had no doubt he was capable of doing it and was already considering it – she winked at him and subtly blew him a kiss. She snorted in amusement when she saw the pleased look on Harry's face as he went back to his dinner. Sitting beside him, Dylan was covering his mouth with his hands, laughing his arse off.

"Shut up, Dylan," muttered Harry, cuffing the boy on the head.

At that moment, a musical voice said, "Excuse me, but may I take the bouillabaisse?"

"Of course," said Harry, not reacting to the silvery blonde haired beauty in front of him. As far as he was concerned, the dark blonde haired beauty sitting at the Slytherin table was more beautiful than any Veela in the world and nothing or no one would change that.

Of course, it wouldn't hurt to look ...

"You have finished with it?" asked as the beautiful girl, smiling flirtatiously at him, wondering if the handsome boy in front of her was resistant to her allure. She noticed that his emerald green eyes did soften, so maybe he wasn't completely impervious to it.

"It's not my favourite dish, so you can have it," said Harry with a small smile. "But the Crème Brulee has my name written on it, sorry."

"Oh, that's quite alright," she said smiling widely. Extending her hand, she said, "I'm Fleur Delacour."

"Charmed, Ms Delacour," said Harry, taking her hand to kiss her knuckles. "I'm Harry Potter and this is my brother Dylan Lestrange."

"It is a pleasure to meet you both," said Fleur happily. "I have to get back to my friends. I hope to see you later."

"Of course," said Harry, turning back to his food.

"You are in so much trouble," muttered Dylan.

"Why do you say that?"

"Daphne."

Harry subtly cast a glance at his fiancée. Even though her face was not showing it, her deep blue eyes were glaring daggers at Fleur Delacour. Smirking slightly, he too blew her a kiss, making Daphne smile back at him slightly, though it looked somewhat forced.

Many boys in the Great Hall were gaping at what had just happened. Ron Weasley's eyes were glazed slightly as he glared hatefully at Harry. Just as the desserts were cleared, Harry saw Sirius enter the Hall along with Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman.

"What is Uncle Sirius doing here?" asked Dylan curiously.

"He's the Minister of Magic of the host country," Harry shrugged. "It's expected that he be here. Dumbledore is actually not only the Headmaster of the host school, but also the Supreme Mugwump of the I.C.W. He is representing the Confederation because they were the ones who organised the event."

"Before we begin," said Dumbledore standing up, "let me introduce you to our new arrivals. First, we have Mr Bartemius Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Mr Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of the Magical Games and Sports. We also have with us today Lord Sirius Black, the Minister of Magic of Magical Britain and Ireland."

Thunderous applause greeted Sirius as he stood up, smiling at them. "Madam Maxime, Professor Karkaroff and I will be judging the three tasks along with two other randomly chosen representatives of the International Confederation," said Dumbledore. "We will be judging the champions' efforts in participating in the tasks."

Dumbledore then tapped his wand at a casket, making the wood around it melt, revealing a large, handsome goblet. The brim of the goblet was full of dancing blue flames.

"Anyone who wishes to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly on a sheet of parchment and drop it in the Goblet of Fire," explained Dumbledore. "To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

After the feast was done, Dumbledore dismissed them and everyone headed to their respective dormitories. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students returned to their carriage and ship too. Nobody could stop talking about the tournament and champions.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

The next day, once Harry finished his morning run and shower, he made his way to the Great Hall, only for Dylan to grab his arm and drag him over to the Slytherin table.

"Let me guess," said Harry wryly. "You got a mirror call from Daphne last night and you are under orders to ensure that no girl flirts with me? She's turned you into her minion!"

"Any news on who entered their names yet?" asked Dylan, looking around at the group, ignoring his brother.

"Not yet, though a few of the seventh year Slytherins did it early this morning," said Theo as he helped himself to breakfast.

"Makes sense," said Blaise as he sat down. "You wouldn't want an audience when it happens. Angelina Johnson from Gryffindor put her name in and the Hufflepuffs are chanting Diggory's name as though he is Merlin himself," he finished in disgust.

"Did you find anything?" asked Daphne quietly.

"Her name is Fleur Delacour," said Astoria, ignoring the boys as she spoke to her sister softly. "Daughter of Jean-Luc Delacour, the Head of the Department of International Relations of the French Ministry of Magic. He's married to a Veela, I'm told, which explains her allure."

"That's very rare," observed Daphne. "Veela, male or female, don't usually intermarry with witches and wizards, choosing to keep themselves separate."

Astoria shrugged. "She's the top student of her year at Beauxbatons, so she might be a champion. She is adored by the boys for obvious reasons, but the girls, not so much, though she does have several friends."

"Interesting," muttered Daphne.

Once they finished breakfast, Dylan and Astoria went off to the library but Harry dragged Daphne to the Room of Requirement. Once inside, he pinned her to the wall and kissed her lovingly and passionately.

"You know that I love you more than anyone in the world, right?" he breathed, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Of course I know that," said Daphne softly, not meeting his eyes. "And you should know that I love you too, but –"

"Then, in that case, please trust me when I say that you are my one and only," said Harry as he tilted her chin up, locking eyes with her. "No one can compare to you, Daphne."

"She clearly has her sights on you. Not just Delacour, but several other girls as well. They're all waiting in line to get to you. Is it wrong of me to be scared of losing you to them? How do I compete with her?"

"Daphne, why do you think this is a competition? Even if it were, you've already won. You managed to capture my heart and make me fall irrevocably in love with you. So what is she has Veela blood in her? It's her nature! We can't blame her for that. Even so, why would I be attracted to them when I have you, someone who is more beautiful than all the Veela in the world combined?"

Daphne looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes. The warmth displayed in Harry's eyes made her heart beat faster. Wrapping her arms around him, she melted into the hug, her head under his chin as she listened to his heartbeat.

"I can't begin to describe how much I love you," she said softly. "That's why I'm scared."

Harry closed his eyes as he placed a kiss on the top of her head as they stayed there together, enjoying the silence and comfort the other offered.

"I love you too. Never forget that."

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

People were quite nervous that night, going by the fact that they didn't even take second helpings of dessert. Once the golden plates and cutlery were cleared, Dumbledore stood up and there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise as people began whispering excitedly. Minister Black was present, along with the Triwizard Committee of the I.C.W., Mr Crouch, Mr Bagman, Madam Maxime and Professor Karkaroff. There was also the staff of Hogwarts and the teachers of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang who had come with the students. The media was also present. One reporter from each major magical publication was allowed, so that had a half a dozen reporters from Britain and abroad being present. The reporter of the Magical Daily had the recording crystal suspended in mid-air so that witches and wizards could watch the live telecast.

The flames in the goblet turned red suddenly. Sparks began to fly and a tongue of flame rushed out of the goblet, spitting out a piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught the parchment and said, "The champion for Durmstrang is Victor Krum!"

Thunderous applause greeted this declaration as the International Quidditch star stood up and walked to the chamber off the Great Hall. The goblet released another tongue of flame along with a parchment.

"The champion of Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour," shouted Dumbledore.

The applause was not as great as Victor's but it was still deafening. The anticipation in the hall was palpable when the third slip of parchment flew out. "The Hogwarts champion is," said Dumbledore, "Cedric Diggory!"

All the students at the Hufflepuff table stood up in celebration as Cedric went to the Headmaster, grinning widely.

Harry's eyes twinkled in amusement. The other three Houses were clapping loudly too, but he could see some of the Gryffindors and Slytherins look aghast. He was actually pleased with the outcome. Hufflepuff rarely got a chance to shine and this was their moment. Amelia Black was another exemplary Hufflepuff, so there could be a chance that Cedric might shine in –

"Harry Potter."

Harry's head snapped up, blinking in confusion. In the midst of the celebration, he had not listened to Dumbledore's speech being interrupted or the Goblet of Fire turning red for the fourth time, spitting out another piece of parchment.

"HARRY POTTER!" shouted Dumbledore, holding the slip in his hand.

Sirius looked half-scared and half-outraged. People all over began looking at him and whispering. Harry himself had a look of utter shock on his otherwise impassive face.

"Harry, you need to go," urged Dylan.

"What the hell is going on here?" asked Harry, his eyes narrowing.

"You'll never find out if you stay here. Go on!"

Harry slowly got up, his eyes darkening, glowing a shade of blackish-green, his fear and fury making it difficult to think. He heard someone shout 'cheat' but did not care. He stared at Dumbledore, promising eternal pain if he did not explain himself. Dumbledore, for that matter, had a look of shock on his face himself.

"Go on in, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, giving him the slip of parchment.

Harry took it and checked the handwriting. There was no doubt about it. His name was written in his distinctively neat cursive writing. Clenching his fists, he left the Great Hall, the sound of his long strides echoing off the walls.