Chapter 8: Same Old Evasions 1/4

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction. I will also add that any sections or phrases in this chapter that bear resemblance to works by either author or from movies based on works of said authors is recreated in the same spirit of free usage and is not for profit.

A/N: Another slower-than-ideal update. What can I say? Writer's block is a curse. I hope this update, longer than the last chapter by a fair bit, will suffice as an apology for the continual delays.

As I have in the past, I want to thank my readers for their continued support and reviews that have helped to reinvigorate me and my writing. Spiral of Destiny and the Soul Siblings in particular have helped coach me through this latest block with patience and generosity.

To avoid rambling too much, I think I will just leave you with the chapter and wish you all a Happy New Year (belatedly).

I hope you enjoy.

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(Last Time)

Draco looked up at the head of the room, his focus having been on Gaara for the past minute or two, and he realised that Dumbledore was about to commence the ceremony. Gaara silently took his seat at Draco's side and the platinum blond let out his impotent breath and tried to quell the rage-induced headache he could feel coming on.

Screaming at Gaara would have to wait until this was over, since. While Draco was content to let Slytherin hear Gaara's bollocking, he was not yet ready to air their dirty laundry in front of the collected British press.

Draco couldn't be sure, but he was beginning to think that Gaara had somehow timed his entry to coincide with the arrival of the reporters and Minister Fudge.

With the ensuing ruckus, Draco's attention was reluctantly called to proceedings happening at the end of the Hall, but the thought still remained in the back of his mind: Gaara lied to him again.

He would have to make sure Gaara did not sneak away at the end of the ceremony.

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The press gathered in the Great Hall seemed to be even more populous than the night before. Evidently the selection of the Champions promised even greater public interest and wider circulation than the opening ceremony had.

From the reporters' good behaviour, it was apparent that they knew just how profitable these events were for their papers and that getting evicted would be disastrous for their careers. That said… that didn't stop one of them pushing boundaries and trying to sneak back into the castle.

Whatever he had been looking to find, his expulsion from the event served to remind the rest themselves.

Proceedings began with less pomp than the previous night, Fudge taking to the stage with less fanfare, only to grandly declare, "Now, I would like to welcome all of you here tonight and remind you that I, like you, am only here to watch tonight's selection ceremony. The Minister for Magic has no official function for this part of the Tournament, so please pay me no mind and focus your attentions on our hosts, the wonderful staff of Hogwarts."

The self-importance of Fudge's statement was not lost on anybody, nor was his lingering on the stage for every second he could manage before ceding it to Dumbledore.

Every photograph taken while he was still in pride of place was worth the humiliation of the obvious publicity manoeuvre. The pictures would show him in charge, controlling events, and nobody would care it was in appearance only.

Dumbledore didn't bother politely clapping as Cornelius left the stage. The charade was difficult enough to maintain without applauding the man that was causing all of this.

Ludo Bagman joined him on the stage, and between them they reiterated the course of the Tournament and the specifics of tonight's proceedings. The press, those who had not been present the night before, scribbled down this information before Dumbledore finished and kicked the event off officially.

Gone were the speeches and levity, what little there was to be found of it last night, and instead Albus checked his fob watch and at the strike of the twenty-fourth hour since the opening ceremony, he stepped back and watched.

At that precise moment, the Goblet flared to life with blue flames burning upwards until they burst, and from the flare fell a scorched scrap of parchment. Dumbledore snatched it out of the air with agility belying his years, read the name scrawled upon it, and called out: "The first Champion for Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Fleur Delacour."

A young witch of some renown, Albus had high hopes for her. If all of the Champions were as strong as she was purported to be, he might finally get a full night's sleep.

The applause rose as the Beauxbatons students and a great many Hogwarts denizens celebrated the first selection. Albus wryly noted that the majority of the Hogwarts celebrants were males, presumably encouraged by Miss Delacour's beauty and magical lineage. Minerva was already sneering at her lions' lack of restraint.

Fleur thanked those closest to her for their immediate support and approached the head of the Hall. Her path to the back entrance was briefly impeded by the writhing mass of reporters, all fighting for the opportunity to ask her the first question.

Fortunately, she was more than capable of dodging her way through them. She wondered if this might be the first test, as she shoulder-checked a reporter who asked her a rude question and barged her way onto the stage.

Fudge likewise pushed his way to the front of the stage to stand beside Dumbledore and be featured in the first pictures of the first Champion. The photo opportunity lasted only a moment before Fleur was guided to the back entrance and she disappeared from view.

The reporters, having failed to get any of their questions answered, commenced interrogating the adults on stage, particularly Madam Maxine even though she was ignoring the clamour and still politely clapping for her pupil.

The Goblet sparked up again, reminding the Hall who or what was truly running the event, and the din died down again to hear the next name. Just like before, a piece of parchment was spat out of the fire and caught by Dumbledore.

The newspapers over the next week would dissect this evening, particularly this moment, with such scrutiny that Albus Dumbledore's fast reflexes in catching the parchment would prompt no fewer than six separate articles discussing his history as a Quidditch player and fan. This was despite the salient fact that he had never actually played Quidditch for a team and had rarely if ever spoken publically about his support for the sport.

All in all, they were still not the least substantial articles to be published that November.

Dumbledore lifted the scrap into view, his aged eyes requiring close proximity in the dim light, and after a pause to double-check the name before him, called out, "The Champion for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be… Gaara!"

The immediate celebratory applause for the Champion representing the host school was even more rapturous than the first Champion's had been. The majority of the student body were not surprised by this selection, having seen just how powerful the redhead was during the attack last year.

Even Harry, Hermione and Ron weren't totally shocked, beyond the fact that he had entered in the first place. Ron might have said something along the lines of no Slytherin being brave enough to be a Champion, even one as strong as Gaara, but his voice was lost in the noise.

Unlike Madam Maxine's demure smile when Fleur had been selected, Dumbledore's face betrayed no happiness at all. Luckily, cameras and eyes were not on the headmaster at that moment, instead they were all on Gaara as he stood. His blank face contrasted quite comically against Draco's gaping mouth in a number of the photos that made it into the papers the next day.

For once in his life, Draco was less concerned about his appearance, in the international press, no less.

In fact, at that moment, Draco was not concerned about anything at all. Such a series of shocks to his system had left him so aghast, all of his higher functions were on standby for the time being.

Gaara glanced back to check on his friend before proceeding to the waiting room. When Draco recovered his senses, he was going be angrier than Temari the time Kankuro had convinced him to steal the contents of a bank when they were passing through southern Hi no Kuni. Kankuro had told him it was a mission requirement to gather all of the money.

When Temari found out, a factor Kankuro had not anticipated, she was livid at the puppeteer and they had to return all of it to the bank before Konoha dispatched shinobi to hunt them down. Gaara had broken Kankuro's arm and would have gone further had Baki not intervened.

He had learned on that early mission never to listen to Kankuro. Kankuro had learned not to try to use his little brother to get rich quick.

Temari had learned not to leave her two idiot little brothers alone together.

Gaara gave the table a wide birth as he circled around them, trying to avoid the excited back-slaps a few were trying to give him. The noise was bad enough without the overzealous physical contact.

Dodging through the contemptible gaggle of reporters was easier for him that it had been for the comparably taller Fleur. Gaara had seldom needed to dart his way through a tight-knit crowd of civilians before; as a matter of fact, he was more used to crowds parting as soon as he walked towards them.

As he broke through to the other side, he was thankful he had brought only the smallest quantity of sand; his cumbersome, full gourd would have made that manoeuvre so much more difficult.

Gaara was blocked from walking straight to the back entrance by Ludo Bagman, who corralled him to the front of the stage for a couple of pictures of his scowling face next to Dumbledore's uncharacteristically sombre one.

Fudge did not force his way into any pictures this time, instead staying well back until Gaara was released to join Fleur.

It was clear that Gaara was eager to escape the stage and that made many onlookers wonder what could have possessed someone so averse to the limelight to enter into a tournament that ensured fame and public scrutiny. Then again, nobody knew much of anything about Gaara, not even his surname, so this latest peculiarity was dismissed as another of his quirks.

It was only as Gaara's bright red head finally disappeared into the trophy room that the concerned compatriots around Draco were able to rouse him from his stupor. They had watched his quiet meltdown impotently, never normally feeling confident enough to interject in the dealings between the unusually close friends.

After his gaping mouth snapped shut and he came back to senses, they heard him make a loud groan and watched as he scrunched his eyes shut in dire consternation.

Draco was developing a terrible stomach ache. He rubbed his eyes to try and ease some of the intense anger he was feeling. It didn't work.

"Are you alright?" Someone to his left said.

He didn't bother checking who had spoken, nor could he bring himself to respond beyond an aggrieved "I'm fine." He had absolutely no intention of talking about his feelings, especially not those stemming from Gaara's latest betrayal.

As his stomach pains were joined by a throbbing headache, no doubt exacerbated by the continuing loud celebrations from all around the Hall, Draco wished dearly that there were a way for him to subtly excuse himself. Instead, he would have to endure the entire evening before he could go and lie down.

Gaara could hear the overlong applause quieten from inside the Trophy Room. The Delacour girl had been pacing when he entered and had yet to pause. Beyond that, Gaara was happy to ignore her. They were in competition, after all, so he did not wish to become too familiar with her or the Durmstrang contender.

Now that he was in closer proximity, Gaara thought he understood a little better why Draco (and almost every other boy in Hogwarts) had been making such a fuss over the blonde-haired girl after she arrived yesterday. She was indeed rather attractive, by most conventional standards of beauty that Gaara understood.

With this positive assessment, Gaara began to wonder if this meant he was attracted to her.

After a few moments of consideration, outside of the objective aesthetic appreciation, he decided he did not feel anything about her at all. Certainly nothing approaching either of the vague (and vastly divergent) descriptions of attraction that his siblings had furnished him with when the subject had come up.

Having someone like Temari around would have been very helpful in these circumstances. Kankuro would have just teased him or ogled Miss Delacour until she was forced to leave the room.

The door slammed open at the top of the stairs and down came Viktor Krum, who offered only nods to his fellow Champions. Considering how confident and sociable the pair of older students had seemed before then, Gaara assumed this current stand-off was the result of nerves or competitiveness.

While Gaara was still dwelling on the behaviour of his fellow Champions without looking at either of them, Fleur had swerved out of her pacing and marched over to Krum to properly introduce herself.

They exchanged shallow pleasantries and together approached Gaara. It was only after they stood all together that the age (and height) difference became entirely apparent.

"I did not think we would be meeting again so soon." Krum said by way of a greeting.

"We have not been properly introduced. I am Fleur Delacour. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She said in even more heavily accented English than Krum's. She offered her hand to Gaara and he looked at it. It was in the same position as Narcissa's was, so he was supposed to kiss the knuckle for some reason.

Expert at this manoeuvre now, Gaara waited until the hand was retracted and then nodded his greeting. "Gaara."

"You were quite the sensation this summer. We heard all about you in France." She spoke with a gentle smile that Gaara assumed was supposed to be reassuring or encouraging.

"Yes, despite your age, I believe Hogwarts has selected a worthy Champion." Krum added.

Gaara hoped this friendliness did not last too much longer. He was unaccustomed to competition, particularly those with friendly rivalries. Truth be told, right now, he would be more comfortable if somebody would threaten to kill him.

Or at least do something so he could threaten to kill them.

The Champions heard a loud but muffled shout from the Hall and then more commotion.

"I wonder what we are missing." Fleur said, distracted from Gaara's rudeness.

"Probably your Minister again trying to draw attention to himself." Krum said with a wry smile.

"He is not my Minister. This is not my country." Gaara said irritably.

"I have heard this but not where you come from." Krum continued.

"Our newspapers made many guesses but I do not know this either." Fleur agreed.

The much taller pair loomed over Gaara expectantly but it was thanks to the door opening again that Gaara did not have to resort to even less polite methods to avoid answering the familiar questions.

Down the stairs came Harry Potter, looking almost as pale as Gaara, and decidedly queasier. Fleur was quick to ask what message Harry had been sent to deliver, but Gaara knew Harry well enough by now to see how out of sorts he looked.

Fleur asked the question again and then Viktor gave it a try, both becoming snappish when the fifteen year-old failed to respond. Before Gaara could interrupt the interrogation to ascertain why Harry was really there, if only to allay the concern already mounting within him, a group of adults barged in to the trophy room in a less than dignified manner.

The ruckus the grown men and women caused as they stormed in made Gaara wonder whether the true curse of the Jinchūriki was not the demon inside of them, or the persecution resulting, but the inevitable drama that followed them, to different worlds, no less. Even something as convoluted as a deadly tournament for schoolchildren had somehow been subverted and become more troublesome.

The specifics of this subversion weren't clear to Gaara or the two older Champions with him. There was perhaps an obvious conclusion to be drawn but it seemed so ludicrous, that an event with three in the title could have a fourth participant…

Fudge was visibly furious as he marched erratically around the room, ranting about how things had already gone awry.

Even as he glared at Harry and circled around him, he maintained a respectable distance from the apparent cause of his fury. This was not in appreciation of Harry being but a boy or most likely blameless in whatever had happened, it was because Fudge did not want to get any closer to Gaara than he was already, and Gaara happened to be stood right next to Harry.

"How did you do it!? That's what I want to know. And how did he get it past your professors, Dumbledore!?" Fudge ranted. "That is, if he wasn't helped by those so-called guards."

"We both know that wasn't the case, Cornelius. And I'm afraid Mr Potter would not know where to begin to confound an artefact as ancient and powerful as the Goblet." Dumbledore reasoned calmly.

Harry did not appreciate being called ignorant by his headmaster, but the last thing he wanted to do now was draw attention to himself by defending his intellect. Especially because his ignorance was apparently his best defence against the accusations being levelled at him.

"Surely we cannot be expected to take you at you word, Headmaster Dumblydore?" Madam Maxine argued, her face pulled in such a way as to express her composed displeasure.

"Agreed. This will benefit only your school. You are the only one with motive to do this." Karakoff added.

Gaara had cottoned on to what had happened and what deeply concerned. He looked to Dumbledore for answers, searching for some sign of deceit on his wrinkled face. Had Dumbledore made another deal with Potter? Then again, why would he? The whole purpose of entering Gaara had supposedly been to prevent other students from entering and getting hurt, as Potter likely would if he was allowed in.

"We do not yet know precisely what has been done, but Headmaster Karakoff does raise an important point. Who might have motive to force Mr Potter into the Tournament?" Dumbledore said.

"Force?"

Eyes that had been locked on each other, the adult population of the room and the other Champions, all turned to look at Gaara.

"What?" Fudge asked.

"He said forced. Potter could just quit." Gaara said. Sure, it was concerning that somebody had tried to sabotage the Tournament but no actual harm had been done yet.

"Yes, I want to quit." Harry piped up, still looking ashen but with a glimpse of hope.

"It is a magically binding contract. Mr Potter's name has been entered into the Triwizard Tournament and he is magically bound to participate." Crouch said.

"This is ridiculous." Fudge declared, and most of the room agreed.

"I didn't enter!" Harry asserted but few of the adults seemed to believe him.

"Regardless, I'm afraid Bartemius is correct. The Goblet has accepted Harry's name so it must believe it is he who entered, regardless of the true circumstances of that entry." Dumbledore said gravely. "I fully believe that Mr Potter did not have any part in entering his name into the Goblet, but the magic of the Goblet is powerful and not to be trifled with. That someone else has already manipulated it makes this situation all the more perilous. Trying to break the contract would be very dangerous, and for none more than Mr Potter."

"Disqualify him, then!" Karakoff demanded.

Gaara did not like the Dumrstrang headmaster, but he had to admit he liked the idea.

"Not on your life! Disqualifying him would shame him in our society for life. All over the world!" McGongall said. Harry had not even realised she was in here. The wall of adults in front of him was so densely packed together, deciding his future (or lack thereof) that he did not know who else was in the Trophy Room.

"Better shamed than dead, surely." Maxine said and Harry again found himself in agreement with the people calling him a liar.

"And make a mockery of this Tournament?" Fudge said.

"More of a mockery than it is already?" Karakoff asked.

The bickering continued without any further input from Harry or from Gaara, and Fleur and Viktor continued to watch the drama unfold.

The adults all shouted and argued away, and they all huddled together to face one another, so that left Harry and Gaara alone.

"Sirius is going to be really upset with us." Harry whispered, sounding miserable.

Gaara nodded, imagining the tantrum Sirius would throw. Bad enough Gaara had lied to him, now Potter was wrapped up in it too.

"Gaara, you have to believe me. I didn't put my name in." Harry turned to Gaara, desperate to convince someone of his total innocence.

"I did not think you had." Gaara said simply, only glancing at Harry before continuing to concentrate on the ongoing debate.

"What? Really?"

Gaara did not turn to see Harry's appreciation, nor did he answer. Harry was many (annoying things) but he did not seek attention enough to have entered the Tournament.

"He believes very easily." Fleur all but whispered to Viktor beside her.

"He is young." Viktor said. "And they might be working together."

"I did not get that impression."