Dealing with Danger
Chapter 35: Another Man's Poison (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 35: Another Man’s Poison
"You’d better go up to the hospital wing," said Hermione worriedly, looking at the burn on Harry’s hand as they crossed the lawns. "Honestly, I don’t know what Hagrid sees in those things... where did he even get them?"
"Don’t know," said Harry, putting his hand carefully into his pocket to keep it warm. "I’ve never heard of them before, and neither has Moony, or Luna’s dad, she wrote and asked him."
"What’s everyone looking at?" said Draco as the Gryffindors came into the entrance hall, seeing a crowd gathered around a notice board.
"Hang on." Ron stood on his toes and peered over people’s heads. "New notice," he said.
"We knew that," said Harry. "What’s it about? First Hogsmeade weekend?"
"That wouldn’t get everyone so worked up," said Neville. "Maybe it’s something about the Triwizard Tournament."
"Uh-huh," said Ron absently, squirming around to try to get a bit more height. "There, I can see it now. ‘The delegations from Bee-ox-battons...’"
"Beauxbatons," said Hermione.
"Yeah, that. ‘...and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.’"
"Lessons end half an hour early?" Neville repeated. "I like that. Less Snape is always good."
"Less time for Snape to poison us is definitely good," said Ron.
"Oh, come on, he’s not actually going to let anything happen to us," said Draco.
"Fine, you can take my turn getting poisoned," said Harry, starting towards the stairs. "Oops — sorry, Ernie."
"Quite all right, Harry. You’ve seen, then? Only a week until they arrive... who’s planning on entering from Gryffindor?"
"Don’t know," said Harry, shrugging. "Fred and George aren’t old enough yet. They’re trying to think up ways to beat whatever Dumbledore’s going to do to keep underage wizards out, but I don’t think they’ll be able to manage it."
"Cedric Diggory’s entering for us," said Ernie. "I’m on my way to tell him about this now, I don’t think he’ll have seen it yet..."
"Diggory?" Ron repeated in tones of disgust as Ernie disappeared through the door leading to the kitchens. "Diggory, Hogwarts champion?"
"He’d be all right," said Harry, hoisting his bag a little higher and heading up the stairs.
"He’s an idiot!"
Draco snorted. "You should talk."
"Not on the stairs," said Hermione wearily, dropping back a step or two to keep Ron from throttling Draco. "Wait until we get to the hospital wing."
Neville chuckled. "Then Madam Pomfrey can give you Anti-Aggression Potions."
"Anti-what?" said Ron, distracted from his quest to get around Hermione at Draco.
"Meghan told me about them the other day. They’re like modified love potions that make you love the entire world. That way you don’t want to fight with anyone. You want to hug them instead."
Harry glanced over his shoulder and grinned to see identical looks of disgust on Ron’s and Draco’s faces. He stopped, letting them go past him. "You made that up," he said quietly to Neville.
Neville shrugged. "So?"
"Anything that stops them from fighting is worth it," said Hermione, watching the two retreating backs in front of them. "There are days I’m tempted to Imperius Ron into behaving like a human being."
Harry snickered a bit at the thought of Ron under Hermione’s Imperius. "Be fair, Hermione, Draco started this one."
"I know, but he’s harder to Imperius. Come on, just standing here won’t get your hand seen to."
xXxXx
Neville stood outside the door of the Charms classroom, listening. The bell had rung not too long before, and there was the usual chatter of a class newly freed from drudgery. The words "Tournament," "Beauxbatons," and "Durmstrang" were much in evidence, as they should be, since the other schools’ delegations arrived tonight. But Neville was listening for one voice in particular...
A silvery laugh chimed out clearly over the noise of the voices, and Neville gritted his teeth. His chest felt heavy, as though there were leaden weights inside it.
This is ridiculous, he told himself sternly. She’s allowed to have friends...
Even boy friends? asked a malicious part of him. Slytherin boy friends?
It’s really for the better, said a second part of his mind, a very dejected-sounding part. She doesn’t belong with me anyway. We’re too far apart in age, we don’t have enough common interests, she wouldn’t be happy with me.
Shut up, both of you, he told them harshly. I’ll handle this myself.
The door opened, and first years popped out in twos and threes, first a pair of Gryffindors, then a trio of Slytherins, and so on by House, until the final trio. Meghan left the room flanked by Natalie McDonald, from whom she was seldom far these days, and the Slytherin boy she’d waved to at the Welcoming Feast.
"So when he sat down, it went off," the boy was saying. He stuck out his lips and blew, imitating the noise he was describing and making both girls laugh. "He jumped right up and looked under his chair, but there wasn’t anything there. And all this time, it’s stuck to his arse, and we’re all laughing our heads off, because he’s looking all over the chair for it. So finally he decides it was a fluke and sits down again, and guess what happens..."
All three of them stuck out their lips and blew, until they were interrupted by their own laughter. Professor Flitwick popped his head out the door, but seeing only a trio of giggling first years, frowned and disappeared back into the classroom again.
"Meghan," said Neville.
Meghan turned, still giggling. "Oh, Neville! Do you know Graham? I know you know Natalie, but I don’t think you’ve met Graham." She turned to the boy before Neville could answer. "Graham, this is Neville Longbottom, he’s a fourth year, we’ve been friends, oh, forever. Neville, this is Graham, he’s a Slytherin, my year."
"Pleased to meet you," said Neville as coldly as he dared, shaking the boy’s hand.
"And you." Graham’s tone was equally chill, if very faintly puzzled.
Neville ignored the younger boy’s apparent confusion. "Madam Pomfrey’s looking for you," he told Meghan. "She knew you had class, but she wanted me to come get you right away when you were done."
"All right, I’m coming. See you later, Graham, see you back in the common room, Natalie."
"Bye," said Natalie, waving and heading off.
Graham bowed slightly in Meghan’s direction. Meghan smiled and dipped a curtsey. The weight in Neville’s chest increased. "Come on," he said roughly, tugging at Meghan’s arm.
"Ow — all right, I’m coming, I said I was coming." Meghan frowned at him as they started for the stairs. "What’s wrong with you?"
"Why do you like him?"
"Why don’t you?"
"He’s a Slytherin."
"So what?"
Neville took a deep breath before he’d trust himself to continue. "Slytherins are ambitious, Meghan. They use anything to get what they want. Anything and everything. Including people who think they’re their friends. If you make friends with him, someday he’s going to use you to get something he wants, and then leave you behind when he’s done."
Meghan frowned at him. "You don’t even know him. Why are you being so mean?"
"Because I don’t want to see you get hurt. I think you should stay away from him."
"Who made you the boss of my life?"
"No one. I’m not telling you you have to. I just think you should."
"And what are you going to do if I don’t? Write home and tell my mum I’m friends with a Slytherin?" Meghan’s voice was rising even higher than its usual high-pitched level. "You know what she’ll say? She’ll say, ‘Good for you, Meghan, keep it up!’ Because she’s not prejudiced and bigoted like some people I know!"
"I am not prejudiced!"
"So why are you telling me to stay away from my friend just because he’s a Slytherin? You’ve barely said ten words to him, and you know enough to tell me he’s going to use me someday and leave me behind? I thought Luna was the Seer, not you!"
"That’s just what Slytherins do!"
"That’s what some Slytherins do. Not all Slytherins are alike. Just like not all Gryffindors are alike. There are smart ones and dumb ones. And I know which one you are right now!" Meghan glared at him furiously. "I’ll be friends with whoever I want, and I don’t care what you think! You can go to Australia, chew billywig stings, and float away for all I care!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
And Meghan stomped away down the corridor, leaving Neville to glare after her, fists clenched, then turn and march the other direction to go find some weeds to rip up.
xXxXx
"Have Neville and Meghan had a row?" Ginny asked Harry and Ron as they joined the crowd around the Goblet of Fire, sitting on its pedestal inside Dumbledore’s Age Line. "They didn’t sit together at the feast last night."
Harry shrugged. "Don’t know what they’d find to row about," he said. "Neville’s not the sort to want to enter the Tournament."
"They could have rowed about other things, you know," said Hermione dryly. "The Tournament’s not all there is to life."
"That was pretty amazing, what they put on last night," said Ginny. "The Beauxbatons students conjuring those butterflies."
"The bats ate them all, though," said Ron, grinning.
"It’s the thought that counts," said Ginny. "And those staffs the Durmstrang students used were amazing."
"Those were impressive," Hermione admitted. "They’re a lot heavier than the ones we work with, and I wish I knew how they made them spark like that. I wonder if they give you a shock if you get hit with them?"
"You were here before us, Gin," said Ron, looking at the Goblet. "Anyone put their name in yet?"
"Durmstrang’s lot were just here."
"Krum too?"
"No, he stayed on the ship," said Ginny scornfully. "Yes, Krum too. The flames go red when a name goes in, and sparks go everywhere. But I haven’t seen anyone from Beauxbatons."
"How about for Hogwarts?" asked Draco, joining them with Luna.
"Don’t think so. Not unless they came in last night, after we’d gone to bed."
"Might not be a bad idea," said Harry. "Especially if you’re trying to sneak in. Who’d want to get rejected in front of all these people?"
"They would," said Luna, nodding to Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who had just come in, looking very excited. "They’ve taken an Aging Potion. But I think Professor Dumbledore will have guarded against that, don’t you?"
"He ought’ve," said Ron. "He has to have known someone would try it."
"Put that away, Neenie, you have to watch this," Draco said, flicking the essay Hermione was reading.
"Watch what? The twins making fools of themselves? I can see that any time I want."
"Not like this," said Harry, leaning forward as Fred nerved himself up and stepped over the line. "Come on, come on..."
"What are you cheering for?" Luna asked as George yelled in triumph and joined his twin in the circle.
With a sound like a glass of water spilled onto a hot stove, both twins were catapulted out of the circle. Their crash-landings ten feet away coincided with a pair of loud pops, and identical silver beards, very like Professor Dumbledore’s, sprouted on both their faces.
"That," said Ron, laughing and applauding.
"You were warned," said the Headmaster himself, coming out of the Great Hall and chuckling as the twins stared at each other, torn between disgust and laughter. "I suggest you visit Madam Pomfrey; her magical razors have had quite a bit of use already this morning."
Cho came down the stairs and saw the twins, and Harry’s insides did their usual flip as he watched her laugh. She had the wrong coloration to be a veela, but she made him feel very much the same — as if he wanted to do something impressive, right now... "Let me see that?" he said to Hermione, snatching the essay out of her hands.
"Hey!"
"It’s just a corner, you don’t need it." Harry stepped forward, the slip of parchment he’d torn from Hermione’s essay in his hands. "Wasted their time," he said loudly, indicating the twins. "There’s an easier way."
"Going to show us, Potter?" sneered a Slytherin fifth year.
"Of course." Harry held up the slip of parchment. "Blank," he said, flipping it to both sides, then changing his grip to show there was no writing hidden on it anywhere. "I don’t want to get into a tournament where people die. But if I did, this is how I’d do it."
He switched the parchment to his left hand and pulled his wand with his right. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Long, slow, deliberate movements of his arm wafted the slip of parchment towards the Goblet, until finally it hovered directly above. Everyone held their breaths.
"And there!" Harry snapped his wrist, and the parchment fell into the blue flames.
Wild cheering broke out as the fire in the goblet turned red and sparked for a moment, indicating that Harry’s blank slip had been accepted. Harry bowed, seeing with satisfaction Cho applauding him and looking quite impressed. Hermione was staring at him angrily, but Ron, Draco, and Luna were clapping along with everyone else. Ginny was looking at him with an odd intensity he couldn’t quite make out...
"Thank you for pointing out a flaw in my defenses against underage champions entering, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore from behind them, plunging the hall into silence immediately. Harry gulped, but the Headmaster was smiling. "A blank slip will do no harm, but if you would all move aside, I will place charms around the Goblet to ensure that any slip which enters it from now on will be inserted by a human hand..."
"You had to do it in front of him, didn’t you?" said Ron as they went in to breakfast. "Couldn’t you at least have put all our names in first?"
"I’m not about to help you kill yourself. Find your own way to commit suicide."
"I’ll help you," said Draco, grinning. "Commit suicide, that is."
"Fine, let’s figure out a way to get our names in that Goblet."
"Easy. Bribe an older student to put them in for us."
"But they’d tell."
"Not if we pay them to keep their mouths shut too."
"Did you have to use a corner of my essay?" Hermione asked huffily over this. "Professor Snape’s going to dock me for untidiness now."
"I needed a piece of parchment and yours was right there. Sorry."
"Was that parchment really blank?" Luna inquired. "It would be bad if Hermione’s name was accidentally on it and she got chosen as a champion."
"It was blank," Harry said. "There wasn’t any ink on it at all. Not unless you’ve taken to writing your essays in invisible ink," he said to Hermione.
"You haven’t, have you?" Ginny said. "Because my calligraphy things were all mucked up this morning, and I thought the invisible ink sounded lower than it had been."
"If I was going to do something as stupid as write essays in invisible ink, which I wouldn’t, I certainly wouldn’t steal invisible ink from someone else," Hermione began in high dudgeon. "And I would never write an essay in invisible ink, because the professor wouldn’t be able to see it, and I’d get the same grade as if I turned in no essay at all, which is a zero, and I don’t like getting zeros even if some people I know do..."
"How do you hear ink?" Harry asked Ginny as Hermione continued her rant.
"Shake the bottle. It swished more than it did the last time I used it. At least I think it did. It’s hard to tell when you can’t see it."
"Is there any way to make it show up?"
Ginny nodded. "You just heat up the parchment you wrote on. Hold it over a candle or a fire, or do a Heating Spell on it, and the letters appear. The writing can be really messy sometimes, because you couldn’t see what you were writing when you wrote it, but it usually doesn’t matter too much."
"Will you show me sometime?"
"Sure." Ginny ducked as a flock of bats flew by overhead, and kept her head down a bit too long, judging by the warmth in her cheeks when she sat back up again.
xXxXx
"I still say she’s a veela," Ron muttered, staring at the girl from Beauxbatons who had so entranced him the night before as she dropped her slip of parchment into the Goblet of Fire.
"Maybe she’s part veela," Draco suggested. "I think they can interbreed with humans."
"You would know," said Ginny, giggling. "You’re living proof."
Draco sighed. "For the last time, I do not have veela blood."
"Are you sure?"
"No, but I don’t think my family — my birth family — would have gone in for intermarriage with magical creatures, since they were so very interested in keeping the bloodline pure."
"So maybe a veela sneaked in somewhere up the line," suggested Ron. "Like a great-great-grandmother or something. Are there any boy veela, or are they all girls?"
"I don’t know," said Hermione. "I’ll have to look that up."
"What are you looking up?" inquired a tall black boy with slanting eyes, coming to stand beside the Pride. "Good morning, Hermione."
"Oh, hello, Blaise. Everyone, do you know Blaise Zabini? He’s our year, Slytherin. Harry Potter, Draco Black, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood."
"Charmed," said Zabini politely, nodding to them. "Do you know if anyone from Gryffindor is entering?"
"Angelina Johnson put her name in earlier," said Harry, forestalling the indignant reply he could hear Ron getting ready to make. "And I think a few others of the sixth and seventh years are going to try. How about Slytherin?"
"Warrington’s put his name in already."
"What, you mean that big bloke who plays Quidditch?" said Draco. "The one who looks sort of like a sloth?"
Zabini cracked a smile. "Yes, he does rather. I don’t think he’ll be chosen, and I’m rather glad. House pride is all very well, but not if it makes Hogwarts look stupid in the Tournament."
"Look!" said Ginny suddenly, pointing. A tall Ravenclaw girl with long brown hair was just stepping into the circle.
"Who is that?" said Hermione, frowning. "I feel like I should know her."
"I’d imagine she’s Margaret Lamb," said Zabini.
"Oh, of course, Colleen’s sister. Thank you, Blaise."
"You’re welcome. Excuse me, I haven’t eaten yet."
"Colleen... isn’t she that shy girl in your dorm?" said Ron, watching Zabini as he entered the Great Hall.
"Yes, of course."
"How did he know that girl was her sister, then? If Colleen’s Gryffindor and her sister’s Ravenclaw?"
"I introduced them at the World Cup," said Hermione. "I’d guess he remembers Colleen from there."
"But that doesn’t explain how he knows her sister’s name," said Harry.
Hermione sighed. "Maybe she got him in trouble some time — how should I know? Why don’t you go ask him yourself?"
"All right, no need to get snippy. Are we waiting for Neville and Meghan, or are we just going down to Hagrid’s?"
"I don’t think they’re going anywhere today," said Luna. "Meghan said last night that Madam Pomfrey wants her to spend the day in the hospital wing."
"And Neville said he had to get caught up in Charms," said Draco. "He isn’t done with all the reading yet."
"So it’s just us, then," said Harry, turning to start for the doors. "Shall we?"
xXxXx
The Pride made their way out onto the grounds, Ron peering hopefully toward the lake where the Durmstrang ship was moored, obviously hoping for a sight of Viktor Krum. They hadn’t gone very far, though, when a voice growled, "Potter, I’d like a word with you."
Professor Moody was stumping across the lawn toward them. Harry sighed under his breath. "I’ll catch up," he told the Pride. "Go on without me."
"Heard about what you did in the entrance hall this morning," said Moody without preamble as he drew level with Harry. "You’ve got guts, haven’t you?"
"I wasn’t actually entering, sir."
"Why not? Scared?"
Harry bit back an automatic denial. "Not scared, really," he said slowly. "But I’d like to think I’m old enough to know when something’s too big for me. Besides, I have to grow up and be a warrior and fight evil." He grinned a little, self-consciously. "I can’t do that if I get killed in some stupid tournament."
"Be a warrior and fight evil..." Moody chuckled in his gravelly voice. "No need to ask where you learned that phrase. Black always was a closet romantic."
Harry reminded himself to tell Padfoot that in his next letter. "Sir, may I ask you something?"
"You can ask. I might not answer."
"I know. Sir, what is there, was there, between you and Professor Karkaroff?" Harry hadn’t been able to get the encounter at the entrance of the Great Hall out of his mind. Karkaroff had looked afraid when he’d seen Moody...
Moody spat on the ground. "Karkaroff," he said in disgust. "Don’t let the name fool you, boy, he lived in England most of his life. And he was the same filth then he is now. Took me six months to track him down after the war ended."
Harry stared. "Track him down? Sir — was Karkaroff..."
"A Death Eater?"
Harry nodded.
Moody gave a twisted smile. "I don’t chase men for nothing, Potter. Yeah, he was a Death Eater. But he named names and they let him go." Moody’s magical eye roamed into the side of his head, pointing towards the ship on the lake. "Death Eaters, walking free," he muttered. "Nothing I hate more. And he’s not the only one here... but you know that, don’t you?"
"Yes, sir."
Moody chuckled again. "I’m sure you do. You stay away from Karkaroff, you hear? He got off by playing his little political games, but we had good evidence tying him to at least five Muggle killings, circumstantial for dozens of others. Keep well clear of him if you can."
"I will, sir."
"Now, about the tournament... I’m not so sure it’d be too big for you, Potter. You’ve done big things in the past, haven’t you?"
"Only when I had to, sir. And I always had a lot of help."
Moody snorted. "Modest, too. You ever think of training for an Auror?"
Harry tried not to show the sudden swelling of hope in his chest. "I think that’s what I want to be," he said. "I know it’s hard and dangerous, but someone has to do it. And I think I’d be good at it."
"I think you’d be good at it too. Aurors need to think outside the box, or outside the Age Line, as the case may be."
Harry smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, sir."
"Not only that, but you’re fast, you’re powerful, you can throw off Imperius on your third try... I’d say you’d do very well as an apprentice. Come talk to me sometime about it."
"Yes, sir," said Harry, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one and falling back as Moody picked up his pace. He waited until the Auror had climbed the steps into the castle before he jumped into the air and spun in a circle, laughing.
He thinks I’d make a good Auror apprentice... the man Padfoot called the best Auror in the department thinks I’d make a good apprentice...
Still grinning, he started unsteadily for Hagrid’s hut.
So I impressed Cho, the whole Pride, and Professor Moody. How much better can this day get?
xXxXx
"Why’s he wearing a suit?" Harry asked the Pride in an undertone as Hagrid brought the kettle back to the boil to make Harry tea.
"He says it’s for the feast tonight," said Hermione. "Because the champions will be chosen and he wants to look his best. But he always wears his regular clothes to the other feasts."
"He looks better in his regular clothes," said Ginny. "His suit’s... well..."
"Hairy," said Ron.
"Yes?"
Ron shoved him. Harry shoved back. Hermione lifted her feet onto her chair as the two of them wrestled each other to the floor. "Honestly," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Just because you don’t like to have fun is no reason to stop other people," said Draco.
"You call that fun? Pushing and shoving at each other until you get hurt?"
"You don’t seem to mind our hand-to-hand practices. Or the staff work. Hoy, Hagrid, can Hermione use your broom for a second?"
"Sure, she kin use it, but why? Floor’s not that dirty, an’ Harry’n’Ron are cleanin’ it up fer me with their robes..."
"But I don’t want to," Hermione protested.
"Yes, you do," said Luna. "You just don’t want people to think you’re bragging. And you’re not. Draco’s doing it for you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "All right, all right. Thank you," she said to Hagrid, who was holding out the broom to her. "Stop that," she added, swatting at Harry and Ron with it. "Sit down, you’re in the way."
Harry and Ron scrambled up, dusting themselves off, and sat down as Hermione took her position in the middle of the room, her hands planted on the broom and her eyes contemplative. Slowly, she raised it, then lowered it again. "I can’t do it in here," she said. "It’s too crowded, I’d break things."
"Let’s go outside, then," suggested Ron. "You don’t have to worry about breaking anything there."
Hermione glared at him for a moment, then nodded sullenly.
"I kin get yeh a better stick than this, too," Hagrid added, putting the broom back in its corner. "This’s too thick fer yeh, an’ too long — sized fer me, an’ I’m no pixie."
"Understatement, much?" Draco muttered as they followed Hagrid outside.
Hagrid was in the Forest only a moment or two before he returned with a five-foot length of hard, straight wood. "Careful with it, now," he warned Hermione as he handed it to her. "Don’t want yeh ter get a splinter."
"I can live with a splinter." Hermione grounded the end of her staff and planted her feet, closed her eyes and breathed twice, deeply. Looking straight ahead, she lifted the staff slowly from the ground, changing it from vertical to horizontal and back to vertical. Without warning, she began to spin it in her hands, clockwise, then counterclockwise. She struck at an imaginary foe, blocked his blows in return, used one end of the staff to vault short ways back and forward, always in silence, until she returned slowly to her starting position, the end of the staff on the earth before her, eyes alert and bright.
The Pride and Hagrid applauded her.
xXxXx
Some distance away, another applauded as well, though so softly that none could have heard the applause even if they were next to him.
A staff-maiden, but book-loving as well if the stories are true. And hardly uncomely, either.
Perhaps this year will be little hardship even if I am not chosen.
xXxXx
The Pride spent the day investigating Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts (at a safe distance, since the skrewts had to be kept in separate boxes now that they were three feet long and showing cannibalistic tendencies), trying to get Hagrid to tell them more about the tournament (he flatly refused, but they caught a certain aura of excitement around him when the first task was brought up), and speculating on how long it would take Madam Pomfrey and Meghan to get rid of Fred and George’s beards. Hagrid was greatly amused to hear that Harry had got past Dumbledore’s precautions once Harry had assured him that the slip of parchment had been blank.
"Why does everyone think I’d want to be in the Tournament so much?" Harry asked around half past five. "Do I really look like I want to die?"
"Who was it stole Padfoot’s stash of dark chocolate from Honeydukes?" Draco inquired blandly.
Harry glared at his brother and didn’t answer.
"Getting dark," said Ron, looking out the window. "And the feast starts at six, we should probably get back."
"Hang on a tic, I’ll go with yeh," said Hagrid, putting away the darning he’d been working on for about an hour. He got up and started to rummage in his dresser.
Luna coughed. "Hagrid, are you doing a lesson on Strunks?" she asked.
"Strunks?" Hagrid asked without turning around.
"They’re really animals with green and black striped fur, but they camouflage themselves as trees and eat insects that are attracted to the horrible smell they put out."
"Nope, sorry, never heard of ‘em... why d’yeh ask?"
"Because I think I smell one now."
"What is that?" asked Draco, staring at the bottle in Hagrid’s hand as he turned around in surprise.
"It’s eau de cologne..." Hagrid frowned, looking at the bottle, then at the coughing Pride. "A bit much, maybe," he said, his cheeks flushing. "I’ll go have it off..."
Ginny flung the windows wide as Hagrid left by the back door. "Eau de cologne?" she said, shaking her head.
"I know, it doesn’t seem like Hagrid... look!" Hermione was staring out the window.
Madame Maxime and her students had just emerged from the enormous powder-blue carriage, and Hagrid was talking to the Headmistress, wearing a rather misty-eyed look that he only got when he was regarding some new and particularly astounding pet. As they watched, he offered her his arm, and she laughed and accepted.
Ron gaped. "He fancies her! Merlin, just think what size their kids would be..."
"It’s nice that Hagrid has someone he likes," said Luna, watching Hagrid and Madame Maxime striding across the lawns, the Beauxbatons students nearly running to keep up. "But shouldn’t we get up to the school, since he’s not waiting for us?"
"Sounds like a good idea," said Harry, drawing his wand and banking Hagrid’s fire with it. Ron and Hermione closed the windows again, and the Pride set off up towards the castle, pulling their cloaks around them against the gathering chill.
"I wonder if Percy will come to any of the events," said Ginny thoughtfully. "His boss is here, judging the tournament..."
"He’s probably left Percy in charge at the office, then," said Ron. "Or as in charge as he can be if he doesn’t know his name yet."
"Did you notice Fred and George giving Bagman the evil eye?" asked Draco when the snickering had subsided. "Wonder what that’s about?"
"They probably just don’t like him," said Hermione.
"But they ought to like him," said Luna. "They made that bet with him at the Quidditch World Cup, and that got them lots of money, didn’t it?"
"I don’t know," said Ron slowly. "I know Ginny and I were dumb enough to show Mum what we won off Mr. Padfoot, and she got all mad and confiscated it." He forced his voice into a falsetto, imitating his mother’s shrill scolding tones. "‘You can have it back when you’ve proved to me that you can handle money responsibly!’ Maybe she got hold of theirs too."
"Maybe," said Ginny.
In your dreams, Ron, Harry translated. The twins let Mum get her hands on their money? Not a chance. He smiled. He was getting quite proficient at Ginny-speak.
xXxXx
Neville, when the rest of the Pride met him in the Great Hall, was sullen, and Meghan looked petulant. They chose seats across the table from one another and on opposite ends of the other members of the Pride, and spent the meal sneaking nasty glances at each other. It looked as if they’d had that row after all.
Maybe it was Neville and Meghan’s animosity, maybe it was the fact that this was the second lavish feast in two days, or maybe it was the presence of the blue-burning Goblet of Fire, now on a pedestal in front of the High Table, but no one seemed to have much of an appetite, and the disappearance of dessert was greeted with relief and excitement even by Ron.
"Look at Crouch," Ginny said, peering up at the High Table. "I guess he thinks it’s not dignified to be excited."
Indeed, Mr. Crouch seemed quite bored by his surroundings, a feeling not shared by anyone around him. Ludo Bagman, on the other side of Dumbledore, was beaming around the hall genially, and Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff looked nearly as excited as all the students. Professor Dumbledore got to his feet and lifted his hands for silence.
"The Goblet is coming to its decision now," he said. "I believe that approximately thirty more seconds will be required. Now, when I read the champions’ names, I would ask them to stand and acknowledge the applause, then come to the top of the Hall and go into the next room." He nodded towards a door behind the High Table. "They will receive their initial instructions there."
A wave of his wand extinguished all the floating candles, leaving the Hall lit only by the carved pumpkins and the Goblet itself, which shone more brightly than ever in the semidarkness.
"Any second," whispered Hermione, checking her watch.
The flames in the Goblet turned blood red again, and sparks flew from it. A tongue of fire whooshed upwards, and a charred slip of parchment flew from it — everyone held their breaths —
Dumbledore caught the parchment with his left hand and held it close to the flames, now blue-white again. "Durmstrang’s champion," he read aloud, "will be Viktor Krum."
The Hall erupted in cheers as Krum stood from his place at the Slytherin table, his fellow Durmstrang students clapping him on the back. "Well done, Viktor!" roared Karkaroff. "That’s my boy!"
Krum disappeared through the door Dumbledore had indicated just as the flames turned red again. Dumbledore caught the second piece of parchment. "Beauxbatons’ participant is Miss Fleur Delacour," he read.
"Look, Ron, it’s her!" shouted Harry as the girl who looked like a veela got gracefully to her feet. She stopped to say something soothing to two of her compatriots, who had begun to cry when her name was called, then wafted herself up the aisle and out the door.
"This is it," Draco whispered, watching the Goblet. "Hogwarts champion..."
Dumbledore caught the slip of parchment. "Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table exploded. "Ow," said Meghan, rubbing her ears in between clapping.
"What’re you clapping for him for?" asked Ron grouchily.
"We’re all Hogwarts students, aren’t we?"
Ron rolled his eyes, but joined in the applause anyway. He had plenty of time to do so, as it showed no sign of dying for nearly two full minutes.
"Well, now that our champions are selected, the tournament can begin in earnest," Dumbledore said, beaming, as the last of the cheers for Cedric finally died away. "I would like to remind you to support your champion by cheering on him or her..."
Harry jerked, as did the rest of the Pride. "What’s wrong?" said Fred, looking over at them.
Harry didn’t bother to answer, instead fishing out his pendants, glad to get the chilled metal away from his skin. He frowned as he looked at them. "This isn’t right," he said. "They’re just glowing all over... why isn’t it just one carving?"
Wordlessly, Hermione held hers where Harry could see them.
The shining figure was that of the wolf cub.
A flash of red light drew everyone’s eyes.
"But there were only supposed to be three!" whispered Ginny in a frightened voice as Dumbledore’s hand closed around the slip of parchment.
Harry gripped the edge of the table. I didn’t put my name on that slip, he thought frantically. I know I didn’t put my name on that slip...
But the knowledge did him no good. In a clear, cold voice, Dumbledore read the name on the parchment in his hand.
"Harry Potter."
The chill of Harry’s pendants struck inwards and froze his heart.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, idiot. You had to show off for Cho. You had to make yourself look good. The Goblet figured out who put in that blank slip, your name showed up on it all by itself, you’re entered in the Tournament and there’s no backing out, it’s a binding contract, you have to go through with it, you can’t get out...
"Harry!" called Dumbledore sharply over the whispers. "Harry Potter! Up front, if you please!"
And what if I don’t please? Harry thought dizzily. Everyone was staring at him, but he could hardly see them through the sparks that were clouding his vision.
"You’d better go," Hermione whispered, nudging him a little.
Harry got clumsily to his feet, nearly falling as he stepped on the hem of his robes. The aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables seemed to stretch for miles, and every eye in the Hall was fixed on him like a beam of light. The Hufflepuffs, in particular, were hissing to each other as he passed. And Dumbledore was regarding him with an unreadable expression, which grew only more stern as he got closer.
"Through the door, Harry," said the Headmaster when Harry reached him. There was no smile on his face, no twinkle in his eyes. Harry nodded once before he dropped his eyes and hurried along the High Table, around the end where Hagrid sat, looking just as stunned as everyone else, and through the door the champions had disappeared through.
This room was small and warm, heated by a roaring fire, and lined with portraits, all of which turned to look at him, as did the three champions standing by the fireplace.
"Is somezing wrong?" asked Fleur Delacour, shaking her long hair back from her face. "Is zere a message?"
"Hello, Potter," said Cedric, looking pleased for a moment, then frowning. "You don’t look so well — are you feeling all right?"
"Potter?" repeated Krum, looking around and fixing his eyes on Harry as well. "Harry Potter?"
Harry nodded, hoping they didn’t expect him to say anything, since he had a very strong suspicion that if he opened his mouth he was going to be sick. Fortunately, at that moment the door opened again and Ludo Bagman entered. "Amazing, Harry," he said, shaking his head. "Just amazing..." He took Harry’s arm and pulled him farther into the room. "Gentlemen, and Miss Delacour, of course, may I present to you Mr. Harry Potter — the fourth Triwizard champion!"
"Fourth champion?" said Cedric in confusion.
Fleur laughed in a silvery voice. "What a funny joke you make, Meester Bagman," she said.
"No, no, no joke, my dear," said Bagman, smiling at her. "Harry’s had his name come out of the Goblet — he’ll be competing with you, right alongside!"
"But zis cannot be," said Fleur, frowning contemptuously at Harry. "’E cannot be old enough..."
Krum hadn’t said anything. His eyes were fixed on Harry as though he’d been playing for a week and Harry was the Snitch which had just fluttered into sight. His regard was adding to Harry’s feeling of illness, to the point where Harry was quite sure that he’d need a basin any second now...
No. I won’t. He drew a deep, deliberate breath and laid a hand over his chest, over the pendants, which were glowing all over with a soft light. "Cesso Nuntius," he whispered, and felt their temperature return to normal.
I didn’t want this, but I didn’t want to be The Boy Who Lived either. It’s just another thing I’m stuck with. I’ll do my best and live through it, like I lived through everything else.
But is anyone going to believe I didn’t put my name in the Goblet, after that idiotic show I put on this morning?
His first panicked idea, that the Goblet had somehow supplied his name to the blank slip of parchment, was laughable. I can ask if that could happen, but I don’t think it could. And maybe no one else will believe me, but I think — I hope — Dumbledore will. And the Pack-parents, and the Pride...
"Harry," said Dumbledore, bringing Harry out of his reverie. The Headmaster stood directly in front of him, looking down sternly. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff were standing next to their champions, Professors McGonagall and Moody stood by the fire, and Professor Snape and Mr. Crouch were half-hidden in the shadows. "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"
"No, sir," said Harry.
Snape snorted. "A rather implausible lie, Potter, when half the school saw you do it, and when you bragged loudly about your accomplishment in front of the Headmaster."
"That was really dumb of me," Harry admitted. "But that slip was blank, I showed everyone it was blank, I ripped it off Hermione’s essay..."
"It would have been easy enough to write a name in invisible ink," said Snape curtly. "The heat of the Goblet’s flames would render it visible again. I believe another of your acquaintances possesses such inks. Miss Weasley, is it not?"
Harry looked back at Dumbledore. "Is there any way the Goblet could have figured out that it was mine, and put my name on it somehow?" he asked. "Can it tell who touched something?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "The Goblet does not have that ability," he said. "It would react only to a written name. And I am yet at a loss to explain why it produced two champions for Hogwarts and only one for Beauxbatons or Durmstrang."
"There’s Confundus traces on that Goblet," said Moody from his place by the fire. He uncorked his hip flask and took a swig. "Does that slip of Potter’s have a school on it, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore held up the slip of parchment. "It does not," he said blandly.
"Well, there you are. Someone Confunded the Goblet into thinking Potter was the only representative from a fourth school. Ensured he’d be chosen. No fourteen-year-old could do that kind of magic. Potter’s in the clear."
"Sir, can I see that?" said Harry suddenly, pointing at the slip with his name on it. Wordlessly, Dumbledore handed it to him.
Harry stared down at his name, black and bold. It’s my handwriting, but I’d better not say that...
"This isn’t the piece I put in the Goblet," he said, looking up. "I tore that piece off, and it was a corner. This was cut with scissors, or with a wand. It looks like it’s off an essay."
"So we can agree, then, that Potter did not put his own name in the Goblet," said McGonagall. "Can we also agree that he cannot possibly compete, remove him from the Tournament, and continue without this foolishness?"
Harry felt a moment of hope, but Dumbledore shook his head. "I am afraid, Minerva, that we cannot. Not without canceling the Tournament altogether. And if you wouldn’t mind stepping out into the Hall, I’m sure there will be arrivals at any moment who will need to be handled..."
McGonagall nodded and slipped out the door. Bagman, meanwhile, was reacting to Dumbledore’s first statements. "Cancel the Tournament? Preposterous! Absurd! Harry’s a fine wizard, he won’t have a problem with these tasks, will you, Harry?"
Harry stared at the man, but apparently no answer was required of him, for Bagman ploughed straight ahead. "Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, I’m sure you won’t be angry at this little irregularity..."
"Leetle?" said Madame Maxime, drawing herself up to her full, and very considerable, height. "No, zis is not leetle. One of my ‘orses suffers a wing cramp, one of my students becomes ill, zat is a leetle irregularity. Zis... zis is an outrage!"
"I agree entirely!" Karkaroff glared at Harry. "Who’s to say you didn’t play your little trick last night, boy, and then show off how you did it this morning just so you could say you never did? How do we know you didn’t get this mythical wizard to cast the Confundus for your special benefit, and then slip your name into the Goblet himself? Or maybe you just reasoned that if you didn’t put a school on there, the Goblet might choose you as a fourth player, eh? I’m of a mind to take my students and head straight home..."
"What about Krum?" said Moody sharply. "He’s bound to the Tournament now, just like all of them. Going to make him suffer the penalties for breaking magical contract, just because of your fool sense of honor — as if you knew what that word meant..."
"Alastor!" said Dumbledore.
Moody subsided, but his magical eye was fixed unfailingly on Karkaroff.
"As Alastor has pointed out, all of our champions — all four of our champions — are now bound to the Tournament," said Dumbledore heavily. "Ludo has advised against canceling it... Bartemius, what about you?"
Mr. Crouch stepped out of the shadows. Harry blinked. Had the wizard caught some kind of disease between the Quidditch World Cup and now? His skin looked like parchment, and dark shadows haunted his eyes. "The rules clearly state that those whose names the Goblet produces must compete," he said slowly. "I believe that not even canceling the Tournament would release them from that contract. It must go forward, or all four of these young people will suffer the penalty."
Harry felt his hope crumble. That was it, then. He was stuck in this for good or for bad.
More likely for bad.
"Very well," said Dumbledore quietly, and Harry suddenly saw shadows and lines on his Headmaster’s face to surpass those on Mr. Crouch’s. "If you would instruct them, then, Bartemius." He walked over to the fire, rubbing his right hand.
Mr. Crouch faced Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor. "The first task tests your daring and courage," he said, "especially important when you are faced with an unknown quantity. Therefore, you will not know what your task is until the day you undertake it, which is the twenty-fourth of November. You will be armed with your wands and nothing else, and you are not permitted to request help from your teachers, or to accept that help should it be offered you. Instructions for the second task will be forthcoming when you have completed the first task."
Harry’s feeling that he might very soon be sick returned.
We have to face something that will test our courage, but we don’t know what it is. All we have is a wand, and we don’t even know what spells we might need. And we can’t ask the teachers for help.
You could ask Hermione, said a reasonable-sounding voice.
Like she’ll believe you, another part of him laughed bitterly. You showed off how easy it would be for you to put your name in the Goblet. And now everyone’s going to think that’s what you did. You made your broomstick, now fly on it, Potter. No one is going to believe you didn’t do this.
Mr. Crouch was refusing Dumbledore’s offer of a bed for the night, or a drink before he left, although Bagman was accepting... Madame Maxime and Karkaroff were leaving, each with a champion in tow... Snape was slipping out a side door, turning back at the last instant with a nasty, triumphant smile on his face, and for one instant Harry wondered if Snape might have put his name in the Goblet... but no.
Snape hates me, but he doesn’t want me dead. The Pack-parents had told him straight out that Snape was mean and nasty but not Dark...
The Pack-parents. They’re here, they have to be here by now, that was what Dumbledore meant when he told McGonagall to go handle arrivals...
Dumbledore was by the fireplace, talking quietly with Moody, as Harry became fully aware of his surroundings again.
"...did you know they’d be coming?" Moody was asking.
"They have created magical amulets, Alastor, tailored to tell them when one or another of their family has got into a situation which might threaten life or limb. Considering whom the family includes, a wise precaution."
"Told them right away when Malfoy snatched the kids, didn’t it? I always wondered how you knew so soon... only three of them here, though. I thought there were four."
"There are, but the fourth deems it unwise at the moment to be seen here."
Moody grunted. "I see his point. He’s got enough on his plate as it is — you suggested that custody request, didn’t you? It’s the most likely angle to succeed..."
Suddenly, Harry could no longer stand one more person looking at him. Even Cedric’s mild and polite gaze from across the room seemed an imposition. He wanted to be alone, completely alone, somewhere no one else would come...
He tore across the room and flung open the door Snape had used, Dumbledore’s and Moody’s startled exclamations following him. The corridor outside the door was unfamiliar to him, but he picked a direction and kept running, and a very few turns brought him to the corridor that housed the kitchens.
Perfect. He was tickling the pear before he realized that no, it wasn’t perfect — he’d have to live with all the house-elves watching him —
Better than nothing, though. He could hear voices behind him, he had to get in fast — he yanked the painting open, jumped quickly through, and pulled it shut.
"Harry Potter, sir!" chorused several squeaky voices, and Harry spun around.
"I’m not here," he said firmly, looking down at huge bulging eyes of green, brown, and blue. "If anyone asks you, you haven’t seen me since the last time I was here, when I made all the biscuits. All right?"
The house-elves nodded. "As long as Professor Dumbledore is not asking us, we is hiding you, Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby. "But Professor Dumbledore is our master, and if he is asking us, we is having to tell the truth..."
Harry leaned against the wall. "If Dumbledore asks you, could you tell him I really don’t want to be found right now?" he said quietly. "I know you can’t lie to him, but can you tell him that? If he asks you again, go on and tell the truth, but can you tell him that first?"
A flurry of eager nods answered him.
"Great."
xXxXx
For one of the first times in his life, Sirius was very close to shouting at Dumbledore. "He ran out the door, and now you don’t know where he is?"
"He is a remarkably swift runner, as I am sure you know."
"Yes, I know he’s fast, but don’t you have paintings and things that can tell you where he is? For that matter, what about the house-elves? They see everything that goes on in this castle."
"Why do you consider it so imperative to find Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
The dam burst. "Because I want to help him, damn it! Because he’s just been roped into a tournament designed for adults, for people with twice his magical training, a tournament in which people die, and because he’s not even allowed to know what the first goddamned task is — with all that, do you think, maybe, that I have a reason for finding him?"
"You may well," said Dumbledore with the calm that made Sirius want to hit him. "However..." He made a small motion, and a house-elf appeared by his side. "Kady, what can you tell me about Harry Potter?"
Kady gulped. "Harry Potter is asking us to say, sir," she said, looking anxiously from Dumbledore to Sirius and the two women behind him, "that Harry Potter is not wanting to be found right now."
"Thank you, Kady. So there you have it, Sirius," said Dumbledore as the house-elf vanished. "I have not attempted to find Harry because he does not want to be found. And things that do not want to be found tend to be hard to find at Hogwarts."
"Whereas things that want to be found tend to come running," said Moody from where he was standing behind Dumbledore. "Like that girl out there." He nodded towards the closed door of the room they stood in. "Looks like she might need some of that attention Potter doesn’t want."
Aletha was out the door in an instant, Danger on her heels. "Hermione, what’s wrong?"
"Everything!" came the answer in a wail.
"The house-elves assure me that Harry has not left the school, Sirius," said Dumbledore quietly. "He is merely hiding for the moment. I would assume it is because he wants privacy."
"Yeah, well, you ought to know by now," said Sirius roughly. "Kids don’t always want what’s best for them. But it’s your school. I won’t go looking for him if you don’t want me to. So if you’ll excuse me? I might be able to help with the one who does still seem to want me around. Until she decides she doesn’t want me anymore either."
He spun and stalked out of the office, purposely not giving Dumbledore a chance to answer. He was in no mood to listen to reason.
"Ron thinks Harry did it on purpose," Hermione was sobbing into Aletha’s shoulder. "Draco thinks it’s his fault somehow. Ginny hasn’t said a word since we found out, Luna keeps biting her nails and looking at her pendants, Neville’s jealous of Meghan’s new friends and Meghan’s mad at him for it, except now they’re both scared for Harry because the pendants are cold and that means he’s going to die but they still won’t make up..."
Aletha stroked Hermione’s hair and murmured comforting nonsense to her. "Divide and conquer, I think," she said over Hermione’s shoulder. "I’ll stay here, or possibly move, but..."
"Understood," said Danger. "I’ll go find Draco."
"Guess that leaves me with Meghan," said Sirius, shooting a poisonous glance over his shoulder.
Danger’s smile flickered on. "Technically," she said, "Albus only asked the three of us not to go find Harry. He never said anything to a certain other party who should be arriving very soon via the kitchens..."
xXxXx
Harry closed his eyes as a brief burst of shivering hit him. I used up a lot of energy being tense. I’m going to need rest. And I should get warm.
Nice fire over there...
He suited action to thought, and was soon sitting beside Winky, who was swaying on her stool, hiccupping gently. "Does it help?" he asked her.
Winky jumped and looked at him. "What, sir?" she asked shakily.
"Does that stuff help you?" Harry pointed at the butterbeer bottle in Winky’s hand. "Does it make it any easier?"
Winky sniffled. "Nothing is making Winky’s life easier now," she said. "Winky’s life is never being easy again. Winky’s life was only being easy when Winky was making her master’s life easy... and now Winky is never doing that again..." She burst into tears.
Great. "I’m sorry," Harry said, reaching out and gingerly patting her on the back. "I’m sorry, please don’t cry, I didn’t want to make you cry..."
Winky only sobbed harder. Harry gritted his teeth — the noise had quickly gone from pitiful to irritating, and was rapidly escalating into painful.
I have to get out of here. I need some place I can get to quickly, where I can be alone, where no one will bother me... some place no one else even knows about...
He stared into the fire, and found his eyes drawn to one side. To the carved sidepieces of the fireplace.
I wonder...
He stood up and went to the wall beside the fireplace. "Thank you, Godric," he said quietly, and smiled as a section of the wall slid away, revealing a familiar stone slide.
Kitchen leads to kitchen, I’d bet.
The fire turned green. Harry jumped, and quickly hoisted himself into the slide, muttering the password again to close the wall behind him as he pushed off.
That was close.
xXxXx
Remus looked around the kitchen. The house-elves were all very busy. Very busy indeed. If they’d been human, they would all have been whistling cheerful, discordant melodies.
"Excuse me," he said, and two or three house-elves quickly detached themselves from the main mass to come running to him. "Was Harry Potter here a moment ago?"
"Yes, sir," chorused the house-elves quickly. "Yes, sir, Harry Potter was here."
"But he’s not here now."
"No, sir, Harry Potter is not here now."
"Do you know where he’s gone?"
More nods. "Yes, sir."
"Are you going to tell me where he’s gone?"
"Is Master Remus asking us to tell him where Harry Potter is gone?" volunteered one brave elf.
"Yes, I’m asking you to tell me where Harry Potter is gone..." Remus caught himself and chuckled. "I mean, where he has gone."
The elf looked at his feet. "Harry Potter is asking us not to tell anyone where he is gone, Master Remus, sir," he said.
"But I’m asking you to tell me, Grabe."
The house-elf looked up in amazement. "Master Remus is remembering Grabe’s name!"
"Yes. Will you please tell me where Harry has gone, Grabe? I think he may need me."
Grabe looked torn for a moment. "Harry Potter is gone into the wall, sir," he said finally, pointing at a spot beside the fireplace. "He was saying, ‘Thank you, Godric,’ and going into the wall just before Master Remus was coming out of the fire."
"Thank you, Grabe," said Remus. "I think you may have done Harry a greater favor telling me this than keeping it from me."
At least I certainly hope so.
xXxXx
A wolf ran around and around the indoor Quidditch pitch, feeling the thoughts of his human mind scurrying in just the same way, around and around, never to be released from their trap... he’d been trapped by this Tournament, by the rules that meant he had to play, it was a cage closing in around him, meant to make him look like a fool, maybe even to kill him... people had died in this Tournament, after all, what better way to kill him than to force him to play these stupid games?
He picked up his pace, but he couldn’t outrun his thoughts. Voldemort’s back. I dreamed of him. Wormtail’s with him. They killed someone already. They want to kill me. What if Voldemort worked this out somehow? What if someone here is working for him? Karkaroff, maybe? He was a Death Eater... or maybe Snape changed sides again, maybe he’s back with them now...
A new scent reached him. He pulled up and turned.
A human shape darkened the door to the main room of the Hogwarts Den. He had no need to look any closer, his nose had already told him who it was. He snarled angrily — I didn’t want to see anyone, I don’t want to have to explain any more, just leave me alone! — and leapt at the figure.
But the human dropped to all fours, grew larger, changed shape, and Wolf found himself face to face with the same lion who had already proved his dominance. Automatically, he dropped to the ground and whined. Sorry.
The lion placed a massive paw very gently on the back of his neck, then lifted it away. Apology accepted. His form rippled again, and he was the human Moony. "Change back, cub?" he asked quietly. "Please?"
A moment’s thought, and Harry lay face-down on the grass of the Quidditch pitch, his glasses pressing into his face. He’d tired himself out running, and apart from shifting his head a little to find a more comfortable angle for it, he didn’t want to move at all any more tonight.
He heard Moony sit down next to him. "Did you?" his Pack-father asked.
"No."
"All right." A hand rested on his back, began to rub it gently. "I wish there was some way to get you out of this, Harry. Since it seems there isn’t, we will help you as much as we can."
"I’m not allowed to have help," Harry protested.
"From your teachers. Which we are no longer." Moony added his other hand to the back rub. "Danger dreamed last night. This is the beginning of something, Harry, something big. I have no doubt you will make us proud." A moment’s silence. "Has it ever struck you that you and I have something in common?"
"Like what?"
"Neither of us had any choice in becoming what we are. I was four years old when I became a werewolf, you just over a year when you became The Boy Who Lived. And the world persists in seeing us primarily as what we are. We cannot escape those labels, as much as we would like to. But neither is that all we are."
"We’re not just whats," said Harry. "We’re whos."
Moony hummed a few notes of a song, and Harry smacked his leg. "You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do, and you’ve picked it up exactly. You can’t let this grind you down, Harry. You can’t let them define who you are, and who you will be. Unless you like their image — Harry Potter, daredevil boy hero, faster than a speeding spell, stronger than the Hogwarts Express, able to leap over the castle in a single bound..."
Harry laughed. "Look, up in the sky — it’s a winged horse! It’s a broomstick! It’s... Super Harry!"
Moony laughed with him. "Unless you have somehow acquired those abilities when I wasn’t looking, though, I don’t recommend trying to live up to your press," he said lightly.
"I don’t want to," said Harry, sitting up. "I just want to live through this. But I might like it if people didn’t think I was a liar and a cheat who sneaked into the Tournament."
Moony sighed. "That will have to wait until we find out who did put your name in the Goblet," he said. "In the meantime, I’m afraid I have no useful advice, or at least none that you’d be willing to hear."
"Don’t let them get to me, and don’t let them turn me into either a hero or a villain," Harry recited dryly. "Right?"
"Right. But I do have one thing to offer that I think you may like."
"What?"
"Albus is honoring your wish not to be found. You still have classes on Monday, obviously, and you’re responsible for your homework and such, but I think you can spare a few hours right now for a little emotion purging. And it strikes me that you’ve never yet had the opportunity to learn how to hunt."
"Hunt? You mean, really hunt?" Harry let his jaw hang loose in the best approximation his human form could give of a toothy wolf-grin. Chasing down and killing something sounded awfully good to both his forms at the moment.
"No need to ask if you’d like to go," said Moony, chuckling. "Stay human until we get outside is all I ask."
Harry nodded eagerly and followed Moony out the door. His problems might not be gone, but he had a feeling they’d look a little easier to handle after he’d vented a little emotion on some rabbits or deer.
Look out, Forest. Here comes Wolf.
Author Notes:
And I am now current on this website! Go me!
I will be updating at the same time on both sites from now on. So if you don't like fanfiction.net, you don't have to look there anymore. I'll be bringing over AU's and one-shots bit by bit.
See you next time, then, everybody!