The Disgraced of the House of Black - A Multi-Character Fanfiction - Part One

87. International Magical Discooperation

"Madame Maxime! Professor Lyralle!" Fleur cried the moment the two followed the rest of the relevant staff into the room with the now four champions. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

Professor Lyralle, Harry noticed, was keeping quiet, watching as Madame Maxime raised herself to her full height and cried, "What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?"

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," Professor Karkaroff added. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

Professor Lyralle gave him an incredulous look.

"C'est impossible," Madame Maxime cried, resting her hand on Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said angrily. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape said cooly. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here-"

"Oh, please," Lyralle scoffed unexpectedly, giving Snape a look of such loathing Harry wondered for the first time if they knew one another. "Are you all daft?"

Karkaroff and Madame Maxime both stared at her in shock as she resumed, "That Goblet was specifically designed to select three champions. Three, and yet upon it selecting four you suddenly think it was mere bias? It had to have been meddled with by someone who wanted a child to risk death! Why on earth would Professor Dumbledore risk the life of one of his own students who has already had more than his fair share dancing with death?"

The silence that followed was a tense, shocked one as Karkaroff and Madame Maxime stared at her in surprise.

"Harry," Dumbledore said finally, turning to face him. "Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"

"No," Harry said firmly.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring the disbelieving scoff from Snape at his elbow.

"No," Harry insisted vehemently.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime.

"He couldn't have crossed the Age Line," McGonagall said sharply. "I am sure that we are all agreed on that-"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," Madame Maxime retorted.

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" McGonagall retorted. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

Lyralle noticed with a small quiver of delight that she shot Snape an angry look. In that moment, she decided she liked Professor McGonagall very much.

"Mr Crouch...Mr Bagman," Karkaroff said, "you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

"We must follow the rules," Crouch said in a sharp voice. "And the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," Bagman said with an air of finality.

"This is ridiculous," Lyralle said desperately. "It doesn't matter what's happening with the tournament now. Can't any of you see the seriousness of such a dupe?"

"Yes, of course, Professor Charlotte," Snape shot back.

Harry was shocked to see Lyra's pale face flush a deep red, not with embarrassment but with anger.

"Of course, cafard," she shot back.

"Control yourself, Lyralle," Madame Maxime hissed quickly in French.

"After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur!" Karkaroff yelled. "I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," the growling voice of Mad-Eye Moody retorted. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

"Convenient?" Karkaroff repeated, sputtering. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

"Don't you?" Moody replied. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet, knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" Madame Maxime snapped.

Lyralle resisted rolling her eyes with difficulty. It was not that she didn't understand, but the Triwizard Tournament surely wasn't so important to these people as to fight about it, especially in such an irregular circumstance. And considering what just happened at the World Cup. It seemed, however, that she was wrong.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," Karkaroff agreed, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards-"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," Moody countered. "But...funny thing...I don't hear him saying a word."

"Why should 'e complain?" Fleur burst out. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e?" We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honour for our schools! A thousand galleon prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Fleur," Lyra chided quickly.

"Maybe someone is hoping Potter will die for it," Moody suggested.

A very tense silence followed these words, although secretly, Lyra was beginning to think Moody was the only other adult present who was speaking any sense aside, of course, from Professor McGonagall.

"Moody, old man," Bagman said finally, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. "What a thing to say."

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," Karkaroff scoffed loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" Moody cried. "Seeing thing, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet..."

"What evidence is zere for zat?" Madame Maxime demanded.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" Moody growled. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament...I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category."

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody!" Karkaroff said coldly. "And a very ingenious theory, it is - though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."

The impertinence of his statement was so great only Moody dared reply.

"It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff...as you ought to remember-"

"Alaster!" Dumbledore cried warningly.

Karkaroff looked even angrier than Lyra had been at Snape's repetition of her name, and like that situation too, Harry did not entirely understand why either had gotten so angry.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," Dumbledore said with an air of finality. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."