Marauders - Always - Part One

CXLV: The Fourth Champion

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore murmured humbly.

"Dumbledore!" McGonagall rounded on him, "You know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" Her face was red with anger, "Really! What nonsense!"

"Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, "You are our objective judges. Surely you will agree this is most irregular!"

Mr. Crouch frowned. "We must follow the rules," he said, "And the rules clearly state --"

"Rules!" McGonagall hissed, her eyes flashing to Mr. Crouch.

"-- those whose name come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"He's not even old enough to have consented!" McGonagall shouted. "His guardians didn't consent - surely if we contacted --"

Dumbledore shook his head at her quickly, cutting her off.

McGonagall's jaw set, her eyes filled with the threat of tears.

"Barty knows the rule book back to front!" said Bagman jovially, as though the matter were settled entirely.

More explosive reactions from Madame Maxime and Igor Karkaroff echoed about the room. Harry felt like he was drowning in a sea of people who were taller and more impressive than him, and he was cowering away from the shouting and yelling. Harry felt himself slowly growing smaller... and smaller... and smaller... as words like binding magical contract and hoping Potter is going to die for it floating through his ears as the adults argued...

Harry felt like the world was vignetted, closing in to darkness all around him and words came as though he were underwater or else hearing them from very far away.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," Mr. Crouch's voice echoed, "So we are not going to tell you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... very important... and so the first task will be on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and a panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands..."

Harry left the Great Hall, numb, Cedric Diggory by his side, watched by the hollow, black stares of the jagged-mouthed jack-o-lanterns still hanging over the tables. In the entrance hall, they paused at the foot of the marble staircase, Harry reluctant to go on alone through the rest of the castle, half sure that something or someone would jump out at him at any moment.

Cedric looked over at Harry, torches flickering over their faces. "So... tell me..." he said, "How did you get your name in?"

Harry shook his head. "I - I didn't," he stammered. "I didn't put it in... I was telling the truth." His eyes looked at Cedric, begging him to understand... to believe.

"Ah," Cedric murmured, "Okay."

Cedric wasn't sure what to believe. But he knew a few things - first, he knew that Harry was the last person he wanted to compete against in the tournament. Already his father thought highly of Harry, already Cedric had something to live up to against Harry, but how was he, Cedric, supposed to battle against Harry Potter in good conscience?

Harry was just a boy - a child thrown, supposedly unwillingly, into a ring with adults, with fully trained wizards... It wasn't fair. Whoever won the Triwizard Tournament now would have to do so knowing they'd triumphed over... a child?

So much for glory.

Cedric felt suddenly exhausted.

"Well... see you, then," he murmured.