The Boy Who Lived (Harry Potter AU)

Chapter 44

Harry looked at his friends. They nodded slightly. Which meant that they would talk later.  He sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb.
He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly. There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was
starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.
Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.
He turned to his friends; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, open-mouthed.
“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said blankly. “You know I didn’t.”
At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.
“Harry Potter!” he called again. “Harry! Up here, if you please!”
“Go on,” Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.
Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Huffle-
puff tables. It felt like an immensely long walk; the top table didn’t seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each were a searchlight. The
buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the
teachers upon him.
"State an oath you didn't do it my Lord." Said Hogwarts. "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my life and magic that I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire, nor asked an older student to do it. So I swear, so mote be it." Said Harry and waved his hand and wordlessly summoned his patronus. A bright light filled the hall as everyone saw his Snow Leopard patronus. And to top it he had done it wandlessly. Looking at the teachers he saw that there was a mixture of pride on their faces and worry. He smiled back at them which reassured them of their worries.

“Well . . . through the door, Harry,” said Dumbledore smiling.
Harry moved off along the teachers’ table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He winked at Harry and gave a small nod at the Snow Leopard. Harry went through
the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him. The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered.
He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.
Theodore Sanctum, Jason Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped
around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Sanctum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Jason was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.
“What is it Harry?” she said. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?” She thought he had come to deliver a message. Harry didn’t
know how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the three champions.
There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him
forward. “Extraordinary!” he muttered, squeezing Harry’s arm. “Absolutely
extraordinary! Gentlemen . . . lady,” he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. “May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the fourth Triwizard champion?”
Sanctum straightened up. His surly face darkened with glee as he surveyed Harry. Jason looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, frowned, and said, “Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.”
“Joke?” Bagman repeated, bewildered. “No, no, not at all! Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”
Sanctum’s thick eyebrows contracted slightly and he looked at Harry with a smirk. Jason was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned and grew angry at the fact that someone might be trying to get the boy, whom she loved as her brother, into trouble.  “But evidently zair ’as been a mistake,” she said angrily to Bagman. "Fleur don't worry, I've had the training." Harry whispered into her ear. Nodding slightly she relaxed, but not much.

“Well . . . it is amazing,” said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling  at Harry. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name’s come out of the goblet . . . I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage. . . . It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged . . . Harry will just have to do the best he —”
The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr.
Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.
“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat Harry is to compete also!”

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-
filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.
“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said imperiously.
“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. “Two Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember any-
one telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?”
He gave a short and nasty laugh.
“C’est impossible,” said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur’s shoulder.
“ ’Ogwarts cannot ’ave two champions. It is most injust.” “We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep
out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. “Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of
candidates from our own schools.”

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” he asked calmly.
“No,” said Harry. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely.

“Mr. Crouch . . . Mr. Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, “you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the
firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
“We must follow the rules, 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,” said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
“I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students,” said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his
smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. “You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It’s only fair, Dumbledore.”
“But Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that,” said Bagman. “The Goblet of Fire’s just gone out — it won’t reignite until the start of
the next tournament —”

“— in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!” exploded Karkaroff. “After all our meetings and negotiations
and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!”
“Empty threat, Karkaroff,” growled a voice from near the door. “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?”
Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.
“Convenient?” said Karkaroff. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Moody.”
Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists. “Don’t you?” said Moody quietly. “It’s very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter’s name in that goblet knowing he’d have to compete if it came out.”

“I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards —” said Karkaroff.

"When you do that Professor Karkaroff, do mention that Heir Potter also wishes to lodge a complaint." Said Harry quietly.
Everyone looked bewildered at Harry, all except Fleur who smirked.