The Triwizard Tournament
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"He's clearly in love with you."
"Why wouldn't he be?"
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THROUGH THE GATES, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Rose could see Hogwarts coming nearer, it's many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Harry, Rose, Ron, Hermione, and Neville jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.
Rose heard a soft crack! from overhead. She looked up with narrowed eyes, to see Peeves the Poltergeist, floating at least twenty feet above them. His wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he aimed a giant red water balloon straight at them.
"Oh, lord." She sighed, before walking many feet behind them, getting out of the line of fire.
"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head. "if that keeps up, the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak—ARRGH!"
The large red water-filled balloon had dropped from Peeves hands, and onto Ron's head. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped—narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry's feet. People all around them shrieked and starting pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire.
Rose shook her head slowly, very thankful she moved as far backward as she could.
"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"
Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall, she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.
"Ouch—sorry, Miss Granger—"
"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.
"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.
"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.
"I shall call the Headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "Im warning you, Peeves—!"
Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.
"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"
Harry, Rose, Ron, and Hermione slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face.
The Great Hall looked it's usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors, not before saying goodbye to Rose, as she made her way toward the Slytherin table.
As she was close enough to Blaise, she made eye contact with Pansy Parkinson, who held their contact for quite some time. Rose looked her up and down very slowly. Pansy narrowed her eyes before gulping, turning back to her conversation with Draco, who looked like he wanted death to hit him in the face.
Rose continued her way to the seat beside Blaise, swung her legs over the stool, and sat herself down.
"She's still scared of you, you know." said Blaise, watching Rose get herself comfortable in the seat.
"Good." She grumbled, setting her head down in her hands.
"You okay?" Daphne Greengrass, a pretty blonde girl calmly questioned from in front of her.
"Yes. Fine." She paused, raising her head up. "Do any of you have the Daily Prophet?"
"Uhh..." Theo Nott leaned backward and reached into Daphne's bag. "Yup. Right here."
"Hey! Did you just take that from my bag?" Daphne exclaimed furiously.
"Yes, i did." He handed it out for Rose to take.
"Thanks." Rose mumbled, taking it and reading over the headlines as Daphne scolded Theo for taking from her bag in the background. "Blah.. Blah.. Blah.. All of this is boring."
"Then why'd you want it?" said Blaise, snickering.
"Maybe it wouldn't be boring today, i was wrong."
"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Theo, who was looking up at the teachers.
They had never had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Rose's favorite by far had to be Professor Lupin, who had resigned last year. She looked up and down the staff table. There was definitely no new face there.
"Maybe they couldn't get anyone." Daphne answered.
"What is taking so long?" Another forth year Slytherin boy by the name of Sam Donnelly groaned beside them. "I could eat a hippogriff."
"Oh, quiet yourself, Donnelly." said Blaise.
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school—all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave him a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, I fell in the lake! He looked positively delighted about it.
Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizards hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into a song:
A thousand years or more ago,
When i was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
"Oh, god." Rose groaned, throwing her head down onto the table.
..They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff...
Rose had lifted her head off the table, and picked up the Daily Prophet once again as the Hat continued to sing. Scanning over the words boringly, she was going to shut the paper, when a certain headline caught her attention.
A terrible Tragedy.
Amanda McKays husband, Brian McKay, found dead in home just yesterday. Open bloody slashes and large scrapes on every inch of his body. We thought it might have been done with a knife, or maybe a switch blade, but We have discovered that his death was caused by the spell 'Diffindo'. The spell is not a spell typically used for murders, but can be very dangerous if used by a certain dangerous individual. We have officials working on the case, hoping to find the one responsible. If any more information on the situation is revealed, we will give it out immediately.
"Hey," Blaise whispered to her, "Are you alright? You look like you've just seen death itself." He chuckled.
When she didn't respond, he reached over and snatched the paper out of her hands. He mumbled the words as he read. Once finished, he had a large smile on his face. "Yeah!" He held up his hand for her to give him a high-five.
She looked at his hand and back up at him.
His excitement turned to confusion at her queasy looking expression.
"Um, Hello? Why aren't you excited?"
"I—I—" She stammered, not finding the right words.
"Brian is dead. The man whose caused you nothing but pain your whole life?" He stated like it was obvious.
"You really think he deserved to die?"
"You lost Aurora, and you still don't know how or why. Because he wouldn't tell you. You lost your entire childhood to that man, he totally deserves it! He's tried to kill you numerous times. If anything, you should be jumping with joy."
Her heart wrenched at the mention of her dead best friend, but nonetheless said, "I'm just.. surprised." She shrugged. "Doesn't mean i'm not happy he's dead."
The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished singing.
Once Blaise was turned away, Rose blew out a huge puff of air, swallowing hard.
Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.
"When i call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.
"Ackerley, Stewart!"
A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.
"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.
"So," said Blaise. "Shall we celebrate the death of Brian McKay?"
She had an awful feeling in her stomach, but shook it away, not wanting Blaise to get too worried. "Yeah."
"Great!" He exclaimed.
"Baddock, Malcolm!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
"So, you make a move with Lovegood yet?" Rose questioned, tapping the tips of her fingers on the wooden table.
"Shut up." He smacked her arm, "How about you and Potter?"
She lightly snickered, still tapping on the table. "What about him?"
"He's clearly in love with you." He huffed, shocked by how oblivious she could be.
She shrugged, "Why wouldn't he be?"
There was a short pause. "I know you like him too."
She stopped tapping on the table, turning to look at him with raised eyebrows. "Like... like like?"
He shut his eyes and sighed in annoyance. "Yes, like like."
"We've only been friends for a year. Plus, Cho Chang has gotten much more attractive over the summer.." She shifted her eyes toward the Ravenclaw table.
"Don't tell me you've got a thing for Chang now." Blaise raised an eyebrow.
"So what? You like a Ravenclaw, I like a Ravenclaw."
"You also like a Gryffindor."
Rose furrowed her eyebrows, before tilting her head. "Hermione?"
"I—No!" He put his head in his hands, "I mean Potter."
"Will you let that go? I don't like Harry, i see him as my friend, a best friend, if anything."
"Alright, well you might've not figured it out yet, but he definitely has." He stated.
"Figured out what?"
"Oh my—you're so dense." He slapped his forehead with his palm. "That he likes you!"
She sighed, rolling her eyes.
He rose his eyebrows, "Don't believe me? Look at him." He smugly stated, before turning back to the sorting ceremony.
She swiftly shifted her eyes toward where she last saw Harry sit down, to see him immediately turn his head in the opposite direction of her, a small tint of red on his cheeks.
Oh.
"I—What—? When?—Why?"
"I told you." said Blaise.
"If you knew, why didn't you tell me this before?"
"Why didn't you realize it before?" He shot back.
She rubbed her temples with her thumb and forefinger. "Nice." She whispered.
"Creevey, Dennis!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.
"This is ridiculous. When am i allowed to eat?" Rose banged her hands on the table as though it were a drum, looking around the room.
"Never." boosted Theo as he snacked on a pack of peanuts.
"Where did you get those?" Daphne asked curiously.
He shrugged, "In your bag."
"Are you kidding me?" She glared at him.
"Give me one." Rose stated, reaching her hand across the table.
He placed a couple peanuts into Rose's hand. She threw them into her mouth immediately.
And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hate and the stool and carried them away.
"About time," said Sam Donnelly, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.
Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at his students, his arms wide in welcome.
"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."
"Yeah!" said Theo and Blaise loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.
They immediately loaded their plates.
"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Sam, with his mouth full of mashed potato.
The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.
When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are fed and watered, i must once more ask for your attention, while i give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Franged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, i believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."
The corners of Dumbledores mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, i would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
"What?" Theo gasped. He looked toward Sam Donnelly, who was also apart of the Slytherin quidditch team. He was mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.
Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers time and energy—but i am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.
A dull clunk echoed through the hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling.
The lightning has thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any they had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seem to be scarred. The mouth looks like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.
One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye—then it made direct eye contact with Rose, and she felt quite uncomfortable—and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the mans head, so that all they could see was whiteness.
The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it muttering words they couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head and unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and just shared the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.
The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting relentlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and all the students.
"May i introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.
"Moody?" Theo muttered to Blaise, Rose, and Daphne. "Mad-Eye Moody?"
"What happened to his face?" Rose scrunched up her nose.
"Dunno," Daphne whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.
Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long drag from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Rose saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, and ending in a clawed foot.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As i was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.
The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Er—but maybe this is not the time... no..." said Dumbledore, "where was i? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so i hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."
"Death toll?" Daphne whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another.
Rose was not excited nor worried, she was appalled. She thought the whole thing was extremely idiotic. "Death toll. There is literally a death toll. Who's idea was this? Whoever's it was needs to be fired. Who—who thought it would be a good idea.. to bring back a tournament that has killed people? Stupidest thing i've heard all week."
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt—"
"That answers my question." said Rose, slumping her shoulders.
"—-We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."
"I find that hard to believe." stated both Rose and Daphne.
"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."
"I'm going for it!" Theo hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches.
"Um no, you're not." said Daphne seriously.
"Why not?"
"Did you not hear him? Death toll, Theo. You could die." She stated like it was obvious.
"So? At least i'll die pretty." He grinned.
She whacked him upside the head. He winced.
Rose and Blaise turned their heads to each other. "Married couple."
Theo was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts Champion. At every house table, everyone was either gazing up at Dumbledore fearlessly, or whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.
"Eager though i know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts." he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This"—Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious.
"Aw, man." Theo looked down disappointedly.
"Ha!" exclaimed Daphne in triumph.
"Aw, you aren't gonna die, how terrible." Blaise feigned sadness.
"It wasn't about death, Blaise, It's about—" He frowned, sighing. "How many girls i was gonna get if i won."
"I understand." Rose nodded.
Dumbledore continued, "—is a measure of what feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks out impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred and Georges mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will be all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and i know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop Chop!"
Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.
"They can't do that!" said Sam Donnelly, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore.
"They're not stopping me entering," said a fifth year Slytherin boy who Rose did not know the name of. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Yeah," said Theo, a faraway look on his face. "A thousand Galleons..."
"You all are gonna get yourselves killed." said Rose, turning away and setting off to the entrance hall.
She entered the entrance hall, scanned the room until her eyes landed on the back of Ron's head. She started walking over, speed-walking the second she gets close and then— "BOO!"
Ron gasped loudly, almost falling over as Rose's hands pushed down on his shoulders. "Will you ever stop doing that?"
She chuckled, "No."
"Rose, what are your opinions on the tournament?" questioned Hermione.
"I think it's a fucking stupid idea." She answered, moving to stand in between Harry and Hermione as they walked.
"Thank you!" exclaimed Hermione.
"Stupid?" said both Fred and George.
"It's awesome! The thought of eternal glory, and—" Before George went on a rampage, Rose interrupted.
"and, the possibility of being killed. Sooo fun."
"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" said Harry.
"Dunno," said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George. . . ."
"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," said Ron.
"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are—"
"The judge could possibly be a girl." Rose implied, shrugging her shoulders slightly.
"It'll most likely be a man." said Ron.
"What makes you say that?" Hermione questioned, both her and Rose raised their eyebrows at him.
"I—No—i didn't mean it like that—Women can be judges! Right? Right—back me up please," He pleaded to Fred and George.
"Yeah—Women can do any profession!" defended George, shaking his head quickly.
Fred nodded erratically. "Women are strong leaders and—and they rule the world."
Ron smacked him discreetly, "Rule the world?" he whisper-shouted.
Hermione and Rose blinked at them before grinning, "Thank you."
"Anyway, Dumbledores trying to stop us giving our names." said Fred.
"People have died, though!" said Hermione, as they neared a door concealed behind a tapestry.
"I have to go now," Rose reminded, about to walk away, in the direction of the dungeons when Harry grabbed her shirt sleeve to stop her.
Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George continued walking away, their voices drowning out in the distance, but Harry stayed behind.
"What?" Rose asked.
"I—uh—" He looked around the corridor, seeing not that many people. "I read the Daily Prophet."
She slowly nodded, "Okay..?"
He looked to the side once more and back at her. "I saw that Brian is... well—"
"Dead." She nodded, "I know."
"Yeah. I wanted to see if.. you were okay." He felt his face getting hot.
"Yeah," She said, "Fine."
"Well, i mean— the thing is.. he was found dead, the day after you went there to get your stuff.." He seemed uncertain, as though regretting stopping her in the first place.
She stared at him, "Yeah. That's true. What are you saying?"
He sighed, looking for the right words. "Did he try and hurt you?"
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he suddenly felt way more nervous than he thought he'd be. "Hurt me?"
"Is it possible he.. you know.. tried to harm you. And you—tried to get him away but—accidentally doing something more?"
"You think i killed him?" She whispered.
"No—!" He whisper-shouted, "At least not purposely—"
"He did try and hurt me."
He looked in her eyes.
"But i didn't kill him."
He frowned, feeling awful for asking.
"I should get to my dorm now." She nodded her head toward the Dungeons, before walking away with the rest of the Slytherins.
"Shit," Harry whispered to himself.
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a/n: can Harry ever learn to stfu