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Enjoy!!
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𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐔𝐏 and walked towards the headmaster as if I had done nothing wrong. The old man scrutinised me thoroughly for a while, and I flashed him a wry little smile.
He did not smile, respond or show any reaction. He just pointed to the way Krum and Fleur had gone through, and I simply followed. Avoiding the gaze of the adults and walking as if everything was perfectly alright.
Man, I'm really dumb.
What was I thinking? Merlin, it made a lot of sense that the sorting hat didn't even consider sending me to Ravenclaw. I was completely aware that that moron wouldn't know what I had done when I put my name on that thing and would, most likely, never even find out. I didn't want to be chosen; I was just mad. Merlin, I'm so stupid. I could've simply ignored that bastard, as I had done for years, but no, I had to come up with the ridiculous idea of cheating my name on that Cup. There was no reason for what I did, and that was the comical part of it. I didn't want to compete or even to win. I solely did something without thinking, as usual.
No. I'm beyond dumb; I'm an idiot. I'm sure of it.
I walked into the chamber and decided to wait for the scolding that would come a bit further away from the other champions. I looked at the thousands of trophies around the place, feeling an enormous urge to laugh at my own situation as I waited for the adults to show up.
Now that the shock had passed, I wasn't even that nervous about being chosen to participate. I was excited, actually.
Yeah...
Underline the word was.
I couldn't be happy for long, since less than two minutes after I reached the chamber, I was surprised by the ridiculous face of the one who, unfortunately, lived.
Potter walked in and soon there was a sound of scurrying feet behind him. Right after he walked into the room, Ludo Bagman followed after him, his face looking as annoying as ever. I supposed I wasn't looking very friendly at that moment since he avoided my gaze and took Potter by the arm, leading him forward.
"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing the arm of the boy.
"Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen... Ladies," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three.
"May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth Triwizard champion?"
You've got to be kidding me.
Krum-bonbon straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Potter. Once again, I assumed I must be looking pretty murderous since the boy seemed to coil under my gaze. The Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, 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!"
Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly, and Fleur frowned.
"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman.
"'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."
"Well... It is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry.
"But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name 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 his best. Other than that, Miss Black is also under the age restriction -"
The door behind them opened again and a large group of people came in: old man Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr Crouch, Professor Goatee, Madame Tall, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. I could hear 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 zis little boy is to compete also!"
I snorted a laugh, loud enough for Potter to hear, and he glared at me.
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 anyone 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."
"It's no one's fault but Potter and Black, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice.
I rolled my eyes.
"Don't go blaming Dumbledore for their determination to break rules. It has been happening lines ever since they arrived here -"
"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.
Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Potter, who looked right back at him. Once again, nobody remembered I was there. However, at the moment I was quite pleased by that, really. I didn't have a plausible excuse to use, in case someone asked me what I had done. It's not like I could simply say?
Well; I was mad at my sperm donor so I cheated my name into the Goblet of Fire because he said I couldn't, and by the way, your security spells suck.
No. That wouldn't work. It would work enough to give me detention until graduation, perhaps an expulsion. Nothing else.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" old man Dumbledore calmly asked Potter.
"No," said the boy.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Dumbledore again.
"No," said Potter vehemently.
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply.
"I am sure we are all agreed on that -"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.
"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily.
"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!"
She shot a very angry look at Professor Snape.
"What about you, Miss Black?" questioned Dumbledore.
"What about me?" I said with a smirk.
He analysed me through his glasses, the sparkly blue of his eyes gazing at me as if he was staring into my soul.
Shit. He knew.
"Did you ask an older student to put your name on the Goblet?" asked the man.
"No, sir," I answered immediately.
That wasn't a lie.
Before Dumbledore or Karkaroff could say anything else, the door was opened again, and four figures rushed through it.
"Dumbledore," exclaimed Lily Potter running towards her beloved toe-rag who-lived.
"He's not going to join in, is he? It's not possible, there's something wrong," chattered the redhead.
"Lily," called the headmaster and the redhead agreed nervously, hugging her son by the shoulders.
"Sorry, sorry," whispered the woman, trying to calm herself down.
I watched the adults papering the boy, all nervous and searching for an answer to the situation while completely ignoring my existence.
Nothing new so far.
Or rather, there was one small difference. The difference was in Black's eyes that seemed to burn holes in my head. I held my gaze on his for a while, but when I realised how serious he was looking at me I gave up. He was staring at me so intensely, that it was making me uncomfortable. I couldn't decipher what he was thinking, but I would imagine that maybe he was angry, irritated or even disappointed. I couldn't be sure, though. The only thing I was sure, was that weirdly enough; his gaze didn't seem to leave me since he entered the room.
"Mr Crouch. . . Mr Bagman," said the goatee man after a while, his voice unctuous once more.
"You are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Bagman wiped his round, ugly, and annoying face with his handkerchief before looking at Mr Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight.
"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," said Crouch.
"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 the Goatee man.
Karkaroff was looking very mad. I would find it funny if I wasn't feeling bad for them.
"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.
I turned my gaze towards the entrance and twitched my nose in annoyance.
"You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, as Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and I held the urge to pull a face at the sight of the man.
"Convenient?" said Karkaroff.
"I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
"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."
Glad to know that they're concerned about my safety as well...
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.
"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, 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 and Black," growled Moody.
"But... Funny thing... I don't hear them saying a word..."
"Why should 'ey complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot.
"'Ey 'ave ze chance to compete, 'ven't 'ey? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl.
I am.
An extremely tense silence followed these words. I rolled my eyes and Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said.
"Moody, old man... 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," said Karkaroff 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,"
Goatee guy had a very valid point.
"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody.
"Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet..."
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody.
"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...."
Or he just threw his name on it, as I did.
"What about her? Did someone put her name on it as well? Do someone wants to kill her too?" mocked Karkaroff.
"We will discuss what happened with Miss Black," assured Dumbledore.
"Do you really believe someone put her name on the Goblet?" exclaimed Karkaroff.
"Yes," I snapped.
That someone was me, but they didn't need to know that.
"We must concentrate on who would do that, rather than if they did that. Someone might be wanting to kill Potter, and harm Miss Black," insisted Moody.
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff 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..."
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice.
"It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you ought to remember..."
"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly.
I perked my ears, suddenly interested in the conversation. I noticed that Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction.
Goatee guy was very red, if it was from embarrassment or angriness I couldn't tell.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room.
"It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Miss Black and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do...."
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
Dumbledore waited, but Madame Tall did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.
So. Damn. Annoying.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room.
"Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?"
Mr Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.
"Yes," he said.
"Instructions. Yes... The first task..."
He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, he looked very ill. He looked like he was punched in both eyes and his wrinkles looked unusually appealing.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told us.
"So we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... Very important..."
Sounds exciting.
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the 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. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr Crouch with mild concern.
"This is absurd," exclaimed Lily.
"He cannot participate. For Merlin sake's, Dumbledore. He's only fourteen," argued the woman.
"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do, Lily," spoke Dumbledore wearily.
"What do you mean 'nothing we can do'? Of course, you can do something. Don't let him compete," exclaimed the oldest Potter.
"It's a magical contract, James. There's nothing to be done," spoke Dumbledore, and the woman huffed annoyed.
Black was still studying me, perhaps hoping to see my reaction to all that happened.
"Can we leave?" I asked loudly, and the Potters finally turned to me.
Lily Potter stared at me in complete shock. Her emerald green eyes were wide and her mouth was open in astonishment.
"Raven?" she whispered.
I threw her debauched smirk and turned my gaze back to the headmaster.
"Can we leave?" I repeated.
"All in good time, Miss Black," Dumbledore answered and I rolled my eyes.
" Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?" asked Dumbledore, completely ignoring my request.
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr Crouch.
"It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment.... I've left young Weatherby in charge.... Very enthusiastic... A little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.
"Come on, Barry, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly.
"It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.
But Madame Tall woman had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. I could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Goatee guy beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.
"Can we go now?" I insisted.
"Miss Black, I would like to have a word..." started the man, and I scoffed.
"Well; I wouldn't," I interrupted.
"Raven..." started Lily Potter softly.
"Don't. We're not friends, we're not close, and we don't know each other. I'm going to bed," I warned, passing swiftly around then.
"You're not excused yet," snarled Professor Snape.
"I'm excusing myself," I spoke, walking out of the place.
I heard footsteps behind me, and I saw from over my shoulder, that Potter was walking close to me. I fastened my walk, hoping to get away from the boy. The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.
"Hey," I heard Potter say but decided to ignore.
"Wait," he called again.
I kept walking, pretending not to hear him calling me insistently.
"Raven, wait," called the boy.
I was about to ignore him again but a hand gripped my shoulder, causing me to turn and slap it away.
"What?" I asked impatiently.
"I... Hm..." started the boy.
I rolled my eyes and turned my back at him, starting to walk again.
"Wait. Raven," he called again.
"Don't call me Raven. We're not friends," I snapped, still not facing him.
"Right... So... Tell me..." said the boy catching up and staying next to me, as we reached the entrance hall.
"How did you get your name in?"
I sighed annoyed, completely ignoring him. I walked fastly, and silently towards the Gryffindor Tower.
All my excitement had vanished after I saw Potter walking into that door. I was still thinking I was quite dumb for putting my name on that thing, but now, I couldn't bring myself to be anxious about the situation. I was annoyed. For some damn reason, I was annoyed. I couldn't really understand why, but when I saw Potter walk into the room. I felt as if he was meddling in my business, just like his family.
His family.
Merlin; Black wouldn't give me peace anytime soon. I knew that. The look on his face became clear after a while, and I knew he knew what I had done. He didn't say anything, but at the first opportunity, he would. I was sure of that, and if he do that, we would be in for a long and heated argument.
I sighed, completely tired.
I wanted to throw myself at that Cup and, hopefully, catch myself on fire.
My head was starting to hurt, and I really fancied a shower at the moment, so I simply said the password to the Fat Lady. She was accompanied by some friends and seemed to be trying very hard to not ask me something. When the portrait finally decided to ask me whatever she wanted, my glare said I wasn't in the mood to talk, so she just flung the passage open, and I walked in.
The blast of noise that met my ears when the portrait opened was anything but nice. The next thing I knew, people were running and wrenching Potter inside the common room, all screaming, applauding, and whistling.
I rolled my eyes and made my way through the crowd, heading straight for my bedroom.
My roommates were probably at the party downstairs, so I didn't have to bother telling anyone to butt out of my life. I sighed for the tenth time that day and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower.
The water was falling, overlapping the loud noise of voices in the party occurring downstairs. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I started to re-think everything that had happened and started to cringe again at the thought of what I had done. I brought my hands to my head and felt all my annoyance disappear as a profound mixture of regret, disbelief took a hold of me, accompanied by a tremendous urge to laugh.
I punched the air a few times, stomping on the floor in frustration, feeling like the dumbest human being on the planet.
"You're dumb," I exclaimed to the mirror.
What the fuck had I done? Merlin, I needed to stop doing that. Dumbledore would surely come looking for me the next day. I knew he'd seen it on my face that I'd done it, and even if he didn't, it's not like they needed to be a seer to know that putting my name in the Goblet was something I would do.
I massaged my eyes tiredly, sighing a few times and ruffling my hair. I stared at the water falling in the shower and did the only thing left to do.
I started to laugh.
Tears dripped from my eyes, and I leaned over the sink, laughing uncontrollably.
"Merlin, I'm so screwed," I said to myself, laughing even harder.
Finally, when I had enjoyed all my misery, I stepped into the bath. After many, many minutes, I got out and got ready for bed. My dormmates hadn't arrived yet, and I took advantage of their absence to go to bed and close the curtains around my bed, aiming to ignore any kind of conversation. I wasn't sure how exactly I had managed to do that, but I fell asleep just a couple of minutes.