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| A DIVIDED QUARTET |
song: iris by the goo goo dolls.
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HARRY 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.
Harry turned to Ara, Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, openmouthed.
"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."
Ara, Hermione, and Ron stared just as blankly back.
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 Harry," Ara whispered at once, giving Harry a slight push. "It's okay."
It wasn't and Ara knew that, but they wouldn't let him compete, they couldn't, it was against the rules. Harry could die, she wanted to believe that these people were sane enough to not let him participate, but the heaviness in her chest grew heavier as Harry stared back at her with a pleading expression, silently begging for her to believe him, he didn't break his promise, he would never.
"I know," was all Ara said, and it was enough for Harry to let go of her.
He got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff 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.
Ara believed Harry more than anyone, if he said he didn't put his name in, then he did not put his name in, end of story. But if it wasn't him, who was it? Who would want Harry in such danger? She recalled her dream, how this someone was so desperate to get rid of her, claiming that she always stood in the way, and then Ara understood, that if Harry competed, he would have to go through the trials alone, without her, she would no longer be there to help him, at least not while he was actually in the playing field, in danger. She couldn't interfere. Maybe. . .perhaps. . .it was all connected.
"Well . . . through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.
Harry moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished and stared at Harry as he passed like everyone else. Ara anxiously kept her eyes trained on him until he was out of sight.
As soon as Dumbledore went through the door after Harry, chatter broke the silence, and protests could be heard everywhere around Ara, but what caught her attention was Ron's voice.
"Slimy git didn't even tell me."
Ara's head snapped towards his direction.
"Ron, he didn't put his name in," said Ara indignantly, her eyes widening in disbelief.
"Of course you'd believe him." scoffed Ron.
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ara harshly, she couldn't believe that Ron thought that Harry was lying, she'd seen his face, his sheer panic and fear. "He's your best friend, you're supposed to believe in him too."
Ron didn't say anything, he simply stood up abruptly, furiously muttering under his breath as he walked away. Ara turned her gaze towards Hermione, "You don't think that he put his name in, right?"
"No," said Hermione, her face was one of shock, shaking her head. "Of course not."
"Someone had to put his name in, it didn't just magically write itself," said Ara tensely, with furrowed eyebrows.
Hermione was about to say something but firmly McGonagall demanded that they all go back to their dormitories. Ara and Hermione looked at each other hesitantly for a moment before they gathered themselves and made their way towards the common room.
"Ria!" called Fred and George as the girls continued to walk with linked arms, both of them perturbed by the situation.
"How did little Harry manage to put his name in?" asked George.
"Potion?" said Fred.
"Spell?" said George.
"He didn't put it in." said Ara firmly, he wouldn't lie to me, she thought to herself. Harry had never betrayed her trust, he wasn't about to start now.
The twins eyed her suspiciously with identical smirks.
"We'll find out sooner or later," they sang simultaneously and without another word, they told the Fat Lady the password to the common room and went inside. Hermione was about to follow their lead but noticed that Ara wasn't moving.
"Aren't you coming in?"
Ara shook her head and said, "I think I'll wait here."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," Ara gave Hermione's arm a squeeze before she leaned her back against the wall.
Hermione seemed hesitant to leave her there but finally nodded and went through the portrait hole, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Ara slowly slid down the wall, sitting down on the floor as she brought her knees closer to her chest, she placed her elbows on top of them and let her head fall onto her palms. She took in a long and deep breath, closing her eyes as her mind tried to process what had just happened. The possibility of Harry actually being forced to compete made her want to empty her stomach in the nearest toilet from fear. She'd paid the Tournament little mind ever since it was announced because she'd believed that no one she loved would manage to get chosen. And yet, here she was, silently praying to the universe for help. Hoping that some superior force would hear her and offer her help for once in her life.
Don't let Harry compete, don't let him compete, please. . .don't let him die on me. . .
"Are you okay?"
Ara immediately tensed as she quickly raised her head at the sound of the voice, she hadn't even heard footsteps drawing near her, she'd been too wrapped up in her own world. She was surprised to find Atlas Auclair standing in front of her a couple of feet away, his hands in his pockets as he looked at her with worry.
He awkwardly cleared his throat at her silence, "Sorry to interrupt—er—whatever you were doing, you just seemed. . ."
"Done with life?" Ara finished with a derisive smile as she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you doing in this part of the castle?"
"I was going for a walk, I didn't fancy joining the pity party of the non-chosen of my classmates, it can get depressing really fast," Atlas said, clicking his tongue. "And you? Did you just randomly decide to sit on the floor? Are you having an existential crisis?"
"No," she rolled her eyes, letting her arms fall to her sides. "I'm waiting for a friend."
"That Potter bloke?" said Atlas, raising an eyebrow as a slightly teasing smile grew on his face. "Is he your boyfriend?"
"No, he isn't," said Ara calmly, giving him a scornful look. She didn't know how people like him existed, so open and trusting, believing that they could make a friend out of anyone. It was refreshing to see, nonetheless. "we're just best friends."
"Well, they all start somewhere." He suggested as he went over to lean against the wall next to her. "You've known each other long?"
She gave him a weird look.
"Sorry, I'm a bit of a romantic, though it hasn't served my benefit, I assure you,"
"Someone broke your heart?" said Ara, trying to not appear amused.
"Something like that," he muttered before changing to a lighter subject, "you've always been a Hogwarts student?"
"Been here since I was eleven," said Ara shortly, "that's how I met Harry and Hermione."
"And the redhead?" he inquired confusedly.
"He's my brother."
"Oh, yeah, I see the resemblance," Atlas said sarcastically.
Ara rolled her eyes, "I get that a lot. Adopted, in case you were wondering."
"I figured." he nodded thoughtfully. "So, how did you end up with your family?"
Ara was careful with her answer, "Let's just say my biological family is complicated. The Black family tree is all sorts of mad, let's just say I'm lucky that I ended up with the Weasleys. It can be really interesting from an outsider's point of view."
"Biological parents weren't good?" His eyebrows furrowed.
"Dead Mum since I was one, absent Dad as well."
She internally cringed when she threw shame at her Dad, but she couldn't exactly be seen sympathising with him just yet. If she started blabbing about how she thought he was innocent right now that would not only put her in danger but him as well.
"Ah, family drama, I know a thing or two about that," Atlas sighed.
"Your turn," said Ara promptly, turning her inquisitive eyes on him. "Tell me about yourself."
"Well, it's just me and Dad because my Mum passed away when I was ten, I have no siblings so the house is pretty dull and quiet nowadays, but at least I don't have to deal with pestering aunts or annoying little cousins, our family's small," Atlas explained.
"What are your parents' names?" asked Ara curiously.
"Remi Auclair and Antoinette Martin-Auclair, Mum kept her maiden name, said she liked it better," he said, giving a small watery chuckle. "And your parents?"
"Sirius Black and Ava Corbin-Black," said Ara with a small smile, though cautiously assessing his reaction, wondering if he was going to run away when he heard her Dad's name but he surprised her when he stayed.
"Do you look more like your Dad or Mum?" said Atlas, trying to make conversation.
"Definitely Dad," said Ara, trying to appear displeased. "Some say that I have his personality too. And you? Who do you look like more?"
"Actually we almost have no resemblance. Mum was blonde, same with dad," said Atlas, shrugging. She wasn't sure if she'd imagined it but she could swear she heard some bitterness when he mentioned his father.
"Well not all children look like their parents," Ara shrugged.
"Yeah. . ." mumbled Atlas before straightening up. "Well, I better get back or Madam Maxine will have my head for not making curfew, bonne nuit, Ara."
"Bonne nuit, Atlas,"
Ara stared at his retreating figure, her brain swirling with mostly suspicion. His appearance was so similar to her own, his eyes. . .Ara knew loads of people had grey eyes but that unique eye shade he carried was too similar to overlook. There was something about him, something troubling and intriguing that made her want to learn every detail about him. She licked her lips and shook her head, trying to stop herself from overthinking about something that couldn't possibly be true.
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"HARRY, CEDRIC, I SUGGEST YOU GO UP TO BED," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left together.
The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.
"So," said Cedric, with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other again!"
"I s'pose," said Harry. He really couldn't think of anything to say. The inside of his head seemed to be in complete disarray, as though his brain had been ransacked.
"So . . . tell me . . ." said Cedric as they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire. "How did you get your name in?"
"I didn't," said Harry, staring up at him. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."
"Ah . . . okay," said Cedric. Harry could tell Cedric didn't believe him. "Well . . . see you, then."
Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric headed for a door to its right. Harry stood listening to him going down the stone steps beyond it, then, slowly, he started to climb the marble ones.
Was anyone except Ara, Ron and Hermione going to believe him, or would they all think he'd put himself in for the tournament? Ara would never think that you put it in, he assured himself, she'd already shown her trust in him. How could anyone think that when he was facing competitors who'd had three years more magical education than he had —when he was now facing tasks that not only sounded very dangerous but which were to be performed in front of hundreds of people? Yes, he'd thought about it . . . he'd fantasised about it . . . but it had been a joke, really, an idle sort of dream . . . he'd never really, seriously considered entering. . . .
But someone else had considered it . . . someone else had wanted him in the tournament, and had made sure he was entered. Why? To give him a treat? He didn't think so, somehow. . . .
To see him make a fool of himself? Well, they were likely to get their wish. . . .
But to get him killed?
Was Moody just being his usual paranoid self? Couldn't someone have put Harry's name in the goblet as a trick, a practical joke? Did anyone really want him dead?
Harry was able to answer that at once. Yes, someone wanted him dead, someone had wanted him dead ever since he had been a year old . . . Lord Voldemort. But how could Voldemort have ensured that Harry's name got into the Goblet of Fire? Voldemort was supposed to be far away, in some distant country, in hiding, alone . . . feeble and powerless. . . .
Yet in that dream he had had, just before he had awoken with his scar hurting, Voldemort had not been alone . . . he had been talking to Wormtail . . . plotting Harry's and Ara's murder. . . . But then why wasn't Ara chosen as well? Harry didn't mind, of course, he was relieved that she hadn't met the same fate as him, he didn't know what he would do with himself if she ever got near these dangerous tasks he was about to have to overcome. . .
Then before he knew it, Harry was standing in front of the Fat Lady, but before he could do anything, a voice, one that he knew too well, called out to him, making his heart leap in his chest.
"Harry!"
He turned his head towards where the voice came and saw Ara getting up from the ground and dusting herself off before making her way over to him, and as soon as she was close enough she put both of her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him.
"Are you okay?" she said, her eyes swam with a glimmer of concern. "Are they making you compete?"
"Yeah," said Harry defeatedly. He saw her face fall and her jaw clench, she looked defeated and enraged all at once.
"And Dumbledore can't do anything?" she said angrily, her hands tightening on his shoulders as if she believed that if she let go of him he'd slip through her fingers.
Harry just shook his head and Ara scoffed in disbelief, her lips parting in umbrage, "This is so unfair, you didn't ask for this, you didn't put your name in!"
Harry managed a small smile of relief, she believed him.
"Are you okay? Should we go inside? I don't mind if we stay out here for a bit if you want," Ara suggested, "It's going to be loud in there."
"I'm okay, and I think it's better if we go in now, but thanks for waiting out here for me though," he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.
"Okay, well, come on then," Ara took his hand as they made their way towards the Fat Lady.
The wizened witch who had flitted into her neighbour's painting when he had joined the champions downstairs was now sitting smugly beside the Fat Lady. She must have dashed through every picture lining seven staircases to reach here before him. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at him with the keenest interest.
"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"
"Balderdash," said Ara simply.
"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.
"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Harry and Ara into the common room.
The blast of noise that met Harry's and Ara's ears when the portrait opened almost knocked them backwards. Next thing they knew, Harry was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.
"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.
"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.
"I didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how —"
But Angelina had now swooped down upon him; "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor —"
"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.
"We've got food, Harry, come and have some —"
"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast —"
But nobody wanted to hear that he wasn't hungry; nobody wanted to hear that he hadn't put his name in the goblet; not one single person seemed to have noticed that he wasn't at all in the mood to celebrate. . . . Lee Jordan had unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it around Harry like a cloak. Harry couldn't get away; whenever he tried to sidle over to the staircase up to the dormitories, the crowd around him closed ranks, forcing another butterbeer on him, stuffing crisps and peanuts into his hands. . . . Everyone wanted to know how he had done it, how he had tricked Dumbledore's Age Line and managed to get his name into the goblet. . . .
"I didn't," he said, over and over again, "I don't know how it happened."
But for all the notice anyone took, he might just as well not have answered at all.
Ara was getting annoyed, they couldn't simply respect that he didn't want anything to do with them at the moment, but Harry being Harry didn't necessarily want to be rude, luckily for him, Ara didn't care if she was rude once in a while. . .
"Alright, that's enough!" Ara said loudly after nearly half an hour, offering a final smile. Harry gave a heavy sigh of gratitude. "He said he's tired, so what he needs is rest, now move along."
That seemed to shut them up and make them disperse to look for other topics of conversation. Harry stood up and took Ara by the arm to guide her to the other side of the common room.
"Thanks," he said breathlessly.
"No problem," Ara gave him a soft look, nudging him towards the staircase of the boys' dormitories. "Now, go, I'm sure you want a good night's sleep. Sleep well, Wonder Boy."
As much as she wanted to talk and inform him about her theory of someone wanting to put his name in the Goblet to deliver him to his death, she refrained from doing so. She could see the exhaustion on his face, and his defeat in the way his shoulders were slumped. They could talk about it another time.
"Good night, Nyx," he gave her one last thankful smile and made his way towards his dormitory.
To his great relief, he found Ron lying on his bed in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind him.
"Where've you and Hermione been? I only managed to find Ara," Harry said.
"Oh hello," said Ron.
He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin. Harry suddenly became aware that he was still wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee had tied around him. He hastened to take it off, but it was knotted very tightly. Ron lay on the bed without moving, watching Harry struggle to remove it.
"So," he said when Harry had finally removed the banner and thrown it into a corner. "Congratulations."
"What d'you mean, congratulations?" said Harry, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling: It was more like a grimace
"Well . . . no one else got across the Age Line," said Ron. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use — the Invisibility Cloak?"
"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have gotten me over that line," said Harry slowly.
"Oh right," said Ron. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak . . . because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"
"Listen," said Harry, "I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."
Ron raised his eyebrows.
"What would they do that for?"
"I dunno," said Harry. He felt it would sound very melodramatic to say, "To kill me."
Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair.
"It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth," he said. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either. . . ."
"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" said Harry, starting to feel angry.
"Yeah, okay," said Ron, in exactly the same sceptical tone as Cedric. "Only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would've seen you. . . . I'm not stupid, you know."
"You're doing a really good impression of it," Harry snapped.
"Yeah?" said Ron, and there was no trace of a grin, forced or otherwise, on his face now. "You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."
He wrenched the hangings shut around his four-poster, leaving Harry standing there by the door, staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him.
He was angry that Ron didn't trust him.
But at least one of the people that he cared about the most truly had faith in him and she believed him.
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ARA AND HERMIONE WERE MAKING THEIR WAY BACK TO THE COMMON ROOM, and Ara carried a stack of toast assuming that Harry would be hungry, they had already had breakfast, which wasn't very enjoyable for Ara considering she and Ron got into a slight argument over whether or not Harry put his name in. Ara grew irritated that he was turning his back on his friend and snapped at him and he got angry at the fact that she was defending him and snapped right back.
"The little tosser," Ara said to Hermione as they came closer to the common room. "How can he turn his back on him? They're best friends."
"I think Ron's just jealous Ara. . ." said Hermione gently. "You know he gets overlooked sometimes."
"I know," Ara sighed, she wasn't necessarily angry at Ron, more like disappointed. She understood where her brother was coming from, of course, she did, she'd had a front view of his insecurities for years, and no matter what she did or what she said to reassure him, it never seemed to be enough. "I just don't want them to turn on each other, they're like brothers. . ."
Just as they made it to the Portrait Hole, Harry emerged from it. Ara could see that he looked just as exhausted as he did last night. She already knew that he was going to be furious when he figured out that Ron didn't believe him, that is if he hadn't figured it out himself.
"Mornin'," Ara said, holding up the stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. "We brought you this. Figured you didn't want to eat with a bunch of people staring at you."
"Thanks, Nyx," said Harry.
"Want to go for a walk?" said Hermione.
"Good idea," said Harry gratefully.
They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackley in the water. It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast, as Harry told Ara and Hermione exactly what had happened after he had left the Gryffindor table the night before.
"Well, of course, we knew you hadn't entered yourself," Hermione said when he'd finished telling her and Ara about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody's right, Harry . . .I don't think any student could have done it . . . they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's —"
"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.
Ara and Hermione looked at each other, sharing nervous expressions.
"He was at breakfast," said Ara curtly.
"Does he still think I entered myself?"
"Well . . . no, I don't think so . . . not really," said Hermione awkwardly.
"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"
"Don't lie to the poor boy, Hermione," said Ara, knowing that it was best to just tell Harry before he got even angrier. "Yes, he does think so still."
"Why—?"
"Oh Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"
"Jealous?" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"
"Look," said Hermione before Ara could open her mouth and say something insensitive again, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it . . . but — well — you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous, Ara's quite popular too, being in the quidditch team — he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you Harry, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many. . . ."
"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. You two tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it. . . .People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go. . . ."
"We, are not telling him anything," said Ara, raising an eyebrow. "You'll both talk this out, we aren't owls."
"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or —"
"That's not funny," said Ara quickly, throwing him a glare. "Don't joke about that. . ."
He threw her a near-apologetic look.
"Harry, I've been thinking —you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?" said Hermione.
"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the —"
Ara snorted before speaking, "No, though maybe he deserves it. Write to my Dad. He has to know. Even if you don't tell him he's going to find out through the Daily Prophet, and I think it's best if you tell him yourself, 'Mione brought some parchment—"
"Come off it," said Harry, looking around to check that they couldn't be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. "He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament —"
"He'd want you to tell him," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out anyway —"
"How?"
"Do you listen when I talk?" said Ara exasperatedly. "This tournament's famous, and you're famous. It's obviously going to be in the Daily Prophet. You're already in half the books about Voldemort. And I know that Snuffles would rather hear it from you, I know he would."
"Okay, okay, I'll write to him," said Harry, throwing his last piece of toast into the lake. The three stood and watched it floating there for a moment before a large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then they returned to the castle.
"Whose owl am I going to use?" Harry said as they climbed the stairs. "He told me not to use Hedwig again."
"Ask Ron if you can borrow —"
"I'm not asking Ron for anything," Harry said flatly. "Can I use Pig, Ara?"
"I don't know. . ." said Ara uncertainly. "That owl is more Ron's than mine, I'm not in the mood to get into another row with him."
"You two fought?" asked Harry, frowning.
"It was just a small argument," said Ara dismissively, she knew she and Ron would go back to talking to each other as if nothing happened within the hour. It was always like that, they'd fight and then they'd be hugging as if they were best friends. "We both just got irritated."
"Just borrow one of the school owls, then, anyone can use them," said Hermione.
They went up to the Owlery and Ara and Hermione gave Harry a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink, then strolled around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls, while Harry sat down against a wall and wrote his letter.
Dear Sirius,
You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, so here goes — I don't know if you've heard, but the Triwizard Tournament's happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion. I don't know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn't. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff
He paused at this point, thinking. He had the urge to say something about the large weight of anxiety that seemed to have settled inside his chest since last night, but he couldn't think how to translate this into words, so he simply dipped his quill back into the ink bottle and wrote,
Hope you're okay, and Buckbeak.
— Harry
"Finished," he told Ara and Hermione, getting to his feet and brushing straw off his robes. At this, Hedwig came fluttering down onto his shoulder and held out her leg.
"I can't use you," Harry told her, looking around for the school owls. "I've got to use one of these. . . ."
Hedwig gave a very loud hoot and took off so suddenly that her talons cut into his shoulder. She flew towards Ara's shoulder and kept her back to Harry all the time he was tying his letter to the leg of a large barn owl. When the barn owl had flown off, Harry reached out to stroke Hedwig, who still remained on Ara's shoulder but she clicked her beak furiously and soared up into the rafters out of reach.
Ara gave Harry a mocking look, as she scrunched her nose, as if saying 'She likes me better.' Harry did the exact same gesture, giving her a look that screamed, 'No she doesn't', even though he knew damn well that she did. Hermione just looked at the two with a knowing look before clearing her throat to snap them out of it.
"First Ron, then you," said Harry angrily once he came back to reality and turned to Hedwig. "This isn't my fault."
If Harry had thought that matters would improve once everyone got used to the idea of him being champion, the following day showed him how mistaken he was. He could no longer avoid the rest of the school once he was back at lessons — and it was clear that the rest of the school, just like the Gryffindors, thought Harry had entered himself for the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they did not seem impressed.
The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. One Herbology lesson was enough to demonstrate this. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry had stolen their champion's glory; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever given them any, having beaten Gryffindor once at Quidditch. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch Fletchley, with whom Harry normally got on very well, did not talk to him even though they were repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray — though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grip and smacked him hard in the face. Ron wasn't talking to Harry either. Ara and Hermione sat between them, making very forced conversation, but though both answered them normally, they avoided making eye contact with each other. Harry thought even Professor Sprout seemed distant with him — but then, she was Head of Hufflepuff House.
What made him feel better was Ara, every time someone looked at him the wrong way, she would make them turn their heads towards another direction almost instantly, she'd accidentally, as she claimed, trip those who whispered nasty things about him and make them fall on their face. Harry couldn't help but laugh along with her when the students threw her uneasy looks after they rose from the floor.
Harry would have been looking forward to seeing Hagrid under normal circumstances, but Care of Magical Creatures meant seeing the Slytherins too — the first time he would come face-to-face with them since becoming champion.
Predictably, Malfoy arrived at Hagrid's cabin with his familiar sneer firmly in place.
"Here comes ferret junior," muttered Ara to Harry.
"Ah, look, boys, it's the champion," he said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he's going to be around much longer. . . . Half the Triwizard champions have died . . . how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."
Ara couldn't even believe that she was actually related to this pathetic excuse of a person.
Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, but Malfoy had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very largeBlast-Ended Skrewt. To the class's horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this plan was that it distracted Malfoy completely.
"Take this thing for a walk?" he repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"
"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, demonstrating. "Er — yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Harry — you come here an' help me with this big one. . . ."
Harry seemed hesitant so Ara gave him a small push towards Hagrid, encouraging him before she went to join Hermione's side.
Hagrid's real intention was to talk to Harry away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to Harry and said, very seriously, "So —yer competin', Harry. In the tournament. School champion."
"One of the champions," Harry corrected him.
Hagrid's beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild eyebrows.
"No idea who put yeh in fer it, Harry?"
"You believe I didn't do it, then?" said Harry, concealing with difficulty the rush of gratitude he felt at Hagrid's words.
" 'Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh — an' Dumbledore believes yer, an' all."
"Wish I knew who did do it," said Harry bitterly.
The pair of them looked out over the lawn; the class was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty. The skrewts were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colourless, they had developed a kind of thick, greyish, shiny armour. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs — but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.
"Look like they're havin' fun, don' they?" Hagrid said happily.
Harry assumed he was talking about the skrewts, because his classmates certainly weren't; every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of the skrewts' ends would explode, causing it to shoot forward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.
"Ah, I don' know, Harry," Hagrid sighed suddenly, looking back down at him with a worried expression on his face. "School champion . . . everythin' seems ter happen ter you, doesn' it?"
Harry didn't answer. Yes, everything did seem to happen to him . . . that was more or less what Ara and Hermione had said as they had walked around the lake, and that was the reason, according to them, that Ron was no longer talking to him.
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ARA COULD CLEARLY TELL THAT THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE SOME OF HARRY'S worst at Hogwarts. She was getting a feeling of deja vu, thinking back to second year when a large part of the school had suspected him of attacking his fellow students. She was getting tired of this back-and-forth on his behalf. One moment they loved him and the other they resented him. At least, Ara had never experienced those ups and downs, she'd always just been frowned upon, it was consistent.
All of the houses, except for Gryffindor, seemed to be angry at Harry. The Hufflepuffs had a nasty attitude, and she could partly understand their reasoning; they had their own champion to support. He'd get vicious insults from the Slytherins — though that was no surprise, he was highly unpopular there and always had been. Most Ravenclaws seemed to think that he had been desperate to earn himself a bit more fame by tricking the goblet into accepting his name.
Meanwhile there was no reply from Sirius, Hedwig was refusing to come anywhere near him, and Ara couldn't even bring herself to tease him about it. She tried to reassure him as much as she could, reminding him that it always took time to receive answers.
Professor Trelawney was predicting his death with even more certainty than usual, and she predicted Ara's too, as usual, but was a little less pushy than normal, seeming more focused on Harry now that he was about to experience close-to-death tasks.
Harry did so badly at Summoning Charms in Professor Flitwick's class that he was given extra homework — the only person to get any, apart from Neville.
"It's really not that difficult, Harry," Hermione tried to reassure him as she, Ara and Harry left Flitwick's class — she and Ara had been making objects zoom across the room to them all lesson, as though they were some sort of weird magnet for board dusters, wastepaper baskets, and lunascopes. "You just weren't concentrating properly —"
"Wonder why that was," said Harry darkly as Cedric Diggory walked past, surrounded by a large group of simpering girls, all of whom looked at Harry as though he were a particularly large Blast-Ended Skrewt. "Still — never mind, eh? Double Potions to look forward to this afternoon. . . ."
"As impossible as it sounds, you just need to forget about them, forget about all of it," said Ara, putting her hands on his shoulder. Harry knew she was talking about the glares and insults he was getting daily. "Pay them no mind, trust me, it helps when you just ignore it. . .it's hard but give it a try, maybe you'll manage to relax a little."
Harry found her words and touch oddly comforting.
Double Potions was always a horrible experience, but these day sit was nothing short of torture. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Harry as much as possible for daring to become school champion, was about the most unpleasant thing Harry could imagine.
When they arrived at Snape's dungeon after lunch, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one wild moment, Ara thought they were S.P.E.W. badges — then she saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:
Support CEDRIC DIGGORY–
The REAL Hogwarts Champion
"Like them, Potter?" said Malfoy loudly as they approached. "And this isn't all they do — look!"
He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:
POTTER STINKS
The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around Harry. He felt the heat rise in his face and neck.
"Oh, I'm dying from laughter," said Ara sarcastically, strutting up to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "Do you wish for me to sew your mouth together, Parkinson? I suggest you keep quiet."
That seemed to shut her up, though she still found enough courage to throw her a glare.
Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either, Ara shook her head at him.
"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; I don't want a Mudblood slimming it up."
Finally, Ara's last shred of patience seemed to snap and Harry and Hermione weren't there to hold her back this time. She furiously took out her wand, pointing it at Malfoy. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.
"Ara!" Hermione said warningly.
Harry tried to grab her arm to stop her from doing something stupid but she yanked it back.
"Go on, then, Black," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now — do it, if you've got the guts —"
For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.
"Furnunculus!" Ara yelled.
"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.
Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Ara's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up — Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.
"Hermione!"
Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Ara turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth — already larger than average — were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin — panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.
"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamoured to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."
"Black attacked me, sir —"
"We attacked each other at the same time, you vermin!" Ara shouted.
"— and she hit Goyle — look —"
Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.
"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.
"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"
He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth — she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. Ara glared and snarled a quiet hex, aiming it at Parkinson and making her hair turn green and frizzy. Parkinson screamed and she and her friends rapidly walked away, covering Pansy's head as they made their way towards the hospital wing, shouting some empty threats at Ara as they did.
"An extra detention for you seems fit, Black," Snape said, having caught Ara's doing but she merely shrugged. The Professor then looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."
Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight. Ara took one step in her direction but Snape's icy voice stopped her, "Not so fast, Black."
It was lucky, perhaps, that both Ara, Harry, and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time; lucky their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however.
"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention each for Potter, Black, and Weasley. Now get inside."
Ara gritted her teeth so hard that she was sure that with a bit more pressure, they would break, she heard the wind loudly howl outside but she pointedly ignored everything and everyone as she made her way inside, imagining what it would be like to make Snape's crooked nose even more crooked with her fist. Harry and Ron followed her, most likely just as angry. Her and Harry chose to sit together, slamming their bags on the table as Ron took a seat across from them with Dean and Seamus. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room.
Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he'd have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . . .
"Antidotes!" said Snape, looking around at them all, his cold black eyes glittering unpleasantly. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one. . . ."
Snape's eyes met Ara's and Harry's, and they both knew what was coming. Snape was going to poison them. Ara imagined picking up her cauldron, sprinting to the front of the class, and bringing it down on Snape's greasy head —
And then a knock on the dungeon door burst in on Ara's murderous thoughts.
It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at Harry, and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room.
"Yes?" said Snape curtly.
"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."
Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.
"Potter has another hour of Potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "He will come upstairs when this class is finished."
Colin went pink.
"Sir — sir, Mr. Bagman wants him," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs. . . ."
Harry would have given anything he owned to have stopped Colin from saying those last few words. He chanced half a glance at Ron, but Ron was staring determinedly at the ceiling.
"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."
"Please, sir — he's got to take his things with him," squeaked Colin. "All the champions —"
"Very well !" said Snape. "Potter — take your bag and get out of my sight!"
"Don't get poisoned," whispered Harry to Ara as he gathered his stuff.
"Oh, don't worry, if anyone gets poisoned here it'll be him." Ara muttered darkly.
Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for the door, sparing one last glance at Ara. As he walked through the Slytherin desks, POTTER STINKS flashed at him from every direction.
"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" said Colin, starting to speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind him. "Isn't it, though? You being champion?"
"Yeah, really amazing," said Harry heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. "What do they want photos for, Colin?"
"The Daily Prophet, I think!"
"Great," said Harry dully. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."
"Good luck!" said Colin when they had reached the right room. Harry knocked on the door and entered.
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ARA DIDN'T KNOW HOW SHE'D MANAGED TO CONTAIN HERSELF FROM taking out her wand and aiming it at Snape for an hour, she deserved a medal in her opinion, she only took an actual breath when she finally freed herself from that torment when potions ended.
After that, she'd first gone to see Hermione at the Hospital Wing, only to see that Madam Pomfrey was still working on her teeth, after a brief hug she reassured her she'd come back later to see how she was doing, Hermione seemed particularly cheerful given the circumstances. Ara had a snack with Ron on one of the windowsills, both siblings simply enjoying their joined silence and making plans to play chess later that evening.
Later on, when she noticed it was getting late, she couldn't contain her urge to look for Harry. And so, after about thirty minutes of searching, she finally arrived in front of a door, she heard loud conversations behind it, and she was sure she'd arrived at the right place. She was about to grasp the handle when it opened rather harshly and hit her right on her right eyebrow, Ara winced and took a couple of steps back, reaching a hand to touch the now tender spot. Her head couldn't possibly get a break nowadays.
"Ara! Oh, je suis désolée, je ne savais pas que tu étais là! (Ara! Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were there!)" Fleur Delacour made its way over to her, looking incredibly apologetic as her hands hovered over her in concern.
"C'est bon Fleur, ne t'inquiète pas, je n'ai pas regardé où j'allais. (It's fine Fleur, don't worry, I didn't look where I was going.)" Ara gave a wincing smile, grimacing when she felt a headache already making its way.
"You alright?" said a voice from beside Ara, she turned around and there stood Harry looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed.
"Harry! I was looking for you," exclaimed Ara, still clutching the side of her face. She briefly turned to Fleur. "Passez une bonne journée Fleur! à plus tard. (Have a nice day Fleur! See you later.)"
"A plus tard, Ara! (See you later, Ara.)" Fleur offered a radiant smile.
"C'mon." Ara grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him along with her.
Harry got a shot of confidence from nowhere and found himself lacing their fingers together, nervously glancing to ponder her reaction but she seemed to not have noticed or she simply wasn't bothered by it.
"Where are we going?" said Harry, his face feeling hot.
"Dinner," said Ara, stating the obvious. "I'm hungry, and I'm sure you are too, you've been gone for hours. How did your interview go by the way?"
"Horrible," mumbled Harry as they continued walking down the corridors.
"Why?" asked Ara curiously.
"Rita Skeeter was there."
"Oh," Ara said slowly, nodding in understanding. "Now I get it, that woman is vile, always inventing stuff that's not true. . .she has a talent for writing fake news."
"Do you think she's going to do that to me?" said Harry anxiously.
"Of course she is," she said bluntly. "You're famous, she'll have a field day making stuff up about you."
"Very comforting, Ara," Harry replied sarcastically.
"Would you rather I lied to you?"
He remained silent.
"That's what I thought."
Harry and Ara went down to dinner alone seeing as Hermione was still in the Hospital Wing and Ron was nowhere to be seen. They ate mostly in silence, though it wasn't awkward. They sat at the end of the table, and Harry took a moment to inspect his surroundings. No one was sitting close to them, in fact, they were the only ones in that part of the table, looking like recluses. Even though he felt a pang of bitterness it soon washed away when his eyes landed on Ara; she was unbothered as she chewed on her yorkshire pudding and took a sip from her juice, barely acknowledging the rest of the world. But she was by his side, she wasn't shying away from the stares that people threw at her for either being who she was or sitting with him.
"Thank you, Nyx," Harry mumbled to her.
Ara turned, her eyes soft as she regarded him, "For what?"
"For not abandoning me,"
She gave a chuckle, fully spinning around to face him and giving his shoulder a nudge, "You're stuck with me, Wonder Boy. Nothing you can do about it."
For the first time in the last few days, Harry managed a genuine smile. They later returned to the Gryffindor common room, where they bid each other good night and retreated to their respective dormitories.
"You've had an owl," said Ron brusquely the moment Harry walked in. He was pointing at Harry's pillow. The school barn owl was waiting for him there.
"Oh — right," said Harry.
"And we've got to do our detentions tomorrow night, Snape's dungeon," said Ron.
He then walked straight out of the room, not looking at Harry. For a moment, Harry considered going after him — he wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk to him or hit him, both seemed quite appealing — but the lure of Sirius's answer was too strong. Harry strode over to the barn owl, took the letter off its leg, and unrolled it.
Harry —
I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted — we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November? Bring my little wolf with you.
I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you, especially with my daughter around. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose.
Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.
Sirius
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HEEEEEEEYYYYYYY
I couldn't upload this chapter yesterday bc I was so busy but here it is today!!
I hope you liked it! How are you??
qotd: favourite book couple? Mine HAS to be Shannon and Johnny from Binding and Keeping 13. I NEED A JOHNNY. If you haven't read those books go do it rn now, but make sure to check TWs! And also PERCABETH!
Harry just having a realisation at the end of the chapter like "Oh yeah, this girl right here is my ride or die." like, he always sort of knew of course, but he actually acknowledged it until now. They're so precious and cute <33
ARA 🤝🏻 LOYALTY
Honestly, in my opinion, Ara and Percy Jackson have the exact same fatal flaw, which is loyalty. Tell me if you think so as well!
Remember to COMMENT and VOTE!
See you in the next chapter lovelies <3