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In which if any adult in Harry Potter were every to have had a logical thought, many lives would have been saved. We enter our story right after young Harry’s name has been pulled from the Goblet, diving directly into the ensuing chaos.
“Convenient?” said Karkaroff. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Moody.”
Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists.
“Don’t you?” said Moody quietly. “It’s very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter’s name in that goblet knowing he’d have to compete if it came out.”
“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,” growled Moody, “but . . . funny thing . . . I don’t hear him saying a word. . . .”
“Why should ’e complain?” burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. “ ’E ’as ze chance to compete, ’asn’t ’e? 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.
An extremely tense silence followed these words. 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.”
“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. . . .”
“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.
Harry wondered for a moment whom he was speaking to, but then realized “Mad-Eye” could hardly be Moody’s real first name. Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction — Karkaroff’s face was burning.
“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 Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do. . . .”
“Ah, but Dumbly-dorr —”
“My dear Madame Maxime, you did not allow me to finish. Compete, yes, but for Harry, only in the most basic sense of the word.”
Harry dared to look up at Dumbledore, eye widening. “Sir?”
“Harry. Do you want to compete.” The room grew loud with whispers and mutterings at the question.
“No sir, not at all!” He replied forcefully.
“But ‘e haz no choice!” Maxime retorted, “by your own admission….”
“PEACE,” Dumbledore boomed. The room fell silent. “Why not? You have the opportunity. Gryffindor House could have the honors for the rest of their days, to say nothing to the prize money. Why would you choose to stand aside?” Harry gulped before answering.
“Because it’s not right. Or fair.” He glanced over at Cedric, “Cedric wanted to compete. He was the chosen champion. If someone did as Professor Moody suggested and hoodwinked the Cup to accept me, then no matter what the Cup was forced to think, I am not a champion.” Cedric’s eyes were holding his, quietly encouraging him. “Besides,” Harry gave a short bark of laughter, “could you imagine a fourth year trying to compete with seventh years? It’s madness. And I’ve had quite enough madness in the past few years, thanks.”
“Well said, Harry,” McGonagall replied, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. The weight of it comforted him a little. “Headmaster, you seem to have come up with a plan.”
“I have. Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, if I am correctly remembering the rules you laid out governing the actual Tasks themselves, there is, I believe, a way to forfeit at any point in the Task, is there not?”
“There is!” Bagman’s face lit up. “Of course, how did none of us see it. Harry could raise his hand skyward and send up red sparks the moment the Task officially began. Technically, by being on the field as it began, he would be considered to be ‘competing’, and as there’s no penalty to forfeiting other than the loss of potential points…”
“Mr. Crouch, would that work?” Karkaroff asked, gruffly. Crouch seemed to consider.
“Mr. Bagman knows the rules better than I. Forfeiting is still considered competing, because if you were not competing there would be no need to forfeit. Therefore, I believe that is an admirable solution.”
“Oh thank ‘od,” Fleur ejaculated, and rushed to Harry with her hands out. “I waz, so worried, abo’t you competing. My little sister, she is only a year or so younger zan you, and I saw ‘er in you. I am… sorry. For ‘ow I behaved earlier. I woz scared, and willing to think the worst of you.”
Harry wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, as she had seemed fairly adamant that he’d done it to himself. But he supposed fear could look different in different people. He took her hands.
“Forgiven,” he said quietly. She squeeze his hands.
“Gabrellia will be ‘ere for ze Tasks, I would love for you and ‘er to meet.”
“I’d like that,” Harry replied. Dumbledore cleared his throat.
“So we are agreed?”
“I don’t think the Cup will accept it, you’re putting the boy in danger Dumbledore.” Moody growled.
“My dear Alastor, while I hold your judgement in the highest esteem, I will defer to the experts on the competition. If they think that Harry’s forfeit at the beginning of each Task will satisfy the requirement of competing, then I shall trust their opinion.”
Alastor looked stone faced at this pronouncement, and limped hurriedly out of the room.
“Odd one, that,” Bagman commented.
“Headmaster,” Harry began, turning to face both him and McGonagall, “if the school has left, can we please call them back and explain what the plan is? I’ve had enough of the entire school hating me in second year, I think.” Somewhere behind him, Cedric chuckled.
“I believe that is a good idea, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall replied.
“They’re still o’t zere,” Maxime reported peering out the door.
“Let us explain, then,” Dumbledore replied, and they all piled back through the door to shouts and confusion.
The Hogwarts students subsided after the plan was reveled, and Harry spotted several Ravenclaws with thoughtful expressions nodding to themselves, which he took for a good sign. The Gryffindors appeared crestfallen, but, he steadied himself, they’d be over it soon. Cedric was a good chap, they’d come around. As the Great Hall was dismissed, he felt a hand on his elbow.
“Hang back a moment, eh?” Cedric asked. Harry did so, and the two found themselves along the wall by the Hufflepuff table. Cedric waited until it quieted down, after telling about a dozen members of his house that he’d be there to celebrate shortly, and then looked at him earnestly.
“I believed you, you know.”
“That I didn’t put my name in?”
“Yeah. I don’t know you well, Harry, but from what I know of you it seemed out of character.” Harry was struck.
“Thanks Cedric. I think I needed to hear that.”
“Blimy, why was everyone so willing to believe you’d done it and throw you to the wolves?” Cedric leaned back against the wall, and Harry sat wearily on the table.
“Buggered if I know. It’s like just because I did something that I don’t even have a memory of doing, I’m automatically special, or the one causing trouble, take your pick.”
“Well,” Cedric laughed, “You do somehow seem to be in the center of most of the trouble around here.” Harry looked up at him, grinning.
“Not my fault, I can assure you!”
“Eh, I think chasing down the Stone your first year falls squarely into the ‘your fault’ category, but I’ll give you the snake and the Black business.” Cedric replied, laughing. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Fine, yeah, that one was me! But I’ll happily let you take the brunt of it this year, if you don’t mind.” Cedric stuck out his hand at Harry’s words.
“Deal.” And they shook on it.
“You’d better go up… down? To your house? Where even is Hufflepuff?” Harry asked as they released hands.
“If I told you I’d have to kill you,” Cedric responded jovially.
“Fine then,” Harry laughed, “go celebrate, you’ve earned it. And I look forward to cheering you on from the safety of the stands.”
“You’re a right good chap Harry. Let see if we can get a pick up Quidditch game going sometime with our House teams. Just because there’s no actual tournament this year doesn’t mean we can’t still have some fun.”
“That’s an excellent idea, would hate to lose the chance to trounce you again before you graduate just because of a silly international competition.”
“In your dreams, Harry!” Cedric called as they separated to go off to their respective Houses.
……..
Harry stood at the edge of the dragon’s pen, and stared in horror at the beast chained inside. The whistle blew. He deliberately stepped over the line he could feel shimmering in the air, and as soon as both his feet were on the ground, he raised his wand and red sparks shot up. The whistle blew again, and he retreated, happy to be a long way away from that thing. He ran right up into the stands, finding Hermione and Ron along with Gabriella, and proceeded to be pummeled by all for cheering on both Cedric and Fleur.
He’d been given a fair warning about the nature of the second task, and had considered merely lowering himself into the water, letting go of the dock, and then sending up sparks. But Fred and George had a different idea. When the whistle blew, Harry popped a chew into his mouth and neatly skim dived into the water, which instantly turned to steam against his now scorching body. He was a fair enough swimmer that he did a few laps to the great amusement of all the crowd, before sending up red sparks as he returned to the dock and clambered out. He was met by McGonagall, who was doing an extremely bad job of trying to hide her laughter.
The final task, he entered fourth after Viktor had already sped away. He was not expecting the maze to close behind him, and nearly panicked when it did. But before losing his cool, or losing a limb to whatever was in there, he shot the red sparks up and the maze parted in front of him, granting him exit. He stepped out, and bowed, once each to the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton contingents, and then finally to his home school. The crowd utterly roared with applause, most of the students giving him a standing ovation.
He gave a sigh of relief. He was done. It had worked, and if someone had indeed put his name in to try to kill him, they’d been thwarted.
Cedric Diggory appeared, an hour and a half later, with the Triwizard Cup in his hands. It was said that the explosion of noise and fireworks from the house which rarely won so much as a Quidditch match, was heard and seen the length of England.
______
Cedric lives, the adults think for longer than 30 seconds, and Hufflepuff finally gets some glory. Fin.