Salazar avoided the Gryffindor common room, taking refuge in the Room of Requirement. He knew his housemates well enough to know they would have foolishly thrown a party for him, crowning him champion. He preferred to spare himself the bad brew and rest, while also contemplating whether he'd made the right decision. It was clear there was a hidden purpose behind his name, "Harry Potter," being drawn from the goblet, and that to uncover it, he would have to play along. Perhaps it would have been easier to take the oath—which he wasn't supposed to know about—and leave everyone speechless. This would also have put the person who entered his name in a serious magical predicament. But he couldn't do that; it would have raised too many questions. Ultimately, he felt he had no other choice.
The next day, when he was certain the common room wouldn't be crowded, he made his way there. The moment he entered, he found Ron, Hermione, and Godric waiting for him. Godric wanted to know how it had gone and what they would do now. As for Ron and Hermione, Salazar wasn't sure how they would react, but the fact that they were there at all indicated they were willing to listen.
"I didn't put my name in," Salazar stated immediately. "Despite telling them that yesterday, they're forcing me to participate."
"But they can't do that!" Hermione said, alarmed. "You didn't apply, they can't make you compete just because your name came out."
"Apparently, that object creates a binding magical contract," Salazar whispered.
"Do you know who put your name in the goblet and why?" Ron asked.
"No, they're supposed to find out. Moody is in charge of the investigation," Salazar replied, sharing a quick glance with Godric. If Moody was in charge, that said everything. "Moody himself suggested that whoever entered me might expect me to die during the tournament."
"That's cruel! I don't understand how you can be so calm, Harry."
"Hermione... Last year was the only moderately quiet year, if you leave out the Dementors. A Basilisk, a powerful alchemical object hidden in the school... I think I've gotten used to walking with a rope around my neck."
"Many of our housemates think you managed to get into the tournament," Godric warned. "Not everyone is happy about it, especially the other houses."
"I can imagine. I suppose I'll have to live through a 2.0 version of the Chamber of Secrets thing when they thought I was the heir."
"We're behind you, Harry," Hermione said, and the other two nodded in agreement.
"My brothers are with you," Ron added.
"Luna will definitely support you, too," Godric said.
"Well, those are the only ones I care about, then." Salazar couldn't care less about the opinions of others; only what his friends thought mattered. He wasn't a fool; he knew a few difficult weeks lay ahead. "I'm going to the library. It's time for me to consult the rules of this Roman circus I'm in."
"You should have some breakfast first," Hermione insisted. "It's the most important meal of the day."
---
"Professor McGonagall, I have to take Cedric to a meeting because of the tournament," said a third-year student, who always seemed to be walking around the castle with a Muggle camera. Cedric had seen him before, constantly snapping photos of everything he saw.
"Ah, the wand-checking ceremony," the professor said. "Mr. Diggory, you may go. And twenty points to Hufflepuff for your excellent transformation."
Cedric got up carefully and placed his things in his new rucksack, a gift from his father after he was chosen as the champion. The previous night hadn't been entirely glorious, even though he had felt that Potter was sincere about not having put his name in. Those in his house didn't feel the same way; they had started making badges that hailed Cedric as the true Hogwarts champion, while Potter was labelled a cheat with the nickname "Potter Stinks." He hadn't been able to stop them from making the badges, not that he had tried very hard. He didn't feel good about it, but a part of him still saw Potter as a competitor and wanted to see him demoralised. The school, of course, had already tried and convicted Potter. A week had passed since the champion selection, and having read up on the tournament beforehand, Cedric knew this ceremony was going to take place. He had made sure his wand was in perfect condition. A bad verdict could mean disqualification before the tournament even began. The boy with the camera left him at the door of the classroom where the ceremony would be held and went off, as he said, to get Potter.
As Cedric entered the classroom, he saw Rita Skeeter, along with her ever-present photographer, the headmasters of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the other champions, and the other tournament judges. Potter, Dumbledore, and the wand examiner were missing.
He stood a little apart, not speaking to the other champions or anyone in general. He hadn't had a chance to speak with the other champions, and he didn't think the headmasters of the other schools were willing to let them get close to him. He noticed a greater rivalry from them towards him than from the champions themselves; he got the impression that the headmasters would be willing to step on anyone. Not long after, Potter arrived, also escorted by the boy with the camera. Skeeter immediately rushed towards Potter like a bird of prey trying to get some carrion. A part of Cedric wanted to enjoy the spectacle, but the other, fortunately the majority, wanted to help him escape from the journalist's clutches. But there was no need; Potter seemed to handle himself quite well.
"Ah, Miss Skeeter, I was wondering who the Prophet's choice would be to cover the event," Cedric heard Potter say. "From what I see, it was the most successful choice."
"Thank you, young Potter, you're very kind. Would you grant me an interview? I'm sure many want to know the reasons why you entered the tournament."
"I didn't apply; I'm not a legitimate champion, but I understand our readers' need to know the truth. Perhaps another time..." Cedric stopped listening to their conversation. He could see that Potter was handling the political side of things without any problems, plus they had lowered their voices a little.
A few seconds later, Headmaster Dumbledore entered, accompanied by Mr. Ollivander, and the wand-checking ceremony began. Cedric was the first to go, showing his wand to set an example for the champion. His wand was in perfect condition; he treated it with great care. As soon as Mr. Ollivander had finished with it, he put it in the specific pocket inside his robe for wands.
Next was the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, who had a personalised wand. Apparently, the girl was a quarter Veela, so the Veela hair in her wand core made it more attuned to her than other options. This told Cedric that she must come from a family with significant purchasing power, as personalised wands were not easy to come by.
After the French champion, it was Viktor Krum's turn. Ollivander lingered with his wand for a while in a way he hadn't with the others, seemingly critical of the fact that it came from a different wandmaker than himself. Perhaps Ollivanders and Gregorovich had been rivals at some point before the latter retired. There was a reason they were the two best known.
Last was Potter. Cedric was surprised to see that he didn't have his wand ready, that he hadn't taken it out yet. At least, not until he drew it in front of Ollivander and held it out to him with the tip. Cedric could then see that Potter was wearing a wand holster on his forearm. He made a mental note to get one for himself. Ollivander, as with the rest of the wands, carefully examined Potter's until he gave it his approval. After that, there were photos of all the champions, both in groups and individually, and an interview with everyone about the tournament. Then they were free to go.
---
A couple of days later, at breakfast, Cedric found the news about the Triwizard Tournament on the front page of the newspaper. He was surprised to see that Skeeter hadn't used any of the champions as bait and had been faithful to what they had all answered. He didn't know what Potter had said to her, but it seemed she wasn't going to stir up trouble on that front, because that was all that journalist knew how to do. It wasn't until he got to the end of the article that he saw a disturbing footnote: "The Truth About Harry Potter's Entry into the Triwizard Tournament on page 6." Cedric skipped the article that followed, which was about the history of the Triwizard Tournament, and went straight to the one that mentioned Potter.
We all know the legend of the Boy Who Lived, but what lies behind that legend? Harry Potter, a fourteen-year-old boy—kind, mature, and above all, very modest. Not only did he show the courtesy of treating your boldest journalist with respect during the wand-checking ceremony, but he was also kind enough to converse with her after the ceremony was over. In that brief conversation, my dear readers, he told me what happened after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. "I didn't want to participate in the tournament. It seems silly to me to expose yourself to something with a brutal reputation just to get a sack of Galleons. When my name came out of the goblet, I almost fainted; I thought I was going to have a fit right there. Then in the room where all the champions gathered, they told me that I had to participate, no matter what, when everything could have been resolved without forcing me to be a participant in this nonsense."
As you can imagine, my dear readers, I asked him what he meant. "In the rules of the tournament, there's a section for incidents like this. If the name of someone who did not apply comes up, they only have to swear in the next half-hour that they did not, and they would be free from having to participate. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to me to read the rules beforehand, because of course, who reads the rules of a game they aren't going to play? I found out about this a couple of days later in the library." As a journalist, I had to check the information, and I went to verify the rules. In fact, not only do the rules exist, but all the judges of the tournament should have known them and applied them in this case. Why wasn't it applied? Did the judges not know the rules of the competition they were there to evaluate? Did they not care and prefer to expose a young wizard without caring about the probable results? These, my readers, are the questions I ask myself about this. Because whether he wants to or not, young Potter must compete alongside almost adult wizards who have developed their full potential. When I questioned young Potter about it, he responded with the determination of someone who has already accepted what the near future holds. "I have no choice but to compete. I don't think I'm ready, but I'll do everything in my power to do the best I can."
---
A week before the first task, Salazar was quite calm. Most of the stupid, childish "Potter Stinks" badges had disappeared, though not all of them—some still remained, worn by a few overly proud Hufflepuffs and most of the Slytherins. Salazar could understand the Hufflepuffs to a certain extent; they had been overlooked for centuries for preferring to serve rather than compete, so they took the glory of one of their own as everyone's. The only Slytherins who didn't wear those badges were those from third year downwards, besides Nott, Malfoy, Zabini, Greengrass, and Davies. The girls, Salazar could expect it, as they had always stayed out of it; something similar happened with Zabini. As for Draco and Theodore, he imagined it was a sign of respect and gratitude for him having pointed out the means to get out of the problem they had. Salazar knew that if most of those badges had disappeared, it was thanks to Rita Skeeter's article. She had initially wanted to manipulate the information about the tournament to sell more copies, but Salazar had convinced her to write an article faithful to the truth and, in exchange, he would give her information about a possible conspiracy or negligence on the part of the adults who were supposed to guarantee the tournament's safety. He also promised her two more interviews in the future.
Salazar had refrained from going on the excursion to Hogsmeade; he didn't feel like it, to be honest. He preferred to stay in the castle and take a walk around the grounds. There, near the lake, he met Moody and Hagrid; the latter asked him to go to his cabin that night and to wear the Invisibility Cloak. The request seemed strange, but he would go anyway. He had no problem with it. He would simply tell his friends so they wouldn't worry and attend the meeting. He couldn't imagine what Hagrid had to tell him that he couldn't say at that moment. Unless it had to do with the tournament or some other illegal creature he had gotten lately.
After ten o'clock that night, he left the common room. He made his way carefully to Hagrid's hut, not wanting to get into trouble for being out after curfew. He carried the cloak, but as long as he didn't need it, he preferred not to use it, as it meant walking much slower. He only put it on to cross large spaces, such as the Entrance Hall or the grounds until the castle was out of sight. He took it off before knocking on the door of Hagrid's hut.
"Harry, you're here. All right, put on your cloak; I've got something to show you, and I don't want anyone to see you."
Salazar obeyed. Once he was well covered, they went to the Beauxbatons carriage. Salazar didn't want to see whatever was in there; nothing that could be there aroused his interest, much less Madame Maxime, whom Hagrid was looking for. Salazar hadn't missed the glances Hagrid was giving the Beauxbatons headmistress. Salazar couldn't believe Hagrid had brought him here to act as a chaperone; he certainly had more interesting things to do than that. Even so, he followed them, especially when he saw them heading into the Forbidden Forest. He would follow them for a few minutes, and if he didn't find anything interesting, he would go back to the common room. Minutes later, he was glad of his decision, as they found themselves in a clearing where there were four dragons, four piles of dragon eggs, and four golden eggs.
"I've got them numbered, Hagrid," one of the breeders warned. It was Charlie Weasley. "I didn't know you were going to bring her," he added, noticing Madame Maxime's presence.
"I thought you'd like it."
"What a romantic date," Charlie said ironically.
"Then you'll have to fight them?" Hagrid asked, looking at the dragons.
"Just outwit them, as far as I know."
At that point, Salazar had had enough. It was sufficient for him to know the little he had seen; he didn't want to stay any longer. Dragons were a protected species, so he hadn't for a moment thought they would have to fight them, not to mention that it was practically impossible to face one alone. Almost at the exit of the forest, he met someone who was heading in his direction. It was Igor Karkaroff. Salazar moved to the side and stood still, watching the direction the Durmstrang headmaster was taking. He was going towards the dragon clearing. Now it was clear what had to be done. He would go back to the common room, get some sleep, and the next day he would find Cedric to let him know. It was time to level the playing field, and he wasn't going to let anyone cheat and beat Hogwarts.
---
Before breakfast was over, McGonagall had taken Salazar with her, as apparently the champions were supposed to be in the venue set up for the first task before everyone else went there. Salazar had told his friends about the dragons, but not what he was going to do about it, so Godric was as intrigued as the others. He went with the rest of the champions to the steps that had been set up for the morning and took a seat between Hermione and Rowena, taking Hermione's hand, which looked pale and nervous. Godric remembered that the previous year Hermione had told him that Salazar had been the first friend she had ever had, and from what he had observed in the way they treated each other, they seemed like siblings. Ron was next to them. In the distance, Godric could hear the Weasley twins taking bets. Something that at that moment felt unpleasant to him, although on other occasions he would have found it funny.
"Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. It will begin in a few minutes. Champions have already been informed of the task they need to perform and the shift assigned for it," Bagman, one of the judges, said, acting as commentator. "Champions must obtain a golden egg that will be placed in a nest of dragon eggs. The nest will be guarded by a female dragon during her breeding season."
Many in the crowd cheered for that. Godric didn't understand if it was because they wanted to see blood, because the task required risk, or simply because they didn't understand the implications of the task. Female dragons were very violent, much more so than males, and even more so during their breeding season. Stealing something from a dragon's nest under such circumstances was something few would dare to do, especially when the keepers themselves did not approach them in those circumstances unless it was absolutely necessary. When Bagman announced the type of dragon each was facing, Godric was unhappy. There were some species of dragons that were more peaceful than others.
"Damn, Harry always has the worst luck," Ron muttered. "The Horntail is one of the most dangerous dragons."
"They should have brought the same kind of dragon for everyone," Rowena observed. "I'm beginning to think that there are more heads full of stubbornness in the Ministry than my father thinks."
"The Ministry are idiots; we all know that," said a voice behind them. It was Draco Malfoy. "And if the rumors about Potter are true, he's come out of worse."
"Malfoy, what do you want?" Ron asked, looking suspiciously at him with a frown.
"To enjoy the task."
"Don't worry, Weasley, we just bet on your friend," said Nott, who was next to Draco. Blaise Zabini, who was with them, nodded.
"If Potter loses, we don't lose much, but if Potter wins or gets into the top two," Blaise said. "You just have to see how the bets are moving. A small bet on odds where many bet doesn't give a profit if you win, but in this case..."
"Go and bother someone else."
"Don't worry, Ron," Godric said. "They haven't really said anything bad."
"It's almost better to have them here than the ones with the badges," Rowena added.
The task began. Cedric Diggory was the first to enter the arena. He seemed to stop for a few moments until he transfigured a large stone into a Labrador dog and began to distract the dragon. He succeeded and managed to get his golden egg, though he took a nasty burn to his face.
In second place, Fleur Delacour came out. As soon as she appeared, she demonstrated that special inheritance that Salazar had told them about. With her ability, inherited through her Veela bloodline, she sent the dragon into a trance. It seemed to work at first. Of course, the dragon fell asleep, but in the middle of its slumber, it snored and set fire to Delacour's skirt. So she had to put out the fire on her skirt before continuing on her way to the egg.
The third was Viktor Krum. As soon as he began his ordeal, he cast a charm at the dragon, an enchantment straight into its eyes. Godric recognised it as a Conjunctivitis Charm. Something ingenious and very useful if it weren't for the fact that it agitated the dragon and ended up breaking half of the good eggs, which actually meant the murder of some future offspring. In the end, he got the egg, but it was clear that he should be penalised for that.
Finally, it was Salazar's turn. He came to the forefront relaxed and resolute, wielding his wand. Godric wondered what he would do. He saw him raise his wand to the sky and wait. Many began to laugh because they didn't see anything happening, but Godric knew that Salazar was biding his time. A few minutes later, a broom arrived—Salazar's broom, the Firebolt. He quickly mounted it and began to fly, catching the dragon's attention. His tactic was very simple: to distract the dragon and dive for the golden egg. Salazar was the one who got it the fastest, and without getting a single scratch.