"He's way better than Cedric. I mean, sure, Ced's got good grades, good looks, the pick of any girl he wants, and he's three years ahead of Harry, but he's got no chance over the Boy-Who-Lived!"
"Harry, mate! When did you have a go at it? Wait... don't tell me..."
"...did you set us up? You let us take the fall that night and you got to spend all night figuring out the cup, didn't you?"
"Seriously, mate, that's some quality pranking right there."
"Agreed, my dear brother. We only thought of getting past the age line. Harry here somehow managed to fool the Goblet itself!"
The last few caught his attention, and he saw the twins looking at him. They were practically awestruck- he knew they were just begging to know how it had happened. "Sorry guys, it wasn't actually me that did it."
"Well, alright then, who put your name in for you?"
"And how did he actually get your name in the cup? We convinced George Bolstein to drop our names into the cup but the parchments just flew back out."
"That's not what I meant... I didn't ask for anyone to put my name in the cup. Someone wanted me in the tournament," Harry explained.
"Harry, you shouldn't explain it to anyone," warned Hermione. "Otherwise we'll end up having to tell the whole story of Sirius, Pettigrew, the Marauder's Map, and everything else... just ignore it, pretend it was a good prank or something."
Harry nodded to her, and decided to respond with the prankster's motto: "Trade secret." They spent a good portion of the evening together while everyone else was hounding them for answers.
"Master Auror Moody, I'd like some of your insight," Shacklebolt said to Moody. They were discussing the strange turn of events of the evening along with several other aurors and tournament security officials.
"I told you I shouldn't even be here," Moody growled. "I was head of security until I was compromised. You shouldn't be using any of my plans. And I'm retired, Kingsley."
"Can't take the fight out of an old bear like you, sir. If losing a leg didn't stop you, you think retirement would?" Kingsley laughed. "Besides, I've drawn up my own security protocols. I'm just here to ask for some advice."
"Then you'd like my ideas as to why Potter's in the tournament? And don't call me sir. I'm retired."
"Couldn't hurt." Shacklebolt grinned.
"Someone either really likes him or really hates him. I'm leaning towards the latter."
"I don't see being in the tournament unwillingly as a benefit, either. But why do something as crude as entering him in the tournament?" Shacklebolt wondered.
"The tournament's dangerous for a seventh-year student. It could be downright deadly for a fourth-year," suggested one of the other aurors.
"No, if someone wanted Potter dead, they probably could have killed him in his sleep. As far as we know, this person incapacitated Moody, snuck into Hogwarts, and could unravel the charms on an ancient artefact."
"Publicity, then? Maybe the Tournament wasn't famous enough without featuring the Boy-Who-Lived," joked another.
"Please, serious answers-" began Kingsley.
"No, he's got a point," said Moody. "Publicity. The press will have a field day. I'm sure by tomorrow there'll be a million others trying to beat down the gates of Hogwarts to get some exclusive interview. Kingsley, we need to be even more restrictive now. Press is only allowed in on the days of the events. Public will have no access unless they're family or legal guardian of a student here. It's going to be chaos if we don't do this."
Kingsley nodded. "I'll take that into account. I'm worried about the guests, to be honest. The ministers of three countries or their ambassadors will be visiting the tournament regularly. They'll need extra protection."
"Scan everyone for Imperius as well," Moody said.
"Wait! That would slow down admittance considerably! We're hoping to see at least ten thousand people per event. The inconvenience would..." protested one of the tournament officials.
Moody slammed his fist on the table. "And how inconvenient would it be for the Minister of Magic to die, can you tell me that? They were good enough to put me under an imperius, it means they'll have no qualms, nor difficulty at performing the spell on the spectators."
"Have we got any suspects?"
"Other than the fact that it's probably the same person who put me under Imperius? None. The most dangerous criminal out there right now is Sirius Black, and he doesn't seem to be the patient type."
"Twelve years in Azkaban can change a person. We don't even know if he has a motive, or if he's just insane. Getting into Hogwarts seemed to be just fine for him, he managed to sneak past Dementors last year. But for imperiusing Moody and re-charming the Goblet, he had to have an accomplice, even if it was him."
"We can use that to narrow the search. The suspect is probably a Master Enchanter if he could alter the cup. It's not like you could fool such a thing with a Confounding charm," Moody told them. "But if they're into criminal activity, I doubt they would be registered as a professional enchanter. You might have to dig pretty deep for this one, Shacklebolt."
"Thanks for your advice, sir." Shacklebolt turned to his team. "Let's begin with the basics. Reporters off the grounds, immediately. No more admittance until the Wand Weighing. Verne, Rutgers, you two start looking at the lists of master enchanters, then the lists of anyone who's taken an apprenticeship in enchantment but hasn't taken the mastery examination. The rest of you, we'll be working on reworking the event security to account for an extra champion and probably more visitors, as well."
Thankfully, by the next morning all the reporters had been escorted off the grounds. Harry and Hermione walked down to breakfast, still concentrating on ignoring the praise from the Gryffindors and the glares from the Hufflepuffs. However, it was one angry glare from a fellow Gryffindor that caught Harry's attention.
"Uh, hey Ron. Is something bothering you?" Harry ventured cautiously.
"You just had to enter the tournament, didn't you?" spat Ron venomously. Unfortunately, his words weren't the only thing he spat at Harry as bits of hash browns and sausage came flying out as well.
"Ron, I already told everyone last night... I didn't enter it. Someone else put my name in," said Harry, trying to remain as calm as he could as he flicked bits of food off his robes.
"You won't even own up to it? You know how much I wanted in on those thousand Galleons," Ron had actually stopped eating with a full plate of bacon in front of him, which was a bad sign.
"What? Ron, it's not like you get that money just from entering..."
"Yeah, the money doesn't even matter to you, does it? You're already rich and famous, but you don't even think about handing some my way!"
"WHAT?" exclaimed Harry. The last comment left him completely flabbergasted.
"Yeah, you don't even want to be seen with me, do you? You'd rather turn down box seats to the World Cup than be seen hanging out with a Weasley, huh?"
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