All he'd wanted was a normal year. He kept trying to reach that goal, and it kept slipping between his fingers. Grim determination filled him.
"You'll just have to compete," McGonagall assured him, her voice soft with worry. "That means you don't have to play to win. Just do what you need to get through safely."
"That's kind of you to say, Professor. But while I want it to be clear that I did not ask for this, and I didn't enter my name - I am Hogwarts' champion now and I will be competing to win." He shot them all a manic grin. A grin of promised death and darkness. Mama sighed. "Don't worry," he told her with a confident tone before turning to the group. "I didn't want to join because mama and Sirius said Voldemort would probably try to kill me again this year. Which is obviously what has happened. That was their concern, not that I couldn't handle myself in a measly tournament. I think it'll be easy!" If Voldemort wanted to fight, he'd give the stupid bitch a fight. He'd show all of them!
The adults sent him incredulous looks.
"Okay, well. Good. Glad that's settled!" Bagman said. "Let me explain to you three the rules for the tournament -"
Harry barely listened to the rules and information about the upcoming task - a surprise, how exciting - overwhelmed with adrenaline as the young man was. Finally, mama dragged him from the room before anyone could ask any further questions of him. They headed in the direction of her office, the only sound from the empty castle was the sharp clack of her shoes as mama paced down the halls.
He was deposited in a chair in her office. She tapped her wand against the kettle and shoved a handful of floo in the fireplace. Sirius popped into the office in his pajamas.
"What's happened, love?" He said, releasing a great yawn and plopping down into a chair beside Harry. He gave Harry a bleary look as he noticed the boy's presence. "Oh, evening, Harry. Everything alright?" Harry shrugged and kept his head down, his heart pounding in his ears. He'd been in shock for a while, and now he was drifting and hazy, overwhelmed. When the tea was finished, mama threw herself into the final seat and held her head in her hands for a long moment.
Sirius summoned a box of chocolate biscuits, realizing it was that kind of conversation.
"Kiddo?" he asked Harry.
"My name came out of the Goblet of Fire, for the Triwizard Tournament," Harry explained in a deadpan voice. "I didn't put it in, I swear. You guys told me not to, and I didn't mean to make a mess of things again."
"It wasn't your fault, Harry." Alabasandria let a hand fall onto her desk and Harry grasped it for comfort. "It came out twice, Sirius. Once for Hogwarts, and then again right after. Clearly, it's been rigged. Not a damn one of those bastards even tried to find an explanation. Just threw in the towel immediately! He has to compete!"
"Fucking hell. How are you feeling, Harry?"
"I'm shocked," he said. He took a bite of a biscuit and gave his racing heart some time to settle. Neither of his adults rushed him to speak. "But I'm not too worried about the Tournament, I think. I mean, I know I won't be able to directly use necromancy during it, but I'll still have an advantage over the others." He looked up to them for reassurance, but neither looked calm.
"If the tournament was rigged for you to enter, it may very well be rigged for you to lose," Sirius said quietly.
Oh. That made a lot of sense. Harry felt his confidence leave him.
"Hey, love. You'll be alright. We'll help you through this, I promise," Sirius said, and stole Harry's other hand to grasp.
"You're right in that you have the secret advantage of knowing necromancy," Alabasandria said. "Even if you do get hurt, even if you do die. I will sabotage whatever ritual Voldemort is doing and bring you back, I promise. I do not doubt that you will make it out physically okay. Like you said, the concern is not so much of the three tasks themselves, but more so who may be influencing and sabotaging you. I don't want you to be used as a pawn in some larger scheme! I have no interest in dealing with this mess! We were already under so much scrutiny, and now we have to get you through this without harm!"
"We need to find out who put your name in," Sirius said. "I don't understand why you would be entered twice. Any ideas? It's one of Voldemort's minions, surely."
"I'm not sure," Alabasandria gave his hand one final squeeze and released him. Pulling out a piece of parchment, she began to write down some ideas. "Barty Crouch Senior felt off. Shrouded by Dark magic, sickly. He's dying."
"I didn't notice," Harry said, although he had admittedly been busy panicking at the time.
"Well, I was going to curse him, so I went digging and found out he'd already been. I couldn't tell what exactly was wrong with him, but the bastard will get to experience his bones melting over the course of a few months now as well." She laughed.
"Crouch? That asshole sent me to Azkaban without a trial. Can't say I feel sorry for him, but that is very strange. He notoriously hated anything related to Dark magic; he shipped his son off to Azkaban without a care in the world. He would never willingly practice anything Dark."
"He's in charge of the Tournament. He would be a good man to use if you wanted to rig it. And if he was so despised, I imagine the remaining Death Eaters would gladly take the opportunity for revenge."
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