Going into the castle for lunch was exactly as awful as Harry thought it would be.
The Great Hall was full of people when he and Neville entered, and all of them looked up at his entry, immediately breaking out into whispers. Harry made to turn around, but Neville yanked him forward. "You're not going to the kitchens," he insisted. "Come on, let's sit with Parvati."
The Indian girl looked up when the two boys sat beside her, and she glanced at Harry. "You look awful," she declared, making him snort.
"Thanks."
Her gaze turned considering. "Some people are saying you didn't put your name in."
"I didn't," Harry insisted. The Hogwarts rumour mill was a vicious thing, but there wasn't a single scrap of it that didn't end up past Parvati Patil or Lavender Brown at some point or another. If Harry wanted an accurate idea of peoples' opinions, she was the one to ask. "What am I looking at, here?" He pointedly ignored all the people staring and murmuring around him. Parvati twirled a lock of hair around her finger, lips pursing.
"Obviously there are those who think you tricked your way in. Others think you bribed someone else to put your name in for you. Most people are realising that still wouldn't explain how there's four champions. But they don't care whether you did it on purpose or not — they're just angry it happened at all. Especially the Hufflepuffs," Parvati reported. Harry sighed; it could be worse, he supposed.
He didn't really blame the Hufflepuffs, to be honest. He'd be angry too in their shoes. He was stealing the glory from their rightful champion, overshadowing Cedric with all his drama. They had a right to be pissed about it.
He helped himself to some chicken, staring resolutely at his plate, even when the whispers rose dramatically. He didn't look up until a throat cleared behind him. Expecting some nosy person asking about the Goblet, Harry turned with a scowl on his face, which dropped quickly when he saw the person stood there. "Cedric?" he greeted, bewildered. Cedric flashed him a nervous smile.
"Hiya, Harry. Mind if I sit here?" He gestured to the seat beside him. Harry blinked.
"At the Gryffindor table?" he asked dumbly.
"Yeah." Cedric had his shoulders squared, but his eyes looked like he might bolt any minute. Everyone was staring at them.
"Yeah, go ahead." Harry scooted up the bench to make room for the sixth year, staring at him incredulously. "What're you playing at, Cedric?" he asked under his breath. Cedric's smile widened, more confident, and he reached for a bread roll.
"We're in this together, aren't we?" he said, loud enough for his voice to carry over the whispers of people shamelessly eavesdropping. "Both Hogwarts champions and all. Besides, if the rumours are true, and someone is out to do you in over this, then I reckon it's my responsibility to help you through this in one piece."
Harry could hardly believe what the older boy was saying. He was willing to give up his moment, to share it with Harry, just so people would leave him alone? "You are such a Hufflepuff," he hissed. Cedric beamed.
"Thanks, Harry. Knew you'd see it my way. Pass the soup, would you?"
.-.-.-.
After Cedric's little display at lunch, things got easier. Several of the Hufflepuffs still seemed resentful, but they were keeping it to themselves; if Cedric wasn't angry with Harry, they couldn't be either. After a couple of days, people had mostly settled down about the whole thing. Parvati was right; people didn't care how it had happened, they just wanted to see what would happen next. And a fourteen year-old boy, Boy-Who-Lived or not, being part of the most dangerous event to happen in centuries… that was something to talk about.
Harry got used to hearing people discuss his chances of survival as he walked through the halls. He told himself it was better than hearing them jeer at him, or call him a glory-hunter. He just had to not let it get to him.
Easier said than done.
Hermione didn't seem to know what to do with herself, flitting between Harry and Ron with an anxious look on her face, refusing to abandon the redhead but not wanting Harry to think she was on Ron's side. If that wasn't a clear sign to Harry that he couldn't trust her, he didn't know what was; if she was really his friend, she'd tell Ron that he was being a jealous arsehole and needed to get over himself. How could she be like that after the way he'd treated her last year, when he thought Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers?
Because of that, Harry was spending most of his time trying to avoid people, hanging out in the dorms — when Ron wasn't there — or in the library. It was one such afternoon that Harry was walking through the common room, on his way up to see if his dorm was empty, when an arm draped over his shoulder. "Hey, Harry. Mind if I borrow you for a bit?" It was George, and Harry automatically looked around for the other Weasley twin. He was nowhere to be found. How odd.
"Yeah, sure." Perhaps Fred was waiting wherever George was taking him; he braced himself for some kind of prank planning. Instead, he was surprised when George led him to his own dorm room, which was empty. Harry had never been in there before; it was messier than his own, with evidence of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes all over the place. One of the beds had the curtains firmly shut, and a two-foot radius of clean floor all around it. George shut the door, heading over to the bed warily. "Oi, Kenny, you in here?" He edged closer to the bed, knocking on the invisible wall that surrounded it. There was no response. He turned to Harry, grinning. "Kenneth always keeps his bed warded when he's not in here. Says he doesn't trust us." He had a look of wide-eyed innocence, as if he couldn't possibly understand why. Harry snorted. It must be hard, being in the same dorm as the Weasley twins. "Anyway, Harry, take a seat."
George gestured to the bed next to his own, which Harry assumed was Fred's, and Harry perched hesitantly on the mattress. "What's this all about?" he asked. "Where's Fred?"
"He's off with Angelina," George replied with a fond grin. "I won't ask what they're doing."
Harry snickered; he hadn't realised Fred and Angelina were a thing. "What do you need me for, then?" Surely George wasn't pulling a prank without his brother's assistance?
George sat on his own bed, facing Harry, a surprisingly serious look in his eyes. Harry's pulse ticked up. What was wrong? "When I was about your age," George started, looking like he was choosing his words very carefully. "I started realising some… things. Things I didn't even tell Fred about, at first. It's a weird thing, growing up — so much stuff happening, you're not sure what's normal and what's not. I bet it's even worse for you, what with the people out to kill you and whatnot."
Harry stared at him, utterly baffled, but George ploughed on. "It was getting to the point where even Fred noticed I was acting funny, but I still didn't say anything. We'd always been the same, you see, and I didn't want to start admitting that there might be something different in there. Then Charlie came home for a visit, and he could tell right off the bat. He sat me down, much like we are now, and he talked to me, and he gave me this book. And… now I think it's time I pass that on, because I might be wrong, but I think you need it more than I do, now."
The redhead reached under his blanket, pulling out a slim hardback book with a plain blue cover. He held it out to Harry. "The cover is charmed, so people don't know what it is just by looking at it." He tapped it with his wand, and suddenly it changed, the title written across the front in black lettering. 'A Wizard's Guide To Wizards: A How-To for Male Homosexual Relationships'.
Harry's cheeks burned.
"Like I said, I could be wrong, in which case, feel free to tell me to fuck off," George said hastily. "And even if you're not sure yet, or you're not ready, or whatever, that's totally fine. You can read the book, decide it's not for you, and give it back. But… I can't imagine how torn up about it I would have been if I hadn't had that little gesture of support from Charlie. It might've taken me years to tell Fred, or anyone else. And talking to Lee about it, he said muggles can be a bit funny about that sort of thing. I didn't know what kind of tripe they might've filled your head with."
George shuffled forward so his knee bumped Harry's, his brown eyes earnest. "I just don't want you going through this alone, Harry. You're our little brother, regardless of what Ron thinks, and it's my brotherly duty to make sure you know we love you regardless." He smirked wickedly, and there was that Weasley twin mischief. "And, of course, to make sure you're properly informed about everything." He winked salaciously, and Harry blushed impossibly redder. But George sobered up again, tapping the book cover until it was plain once more and nudging it into Harry's hands. "It's all yours. If you've got any questions, you can come to me. Or write to Charlie, he'll listen. And if you're not ready — hell, if you're never ready — that's fine. The offer's good for whenever. I'm giving you the information, but I'm not pressuring you to make any sort of decision or announcement. Only you can know when it's time for that."
Harry stared at the book in his hands, flipping it open to the index page. Homosexuality in wizarding culture… Marriage rights for same-sex couples… Helpful spells for intercourse… That one made his eyes go wide, and he slammed it shut again. George chuckled.
"Yeah, it's a lot to take in. You don't have to read it all at once. It's just… information is a good thing to have. Even if it might not be relevant to you."
For a moment, Harry thought about giving the book back to him, saying 'thanks, but no thanks' and leaving, never speaking of it again. This was different than the twins teasing him about being a little star-struck over Bill. This was all the conversations his dorm-mates had about girls that Harry didn't feel part of; all the times he found himself glancing at boys in the halls, or in the quidditch locker rooms, or on the street; all the times his heart beat faster when Draco Malfoy smiled at him. This was listening to Uncle Vernon going off about 'queers' and wondering if the man was right, if he really was a freak after all.
This was real.
"Do many people know? About you?" he asked quietly. George shrugged.
"Fred, and Charlie, and Bill. I think Ginny knows. Lee, obviously. Angie and Katie and Alicia, and Oliver. Few others here and there; boys I've kissed, some of their friends, y'know. I don't hide it, but I don't exactly go around telling everyone I meet. Mum and Dad know, though I don't know if Mum's really come to terms with it yet. Merlin knows she still hasn't about Charlie or Bill. At least with Bill there's still hope for grandkids. He likes both," he explained. "As if there aren't other ways of having kids than just knocking a girl up."
"There are other ways?" Harry asked, perplexed. A tiny bubble of hope rose within him; did that mean that even if he was… he could still have kids?
"Well, there's always adoption," George pointed out. "But there's a spell that can take the stuff from two blokes and put it inside a woman and make a baby. It's all in the book. As long as you've got a woman willing to be pregnant for you, you can have a kid. Rumour has it there's some wizard in Spain working on a potion to make men get pregnant, but that all sounds a bit much if you ask me," he added with a grimace. Harry's eyebrows shot up — men being pregnant? Magic really could do anything!
"Wizards don't really care about it all," George continued. "At least, they never used to. With more and more muggleborns coming in, people are getting weird about it. But two blokes or two girls can get married and everything. Their kids are legal heirs — or they can name other heirs, if the family magic is compatible and they don't want kids of their own. You're always going to find people who are dicks about it, but that's life, unfortunately."
"What's it like?" Harry's question was barely louder than a whisper, and he couldn't bring himself to elaborate. Luckily, George seemed to get what he meant.
"I'd imagine it's about the same as being in love with a girl," he said slowly. "I've not been with many guys. If you want to talk logistics, that's a very different conversation." Harry shook his head quickly, feeling like he was going to burst from all the blood rushing to his cheeks, and George snorted. "Maybe after you've read the book. But without getting all mushy on you, being able to be honest about it, being myself… it's like finally putting on shoes that actually fit, after ages of wearing three sizes too small."
Harry knew what that felt like, quite literally. His whole body ached with the need to feel that way. Was it really just that simple? "Hey, George," he said tentatively.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for the book. I think it'll be really informative." He sounded like he was thanking him for a book about Herbology!
"You're welcome, Harry."
Come on, Potter, he told himself. Gryffindor courage. "And… George?"
"Yeah, Harry?"
"I… I like boys. I'm gay."
There. He'd done it. George's eyes went wide. Harry realised his hands were trembling.
"First time you've said that out loud, innit?"
Harry nodded, wondering why his heart felt like it was about to hammer right through his ribcage. It was just two little words! George quickly moved across the gap, sitting beside Harry, and drew him into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you, kid," he murmured. "It's gonna be alright, you'll see." George held him for a long moment. Harry focused on remembering to breathe. "You've got loads of people on your side, whether you choose to tell people or not. Because you don't have to, if you don't want to. I won't even tell Fred."
"No, it's okay," Harry assured. "I don't mind family knowing. I just… don't want the whole world to know, yet." As much as he liked to pretend it wouldn't be a big deal, he knew better. He was Harry Potter. He couldn't sneeze without making the front page of the Prophet.
"Don't blame you, mate." George had his chin propped on Harry's head, and he pat him on the back gently. "I'm gonna let go now. That alright?" Harry nodded, and they separated, George offering him a grin. "Thanks for trusting me, Harry."
"It'd be dumb not to when you'd already figured it out," Harry pointed out.
"I didn't know for sure," George insisted. "I just… had a feeling. And regardless, even if you weren't gay, it's good to offer all sorts of information. The spells in that book should be taught alongside the usual contraception charms. Well, maybe not all of them," he added, turning pink beneath his freckles. "But the important ones. People need to know the information is there."
Harry remembered the excruciatingly painful assembly last year, in which the entire third year class had spent an hour listening to Madam Pomfrey talk about hormones and birth control and 'the changes of the body'. Not one word had been said about relationships that weren't between a man and a woman.
"So, while we're in a sharing mood," George perked up, smirking once more. "Do you have a thing for my big brother, Harrikins? Any of them. Well, not Percy. Please, Merlin, not Percy."
Harry made a face at the prospect. "I don't fancy your brother!" he insisted. "Any of them. I told you! And I don't fancy Cedric Diggory either," he added hastily, when George made to open his mouth again.
"Really? I do a little bit," George admitted shamelessly. "He's proper fit. A bit too nice, though. And straight. Mad for that Ravenclaw girl, what's her name, the seeker. Chang." He shook his head mock-sadly. "Can't win 'em all. So is there anyone? What sort of wizard gets your wand going?" He cackled at the mortified expression on Harry's face. "Come on, Harrikins! If the other boys can talk about which girl's boobs they want to touch, I'm pretty sure you and I can talk about blokes. No? Too soon?"
"Draco Malfoy," Harry blurted, eyes shut. He couldn't help himself. It was the truth, he could finally own up to that. He had feelings for Draco Malfoy.
George stared at him. "So, like, you hate him but he's pretty so you want to snog him, or…?"
"We've been friends since last year, in secret." If he was trusting George with all his other secrets, he could trust him with this. "I… I really like him, George. Genuinely." A lot more than he probably should. He didn't dare look at George, wondering if that was a step too far. Liking boys was one thing; liking Slytherins was another.
"I mean, I don't really see it, personally," George said eventually. "But I guess you have always been a bit obsessed with him. And he is quite pretty, objectively. Too pretty for my tastes, but to each their own. Blimey, Harry, you're not making it easy on yourself, are you? Does he know?" He shook his head. "Of course he doesn't, you said you've not told anyone but me. I think you're in luck, though, mate — no boy who cares that much about his appearance is completely straight."
Harry blinked, sure he was imagining things. George grinned at him. "What, you think I haven't had my fair share of crushes on snakes? Not all of them are evil. And sometimes even the evil ones are frustratingly attractive. I'm more surprised by you two being secretly friends than the fact that you fancy him." He shuffled around until he was lying on his stomach on the bed, head propped in his hands and feet kicking in the air, fluttering his eyelashes over-dramatically. "Tell me everything, Harry," he gushed, as if they were at a pre-teen sleepover or something. Harry laughed.
And he did.
.-.-.-.
The biggest surprise of his fourth year so far was quite possibly how much he enjoyed his Potions class, now that Snape didn't actively hate him. Sure, he had to play his part, but much like arguing with Draco, it was far easier to deal with when Harry knew the other party didn't mean it. He graded Harry (mostly) fairly, and Harry knew that whatever was going on outside the dungeons, Severus Snape would never give one single flying fuck about it. He didn't care about Harry's fame, or the Triwizard Tournament, or anything. Even the other teachers were treating him differently — Professor Sprout took five points off him for 'misting incorrectly' the other day. In the dungeons, he was Just Harry.
That meant Harry was actually somewhat looking forward to Potions on Friday afternoon, Hermione walking with him down to the dungeons, chattering on about Summoning charms. Harry indulged her — well, ignored her — having perfected the Summoning charm over the summer with Remus. When they arrived outside the Potions classroom, Harry realised all the Slytherins were wearing some kind of badge — and seemed to be waiting for him to notice. Seeing the smirk on Draco's face, Harry looked closer.
Support Cedric Diggory — the REAL Hogwarts Champion
"That isn't all they do," Draco said loudly. "Look." He pressed the centre of his badge, and the red lettering changed, turning green and forming the words 'Potter Stinks'. Unable to help himself, Harry snickered.
"Oh, really funny," Hermione spat, pulling Harry away by the arm. "Very witty."
"Want one, Granger?" Draco drawled, holding out a badge. "I've got plenty. Only, don't touch my hand, I've just washed it."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron step away from the wall with a furious expression on his face, wand in his hand. Harry ignored him, smirking at Draco. "I'll take one, Malfoy," he said. The Slytherins all stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
"I'll take a badge. Are they free?" Harry almost laughed at the expression on Draco's face; one he was becoming very familiar with. It was the face that said 'I'm not sure what the hell you think you're playing at but I know better than to try and use logic when it comes to you'. Complete with the little furrow on his forehead, it was quite adorable.
"Harry, don't antagonise him." Hermione seemed to think he was joking. "Just walk away."
"Listen to your little pet bookworm, Potter," Draco said, giving the curly-haired girl a disparaging look. That set Ron off, the redhead clearly spoiling for a fight. He raised his wand, but Draco was quicker. At the exact same time, both of them spoke.
"Furnunculus!"
"Densaugeo!"
The two spells met in mid-air and ricocheted off; Harry ducked, but Hermione wasn't quick enough, and Malfoy's spell hit her square in the face. Ron's spell bounced over to hit Goyle, and the large Slytherin bellowed, covering his face with his hands. When he lowered them, his skin was covered in huge, oozing boils.
Hermione, too, had her hands over her face — her mouth, specifically. She wouldn't move them, letting out tiny, panicked squeaks. Ron lunged forward, dragging her hand away. Her front teeth were starting to resembling that of a beaver, growing out past her bottom lip and well on her way towards her chin.
"What is going on out here?" The voice was soft, but it carried through the hallway. Snape had arrived.
Draco and Ron began stuttering excuses, and Snape looked exasperated behind his glare. "Goyle, Hospital Wing," he said, when Draco pointed out the damage done to the Slytherin.
"Malfoy got Hermione, too!" Ron argued.
"I don't see any difference, Professor!" Pansy Parkinson crowed, laughing. Tears began to gather in Hermione's eyes.
"Granger, go," Snape dismissed. Hermione grabbed her bag and practically sprinted from the corridor. "The rest of you, inside, now."
The class began to file in, and Harry slid into line behind Draco. "Oi, Malfoy," he hissed. Draco glanced back, shooting him a panicked look. Harry smirked at him. "I was serious about that badge."
The look on Draco's face said that he clearly thought Harry had finally cracked, but eventually he gave an irritated huff and turned to his table, shoving past Harry.
As he did, something large and round dropped into Harry's robe pocket. Harry grinned.
.-.
They barely got five minutes into class before there was a knock on the door. Snape glared like he was going to set someone on fire for the disruptions; which only increased when it turned out to be Colin Creevey, requesting Harry for… photographs? Harry shot Snape a desperate glance, begging him to refuse, to keep Harry down in the dungeons. The man merely curled his lip in distaste.
"Potter, take your things and get out. I expect ten inches on the proper method for deriving an antidote by next class."
Groaning under his breath. Harry shouldered his bag and followed Colin Creevey out of the classroom, the third year beaming up at him in awe. "Isn't this amazing, Harry? You being the fourth champion and everything?"
"Yeah. Amazing," Harry repeated flatly. "What's all this about, Colin?"
"They didn't really tell me, I was just sent to get you. They want all the champions — I think it's for the Daily Prophet?" That made the boy beam even wider.
"Great. Fantastic." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Just what I need." A thought occurred to him, and he reached into the pocket of his robes, pulling out the badge Malfoy had given him. He fixed it proudly to his chest, ignoring Colin's look of confusion.
When they arrived at the right room, Colin waved a cheerful goodbye, and Harry entered in trepidation. It was a small unused classroom; he and Draco had used it to play cards in a couple of times. Almost all the desks had been pushed against the wall, except three that had been stood end-to-end and draped in velvet, with five chairs behind them. Ludo Bagman was there, talking to a blonde witch Harry had never seen before, and he grinned at Harry's entrance. In the corner was a man with a big wizarding camera. All the other champions were there too, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. At least Harry wasn't the only one.
"There he is! Champion number four!" Bagman's gaze dropped down to Harry's badge, and he faltered. "Ha! Funny joke, there, Harry, very clever. In you come, in you come, it's nothing to worry about. Just the Wand Weighing ceremony — got to check everything is in working order before the first task. Then just a quick little interview with Ms Skeeter here, and you'll be on your way. Have you met before, Harry? This is Rita Skeeter, she's doing a little piece on the tournament for the Prophet."
Harry eyed the woman, disgust rising. This was Rita Skeeter, was it? The woman who had caused so much trouble after the cup with her articles. She was wearing lurid magenta robes, her hair done in elaborate curls and her claw-like nails painted vivid crimson, clutching a crocodile-skin purse. She was looking at Harry like she wanted to eat him alive. "Might I have a quick word with Harry before we start?" Skeeter asked, already pulling an acid green quill from her purse. "The youngest champion, you know, to add a bit of colour?"
"Certainly!" Bagman agreed, but Harry shook his head.
"No, thank you." He didn't want to give Rita Skeeter anything she might be able to use against him. Both adults blinked.
"Come now, Harry, it's just a quick interview," Bagman encouraged. Harry held his ground.
"I don't want to. I'd rather my name and picture not be in the paper at all, but with the tournament, that can't be helped. But if you want an interview, you interview all of us. Not just me."
"Really, lad, I don't know why you're making such a fuss." Bagman was sending nervous looks back at Skeeter, who seemed incredibly unimpressed.
"'E said non, Monsieur Bagman." It was Fleur Delacour, stepping in front of Harry with her arms folded over her chest.
"Harry's underage, you can't interview him without consent of a guardian anyway," Cedric added, standing by Fleur's side. Bagman chuckled awkwardly.
"Really, I think you're all just getting a little worked up," Skeeter said. "Harry, dear, it'll only take a moment, we'll just pop into the other room for some privacy, just a couple of questions." The 'other room' she pointed at was a storage cupboard.
"Vat part of no are you not understanding?" Viktor Krum joined the fray now, staring down his hooked nose at Skeeter, eyes cold.
"I'm not going anywhere alone with you," Harry declared firmly. "And I refuse to be interviewed unless it's all of us. I shouldn't be here, anyway. I'm not a real champion." He squared his shoulders in a way that made the 'Support Cedric Diggory' badge even more obvious.
Skeeter opened her mouth to argue, but the door opened, and Dumbledore walked in followed by the other two heads, Mr Crouch, and Mr Ollivander. Dumbledore surveyed the situation curiously; all three of-age champions stood between Rita Skeeter and Harry, glaring at the blonde woman. "Is there a problem?"
"I was hoping to get a quick interview with Harry here, but it seems the poor dear's being a little shy," Rita cooed, squeezing past Cedric to rest a hand on Harry's shoulder, her talons digging into his robes. He shook her off.
"Please don't touch me," he muttered.
"Well, it's time for the Wand Weighing ceremony, but I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to interview Mr Potter afterwards." Dumbledore's response was cheerful. Harry grimaced.
The five judges took the chairs behind the velvet-covered desks, while the four champions took seats on the other side. Cedric looked down at Harry and grinned. "Nice badge, Potter."
"I thought so," Harry replied with a wink.
Ollivander was introduced, and the Wand Weighing itself was a fairly painless process. The old man's eyes lit up when he saw Harry flick his wand out of its holster, handing it over. Harry mentally begged him not to say anything about the wand's… interesting history. Luckily, all the man did was describe it, looking it over carefully. He took far longer than any of the others. A stab of horror caught Harry unexpectedly — what if there was a curse on his wand, like there had been on his person?
No, surely Dumbledore wouldn't allow the ceremony to go ahead if he knew there was something wrong with Harry's wand, something Ollivander would pick up on. Eventually, the old wandmaker shot a fountain of wine into a conjured glass. "Very good, very good. All four wands are in perfect condition," he announced. "The champions may proceed."
"Excellent," Dumbledore said, getting to his feet. "Thank you all for coming, you are now free to leave."
"Not so fast, Dumbledore!" Bagman called, hopping out of his seat. "Ms Skeeter here would like some photos to go with her article!"
Skeeter smirked, beckoning the man with the camera forward. "Just a few," she purred. "And then, perhaps, an interview?"
"What do you think, Rita — all the judges, and the champions?" Bagman suggested. Skeeter's eyes landed on Harry once more.
"And a few individual shots, of course."
"I do not see vhy that is necessary," Krum grouched. "Ve are all champions here." He looked back at Harry, who sent him a grateful glance in reply. If there was anyone who understood how awful it was to be hounded by the press, it was Krum.
Skeeter got them all lined up for group photos, putting Harry right in the middle and insisting it was due to his height. "Take that silly badge off, Harry dear," she fussed, but Harry shook his head.
"No, thank you."
"Really, lad," Bagman chuckled nervously. "I don't think it's really appropriate. These photos are going in the paper!"
"Exactly. I'm showing school solidarity," Harry insisted, keeping his voice earnest. Behind him, Cedric ducked his head to hide a grin.
"Harry." Dumbledore's voice was gently scolding. Harry gave him an innocent look.
"Sorry, sir. Is this better?" He pressed the centre of the badge, until the words 'Potter Stinks' were emblazoned across his chest. Skeeter cried out in alarm. Cedric lost his battle against giggles.
"Harry," Dumbledore said again. Harry was sure he was pushing the limits, and about to get himself into trouble, but he refused to let Skeeter walk all over him. The Compulsion charm was supposed to make him reckless, after all.
"You're right, sir; the original is much nicer." Harry returned the badge to its original phrase, facing the camera with a smile. "Are we ready now?"
The adults seemed to realise they'd lost that battle, and with an indignant huff, Skeeter took her photos, Harry keeping the badge on. He dug his heels in again when she tried to take individual photos.
"If you're doing them by school, then Cedric and I should take a photo together," he said, once she'd already taken pictures of Krum and Fleur.
"But that will upset the balance," Skeeter protested.
"Just take the photo so we can leave," Karkaroff snapped. "This has taken too much time already."
Skeeter paled, and was left with no choice but to take a picture of Cedric and Harry stood side-by-side, with Cedric's arm around Harry's shoulder. The badge was still on Harry's robes.
When they were finally allowed to leave, Cedric burst into laughter as soon as they were out of the judges' earshot. Krum and Fleur were still with them, and even they looked amused. "That was fantastic, Harry!" Cedric wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "The look on her face!"
"I saw the kind of articles she wrote this summer," Harry said with a scowl. "I didn't want her turning this into the next chapter of the Saga of the Boy-Who-Lived. This should be about you three, you're the real champions here."
"She is not a pleasant voman," Krum remarked, shuddering.
"Shooting 'er down was vairy entertaining," Fleur agreed, smirking. "And per'aps you are not so bad, leetle 'Arry." Harry was fairly sure that was a compliment.
"I'm not here to steal your spotlight, any of you," he promised. "I just want to survive this thing and get on with my life."
The three other champions shared a look, then smiled at him. Harry smiled back, hoping desperately that it meant they were on his side. Or, at the very least, not actively hating him.
.-.-.-.
When he got back to the dormitory after dinner, which had been quite the affair when all the champions sat and ate together — especially once people noticed Harry's badge — Harry found Ron up there, scowling. "You've had an owl," he bit out, gesturing to where Hedwig was sat on Harry's bedside table. "And you've got detention with Snape, for skipping class. Tomorrow night after dinner." He looked less smug than he should have about that, making Harry wonder if he, too, had detention for hexing Goyle. Harry just hoped Snape wouldn't make them serve it together.
Ron didn't stick around long, and as soon as he was gone Harry made a beeline for his owl, offering her a treat from his drawer once he removed the two letters. His stomach twisted, anxiously anticipating what the Weasley boys' response might be.
Hi Harry,
Of course it's okay for you to write! I'm glad to hear from you. Especially once I heard about your name coming out of the Goblet. Are you okay? I expect it's all a bit mad at the school there. The twins said you're handling it well, but if I can help, let me know.
I do know Gorrak, though I don't work for him often, and I'm surprised to hear you met with him. I saw him the other day, actually. He's well, and sends his regards. He also says the matter you last wrote to him about has been taken care of. Is everything alright, Harry?
Being a curse-breaker involves lots of different things — yes, I work on tombs a lot. But I also crack wards on old houses where the owner has died or become unable to give people access, or sometimes where the wards have gone wrong and turned on their owner. And yes, I've worked on cursed people in the past. It's a difficult thing, though; curses interact strangely with a person's magical core, especially if they've been on someone for a long time. Not something you want to go messing around with unless you know what you're doing.
I'm trying to get time off work to come see at least one of the tasks. I know Charlie will be at the first one, if you need to talk to him. He'll pass on a message to me if you need him to, as well.
Look after yourself, Harry,
Bill
Harry let out a long breath, reading the letter over a second time, and then a third. Bill had seen Gorrak — and mentioned him. Had Gorrak let him know about Harry's situation? The redhead certainly seemed to have gathered that something was up; and that Harry didn't want to talk about it in letters. He opened the next one, wondering if it would enlighten him.
Harry,
I can't believe they're making you compete! It's ridiculously unfair. When I got your letter, I thought you were calling in that favour I owe you from our seeker's match in the summer, but then I realised the champions hadn't been announced when you wrote it.
The Ministry in Romania is a little different, as there are fewer old pureblood lines — despite being a big country, it's a fairly small population, compared to Britain. There's sort of a Ministry alliance between a lot of the Eastern European countries — Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, Serbia, and the like — that all work together to keep things running smoothly. Their equivalent of the Wizengamot is very much the same, however.
I'm glad to hear you've been looking into that sort of stuff. It's only proper. If you have any questions, Bill or I are always happy to help.
See you soon, kid.
Charlie
PS - I heard Ron's being a twat about the champion thing. Ignore him. You're still family, whether he likes it or not.
The end of the letter made Harry grin, assuaging a worry he didn't even know he really had. He held up both letters, relieved to see that neither of them seemed suspicious about Harry's questions. With any luck, they were oblivious to their mother's dealings with Dumbledore, and could be brought around to Harry's side.
Then his gaze caught on a couple of sentences, and things began to click. Charlie will be at the first one. I thought you were calling in that favour. See you soon, kid. He remembered Charlie's words when he came to see them off at the platform; I might see you all sooner than you think.
If he was reading those hints right…
The first task was dragons.