Chapter Text
Harry James Potter was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, waiting not so patiently for the selection of the Hogwarts champion. Having turned seventeen just a month before the start of the year, Harry was old enough to enter his name in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He hadn’t been alone. His four best friends had also entered. Neither of the four cared who was chosen, as long as it was one of them.
Harry had fond memories of his parents and his father’s best friends, the group known as the Marauders, from his childhood. Harry had grown up with stories of the Marauders and had quickly told himself that once he would go to Hogwarts, he would make his own Marauders, just like his father before him. When he had announced that wish to his parents, his father had been grinning proudly while his mother had looked exasperated, although he remembered her face. She had been trying to hide a smile.
Calling themselves the “New Marauders”, the group of friends was composed of Harry Potter, Max Concord, Jeff Kustka and Dionysis Freling. Unlike his father, whose best friends were all from Gryffindor in his year group, Harry had made friends with a member of each house. Harry was in Gryffindor, Max in Slytherin, Jeff in Ravenclaw and Dionysis in Hufflepuff. Their friendship as a whole had been slightly tense at the beginning of their first year, especially with Max and Dionysis, Dio having been raised with the idea that all Slytherins were evil, but, quickly enough, they had all become each other's best friends. Now in their last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the New Marauders were inseparable.
While he was waiting, Harry looked at the young witch sitting close to him. As close as he was to his friends, none of them were as important to him as the young witch, Emma, his younger sister.
Emma Lily Potter was currently in her fourth year at Hogwarts. She was sitting with her best friend: Hermione Granger. As much as Harry loved Emma, she was also the bane of his existence, the main reason being that she was the biggest trouble magnet in the world. Harry didn’t know how she did it but his sister always, somehow, ended up in some type of situation he had to help her out with. Harry could still remember her first year (his fourth) where Harry and his friends had spotted Emma and Hermione go to the third-floor corridor. They had caught up with them before they jumped down the trapdoor. Harry had been unwilling to let his sister get into danger. Emma had been unwilling to leave the Philosopher’s Stone alone when it was at risk of being stolen. The compromise? The New Marauders had been dragged in her adventure and she and Harry had ended up facing the possessed Professor Quirrell, which had resulted in Emma fainting from magical exhaustion.
Her second year hadn’t been much better although, this time, he better understood why she had done what she did. Put simply, Emma would have gone down the Chamber of Secrets alone had she not needed Harry’s parseltongue ability to open it. A few months before, her best friend Hermione had been petrified, leaving Emma distraught. Harry and his friends had helped her but they hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time with her, mostly because of their O.W.Ls studies, making her feel lonelier than ever. When she finally found the entrance to the Chamber the same day first-year Ginny Weasley had been captured by the Heir, Emma had dragged Harry to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom on the second floor and down the Chamber which, after a vicious fight with a basilisk resulting in Harry being bitten, to Emma’s complete horror, they had managed to save Ginny’s life.
Emma had not left Harry alone the following weeks, constantly being in his presence and hugging him as if reassuring herself that he was truly alive. Harry hadn’t minded, as long as Emma was getting better. A secret part of him had enjoyed his sister’s affection, even if he would never admit it out loud because, after all, what teenage boy in the world would admit that?
The following year was the first peaceful and normal year since Emma arrived at Hogwarts, something Harry was eternally grateful for. There was no dangerous madman at Hogwarts, no rare nor evil objects, no horrible Defence professors, nothing. His sixth year was shaping up to be the calmest year in Harry’s schooling so far... until it wasn’t. Suddenly, boys wanted to date his sister! That made Harry angry. Joined by the New Marauders, who all saw Emma as their sibling, they started pranking any boy who asked her out. Of course, when asked, they pretended not knowing what was happening.
Emma didn’t buy it one second.
After an intense dressing down (leaving four sixth-year boys terrified), the New Marauders had stopped pranking her suitors, but only once they had made sure she was more than capable at defending herself. They finally realised their help wasn’t needed when they witnessed Emma hex the privates of Ronald Weasley. The memory still made them wince, especially when Emma would give them her terrifying smile.
Now it was his last year at Hogwarts and Harry was an adult. The first thing he did was to take Emma and leave the Dursleys, their “home” since Harry was four-years-old. Harry and Emma stayed at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of that summer while Harry began looking for a place for themselves. When they came back to Hogwarts, they learned about the return of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the arrival of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations, which lead to today.
Harry was sitting with Emma and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, glancing from time to time to his friends at the other tables. All of them looked confident. They were sure one of them would be chosen. Emma and Hermione were talking together, a discussion Harry wanted no part of. As confident as he felt, he wasn’t sure if one of them would be chosen. It made Harry anxious.
“Calm down, Harry.” said Emma with a smile, rubbing his back. Harry sent her a grateful smile. “I’m sure you are going to be chosen.” Both she and Hermione were rooting for him, both hoping he would represent them.
“Thanks.” whispered Harry, feeling slightly better. They turned toward the head table when Dumbledore began speaking.
“Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision.” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber...” he said, indicating the door behind the staff table. “...where they will be receiving their first instructions.”
With a great sweep of the wand, Dumbledore extinguished all the candles in the Great Hall, plunging them into semi-darkness. The only light source came from the Goblet of Fire which was shining more brightly than ever.
“Any second...” whispered Lee Jordan, a younger boy sitting a few seats away from them.
The flames of the Goblet suddenly blazed red and a small piece of paper shot out. Dumbledore caught it expertly, making him wonder if he had been a Seeker in his youth. Harry’s heart began beating faster, not knowing in which order the school champions were chosen.
“The champion for Durmstrang is...” Harry let out a small sigh of relief. “Viktor Krum!”
Krum rose from his seat at the Slytherin table and walked toward the front of the Hall while the student body applauded, some more cheerfully than others. He was an international Quidditch star, after all.
“Bravo Viktor! Knew you had it in you!” boomed the Durmstrang Headmaster as Krum entered the chamber next to the Hall. Harry rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if Viktor had been the only one entered for Durmstrang.
The cheering quickly died down and everyone began focusing on the Goblet once again. A big red flame flared once again from the Goblet, shooting another piece of paper. Dumbledore caught it and looked at it. “The champion for Beauxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!”
Harry began applauding, turning to look at the Beauxbatons contingent, which was sitting at the Ravenclaw table. A smiling witch of his age raised from the group and Harry’s breath caught away. Simply put it, she was beautiful. Her smile made his stomach jump inside him and Harry couldn’t help but stare at her while she walked toward the side chamber. The first thing he had noticed was her hair, which was silver. This immediately screamed “Veela!” to him and Harry began wondering if she was flaring her allure. Yet, Harry was immune to allure, something he was aware of thanks to what had happened a few years before.
While Harry and Emma were buying their school supplies, a young witch with silver hair had come to talk to him. While he had believed the girl to be beautiful, he hadn’t liked her personality and had politely sent her away. The witch had looked shocked beyond belief and had quickly left. It was only after that he had noticed how every other boy (and some of the girls) close to them had drooled at her. It wouldn’t be until he had come back to Hogwarts that he would learn about Veelas. Now that he remembered, he realised that allure or not, Harry wouldn’t feel that way toward the French champion unless he legitimately found her beautiful.
The students suddenly burst into applause again and Harry looked around, baffled. He had missed who had become the Hogwarts champion! Looking at his sister and her best friend, who were grinning at him, Harry asked “Who is the Champion?”
Emma and Hermione’s jaw dropped before they began laughing hard. The still baffled Harry was about to ask them what was funny until he heard the headmaster.
“Harry Potter!” shouted Dumbledore, looking amused. That’s when it hit him. HE was the Hogwarts champion! Just looking at his fellow students confirmed that as everyone was looking at him, applauding. Harry shot out on his feet, grinning. He walked toward the front of the Hall and as he passed Dumbledore, turned back toward the student body and bowed a few times, making a few of them laugh. Grinning, Harry entered the adjacent chamber.
Fleur and Viktor stood near the fireplace, not saying anything. Both were reflecting on their situation, which felt more real now that they were chosen. Looking at the man standing in front of her, Fleur wondered how much of a challenge the Quidditch star would be. Would he be an easy opponent, having focused on Quidditch during his school years (which wasn’t her case) or would his abilities in magic be revealed as good as his talent on the pitch? Fleur wasn’t sure so she kept silent.
Thinking about it, she was rather proud to be chosen as her school champion. The main reason Fleur had entered the Tournament was to prove to everyone that there was more to her than her good looks. Life wasn’t easy as a Veela and most people seemed to believe that whatever good things happened in her life was because she had used her powers instead of getting them legitimately.
Fleur wasn’t really close to anyone in Beauxbatons apart from her younger sister Gabrielle. While it hadn’t been too bad when she had started school, as years progressed, she became more and more lonely. She wasn’t friend with any of the boys because all were affected by her allure and they didn’t seem to be able to talk to her without drooling and she wasn’t good friends with the girls because most of them did not trust her, feeling threatened. Neither gender had truly believed her to be a powerful and knowledgeable witch who could get good grades legitimately. She was dead set on proving them wrong.
As she was thinking, the door opened again, allowing the Hogwarts champion inside. Looking up, Fleur saw who it was and recognised him immediately by the scar on his forehead. It was Harry Potter, one of the Children-Who-Lived. The young man was grinning proudly. In a way, Fleur could understand why. Harry Potter was probably feeling like he wanted to prove himself too. Now that she looked at her two competitors, she realised the truth. All of them had good reasons to want to prove themselves to others. All wanted to get out of their own shadows: Fleur from her Veela heritage, Viktor from his Quidditch career and Harry from being the Boy-Who-Lived. ‘More like Man-Who-Lived' thought Fleur.
Fleur glanced at the Hogwarts champion, seeing he was looking at her. The moment her sky-blue eyes met his bright green ones, she stopped breathing. She had never seen such beautiful eyes before. She wanted nothing more than to come closer to have a better look. She almost took a step forward, until she heard Viktor cough. Both blushed lightly as they looked away. Glancing at Viktor, she saw him looked at them with amusement. If anything, it made her blush even harder.
As she looked away, she began wondering if the reason he had looked at her was because of her allure. She wasn’t sure and decided to test it. Fleur flared her allure up. She was shocked when she didn’t notice a single difference in Harry’s behaviour. Not even his beautiful green eyes looked glazed. She slowly increased her allure more and more until it reached its maximum. Still, Harry didn’t react. He would often glance at her but nothing else suggested that he was affected. She only stopped when she heard Viktor cough again. Looking at him, she saw him frowning, as if having a small headache.
Fleur saw Harry look at both of them. He was about to say something when the door opened again. Fleur turned and was shocked by who she saw. It wasn’t a professor nor an official from the British Ministry. It wasn’t even a Headmaster. It was a younger, small red-head girl with hazel eyes and a lightning bolt scar on her forehead. The same scar as Harry. This was Emma Potter, the other Child-Who-Lived.
“Emma?” said Harry, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Emma looked up, her eyes looking at her older brother. Fleur could see the fear in her eyes. Looking back at Harry, she also looked at his eyes. Suddenly, it was as if a lightbulb had lit in his head. His face turned white.
“Don’t tell me...”
“Yes.” let out Emma weakly.
Harry walked toward his sister and grabbed her in a hug, making Fleur smile. She could see how much comfort his sister got from that hug, which made her heart melt. It was obvious both cared a lot about the other.
“We will get through this... together.” he said. Fleur was about to ask what they were talking about when the door opened again, letting a burly man in. The man was wearing yellow and black stripped Quidditch robes. They seemed to be way too tight for him, exposing part of his belly. Fleur wondered how he managed to breathe.
“This is amazing! Completely amazing! Gentlemen, lady...” said the man, approaching them. She recognised him as Ludo Bagman. “May I introduce you to the fourth Triwizard Champion!”
‘Oh.’ was all that crossed her mind. Emma and Harry’s attitudes suddenly made sense. Harry was comforting his terrified sister because she had somehow been entered into the Triwizard Tournament, a dangerous competition for adults only. No wonders he had turned white. She would have reacted the same had her sister Gabrielle been entered.
“This must be a joke?” she asked, hoping it was.
“Joke? Of course not! Miss Potter’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!” said Bagman cheerfully. Fleur felt sick.
“There must be a mistake! It is obvious she doesn’t want to be a part of this Tournament! She wouldn’t have entered her name willingly!” she said. Fleur saw Harry look up and send her a grateful look. She gave him a small smile.
“Well... it is amazing. But...” said Bagman, looking at the Potter siblings.
Harry interrupted him, glaring at him. Almost growling, he said “I do not see how my fourteen-years-old sister being entered into a deadly tournament for adults is ‘amazing’, Bagman. Or should I call you Bagmoron?”
Emma let out a small giggle in Harry’s chest. Fleur was happy to see that her brother knew how to cheer her up, making her smile. ‘Bagmoron’ meanwhile didn’t look amused.
“Now, see here...” he began before he was interrupted again, this time by the door of the chamber. A large group of people came in: the headmasters Dumbledore, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff followed by Barty Crouch and two Hogwarts professors, a stern looking witch with square glasses and a sneering wizard with greasy hair and a hooked nose.
“Madame Maxime!” cried Fleur. “Bagmoron is saying that the young girl is to compete also, even if she doesn’t want to!” Fleur heard another small giggle coming from Emma, making her proud of herself.
Ignoring the red-faced Bagman, Fleur looked at her headmistress, who in turn looked at the Potter siblings. She could see that she had come to the same conclusion as she had.
“What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?” asked Madame Maxime.
“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore.” said Headmaster Karkaroff with a steely smile. “Two Hogwarts Champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions... or have I not read the rules carefully?”
“C’est impossible.” said Madame Maxime. “Hogwarts cannot have two champions, especially not one so young! It would be suicide!” Fleur and Harry both glared at Madame Maxime as they heard a small, terrified whimper from Harry’s chest.
“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore!” said Karkaroff.
“My sister didn’t enter her name in the Goblet of Fire!” said Harry loudly, defending Emma from the Durmstrang Headmaster’s accusations. Both Karkaroff and the sneering man scoffed.
The sneering man then spoke. “It is obvious to me that it is no one’s fault but Potter’s, with her brother trying to cover for her...”
Harry growled. “My sister didn’t enter herself, Snivellus!”
“Fifty points from Gryffindor!” barked ‘Snivellus’. “You better watch what you are saying, Potter...” he glared.
Harry gave an equally angry glare back. Turning to Dumbledore, he asked “Why is he even here? He is neither a Headmaster, Head of House or a Ministry official. He doesn’t need to be here. All he’s doing is accusing my sister!”
“I’m going to be where I want to be, Potter!”
“Severus, that’s enough!” said the stern looking professor. “Mr. Potter is right. You have no business here. Out.”
“Minerva...” began Dumbledore.
“Out!” barked Minerva. With a last glare at the Potters, Severus ‘Snivellus’ walked away.
Dumbledore let out a sigh before he turned toward the Potters. “Miss Potter?” he asked. Emma slowly lifted her head out of her brother’s chest. Fleur felt a pain in her heart as she looked at her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks were wet. She hadn’t noticed earlier but Emma had been crying. “Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” asked Dumbledore softly. Emma shook her head. “Did you ask an older student...”
“No.” said Harry for his sister, glaring at his Headmaster.
“I had to ask.” he said simply before turning back toward the others.
“She must be lying!” cried Karkaroff. Fleur glared at him again.
“I believe her.” said Fleur, earning another grateful smile from Harry. “It’s obvious she wants no part in this tournament! She looks terrified just at the idea of it!”
“He could have made a mistake with the age line!” yelled the Durmstrang headmaster.
“I could have, of course but... I do not believe that an underage student entered Miss Potter’s name in.” said Dumbledore.
“Who, then?” asked Madame Maxime.
“A powerful wizard, that’s who it is.” growled a new voice from near the door. It came from a man who looked more scarred than anyone she ever knew. The man had a fake leg and a magical blue eye who was constantly spinning. “It would take a lot of power to bamboozle a powerful artefact like the Goblet into selecting a champion for a fourth school. I’m guessing whoever entered Miss Potter’s name did so to make sure that she would be the only one in her category.”
“You seem to have given a great deal of thought, Moody.” said Karkaroff coldly.
“If you remember carefully, it was my job to think the way Dark Wizards do...”
“Alastor!” said Dumbledore warningly. Looking back at everyone else, he said “We do not know how this situation arose but it is evident that Miss Potter did not enter her name into consideration.” he said. Looking around, Fleur could see that Karkaroff was the only one who didn’t seem to believe it. “It seems we have no choice but accept it. Both Potters have been chosen to compete in the Tournament.”
“Then I want the Goblet to be relit! I want to enter the names of my students again until we also have a second champion!”
“That’s not how it works, Karkaroff.” said Madame Maxime. “You know very well that the Goblet cannot be relit while a competition is running.”
“Then Viktor and I will leave!”
“Empty threat, Karkaroff!” growled Alastor Moody. “You can’t leave with your champion now or he will lose his magic. They all have to compete, including Miss Potter.”
Karkaroff looked thunderous. Then, suddenly, he barked “Viktor! Come, we are going back to the ship.” before he turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door on the wall along the way. Viktor followed. Before he left the room, he turned toward Emma, who was still being held by her brother, and said “I believe you.” Harry and Emma gave him a thankful smile, which he returned before leaving.
“Well, shall we crack on, then?” said Bagman excitedly. Fleur was disgusted at the man’s attitude. Either he didn’t realise that a fourteen-years-old girl was in serious risk of danger or he didn’t care. Either way, she didn’t like it and failed to understand how someone like him could be put in charge of the tournament.
Barty Crouch, who hadn’t spoken yet, seemed to come out of his reverie. “Yes, the instructions. The first task is designed to test your daring.” he said to Fleur and the Potters. “We will not be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... very important...”
Glancing at everyone else, he said “The first task will take place on the 24 th of November, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help in any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament.” Here, both Harry and Fleur glared at Crouch, knowing this rule would disadvantage Emma more than them. “The champions will only be allowed to use their wands. Each champion will receive a clue for the second task during the first one, which they will have to decipher by themselves. Because of the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, all champions will be exempted from the end-of year tests. O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts students will be able to take their exams during the month of August.” he finished. Turning to Dumbledore, he said “I think that’s all, is it, Albus?”
“I think so.” said Dumbledore. “Someone will have to make sure to tell the Durmstrang contingent.”
“I will do.” said Bagman in his usual, cheerful voice.
One by one, the everyone began leaving the room. The first ones to go were Bagman, Crouch and Moody, followed by Professor Minerva and Headmaster Dumbledore. As he was about to walk out, he turned and, smiling, said “Harry, Emma, I suggest you go up to bed. I am sure your fellow Gryffindors are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.”
“Albus, honestly!” said an exasperated Professor Minerva. “My Gryffindors don’t need any more reasons to party!”
“My dear Professor McGonagall,” said Dumbledore with amusement. “Sometimes, you should really learn to... uh... let your hair down.”
“Excuse me?” she growled as they left the room. The door shut itself close, leaving only Madame Maxime, Fleur and the Potters. Madame Maxime made a sign to Fleur to tell them that they were leaving. As she passed the Potters, Fleur heard Emma whisper something.
“What am I going to do, Harry? I can’t do it alone...” she said weakly.
Harry looked sad, as if he was fighting his own tears. “We’re going to get through this, together. I promise.”
“But Harry, your N.E.W.Ts...”
“Emma, I don’t care about my N.E.W.Ts! I would fail them all in a second if it meant I could assure your safety! I can always take them again later in the future!” exclaimed Harry convincingly. Fleur felt her heart melt. “For now, let’s concentrate on getting you through the tournament, alright?”
Fleur saw Emma nod as she burrowed her face deeper in his chest. Taking a split-decision, she looked straight at her and said, kindly “I can help you too, if you want.” Fleur heard her headmistress freeze behind her.
Harry looked surprised to see their competitor offer her help. Emma looked up and turned her head toward Fleur. With a grateful smile, she said “I’ll accept all the help I can get. Thank you.”
Harry looked relieved and beamed at Fleur. Fleur couldn’t help but blush. Feeling like her cheeks were burning, she gave a small nod and turned away, ignoring the small giggle Emma let out.
Madame Maxime and Fleur exited the room. As they walked through the now empty Great Hall, Madame Maxime turned toward her student and said in French “It’s a good thing you just did.”
“Thank you.” said Fleur. “I couldn’t just let her go through that with only her older brother to help, especially not if I could help her. It’s obvious she doesn’t want any part in the tournament, it would be most unjust to let her figure things out by herself.”
“Like I said, a good thing you did.” said the tall Headmistress as they walked out of the castle and toward their carriage. “Of course,” she continued. “I suspect it might have something to do with the other Potter? The black-haired boy you kept glancing at?”
Fleur blushed hard. “Madame Maxime!” she protested. The Headmistress laughed.
“Don’t worry, Fleur. I happen to think it’s a good thing if you and Mr. Potter happen to like each other. It can’t be easy for either of you to find someone willing to look through what the public see, in your case, your Veela heritage and in his case, the Children-Who-Lived stuff.” Unknowingly, Fleur nodded at her Headmistress.
“We don’t even know if anything will happen. I mean, we’ve just met!”
Smirking, Madam Maxime said “Well, sometimes, all you need is one look...” And with that, Fleur and her Headmistress entered the carriage.
As she was falling in her bed, Fleur began thinking. ‘Could it really be all we needed? A single look?’ She fell asleep as she was pondering on the question.