Chapter Text
Thursday, 24 November 1994, about 3.10pm
Harry had survived the First Task! And he had collected the golden egg—which Harry considered a nice bonus, but not the thing to get excited about. One of the Hungarian Horntail’s tail-spikes had gouged Harry’s shoulder—but oi, he had outflown a dragon and he was alive!
With one arm carrying his broom and with the golden egg under his other arm, now Harry headed to the medical tent so Madam Pomfrey would repair him.
Her healing did not take more than twenty minutes. But even though Harry believed that he was fully healed, Madam Pomfrey ordered him to quietly sit in a chair in the medical tent for a minute, before he was allowed to leave the tent and to hear his First Task scores.
Harry sat in the chair, with the golden egg and his broom by his right foot, only until Madam Pomfrey left his tent-cubicle to check on Cedric. Then Harry picked up his broom and the golden egg, fully intending to walk out through the mouth of the tent.
This was when Hermione and Ron rushed in.
****
“Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. “You were amazing! You really were!”
But Harry was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.
“Harry,” he said very seriously, “whoever put your name in that goblet, I—I reckon they’re trying to do you in!”
It was as though the last few weeks had never happened—as though Harry were meeting Ron for the first time, right after he’d been made Champion.
“Caught on, have you?” said Harry coldly. “Took you long enough.”
Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other.
****
Harry realised, Sometime in the past twenty-four days, Ron figured out he was wrong. But he never publicly admitted he was wrong; he kept pushing his “Potter is a liar and a cheater” story. But now that I’m a story-book hero again, he wants me to take him back.
Hermione clearly is afraid that I will take Ron back, and she’ll go back to being my number-two friend.
Bugger that! Let’s make Weasley the Fanboy sweat. He deserves it.
“Ronald,” Harry said aloud, “On the firstie train, within a minute of you learning my name, you wanted to see my forehead scar. You didn’t think, ‘That’s the scar he got within seconds of both his parents being murdered.’ No, you wanted to see the scar that marked the famous Boy Who Lived.
“Today I outflew a dragon; I’m famous again. But more importantly, I’m also alive. I’m alive because of what my mother did in 1981, and what Hermione has done in the past twenty-four days. Hermione found the Summoning spell, and Hermione helped me practise it. What have you done during the past twenty-four days? You’ve called me a liar and a cheater, over and over, publicly! You and Malfoy were twins since Halloween, except for your hair colour!”
Harry quoted in a mocking tone, “ ‘Whoever put your name in that goblet, I reckon they’re trying to do you in.’ No shit, redhead.”
Harry continued, “What did you not say a minute ago, Ronald? The words apology or apologise or sorry or I was wrong.”
Ron’s ears were turning red. Mere seconds from now, Harry knew, he would be told that he had wronged Ron somehow, and that Ron was the victim.
Bugger that. Let’s give Ron something to really get angry about.
Aloud, Harry said, “You’re no longer my ‘best mate,’ Ron. Until you clean up your act, you’re no more of a friend to me now than Zacharias Smith is.”
Harry continued to speak to Ron, but now he was walking closer to Hermione. “My true best friend is the only person in the school who said publicly, ‘Harry didn’t put his name in the Goblet.’ ”
Harry now was only inches away from Hermione, but his head still was turned towards Ron. “I think her help and public support deserve a reward, don’t you?”
Harry carefully put down his broom and the golden egg, because he hoped to soon need both hands free.
Before Harry could give Hermione her reward, Professor McGonagall entered the medical tent. “Mr Potter, if Madam Pomfrey has finished treating your injuries, the judges are waiting to tell you your scores. Do not keep them waiting.”
Hermione said, “Ri-i-ight. Harry Potter spent a half-hour battling for his life. The judges spent a half-hour sitting in chairs and acting important. But afterwards, Harry should not keep them waiting, because they’re important people whilst Harry is a mere student, and their time is more valuable than his.”
Harry snapped at McGonagall, “Are these the same judges who told fourteen-year-old me I must take part in a deadly contest when I didn’t enter my name? Let them wait. Right now I’m doing something much more important.”
Harry turned his head and gave Hermione a peck on the lips. But in truth, Harry wanted to give Hermione much more than a peck.
Harry’s peck on Hermione’s lips made Ron hiss.
Professor McGonagall, scandalised, said, “Mr Potter!”
Harry glared at McGonagall. “I don’t know how many professors and other students didn’t believe Ronald Weasley’s bullshit; I don’t know how many professors and other students believed that I didn’t put my name in the Goblet and that I am the victim of a murder plot. But however-many professors and however-many other students believed in me, they all were timid and kept silent.” By now, Harry was staring directly into McGonagall’s eyes. “In the entire school, only Hermione showed Hufflepuff loyalty and Gryffindor courage.”
Hermione said, “Oh Harry, that speech deserves much more than a peck on the lips.”
Hermione lunged forwards, and kissed Harry as passionately as would an oversexed seventh-year witch in a broom cupboard.
McGonagall gasped. “Mr Potter! Miss Granger! You’re both glowing!”
Ron asked, “What does them glowing mean?”
“It means, Mr Weasley, that they’re soulmates, and when they passionately kissed, they magically married.”
“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. For once, he did not say anything more.