Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the original characters I create.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 342: It Has Begun
"Padfoot? What kind of name is that?"
Charlie shrugged. "I'm going to take this to the Headmaster. You lot start preparing the Horntail, but don't release it until I'm back, you hear me? I don't want any incidents," he said in a serious tone.
"Aye, aye... I hear you. We know how dangerous that bugger is... I can't believe they're sending the youngest kid against it," one of the young handlers said.
"Yeah... me neither," Charlie nodded before leaving the arena, carrying the expensive broom with him. He made his way to the judges' area, where the school Headmaster sat.
As he neared the familiar old wizard, someone rushed past, bumping into his legs. Charlie glanced down, initially thinking it was a small child. But the white hair and long beard streaming behind the figure suggested otherwise.
"A gnome?" He had met a few in the past and knew better than to confuse them with someone like Professor Flitwick, who was half-goblin. But gnomes were extremely rare in Britain.
"Dumbledore! This is terrible!" The gnome ran toward the judges' table, while waving a peculiar stick around.
"Professor Silverbell? What are you—" Dumbledore looked around as the other judges turned their attention to the gnome. Dolores Umbridge, one of the judges, was among them.
This was exactly why Dumbledore had warned the old gnome not to meet with him in public. If the Ministry caught wind that he had been in contact with the Director of the Time Department, they would demand answers. The only good thing was that few people in the entire Ministry knew who Silverbell was. Most would go their entire careers without catching a single glimpse of the peculiar gnome since he rarely leaves the Department of Mysteries.
"You shouldn't be here," Dumbledore whispered, leaning closer to the small professor.
"This is an emergency! Look!" Silverbell waved the stick in front of him.
"Why are you showing me a broken stick?" Dumbledore noted that the top part seemed to have been snapped.
"This used to be my most accurate tool for measuring the scale of time anomalies. It blew up this morning!"
"What?... You don't mean—" Dumbledore began, his mind already racing to the possibility of a Timeline Convergence. He and Harry had considered the possibility of one of those taking place during the tournament trials.
"What is going on here?" Umbridge glared at them, though thankfully, she wasn't familiar with the Time Department at all. Otherwise, her attitude would have been very different. Still, this was a woman who disliked anyone who was human, an even among those, she only had respect for a select few.
"Albus? Who is this?" Bartemius Crouch, another judge, asked, narrowing his eyes.
Crouch had worked many years at the Ministry but had never set foot in the Time Department either. Few, even within the Department of Mysteries, had ever done so, and thus, very few recognized Professor Silverbell at first glance.
"This is... an old colleague of mine. Excuse me for a moment," Dumbledore said, rising from his chair.
"You are friends with a gnome?...why am I not surprised?" Umbridge huffed.
"You can't leave now! We still have one more champion to go," Crouch complained.
"It will only take a few min—"
"Headmaster!" Charlie interrupted, approaching the group. "I'm very sorry to intrude. I just wanted to hand you this," he said, placing the broom on the table.
"A broom?" Dumbledore looked at him in confusion.
"Aye. I believe one of your students threw this into the arena during the last match."
"Someone threw a broom?" Dumbledore glanced at it again. He still didn't understand why this was brought to him. "You could have handed to any of the prof-"
"That's a Firebolt!" Headmaster Karkaroff interrupted him and got closer. "What kind of rich brat would throw something like that?"
"Well, whoever did deserve a thank you from the Hogwarts champion. This might've saved his life," Charlie said.
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore inquired.
"This fell from the sky and hit the dragon on the head just as it was about to attack the boy... he got very lucky."
"From the sky, you say?" Professor Silverbell asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
"Is the next dragon ready? We must get the last test started," Crouch interrupted, clearly impatient. "I have a very tight schedule," he added with a scoff.
"Right! They're waiting for me to release the dragon." Charlie glanced at Dumbledore. "I have to get back to work. I'll leave the broom with you, Headmaster. It should be easy to find the owner...there's an inscription on the side." He rushed out.
"Right..." Dumbledore flipped the broom over and found the inscription.
"This is not the time for this, Dumbledore! You must stop this tournament before it's too late!" the gnome urged.
"Stop the tournament? Are you mad? And who are you anyway?" Crouch frowned.
Dumbledore was about to respond but suddenly froze. His eyes focused on the inscription on the broom.
"Padfoot?..." he murmured. He had heard that nickname before.
'But that's impossible...' Dumbledore thought. That person had died almost fifteen years ago, and this model of broom was quite new.
'There could be a student with a similar nickname, I suppose...' he considered. But then his eyes caught the initials H.J.P.
'James Potter?... Harry James Potter?... This can't be a coincidence.'
While Dumbledore was deep in thought, another cracking noise echoed through the stadium.
"Ahh, that blasted sound again!" Umbridge yelled.
"I hope the storm holds off until we finish the last test," Crouch said, concerned.
"That's not a storm," Madame Maxime observed.
"There aren't any clouds in the sky either," Karkaroff added.
"Whatever it is, I hope it can wait. Nothing can disrupt the tournament. Everything must go according to plan!" Mister Crouch exclaimed.
Dumbledore's gaze met Professor Silverbell's for a brief moment before the old gnome glanced skyward.
"The sounds... are they...?"
"It's too late now. It has begun," Silverbell said, just as a massive black crack appeared in the clear blue sky, splitting it in half.
"By Merlin!" Dumbledore's eyes opened widely.
"The Convergence... is here," Silverbell muttered.
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