Dumbledore sat pensively in his office, lost in contemplation. Just an hour ago, his champion, the prophesied savior of Great Britain, had suffered a devastating defeat in a public duel. With an impartial judge present, there was little the old warlock could do to alter the narrative. The fallout from this loss could jeopardize the faith the wizarding community had in the Light, especially with Voldemort's impending return looming over them. This was a situation Dumbledore simply could not afford.
Amidst his anxiety to protect both his reputation and the Greater Good, Dumbledore grappled with how a fourth-year like Mr. Potter could have triumphed so decisively over his own champion. Could Harry be veering towards darkness? While that remained a possibility, it was astonishing that he could amass such power without resorting to dark rituals—something Dumbledore was certain he would have detected. No, that didn't seem plausible.
Was it feasible that Harry had become host to some malevolent entity? The boy's travels over the summer raised unsettling questions, and it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that he could have fallen victim to possession like poor Quirinus Quirrell had. However, Dumbledore had reactivated wards two years earlier that should have detected any sinister forces. This was troubling on multiple fronts.
Another sigh escaped Dumbledore's lips as he struggled to find a rational explanation for Potter's unexpected prowess. Although the boy's actions were sidelining his plans for the Greater Good, he wasn't necessarily acting nefariously. Thus, the Hogwarts headmaster resolved to remain observant, bracing himself for the worst.
~/ *** \ ~
Aside from minor irritations—such as Ron's frustration over his public humiliation and the incessant chatter of students rehashing the duel—Harry's Transfiguration lesson and lunch went by peacefully, a welcome reprieve. Herbology began similarly uneventfully, until a folded note landed on his desk about twenty minutes into class.
It was a message from Draconica, requesting a meeting in their usual spot later in the day. Harry hesitated, unsure how to interpret this—though she had joined the chorus of cheers following his victory, he felt uncertain she had entirely forgiven him for whatever offense he had caused the day before. Still, he spotted her among their classmates; their eyes met briefly, and he offered her a quick nod before returning to his work, unable to gauge her reaction.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the recent tumultuous events, but Harry found himself surprisingly unconcerned about the anticipated meeting with the Malfoy heiress for the remainder of Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, as the long break preceding their fifth lesson began, his nerves caught up with him, intensifying as he made his way to their designated meeting place.
Despite Professor Moody dismissing them promptly at the bell, Harry found Draconica already waiting idly against the tapestry-covered wall. Upon his arrival, she gently pushed off the wall and fixed her gaze on him.
"Harry..." she whispered, extending her hand toward him. He didn't pull away, and she placed her hand lightly on his chest, just above his heart. Leaning in closer until their bodies nearly touched, she maintained their eye contact, her blue-gray eyes swimming with a blend of emotions that left Harry momentarily speechless. "I'm sorry, Harry... I shouldn't have reacted the way I did..."
"Shh... I forgive you," he replied almost instinctively, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her nearer until her head rested on his chest. For a moment, they simply savored their closeness, lost in the moment, but soon she pulled away and searched his eyes once more.
"Thank you," she murmured softly, though the hint of her usual aloofness began to creep back in. "But still, you should have told me you were making a bid for my hand. Do you have any idea how it felt when my father informed me that I was to marry some 'Lord of good standing' whose name I didn't even know?" Draconica scolded gently. Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Well..." Even though she no longer seemed truly upset, Harry felt uneasy as he explained himself. "I informed you as soon as my contract was accepted. It was right after I found out..." When she sighed, he sensed that there was more he needed to address. After a brief pause, he continued, "And perhaps I shouldn't have approached you so publicly with it like I did..."
"True, that would have spared you from Professor Snape's wrath," she replied after a beat. "I heard he leveled quite a punishment your way." She paused again before offering, "Would you like me to intercede on your behalf? I might be able to convince him to revoke your detentions." Harry smiled but shook his head.
"Don't. I can't see that ending well for us, especially given how much Snape dislikes me. Besides, I've already appealed to the Board of Governors earlier today. While I doubt they can restore lost points, they're likely to cancel the detentions. I should hear back after Aritmancy." Draconica nodded thoughtfully, casting a quick tempus charm. Although the bell hadn't rung yet, she sensed the break was nearing its end. They had barely a minute left before their fifth period started.
"Shall we?" she suggested, dispelling her charm. Harry smiled back, and they headed toward the Arithmancy classroom, unconcerned about being seen leaving their semi-secret meeting spot together.
Later that evening, just before dinner, a house elf brought Harry a note from the Board of Governors—specifically from the lone member on duty that day—informing him that the detentions imposed by Snape had been canceled as they were deemed excessive and against protocol. The note indicated that Snape had been informed of the cancellation, and Harry felt a wave of relief; he certainly didn't want to explain the situation to Snape in person.
Regrettably, the points Snape had previously taken from him could not be restored without a majority vote from the Board—more than a day had passed since the offense, solidifying the punishment in the records. However, since Harry did not place much value on house points, he was not overly distressed by this outcome.
~/ *** \ ~
The 'Daily Prophet' had not yet published anything about Harry being an unwilling participant in the Triwizard tournament, but he wasn't particularly worried. He understood that even the most seasoned barristers might require time to persuade Britain's leading wizarding newspaper to acknowledge their inaccuracies. Harry had also tasked Howard L. Bridget with several other matters...
Tuesday and Wednesday passed without incident until lunchtime on Thursday when Professor McGonagall informed Harry that a visitor awaited him in one of the guest rooms on the first floor. He nodded at his head of house, quickly finished his meal, and headed to the designated room.
The guest room was essentially a repurposed classroom intended for meetings between castle residents and outside guests. Only one was unlocked at the moment, and whoever waited inside was clearly expecting him, but Harry knocked politely before entering. Almost instantly, he spotted Violet at the professor's desk, several stacks of papers spread before her.
"Good day," he greeted her with a respectful bow as he took a seat across from her. She returned his greeting more reservedly.
"Let's get straight to business, Lord Potter." Upon his nod, she continued, "I'm afraid I bring unfortunate news today. Despite the efforts of my father and me, we were unable to find a way to extricate you from the tournament." Harry fell silent for a moment, visibly displeased.
"There are no loopholes that would allow me to exit the competition?" he asked, surprised when Violet shook her head.
"Actually, there is one: within twenty-four hours of your name being drawn from the Goblet, you could have withdrawn by tearing that parchment and casting it back into the fires of the Goblet. The 'eternal dishonor' mentioned in the rules would merely be words. Magic would take no action against you for such an act. Your peers might have been a different matter, but considering you appear isolated in this farce, that may not concern you."
"I see..." Harry exhaled deeply. While he was far from pleased with this development, he could see the shadows in Violet's eyes, indicating the lengths she had gone to in attempting to liberate him. He recalled an unsettling feeling he had experienced right after dinner on Tuesday; that must have been magic solidifying the contract between him and the damned Goblet...
"Unfortunately, that is not all, Lord Potter," Violet continued. "Now that you are bound to compete, the contract stipulates you must do your utmost to win. Forfeiting a task as soon as it begins is deemed a breach of contract, which carries serious consequences." She paused, handing Harry pages that detailed this rule. "This clause was implemented in the late fifteenth century after a wealthy nobleman bribed the other champions to forfeit all tasks to him." After a brief silence, she added, "Fortunately for you, even if you fail a task, as long as you attempt to succeed, the contract won't be breached."
"I understand..." Harry sighed, the weight of reality settling heavily on him. An awkward silence followed. "Considering I have no way to escape the tournament now, we must brainstorm ways to minimize my interference with the legitimate champions." Violet nodded in agreement as they began their discussion.
"Is there a reason for this assembly?" Madame Maxime asked as she entered the classroom, Fleur closely behind her. Shortly thereafter, Headmaster Karkarov, Victor Krum, and two representatives from the British Ministry of Magic joined them, with the Hogwarts delegation—Dumbledore, Cedric Diggory, and annoyingly, Professor Moody—arriving just seconds later.
"Thank you all for gathering," Harry began, addressing the assembly. "To those unfamiliar, this is Violet L. Bridget, my barrister, and she is here to assist us today. Unfortunately, I must begin with some unfortunate news. Ms. Bridget and her father were unable to secure my removal from the tournament..."
"Of course they couldn't." Karkarov's sarcasm dripped like venom. "A brat like you, Potter, would never pass up an opportunity to bask in the spotlight. Isn't that why you're here in the first place?"
"I think you're mistaken, Headmaster Karkarov," Violet countered, defending her client. "Were you not present when Lord Potter swore on his life that he had not entered himself into this tournament?" A pause hung in the air as she continued, "Despite our best efforts, we were unable to find a way out due to an overlooked time constraint—the champions have only twenty-four hours to withdraw, and that rule was buried deep within the regulations."
Karkarov suppressed a biting retort as he recognized the strength of her argument under the eye of the unforgiving Professor Moody.
"So, I am now magically obligated to compete," Harry went on. "Not only to participate, but to strive to win. That means I am not permitted to forfeit any tasks as long as I am able to continue. Moreover, none of you have the option to simply walk away from your tasks—unless I'm mistaken, this wasn't mentioned when you were briefed on the first task." The expressions on the other champions' faces reflected their surprise; it appeared none of them had been aware of this stipulation.
"While this information is intriguing," Madame Maxime interjected, her gaze fixed on Harry, "I struggle to see why you needed to express this urgency. Surely, it could have waited until dinner?"
"Forgive me for seeking support while addressing all of you," Harry replied with a nonchalant shrug. "And I'm not finished quite yet; I'm getting to the crux of the matter—regarding scores and determining the winner of the tournament." Taking a deep breath, he resumed, "The Goblet does not recognize me as the second Hogwarts champion, making it relatively simple to minimize my impact on the competition."
From there, Violet continued, "Firstly, since the winner is typically determined based on the third task, it's reasonable to conclude that Lord Potter's presence will only necessitate some additional materials for the first two tasks..." Ludo Bagman nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "Thus, during those tasks, he will be assessed like the other three champions."
"Ms. L. Bridget also points out that the contract binding the Goblet and the champions is considered fulfilled by Magic once the third task concludes. Therefore, should by some chance I win the task, the runner-up can be declared the true victor of the tournament, regardless of their school affiliation."
"This is... indeed very considerate of you, Mr. Potter," Madame Maxime spoke after an extended silence. Perhaps it would be worth forgiving him for consuming her and her champion's time, as lunch had ended and their third lesson was already underway.
As Harry made his way back to the Defense classroom, Barty Crouch Jr., disguised as Alastor Moody, let out a barely audible sigh of relief. His master's plan would remain intact. Now, he needed to ensure that the Potter brat made it through the tasks alive. But if past experiences were any indication, the boy had a knack for surviving whatever the fates threw his way, which might mean he wouldn't have to intervene directly after all.