"I don't," sneered Karkaroff. already has a champion."
"Hogwarts
"And I agree," Harry sneered back. "Now, how about you clean out your fucking ears and listen for a change, Death Eater. I've already made it quite clear I am NOT to be considered a Hogwarts champion."
"Mister Potter!" spluttered Dumbledore. "Headmaster Karkaroff was cleared of the charges of being a Death Eater; and you are a Hogwarts student. You will show proper respect!"
"As the muggles would say, Headmaster, bullshit!" Harry firmly said. "Karkaroff panicked and named names. Because he named names Crouch, over there, let him off. That does not mean he was cleared. He's nothing but a fucking coward. He was quite happy to rape, pillage and kill innocents until he was caught; but, when he was hauled before the courts for his actions, he blubbered like a little girl and pissed himself in fear."
Furious, Karkaroff glared back and snarled, "I could demand satisfaction for those remarks, Potter." As the rest of those in the room just stared at Harry in various levels of shock over his language.
"Then do it, you piece of shit!" roared Harry.
"Gentlemen!" "Enough!"
barked
Dumbledore.
Harry just brushed the old man off and turned to Madame Maxime. "I take it you agree I have to compete?"
Reluctantly, after a short hesitation, she nodded back. Turning to Bagman, Harry asked, "What about you, Useless? Do I have to compete? This Tournament is supposed to be only for of-age wizards and witches."
"Yes, Mister Potter, you do," replied Bagman, a little shaken by the venom Harry was using in his voice.
Turning to the taciturn ex-Head of the DMLE, Harry asked, "And you, Mister Crouch?"
"Yes, Mister Potter."
Finally, turning to Dumbledore, Harry asked, "And what about you, liar? Do I have to compete, after you promised me I wouldn't?"
With a sad expression, Dumbledore sighed and said, "Yes, Harry." "Then, be it on your heads," snarled Harry. He turned back to Bagman and demanded, "Since I'm now bound by a magical contract not of my own choosing to participate in this nonsense, I expect a copy of the actual contract and rules of this cock-up to be handed to me no later than tomorrow morning before the conclusion of breakfast. Make damned sure I get it. My solicitors will want to go over it."
And, with that, he stormed out leaving behind a room full of inhabitants shaken to the core.
Walking in to the living room of their apartment, Harry could see both girls had been fretting for him. Both near attacked him with questions about what happened in the antechamber. He settled them down with soothing words and described what had taken place.
That the cat hadn't done it for a long time, Harry was surprised when Crookshanks hopped onto his lap and demanded scratching.
"So, they all agreed?" asked Hermione. "They all agreed you had to take part?"
"Everyone, bar Karkaroff," he replied. "But, with him, I think he knew I had to take part, but wanted to see if the Goblet would strip me of my magic or not; not about whether or not I was bound by the contract."
"So, Gringotts tomorrow?" asked Daphne.
"Yes," Harry firmly replied. "After breakfast. I've demanded a copy of the actual contract and told them I want the damned thing no later than the end of breakfast. It's to be handed directly to me by that time. Whether or not that actually happens..." He shrugged.
"What now?" asked Hermione.
"It's time to send those letters off," Harry firmly stated.
With a firm nod back, Hermione went into Harry's room and came back carrying three letters in her hands. One was addressed to Stewart Ackerman, one to Harry's Gringotts' Account Manager, Sharpclaw; and the third to Sirius.
Hedwig was sent off carrying the first two. They used a large 'school' barn owl to carry the third.
The next morning, the three rose, readied for the day in 'civilian' garb, and made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
They'd no sooner sat down when Professor Flitwick hurried down from the head table and handed Harry a sheaf of documents. "I believe you requested a copy of the contract for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Mister Potter?"
"I did, Sir," replied Harry, accepting them. "Thank you."
The little Professor hesitated a moment before he said, "If you need help with training for the tasks, Mister Potter; my door is open to you."
A little surprised at the generosity of his Head of House, Harry looked back at the Professor and said, "Thank you, Sir. Depending on whether we three remain at this school or not, I may very well take you up on that."
"You're still considering leaving us, Mister Potter?" he asked.
"I believe I made myself quite clear, Professor," replied Harry. "I warned the Headmaster I believed my name would come out of the Goblet. He did next to nothing to ensure it did not. He has utterly failed me, Professor."
"Indeed, Mister Potter," sighed Flitwick. "We all have." The little Professor headed back to the head table.
While Harry had been talking to the Professor, Daphne had taken the contract from his hand and laid it out on the table before them. From each side, she and Hermione were reading through it. Turning back, Harry asked, "I'm right, aren't I? I only have to be here for the three tasks?"
"Give us a minute," muttered Daphne.
"Here it is," said Hermione, as her finger slid slowly through a couple paragraphs. "The three tasks... You must compete... No... It states the three tasks are mandatory, but nothing else."
.
.
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