Clearly, someone wants me to fail and, probably, die in one of these tasks. Or, at the very least, see me stripped of my magic.
"I see my unwilling entrance into the Tri-Wizard Tournament as nothing less than yet another attempt to do me harm.
"Yes," replied Skeeter, though no reply was required. Harry knew she was just using the break to think of her next question.
"How do you feel of your chances?" she asked. "In what way?" Harry asked right back. "In winning? Zero. I don't even care what scores I receive, so I'm certainly not trying to win. My only goal is to survive this accursed event. And, my chances of accomplishing that, I just don't know."
"I see," she said, watching the dicta-quill finish writing it's last few lines. "How do your bondmates feel about you being a champion?"
"Your question is a nonsense, Miss Skeeter," he replied. "I am not a champion; ergo, they don't think anything of it."
"Sorry. As a competitor, corrected.
I mean," she
"They want me to live, of course," he replied. "Just as I, they hope for me to survive this stupidity masked as a spectator event. We are united in this."
"And how is life as someone bonded to two witches?" she asked.
"That is irrelevant to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Miss Skeeter," he snapped back. "Keep your questions relevant to that event."
With a quick moue of frustration, Skeeter was about to ask her next question when Dumbledore entered with Barty Crouch Senior, the other two Heads and Garrick Ollivander in tow.
Dumbledore, spotting him talking to Skeeter, quickly hurried over and gripped Harry by the elbow, intent in tugging him away.
Harry, already expecting the move, quickly grasped Dumbledore by his wrist, broke the hold on his elbow and, pivoting, used his grip to flip Dumbledore over onto his back, pinning him to the floor with an arm lock and his foot on his neck pinning the old man's head down.
"Bloody hell, Dumbledore!" Harry barked out, releasing his grip and stepping away. "I bloody warned you not to suddenly grab hold of me like that! You're damned lucky I didn't dislocate your shoulder! Don't ever attack me like that, again!"
There was a flash of wizarding camera flash, as Harry stepped away.
'That'll be front page tomorrow,' thought Harry, hiding his grin.
Madam Maxime, while staring in shock at Harry, helped the old man to his feet while he rubbed his neck where Harry's shoe was pressed down. "Monsieur Potier," she gasped. "Was zat completely necessary?"
"Yes, Headmistress," he replied. "I react badly to being physically assaulted. It comes from being raised in an abusive household, where I was continuously beaten and whipped just for being the son of my aunt's sister. I thought I was being attacked."
"I was not attacking you, Harry," Dumbledore firmly spoke out. "I was simply trying to get you away from the... influences of Miss Skeeter."
"Ah!" said Harry. "Well, as I'm an emancipated minor, you again overstepped the bounds of your authority. As such, you getting yourself tossed to the floor when I defended myself from your physical assault, was your own fault."
In the very uncomfortable silence, Bagman interjected with a falsely cheerful voice. "Well, now that the excitement has passed, shall we get on with it?"
After that, the 'Weighing of the Wands' went as in the previous timeline; except Harry refused having an individual photo taken, nor being placed in the middle of the shot. When the photographer asked for a shot of 'the champions on their own', Harry stepped out of the shot and stood behind Madam Maxime... though Dumbledore kept trying to shepherd him back... frustrating the photographer, no end.
Finally, the day of the first task dawned bright and clear. Harry had advised Diggory three days earlier that they'd be facing dragons in the first task, as he had done in the previous timeline. He also mentioned how transfiguring multiple rocks into 'creatures' that would distract the dragon would be a better idea than just one creature the dragon could devour or fry in an instant.
Instead of heading directly to the Ravenclaw table for breakfast, Harry headed to the head table. There, he stopped just off the dais and clearly spoke. "So, Headmaster," he called. "You still feel I have to participate in this farce?"
With a frown, Dumbledore said, "Perhaps we should take this to my office, Harry."
"Perhaps not," replied Harry. "This is, after all, a public spectacle. It's not all that much different to the lions and Christians in the Colosseum of Rome, is it not?" Without waiting for a response he continued, "Now, so everyone knows, do you still demand I participate in this farce?"
With his near-patented grandfatherly sigh, Dumbledore said, "Yes, Harry; I'm afraid you must."
"And if I don't?" he asked.
"Then you would lose your magic," replied Dumbledore.
With a slow nod, Harry said, "It is my understanding the first task usually involves the competitor facing a very dangerous magical creature. That anyone who cared to look could see four dragons poorly hidden within the Forbidden Forest from the Astronomy Tower, last night, means it's not hard to figure out each champion will be facing one of the beasts, each. "So, Headmaster, I believe it is prudent for me to advise you in advance; any and all beasts set before me in one of these tasks, you can consider forfeit. If you put it in my way; I'm quite likely to kill it. That also includes sentient creatures. You have been warned."
Before Dumbledore could respond, Harry spun about and walked down the Hall to sit with his bondmates at the Ravenclaw table.
Dumbledore quickly rose and stormed from the Hall through the staff entrance; Snape following in his wake.
Immediately before lunch, Harry returned to the apartment to change into his competitor robes that Dobby had brought him. Looking at them, he saw they were in Gryffindor colours and had the Hogwarts and Gryffindor crests on the breast. Indicating them to his bondmates, he asked, "Are you seeing this?"
"We are," replied Daphne. "But, why are they there?"
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