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Chapter 11 — Appearances Can Be Revealing

November 12, 1994

I sit on a stone bench with the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts as my lone companion. The grassy field of the Quidditch pitch lies in front of me.   On it are three recently erected dueling platforms and little flags for each competitor. It’s a twenty foot path of stone connecting two ten foot wide circles — professional dueling platforms.   Throngs of fans continue to fill the stadium as I focus on tuning their noise out. It was something that James Potter worked long and hard at, but Harry Potter could ignore the clamor instinctively.

My mind focuses on the opening spells I’ll use, while I stare at the flags marking where each champion will stand.   Every professional duelist knows that only your first three to five spells can be scripted. After that, it’s a matter of thinking on your feet and reacting to your opponent. On the opposite end of the nearest dueling platform is a blue flag with the name Delacour written in elegant script. Though I would have preferred the first duel be against Krum, I’ll settle for taking Fleur down a notch or two.

Engrossed in my own thoughts, I fail to notice the young girl, maybe nine or at most ten standing a few feet from me. "You are Harry Potter." The young girl makes a statement, in French, rather than posing a question.

"Yes I am." I contemplate telling her that I’m Neville Longbottom, but there’s no need for me to be cheeky.

"My sister is going to beat you!   My sister is going to beat you!   My sister is going to beat you!   I bet you’re scared!"

It’s hard not to smile at the singsong, childish taunts of the young girl.   "I’m glad you’re so certain."

"Fleur’s the best and you don’t have a chance against her!   You’re going to lose!   You’re going to lose!"

"Gabrielle!"   Fleur approaches with a stern look on her face.     Her short cape flutters in the slight breeze.   Fine leathers adorned with the crest of her school cover her body.   My leathers are black with the Hogwarts crest and a red cape for Gryffindor.   I’m only wearing the red one as a personal favor to Minerva.

"What?" Gabrielle shoots back while rolling her eyes at her older sister for spoiling her fun.

"Do not taunt my opponent.   It is both unbecoming and completely unnecessary."

The Hat, who obviously knows French as well, leaps all over that, trying to rile me up.   "Potter, are you going to take that shit from her?"

I shrug.   I’ll save the actual malice for Krum.   Besides, I know Fleur actually does have a heart beating somewhere under that frosty exterior.   "I figured I’d let the results speak for themselves."

Fleur looks distastefully at the Hat, "Trust the English to make even their tools vulgar."

"Potter, is it too late for me to change my wager on the outcome?   I don’t just believe you’re going to beat her, but I’m beginning to doubt she’ll last more than a minute."

She snorts derisively and crosses her arms.   "I do believe you are mistaken."

"What?   You believe you’ll last more than a minute?   Considering Potter is immune to your charm, what makes you think that anything else you have will work?"

"You sound quite certain of your champion, a boy who has three less years of training than I do."

"Three extra years of subpar French magical training?   Do you still have that mandatory first year etiquette class?   Oh, that’s a sure winner.   At least you’ll know how to lose gracefully!   Potter, hit her with a Belching jinx and see how long she can do it without making a noise.   They actually use that as a training technique!"

Oh, now she’s mad.   I, on the other hand, remain impressed.   The Hat is a remarkably devilish piece of magic.   It’s gleaned enough from my mind to make some guesses about what might get under Delacour’s skin the most.   Hermione couldn’t wait to bring it back to me after her first "interview" with it.

Glaring at me, Fleur sputters, "It is you, Potter, who won’t last more than a minute!"

"Hey, leave me out of this.   You’re the one arguing with a magical hat."

The Hat is damn near cackling now.   Whatever it says next can’t be good.   "Potter, did you know that their renowned Charms program not only teaches them how to apply Cleaning and Folding charms, but students can’t pass their first year until they can use them expertly.   I’ve always heard that if you can’t get a house-elf, you should hire a French witch for a maid."

Oh sweet Merlin, the Hat’s trying to get me injured for its own twisted amusement!

"Hat, drop it.   Fleur, don’t bother listening to it."   I’m trying to be neutral, but watching the Hat spin her up is downright amusing.   I wonder how long before I start to grin?   Damn, I think I just did.

"How about that action, Potter?   Is it too late to fetch your elf to change my bet?"

"Just let it go, Hat."

"Well in that case, summon the elf anyway.   You could conjure some towels and see if the girl can match your elf in a Domestic charms match?   My money is on the elf!"

"You won’t think this is so funny when your wand is in my hand, Harry Potter!"

"Yeah!"   Gabrielle joins in.

The Hat just smiles widely almost to its brim, "Well then Miss Delacour, how about a little wager of our own?   If he wins, you wear a French maid outfit."

She smiles viciously.   "If I win, the leetle boy spends a day in a Beauxbatons uniform — a female one."

I protest.   "I don’t want any part of this!"

"What’s the matter, Harry Potter?   Are you scared?   You know you’re going to lose,"   The little sprog chimes in.

"Come on, HJ. You’ve been saying how much the ice bitch could use a dose of humility," the Hat adds.   The sister gasps and I can see Fleur bristling. I suspect our duel may be on the verge of beginning early.

Oh, alright, I’ll play.   "Okay, but the maid outfit is complete with feather duster, and the winner poses with the loser for pictures."   I’ll send a copy to Sirius in France.   Even if I lose, he’ll get a laugh.

"Fine, it is a deal then.   Come Gabrielle, it looks like they are ready to start with the first duel."

I watch Fleur drag her sister away for a moment before looking at the Hat.   It answers my unasked question.   "You’re fixated on Krum, but you have four duels before him.   Get your damn mind off of him and concentrate on your opponents or you will actually get beaten.   Plus, I just like to piss on the French every chance I get."

"Dare I ask why?"

"I’m English.   Do I need any other reason?"

Again, I shrug, "No, I suppose not.   If I lose, I’m putting a glamour on you to look like a beret for the pictures."

"If you lose, I’ll never let you hear the end of it."

------

Cedric looks a little nervous up on the middle platform with Krum staring up at him trying to play a mental game with him.   Could the Bulgarian have been taught a bit of Legilimency?   Bagman’s voice is introducing the duelers.   I make it a point to clap loudly for Cedric.  

Cedric’s strength is probably Transfiguration.   Hogwarts is traditionally the strongest school in that art, matching Beauxbatons’ reputation in Charms and Runes and Durmstrang’s vaunted prowess in Dark Arts and Arithmancy.   As much as I hate to admit it, Potions is supposedly a strength of the Hogwarts curriculum as well, though in my opinion things have taken a dive since Slughorn retired.   Reputation can only do so much.

The referee is a French instructor to prevent bias, or at least minimize it.   The crowd goes wild as the opponents bow and begin pacing away from each other.   The referee backs out as the ward makers activate the dueling wards to shield the crowd from errant spells.   I recognize Bill Weasley checking the set nearest Krum and making some last second adjustments.

Part of the reason for three separate platforms is that the wards can reach saturation and need to be discharged in between matches. Also, the platforms themselves tend to take a beating and often need to be repaired before they can be used again.   This isn’t Snape taking out that idiot Lockhart with a single spell.

 They spin almost as one, and the crowd drops to near silence.   The referee gazes at both of them before shouting, "Begin!"

Neville, Seamus, and Dean have all been given Omnioculars and are seated in different parts of the stadium.   Ron’s still being a git and even though I’d bought Ginny a pair, I didn’t plan on asking her to help either.   It’s not as good as having a Pensieve, but I should be able to gather some good intelligence on my opponents.   I’m letting my helpers keep the Omnioculars at the end of the school year as payment.

Krum immediately opens with a smoky curse that splits into two tendrils.   I recognize it as a Pain-Giver.   One of the tendrils is disrupted by the long line of rope that Cedric sends straight through it on a trajectory towards Viktor.   Diggory dispels the remnants of Viktor’s curse while the Bulgarian vanishes the rope.   A heavy Bludgeoner pounds on Cedric’s shield and nearly breaks through.   Krum follows it with two more in rapid succession.   Diggory lets his shield eat the last one and easily dodges the other, while conjuring …a rabbit?

The fleet footed creature takes off at Krum and I wonder what Cedric’s game is.   Will he Engorge it, Transfigure it, or simply use it as a distraction?   His Engorgement misses.   Krum’s Cutter doesn’t.   Guess rabbit’s feet aren’t so lucky after all.   Cedric fires off a quick Disarming charm, getting sloppy and shouting the spell.   Viktor sidesteps it and hurls a hex I don’t recognize.   Cedric doesn’t either and erects a shield.   The spell splatters on the shield.   Now I recognize it!   Diggory’s shield turns dark blue and it fully obscures his view.   Viktor immediately follows with a pair of ropes, while Cedric hurriedly drops his shield and trying to clear the blue smoke blocking his view.  

He’s not moving fast enough.   Cedric vanishes one rope and tries to evade the second, but it starts coiling around his leg.   Viktor already has two more on their way.   It’s only a matter of seconds now before the Hufflepuff is overwhelmed.  

"Come on, Conjure a gust of wind!   It’s your only…hope!"   Before the sentence is out of my mouth Diggory is already trussed up like a Christmas present.   The French referee looks and verifies that Cedric won’t be able to continue before declaring Krum the winner.   The crowd roars in approval.   Viktor leers at me and has to be reminded by the referee to release my fellow Hogwarts student from the ropes constricting him.

He walks back, eliciting increasingly louder cheers from the crowd by repeatedly raising his arms.   He walks past me and loudly declares in English, "I have seen the best Hogwarts has to offer.   I am unimpressed."

"Keep running that mouth, Krum.   I’ll shove those words so far down your throat that you’ll be shitting them for a week."

"Too bad we can’t use seconds, Potter.   You might stand a chance against Delacour’s tiny sister. Then again, maybe not."

Athena Manos and Aimee Beaucourt are already stepping onto their platform while Bagman’s voice recaps the victory. Bagman’s short summary lasts longer than the duel.   The warders are busy dissipating the energy absorbed on the first platform as another walks along it melding stone into the areas damaged during the brief match.

It’s a reversal of roles from the broom race.   Manos exudes an air of confidence and Beaucourt now looks uneasy.   The Durmstrang witch moves smartly through the formalities.   I’m fairly certain that Aimee is already beaten and there hasn’t even been a spell exchanged.

Flitwick barely gets "begin" out of his mouth before Manos’ first spell is on the way.   Aimee dives out of the way and sends five little birds out of her wand to harass Athena.   A casual swish of Manos’ wand spews a torrent of flame that incinerates the birds as they reach the halfway mark. Cooked fowl, anyone?

Aimee’s Bludgeoner and follow-on Stunner are swatted away with a dueler’s shield surrounding Athena’s non-wand arm.   Aimee thinks for a moment that she’s won when her stunner connects with Athena’s hand.   That opening allows the witch from Greece to land some kind of vile hex along the French witch’s midriff.   Aimee howls and falls to her left, clutching at her stomach, and sending an errant spell that Athena didn’t need to block with her shielded arm, but does anyway.

Give Aimee a little credit. Clearly in pain, she staggers to her feet.   The awkward movements actually help her dodge a Banisher and a shot of chain.   It’s far easier to Conjure rope than chain.   She’s just showing off at this point.   Aimee rotates to Vanish the chain, but instead of wrapping it around Aimee, Athena causes the chain to snap like a whip against Beaucourt’s leg.   The metal whip draws blood and a yelp of pain from the outclassed girl, who manages to Vanish it on her second attempt.

Athena is taking her time and demonstrating her skill, toying with Beaucourt.   She reapplies the Duelist Shield, but only to her hand, and arrogantly gestures to her opponent to attack.   Aimee tries elemental Conjuration and tries to pelt her with hailstones, reminding me of my fight with the imposter.   Her opponent looks annoyed that she can demonstrate her vastly superior Shielding skills and instead uses a wall of flames to melt the ice balls.  

A gust of wind from the Durmstrang student’s wand fans the flames higher and obscures Beaucourt’s view of her opponent.   Athena quickly repositions while beginning a complex casting — a Mirror spell, spawning an illusionary version of herself.   When the fire dies, the French witch faces two opponents on the platform moving identically.   Aimee throws a Stunner, which both Athenas dodge.   Manos uses colorless magic to prevent Aimee from guessing which opponent is real.   I know that the one closest to me is the real one, and I have to salute the Greek witch.   She actually dodges closer to a Bludgeoner to make it appear that the mirror is the true version.

Aimee buys the deception and ends up being Banished hard into the dueling wards.   Athena sends a Pummeling hex at the Beauxbatons girl, catches her wand and sends Aimee right back to the ground. Athena then does several quick steps to mingle with her doppleganger.  

Manos doesn’t even bother hiding her predatory smile as she completely dominates her opponent.   She lands a Confundus charm that has Aimee staring blankly for a moment.   Instead of finishing her off, Athena "decorates" Aimee with enlarged teeth and a long moustache before Aimee starts to come out of it.   The crowd is screaming its approval.   The Disarming charm is almost a relief, but strikes Beaucourt with enough strength to hurl her backwards into the wards again and leave her face down on the stone.   Athena summons the wand and looks at it, while Flitwick declares her the winner.

Instead of Banishing the wand back to Aimee, Athena sets it down in the middle of her circle and steps off the platform.   This forces Aimee to walk the length of the platform to retrieve her wand and undo the minor hexes.   It’s often called the "walk of shame" and done by a victor to signify that the loser was an "unworthy" opponent.

"Not exactly good sportsmanship, eh Potter?"   The Hat comments.

I agree, "Not really, but I heard she took a lot of shit over how badly she flew, and I think she wanted to make a definitive statement."

"Odd, the smile on her face makes me think that the bitch enjoys humiliating people.   She’s a brawler and likes to dole out punishment.   Don’t forget HJ, I’ve been to Durmstrang before and they have an unspoken motto.   It translates, ‘You are either Durmstrang, or you are nothing.’   Forget about that now and go win us a bet."

I start off the bench towards my platform.   "How is that different from you and this little bet you suckered Fleur into?"

"I’m not the champion, HJ.   You are.   I get entertained no matter who wins or loses.   That’s the difference."

------

Fleur stops along the way to check on Aimee who is already being looked at by Poppy.   If the part-Veela didn’t look angry before, she looks furious now.   I wait where the circle meets the path until she ascends.   Tradition dictates that we approach as one.   The Durmstrang wizard officiating this match motions for us to approach.

"Is Aimee okay?"

She hisses back, "Why do you care?"

"Because she was nice to me when I was injured, in case you forgot."   Her expression becomes unreadable for a moment.

She starts to answer, but the leering referee cuts her off.   "Enough chatter!"   I wonder if he is being affected by her aura.   I see a wedding ring on his hand and bet he’s angry at himself.   "Are the two of you finished talking, yet?   Turn and on my command pace back to you dueling areas.   Wands at the ready and cast no spell before I say begin.   Do you understand?"

We both nod and he barks the command for us to turn and pace.   I reach the center of my circle and spin, wand at the ready.   My heartbeat picks up and my eyes lock with hers and I try to read her.   Her look tells me she’s coming after me fast and furious.

Let her come.

"Begin!"

She leads with Stunners!   She really doesn’t think I’m worth the time of day.   Well let’s see what she thinks about this.   It’s a bit gaudy; normally I’d shoot something like rope or a chain, then Animate it or Transfigure it.   "Ursurus Invito!"   I bellow the spell to make certain she knows what’s coming.

The area around my wand swirls with magic and forms into a decently sized brown bear.   The crowd roars in surprise as the bear begins charging down the pathway separating us. The look on Delacour’s face is priceless.

Still, she reacts quickly.   A burst of flame halts "Brownie" in his tracks, and a powerful Cutting hex finishes him off.   She can’t savor her victory for long; a trio of animated ropes is already snaking towards her.  

Two lengths of rope leave her wand speeding towards me.   I respond by Banishing them right back at her.   Fleur’s immediately turned on the defensive, but skillfully dodges all five ropes and quickly starts to Vanish them.   I gesture to one and Transfigure it into a dog — a black grim if you must know.   Fleur gives faux Sirius a Blasting curse to the kisser and quickly tries to get rid the dueling area of any other debris left around her.  

I give her the fire hose treatment with a powerful stream of water erupting from my wand.   She mostly dodges, but in addition to hosing her down, I want it wet and slippery over there.   This is a two fold strategy.

My Cone of Frost heads for her as she replies with a Bludgeoner.   All that water pooling on her circle turns to ice and she immediately slips to the ground.   I start to dodge the Bludgeoner, but my feet won’t move.   What the?   Shit!   Shield!   Ow!   Didn’t block enough of it and took a hit to my left shoulder.   I’m stuck to the ground.   When did she get off some kind of Sticking charm?   Dispel it!   What the hell?   It doesn’t go away.   That’s a new one.  

Crap!   What now?   She’s got her footing back, probably charmed her boots.   I toss off a couple of ropes to entertain her and try to figure out what she did to my platform.   Heavy Bludgeoners, she must know I’m stuck.

I Conjure a solid shield of thick metal to take her blows, guiding it wandlessly while looking at my feet.   My trousers are starting to dissolve!   What kind of spell is this?   I crystallize my shield to allow me to see what she’s doing - rope casting and Transfiguring them into a pair of wolves.

Screw it, worry about the modesty later, or the next clothes I’ll be wearing are a Beauxbatons dress.   Fleur resumes the flurry of Bludgeoners and my shield intercepts them.   The charging wolves need to be dealt with.   A Blasting curse disintegrates one in a nasty mess and I bash the other with my metal shield.

Maintaining the Conjuration and guiding it with my hand takes energy, lots of it.   I need something quick and dirty.   The nasty mess of the two dead wolves turns into a score of rats.   The "Pettigrew Horde" James called it.   I shoot rubber balls similar to my training with Dobby, except these aren’t tennis ball sized.   Football sized is more like it.  

I’m practically down to my underwear, but I can’t let up.   She can’t regain the upper hand!   Between the rats charging her and the flying hunks of rubber, Fleur is completely on the defensive.   She uses a Banisher to sweep most of the rodents off the platform, but one of my balls smacks her right in the chin.   She stumbles and starts to Banish the ones in the air, but I don’t need them.   My fast wandwork turns the one that bounces off of her into a big rubber hand.   I thrust my left arm out and ball my fist.   The Animated hand responds, leaping off the ground and delivering a big rubber haymaker that would have made Dudders envious.   She crashes into the wards and bounces off, and then I give her a left cross.   There goes her wand!   Gesturing for it, she tries to Summon it back wandlessly, but my construct punches her in the gut and interrupts her Summoning.

Quickly I Summon her wand before she can try again.   Catching it in my hand, I Conjure a large cloak and drape it around me as my underwear begins to fall apart.   If they aren’t going to throw coins, then I’ll be damned if they’re getting a free show!   Looking at the referee, I wait for his signal.

"Winner!   Hogwarts!"

Fleur is on her knees, wet, gasping for breath and mad as hell.   She vents her rage on one of the rats remaining on the platform.   Swatting it away in anger as the Durmstrang referee declares me the winner.   I Vanish the remaining rats and send her wand back to her.   Not really as much style and flare as I had hoped for a victory, but I’m not complaining — much.

I float Fleur’s wand back to her.   She wearily plucks it out of the air it and starts off the platform.

"Fleur!   Would you mind removing this enchantment?"   I shout.   My conjured cloak is already starting to develop holes.   Is she that much of a sore loser?

"What enchantment? She answers with her own question.   The Durmstrang wizard and Fleur both approach.

"Whatever is sticking me to this spot and dissolving my clothing…"

"I did not cast such a charm."

The official sizes up the situation, though I see him looking at Fleur again.   "Undo your boots, Herr Potter.   I will levitate you out of them."   They’re mostly falling to pieces anyway, so I comply and the referee gets me out of that tight spot, floating me next to Fleur.   The last remnants of my underwear fall to the ground from under my makeshift kilt and immediately dissolve.

I cast a Warming charm, starting to feel a bit strange on a stage with thousands watching and now with only a tattered robe and an equally tattered shirt to cover myself.   Karkaroff, Maxime, Dumbledore, and the rest of the judges are already on their way over, while the referee examines my dissolving footwear.

He renders his verdict as everyone, including the other champions and their advisers, surrounds the dueling platform.   I’d Summon the Hat, but with something over here dissolving clothing, it’s best to leave it where it is.   "It is not a charm, nor an enchantment.   Note the areas of discoloration; it is a potion that has been applied to the platform.   I withdraw my decision on this match until there is an inquiry."

Dumbledore looks mildly angry.   "Were I to hazard a guess, the elixir whose effects most closely match these would be the Ichor of Humiliation, once used by Magical folk to strip their Muggle slaves of their dignity.   It is a fairly complex brew that is not taught for obvious reasons."

"The question is: who put it there?"

I have my ideas as Fleur immediately protests, "It was not I!"

Dumbledore waves off her protest.   "Relax Miss Delacour, I do not believe that you are complicit in this, but I believe we can have our answer soon enough."

I Conjure another robe over top of this one to improve my level of dignity while the Headmaster strides purposefully towards the walls of the arena.   With a wave of his wand, six portraits appear.   Oh Dumbledore, you sneaky ancient bastard!   He’s learned from the fiasco with the Goblet of Fire.

------

"I had nothing to do with this!"   Draco Malfoy protests.

"Sadly, I beg to differ.   The portraits saw you at dawn this morning standing on the platform marked for Mr. Potter and pouring something out of a decanter."

"They are lying!"   Narcissa Malfoy practically spits out at Dumbledore.

"As much as I’d like to believe in young Mister Malfoy’s innocence, I am forced to accept the word of six portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses over the words of a student who by all accounts is quite the rival of Mister Potter."

Most of the others are now watching interestedly as the Malfoy parents try to weasel their spawn out of this.   Karkaroff, however, interrupts.   "Albus, my recollection of the rules is that if a student outside of the competition is caught cheating, the school he is from forfeits the event.   Mister Potter should forfeit all his future duels; Mister Diggory as well."   Maybe he just wants me out of the way or maybe I’m actually earning a modicum of respect finally.   No, he just wants easy victories.   Who am I kidding?

The Hat cuts in.   "Fortunately, I’ve reacquainted myself with the rules of this tournament after the incident of the broom race."   It looks over at Percy Weasley and Ludo Bagman who are scanning the official book.   "Page two seventeen third paragraph, fools!   As I was saying, since the duels are scored individually, Potter must forfeit only this duel as a result of the worthless Malfoy’s actions."

My eyes bore into Draco’s and I see the hint of smug satisfaction in there as the duo of Weasley and Bagman confirms what the Hat said.

Dumbledore nods sagely, "Very well then, Miss Delacour is declared the winner by forfeit.   As for Mister Malfoy, your punishment will be decided this evening."

The Hat laughs, "Not so fast you aging windbag.   Turn the page Weasley.   Go ahead and read it aloud for the rest of us.   They always say that everyone tries to cheat in this tournament, but the rules are quite clear on what happens to those that are caught."

Percy does as he’s told.   "To discourage external influence in the tournament there are two levels of punishment.   The greater is to be applied when it is determined that the wizard or witch seeks to cheat with willful and malicious intent.   If this is the case, the aggrieved party is allowed to select from the following greater punishments, a duel may be used to settle matters with the terms defined by the aggrieved party, expulsion from the school, indentured serfdom for a period of three years, or a financial penalty equal to one tenth of the value of the monies and properties of the offending family."

I look at Malfoy, "Seems only fitting you challenged me to a duel in my first year.   Now it’s my turn."

The pasty faced little worm sneers at me.   "Very well, I … ow!"

Lucius cuffs Draco’s head.   "Never agree to a duel until the terms are stated!   Potter, what are your terms?"

The Hat speaks up slowly, "Potter, listen to me, just like the idiotic magic binding you to compete, these rules predate any Ministry edicts."

Several people murmur realizing the implications.   I do as well.   "A pretty barbaric thing this tournament, people can die in it.   A Death Eater tricked me into it.   You were a Death Eater Lucius and I still owe you for what you did to Ginny Weasley.  Furthermore, your master took my parents away from me.   My terms are no seconds and to the death."

Several appear shocked.   Not Dumbledore, he calls for silence and gives me a withering glare.   "I believe that Hogwarts itself is the aggrieved party and that the selection of punishments is my domain.   What do the rules state, Ludo?"

"It merely states ‘aggrieved party’ but does not define it at school or champion."   It’s hard to miss the meaningful look exchanged between Lucius and Bagman.   "However, since the champion is a representative of the school, my interpretation is that it is the school." Someone just earned himself a payoff.   How is it that the Wizarding World is full of crooked bastards?   They’re like effing roaches — everywhere you look!

The Hat argues, "In this instance, with more than one champion from each school, it is the individual and not the school.   Had the whelp done Diggory’s platform as well, it would have been an affront to the school.   I contend that the punishment is Potter’s to choose."

"An engaging argument, Hat, and I am pleased that you are vigorously applying yourself on Harry’s behalf, but I think we are all in agreement that any punishment should be handed out objectively and not rashly."

I look at the Hat, who frowns.   "You seem to be in agreement.   It will be yet another one of your failings that I can readily remind you of.   Very well Dumbledore, make your selection from the Greater Punishments."

I can see the wheels turning in his head.   Putting Draco into an indentured servant status would give him future leverage.   Surrendering one tenth of the Malfoy fortune would be equally crippling.   Clearly the severity of what has happened is setting in on the little maggot.

"It wasn’t my fault!"   Draco wails pointing at Fleur.   "She made me do it!"

"What is this nonsense?"   Olympe Maxime says with no small amount of ire.   I’d love nothing better than for the giant woman to squish that little worm.

"She’s so beautiful.   Ever since she arrived, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get close to her.   I’d do anything for her.   She’s an angel.   It’s like she cast a spell over me."

Maybe Draco isn’t an idiot after all?   Being easily influenced worked for his father once.   I snarl, "Give it up Malfoy.   You’re grasping at straws."

Lucius seizes it, "No, clearly my son was not willful in this.   The girl’s natural aura is to blame."

Fleur looks disgusted.   "This boy has never been within ten feet of me."

Narcissa shakes her head, "Are you certain young witch?   You have been at the school for over a month now.   How many young wizards have sought you out in this time?   More than you can recall, I assume."

I speak up, "Quit trying to turn this on her, you worthless Death Eaters.   You seriously expect us to believe this?   That potion takes days to brew.   The opponents weren’t even announced until yesterday.   Nice try with the ‘my child is a weak minded fool just like I was’ defense, but it doesn’t hold water."

Snape butts in as usual.   "Draco did you take this potion from my storeroom?   Headmaster, after the duels had finished, I planned to report that someone had been rifling through the shelves again."

"Careful Snape, every time you involve yourself in the affairs of a Potter, you come out the loser.   Yet you keep trying anyway.   Must be poor breeding…"

Snape’s death gaze at the Hat is truly something to behold.   Sadly, he gave Draco a lifeline and the little shit grabs on with both hands.   "I’m sorry sir, it’s just I couldn’t resist her."

Lucius smiles, "Mr. Bagman, what are the lesser punishments?"

Hat laughs, "Be careful what you wish for Lucius.   It could be the head of the family will be beaten by his own house elf in a fight, unless, of course that’s already happened, hasn’t it, Malfoy?"

Lucius reddens at the insult, but fails to react.   Dumbledore cautions the Hat to be civil or he will have it removed from the proceedings.

Bagman defers to Weasley, who has already been reading with his trademark fanaticism.   "It says that the lesser punishments are actually decided by the Goblet of Fire.   Each lesser punishment is written on a piece of parchment and the guilty party touches the Goblet of Fire, in front of all assembled, and it pronounces judgment.   The punishments are a six month period of serfdom, public surrender of the aggressor’s wand which may be kept as a trophy or ransomed back for a sum of money no greater than one thousand galleons …"   Percy’s voice trails off and he looks at the book trying to discern the meaning.

"What are the rest, Mr. Weasley?"   Dumbledore queries.

Percy’s struggles to get the words out, "The last two are Flogging - stripped to the waist and given ten lashes by the aggrieved party or something called ‘The Cur’s Mark.’   It is also to be delivered by the aggrieved party.   I’m not certain what a Cur’s Mark is."

Neither does anyone else apparently.   There’s a moment or two of confused glances.

Finally, Hat educates everyone.   "They haven’t been used since the 1500’s.   You morons amaze me, agreeing to the rules of a tournament that hasn’t been waged in four hundred years and not thinking to update the rules of the contest!   A ‘Cur’s Mark’ is a branding to the back of the wand hand so that every time the witch or wizard casts a spell they will have to stare at their shame and dishonor."

It’s pretty cruel actually.   Personally, I’m torn between the flogging and the branding.   Here’s hoping the Goblet has a sense of justice.

"My son will not be whipped or branded like some common farm animal!"   Narcissa practically screams.  

The Hat winks at me as if to say, ‘Please let me field this one.’   It cackles, "Considering there are at least three people within the sound of my voice that have experienced a ‘branding’ of sorts, including your husband, pray tell: what is your objection, Lady Malfoy?"   How the Hat manages to covey so much sarcasm in addressing her is particularly amusing.   "Complain all you wish, regardless, it is up to the Goblet to judge your pathetic crotch droppings."

Wow!   Even for someone "used" to the Hat, that was a bit rough.   Narcissa’s hand goes towards her wand, but so does mine, Dumbledore’s and Flitwick’s.   She quickly rethinks her position as I step deliberately in front of the Hat.   Her eyes tell a story of barely contained rage.   Funny, I’d always thought Lucius was the least common denominator in the Draco equation — learn something new every day.

Dumbledore wisely takes charge.   "That will be enough!   Contain yourself, Hat!   We have delayed the proceedings long enough.   The guilty party has been discovered and the method for determining the punishment established."

He pauses to make certain that he has everyone’s attention before continuing.   "The Goblet shall be brought forth tomorrow evening after the first round of dueling is complete.   Mister Malfoy, you will give your wand to Professor Snape until that time and will return to the castle now.   You are confined to your common room until further notice.   Mister Potter, take your … advisor and go to the medical tent, now.   A new set of garments will be brought to you immediately.   The second round of dueling will begin as soon as the platforms are repaired, inspected, and deemed ready for use."

He spins away leaving no room for disagreement leaving most everyone else slack-jawed.   Say what you will, but the man has a presence.

I scoop up the Hat and head for Poppy and the tent.   Hat is quiet for the first ten paces.   "I need you to brew a cauldron of Fireproofing draught, HJ.   I’ve forgotten how temperamental adult flesh bags are.   I have a very effective recipe memorized.   If you are too busy with your own preparations ask the Granger girl."

"I take it that’s not the first time someone’s wanted to destroy you?"

It remarks casually, "There’ve been many.   The first was none other than Helga Hufflepuff."

"May I ask why?"

"Who do you think told her Godric was diddling both her sisters?   Daft bitch took the news rather poorly."

------

• Previous
• A House of Cards Flawed Assumptions The Summer of Change Of Innuendo and Ice Cream Closets and Secrets Plans are Subject to Change I Belong to Nowhere Censure and Sensibility Bartering the Truth Every Rose has a Thorn Appearances Can Be Revealing What's the Price of Your Fame? Caged Fear Sometimes, It's Good to be Me Code of the Marauders Dancing in the Whirlwind The Dykstra Shuffle A Prayer for Forgiveness Out of Africa The Geist and the Grotto Mind Your Manners Head Games Humiliation and Other Diversionary Tactics Cry Havoc
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