The Lie I've Lived
Censure and Sensibility

By JBern

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 Next

Chapter 8 — Censure and Sensibility

How very quaint. My name just popped out of the Goblet of Fire! There’s something you don’t see everyday.

Neville looks at me questioningly and I shake my head. He was with me for pretty much all of last night, both of us laughing at the Weasley twins getting turned into old men.

With nothing else to do, I stand and make my way forward. There isn’t any clapping, just stares and a growing murmur. The murmurs change to grumbles that I’m a dirty cheater. Like I’d have to cheat to get into this tournament if I wanted to!

Dumbledore, of course, has this perplexed look on his face like this was all some ridiculous Arithmancy problem to be solved. He motions for me to head into the holding room and I walk in.

Cedric spots me the moment I stepped in. "Harry? Do they want us back out there?"

I just shake my head and walk to the window looking out on the grounds. I ponder the implications and the suspects. Someone fooled the Goblet into picking a fourth champion. A Weasley prank leaps to mind, however, it’s out of Fred and George’s league. If they could have put an extra champion in, it would have been themselves or Angelina. Malfoy and the Slytherins have as much cause as any to hate me, but again, putting me in the limelight doesn’t fit with Draco’s modus operandi.

I’m left with real enemies, people who want me to die — Death Eaters. Snape? No, he’s too far under Dumbledore’s thumb. The life debt would probably stop him anyway. Durmstrang’s Headmaster was a turncoat on his Death Eater buddies. It just didn’t seem likely. He wouldn’t have an axe to grind against me. Lucius still has pull and I did recently cross swords with him at the inquest. The rest of the bastards wouldn’t act without his say so. I should have watched the map last night! Could Peter have gotten into the castle? Those are the four Death Eaters that I know about. What about the ones I don’t?

I’m so consumed by my thoughts I don’t realize other people are filling the room. Dumbledore walks briskly over to me. "Harry did you place your name into the cup?"

"Of course he did!" Snape yells. Several other break into shouting matches. The French Headmistress is demanding Crouch and Bagman do something.

"No." I shoot a dirty look at His Greasiness, though I prefer using something a bit more lethal.

"Did you have anyone place your name in the cup?"

"No."

This questioning continues for a moment and I’m starting to lose what little is left of my calm. The line that sets me off comes from the prissy little French "Tinkerbell"- Delacour.

In her best, disgusted voice she loudly complains. "Zis boy is going to compete, ee is too leetle!"

Yeah, that does it. I’ve officially had enough.

***

"I’ve got your ‘leetle boy’ right here, Princess!" I follow with a rude hand gesture. Yeah, just call me "Ambassador Potter", expert at foreign diplomacy and purveyor of international goodwill. Turning right into Dumbledore’s face, I tear into him. "You have teachers, ghosts, paintings and elves all over this damn castle! You mean to tell me that you didn’t have anyone watching the goblet! Are you really that stupid?"

It’s probably the first time in decades anyone has laid into the venerable Albus Dumbledore like that. I really can kill a conversation.

McGonagall screeches, "Mr. Potter you will address the Headmaster with respect and conduct yourself with dignity!"

I avoid Dumbledore’s direct gaze, I don’t know how long I could keep him out of my mind and it would be the start of a conversation I’m not ready to have with him.

Both the visiting school leaders are demanding explanations. Crouch and Bagman and most anyone else are arguing about rules. I hear a faint buzzing — Muffilato! I move close enough to Dumbledore to overhear.

"I can go get the Veritaserum, Headmaster. If the boy is lying, we’ll soon know." Snape says.

Dumbledore starts to respond, but I fire back, "I’ll go three drops if you will, Snape."

"Very well then, boy, I’m not afraid of anything you can ask me. I, on the other hand, would be very interested in your answers to many questions."

"Severus, that won’t be necessary." Dumbledore says.

I continue ignoring the Headmaster. "Don’t be so sure Snape, your Death Eater Pardon extends to acts committed as a Death Eater. It doesn’t cover anything you may or may not have done prior. Hermione wasn’t the only student to ever dabble with Polyjuice here was she?"

That stops him cold in his tracks. I know Snape couldn’t have entered me in the contest, but I know he’d try and use it to get information about Sirius, publically implicating me in his escape. Expelling me wouldn’t directly harm me. I’d be willing to go ahead and get the hell out of here. Of course, Snape would probably end up in Azkaban for murder, so let’s see how far he’s willing to push it?

Before I got James Potter’s memories, I had no explanation why Sirius Black wasn’t expelled for trying to get Snape killed. Now I had all the pieces to a very ugly picture.

Like I said, Hermione wasn’t the only student to ever brew Polyjuice in school. The old "Half Blood Prince" over there dabbled in it quite a bit. For a few weeks in the Marauder’s sixth year, he even capitalized on Black’s good looks and used his form to have his way with a number of schoolgirls.

Sirius found out about it when a Muggleborn seventh year Prefect named Sarah Underhill came to Black preggers. Only she was one of the few notches not on Black’s wand holster. Needless to say, Sirius was intrigued and, after a bit of sleuthing on Padfoot’s part, discovered it was Snape trying to destroy Black’s reputation and get some quick shags off of girls clearly out of his league.

Angrily, Sirius challenged him to a duel at the shrieking shack knowing Remus would be there. James found out and saved Snape’s life — and thus a life debt was born. The whole mess was swept under the rug. Sarah was a girl of strong morals, probably explaining why Sirius never tried. She planned on keeping the "Quarterblood Prince or Princess" and Dumbledore even arranged for an apprenticeship to buy her silence. Three days after her graduation, Sarah and her Muggle family were slaughtered. If Snape didn’t do it himself, it was the price he demanded for admission into the Death Eaters. James, Sirius, Peter and Remus were sworn to secrecy about Snape’s Polyjuice adventures and Snape about Lupin’s "furry problem".

Fortunately, the oaths were for the duration of school. Lily was horrified when James could finally tell her about the whole sordid affair. It explained much of the tension between the Marauders and Snape during their final year. To be honest, I’m curious if I would have been bound by an oath James had made. The expiration of the oath allowed Snape to get Remus fired last year. Hopefully, I can return the favor — in spades!

The man turns on me loathing in his eyes. "I don’t know what you are talking about, Potter."

"Their oaths expired too!" I step out of the field of the spell, "Come on Snape. What’s three drops among friends?" That draws everyone back towards our conversation.

"Silence!" Dumbledore bellows. Obviously he didn’t like the prospect of Hogwarts ‘dirty laundry’ being aired in front of guests. Good thing this school has so many broom closets otherwise the skeletons would have to be on display in the hallways. "That will be enough. Mr. Potter does not strike me as someone who would enter himself into a dangerous contest. Given the fact that he was assaulted and nearly killed just before the school term began makes it even less likely that he would do so. Our task is to determine how best to proceed."

Durmstrang and Beauxbatons immediately want an additional champion or either me or Cedric disqualified. They bring the Goblet in and have both Cedric and I touch it. Yeah, there’s a magical connection there. We have to compete. I didn’t expect anything differently; whoever set me up had this planned out. Krum and Delacour are sent to fetch two other students who would be allowed to represent their school, but would not be magically compelled to compete. I enjoy the withering gaze from Fleur as she goes by. Keep on dreaming bitch! It’s going to take more than you’ve got to intimidate me.

Moody points out that someone must have used a Confundus charm on the Goblet and it had to have been a good one to trick it into believing there were four schools to pick from. The scrap of parchment looked like my handwriting, but anyone could have fished one of my assignments out of a bin or nicked one at some point.

By the time the two additional champions arrive along with several other onlookers, the room has become a bit cluttered with people. We’re led up to Dumbledore’s office. Along the way, the two French witches are speaking in their native tongue, while their Headmistress continues to berate Bagman, Crouch and anyone else unfortunate enough to be next to her. Thanks to James Potter’s tutoring, I can follow along with their conversation well enough.

"…and then the rude little twit began disrespecting his Headmaster. These English, they have no manners. Why couldn’t the tournament have been held at Beauxbatons?"

"So, I am being allowed to compete because Harry Potter entered himself in the competition?"

"Yes, Aimee. He claims that someone else entered him, but it sounds to me like the little boy is cashing in on his fame.   He is going to get caught in his lie soon enough."

"Fleur, he is of no consequence. You said he was rude to you so that means he must not even be in puberty yet! This late bloomer cannot be very powerful at all. Let us worry more about the other contestants, like Krum." Damn that puberty comment kind of stings.

I tap Aimee Beaucourt on her back. The attractive brunette looks back at me. My French is rusty. Technically, I’ve never spoken it before, but I manage to get out. "The other possibility is I am strong enough to resist this tart’s meager aura. Perhaps you should consider that? Of course, I am an uncultured barbarian, so who is to say?"

***

Thirty minutes later, I’m tired of the death stares from Delacour and Beaucourt. Everyone seems to have moved beyond the fact that someone in this castle is yet again trying to kill me, and now they are focused on how three additional champions requires a change in the order of tasks.

Fawkes seems to be relishing in all the attention. He’s a bit on the oldish side right now. I could only imagine all the cooing those two French wenches would be doing if Fawkes was in its just hatched "Chickadee" form. I slip over to the shelf and pick up the Sorting Hat.

"About time Potter! Mind telling me what in Godric’s shriveled balls is going on?"

"I’ve missed you too Hat. Someone put me into the tournament."

"Never dull with you around is it?"

"Yeah, maybe they could bring back the Dementors and really make my day!"

"On the bright side, you get to miss as much class as you want for personal training."

I hadn’t really considered the benefits until the Hat mentioned that. The rules they’ve organized this thing under excuse the champions from the end of the year exams and basically give us a get-out-of-class pass that shouldn’t be abused. "Shouldn’t" is a lovely word isn’t it? I also get a staff advisor to discuss strategies for the ten tasks ahead.

"Who do you think I should pick for my advisor?"

"Depends on if you want to keep your secret. Even one of these worthless drops of sperm will figure it out soon enough, unless you pick Hagrid — he’s a bit dim."

I like Hagrid, but even I concede that the Hat makes a valid point. "Hey! What about you? Can’t I pick you?"

"Technically, I am listed as part of the staff in Hogwarts a History. I don’t see why not, HJ. Let’s see what the old fossil thinks?"

The Hat and I listen in while they continue ironing out the details. I have to stop myself from laughing on several occasions as the Hat silently adds his own commentary. It’ll be days before I can look at Madame Maxime without thinking about what she would do to Flitwick.

Crouch looks around, "Perhaps we should have our champions choose their advisors and go ahead and dismiss them before we continue with our discussion?"

The Heads of the school are judges in the competition, so they can’t be chosen. A few minutes of discussion later it is stated that Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric were chosen first so, they get first choice for advisors. I’m curious to see who Cedric picks. I doubt he is interested in the Sorting Hat. Outside of Quidditch, I really don’t know much about Diggory.

When his turn comes, Dumbledore asks that he not choose any heads of house, which would impair their duties to the rest of the school.

"I’d like Mr. Moody as my advisor." Smart choice there Cedric. Moody looks somewhat apprehensive; I wonder if he wanted to be my advisor?

When the eyes turn to me, Dumbledore notices that the Hat is on my head and frowns. "Mr. Potter, who did you have in mind for your advisor? As I asked Mr. Diggory, please do not choose any heads of house."

I make a show of thinking it over. I could spend a good portion of the year trying to get Professor Sinistra to be my Mrs. Robinson. She was a Slytherin three years ahead of the Marauders. Her house was probably the only thing that stopped Black from trying anyway.

Oh well, such a relationship would only lead to problems. "I had my hopes set on choosing Professor Snape, but I think I’ll take the Sorting Hat as my advisor."

"I’m afraid that’s not possible, the advisor needs to be a staff member."

"According to Hogwarts a History, the Sorting Hat is part of the staff."

To the Hat I think, "Doesn’t sound like he’s buying it. If he makes me pick someone else, should I screw with him and pick Filch?"

"Nice idea there HJ, but you should really leave irritating Dumbledore to me."

Dumbledore actually pulls out the book and consults it. "So it would seem. Mr. Crouch do the rules stipulate that the advisor must be a salaried staff member."

Crouch has good old Percy Weasley checking through the thick tome containing the rules. Three minutes pass before Percy shakes his head and says, "The rules simply state that the advisor be a staff member."

With that avenue cut off Dumbledore again tries to reason with me. "Harry, are you quite certain that it is the best choice? Perhaps Professors Vector or Sinistra? You might even consider Madame Pomfrey, with whom you have developed a good rapport."

"No, I like the Hat on this one. It’s the only thing besides Fawkes that’s been around to see these tournaments and as much as I like your Phoenix, I don’t think we’d be able to communicate well enough to work together."

Fawkes amusedly trills and looks at me. "It’s not you, Fawkes. It’s me. I doubt they’ll be using Basilisks during this. If they do, I’ll apologize in advance for not picking you, but in the Hat’s defense, it was there too."

While the Phoenix continues laughing at me, Krum scoffs and addresses me for the first time, "You expect me to believe that you fought a Basilisk? I had thought you just a liar before, now I see you are a braggart as well."

I guess I won’t be getting the bastard’s autograph anytime soon. "Believe what you want to believe. I don’t really care. If you ask nicely enough, I’ll even show you the body."

It doesn’t take me but a minute to size up Viktor Krum. He’s everything Draco wishes he could be, Quidditch phenom, international superstar, and Igor Karkaroff’s little apprentice.

The Bulgarian smiles a predatory look at me. "We will see what I believe when the first round of Dueling begins, child. I will not go easy on you."

JP was just as big of a prick when Krum was still in nappies.   I bait him a bit more, "You may be something else on a broom Krum, but down here on the ground, you’re just like the rest of us mortals. When push comes to shove, you’ll find I can push really hard."

"We shall see if you have any skill to back up your arrogance."

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Krum! Now is not the time for petty bickering. I will ask one last time, are you certain that you really want the Sorting Hat as your advisor?"

"Quite certain."

"Very well. Champions, you are dismissed. Tomorrow your wands will be weighed and you will be expected to speak briefly with the press."

"Hey Hat! Think I can wipe that fucking grin off his face?"

"I’ll be curious to see, but you shouldn’t underestimate any of them. Other than Diggory, assume every one of them has had dueling training.   I rarely find myself saying this and I sooner let the fossil stick his aged pecker in my mouth before saying it aloud, but thank you HJ."

"Why Hat, you’re nothing but an old softy!" I pull it off my head before it can give me a reply, which probably would have traumatized me.

Leaving the staircase with the hat under my arm, Cedric stops me and waits for the other four to head out. "A word Potter.   You really didn’t enter this tournament?"

"No."

Cedric scrunches his brow in deep thought. We’ve flown against each other, but never really had much in the way of conversations. "Well, for what its worth and seeing all that went on back there, I believe you. Still, you know this isn’t going to go over well with the rest of the school."

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, for one thing, there’re a lot of rumors circulating about you. You got out of taking Potions with Snape. Outside of Slytherin, who wouldn’t want that? That’s been bugging lots of people in both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Most people see you getting special treatment and they don’t like it."

"Fine, I’ll trade them for every year something trying to kill me and see how they like it!"

"Hey, don’t hex the messenger, Potter. I said I believe you. I’m telling you that not too many others are going to see it that way and they’re going to act like jealous prats. Everyone wanted to be in this tournament and it’ll look to them like they’re changing it to let you compete. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it is! If you think the Slytherins have been giving you shit before, just wait until tomorrow."

The Hat chimes in, "Diggory is right Potter. I’ve heard you’re on thin ice in your own house right now."

"I’m used to being a pariah. I’ll get by."

The Hufflepuff smiles good naturedly, "I speak to some of my friends and make certain they hear from me that you didn’t enter the tournament. Hell, you’ve got so many rumors circulating around that I’m not even sure what to believe! I’m sure the fourth year girls in my house will be torn about who to root for."

"Why?"

"You mean you haven’t heard about the Harry Potter shrine they have? I think Hannah Abbott has it the worst."

"Please tell me you’re kidding."

Laughing, he continues, "All I’m going to say is, just make sure to vanish you’re hair and toenail clippings. Megan Jones spent the summer in the tropics and swears she learned how to make a voodoo doll."

I groan while the Hat cackles. "I can see the headlines, ‘Harry Potter’s Hufflepuff Harem!’ Wait until I see that Skeeter woman!"

I shove the Hat under my armpit and hope I smell ripe right about now as Cedric laughs, "Well, it’s almost curfew and if I hurry, I can swing by Ravenclaw and let Cho know that she’s the new starter for the All-House team."

"You and her, huh?"

"Not yet, but maybe soon. Keep a lid on that rumor for now and I won’t let the ‘Harem’ know that you know about them. You realize we’re going to end up dueling each other twice at some point?

"I’ll go easy on you, Cedric."

"Your mistake then. I’m in this to win it."

"Fair enough. No holding back on either of our parts. Good luck to you, Cedric."

"To you as well Harry."

***

The Fat Lady is looking at me with scorn as I approach. "Gryffindor is no house for cheaters young man."

"Save the lectures and open the door — Honor and Unity." I say the passphrase.

"That’s the old one."

"Who changed it?"

The woman snorted, "That would be Prefect Angelina Johnson." Oh, good to see there is no bitterness there from Miss Johnson.

"Would you be so kind to announce me and ask that someone open the door in that case?"

"No. There’s a meeting in progress and they asked me not to disturb them. I was told that if you arrived, to have you wait outside and they will come get you when the meeting has concluded."

"Last I checked I was part of this house."

"Actions speak louder than words in Godric’s house, young man, and I don’t approve of your actions!" Several nearby paintings cheered her dressing down.

I was tempted to respond, but the Hat beat me to it. "I happen to know a thing or two about the real Godric Gryffindor, you faded remnant of magic. They took his painting down in the twelve hundreds, because at night he kept going from frame to frame diddling any female he could find!"

"Well I never!"

"Maybe you should and you wouldn’t have such a stick up your arse! Now, as Potter recently discovered, I am considered part of the Hogwarts staff and the override phrase is Twilight Thestral."

Despite her loud protests, the portrait swung open and I stepped through.

On the other side, all of Gryffindor is waiting for me, like some kind of showdown. The seventh year prefect Holly Lynch, cousin of the Irish National Seeker looked at me and then at Angelina questioningly. "Potter! You’ll wait outside. We’re holding a meeting of censure and we’ll get you when we’re ready to hear from the accused."

Censure — I hadn’t heard that word in awhile. It’s where the House collectively disavows the actions of one of its members. It is purely a symbolic and public rebuking. Two of the Marauders greatest pranks skirted close enough to the line where they actually held the vote, but both of them were just too damn funny for the vote to carry the majority.

Angelina’s never been one to hold her tongue. "What have you got to say for yourself, Cheater?"

"I don’t have to say a damn thing to you, Johnson."

"Longbottom admitted that you knew how to get by an Age Line."

Neville’s face turns an angry shade of purple. "I also said I was with him most of the night last night and that he didn’t enter himself in the contest!" The only real bright spot in this stupid mess is Neville showing a bit of a spine.

"That’s right. You said ‘most’ not ‘all’. Harry was just using you for an alibi and you’re just too dim to see it! Wake up Longbottom! He used you! You, Potter, have gotten a bit big for your britches and need to be taken down a peg!" If Angie was a dog, they might have to check her for rabies right about now.

"I’ll say this nice and slowly so that even a jealous bint like you can understand me. I did not enter my name in this tournament! Someone else put me in it hoping I will get hurt. People have died in these contests. If you think I did it for fame, how much more famous can I get? The thousand galleons? I’ve got plenty more than that sitting in my trust vault. When I turn seventeen, there’s more than I could ever spend waiting for me."

Angelina practically snarls at me. "Quit lying! It’s obvious you cheated, Potter. Mark my words, regardless of the censure vote, I’m still Quidditch Captain and you’re off the team. I won’t tolerate a cheater flying under me now or next year."

I consider what I’ll be saying in my owl to Puddlemere’s general manager. "Johnson is an above average chaser who flourished mostly because of Wood’s play calling, but she shows poor decision making skills that may prove to be a liability on the Pitch. If she is still available in later rounds, you might consider her for a developmental pick, but expect her to spend several years in the Spring Leagues before she has any marketable value." That sounds about right.

Shrugging, I just shake my head, "You’re right Angie. I won’t fly for you ever again and I hope one day soon you choke on those words." I start towards the stairs.

Lynch interrupts. "Go wait out in the hall, Potter. When we’re ready for you, I’ll come get you."

"I’ll wait up in my room, thank you very much. As for my testimony, I’ll make this short. I didn’t do it, but if the lot of you think that little of me, I’ll be happy to remove the Gryffindor crest from my robes and wear a plain tie for the duration of your little slap on the wrist."

Angelina’s voice carries up the stairs behind me, "Cheaters never prosper! That’s the new pass phrase Potter!"

I arrive at my room to see that my corner had been thoroughly trashed. It reminds me of when Ginny came looking for the diary. In Slytherin colors the word "Cheater" floated in five different places. "Looks like they got you pretty good there, HJ?"

"So it would seem." I start checking for traps. The curtains, bed sheets, pillow cases all glowed as my wand swept by them. Pretty intricate charms works, but not sophisticated enough to slip by my detection charms. I whip up a little wind and make a mini-tornado circle the floor around my bed. Liquids and powders rise off the stone floor. Sticking solutions and considering the Tripping jinx, probably itching powder. The twins had been busy.

I checked my trunk and found that someone had tried to get in, but couldn’t beat my Locking charms. There are times when it was good to be an ex-Marauder, and they are dangerously close to me removing the "ex" from my name.

"Dobby!"

The elf appears. "Yes Master Harry Potter."

I start dispelling the floating words while bringing my employee up to date. "The curtains, bedding, pillows and the headboard are jinxed. I’ll disenchant the headboard, but go ahead and vanish the others and replace them. You will need to be extra careful in preparing my food. I want you to avoid all other Gryffindors in addition to the other three houses. Don’t let them get close enough to give you any orders and if you they do manage to give you an order, even if it seems like it will not harm me directly, you are to report that order to myself or Headmaster Dumbledore before you perform it. I need you to avoid all the teachers with the exception of Headmaster Dumbledore as well. Do you understand? There are people in this castle that want to harm me and they will try to trick you to help them."

"Dobby will not help anyone harm Harry Potter!"

I throw the little bugger a bone. "That’s why Dobby is the best elf in the castle. You keep proving that and I’ll let you be my house elf forever."

"You keep saying things like that and the blasted creature really is going to start humping your leg, Potter."

Ten minutes later, I had just finished vanishing the last of the Bubotuber puss from the lid of my trunk. The twins couldn’t get in, so they did the next best thing. I’m drawing my own age line when Ron and Hermione come in. They both looked perturbed.

"I assume the vote didn’t go so well. I guess a change in wardrobe is in order."

She nods and hands me a copy of the scroll, "The vote was forty-five to fifteen. Lynch and Johnson initially pushed for the rest of the year, but that didn’t get the two thirds vote. They settled for a month with it dropping to a week if you make an apology for entering the tournament. I think that they threw that in because they knew you wouldn’t apologize.   The original is on its way to McGonagall right now."

"It’s about the only thing they’re right about. So, go ahead and ask. You know you want to. Well, what do you guys think? Did I do it?"

Hermione shuffles nervously, "You’ve been so different this year Harry. You’ve been distant and angry, but I don’t think you did this."

"Ron?"

"What are you doing?"

"I’m cleaning up the mess that your brothers left here. No real humor in these pranks either and as you can see I’m not laughing.   Right now, I’m drawing my own age line. If they couldn’t get by Dumbledore’s this’ll keep them out."   I ignore Hermione’s wide-eyes at my admission that I can draw an age line and focus instead on Ron.

"Your own age line!   So you did it! I knew it! I didn’t vote to censure you because we’re friends, but I should have known. How’d you do it? I bet it was the cloak wasn’t it!"

"What? Just because I can make an age line proves I did it! You’re an idiot Ron! Hat, you’ve been on my head tonight and seen into my mind. You saw everything that went on in Dumbledore’s office. Did I do it?"

"No. As always, Weasley opens his mouth and only stupidity emanates.   He’s clearly the weakest link in your little group." Despite my own anger, I almost accuse the Hat of deliberately trying to sound like Snape.   Now that I think of it, maybe Snape has been imitating the Hat all along?

Ron stood there red faced and open mouthed while Hermione spins and starts for the door. "Oh no, we can call another vote!"

I stop her. "Like a bunch of idiots, they rushed to judgment and had their little vote because some of the sixth and seventh years didn’t get picked and are mad. They ran charging ahead without any facts. Dumbledore’s supposed to say something at breakfast tomorrow."

"We should at least tell Angelina. She’ll reinstate you."

"That doesn’t matter right now. She’s made her bed. Let her lie in it. I already have an invite to the Spring Leagues next year. I’m more worried about being stuck in this damn tournament. Someone thinks that putting a fourth year in this tournament is going to get me injured or killed. Like I said downstairs Ron, I’ve got more money and fame than I can stand."

Ron opens his mouth, "Yeah, poor bloody Harry Potter!" I wonder if the Hat has psychic abilities.   Then again, my comment about playing Spring League Quidditch must have caught him off guard.

"Ron!   You’re not helping!"   Hermione tries to play peacemaker.   Notice I said "tries".

People say I have a temper. Those people are right. Fine, no kid gloves for you, Ron.   "I got it because Voldemort killed my parents. We know he’s still out there and trying to come back. Are you that damn thick! You saw the Death Eaters at the World Cup. They’re coming out of the cracks and that means they know he’s trying to return.   Hell, your damned pet turned out to be one of his servants! Your fucking pet helped kill my parents! You don’t see me holding that against you! You want a full dose of honesty, how about that Ron!"

Ron looks like I’d just kicked him in the stones. He doesn’t debate well and his buttons are easier to push than Malfoy’s.   Hermione screeches, "Harry! Don’t say that!"

"Stay out of this Hermione. Ron’s been asking for this for a long time now.   I’d been hoping you’d pull your head out of your arse, but apparently you need some help doing it!"

Ron composes his response delivered in a yell.   "You’ve been lashing out at my family all summer!   I’m getting sick of it!"

"Oh you mean, by not playing in a prank war with your brothers, or dating your sister."   Brandishing the scroll like a wand, I add, "How many people signed this scroll out of fear of what the Twins would do to them otherwise?"

Ron looks like he wants to fight. Right now, I’d oblige him.   I was hard on him. Maybe too hard, but all he sees is fame and money.   Instead, he does the smartest thing he can do and storms out of the room.

"As for you Hermione, you say I’ve been distant and angry, well here’s why. People keep trying to kill me and I’m getting bloody well sick of it!"

"Harry, calm down!"

"Get out!"

"Harry, we should talk about this."

"Hermione, what’s there to talk about? It’s just like second year. People are going to believe what they want to, regardless. Ron’s supposed to be one of my best friends and he doesn’t even believe me.   Dumbledore will make his announcement saying I did not voluntarily enter the tournament but am bound to compete, but it won’t do a blasted thing! Just leave me alone for awhile. I don’t want to fight. Not with you.   I don’t want to argue. I just want to be alone."

Hermione is upset, more at the situation than at me.   Defeated, she leaves.   Looking down at the Hat after she’s gone, I say, "They don’t get it, Hat. They don’t see what’s coming and it’s probably going to get both of them killed."

"Aye. That’s the truth. I feel sorry for the person who did put you in this tournament. You’re going to kill that person aren’t you?"

"You already know the answer."

***

Breakfast next morning is a subdued affair. Poppy is less than pleased that I found my way into more trouble. Come to think of it, I’m not too pleased either! She, the Hat, and I go down for the announcement in the Great Hall. Hermione looks like she’s on the verge of tears, and Ron is keeping his distance after my tirade. Good thing, I don’t want to speak with him either.   I sit with Neville, who is still trying to apologize for defending me.

"Neville, let it go. You had the best intentions in mind and I appreciate that."

Having already eaten up in the Infirmary, I don’t bother with any of the food on the table. Dumbledore stands and the meal is cleared away. "May I have your attention please,   To quell the rumors concerning what has occurred; we are still investigating how Mr. Potter’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire. I have determined that Mr. Potter did not enter himself in the Triwizard Tournament. Nonetheless, he is bound to compete as are the three others whose names came out."

I can feel the eyes upon me. Up and down the Gryffindor table, they are probably starting to realize that they certainly buggered things, so to speak.

"As a result, Durmstrang and Beaubatons have been allowed to add another champion. Miss Athena Manos has been selected to be the second champion from Durmstrang, and Miss Aimee Beaucourt is the second representative from Beauxbatons. Let us wish them all the best of luck."

Dumbledore yields the podium to the Beauxbatons Headmistress.   There’s a round of applause and she starts in with her heavy accent, "The tasks of this tournament are designed to test the mettle of the champions. The rules are a bit of a compromise between the three schools. As is tradition at Beauxbatons, the competitors are allowed an advisor to assist them in developing strategies and for a team competition between the schools. Each school has selected their all-school team and the members have been notified. The Durmstrang rules incorporate additional tasks for our individual champions. Some, like our first task, will be known to the contestants, and others will remain a mystery up until the last moment."

She pauses, showing that Dumbledore isn’t the only one with a flair for the dramatic. "For our first task, we celebrate our magical heritage with a broom race! As I speak, a course is being created from the castle out into the town of Hogsmeade and back. The sponsor for this event is Gesalt Broom Manufacturers of Marseilles. They will be providing their new Peregrine racing broom to each contestant. None of our contestants have flown this brand new, state of the art broom before now. By tomorrow, I’m told we will have the three additional brooms and the champions will be allowed to familiarize themselves with the Peregrine and the course, the day before the race. I also am pleased to say that Madame Gesalt has generously offered the winning rider the broom that she or he rides to victory!"

I catch the fact that Maxime used "she or he".   Clearly, she is counting on her champions to win.   I’m no slouch on a broom and last I checked Krum is a git, but he’s still Krum.   I wonder how the Peregrine compares to the Firebolt.

Neville thumps the table.   "Wow, Harry!   A broom race!   Are you excited?"

I can’t deny it.   A broom race is pretty cool.   "A little, but I’m still trying to figure out who put me into this."

"Don’t look now, but here comes Lynch."

"Potter, you can put your tie and robes right."

"I don’t think so.   I read the terms on the scroll.   I’m publicly rebuked by my peers for a month, a week if I apologize and I guarantee that I’m not apologizing.   You disavow any points gained by me and dispute any points taken from me.   Doesn’t that about cover it?"

The tall brunette hisses, "You’re embarrassing Gryffindor!"

"No.   You and all the others are embarrassing Gryffindor.   Every fifth year and above signed that scroll.   I’d have liked to have been there when you delivered the Censure to McGonagall.   She ripped you a new one didn’t she?"

Holly looks uncomfortable.   "The Professor accepted the Censure, because the charter states that she must.   She expressed her opinion that this matter should remain within the tower.   In the dorms, wear the black tie.   Outside you can continue to display our house colors."

I’ve got her over a barrel and she knows it.   "No.   The terms on the scroll clearly state one month or one week if I apologize.   You’re only doing this because you the Professor is making you."

I look to see much of the table is watching the exchange.   I see Hale, the seventh year male Prefect, but his Prefect’s badge is noticeably absent.   Oh dear, Minerva must have really tore into them.   My guess is that Holly is probably hanging by a thread.   Speaking of which, McGonagall is making her way over here.   Her gaze bores a hole through the space occupied by Lynch.

"Mr. Potter, I’d like a word before you head off to the wand weighing ceremony.   Walk with me."

Scooping up the Hat I follow the Professor out of the Great Hall.   We head towards her office.   Once inside, she shuts the door and motions for me to sit.   "Potter, I am asking you for a favor.   I understand you are quite angry at your forced participation, but do not punish a group of children for acting rashly.   Leave that to me."

"I noticed Hale missing his badge."

"This was merely the latest in a series of disappointment.   His support of this foolishness was as much aimed at myself as it was at you.   I stripped him in front of the others as an example.   I believe it had the necessary effect."

I’m guessing Johnson’s worrying about her captaincy next year as well.   It’s petty of me, but I want to see her squirm a bit and opt not to play that card just now.   "Hat?   What do you think?"

"Fuck them!   No mercy for the weak or ignorant, Potter.   I’m shocked at you, McGonagall.   This is a place of learning, and without suffering the consequences of their actions, the useless tits will never learn!   Considering the paintings in the Infirmary were asking me about it, everyone in the castle already knows.   Face the facts - the cat is already out of the bag.   Trying to force it back into the bag will only draw attention to it.   Better to ignore it and move on."

"Vulgar as ever, Hat.   I hope you are not letting this artifact unduly influence you, Potter.   Had you asked, I would have suggested a different advisor."

"You should worry more about Potter influencing me.   I actually miss the ‘Fire and Brimstone’ McGonagall who first started teaching here over thirty years ago!   Always in Dumbledore’s office pushing the envelope.   You were a rebel and ready to change the system.   Now you couldn’t be part of the establishment any more if you transfigured yourself into a brick and were mortared into the castle walls.   I sense you care more for quotas and class averages than actual student achievement."

It’s nice to see the Hat has a meaningful relationship with my head of house.   What’s amazing is how it adapts its tactics to the person.   McGonagall, like Dumbledore would dismiss simple profanity, so it didn’t rely on it, except for shock value.   Instead, it hits her hard where she’s prideful with a cold and cutting argument.   I steer the conversation towards "safer waters" and wonder if Sinistra might’ve been interested in being my advisor.   "Back on topic, I agree with most of what the Hat said about the Censure.   We’re better off ignoring it.   If the Prophet or one of the other papers ask about it, I’ll say it’s an internal matter and not open for discussion."

McGonagall sighs and still eyes the Hat with disdain, "Yes, I suppose that is the best path available to us.   They will be using the atrium for the press meeting.   You wands will be weighed.   I recommend saying as little as possible to Rita Skeeter and it may also be wise to leave the Hat in my office."

"The Hat will behave.   I trust it to know when to hold its tongue."

"You sound rather certain of yourself, Mr. Potter."

"As certain as I can be about anything.   Hat and I get along just fine.   Does the Headmaster have any idea who put my name in the Goblet?"

 "I do not believe so.   He has not divulged any information to me yet.   Should he, I will inform you as soon as practical."

"Thank you."

"In that case, I believe our talk is concluded.   My door is open to you if you feel the need to talk at any time."   It is a shade of the old McGonagall that JP remembers, but only a shade.   I excuse myself and head back towards the Infirmary to see if I can through my Potions lecture with Poppy before I face the Press.

***

"Hello again, Mr. Potter.   It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?"   The wandmaker says, knowing full well I saw him a few weeks ago.   He is his usual creepy self.   He had already been through all the other champions.   Sure enough, Delacour confirmed what I already knew by admitting that the Veela hair in her wand belonged to a blood relative.

"Seems like forever, sir.   How have you been?"   I suppose he could rat me out for bringing Neville to his store, but somehow that level of trouble pales in comparison to the situation I find myself in now.

"I’ve been well.   May I have your wand?"

I hand over my wand and he inspects it.   Since getting JP’s memories, I’ve spent much more time on the upkeep of my wand, broom and cloak.   Magic items don’t grow on trees, do they?   Well, I guess technically some grow out of trees, but I digress.

He does a simple spell with it and pronouncing it in fine working order, without going into great detail about its composition.   As he hands it back to me, his voice drops to a whisper, "Great and terrible things, Mr. Potter."

As always, he leaves me wondering exactly what and how much he really knows.

The hounds of the Press are unleashed upon us.   It’s open season on us poor school kids.   Someone said the Daily Prophet tried to get exclusive access, but La Oracle de Nice and the New Salem Herald nipped that in the bud.

"Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet, Mr. Potter, but of course you already know that.   Do you have a moment for my readers?"

"Perhaps in a few minutes, I promised my first interview to Miss Clearwater from Teen Witch Weekly."

The older witch looks furious at the slight.   I don’t care.   My other memories tell me just what a shrill harpy Skeeter is.   She’ll skewer me regardless.   Nevertheless, I push by her and move over towards a much friendlier face.

"Hello, Penny.   You’re wearing your hair differently.   Going for the mature look?"

She smiles, "Harry, aren’t you the little charmer?   I figured I’d try it up these days.   You’ve brought the Sorting Hat with you I see, how lovely.   I’ll have to make certain to avoid direct quotes from it.   Now, what in Merlin’s name is going on here?"

"I wish I knew.   Someone entered me in the tournament.   All I know is that Dumbledore is investigating."

"And what’s this I hear about you being Censured?"

"What happened to the innocent little journalist just looking to get her foot in the door?" I ask with a sly smile.

"She has sources here in the Castle."   The Head Boy is a Ravenclaw, so it makes sense.

"My official answer is, it is an internal matter to my house and I choose not to comment."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially, I’m not saying anything in a room full of journalists."

"Fine, but I’ll want an unofficial answer at some point.   So if you didn’t enter yourself, who did?"

"Someone who wants me harmed.   People die or get injured in these things.   I managed to look up some history last night.   One of the tournaments was called ‘The Tournament with No Winners’ where all the competitors died during the second task.   Maurice Potter was one of the champions."

Undeterred, Rita jumps into our conversation, "So, you’re intent on avenging the family name, eh Harry?"

"You’ll get your turn, Madame.   Until then, my advisor is the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts.   You can ask it some background questions."   I give her a look of disgust, push the Hat into her hands, and start walking away from Skeeter motioning for Penny to follow.

"Next question.   Since you’re bound to compete, what are your plans?"

"Do my best.   Stick to what I know.   Try not to get too fancy."

"With only three years of training under your belt and being raised by Muggles, that’s a rather daunting task, especially in the aspects of dueling.   Do you feel at a disadvantage?"

"Dueling really isn’t on the Hogwarts curriculum.   It is included as part of Defense Against the Dark Arts.   From what I’m told, there is more emphasis at the other schools, so Cedric is as likely to experience the same difficulties as I will.   Like I said, I’ll stick to what I know and the rest will sort itself out."

Penny laughs.   Over the summer, she’d heard a watered down version of my adventures.   "I’m sure you’ll be just fine.   You have a knack for performing under pressure.   Naturally, all my readers will want to know who that special girl on your arm is going to be at the Yule Ball?"

"Depends on how well Ollie treats you?"

She blushes brightly, "Shameless as ever Harry, but much appreciated.   Oliver is treating me just fine.   So, no, there’s no special girl out there for you right now, Harry? You realize that’s cover material?   I’d heard a rumor that you and Katie Bell had a falling out?"

"I heard that same rumor.   Pesky things, those rumors, but I guess you need something substantial to print.   How about this?   Katie’s a very nice girl, but the timing wasn’t right.   I couldn’t give her the attention that she deserves and take the majority of the blame for what transpired.   With this hanging over me, I don’t see myself actively looking anytime soon.   All of my attention is going to be focused on the tournament, so I’ll likely show up with a friend or a casual acquaintance."

I’m guessing that when Katie reads it, there’ll be a bit of a knife twist there.   I recognized both her and Ginny’s name on the Censure scroll.   Hell hath no fury, I suppose.   Of course, that means I don’t have to put up with their apologies, if I choose not to.   The odds of me being seen with them at the Yule Ball are slim and none.   I’ll wait until early December to even worry about that.

Penny nods approvingly and asks, "What about your competition?   Any thoughts on the five people you’ll be facing?"

"Frankly, I’m more worried about the person that engineered my participation.   They’re here to compete and win.   I’m here to compete, win, and survive."

She gives a tight smile.   "That’s enough material for me.   Now, taking off my reporter’s face, you be careful out there, Harry.   Oliver and I are both worried about you.   If you need help, send an owl."

I thank her and head back to retrieve my Hat as Penny zeroes in on Cedric, who looks somewhat ignored in all the fuss.   Krum is basking in his spotlight, but I catch him eyeing the crowd circling me.   His eyes narrow, but I can’t catch his words.   I guess he never got the "plays well with others" comments sent home to his parents.   Along the way I stop and speak with a reporter from La Oracle.   I have to switch to English a few times, but I give most of my answers in French, which hopefully earns me some points with the foreign media.

Rita approaches and throws the Hat at me.   "This thing disgusts me!"

The brim opens wide, "Funny, I was thinking the same thing, Skeeter.   You were a distasteful little eleven year old, and I see time hasn’t improved you and only made your flesh sag."

"How about I do an expose on how an ancient magical artifact is in dire need of replacement?"

"What?   Weren’t you told not to use your wand for that sort of thing, Rita?   That’s a good way to get splinters, though I pity that and anything else that might find its way up your skirt."

Their byplay has caught several people’s attention, so I decide to intervene while the Hat has the advantage.   "That’s odd.   Normally the Hat is very pleasant to people.   Now, I understand you’d like to speak with me."

Her "clip-on" charm appears faster than a simple conjuration.   "Of course, Harry.   Naturally, you’ve saved your most important interview for now.   Perhaps we could step over here for a bit more privacy?"

"No, here’s good.   What questions do you have?"

"So, you’ve got a bit of a reckless streak, Harry?   How did you come to enter the tournament?"

"Someone entered me under false pretenses.   The Headmaster is investigating."

"Are you certain this isn’t just an instance of you lashing out at people?   I know you suffered under that terrible curse at the World Cup.   Are there any lingering effects?"

I keep my answers short.   "No to both questions. Next question."

"I’ve noticed you’re not wearing the Gryffindor emblem or tie and I’ve heard a rumor that you were publicly Censured for entering the tournament.   You’re in plain robes and a black tie.   What do you have to say about that?"

"It is an internal matter that doesn’t merit discussion."

"Humor me."

"Okay.   Hat, tell her a joke."

"There was a witch who walked into a bar…"

"No Harry, what’s the real story behind your bad boy image?   It sounds like your housemates have had enough and decided to put you in your place.   One could imagine that they’re ashamed of you."

"Again, an internal matter that doesn’t merit discussion."

"I think it does."

"Then I think we’re done here.   Good day, Miss Skeeter."

Her smile is a bit insidious.   "No, we’re not done by a long shot, Harry."

Yeah, I don’t think we are either, but we’ll see what kind of story she writes.   I push on to the reporter from the New Salem Herald with a Bulgarian journalist waiting in the wings.

***

Hedwig is waiting for me with a copy of the Prophet.   Teen Witch Weekly won’t be out until Saturday, and the other papers are more concerned with pushing the papers to their readers.   Most won’t be here until tomorrow and some would have to be translated after that.   Sadly, that gives Rita first crack.

Harry Potter Causes Turmoil at Tournament

By

Rita Skeeter

Hello again, my ravenous readers.   The press conference at Hogwarts was, much like anything associated with the doddering old fool Dumbledore, an unmitigated disaster.   But it was not the desiccated fossil who was ringmaster of this circus, but the juvenile Harry Potter, trying to foster his teen rebel image.

Yes, my introduction to The Boy Who Lived served only to lower my opinion of our one time savior.   Standing there in a room full of adults, not wearing his Gryffindor colors because his own house Censured him, the teenager did not seem willing to answer any question or make any statement accepting his own responsibility.

I did notice that he made a beeline for Miss Clearwater of Teen Witch Weekly, who he helped catapult to fame with her pandering interview of him months ago.   The duo looked rather cozy together making me wonder just what Puddlemere’s rising star Oliver Wood might think of the scene.   Several sources mentioned that Potter is a bit of a Cassanova at school with his last girlfriend, Katherine Bell, dumping him in a rather public trouncing over another Gryffindor Virginia Weasley.

Now, you know I am no healer, but I have to worry about young Harry’s behavior.   The Headmaster’s insistence that he did not enter this tournament is nothing more than a thin smokescreen to cover Potter’s reckless need for attention.   Was he too quickly discharged from St. Mungo’s after those horrible events around the World Cup? Or is his impulsiveness a sign of a deeper malady.   No one else has ever survived the Killing Curse, and even the most learned of researchers can only postulate on what the lasting effects of such a devastating spell could be.

Is this just a case of teenage hormones, or could he pose a threat to the student body?   Some of my other sources, who chose to remain anonymous for fear of retribution, commented that he flouts authority at every turn.   There was a small matter of his arrival in a previous year in a flying car for those of you that recall the incident.   Now Dumbledore is hastily reorganizing the Triwizard Tournament to accommodate the unstable Harry Potter’s capricious whims!

However, some people are willing to state what they think of this brash upstart.   One of them is Fleur Delacour.   The delightful champion and charming witch from Beauxbatons confided to me, "Harry Potter seems to be a very rude and arrogant little boy.   Like the people in your country, I had heard tales of him growing up.   Apparently, his fame has gone to his head.   I want to compete against real wizards and witches.   Instead two of my duels will be fought against someone barely in his teens.   Where is the sport in that?"

The sizzling Seeker and Bulgarian sensation Viktor Krum carefully chose his words, "Potter is a boy competing in an adult’s contest.   I only hope the organizers will not be forced to … What is the expression?   Ah yes, ‘Water Down’ the competition for fear of hurting the child."

Aimee Beaucourt daughter of France’s Interior Minister and Athena Manos of the very influential Manos family in Greece are the beneficiaries of Potter’s questionable decision.   Both of them expressed surprise at being allowed to participate in the contest and neither had anything nice to say about Harry Potter.

Perhaps the only supporter to be found of Potter is the other Hogwarts champion, the likeable and self-effacing Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff.   "Harry said he didn’t enter and I believe him.   I wish him and all the others the best of luck in the tournament."

I think it’s easy to see who the real Hogwarts champion is.

Sources at the Ministry say that Hogwarts has not been very forthcoming with facts.   The Minister’s Spokeswitch would only say, "Minister Fudge is paying close attention to the events at Hogwarts.   While the investigation is in progress, he will continue to monitor the situation closely."

The esteemed Lucius Malfoy, no stranger to Dumbledore’s backroom politics, said that if it was proven that Potter caused this mess that the cost of adjusting the tournament should be deducted from the Potter family vaults.  

I have no doubt that we’ve only seen a hint of the intrigue that walks the halls of Hogwarts and wherever news is that’s precisely where you will find Rita Skeeter.

***

I suppose it could have been worse, Draco and several of his Slytherin groupies were waiting in the third floor hallway by the Infirmary.

"Potter!   Could I get your autograph on this!"

"Bugger off Malfoy!"

He titters like a schoolgirl and continues in an overly dramatic voice.   "Oh, no!   I haven’t made you mad at me, have I?   I don’t want to do that given what an unstable and violent person you have been."

Amidst the guffaws of the others I walk by him and see familiar form lurking.   I turn at the door to the Infirmary.   "Malfoy, fuck you, your father, your mother and your entire bloodline!"

The blond ponce goes for his wand and starts to cast a minor hex.   I can easily dodge it, but I don’t have to.   A spell from nowhere knocks Malfoy’s wand away and Alastor Moody steps out of the shadows.   "I’m not rightly sure what you were thinking there, Malfoy, but there’s no dueling in the halls.   I think I’ll be seeing you for a detention on the next Hogsmeade weekend for this.   You can also explain to the maggot that runs your house how you just lost twenty points.   Now fetch your wand and run along."

"You heard what he said about my family!"

"No, my hearing’s not so good today, boy, but my vision’s just fine.   What I don’t see is you leaving here fast enough, so I think you’ll be serving an extra detention with me.   Now get out of here!"

I’d say you didn’t have to tell Malfoy twice, but obviously Moody did.   "Interesting little stunt you pulled there.   Not a great idea yanking his chain like that when you didn’t have any backup and he had quite a bit."

"I saw you the whole time and figured you were waiting for a chance to tear into them. I was giving him a sideway’s profile to make dodging easier.   Even if you let it play out, he would have missed and I’d be inside the Infirmary before the rest could draw."

The ex-Auror nods approvingly.   "You’re thinking on your feet, lad.   Keep it up and you’ll do fine in the tournament.   If you be needing anything from me, advisor or not, my doors open to you."

"Thank you, Professor.   Any clues on who might have entered me in the tournament?"

"‘Fraid not.   The spellwork on the Goblet didn’t leave any traces.   If it was just dropping your name in the Goblet, I’d be more inclined to say a student, but given the complex hoodwinking going on here, I’d have to say it was someone with some skill and not a snot-nosed brat.   Bagman rubs me the wrong way.   Igor Karkaroff’s as slimy as they come and any day he draws breath is one day too many in my books!"

What can you really say to a statement like that?   I nod but keep quiet.

"I might have heard that you have a piece of parchment that might help me keep tabs on people.   If you had an item like that, it’d be a great help to me."

"Lupin told you about the Map?"   Judas really is his middle name!

"No, nothing of the sort.   My information goes back to your father.   He and I did a bit of training together and he might’ve said a thing or two.   Rumor is that you have your father’s cloak, I figured you might have the map as well."  

"I don’t have it on me."   I stammer.

"When you get it, bring it to me.   The sooner I get it, the sooner we can start keeping tabs on the suspects.   Bring it by my class at lunchtime."

The one legged man heads off as I head into the Infirmary for my morning chores.   I mechanically perform my tasks while searching my memories for JP telling Moody about the map.   From what I recall, James was all business with Moody. There weren't that many moments where we kicked back and downed a bottle of firewhiskey while talking about the old times.   The Marauders had a code, "What went on at Hogwarts stayed at Hogwarts."   To my knowledge, he only ever broke that code for Lily.  

This troubles me.

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 Next