The Lie I've Lived
Sometimes, It's Good to be Me
By JBern
Author Notes:
Disclaimer — Even after all the names I was called for the cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter, this is still a work of fan fiction.
Acknowledgements — As always the hard work of Alpaca Fight Club (where the fur runs red with blood) — oops I mean Alpha Fight Club is greatly appreciated. Take a bow guys. My betas are Aaran St. Vines, ZanyMuggle, and Sparky40sw.
Chapter 14 — Sometimes, It's Good to be Me
November 19th, 1994
For a brief moment, one maybe two heartbeats, I’m frozen in terror. There’s no shame in it. Anyone who had ever spent a few minutes in close proximity to a dementor would back me up on this fact. A Boggart might give the visual representation of someone’s worst fear, but they lack any real psychological effects beyond surprise.
Dementors make a person relive their worst memories over and over again while pulling at the essence that is the soul. One can shut their eyes and a Boggart loses all power. It can be injured, maimed, or even killed, but that’s just as stupid as killing a hippogriff because someone doesn’t know how to act around one.
Nothing known to man kills a dementor and that’s the biggest problem facing me. The second one is that I don’t even have my bloody wand.
Seconds earlier, I was entertaining myself wondering if one "kissed" me would just James or Harry be sucked out. Now, entertainment is nowhere to be found as all six cages start to open after being unlocked by Hagrid’s Unlatcher. Things don’t add up. One would expect him to have an exotic magical creature, but not such a rare and potent device.
That wasn’t the end of Hagrid’s toys either. He also brought a rune wall. The wizards and witches outside should be able to tear it down pretty quickly, but a series of detonations in the crowd make me wonder if help is on the way. Pretty quickly seems a bit farther off than I’d hoped.
"Do something HJ!" The Hat screams. It and my five other wandless competitors are stuck behind this barrier.
The dementors seem momentarily confused, but then again, they’ve been allowed to "snack" on our torment for nearly ten minutes. I push the cage door back violently. Fortunately, they aren’t very strong relying on their victims to collapse in a paralyzed fear.
Anyone see the math problem here? Yeah, thought so. One Harry James Potter can’t hold six cages shut. Fleur is already backing away. Even if she hadn’t, there’d still be four dementors on the loose. Three of the dementors are already out of their cage. The other two are hesitating, but that’ll only last a second more before they realize that "snack time" just became a full course meal.
I let go of the cage and quickly start moving back across the wooden stage while evaluating and discarding plans at the speed of thought. Krum and Diggory both have their chairs in hand and are doing passable lion tamer impressions. Aimee has a different tactic altogether. It’s called the fetal ball. It’s hard to kiss someone if they’re face down on the floor with their head buried under their arms.
I could bolt into one of the cages and pull the door shut. That’d save me. What about the rest? I could transform into my Animagus form and physically terrorize the dementors. That might buy the time everyone needs, but dare I risk it?
Over the deafening screams of the crowd on the other side of the rune wall, my hand closes around my chair dumping the Hat onto the ground. Two of the abominations have closed on Athena Manos who is thrashing wildly on the ground. One is yanking her hair pulling her head off the ground and the other is positioning for a kiss. They begin quarrelling over her like a pair of animals fighting over a morsel — must be some kind of pecking order thing.
I dig real deep in the face of absolute panic and focus on my banisher. The chair shoots like a missile and plows into the pair over top of Athena launching the creatures towards the rune wall. I grab Athena’s chair and take three steps forward whacking a third one who swoops in trying to get at the Durmstrang witch. Wood splinters and it spins to face me. James and Lily Potter’s death wails surge through my being as it glides back to a standing position relatively unharmed. From the corner of my eye, I see Dobby furiously trying to get through the barrier. Again, I’m reminded of the limitations of house-elves.
Where the hell is Dumbledore? Delacour tries to conjure fire, but only gets a weak flame — about as frightening to a dementor as someone holding up a Muggle Zippo. She and Krum are retreating to the edge of the platform. They hold a quick meeting of the minds and come to a decision. She hurls the weak flames she can generate at the two near them and Krum lashes out with his chair leg doing his best beater impression. They dash through the small gap and into one of the cages, stealing my idea. Krum pulls the door shut while Fleur collapses in the center. She gives me a pitying look. Great now it’s me versus six dementors. Gee thanks! Finally, someone’s at the ward. It’s only Karkaroff! I can’t see Dumbledore and Maxime is literally wrestling with Hagrid’s massive frame! Half dragging Athena across the floor I keep waving the broken remnants of the chair.
Cedric’s wavering and has collapsed on top of Aimee intending to shield her with his body. He’s a brave kid. More detonations, something serious is going on in the Great Hall. I don’t have the time to figure it out.
Time’s running out.
I need a miracle.
I drop the chair and push/throw Manos onto the quivering body pile of the closest champions. No other choice is left. I’ll have to go Pronghorn and circle these three. I’ll deal with Fleur’s anger later. She’ll just have to fucking deal with it! Just as I start my transformation, I hear something rise above the ruckus and pierce through the noise and the fear. It’s a sound that stabs through the fog of despair like an avenging spear made of the purest hope. Even the dementors are forced to pause in the face of a phoenix’s song.
Fawkes appears in a ball of fire right on top of me. The painful heat washes over me countering the icy needles of agony generated by the proximity of the dementors. Light temporarily overwhelms all my senses. The bird’s beak pecks at my open paw drawing blood and forcing my hand to clench tight and it releases an object into my hand. I barely hang on to the piece of wood and it takes me a millisecond to recognize my wand, now firmly in my grasp. A rune wall might stop a house-elf, but the magic of a phoenix is well beyond the power of that little trinket.
Fawkes leaps off my shoulder and begins ravaging the two dementors frustrated by Krum and Delacour. They recoil from that which does not fear them.
"Just summon a Patronus Potter and scatter them!" The Hat commands. Does it fear for its own soul? The problem is I’ve got nothing to draw on. I level my wand and try to find something happy. There’s nothing but pain, fear, depression. I bellow the words, to try and compensate for my emotional impotence, but only a wisp of smoke emerges. I try it again and absolutely nothing happens. The dementors sense my desperation and close in.
Inner peace and happiness won’t save me. What about pain and suffering?
I point my wand over the nearest one’s shoulder and concentrate on the cage. My will makes it come to life. The top shoots off of it and drops from above onto one of my enemies. I focus on the rough shape I want and force it into. Metal bars curl like a vicious multi-fingered hand. The claw responds to my command and stretches out, grasping the dementor like a rag doll and digging its steely digits over the shoulder and into its chest.
I can’t hear a dementor scream, but clearly its brethren can. Maintaining the Transfiguration against the negative energy field that surrounds them is difficult, but I sweep the metallic cage "arm" with the struggling dementor in its clutches into the two I had banished the chair into, giving me some room to breathe as the cold chill chases away Fawkes’ warmth.
Transfiguration is the key. It’s why the dementors still serve the wizards. Direct magic won’t hurt one and despite current appearances they’re nigh invulnerable to physical attacks, but they can still be encased, entombed, and imprisoned. A Patronus properly cast will scatter them, but only chains weighing too much to allow them to move - shackles they can’t escape - can give someone enough power to command one. My clawed hand raises the abomination into the air, but it’s loosing cohesiveness and starting to break apart. Fine! I drive the damn thing down and through the wooden platform letting the pieces of metal fall onto it.
Chunks of the stage break away with my fast wand work and the timber forms a protective circle around myself and the three people huddled by my feet. Summoning the Hat to my hand, I hold it protectively against my robes muffling its shouts.
The soul hunters throw themselves at my wall of debris and rebound off of it testing my stamina. Fawkes reappears next to me and my mound o’ champions. The phoenix looks worse for wear making me wonder how awful I must look. It trills at me conveying a sense of fatigue and urgency before disappearing again.
Best I can tell I’ve just been given the equivalent of, "You’ve got this under control. I have to go now."
Assuming I survive this, I’ll have to give Fawkes a ration of crap about not having any staying power. I expand the barrier pushing them back. Letting the barrier falter, I transfigure a second cage and use it to pounce on a duo of dementors as strong metal twists them into awkward and certainly painful positions like some modern gothic sculpture. Maybe I should consider a career in art. I can do balloon animals too!
The maelstrom around me subsides and I look at the remaining trio of dementors just as Karkaroff succeeds in bringing the wall down. His wand is leveled at the guards of Azkaban. The whole encounter took perhaps ninety seconds. The skeletal hands of the one I drove through the floor of the platform appear at the edge of the hole and it slowly pulls itself up only to find my wand inches from its face.
"Keep it up and I’ll chain you to a rock at the bottom of the lake until the metal rusts through!"
My threat gets its attention. They’re not stupid; they know when they’re beaten and they back off away from us. Maxime pulls one of the Ministry Aurors to his feet and he starts shouting orders at the dementors. Three strides from the massive brunette witch puts her right next to me.
Her tone is both fierce and commanding. "Were any of the other champions kissed?"
I’m exhausted, but still standing and still staring at the free group of dementors. My gaze wanders over to the shivering Viktor Krum still holding his cage shut. "I don’t think so. Mind telling me what the fuck just happened?"
"Step aside!" She ignores both my language and my question. With a strength easily rivaling Hagrid’s she rolls the whimpering Manos and Diggory off of her student and hoists her in the air. Apparently, Aimee gets preferential treatment. Karkaroff, no doubt fearing for his golden boy’s image races to Viktor’s cage and helps him out. Manos clearly isn’t his priority. Over at the cage, Fleur slowly stands. She looks at me briefly and then looks away, probably ashamed. Seconds later others come charging over to check on the rest of us. I push through their arms and head towards the edge of the stage.
Over the rumbling of the crowd I hear magically enhanced calls for medical attention. I pull the Hat onto my head and start in that direction. I’m in shitty shape, but if I stop, I’m not going to get up for a few hours. Besides, now I have to know what’s going on.
Passing by a quartet of Aurors guarding the motionless form of Hagrid, I hop off the stage listening to McGonagall’s shouts for all students to return to their houses and for the prefects to provide an accurate muster immediately.
There are several small clouds of smoke being "held" against the ceiling of the Great Hall by a multitude of magic users led chiefly by Flitwick. My eyes burn slightly, welling up with tears and my throat quickly becomes raw. All around people are coughing and wheezing. Quickly I apply a Bubblehead charm. It limits my ability to speak, but Hat gladly picks up that end of things for me.
"Stand aside you miserable fucks! Move it! Medical personnel coming through!" Perhaps I amplify my pushes with a little banishing shoving my way through the resistance of the crowd until I spot Poppy working feverishly with another man. Together they’re trying to literally hold a wizard together.
When I see the first man, or rather the torso of the first man with his lifeless eyes staring up at me, I know that something is dreadfully wrong. Nothing can save this one, but I move on to others that are injured. It looks like a powerful Cutting curse ripped through this section of the audience where mostly visitors from Durmstrang were seated. I reach down and pull an arm off the ground. It’s not attached to anything.
"No rest for the weary. Eh, Potter?" Hat bellows, "Which one of you worthless bastards is missing an arm? Raise your remaining hand and get over here while we can still reattach it!"
------
From my vantage point slouched in the corner of Dumbledore’s office, I’m content to be a spectator this time. I had been assisting Poppy in her overfilled ward when Dumbledore entered with a traumatized Susan Bones and ushered her to a bed. His eyes caught mine and he beckoned me to follow saying only that Madame Bones would doubtless want to talk to me.
Naturally, everyone wants all the details of what happened and more importantly how those details don’t make them responsible for the three dead and numerous injured in the crowd. My little heroic showdown with the dementors seems to have been lost in the shuffle.
"Don’t be such a whiny little bitch! Look on the bright side HJ, it wasn’t you they were after. What do you know? Not every assassination attempt in this castle is about you!"
"Very funny, Hat. I should have stuffed you on one of their heads and seen what would have happened."
Athena is clinging to the man whose arm I reattached. Roughly ten minutes ago, his dose of polyjuice wore off revealing that the nondescript wizard in his early forties was really a stately wizard of commanding stature approaching his centennial. In the "Who’s Who" of magical Europe, Agrippa Manos is covered somewhere in the first twenty pages. Athena’s Granddaddy is one part wealthy businessman/politician and one part criminal overlord. He’s a man with enemies and apparently they tried to strike today.
The passing attempt on my life, well that was just a side show distraction. Somehow, I feel cheated. Despite the noise, Fawkes slumbers on its perch reminding me that I should be sleeping this off instead of listening to all this posturing. Going through that rune wall must have taken quite a bit out of the phoenix.
A bloodied and clearly bewitched Hagrid was taken by the Aurors for treatment at St. Mungo’s for both his physical wounds, courtesy of Madame Maxime and Igor Karkaroff and whatever mental deprogramming they could offer. Owls have already started arriving demanding the not-so gentle giant be sacked. Dumbledore will probably be able to get away with demoting him back to Keeper of the Keys, but Hagrid’s teaching days are through.
The former Grindelwald collaborator from Greece speaks with a solemn tone. "Minister Fudge, Supreme Mugwump, you have my deepest apologies. Publicly, I was supposed to be at my residence in Greece. I do not know how these assassins were able to discover my itinerary, but rest assured, I will find out. My enemies have brought our conflict to a school filled with innocent children. It is most unfortunate … for them."
Dumbledore scowls at the man before him. "Had you alerted me to your presence..."
The Greek man laughs, "You'd have done what? We rotated the polyjuice on a daily basis on our trip. I travelled with nine bodyguards. You can barely run a school full of children and yet you expect me to entrust my security to you? It’s a bit late in life to be launching a career in comedy, Dumbledore."
Maxime clearly no stranger to power politics either throws her weight around, "Instead Agrippa, you come here unannounced with a bounty on your head. There is an infirmary full of injured people and half your bodyguards are dead. Yet when we call you on it you respond with ego rather than logic."
"Call off your pet giantess, Dumbledore. I've had my fill of 'giant's rights' today, haven't you? Still think they need larger sanctuaries and more freedom? I suppose the assassins knew my opinions on this matter which is why your half-breed was bewitched to bellow such sentiments. They were likely watching to see which one of my group reacted to it."
Maxime obviously wants a piece of him. "It would have been ironic if you had been done in because of your small minded views."
That triggers a new round of bickering. I listen to the angry shouts and chat with the Hat. "The ICW meetings must be a little more interesting than I thought."
"You young people have your Quidditch. The older ones also have their games, HJ."
"Maybe we should swing by their summer meeting on our way to Italy and watch the fireworks?"
With the smell of retribution in the air, Fudge wisely tries to move on to another topic. "What do we know of the assassins? You fought one of them, Albus."
Dumbledore looks up from the Marauder’s Map of all things. He’d been using a specialized charm to make it replay the past hour. "The Asian man was supposed to be Fen Woo, a reporter with a periodical from Hong Kong. It appears that my distinguished ICW member was not the only person utilizing polyjuice today. This map identifies the person I dueled with as Kwan Chang-Ho. I also see the name of his partner Jacob Collins as well."
Fudge’s furious gaze bores into Amelia Bones. "You mean to tell me that two of the most notorious hit wizards in the world were mere feet away from me and you had no idea of this Amelia? Did you even know they were in the country?"
Bones looks like she’s just aged a decade within the last minute. "We are doing everything we can, Minister. I have the entire department mobilized."
"Well, for your sake, I suggest your department produces some tangible results. Mark my words, there will be an inquiry!"
The director loses even more of her composure, becoming both shrill and whiny. "I’m every bit as interested in justice being served. You will recall that my niece was held hostage during their escape. I do not believe that was happenstance!"
Hat provides its usual cheerful commentary, "All interested applicants for Director of Magical Law Enforcement position are encouraged to apply via owl. Special preference will be given to those willing to become either toadies or scapegoats and of course anyone willing to take it up the shit hole on command."
I search my memories of my other life. "I haven’t heard the name Collins before, but even in James Potter’s day people talked about Kwan Chang-Ho — an amoral killer whose name was whispered in back alleys all over the world, famous for leaving mahjong tiles in the mouth of his victims. The Death Eaters at least have their flawed ideology to cling to. This fucker will kill anything just for money and fame!"
"Another shining example of your species, eh HJ? Dueling Dumbledore to a draw won’t hurt his resume either."
Good point. Thanks to James, I don’t really have a high opinion of hit wizards. James considered dueling a high "art" and if a duelist is an "artist", then a hit wizard is a "house painter". "Given that Collins had his wand at Susan’s throat the whole time until they were outside Hogwarts’ wards probably lent the Korean an edge."
It lets out a derisive laugh in my mind. "That just goes to show what Dumbledore’s true weakness is, HJ. Don’t think for a second that Riddle won’t know that either."
I nod while answering it. "True. Dumbledore said that they were quick to point out that they only attacked the group that contained their target and instead of using Muggle tear gas in the crowd they could have used fragmentation grenades and turned the place into a charnel house."
"Give them points for balls, HJ. Not everyone would have the audacity to attempt an assassination in the middle of an event this large. Even in failure, they will add to their legend. I wonder if the press will even mention how they used Muggle tactics so effectively against a room filled with Europe’s most influential magic users. Watch that get glossed over."
Agrippa is speaking again, directly to Fudge and gesturing to Dumbledore and Maxime. "Minister, if your Aurors are satisfied and have no further need for my presence, I’ve had as much of these two as I can stomach. I will take my leave." He turns to Athena and speaks to her in Greek. I don’t speak it, but clearly he is asking if she wishes to stay here and continue competing or leave. She and Aimee have the luxury of doing just that.
To her credit, Athena obviously wants to stay. There’s some haggling, but within a minute or two Karkaroff suddenly has two new "assistants" from Agrippa’s cadre whose sole concern is Athena’s welfare. His glare bores into Karkaroff letting him know in no uncertain terms that he is "displeased". Finally, the elder Manos turns to leave before his eyes settle on me. He flexes his repaired left arm. "You do good work for one so young. There will only be a tiny scar. Athena also tells me you protected her and the others against the dementors. This I will not forget."
I give him a nod. The murderous intent returns to his face and he stalks out of the room. Southern Europe might not be very safe place to visit for the next few months.
Hat puts it all into perspective, "I hope this doesn’t interfere with our trip to the spa in Tuscany."
------
An hour or so later the blame game is winding down. Understandably, it's taken a while to get around to the mess that is the Triwizard Tournament. Dumbledore dismisses everyone except for those concerned with the workings of the Tournament and calls a brief recess.
Dumbledore sends a pair of house elves to fetch the other four champions. I take the opportunity to walk around and look at the Headmaster’s odd collection of magical artifacts. Athena steps up next to me. Finally, she speaks. "In retrospect, my behavior on the stage before the emergency was childish and deplorable."
I give her a plain assessment. "You were trying to win using a team strategy and trying to exploit a perceived weakness. Fortunately for all of us, that weakness doesn’t exist. Otherwise, we likely wouldn’t be having this conversation."
"Nonetheless, I do feel it appropriate that I apologize. There have been two previous attempts on my grandfather’s life. Each time they have killed one of his bodyguards pretending to be him. I guess they decided to just kill the entire party."
Kwan’s tactics remind me of Vernon’s rants growing up about the Irish Republican Army. "Just kill them all and let God sort them out." Odds are that I’ll never cross wands with Kwan, but if I ever do, I won’t forget what he and his partner did here today.
"In that case Athena, I accept your apology and am glad you decided to stay and continue competing. However in the future, you shouldn’t rely on Slytherins for information about me. It is notoriously inaccurate."
She smiles walks off.
"Ten galleons if you get in her pants, HJ."
"I think I have enough problems right now without having to worry about her, her curse happy bodyguards, her Death Eater headmaster, and most importantly her doting, but clearly homicidal grandfather. Isn’t my life entertaining enough for you as it is? How much more do you need?"
"Oh it’s interesting all right, HJ, there’s action, mystery, and drama, but where’s the comedy and the romance? I want the whole fucking package! I demand entertainment! Dance for me you hairless, sperm burping, monkey!"
Hat embarks on a fit of maniacal laughter that only it is capable of. I remove the blasted thing from my head.
With only the tournament officials, heads of the schools, Athena, and Fudge left, Dumbledore returns from his private area adjoining the office and addresses me. "I commend you, Harry. Again you proved to be the capable wizard. I apologize that I was only able to send Fawkes to your aid, but in my defense, I had to see to the safety of the audience. The needs of the many most often outweigh the needs of the one."
I wonder if he’s seen the Star Trek movies. Either way, he’s had a rough day. There’s no reason to add to it. "No apology necessary, sir. Summoning Fawkes was the best solution."
"Indeed, my familiar seems to be quite smitten with you. I’m beginning to wonder if Fawkes is already scouting for my replacement. I am certain it could do worse, but less sure that it could do better."
I didn’t really need the ego boost, but hell, I’ll take it. "Thank you, but I’m fairly certain Hedwig would be jealous, so let’s hope that doesn’t occur for a long, long time." Besides, where exactly would Fawkes fit in my growing menagerie of faithful owl, psychotic house-elf, and foul mouthed Sorting Hat? If it grows any larger, I’ll have to recruit a centaur to carry them.
Fudge gives me a ‘fatherly’ smile, "Don’t forget Harry that soon we’ll correct the oversight of awarding you that Order of Merlin you so richly deserve. In light of today’s events, it’s tempting to call a special session of the Wizengamot to see if we should change the third class to a second class. You are a credit to your school and your country. People are saying good things about you."
I give polite thanks knowing that if Fudge does it, it will be mostly just to distract the masses with the good while downplaying the bad. Politics is, after all, forty seven percent smoke, forty seven percent mirrors, and six percent actual substance — even if that substance is horse shit, but what do I know?
The other four make their way into the spacious room, eyeing all the knickknacks and finding a seat. All the other officials find their way in as well.
Dumbledore begins, "Now that we have dealt with the pressing matters, we need to address how to properly evaluate the interrupted task. It is becoming an unfortunate theme of this tournament. Let us hope that this is not how history remembers it."
Karkaroff starts, "I believe we should reschedule the task and start fresh."
Typical, since his champions finished in third and fourth place, he wants more time to prepare them.
Amos Diggory having settled into Crouch Senior’s position looks ill at ease with the idea of subjecting his son to the dementors again. "Part of the task was the element of surprise and the ideal of facing the unknown. Without it, it’s somewhat lackluster. The concessions for security if we were to redo it would also be a nightmare.
"Then we should discard this task and replace it with one of the others."
Maxime shakes her finger at Karkaroff, "Would you be singing the same tune, Igor, if either of your students was still in the competition when the incident happened?"
Dumbledore sighs loudly, "There has been a spate of petty bickering in this office as of late. I did not support the return of the dementors to the grounds of this school and if anyone, even you Cornelius, believes that there will be a third opportunity for the dementors of Azkaban to inflict suffering and injury on a student here, they are mistaken to the point of being delusional."
"See, even Albus agrees that the task should be discarded!"
"No, I most certainly did not. The task will not be redone, but I think the performance should be judged as it stood when the incident happened. Both Miss Delacour and Mr. Potter were still participating, therefore I propose that the points for first and second place be combined and split evenly between the two giving each of them eight. Miss Manos receives the four points for a clear third place finish and so on."
I can see the wheels turning in Karkaroff’s head as he calculates where that places his champions. Maxime is nodding at Dumbledore. The former Death Eater knows that he won’t win, so he concedes.
"Good, it is settled. Now …"
"Non, I object." Fleur’s voice interrupts. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Maxime look at her harshly.
"What now?" Karkaroff growls.
I’m somewhat wondering what Fleur is up to. She looks unusually nervous. "When the interruption happened, he stepped forward. I did not. Therefore, in the interests of fair play, I concede first place to him and am willing to accept second place. My own personal honor would be offended if Monsieur Potter were slighted for a third consecutive time."
Well knock me over with a feather! I sure hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth. Dumbledore smiles, "Well spoken Miss Delacour. Speaking for Hogwarts, I have no objection to your solution. Olympe?"
"I accede to her wishes." Funny, she doesn’t sound happy about it.
"Igor?"
"At this point Albus, I couldn’t care less."
"Very well, it is settled. Congratulations to you, Harry and to you as well, Miss Delacour. What you gave up in points, I suspect you will more than recoup in things that matter far more than this contest. We will release the results in the morning. It has been a trying day and I wish all of you a restful evening."
I stand to leave, but Dumbledore stops me. "Harry, may I trouble you and your advisor for a few minutes more in private?"
Shrugging, I watch the rest leave. Aimee mouths a quick thank you to me. Dumbledore waits until the last one leaves before addressing the Hat and me. "This has little to do with today’s incident, but I would like a personal favor."
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"I would like you to end your personal crusade against Professor Snape. Your letter was received by the Board of Governors and I have been fielding their owls for the last week. I spotted the Sorting Hat’s influence in your writing, unless of course you are prone to using phrases such as, ‘In summary, it is my opinion that a steaming pile of hippogriff shit could conduct itself with more decorum than the esteemed Severus Snape.’ A most interesting visual, Harry. Do I even need to mention the badges?"
I nod at the Hat, who smiles smugly. "With all due respect, why should I? Did you have the same discussion with Snape before he executed his little private vendetta against Remus Lupin?"
The Headmaster nods. "Words were exchanged on multiple occasions throughout the year. Still, Remus chose on his own accord to resign. I was more than willing to take up his banner."
Remus did the noble thing, which is typical of him. A decent guy all around except when it came to Lily Potter. "Let me guess, Snape used the student safety issue to cover for his petty vengeance? Well, I can go that route too with what substances he’s keeping in his obviously unsecure cabinets. Funny, I don’t see him preparing to fall on his sword like Remus did. He’ll let you risk your career to save his sorry murdering arse."
"You oversimplify my position. With today’s unfortunate incident, I will have a difficult enough time keeping Hagrid employed here as it is without fighting them on a second front. Poppy has reported that you are quite capable in the brewing art. I can and will support your request to hire a private tutor for next year and beyond. If none can be found, I may consider giving you personal instruction. Furthermore, I am weighing the options for the next year."
"What are you thinking about?"
"I’ll speak plainly because you are deserving of an answer. I will have Severus teach only the NEWT level courses. With the additional funds graciously provided by Minister Fudge after the incident with Crouch, I can employ a second teacher for the first through fifth years. Indeed, he has his own demons, but with the forces of darkness stirring, I fear I will need his services again."
I weigh my own options. Dumbledore is clearly planning on going to the mat for the greasy bastard because he might need his spy again. I get his backing for private tutoring. It’s a victory for me, but I won’t let it go that easily. "Fine, I’ll drop it on one condition. He steps down as Head of Slytherin as well. Wait, before you say I’m being petty, hear me out. The Heads need to be role models and three out of four are. Get rid of the one that isn’t."
"Let me ponder this Harry."
"Ponder it. Do what you need to do. In fact, do it with the consensus of the other three Heads, but if they all agree he should step aside, you should do it." I leave off the idea that when I let it slip that I’m the one forcing old Snivellus to step down, there’s no way in hell he’s going to do it, but by then Dumbledore will have had to listen to the other three Heads and he’ll be faced with his needs of the many versus needs of the one problem all over again. Following that assessment, maybe this time Spock will stay dead this time.
"You idea has merit. Minerva, Pomona, and Filius have as much stake in the operations of this school as I do. I will take it up with them and get their perspective. In the meantime, I have decided on your request concerning Mr. Longbottom. Ask him to come to my office tomorrow and I will explain what really happened with the Death Eater impersonating Alastor and secure his own vow. Now, off to bed with you lad. We’ve both had a long and difficult day and deserve the comforts that a good night’s rest will afford."
I pick up the Hat and head out the door and down the steps. I start to comment to it how it was unusually quiet, missing the opportunity to tear into Dumbledore. Then I realize there is someone at the end of the corridor. Fleur is standing at the painting of Barnabas the Barmy studying the details. The noise of the Gargoyle moving alerts her.
"Hello, Fleur. I appreciate what you did back there. It wasn’t necessary, but thanks anyway."
She addresses me in English. "I did not realize that you would be so long with your Headmaster. I merely wanted to say that when you first became involved in this tournament that I considered you to be an annoyance at best and feared that in accommodating you, they would turn this contest into a joke."
"It may already be a joke, but I’m certainly not laughing."
"True, but I now know who my real competition is. Make no mistake, Harry Potter, I plan on winning this, but I want my victory to be as you say, fair and square."
I smile good naturedly at her. "Well, in that case, enjoy your narrow lead Fleur. I guess I should say, enjoy it while it lasts."
"We shall see. Goodnight, Harry."
I start off towards the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Donning the Hat, it immediately says, "Fifty galleons if you can get in her pants by the end of winter break."
"I might take you up on that one, Hat."
------
"So, would you care for some hair restorative, or are you looking to keep the eyebrowless look? I’ve got some up in my dorm." Hermione needles me. I’m looking at myself in a mirror the following morning and she and Ron are trying to pry all the juicy information about last night.
Fawkes’ fireball did a number on my hair and eyebrows. "Clever Hermione. I’ll make you a trade. You grow back my eyebrow and patch my hair and I’ll fix those front teeth of yours."
Her eyes open wide and she crosses her arms. "There’s nothing wrong with my teeth!"
"In all the years I’ve known you. You smile. You don’t grin. You never grin."
She turns slightly away, "I asked my parents. They said I should be happy with the way I am. Since they’re dentists, they’ll notice."
I come out of the bathroom and stand in front of her. "Well, since we’re staying here for the holidays, they’re not going to see you until June. People change in almost ten months. Cut your hair short or go blonde and they’ll be so caught up in that that they won’t notice a little alteration to the mouth. If and when they do, just tell them that you’re not allowed to do magic outside of school, so you’ll have to wait until fifth year to change them back. After that, put your foot down and be a rebellious teenager for once in your life. Tell then that you’re keeping them and that’s final! Or tell them that I did it for you for a Christmas present and if you change them back, it’ll make me sad."
She’s flushed with a bit of embarrassment and probably a touch of anger. "You’re impossible."
"Impossible not to adore, maybe. However, I’m also right and you know it."
Ron breaks in and gives her some time to mull it over, "Speaking of using magic to fix things Harry, you’re brilliant at Transfiguration. Think you can do anything with those awful dress robes Mum sent me?"
He and I are still on somewhat shaky ground, but we’re trying to get back into being good friends again. "It’d only be temporary. For what it’s worth, you’re better off torching them and just starting with a base set of school robes and sprucing them up a tad. It’s not too late to order some out of a catalog. I’ll spot you the coin. Call it a Christmas gift."
"You gave me those Omnis before the term began."
"Oh right, early birthday gift then or you learn the charm to Transfigure your robes and I’ll get you something else."
"Think you can teach me the steps to Transfigure it? A bloke buying another bloke a set of robes he’s only going to wear once is just stupid."
This naturally sets off Hermione. "Ron, having a presentable set of dress robes might come in handy down the road. Honestly!"
"Well, in that case, Hermione can buy them for your birthday. While we’re on the topic of this Yule Ball thing next month, I have to have a date for it. Hermione, are you busy?"
She looks surprised, "I’ve already got a date. Sorry Harry."
"Oh, you and Ron going as a couple?"
Ron looks gobsmacked. "Err, this is the first I’ve heard of it too. It’s not me."
Hermione’s mood does a quick one eighty. "For your information, I am a girl and as such, other boys might just find me attractive!"
I can’t resist. "Even with those teeth?"
"Arrgh!"
I haven’t coaxed a frustrated growl out of her since back when I was just plain old Harry. I’d almost forgotten how fun it could be. "Oh relax, I was taking the mickey out of you. Besides, we’ve already decided that we’re going to fix the teeth."
"We most certainly did not!"
"Yes we did. You’re just going to wait a day before telling me to go ahead and do it. This way, we cut out the whole waiting a day part."
Ron laughs, "I’ve been missing you in Divination, mate. Mind if I use that one as everyday evidence of the Inner Eye?"
"Arrgh! That’s it! I’m going to go get the hair restoring potion. I might just add some itching powder too it if you keep this up." She stomps out of the room slamming it shut.
Ron looks over grinning. "Think she’d use the itching powder?"
"Nah, she never tells you what she’s mischievously going to do and then does it. Besides, she doesn’t have itching powder. This is Hermione we’re talking about."
"True, so who do you think she’s taking to this dance thing?"
"I dunno. So, were you going to ask her?"
"Maybe, I hadn’t really given it much thought. I mean, it’s just a dance. Right? It’d kinda be weird, if you know what I mean. Of course, now I have to ask someone. We’ll have to ask someone soon, before all the good ones get taken."
"Ron, it’s never just a dance to a teenaged witch. Trust me on this one."
"Alright then, who are you going to take?"
I look over at the Hat sitting on my bed behind the silencing charms. The Yule Ball is on the twenty-fourth. That’s well before the end of the winter break. "I think I’ll ask Delacour."
"Good luck with that, mate. People are already asking her from what I hear."
------
I spend the next few days scoping out Fleur’s body language to maximize my chances of success. There’s a tension in the air after the bloody aftermath of the assassination attempt. Many people who couldn’t see a Thestral before should have no problem now. Naturally, I had to give an interview to Rita. That went as well as can be predicted. Her headline the next morning was "Who Will Protect Our Champions?" Considering the short leash they have her on, it was pretty brazen of her, but that’s her problem.
My recent problems include the following: a pair of melted cauldrons in my private lab, the last in rather spectacular fashion causing a needless delay, Melinda opting out of any further "tutoring" sessions, and Neville. Since his meeting with Dumbledore he’s been rather skittish around me. Maybe having Dumbledore tell him was a bad idea. My gut says confront him, make him spit it out, and take the bull by the proverbial horns. My head says he’s a shy fourteen year old kid who probably needs time to digest it.
For a change my head wins. I’ll give him a few more days to sort it out.
As for Fleur, like clockwork there is a bloke or sometimes two at every meal who conjures up the courage and heads over to her table. Her "femme fatale" cohorts give icy glares at them, which will occasionally stop one who isn’t fully bedazzled by her, but most walk right up with a single mindedness. They try and strike up a conversation, sometimes getting a few words out of her, but most often they leave after running on at the mouth for a few minutes.
"So, are you really going to try it, Harry?" Ron part asks and part demands.
"In a minute, let her eat some of her meal. So, do you want to come along and see how it's done?"
Ron looks uncomfortable. Then again, he is a fourteen year old boy faced with the prospects of asking a girl out for the first time in his life. "Uh … sure … I guess."
I let Fleur eat uninterrupted for ten minutes, while I dust off that old Potter charm. James Potter's record was impressive, but he did go down in flames on more than one occasion, though getting him to admit that fact was another story altogether. Everything I've learned about her says, I should just simply ask. If she says no, I should just play it off and not stand there looking like an idiot. I've had enough practice doing that in this lifetime.
With the lunch period drawing to a close, the Beauxbaton table begins to empty. It's now or never. "C'mon mate."
Ron follows me and I walk up to behind Fleur and Aimee, looking at the questioning glares of the witches serving as Fleur's first line of defense. Clearly, they aren't certain what to make of Harry James Potter.
Join the club. I'm making it up as I go along. Aimee turns and looks at me with an arched eyebrow and a slight grin on her face.
As Fleur turns around, I discover my error. Ron loudly says, "Would you please go to the ball with me? I'm begging you … please?"
Fleur doesn't even turn. She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sighs. "Since I don't know the sound of your voice, I'm guessing we've never exchanged words. The fact that you're coming over here at the last second means that you've spent all lunch working up the nerve and the best you can do is beg. Go far away and leave me alone."
Poor Ron's flummoxed, trying to figure out what to say next. Aimee nudges Fleur and she finally turns around wiping her lips with a napkin. "Oh, you are William's leetle brother. Did you honestly believe I would go with you?"
His mouth is moving, but no words are coming out. I'd almost forgotten what a cold hearted wench she can be in public. Fleur looks away from Ron and notices me.
She appraises me and I meet her gaze. "Well Harry?"
Good question. My eyes flick over to Ron. He's more than crushed. I make a snap decision zig when I should zag. "Ron probably didn't mean to ask you. He was just overcome by your aura. Besides, that'd really piss off Bill if you did take him up on it. Me, I was trying to show him how to properly ask a pretty witch to this Yule Ball."
Fleur tilts her head in amusement. "And just how does Harry Potter ask a witch to this dance?"
I look up at the ceiling and scratch my chin in thought and switch to French. "Well, I would tell her how much she has impressed me since I first met her. I would mention that she is gracious and supportive to her friends, has an intriguing sense of humor, and does not want for brains, talent, or, of course, beauty."
Fleur smiles, "That is very well said. It's a little early for me to make a decision, but I will certainly keep you in mind."
Reaching for my best "surprised" face, I reply, "Oh, my apologies, Fleur. I didn't mean to give you that impression. I'll certainly try to keep a space in my dance card open for you, but I was actually talking about Aimee. So Miss Beaucourt, do you have an escort to this dance yet, or may I have that honor?"
Aimee's jaw drops as Fleur flushes to match Ron's embarrassment. Several of the witches actually gasp. I would say the scene is priceless, but it is going to cost me fifty galleons as soon as Hat hears about it. I consider it money well spent, if that's what it takes to knock Frosty the snow bitch down a peg or two. Let's see how Fleur handles the unexpected Bludger.
"Do you need an answer right now?" Aimee stammers.
I shake my head. "No, but before the staff duels this coming weekend would be appreciated. Naturally, I don't want you to think that I'll be taking it easy on you. See you around."
I lead the still shocked Ron away with an inner grin threatening to bust out on my face. Sometimes, it's good to be me.
Author Notes:
As promised, it's the end of the month and here's the new chapter I guaranteed. Of course, you folks will be clamoring for another update. Next up, the staff duels, the puzzle room, and that pesky Yule Ball. For those of you wondering what the point standings are as of this moment. Fleur - 19 points, HJ - 15 points, Krum - 10 points, Athena - 7 points, Cedric - 5 points, and Aimee - 4 points.