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Chapter 9- The Triwizard Champion

“Welcome.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore boomed amidst the boisterous chattering of the gathered three schools. It was understandable considering what was about to happen. 

Fleur dismissed the noise around her. They had finished with dinner and were now waiting for the selection of the Champions for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She hid it very well but internally was anticipating her selection with a lot of excitement. 

Fleur was confident of her selection. She was the best student currently at Beaubaxtons. The perfect track record she possessed as an exemplary student only fueled that opinion and rightfully so. No amount of snide remarks from her classmates could change the fact that she was the student most likely to be chosen. There were a few students who were very good and likely would have been the best options if not for her. Madame Maxine shared the same opinion and had voiced it to her in a private conversation a few weeks back. 

This tournament was a matter of great pride and honour to the three schools, especially for Madame Maxine. The woman was a half-giantess and despite her talent, her appointment as the Headmistress was not well received back in France. 

She was an excellent charms mistress, on par with Professor Flitwick from Hogwarts, but that didn’t change the fact that she possessed considerably less influence as compared to the many other options that were in the race to be appointed as the Head of the institution. The traditionalists couldn’t digest that a position of considerable power was bestowed on the woman, but her father disagreed. He still agrees to date that the woman is the best thing that happened to magical France in recent times and she could not agree more. 

The winner of this tournament coming out of Beaubaxtons would be a crowning achievement to the woman who would then be considered among the elite list of men and women who coached the winning students from centuries ago. One can consider this as a battle of individual prestige and fame combined, with the school winning being coined as the institute that is better than the rest. 

Fleur’s ambitions were different. This was a quest for personal glory for the young woman. She cared less for the name the school would gain. It was all the insults that she faced in her life to date that were her motivating factor. 

All her life, she was insulted for being a veela, called cheap expletives for something that she had no hand in changing. ‘How was she to blame for being a Veela?’ That was a question an eleven-year-old Fleur had asked her mother after coming home from Beaubaxtons for her first Christmas break. She had cried into her arms as she recalled all the words that had been used around her. It had not taken long for her to understand that this would be the same all her life. She will always be treated this way and she should learn to deal with it. 

She had. She had learnt the harsh reality when it came to Veela the hard way and she had adopted accordingly. She stopped providing any attention to the rest of her peers after coming back from Christmas and cared for nothing else that the students around her thought. She could not change it and she would not waste her time changing it. 

“I can hear you thinking.” Fleur heard a voice from beside her and felt somebody poke her in the side. Another poke and Fleur huffed in annoyance, glaring at the girl beside her. 

“Will you stop that?” She bit back only to receive an unimpressed stare. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Why do you slide into the land of dreams every few seconds you get?” The brunette questioned, a smile breaking through her facade. “Is there something you are not telling me about?” 

Fleur shook her head. “You always say that. I don’t like to be chattering every other second, Claire.” 

Claire chuckled. “Don’t give me that. What were you thinking?” The blonde sighed in frustration but smiled fondly at the brunette. “The tournament.” She replied and that seemed to be enough for the girl. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. You are the only deserving candidate, Fleur.” The girl assured and Fleur couldn’t stop smiling at her words. 

“Mr Filch…” Dumbledore’s voice cut in breaking their conversation. “The Goblet of you will, please.” The caretaker of Hogwarts shuffled in, carrying the Goblet and placed it in the centre of the room. 

“The moment we have all been waiting for.” Dumbledore clapped as he stepped away from the teacher’s table and approached the Goblet. 

“Your names have been taken into consideration and the Goblet will be deciding your names. The chosen champions are requested to step up and go through the Head table towards the antechamber behind. I wish the aspirants good luck.” 

A bout of whispers began circulating the Great Hall and the Headmaster continued observing the Goblet in silence. 

“What do you think about Hogwarts and Durmstrang?” Claire whispered as Fleur allowed her eyes to roam around the Hall. 

“I feel that Viktor Krum would be a good shout,” She heard Claire tell her as her gaze landed on the Quidditch superstar. “But apart from that, I have no idea who might be chosen from Hogwarts.” 

“The Goblet is ready to make its decision.” Dumbledore cut in breaking the conversations around the hall. Right on cue, the blue flames of the Goblet turn red and spat out a piece of parchment. The aged man caught the parchment out of the air and read the name out loud. 

“The champion of Beaubaxtons Academy…” Fleur held her breath as the man paused for dramatic effect. “Fleur Delacour.” 

She fought the urge to scream in joy but maintained her composure. This was an expected outcome, but that didn’t put a damp on her happiness as she heard a smatter of applause around her. 

“Told you.” Claire cut in amidst the applause, as she hugged her friend laughing as Fleur returned the hug. “There was nobody else that could come close.” 

“Ms Delacour, if you please.” Dumbledore requested waving towards the chamber the champions had to go to. Fleur stood up and walked up to the Headmaster, her head held high, not paying attention to the sour opinions of her peers who were not pleased by her selection. 

Today, she could not bring herself to care. She approached the Hogwarts Headmaster who placed the parchment into her hand and pointed to the Head table. 

“To the chamber, Ms Delcaour. Good luck.” The girl bowed slightly, thanking the man and complied with his instructions. She caught the eye of her Headmistress who smiled in pride as she approached the table. 

“Excellent, my dear.” The woman smiled which Fleur returned. “Come on. Off you go.” She nodded, entering the antechamber wondering who the other two champions would be. It did not matter in the end. She was here to fight and to win and that is what she would do. 

BREAK

Dumbledore allowed the noise to die down and watched as the Goblet glowed red and spit out another parchment. 

“The champion of the Durmstrang Institute is…” Another pause and then he announced the name barely surprised by the choice. 

“Viktor Krum.” A round of heavier applause compared to the previous candidate rang through the Great Hall at the declaration. It was expected. The young man was a very popular Quidditch Star and an icon in the wizarding world. 

His predictions were right. He had guessed the chamions of Durmstrang and Beaubaxtons and he had not been disappointed. Fleur Delacour was an exemplary witch and a very powerful one at that. Judging by the praises the Beaubaxtons Headmistress heaped on the young woman, it was clear who she was rooting for. 

Viktor Krum was a name he was surprised by. He did not think the boy was any less of a powerful wizard, but he was surprised that he wished to participate in this tournament. He was very popular in the wizarding world and he did not need any more fame or glory. At least that was what he assumed. He had no idea how the younger minds work these days. 

“Mr Krum. Would you please follow Ms Delacour?” The younger man nodded and stepped up, receiving his parchment and followed in the path of Ms Delacour. 

This moment was what he was waiting for. He did not need speculation. If he did enter into the competition, there was only one student who was the most eligible choice in Hogwarts. Harry Potter. 

Yes, Hogwarts held a horde of talented students who were a good shout. Cedric Diggory, the current Head Boy and a model student. Angelina Johnson, and Cassius Warrington from Slytherin, though the boy was unlikely to be selected. Despite everything none of them were remotely eligible for anything like the Tri-Wizard tournament over young Harry. 

Everything he has faced for the past three years alone would make him head and shoulders above the rest of the school. The Goblet of Fire was used in the process of the selection of champions for a reason. The object was partially sentient. The Goblet of Fire was a magical artefact crafted a millennia ago and is one of the purest forms of magic in existence. 

It is considerably impossible to corrupt the goblet and the functioning of the Goblet is used for making choices that are impossible to call out. The name decided by the Goblet is absolute. None would question its authenticity. If the Goblet picked Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum, they would be the best their respective school has provided. 

The Goblet is magically designed to learn everything about the candidate. His or her life till date and their qualities, their strengths, weaknesses and even the darkest secrets they hold close to themselves. Nothing can escape the Goblet and the fitting participant is chosen as a Champion. 

Facing a Dark Lord at the age of eleven, jumping down an unknown tunnel knowing he might never come back because he was about to face a basilisk to save his friend's sister, driving away a hundred dementors by casting a patronus charm that most fully grown wizards fail to cast and wandless magic. 

He could go all day about the young man, but what stood out the most and appealed to Dumbledore was his character. The boy was humble, kind, headstrong and determined. He was the kind of person who would stand up and fight for innocents, a true mark of a leader. 

There was no chance that he would have missed out on being chosen as a champion for the tournament. He caught the parchment that spat out the final name. He smiled despite his thoughts. 

“The champion of Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory.” The Hufflepuff table burst into cheers as the announcement was heard and the rest of the tables followed suit applauding for their chosen champion. 

Dumbledore beamed proudly at the young man who approached him for the parchment. He gave him the parchment and shook his hand. “Congratulations, Mr Diggory.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” He walked past the man and towards the chamber where the other two champions were present at Dumbledore’s prompt. 

The applause died down as the young man disappeared behind the head table and Dumbledore clapped his hands. 

“There we have it…” He was about to wish the students and dismiss them when the Goblet blazed a darker shade of red and spat another parchment taking him by surprise. The parchment fell to the floor and Dumbledore stared at the piece of paper in confusion. 

The entire hall had observed the incident and was silently observing the Headmaster who was deep in thought. Whispers broke around the hall as speculations began circulating amongst the students. 

Dumbledore drowned out the noises around him. A feeling of dread coiled around his stomach as he picked the parchment from the floor. 

‘This does not feel right.’ He thought as he read the parchment, the frown on his face increasing considerably. 

He felt his stomach drop as he read the name on the parchment. He had sincerely hoped that something like this wouldn’t transpire. He slid his wand into his hand and with a wave, conjured a patronus. The students watched in wonder as a silver phoenix materialized and took flight out of the Great Hall. 

“Is anything the matter, Albus?” Igor Karkaroff questioned, his tone one of impatience as he regarded the man. 

“What happened with the Goblet? What was that other parchment?” 

Dumbledore cleared his throat and faced his staff and guests. He did not know how to answer their question without causing an outrage. 

“There has been a problem.” He said and glanced at the parchment once again. “We have another participant. A fourth champion.” 

Stunned silence met the man’s words until it was broken by an irate Karkaroff who seemed irritated. 

“What nonsense is this? What are you talking about Dumbledore?” The man barked, his face red in anger. 

“Exactly what I meant.” The man didn’t break his demeanour. “We have a fourth champion.” 

“Surely not possible, is it not?” Madame Maxine questioned. “This competition is made for three participants. It is considered the Tri-Wizard Tournament for a reason.” 

“I would like to think so, but clearly, we were wrong.” He waved the piece of parchment in his hand. 

“Who is it, Albus?” McGonagall questioned cutting in, not wanting to let this escalate anymore. 

“Harry Potter.” A cacophony of noises began to circulate the Great Hall. The Gryffindors were ecstatic about the selection of one of their own, but the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins were not pleased. Cries of a cheat, bastard and the like continue to be thrown out loud. 

The Beaubaxtons and Durmstrang institutes were voicing their protests for different reasons. They were angry that Hogwarts was about to get two chances at the competition while they could not. 

“Silence.” Dumbledore boomed his visage furious at the slanders being thrown at Harry Potter. 

“I would request the students to get moving to your common rooms. We will deal with the issue at hand. You need not worry yourself.” His tone left no argument and many observed Igor Karkaroff step back slightly at the man’s statement which curbed the rest of the school. 

“Prefects.” Dumbledore nodded, indicating the students to start moving when Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall from the front door. That compelled the students who were about to make their way back to their common rooms to start to shout. 

Harry was taken aback by the sudden onslaught of curses directed towards him. He was about to leave from Grimmauld when a silver phoenix patronus flew into their sitting room. It was the voice of Dumbledore who asked him to get back to Hogwarts immediately stating an emergency. 

He immediately took off, not wanting to disobey the man who was kind enough to grant his leave as soon as asked for one. He had travelled to the Leaky Cauldron first and then arrived back at Hogwarts through McGonagall’s office. 

He did find it odd that the woman was not present in her office considering dinner should be finished by now. He realized belatedly that today was the selection of champions for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. 

He began moving towards the Great Hall thinking of sneaking into his house table and making sure he stayed off notice, but as soon as he entered the Great Hall, he was spotted by the students in the hall. 

He would have just walked away to his table, but he was surprised when the students in the hall began cursing at him. He didn’t know what was going on, but what confused him more was the expletives being thrown his way. 

“Silence!” He heard Dumbledore boom from the Head table. The man now looked downright furious as he regarded the students. “I will not have this nonsense in my school. Be warned, the next person to throw insults will find themselves in less than pleasant jobs around the school for the rest of the year.” 

“Mr Potter?” He called out after the Hall managed to quieten down following the threat of detention. “Would you please join me up here?” 

Harry complied, his frown not leaving his face as he approached the Head Table. 

“Is something wrong, Professor?” He questioned and the man placed a piece of parchment on his hand. Harry shook his head in confusion and read the contents of the parchment. 

“My name?” He looked back up at the aged man who held a grim expression on his face. 

“I don’t understand sir.” They were interrupted by Snape who scoffed in disbelief. 

“You expect us to believe you? Enough of this nonsense, Potter.” Harry glared at the man who glared back, his expression one of hate.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Professor.” Harry cut in. “I would like to know what you are referring to. I have no idea what this is all about.” He waved the piece of parchment around, ignoring Snape completely, not wanting to engage in an argument with the man. 

“Your name,” Dumbledore cut in, sending a look towards the irate Potions Professor. “Was obtained from the Goblet as the fourth champion for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.” 

“But I didn’t enter.” Harry cut in immediately. He did not. He had specifically chosen to take no part in anything related to the tournament, let alone enter it. He had no intention to compete and had forgotten about the competition till he returned from Grimmauld. 

“I had no intention of participating, sir. I stayed away from the Goblet. I did not enter my name.” 

Dumbledore scrutinized the boy for a few moments before nodding slightly. He turned around to face the others beside him. 

“What are we to do, Barty? Are there any complications?” He questioned a well-dressed man standing beside him. 

Barty Crouch Sr. He had heard about him from Sirius. This was the first time he had seen him. The man was eerily resembling Adolf Hitler and Harry fought the urge to point it out. Now was no time to joke. 

“What complications? There is nothing to discuss here. He must participate.” The man dismissed casually. 

“He is one of the champions right now. He will be considered like the rest of them. A fourth champion is unheard of, but there is a first time for everything, I guess.” 

Harry could not believe how casually the man was taking this. He was about to be thrust into a tournament which was banned before due to the high death rates. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Harry cut in, his temper fraying at the casual dismissal of such a deep issue. 

“I am telling you that I did not enter. It means that somebody else did it. Are you not considering the fact that somebody else entered a completely different person into this death fest?” 

The man laughed. “You can stop with that, Potter. It is done. You are now competing as well.” 

“For fuck sake, I didn’t enter!” Harry snapped at the man, having enough of his dismissal and carelessness. 

“I could care less about this stupid tournament. I want to live. Not throw my life away. I have no interest in participating in this tournament, thank you very much.” 

“Mr Potter.” Dumbledore cut in before Crouch could reply. “I am sorry, but Barty was seeing out the possibilities of this situation. There has never been a similar occurrence involving the Goblet and the decision of the artefact is absolute. The Goblet makes no mistake and if you are chosen, you are worthy.” 

“The Goblet, Mr Potter is never wrong. You can add a name as a prank, but it is of no consequence. The Goblet decides who should be selected and only the most deserving candidates who can compete are the ones that are chosen.” 

“That still does not tell us who put his name in, Albus.” Moody cut in, limping forward. His magical eye seemed to be darting all over the place as he approached Harry. 

“We should work with the possibility that somebody out here has entered Potter’s name expecting him to die.” His words were met with stunned silence. 

“This is ridiculous.” Snape scoffed but was silenced by Moody’s stare. 

“Is it, Snape? Do you believe so?” When the man nodded, Moody laughed. 

“Trust me. This is not ridiculous. This might be your former master at play or is it current?” 

“Alastor!” Dumbledore warned as he observed Snape about to retort, but the man ignored him and instead turned towards the Headmaster of Durmstrang. 

“What about you, Karkaroff? Trying to get back into your Master’s good books? He would not be pleased with what you managed to pull at the end of the war.” 

“Alastor!” Dumbledore snapped losing his patience. “Now is not the time.” 

He faced Harry with a tired sigh. “Mr Potter. Please move into the antechamber. We will speak in a moment.” He wanted to protest, but in the end, decided not to. He would not make it difficult for the man. 

He was about to walk away, but paused in his stride and turned back to face his peers. They were not happy with this development and neither was he, but both for different reasons.

“I don’t know what happened here.” He began making sure he was being heard. “I don’t know who was responsible for this, but I will find out what happened. If this was your idea of a joke, know that I would not be laughing the day I find out who did this.” He paused for a few seconds hoping that the message sunk in and with a final glance around the Hall, he walked away towards the antechamber. 

BREAK—-

Harry made his way down the stairs of the antechamber, satisfied with his actions back in the Great Hall. He would not tolerate such actions any more. Moody was right. This was done to cause problems for him. 

He was sure that Voldemort was behind this, but who carried out the job, he didn’t know. There were infinite possibilities as to how his name ended up in the Goblet. Whoever did this knew that he would have no option other than to participate. 

He arrived at the chamber where the other champions had taken separate seats and none of them seemed to be in a mood for communication judging by the silence. 

“What is it?” It was the blonde, Fleur Delacour who questioned as soon as the occupants saw him coming. 

“Do they need us back? What is taking so long?” She continued impatiently but was cut off from further conversation as the Professors entered the room in his wake. 

“Will the four of you please take a seat?” Dumbledore motioned for the students to sit down and did the same for his colleagues. When everybody was seated, he continued.

“I would like to apologize for the delay, but there was a complication that needed to be dealt with first. It seems that Mr Potter here has been chosen as the fourth champion.” 

The three students were surprised by the revelation, but none of them spoke up, waiting for Dumbledore to continue. 

“He will be the fourth champion. A very shocking outcome, I must say, The Tri-Wizard Tournament never had four champions. A first-time occurrence.” He chuckled.  

Harry let his eyes roam around the room trying to garner the reactions of the others. McGonagall was worried and so was Flitwick, but Professor Sprout did not seem happy with the situation. Snape looked like he would be anywhere but here and Karkaroff was not trying to hide his displeasure. Moody was being Moody. That was nothing new. 

Diggory, Krum and Delacour threw glances at him occasionally, none being happy he imagined. They had to fight with another competitor and had he entered the Tournament willingly, he would have been less than pleased with this situation. 

“Now, Barty will be providing further information about the tasks. Barty, if you would?” 

The Hitler-esque man nodded and coughed lightly. “The first task would be taking place on the 24th of November. You will know what the task is on the day. Apart from that, there would be a mandatory wand-weighing ceremony taking place not long before the task. You are obligated to be present and we will send word.” 

“The rest of the tasks will be revealed as we go forward. Good luck with the tasks.” The man wished as he stepped back. 

“Thank you, Barty.” The Headmaster smiled and faced the students. “I imagine your common rooms are waiting for your arrival. Let me not keep you waiting. Have a good night.” 

“Harry, could you wait for a moment?” Dumbledore requested as the rest of them piled out of the room. 

“Are you sure you did not enter your name nor ask any of your friends to do it?” He held up his hand as Harry was about to retort. 

“This is not an interrogation, my boy. I want to know every possibility from your end before I look elsewhere.” 

Harry sighed in frustration, but he could understand where the man was coming from. This was suddenly turning into a yearly tradition by now. Every year, something was happening to him that put his life in direct danger. 

“I didn’t, sir.” He replied with finality and the man sagged slightly. 

“This complicates things, Harry. What Alastor suggested now has merit. It is a ploy.” The man seemed deep in thought but then shook his head. 

“Watch your step. You must think carefully before making a decision. See this as a preparation if you need to. This tournament is a blessing in truth for you.” 

“Now is the time to evaluate your progress. There cannot be a better stage to test your abilities. The Tri-Wizard Tournament was banned for a reason. The tasks will not be easy.” 

When Harry nodded, Dumbledore chuckled. “Well, I was surprised tonight, but I will not be when you win this tournament.” 

Harry gave the man an awkward smile. “Your confidence is well appreciated, Professor, but don’t you think you are placing too much faith in me?” 

The man smiled. “No. Trust me on this. You underestimate yourself, my boy. Your other competitors have no idea about things bigger than the school. This is just a tournament of prestige for them. They would treat it as such. But you, have a different purpose in life, my boy. Whatever you have faced till now and what you have been destined to face in the future is more than anything they can imagine.” 

“Being personally acquainted with what you have faced the past three years, I would bet my vault in Gringotts that you will win the competition. After all, a teacher always knows his students.” He winked mischievously as the two shared a laugh. 

“Go on then,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “Your friends in Gryffindor would be waiting for your arrival. It is, despite everything, the time to celebrate.” 

Dumbledore waited for the young man to leave the room and frowned. This should not be happening. He made his way out of the chamber and towards the Great Hall where the Goblet continued to burn gently. 

He removed his wand and stared at the Goblet for a few moments before pointing towards the artefact and waving it in a circular pattern. The Goblet flickered momentarily before going off. Dumbledore placed his plam inside the Goblet. It was cold inside despite the presence of a magical fire. 

He closed his eyes and reached out his senses, trying to feel the magic imbued in the Goblet. He couldn’t help but shudder slightly as he picked up on the magic of the Goblet. Ancient magic was always a fascinating concept for him. He would have loved to study items like the Goblet of Fire, the Sword of Gryffindor, and the Diadem of Ravenclaw, but no matter how big a name he is in the Wizarding World or how much he achieved, some things are beyond his reach. 

Despite all his efforts, the only artefact he managed to revive was the Sword of Gryffindor majorly because of the efforts of young Harry. The sword disappeared though and has not been seen since. The Diadem has been lost for centuries and the Goblet of Fire is secured and possessed by the Department of Mysteries. 

Something felt off. He felt it immediately as he cast a few diagnostic spells. It was very small and he would have most likely missed it if not for the years of experience he held. He had learnt to see things for more than their face value. 

The magic in the Goblet had not been tampered with, but there seemed to be a lingering effect of altering magic. 

“Confundus.” He muttered instantly. He was surprised. That must be a very powerful confundus charm to confuse a powerful artefact like the Goblet. It is not easy to maintain a confundus for very long. Very few individuals can manage something like this. 

There was no trace of a magical signature that he could pick up on. Alastor’s theory had merit. But how? There was no chance that somebody had entered Hogwarts. Is somebody in the Ministry responsible for it? Somebody in the Department of Mysteries might be a genuine possibility. 

He picked up the cup and began moving towards his office. He had a letter to write. He hoped the man would meet him immediately. 

BREAK—

Harry arrived at the Gryffindor common room to a round of cheers and applause. People began gathering around, passing on their congratulations, patting him on the back and asking him to win it. 

He made it to his dorm with great difficulty despite the insistence of the twins that it was time for a party. He did not need that right now. He changed and dropped into his bed, pulling the covers over. With a wave of his hand, the screens around his bed closed and he sighed. 

“Fuck!” He cursed as he sighed tiredly. 

“All this drama would be the death of me someday.” He muttered as he stretched in his bed. 

Moody’s words came to the forefront of his mind. He did not doubt that it was Voldemort behind this, but how remained the question. Whoever it was, had put him directly in danger. The question remained if he should be watching over his back the entire year. If it was a student, which was highly unlikely, it was very difficult to find out who was responsible. 

He didn’t know what the tournament entailed, but Dumbledore was right. It was time to test himself in these tasks. 

BREAK—----

“I hope your task was successful?” Lucius Malfoy nodded obediently as he stood in front of the Dark Lord who was being fed a small helping of his meal by Peter Pettigrew. 

“Yes, my lord. I received a letter from Draco and Potter was chosen as the fourth champion.” 

Lord Voldemort hummed in satisfaction. He felt useless and could not wait to regain his body once again. He was itching to feel the thrum of his wand as he held it in his palm. Being stuck in the body of a foetus and pumped with nutritional potions was not something he imagined he would ever be doing. 

‘Damn you, Potter!’ He thought as he dismissed Pettigrew. He watched the rat scurry away and he sneered in disgust. The man was a coward and an idiot. The only reason he tolerated Pettigrew is due to his animagus form. A rat would be the perfect form for all odd jobs that needed secrecy. 

He would not have bothered with him, had the man not shown up at his own accord. He was surprised by the man and it took him several months to trust him. He could not believe it when he led him to the Potters and handed over the family into his hands. 

He did feel bad for Potter and his mudblood. They trusted a man to keep them safe and he handed them over to the enemy as soon as he could, not that he cared about that. His job was made easier than he had planned. 

Right now, he needed Pettigrew and Pettigrew needed his security as well. The moment he steps out into the open, he will be chucked into Azkaban before he can say hello. He would tolerate his presence for now. The day he becomes a liability, he will be disposed of. 

“Keep an eye out on him, Lucius. He is a fool, but I would rather he be kept safe than lose him for nothing. He still has his uses.” 

“Of course, my lord.” 

“What of your wife?” Lucius’s face turned sour at the mention of his estranged wife. He could not care less, but he was curious. The woman could have been put to some use if she had been present. Too bad she was a far cry from Bellatrix who had been loyal to the boot. 

“I have no news about her, my lord. The damn woman seems to have disappeared into thin air. Good riddance I have to say. She was of no use to me all the while we were married.” 

The Dark Lord hummed casually. “Do as you see fit, Lucius. Keep an eye out for what happens at Hogwarts and remind Barty to make sure he is careful.” 

Malfoy recognized the dismissal and hastily made his way out of the room. He couldn’t help but smirk. His men were either very loyal or good actors. Either way, they knew when to keep their mouth shut. It won’t be long now. He would have returned to his powerful form in a year at most. 

It won’t be long before his plans are set in motion and very soon, he will complete what he set out to do. Only this time, there would be no Harry Potter stopping him by fluke. 

BREAK—----

Respected Heir Potter, 

We at Gringotts would like to schedule a meeting with you at the earliest to discuss some developments. We would like it if you arrive at the bank at 11 AM sharp. You will be brought into my office from the front desk. 

Ripjaw

The letter was short and to the point. He woke up after a long day and the first thing he saw was a letter addressed to him from Gringotts. It must be something important if they had summoned him immediately. He did hesitate. He didn’t know how he would go to Dumbledore and ask for another leave, but he could not ignore it. It seemed to be an official family matter judging by the fact that he was addressed as Heir Potter. 

He placed the letter in his pocket and exited his dorm wanting to go and meet the Headmaster and ask his permission to leave for a few hours. He expected to meet none but ran into Ginny on the way to the exit and he smiled at the girl. 

“Hello, Ginny.” The youngest Weasley was taken by surprise when he announced himself but recovered quickly and glared back at him. 

“You scared me you prat.” She hissed as she slapped him on his arm. “What were you thinking?” 

Harry smirked. “Something like, ‘make her jump, make her jump, make her jump’.” 

“Well, you did succeed in it.” She bit back smiling a moment later. “Your smile is infectious. How can I stay mad at that?”  

“Well, good thing I would say,” Harry replied. “I can charm my way out of trouble when nothing else works.” 

“What are you doing so early in the morning?” He questioned. “I never expected you to be an early bird.” 

Ginny held out the book she held in her hand. “Charms homework.” 

She frowned as she placed her book down. “What are you doing up so early in the morning?” 

“I have a meeting I should be getting into.” He handed the letter over to the girl. 

“You should not ignore it.” She said as she returned his letter. “It seems to be a family matter and Gringotts does not like to be kept waiting. Go on. We will talk later.” 

His next stop was at the Headmaster’s office and he was about to knock on the door when he heard the man call him inside. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Dumbledore and his dramatics. 

“What can I do for you, Harry?” The Headmaster questioned, seated behind his table, curiously. 

“This came to me in the morning, Professor.” He placed the letter on the table for the man who read the contents of the letter before nodding. 

“You must go, my boy. Gringotts does not like being ignored. It seems to be something related to your family. You must go.” Harry nodded thankfully, taking the letter back from the man. 

“I should have let you know, but you are exempt from your classes for making preparations for the tournament. You can attend classes as you do, but for the following year, you can skip classes without asking for permission. Perks of being a champion.” 

‘That was fantastic.’ He thought nodding at the man. 

“You can use the floo. ‘Gringotts Front Lobby’ would take you to the location mentioned by your account manager.” 

Harry complied and made his way to the floo in the man’s office and departed to the bank. He was curious about the imminent meeting. He had never met the Potter account manager the last time he was here. He had come here with Sirius and he had met with the Black family account manager. 

“Mr Potter?” He was greeted by a goblin as soon as he arrived at the front desk of Gringotts. The bank didn’t seem to be flooded with customers like usual. It was still early in the morning and there was less activity to his immense relief. He nodded as he handed over his letter to the Goblin who waved it away. 

“There is no need for that. Let me take you to your account manager. If you would follow me?” He motioned for the young man to follow. 

They arrived at a large double door with two goblin guards standing guard in the front. The goblin who accompanied Harry paused at the door. 

“Through the door, Mr Potter.” Harry thanked the Goblin and made his way forward as the doors sprang open to be greeted by an aged goblin sitting over a desk, a quill in his hand going over some parchments. 

“Come in, Mr Potter.” The goblin didn’t look up but pointed to the seat in front of the large desk he was using. Harry complied, looking around the chamber as he did so. 

“It’s been ages since a Potter stepped foot into this office.” Ripjaw cut in, distracting Harry from the symbol. He looked away and noticed the goblin properly for the first time since he arrived. 

This goblin was as old as the Black family manager. He was watching him with curiosity, his hands folded in a manner eerily resembling his headmaster. Harry took a seat in front of the aged goblin who nodded his approval. 

“Your Grandfather and I shared an excellent relationship till his unfortunate passing. That was the last time somebody from the family came into this office for a purpose. Your father, passed away before he could carry out his duties as the Lord of the Family.” 

“The Potter accounts have been sitting idle for almost two decades now. Shame what happened to the lot.” The goblin bowed slightly which Harry reciprocated. 

“A good man, your Grandfather. Shrewd business mind, a political tongue to match it and a fearsome warrior with a wand. It was always a pleasure conducting business with the man.” 

The goblin stared at Harry who was listening to him with great attention. Nodding in satisfaction, the old goblin continued. 

“Your father must have seen to the accounts after the death of Charlus, but that did not happen unfortunately. I have asked for you to let you know that you must be stepping up to take responsibility.” 

“We at Gringotts cultivate business relationships with the Lord of the family as we are assigned to look after your wealth. The Lord of the family looks into financial matters until they can and passes it on to the next person who would take up the responsibility of the finances who in most cases are the Heirs of the family.” 

“But in your case, where the Lord of the family is deceased, you, meaning the Heir must assume all his duties in the Wizarding World as soon as they turn seventeen.” 

Harry frowned in confusion. “Pardon me, Manager Ripjaw. But I don’t understand why I am brought here if I am still not eligible to manage my accounts.” 

“The title of the Tri-Wizard champion.” At Harry’s confusion, the goblin continued. “The Goblet of Fire is a magical artefact of the ancient. A statement of absolution. There are several factors the Goblet considers before it makes a decision. One of them is magical maturity.” 

“Magical maturity is considered as the day a wizard or witch turns seventeen. But that is a wrong assumption. Magical maturity is a judgement of magical ability. The Goblet of Fire is the purest form of magical presence in the whole wide world. When the Goblet makes a choice, it is considered as the only proper answer to the challenge posed.” 

“The Goblet makes powerful decisions and one such decision was choosing a fourteen-year-old into a tournament made for death, for glory and prestige told us everything there is that needed to be. So, we wrote to you immediately. We believe that you are now fully qualified to take over your family reigns.” 

“You can of course, not agree with it. But you would have to take up the job once you turn seventeen. Why delay the inevitable? The decision, of course, is entirely up to you.” 

Harry didn’t know what else he could say. If he was deemed eligible, he would of course take up his responsibility.

At Harry’s nod, the Goblin grinned. “A wise decision, Mr Potter. Worry not. The state of your coffers has been excellent and with you, I would wager it would continue to be the same. Your growth is my growth at Gringotts.” 

The Goblin shuffled through some parchments and nodded satisfactorily. Harry observed the Goblin who went about scribbling on a few parchments before looking back at him. 

“Come.” He said as he got up. “You should see your vault.” 

Harry was led deeper into the bank and they arrived at the cart waiting to take them to his vault. He could not say that he was a fan of this form of travelling. He felt sick as they arrived at his destination. He hated it back in his first year and he hated the same today as well. 

This vault was not the same as the one he had visited in his first year. This vault seemed bigger from the outside compared to the other one. 

“The Potter family holds two vaults in the bank. This is the family vault. There is another vault that is reserved for the children of the family that can be accessed till the child turns seventeen.” 

They approached the massive doors of the vault and Ripjaw stepped to the side waving for Harry to step forward. 

“You need to place your palm on the door, Mr Potter. The doors would recognize the magic of the Potters and allow access.” 

Harry complied, walking closer to the doors, and placing his right palm on the door. He expected a similar process with the Black family Grimoire, but he didn’t feel a prick. The region where he placed his palm glowed momentarily and the doors clicked open. 

Harry didn’t know what to expect. He knew there would be a lot of gold and he was right. The vault was filled with galleons, sickles and knuts laid out in heaps and heaps. That was not all. There was a lot of jewellery not to mention huge wooden cases that held dozens of rare books some of which he was pretty sure he had seen in the deeper sections of the library at Grimmauld Place. 

He could make out several trunks arranged neatly to the side, which he guessed contained something valuable. He heard Ripjaw walk up to him. 

“The last time this vault was open was a week before your Grandfather died. Your father should have come and visited, but within a span of a few months, he passed away. We wrote to him, requesting his presence, but he was not in the state to visit. Those were truly dark times, Mr Potter.” 

Harry was about to ask the man to return when one trunk in particular caught his eye. He squinted, trying to make out a name on the trunk and walked up to it, hoping to get a better view. 

“A very valuable piece of painting. Your Grandfather commissioned that personally and spent somewhere around six thousand galleons to get them made.” 

Harry could not help but baulk at the amount. Six thousand galleons was no small amount even to the purebloods. Six thousand galleons were what most families earned in an entire year apart from the rich purebloods and they would hesitate to shell out six thousand galleons on a painting, but he could understand why. 

His Grandfather and Grandmother occupied the picture, likely taken when they were no more than twenty-five, probably when they were still at war. His Grandfather stood next to the woman, his arm around her shoulders while she stood with her back close to him. She held a beautiful black owl in her hand and seemed to be brushing its feathers with a delicate smile on her face while Charlus had eyes only for the woman, a mixture of pure joy and love on his face. 

Contrary to the magical paintings, this picture was made completely out of hand. A muggle artist probably. The art was fantastic. Every small feature of their face, a hair out of space, the scar on Charlus’s arm was included, the artist not having missed any detail. 

Harry picked up the painting and could not help but smile. The picture was stagnant and yet, it conveyed everything he needed about his Grandparents. 

“Can I take this with me?” He questioned the aged Goblin, hoping he could. 

“You need not ask me, Mr Potter. This vault is your personal property. You can do so as you wish.” 

Harry nodded, his eyes not leaving the painting. He did not know how he was supposed to carry it, back with him, but he needed this painting. 

The Goblin seemed to judge what he was thinking about and suggested he place it into a bottomless bag and carry it back. He assured Harry that the painting wouldn’t see any damage inside the bag. Harry nodded thankfully as he accepted the small bag and with the help of the goblin, proceeded to place the painting inside when he felt something behind the painting. 

Harry turned the painting to the other side and there was a small envelope stuck to the back of it. He frowned in confusion and gently pried the letter away from the back of the frame. 

To my Grandson

His breath hitched in his throat as he read those words. It was a letter addressed to him by his Grandfather or Grandmother. He ignored the urge to tear the envelope open and placed the letter into his pocket, hoping to read the letter at a later time. 

The two arrived back to where they started and Harry bowed his greeting to the aged Goblin as he prepared to take his leave. He needed to get back to Hogwarts. 

“Thank you, Manager Ripjaw. I look forward to our future endeavours.” 

The goblin gave him a smile that could be considered as scary. “Same here, young man. Same here.” 

TBC—------