Chapter Text
Harry sat there, aware that every single head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. Since the hall had broken into whispers the second Marvin’s name was called, the sudden silence was pressing. Harry was stunned.
There was no applause, only the growing buzz of whispers starting up again.
Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.
Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, openmouthed.
“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said blankly. “You know I didn’t”
Hermione just stared blankly back.
“Right, of course. Just like how Marvin told us he wasn’t interested” Ron said, an odd smile on his face.
“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore called, “Harry! Up here, if you please!”
“Go on, join them,” Ron said
Harry stood and walked, dragging his feet as much as he dared before eventually arriving in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all his teachers, his peers, and his friends upon him.
“Well… through the door, Harry,” said Dumbledore. He wasn’t smiling, and the twinkle in his eye was all but out.
Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him. In the room was Fleur Delacour, Victor Krum, and Marvin. Krum was standing stoically silent, but Harry could see the stress in the lines of his face. Fleur was sitting, absently playing with her hands. They both looked up when Harry entered. However, it was Marvin that occupied Harry’s attention, so much so that he hadn’t realized Fleur was speaking to him.
“What is it?” She said. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”
She thought he had come to deliver a message. Harry didn’t even know how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the three champions. It struck him how very tall all of them were. Harry’s attention was, once again, pulled to Marvin. While the other two champions were solemn, and (if one knew how to look for it) anxious for the tournament, Marvin almost seemed… impatient?
The sound of footsteps behind him startled him out of his reverie, and Harry turned to see Ludo Bagman enter the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.
“Extraordinary!” He muttered, squeezing Harry’s arm. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… lady,” he added, addressing the other three, “may I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth Triwizard champion?”
— — —
As soon as Harry had entered the room, Merlin could tell something was wrong. He had been antsy, an itch had been scratching at him, telling him that there was something more happening, but he could not do anything until everyone had left for bed.
Now, with Harry - somehow - the fourth Triwizard champion, Merlin began to think there was even more afoot than he had originally thought.
The other two were upset, naturally, but Merlin couldn’t find it in himself to care. There would only be one champion from Hogwarts who would be a challenge to them, as Merlin had no intention of winning whatsoever. Hell, he was already trying to come up with a way to deal with the dragons without giving anything away. Another part of him was wondering how Harry had managed to get pass the age line, when Dumbledore’s voice pierced through his thoughts.
“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” Dumbledore asked calmly.
“No,” said Harry. He glanced around the room, and Merlin gave him - what he hoped - was an encouraging nod. It appeared to work, as Harry steeled himself for the next question.
“Did you ask an older student to put your name into the Goblet of Fire for you?”
“No”
“Ah, but of course ‘e is lying!” Madame Maxime cried. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.
“Headmaster, you know as well as I do there is a way to tell if-“
“I will not force my students to take potions against their will, Severus. We have discussed this,” Dumbledore said, and for the first time, Merlin noted, he looked upset.
“He could not have crossed the Age Line,” said Professor McGonagall sharply. “I am sure we can all agree on that-”
“Dumbly-dorr must ‘ave made a mistake wiz ze age line,” said Madame Maxime, shrugging
“It is possible, of course,” said Dumbledore politely.
“Dumbledore, you know damn well you did not make with the Age line, said Professor McGonagall angrily. “Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I’m sure that should be good enough for everybody else,” She finished, with a poorly hidden glare at Snape.
“Mr. Crouch… Mr. Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice oily, “you are our objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half-darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”
Merlin frowned. “But surely, Mr. Crouch, you must acknowledge that this is not the norm?”
“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament,” Mr. Crouch repeated.
Karkaroff was staring at Mr. Crouch with an odd expression on his face. He quickly corrected it into his usual sneer, so quickly, in fact, that Merlin might have been the only one that noticed. “Is there something wrong with him?” Karkaroff asked, gesturing at Mr. Crouch.
“Oh, Barty’s just a stick-in-the-mud,” said Mr. Bagman
“Headmaster, unless anybody wishes to question the other champions, or question Potter further, would it not be prudent to send them to bed?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“I quite agree, Minerva. Harry, Marvin-” Dumbledore paused, “Actually, there is one matter that must be discussed,”
Here we go, Merlin thought
“Mr. Emries, I was under the impression that you were here only to observe and to learn,” Dumbledore said, “is that correct?”
Merlin let out an exhale, but before he could answer:
“Emries? Emries?” Fleur asked, “Are you related to a man called Emrys? I am part Veela, and my grandmother spoke of Emrys as the savior of magic, and all magic’s disciples? She says he walks in disguise, waiting to be called upon”
Merlin hoped his surprise was not shown on his face. How do I keep getting myself into these situations? “It… it is an old family story that we are descendants from a man named Emrys. Personally, I don’t put much stock in old family stories, as the line between religious stories and family history have become very blurred among my people”
“Your people?” Professor Snape questioned, “Who are you, Mr Emries?”
“Er…”
Idiot! Idiot! Say something now, he’s only getting more suspicious
“I am afraid that Mr. Emries is here at my discretion,” Dumbledore interjected calmly, “Let us send the students to bed and discuss the matter further. Mr. Emries, I wish to speak to you in my office tomorrow.”
Merlin swallowed. He could tell Dumbledore had questions, questions he wasn’t sure how to answer, but at the moment, he was only thankful that Dumbledore had gotten him out of his mess.
— — —
Harry remained standing by the door, staring at the dark velvet curtains hiding Ron, hiding one of the few people Harry had been sure would believe him, when something else jolted his memory. Marvin hadn’t followed behind him into the common room, and into his own dormitory.