The Thriced Blessed United Demigod: The Son of Loki Ragnarok

Chapter 1: Why Me? - Part 2

 Harry's Pov:

    New day and we start our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Our Professor happens to be Mad-Eye Moody. "Alastor Moody. Ex-Auror, Ministry malcontent, and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I'm here because Dumbledoor asked me. End of story, goodbye, the end. Any questions? When it comes to the Dark Arts; I believe in a practical approach. But first, which of you can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?" He addressed the class. Hermione answered him, "Three, Sir." "And they are so named?" He continues. "Because they are unforgivable. The use of any one of them will-" Hermione answers but gets cut off by Moody; "Will earn you one way ticket to Azkaban,correct. The Ministry says you're too young to see what these curses do. I say different! You need to know what you're up against! You need to be prepared. You need to find another place to put ur chewing gum besides the underside of your desk Mr. Finnegan!" "No way. The old dodger can see out the back of his head," Seamus spoke softly. Moody then thrown a piece of chalk across the room. "And hear across classrooms!" He replied.

   Let's just say, in that class, you definitely won't be board. Later I went with Ron to see students put their names into the goblet. "Eternal glory. Be brilliant, wouldn't it? Three years from now when we're old enough to be chosen," Ron stated dreamily. I almost wanted to snort at the thought. "Yeah, rather you than me," I tell him. Fred and George then come in with their potions. Fred&George do their thing of twin talking, "Well, Lads, we've done it. Cooked it up just this morning." "It's not going to work," Hermione replies in a sing-song tone. Fred, "Oh, yeah?" And George, "And why's that, Granger?" They asked. "You see this? This is an age line. Dumbledoor drew it himself," she answers. "So?" Asked George. "So a genius like Dumbledoor couldn't possibly be fooled by a dodge as pathetically dimwitted as an Ageing Potion," Hermione states. Fred, "Ah, but that's why, it's so brilliant;" and George, "Because it's so pathetically dimwitted," they reply. It made sense if you think about it. To bad their potion messed up and ended up in a little scuffle. We did see Victor Krum put his name into the goblet.

    Then it was now Thursday in the evening, where the Champions will be chosen. Dumbledoor address everyone, "Now the moment you've all been waiting for: the Champion selection." All the fires besides the goblet get spelled to a lower flame. I can't help but get a bad feeling from this, but the goblet does look kinda cool. The flame turns into a spell like red and spits out a piece of paper. "The Durmstrang Champion is Victor Krum," Dumbledoor calls out. Another paper comes out; "The Champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour." I hold my breath as the last paper comes out. "The Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!" Dumbledoor calls out. I sighed in relief and applause for Cedric; my fellow seeker. "Excellent! We now have our three champions. But in the end, only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory, the Triwizard Cup!" Dumbledoor explains. After the Cup is revealed the goblet of fire starts to spaze out. My bad feeling quickly returns. It then spits out a piece of paper. Dumbledoor of course catches the paper. My bad feeling gets worse. He read the paper but is to quiet to hear. Dumbledoor calls out louder looking around, "Harry Potter?" I sink further into my seat. Dumbledoor then yells, "Harry Potter!" "Go on, Harry," Hermione whispers to me. 'I didn't put my name in that damn Cup,' I thought. "Harry, for goodness sake," Hermione tells me as she forces me to get up.

      As I slowly get to were the other champions are, I couldn't help but silently pray to anything that will listen to help me. I step down the stairs to enter the trophy room where the Champions where. As the gate to the room opens I hear a voice in my head that sounded oddly familiar, "Your prayers have been answered child." When I enter the room, I hear voices yelling and arguing with each other. I turn around and imeadilty start backing up worried. Dumbledoor starts storming towards me. He grabs me by the shoulders; almost a little to close to my neck, I become scared as he pins me to the trophies; knocking some over. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SON DUMBLEDOOR!" I hear someone call out. Everyone else shuts up emediatly. I look over to see Sir Ragnarok on the stairs, in deep red noble suit, glaring at Dumbledoor.