The Sister (A Harry Potter Fanfic)

~Chapter 4~

*Edited*

We all gathered in the great hall that evening. Benches were pushed back and to the side, leaving plenty of room towards the back of the hall. In the centre of the cleared area, sat the goblet. I sit next to Harry and Hermione, with Ron standing behind us. I watch more and more people flow into the hall, taking up the seats and filling the room with a low buzz.

"Ay Harry, who'd you think will be chosen?" Ron says, tapping Harry's shoulder.

"Dunno," Harry turns, "I'm betting on Krum, though."

It was true, the ideal champion for Durmstrang was probably Krum. He is older and more skilled than most of the men. I don't really know who I want to be chosen; as long as my new friends and I are left out of it, I don't mind. Hermione and I had seen the last few people place their names in the Goblet, though nothing really happened. Apparently, the twins tried to enter with an age potion of some sort, Hermione wasn't very specific. She said that they grew beards and everything, that their potion reversed and they aged instead.

Dumbledore enters, and the room hushes. McGonagall, Barty Crouch, Madam Maxine and Karkaroff accompany him as he makes his way to the back of the hall. Instead of the usual position, he takes up he stands beside the Goblet. Students slowly start to settle down at the remaining tables, and the benches at the side of the hall. Finally, after a few minutes, the hall falls silent.

"Now the moment, you've all been waiting for," Dumbledore says loudly, turning around so his eyes seem to meet everyone else's, "The champion selection!"

Dumbledore holds out his hand, and turns, dimming all the large flames that light the hall. The hall falls dead silent, and all eyes land of the Goblet. Its flame is blue, flickering in the halls dim light. Suddenly, the flame turns pink, and twists down, before throwing a piece of charred paper high into the air. As the flame returns to blue, the paper floats downwards, landing in Dumbledore's hand.

"The Durmstrang champion is.." The hall holds its breath in anticipation, "Victor Krum!"

"I called it!" Harry yells and Ron laughs. The Durmstrang students launch into applause, and Victor shares a few final words to his fellow classmates, before heading towards Dumbledore in the centre of the hall. Dumbledore gives him a pat on the back, and shakes his hand, before Krum heads for the trophy room. The hall buzzes for a few moments until the last conversations die down and the room returns to its silence. Everyone is very attentive and on edge, glancing around at the other students. The flame once again becomes pink, twisting before producing another piece of parchment. This piece, in turn, lands in Dumbledores hand.

"The Beauxbatons champion is," He reads the parchment, and looks up at the Beaubatons table, "Miss Fleur Delecour"

Fleur smiles an exasperated smile and stands up as the hall fills with applause. She struts over to Dumbledore, who shakes her hand, and waves his hand in the direction of the trophy room. She nods, smiles, and leaves. I don't know why I don't like her. She isn't a mean person, she hasn't done anything wrong, to me or otherwise. She just seems too perfect. Like she's putting on this big act. Then again, I think most girls at Beauxbatons are like that. Once again, the goblets now blue fire fades to pink and spits out its final piece of torn parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!"

Yes! No one I know. Sure I've passed him in the halls a couple times, and he is pretty cute, but I am incredibly glad I don't know him. I smile. I'm not going to lose anyone. I'm going to be ok. On his way to the trophy room, Cedric kisses some year five girl on the cheek, and soon the applause dies down again.

"Excellent! We now have out three champions," Dumbledore proclaims, "But in the end, only one will go down in history, only one will host this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory, the Tri-Wizard Cup!" Dumbledore spins, pointing to the front of the hall, a piece of old fabric flies off a large glowing crystal cup. It is not nearly as big as the Goblet, but it shines and you can just tell that it's special and that any headmaster or headmistress would like to have it in their trophy room.

I see something in the corner of my eye, and when I glance at it, I see the goblets flames arching and twisting. It doesn't take long for the rest of the students and teachers to notice it as well. It wasn't quite like the times before, where the goblet seemed to be doing its job perfectly. Now, it was going against its rules. I feel my stomach twist, something was wrong. Something bad was happening, my fingers dig into the palms of my hands. The flames squirmed until a final piece of parchment flew out, landing in Dumbledore's hand.  Dumbledore winces, and he mutters something under his breath, before repeating it loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Potter... Potter?"

All of a sudden I'm not really inside my body. For a second, I floated between consciousness and unconsciousness until I felt someone shove my side. My head snaps sideways and my eyes meet Hermione's. I shake my head, "no..." I whisper. I know I have to get up. Harry is already halfway across the hall, people glaring at him from every school. I take a shaky breath and stand. They can't know. They shouldn't know. The press will go wild. Another Potter?

"Excuse me, Ron." I murmur. All eyes are not me as I squeeze passed them.

"Clara? Clara, what are you doing?" Ron says after me.

I'm shaking, my feet tap against the stone floor, and it seems like the only noise in the hall as I make my way over. Dumbledore's eyes meet mine with a knowing look I sigh and look back at my feet. Then I turn and look up to see the eyes I am not prepared for. My own. Harry stares at me, and I can tell he knows. He just doesn't believe it yet.

"Come on," I say, taking his arm, and pulling him through the teachers to the door to the trophy room without another word.

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We walk down the staircase in silence, though I notice Harry giving me sideways glances, and confused looks. I, on the other hand, don't look up from my feet. I let go of his arm the moment we touched the stairs. My hands are fists, digging holes in my palms. What am I going to do? this isn't how I planned on telling Harry. I hoped he would figure it out, and ask me, but he didn't. I just hope we don't have to compete. The metal gate to the trophy room swings open as we enter and our eyes meet the other champions. The real champions. They give us questioning looks before we hear voices behind us. We turn and see the teachers, and Barty Crouch practically running down the stairs and into the trophy room. Dumbledore as first. He storms up to us and yells,

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire? Harry? Clara?" I shrink backwards, "This has put you both in serious danger!"

"We didn't, Sir. Of course not." Harry splutters,

"And obviously, they are lying!" Madame Maxime cries, rolling her eyes."How could they compete, anyway! We can't 'ave two!"

"That's absurd anyway Professor! Do you really think two fourth years would be capable of a charm powerful enough to overcome the Goblet?!" Mad Eye Moody steps in, glaring at Karkaroff. Dumbledore sighs, defeated.

"I'll leave it to you, Barty."

Barty turns away from us, looking down and thinking. He sighs "The rules are absolute. The Goblet Of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract." He turns, meeting my gaze. "The Potters have no choice. They are, as of tonight, Tri-Wizard champions."

I gulp, digging my fingers even harder into my hands. "That's impossible sir! How could we compete? There are two of us!" I snap, anger and fear mixing together in my head.

"As a team, I suppose." He says, quietly.

I shake. I can't do this. I may be a powerful young witch, but  I'm terrified. I have to compete. Harry might die if I don't. Then I remember. Harry. I turn and face Harry, pain on my face, tears making their way out of my eyes, and down my cheeks.

"Who are you, Clara?" He says, sternly.

"I-I'm sorry Harry." I sob, wrapping my arms around myself. I shake my head "I wasn't allowed to tell you."

"Tell me what?!" He snaps

"That I-I'm your sister, Harry," I whisper, my eyes meeting his. "I'm so sorry."