. "Why is it that you're always following me around?"
"I think you're fascinating."
"Then you must be as daft as Hermione says you are." .
✰
In which the fate of the entire wizard...
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THE GRYFFINDOR COMMON ROOM WAS IN AN ABSOLUTE FRENZY, everyone buzzing with anticipation for Harry to return from the chamber the champions retreated to after the Goblet spat their names out of its flames. Not only were there now two Hogwarts champions, but one of them was fourteen years old. That was, at least, presuming that Harry was allowed to compete. Hermione had frantically spouted everything she knew of the Triwizard Tournament rules to the assembled party of Fred, George, Lee, Katie, Angelina, Alicia, Allegra and Ron – the latter of whom promptly stormed off to bed midway through the spiel. To the delight of some and the horror of others, it seemed that Harry was contractually obligated to compete. Most of the group were pleased, but Hermione and Allegra were apprehensive – or, more accurately, Allegra was concerned, and Hermione was downright mortified.
"Wonder how he did it!" said Lee, prompting all Gryffindors within earshot to debate their various theories with an enthusiasm that Allegra felt was rather macabre and barbaric. He's only a kid, for Merlin's sake, she thought, taking her worry out on her hair as she always did when stressed. At Ilvermorny, a solid chunk of the third year History of Magic curriculum was dedicated to outlawed magical traditions and events of the past, and she distinctly remembered her Professor's frightening lecture on the 1792 tournament. She'd had nightmares about violent cockatrice attacks for weeks, and she still couldn't look at the creature – or roosters or crocodiles, for that matter – without a chill running down her spine.
"I don't know how I feel about this..." she said to Angelina, whose reply was interrupted by the blast of noise that erupted when Harry was yanked through the portrait hole by half a dozen eager students. Harry looked like he would have given anything to be invisible. I know the feeling.
"How'd you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.
"I didn't," said Harry, voice small and tired, "I don't know how –"
But Angelina had now swooped down upon him. "Oh, if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor –"
"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" shrieked Katie.
"We've got food, Harry, come and have some –"
"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast –"
But it seemed nobody wanted to hear that he wasn't hungry; nobody wanted to hear that he didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire and that he didn't know who had. Hermione shot Allegra an anguished glance, but the two witches didn't stand a chance against the mob of students celebrating. They tried their best to weave their way through the crowd to the boy, who was being accosted by the entire house – people were shoving butterbeers and crisps into his hands, others clapping him on the back and begging to know how he'd gotten past the age line, and Lee had unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere and insisted on draping it around Harry's shoulders like a cloak.
