Pariah: The Other Malfoy

Chapter 33: The Chosen One

The Triwizard Tournament was a competition where three students, from different schools, competed to get eternal glory. It normally ended in the losers being killed by something in one of the three tasks they had to do to win. So, naturally, everyone wanted to compete.

"Your attention please!" Dumbledore yelled, "I would like to say a few words. Eternal glory, that is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks."

"For this reason, the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this we have the head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation, Mister Bartemius Crouch," Dumbledore moved to allowed Mr Crouch room to address us.

"After much deliberation, the ministry has concluded that for their own safety no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament," Mr Crouch explained, "This decision is final."

Several people were yelling in protest but Dumbledore silenced them. I was slightly disappointed, though I realised it was sensible. And if I had been picked, I would have been at a severe disadvantage, what with the full moons impacting my performance.

"You will place your name in the cup," said Dumbledore, signalling to a massive goblet behind him, "Do not do so lightly, if chosen there's no turning back. As from this moment the Triwizard Tournament has begun. Good luck and good night!"

Everyone stood up and left. The Durmstrangs were going to sleep in the dungeons with the Slytherins and Beauxbatons, from where boys were ogling at the girls, in the Ravenclaw's tower. Again, I saw the disappointment in the faces of my friends.

I got to sleep thinking about who might represent our school. I hoped it was a Gryffindor, as we were supposedly the bravest, but I didn't really mind, so long as they won. It would be interesting to see what the tasks were this year. The Triwizard Tournament hadn't been played in decades so no-one could remember what it was like. They had stopped allowing it because of the deaths it frequently caused, so I wondered what the reasoning behind it coming back was.

Fred and George were the first (and only) students to try and trick the age line. It went horribly wrong for them, both of them sprouting beards and grey hair, and Hermione just rolled her eyes.

Nobody knew who the Goblet would pick, but a favourite was Cedric Diggory. He was a Hufflepuff, and extremely popular. I wouldn't have minded if he was picked personally, he would be as good as any.

Eventually, the day came when the champions were chosen.

"We will now announce the Champions in the Triwizard Tournament!" said Dumbledore when we had finished eating.

The Goblet behind Dumbledore started to spit out fire. A single note came out of the fire and landed in Dumbledore's palm.

"For Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour!" he said and a girl, who had to be part Veela, ran to the front.

Dumbledore sent her to a room in the corner of the hall then another note fell into his palm.

"For Durmstrang, Viktor Krum!" he said and Krum went to the room as well.

The third and final note was the Hogwarts Champion. It was a Hufflepuff called Cedric Diggory. He also went through to the room and Dumbledore began to speak. He didn't get very far, though, because another note flew into his hand. Silence fell over the room as he stared at the note, a frown on his face.

"Harry Potter! Where is Harry Potter?" he yelled and Harry, who was sitting next to me, froze.

I pushed him out of his seat and he headed towards Dumbledore. They spoke for a minute or two and then he was also sent to the room. Minutes later, all the teachers went into the room and everyone could hear yelling. We all decided that was our cue to leave.

I said goodnight to everyone then headed for my bed, sick of hearing everyone calling Harry a cheat. I was worried for him. He was going up against three seventeen-year-olds in a Tournament that often ended in death. He must have been thrilled.

The next day, Harry collapsed next to Hermione and I at the breakfast table. Ron was nowhere to be seen, but Hermione had told me he was angry that Harry hadn't told him how he got his name in.

Tobias clocked us and came over, sitting beside Harry, giving me a look as whispers surrounded us.

"I don't get a choice," Harry was complaining, "Someone put my name in that Goblet, knowing it was a magically binding agreement. I can't compete against three seventeen year olds!"

"So, you didn't put your name in?" I clarified, shooting a look towards some eavesdroppers.

"No, I swear," he sighed, "I don't want eternal glory! I just want to be me, and have a quiet year!"

"Someone wants you in this tournament, Harry," Hermione said quietly, "And they have a reason for it. You need to be careful."

"Mr Potter, you're needed for an interview," McGonagall walked over, staring at Harry, "Good luck. It's Rita Skeeter."

Harry frowned towards us and I grimaced as he left. That would not be an enjoyable experience.

"What do you thinks going on?" Tobias asked us once Harry had left.

"Nothing good," I bit my lip, "People die in this competition. If someone did put Harry's name into the Goblet and jinx it to spit out a fourth name, their intentions are hardly pure. We need to keep an eye on him, who knows who did it."

"The Dark Mark then this," Hermione spoke carefully, "Something is going on, these aren't coincidences."

"You don't think..." I paused, "You don't think this was the Dark Lord?"

An awkward silence fell over us, nobody willing to give an answer. There was no way this could end well, whether it was truly him or not.

A week later, Harry and Ron still weren't talking to one another. I kept out of their way for the most part, hanging out with Tobias instead. Harry was becoming the subject of ridicule after Rita Skeeter's article, and I felt awful for him, but that week we were both in foul moods. If I had tried to speak to him, no doubt our relationship would have become like his and Ron's.

The night of the full moon came, and my friends wished me luck. Harry and Ron were civil to one another during the time I was with them before leaving, and I was grateful for that.

Madam Pomfrey met me in the entrance hall like usual, leading me to the Whomping Willow. I had just finished my last gobletful of Wolfsbane not long before, and it was sitting uncomfortably in my stomach.

I sat down on a ruined sofa, taking deep breaths. I would be fine, it couldn't be worse than the month before. I would get through it, and be up and about by lunchtime tomorrow.

The pain was indescribable, my limbs snapping and lengthening, my screams turning to howls. I wished the transformation made me forget that pain, but I awoke with it every morning afterwards, a reminder of what I was.

I did manage to get out of the Hospital Wing the next day, though not until evening. I felt awful, sick and grumpy to describe it simply, but I couldn't miss days of class every month. Not only would I fall behind, but others would get suspicious.

So I toughed it out and made it to the evening meal, sitting beside a silent Harry while Hermione sat further away with Ron. In the time I had been in the Hospital Wing, the school was filled with Potter Stinks/Support Diggory badges, and I felt awful for Harry as he ate his dinner in silence.

I wished I could comfort him, but I knew my words would mean nothing at that point. All I could do was stand beside him as he competed in the most dangerous competition the Wizarding World had, and try to help him survive however I could.

The only issue was we didn't know what he was going to face.