Chapter Two – The Goblet of Fire

“Don't tell me you don't know?” Malfoy said delightedly. “You've got a father and brother at the Ministry, and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago…heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry…” Malfoy droned on as Harry tuned him out. He’d had another sleepless night plagued by the same dream of the old man and the green light and was in no mood to give Malfoy more attention than he had to.

He registered the sound of their compartment door shutting and Ron going into an expletive rant about Malfoy which Hermione redundantly tried to bring him out of.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes, “I’m going to find the food trolley, want anything?”.

That at least broke Ron out of his anger “Oh cheers mate, two pumpkin pasties and a Bertie Botts, I owe you” while Hermione just asked for a cauldron cake.

He walked the length of the train, popping his head in to greet Neville, Seamus and Dean who were all sat together and then Katie, Angelina and Alicia who were all excited to play Quidditch again.

“Neither of us three got it, but we haven’t seen the twins yet” said Angelina, noticing Harry’s eyes check their robes.

“They didn’t get it either, I was there when they got their letter.”

“Maybe McGonagall wants to give it in person this year?” Katie said.

“Potentially, although Malfoy just came into our compartment saying something was meant to be happening this year” All the girls rolled their eyes at hearing the name of the annoying pureblood.

“Surely whatever it is, if he’s even right, shouldn’t interrupt Quidditch that much” mused Alicia.

“Hopefully not” he replied before leaving them to find food.

He saw the trolley up ahead as the trolley lady reached the next cabin to take an order.

“Could I get two boxes of beans, a few cauldron cakes and fizzing whizbees and four pumpkin pasties, please”

“Of course dearie, that’ll be three sickles” She took the coins off the students in the compartment whilst Harry got the sickles from his bag.

“Oh, hey Harry” He looked up at the voice and saw the tall figure of Cedric Diggory in the doorway of the compartment.

“Hi” He said simply as he paid the trolly lady. Cedric took his sweets off her and put them in his compartment with his friends, before stepping out into the cleared hall and shutting the door as the trolley lady went on.

“How are yo-” Cedric started.

“Thank yo-” Harry started.

At the same time.

“Thank you… you know for saving me that day, you left before I could thank you” Harry continued bashfully, his right hand pinching the skin of his left.

“Of course, and besides you had yourself handled pretty well before I intervened. It was smart, he didn’t expect you to attack. My father said the Ministry didn’t send any under-age magic warnings?” Cedric said, leaning against the door.

“Yeah, apparently there was so much magic it was hard to determine who cast what. Plus it was deemed a necessary measure so…” After his last warning for Dobby’s actions he’d been briefly worried that he would be expelled and his wand snapped, but there had been an announcement in the paper that anyone who had used underage magic within that period of time would have their use wiped. The ministry had blamed the events on a group of “rogue Dark Wizards” and despite a moving photo of the Dark Mark in the sky being plastered on the front page, the Minister was claiming it was just an attempt to cause fear and was unrelated to the Death Eaters.

“It was terrifying” Cedric murmured, “We learn about defence and curses, and we all duel each other at school, but that was real life. Everyone was having fun and then in an instant…” He trailed off and they both stood there recalling the night.

“Then again from what everyone says about your last three years it probably didn’t mean as much to you” Cedric told him with a light smirk. No one knew the exact details of what Potter and his friends had been up to, and Cedric and his friends had never really paid them much attention. But even they couldn’t escape the mutters of Potter facing Professor Quirrell and dealing with the Basilisk in second year.

“Yeah” Harry said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. The truth was he hadn’t been scared at the time until afterwards, the screams and flames that surrounded him and his friends as they ran through the chaos.

“Well” Harry continued, “Thanks again” and he walked away from the tall Hufflepuff.

Even though Harry didn’t believe in all aspects of Divination, he couldn’t help but feel like the storm that night was symbolic of bad things to come. They could barely look up at the Castle as when they stepped out of the carriages they were bombarded with heavy wind and rain, lightning streaked across the sky and thunder boomed all around them. They ran up the stairs to enter Hogwarts, soon entering the warmth of the Castle.

 “Blimey,” said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, “if that keeps up the lake’s going to overflow. I’m soak – ARRGH!” A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron’s head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped – narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry’s feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks, before a second one landed on his head.

Screams surrounded them as water balloons started to pelt the already soaked students, with Peeves cackling hysterically as wreaked havoc on them all.

 “PEEVES!” yelled an angry Scottish voice. “Peeves, come down here at ONCE!” Professor McGonagall came running out of the  she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling. “Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger -”

 “That's all right, Professor!” Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

“Peeves, get down here NOW!” barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles. “Not doing nothing!” cackled Peeves, as he continued to throw the balloons.

Harry was not in the mood for this, he took a few Bertie beans out his pocket, threw them in the air and banished them towards Peeves, two of them managed to lodge into his nose.

“OWOOOO!” Peeves whined before zooming off, his reign of terror ending.

“Mister Potter you are not supposed to cast magic in the school corridors!” McGonagall said sternly, before whispering “5 points to Gryffindor” and herding them to the Great Hall.

“Harry that was a fourth-year spell!” Hermione praised him.

“Thanks Hermione” He’d borrowed Katie Bell’s defence book at the end of the last year and tried a few of them before heading to the Durlsey’s for summer.

The Sorting feast continued as usual, although Hermione ended up on a rant about House Elves, which made sense to Harry but the eyes she was getting from others around her made Harry promise that they would discuss it another time.

Professor Dumbledore stood and walked to the dais, “Welcome all to another year at Hogwarts!”. Everyone’s attention focused to him as he spread his arms, the candles dimming in response.

“There is an exciting year ahead of us! However, due to such events I must inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup is cancelled this year.” He paused for what he knew would come.

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

Ron let out a noise like a heartbroken mouse.

“WHAT!” he heard multiple voices, including the twins, scream out.

Harry noticed Eddie Carmichael dramatically weeping against his fellow beater’s shoulder.

Even Malfoy’s usual smug grin had been wiped clean.

“Now now I’m sure you are disappointed. However-”

He was cut off as the brutal sound of thunder rang out, and a figure limped into the hall shaking out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table. A flash of lightning from the artificial sky lit up the man’s features leading many to gasp and stare.   His face looked like it had been carved out of rotting wood by  someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. And a bulging eye was contained in a strap around his head, moving quickly in different directions.

The figure walked up to Dumbledore and shook his hand before limping to take his seat, his eye roaming around the hall as he took a swig from a flask.

“Ahh please all offer a kind welcome to our new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody, a former Auror who has agreed to teach for us this year” There was scattered applause from the students.

“Now, as I was saying Hogwarts has been given the great honour of hosting the TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!” He bellowed out and the hall once more delved into whispers.

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”

Harry noticed Hermione pale and repeat ‘death toll’ to herself.

 “The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations will arrive in October, and you will all be informed of the entry requirements, with the eventual winner earning the glory for their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

The following month passed with only two major incidents, Ferret-gate when Moody turned Malfoy into a white ferret for trying to curse Harry from behind, and when Moody tried the imperious curse on them all.

Harry and Hermione where on their way to the Courtyard where the school would congregate to meet for the arrival of Beauxbatons.

“This is why S.P.E.W. is so important Justin…” Harry spared a glance and Justin Finch-Fletchley who had joined them on their way from Runes and now seemed to be regretting it.

“Everyone  follow me in an orderly fashion” McGonagall called out as she led the students to the front of the castle, they waved Justin off as he went to find Ernie.

“Look there’s Ron” Harry said, directing Hermione to where their ginger friend was stood talking to Parvati and Dean. Soon the rest of their year mates joined them, and they were all chatting, although all the boys were scolded by Professor McGonagall for their ties being askew which she fixed with a spell.

“Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” yelled out Professor Dumbledore, pointing to over the forest where something large was flying towards the castle.

“It's a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely. “Don't be stupid…it's a flying house!” said Dennis Creevey.

The students all a large, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage being pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses before it roughly landed in front of them.  A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage and waved his wand, golden steps forming a path from the carriage door to the ground.

The rest of the students gracefully followed out the tallest woman he’d ever seen, around the same height as Hagrid. Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile, and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it. “My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbledore,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I 'ope I find you well?”

“Of course my dear Maxime, and if I’m not mistaken I believe Karkaroff shall be here shortly if you wish to wait with us, else I can have you escorted to the Great Hall to warm up” he offered.

 “Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime, glancing at her shivering students whose silk uniforms were drastically failing to keep the cold out.

Hagrid led the delegation in as the Hogwarts students waited for Durmstrang to arrive, although most couldn’t stop looking at the sky searching for a carriage.

 “Look at the lake!”  yelled Lee Jordan, from their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the centre; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks -and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor. A skeletal looking ship burst out the water, menacingly sending large waves rippling from where it breached.

The Durmstrang delegation was made up of primarily male students, with two females rounding up the dozen. They were led by a man with  sleek, silver hair and rather slimy disposition, “Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope.

“Headmaster Karkaroff, welcome!” replied the Hogwarts headmaster shaking his hand and leading him into the castle.

Harry felt a hand desperately clawing his shoulder, it was Ron, whose mouth had dropped open like a fish.

“What?!”

“It’s him” He said urgently, with a touch of admiration. “It’s Krum!”

And he was right, Krum was being shepherded into the castle by Karkaroff as if someone was going to steal him away from Karkaroff.

“Let’s just get some food in us, you can gawk at him whilst you eat” Hermione said as she grabbed their hands to pull them with her.

The tables of the Great Hall usually overflowed on the best of days, but now with the inclusion of a plethora of dishes from the continent, Harry was sure they must have been enchanted to stop food pouring off the side.

Harry and Hermione were both trying a fish stew called Bouillabaisse whilst Ron refused to even look at any food that wasn’t his usual type, then again Harry wasn’t sure he’d even noticed the other food,  as soon as a platter of pork sausages had appeared in front of Ron he’d hardly been up for air.

“Excuse me, ‘ave you finished with  ze bouillabaisse?” A light French voice interrupted their meal.  Harry turned around to see who had asked, she had waist-long silvery blonde hair and a bright inquisitive gaze that was framed by large, deep blue eyes. She was gorgeous.

She was the girl from the Quidditch World Cup who had been yelling for another girl. He remembered that even in the chaos she was still beautiful.

 “Yeah, have it,” said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl.

“You 'ave finished wiz it?”

“Yeah,” Ron said breathlessly. “Yeah, it was excellent.”

Harry and Hermione shot him a look, he was staring at her with a dazed expression and had gone slightly red at the cheeks.

Before the girl could go Harry had to ask, “Sorry, but you were at the world cup right? Did you ever find the girl you were looking for?”

She paused from picking up the dish and an expression appeared on her face before morphing into a soft smile. “Oui, my sister Gabrielle. Zankfully she was wiz mon cousin”

“Glad to hear it” Harry said, returning the smile.

“Merci” she picked up the dish and carried to her seat at the Ravenclaw table.

Ron finally broke out of whatever weird mood he was in, “She's a veela!” he said in dazed whisper to no one in particular.

“Of course she isn't!” said Hermione shortly. “I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!” She was wrong. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

“You’ve met her before Harry?” asked Parvati who was sat next to Hermione and had been making small talk with them.

“Sort of, yeah” he mumbled, his mind replaying the events of the World cup.

“The champion for Durmstrang is VIKTOR KRUM”

Cheers.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is FLEUR DELACOUR”

Cheers.

“The champion for Hogwarts is CEDRIC DIGGORY”

Cheers.

“Harry Potter? HARRY POTTER?”

Silence.

He should have known it would happen, even despite the rules and the age line, he should have known it was going to go wrong.  His name had come out the Goblet and it was as if he’d been forced back in time to second year, the faces directed towards him with sneers and anger.

The response from his own house had been slightly better, none of them believed he didn’t enter his name, but the majority didn’t care because they were so seemingly impressed by his supposed ability to trick the age line. Of course Ron had not taken it well and had stormed off to bed muttering about how unfair it was.

The tightness in his chest had been building and building and his stomach was feeling weaker, he’d escaped the swell of the party to his dorm but even there he felt incredible hot and uncomfortable. He’d grabbed his invisibility cloak and snuck out of the castle, the doors to Hogwarts had been left open in case of an emergency so it was easy to sneak out.

He saw the Black lake in the distance and started to walk towards it, the cold October air was doing nothing to cool him down. The looks on his schoolmates’ faces flashed repeatedly in his mind as his heart started palpitating and he started running to the black lake, not stopping until he was thigh deep in the cold, black water and throwing up with tears streaming down his face.

He was panting from the force of what his body was doing, only to be broken out of it when a hand pressed lightly to the top of his back.

Fleur lay on her bed fiddling with the silk hair-tie around her wrist in frustration, for sleep would not come.

She had expected her name to come out of the Goblet, they all had. Some could boil it down to arrogance, but it was based on a solid foundation. She was simply better at magic than her classmates, her ability with charms and transfiguration in particular surpassed all at Beauxbatons. The only one who came close to being a potential threat to her appointment of champion was Antoine, but he’d entered a blank piece of paper having no desire to compete.

Sure she had general nerves about the tournament itself but the thing that was keeping her up was the attitude of others. Before she’d gone to Beauxbatons for the year her father had explained the acidity of the British people and press to her, they would not treat her kindly for three reasons.

Being French, being a woman, and for being a Veela.

In France the only real prejudice towards magical creatures were to Werewolves, due to the massacres they committed during the war with Grindelwald, and partially to Vampires although that had been decreasing in recent years. As the daughter of Jean Luc Delacour not many would try and tarnish her due to the protections afforded to the families of political appointees. The only time she ended up in media outlets was when there had been a ball, or they’d had to appear places as a family for a photo op.

She knew Britain would not be so welcoming. They allowed for vicious personal attacks to be the front page of their newspaper and had such rigid views on blood purity on creatures, she knew that if her heritage was to get out, which it undoubtedly would, then she would have to carry the weight of scorn from thousands of people. She was used to jealousy and hatred from certain classmates who never got to know her properly, but she let that wash over her. She’d formed a solid group of friends in her first year at Beauxbatons, boys and girls, and so when she hit puberty and her alure got stronger and stronger those who spent time with her adapted to it until it barely affected them.

But now she was in a new place, none of her friends had decided to enter apart from Antoine but he would spend the majority of the time here with his latest girlfriend, Claudette, who Fleur could not stand.

She got out of bed and wrapped herself in a thick cloak before exiting her room and the carriage into the biting Scottish air.

It was a beautiful sight that lit up the night sky, bright stars shining, she could almost feel the magic of the night permeating the air. She walked towards the large lake and pulled a silver case out of her pocket, opened it, and put the cigarette in her mouth before lighting it with her wand.

Inhale

Exhale

The smoke always relaxed her as the nicotine started to ebb her anxiety, her friend Chantelle was convinced that it wasn’t the nicotine that calmed her down but the act of a measured breath in and out. Fleur didn’t particularly care either way, it had been her vice for the last few years since her cousin gave her one during Monsieur Cardbaux’s ball after a boy had been making comments about her heritage during a dance with him. France may be more tolerant than Britain, but she still had to deal with her fair share of bigots.

“Apologies” a deep voice broke her out of her trance with a start.

“Merde!” she placed her hand on her chest as she looked at her competitor, Viktor Krum.

“What are you doing out at zis time?” She asked him warily. Durmstrang had a reputation and for a brief moment she was worried the tournament was about to begin mere hours after they’d been announced as champions.

“I could not sleep zo I go for run” He gestured to his clothes, he was only in a vest and shorts. Even though Durmstrang was assumed to be in a cold location she was surprised he was willing to wear so little. Not that she was complaining from the muscles she could see.

“Would you like one?” She gestured to her cigarettes.

He shook his head firmly, unsurprising considering he was a pro-athlete. She’d heard that some athletes were contractually obligated to not smoke though she would not judge him if it was his choice.

Krum started to speak slowly once more, “We have a vourth champion then, how-” he was interrupted by the sight of the fourth champion sprinting past them and straight into the shallow waters of the lake.

“Should we…?” she gestured, already starting to walk towards the boy.

“Ja” Krum responded speeding past her and into the lake, laying a hand on the youngest companion.

“Potter” Harry stood up straight with a gasp and turned around to throw the hand off his back, the taste of vomit lingering in his mouth and tear tracks running down his cheeks.

Viktor Krum stood there in the cold waters of the lake with a solemn look on his, behind him he noticed Fleur stood behind him at the edge of the shoreline looking concerned, and what seemed to be a cigarette limply hanging between her fingers.

“Err- hi…” he said shivering as Krum slowly guided him out of the water towards Fleur.

“Ere you must be freezing” she cast a warming charm on him and Krum, quickly followed by a drying spell.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Harry felt himself welling up again. There was an authenticity to her question, as if she actually wanted to know if he was okay. He was so used to that question from Hermione who would ask it so often he felt it had very little meaning. It wasn’t anything against her but sometimes it felt like his answers had lost all meaning.

Seeing the tears forming, Fleur made the impulsive decision to pull him into a tight hug sinking to the ground with him as his knees gave out. The tears soon stopped, and he tried to explain himself but couldn’t get the words out.

But with Krum there he didn’t need to, “Anxiety is bitch, ja?” he said roughly patting Harry on the back.

Harry snorted, “You can say that again” he rubbed his eyes on his sleeve and in the light of moon he noticed he’d got tears all over Fleur’s nightgown.

“Sorry about that” he mumbled with a blush. He couldn’t believe he’d been found by two of the other champions, one of whom had called him a ‘little boy’ only hours ago. The only thing that would have made it worse is if Cedric had been there as well.

“What’s going on here? Harry are you okay!?”

Shit

Did the god’s hate him or something? The three champions turned around to see the final one jogging towards them, Harry noticed he had his hand in his pocket, potentially on his wand as a precaution.

“Oh sure join the party” Harry responded, turning away from the Hufflepuff and staring out at the Black lake.

“What brings you out ere Monsieur Diggory” Fleur asked, the official Hogwarts champion was undoubtedly attractive to her though he did look rather innocent, even with his dishevelled appearance.

“There was a party in the common room, and I needed air so.. then I saw you three down here so…” he shrugged and sat down in front of Harry, checking him over.

“Let me guess” Harry muttered “The party was a mix of praising you and cursing me as a cheat, liar and attention seeker?” He couldn’t hide the bitterness from his voice.

Cedric winced, the younger boy was right, and he’d already started to hear people planning on how to get even at him.

“Kind of… not everyone though. I know Susan, Ernie and Justin were trying to tell people they didn’t think you entered yourself but not many cared to listen.” He explained softly.

“And you?” challenged Fleur, “did you try and convince people otherwise or where you too busy celebrating with” she leaned forward and smelt the air “cheap Firewhiskey”

“Don’t pretend as if you know me Delacour” Cedric argued, “of course I tried to  tell them, but they wouldn’t listen, said I was being too humble” he blushed towards the end.

A warm feeling settled in Harry’s stomach, glad the older Hufflepuff had at least tried, as had Susan, Ernie and Justin. It felt like more people in Diggory’s own house were willing to understand than his own.

They all settled into a silence, unsure of what to say to one another. Finally, Fleur took charge.

“Listen, ze tournament is supposedly in ze name of international cooperation, I suggest we actually do that. We may be competitors, but I see no reason we must treat each ozer as enemies, oui?”

They nodded in response, Harry was both impressed and terrified.

“Well I will start then with a piece of information about myself, and we will go round. I have a sister called Gabrielle and I am of Veela eritage, as you may ave guessed, Mon Pere is ze Deputy Minister for Magic in France and I smoke more than I should” she pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit it as she finished.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, Fleur had an easy energy to her that he didn’t expect and neither Cedric nor Krum seemed to feel as uncomfortable as he did.

“Very vell, I have two younger brothers who are at Durmstrang, I am terrible at potions and history, and flying is the only time I feel free”

“That was surprisingly personal Krum”  Cedric admitted, and the others nodded.

Harry and Cedric looked at each other, willing the other to go first.

“Well” Cedric started to blush, “My closest friends are Jake, Omer and Daniel and Cho I guess. And – erm – I want to go to a Muggle university and to study English Literature”

“What!?” Harry exclaimed, causing Fleur to jump and Cedric to go a deeper red, “You go to a Muggle uni? The minister going into the muggle world to study books. How is that even possible without GCSE’s and A-Levels?”

Ahh the ‘Minister’ the nickname had been gaining popularity the last few years when talking about Cedric, much to his private annoyance. Everyone, including his father, expected him to join the Ministry. The Diggory’s had an inherited seat on the Wizengamot, but he was also expected to join in some low-level government position and rise up like his father had, except he had no interest in that.

“You can pay the Ministry to doctor GCSE results and a muggle birth certificate, passport, heck a whole identity. For A-levels you can take them independently. I have no interest in politics despite what others may think” he shot a look at Harry “I thought you of all people would have understood that Potter, just because someone thinks something of you doesn’t make it true. Besides, I love literature, I just want to read and debate with others who feel the same but there’s not much call for that in the wizarding world so.” He shrugged. Cedric had been skimming money from his vault and stockpiling it for three years now, he knew his dad would threaten to cut him off if he found out his plan and he was sure he would go through with it. The money from the tournament would cover a lot of his expenses, as would the money he’d been taking from his vault.

Cedric, Fleur and Viktor looked at Harry. He let out a deep sigh and began, “I live with my Muggle relatives, so I didn’t know anything about magic before I got my Hogwarts letter. Despite trying my best everyone seems to hate me for things that are always out of my control, they go from hating me to praising me  and back again as if nothing ever happened. I feel so overwhelmed by the shit that is happening that no one seems to think ‘hmm maybe demonising a teenager for no reason isn’t actually a good idea.’ And now I’ve been entered into this tournament probably so someone can take the opportunity to kill me like they have the last three years.” He was speeding up towards the end, getting more and more irritated as he spoke.

Fleur let out a slow whistle and lightly patted his shoulder, “Wow I mean, I feel like I ave short-changed you on what I said, non? Clearly we will ave to meet again so we can rectify that, let’s say tomorrow?” she said standing up, prompting the others to do so and agree, though Harry didn’t feel like he had much choice.

“Perfect, bon nuit mes amis” before she fluttered off to her carriage. Krum stared at the two Hogwarts students before nodding at them and leaving for the boat.

“There’s a poem you might like y’know, it’s ‘A Poison Tree’ by  William Blake. I’ll give you a copy tomorrow” Cedric told Harry as they walked back up to the castle.

The entire night had been weird, Fleur Delacour seemed far more introverted than he thought, yet there was an authority to her that clashed with that. She had initiated the sharing, only to then to bring it to a sudden close. Krum was quiet as expected but clearly had a softness under his rugged exterior. And Cedric, well, Harry would have never thought Cedric would be into what he was, but when he imagined him sitting in a library, dressed like a muggle and chatting to people over books, something just seemed right about it.

Harry knew tomorrow wouldn’t be easy, but at least he’d get to see them again.

A Poison Tree – William Blake

I was angry with my friend;

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,

Night & morning with my tears:

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,

When the night had veild the pole;

In the morning glad I see;

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.