"Today? Oh." Draco quickly put the pieces together. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "It must be hard for you. Seeing everyone else so happy."
"It's not just that," Harry said. "It's… something bad always happens on Halloween. Every year. I feel like this year won't be any different, and I'm so sick of it all. I just want today to be over already." His heart hurt, his head hurt, and he was already so tired. The day had barely started and he was ready for it to be done.
"If it makes you feel better, the Weasley twins tried to put their names in the Goblet. The age line spat them back out with beards longer and greyer than Dumbledore's," Draco informed him, smiling slightly. "It was hilarious. I guess they're serious about making sure no one underage goes in."
Harry chuckled. "I wish I'd seen that." He felt a little bad for the twins, but really he was glad they wouldn't be risking their necks for some money and glory.
The pair sat in silence for a while, Draco's shoulder warm against his, both of them watching the giant squid prod curiously at the Durmstrang ship. "At least tomorrow all the fuss will be over," Draco murmured. "The champions will be chosen and the rest of us can just get on with things until the first task."
"Yeah." Harry wished the tournament was the least of his problems. "Draco, I don't know what to do. I can't let Dumbledore know I'm onto him, but I can't just keep pretending I'm oblivious, it's killing me. Trying to pretend Ron's comments about Slytherins don't bother me, that Hermione's nagging isn't overbearing. I can't even hang out with Neville without them getting suspicious, let alone anyone else." The other heirs were doing well in starting some inter-house friendships, but Harry still felt trapped. "Sometimes I just want to say fuck it and come sit with you at the Slytherin table, let the pieces fall where they may. What does it matter if Dumbledore knows I've ruined his plan? He's going to find out eventually."
"Antagonising Dumbledore is a dangerous game," Draco warned. "He's more manipulative than any Slytherin, and sneaky about it. If you go against him outwardly without the proper precautions, you could end up expelled, or worse. Being the Boy-Who-Lived won't protect you from everything."
"I know," Harry said with a groan. "I know I can't. I just… it feels like I'm letting him win."
"If you were letting him win, you wouldn't be sat here talking to me," Draco pointed out. "Not every battle is a big Gryffindor confrontation, y'know. You keep telling me you have a Slytherin side; let that out to play for a while. Work in the shadows. Be sneaky." He smirked. "Beat him at his own game."
Harry let the idea roll around in his head for a minute. He'd have to start slowly. "I think I need to send some letters," he said eventually. "I'm going to need allies outside of the castle as well as in it." It was time to start letting some of his secrets out; time to find out who he could really trust. He couldn't dismantle Dumbledore's grasp on the wizarding world without some help, after all. He'd been toeing around the edge of it, afraid Dumbledore would find out and he'd be done for, but Draco was right. He had a Slytherin side, it was time to use it. "Right now?" Draco asked, tensing. Harry shook his head.
"Later." He was far too comfortable to leave just yet. "For now I just need a bit more peace and quiet."
"Oh. I can go, if you'd…"
Harry rolled his eyes, tugging on Draco's hand before the blond could go anywhere. "You don't count, you daft git," he said with a roll of his eyes, his cheeks pink. It was definitely just because of the cold.
Draco settled back down, his hand still in Harry's. Boldly, Harry leaned in closer, letting his head fall onto Draco's shoulder. "I hate Halloween," he muttered under his breath. Draco's cheek tilted to press against his hair, his body a warm line against Harry's.
"I'm sorry about your parents," he said softly.
The pair sat there under the tree for almost half an hour, Harry's head on Draco's shoulder, breathing quietly in the cold October morning. By the time they parted — Draco worried Pansy would be looking for him, and Harry thinking the same of Ron and Hermione — Harry still had the bad feeling in his gut, but he felt calmer. More ready to face the day.
It wasn't quite the hug Sirius had ordered, but it was good enough. .-.-.
True to his word, he went up to the Owlery after parting ways with Draco, calling Hedwig down. "Hello, girl," he greeted fondly, stroking her head. "Won't be a minute." There was a writing desk in the corner of the Owlery, and Harry dug a quill and some parchment out of his bag, sitting down with a thoughtful frown.
The first letter on Harry's list was to Bill Weasley.
Dear Bill,
Hope it's okay that I'm writing to you. You did say to keep in touch, after all. I expect the others have already told you about the tournament, but the champions get chosen tonight. From what I heard, the twins tried to put their names in, but they didn't get past the age line.
I was wondering something — you work for Gringotts, right? Do you know a goblin called Gorrak? I had some dealings with him the summer before third year, and I was wondering how he was doing. What exactly does a curse-breaker do? You said you brought home treasure — is all of your job raiding old Egyptian tombs, or do you ever break curses on people, too?
Hope you're doing well,
Harry There. Enough of a hint for Bill to hopefully connect some dots — and enough that if Bill was in Dumbledore's pocket, he would go to the headmaster about it, and Harry would know soon enough. If Dumbledore thought Harry was aware of the curse on him, he'd no doubt start sniffing around.
He grabbed a second piece of parchment, thinking a little longer before writing this one.
Dear Charlie,
The secret is out; the tournament is almost underway. Are you planning to come watch some of it? Is that why you said you might see us sooner than expected? It's a shame the tournament means quidditch is cancelled, though. I was looking forward to using some of the stuff I practiced this summer in a real match. I guess it'll have to wait until next year.
I'm curious — is the Ministry in Romania like the Ministry here? The Durmstang students are pretty quiet about where they're from and how things work, and I was wondering if all European wizarding communities were the same. Do they have a Wizengamot like we do? Are the seats inherited in the same way? No worries if you don't know, I just thought I'd ask. I've been looking into things like that a little more here, and I'd be interested to see if it's much different elsewhere. Hope you're doing well,
Harry
If Bill and Charlie put their letters together, they could probably get a pretty clear idea of what Harry was really implying. Harry sealed the letters and tied them to Hedwig's leg, hoping both Weasley boys were still living at the Burrow for now. He didn't want to accidentally send her to Egypt or Romania!
She soared off into the horizon, and Harry sighed to himself, officially out of excuses for avoiding Ron and Hermione. He had other letters to write, but they could wait until Hedwig was back. He thought about going to the library, pretending to do homework until Hermione eventually found him, but it was no use; halfway down the main staircase, he heard a call of his name. "There you are!" The pair hurried towards him. "Mate, you missed it — Fred and George tried to put their names in, but the age line wasn't fooled by the potion. They got these massive beards, it was brilliant!" Ron enthused. "Where were you?"
"Owlery." Let them think he was writing to Sirius.
"Oh. Well, we thought we'd go visit Hagrid, we haven't been to see him yet this term." While Harry didn't really want to spend that much time with Ron and Hermione today, he couldn't think of a good excuse — and he did owe Hagrid a visit. So he found himself outside once more, this time heading towards the hut. The Beauxbatons carriage was parked close by, no doubt so Hagrid could keep a close eye on the enormous horses.
Visiting with Hagrid was just like old times — if a little bizarre, what with Hagrid wearing his interesting-looking suit. All became clear when they went to head up to the castle for the feast, and the headmistress of Beauxbatons stepped out of her carriage.
"We've lost him," Harry declared when Hagrid started walking alongside the large woman, oblivious to his student companions. Hermione giggled.
The three of them headed up to the castle, which was abuzz with excitement. They found a seat by the twins, who looked no worse for wear after their experience with the age line.
"I hope it's Angelina!" Fred enthused. "But any Gryffindor will do."
"As long as it's not Pretty-Boy Diggory," Ron muttered under his breath. Harry rolled his eyes.
It was the fastest a Hogwarts feast had ever been eaten. Everyone was wolfing down their food, desperate for the champions to be announced, but up at the head table Dumbledore seemed to be savouring every bite.
After what felt like an age, the plates cleared, and he stood.
Harry's pulse ticked up, but he couldn't tell if it was in exhilaration or dread. He still had that bad feeling, he'd been carrying it around all day, and now the champions were about to be announced his stomach was bubbling with something that wasn't entirely excitement.
Viktor Krum, the first champion. A strong choice — if Krum was as good at magic as he was at flying, he'd be a real contender. He'd already proven he could think on the move. Fleur Delacour — the girl who looked like a veela. Harry knew literally nothing about her, but her schoolmates seemed disappointed. Though perhaps that was just because they hadn't been chosen.
When the Hogwarts champion was announced, Harry was almost knocked off his bench by the force of the noise coming from the Hufflepuff table. He beamed, getting to his feet and applauding. "Nice one, Cedric!" he called, ignoring Ron's scowl at his side. Cedric turned and grinned at him on his way up. Harry was glad; Hufflepuff deserved a little glory.
Sitting down, Harry finally let himself relax, grinning as it took several minutes for the Hufflepuffs to quiet down enough for Dumbledore to speak. There, it was done, the champions were chosen, he had survived another Halloween feast.
And then the fire in the Goblet turned red again.
Harry's heart turned to ice as the parchment shot into Dumbledore's hand. The entire hall was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone stared at Dumbledore, who stared at the parchment. Then he looked up. His eyes fixed on Harry. Oh, no.
"Harry Potter."
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