Chapter 18

The whole story is out now at: buymeacoffee.com/fanfictionforge

Enjoy the read.

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Warning:

 The tournament rules have changed slightly. Instead of one contestant from each school, teams will compete.

 All the inhabitants of Hogwarts, with the exception of the ghosts, stood outside the main doors to the castle. More than half of the students were shivering from the cold, the strong wind rubbing the hems of their robes and getting under them, making their skin goosebumps. The teachers who had cast warming spells on themselves and a few dozen students stood out in front of them. Harry, Draco, Neville and Ron, well aware of how cold it had been that day in THAT life, put on warm robes. The renewed Golden Trio also made sure that the first-years were dressed warmly as well. After all, eleven-year-olds still didn't think much about anything other than pranks, and it was a pity for them. That time they'd been taken to the hospital wing by the whole class, having caught a cold in the freezing wind. And the others... They didn't care about them, because THEN many of their current classmates had been Dumbledore's loyal mutts.

 Malfoy, actually being older than he looked, felt responsible for his mates. That was why the entire fourth year of the silver-green faculty, with the exception of Pansy Parkinson, were now standing in warm robes. However, Draco had taken care of the first year students of his house as well.

 Malfoy, Potter, Longbottom and Weasley stood together. Four of the boys were talking quietly, ignoring the displeased looks of the Headmaster and his deputy. For the most part, the others were looking at them with interest, though there were some incomprehensible or outright angry glances. The students' interest was understandable; tonight was the first time that the three Gryffindors and one Slytherin had openly switched from coldly polite to friendly dialogue. They realised that they had already sufficiently prepared those around them for such a small-scale but rather significant change in the school life of an English educational and magical institution. Just a couple of days ago the guys decided to move on to the next stage and now they were showing everyone that they were mates. The third stage was scheduled for the day of the announcement of the participants. And now, standing at the entrance to the castle, the four boys were quietly talking among themselves, not showing any curiosity about how the delegations from other schools would arrive. They had seen it once before, so there was no interest as such.

 Finally, Lee Jordan shouted for everyone to look up. The eyes of the assembled crowd went to where the dark-skinned Gryffindor was pointing. A large carriage appeared over the treetops, pulled by huge, winged horses, their hooves shimmying as if they were running through the air. The sight of the Beauxbatons School delegation arriving was beautiful. The horses gracefully descended to the ground and folded their wings and galloped another couple of dozen feet before stopping. When the stop was made, a short, frail young man jumped out of the huge, golden-blue carriage and, opening the door wide, lowered a ladder to the ground. The first thing they saw was a foot in a woman's shoe of incredibly huge size, followed by its owner. The director of the Beauxbatons was a half-giant woman named Olympia Maxim. This woman, despite her size, could even be called beautiful. She left the carriage and waited for her charges to stand beside her, smiled broadly and greeted Dumbledore with a pronounced French accent.

 While Madame Maxime and the Headmaster of Hogwarts were saying meaningless phrases about how glad they were to see each other, Harry was looking for Fleur Delacour among the French students. After a few seconds he did see her. The girl stood surrounded by her friends, shivering in the chilly wind. The thin fabric of their school's uniform did not protect her from the cold and was inappropriate in the frigid Scottish climate. Potter scrutinised Mademoiselle Delacourt carefully. The girl was very beautiful, and most importantly - faithful until death. In THAT life this French beauty had paid for her loyalty to her younger sister's saviour with death..... Fleur, contrary to the orders of her husband looked for proof of Harry's innocence and found it, but did not have time to use it. Her own husband stabbed her in the heart with a dagger...

 It happened in Azkaban, when Fleur came to visit Potter and share the good news with him. The prison guard warned Bill that his wife had come to see one of the special prisoners. And he immediately rushed to Azkaban. And when he heard what his wife had said to Harry, he was furious. Fleur died quickly, but her look, full of despair, directed at the green-eyed prisoner forever remained in the memory of Potter and Malfoy, who was in a neighbouring cell....

 There was curiosity burning in the girl's eyes now and Harry swore to himself that he would not allow Fleur and Bill Weasley to be united. That corrupt, jealous creature didn't deserve to be around the lovely French girl. And in THIS life, no Weasley will go near her, he'll make sure of that.

- Who are you dreaming of? - Neville elbowed Harry in the side, interrupting his friend's musings.

- I'm not dreaming, I'm thinking," Potter smirked, noticing how Parkinson, the only fourth year Slytherin not wearing a warm robe, was shaking from the cold.

- If you say so. So who are you thinking about? - Longbottom kept up.

- Her," Harry pointed with his chin at the familiar, blonde-haired Beauxbatons.

 Neville looked at the arrivals and his gaze became serious. The same image of the beautiful half-veilah's death immediately came to mind, as it had recently for his friend. It was hard to keep smiling. The young man sighed and squeezed Harry's shoulder and said quietly:

- It's going to be different here.

- I know," Potter replied just as quietly.

 A moment later, the delegation from Beauxbatons made their way into the castle, and the crowd of students soon erupted in cheers of admiration. It was the students who had seen the arrival of the ship carrying the Durmstrang School representatives. The Bulgarians disembarked in an orderly fashion. The procession was led by the headmaster - Igor Karkarov.

- I'll have to talk to him," Ron whispered, watching the Bulgarian headmaster greet Dumbledore.

- I will," Harry nodded, also watching the professors.

 Only unlike his red-haired friend, he wasn't watching Karkaroff, but Snape and Scowling Crouch. Potter noticed how Barty, temporarily wearing the guise of a crazed auror, became animated just for a moment. Nor did he miss the interest that flashed in the Potions Master's anthracite eyes. Both men seemed pleased to see their fellow misfit. Well, that was understandable. To Crouch, Igor was a friend; to Severus, he was a good mate.

- Soon, very soon... - the green-eyed mage whispered, wondering how best to approach the headmaster of Durmstrang.

- Did you say something? - Draco asked softly, casting disgruntled glances at Parkinson, who was trying to get closer to him.

- 'Yes, but not here,' Harry replied.

 Malfoy just nodded and shoved Ron in the side with his elbow, signalling for them to switch seats. The redhead smirked and took a step aside, allowing the Slytherin to stand next to Potter. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Parkinson grimace angrily and begin to hiss something fiercely in Theodore Nott's ear. But he just waved her away like a pesky fly.

 Finally, Dumbledore allowed everyone to return to the castle. In the Great Hall, festively set tables and the welcome warmth were waiting for them. The Hogwarts elves had done a good job, making sure that the host hadn't made a mess of things. The faculty tables, as they did twice a year - at the welcome and farewell feasts - were covered with snow-white tablecloths and bursting with an abundance of food. Everything was just as the boys remembered it. The Beauxbatons girls took the Ravenclaw table, as they had last time, and the Durmstrangs sat at the Slytherin table. Madame Maxime and Igor Karkaroff squeezed Flitwick in, sitting to one side of Dumbledore. Just like last time Fleur took a dish of bouillabaisse* from the Gryffindor table, having asked Harry's permission beforehand, and Krum was chatting with Draco...

 Dumbledore rose from the faculty table. Calling everyone to silence, he spoke:

- 'As you all know by now, this year we are holding the Three Wizards Tournament. In consultation with the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and the members of the judging committee, we have decided to change the rules a little. Throughout the history of the tournament, it has often happened that participants were killed. Therefore, it was decided that a team of four students would participate from each school instead of one. Such precedents have already happened several times in the past and thus those tournaments turned out to be the most successful. Of course, due to the increase in the number of participants, additional tests will be introduced so that both independent work and teamwork can be assessed. Those who will participate in the tournament will be exempted from the exams. One last thing. Due to the high mortality rate of participants, it has been decided that only those students who have reached the age of fourteen will be able to take part in the trials. To enforce this condition, I will personally enforce the age limit around the cup of fire. And now. Mr Filch, please.

 The old man waved invitingly, and the caretaker rolled out a large box on a trolley. Dumbledore conjured up a pedestal in the centre of the room and placed the goblet from the box on it. The Headmaster waved his hand again and the lights in the hall went out, only to see a bluish flame light up over the goblet a few seconds later. It seemed to emanate from the cup itself. The sight was quite beautiful and this solemn moment mesmerised many present.

 After the cup was set, the light in the hall was lit again. The feast itself didn't last long and soon the students went to their dormitories. Harry, Neville and Ron turned down an inconspicuous corridor on their way to their living room, they were going to meet Draco and Barty to discuss some important matters. After casting a disillusionment spell on themselves, the boys made their way to the Room of Requirement, where the meeting was to take place. After a while, first Draco and then Crouch arrived there as well. They decided not to bother Severus, he had enough to worry about.

- How's Dumbledore? Didn't figure you out? - Harry asked as soon as Alastor-Barty entered the room.

- No," the man shook his head and sat back in his chair.

 With a grimace of relief, he unbuckled the wooden prosthesis and removed the glass eye, covering the empty eye socket with a black bandage in the manner of a pirate. With his healthy eye, the man stared at the face of his wristwatch, counting down the last seconds until he regained his native form. The boys waited in silence. A moment later, the retired auror's body contours began to blur and the man went into a painful spasm. A few seconds and it was over; instead of the old, crippled warrior, the chair was a young man. Barty sighed and leaned back.

- Tell me how you managed to get rid of your annoying girlfriend," he glanced at Harry and Ron.

 The red-haired boy took the role of narrator. Ron told the story in person, making Crouch laugh out loud.

- How was your trip to Voldemort? - Neville asked when his friend had finished his story.

- I've been itching to throw an avada at that little twerp," the man cringed at the mere memory of what the Dark Lord was like these days. - Harry, why don't we take him out quietly? You know, without waiting for the rebirth?

- You know, I've been thinking about that more and more lately," Potter said thoughtfully.

- What about Dumbledore? - Ron asked incomprehensibly.

- You could turn him into a psycho," Longbottom grinned bloodthirstily.

- A lunatic? - Draco raised his eyebrows.

- A lunatic you say... - The black-haired wizard's emerald green eyes squinted, giving Harry the impression that Harry had drifted off into himself.

*Bouillabaisse is a French soup made from four varieties of fish, lobster, shrimp, tomatoes and other vegetables. It is served cold.