Chapter Text
Harry Potter was on edge. How could he not be? It was Halloween, there was a dramatic event scheduled, and the adults in his life had unanimously assured him that he wouldn't be involved in this tournament. It all added up to something terrible happening, and he was an anxious ball of dread as the champions names were drawn from the goblet. The room seemed to hold its breath as the third piece of parchment was spat out, Dumbledore snatching it from the air.
"The champion for Hogwarts, is Cedric Diggory!"
A great shuddering breath was released as Harry shakily joined in the applause for the Hufflepuff champion, a grin spread across his face. He couldn't believe it, he really was going to get to just enjoy this tournament as a spectator and not be involved!
As Harry tried to get his breathing back to normal, Dumbledore's speech congratulating the champions suddenly cut off. Everyone's gaze snapped back to the goblet that was once again spewing red sparks. A fourth singed scrap of parchment flew out of the flames to be caught by a confused looking Dumbledore.
"Harry Potter..."
No... No no no no no.
Harry froze stiff. The dense, cold ball of dread that had been slowly unravelling since Diggory's name was called reformed instantly and plunged into his stomach.
"No" he heard himself say aloud in a choked voice, "No I didn't put my name in."
Dumbledore was calling his name again, Hermione hissed something in his ear and roughly shoved him towards the front of the hall. In a daze, Harry stumbled up to the head table. He shot a panicked, pleading look at Dumbledore, hoping for some kind of reassurance. But the headmaster just gave him a small disapproving frown, and gestured to continue through to the next room.
As he entered the small side chamber and saw the imposing figures of the three champions awaiting their instructions, Harry felt his numb disbelief start to give way to panic. His breaths became shallow, heart racing as more and more people entered the room and joined the heated argument over how he cheated his way into the tournament.
When Moody suggested someone was trying to get him killed, and Crouch insisted there was no way out of the binding contract, true panic began to set in. The room swam out of focus, as his frantic thoughts swirled uncontrollably. A warm hand landing gently on his shoulder made Harry flinch, slamming him back into reality to see the concerned eyes of his head of house staring back at him.
"I didn't do it!" Harry blurted out. "I don't want to do this, I don't want to die, please don't make me do this!" He said pleadingly to McGonagall. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, exchanging a worried look with Professor Flitwick over his head. While the rest of the adults in the room continued to argue, the two professors quietly escorted the panicking fourth year back out into the now deserted great hall.
"Potter, I need you to breathe for me, slowly now, match my breaths." McGonagall said calmly once the door swung shut, taking large, exaggerated breaths.
Harry tried his best to concentrate on his professor's instructions, and gradually felt his breathing slow as he could finally get enough air in his lungs again.
"I'm sorry Professor," Harry stuttered once he was able to talk. "I don't know what happened, everyone was yelling and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe properly, and-" He cut himself off in embarrassment, feeling tears building behind his eyes as he looked down at his feet. So much for being the boy saviour, hero extraordinaire. Panicking like that at the mere thought of competing in a tournament.
"No need to apologise Potter, a very understandable response to such a stressful situation, I think." McGonagall said kindly. "I'm afraid, as deputy headmistress, I should return to the meeting. However, Professor Flitwick would be glad to accompany you to the hospital wing if you feel a calming draught would help."
Harry glanced over to see the charms Professor give a reassuring nod. "Thanks Professor, but I think I just want to go back to the common room, if that's ok? I'd like to be with my friends."
"Very well, my office is always open if you need anything. I'll let you know the outcome of the meeting tomorrow, once everyone is a bit more clear headed." She gave him a kind smile before walking back into the adjoining room, a wave of agitated voices spilling out as the door opened. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat gently.
"I'm just on my way back to Ravenclaw tower to check on my students, would you mind if I walked with you part of the way Mr Potter?"
"No, that's fine Professor." Harry responded softly as they began walking towards the double doors of the hall. He appreciated Flitwick offering to keep him company, but at the same time, really just wanted to be alone to sort out his thoughts before having to face his housemates. Thankfully the paths to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tower diverged sooner than Harry thought they might, and Flitwick bid him goodnight on the fourth floor landing.
"Well, goodnight Mr Potter. Do try to get some rest, I myself find problems always look slightly less daunting after a good night's sleep and a pot of breakfast tea." Flitwick said with an encouraging smile. "And know that whatever was said in that room tonight, Professor McGonagall will do all she can to find a way to ensure your safety during this tournament."
“Um, thanks Professor.” Harry replied awkwardly “Goodnight.”
As he watched Flitwick walk away, Harry couldn't help but be sceptical about that last statement. In his experience, adults tended to care very little about how safe he was.
*
Despite dragging his feet somewhat, the entrance to the Gryffindor common room still seemed to approach quicker than it should've. Harry took a steadying breath, ignoring the gossiping of the Fat Lady and her friend Violet, and braced himself as he gave the password and entered.
It was worse than he expected. He'd been prepared for insults and cold glares, for poorly concealed muttering about how he was a disgrace to his house for cheating his way into the tournament. What he hadn't been prepared for was a party in full swing, celebrating him as Gryffindor's champion.
He searched frantically for Ron and Hermione among the swarm of people congratulating him and chanting his name, feeling that same panicked feeling from earlier starting to creep up his throat as he failed to spot them. Deciding they must be in the dorms, Harry shook off the people pawing at him and bolted up the spiral staircase, muttering excuses about being too tired to celebrate. Finally reaching his destination, he sagged in relief as the door slammed shut, cutting off the noise of the party, and saw Ron sitting alone in the dormitory.
“There you are,” Harry sighed “I really need to talk to you. Hermione's not here?”
“Na, she went to bed.” Ron said, with an oddly strained smile. “Well, out with it then, how did you do it?”
“What do you mean? How did I do what?” Harry asked in confusion.
“How did you enter of course! Come on, no need to keep the act up with me, I'm not going to tell anyone.”
Harry's heart sank. Of all the people, he thought Ron would know him well enough to realise he didn't do this.
“I didn't enter! It's not an act Ron, I'm telling the truth!” He pleaded, “You know me, I don't want fame or glory or prize money, I have enough of all that already! Why would I risk my life for something so stupid!”
The forced smile fell off Ron's face, replaced with much more genuine looking anger.
“Oh as if, how stupid do you think I am? I've watched you throw yourself into danger for fame and glory ever since first year! At least you used to include me and Hermione in what was going on, I thought we were a team!” Ron ranted, jumping up off his bed. “But no, not this time! Got sick of sharing the spotlight, I guess. Decided you were old enough to handle it on your own now, huh?”
Harry stood gaping at his friend, at one of the few people he was sure would believe him and be there to help him through this. He tried to make his voice work, to explain to Ron how Moody thought someone was trying to kill him, that Crouch said there was no way out of it. He tried to make himself admit how scared he was, that he really needed his friends to tell him it's ok and help figure a way through this together. Like they always have.
His voice wouldn't come though. That same feeling from earlier was creeping over him again, and his breaths came shallower as Ron's twisted, angry face tunnelled in his vision. As hot tears began to build behind his eyes, Harry did the only thing he could. He ran. He fled from the sight of his friend stalking towards him in anger, he flew through the crowded common room with the noise registering only as meaningless ringing in his ears. Out of the portrait hole and down the empty corridor he ran, until he found himself in the dark corner of an old disused classroom.
Curled into himself in the small dusty space beneath a desk, Harry heaved great shuddering breaths, and finally let his tears fall.
*
Harry woke up disoriented and stiff all over. Taking in the cramped space, the feeling of dried tear tracks on his face and the pain shooting through his hip and shoulder from the hard floor, for a horrifying moment he thought he was back in his cupboard. He sat up in a panic and thwacked his head on the underside of the desk, unleashing a shower of dust. Coughing and cursing to himself, Harry crawled out from under the desk holding his smarting forehead. Taking in the daylight illuminating the disused classroom that he apparently slept in, the events of the previous night came rushing back.
With a despairing groan, Harry slid down the wall behind him to the floor. He watched the dust motes caught in the light streaming through tall windows, taking stock of his situation. Lucky it was a Sunday, he could get away with avoiding everyone for a while longer as he figured things out.
His name came out of the goblet of fire. He was apparently fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament, as ridiculous as that statement was. McGonagall was going to try and get him out of it, but Harry knew better than to get his hopes up about that. Best to assume the worst for now and not rely on others sorting it out for him.
Nobody seemed to believe that he didn't enter, except McGonagall and Flitwick, and Moody apparently since he thought it was a murder plot. Maybe by now most of the staff realised he couldn't have entered himself. But his fellow students certainly all seemed to think he did it, even Ron…
Harry clenched his jaw against the tears that threatened to emerge again at the thought of what Ron had said. That was the worst part of this whole situation. He was somewhat used to being thrown into crazy adventures against his will after the last three years, but to not have any friends to turn to, that's what hurt the most.
For a moment Harry considered going to find Hermione to see if she would believe him, but he dismissed the thought almost immediately. Not only did he not want to risk running into Ron again so soon, but he didn't think he'd be able to cope right now if it turned out she hated him too.
In fact, Harry didn't think he was ready to deal with anyone's reactions to him just yet. All he wanted was to hide from the real world for as long as he could. With this thought, Harry pulled his robe off over his head, scrunched it up to use as a pillow and, after ensuring he couldn't be seen if someone opened the door, set his glasses down next to his head and curled up in a small puddle of sunlight. Focusing on the feeling of warmth seeping into his skin, Harry tried to put everything else from his mind as he drifted back to sleep.
~★~