Chapter 7: Purple Eminence

1.1K 52 7
                                    

"He can't possibly compete. He wasn't even listed under a school!" Igor Karkaroff complained from where the three Heads sat in Dumbledore's office.

Madame Maxime nodded her head solemnly. "I agree. Is zere no way to let 'im go free?"

Albus ran a hand over his face, feeling ten times his age.

Everything had been so perfect. His goal was within his grasp. Only to learn someone else had been tampering with the Goblet as well, and the one boy he most did not want to see had been placed right under his very nose. The one boy who could unravel all of his plans to place Neville Longbottom as the new savior.

Or, perhaps, the situation could be salvaged. Surely no one would possibly expect, once they saw the boy, for Harry Potter to ever be capable of saving anyone?

Albus spoke up, his voice solemn.

"The Goblet is binding. Harry Potter must compete, or risk breaking the contract and paying the price."

"Then who does he compete for? Just because he is a British citizen doesn't mean he should be competing for Hogwarts as well." Igor said haughtily, and Albus carefully arranged his face into serious lines.

"I propose he competes for himself, perhaps with a partner chosen by us. There is a reason Mr. Potter has not been enrolled at my school, a very serious one I'm afraid the public has not been made aware of yet. He would not be an asset to your school's team."

The witch and wizard exchanged puzzled glances.

Then, Albus Dumbledore explained the ramifications of the Killing Curse, and their confusion turned to dismay.

Then, pity.

-O-O-

The sound of the doorbell ringing woke Harry from a deep sleep.

Immediately, light dawned around him like an explosion of the sun, his consciousness filtering through the information with long practice. His grey walls, his green wooden floors, the bed he lay upon, the brown cotton linens. Streams of light, of life both present and faded.

He rolled over with a sigh, burrowing into his blankets and the smell of clean linens. It was Saturday; Hermione wasn't to come over until after lunch, and his aunt hadn't even called up for breakfast yet.

Had Dudley gotten caught with illegals again? The last time the police had come to their very door with the allegations and Dudley had been grounded for the rest of the year.

Harry rather thought the boy had given up such things in favor of his newest girlfriend, a posh girl from rich parents who wouldn't take kindly to even a whiff of illegal activity around their daughter. Not to mention his place as star of the Smeltings Boxing team.

"Harry?" His aunt's voice at the door jolted him awake again from where he had begun to drift asleep. "You have... visitors."

Her voice trembled; Harry was instantly alert.

The incident from the night before still bothered him. Had it been magic after all? Had the Ministry noticed?

But why, then, come to his house and not Hermione's where the blue fire had caught him?

Had they been there already?

Frowning, Harry quickly dressed, brown natural fibers combined with the fiery orange dragonhide boots. With his staff in hand, he descended the steps more by memory than sight.

He saw them from the hallway, through the flickering shadows of the living room's plaster.

Two magical people, one a virtual sunburst of pale blue magic with flickers of scarlet fire within its pattern, an odd mix he hadn't yet seen. It didn't resemble pregnancy, but definitely signaled a foreign influence of some sort.

BlindnessWhere stories live. Discover now