Chapter Seventeen - Rendered and Drawn

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the proverbial Duchess of Magic, JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. No matter how much I whine about not owning anything related to the HP universe, other than a few fanfic plots, I do not profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world... Damn it!

A/N: I've had quite a few reviewers hint or otherwise about the little known ? effect of human females who cohabit having their cycles synchronise. For this story, this won't happen. Put it down to magicals being a little different in that regard.

Chapter Seventeen - Rendered and Drawn

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—==(oIo)==—

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After quite a few weeks of waiting, Matthias came through with an expert at rendering large magical creature carcasses down to potion ingredients. The man also claimed experience in rendering down a two hundred year old basilisk in Bosnia.

Quietly, Harry met with the man and Matthias in the Shrieking Shack and led them through to the castle under disillusionment charms at a time when they knew, from Dobby's monitoring of the man, the Headmaster was away from the school. Harry quickly took both men down to Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor, where they met with Hermione and Daphne. He opened the secret entrance and, together, they went down to the chamber.

The man, Gregor Ianovich, took one look at the carcass and exclaimed, "Slatki Milostiv Merlin!"

Harry chuckled and said, "And, just think; I killed the damned thing with a sword."

"I had heard of this," said Ianovich, in his strong eastern European accent. "I just could not belief it. And for a beast so big; this is... how you say... astonishing!"

"So I've been told," smirked Harry. Turning to his bondmates he saw Daphne standing there looking gob smacked, while Hermione was trying to stay as far away from it as she could, while still also offering her bondmate her support.

"Harry, when you said it was a 'big snake' this is not the size I imagined," trembled Daphne. "Even the memory did not do this justice. H-How did you survive this?"

"Sheer bloody luck," muttered Harry. "And, if it wasn't for Fawkes, I'd be dead."

While they'd been talking, Ianovich was walking around the carcass. "Vell, it can be done," he proclaimed. "It vill not take me too long to render it down. But, vee needs to not sell ingredients too fast. Zee market, she cannot take too much, zo fast."

"That's fine," replied Harry. "Render it completely as quickly as you can. We'll store the components in Matthias's vaults."

"Harry?" asked Matthias.

"Better yours than mine, Matthias," replied Harry. "You can easily get access to your vaults; I cannot."

"Harry, we're talking millions of galleons worth of basilisk parts, here," explained Matthias.

"And I trust you," stated Harry. Explaining himself, he said, "Your eldest daughter and heir is one of my bondmates, Matthias. You are now one of a very select group of people I believe I... that is, we... can trust."

Matthias thought of that for a long moment before he looked Harry in the eyes and said, "And I thank you for that trust, Harry."

After some initial haggling Ianovich agreed to handle the work for an agreed fixed sum, a small percentage of the profits and a small portion of the final rendered ingredients. Harry was happy that the final figures involved were actually smaller than the level he was prepared to go, based on what Matthias said would be likely. Ianovich would return with sufficient containers, bottles and other receptacles the following weekend to handle the work.

Harry had already discovered the Headmaster would be away from the school the following Monday for a Wizengamot meeting. Ianovich would go down into the chamber, at that time, and remain until the next weekend. He would take in a wizarding tent and sufficient supplies to live in there for the duration.

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—==(oIo)==—

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The weeks started to flow past. The mail sorters worked hard to go through Harry's entire backlog of mail and were making solid progress. Harry had also started to receive mail back from various witches and wizards he didn't know who had, in part, written to apologise they'd thought badly of him; and to thank him for doing the right thing and responding to every letter and gift he'd received.

Of course, there was the near-week when the owls had to be returned for a prior contract, but that didn't stop the sorters from continuing. Only the sending team had to go on hold. It also meant the owls were given a terrific load of work once they came back.

The gift sorters were also going though all the gifts and breaking them down into categories, as per Harry's request. There were a great many handmade gifts from children that were set aside. And Dobby and Winky were charged with building shelving for the smaller gifts on the walls in the bondmates' apartment. And many ended up there. The larger ones were lovingly packed away and taken to the Potter vaults for safekeeping.

The bought non-perishable gifts were broken down into age-related piles. And then split again into muggle-safe and non-muggle-safe piles. When the piles then became too large they were forwarded on to orphanages around the country, with the muggle-safe gifts going to muggle orphanages. All gifts were left without attribution so they'd be anonymous.

The hand drawn, glued, cut-out, and sprinkled or whatever cards Dobby sorted into chronological order, and used sticking charms to paste them into large wizarding albums he'd purchased. These now numbered over half a dozen full, and there'd be far more before they were finished. The bondmates spent most of their time while in the sorting room going through these albums. And the girls realised Harry was right to keep them and cherish them.

"Some of these cards are absolutely amazing, Harry," said Daphne, a little awed. "The amount of time it must have taken these little witches and wizards to make each one must have covered many days."

Harry chuckled a little bit and reached for album six. He quickly flipped through it until he came to one particular page; and plopped the open album before Daphne. He then reached across and tapped one of the small cards.

Daphne took one look at it and blushed. "I... didn't remember making that. I do now, though."

"It's not my intention to embarrass you with this, Daph," he apologised. "I just thought you'd get a kick out of it."

"Oh, I do!" she shot back. "I also remember that was the first of the ones I made for you for each of your birthdays."

"It's not surprising," cut in Hermione, from where she was flipping through another album. "In the later albums I'm starting to see names of current students. Admittedly, most of them are all in the more senior years; but, I've seen a couple from our year.

"The closer we get to this year, the more often that's going to occur. I just hope our school mates aren't going to be too embarrassed when they receive a thank you letter from 'Harry'."

"I won't change what's happening just because we personally know the sender," Harry firmly said. "If we did it means the sorters were going to have to second guess each letter to see if we know who sent it. By not treating them any different it makes the sorters' jobs that much easier. So, if anyone asks, that's what we'll tell them."

"Well, the Daily Prophet 'Letters to the Editor' section has you, again, as the second coming," blushed Hermione. "They're singing your praises for caring enough to write to each and every person; in some cases, multiple times."

"It's necessary," sighed Harry. "I'll need that goodwill to fight against the backlash that will occur when my name comes out of the Goblet, and then Skeeter's bile. Hopefully, if Skeeter does try to use her poisonous quill against me, the wizarding public will be up in arms before I can even sic Miss Pentridge onto her again."

"How did that turn out?" asked Daphne. "The other week, I mean."

"The Prophet printed its retraction; though, it was only on one of the last pages, and in really fine print," replied Harry. "However, as Miss Pen... Margaret pointed out, the Prophet now knows that if they print untruths about me they're in for a major legal stoush. Margaret's made it quite clear that her demands of them the other week were only what she considers a 'love tap' and an introduction to what could be in store for them in future. The next time it happens, she brings out the legal claws and shreds them."

"That'll declaw Skeeter for a while," mused Daphne. "However, it also means Skeeter's now going to be after you. And, she'll dig up as much dirt on you as she can, and make sure it's true."

"Good," replied Harry. "I want her to print as much truth about me as she likes. It'll make it that much harder for Dumbledore to try and control me... us."

He grinned at the girls as they smiled back.

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—==(oIo)==—

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After going in while Dumbledore was away at the Wizengamot meeting - one where the Headmaster was hauled over the coals, and only avoided being sacked as the 'legal action' had yet to pass through the courts - Ianovich came out right on time. He carried in with him a large trunk he said was loaded down with other shrunken trunks, his tools, his victuals and the wizarding tent.

Six days later, Ianovich had no sooner popped out of the hidden entrance, and he and Harry were hidden under strong disillusionment and notice-me-not charms, when Dumbledore hurried in. While the Headmaster was peering closely at the now opened entrance - and was casting spells upon it Harry thought were designed to hold the entrance open - the two made their escape through the still open door.

"It appears that man vas very eenterested in Chamber of Secrets, yes?" asked Ianovich, once they were far enough away their conversation couldn't be overheard.

"Yes," replied Harry. "I have it on very good authority he was interested in claiming the carcass for himself. I take it Matthias explained this to you?"

"Da. He did," replied Ianovich. "This Dumbledore... he is supposed to be great white wizard... yet, he tries to steal carcass from you. I think he is not as white as he would have others believe, no?"

"No, he's not," sighed Harry.

The two met Matthias at the Whomping Willow entrance to the secret tunnel to the shrieking shack. Matthias was even kind enough to press the knot on the tree to settle it while both made it down and into the tunnel.

"It's done?" asked Matthias.

"It is done," Ianovich firmly replied. He handed the trunk over to Matthias and said, "I have kept five square yards of skin, one quart of venom, two eye strings, and one cup of bile, as agreed. I trust I will receive the balance of my payment soon?"

"As soon as we get to Gringotts, if you like," replied Matthias. "I'll collect your final payment once I have this trunk safely ensconced in my vault."

"I'll leave you to it, gentlemen," said Harry. "I need to get back."

"Take care, Harry," replied Matthias.

"Da. Take care, Mister Potter; and it vas a pleazure doing business wit you," said Ianovich, offering his hand.

Harry shook it and said, "Try to come and see the first task of the Tri-wizard Tournament. I may have a second large job for you," before he quickly made his way back to the castle using his invisibility cloak to hurry back to the apartment.

As he walked in and removed the cloak, Daphne asked, "How'd it go?"

"It went off as planned," he replied with a grin. "I collected Mister Ianovich up from the bathroom and escorted him out to your father, who was waiting under the Whomping Willow. They're now on their way to Gringotts to see the rendered products safely into the Greengrass vaults; and Mister Ianovich receiving his final payment.

"We damned near got caught by Dumbledore, though. I'd only just got Ianovich out of the hidden entrance... and both of us under disillusionment and notice-me-not charms... when the white whiskered wanker hurried into the bathroom. We were lucky he scurried right past us and went direct to the sinks. It allowed us to slip out the door while he had his back to us."

"I'm still having difficulty believing Dumbledore would try to steal from you Harry," grumbled Hermione.

"Then answer me this, love," asked Harry. "What condition was the carcass in when you and Ron went down into the Chamber just before the start of the Battle of Hogwarts; the day the three of us died?"

"It was just a skeleton," she replied, frowning.

"The only way it could have been a skeleton is if it had already been rendered down," said Daphne. "The battle was only about five years after Harry killed it. Something that big could not possibly have been reduced to nothing more than a skeleton that quickly. Especially, not something as magical as a basilisk of that age or size."

"Uh-hmm," agreed Harry. "And, in this timeline, it's been close on eighteen months since the basilisk was killed. "How much decomposition did you see?"

With a pained sigh, Hermione sadly replied, "None. So, someone had definitely harvested it by the time of the battle."

"I suspect Ron, of course," said Harry. "But, from those wards and alerts Dumbledore placed on the sinks, I think you'll find it was Ron and Dumbledore working together. I think Ron tried to steal it, and was busted by Dumbledore. Then Ron split the profits with him. Hell, Snape was probably the one who did the rendering work. As a Potions Master 'rendering' is a skill he'd have to know."

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—==(oIo)==—

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Two days before Halloween and the two schools were about to arrive. Classes had finished at lunch time to allow all the students to return to their dorms to change, where necessary, into clean robes. Even the evening meal was pushed back a little to wait for both schools to arrive.

With the rest of the school body Harry, Daphne and Hermione stood out on the lawns of the school next to the main driveway to await both arrivals. Of course, all three had already been through this before, so they were all looking to the skies above the mountains on the other side of Black Lake for the first speck of the Beauxbatons carriage.

Harry spotted it and, with an outthrust arm and pointing finger to the carriage, exclaimed, "There!"

Quite a few heads first turned to see where he was indicating, and then looked to the skies, themselves.

"Wow, Harry!" exclaimed one of the third year Ravenclaws. "No wonder you play Seeker!"

Very quickly, the entire school watched as the carriage flew closer. Turning to where he knew it would land, Harry watched as Hagrid lit the red flares to show the carriage were to land, while also waving with one in each hand.

In a long out wide bank, the Pegasus-drawn carriage swung about in a one-eighty degree turn before landing with an almost-crash between the rows of flares. Hagrid quickly moved to steady the beasts as the carriage door opened.

First to alight was a young boy, who jumped out, before turning around and lowering steps into place. Madam Maxime, bent almost double to fit through the low door, was next out. Dumbledore had already hurried over to offer his arm and shoulder to assist the much taller lady to the ground.

After watching the Beauxbatons Headmistress alight from the carriage, Harry turned his attention back to the lake. However, even he was beaten to the cry when Lee Jordan's voice rang out.

"The lake!" cried the dreadlocked boy.

As the whirlpool signifying where the ship would rise from within spun faster and faster, everyone watched as the main mast with it's solitary crows' nest appeared. Then came the fore and mizzen masts. And, finally, the fo'c'sle with it's jutting bowsprit. Quickly, the ship rose the last few feet before the whirlpool suddenly collapsed, leaving the ship bobbing gently on the surface.

Again, Dumbledore hurried down - this time, to the edge of the lake - as students or crew on board the ship levitated a large gangway out from the ship's railing to rest one end on the shore. Dumbledore had just made it down when Karkaroff's feet reached the bank.

While he was greeting the Headmaster of Durmstrang, Professor McGonagall caught the attention of the rest of the staff and the students, and chivvied everyone inside.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

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Sitting in the Great Hall and welcoming the representatives of the two schools, Harry and the girls stayed sitting across from Luna.

Seating at the table was a little tight, with the students from Beauxbatons electing - again - to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Harry didn't mind, as it meant his bondmates got to sit even closer to him than normal.

Dumbledore ran through the same spiel about the Goblet of Fire, and had Caretaker Filch bring it in and to the dais. The Headmaster uncrated it with a tap of his wand, and saw to it being lit. Then came the part Harry was waiting for - Dumbledore's plans to ensure Harry's name would not come out of it.

Once Dumbledore ran through how he was setting an age line in place to ensure only those students of-age could enter, with no other 'protections', Harry rose from the table and glared, fuming, at the old man.

Dumbledore saw Harry stand and turned his attention to the boy. The look he received back was filled with fury and loathing.

"Yes, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"That's it, Headmaster?" Harry shot back. "Just a simple age line?"

Taken back a bit, Dumbledore replied, "Err... I assure you, Mister Potter; it will be sufficient."

Without a word, Harry bent down to his bondmates and quietly said, "I'm going back to the apartment. As I suspected, the old fool has done nothing."

"But, Harry;" tried Hermione. "What about the feast?"

"I'll have Dobby organise a meal for me," he replied.

"We're coming, too," interrupted Daphne. She turned to Hermione and said, "You know what this means. Our bondmate needs our support. Are you coming?"

With a frustrated sigh, Hermione joined Daphne in rising and stepping away from the Ravenclaw table to join Harry. And, without another word, all three made their way towards the doors.

"Mister Potter... ladies... where are you going?" called Dumbledore.

Harry turned about and shot back, "Away from you, Headmaster. And as far away from that accursed artefact as I can get. An age line, Headmaster? That's it? I thought you took serious my fears of my name coming out of that thing. Clearly, I was wrong." And he turned back around, walking out the doors with his bondmates in their usual formation.

He knew it would cause a lot of gossip among the students, including the two visiting schools, but it was what he wanted. He wanted to make sure everyone knew he had no interest in being a competitor in the tournament.

Once up in the apartment, Harry called Dobby and had the hyper little elf bring the three of them a decent evening repast. Talking to both, he said, "He's done nothing different. It's just the bloody age line!"

"Easy, Harry," soothed Daphne. "We know what he did last time; but, he doesn't. It's highly probable he believes the age line will be more than sufficient to stop your name coming out."

"He can't be that much of a fool," he shot back. "Even to a... dunderhead... the easiest way around it is for someone else of-age to drop the name in. He's over one hundred years old, for Merlin's sake! He can't be that daft!"

"You think he actually wants your name to be drawn?" asked Hermione, a little shocked.

"Yeah, I do," muttered Harry. "It would be just another way to try and draw Riddle out into the open. He desperately wants everyone to know he's right, that 'Voldemort' will return. He's that desperate he's willing to dangle me out there as bait. I just didn't want to believe he was so cold-hearted."

"John didn't tell you?" asked Daphne.

"No, not about this," he replied. "I think he must've thought he'd upset me enough."

Turning back to both of them, he asked, "What about Della and Roma?"

Daphne shook her head as Hermione replied, "No. Nothing about the Goblet."

Collapsing into one of the couches, Harry was about to say something when there was a knock on the door from the statue.

Rising again, he went to the door and opened it. Professor Flitwick stood on the other side.

Stepping back to clear the doorway, Harry invited the little Professor inside with a gesture.

"What can we do for you, Professor?" Harry asked the little man, as he closed the door.

"The Headmaster requests your presence in the Great Hall for the feast, Mister Potter," he replied.

"The Headmaster can kiss my arse, Professor," Harry bluntly replied. "The only feasts mandatory for students to attend are the sorting and leaving feasts. I have no intention for either myself or my bondmates to get anywhere near that accursed Goblet."

With a curious expression back, the Professor asked, "You honestly believe your name is going to be chosen, don't you, Mister Potter?"

With a knee-jerk snort for an immediate reaction Harry cast an amused look back and replied, "The thirty first of October? Do you need a reminder? And, just a bloody age line?"

The Professor looked back, a little amused.

"The Headmaster has more than adequately demonstrated he hasn't taken my warnings to heart, Professor," sighed Harry. "So, the only thing I can do is stay as far away from that... thing... as possible, and hope for the best."

"Then, I shall let him know precisely that, Mister Potter," said the Professor, before he turned around and left.

The three ate their dinner within the apartment, and used the time to go over how Harry was going to give his vow the next night.

They were not bothered by any other staff member for the rest of the night.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

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That night, the girls cuddled into Harry and helped him sleep. But, the next morning, they had to face the day.

Of course, they knew the Goblet was now resting on its stand in the Entrance Hall almost directly outside the doors to the Great Hall. In their formation, the three walked down the last flight of stairs, making sure everyone there saw them coming - and giving the Goblet a wide birth - before entering the Great Hall for breakfast.

As they were about to walk in, Malfoy - who had just climbed the stairs from the dungeons - called out, "Nice little scene you created last night, Potter. What're you going to do for an encore?"

"How about ending the Malfoy line?" Harry shot back over his shoulder. Without even a pause, he continued on into the Great Hall.

As the three were about to walk in through the doors, they heard the hated voice of faux-Moody. "Oh, no you don't, laddie!"

There was a sudden flash of spell fire. All three dropped and spun with wands drawn. And saw faux-Moody bouncing a white ferret off the walls and floor with a hovering charm or something.

"Oh, I forgot about that," chuckled Harry.

"Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret," snickered Hermione.

As they rose back up from their 'combat' crouches, the three turned back to the Great Hall as Professor McGonagall's voice rang out in the Entrance Hall. "Alastor? Is that a student? What are you doing?"

"Teaching!" roared faux-Moody.

The three, laughing, walked over and sat at the Ravenclaw table. "Good morning, Luna," sniggered Hermione.

"Good morning," the younger blonde replied. "I take it Professor Moody transfigured Draco Malfoy into a ferret?"

Stunned enough to stop snickering, Daphne asked, "How in Merlin's name do you know that? There's no way you can see out into the Entrance Hall from where you're sitting!"

"The nargles told me," she calmly replied.

When Daphne, confused, was about to speak again, Harry just placed his hand on the back of hers to get her attention. When she looked at him, he just smiled and shook his head. She didn't ask whatever it was she was going to ask.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Harry and the girls made sure Harry was never seen anywhere near the Goblet. Whenever he had to pass it, such as getting into and out of the Great Hall, they ensured he gave it a wide berth.

On Halloween night, the three made sure to sit as far away from the Goblet as possible. It had once more been moved, and now stood just before the head table on the dais. It's blue flames adding light to the multitude of candles hovering in the air above the tables. Harry reviewed the oath in his mind he knew he would soon be making.

After the feast, the three waited with the rest of the school, together with the students and staff of the two visiting schools, for the time when the Goblet would spit out the names of the competitors.

After the feast, Dumbledore rose to his feet, walked around the head table, and stood next to the Goblet on it's tall stand. He told how the Goblet would momentarily spit out the names of the chosen champions. And waited a few moments.

As if on cue, the flames of the Goblet flared and turned red. The first name out was Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons. The second was Victor Krum for Durmstrang. And the third was Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts. As each name was called, the selected champion would walk to the door leading to the antechamber off behind the head table.

After Diggory's name was selected, and the recently of-age young man made his way to the door to the antechamber, Dumbledore began to speak about how the three champions would be the representatives of their schools. Suddenly, the flames, once more, flared and turned red.

Harry groaned and dropped his chin to his chest as the girls each squeezed his hands in their own.

When Dumbledore snatched the small piece of parchment out of the air he looked down at the name upon it in shock. There were a few moments of hesitation before he softly called out, "Harry Potter!"

Harry began banging his forehead off the table before him as the other students and the staff began animatedly whispering between themselves.

A little louder this time, the Headmaster again called out, "HARRY POTTER!"

With a big sigh, Harry slowly stood in spot, as the muttering died out. "I bloody told you, Albus Dumbledore! I warned you! And, did you listen? No. And, why? Because the great and almighty Albus freakin' Dumbledore knows all!"

With a shake of his head, Harry popped his wand into his hand and held it crossing his chest slightly to point at his heart. Clearly, he stated, "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic, my life and my very soul that I did not submit my name to the Goblet of Fire; nor did I arrange for another to do it for me. It is my belief someone has used this opportunity to submit my name against my wishes to do or cause me harm. I have no desire, in any form, to be a competitor in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. As I say, so I swear!"

There was a flash of magic emanating from Harry's magic. As he stood between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables he cast a massive shower of sparks from his wand, which arced through the air towards the head table, falling short.

Students from all three schools gasped in astonishment.

"If anyone tries to say... or otherwise imply... I'm a liar, they'll face me in an honour duel," he firmly stated to the Hall. Glaring back at Dumbledore, he half-snarled, "Get me out of this, Dumbledore. Now."

Stunned, watching how Harry stood up for himself - and crushed any chance of the school turning against him, yet again - Dumbledore was speechless. As with the boy's rant to him and later to the staff, this was a Harry Potter he didn't know how to handle. This was a Harry Potter confident in his abilities and place in the world.

Stuttering just a little Dumbledore said, "Harry. You need to come up and join the other champions in the..."

"Stop right there, Headmaster," Harry cut in. "I want out of this farce."

"There is no 'out', Mister Potter," sighed the old man. "Once your name comes out of the Goblet, you must compete."

"Well, I don't accept that," Harry firmly stated. "I'll be speaking with my legal counsel before I accept whether or not that's true. However, if it is, then I refuse to be recognised as a champion. I'll be known as the reluctant competitor, only. I may have to compete in this farce; but, I will not be considered a champion.

"Furthermore, any official who was involved in setting up the 'contract' for this, I will be seeking financial damages against. My solicitor will be visiting you very soon."

"Nevertheless, Mister Potter," the Headmaster said. "You need to join the other... competitors... in the antechamber."

Harry stalked forward and, with a final glare at the Headmaster, walked through the door into the antechamber.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

As he walked in he slammed the door behind himself. "Stupid, daft, old fool!" he snarled at no one in particular.

"Harry?" asked Cedric coming forward. "What's going on?"

Harry looked up and saw Diggory first, standing near the middle of the room and turned slightly towards him. Standing over in the corner was Victor Krum, brooding. Fleur Delacour had her arms wrapped around herself as she was standing near the fire. Now that he was older, he recognised her stance as one of fear, rather than being cold.

"Do zey want us back in zere?" asked Delacour.

"No," he snarled. "Some arsehole caused my name to be entered in the Goblet, and for the Goblet to spit it out. I'm a fourth... albeit reluctant... competitor."

Diggory looked about to say something when the door opened again. In came Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch Senior, Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Snape and McGonagall.

Bagman was acting all hyper-happy and talking about how excited he was that Harry was a competitor; while Crouch looked like he was sucking on a particularly sour lemon. Then in walked faux-Moody, right on time.

Karkaroff was ranting about how it was unfair for Hogwarts to have two champions as Dumbledore walked over and pushed Harry against the wall with a hand on his shoulder. Harry, forgetting this part of what happened from before, was stunned at first by Dumbledore's action.

Just before Dumbledore could speak, Harry smacked the old man's hand away and gave him a hard shove to the chest right back, causing the man to stagger away. "Never!" he snarled. "Never, lay hands on me again, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore reeled back a little in shock as the rest of the room fell silent.

Professor McGonagall gasped and exclaimed, "Mister Potter!"

"Don't 'Mister Potter' me, Professor," Harry glared back. "I had to tolerate my supposed relatives laying their hands on me in anger - otherwise known as child abuse; I will no longer allow anyone to do it again. The next person to try such a stunt dies by my hand."

"Well," Madam Maxime huffed haughtily, changing the subject. "If 'Ogwarts is allowed two champions then I must..."

"I am no Hogwarts champion!" barked Harry. "As I said out there, I may have to compete in this ridiculous farce, but I will not be considered anyone's champion. Cedric is Hogwarts's champion, not me. You can consider me unaligned to any school."

"You are a Hogwarts student, Mister Potter," exclaimed Professor McGonagall.

"And what did I say would happen if my name came out of the Goblet, Professor?" asked Harry with a low growl. "I said I would quit this school. Well, unlike the Headmaster here... since he promised me my name would not come out of the Goblet, and it did... I quit Hogwarts! I'll be initiating a transfer to another school at my first opportunity."

"I won't be allowing that, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said quietly but firmly. "I am your magical guardian and you will go where I tell you to go."

"No, you're fucking not!" Harry shot back. "Have you already forgotten that the Wizengamot has returned my guardianship to my rightful guardian, Sirius Black? Are you going senile? How many times do I have to fucking remind you of that before it sinks in? As soon as I can get hold of him, I'll organise for him to sign the transfer papers. Then, I'm gone!"

"You have to be here for the tasks, Mister Potter," said Crouch.

"Yes, Mister Crouch, I'm not an idiot," snarked Harry. "However, you seem to have forgotten that the contract only requires I be here for the tasks. That means, I only have to be here for only three specific days of the entire year. That's it!"

"There's also the Weighing of the Wands and... I'll announce to you now... the Yule Ball, Mister Potter," he said.

"If they're not specific contractual obligations you can shove 'em up your arse, Mister Crouch," growled Harry. Indicating Bagman he said, "He's so bloody useless I think I can practically guarantee Bagman, over there, screwed up. If they're not in the contract and if I decide not to attend them there's nothing you can do about it."

"You can be disqualified, Mister Potter," he shot back before anyone else could say anything. "Both events are traditions of the Tournament."

"And the tournament hasn't been run in over one hundred and fifty years," Harry retorted. "Some bloody traditions they are!"

Before anyone could retort back, Harry continued. "As for being disqualified, that would be perfect," he sneered. "Since I don't want to be in this ridiculous event anyway, getting disqualified would be the best thing you could do for me. However, before we go any further, I take it you all agree I have to compete in this godforsaken farce?"

"I don't," sneered Karkaroff. "Hogwarts already has a champion."

"And I agree," Harry sneered back. "Now, how about you clean out your fucking ears and listen for a change, Death Eater. I've already made it quite clear I am NOT to be considered a Hogwarts champion."

"Mister Potter!" spluttered Dumbledore. "Headmaster Karkaroff was cleared of the charges of being a Death Eater; and you are a Hogwarts student. You will show proper respect!"

"As the muggles would say, Headmaster, bullshit!" Harry firmly said. "Karkaroff panicked and named names. Because he named names Crouch, over there, let him off. That does not mean he was cleared. He's nothing but a fucking coward. He was quite happy to rape, pillage and kill innocents until he was caught; but, when he was hauled before the courts for his actions, he blubbered like a little girl and pissed himself in fear."

Furious, Karkaroff glared back and snarled, "I could demand satisfaction for those remarks, Potter." As the rest of those in the room just stared at Harry in various levels of shock over his language.

"Then do it, you piece of shit!" roared Harry.

"Gentlemen!" barked Dumbledore. "Enough!"

Harry just brushed the old man off and turned to Madame Maxime. "I take it you agree I have to compete?"

Reluctantly, after a short hesitation, she nodded back.

Turning to Bagman, Harry asked, "What about you, Useless? Do I have to compete? This Tournament is supposed to be only for of-age wizards and witches."

"Yes, Mister Potter, you do," replied Bagman, a little shaken by the venom Harry was using in his voice.

Turning to the taciturn ex-Head of the DMLE, Harry asked, "And you, Mister Crouch?"

"Yes, Mister Potter."

Finally, turning to Dumbledore, Harry asked, "And what about you, liar? Do I have to compete, after you promised me I wouldn't?"

With a sad expression, Dumbledore sighed and said, "Yes, Harry."

"Then, be it on your heads," snarled Harry. He turned back to Bagman and demanded, "Since I'm now bound by a magical contract not of my own choosing to participate in this nonsense, I expect a copy of the actual contract and rules of this cock-up to be handed to me no later than tomorrow morning before the conclusion of breakfast. Make damned sure I get it. My solicitors will want to go over it."

And, with that, he stormed out leaving behind a room full of inhabitants shaken to the core.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Walking in to the living room of their apartment, Harry could see both girls had been fretting for him. Both near attacked him with questions about what happened in the antechamber. He settled them down with soothing words and described what had taken place.

That the cat hadn't done it for a long time, Harry was surprised when Crookshanks hopped onto his lap and demanded scratching.

"So, they all agreed?" asked Hermione. "They all agreed you had to take part?"

"Everyone, bar Karkaroff," he replied. "But, with him, I think he knew I had to take part, but wanted to see if the Goblet would strip me of my magic or not; not about whether or not I was bound by the contract."

"So, Gringotts tomorrow?" asked Daphne.

"Yes," Harry firmly replied. "After breakfast. I've demanded a copy of the actual contract and told them I want the damned thing no later than the end of breakfast. It's to be handed directly to me by that time. Whether or not that actually happens..." He shrugged.

"What now?" asked Hermione.

"It's time to send those letters off," Harry firmly stated.

With a firm nod back, Hermione went into Harry's room and came back carrying three letters in her hands. One was addressed to Stewart Ackerman, one to Harry's Gringotts' Account Manager, Sharpclaw; and the third to Sirius.

Hedwig was sent off carrying the first two. They used a large 'school' barn owl to carry the third.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

The next morning, the three rose, readied for the day in 'civilian' garb, and made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

They'd no sooner sat down when Professor Flitwick hurried down from the head table and handed Harry a sheaf of documents. "I believe you requested a copy of the contract for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Mister Potter?"

"I did, Sir," replied Harry, accepting them. "Thank you."

The little Professor hesitated a moment before he said, "If you need help with training for the tasks, Mister Potter; my door is open to you."

A little surprised at the generosity of his Head of House, Harry looked back at the Professor and said, "Thank you, Sir. Depending on whether we three remain at this school or not, I may very well take you up on that."

"You're still considering leaving us, Mister Potter?" he asked.

"I believe I made myself quite clear, Professor," replied Harry. "I warned the Headmaster I believed my name would come out of the Goblet. He did next to nothing to ensure it did not. He has utterly failed me, Professor."

"Indeed, Mister Potter," sighed Flitwick. "We all have." The little Professor headed back to the head table.

While Harry had been talking to the Professor, Daphne had taken the contract from his hand and laid it out on the table before them. From each side, she and Hermione were reading through it.

Turning back, Harry asked, "I'm right, aren't I? I only have to be here for the three tasks?"

"Give us a minute," muttered Daphne.

"Here it is," said Hermione, as her finger slid slowly through a couple paragraphs. "The three tasks... You must compete... No... It states the three tasks are mandatory, but nothing else."

"Here's the wand-weighing," said Daphne, looking at another page. "It's a bit iffy. It said the wands of each champion must be checked by a competent Master in wand lore prior to the first task. However, as you don't consider yourself a champion..."

"Definitions," stated Hermione, moving to another page. "Here. A champion is the student selected by the Goblet of Fire to represent each of the three schools... And... the three schools are Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."

"That's Cedric, Delacour and Krum," said Harry. "As I'm not a champion of any of the three schools..."

"You're not required to attend," continued Daphne. Sitting up a little straighter, she indicated another clause. "Here's the section on the Yule Ball," she said. "To be held on the 25th of December... mongrels; they could have held it earlier. The three champions open the ball..."

"And we already know by three champions they mean the representatives for Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang..." cut in Hermione.

"... And that's it," continued Daphne. Turning to the other two, she said, "You were right. You're not required to participate in anything other than the three specific tasks. We don't even have to stay at school over Christmas, if we don't want to."

"We can embarrass the Hell out of Dumbledore and the Ministry," mused Harry. "Or, use it to blackmail."

"Blackmail?" asked Daphne, perking up while Hermione stared frowning at Harry.

"Well," said Harry sitting back and thinking. "You want me to attend the ball, Headmaster? Well, my bondmates would like to spend part of Christmas Day with their families, at home. A portkey there and back would go a long way to seeing me being willing to attend your Yule Ball."

"Harry!" Hermione softly exclaimed, scandalised. "You can't go blackmailing the Headmaster!"

"Of course he can," snickered Daphne. "It's brilliant! We get to visit with our families on Christmas Day and attend the Yule Ball."

The three went through more of the contract. Harry then pointed out another section. "Here's the part that states I'm to be excused attending any class... And, excused attending exams, if I like... Next is the part that states I, and my trainers, are to be allowed to leave the school for reason of matters relating to the Tournament."

"That means Dumbledore can't stop you going to Gringotts as soon as we've finished here," interrupted Daphne.

"Are you going to the Ball, Harry?" asked Luna from opposite.

Surprised, Harry realised he'd forgotten about those others sitting around them. "Sorry, Luna," he blushed. "It appears we've been rude and forgotten about you."

She nodded and said, "It's alright, Harry. You have far weightier matters to deal with."

Sitting back he looked at both his bondmates and asked, "Do we go to the Yule Ball?"

Both thought about it for a few moments before Hermione was first to speak up. "As long as I can visit with my parents on the day... and I can still take my break, at home, after the Ball... I'd like to go, yes."

"Same here," replied Daphne.

"In that case - Daphne, Hermione - would both you ladies do me the honour of being my dates to the Yule Ball?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry; I'd love to," replied Daphne.

"I'd love to, too," replied Hermione.

"Well, that's done," said Harry with a bit of a relieved sigh. "Now all I have to do is learn how to dance."

"That, you leave up to me," stated Daphne. "You just find us somewhere to practice."

"That's easy," replied Harry. "But you two ladies are going to have to colour co-ordinate for the night so I can wear formal robes that match you both."

"You'll be wearing your robes with the iridescent green lining, Harry," said Daphne.

"Pale green shirt, black tie and cummerbund, black patent leather shoes, silver accessories," Hermione ticked off on her fingers.

"It sounds like you two ladies already discussed this," tittered Luna.

Both girls grinned back. "We have," admitted Hermione.

"We knew there was a strong likelihood of both of us being your dates at a formal function before long," explained Daphne. "And, we knew we'd have to figure out ways to colour co-ordinate. We've already worked out green is a colour that well suits all three of us."

"Yes," said Luna, looking between them with a critical eye. "Deep greens. For Harry, it's his eyes. For Hermione, it accentuates her natural autumnal colours. For Daphne, it's the Slytherin in her."

"How did...?" began Hermione before she remembered. "Oh, I forgot... Sorry... You paint. Of course you'd be able to pick out which colours would suit."

Luna beamed happily and replied, "It's also a good match for your natural aura. I see you used to favour blues. But, now you favour reds, golds, browns, and deep greens. Those are the colours of the forest."

She turned to Daphne and said, "You now favour silver, blues, greens, and the colours in between. They're the colours of the sea."

Turning her attentions to Harry, she went on, "And you favour many colours. However, you most favour deep or dark greens, golds, very deep reds, though not light, and most pastels. With the exception of green to match your eyes, yours are generally colours of air and cool fire. They're also quite bold, which matches your personality. All three of you also have bronze as a matching colour. That's why Ravenclaw colours suit you."

The three looked at one another and thought back to their own wardrobes. It was easy to pick out all the outfits they'd purchased from Madam Malkin's that matched almost perfectly what Luna described.

"Hunh!" Harry half coughed. "I think we should have taken Luna with us when we spent that half day at Madam Malkin's."

"Agreed," sighed Daphne. "But, at least we now know."

They were discussing the various outfits in their wardrobes when the owls flew in.

A rather regal looking owl landed in front of Harry. He recognised it as the office owl for Ackerman.

"It looks like Stewart's on the ball," muttered Harry, untying the parchment from the owl's leg.

While he was doing that, Daphne gathered up the pages of the contract and cast a replication charm on them. She then shrank the copy down and handed it off to Harry.

Accepting it, Harry tied the shrunken contract to the owl's leg and sent it on its way with a big slice of bacon.

Opening it, he quickly scanned through it before he looked to his bondmates. "Listen to this," he said. "Stewart's coming to see us on Monday immediately after class. He's asked for a copy of the contract..."

"Which you just sent," interrupted Daphne.

"... And he'll go over it before he comes and sees us," he continued. "For now, I'm not to make waves... too late... and just go along with everything."

Hermione had the Daily Prophet before her and read a front page article to them.

* # *

BOY-WHO-LIVED FOURTH TRI-WIZARD CHAMPION

Last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, everything was going as planned for the draw of the three school champions of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, writes Monty Wordsworth. Those plans unravelled when, in a major surprise, the Goblet spat out a fourth competitor, Harry Potter (14).

It was clear young Mister Potter did not expect this, as he was as shocked as everyone else when his name was read out. To show everyone he had no idea as to why it had happened, he quickly made a magical oath to that effect. Mister Potter made it very clear he had no desire to participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and demanded of the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, to 'get him out of it'. However, once selected as a champion by the Goblet of Fire, the contract is ironclad. Mister Potter must compete. That will make him a fourteen year old wizard in a Tournament designed for those of-age.

This reporter visited the offices of Potter's legal representative, Ackerman and Co, and spoke to Mister Stewart Ackerman. "I have not had opportunity, as of yet, to speak to Mister Potter about this matter," he informed me. "However, I expect Mister Potter to be contacting me via owl very soon."

Said owl arrived only moments later.

The other three, true, champions are Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts; International Quidditch star, Victor Krum for Durmstrang; and daughter of the Head of the French MLE, Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons. All three are seventeen years of age.

Questions need to be asked concerning how Mister Potter's name was both entered and selected by the Goblet to be a competitor. As an ancient magical artefact, the Goblet of Fire would require a significantly powerful wizard or witch to confound it enough to force Mister Potter's entrance. What is the Ministry going to do to find out how this happened?

Our readers want to know!

* # *

"That's better than the last time through," muttered Harry. "This time, it's at least the truth."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Making sure they weren't been watched too closely, the three excused themselves from table and returned to their apartment. Almost immediately, they cast disillusionment and notice-me-not charms on themselves and used the castle's secret tunnels to get out of the school. They headed direct to Gringotts.

Entering, the magic of the goblins stripped away their charms as they walked in through the doors. The three were met right inside and escorted directly to the Potter Account Manager, Sharpclaw.

"Good morning, Mister Potter," smiled Sharpclaw as they walked in to the office. "I see your... belief... was correct."

With an acknowledging nod, Harry replied, "Good morning, Senior Sharpclaw. Yes, I was; mores' the pity. I take it the paperwork is ready?"

"Indeed," replied the goblin, sliding a set of documents forward across his desk as the three bondmates sat in the available chairs opposite.

Harry sat forward and reached for the offered quill. Sharpclaw, as efficient as expected, had marked each parchment where he was to sign. After carefully reading through the documents, Harry signed his name in each marked place; and slid the document with the quill back across the desk.

"Roughly, how long will this take?" he asked his Account Manager.

"The filing will take place today," replied Sharpclaw. "If there is no one to speak against it within seven days, it becomes effective immediately."

"Next Saturday, lunchtime, then," muttered Harry.

Nodding, Daphne said, "We just need to keep quiet about it until then, at least. Once the seven day waiting period has passed, it cannot be reversed."

Turning back to Sharpclaw, Harry said, "I just have one more job for you to do today, Senior Sharpclaw."

Nodding, the goblin slid a document each towards both ladies.

"What's this?" asked Hermione.

"Your access to your vaults," replied Harry.

"You need only sign in the one place, where indicated," stated the goblin, offering a quill to each.

Daphne took her quill but paused as Hermione said, "Harry, there's no need for this. I don't need your money."

With an exasperated sigh, Harry replied, "This isn't about whether or not you need my money, love. This is about me being able to provide for you both; plus, any children we may have in future.

"You are my bonded; and, it's my responsibility to care for you. If I don't do this... or you don't accept it... that may give others ammunition to cause our bond to be stopped before it's even properly finalised.

"I hope that both of you, before too long, will be Madame Potter to my Mister Potter. Those rings you wear signify that. So, please, accept the access, alright?"

With a sigh, Hermione accepted the quill and signed, as Daphne did the same.

Sharpclaw took both documents and filed them in a slot on his desk. He then snapped his fingers and two keys appeared. He slid one to each girl. "Your vault keys, ladies," he said. "Please take good care of them as you're each responsible for them. Lose them and its nine galleons each to replace them."

Both girls picked up their keys and dropped them into pockets.

"I believe that's it, Senior Sharpclaw," said Harry, rising. "Thank you for your time. It is, after all, money."

"I am at your service, Mister Potter," the goblin replied.

With both girls again in their usual formation, the three exited the bank, redonned their glamours, and headed for the Leaky Cauldron to return to the school.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

They re-entered the school and returned to their apartment. Collapsing onto one of the couches, Harry said, "A week. Just one week, and Dumbledore can do nothing to stop me. The Trace should be lifted... although we know it won't... and I'll be able to do magic outside of school. I guess I'll have to go into the Ministry, straight from Kings Cross, to make sure the Trace has been lifted, come Christmas."

Frowning, he turned to his bondmates and asked Daphne, "If I'm then emancipated, and you're both effectively engaged to me, what does that make you?"

"We're still underage witches," she replied. "However, if we're married to you, then we're automatically emancipated."

Surprised, Harry asked, "Is that possible? For us to be married this early, I mean. I thought it wasn't allowed until seventeen for the wizard and sixteen for the witch."

"Normally, yes," she replied with a slight shrug. "However, you'll be emancipated in a week, which automatically gives you the rights of an adult wizard. That means you can get married. Plus, as we're you're bondmates, we may still be underaged witches, but it would be legal for us to marry you. At that point, as married witches, we're emancipated, too."

"What?" exclaimed Hermione. "But, that's discriminatory! How does Harry being emancipated allow us to marry him and emancipate us?"

"Being of-age has never been a prerequisite to marriage for a witch if a soul bond or binding is involved," replied Daphne. "As long as the soul bonded wizard is of-age, everything's legal. Magic deems it so. The only limiting factor is whether or not menarche had taken place."

"But," spluttered Hermione, a little horrified. "Girls as young as nine have gone through that!"

"Not in the magical world," disagreed Daphne. "It's always shortly after the twelfth birthday for witches. When did yours occur?"

Hermione blushed and mumbled, "Two weeks after my twelfth birthday." Looking up, she firmly stated, "And that's still way too young."

"Mine was three weeks," said Daphne. "The first new moon after my birthday. And, how is it too young? That's the time nature has decided you can begin to fall pregnant. Otherwise, why does menarche occur at that time?"

Back in the beginning of September, Harry would have been blushing bright red by now. However, after all the talks and openness they'd gone through talking about the bonds, the initial embarrassment was way past. Now, they could talk about just about anything; including, apparently, menarche.

"Menarche does not mean the female body is ready to fall pregnant!" huffed Hermione. "No. Correction. It does not mean the mind of a young girl is ready for the experience of childbirth, or to be a mother."

"It used to," Harry cut in. "Before there were laws against underaged sex, many young girls would fall pregnant at that sort of age. It wasn't all that long ago twelve was the minimum age to marry."

"That aside," said Daphne, "The topic, now, is whether we... meaning you and me, Hermione... are comfortable marrying early."

"My father would hit the roof," sighed Hermione. "I know he probably has it in the back of his mind what we get up to with Harry; but, I can't see him being alright with us marrying early. I think sixteen would be the absolute minimum he'd allow. And that's a year away for me."

"What about fifteen and ten months?" asked Daphne. "That way, we can marry during the summer break."

"But, you'll only have just turned fifteen," Hermione rebutted. "The same with Harry."

"Well, this is all just academic, for the moment," said Harry. "The emancipation has to get through, first. Then, I fully intend to formally ask both your fathers for your hands in marriage. It may be old fashioned in the muggle world; but, it's still the right thing to do. If they say no, then there'll be no marriage."

"Err... Harry?" stuttered Daphne. "I don't think you understand. Once the bonds are finalised, and given enough time, magic decides whether or not there's a marriage. We only get to decide whether or not there's a wedding."

Harry looked a little horrified before he dropped his head into his hands and groaned. "John didn't tell me that."

"Are we that repulsive?" asked Daphne, a little affronted.

"N-no, no," Harry tried to back-pedal, snapping his head back up again. "I mean... it kind of removes the choice from you. You don't get to decide."

"Of course we do," she shot back, calming a little. "We get to decide how far or how fast our bonds develop. Unless we marry first, we know it shouldn't happen until after coitus. However, even that might not cause the marriage. We haven't taken that step, yet."

"It sounds like another of those errors of knowledge relating to bonds," mused Hermione. "We know people thought coitus would trigger the finalising of the bond, and doesn't; so, maybe it's more the emotional component, again? The emotional commitment to spending a lifetime together."

"Possible," shrugged Daphne. Then she laughed and said, "We're really going to have to write a book, you know. The nonsense out there will just confuse folks. We're the only ones in a position to write the truth."

"Maybe," muttered Harry, thinking. "But, not for years. In order to include enough information to make it worthwhile, we'll need to get pretty personal."

"Write it under a nom de plume... a pen name," said Hermione. "We can also use false names for the individuals in the book."

"It won't be very anonymous if we cover three-way soul bonds," said Harry.

"We wouldn't need to," disagreed Hermione. "From what we know already we can easily write it to just cover two-way bonds. We know there's no real difference between the two. Two-way bonds are rare. How much rarer are three-way bonds? Ours is the only one in recorded history... magical Britain recorded history, at least. It'd be a bit pointless to write a book on three-way bonds if we wrote it to provide information for those who come after us."

"You really want to write it, don't you, Hermione?" he sighed.

"I want to write it, yes," she agreed. "However, I want to write it with the both of you as co-creators. Or, at least, with your permission."

Harry looked at Daphne, who nodded back. "Alright, Hermione; write the damned thing and we'll help."

"Yes!" she squealed, jumping forward to hug them both.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ