The echo of Dumbledore's shout faded, leaving the Great Hall shrouded in a thick, buzzing silence.
Harry Potter blinked a couple of times, stunned by his headmaster's shout. His brain processed the syllables of his own name floating in the air. He didn't feel panic or nausea at being the center of attention; it was... different, a feeling he hadn't had in a long time.
A wave of warmth washed over his chest. An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Finally... I knew it, I knew it," Harry thought, the thought shining in his mind, overshadowing everything else. "This is it. The universe is finally correcting itself. Destiny chose me, not Gaunt, me."
It was his moment. It was the perfect opportunity to prove to Sirius, to Dumbledore, to the school, and above all, to the conceited Aurelian Gaunt, that he was not just a name in the history books. He was a champion. A hero.
At his side, Hermione elbowed him quite hard in the stomach, pulling him out of his triumphant reverie. Her face was pale, and her eyes darted nervously between the Goblet and the teachers' table.
"Harry," she whispered urgently, "Harry, you have to go! Get up, now!"
Harry nodded, shaking off his initial surprise. He stood up slowly, smoothing his Gryffindor robe.
Instead of shrinking under the gaze of hundreds of people, Harry threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin proudly. He walked as if he owned the castle, almost strutting between the tables. An arrogance that had been cultivated under Sirius's permissive tutelage and fueled by his hatred for Gaunt, resulting in a new Harry emerging.
He began to make his way down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.
Harry interpreted the silence as awe. He thought they were speechless at the sight of the "Boy Who Lived" defying the rules of age, demonstrating his exceptional magical ability.
But the reality was much colder.
As he passed, murmurs quickly erupted.
"He's a cheat!" hissed a sixth-year Hufflepuff student, his face red with anger. "Cedric is the champion! You're not seventeen!"
"He always has to be the center of attention, doesn't he?" muttered a Ravenclaw girl with disdain.
The Hufflepuffs in particular looked at him with visceral hatred. They felt that Harry was stealing the only moment of glory their house had had in decades. Even some Gryffindors seemed uncomfortable with the situation, not knowing whether to applaud or hide.
But Harry, wrapped in the bubble he created in his mind, filtered all that out. "Envy" he told himself. "They just can't stand that I'm the special one, the chosen one."
He reached the end of the dining hall and stopped in front of the High Table.
Albus Dumbledore was looking down at him. There was none of the usual twinkle in his blue eyes, nor the benevolent grandfatherly smile. The headmaster's face was expressionless, and his eyes were narrowed as he scanned Harry with a calculating intensity, searching for any trace of coercion.
Harry held his gaze, smiling slightly, waiting for a congratulation or a knowing wink.
Dumbledore did not smile. He simply raised a long finger and pointed toward the door of the antechamber, located behind the teachers' table.
"To the next room, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice devoid of warmth. "With the other champions."
Harry nodded, taking it as a mere formality.
"Thank you, Professor," he said confidently.
Harry walked past the teachers' table. He ignored Professor McGonagall's furious glare, Snape's frown, and Moody's spinning magical eye that seemed to want to drill into his skull.
He crossed the threshold of the antechamber and closed the door behind him, leaving the murmurs of the great hall behind. He took a deep breath of the fresh air in the small room, feeling on top of the world, completely oblivious to the storm that had just broken out behind him.
In the Great Hall, chaos threatened to erupt. Hufflepuff students shouted "Fraud!
Reviews
All reviews (0)