HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 114: A Clear-Headed Friend

The Goblet of Fire emitted a dazzling light, brighter than anything else in the entire Great Hall.

The sparking blue-white flames turned red for the fourth time, interrupting Dumbledore's words. Under Draco Malfoy's helpless gaze, a long tongue of fire suddenly leaped into the air, mercilessly carrying a charred piece of parchment into the palm of the astonished Hogwarts Headmaster.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and read aloud, "Harry Potter."

"Now we know Professor Dumbledore's confidence was completely misplaced," Draco muttered, glancing at Harry across the table.

Amidst the buzzing chatter of hundreds of students, Harry was pushed forward by Hermione like a lost soul—his face filled with utter confusion—and finally walked through the door behind the staff table.

"It's exactly the same as in my previous life—what's so surprising?" Draco thought expressionlessly. This could have been avoided if Dumbledore had been less blindly confident.

It seemed even Dumbledore wasn't omnipotent.

He wasn't, and neither was his Elder Wand.

By this time, some students who'd realized what was happening had begun protesting loudly in the Great Hall: "He's cheating!" "He's not even seventeen!" Draco saw Zacharias Smith of Hufflepuff was shouting the loudest, and Ernie Macmillan and the others were nodding angrily.

"Shut up—I think you're just jealous!" Fred shouted. The Gryffindors, recovering from their shock, were now extremely excited, almost applauding before everyone. Only two people's expressions differed: Ron seemed flushed and extremely angry; Hermione looked puzzled, then deeply worried.

Even as the students of Ravenclaw and Slytherin tried remaining aloof—to observe this unexpected farce with composure—their tables were far from peaceful. The voices of the Beauxbatons at the Ravenclaw table suddenly became extremely shrill, while the faces of the Durmstrang students at the Slytherin table generally turned somber.

Not long after, amid boos from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and the Hufflepuff students, the Headmasters and judges slowly rose and entered through the small door with puzzled expressions; before entering, Professor Dumbledore loudly ordered the students to leave their seats and return to their respective common rooms.

Draco, preoccupied, lingered at the back of the Slytherin students' queue, preparing to descend through a door on the left side of the marble staircase, when someone stopped him—it was Hermione.

"Come with me," she said, frowning, and pulled him out by his robes.

They quietly followed the group of Durmstrang students with their aloof expressions, slipped from the Entrance Hall, away from the students' loud complaints and arguments, and strolled into the courtyard decorated with Halloween pumpkin lanterns.

All was silent, without a sound. Only the soft rustling of her footsteps on the grass could be heard.

Draco was being pulled by his sleeve and obediently followed behind the girl, feeling rather apprehensive—would she suspect him again?

In his past life, she'd suspected him, thinking he was up to something behind her back, and even questioned him about it, which had infuriated him.

Did this mean he had to go through this all over again? Would she always think of him first whenever something bad happened? He thought bitterly.

Reaching the large oak tree in the courtyard, Hermione suddenly turned around, her serious voice carrying through the night. "Draco, who do you think did it?"

"Er—I don't know," Draco said, rather stunned.

"It definitely wasn't Harry! I saw the look on Dumbledore's face when he called his name!" She paced anxiously back and forth beneath the tree. "Ron doesn't believe Harry. He thinks Harry secretly went to cast his name without his knowledge. If you ask me, that's completely ridiculous, isn't it?"

"That's right," he said softly.

"Tell me, how exactly did they manage to put Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire?" Hermione said, stopping before him and asking eagerly.

"You—don't you suspect me?" Draco asked suddenly. "You've noticed how much I've been paying attention to the Goblet of Fire, haven't you?"

"Come on, who wasn't paying attention to it? Everyone was. Why would anyone suspect you?" Hermione said impatiently, sneezing suddenly as a night breeze blew by. "Besides, what good would it do you—you Slytherin who's all about personal gain—to put Harry's name in there?"

"It seems none," Draco said, smiling in the shadows cast by the leaves, suddenly feeling a warm glow inside.

Hermione Granger's unwavering trust—so precious—always brought him instant joy.

He glanced at her, took off his robes, and casually draped them over her shoulders, wrapping her up completely. "Aren't you dressed rather lightly?"

"Oh, thank you," Hermione said, inhaling the scent of cedarwood and hiding her slightly flushed cheeks in the dim shadows. "Aren't you—cold?"

"It's not cold. It's quite warm," he said gently, lowering his eyes and slowly fastening her robes by the dim light of the pumpkin lantern.

Hermione quietly examined his straight nose, waiting as if it were commonplace for him to fasten her robes. After a while, she finally remembered to ask him, "What were you thinking? How could the Goblet of Fire utter Harry's name?"

He looked up at her; her eyes, which were bright during the day, now appeared somewhat dark and deep.

"I suspect someone used some means to cross that Age Line and get Harry's name on the list," Draco said softly, his eyes fixed on her pupils, which reflected the candlelight.

"Some say Harry asked older students to put his name into the Goblet of Fire," Hermione said slowly, her cheeks flushing slightly under his gaze. "I don't think so. The Goblet of Fire spat out four names, didn't it? How could Hogwarts possibly select two champions?"

"That's right—you're very clear-headed. It's definitely not as simple as just casting a ballot. We need to use some method—perhaps a Confundus Charm—to trick the powerful Goblet of Fire into believing Harry is the champion of a fourth school, and the only one. I expect the Goblet of Fire has no choice but to utter Harry's name," Draco said, his expression gradually becoming serious as he analyzed the situation, combining his past experiences with a bit of Death Eater thinking. "This is the only feasible method I can think of."

Draco surmised that if a second suitable candidate had existed, the Goblet of Fire wouldn't have chosen Harry, a fourth-year student. In his view, Harry was neither capable nor mentally prepared to shoulder such a heavy responsibility.

"Besides confusing human minds, can the Confundus Charm also confuse magical objects?" she asked in surprise.

"Anything with sentience can be confunded," Draco said slowly. "Obviously, the Goblet of Fire, which can choose its own champions, must have its own sentience. I suspect the Sorting Hat might also be confunded—if the wizard casting the spell is powerful enough."

"So the person who did this must be a master spellcaster," Hermione said, suddenly realizing. "This is definitely not a level an ordinary fourth-year student can reach—at least they must have mastered the Confundus Charm—they must be a gifted seventh-year, or rather, a highly skilled adult wizard."

"That's right."

"Then Harry is absolutely innocent—" Hermione said. "Surely the judges will work this out? What will they do with Harry?"

"There's Barty Crouch among the judges—a rigid old man who sticks to the rules. He'll insist Harry participate," Draco said. "And then there's the magical contract in the Goblet of Fire—champions must obey—being selected means they have to participate."

"But it's obvious someone's trying to frame Harry. That's dangerous," she said worriedly, no longer paying attention to his beautiful eyes. "Everyone in our House is happy. Fred said they're going back to the common room to celebrate for Harry."

"They shouldn't be so happy. You should see the attitude of the other Houses' students—especially the Hufflepuffs—they all think Harry stole their champion's glory," Draco said, turning to look at the flickering lights of the great ship on the Black Lake—students moving about on it in shadow. "And the students from the other two schools, who are mostly not in the mood to consider whether Harry is innocent or in danger, but will think about things in terms of rivalry or conspiracy theories."

"I think you're right. Do you think I should talk to Harry?" Hermione asked him as she climbed the stairs back to Gryffindor Tower. "Should I remind him?"

"Oh, he'll probably be ostracized by some students for a while," he said. He grabbed her wrist abruptly—her pulse was pounding—and swiftly pulled her away from a trick step.

He turned his head to the side and gave her a lazy smile, seemingly in good spirits. "You need to prepare him mentally."

"Mm, that's right," she said. Looking into his warm eyes, her mind, which had just been praised for being "clear-headed," became rather confused, and she could only let him pull her upstairs.

As Draco had predicted, rumors were already circulating in the Great Hall early the next morning, with most Hufflepuffs glaring resentfully at the Gryffindor table. Hermione and Harry weren't there, which left him somewhat bewildered.

He yawned and opened the letter that had fallen before him—it was from his father, Lucius. The patriarch of the Malfoy family was eagerly inquiring about Harry Potter becoming a Triwizard Tournament champion.

It seemed his father had finally seen Harry Potter's "unusual and resourceful" side. He wrote in his letter, "After all, even the Goblet of Fire has recognized him."

The cursive handwriting on the parchment, written with great enthusiasm, revealed a certain encouraging attitude: "I think you could try getting closer to this 'unusual' boy and winning him over from the Weasley boys..."

Draco was both amused and exasperated. His father's thoughts seemed to be wandering in the direction of conspiracy theories—he seemed convinced Harry had done something clever with the Goblet of Fire, and because of this, he felt much more favorably toward Harry and greatly acknowledged Harry's Dark Arts talent.

Let this misunderstanding continue, Draco thought, giving Juno some of the pumpkin juice on the table. As long as Father likes Harry, who cares about the reason!

The idea of "stealing Harry from Ron" held absolutely no appeal for Draco. His sights remained set on another of Harry's clear-headed friends, hoping to win her over.

"Draco, think of something. Try talking to Harry; he's having a huge fight with Ron," his clear-headed friend said to him during Care of Magical Creatures. "Look at how dejected he looks!"

"You can't do anything, yet you think I can?" Draco said listlessly.

"You are a boy after all!" Hermione said, glaring at the three-foot-long Blast-Ended Skrewt and trying to feed it something, looking annoyed. "Sometimes, I really don't understand boys. They're all so stubborn and immature!"

"I hope you're not being sarcastic," Draco said wearily. "All right, I'll go check on him. Hermione, the only thing I ask of you before I get back is that you stay at least three feet away from this thing. Otherwise, I'm going to try Reducto on it, or some other more interesting little spell, whether Hagrid will cry his eyes out or not."

"Draco, are you threatening me?" Hermione said. She thought he made sense, but she couldn't help disagreeing with him—all because of his threatening tone.

She asked him, "Do you think this behavior is mature? If you hurt this Blast-Ended Skrewt, he will most likely deduct considerable points from you without hesitation and require you to care for the remaining nineteen every day."

"Then I'll dispatch the rest of them and give them a mass funeral," Draco said, glancing at the crackling thing with disgust and narrowing his eyes. "Remember, if you get injured by the explosion—"

"All right," Hermione muttered softly, a hint of satisfaction in her heart. "Boys! So stubborn and immature..."

Draco could see a cloud of dejection hanging over Harry. The newly minted champion was clearly out of sorts, trying to care for a three-foot-long Blast-Ended Skrewt on his own; while his best friend Ron, unusually, had gone off to join two other Gryffindor boys instead of staying with Harry.

"What?" Draco thought to himself. "He didn't even need to fight for it; Ron voluntarily stepped down and gave up his best friend?"

"What's wrong, Gryffindor champion? Where is your knight?" Draco said, walking over slowly.

"Oh, Draco, did you come here specifically to mock me?" Harry asked gloomily.

"I know it wasn't you who put your name in," Draco said, casually putting on his dragonhide gloves and preparing to help him secure the Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"You believe me?" Harry said, looking up quickly, his green eyes lighting up.

"I spent almost the entire day by the Goblet of Fire. By Merlin's beard, you at most just looked on with envy, not daring to get even a hair near the Age Line; besides, you're probably not stupid enough to knowingly go and risk your life knowing the Dark Lord wants to harm you," Draco said in a drawn-out tone.

Harry ignored his slightly sarcastic tone; he only paid attention to the underlying meaning in Draco's words.

These words brought a flicker of emotion to his face. Harry quickly lowered his head, pretending to study how to tie a knot. When he could speak normally again, he muttered, "If only Ron thought that way too. He doesn't believe me."

"He's a fool. He's only throwing a tantrum because he cares about you. He's not quite right in the head yet. He'll work it out soon enough—if he knew what sort of challenge you're facing—he probably still thinks the Triwizard Tournament is some sort of tea party where anyone can just barge in," Draco said wearily. "You, on the other hand, need to work this out. There's definitely something suspicious going on behind the scenes."

"Professor Moody said someone wants me dead. That's why they put my name in the Goblet of Fire," Harry said gravely.

"I'm actually starting to agree with him," Draco said, pursing his lips. "They probably won't accept your withdrawal from the competition, will they?"

"Mr. Bagman said the age restriction is an extra security measure this year. Now that my name's been ejected, there's no way I can back out..." Harry said, repeating in a low voice the conversation that had taken place in the small room full of portraits, his face growing paler.

"I knew it would be like this. So, what are your thoughts on the first task?" Draco asked him, his mind replaying what Harry had told him.

"The first task has to be completed by the twenty-fourth of November," Harry said, quoting Mr. Crouch. "Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard. The champions will face the first challenge with no knowledge of what is to come. Their only weapon is their wand."

"This is essentially no notification at all," Draco said, frowning.

He knew Harry was about to face a dragon. But how could he subtly hint at it without leaving a trace?

"Sirius said he's staying in Hogsmeade and will be coming to Hogwarts tonight to find me. He told me to wait for him near the Whomping Willow," Harry whispered to him.

"You'd better bring the Invisibility Cloak," Draco said.

"Would you like to come with me?" Harry asked cautiously. "Sirius would definitely like to see you too."

Draco squinted at Harry. He could tell Harry looked somewhat vulnerable.

He asked one more question, "Isn't Hermione going?"

"Oh," Harry said, glancing at him in alarm and whispering, "she's been trying to get me to be S.P.E.W.'s secretary lately, and you know, I'm really not interested in that..."

Not surprising at all.

Ambitious Hermione Granger would naturally take the opportunity to promote her ideas to her lonely friend.

She was far from giving up! Draco glanced at the girl in the distance who was enthusiastically shaking the S.P.E.W. badge tin at a Gryffindor student, and said to Harry with suppressed laughter, "All right, I'll go with you."

As the moonlight shone over the Forbidden Forest, a huge black dog was already waiting beside the Whomping Willow.

When the large black dog transformed into Sirius Black, Draco could hardly recognize him.

His thin face had become much fuller, the sallow complexion had completely disappeared, and he could even be described as glowing with health. This made his handsome appearance and elegant demeanor even more impossible to ignore.

He greeted Harry and Draco with great enthusiasm, laughing and hugging them one by one, his youthful face showing a certain excitement.

"You must come with me right now—I think I know what the first task is! Put on the Invisibility Cloak!" After he'd finished speaking, he suddenly transformed into that majestic black dog and rushed before them.

Draco and Harry exchanged a glance, both seeing a mixture of confusion and excitement in each other's eyes.

They donned Harry's Invisibility Cloak—a garment lighter than any Invisibility Cloak Draco had ever seen—and followed Sirius with curiosity.

The air was quiet, with only the faint sound of branches and dead leaves being crushed underfoot.

The black dog seemed to have a rather humorous side. When their footsteps couldn't keep up with it, it would stand still and playfully tug at the tip of its tail. Every time this happened, Harry would burst into laughter beneath his Invisibility Cloak.

This was quite unusual—given he'd been looking so gloomy lately.

They walked a long way around the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They continued walking until the castle and the lake were out of sight, until they heard men shouting loudly and a few deafening, shrill roars.

Draco held his breath, as did Harry beside him.

They saw them.

Dragons—that was the content of the first task.

Four ferocious-looking adult dragons were being fought by at least thirty adult wizards, with bursts of flame spewing from their fanged mouths.

"Stupefy!" seven or eight dragon handlers shouted in unison.

The dragon, weighing several tons, crashed to the ground with a deafening roar, causing the surrounding trees to tremble.

"Merlin's beard," Draco heard Harry murmur, his voice filled with shock.

Draco shared Harry's shock. He'd seen dragons in the stands before, but those stands had been far away; this was the first time he'd ever observed a dragon so close.

No boy disliked dragons—creatures that were incredibly impressive—but if you needed to face a dragon, that was a different story.

That would be the most difficult and terrifying thing in the world.

The boys, along with the black dog, kept their eyes wide in the bushes, silently watching the ferocious dragons. Then Draco saw Hagrid approaching from another direction. He looked dazed, as if seeing his first love, and walked toward the dragons, mesmerized.

Draco then gestured to Harry, and then to Sirius.

They quietly retraced their steps, barely daring to breathe, until they returned to the vicinity of the Whomping Willow.

"That's it!" Sirius said, transforming back into human form and speaking eagerly to them. "Did you see that clearly?"

"More or less," Draco said, pulling down his Invisibility Cloak and noticing Harry seemed choked up.

Fear spread across his face, draining all color from his complexion.

"How can I deal with them?" he asked with difficulty, his voice sounding somewhat strange.

Sirius patted his godson on the shoulder nonchalantly.

"It's all right! Don't worry at all—we can handle it! Harry, you just need to cast a Conjunctivitis Curse," he said, looking completely relaxed.

"A what?" Harry didn't understand.

"Conjunctivitis Curse. It can impair the dragon's vision. If it can't see you, you'll be much more relaxed," Sirius said with a grin. "Don't even think about casting a Stunning Spell. It would take seven or eight professional dragon handlers casting together to render such a dragon unconscious; if you cast it yourself, it would probably be like tickling it."

Draco knew about the Conjunctivitis Curse.

In his previous life, Krum had used this spell, and it had been very effective. However, the Chinese Fireball, blinded, had trampled many of its eggs, thus losing points.

"Or add your specialty—flight—and summon your Firebolt," Draco said.

Since Harry had done it this way last time, he was just repeating Harry's method to him.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that's feasible." He gave Draco an approving glance.

At this moment, Harry was no longer as panicked as before, and he was clearly considering the feasibility of these suggestions.

"Listen, Harry, you'll have to practice considerably; neither of these spells is easy," Draco said.

Harry nodded silently.

"I believe he can do it—no need to say more," Sirius said, waving dismissively at Draco, then gazing at Harry, a smirk playing on his lips. "You can do it, can't you? James—he'll be proud of you."

Hearing this, Harry finally regained some of his fighting spirit. He said, "I will. I'll do my best."

"Good lad," Sirius said with satisfaction, patting Harry on the shoulder again.

"Sirius Black, don't you consider the dangers of this?" Draco asked incredulously. "He's only fourteen! All his opponents are adult wizards who are seventeen or older!"

Draco couldn't understand why Sirius Black was acting so proud, completely lacking the worry a clear-headed, mature godfather should have!

"Oh, speaking of which—Harry, I do have something to remind you," Sirius said, glancing at Draco dismissively, a hint of worry creeping over his previously approving expression. "More than the opponents themselves, I think you need to be wary of Karkaroff. I'm not sure if he might do something to harm you."

"Why would Karkaroff do that?" Harry asked.

"Karkaroff used to be a Death Eater—he might be connected to Quirrell and Voldemort who escaped before. Also, Death Eaters appeared at the Quidditch World Cup, and someone conjured the Dark Mark. All of this together is very unusual—perhaps there's a conspiracy behind it," Sirius said calmly. "Furthermore, I heard Mad-Eye Moody was attacked the day before he was to teach at the school, which worries me greatly; someone seems to be trying to stop him. You see, he's the best Auror the Ministry's ever produced, and Death Eaters fear him."

Professor Moody—he was really frightening, the sort of frightening that terrified Death Eaters, Draco thought distractedly.

"You can't let your guard down, Harry. This tournament is a perfect opportunity for someone to try harming you and making it look like an accident," Sirius said. At this moment, he finally began to feel a sense of unease.

"Professor Moody thinks so too," Harry said bitterly.

"I've said something similar to Professor Dumbledore before, but he didn't take it seriously," Draco said sternly.

"He has too many things to consider. Organizing the Triwizard Tournament, managing the school, and other matters... You can't expect him to do everything," Sirius said, glancing at the moon in the sky, then suddenly snapping from his reverie. "It's getting late; you need to get back to the castle. Harry, Hogwarts might not be safe; enemies may be hiding there. Don't go anywhere alone, and don't leave your friends. Draco, watch over him and help him. I have to go!"

"Why me?" Draco snapped at the suddenly transformed black dog. "Sirius Black! Who is Harry's godfather anyway?"

Then he realized what he was saying, hurriedly turned around, and said to Harry, whose face was full of worry, "Oh, Harry, that wasn't directed at you. It's not that I don't want to help you..."

The dog let out a bark that sounded very much like human laughter, spun around on the spot, and then ran away at a leisurely pace.