Harry's enlistment into the Tournament was controversial at best. The problem wasn't so much that he "cheated" more so that the upper years felt like they'd been robbed of their chance at glory. People would have been much more accepting of his misfortune had, for example, another student been chosen properly alongside him. Instead, his name came out twice. Which either meant that Harry was double the cheater or twice as better as any other eligible Hogwarts student.
Harry was an absolute weirdo so people were too uneasy to say anything negative to his face. Instead, the student body grumbled their complaints behind closed doors, and the few brave and/or stupid enough to publicly start anything were hexxed by Harry and Ron until the perpetrator was left on the floor crying for their mum.
Malfoy, unbeknownst to them, was entirely unsurprised by the affair and tried to spread the rumor that Harry had sacrificed thirteen puppies to enter his name. This was largely unsuccessful.
Cedric Diggory, the school's preferred choice for champion was pretty much universally liked except by the most uppity of Slytherins. Despite being known as a nice guy, he and the older Hufflepuffs were the most vocal protesters. While not outright mean (they were Hufflepuffs after all) it was impossible to ignore the tension that followed Harry - the stares - the whispers - the gossip.
Harry was under strict orders to not hurt anyone with anything stronger than a tripping jinx, so despite the fact that his swiftly draining patience and sanity begged him to curse even just one child, Harry restrained his urges, barely. It was frustrating, but he had been lectured enough about the danger that he forced the brimming anger down.
That being said, the students were very lucky they were too afraid to talk shit to his face because he was pretty sure it would only take one or two more instances before he ignored logic and morality. Look, if someone 'accidentally' 'fell' into the lake, then how would they find out it was Harry?
It was also a blessing that for a short time, he was champion in little but name only. However, a week after the selection, Harry was called away during Potions for his first tournament duty.
"Whatever, it's not like this lesson was important," Alabasandria said with a scowl and a roll of her eyes. "Go floo Sirius in my office. Don't let anyone talk to you without him."
Harry fell through the fire into the Black Library. Sirius sat on the ground, encased in a salt circle and murmuring over someone's tibia. He looked up as Harry entered and waved his hand to cancel the spell. As Harry explained what was happening, Sirius transfigured his sweatpants into formal attire. He took a look at Harry's unkempt uniform and made him presentable as well, his uniform pressing as though freshly ironed and his outer robe, which was faded from wear, transformed into a fancy dark green cloak with silver fastenings.
He had to spell the robes again once Harry fumbled his way through the floo and got powder everywhere, giving Harry's hair a ruffle and they began to walk down the empty halls.
"Ah, there you are, Mister Potter!" Ludo Bagman said cheerfully as they entered. His eyes widened at Sirius' intimidating presence. "Oh - Lord Black. Um… what -"
"As my godson is underage and was entered against his will by an unknown party, it's been decided he'll have an escort for all official tournament events." The grin he sent Bagman was shark-like and full of hidden promise. "Don't mind me, I'll just wait over here."
"Yes, yes. Let's begin," Fudge said and although his voice was calm, he was unhappy with Sirius' presence, a bead of sweat collecting at his temple. "A few photos first? Come along, Mr. Potter."
Sirius gave him a final comforting pat on the shoulder and Harry headed over to the other champions, who sent him polite nods as they huddled together for photos. So many damn photos. Individual ones, group shots, them with their Headmasters, them doing various poses. The lecture hall was full of press and cameras, some of them shouting out in foreign languages. He recognized Mr. Lovegood near the back, with his very tall assistant manning the camera. Harry only smiled once or twice, and they were twisted, fake things that would be of no use. His face defaulted to a neutral, pensive look as the flashing lights quickly built up a headache.
Next, Ollivander inspected their wands with little excitement followed by a series of short speeches. While he wouldn't dare admit this to his mama, Harry was feeling impatient for when he'd actually be able to do something interesting in the tournament, and not just stand around and clap politely during the dick-measuring contest of one that Fudge was having.
" - And of course, the British Ministry and Hogwarts are both thrilled to be represented by Mister Potter," Fudge finished. The two dozen or so reporters launched into a shouting match of questions, several of which were aimed at Harry.
"What is the Ministry's official statement about the allegations that Mr. Potter did not enter the tournament?"
"Mr. Potter, is it true that you're competing against your will?"
"Minister, how are you going to ensure the safety of this event after the attack at the Word Cup?"
Flustered by the attention with several quills, cameras, and faces crowding him, he glanced over to Sirius for help. One of the reporters, a blonde woman in overly large glasses followed his gaze.
"Mr. Potter!"
"Minister!"
"Settle down, everyone!" Fudge said, reeling the crowd back into relative control. "Everyone will get a chance to be interviewed -" Sirius reached them and returned his solid grasp on Harry's shoulder. Leaning against the older man, Harry didn't notice the flash of cameras capturing the moment. "Now, who would like to go first?" Everyone turned to face Harry with expectant looks. The boy ducked his head with nervous energy.
"I will go first," Viktor volunteered. Harry let out a breath and practically ran from the crowd to hide in a corner.
"You don't have to give an interview, Harry," Sirius whispered to him.
"It's fine, really," he assured, although he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say or how he should act. From the angle he had on the platform now, he saw Viktor from the side, calm and standing at attention. When Fleur volunteered to be interviewed next, Harry felt a wave of appreciation sweep over him. But eventually, it was his turn on the chopping block.
"Hello," he started uncertainly. At his right shoulder was Sirius and at his left was Fudge, who wrapped his arm around the boy. Harry could not hide his unease as he shuffled out of the man's grip. With the subsequent flash of the cameras, Fudge dropped his arm with an awkward grimace. Dumbledore elbowed Fudge out of the way with grace and gave everyone his most grandfatherly eye twinkle.
"Tell us about yourself, Mr. Potter." A kind-faced reporter shouted from the front row.
"Um, so I'm Harry, the Hogwarts champion. I'm in my fourth year. I really like playing Quidditch. Sirius got me a Firebolt last year and that's been wicked." He faltered, as that was the only legal hobby he had.
"What is your strategy for the Tournament, Mr. Potter?"
"Playing to my strengths," he answered. "I'm light on my feet and fast. I know I don't have the same level of education as my competitors, but I know how to fight dirty."
"Do you honestly think that with your age difference, you have a good chance of winning, Mr. Potter?"
"Oh, sure. I killed the basilisk in my second year. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I think I'll be fine." There was a pause as the adults all looked at each other and then back at Harry with incredulous faces.
"Could you elaborate on that, Monsieur Potter?" A French journalist from the back of the crowd asked. "This was at Hogwarts? Is there danger at your school regularly?"
"Uh…" both Dumbledore and Fudge were shaking their heads, looking at him with desperate faces. "Um… maybe? How often is regularly?" He laughed nervously as the stern reporters saw right through his bullshit and jotted his words down, murmuring amongst themselves.
"And this basilisk?"
"Er…" Harry realized he shouldn't have brought that up. "I stabbed it with the sword of Godric Gryffindor, it wasn't a big deal." Harry could feel Sirius' eyes roll, the intensity of his sigh was severe. Dumbledore put his face in his hands.
"Your official statement has been that your name was entered without your knowledge and consent, is this correct? Could you elaborate on that?" Another reporter asked.
"Yeah sure," Harry said. He was trying to replicate Sirius' calm demeanor, but he had never been interviewed before, and the pressure of answering another thing wrong made Harry's brain empty out. As much as he wanted to think about what he was about to say, Harry completely forgot the English language at that moment and all he could do was babble out some more stream-of-conscious thoughts.
"Um, so I did not try to enter because of the age line and because Sirius and my mum thought it would be dangerous. I've had enough excitement as is, so I planned to play in the Quidditch tournament with the rest of the Gryffindor team and that was it. As to how I got entered, I can't say for certain. I know that after the terrible attack at the World Cup we suspected that it was Vol- er, You-Know-Who behind it and I knew I had to be extra careful in case any of his supporters attacked me this year. So if I had to guess, I'd say it was definitely him."
There was a moment of stunned silence. Fudge drew in a harsh breath and turned to Harry with a strangled expression. Dumbledore sighed like he hadn't slept in a week.
"Excusez-moi, Monsieur Potter, you are saying that you believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned?"
"No, no he is not -" Fudge said urgently.
"Er, yeah. I am. I don't have any proof except what we all witnessed at the World Cup, and I don't say this to incite panic or anything, but I'm pretty sure he's trying to regain his power. If not him literally, then his Death Eaters at least, which I think is just as dangerous."
"Minister," the French woman continued. "You have insisted that this attack had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, no?"
"That is the official response from the Ministry per the investigation -"
"You have assured the French people that our children would be safe in your country, is this no longer true?" A very large, angry journalist shouted, looking like he might wrangle Fudge's neck if he answered wrong.
Fudge stammered. "As per the investigation -"
"Lord Black, you served as an auror during the last war, correct sir? What is your opinion?" Someone else shouted over Fudge. The Minister leaned across to say something to Sirius, his face smudged with red anger. But at that moment, by pure happenstance and not at all on purpose, Dumbledore blocked his view from the rest of them.
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