Title: Oh You Didn't Know? Yeah, He's Awesome
Rating: T – M
Pairings: None yet
Warning: Some Violence. Explicit Language. SLASH. Movie and Book verse mixed and matched
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling
Summary: Remember Goblet of Fire? What would happen if Harry took the filter off his mouth and actually said what he's thinking? Bad things, probably. But it'll be fun as hell. My go at the Intelligent!Harry, Smart alec!Harry situation.
"C'mon Harry!" A random Gryffindor who had never spoken to him before in his life exclaimed. "This is your celebration mate! You've gotta have a few drinks at least."
"No. Going to bed. Bye."
Harry Potter weaved through the crowd, despite all manner of protests and cajoling and "come on Harry live a little, you're our Champion!"…ing.
He had to deal with a tremendous amount of stupid in the past hour and right now his brain needed to rest or he swore to Jesus Merlin and David Bowie that he was going to take a wrench to someone's knee cap!
It was dark when he opened the door to the Fourth Year boy's dormitory, and at first Harry thought he was going to be able to go to sleep in peace and pretend that none of this bullcrap was happening for a few hours more –
"So…how did you do it?"
Oh for fuck sakes, why?
Harry turned to the bed next to his, slowly with slumped shoulders as if they were being weighed down by dumbbells, and faced the sullen countenance of his best friend Ron. He leaned against his bed post and stared at him.
"Never mind," said Ron, low and resentful and just waiting to burst with all kinds of negative things left unsaid during their friendship. "Doesn't matter. You could have let your best friend know though."
There was a long pause. Ron was a tightly coiled orange ball of angry, his lips twitching with a million rebuttals at the tip of his tongue. All he needed was for his supposed best friend to get the ball rolling with a denial (Che! Why even bother with it?) and he could really lay into him.
"…I'm going to die in 24 days."
Ron gaped at him.
Before his friend could gather himself and respond to that non sequitur Harry climbed into his bed and drew the curtains closed. For a few moments he just stared at the ceiling. He covered his face with his hands and let out a long shuddering sigh.
"I'm so fucked."
The next day dawned idiotic. The boy's dorm was empty, best friend included, and when he checked the time it showed he had 30 minutes before breakfast was over. Yay.
Harry hurried through his shower and usual morning rituals and made it to the Great Hall with 20 minutes left to spare. Ron was chatting it up with Seamus and Dean, and studiously ignoring him with the exception of a few confused/resentful looks thrown his way. Well, at least his ever so profound statement last night seemed to have gotten to Ron somewhat. Maybe this was a sign that he would get over himself in the near future?
Nah, too easy. That would be no fun.
He saw Hermione in her usual spot. She had a book in hand but kept glancing back and forth between the large tome and the Great Hall main entrance, so she was most likely retaining nothing. When he got close enough he tapped her on the right shoulder and quickly slid in the seat next to her left.
Hermione jumped and whirled to the right comically, before turning to him with an exasperated look. "Honestly, Harry."
Harry merely grinned, unrepentant. He grabbed a bowl of cereal, then pushed it aside. Damn, he never had an appetite when he was nervous and agitated.
"Why are you here so late anyway? Breakfast is almost over."
"Oh yeah, you can thank Best Friend for that," he picked up a piece of toast and tried his best to nibble on it. "He accidently on purpose forgot to wake me up this morning."
Hermione pursed her lips. "Yes, about that." She gathered up her things and closed her book with a snap. Uh oh, serious talk. "Take a walk with me, would you Harry?"
Harry grabbed his bag as well, the toast left behind as a lost cause. "Lead the way m'lady."
They walked down the corridors at a slow pace. Occasionally they would pass by students from the other Houses who would glare at Harry or whisper something snide and unimpressive to their friends about him. Oh dearest Hogwarts. Never change.
"Just ignore them Harry," Hermione whispered when a couple of Ravenclaws gave a particularly obnoxious laugh and sneered in his direction.
"Not to worry, lovey. I've got my Ignore Pretentious Douchebag glasses on today." He waggled his glasses up and down with a silly smile. "I'm impervious to all insult."
Hermione chuckled at his antics. "Well I just wanted to let you know that I believe you didn't put your name in the Cup."
"And Ron, well…I know he would believe you but he's being…difficult right now."
"Be serious Harry!"
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look I already know what Ron's problem is; he's jealous about all the money I have and the sudden attention that just seems to have fallen in my lap, and he's insecure that with someone like me as his friend and with all the accomplishments his brothers have achieved that he'll never amount to anything that will equal and or surpass those achievements. On top of all that he's going through puberty and male hormones can make you into a regular asshole at the drop of a dime. And I understand that."
"You do?" she asked skeptically.
"Yeah, I gathered as much when he got all moody when I was trying to buy him that hat at the World Cup. But I'm also slightly irritated," Harry said the word through gritted teeth, his fists clenched so hard that they were turning purple, "that he's having this little coming of age bitch fest when I'm about to get killed for some crap I didn't even sign up for."
Hermione gazed at him thoughtfully and with not a little shock. Harry supposed she hadn't expected him to be so intuitive. Not her fault, he usually preferred to keep most of his insight to himself. "I guess you have a point," she said slowly. "I'll try to work on Ron –"
"Oh nu nu nu nu nu," Harry hurriedly cut her off. "Do not try to work on Ron."
"But Harry –"
"No, Hermione, listen to me here. The more you try to convince him he's being ridiculous the more he's going to think you're on my side and then he'll get all pissy at you and then he'll be even more stubborn and it'll take longer for him to apologize or forgive us or ah…whatever, he'll start talking to us is what I mean.
"So just…do what you always do."
"And that is?"
"Be our amazingly smart best friend." Before she could say anything more he tapped her lightly on the nose so that her chocolate brown eyes crossed, "Gotta send a letter to Snuffles, see you in class, lovey." And he was off to the Owlery, whistling a purposely loud jaunty tune. Hopefully Sirius would be able to offer some useful advice in this increasingly mad, mad world.
Aside from the glares and jeering, classes went on as normal. McGonagall was strict, fair and tartan clad; Flitwick was tiny and awesome; and Moody was creepy yet effective…and giving off massive serial killer vibes, but people couldn't help how they were born.
Hagrid had them play with their Blast-Ended Skrewts for the day. Harry found he had a better time handling them this time around. Despite having no eyes the scorpion-crab thingys seemed to loath the color puce (side note: this may be why they kept trying to kill each other. Harry made sure to let Hagrid know that.), so Harry charmed his cloak the nauseating color and did a little corrida de toros footwork to herd the mistake-of-nature back into its crate.
"Aww, you're kinda cute when you're not touching me," Harry cooed as he peered at the creature over the edge of the crate. At a safe distance, mind you.
"Well done Harry! Five points ter Gryffindor," Hagrid said cheerily as he came up behind him, handling a comically small clipboard in his large hands. "Le's see here. I'll jus' mark yeh full credit fer the day ah…hang on a tick…" He poked his tongue out as he pinched the equally small quill between his thumb and forefinger and tried to scribble something down with awkwardly slow movements.
After a few seconds of this, Harry couldn't take it anymore and took out his wand. "Wait Hagrid, I'll fix that for you. Engorgio…just tell me when," he said as the clipboard and such expanded to Hagrid appropriate proportions.
"That'll do Harry. Thanks for that. Would've done it meself but I don' have the same finesse with me wand, ya know?" The large man said sheepishly.
"Don't worry about it Hagrid," Harry said with a genuine smile for his first friend.
"So, how've yeh been holdin' up? Since after everythin' that happen' las' nigh', I mean?"
"Aside from everyone thinking I'm a glory hound?" Harry said as he gently prodded his skrewt with a stick. It made a weird little purring sound and swayed side to side in response, kind of like a cat would after you scratched their sweet spot. "Eh, could be worse."
"Well, I believe yeh didn't put yer name in the cup Harry, an' anyone who don't is a right idiot."
"Yes they are Hagrid," Harry said clearly so that Ron, who was struggling to maneuver his skrewt back into its crate by poking it with a stick (from the way it was hissing he was not hitting its sweet spot), could hear. He gazed at the redhead unblinkingly with no expression on his face. Ron tried to match his stare with a glare of his own, but a ball of flames erupting onto his leg from his skrewt's nether regions quickly drew his attention elsewhere. "I suddenly want lobster for dinner."
"Wha's eh?" Hagrid asked, understandably confused.
"Never mind. Should I go help around with the other students?"
Hagrid beamed at him. "That would be great Harry! Dunno why no one's got the hang of 'em yet, they're real peaceful like creatures – "
"Eeeeeeek! I'm on fire!" Lavender Brown squealed, while Parvati screamed and cursed incoherently next to her.
"I'll get it," Harry sighed as he pulled out his wand and started to jog towards the flailing girls. "Stop drop and roll ladies!"
Herbology would have gone on just fine if Professor Sprout hadn't given Harry the stink eye all class, but even that wasn't out of the Hogwarts norm. He remembered her being all catty towards him during the Chamber of Secrets debacle back in his Second Year, ignoring all his questions and just being a passive aggressive bitch in general.
All right! Let's give a hand for adults being reasonable and mature in situations that call for it. Clap, clap, clap, clap, cuuuuuh – lap.
And speaking of reasonable and mature…Potions class was up next.
Normally Harry tried to get to Potions at the very last minute, as it gave him the illusion that the class time would be shortened. Today he got there a little early and was met with the Slytherins lined up outside the classroom door, giggling like school girls over some large badges pinned to their robes.
In bright red letters in some rather unflattering font, each button read: SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY - The Real Hogwarts Champion.
"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy said, smirking. "And that's not all they do - look!"
He pressed the badge and the first message disappeared, only to be replaced with the words POTTER STINKS! The taller teen laughed uproariously along with his Housemates; their badges a sea of glowing green irritation.
Harry bent a little and squinted at the badge, waggling his glasses as if he was trying to see it better. "Oh! Uh oh. Looks like you got a typo here. Mind if I take a gander at it?"
Malfoy glanced behind him to exchange snickers with his friends. "Of course Potter. In fact, you can keep it. I can always get another one from someone else, since everybodyhas one now."
"Well isn't that just perfect," Harry said in a distracted deadpan, his full attention on the badge. He tapped his wand on the button and muttered a spell, then calmly pinned it to his robe.
SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY, it read in much, much prettier font. A few seconds later the words disappeared on their own and displayed: And His Tight Ass.
"Hey!" Goyle exclaimed as his badge too showed the new motto. The other Slytherins grabbed their lapels and pressed their badges over and over (the guys more furiously than the Slytherinettes), as if that would somehow change the words back to the original insult.
"Whoa! Guys…I didn't know you were such avid Cedric fans. I mean, I know I am, but my admiration is kinda in the illegal gray area if you know what I mean…"
"How did you – that's impossible!" Malfoy sputtered.
"Yeah," Harry chuckled, "no it's not."
"You have to change it back!"
"Change it back!"
"Change what now?"
Malfoy was quickly turning a bedazzling shade of puce. Harry hoped there weren't any blast-ended skrewts around. Oh wait. That was a mistake. He did hope there were blast-ended skrewts around. "If you don't change them back, Potter, I'm going to –"
"Wait, wait! Hold on!"
"What!" Malfoy spat through gritted teeth.
"I've suddenly lost all interest in what you're saying."
That puce color was now slipping into a bright red (aww, sorry skrewts), and as Malfoy pulled out his wand, Harry's Year mates chose that moment to arrive.
"Looky Hermione. I just got me a pressie!"
"What…Harry!" Hermione's eyes bugged out as she caught sight of the badge. "Where did you get that!?"
Harry pointed at Malfoy. "He gave it to me."
Hermione eyed Malfoy up and down with eyebrows raised. "Really? It all makes sense now…"
"I didn't – I mean, he's the one who changed it! I didn't put that there!"
"This is all starting to sound deliciously suggestive," Harry chimed in.
Malfoy made a little high pitched, animalistic noise that sounded like "GaaaaaahRAHHH!" but before he could turn his rage into a curse, Professor Snape flounced – stalked!- stalked down the corridor and barked for them to get inside.
From there Potions class went on as normal, with the lesson plan that day consisting of them making antidotes for the various poisons Snape was going to make them drink – ya know, for life experience and such. Snape was a grouch to the Gryffindors and praised the Slytherins, with a sprinkle of baiting Harry every now and then. A key difference was the Slytherin's lack of sabotaging the Gryffindor potions, what with being tied up trying to discreetly change their badges back to normal.
You're welcome, Gryffindor.
Halfway through the class Colin Creevey burst into the room…and almost wet himself at the look Snape gave him for his noisy entrance.
"Ah, hello sir. I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."
"And this can't wait until after class?" Snape bit out.
"S-sorry sir, Mr. Bagman said it has to be now. It's Tournament business."
The classroom suddenly broke out into excited whispers, with the exception of Ron who was sulking and Hermione who did not break out into excited anything in class unless it involved a new lesson.
"Quiet!" Snape barked. He gave Colin a mean stare that spelled eternity of detention if this was some kind of trick. "Put your bag aside Potter, I want you back down later to test your antidote –"
"Actually sir, Mr. Bagman said they were going to be a while so Harry's going to need his bag…sir," Colin added with a gulp.
"Darn it and I really wanted to get poisoned today, too." Harry quickly packed up his bag and started heading out the door before Snape could take points from him because of Colin's existence. "Can't keep the Bag Man waiting, though. Toodles all!"
On the way there Harry wasn't able to get much information about what Bagman wanted with him (the Third Year was too busy fawning and indiscreetly trying to figure out how he put his name in the Goblet), just that he and the other Champions were meeting up for something. Helpful.
The meeting was taking place in one of Hogwarts' many unused classrooms. Cedric, Delacour and Krum were already there, along with Bagman who was schmoozing with Karkaroff, Dumbledore and Madame Maxime. Ollivander – Einstein hair wearing, riddle me thisfor no reason – Ollivander, sat behind a desk up front. As well as a man with a camera and a tackily dressed woman that he didn't recognize who was shimmying about the room, firing off questions at people. Her eyes caught his, and a wide, bright pink lipstick colored, smile stretched across her face with nothing but predatory intent.
Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN!
"AH! Our infamous Fourth Champion has finally arrived!" She sashayed up to him and clasped his wrist, her well-manicured nails an acid green. Argh! It burnsssss usssss! "Now we can really get started. Here now, let's go somewhere more comfortable..."
Harry looked to the claw grasping his hand, then to the smiling woman, then to the people around the room. "I need an adult!"
Her hand was off him in a second after that exclamation. The other occupants of the room looked at them curiously. Bagman took that moment to stroll over, speaking to Harry in that inappropriately familiar voice of his. "Harry! I see you've met Rita Skeeter already. She'll be doing a small piece on the Tournament for the Daily Prophet."
"Y-yes, yes," she said, having gathered herself enough to strike again. "And I was just about to have a little word with Harry before we started – if that's alright?"
"Certainly! That would be –"
"I will not be alone with her." Harry took a deliberately large step next to Bagman. He stood by him and gave Skeeter an exaggerated up and down look. "My body is a temple Madame."
Skeeter sputtered wildly, while Bagman was giving her a suspicious look of his own. "Just what were you saying to him, Rita?"
It took a moment for Skeeter to gather herself, and once she did she fairly had to slap the smile back onto her expression. "Ah ha ha ha, Ludo! Isn't the boy just darling…and such a kidder too! Our youngest Champion is quite the character, eh?" Harry had to give the cougar credit – she was persistent as fuck. "Now about that talk – "
"There will be no talking unless there are witnesses."
"The Weighing of the Wand Ceremony is about to start, we'll just have you talk to all the Champions afterwards, ahem… together," said Bagman, giving Skeeter another suspicious look before guiding Harry to the seats with the other Champions.
Whew! Dodged a bullet there. Harry distinctly remembered that article about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference and somehow he doubted that Dumbledore would call himself an 'obsolete dingbat'.
Yeah, Rita Skeeter could take that Quick Quotes Quill of hers and shove it right up her hoo-ha, thanks much.
Harry sidled down next to Cedric and gave him a winning smile. "How's it going C. D.?"
Cedric looked at him confusedly. Well, the Hufflepuff hadn't exactly made the best impression last night, but it wasn't like he had known him for four years and went on life bonding adventures together and was his god damn best friend – you know what, it's ok. Don't get your blood pressure rising now, Harry. Fucking Ron.
"Oh, hey…" Cedric caught sight of his badge and did a double take. "What the hell is that thing!? Where did you get that!?"
"Malfoy gave it to me."
"Malfoy! That little scumbag –"
Harry gave the badge a fond look. "I like it because it's true."
"What!?" Cedric shrieked, only half manly-like.
Harry just gave the older boy's chestnut colored hair a caress. "Shhhhhhhhhh," he whispered soothingly. "It's ok. The ceremony is about to start."
"BUT – "
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander," Dumbledore spoke from his position by the other judges. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament."
Harry snorted. Ha! Wands. Good one.
"Is everything all right Harry?"
"I just have a feeling that Cedric's wand is in perfect condition, sir."
Cedric flushed scarlet, while Delacour giggled softly. Even Krum had to cover his laughter with a cough. The other judges just looked agitated at being interrupted. Old fogies.
"Ah, that's very kind of you Harry," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. Hmmm, did he get the joke, or did he not get the joke? He probably did. He was cool like that.
The ceremony pretty much was what it sounded like; Ollivander would look at their wands, describe its contents, then criticize their lack of proper maintenance. Ahhhh, if only Ollivander knew what Harry's poor wand had been through, the places it had been shoved, the sights it could not unsee. He would be appalled. Hell, he would probably call social services on him for it. Harry knew he would deserve it.
Anyway. The whole thing couldn't have lasted more than thirty minutes. Dumbledore was all for sending them off to dinner, but then Bagman (unfortunately) reminded them about the photos. It took a lot longer than it needed to. Madame Maxime's height kept casting shadows on everyone, and on top of that the camera man couldn't figure out how to get her in the picture with everyone else. Not one to let an opportunity slide by, Harry went up to him and peered over his shoulder.
"Try tilting it a little…no, no that way, yes – wait, a little to the left –"
"Almost – no, hang on. Mind if I give it a go um…?"
"Carl, brilliant. One of my neighbors is named Carl – he stuffed me into a basketball hoop – good times. Do you mind?"
Carl the photographer handed him the camera. "Everybody smile!" Harry tilted the camera just so and snapped a few shots. "See that? It gives it a bit of an artistic angle and gets everybody in."
"Ahhh, very nice," Carl said slowly, nodding. "I'll have ta try that one."
Harry snapped off several more pictures, moving about the room, even standing on top of the judges desk. "That's it you guys, let's get some more smiles….Oooh Fleur, I like that pout, do it again…yeah, like that! Work it girl! Ok Krum, let's see some fierceness in your eyes…or… maybe that's just your default expression – that's alright though! Oi, Ced! Give us a twirl would you…yes it's necessary…those glutes beg to be on camera…what are you talking about? I didn't say anything! Just smile and look pretty. Okay, one more group shot, you too Carl…one, two, three, cheese! Alright people, I think that's a wrap."
The emerald eyed youth checked his watch as he absently tossed Carl the camera back. "Oh would you look at that! Only five minutes 'till dinner! We'd best be off then – us Champions won't grow big and strong without their nourishment."
"Now wait a moment Harry!" Skeeter called after him. "There's still the interview, and you aren't in any of the pictures –"
But Harry was already half way out the door, bag slung over his shoulder and giving a wave without turning around. "Just Photoshop me in or something – later all!"
"Yes, that sounds easy enough," Carl said. "Eh…does anyone know where the nearest Photo shop is?"
"You certainly won't find it in Hogsmead," Dumbledore chimed in cheerfully. "But there is this delightful little curio shop that sells picture frames that always have something derogatory to say about your in-laws."
Rita Skeeter simply shook her head, "Round one to you, Potter. But the battle isn't over, not by half."
End Notes: Yes, I'm using "ass" instead of "arse". There will be more British – American idioms used in the right and wrong context throughout the fic. Can't help it, I think it's funny.
Sooooooooooo, this popped in my head. Dunno if I'll continue it, but we'll see.
Like it? Hate it? Tell me about!