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.
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