Harry Potter :Diamond Heart

This was beyond ridiculous.

He turned and left without waiting for the headmaster to dismiss him. Somebody had put his name in the Goblet of Fire and he would find out who and why before exacting an appropriate level of vengeance.

His journey back to the common room was dogged by whispers and barbed comments. Slytherin and Hufflepuff in particular were rather open about their disdain for him.

At least my friends will believe me once I tell them.

Gryffindor tower greeted him with stark silence.

'I can't believe you, Harry,' Ron spoke up after a moment. 'You said you wouldn't put your name in. You promised us you'd be watching alongside us.'

Seamus, Dean, and many of the friends from his year were regarding him rather coldly. It was worse than the reactions he'd received in the corridors. He'd expected those.

'You could have at least told us how you managed it so we'd have a chance as well,' Seamus said frigidly. 'Your word doesn't mean much does it.' They turned away from him when he tried to protest, even Hermione, though she seemed reluctant.

Why won't they listen?

'You guys believe me right?' he asked, looking rather desperately at three Gryffindor team chasers.

'You told us you weren't going to enter,' Angelina, retorted angrily, 'but your name came out, didn't it?' Alicia and Katie said nothing, but he could see they at least partially agreed with their friend.

Harry searched across the sea of cold faces for a single supportive look, but found none, even little Colin Creevey was looking hostile. Three years of friendship and trust swept aside by an incident he wasn't even responsible for.

So that's how it is. He tightened his hands into fists. So much for house loyalty.

He spun around and stormed out, ignoring the stares that followed him. He was so angry, so utterly furious with all of them. It was white-hot, searing him from the inside, and potent enough to make his whole tremble.

He stalked in the direction of the Chamber of Secrets, fingering his wand. They accused him of betrayal, him, when they wouldn't even wait to hear him explain.

Salazar was right. I should have made better friends.

He stormed right past Myrtle's cubicle down the stairs, but the usually friendly ghost was nowhere to be seen.

Reaching the main hall where the basilisk corpse lay he unleashed every violent spell he knew in all directions, serpent effigies shattered, throwing dust and sharp stone fragments across the chamber, but Harry didn't stop. A sharp piece caught him on the cheek, but the stinging pain was so much less than the burning torrent of rage his house's betrayal had created. No amount of furious spell casting seemed to lessen it and in the end he just slumped against one of the ruin walls and pounded his fist onto the flagstones until it hurt too much too continue.

He wasn't sure exactly how long he sat there seething, staring at nothing and thinking about how his closest friends could have turned their back on him, but in the end his rage abandoned him just as they had.

It left him feeling rather hollow.

'What were you doing?' Salazar asked him incredulously when he made his way into the study.

'Venting,' Harry replied shortly.

'What happened?'

'My name was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. I didn't even enter, but nobody will listen to me, let alone believe me.' Without the anger he had felt before his explanation sounded very tired, almost resigned. 'My housemates and friends certainly don't,' he finished wearily.

'I do,' the painting told him. The snake stayed silent, eying him through Salazar's hair.

'What does it say about my friends that the only one who trusts me is a thousand year old portrait?' Harry demanded.

'It says Godric and Helga would both be very disappointed.' Salazar's tone was unusually frank. 'Tell me about the tournament.'

'It has tasks,' Harry began, drawing on what he had overheard from Ron and the others. 'Three of them. There is a champion from each of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and me.'

'Is it dangerous?'

'It was cancelled because the contestants kept dying.'

'Something worth winning, then,' Slytherin declared.

'I'm competing with much older students; the best in their schools.'

'You're my heir,' Salazar reminded him gently. 'You're a prodigy at transfiguration, you'll be proficient at duelling, and you're powerful in your own right. You can win. You will win.'

'Why would I even want to win?' Harry asked him, exasperated.

'The hat nearly put you in Slytherin, yes?'

'Yes.'

'Then use some of that ambition you must have lurking inside you and prove yourself better. Silence your doubters and former friends by winning the damn thing. They'll come flocking back to you afterwards I guarantee it.' The portrait sounded particularly scathing at that.

'What if I don't want them back,' Harry decided.

'Make better allies, then.' The painting's wand let out a spurt of green and silver sparks. 'You wanted to be stronger, accomplish it. Participating and winning this tournament will prove you really have bettered yourself as you wished to.'

I do need to be better. Harry could not bear the idea of another Pettigrew escaping.

'What should I do?' Harry asked his ancestor. 'How can I win?'

'Cunning. They will underestimate you. Ignore your pride and use theirs against them. A serpent strikes from hiding.' Salazar paused to consider his statement and the snake around his shoulders hissed in the brief moment of silence.

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