Ok, if you read "Cold as Ice" from my profile, then you know by now that this series IS NOT MINE and that statement is goes for all the rest of this series.
However, if you HAVEN'T read "Cold as Ice" then what the hell are you doing on this story, go onto my profile and read that story first.
usual copyright stuff applies: Happy Potter and other characters belong to J.K. Rowling, if it belonged to anyone else it would be rubbish
Harry couldn't stop smirking.
Really.
It was simply a biological reaction, it really wasn't his fault that making out with a hot girl made him this way...
It wasn't his fault at all that he felt small, vindictive glee whenever he made out with Luna right in front of Matt, or that he excercise his newly aquired 'Bum Privelages' while doing so.
Honestly, wouldn't any red-blooded male do the same?
"Alright! I fucking get the picture! You're together, and enjoying it! Now stop fucking distracting me and get the fuck out of the Library!" Matt had finally lost it once, when Harry brought Luna all the way down to Slytherin's Library on the excuse to let her look at the selection...
...Before resuming snogging.
Right next to Matt.
While he was working on some wierd Japanese symbols on a paper.
Luna had smiled, then walked downstairs to actually do what she had come to do. She was, after all, a Ravenclaw, and knowledge was all Ravenclaw's secret guilty pleasure, even if it was not so secret.
Harry felt immense relief that she wasn't like that Granger chick in Gryffindor, who was practically obsessive. If he showed her this place, she'd probably blow her panties off creaming so hard.
"What're you working on?" Harry asked curiously. "No in depth explanations, though, they might hurt my small, underprivelaged brain."
"Ha ha ha, asshole." Matt muttered. He waved a hand over the Japanese symbols. "Kanji. Old Japanese and Chinese wizards used them for magic. Only type of enchanting they really used, but cool as hell. It's a really unknown art, most people forgot that it's practically the most useful shit you could ever learn."
"Why?"
"It's sealing magic." Harry cocked a head.
"Like, sealing demons and curses and such, or inter-dimensional sealing, like the type they use on those magical trunks in Diagon Alley?"
Matt grimaced. "I would say trunks, but that would be a insult to sealing magic." One eyebrow on Harry's face rose.
"Elaborate."
Matt sighed, and ruffled a few pages around, before yanking one out. It was a small tag, about as long and wide as Harry's hand. It was covered in the small Japanese kanji, and surrounded by a red line. There was one large character in the middle.
"The kind of sealing magic they use on trunks is proportional. They make it ten times as big on the inside, or something like that. It's not real sealing magic. It's like a crying baby compared to Chuck Norris in this case." Matt waved the little tag around in the air. "And this sucker kicks the shit out of trunks any day."
The small tag did not look very impressive, but Harry held his disbelief, considering the fact that no one would expect him, a fourth year, to create a spell that could cause a stalactite to impale you from behind. Which he had done.
"Inside this tag-" Matt waved it again. "-is another world."
Harry snorted. "Okay, now I'm calling it. Bullshit!"
"No, no, look." Harry could see Matt concentrating magic into the tag.
Suddenly, a small black hole the size of the tag covered the side with the characters on it, stopping at the black line around it. A apple dropped out of it, which Matt caught with his hand, before letting the flow cease. The black hole winked out, leaving the tag blank paper on both sides.
He hefted the apple and smirked. Harry took one look at it, and Matt yelped and dropped it as it froze over completely, shattering on the floor like fragile glass.
"Explain, Matt." Matt smiled.
"They created actual dimensions, Harry. Small pocket dimensions by creating the parameters, those characters you saw, and a limit, that black line around the edges that controlled the size of the opening. And you can store anything you can fit in there, for as long as you like, without it spoiling, rusting, or becoming damaged in any way, as long as the tag isn't ripped or anything."
"The ink disappeared afterwards, so it's only one useage, right?" Matt nodded.
"Yeah, that's the one downside. You gotta rewrite everything afterwards. It's seal, unseal, then rewrite and repeat-hey!" Matt grunted, as Harry scooted in next to him.
"Move over. I'm learning this too. This does kick the ass out of trunks. More."
"Well, other than that, there's not much else to it. The item returns at the speed it was put in, so, if you threw a baseball in at ninety miles per hour, it would come out at the same speed. There's no friction or air speed inside the space, remember, so there's nothing to slow it down..." Matt trailed off, not really liking the look on Harry's face.
"So all those ancient Chinese tales of a rain of steel and shit aren't total crap! They probably just threw those tags in the air! And think of what kind of shit we can put in there!" Matt was getting pretty excited too, he could see the possiblities too.
"Imagine!, Rain of-!"
"-Bullets coming from every-!"
"-sides of reductos from underneath-!"
"-LAVA balls-!"
"-LEMON DROPS!"
The conversation stopped. Harry looked at Matt, who was grinning sheepishly.
"Lemon drops, Matt?" Harry asked. A embaressed flush rose up in his cheeks.
"Well...you know, kind of the ultimate humiliater for Dumbledore...a tag that unsealed lemon drops at...supersonic..." He trailed off, not really wanting to finish.
Harry palmed his forehead. "Right...lets...just...start with learning how to seal apples and shit, first, okay? Where can I find a book on Kanji?"
Matt grinned, reached under the table, and rammed a huge book onto the surface. Harry felt his eyes widen.
"Shit. Matt, are there any memory speeder uppers that you can brew...?" Harry knew such a potion existed, but not really the name of it.
Matt nodded. "The Rosetta Draught? Sure, I've got one brewing in the chamber."
One more advantage of having a large, secret hideout, was the room. Matt had probably a dozen potions just simmering in the long Chamber passages, with strict instructions not to touch any of them. They were mostly the kind that look a long time to brew, so Matt had them in large doses, a trick he said he learned from his father.
"Just remember Harry..." His face turned serious. "You only get seven hours of memory clarity. Meaning, for two years. If you try it again before the year is up, you can get serious brain damage. Most people use this, crack open a few foreign language books, and learn a language in seven hours. That's how I learned French and Japanese. That's why it's called the Rosetta Draught."
"Yeah...so anything I read for seven hours will always stick? And only one per two years?" Harry frowned. "No, I think I'll save it. I'll do this the old fashioned way. See you, Matt."
"Right. Oh, and one more thing." Matt waved, and for once, Harry saw he was wearing thin, leather gloves.
"Kanji don't have to go on paper only, you know!"
It was only a accident.
Really.
Luna, since she had gained her Animagus form of a snow leopard, liked to prowl around the grounds at night, sometimes running, or chasing a mouse for amusement, catching it, and letting it go, since she rather liked mice and found the idea of eating one revolting.
Sometimes she would chase Filch's cat.
She never caught it. It was a rather wily little beast.
So there she was, padding down a beaten deer path in the Forbidden Forest, when she heard a roar.
A big roar.
A very big, very SCARY roar.
All the hairs on her body stood up, and she hissed out of instinct. Her feline silver eyes, narrowed, and tufty white ears twitched as she tried to locate the source of the sound.
She took off, loping gracefully towards a clearing far enough away from the castle that she was fairly sure that no one in Hogwarts would be hearing the roars.
She stopped, dumbstruck by the sight in front of her.
Dragons.
Five of them.
All of them, thrashing around fitfully in heaps, bound by chains, with dragon handlers scurrying around them like ants, trying to Stun them asleep. Seeing one go flying from a flick of one of the dragon's wings, a Chinese Fireball, from her estimation, she surmised it wasn't working well.
They eventually gathered together, and nailed each dragon with a barrage of coordinated Stunners, finally putting each to sleep, before tending to the cries of the wounded.
This HAD to be the next task! She had to tell Harry-and maybe Matt-about this!
She was halfway through the forest, when she heard voices. Familiar ones.
Hagrid was stumping through the forest, talking animately with Madame Maxine, who was hanging off of his arm. They were heading straight for the dragon pen.
"Jus' a little farther, Olympe. You'll lik' it, I promise."
Luna both loved and cursed Hagrid for his bumbling but gentle nature. Couldn't he see that the Madame was obviously using him as a tool to find out the next task for her champion?
A idea struck her, and her mandibles were bared in the semblance of a smile.
A few seconds later, she leapt out in front of the faux-couple, swishing her tail lazily. Hagrid, as she expected, stopped dead.
"'Ey, I ain't never seen one of them before!" He exclaimed, transfixed by her leopard form. Madame Maxine tugged on his arm, obviously wanting to skip this attraction and go to the main event.
Hagrid pulled free of the French Headmistress and slowly approached Luna in her leopard form, hands outstretched in a peaceful manner.
"Don' worry...I'm not going ter hurt yeh...I jus' want ter get to kno' yeh..." He cooed softly.
Luna sprang into motion, ducking under Hagrid's hands and shooting forward under his legs, past him. He whipped around, and began the pursuit. Madame Maxine, seeing her ticket out of the Forest thrashing away through the undergrowth, chased Hagrid, shaking her fist and screaming what sounded like French obscenities at him.
"Wait! I jus' want ter say 'ello!"
Luna didn't stop.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"And now, let me welcome you to this years, TriWizard? Tournament! Held here, at Hogwarts in magical Britain!" Bagman boomed, his voice enhanced by the Sonorous charm ten times over. He had a good hand in entertainment, Harry supposed, as the crowd nearly deafened him with their thunderous cheers.
The cheers continued for a good few seconds. Harry watched the Omnioculars wink at him, standing on the podium with the four other champions, before he sighed slightly and sat through the Head of Magical Entertainment and Falling in Debt Due To His Addictive Gambling Habit run through the magical sponsors briefly. He caught Cooke It Up being mentioned.
"And now, let me welcome and introduce our champions!" More thunderous applause.
"From France, and the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Fleur Delacour! Daughter of Lestat Delacour and Collete Delacour, two famous French nobles, she knows her way around Charms, let me tell you! She-" Harry sighed and tuned him out as he gave a little personal history background about her specialties and a few hobbies.
It had become a media battleground on the pitch, ever since the American embassy had arrived. Until then, it had been only European. Now, it was a matter of pride.
Reporters with Globonoculars, the wizarding version of news cameras, had boxed them in. America may have been lagging in the magical standpoint, but they had integrated their technological with their magical fairly well. Harry saw a few news slogans. What the hell was Channel Thirteen, The Witching Hour News, or Channel Five, the Wand?
Matt, as expected, had been rammed the hardest by the media barrage.
A rather weedy little man who went only by had been assigned as Matt's 'advisor'. Basically, he was the propoganda vender. He was the guy who milked the absolute most publicity out of this little event, and advised Matt on how to best whore himself out to the media. Harry broke down laughing when he heard him trying to wheedle Matt into wearing a big American flag cape out onto the podium.
Then was dumbstruck when Matt did so. He was able to corner Matt for a few seconds, who shrugged when he asked him.
"Dude, Peterson's giving me two hundred Galleons if I wear this piece of shit out there and smile like a good American. I'm only in this for the money, I told you." Then he was dragged off.
The Europeans, not to be outdone by 'Yankee pigs', did the same. Fleur got her grandmother(Who, incidentally, still looked like she was thirty and smoking hot) as a 'advisor', who turned out to be the luckiest. Krum got some extremely obese, Bulgarian 'advisor' who looked like a Nazi version of his muggle Uncle Vernon, who was the fattest human being he had ever seen until that point.
Harry felt extremely relieved that he had chosen to go as independant. Henry seemed to have Minister Fudge hanging off his arm whereever he went. Harry had underestimated the political rebounds of this Tournament. He supposed, since each champion was supposedly the strongest of the generation, this was a representation of each country's strength. He was just glad it had forgotten him.
He had truly been naive when he had that thought.
He had been in second place for the cat fight over who got the most coverage with him, because he had been the unmarked slate.
He didn't get a second to himself with all the various companies throwing themselves at him, begging him to represent their product, or be their poster boy, or whatever. He had business cards stuck up places he didn't think existed.
But unfortunately, unlike Matt, he had a little pride. So he turned them all down, and flatly stated he would be going as himself, only.
He had then stopped reading his mail, because most of them carried death threats and threating letters from assorted magnates and CEOs and various compulsed contracts. He was lucky Luna was there to claw the pen from his hand before he finished signing his name on the first one, particularly because it had been a magical lube making company.
So just when Harry thought he was going to miss out on a 'advisor', a 'advisor' was promptly rammed up his ass. His mother. Who wouldn't stop fucking trying to coddle him, or fix his hair, or tell him to do the Potter name proud, or teach him some useless charm that he probably already knew.
"Don't worry, Harry, I'm sure you'll do just fine, even if you are going up against your brother. Just do your best." She had 'reassured' him.
Of course, he had been all primed to explode when Luna had told him and Matt that they were facing DRAGONS!
But he didn't. Because when Harry got angry, he didn't get loud. He got quiet. And he got scary.
"Next, we haaaave, representing the Bulgarian fatherland, Viiiiktor Krum! Quiddich Star extrordinaire, protege of Igor Karkaroff, our dark apprentice in this amazing spectacle!"
Ouch. Harry could see Karkaroff glaring at Bagman, and knew the easygoing gambler had just earned himself a enemy.
"Here, we have the young Matthew Cooke! Representing the United States of Wizarding America, the underdog in the upcoming task! Only fourteen, he's the son of the acclaimed potions magnate, David Cooke! Rumors are, he managed to sneak past Headmaster Dumbledore's Age Line and trick the Goblet of Fire into letting him compete! He's a force to reckoned with, folks, make no mistake!"
Harry clapped just as loud as any other spectator, though not for the same reason. Some person was definately holding the puppet strings with Bagman, probably a few bribes here and there, because that speech had been a neat double whammy, calling Matt a cheater while at the same time calling Dumbledore inept. It sounded like there were a few hurt feelings over a Yankee in the Tournament, with the money and intrigue to do something about it.
He supposed he'd have to warn Matt to be careful...
"Standing here today, we have Harry Potter, first part of the dynamic duo, brother of Henry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived! Who defeated Voldemort when he was merely a infant. No one knows how he managed to get into the Tournament today! He's a wild card, flying no flag for any country but himself, and we expect some great excitement from this corner of the Tournament competition!"
Harry supposed he should have expected that half his commentary would be about Henry instead, fucking typical...
"And now, the final champion! Representing Britain in this momentous event! Defeater of Dark Lords, Gryffindor prince! The one, the only, HENRY! POTTEEEEER!"
As expected, the crowds went nuts. Harry winced as the volume hit his ears like a sledgehammer. Henry bathed in the attention, throwing his hands up, smiling, blowing kisses, the whole she-bang. Harry was sure that if there weren't wards in place preventing it, Henry would have been covered in adoring fans right now. Bagman had rather obviously avoided the fact that he wasn't supposed to be in the Tournament either, but nothing but the best for their precious icon of the light, right?
"Now!" Ludo called out, as the crowd finally quieted down. "For the First Task, we have brought in a rare treat! The champions' task will be to recover this Golden Egg!" A large Golden Egg was portrayed upon the large projector that had been set up. "From the clutches of...DRAGONS!"
Harry let nothing on his face show, making himself merely impassive. Even if he hadn't known about it, it wouldn't be good to let your enemies see you were scared.
Most of the other champions did the same. Sure, Henry looked a bit eager...
...Hey! The French bird,Fleur or whatever, looked like she had had ber brains bashed out with a large gold brick wrapped in a slice of lemon. So she hadn't known. Nearby, her grandmother was whispering urgently into her ear.
"Now, the champions will return to their dressing rooms to prepare while we bring in the dragons.!"
That was another new thing; Dressing rooms.
In fact, the whole stadium had been enlarged, to fit the huge amount of fans that had traveled just to see this happening. This was no longer just a school Tournament. There was easily more people here than had been at the Quiddich World Cup. It was ridiculous how much a few words from some high rankers could do to draw in spectators.
The inside had been changed as well;There were concession stands, gift shops, and the plot of the field had been altered additionally; What was once just a elevated platform with a couple of boulders as cover was now a hill covered in various obstacles and things to help against the dragon. There were a great deal of boulders, certainly, but now, there were odd potions embedded in them, weapons stuck around in the ground, swords and such, as if they expected the person to lop off the dragon's head like in some story.
Also, there were fissions, steam vents to scorch champions faces off, odd gouts of lava and such...
Harry could honestly believe that this Tournament was the biggest and would be the most famous in history, if this was anything to go by.
Harry, instead of going to his own dressing room, immediately headed to Matt's where he was stopped by two large, burly men in official looking robes with platic earphones hanging off of them. Harry supposed it was the wizarding version of the Secret Service.
"Touch me with that hand and you will lose it." Harry informed the man on the right, who was trying to curtail Harry's progress forward by putting a hand on his shoulder.
Both men bristled and their hands inched towards where their wands were stored in shoulder holsters, but were stopped.
"NO! No, don't, it's fine, he's a friend." Matt quickly came forward, inevitably hounded by Peterson, who was nagging him about how speaking with the competition was not very good for the public image, in a not very quiet voice. Matt responded with a glare. "Can I please have a moment? Christ!"
Peterson moved off, rather unwillingly from the expression on his face, while Harry found a arm swung around his shoulder.
"SO! Harry, how's it been, how's your mum..." Matt trailed off as they passed around the corner, before dropping the arm. "Sorry, needed to give Peterson a show. What is it?"
"Just thought I should warn you, there's someone who doesn't like you up high, and they are not shy about getting financial about it." Harry stated. Matt grimaced.
"The announcement? Yeah...I figured as much. But don't worry, I'll be fine."
"WILL HARRY POTTER PLEASE COME TO THE FIELD!" Bagman's voice boomed throughout the stadium. Matt grinned and thumped him on the shoulder.
"Good luck." He chuckled. Harry just left, tossing a comment over his shoulder.
"I don't need luck, Matt. I'm Harry fucking Potter. I'm magic."
"Aaaand now, the Hungarian Horntail!"
Harry whistled appreciatively at the size, especially the dragon armor that had been added on as a little extra challenge. Of course, it wouldn't do much good, against what he had planned.
He spied the Golden Egg, nestled among numerous real ones, probably scented over to prevent the Hungarian from going apeshit on the smell of human among her eggs.
"THREE! TWO! ONE! GO! FIRST TASK, START!" Bagman roared. Harry humored him, easing himself by the fact he was going to give them all a real kick in the nuts with what he was about to do.
The Hungarian snarled at him, it's huge, metal sheathed claws making rents in the stone as easily as butter. It's yellow eyes were narrow and feral.
"Excuse me." Harry intoned in Parceltongue. There was no reaction from the dragon. It must not have heard him. Pointing his wand at his throat, and muttering "Sonorous" he tried again.
"EXCUSE ME!"
This, expectedly, had quite the effect. The whole stadium went dead silent, most eyeing him in fear and trepidation.
The dragon eased up a bit, though it didn't move from the spot it had over it's eggs. Harry approached it easily, before carefully stopping just out of lashing range of it's now viciously metal barbed tail.
"Can you understand me?"Harry asked, calmly.
The dragon sounded as though it had a strange accent, all thick, and low. "You dare speak to me in the tongue of a lowly snake?" It also sounded rather pissed, as a minor detail.
"Well, actually, there aren't any humans who know or can speak dragon tongue. Snake tongue is the closest we're going to get to having a civil conversation. That, or bird tongue." Harry replied easily. The crowd was uneasy, restless. Harry readily assumed they were already thinking up ways to implicate him as a Dark Lord at this very moment.
"BIRD TONGUE? You dare? Even snake tongue is better than bird tongue! Any dragon with a modicum of pride would destroy a human who dared speak to them in the BIRD tongue!" The Hungarian roared.
"Look, I'm sorry if I offended you, but I'm just here, for that egg." Harry pointed the egg in the middle of the pile, the Golden one.
"Worm! You shall never touch my clutch. I will roast your hide over the flames of my rage!" Just as the dragon took a deep breath, Harry quickly interceded.
"No, NO! That egg, it's not real, it's fake!" Harry yelled in Parseltongue. The dragon paused for a brief moment.
"...What?"
"Look at it, smell it, touch it! It's a fake, metal egg put there by the human handlers!" Harry quickly gabbled out. The Hungarian eyed him suspiciously, before stooping slightly.
Reaching it's nostril out, it caressed the edge of it with one deadly talon. It's nostrils flared, before it jerked upright, like a flagpost, spewing dragonfire into the air like a fountain.
"THEY DARE! THEY DARE TOUCH MY EGGS!"
Harry smirked quietly. "Yes, and they wanted me to come in here and smash the rest of them to get that one. But I decided a peaceful solution was much smarter. We don't have to resort to violence, do we?"
Slowly, the Horntail lowered it's snout, smoke trailing from it's nostrils. "No, we do not. Thank you, snake-human." Gently, it pushed the Golden Egg out of it's mound and down the tip of the nest, so it gently rolled down to Harry's feet, where he picked it up, cradling it under his armpit. "The snake from yesterday was right, I am glad to have listened."
"Right, no problem. Give the handlers a good thrashing for me. Thanks!" Harry yelled the final part in English, before waving jauntily to the dragon, before departing down the slope, Egg tucked neatly under his arm.
The boos started slowly, but they grew quickly, until Harry's ears were assaulted by the sound of over a thousand magical people's displeasure. He kept his cheery smile in place, knowing it would only serve to piss them all off more.
He entered his own dressing room, setting the Egg gently on one of the benches.
His parents were waiting. Lily was first, heisitant smile in place.
"That was very...resourceful, of you." Lily tried, throwing Harry off guard. Cue exploding Gryffindor dad.
"RESOURCEFUL! Lily, he bloody used Parseltongue! Our son! Dark Magic!" He yelled, waving his arms in the air.
"...It wasn't dark magic." Harry muttered. James turned on him.
"What did you say?" He asked, venom bubbling barely beneath the surface.
"I said, it wasn't fucking dark magic!" Harry yelled back at him.
A sharp crack was heard as Harry recieved a smarting slap on the cheek. "Don't talk to me like that, boy, I'm your father!"
"James..." Lily murmured, fear shown slightly on her face. She was ignored.
"Why is everything that goes against your cute little beliefs fucking dark magic, dad?" Harry roared. "I was just reasoning with the dragon! What would you have me do, fucking rush it with a sword?"
"I'm not hearing any more of this disrespect!" James yelled. "You are a Potter, and it's time you started acting like one!"
"Is that what being a Potter means? Acting like a fucking idiot all the time? Laying down and worshipping the ground Henry walks on and licking his shoes?" Harry snarled. " Great family legacy, dad, I bet you're really fucking proud of it!"
"Parselmagic, Harry!" James yelled in rage. "We are Godric Gryffindor's flesh and blood! It is a disgrace to his name and legacy to even think of using such methods! From now on, I don't want to hear a word of Parseltongue pass your lips!"
"Or what, dad? You'll ground me? Send me to my room? Take away my toys?" Harry laughed, half anger, half grim amusement. "You have nothing to hold over my head, James Potter!"
"Or I'll disown you." James ground out.
"James!" Lily gasped. "You can't mean that!"
"I can, and I will." James hissed. Harry kept his lips shut tight, in shock. "Not so smug now, are you, boy?"
"James, you can't be serious, he's our son!" Lily whispered in dead shock. James Potter's face did not change.
"...Is that it?" Harry asked, cocking his head.
"What?" James asked, thrown somewhat off guard.
"Is that truly your greatest threat? Taking away from me the Potter name?" Harry asked. Her voice was perfectly serene, no traces of anger.
"Well, yes!" James shouted, regaining his momentum. "You will be stripped of the Potter name, shunned by Potters of all generations, no longer allowed the prestige that comes with the Potter name, no longer draw from the Potter coffers..." James trailed off.
Because Harry was laughing.
"Is that it? Taking away what I already do not have?" Harry asked, chuckling. He really could not stop, now, it was just too humourous. "I haven't been accepted by you since the day I was born. I was always the third wheel in your perfect little family. I never have found there to be any prestige with the Potter name. You're all Dumbledore's little yes-men, doing whatever he says, whenever he says it."
Harry could not stop the words flowing out of his mouth at the moment any more than he could've raised Merlin from the grave. He could not stop laughing, either, at the thunderous look on James Potter's face.
"And the Potter coffers? Please, don't make me laugh. You've barely noticed I've existed until I got in Henry's way. All my clothes, my wand, my owl, they were all Henry's first! Until he cast them aside. So you can take your hypocratic arrogant ass and get it out of my dressing room, and out of my life, until you're willing to realize that I am smarter than Henry, stronger than Henry, and am and always will be the better wizard than Henry!"
The next blow was even harsher. Harry was knocked to the floor by his father's harsh fist, and rubbed his swollen jaw, as James stomped out of the room, pulling a unwilling Lily along with him. He shouted over his shoulder as he left.
"Until you forswear Parselmagic and all forms of dark magic, you'll not be welcome in the Potter Manor!" He yelled.
Harry, his temper already beginning to cool, considering informing him about the copies of all the manuscripts of Gryffindor he had made and sent to Hogwarts, and to Luna, and Matt, just to make sure he'd have them, just to show him how useless that threat was. He decided against it.
He barely noticed Matt coming in until he was up, pulling out his wand to check if his jaw was broken. Matt's face was stony.
"I came to tell you your scores." He said quietly, before pulling out a sheet of parchment. Harry felt gratitude for not confronting him about his fucked up family issues well up in him. Matt peeked at him from under his shaggy brown bangs. "As you might expect, the judges didn't like the way you did it, and the crowd didn't like the lack of action."
"Well they can kiss my ass. I'd love to see any one of them face a fully armored Horntail without shitting themselves." Harry said coolly. "What'd they give me?"
"Lessee...Dumbledore:6."
Harry snorted. "Typical."
"Mmm. Karkaroff:9." Harry brightened a bit. Then again, Karkaroff did lead a school where Dark Magic was coveted, and was a former Death Eater. The only reason he hadn't probably gotten that last point was the fact that he wasn't Krum. "Madame Maxine:10." Finally, a fair score. He hadn't sustained a single injury, fuck, he'd barely been out there thirty seconds! "Crouch:6. "Bagman:6." Ah, the sweet smell of Ministry opinion. "They added two judges, one for America and one for...well, you. Johnson:8, and Potter:10."
"Potter? Who...?" Matt looked up.
"Your mom." Harry was thrown for a loop. His mother had given him a ten? Matt noticed his dumbstruck countenance, and elaborated. "I heard your dad giving her shit for the whole way to the dressing room. So, your overall average score was about 7.8. Not bad."
"But not good, either." Harry grumbled. "Matt, I don't care if I didn't want to be here at first, I want to win it now. Not for the money-" He said quickly, noticing Matt's expressionless face. "-But to smear Henry's face straight into the fucking mud."
Matt's face broke into a smile. "I like it. I hate arrogant mother fuckers like him. The only way you're allowed to be arrogant is if you've fucking earned it, and I think it's time he learned that."
"Agreed. Who's up now?"
"Krum. Then me, then the French bitch, and then Henry. The main spectacle comes last, of course." He murmured, smiling slightly.
"AND KRUM WINS IT! NOW WE GO TO OUR JUDGES ON HIS CLEVER SPELLWORK AND INGENUITY!"
Matt jumped. "Crap, I've got to get out there. See you, Harry. And..." He heisitated. "...my dad would probably let you stay with us, if you don't mind working for him as a 'personal assistant', which is code for paid guest."
Harry grinned. "Looking forward to it. Knock'em dead."
Harry was able to find a seat very easily, since one had already been paid for him, to his suprise. It was a good thing that the front office had two house elves working as it, since he doubted that one of the humans would have told him.
So here he found himself sitting right next to Mr Cooke.
"So, your match wasn't impressive, but it was smart. Don't worry about the Parselmouth thing-" He said quickly. "-My great grandfather was one."
Harry felt instant relief. "Thanks, ."
He offered his hand. "David."
"Right." Harry shook it. The older man turned back to where Matt was slowly walking onto the field, flexing his shoulders and clenching his leather clad fists.
"Any idea what Matt's been working on? He's always so secretive in his letters." He asked. Harry heisitated, weighing the ups and downs of telling the senior Cooke.
"Enchanting." David chuckled, sounding a little forced.
"Well, I suppose I've always told him to shoot high, I just never thought it would come back to bite me in the ass. That one is a long and arduous road, yet I'm pretty sure he can manage it."
"Right." Harry nodded.
Matt took out his wand, and conjured several birds, which fluttered around madly, before zooming around the Norweigan Ridgeback's head, which swung it's head angrily, trying vainly to bat the small targets away.
Finally, it sucked in a breath, and let loose a long gout of fire, incinerating several of the birds. A few still lingered, catching it's attention.
Meanwhile, Matt had snuck behind a boulder, and was hurriedly conjuring a flock of birds. Quickly, they zoomed at the agitated Ridgeback, following his chirped instructions, pecking at it's wings, tearing the soft membrane.
Suddenly, Matt stepped out in front of the dragon, while the birds all suddenly zoomed at him.
"What the fuck...he's going to get incinerated!" Harry muttered. glanced at him.
"Language." He murmured. But his fists were grabbing the seats of his chair rather tightly.
Matt suddenly reached into his back pocket, and grabbed a small corked blue vial. Harry stared at it, confused.
"From the color, it's either the Troll Muscle Swill, or Antonin Federith's Hermes Elixer." David muttered.
Matt downed the small vial, wiping his lips of the thick blue liquid, before yanking off his thin red gloves. Harry was tranfixed by the large japanese symbols and arrays he saw etched on each palm. The elder Cooke seemed similarly entranced.
"Kanji...what are are you doing, son, what are you...?" David muttered.
Matt pointed his wand, and nailed the Norweigan on the snout with a Stunner, quite possibly the most stupid thing he could have done. It roared in annoyance, and turned it's baleful gaze onto Matt.
The dragon sucked in a breath, and let forth a huge gout of fire, barrelling straight at Matt.
Suddenly, wings sprouted out of Matt's ankles, and his hands opened up into small black holes, and he flew straight into the fire. It was hard to watch the fearful look on 's face, but both of the spectators sighed in relief, as Matt appeared, unscathed, out of the fire, hand seals no longer opened up.
"Alright Matt, now you've got a bunch of dragonfire at the tips of your fingers...what do you do with it?" Harry asked, to no one in particular.
Matt soon showed them, as he leveled with the panting Ridgeback, and blasted him with his own fire, in the face, actually pushing Matt back somewhat from the force of the release of the seals.
The dragon keened and stumbled back, crushing several of it's eggs in the process, blinded by it's own fire, uncovering the nest to the world.
And to the birds that Matt had previously summoned, which zoomed out from the place they had been hiding, grabbing the Golden Egg as a joint effort, and meeting Matt halfway as he snatched it out of their claws and beaks, while he used his ankle wings to fly to safety.
Handlers rushed onto the scene, shooting off Stunners, sending the wounded dragon into unconciousnes. Matt hit the ground, before collapsing to his knees, yelling a bit in pain as the wings retracted into his ankles.
"The downside of Hermes Elixer is most certainly the time limit and pain factor." David informed him sadly. "It's also very tricky to brew, I'm suprised Matt managed it."
"Wait, isn't Matt some sort of Potions genius?" Harry asked. David laughed, a great booming sound.
"Genius? Hardly. I just gave him a little extra tutoring as a kid in my art. All these years in Potions class must seem like review, for him." David got up, collecting his great coat. "Well, I'm off to see if my son hasn't accidentally paralyzed himself with a bad draught; It was nice seeing you again, young Master Potter." He teased.
"You too, ." Harry shot right back.
The crowd cheered wildly as the scores were announced.
Dumbledore did not heisitate, sending a red and gold eight up into the air, eyes twinkling.
Karkaroff heisitated for a moment, before shooting up a stony blue seven, which was just stressing the bounds of fair.
Madame Maxine sniffed, before sending up a seven in bright baby blue sparks.
Crouch sent up a seven, where Bagman sent up a nine, which was slightly irregular. Must have bet money on him, or something. Harry thought cynically.
Johnson, predictably, sent up a ten, where his mother, who just barely made it to the podium in time, sent up a eight.
Harry, mentally calculating for a moment, put Matt's score up as a 8, slightly better than him, something he'd have to correct shortly.
Matt, supported by a few of those Secret Service wizards, accidentally bumped into Fleur Delacour on the way out, murmuring a apology as he made his was creakily towards his dressing room to wait for whatever Healer the American embassy had procured.
Harry watched in a position of semi-interest, as the French witch rather cleverly used her aura to distract the dragon, a Chinese Fireball. It swayed, drunkenly in place, before slowly moving out of the way of the nest, obviously slightly compulsed.
Then, Harry watched as she turned a boulder into chunks with a quick Blasting curse, before waving her wand and transfiguring a rather large piece into a brown bear, which lumbered up the pitch.
It clopped into the nest, and began rolling the Golden Egg out of the nest, obviously taking a few ideas from Matt's pitch, which was good improvisation in Harry's eyes, considering that Fleur hadn't known about the dragon beforehand.
It seemed that when the bear entered the nest, the Fireball shook itself out of its daze, due to the threat against it's nest, and started on the a warpath, blasting the bear out of existance just as it tipped the Egg over the edge of the nest, sending it rolling down the slope of the hill.
Fleur dove for the Egg, just as the dragon lived up to it's name, unleashing a blast of dragonfire that was three times as big as either the Ridgeback's or the Horntail's had been, a brilliant conflagration that nearly blinded him, engulfing the small lithe form of Fleur as she reached the egg. He heard gasps all around the stadium, as they believed she had perished in the flame.
He did not.
Why was there a shining orb of magic burning brightly inside the fire to his second sight eyes?
Just then, the fire weakened, revealing Fleur, unharmed and surrounded by a invisible barrier, one hand flung up to shield her eyes instinctively, a bracelet lit up on her arm in his aura-seeing sight.
That was one of Matt's enchantments! He himself had tested it, tested the fact that it shielded the wearer from every and all forms of flame, and was utterly sure that it was his, by the stainless steel gray shape! Why the fuck did a chick that Matt despised have one?
Harry had no time to act on his suspicions, as the dragon was stunned by the handlers, leaving Fleur on her knees, obviously worn out from the way the bracelet drew on the users own magic to protect them from flame, with her staring in confusion at the bracelet on her wrist.
He missed the absolutely pissed expression on her face, however, as she stomped out of the arena, without even hearing her score, which turned out to be level with Matt, leaving Krum in first with sixty one points, Fleur and Matt competing for second with 56, him at third with 55, and everyone waiting for Henry.
So Harry was completely oblivious to the Drama taking place below the arena in his friend's dressing room, as he saw his brother suddenly summon a broom...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx
Getting past his guards had been easy. A quick burst of aura towards two very bored and frustrated men left them like putty in her hands, and very susceptable to the memory charms she quickly put on them.
She tramped into his rooms, furious beyond all belief. How dare this boy?
She hadn't suspected it was him until she saw the bracelet, which he had covertly slipped onto her when he passed and bumped into her. And the inscription written onto the steel.
You're welcome.
These two simple words were enough to send her into a rage she had no words to describe.
He was sitting there, tapping his foot slightly, his back to her, as he waited for a Healer to come back with the Numbing Draught she had promised. The mere sight of his nonchalance was enough to stoke her fury. She grabbed him by the shoulders, and spun him around, before grabbing him and slamming him into the stone wall, relishing in his gasp of pain as confused blue eyes stared into hers.
"Why!" Fleur snarled. "Why did you help me? I did not want your help, and did not need it!" She yelled in his face. His face was unnaturally calm.
"...Because you were the only one who didn't know about the dragons, and I don't like seeing girls get hurt." He replied simply.
She screamed with animalistic rage, her Veela blood showing itself in the way her fist covered itself in flame. She shook her flaming fist in his face.
"I do not want your help! You ever try to help me again, and I will kill you, understand? I am my own woman, and do not need anyone's...hel..p.." Fleur trailed off, as Matt's face contorted itself into fury.
Suddenly, she was the one who found herself slammed against the wall, as she came nose to nose with his furious blue eyes.
No, not blue. Even as she watched, two blue contacts popped out of his eyes, propelled by the force of magic behind them. His eyes were yellow. Glowing yellow.
"Who the fuck do you think you are!" Matt roared into her face. She cringed, her so called strength and anger evaporating like a morning mist, before those eyes, those horrible, haunting amber flecks of fury, which caused her stomach to rise up and strangle her throat as she tried to speak. "I've been nothing but kind to you this entire fucking time, and you've shown me nothing but anger and disrespect! All I wanted to do was help you!"
"You...you wanted nothing more than to curry favor with me! To try to defile my body!" Fleur protested weakly. Her accusation sounded small and feeble in her ears.
"Never! I would never force myself upon any woman! I have faced true Veela, you small insignifant hypocrite of a girl, your aura is but the slightest cobweb to brush from my mind!" Matt spat, his tone venemous and disgusted.
Her own previous implication began to ring false in her own ears. He never had seemed to exhibit any of the normal traits of a man enthralled when he had been around her...
...no! Not again! She would not again allow herself to be tricked! Tricked and defiled, like with Him.
And her eyes began to overlay Matt's angry, offended face with His, his golden hair, his blue eyes...
And her hands and nails slowly morphed, the Veela blood in her making them claws, with long, cruel nails prevailing with a sharp and wet sheen to them, unbeknownst to her.
"So I take it upon myself to simply help you, and this is how you repay me, you shallow, ungrateful-"
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" She screamed, lashing out, anything to get away from this horrid man who's eyes stripped away all her emotional barriers and saw her bare, naked and fearful soul. She heard him cry out in pain as she fled from his room.
She ran and ran, down the long, winding halls, nearly blind with fear, never stopping until she reached her room.
When she got there, she leaned against the wall and sank to her knees, putting her head into hands.
Then she stopped and pulled away from them, and actually saw them as they were.
And screamed.
Not because they were claws. She had seen her claws before.
But because there was his eye, still staring at her from it's bloodied and impaled position.