I have returned, and I bring chapters! Well, I bring one chapter, but it's a pretty eventful one. As usual, I own nothing and I like feedback :)
The final week before the task saw Lily making a last, heroic attempt to prepare for it.
"You've got to stay hydrated," Hugo kept telling her, or, "Make sure you get enough sleep," while Ruth would turn up to Arithmancy or Transfiguration clutching piles of books in which she'd marked any pages she considered useful. Lily was suddently conscious of an overwhelming quantity of support – from friends, teachers, even the odd Slytherin. Homework deadlines became a little more flexible. Professors would drop handy tips and facts into conversation perfectly innocently, so that she only noticed later that they too were doing their best to secure a Hogwarts victory. Somehow, even the most delicious dishes at mealtimes seemed materialise near where she was sitting. It was a little, she thought – perhaps rather ungratefully – like being a racehorse that the whole school was betting on. And it was strange and not altogether unwelcome to have so much attention directed completely, exclusively at her.
Still, it wasn't as if there was time to bathe in the glory of it all. In what she regarded as a stroke of supreme genius, she spent every free second practising curses and hexes in the Room of Requirement, which obligingly transformed itself into a cosy place with plenty of mannequins to practise on and shelves of books containing grisly details of accidents befalling previous champions. More often than not she was accompanied by Evangeline, who was delighted to have an excuse to skip homework ("You need all the help you can get," she said, sending her Fanged Frisbee zooming round the room) – and sometimes by Hugo, for whom the Room provided a desk to write his Potions essays on ("My mum would kill me if she knew how behind I am.") Still the challenge seemed peculiarly distant, as though she were suspended in a sort of limbo and it would never actually come.
But come it did, and Saturday the thirtieth found Lily and the other champions gathered in the Quidditch changing rooms with their three headteachers, Waldemar Waffling and Hippolyta Plum, shaking with anticipation as they waited to discover, finally, what they would be facing.
"Professor?" Susie Pepper was standing in the doorway. Mottershead turned to look at her. "Professor Longbottom says they're ready, miss."
Mottershead nodded sharply. "Thank you, Miss Pepper. Run along and take your seat, now." Susie grinned at Lily and mouthed "Good luck!" before making off towards the stadium. Lily's stomach turned. What had she got herself into? She'd never had to take on so much as a Pygmy Puff. She needed more than good luck – she needed a miracle. She needed someone to come running in saying "The Tournament's off," so that at least she wouldn't have the chance to disappoint eveybody...
"All right, champions?" Waffling's wheezy voice cut through her panic. "It seems that everything is in order. So now, at last, is the time to enlighten you as to what you will be facing in the arena. Hippolyta, if you would?"
Ms Plum stepped forward and pulled herself up to her rather limited full height. "Your teacher, Professor Longbottom," she said, "Has very kindly agreed to assist the Department of Magical Games and Sports in constructing an obstacle course."An obstacle course? That couldn't be too bad, could it? "Throughout the course you will encounter magical plants of all shapes and sizes – your task is to make your way through them to get to this." She held up a slim purple baton. It was slightly iridescent, and glimmers of blue and green flickered on the surface. "It's been bewitched with a highly powerful Immobilising charm. The moment you touch it, the entire course will stop moving and you will be able to get out unharmed." She tucked the baton inside her robes. "All clear? Good. Well then. We'll be off to the judges' table. Good luck, chaps – see you in a bit." She winked, and then the three of them were out of the door, leaving the champions alone together.
Plants. That was all right – in fact, it was easy, gloriously, laughably easy. Lily wasn't taking Herbology for NEWT, but she'd got an E in her OWL and was perfectly well-informed on the basics. She'd be fine. She'd be fine.
"Mr Belvidere?" Scorpius' head poked round the door. "You first, please."
Beau stood up: his face had paled to a papery hue and his bottom lip was clamped between his teeth, turning it even rosier than usual. As he walked out, Lily noticed that his knees were shaking.
This left just her and Vulchanov in total silence. "Nervous?" she asked, in an attempt to break the tension.
"No."
She waited to see if he would say more. The seconds ticked past. "Are you good at Herbology then?"
"No, but I am velly good at blowing apart things."
She nodded, as though this were a rare and desireable skill to have. "That must be useful."
"Yes."
Seconds turned into minutes, and they could hear distant roars from the crowd. Perhaps Beau had managed to overcome his nerves – or perhaps it was simply his incompetence that was causing the noise.
At last, Scorpius appeared again, and this time it was Vulchanov that he escorted to the Quidditch pitch, leaving Lily completely alone. She wondered what sorts of plant she would have to get past. Devil's Snare, probably. Maybe some Fanged Geraniums – well, she could deal with those. She was going to be absolutely fine, she told herself again. Absolutely, completely fine.
All the same, when Scorpius finally came to get her she hadn't completely managed to squash the fear nibbling away at her insides.
"How bad is it?" she asked him, her mouth dry.
"You'll be fine," he said. She'd be fine, fine, fine.
As they reached the entrance to the pitch, a witch in bright yellow robes stopped her and fixed a hairband-like contraption to her head. "What's that?" asked Lily.
"360-Pan Camera," replied the witch, "In case you get blocked from view, then the crowd can still see you. It'd get a bit dull for them if you spent the whole time behind a bush."
"Oh. OK."
"You might want to do something about your hair as well."
"Um – yeah." Lily flicked her wand and her waist-length auburn hair twisted itself into a plait.
Scorpius gave her a gentle nudge. "Ready?"
"Nope." She stepped out onto the pitch. It was almost unrecognisable.
The centre was so overgrown that it resembled a small, fidgety forest. An image flashed through her mind of James' face if he could see this transformation of his beloved pitch, causing her to smile briefly – then remember herself. She tried to make out the plants around the edge and felt a small surge of triumph as she recognised Devil's Snare.
The stands around the sides had been lowered considerably, the seating tiered to provide a good view for everyone. At the front was a long table where Plum, Waffling and Professor Mottershead were seated.
Every single pair of eyes in the entire stadium was trained on her.
She forced herself to move forwards, realised she was probably being timed, and went at a run. Tendrils of Devil's Snare began to twine around her ankles; she shot jets of fire at them and they recoiled. She ducked under a Screechsnap bough, dodging a few bouncing bulbs which launched themselves at her. More Devil's Snare, and this time it was thicker, stronger – she tried to keep it at bay but an enormous vine grabbed her round the middle and she was lifted into the air, struggling for breath, legs flailing. "Incendio!" she gasped, blasting it with such a strong burst of flame that she felt her skin blister and her eyes fill with tears. It thrashed around and dropped her several feet. She pulled herself up and pressed on in what she thought must be the right direction.
A ringing sound like Christmas bells sounded from behind her and she only registered what it was just in time to jump out of the way into a bush whose thick, fleshy leaves tried to pummel her senseless – Jingling Strangleweed, near-transparent thorny tentacles which liked to fasten themselves around human throats. They really were dangerous, she thought as she straightened up and ran on, keeping her ears open for the approach of any more – hopefully that was the worst she'd have to face.
She spotted bubotuber pods dangling above her and decided to keep clear of those as well. Fanged Geraniums snapped at her ankles and thick leathery shoots of Dragonwort sent bursts of flame at them – she ducked a branch with razor-sharp ridges of bark and found her face inches from a bloom of Venomous Tentacula. Her heart was pounding so hard she was worried it might drown out any more Strangleweed. A spidery acid-yellow vine sent her careering backwards, onto a Mimbulus Mimbletonia which promptly spurted her with Stinksap.
She was wiping the worst of the slime from her eyes when she saw it.
A wave of pure terror swept over her and she was momentarily paralysed: a fully-grown Mandrake root was sitting on a branch above her, its stubby legs dangling over the edge. Its face was screwed up as though it was about to bawl its lungs out.
She was going to die. The realisation hit her so quickly and with such force that she felt all the breath leave her, as though she'd been punched in the chest. She had no earmuffs, nothing to protect herself from its deadly cry; in a moment, it would scream and she would not exist any more.
She breathed in sharply – her last breath – and felt the oxygen rush to her brain. In an ecstatic, desperate moment, she knew what to do.
"MUFFLIATO!" she cried, brandishing her wand about herself madly. She stumbled backwards, gasping from fear. The Mandrake opened its mouth, it was howling at the top of its voice – but all she could hear was a faint buzzing. She bent over, laughing with relief.
A Venomous Tentacula vine grabbed her, pointed teeth gnashing menacingly in its massive flower. She pointed her wand at it, severed it from the main plant and staggered forwards as it fell to the ground limply. She must be nearly there by now – she just had to get out –
Something spiky was winding round her neck. Strangleweed. She pointed her wand at it, gasping "Diffindo!", but it was difficult to get the incantation out properly when she couldn't hear her own voice. Instead she managed to make a gash in her own throat. "Relashio!" she choked, trying to pull it off with her hands – it worked. But the plant flew up into a bubotuber pod and Lily felt a searing pain in her left hand as she didn't quite dodge the pus in time. Bursting through more foliage, chased by a horde of Chinese Chomping Cabbages, she finally caught sight of the purple baton. She dived, and felt her stinksap-covered fingers close around it.
"I swear, there was a Mandrake in there," Lily was saying, "A fully-grown Mandrake. I thought I was going to die."
"And it was thanks to some very quick thinking on your part that you didn't," added Professor Mottershead. "Casting the muffliato charm on yourself! I'm impressed, Miss Potter."
"Well, it almost got me killed by the Strangleweed," said Lily. She looked down at herself. She was in a horrific state: spattered with putrid, greyish stinksap, nasty boils emerging on her left hand and forearm from the bubotuber pus. She was bruised and aching, and her midriff and ankles were badly burned. Her neck was covered in small gashes and scratches, not least the one she had inflicted on herself; so were her hands where she had tried to rip off the Strangleweed. "But that Mandrake can't have been supposed to be there!" she said. "The Tournament is meant to be safe, there'd be tons of trouble if I got killed. And I wouldn't have stood a chance if I hadn't known that spell. We don't start Silencing Charms till next term."
Mr Waffling's moustache was in spasms. "You are perfectly right, of course, Miss Potter," he squeaked, "But – before we allow ourselves to be carried away, let us think rationally. The course was assembled by highly competent Ministry officials, and of course," he nodded at Professor Longbottom, "Your esteemed teacher. I think it unlikely – impossible – that something so lethal should have found its way into it. Are you sure you might not have been mistaken? You were, after all, under a great deal of pressure." He looked at her hopefully.
Lily was completely sure. "Anyway," she said, with a sudden realisation, "You all saw it too, didn't you? On the camera." She pulled off the Stinksap-soaked headband.
Ms Plum shook her head. "It was focused on you – all we saw was you looking terrified and then casting your spell."
Lily frowned. There was absolutely no way she was wrong – they'd been repotting the seedlings only last year. But they'd believe her when they came back from searching the course: she just had to wait.
She tried to shift the worst of the Stinksap, muttering "Scourgify!" under her breath. She was in considerable pain from her various injuries but would have to put up with it while they sorted everything out.
After a minute or two of urgent discussion amongst the adults, two wizards emerged from the course with earmuffs around their necks, carrying between them – yes – an Immobilised Mandrake. Waffling's moustache fell limp. "Dear Merlin," he breathed.
Mottershead's mouth was set in a hard, thin line. She turned to Lily. "There will, I'm sure, be a very thorough inquiry into this," she said, shooting a fierce glance at the Minister. "Meanwhile, Miss Potter – you've had quite a shock. Go and get Madam Bones to clean you up."
"But neither of the other champions ran into it?" asked Evangeline, for what must have been the hundredth time. Two weeks after the challenge, the Ministry was still flummoxed as to how it had got there.
"No," replied Lily, for the hundredth time.
"But the odds of that are – well, they're tiny. Even if they didn't see it it probably would've screamed at some point."
"So it must have got there after Vulchanov was done," said Hugo. He was adamant on this point. "It's the only explanation. And here's the question: is that just a coincidence? Was it an accident, or has somebody got it in for Lily?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Lily said, though she had to admit the though had struck her. "Who would want me dead?"
Evangeline shrugged. "Lots of people hate your dad."
Lily ignored this. She thought that if someone were indeed trying to kill her, she would prefer it to be because they hated her than because they hated her dad.
"Still, it turned out all right, didn't it?" said Hugo, grinning.
This was true. Lily had taken the shortest time negotiating the course, with Beau coming in second (he'd been badly burned by the Dragonwort and had to limp the second half). Vulchanov's ploy of blowing up anything he came into contact with had resulted in his being drenched in bubotuber pus and having to withdraw before completing the challenge.
Lily had a feeling the judges might not have been quite so generous towards her if she hadn't almost been exterminated – she had, after all, sustained a phenomenal number of injuries – but then, she'd got off reasonably lightly compared to the other two. And she had to admit, it felt incredible being in the lead.
