C. M. Black: Skin of a Dragon

Chapter IX: It's in the contract

Silence. Silence and a great heavy weight fell suddenly, shattering the merry atmosphere and crushing down on a small group of students, who looked at one another in speechless shock. Eyes wide and open mouthed, Harry stared at Cassy. She looked back at him with uncharacteristic openness. He wished she could plaster that careful mask back across her face. He needed her reserved support, her calm, familiar eyes to tell him to pull himself together silently and just stand up to face Professor Dumbledore's call. Her expression did not change.

'Harry Potter,' the Headmaster called again.

Shakily, he stood. His eyes remained on the door off to the side of the hall and not on the hundreds of faces twisted to him; each wore shock, confusion, disgust.

Cassy noted them all though. She noted the Gryffindors' trailing eyes and she noted each face that twisted a little too tightly. Slowly, she took in the Ravenclaws, the Hufflepuffs, and she barely felt the need to spare a glance at the Slytherins.

Once Harry vanished into the lower chamber, nothing changed. Everyone remained in stunned silence, until suddenly the room burst into life all at once. Shouting and cheers, calls and demands to know what had happened sounded far and wide. Cassy said nothing. She steepled her fingers and stared intensely at the table.

Did he put his name in? She questioned internally. It was brushed away in a second. Harry had always been an awful liar. His shock was too raw, too genuine, to be anything else. That meant that someone else had to have put it in and for a moment Cassy felt the tiniest bit guilty at being pleased about it; if someone else had done it it opened up so many more possibilities and questions, but it also meant that Harry had not broken his promise.

Why? She thought, tapping her arched fingers back and forth against her lips. Why would someone do this?

Her mind trailed back to Harry's burning scar.

Someone dropped down in the spot opposite her. Cassy glanced up and saw Luna's contorted face; she looked unusually expressive with her eyebrows knitted down low.

'What happened?' she asked.

'He didn't do it,' muttered Cassy.

It was barely audible over the ludicrous cheering from the Gryffindors, but Luna turned to her all the same.

'Well, I know that,' she said, blinking owlishly. 'Anyone looking at his face could see that.'

No of them ate much at dinner. Their eyes kept drifting back to the closed door in wonder what was happening down there, and when he would emerge again. Hermione chattered quickly, mostly to herself, muttering about how there was no way this could go forward, before tacking back and acknowledging the inevitable let down. It was a magical contract. Any name placed within the goblet had sworn to accept the accept whatever it was that happened as a result. Harry was a Tri-Wizard Champion.

Cassy, Neville, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna lingered around in the entrance hall for as long as they could, but Professor Flitwick ushered them on back to their common room. He looked nervous and waved Luna along with him, who reluctantly followed with a small wave to her friends.

Once they retreated to the common room, they found their house alive and joyous, moving rapidly to hang banners and move furniture. They were pushed out of the way by Fred and George, who hurried past them with piles of food gathered in their arms they had undoubtedly taken from the kitchen.

'He won't like it,' said Neville to Fred as he passed.

'Oh, lighten up, Neville,' he said back with a grin.

'We've got a champion we can get behind! Better than that pretty-boy Diggory,' said Lee Jordon as he bustled by with another banner that looked to be from an old Quidditch.

Cassy had expected everyone to be mortified, if not bitter, that Harry had somehow become the forth champion, a seemingly impossible task if the twins' beards earlier that day had been anything to go by. Yet, in true Gryffindor fashion, they took it well. They only saw how great it was to have a champion from their house and none of the finer details and Cassy knew Harry would be grateful for it later, no matter how much he was sure to complain. The other three houses would be harrowing, so his housemates support would surely be a welcome reprieve at the end of a long day, no matter how enthusiastic that may be.

The portrait hole open and a roar of cheers erupted. Bodies flooded forward and Cassy and Neville exchanged glances as they were pushed back in the oncoming surge.

'Talk to him,' she said loudly over the clapping. She pushed him forcefully through the crowd that had followed as Harry stormed towards the staircase.

The fact that Harry was in a storming rage had no effect on the lively mood. The rest of the night was spent with great cheer that was so uncontrollable that Professor McGonagall came in three times before it finally simmered.

According to Ginny the next morning, it was the most uncontrolled she had ever seen the teacher. Her voice had been shrilly and sharp all at once, losing patience with each encounter, her eyes carefully raking over the remaining students' faces. She thought she had been looking for Harry because her face softened somewhat at the end.

They had gathered down in the common room early in the morning. No one else was awake, sure to be sleeping long into the day and past lunch, if the group were to be so lucky. The girls turned at the sound of footsteps and Harry and Neville emerged, both tense as if waiting for a barrage of squealing questions. Shoulders slumping quickly, Harry smiled tiredly at them.

'Toast?' asked Hermione, handing over a stack to the boys each.

They walked silently down the stairs and out of the castle. No one looked up to see them pass the hall and no one had been eager to wake so early on the first Saturday of November. It was strange. Leaves fell slowly from the trees, crisp patterns of red and yellow slipping from the frosted branches down onto the limp grass that had grown too long in the last dying days of sunlight. Far out to one side of the Black Lake was the Durmstrang ship. The lights were off and the water rippled around it as if something was occurring deep in the heart of the vessel, but was otherwise utterly still in the morning light. Hagrid's curtains were open, yet he was nowhere to be seen. His hut sat beside a very sorry looking patch of dirt where the most magnificent pumpkins had been harvested for the night before. It was calm and tranquil, yet Harry paced and spoke with unrestrained rage that had did not quite fit the beautiful setting.

'Moody said that someone else could have put my name in the goblet,' he said, running a hand through his hair. 'I don't know why anyone would have wanted that – it's a terrible joke. I can't … I can't help feeling like whoever did it... wants me dead. Moody said it himself.'

'It would make sense, given your recent trouble with your scar. I wondered the same last night,' said Cassy calmly. She twirled a leaf between her fingers and met his eyes. He stared down at her with undisguised relief.

'I thought you might be mad that I ended up in the tournament,' he said.

Cassy shook her head. 'I'm not. Besides, if you chose to put your own name in then it would be your choice.'

'Oh, come off it,' he said, the corners of his lips pulled up in the a small smile. 'You'd still be furious if I put my own name in the goblet.'

Cassy laughed, 'I might have been a bit frosty.'

'So when is the tournament then?' asked Neville, kicking the leaves high into the air. They drifted back down to the earth with small crinkles as they grazed one another. Far away, faint crunches sounded. The Durmstrang students were disembarking their ship for breakfast.

'November 24th,' said Harry with a deep sigh.

'That doesn't give you long to prepare,' fretted Hermione.

'It's not supposed to. The challenge is about nerve and daring. We go in blind,' replied Harry flatly.

Neville turned with a smile and nodded his head confidently. 'That's all right then.'

'What?' asked Harry.

'That's two things you have – nerve and daring,' he said as if it was obvious.

'You killed a Basalisk,' said Ginny, beginning to nod along with Neville. 'You've gone to find a murderer and faced You-Know-Who off twice. You have loads of nerves. The only thing you need to worry about is knowing the kind of spells the seventh years will.'

'Of course, you'll have to write to Sirius about this,' said Hermione thoughtfully. 'He'll want to know and he'll probably have a few ideas on what to do. He's the only older wizard that is likely to give us any help.'

Harry's nose crinkled. In a matter of seconds he had swapped from feeling bemused to irritated; it had almost been flattering that his friends thought him capable enough to stand with the seventh years in a deadly test of will, but that was eaten rapidly by the swirling, unending storm of confusion and anger that burnt deep within the pit of his stomach. The last thing he needed to do was to involved Sirius and make him worry more than he all ready did. Was it not enough, he thought, for him to be returning to Britain because of his stupid scar? He could not imagine what his Godfather may do if he found out he had been entered into a deadly contest against his will. His mouth almost open when Cassy cleared her throat. He turned and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

'A letter has all ready been sent,' she said carefully. She ignored the way Harry's eyes had become slits beneath his deeply furrowed brows. Her held was held high and she kept contact with his eyes, unyielding in her own silent defence.

'You can't write to him on my behalf,' he ground out.

'We do not even know where he is. Twelve hours might make a lot of difference in his response,' said Cassy levelly.

It had been impossible to sleep last night. She had heard Hermione rolling in her bed for an hour or two before it stopped, but Cassy lay awake long after that. The most annoying kind of thoughts had swirled in her mind, a quiet and consistent nagging in the back of her head that was incessant and urged her hands to move when her mind could do little else. It was the kind that achieved nothing and that left her wondering what she could possibly have been thinking to keep her up so late. The worst part was, in her opinion, it was not that she was even too concerned for Harry. The thought was worrisome, but the fear would surely come later. It was curiosity that kept her awake. She racked her brain for hours over who would have done it and how.

Surely, she thought, it would not be so easy that an older student could put in another's name. It was too easy. There were many people who may have wanted Harry dead, the most obvious of which was thought to be a spirit wandering the earth with his faithful servant, Pettigrew, in tow somewhere far, far away. Karkaroff, her mind then supplied. He was knew and he undoubtedly dabbled in the Dark Arts, but as to whether he was a follower of Voldemort, she was not so sure.

The only way she settled her mind was to write it down and she did in a steady stream of thought that she then sent to her father in the early hours of the morning. It may have been illegible, tangled with changing ideas, she did not bother to read it back.

'He find out from the papers anyway,' added Hermione quickly. 'It's better he hears it from one of you than neither.'

Harry pursed his lips and shot Cassy one last withered look before nodding reluctantly. He said, 'Yeah, I guess so.'


Cassy was not sure how far Crin had to fly and when he would be back, but she knew it would not be for at least a week. That meant that they had a week to work on their own and she began the same afternoon, burying herself deep in the back of the library. Her homework sat on the desk in front untouched for some time. A larger, older book with scrawling looped writing lay open and her finger tapped rapidly down the page, pinpointing words of interest as her eyes scanned the surrounding text with a well trained eye that would surely have Hermione envious.

The page turned and she frowned. The chapter had ended, forcing her to flip back to the index and begin searching for page numbers once more. It was ripped from her hands.

Gasping silently, she shot out of her seat and grabbed for it before she had an opportunity to even see who had taken it. It was all ready out of reach though and held securely in the arms of a person she had longed to ignore for the foreseeable future and then some, if possible.

'Shandy,' she said flatly in a sort of greeting that had become common between them.

'Miss Black,' he said. His eyes raked over the cover of the book. 'You know, most people don't go looking for a thousand-year-old book for fun, so I assume this is about yesterday. It won't help. The contract is set.'

'You're a bundle of good news,' came another familiar voice of Stephen Goodridge.

Cassy glanced over her shoulder at him.

'I know it is set,' she said, snatching the book back from Shandy. It had not stopped her from trying to figure out what could have happened. The ancient book of magical contracts had not told her much, it was too detailed in old theory to be of much use and it mentioned even less of how to goblet operated. Yet, it was the first book in a long effort she was determined to get through. By the end of the year she wanted to know exactly how it could happen that someone else could enter one in a contract and bound their soul. The best result she could hope for is that it could benefit Harry in some way, but that seemed unlikely.

'What's the point then?' asked Shandy.

Cassy ignored him and sat back down. She pulled her homework closer to her and began tracing over the last few lines as she moved to pick up her quill.

Goodridge sat opposite and slapped Shandy's hand away when he moved to pick the book back up.

'Leave it,' he said. 'It's of no use to you. Don't be a git.'

'Oh wow, quite the amusement Aurora today,' muttered Shandy. He slumped into a seat beside him.

Goodridge regarded Cassy for a second and then asked, 'What's Potter's game plan then? Or is this it?'

Cassy's eyes carefully did not look to the book he had nodded at.

'What can he do, really?' asked Shandy.

'No much now that all the houses are against him. Ravenclaw doesn't mind so much, but as a rule they hate people who outsmart them and there are some very bitter sixth years.'

'I can imagine. My house need no commentary on their feelings.' Shandy crossed his legs and leant back lazily on his chair, smirking as Goodridge huffed a small laugh.

'Hufflepuff's furious and the Gryffindor's are not helping themselves. Their enthusiasm is making the resentment worse,' commented Goodridge.

Cassy's face scrunched into an unbelieving sneer. It was like watching too perfectly ordinary people, close friends perhaps, talk and frustratingly, they seemed to forget she was even there. Goodridge had said the two were not friends. She wondered if he had ever sat back and thought about it.

It was good to gauge house reactions – Harry had been avoiding people all day and was unlikely to show up to dinner that day. However, Shandy rolled his eyes and scoffed.

'When are they not making relations worse? If they stopped for a minute to act as if Potter wasn't sent by Merlin himself then maybe Hufflepuff wouldn't be so cold. Really, all they are doing is making things worse for Potter in the long run. The house never thinks.'

Goodridge and Shandy looked to Cassy suddenly. They waited, looking as if they expected her to say something. Nothing came to mind though. It all sounded very true, as much as she liked her house.

Seeing that she was not going to react, Shandy threw his hands behind his head with a grin. 'Well, at least things have spiced up a little. It might just be interesting this year. Any idea how his name got in the goblet?'

Inwardly, Cassy frowned. For a split second, it sounded as if Shandy had implied Harry had not done it himself. Perhaps it was a clever choice of wording, or a slip of the tongue, because he waited patiently with no trace of his arrogant grin for a change.

She shook her head.

'That's a shame,' he said dully, resting his chin on his hand. His eyes moved to rest on Goodridge's twisting hand. Cassy's followed suit and her eyes widened the tiniest fraction, but Shandy saw it and smirked widely.

Goodridge's hand was turning around and around. Beneath it Cassy's quill was doing the same. The nib rested gently on the table and with slow precision it twirled. His other hand rested on the table, empty.

'You are being tailed again, Black,' he said, eyes fixed somewhere over Cassy's head.

She turned just in time to see a swish of gold and black vanish behind a far bookcase. Rolling her eyes, Cassy turned back to the boys. The quill rested flat on the table.

'I will leave you to it. I don't want to interrupt,' said Goodridge. He pushed his chair back and waved before sweeping away as gracefully as could reasonably be expected from someone so thin and lanky.

'Then, I should go too. We are working on homework together – by that I mean I am using his homework to aid my own,' said Shandy, rising too.

'Does he know that?' asked Cassy doubtfully.

'Not yet and perhaps never,' said Shandy jovially.

When he too had vanished, Cassy turned back in her seat and set her bored eyes on the far bookcase.

'Okay, Astoria, what is it you want?' she called.

For a moment, there was no response, but then the younger girl stepped out, smoothing down her shirt. She looked at Cassy for a second before walking with her head held oddly high and slipped into the vacant seat opposite.

'Good afternoon,' she said pleasantly.

'The same to you,' replied Cassy. She tried her best to keep the flat tone from her words, but it must have slipped past because Astoria deflated slightly, moving to wring her hands under the table.

'How is Mr Black?' she asked carefully.

Courtesy, that was all it was. Astoria had never exchanged more than a passing greeting to him before and Cassy very much doubted her parents had made her ask. It was a gateway, a conversation started and nothing more, just something to catch Cassy's interest. Her eyes remained stern.

'He is doing much better, thank-you,' replied Cassy.

'Good,' said Astoria, nodding slightly.

There was a long pause.

'How did Potter put his name in the goblet?' she asked suddenly.

'He did not,' was all Cassy said.

Astoria nodded slightly again. 'Right. Everyone says he did.'

'I am aware.'

Astoria watched Cassy turn back to her reading. There was another long pause, her fingers tapped on her leg.

'Well,' she said, 'nice to speak to you.'

Cassy watched her leave quickly, openly frowning at her retreating back. It was odd for the confidence girl to skirt around whatever she wanted to say. Most of the time Cassy found herself cringing at what whatever came out of her mouth, her older sister Daphne was much the same, but her parents hardly paid the slightest bit of attention to it. The youngest Greengrass sister was pretty, with long curling blonde hair and bright blue eyes sat upon an oval shaped face. She looked far more like her mother than Daphne and perhaps, Cassy wondered, if that was why she was not disciplined as much.

Resting her chin on her hand, Cassy wondered if something had happened over the summer to make Astoria write to her. There was no way Cassy was the first line of thought; of all people to turn to for advice Cassy could not think of a single conceivable reason the young Slytherin would look to her. Then again, she mused, perhaps it was less to do with advice and more to do with wrangling information. If that was it, Cassy could not help but feel Astoria was doing an exceptionally poor job.


Dinner was spent in the kitchens. The house-elves were pleased to have them there, especially Dobby, who had been sure to bake them an exceptional pudding in his excitement. Harry refused to attend breakfast the next day too once he had heard about the house reactions from Cassy. He could not, however, avoid the stares and the whispers come Monday morning. He had thought that if he stayed out of sight, people would come around to the idea of him being a champion. They had not. In fact, his hiding his face seemed to make the anger of the usually placid Hufflepuffs rise.

True to what Goodridge and Shandy had said, the Ravenclaws were grudgingly reserved and the Slytherins were torn between utter resentment and complete amusement at how Harry was being treated. They sneered and jibbed, cackling in the corridors and in the Great Hall. Worst of all, no one raised a finger to tell them to stop. They had expected it from Professor Snape, but even Professor Sprout was cold, taking points for talking where she usually would have brushed it off with a friendly reminder of her presence. No one dared say anything in front of Professor McGonagall.

It took a few days for many of the Gryffindors to calm down into a cheerful support, rather than nearing a party every time the tournament was mentioned or Harry happened to walk by. Worst for it was Ron, who seemed to believe that Harry had won some grand prize all ready. Harry tried to shrug him off, even Ginny had wrangled her brother aside for a quiet chat, but Ron would not accept that Harry should be anything less than thrilled.

'He's going to win,' announced Ron with beaming confidence one day at lunch. His thoughts trailed along the same path as Ginny's had by the lake. Harry had defeated a Basalisk at twelve. Whatever they could legally throw at him at fourteen would surely be easier.

'Don't say things like that,' said Harry sharply. He glanced at the Ravenclaw table behind. 'I don't want to win it, Ron. I just don't want to die.'

'And while not dying you can win it,' said Ron easily, as if it was the most simplistic concept in the world. 'It's not a lot of good if you win and die. Where would all that money go to?'

'Top priority, write a will,' hissed Harry sarcastically under his breath. 'Cassy, remind me to do that. You're going to be my overseeing of legal affairs.'

Cassy cast him a withered glare. 'You are not going to die, Harry.'

'I wish I had your confidence,' he said, shovelling another spoonful of beans into his mouth.

Pursing her lips, Cassy looked farther down the table. She mumbled a short excuse before rising and seating herself back down beside Fred.

'Good afternoon,' she said.

'Hello,' said Fred and George together, looking rather surprised by her interruption. They had been whispering together all week, having even warded their best-friend, Lee Jordon, away. Just then, they were more interested by what she wanted than annoyed at her intrusion.

'I know you two have been busy scheming and what not, but I was wondering if you two had anything up your sleeves that can make somebody sick enough to get out of class for a day, but well enough to avoid the hospital wing?' she asked lowly.

They looked at each other and then back down at her.

'Whatever for?' asked George.

'I didn't think you were the type to skip classes,' said Fred, his eyebrows raised high.

'It is not for me,' she explained flatly. 'If you two have not noticed, Harry had not taken news of the tournament very well and I am worried. He is sinking lower and lower each day and I feel that perhaps if he has time to himself and away from Professor Snape, for example, he might be able to distance himself enough to deal better with the attention later on.'

Fred cupped his chin thoughtfully and eyed Harry for a moment. He said, 'I see. That's an interesting idea. You want something to get him out of class-'

'But something that won't land him in the hospital wing. Maybe something he can take an antidote for when Madam Pomfrey excuses him,' agreed George.

'Something to help skive,' said Fred thoughtfully.

They both stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time. Cassy wanted to clear her throat and draw back their attention, but she let them be. Suddenly, they turned back to her and Fred shrugged.

'I'm not sure we have something like that just yet,' he said, 'but even if we can't get him out of class, we can do out best to cheer him up.'

Cassy's shoulders fell and she smiled gratefully.

'Just leave it up to us.'


A lot of Ron's jealousy comes from the fact that year after year he was second to Harry in fourth year, but seeing as he has not had that, I felt like he would be more pleased. He was excited for Krum and it wasn't until he took Hermione to the ball that that broke down, so I pictured him as being very enthused for Harry and may remain so seeing as his relationship with Hermione is not nearly as developed right now.

Astoria will be an important subplot that will really get a key theme of my entire Cassy-themed story going. It won't materialise too strongly until fifth-year (a lot happens in fifth-year), but just what she wants will not be all it seems, I promise you that. You will see more of her though.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks!