Two days until the first task and I was really, truly, beginning to freak out. I hardly slept and I didn't eat, but, at the very least, it became the only thing my limited mental capacity was capable of worrying about. Suddenly, the fact that my brother was mad at me, I wasn't on speaking terms with two of my best friends, and the Malfoy family knowing I existed wasn't so terrifying when compared to my impending demise. It's like if you have a paper cut and then someone stabs you in the leg, all of a sudden, the paper cut doesn't seem so bad.
Cyrus, much to my surprise, actually taught me a thing or two during our training sessions after I agreed to his deal. I guess that Head Boy title wasn't just for show after all. Still, because I didn't know what I was going to be up against, it was hard to tell what spells to learn.
"I think you have that one down well enough," Cyrus stated. Never well, just well enough. "Let's move on to the patronus. They don't teach that in sixth year, do they?"
"No, why would they bother?" I asked rhetorically, rubbing the knots from my tense shoulders. "They keep all the dementors in Azkaban. It's not like I'm ever going to run into one on the street."
Cyrus didn't need to say a word to get his point across. I could practically feel his irritation searing into the side of my head from where he was standing a few feet away.
"This tournament isn't going to be like a walk down the street," he enunciated slowly, strolling closer. "There's no telling what you may encounter during the tasks."
"Fine, fine," I sighed, raising my wand. "Tell me what to do."
"First of all, lower your wand. You don't need that quite yet," he said, taking my hand and easing it down to me side. "Now, think of something happy."
Happy? Ugh, did I have to?
"My brother makes me happy," I decided.
"Does he really?" Before I could ask him what he meant by that, he continued, "You need to think of a specific memory, your happiest memory, and concentrate hard on it, not just a vague idea of happiness."
That was slightly more difficult. I could hardly remember what I ate two days ago, let alone some hypothetical happy memory.
"What's yours?" I inquired, before I could stop myself.
"Pardon?"
"What's your happiest memory? What do you think of when you do the patronus?" I elaborated, though I was pretty sure he understood me the first time.
I hear him exhale, like it was some great bother, but he answered anyway. "I don't. I've never managed a successful patronus myself. I suppose I don't have a happy enough memory to inspire me yet. I only understand the theory on how to make one."
What a ray of sunshine.
"That's not so bad. At least you know that you still have the happiest day of your life to look forward to," I reasoned. "You won't be doomed to compare your every waking moment to a happiness long past. It's a good thing, really."
Cyrus gave me a queer look, though he was saved by answering from the sound Cassius barreling into the room. Subconsciously, I edged away from him and he released my arm.
"Geez, Cass. Where's the fire? What's the rush?"
He lifted a hand in the universal gesture to ask for a moment to regain his breath.
"Aragon..." he huffed. "The task... he said..."
"Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait," Cyrus said flatly. "We can't waste anymore time. The first task is in two days, after all."
Cassius ignored him with impressive focus. He took a deep cleansing breath before trying again.
"I was hanging back late in Care for Magical Creatures- which you skipped, by the way- when Professor Aragon came to talk to Professor Pipstrelle about some animals he was supposed to be looking after. I thought it was weird, because I was like "wait a second, Aragon doesn't own any animals," and then all of a sudden they were talking about the task! Aragon was asking Pipstrelle if he thought that any of the champions would be smart enough to have studied up on their deadly monsters-"
"Did he actually use the word monster?" I inquired, grimacing.
Just what I needed. A good, old monster in my life.
"I'm more interested in the deadly part," Cyrus inputted, his hands steepled together as he thought over this new information. "It's not a lot to go off of."
"If you both would stop interrupting me," Cassius cut in, adding under his breath, "like you always do," before continuing, "then you would know that's not all! After Aragon asked if the champions would think to study up on their monsters, Pipstrelle laughed, saying that they, ie. you, would be better off just coming to the task in full battle armour and hoping for the best."
"How is that of any help?" Cyrus asked, sounding almost bored.
"No, every little bit helps. If only I just knew what creature it was," I mused contemplatively. "Then I could come up with a strategy..."
"I'm willing to settle for the winning strategy of "don't let whatever it is catch you," Cyrus decided, unfazed.
I rolled my eyes.
"Thanks for your input, but I don't think we can count on my outrunning the thing," I objected wryly. "Or, heavens forbid, things." Shaking of that dark thought, I implored, "Cass, could you go check out all the books you can on dangerous magical creatures from the library? Meanwhile, we'll practice more spells here. There's no time to waste."
I saw Cassius's warm, earth coloured eyes flit from me to Cyrus and back, before he nodded slowly.
"Yeah, sure thing. I'll only be a minute."
Cass walked back the way he came, but I hardly noticed, because Cyrus chose that moment to fire a Pepper Breath hex at my chest. The effect was immediate. The feeling of getting all the air knocked from my lungs from the impact of the spell was bad enough, but I would argue that regaining my breath was actually the worst part. Heat burned the back of my throat and a plume if fire shot out my mouth, catching on my robes. I tore them off, stamping the flames out with my foot.
"Real mature," I muttered, glaring at him.
Unabashed, he said, "You need to be constantly on your guard if you wish to survive the Tournament. You have a wand, use it. No more muggle solutions to your problems." He nodded to my steaming robes on the floor and my foot that still hovered over them in case the flames rekindled. Point taken. "Though perhaps breathing fire would aid you in your task the day after tomorrow. Would you like to keep it?"
Cyrus schooled his expression to one of complete serious sincerity.
"If you fancy not having second degree burns all over your body then I suggest you undue this," I threatened, a wave of fire shouting out my nostrils. I leapt back in surprise, despite myself.
Sighing, he complied, waving his wand noncommittally in my direction. Immediately, the burning sensation disappeared.
We practiced various offensive and defensive spells until Cassius returned half an hour later. I took far too much pleasure in my work each time I managed to successfully hit Cyrus with a spell, laughing maniacally.
"I'll try not to take your joy personally," he remarked once I'd finally managed to hit him dead on with Expulso, sending him crashing into a the wall on the opposite end of the room.
"By all means, take it personally," I shot back, cackling. "It's definitely personal on my end."
Cass shook his head in thinly veiled amusement from where he sat on the ground with a thick tone cracked open in his lap and several books stacked on either side of him.
"How about... a hydra?" he quizzed, running his finger over a picture of a many-headed serpent.
"I'll have to chop off it's head and burn the stumps to prevent them from growing back," I recited from memory, my stomach churning at the thought of actually killing anything.
"And where will you get something to decapitate the creature?" Cyrus prompted, stepping back into a dueler's stance across from me.
"I dunno, summon a sword, I guess?" I suggested.
"Let's see your summoning spell, then," he ordered, looking around the room. He pointed to one of the piles beside Cass. "Try summoning the book beside your friend."
"Summoning? Really?" I said sardonically. "That's child's play!"
"Just do it."
I huffed our an indignant breath, grudgingly aiming my wand at the book and casting, "Accio!"
It flew easily into my hand, though heavier than I expected.
"Happy?"
"I'll be happy when I have my prize money," Cyrus muttered under his breath.
"You and me both," I snapped back.
"What about an acromantula?" Cassius interrupted cautiously, sensing rising irritation at our looming deadline.
"Pray and hope for the best?" I proposed sarcastically, mentally imagining those massive spiders with their hairy legs and thick, clicking pincers.
Cyrus fired a spell at my head to show just how much my comment amused him.
"Fine, I would... blind it," I said, too distracted with deflecting the hex to think up a better response. "Or something."
"Something?" he pressed, unleashing wave after wave of spells, leaving me barely barely enough time to defend myself, let alone think. "Deflecting should be second nature. You shouldn't even have to think about it. You should be capable of attacking, defending, and planning your next move all at the same time!"
"We can't all be as gifted as you," I ground out through clenched teeth.
Behind me, Cass continued throwing out the names of various magical creatures for me to develop strategies using their weaknesses, if I was lucky and they had one, in order to defeat them and complete the task. It was strenuous work, tiring on both mind and body to fight Cyrus and respond to Cass at the same time, but rewarding in its own right. I could feel my reflexes improve to the point where I even got off the defensive and fired off a few of my own jinxes. Every once and awhile, Cyrus would pause his relentless barrage of attacks to teach me a new spell he thought I might need for some blood thirsty creature. I looked forward to these breaks, but they never lasted long.
At quarter to curfew, we packed up to head to our respective dormitories. Or so I thought.
"If you think your off the hook for the night, you're delusional," Cyrus whispered, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the Slytherin Common Room. "You have the first task in less then thirty-six hours. Nice try."
I sighed sadly, but privately admitted he had a point.
III
Most of the Slytherins didn't seem to appreciate having a Ravenclaw invade their private space, which I sympathised with to an extent, but their disdain was more subdued than it used to be before that blasted article was published. I guess a half-blood relative of the Malfoys was a few steps higher than a mud blood relative of nobody. Regardless, nobody dared object to the Head Boy himself bringing me into their common room. A few even cheered us on as we trained, offering tips and suggestions as to how I might improve. By midnight, most students had cleared out into their respective dormitories, leaving me and Cyrus with the entire room to ourselves.
So far past curfew, it was a shock to hear the portrait hole click open, and even more so when I saw who stepped through it. I unintentionally captured Lyra's gaze just as she caught sight of me and saw her eyes widen in recognition. And then came the very noticeable jaw clench.
She was still pissed.
Before I could say anything, she sprinted down the stairs to her dormitory, slamming the door loud enough that I could hear it rattle on its hinges from all the way up here.
I tossed myself face first onto one of the high backed couches and had to resist the urge to scream.
"Maybe we should call it a night, then," Cyrus commented coolly from where he was leaning on the mantle with his back to the fire.
"I reckon so," I sighed, speaking into the plush material of the couch, not caring if he could decipher my muffled words.
"Here are some blankets." Cyrus waved his wands above through the air and the most hideous blanket I had ever seen in my life appeared, accompanied by half a dozen pillows. A second later, they collapsed onto my head. "Good night. We begin again in a couple of hours."
Without further ado, he walked along the thick silver carpet headed towards his dormitory.
"Hey! I'm not staying here!" I blurted out, quickly jumping to my feet and sending the pillows flying. "I'm going back to my own bed, thank you very much!"
"No, you're not," he repeated, not bothering to look at me. "You'll only get caught sneaking back past curfew and earn yourself detention the night before the task. This way, you won't get detention and I will be able to wake you up at the crack of dawn to continue training."
"I wouldn't get caught," I grumbled irritably, falling back onto the couch nonetheless.
"Sure you wouldn't," he called back, already descending down the stairs.