Chapter Thirteen: I'm in Love with A German Film Star

I.

Harry awoke in an unfamiliar room. He tried to determine where he was, but that didn't take long, as within seconds he instantly was alerted to his new location in the form of the Shrieking Shack, the staging post for Lupin's jaunts as a Werewolf during his tenure as both student and professor. He climbed to his feet and instantly saw Mundungus Fletcher standing in the opening doorway, with a cup of tea in hand as though nothing was out of the normal. "Sorry 'bout the mess," Fletcher said. "And you know, the smell."

"It's smells like someone died in here," said Harry. "Is this where you've been living?"

"Maybe," said Fletcher, with a smile that clearly showed he was missing some of his teeth. "I know you mainly wanted to research criminal activity, but I figured with the Triwizard Tournament coming up, you could use the advantage of knowing what you're up against."

"So you decided to kidnap me? How the hell did you even get in past the defences?"

"Simple," said Fletcher, and produced a couple of hairs. "Polyjuice. Fairly easy to sneak in undetected if you know the secret passageways, and I happen to know a few. The wards can be a pain, though. And before you ask, I couldn't have sent you a letter, because they're being watched. They found out about Lupin, suppose you didn't want them finding out about me as well."

"So what am I up against?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at the man.

"Dragons."

"You're serious?"

"Of course," said Fletcher. "I went digging around, asking people in the know, and all. Turns out once you put the pieces together, and that the Ministry is bringing across several dragon handlers for the date of the first task from the continent, it wasn't too much of a leap to work out what you'd be up against."

"Thanks," Harry said. "Dragons. I've never fought a dragon before."

"It'll be in an arena," said Fletcher. "And you'll have to get something, I worked out, presumably an egg."

"Couldn't I just accio it?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, but probably not. They'd put spells around it. Now, like I said, I did some digging," said Fletcher. "And the answer is simple. Tell me. What do you know of cacodemons?"

"Vaguely. Aren't they meant to be powerful spirits?"

"Yeah, they're damn handy in a fight as well," said Fletcher. "One term use, can pretty much solve a problem for anything. All you have to do is get a tattoo on your back, and then call it when you're free and it'll fight off what you need to beat. In this case… a dragon."

"Cool," said Harry. "Do you know where I could find one?"

"Yes," said Fletcher. "Or more accurately. I know somebody who does. You coming?"

"Where are we going?"

"To see an old friend," Fletcher said, with a smile. "Let's get you hooked up."

"You know I can't bring anything into the arena with me but my wand, right?"

"I do," said Fletcher. "I've spoken to my… mutual acquaintance about it, therefore you're going to need to keep it hidden until you enter the arena. Thanks to a few simple uses of clever little spells, you can pick when the right moment is to reveal it. Unless, you'd rather face a dragon without a cacodemon. Then it could get real nasty."

"Fine," said Harry. "It's not as if I came to you because I wanted to follow the rules, anyway."

"Now he gets it," said Fletcher with a smile. "Right then Mr. Potter, are we ready for a little trip?"

II.

"Hey, hey, Harry!" It was the morning before the First Task and Hogwarts was already bustling with activity. Harry was slowly getting used to his new tattoo and had only solved a couple of minor cases that the map had presented to him, somebody who was left hanging upside down as to a result of a prank gone wrong from the Weasley Twins, and there was another case that he wasn't, frustratingly, able to solve, due to the nature of how impossible it was, as it brought up the name of a student who had been dead for years, and after looking at it further and speaking to the man in the portrait he had concluded it was an error. The map wasn't perfect, after all, and open to human error.

He had taken to writing up the cases, just in case anyone found the map after he had left Hogwarts, for instructions on what to do with it, upon the man's suggestion. He'd given the Colin Creevey case the name of 'Cameraperson,' and had called the Roger Davis case 'A Hufflepuffs' Revenge.' He even thought about publishing them under a collection of short stories, obviously using different names and a penname, but decided against it. After all, whilst he was under suspicion for vigilantism, it probably wasn't a good idea to draw any more attention to himself. "Harry," said the figure again, addressing him, and he turned around to face Samuel, his brother. "Hey."

"Hey," said Harry with a smile. They were alone in the hallway, apart from a couple of portraits. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "Hey, Harper and I were worried about you. I mean, at this point pretty much every Champion knows what the task is going to be, Delacour knows, Krum knows, and well, I know."

"It's dragons, right?" Harry asked, with a smile.

"How'd you know?"

"I have my ways," he said. "So you got a plan on how to defeat them yet?"

"Of course," said Sam, proudly. "I have an excellent idea. Trust me on this. How're you holding up though, after the whole, y'know… thing?"

He could tell that Sam still felt vaguely uncomfortable with the words 'Denouncement', and despite the fact that they didn't always get on, it was hard for Sam not to view Harry as part of his family. "Fine, I guess," said Harry. "I'm still undecided about a new name though. What do you think. Adams or Jones?"

"You should go Gryffindor, it'd really piss Dad off," said Sam. "And I don't think it's claimed."

"But we're not descended from Gryffindor," Harry said. "How would that work?"

"I thought we were," said Sam, disappointed.

"Really. Where'd you read that?"

"The Prophet. They ran a rumour about because I was the Chosen One, I must be descended from Gryffindor."

"You shouldn't believe everything you read in the news," said Harry, as Sam sighed. "Especially the Prophet."

"I just thought it'd be cool you know. Who gets to say that they have founder blood in their veins?"

"Not us," said Harry. "So there's no point in me taking it, besides, I don't really want the trouble."

"Yeah, I bet you get that a lot. So, how's it going with Fleur Delacour?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at this comment. "What'd you mean?"

"Oh come on, isn't it obvious?" Sam said. "You two always go running together every morning, and there's this rumour that you went on a date to a nearby muggle village, I overhead Davis bragging about how he knew before anyone else."

"So he's still a bit of a dick, then."

"Not as much as he used to be. Hey, did you do something to him? He seems a bit put down."

"That actually wasn't me," said Harry, and seeing Sam's confused reaction, he added, "Word of advice, if you're ever in a fight, you want a Veela to be backing you up."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Sam, his eyes widening. "I figured I should tell you though, I might have actually finally found someone to go on a date with. You know they're going to be bringing the Yule Ball back this year, right?"

"What's the Yule Ball?"

"A tradition at every Triwizard Tournament," said Sam. "Dancing, and all that stuff."

"Oh no," Harry said. "Don't tell me we have to dance."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't dance," Harry said.

"Seriously? Didn't you go to the dancing lessons that Mum made us do?" Sam said, and seeing Harry's look, he shot back, "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"So, I'm waiting for a point."

"I actually may have got a date," said Sam, blushing.

"Already?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "I mean. I haven't asked her yet."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? How do you call that having a date, if you haven't already asked her yet? Who is she?"

"A Durmstrang student," said Sam. "One of the ones my age, who's not competing in the Tournament but came over anyway because of her older brother. We talked at the breakfast table and kind of hit it off, so I figured, Y'know… And she didn't actually seem to care who I was that much. Plus, going with someone from a school considered Dark? It'd actually annoy Dad."

"You've got a point there," admitted Harry. "Wait. Why are you trying to annoy him?"

"Because he disowned you," said Sam. "Simple. We might not be able to let you back in, or at least, not until I'm head of the family, which won't be for a while, but if you ever need anything, like money, I'm sure I can get something for you. Even if I was caught, there's no way Dad would disown me or Harper."

Harry nodded understandingly. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"Anyway, I'd better get going," said Sam. "The girl's going to be there again today, and I might actually speak to her this time."

"You mean you haven't even spoken to her yet?" Harry said. "You know it's generally a good idea to get to know girls before asking them out on dates."

"Yeah, thanks for the advice, I got a little bit ahead of myself there," said Sam.

"So should we be expecting your marriage announcement anytime soon?"

"I wouldn't go that far," said Sam, his cheeks flushing bright red. "Well, like I said, I'd better get going. I'll see you at the Tournament later."

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling, and waved as he watched his brother head off down the corridor.

III.

Just after lunch, Harry was called from his lesson into a private tent near the Quidditch Stadium. Krum and Fleur were already there with their respective Heads of Houses, and Fleur gave Harry a warm hug as he entered, which didn't go unnoticed by Madam Maxime. "You alright?" Harry asked. "Sorry I didn't get the chance to speak to you after, the Observatory. I've been busy."

Fleur nodded. "That, I can understand. I've been too busy to have much of a vie sociale since the tournament began. You'll have to forgive me."

"It's not a problem," said Harry. "So. You've been training for this. You think you're ready?"

"Of course," said Fleur, but before she could add anything further Ludo Bagman walked into the room.

"Ah, ladies and gentlemen!" Ludo declared, putting on an overly-theatrical voice like he had just walked onto a stage production of Hamlet. With him was Barty Crouch, Albus Dumbledore and Rita Skeeter, along with to Harry's surprise, Ollivander, who had presumably come from his shop. "Greetings. You may be wondering why I have brought Mr. Ollivander with us today, and the answer is quite simple. Before the Tournament begins we must first require a brief weighing of the wands, just to make sure and to run over all the familiarities. Plus, I understand Rita here wants to have a few words with each and every one of you."

"That would be marvellous, Ludo dear," said Rita, with a smile, her eye lingering on Sam for a few seconds longer than necessary as he forced his way into the tent via a side-flap rather than the main entrance. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Good to see you could finally join us."

"Sorry I'm late," said Sam, joining Harry in the corner. "Professor Snape, um, he wanted to finish his class before the Tournament began and would only let me go at the last minute."

"Understandable, perfectly understandable," said Lugo. "Now. Mr. Ollivander. We have four wands that want to check are perfectly functionable, just so there aren't any issues in the tournament of course. Safety is paramount, and you my friend, are the best wand-maker in Britain, so I see no person better to do the honours."

"You are too kind, Mr. Bagman," said Ollivander, glancing at the champions. "Now… who shall I start with? Mr. Potter, the elder, I believe. Step forward, Harry?"

Harry stepped forward and held out his wand, which Ollivander took, and said, "Ah. I remember this wand. 10 and a half inches, Dragon Heartstring. Holly. One of my finer designs. Has it served you well these past six years?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good man," Ollivander said, and examined it closely. "Yes. It appears to be in fine order. Now, Mr. Krum. We shall look at yours next, I do believe."

"In the meantime, I would perhaps like to interview Mr. Potter privately?" Rita Skeeter asked him. "We are on a clock after all, it would merely, speed up the process."

"Of course," obliged Dumbledore before anyone could respond. "However, it is up to Harry on whether or not he wishes to respond."

"Sorry, I don't do interviews," said Harry, causing a frown on Rita's face. "Or Photographs."

"But surely, Mr. Potter, this is a perfect opportunity to get your face known," said Rita. "Show why you deserve to be as regarded as your brother. Perhaps prove your parents wrong in their decision to disown you?"

Harry's face remained passive. "I appreciate the offer, but thanks."

"Spoilsport," said Rita with a small smile as Krum finished having his wand weighed. "Mr. Krum, perhaps? How do you balance the fame of being a Quidditch star with your everyday life?"

"If Mr. Potter does not participate in interviews then there is no reason why I should as well," said Krum. "I believe that all champions must be interviewed or none at all. Nobody should share a spotlight over the other."

Rita frowned, and turned to Fleur. "My viewpoint is the same as my fellow champions," she said. "I do not take interviews. Or photographs."

"Then that only leaves Samuel here," said Rita, turning around finally on Sam, who shook his head, looking out of his depth.

"Sorry, Ms. Skeeter," said Sam. "I'm with the others on this one."

She scowled, and turned away. "Very well. Seeing as you do not wish to appear in Britain's most popular magical newspaper I will have to find someone who does want to be. I can tell when I am not wanted."

With that, she stormed out of the room. Once she was gone, Ludo breathed a sigh of relief. "You'd better watch out for that one. She's tenacious. Ahem. Now, Mr. Ollivander, is everything complete?"

Ollivander had been quietly and quickly checking the wands whilst Rita had been interviewing the Champions. "It is. I believe all wands are in working order."

"Very well," Lugo said. "Now, the important confirmation of the task is about to begin. I assume you are all unaware of what the upcoming task is?"

Everybody nodded. "Good," Lugo said, even though Harry was sure he knew that at least two, if not more of the room knew what they would be up against already. "Then, I will reveal, that each of you will go up against dragons. That's right! Four dragons have been brought over, one for each champion to face. And your goal is quite a simple and straightforward one. Get the golden egg. That's all you have to do. Avoid the Dragon, get the egg. The egg will contain a clue that will give you vital information on the next task, and you will be at a severe disadvantage if you do not get the information that you need, making succeeding at this task of the utmost importance."

The lack of shocked reactions from Krum and Fleur told Harry everything that he needed to know, that along with Samuel's warning, they had too been told about the dragons and knew what they were up against in advance. Thanks to Fletcher he knew as well, but was at least smart enough to fake a shocked reaction, even though there wasn't much point in doing so. "In order to decide the running, order this bag contains small, miniature replicas of the dragons that you will be facing in the arena. Each dragon will have a number on it and that will be the order in which you are to participate in the task. Miss Delacour, if you would be inclined to pick first."

She reached into the hat and produced a Common Welsh Green, and the small miniature dragon stood firm and proud in her hand. Next up was Sam, who got a Swedish Short-Snout, and Krum found himself facing a Chinese Fireball. Harry was last which left him with much to everyone else's surprise, a Hungarian Horntail, a creature which looked decidedly more fearsome than the rest of the miniature dragons in the room. "Oh dear," Ludo whispered, before silently covering his mouth after realising what he had just said. "That is a particularly nasty beast. Mr. Potter, are you sure you are still capable to face this dragon?"

"Well I've come this far," said Harry with a shrug. "No going back now."

"Excellent," said Ludo, regaining his composure. "Well, it is clear from the numbers that we shall start with the Swedish Short-Snout, and the youngest of us all. Good luck, Mr. Potter. I will need to take my seat in the commentary arena, and I will call for you momentarily."

IV.

Slowly but surely, the numbers were whittled down and Bagman's commentary sounded like they were all fighting for their lives. Harry wondered what the inevitable reaction would be once he unleashed his cacodemon, but the more he waited, the more he began to formulate another idea. "Hey, Viktor," he said suddenly, addressing the Quidditch Champion in the room opposite him. "You're a famous Quidditch player, right? What make is your broomstick?"

"A Firebolt," confirmed Krum, and then added. "The best there is."

"The best there is," mused Harry. He had remembered flying before, briefly, when he had tried getting into the sport to impress his father, but it had only made his father angrier at him, and he hadn't played in years. Maybe he wouldn't have to use the cacodemon after all.. that could be saved for a later experience. "Can you describe to me what it looks like?"

Krum looked at him confused. "You do not know?"

"I don't play Quidditch as much as I used to. I play football, though. Sometimes."

"Football?"

Before Harry could explain what football was however, Krum was called out of the room, and he was clearly left at a loss. But that hadn't stopped an idea forming in his head regardless, an idea that once started, would not go away.

V.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, it has been a long and enduring afternoon, but we have seen three enter, and now, the fourth, I give you, the Hogwarts Champion, Harry Potter!" Ludo Bagman shouted over his megaphone to the crowd, some were cheering, some were booing, some were remaining expressionless as he entered the stadium to get a full look at the Hungarian Horntail for the first time. The beast certainly packed a punch, and was incredibly intimidating to look at. It stood proud, high over its eggs, protecting them from harm. From what research Harry had been able to find out about dragons in the period between Fletcher telling him what they were he knew enough to know that this was female, likely the mother, and would be ten times more aggressive than the male if it viewed that someone was going after something it believed to be its own. As if the challenge wasn't daunting enough already, he had to face a dragon that believed it was a mother.

"Okay," Harry mumbled to himself, nervous. He was used to doing what he did best alone, as vigilantism wasn't normally a spectator sport. But he wasn't about to exactly crack under pressure and knew what he was capable of. He knew that as a last resort, he would use the cacodemon, unleash it among the dragon, but it didn't take a genius to establish that there would be bigger battles than the dragon to come and he wanted a Plan B for them, rather than just the dragon. He was smart enough to think ahead, his mind having been given enough time to think of alternative strategies, and despite his lack of experience at flying a broomstick, he wasn't a stranger to flying one and even Flitwick had told him personally at one point it was a shame that he was never allowed to try out for the team. That didn't lead to anything being done about it, as Flitwick adopted a hands-off approach that meant the students should be allowed to sort it out for themselves. He tried to add something to give him a boost in self-confidence as the dragon inspected its prey, arching back on its legs, bringing itself to bear. "You've got this."

And then the dragon roared, properly, and loudly for the first time, sending a deafening scream around the stadium that sent people covering their ears. Harry realised instantly what the roar meant, what it signified.

It was a Battle Cry, a call for war. It knew why Harry was here, to take one of his eggs, and it was not going to go down easily. At the same time, although he was nervous, Harry couldn't help but grin in response, his eyes lighting up with excitement. This would probably be his biggest challenge yet, possibly even bigger than facing Bellatrix Lestrange in an unfair fight, and this could be exactly what he needed for a distraction from how increasingly screwed up his life was getting right now.

Of course, he mused that he could always be regretting this in the next hour or so, but for now, it was a perfect time to get down to business and show what he was capable of, cacodemon or no.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The main story is going to take place outside of the canon events like the Triwizard tournament so I'll try and get these chapters that are the closest to the books out of the way as quickly as possible so we can move onto the more alternative stuff. I'm borrowing ideas from other shows here with the concept of the cacodemon, adapting its use from the excellent The Magicians, which is very Potter-esque in its own right so it makes sense to have cacodemons in this universe as well. They won't necessarily be used here though but again; Chekhov's Gun exists for a reason…

The next chapter will see the First Task, the aftermath and a new name on the map. As usual, to speed things up, some liberties are taken with canon here.