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Last time on Let the Games Begin:
"Terry?" Granger's gentle voice startled him almost as badly as the loud bang. "Are you alright?"
"What?" he squeaked, then cleared his voice embarrassed. "Yes, yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I have nearly died after all!" he said a little hysterically. "For the second time in just a few hours, I might add!"
"Shouldn't we go on?" reiterated Longbottom. "I think I see some stone walls."
"Where?" asked everybody, curiously or anxiously.
"Over there... just beyond those huge snakes", answered Longbottom with a calm that Terry suddenly recognized as a sign of looming hysteria.
A roll of the dice and they stepped out of the warm humidity of the forest and into the dry cold of the stone corridors. There they stood in the single beam of light coming from outside, waiting.
Potter was still out behind them, outside the weirdly carved and moss-covered walls of the Temple Longbottom had, indeed, found, chatting away with the snakes he had easily persuaded to let them pass without problems.
By talking to them.
Terry sighed.
He hadn't been as scared as his pureblood friends when Potter had suddenly started hissing at the Duelling Club in their Second Year.
First, because he was still rather new at the whole magic thing and chalked the ability up to some spell or enchantment, like everything else unexpected around him.
Then, because he'd looked up the ability in a series of books and had discovered that while in England, thanks to the Slytherin line, Parseltongue had a reputation for being a Dark Art, elsewhere it wasn't so, in Greece for instance, Parselmouths were considered great Healers, because of Hyppocrates being one, and other cultures had other associations for the skill, and for snakes in general.
So he hadn't bought in the hysteria and mass panic that year and had felt smugly superior thanks to his better-informed acceptance.
He had to admit, though, that hearing those unnatural sounds coming from Potter's throat up close... it was creepy. And rather frightening too.
He shivered, trying to shake those creepy hisses from his memory, then hastily cast a warming charm, to make it look like it was the cold that was bothering him. By the scathing look Malfoy shot him, he wasn't fooled; but the blond kept silent.
Terry could tell that the Slytherin was troubled; why, though, was anyone's guess. Maybe he was shaken by their brush with death - Terry sure as hell was; maybe he was still shocked that Potter could cast a corporeal Patronus - if he hadn't known beforehand, Terry too would have been stunned. Maybe the reminder that Potter was a Parselmouth had unsettled him. Or maybe he was just tired of this whole damn Shadow Tournament – Terry could sure sympathize with that.
He watched disgustedly as a chirpy Potter caught up with them, gushing about the snakes he'd met.
Just what was that Gryffindor made of, that he could bounce back from the scare they had without a qualm and immediately throw himself head on in the next potentially lethal situation?
What did he have that Terry didn't?
Or maybe it was that he lacked something – common sense, or self-preservation instincts or...
"Terry?" once again, Granger gently calling him startled him. "Do you want me to handle the dice this time?" she asked.
Terry blushed, catching the impatient looks that told him he'd been lost in his thoughts longer than he'd realized. "N-no. No! I'm alright, I promise!" he said hurriedly. He scowled at Malfoy's snort and threw the dice viciously.
They bounced off the stone walls and the noise echoed loudly down the corridor. Six and one.
The squares lit up as usual, though now the yellow glow seemed much brighter because of the surrounding darkness.
"It seems the path splits again", he said a little inanely, because everybody could see the fork, just four squares further. "Do we turn right or go on straight?"
"You choose", said Potter almost cheerfully.
"Yeah, Boot; lead the way!" smiled Longbottom.
"What?" burst out Malfoy. "Why in the name of Morgana's pet boggart would we follow him of all people?"
He blithely ignored Potter's incredulous, choked laughter of 'Morgana's pet boggart?' and rounded on Terry with outrage: "Who died and put you in charge, I'd like to know?"
Terry felt the vein on his temple throb in irritation. He'd asked what they wanted to know, it's not like he'd made an unilateral decision and expected them to comply!
He opened his mouth to give the arrogant berk a piece of his mind, but Potter beat him to it: "Why did we put you in charge of the Dunsany Chess match?", he asked in a dangerously mild tone.
Malfoy sneered bitterly: "Because no one else would do it!"
Potter was by the blond in a flash, his hands fisted in the front of the Slytherin's robes, utterly ignoring his cry of protest. "Wrong!" he hissed furiously. "It was because you were the best at that!"
He released the spluttering blond, making him stumble a little.
Terry felt himself blush and pale at the same time, as impossible as that was. Did Potter mean…?
"Oh, and Boot is the best at this, I take it?" mocked Malfoy, snide incredulity dripping from his every word. "Please. He could barely keep himself together through the first few obstacles…"
Terry lowered his head in shame. It was true. He was pathetic and useless…
"Nonsense!" rebuked Potter, making him jump before he realized the other boy was replying to Malfoy rather than to Terry's thoughts. "He reacted like any sane person would…"
"Confirming you're not sane then", snarked Malfoy, automatically, as if insulting Potter was such an ingrained reaction by now that it came out without thought.
Potter scowled furiously but didn't reply.
Granger interjected reasonably: "Terry is the one who knows all the rules, it makes sense to trust him with this!"
Terry felt bolstered. Memorizing rules and knowing things by heart in general was right up his alley.
Maybe Malfoy was wrong. Maybe he could do this.
He took a deep breath and stated: "I think was should stick to the same direction at every fork, that way we keep confusion to a minimum." He was pleased that his voice didn't tremble. Much.
He wanted to show Potter and the others that they were right in trusting him, that he did in fact know what he was doing.
"Left, then?" asked Longbottom encouragingly.
"Well, it would be 'straight on' this time, but that's the general idea, yeah. Let's call it 'not right'", Terry joked.
The Gryffindors chuckled a little. Malfoy sniffed in contempt, but offered no further opposition, so they moved on.
Torches flared up at regular intervals as they walked, illuminating a corridor that seemed to go on forever. When they passed the apparently identical one departing to the right, they saw that it, too, went on into the darkness with no end in sight.
Terry briefly wondered about the relative size of the cavern they were in and the temple inside it. Then snorted. Right, right… magic!... Whatever.
It did raise a concern however. If the temple was a maze of unknown size... how were they to find the Sword they needed?
A/N: Well, I'm back! For various reasons however, I won't be able to go back to the daily updates just now. I think I'll post every three days instead... Luna