The Horntail was nowhere in sight, which was something of a relief. The arena had high walls, easily two storeys high, upon which the slope of seating began. In intervals along the bottom of the arena's walls were witches and wizards standing ready - dragon-keepers, Harry assumed - and the arena itself was not flat, which was sort of what Harry'd been expecting, but rocky, with outcrops and trees and enormous boulders. He couldn't currently see the exit door.

Harry didn't waste any time on his surroundings beyond that; he lifted his wand, concentrated, and murmured, "Accio Nimbus."

"Didn't quite catch that, and can't see anything happening, but Potter doesn't look worried, so it must be part of the plan!"

Knowing he'd have about a minute of waiting, Harry did his best to tune out the crowd and listen…

A few moments later, he heard her; the rustle of scales, the slow, dull thud of an enormous heartbeat, and the restless scrape of what he thought was probably her tail.

Harry picked his way in her direction, steps as careful and considered as if he was under his invisibility cloak, ears pricked for any movement or sound from the Horntail that might suggest she knew he was there.

"So that makes two for stealth," Bagman said jovially. "Slow and not particularly exciting, but Diggory's shown us it can be effective, and Potter's had the same teachers, plus whatever he's learned at Walpurgis…" A soft whooshing sound caught his attention and Harry held his hand out expectantly. "Hang on a second-" The moment Harry's Nimbus thudded into his palm, Harry wrapped a leg around it and took off vertically, then twisted sharply to level out in line with the first row of seat. "-ladies and gentlemen, will you look at this!?"

From his new vantage point, Harry could see the whole of the arena. He could see the door at the far end of it, and see the large, black dragon watching him with slitted yellow eyes, see the glint of gold in the nest she was wrapped around…

"Accio golden egg," he murmured. It didn't move.

"Right," Harry muttered, and drifted forward.

The Horntail just watched him unimpressed, each flick of her tail leaving deep scores in the rocky ground. She made a rather nasty hissing sound and let loose a burst of fire when she'd deemed him close enough; he rolled easily to avoid it, but the sheer heat of it took him temporarily back to the forest with Wormtail and the Fiendfyre.

Harry edged closer, dodging the next burst of fire on instinct and eyeing the egg; it was tucked almost completely under a protective wing and between her two, nastily clawed feet, which meant it'd be almost impossible to get to...

You're going to have to move, Harry thought, and with that in mind urged his broom forward with the sole intention of being as annoying as possible; he worked in and out around her head and feinted occasionally toward her nest, staying just out of reach as he spiralled and twisted and rolled to avoid her flames, and the occasional sweep of her deadly tail, taking grim satisfaction in the increasingly agitated sounds she was making.

"Merlin's beard, he can fly!" Bagman cried. "Mr Krum, I hope you're watching this!"

It didn't take long for her to uncurl, and for her long neck to snake up after him, snapping and snarling and hissing between bouts of flame. Harry sank a few feet and then shot back up, higher than she could reach. She huffed more fire at him and he moved forward this time, and then sharply back. Next, was side to side, then side to side again, then down then up.

With a furious screech she unfurled her wings and stood, and that was all Harry needed; he put his wand between his teeth, dove straight down and between her front legs, pulling up tightly and scooping the egg from the nest as Bagman and the crowd roared. Harry twisted, emerging from her underside between her front and back legs - rather than risk her tail - and saw orange magic crawling across the sky, and heard the crowd's tone change from ecstatic to confused and a bit afraid.

Voldemort, Harry thought, and tucked the egg against his side so he had a hand free to hold his wand, even as he levelled out just below the top of the arena's wall and his eyes darted frantically around; he recognised the magic. It looked like an Avea apara dome, which meant he was trapped in the arena, and-

Something hit him, hard and painful from the side and sent him spinning from the force of it - a Bludgeoning Curse, perhaps - and there was a gasp from the stands, which didn't make sense; if Voldemort or his Death Eaters were here the crowd should have more pressing things to do than still be watching him… So perhaps he wasn't.

Regardless, Harry had more pressing things to do than worry about the masses or even potential Death Eaters; he hurt where he'd been hit - not a spell, but the Horntail's tail, he realised - and he was still spinning; he wasn't losing any height, but he had no control and too much speed and peripherally, he could see rushing fire-

"Oh," Bagman sounded ill. "Oh, no-"

"Avea apara!" Harry said desperately, and his own dome sprang into being just in time; at certain points each spin, he could see the Horntail's fire flaring harmlessly against it-

CRACK! Another spin brought Harry hard into the wall of his dome and the spinning stopped because his Nimbus had stopped and then Harry was falling-

"Mollis Impulsum," Harry gasped, and hit the newly soft ground in a roll that brought him back to his feet, a bit dazed and with pain shooting down his injured side, but still clutching his wand and the egg. His Nimbus bounced to a stop by his feet, sparks fizzing out of a long crack through the length of the handle and seat. Sadness twisted his insides.

The Horntail let out a roar and threw herself at the dome, startling him. She bounced off, and then tried again, this time jumping onto it, clawing and biting furiously. Harry took a moment to get his bearings, to notice that the dragon-keepers were still mostly in place around the arena's perimeter, and that, while orange magic still blanketed the top of the arena, there didn't seem to be any spells flying either in with him or out there. Definitely no Death Eaters then.

He cancelled his own dome and took off running toward the door.

The sharpness of the pain made Harry sure at least a couple of his ribs were broken, but he'd had broken ribs before and he'd run with them before and he'd only been eleven then, so he had no excuse for doing any differently now.

The noises the crowd were making warned him of the next jet of fire before he even heard the sound of it or started to feel the heat; he spun, ready with a watery wall.

In the Room, that same spell had completely stopped any flames Ron or Hermione could throw at it. Here, it did stop the flames, but the water exploded back at him at force, boiling and steaming. Harry threw up a normal Shield Charm to protect himself from the worst of it, then dodged to the side and behind a rocky outcrop as the Horntail lunged through. She careened past Harry, but her tail demolished the outcrop. Harry'd have been buried in stone if he'd still been there, but he hadn't stopped, and he could see the door now, it wasn't far, and the Horntail was still turning around...

He dove through it, bouncing off the inner wall and to the floor with a gasp of pain, and then orange magic flared behind him - another dome - and there were furious screeches coming from back in the area and the crowd was cheering, and it was over.

Harry stayed where he was, sore and panting on the ground, and was still there several minutes later when Padfoot burst into the corridor, white as a sheet, with Moony and McGonagall in tow.

Peter stood in the aisle while the Dark Lord sat in the front row of the Ministry, parents, and public section, in the empty seat that matched the ticket Crouch had sent them. He gave the wispy haired witch beside his Lord a thoughtful look, then looked back over the railing and into the arena below.

It had been cleared of dragons and the dragon handlers had been swapped out for Aurors - all except for Charlie Weasley, who loitered by McKinnon near one of the tunnel entries, likely waiting to hear Harry's results - and was now occupied by the judges, Champions, and - predictably - Sirius, who had a white-knuckled grip on Harry's shoulder and looked ready to hex the first person that told him to stand elsewhere.

"Is he a judge?" Peter asked.

The Dark Lord gave him a coolly amused look, then returned his attention to the arena. Peter would have liked to scowl, but didn't dare, not with the Dark Lord right there.

The year before when he'd been based at Hogwarts, it had been wise for him to not know much about Crouch; if he'd been caught - which he almost had been several times - he wouldn't be able to give him away. Now, though, when Peter had returned and was based solely at the Dark Lord's side again, he didn't think there was any good reason for him not to know. Polkov had known, had taken great pleasure in rubbing that in, but Peter did not; he suspected it was punishment for failing to bring Harry in when he'd brought in the Cloak, or maybe for killing Polkov at the World Cup (even though there was no disputing that it had been unavoidable).

"Well," Bagman said, as Dumbledore and Karkaroff transfigured the rocky arena ground into a large, stone platform. "I think you'll all agree with me when I say that was an exciting start to the Tournament, eh?!" A cheer went up, and Peter found himself clapping politely along with the rest of them before realising how foolish that was and stopping. "You've had us all on the edges of our seats!" Bagman was addressing the Champions directly now; Krum looked bored, but Delacour seemed to be basking in the attention and Diggory grinned and waved. Harry was a bit pale, and very obviously favouring one side, but - while he didn't look happy exactly - his mouth kept curling up, especially whenever Sirius leaned forward to say something, or he turned toward the part of the Hogwarts stand that held four red heads, two platinum ones, a bushy brown one, a flashing rainbow one, and a very tiny almost bald one. "I for one, am particularly interested to see what you get up to in the next three tasks."

A cheer of approval went up, but there was a distinctly confused undertone to it, and all four Champions turned sharply toward Bagman, Harry slightly slower than the others, because he'd - typically - looked at Sirius first.

"No, no, I haven't misspoken. Next three tasks." A murmured raced around the stands. The judges and Champions looked variously surprised and excited, except for Harry, who'd set his jaw and was not quite scowling (though it was a very near thing). In his dark uniform, it was quite an intimidating look; Peter shivered and curled his remaining fingers over what was left of his palm. "We've got a fourth Champion, so we thought we'd add in a fourth task and make this Tournament one for the history books!"

The crowd cheered again.

"M-my Lord?" The Dark Lord did not look away from the arena, but a twitch told Wormtail he was listening. "Did we know about this?"

"I did," he said, and let out a chilling sound of amusement; Harry was looking particularly displeased.

"Does it change any-"

"No."

"So-"

"Be quiet, Wormtail," he hissed, and Peter fell silent; Crouch was surely the one who'd told the Dark Lord, so who was he to be in a position to know? Someone of importance in the Tournament organisers, like the stern witch in plum robes, or the young man beside her? Bagman? Someone behind the scenes - one of the task designers, or perhaps the custodian of the Goblet of Fire? An Auror, tasked with the Tournament's security? One of the Ministry officials overseeing the transport of the other schools to and from the tasks - Merlin knew he had a knack for Portkeys. Or was he none of them, and just using one of them, through the Imperius, or through blackmail, or maybe he'd found someone to help him willingly...

"Judges, anything to add before we go any further…?" The witch in plum robes waved her hand at Bagman. "No? All right. So. Scores…" Bagman seemed to bounce on the spot. "Each judge-" He gestured to himself, Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Maxime, the stern witch, and the young, scholarly looking wizard in quick succession. "-will give you a score out of ten. Not only will these scores determine your rank in the Tournament so far, but they'll also determine how much of an advantage you get in the second task. The number of points you get will determine the number of years of experience you can take with you next time... " Bagman trailed off cryptically, then rubbed his hands together. "I'll explain more later - what you need to know now is your scores! Mr Diggory-" A roar from the Hogwarts section. "-step forward, would you?"

Diggory adjusted his hold on his golden egg and stepped forward, grin returning.

"Judges…" Bagman and the other five judges lifted their wands, each shooting a silvery ribbon into the sky, which rapidly formed into a number: "A six, an eight, a six, a seven, a nine, and an eight, for a total of forty-four points!" The clapping was deafening. Peter resisted the urge to cover his sensitive ears, and then - again - realised he was being foolish and did so. "We liked the stealth... very effective, good use of a Disillusionment Charm, and Silencing Charms, great use of the dog when you got close enough for it to smell and hear you, but slow - very slow - and… well, a bit boring, given we couldn't see you." Hogwarts booed, but the other schools jeered and cheered. Diggory frowned. "Still-" Bagman continued, and everyone fell silent. "-you got your egg, and you didn't get injured doing it, so it was a good result." He clapped Diggory on the shoulder, and waved him away. "Miss Delcour!"

Delacour glided forward with a twitch of her head that would likely have made her braid move alluringly… except Peter had watched it burn off less than an hour ago, and all she had left was a singed, rather uneven bob. If she was even slightly self-conscious of it, or her scorched uniform, it didn't show, and she had no right to be; she was -somehow - still stunning.

"Judges… A seven, a seven, a six, an eight, a seven, and a seven… Forty two points!" She curtseyed to overwhelming applause. "Much more interesting than Diggory, and a very, very effective Sleeping charm-" Delacour was practically glowing. "-but you should have thought about where your dragon was; you lost a lot of time trying to get your egg out from under her, and you were burned in the process - not badly, but even so... Still, you weren't the slowest and you got your egg - a good effort!"

Delacour smiled and returned to her place and the deafening applause that accompanied her there transferred to Krum as he was called forward.

"Judges… A seven, a six, a ten, a five, a six, and a seven… Forty one points!" Krum waited patiently, smug but otherwise apparently oblivious to the crowd's carrying on. "You were the quickest of the Champions, and you weren't injured at all, but you did injure your dragon… and we get it - life or death situation, right, so you do what you have to… but she then took out the rest of her nest, and that's not sitting well with a lot of people… you're lucky the dragon keepers aren't up here scoring you!" Bagman chortled at his own joke. "So… got your egg and quickly, but at a cost.

"And last but certainly not least, Mr Potter!" The announcement was met with a surprising amount of noise considering Harry was representing a school with no representatives in the audience. Cheering from Hogwarts was to be expected, but the other schools and the Ministry stands were equally loud.

Peter glanced at his Lord, but he had eyes only for the arena.

"Judges… A nine, a seven, a six, a seven, a seven and an eight! Forty four!" Harry looked torn between startled, pleased, and aggrieved. Sirius was patting him on the back encouragingly. The Dark Lord shifted in his seat and leaned slightly forward, intent. "What. A. Show," Bagman said, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry winced and put a hand to his ribs, and Sirius twitched, then aborted whatever movement he'd been about to make; probably shove Bagman away, Peter thought. "Heart in my throat the whole time, and I don't think I'm alone in that! Fastest to get the egg, second fastest overall, by far the most original tactic, and it would have been a successful one if the dragon keepers hadn't spooked you putting the crowd-protecting spells up." Bagman made a show of sobering. "Now, you lost your broom, and you took a few bad hits, but you found a way to keep going, you thought on your feet under incredible pressure, you defended yourself against a dragon, and you got out with your egg!" He yanked Harry's arm into the air and the crowd burst into thunderous applause. The Dark Lord clapped slow and considering beside Peter. Down in the arena, Harry looked uncomfortable, and not, Peter didn't think, solely because of his ribs. "Incredible!" He thumped Harry on the back and then turned toward the judges. Harry slipped away to Sirius' side. "So, again, ladies and gentlemen, what a task! We have Walpurgis and Hogwarts tied for first place, Beauxbatons in second, and Durmstrang in third!"

"Wormtail," the Dark Lord said, as Bagman started to rattle off other details - the date of the next task, that the Champions and their school representatives needed to stay at the arena for a meeting and further explanation about the next task...

"I-" Peter was torn between being eager to escape the noise, and disappointed to be leaving what was - by far - the most interesting and exciting thing to happen to him in months. "Yes, My Lord." He bent and gathered his Lord up, and then they were moving up, up, up-

Peter settled his Lord back into his chair by the fireplace - Nagini hissed a greeting which his Lord returned - and ensured he was settled in the nest of his Cloak, then busied himself packing up the pensieve.

"Right," Harry said tiredly, "so-" The door to Padfoot's quarters opened and he fell silent, giving it a wary look. So did everyone else.

It was only Moony, who slipped inside, shut the door securely behind him, and greeted them all - Padfoot and Harry's friends with a wave and murmured greeting, Dora with a kiss on the cheek, Stella with a squeeze of her fingers and a silly face, and Harry last of all, with a warm hand on the shoulder and a rather wan smile. Fred and George had found him, it seemed; he wore robes in Dumstrang blue, but pinned to them was one of the Walpurgis stinks badges.

"Yeah," Padfoot said, "that about sums it up. I'm going grey, Moony, look."

"I've been grey for years," Moony said, unsympathetic. "It's my heart giving out that I'm worried about." Harry wasn't sure what his face looked like, but it prompted Moony to add, "You did well, Harry, it just-"

"-wasn't easy to watch," Dora finished for him.

"Understatement, you reckon?" Ron mused aloud, earning a shaky laugh from Hermione and a snort from Ginny. Draco was silent.

"Sit down, Remus," Dora said, patting the couch beside her. "Harry was just about to tell us what he knows about the second task." Harry could tell from the look on Moony's face that it wouldn't be news to him; he'd been waiting for Fleur and Madame Maxime when the meeting ended, and so had likely already been filled in. But, he sat obligingly, tugging Stella away from Dora so he could bounce her on his knees. She gurgled and waved her little fists around.

"Right," Harry said again, "so- er- they're going to hold it on the last day of term, right before Christmas."

"That's less than a month away!" Hermione exclaimed.

"We had less than a month to get ready for this one," Ron reminded her.

"I suppose," she said, but looked worried.

"Do you know much about it?" Ginny asked.

"A bit," Harry said. "What Bagman said down in the arena about scores and years of experience… I get to take people with me this time. Forty four years worth, apparently."

"So Black and… a first year? How old are you?" Draco asked, turning to Padfoot.

"Draco!" Hermione said, while Moony and Ron chortled.

"Old enough that adding a first year would bring us above forty four," Padfoot said. "Not that it matters, anyway." He shot Harry an unhappy glance.

"No teachers allowed," Harry said. Everyone was frowning at that, except for Moony who looked relieved but unsurprised; doubtless he had imagined having to compete alongside Fleur and against Harry and Padfoot. "And our experience has to come from our school - they want it to be Hogwarts against Durmstrang against Beauxbatons against Walpurgis." He cast a dark look at his duelling vest, which lay discarded on a side table, a bit scuffed but otherwise unscathed, despite the Horntail's tail.

"So… students?" Hermione asked.

"Students," Harry agreed.

"But there aren't any students from Walpurgis," Ron said.

"No," Padfoot said, mouth turning down.

"I asked Pemberley about that," Harry said, sure his expression was much the same as Padfoot's, "and he said he'd talk to Sprottle, see if they can make an exception that lets me pick from Hogwarts students instead." He couldn't quite look at them as he said it, because he knew - given his pick of Hogwarts students - who he'd want alongside him. He didn't think he'd be able to bring himself to ask them, but he thought (hoped) they'd offer, and he didn't think he had it in him to make much more than a token protest.

"That'll make things easier," Ron said. "Still, might be worth going back to your registry woman in Singapore, Hermione…"

"Yes," Hermione said, with a nod and expression that suggested she'd just added something to a mental checklist. "Draco? Ginny?"

"Forty four, Hermione," Ron said, a little uncertainly. Moony, Dora, and Padfoot were all frowning too. "That's three of us, not four. Sorry, Ginny." Ginny looked both relieved and annoyed.

"Yes," Hermione said, rather patiently, "but depending on how they count our ages… Are you fourteen, or are you fourteen and nine months? If it's the second option, then it can't be all of us." She cast Padfoot and the other adults a quick look, then put her hand to the side of her neck. Ron and Draco both made soft noises of understanding almost immediately, but it took Harry a moment longer to realise that was where the scar from her timeturner splinching was. "I'm older, remember?"

And she was. They didn't know exactly how much time she'd accumulated last year, but Hermione'd tried to count out the hours over the summer, apparently, and had said she thought it was just over six months.

"Can you find out?" Draco asked, looking at Harry. "How they're counting it."

Harry nodded slowly; Bagman always seemed keen to chat, and failing that, Pemberley was now the Walpurgis representative. Surely he'd be able to get it out of one of them.

"Excellent," Hermione said briskly. "You do that, Harry, and then we can work out ages and who's going with you."

Harry'd been wrong; his throat felt too thick with gratitude to make even a token protest.