Disclaimer: I own nothing—not even a copy of Rowling's books! They're all my sister's! Rowling owns everything. No copyright infringements were intended and no money is being made from the writing of this story.
Author's Note: Nothing much, really. The First Task now, hope you're enjoying…that is if anyone is reading this story to begin with!
Chapter Thirty-Six: Crushing Burdens
"Then there is no hope for us, is there?"
"No hope."
"No hope at all, is there?"
"No hope at all," Major Danby conceded. He looked up after a while with a half-formed notion.
"Wouldn't it be nice if they could disappear us the way they disappeared the others and relieve us of all these crushing burdens?"
Joseph Heller, Catch-22
Potter Stinks!
The flashing words had been grating on her nerves for a while. Now it was simply becoming intolerable. She still had ten more minutes to contend with the distraction, but with everything that was going on, she didn't know if she could make it.
Draco Malfoy had been more of a test of her will today than he had before. Reminding herself not to take out her frustrations over the latest developments in the Tri-Wizard Tournament on her students, she took a few deep breaths and dismissed class.
"Mr. Malfoy, a word please." She looked over at the boy and saw a brief triumphant expression cross his face.
"Yes, Professor?" he asked smoothly, emphasizing the title she'd implored her students not to use.
She waited for the milling students to disappear through the door before she continued. It was clear Malfoy loved an audience.
Smiling in what she hoped was a kind manner, she began with what she deemed safe territory. "A few good arguments you presented in class today, Mr. Malfoy."
He nodded, a curious expression on his face. He was trying to discern her angle.
"But I will have to ask you to address your fellow classmates with respect, whether you agree with them or not…whether you like them or not."
He smirked, leaning against a desk and shoving his hands casually into his pockets.
"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from using the term Mudblood in this class."
"But he is one, Professor," he countered coolly.
"What Ernie is or isn't has no place in this class' discussions. Everyone, full blood or otherwise, brings valuable insight to this forum. Everyone is on an equal footing here, Mr. Malfoy. I don't care if you subscribe to those views, but I do care if you disrespect your classmates. Exercise a little respect, Mr. Malfoy."
"Is that all?" he asked lazily.
"No," she said, driven a little over the edge by his mocking tone. "Don't wear that silly button to my class again. The tournament will remain outside these doors. I don't care who you support and who you ridicule, just don't do it here. It's distracting."
He frowned at her disapprovingly. "I can do whatever I want to! There are no rules that say I can't wear this to class." He pointed to the blinking Potter Stinks! button.
She favored him with a long and thoughtful glare. "Why do it anyway?" she asked after a pause.
He furrowed his brow, confused at the question. "Do what?"
"Why don't you just cut Harry some slack?"
He laughed. "Because people have cut him slack all his life. And it's my solemn duty as his rival to harass him as much as possible."
"Doesn't it make you seem…well, a little obsessed?"
He made a slight choking noise. "Obsessed? With Potter?" He looked revolted.
"Well? What's in it for you? Why waste so much time on someone you despise? You don't see him making such a fuss about you, do you?"
"Entertainment, Elliot. It's amusing to kick the kid around. He's a prat and he deserves it."
Jude looked discerningly at the boy. "He didn't put his name in that goblet, I'm almost certain of that."
He smirked cruelly. "I never said he did. He's not clever enough to have gotten past Dumbledore's age line."
Jude started and took a menacing step toward the blond boy. "What do you know about it, Malfoy?"
Draco looked at her evenly. "Nothing," he said blandly, not caring if she believed him or not.
"I doubt that," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Let me ask you again. Why are you taking this class?"
Springing off of the desk, he stood motionless, yet just as fiercely set in his determination as she. "I told you."
"Your father put you up to it, I know. But why? Are you simply educating yourself on Muggles or are you here to keep an eye on me?"
His lips twisted into a cruel smile. "What would you do if I said the latter was true?"
Jude deliberated on this for a moment. "I would tell you that you are playing a dangerous game, Mr. Malfoy." She held his stare evenly, harshly.
He maintained a stoic silence.
"The First Task is in three days. I will be watching. We'll see how decent a player you are. I doubt you'll be much of a challenge."
"Is that all?" he said, a dangerous tenseness to his voice.
"No," she answered icily. "Your essay, Mr. Malfoy." She handed him back the work he did on the benefits of studying Muggles. He took the paper from her mechanically and glanced at it.
"It says…"
"Yes. Full Marks. It was a very good paper. But next time, it would greatly enhance your argument if you didn't use Muggle literature to back up your anti-Muggle stance." She smiled slyly, yet not with cruelty. This boy was a challenge, and she loved a good challenge.
"Thank you, Miss Elliot," he said smoothly and smiled with amusement as he strode over to the door. He favored her with one more hard, appraising glare and was gone.
***
Pulling on her running shoes and tugging a sweater over her head, she called to Darcy and pulled open her door. She could barely stand the tension any longer. A good, long run was what she needed to release some of the anxiety.
Out in the cold of late November, everything seemed sharper. The fading sunlight gave everything a hard, dark outline. The air was crisp and sounds were clearer. The cold was biting and stung as her breathing became faster. Running the familiar paths through the forest, she willed herself not to think on anything but what was around her—the gilded, gothic masonry of the frosted trees arching overhead, the stained-glass colors of the bright leaves that still held on to the last vestiges of autumn, to the choir sounds of the wind in the branches.
Blocking everything that had been bothering her, she was oblivious to time and space. It was growing dark, still that did not bother her. She'd been out here in the forest at night plenty of times and there was little in this world that truly frightened her. If she'd taken the time to note her surroundings, she wouldn't have been surprised to note that she had no clue where she was, but there was hardly a spot in the forest that was unknown to her. Eventually, she would understand where she was. This was hers…this forest…it belonged to her…and she alone knew its secrets.
Suddenly, she pulled herself to a stop, Darcy freezing along side her. She was facing a large paddock with several, menacing, fire-breathing…
"Dragons?" she mused aloud, staring down the snout of a greenish monster that was blinking with a mild curiosity. Those weren't here before.
"Hey! You! Get away from there!"
She felt someone grab her by the wrist and haul her away a good hundred feet from the mysterious paddock.
"What on earth do you think you're doing out here? You could have been burnt to a crisp!"
Jude didn't turn to look at the person who held her by the wrist in a vice grip, but continued to glare at the trespassing dragons. "What am I doing here? What are those doing here? Who the hell put dragons in my forest!"
"Your forest?" the voice said incredulously. "And who might you be?"
"Jude Elliot, a teacher here," she answered before pulling her attention away from the offending beasts and looking at the person still gripping her arm. It was a man with a boyish face that was very familiar to her. He had red hair…the tell-tail red hair of the Weasleys. "And you're Charlie!" she said brightly with an amused grin.
"You're kidding me!" was Charlie's ungracious reply.
"No," Jude replied, her amusement fading. "It has been quite a while, hasn't it?"
"I'll say!" He smiled warmly and looked her over. "You haven't changed a bit, Jude!"
Her smile faltered. "Ugh. Don't say that." But she sensed that it was not meant unkindly. She knew she still looked to be about seventeen, just a little bit more worn around the edges. She shook her thoughts free and plastered another smile on to replace the one that had run away. "Look at you, Charlie Weasley! A dragon-man, impressive!"
"Well, it does sound stupid when you put it like that!" He laughed genuinely. It was a carefree laugh that reminded her somewhat of Rhys. It was delightful, yet painful to hear that laugh. "So, a teacher, huh?"
She nodded, a bit embarrassed at the pronouncement.
"What do you teach?"
"Muggle Studies."
The look of shock and disbelief that crossed his face was priceless, Jude thought, but totally unoriginal. She knew what everyone thought—that it was the biggest anathema for her to be the Muggles Studies teacher at Hogwarts considering who and what she had once been. Yet it was amusing to see it so apparent on someone's face—a face like Charlie's—someone so honest and frank that they couldn't possibly hide what they were thinking. "I know, it is a bit of a joke."
"No, it isn't. I'm sure your wonderful at it," he stammered, trying to fix the minor mess he'd made of his reaction.
She turned her attention back to the dragons, looking for a way to change the subject. "So, what on earth are these dragons doing here?"
He looked at her suspiciously. "I don't think I should tell you…you're a teacher, after all. You could be spying for a student for all I know."
"Aw, come on, Charlie. You don't want me to beat it out of you, do you?" she said with a mischievous smile.
"Well, all right. Although I doubt you could make good on that threat."
He led her a little closer to the menacing creatures, pointing out the different species, their strengths and weaknesses…
"This is what the First Task is going to be?" Jude asked incredulously. "To survive a dragon. What? Do they earn points for walking away instead of crawling?"
Charlie shook his head. "It's not that dangerous, really. C'mon, Jude! Since when have you been scared of anything?"
She huffed indignantly. "Never. But they're just kids, Charlie. Do you really expect them to know how to handle these things?"
He looked at her curiously. "Not my idea, Jude. Ludo Bagman came up with this one. Pretty tough, but nothing they can't handle. Plus, if anyone does get into trouble, I'll be standing by." He puffed out his chest importantly.
"Oh, that's reassuring," she muttered. Charlie made a mock-wounded face, but it was as good as lost on her. She had already headed down a path of thought. This was Ludo's idea? That wasn't too comforting.
"Ludo," she heard from the scant break in the thick damask of the drapes. "A magnificent win last night!" It was the thick Russian accent that had become familiar to her.
"Well, thanks, Igor, but the victory was slightly bitter. Only a fifty-point lead, you know. If Fletcher thinks we're going to have a shot at the World Cup this year, he'll be sorely disappointed if Finch and Beller keep playing this way." She could smell the smoke of a cigar. Bagman was a well-known Quidditch star and playboy with a taste for all things expensive. Even crime. The higher the cost—the more the risk—the more attractive it became. And Bagman was never one to resist temptation.
"Shall we begin then, Gentlemen?" A cold voice spoke that froze the little spy to her core. Lucius Malfoy.
Jude fought to slow her breathing. Everything was at stake here. Her life, namely…but honor as well. If she could come up with the damning evidence, she could finally denounce the snake to her Master. It was her sole drive, to please her Lord. But Lucius was cautious…much more cautious than the idiots he was forced to rely on.
"Ludovic, have you anything new to bring to the table besides cheap cigars and bad wine?" Lucius' cold drawl was unmistakable.
There was a spot of nervous laughter before a response was attempted. "The cigars are Cuban and the wine is Tokaj. Not cheap, I can assure you, Lucius."
"In comparison to what, Ludovic? Your suit? No, you are quite right."
More polite laughter.
"Lucius, I have just come from Rookwoood's office. You know he's a family friend but fiercely loyal to Lord Voldemort. Thinks of me like a son, just give me time. He'll turn easier than a Cleansweep."
"Are you confident in his conversion? I cannot afford to waste time and effort on Augustus. It would be valuable to have a man in the Department of the Mysteries, but I can get around it if I have to."
"Positive, Lucius," Bagman replied assuredly.
"Do not give too much about us away. If he is as loyal as you say to that fraud, then he is still dangerous." Lucius said silkily. Footsteps, steady and measured, were advancing to the window. Jude held her breath. Someone was standing in front of the window. She could feel the tenseness of a presence next to her, hear the movement of Italian leather shoes on the polished wood floors of the study.
"Soon, Gentlemen. Very soon Lord Voldemort will learn that he holds sway over us no more. His promises are empty, his honor worthless." It was Lucius' voice…cold and smooth, with feeling not unlike anything she'd heard before. He believed in his mission fiercely, but attacked it with little passion. Passion signified a weakness to this man. And he was plotting the demise of her Master coldly, cruelly, bending his servants to his traitorous will.
"But until then, Lucius, it does us little good to spout useless dogma." A new voice lent itself to the conversation. Harsh, like a knife's edge, yet devious and deceptive. It was the voice of the man Jude despised most. He was playing every side there was against the other and she alone knew of his deceit. He was not loyal to Lucius. He was not loyal to Lord Voldemort. He was loyal to himself alone. Severus Snape. "We must bide our time and speak of this as little as possible. If we make enemies on both sides, none of us will survive to see this done."
The man at the window, just beyond her line of sight, sighed audibly. "You are right, as always, Severus. But everyday he grows stronger."
"Jude?"
"Huh?" she said quickly, startled out of her thoughts. "Sorry, Charlie. The dragons are amazing," she added quickly trying to cover for her lack of attention.
"Are you okay?" He was eyeing her with concern.
"Oh, just a bit tired, I guess."
From the corner of her eye, she saw Hagrid milling about with Madame Maxime, pointing out the different kinds of dragons in the paddock. Over her shoulder, hidden in the shadows of the trees, she saw Karkaroff. So, everyone was spying, trying to gain the upper hand. Maxime and Karkaroff would tip off their students—hell, they'd probably tell them exactly how to get past them. But what about Harry and Cedric? Jude wondered. They would have to just get by on their own ingenuity. She had little doubt that Harry could handle himself—she'd seen him take on worse and come out without so much as a scratch. But Cedric…he was looking like the hopeless underdog right about now.
"I have to go," she said suddenly.
Charlie smiled. "It was good to see you again, Jude. You coming to the Task?"
She nodded her confirmation. "It was good to see you, too, Charlie." She meant it. It had been ages since she'd seen someone she'd gone to school with and it was not so bad. At least she hadn't run into Bill.
"Hey, and don't go blabbing about the dragons, okay?"
"You have my word, Charlie…for what it's worth." She smiled slyly and headed back to the castle, Darcy trotting at her heels.
***
"Try again, Harry."
Jude heard the familiar voice echo down the silent, deserted hall. It was Hermione.
As she drew near the door, she peeked in to see Hermione demonstrate a perfectly executed Summoning Charm. Then she looked to Harry to follow the example.
So, Jude thought, Hermione is helping him prepare for the First Task. Briefly she wondered what on earth he could possibly summon to aid in fighting a dragon, but she brushed it off. Tomorrow she would know and right now she just wanted to forget about it.
She'd been following Ludo Bagman's every move for three days—ever since Charlie told her the dragons were Ludo's idea. But he'd come out spotless—only a little gambling with Goblins, but otherwise completely clean. She had a feeling that would all change. But she refused to worry about it anymore that night.
Thinking of Charlie, she was actually glad that he was going to be there at the task tomorrow. For all the cracks she'd made earlier before, she noticed he was really quite comfortable with dragons—a natural. It was reassuring to know that he would be there to stave off any mishap—contrived or otherwise.
Karkaroff also seemed more wrapped up in giving his champion an advantage that he seemed like no more of a threat to Harry than stiff competition. The lack of activity did little to assuage her fears, however.
"When it's quiet, that's when you should really start to worry," Jude repeated Mrs. Bertram's words. The old lady in charge of the orphanage where she grew up was usually referring to her when she said that.
***
The enclosure where the dragons had only been two days before was now a large tent, shielding the beasts from view. Through the light material of the tent she could hear the tense chatter of the entire student population. It crackled sharply on the brittle winter air, raising the tension Jude felt by degrees.
She pushed the anxious feelings down, hiding behind a façade of cool indifference, frigidly matching the temperature of the frosty air, and skirted the tent in search of someone. As she rounded a silken corner of the makeshift arena, she heard terse whispering and dutiful responses. Two bodies became rigid as she appeared—Karkaroff and his champion eyed her suspiciously as she walked past them. Watching them shrewdly, she continued on her way.
"Headmaster Karkaroff, champions are supposed to be in the tent already." Her words were icy and stern. He narrowed his eyes at her and the boy only stared from one to the other, confused.
She noted that the man nodded quickly then turned on his heels and lead his student into the confines. Shaking her head, she willed herself not to jump to any conclusions as to what he might have been up to out here. Extra attention and caution were necessary today, but her reserves were running low. A dull weariness crept into every fiber of her being as did the cold, both effectively slowing down her every reflex.
The person she sought smiled and nodded in her direction as he saw her approaching. Charlie was standing dangerously close to the fire-breathing, overly scaled, hungry-looking and ill-tempered creatures. She halted her progress and shook her head. He would have to come to her—she would go no further. Bravery was one thing—stupid was another.
"And you're turning these loose on four kids in twenty minutes?" Jude asked, shaking her head.
"Not me," he had to remind her once again. She couldn't help but number him among the collaborators, however innocent he was. "They can handle it, Jude. And I'll be right by the ring if anything were to…er…happen."
She frowned at the weak assurance. Charlie could handle the dragons, she was sure. It was the other thing she was worried about. What was going to happen? What did they have planned?
"Do you mind if I watch with you?" she asked quickly, mentally scoffing at herself for how fawning and insipid that sounded. "Something might go wrong…something other than dragons, Charlie," she quickly amended, seeing a wry grin appear at his lips.
"Not you, too," he pleaded incredulously.
"What?" she said, becoming incensed by his cavalier attitude. "There's something going on here, Charlie. I know it. I can feel it."
At this pronouncement he stopped smirking and his face became grave and interested.
"And you think this has something to do with Harry mysteriously being named the fourth champion?" he asked conspiringly.
"I think it has everything to do with it."
He stared at her, unblinking and frowning. "It could be dangerous," he warned.
She just smiled and followed him into the tent.
They were all there: Karkaroff, Bagman and Crouch, lined up in a neat little row at the judges' table. Ludo was announcing loudly and the crowd shouting frantically as Cedric entered from a side of the ring, sheepishly waving to the crowd and staring wide-eyed and trance-like at a towering bluish-gray form snorting smoke.
Charlie raised his wand threateningly at it as two of his comrades released the tethers keeping it in check.
"Swedish Short-Snout," he informed Jude excitedly as she stood, rigid with tension, next to him. She hardly heard a word he or the obnoxious announcer, Ludo, said as she had every ounce of attention fixed on Cedric.
Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the boy and scanned the crowds for anything suspicious. Then she turned her attention to the judges. They were watching, transfixed, as Cedric Transfigured a rock into a dog—Professor McGonagall would be impressed, Jude thought. None of the usual suspects watching the performance seemed threatening at all, but she would wait and see when it was Harry's turn.
Next to her, she felt Charlie move swiftly forward, casting strong ropes from his wand, binding the dragon as it breathed. The dog had failed to distract the dragon and it had charged Cedric, spouting fire as he dove for the egg. He rolled away just in time, the prized golden egg clasped to his chest. The crowd cheered as he held his trophy in the air, but Jude noticed him limp as he retreated to a corner where Madam Pomfrey stood waiting, wringing her hands.
"Good show," Charlie muttered as the two wizards returned and tethered the Short-Snout, dragging it off only to replace it with a menacing green thing.
"What happened to him?" Jude asked, watching as Madam Pomfrey wrapped his arm with downy gauze. "Did he get burned?"
"I'd imagine he got it pretty good. Didn't give up though…he got the egg, didn't he?" he questioned as she gave him a livid and incredulous glare. "Hey, it's not so bad. I've been burned hundreds of times."
She just shook her head and returned her attention to the new dragon. A large, leaf-colored thing with huge, armored scales and abundant spikes—this was the image she'd conjured when reading about knights in fairy tales when she was young. The storybook dragon, Charlie announced, was a Welsh Green, and probably the tamest…as far as dragons went.
Crossing her fingers, she hoped that Harry would appear in the ring to fight this one—after Cedric's near miss, she was positively jumpy with worried anxiety. But it was not. The blond girl appeared instead, looking as haughty and aloof as possible. Immediately the girl raised her wand and cast a spell that rendered the beast almost docile, in a trance-like state. It flailed around momentarily, wobbling precariously this way and that, threatening to topple over onto the frantic crowd. The girl had to bob and weave as the dragon stumbled drunkenly and finally managed to snatch the designated egg. Narrowly dodging the whip-like tail, she was out of harms way in fifteen minutes.
The stumbling and unstable dragon in a trance was guided carefully out of the rink and replaced by a bristling red creature with a malicious smile and shaggy mane.
"Chinese?" Jude ventured a guess. It looked exactly like the Chinese dragons in parades—the colorful paper things that wiggle through the streets on holidays.
Charlie nodded and watched tensely as the wizards released their hold on the binds. "A Chinese Fireball. And this one has a temper. Not as bad as the Horntail, but nasty nonetheless."
Jude could tell that he was nervous. And at the description of the Fireball, she understood why. If Harry's name wasn't called next, he would be facing the most fearsome of the hellish beasts.
Ludo stood and announced with a flourish the next champion.
"Dumb fucking luck!" she head Charlie whisper brashly next to her. She shared his feelings. It was Krum.
Jude watched without blinking her eyes as the large Bulgarian boy took an antagonizing step toward the ill-humored dragon. He looked over his shoulder to Karkaroff who was intently watching his student. He smiled and nodded to the boy. Jude took a step closer.
He raised his wand at the dragon and shouted the Conjunctivitus Spell. It hit its mark squarely in the beast's eye. The dragon thrashed wildly around as Krum tried to navigate a path through the thundering and wild steps of the creature. Jude was watching so intently that she did not realize Charlie had seized her by the wrist and hauled her back several feet from the flailing dragon.
"Don't move!" he shouted tensely and rushed to the ring with four other wizards, wands all leveled at the irate creature. Krum had dodged a ball of fire from the flame-thrower's mouth and rolled away from the nest just as one heavy and scaled, clawed foot came crashing down on the clutch. Karkaroff rose, gripping the table, his knuckles white. He relaxed only as Krum got to his feet. The crowd was silent, anticipating. The wizards had gained enough of a hold on the dragon to keep its wild movement in check.
The cheering of the crowd as Krum lifted the golden egg into the air was enough to send the dragon into another incensed rage. With difficulty and a few more hands, the caretakers were able to haul the Chinese Fireball out of the tent. Charlie was ranting to a man Jude assumed was his superior, gesturing frantically to the destroyed eggs. The man walked over to the officials and only after a moment of hushed conversation with the judges was the next and last creature brought in.
Charlie stormed back over to Jude who gave him a questioning glance. "They weren't supposed to harm the eggs. I told him we should've used decoys! I hope that kid's disqualified!" He was livid.
A monstrous, black and scaly creature awaited the last champion—Harry. The dragon looked horrifying! Its menacing yellow eyes fixed on the small boy the second he stepped into the light and didn't leave him for a second. The long, spiked tail swung in powerful swipes, carving large gouges in the ground behind it.
Deep breaths were inadequate to slow Jude's pounding heart. The time had come—Harry had to prove himself to allies and enemies alike, whether he was ready to or not. She hoped he had some trick up his sleeve.
He raised his wand and shouted "Accio Firebolt!" Seconds later his broom arrived. Jude was briefly reminded of what a point of contention that very broom had been just a short year ago. She had verbally thrashed his godfather, Black, for risking everything to give it to him. She still thought on it bitterly, but couldn't really hold it against Black. And that was then—she needed to focus on the now.
Her anxiety, already at the breaking point, was feeding off of Charlie's tension and threatening to break its dam. She couldn't watch, but she had no other choice.
As he swooped and dove over the dragon's head, teasing it, tempting it to move from its guarded position, she watched rigidly, marveling at how well he handled the broom. Harry flew with an easy and natural grace that wasn't hard to admire even for someone like Jude. She hated flying and just the thought of hurling at a break-neck speed several meters off the ground made her dizzy, but she noticed how comfortable he seemed on his broom. He was in his element—even if he was facing down a spiked, fire-breathing creature that was hell bent on eating him.
Falling into a sharp dive, Jude noticed the dragon's head following every clipped and precise move. Harry seemed to know what the dragon was thinking—he pulled up just in time to avoid becoming singed by the huge jet of flames the creature emitted. He flew this way and that, finally coaxing the dragon to give ground and follow him away from its clutch of eggs. He flew high, then higher…and higher. The dragon tried to follow, stretching its neck to its fullest extent. She shot fire into the air and Harry skirted it a little too closely for Jude's comfort. The dragon opened her jaws wide, the barbed tail thrashing more wildly than before…it unfolded its great, leathery wings, the length of a small airplane, rising up on its hind legs…stretching.
That's when he dove. Hurtling toward the ground, faster and faster. Jude couldn't watch, yet she knew that she had to…she had no other choice. Raising her left hand, she prepared for the worst, recalling the strongest Levitation Spell she could think of.
Closer and closer. Just a few feet more and then the unforgiving ground…the dragon…it would be over. Whoever had set him up would win—they would get what they wanted. And then, to Jude's utter astonishment, he pulled out of the insane dive, scooping up the egg easily as he swooped past the nest. The crowd as a collective whole was on its feet, a great cheering, many-headed entity.
Harry was beaming as he landed safely. Charlie and his colleagues soon had the huffing, hissing Hungarian Horntail under straining tethers. Harry had the egg under one arm and the other was bleeding freely. Jude shrugged. Not bad for some kid with every odd stacked against him. Still, as she looked over at the table and examined the line-up, she was convinced that whoever was behind the goblet incident was biding their time. While far from easy, Jude knew instinctively that the culprit had not thrown anything remotely dangerous in Harry's path…yet. They would rear their ugly head, or heads as she thought better of it, as the tournament progressed.
She sighed as she felt the tension melt from her shoulders and drain from her body in waves of relief. The Hungarian Horntail was gone, roped with its other horrible companions and the kids were over in the corner receiving the formidable attentions of Poppy Pomfrey.
"Well," Charlie said amiably, rejoining his friend in the tent. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
All she could muster as a response was a cruel glare.
"Okay, but you have to admit, that was one hell of a good time!" He was grinning insanely. Jude shook her head and moved over to a seat and collapsed. She was tired.
"So, you taking those filthy dragons home soon?" she asked, summoning as much cheer as she could find.
"Yeah. They need a good rest from their trials," he said sadly as he thought of his poor, maligned, helpless dragons being tortured by the rough kids.
"And where is home for you now, Charlie Weasley?"
"Romania, the dragon reserve is there. I've been with the place for, oh, five or so years now."
"It agrees with you," she said, giving him a small smile, one of the last genuine ones she felt she possessed. "You seem happy—bloody insane—but happy."
"I am," he replied. They maintained the friendly silence until the judges revealed their scores. Cedric did well despite the accident. Krum did worse, having suffered a penalty for causing the dragon to trample her eggs. Fleur did well, however uncreative and bland her method was. But the true leader was Harry, who'd not only beaten the dragon, but had done so while wowing the crowds, and despite a heavy bias in Karkaroff's scoring, maintained a good lead above Cedric and Krum, falling almost even with Fleur.
As the crowds broke up and drifted noisily to the castle, Jude remained behind at a glance from Dumbledore who was tying up loose ends with the other officials. He ambled slowly in her direction as Madame Maxime and Karkaroff, in a heated debate over some contested point, headed after the crowd to the warm confines of the castle.
"A great showing for our school," Dumbledore began in greeting. Jude nodded wearily, yet pleased as well with the outcome of the First Task. "Mr. Diggory and Mr. Potter performed admirably."
Again she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"The next task is set for February the twenty-fourth. It will give our champions a well-earned rest."
"Yes," she agreed fervently, relishing the fact that she too would have until February to forget about it all.
"You are aware that the school is hosting a ball this Yuletide season for our guests." She nodded dully, wondering if he was about to get to the point. She couldn't guarantee her full attention for much longer. "I will require the presence of my entire staff at the event." He glared a bit harshly at her, emphasizing the word entire.
"But Professor, I planned to spend the holiday with…" she stammered ungracefully, forgetting herself for a moment. It was not like her to talk back to a professor, let alone to Dumbledore. He held up a hand to silence her.
He smiled kindly. "I know you would rather be anywhere else but in the same room with certain of our guests. But I would not ask such a sacrifice if I didn't deem it necessary. I would be grateful if you would accept." It didn't sound like he was giving her another option. She nodded dutifully and accepted without any further protestations.
He slapped his hands together. "Splendid!" he exclaimed gleefully. Turning to the opening in the tent that served as the grand entryway, he asked if she would be accompanying him back to the castle. She declined politely, begging leave to wish Charlie a safe trip back to Romania…and to fume over this new torture that awaited her on December the Twenty-fifth. Instead of chipping the ice off of her civil relationship with her brother, she would have to waste her holiday sucking up to the insipid Madame Maxime and skirting a confrontation with Karkaroff.
Watching Dumbledore round the corner and pass from her sight, she kicked the nearest bench and swore passionately. The impact of the hard wood on her numb and frozen foot was blinding, but she ignored it and limped off to find Charlie to bid him as friendly a farewell as she could manage.