Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and mineng101 for their work on this story.
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Authors Note:
Hello again. Sorry for the long delay on this chapter. It was supposed to be out a couple of weeks ago, but this chapter really fought back with a vengeance, and I wanted to make sure it was up to snuff.
A lot happens in this chapter, so I hope it is a satisfying beginning to the tournament itself, something I know many of you have been eagerly awaiting.
"Speech."
'Internal Dialogue.
Parseltongue.
French/In Story Text.
Memories.
Chapter 24: Let The Games Begin.
Harry made it through the remainder of the weighing of the wands ceremony only by numbly allowing himself to be led through the motions. His eyes rarely left the figure of Gabrielle, who looked more and more nervous as the proceedings progressed. When the last picture had mercifully been taken, Harry began his path towards Gabrielle as a modicum of emotions crashed through him. Halfway to her though, he froze, as one thought reared its ugly head.
'What if her being Veela is the reason you feel this way? What if it was never a genuine friendship?'
Harry Potter was many things, but even he knew that chief amongst them, he was a Gryffindor through and through and he could honestly say that, despite the terrors of his still young life, he had not truly been scared many times. This thought however, and more so, its implications, terrified him perhaps more than anything else had ever done so before.
Gabrielle was his beacon of light in the all consuming darkness that had been his life since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire but in reality, she had been that beacon since the death of Sirius all those months ago. If their friendship had been a lie, if it was magic that had been compelling Harry to trust Gabrielle implicitly… he did not know what he would do with himself, and he was too afraid, far too afraid of that possibility to hear it now.
When he was about halfway towards her, Harry changed directions on a dime, pivoting quickly and instead marching straight out of the door, not giving Gabrielle time to even call after him.
When looking back on this day in her later years, Gabrielle would be proud of her composure. It took a great effort to fight back the tears that threatened to pour from her magnetic blue eyes, but, surprising even herself, she managed it. Her relationship with Harry had not come without its fair share of pain. Watching him talk about his godfather and the manner in which he had lost the man had been one of the most painful things Gabrielle had ever endured, but now, as she watched the boy she could honestly say that she was at least beginning to love make his exit from the room, taking with him a vast number of implications that terrified Gabrielle beyond belief, she could say that the terrible stab of pain in her chest put to shame that night spent in The Room of Requirement.
Without thinking, Gabrielle made to move towards the door, but she did not make it near it before she felt a hand close around her arm. She turned, locking eyes with ones that were oh so similar to her own, eyes that would be identical if they were just a few shades lighter.
"Let him go." Fleur advised her softly, her voice carrying none of the venom that usually laced it when she spoke of the fourth champion.
"Fleur, you don't understand." Gabrielle hissed in rapid French.
Fleur pursed her lips. "Don't I, little sister? I don't understand what it is like to feel alone, to feel betrayed? We both know what that feels like, and we both know that running after him would be foolish. One of us is just too stubborn to admit that fact."
Gabrielle wanted to argue, wanted to do so more than she could remember wanting to do anything before. Unfortunately, there was a very large part of her consciousness that was screaming at her how bad of an idea that was. There was, of course, another portion of her that was screaming that Harry had a rather appalling track record in terms of handling stress, but still, Gabrielle could not will herself to rush after him and risk losing her friendship.
If not for occlumency, Gabrielle would have promptly lost the battle with her tears right then, as with every step away from the room Harry took, it felt as if he was taking just one more piece of her with him.
Harry did not know what to do with himself in the days that followed his parting from Gabrielle. Relentlessly, he threw himself head first into his training. This time though, he was conscious of what he could and could not handle. He worked hard, brutally hard, actually, but not once did he drive himself to the point of exhaustion, no matter how tempting the idea was. He worked tirelessly on his conjurations as Dumbledore had instructed, the shields, his current arsenal, and even, for the first time in his life, stole a book from the restricted section with the use of his father's cloak. The book was titled 50 Non Lethal Spells To Win Any Duel. Many of the spells at the beginning were ones he had known for ages, but there were some, like, for instance, Expulso and Confringo that he had not known previously.
He also continued his extra curricular obligations as they pertained to duelling and Quidditch, acutely aware that the opening Quidditch match between Hogwarts and Durmstrang, as well as the first task and opening night of duelling were all fast approaching.
Before he knew it, the weekend was over, and the first task was only a week away. The tournament would kick off that very Friday with the opening Quidditch match. The next day, Saturday, would be the opening night of duelling. Sunday would host the academic tournament's first round, and the day after, Monday, November 24th would be the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.
When Harry awoke on the Monday prior to the first task, he resolutely set his jaw, determined to do something he should have done days ago. Harry, under the protection of his invisibility cloak made his way to the sixth year Gryffindor dorms and slipped in carefully. He located Fred and George's bed easily enough. He approached their beds slowly and cautiously. From what he had read about wards, he gaged that it was possible for a witch or wizard to be able to feel them. At least, it was possible to feel… something — the magic, perhaps, and interpret it correctly.
As Harry crept closer and closer underneath the cloak, he felt nothing, no matter how close to the bed he loomed. Finally, he stood directly in front of the curtains that were drawn over one of the Weasley twins' beds. There's were easy to locate, as there were boxes stacked beside them, likely containing joke prototypes and ingredients. Harry pointed his wand at the curtains and obediently they parted. He did not stay long, he simply dropped a note onto the twins' bed, raised his wand to close the curtains, turned on his heel and made his exit, only hoping that the rest of his plan would play out how he hoped it would.
Gabrielle waited at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall just as she had done every day since the weighing of the wands. She had hoped, once more, that Harry would come, but once again, she found herself disappointed. Two others did make themselves present though, and Gabrielle was not sure if their appearance brightened her mood or just reminded her painfully of Harry.
"Good morning, madams." Said one of the twins with a wink before turning to Gabrielle and getting on his knees theatrically.
He was joined by his twin a second later, who held out a rather plane looking envelope to her. "Madam, it would be our absolute honour if you could present this to your sister."
Gabrielle blinked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously as most of the amusement at their shtick left her. "My — sister?" She asked carefully. They nodded. "'ow do I know zat zis does not contain some sort of prank, or 'ex?"
The twins looked at each other with identical grins. "She knows us well, doesn't she?" The first asked.
"It does appear that way, doesn't it, brother dear?"
They both turned to her. "We'll swear an oath!" They said as one, but Gabrielle sighed and shook her head.
"No, no; zat will not be necessary." She sighed again, plucking the letter deftly from the hands of twin number two as she looked down at them critically. "Two questions: One, can you pleaze stand up? People are staring..." The twins grinned even wider, but they did oblige her and got to their feet.
"Your wish is our command, your highness!"
Gabrielle winced, remembering the day that Harry had referred to her by that exact term.
'You're a coward. Go and talk to him.'
'No, I am simply cautious.'
'And that caution will cost you what you want the most.'
'Shut up!'
"Second question. Why do you want me to give zis to my sister?"
"Because she wouldn't trust us." They said in perfect unison.
Her friends giggled, and even Gabrielle cracked a grudging smile. "Touché. Let me rephrase zat. Why do you want to get somessing to my sister at all?"
They looked between each other for a moment, seeming to internally communicate before the first twin smiled mischievously. "That's for us to know…"
"And you to find out."
"We promise…"
"It's nothing sinister."
"Just please — make sure she reads it."
Gabrielle sighed for a third time. "Ok, ok, I'll make sure she reads it." The twins both bowed one final time and made to sit further down the table, but Gabrielle called out. "Wait!" They turned, both raising the same eyebrow at the exact same time. If Gabrielle had been in a different state of mind, she probably would have marvelled at the feat. "Where's 'arry?"
The twins both seemed to deflate as one as soon as she asked that question. "Right this second, we're not sure." Admitted the second twin.
"He's ok though, we promise." Said the first.
"Yeah, we've been keeping an eye on him. He's not in the common room very often, but when he comes back, he looks perfectly fine. A bit tired, mind you, but nothing that's not normal."
Gabrielle nodded. They had essentially confirmed her theory that Harry was spending much of his free time in The Room of Requirement, as he had called it, but it did not seem, to her great relief, that he was exhausting himself this time around. She had tried to get into the room once, but it had not budged and out of a mixture of certainty that the room would not let her into his variant of it, and fear at how that interaction would play out, she had not gone back.
"Ssank you." She said sincerely. They both nodded, sad smiles plastered upon their lips.
Fleur had been rather baffled when Gabrielle had presented her with a letter that she insisted Fleur read. Her confusion had only grown when the names at the bottom were both unfamiliar, as well as completely ridiculous.
Madam Delacour,
We have a most important matter to discuss with you that involves the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.
If you could kindly meet us in the abandoned classroom nearest the Great Hall at 7:30 this evening, it would positively make our day!
Your loving admirers,
Gred and Forge.
Fleur hadn't the foggiest of ideas who "Gred and Forge" were, but their promise of information, or at least discussion about the first task had interested her. On the other hand, she was more than aware that she could be walking into a trap, but her sister had seemed quite confident she was not, and Fleur was sure she could handle a couple of lustful teenage boys if that was the case.
She rounded the final corner and spotted the classroom in question. Instantly, she sensed a ward. She reached out with her magic, trying to feel the magic at play. The ability to "feel" or, as Gabrielle called it, "listen" to magic was a veela ability. Naturally, Fleur was not nearly as gifted with it as Gabrielle, not truly being a veela, but she had enough hints of their magic to decipher wards as rudimentary as these. A proximity ward tied in with an unknown, though admittedly powerful privacy spell.
Slowly and deliberately, Fleur stepped forward, slid the door open, stepped inside, and dispelled her disillusionment charm.
"Good trick, that." Came a vaguely familiar voice. As Fleur looked to its owner, she froze, her eyes widening as her face contorted in a snarl.
"You!"
"Me." Said Harry Potter, a perfectly blank, perfectly pleasant expression on his face.
She rounded on him, just barely fighting the impulse to draw her wand. "I should just eliminate you from ze competition now." She snarled. He merely raised his eyebrows.
"I would prefer you didn't try, if I'm being honest."
Her eyes flashed. "I would 'ave preferred you did not cheat your way into ze tournament! I would prefer you did not 'urt my sister, but-"
"Don't!" His voice came out strained, sounding rather akin to that of a wounded animal.
Fleur frowned at him disdainfully. "Why not? You clearly do not care?"
He pressed his eyes tightly shut, holding his hands to his temples for several moments that seemed rather painful before he spoke. "I fucked up!" He admitted. "I shouldn't have ran off, okay? It was immature and stupid, but…." he trailed off, wanting to say so much more that Fleur would not understand. He shook his head. "Now isn't the time." He got out. Fleur was, if nothing else, rather taken aback by the look of sheer agony that had flashed in his eyes during their last string of conversation.
"What zen?" Fleur asked hotly. "You 'urt my sister and are attempting to cheat through ze tournament, I'm not going to 'elp you."
For the first time in their conversation, Harry looked offended as an ugly scowl crossed his face. It did not suit him. "I didn't enter the tournament, and I don't need, nor do I want your help."
Fleur's eyebrows rose. "Oh? What zen?"
He took a long, deep breath before looking up and meeting her eyes for the first time. Fleur suppressed a shudder. His eyes, hidden behind those horrible glasses were shining, shining a pale, emerald green that seemed almost ethereal in nature.
"The first task — it's dragons."
There were several long moments of awkward silence. Then, Fleur laughed. She could not help it. The idea of fighting dragons was so completely ridiculous that she could not even comprehend it. But the Potter boy was not laughing. He was simply standing there, ashened faced as he continued to look into her eyes. Then, without warning, his wand snapped up from out of nowhere, and he was speaking, but not an incantation.
"I, Harry James Potter, swear on my blood, my magic, and my life that I am telling the truth to Fleur Delacour about the first task of the Triwizard tournament. So mote it be."
Slowly, when the boy did not keel over dead, Fleur came to what was, without doubt, the most terrifying realization of her life. More terrifying than when she had realized her baby sister was a veela; more terrifying, even, then when she realized from a young age that she would have to go through the hardest part of her life virtually alone.
"You-you're not j-j-joking, are you?"
He smiled a sad, sympathetic smile at her. Even after the crude, borderline vindictive remarks she had made towards him, he still genuinely looked sorry for her. "Sorry, I really wish I could tell you I was."
Fleur's jaw fell open. She stayed in that position for about five seconds before she exploded into obscenities, though Harry could understand nothing due to it being in French.
"Care to translate?" He asked her with a smirk.
She paused, seeming to forget how upset with him she was as she seemed to shrink an inch or two. "'ow could your ministry be so stupid?" Fleur asked incredulously. "'ow could zey let us — let you — a fourteen year old boy fight dragons."
"For one thing, I doubt they planned for me being in the tournament. For another, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think we have to fight the dragons, per se."
"What do you mean?"
"The first task usually seems to have the champions get past some kind of magical creature to retrieve something." He shrugged. "My guess is that we'll have to get past a dragon and steal its eggs, but I could be wrong."
'For both of our sakes, I hope you are wrong.'
Loathed as she was to admit it, however, his words made a shocking amount of sense.
"'ow do you know zis?"
"I saw them. There's four of them locked up in the forest, though for your sake, I'd suggest you don't go looking. Trust me, you don't want to get lost in there."
'Four dragons, one for each champion.'
It all made sense.
She did, however, have one more question for the fourth champion.
"Why are you telling me zis?"
Harry looked up at her, meeting her gaze without a tremor. "I'm telling Cedric and Krum, too." He informed her. "With the exception of two people, there is nobody in the world who I would let face those dragons without being prepared."
Harry sidled into the Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom deliberately after everybody else. He had hid out under the cloak to assure this was possible. He wanted so badly to speak with Gabrielle, to clear everything up, but he couldn't. His heart practically beat out of his chest every time the thought crossed his mind. When he entered, he felt her stare upon him, but he could not will himself to meet it. It would only be painful for him.
When Harry took his seat near some Beauxbatons girls who he did not know, Moody started the lesson, a rather uncharacteristic smile playing on his lips.
'He would take pleasure in this, wouldn't he?'
"Well, for you Hogwarts lot, I hope you've spent the last week of your lives preparing for today in every moment you haven't been practicing CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Most of the class jumped. "For those of you from Beauxbatons, this might be a nasty shock to you, but if anyone doesn't like it, if they'd rather learn what it feels like when a dark wizard casts the spell on 'em — be my guest. The door is that way." He pointed with a gnarled hand. "I'm sure, for those who don't know what's going on that you've figured out that it has something to do with the unforgivable curses, since Madam Maxime wanted you lot in on those lessons.
"Today," he said with way too much interest for Harry's liking. "we're gonna be finding out if any of you have what it takes to resist The Imperius Curse." The class was dead silent except for the Beauxbatons students who were not Gabrielle or her friends, whom Harry had informed about this a week ago rapidly muttering in French. "No objections?" Asked Moody.
No one dared to raise their hand.
"Right," he said, rubbing his hands together. "any volunteers?"
No one raised their hand.
"Alright then," his eyes scanned the attendance list. "Longbottom, you're first."
Neville was pale and shaky as he stepped to the front of the class and Harry could see his knees shake. Moody slowly and deliberately drew his wand, aiming it slowly at Neville before he incanted, "Imperio."
Slowly, Harry saw the changes wash over Neville. His back straightened, his arms relaxed, and his eyes blanked. To Neville's credit, there were several times during the ridiculously complex gymnastics routine that he certainly would have never managed without magic that he did hesitate, something that Moody said was "damn impressive" but he was never able to truly shake the curse.
On and on, Moody went through all of them and for an agonizingly long time, no one managed nearly as much as Neville. Josephine, Gabrielle's friend hesitated for a second on the first command, but from that point forward, she was firmly under Moody's thumb. Finally, when there were only a few people left in the room who had yet to be subjected to the curse, Moody's eyes found Harry. "Potter, you're up."
A sort of hush fell over both the fourth year Gryffindors as well as the sixth year Beauxbatons students. Harry actually took the time to roll his eyes as he made his way up to the front of the class.
'Seriously? The Beauxbatons crowd are gonna do that too?'
Harry's heart raced as he took his spot in front of Moody, a grim, determined look upon his visage. He had been as excited for this as he had been nervous. It would be a good test; a real test.
"Imperio." Said Moody, aiming his wand at Harry's face and suddenly, Harry felt all of his worries about Quidditch, Gabrielle, the tournament and Voldemort wash away as if they were never there at all. This was bliss. He felt weightless, felt as if his consciousness was just floating in the air, watching his body from the perspective of an observer.
"Jump onto the desk."
Harry's knees bent as he loaded up to jump, but as he did so, a small, persistent voice that sounded a lot like Hermione's made itself heard.
'Wait! Why would you do that?'
Harry's knees straightened.
'Because he told me to.'
'Yes, but it's rather pointless, isn't it?'
'Uh, I guess.'
"Jump onto the desk." Moody repeated.
His knees bent again, though this time, they stayed bent for only a second.
'It is a bit ridiculous, isn't it?'
"Jump onto the desk!" Moody demanded forcefully.
"NO!"
As Harry shouted the last word aloud, his knees buckled and he fell forward, gasping for air as he took long, deep breaths as though he had survived a near drowning.
"THAT'S MORE LIKE IT!" Thundered Moody. "You all see that? This boy fought it! He god damn fought it and guess what? He beat it!" Moody offered Harry a hand up. "Good work, Potter. Now, again, and I want everyone to watch his eyes. It's all in the eyes."
The second time, Harry had little to no issue resisting the curse. He threw it off on Moody's first command, something that earned him a round of applause from the gathered students. No matter their current feelings towards him, they had almost all felt the weight of the Imperius curse, and seeing a fourteen year old boy casually shrug it off was absolutely awe inspiring.
On their third run through, Harry had some more trouble. It took until the third command once more before he managed to resist. He just felt so tired, so drowsy. His brain felt like mush and on the fourth run through, he only half resisted the curse, slamming knees first into the desk as he tried to stop himself from jumping in mid flight.
"Zat iz enough!"
The voice had come from one of the Beauxbatons students, and after a rather terrifying moment of realization, Harry saw that it was Gabrielle. She was pale and positively shaking with anger.
Moody appraised her. "I don't think you've gone yet, have you?" She shook her head. He shrugged. "I'm trying to show all of you what it's like to resist the curse and what it's like when one's will is worn out, but if you think you can make as good of an example as Potter, you're welcome to take his place."
She did not hesitate.
Gabrielle gracefully slid from her seat, through back her sheet of silvery blonde hair and marched to the front of the room with her head held high. As she drew near Harry, he felt a sort of heat around her, as if the very air was super charged with her anger.
'Veela — birds of fire.' He remembered from his recent research, deciding that taking a seat was probably his best option.
"Imperio." Moody said, aiming his wand at Gabrielle. "Crouch." He commanded, and after a moment, she did so. Moody ordered her back up, and she stood. He turned to the class, seemingly out of suggestions.
"Dance!" Cried out one of the boys from Beauxbatons.
"Déshabille-toi" Called out another, which caused the boys to cheer in agreement and the girls to gasp.
Then, Gabrielle's face split into a satisfied smile as she merely twirled in a simple pirouette. "Pass." She declared brightly, and the class, as well as Moody, fell silent.
"You were never truly affected, were you?" He asked, sounding approving.
"Non." Gabrielle answered simply, and the boy who had called for Gabrielle to strip in French suddenly went pale.
"One more time!" Barked Moody, looking up at the clock and realizing their time was running low. "To prove it!"
True to her word, when told to perform a backflip, Gabrielle just smiled at Moody before politely declining, something that drew her even more applause then Harry. Then, the bell rang, and when Harry felt Gabrielle's eyes search him out, his heart leapt into his throat, prompting him to quickly slip through the crowd and out of the classroom.
'I'm sorry, Gabrielle, but I'm just not ready.'
"GOOD AFTERNOON LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND WELCOME TO THE FIRST QUIDDITCH MATCH OF THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!" Lee Jordan's magically amplified voice had never rung through the Hogwarts Quidditch stadium with as much excitement as it did so that Friday. The stands, magically expanded to fit more students, staff, and even outside observers were packed to capacity, and the students of Hogwarts who had not attended the Quidditch World Cup had never experienced tension like this.
"In today's match, we have all four houses of Hogwarts putting aside their rivalries to let the best of the best represent the school in an effort to topple Durmstrang academy and its seeker, Viktor Krum!" The Hogwarts and Durmstrang students jeered at one another, which carried all the way to the dressing rooms, where Harry and his team were standing in a line at the mouth of their exit, waiting to exit onto the pitch. Harry had not said a whole lot, really. He had simply instructed the team as sharply as he could manage to focus on the game and not its star player, and that Krum was his to deal with.
"And ours!" Chorused the twins with manic grins.
Harry couldn't help it. He smiled back. "And yours."
"And now, the teams!" They heard Lee boom. "First, representing Durmstrang academy, I give you Blakonov, Petranova, Barkov, Ivanova, Karaganov, Dimitrov, aaaaand Viktor Krum!" Even Lee, who would undoubtedly be calling the match with a fair lot of Hogwarts bias could not help but exclaim Krum's name with absolute adoration. The Durmstrang players shot out onto the pitch, looking like seven bloody blurs in their crimson robes.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to your Hogwarts team!" All four houses, including Slytherin, exploded with approval, and Harry felt goosebumps rise up his body as he shuddered.
"Fleet, Weasley, Weasley, Johnson, Davies, Leclare, aaaaand Potter!" One by one, Harry watched his teammates disappear out onto the pitch in front of him until, finally, his name was called and he stepped out onto the pitch himself, shooting up into the sky with an absolute ecstatic grin upon his face.
'This is heaven.'
The two teams landed at center field and it took Harry a moment to realize that, as captain, he had to step forward.
'Damn, it's so weird — this was Wood's spot.'
"I expect a clean game from all involved." Warned Hooch. "Captains, shake hands." Harry, who had been looking at the ground before looked up and met Krum's gaze with such an intensity that the other boy's eyes widened. They shook. It was firm, tight even, but neither tried to crush the hand of the other like Harry had seen happen on a number of occasions. "Players, mount your brooms." And with a sharp blast on her whistle, the game began.
"And they're off! Dimitry seizes the quaffle at once for Durmstrang. Man can that kid fly! He dodges a Weasley, dodges Johnson and passes to Karaganov — OH! Beautiful interception from Leclare! Leclare streaking up the pitch, passes to Davies. Davies fakes Barkov, passes to Johnson, who's cut off by a bludger from Petranova…"
'Evenly matched, it seems.' Thought Harry as he and Krum circled high above. He knew that Krum was an extremely traditional seeker, one who looked to implore what was called the vulture. Essentially, Krum would circle as close to center field as possible, high, high above the game and watch for the snitch.
Harry, on the other hand, was a bit more unorthodox.
"And it's Karaganov streaking up the pitch. Karaganov passes to Dimitry — OH! What a beautiful move from Dimitry, who passes to Ivanov. Ivanov to — NO! Potter, the seeker swoops in from out of nowhere and steals the quaffle! Bet you weren't expecting that, were you, Krum?"
Harry had been handling the quaffle since the end of second year in practice. He had realized, or more precisely, Wood had realized he had a gift for chasing. Upon experimenting, they realized that Harry caught the snitch just as well while multitasking as he did while it was his singular focus. It was not illegal for seekers to handle the quaffle, though it was done quite rarely. Seekers had only combined for a handful of goals in the last ten years of international Quidditch, and it was considered so risky it was not worth attempting.
As such, the chasers, who had all been in a hawkshead formation were rather taken aback and nowhere near ready to jump back to cover Harry.
"Potter's going in all alone, leaving both sets of chasers behind him! Man, this kid can fly! Potter dodges a bludger, dodges Petranova, a bludger from Barkov and oh my! Potter fakes around Barkov and he's in alone on Blakonov! Seeker vs keeper, we don't see this often folks! Potter's in close, fakes — shoots — and scores! 10-0 Hogwarts!"
The crowd erupted as Harry rose back out of the action to search for the snitch again, smirking at Krum, who merely quirked an eyebrow in return.
It was like no game of Quidditch that Harry had ever played in before
It was fast and intense, but in a different way to when Gryffindor played its arch nemesis — Slytherin. The brutality of the game was driven by competition, by desire, and by pride. It was not done so through hatred, bitterness and prejudice. Harry thought it was a rather nice feeling, but that feeling didn't last long, as Pavel Dimitry pulled off an incredible move to get by George and score Durmstrang's first goal of the match.
In response, Krum smirked at Harry.
'Well played.'
"And it's Hogwarts back in possession of the quaffle. Roger Davies carrying the quaffle for Hogwarts. Davies to Leclare, back to Davies in an instant, Davies, back to Leclare, to Johnson, Johnson goes around and — ugh! She takes a bludger to the shoulder and off goes Ivanova. Ivanova passed to — oh! Leclare intercepts again and lobs to a diving Harry Potter, who is well behind the chasers off the cherry pick. Potter in alone on Blakonov again — scores! 20-10 Hogwarts!"
Harry rose into the air and smirked at Krum once more. The next time they flew past each other, Krum bumped his shoulder. "Focus on the snitch." He warned gruffly.
Harry just smiled.
The game was played at such a speed that Harry could only intervene so much. Fortunately, his team was more than capable. Durmstrang scored the next two goals, but then Hogwarts came back with three; two from Roger and one from Angelina, making the score 50-30 to Hogwarts. Durmstrang and Hogwarts exchanged goals next, bringing the score to 60-40, but then Hogwarts struck quickly twice more, and Krum called his team's timeout.
As the Hogwarts team landed, they were all smiles, though Harry did not fail to notice the glint of determination in each and every single one of their eyes. "Good start." He told them honestly. "The snitch hasn't shown yet, and I have a feeling it might bide its time. Fred, George, focus on the chasers, but if there's a break, fire a few bludgers at Krum, will you? He's just sitting in the vulture position the whole damn time."
"With pleasure!" They chorused.
"Watch for the modified Hawkshead with Dimitry at the point." Warned Lillian. "They seem to like that setup, and Dimitry is very dangerous."
Harry nodded. "They're all very good, but they don't work together the way you three do."
Hooch was signaling to Harry that the time was up, and Harry gave her the thumbs up to continue the match, hopping onto his broomstick and shooting skywards once more.
Durmstrang came out guns blazing.
"Dimitry slices through the Weasley twins, dodges Johnson, finds Petranova; Petranova back to Dimitry, to Petranova, to Karaganov — scores!"
Harry cursed. Lillian, their best defender had been taken out of the play, and after getting past the twins, Durmstrang had taken advantage of that fact.
Krum smiled.
Durmstrang scored again, then Hogwarts struck back, and then Durmstrang scored three times more. The score was now 90-90. Harry realized what they were doing. There was always a Durmstrang beater focused on Lillian, which made it nearly impossible for her to dive in and break up plays. He knew it was Krum's idea, and Harry thought it was time to spice things up for the other seeker. Krum had been having it a little too easily for his liking. He had been attacked more often by bludgers, sure, but they had posed no challenge and Harry quickly realized that if he could somehow rattle Krum, the rest of the Durmstrang team would follow.
Harry caught Fred's eye and dove.
"Oh, and it appears that Potter has seen something that even the great Viktor Krum has not! Krum is hot on his heels! Krum's Firebolt has the distinct advantage over Potter's Nimbus 2000, but Potter's in the lead! Come on Harry!"
Harry took a sharp corkscrew turn. Krum kept up, as Harry knew he would. His turn had taken him right into the path of Fred's well placed bludger. At the last second, Harry performed a perfect sloth grip roll.
'Take that, Krum.'
To his astonishment, the bludger, which he had been certain would be undodgeable for Krum merely streak through empty air, and his heart dropped into his stomach as he saw Krum diving for the ground at top speed.
'Shit!'
Harry was trailing him in a second. Krum's dive was rather more dramatic than Harry's, and he could see him leaning forward, reaching out, could picture his eyes scrunching in concentration.
'Oh, fuck!'
Harry just managed to pull up as his feet skimmed the grass. He had seen, at the last possible moment Krum's shoulder shift, the most subtle of indicators that he was about to lean into a turn.
"OH! WHAT A BATTLE! Potter fakes Krum with a beautiful setup, which Krum turns on Potter, leading him into a death defying Wronski Faint that Potter avoids at the last possible moment! Good god these two are good!"
Harry, coming from under the play decided to take advantage of the element of surprise. He came up behind Karaganov, snatched the Quaffle from his hands and lobbed it up the field to Davies, who quickly managed to score.
The score was now 120-110 Durmstrang, clearly, a lot else had happened during his and Krum's battle.. Harry had a feeling now that the match would not be lasting for a whole lot longer.
"Dimitry, now trying to break out of his own end! Oh, Potter fakes him out and steals the quaffle!" Harry had looked like he was about to rejoin Krum in the sky, but at the last second, he had switched directions, diving like a bird of prey and snatching the quaffle from Dimitry's grasp. He faked a shot, passed to Lillian, who he had seen out of the corner of his eye and dove, deciding it was his turn to try a Wronski Faint.
He heard the crowd roar, and assumed Lillian had scored. Luckily for him, he took a look up to confirm, and his heart stopped.
Though Lillian had indeed scored, that was not what had the crowd on its feet.
Krum, who looked as determined as ever was diving at center pitch, chasing what Harry could vaguely see was a spot of gold in the sky.
"Krum's going for the snitch, Potter's out of position and he has a faster broom; he'll never get there in time. Krum's reaching he's going to — no! What a bludger from Fred Weasley! Catches Krum right in the shoulder and knocks him off course. Now it's heading for Potter, but Krum has readjusted!"
The snitch was flying directly towards Harry. It was still closer to Krum, that gap was closing fast, as the snitch was flying towards Harry at top speed, nullifying the advantage of Krum's superior broom. One of them would either make a spectacular catch, or they would die in a head on collision, as the snitch was almost all that separated them now. It was a straight line race for the snitch.
At the last second, the snitch shot up without warning, and Harry and Krum turned their brooms upward as fast as they could. If it had been any two others, they may have both died in a head on collision at top speed, but though Harry and Krum both felt their flowing robes clash, they made no real contact, both shooting after the snitch, neck and neck.
The world itself lost sound and meaning as Harry raced Krum to the snitch. He had no recollection of Lee Jordan screaming at the top of his lungs while commentating the match.
The snitch flew towards the Durmstrang end of the pitch. Cruelly, the ball decided to fly right through the heart of the chasers. Krum decided to take a less direct, but safer route, dropping his altitude a bit and flying underneath the pack. Harry, on the other hand, lay flat against his broom handle and shot straight through the pack like a javelin, simply turning his broom to avoid chasers as he went. When they came out of the pack. Harry was in the lead, but barely. He thought he would have Krum, at least for a moment, until he had to dodge a bludger and they were neck in neck once again.
The snitch was shooting straight towards the Durmstrang goal post, but Harry and Krum were closing. Krum, who had longer arms and the faster broom, reached out for the snitch, but Harry knocked his hand away and leaned forward to reach out himself, excitement flooding him as his fingers touched the ball. At the last second, Krum grabbed his wrist, pulling it away and reaching out himself. Harry reached across his body with his off hand for the snitch. Him and Krum were both touching it, both fumbling it and then…
BANG!
The next thing Harry knew, he was laying face up on the pitch, his vision blurry as his left shoulder and right wrist positively throbbed with agony. Krum was laying beside him, clutching his right shoulder. That's when Harry realized what had happened. Krum, who had been on his left had slammed hard into the post and hurt his shoulder. Harry, who had been reaching across his body with his right arm had slammed his left shoulder and right wrist into the post.
Then, he felt an odd mix of elation and horror as he felt something struggling in his grasp. At the same time though, to his confusion, Krum stood shakily to his feet, raising his hand, which contained something gold.
Just as the crowd erupted, Harry managed to somehow clamber to his feet as well. He ignored the black spots that danced in his eyes and did his best to hold up his arm too, though it throbbed like hell.
The crowd froze when they saw the same golden… something in Harry's hand.
Harry could hear their mutters now.
'Krum's got it!'
"No, Potter does. Look at his hand!'
'Are they ok?'
'Yeah, but look at Krum!'
And then Lee Jordan voiced the question that was on the minds of everybody in the Quidditch stadium.
"What the hell just happened?"
"Gentlemen, open your hands." Commanded Madam Hooch, who had landed beside them. Obligingly, with terror in both of their chests as neither knew what was going on, they opened their hands. Two perfect halves of a snitch rose into the air, one from Harry's hand and one from Krum's.
'I still don't get it.'
But Lee Jordan did.
"UNBELIEVABLE! In their wild race for the snitch, Krum and Potter must have slammed it into the goal post and broken it in half! Each of them has a piece, the game is tied 150-150. I don't know how the points will be scored now, but I can tell you one thing. This game has ended in a tie!"
Harry did not know how to feel after the match. The consensus was, even from those who thought he was a liar and a cheat, that Harry had done spectacularly. After all, he had just equaled the best seeker on the planet on an inferior broom. On the other hand, they had not won, and he had wanted so badly to win.
Fortunately, or unfortunately for Harry, depending on how you look at it, he did not have a whole lot of time to ponder the game. His injuries — which he later found out to be a fractured collarbone and broken wrist landed him in the hospital wing, and whatever Madam Pomfrey forced down his throat, it knocked him out quickly.
When he woke up, it was night. Clumsily, he reached for his wand and glasses. His hand bumped something else too, but he did not investigate until his glasses were on his face and his wand was in his hand. The wing was empty, and after casting a spell to be certain, Harry found out that it was past eleven at night. Despite the obviously empty room, Harry had the distinct impression that he was being watched.
Shoving that feeling down, he reached for the other object his hand had bumped. It was a neatly folded letter and when he opened it, his eyes widened.
Harry,
I know you are avoiding me, and I can not blame you, since you have all the reason in the world to be doing so.
I still wanted to tell you that I care for you greatly and say that you performed super well today, even though I know you are probably going to be foolishly hard on yourself. I would love to talk, but since I do not think that will happen, I still owe you for helping my sister, and Harry, whatever you think, I still want you to do well and stay safe.
If you can fly with Krum, there's no reason you can not fly with our scaly friends. Just remember the spell you had problems with that weekend after our talk. Fix those problems and you will be fine.
Good luck, Harry,
Gabrielle.
'Good god, that's either the dumbest or most brilliant thing I have ever read in my life!'
And it was then that Harry resolved himself to mastering the summoning charm.
The next few days passed in a blur for Harry.
He beat a Durmstrang student who he did not know the next day in his opening duel of the tournament. Ruslem Ivanova had been extremely fast, extremely accurate and a power house to boot. Unfortunately, those were the only things going for him, as his arsenal was fairly repetitive, and therefore predictable. In the end, Harry managed to distract him with a conjured flock of birds, something that he was rather proud of achieving, before managing a sticking charm on his feet followed by an Expelliarmus to the chest. He had only suffered a small cut on his cheek, which he thought was quite good.
Cedric had been involved in the best duel of the day, hands down. He had taken on Claude Bourdain of Beauxbatons. The boy was clearly more powerful than Cedric, and his attacks were extremely well thought out. Cedric's defense, however, was some of the most sound Harry had ever seen, and he managed to fend off Bourdain's onslaught. They had duelled for a solid half an hour, causing the air in the Great Hall, which had been setup for the occasion, to crackle with energy. In the end, Cedric had managed to outlast his opponent, though neither one of them escaped the clutches of Madam Pomfrey or a stay in the hospital wing as a result.
Their third team member, Abraham Montague, had drawn Gabrielle as his opposition, and Harry had been rather conflicted.
'School or friend?'
It hadn't mattered as it had been a rather one-sided duel. Gabrielle had thoroughly humiliated Montague. He was all offense, no defense. Mind you, he had the largest spell arsenal out of the Hogwarts team, but he had not even been able to land a single spell on Gabrielle. By the end of the duel, he was bound in ropes, gagged, and Gabrielle was twirling his wand between her fingers, smiling coyly down at him. Whatever he had said to her, it had clearly rubbed her the wrong way.
'Damn,' Harry had thought. 'she wasn't kidding, she's good.'
He had beaten Montague during their duels, but he had never escaped unscathed, and often left bloodied and battered.
'She made it look easy.'
Her friend, Sophie, had drawn Igor Volkanovski of Durmstrang. It was an unpleasant duel, but at least it was over quickly. Sophie left unconscious, but it took only a couple of minutes. Harry had glimpsed Gabrielle shooting Volkanovski a death glare.
'That will be an intense duel.'
The next day, Harry had spent its entirety practicing the summoning spell over and over and over again. He was careful not to push himself to the point of exhaustion, but it was a very near miss on several occasions. He was up until past midnight working on the spell and when he woke up the next morning, the morning of the first task, his heart beat unnaturally fast.
That morning, he could not avoid sitting at the Gryffindor table, as his presence was required. As he entered the hall, there was a moment when his eyes met Gabrielle's, but he looked away quickly, choosing to take a seat in between the twins, who guarded him protectively, glaring at anybody who shot even so much as a glance towards Harry.
Harry did not remember what they talked about during the breakfast. He was too focused, more focused than he had ever been in his life. At last, McGonagall, Sprout, Maxime, and Karkaroff stood, and Harry, Cedric, Fleur and Viktor were led out of the castle and down the path through the forest that led to the arena.
"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked him in barely more than a whisper. He had never heard her sound so concerned. It did not suit her.
He managed to force out a weak smile, though later, he would never know how he did it. "I'm okay, Professor. I have a plan."
She nodded curtly, and gestured for him to enter the tent ahead. He nodded just as stiffly before walking forward into the dimly lit tent.
The other three champions were all present already. Fleur had her head down and was muttering to herself. Cedric was pacing determinedly back and forth. He met Harry's eyes and smiled at him as weakly as he had done to McGonagall. He had told Cedric about the dragons the day after Fleur. He had told Krum too, that same day, though the Bulgarian clearly had already known, even though he did not admit it.
Harry, after having a rather odd conversation with Ludo Bagman in which the man offered Harry help, decided to pace back and forwards himself in a corner. He nearly jumped out of his skin a few minutes later when he felt a warm, soft hand rest on his shoulder.
"I did not mean to scare you." Fleur said apologetically.
"It doesn't matter." Said Harry, a bit more quietly than he might normally do.
"You really did not enter your name into ze goblet, did you?"
Harry stared at her. "Of all times to come to that conclusion, you pick now?"
She shrugged. "I have thought not for days, but zat iz not ze point. If you 'ad entered to win, you would not 'ave told me and ze others about ze task."
Harry just sighed. "I mean — you know what? I'm not even going to morally debate that point, I don't have the time right now."
Her face took on a more serious expression. "Will you be okay?" She asked. Harry blinked, taken aback. She had done a one-eighty on him in days. She had gone from detesting him to worrying over him. "Do not delude yourself." She told him. "If you were to be 'urt, Gabrielle would be inconsolable." She glared at Harry. "After zis task, you are going to talk to my sister. Do you understand?"
Harry did not dare disagree, so he nodded. "I have a plan." He said in answer to her original question a few moments later.
She nodded. "I 'ope it iz a good one."
'Well, it's your sister's, not mine, but that's hardly the point.'
Harry was not quite buying that Fleur's only reason for concern was her sister. When he pulled the Hungarian Horntail from the bag of dragons, her face was still more concerned. He did not have to see it for much longer though, as she quickly exited the tent to take on her dragon.
It was agonizing not being able to see what was going on. On the other hand, Harry was not at all certain he would have preferred it the other way, either.
After a time, the crowd roared, and Krum was up next. He seemed to take less time than Fleur, though the crowd made more noise. Cedric took the longest yet, and the crowd seemed rather beside themselves if their screams were any indication. Harry's heart was racing now.
And then the cannon went, and it was time to go.
Gabrielle had been shaking by the time her sister had finished with her dragon. When she had first proposed channeling Fleur's veela magic into music, she had not been sure it would work. They had of course experimented, and it did indeed work, though Gabrielle was unsure if her sister had enough of the gift to charm a dragon.
She apparently did, though she did not leave the arena before causing her sister to scream in terror as her dress was lit by flames.
She had been okay though.
When the cannon sounded to prompt the fourth and final champion, Gabrielle was pressing her hands so tightly into fists that her palms were bleeding. Briefly, she recalled how Harry had done the same thing at the Quidditch World Cup, but she ruthlessly pushed that thought aside as they fell on his opponent.
'How can they let the youngest champion take on the horntail?'
When he walked out though, he seemed remarkably unconcerned. Gabrielle would have been as stunned as the rest at his perfectly blank, perfectly calm visage, just as taken aback by the spark of determination in his green eyes had she not known him.
'This is the boy who killed a basilisk at twelve. This probably doesn't even compare.'
By the time the whistle blew for Harry to begin the task, the blood rushing in Gabrielle's ears had dimmed the commentary completely. She was so focused on him though, that she still managed to hear his opening spell, and she sighed in relief when she finally received confirmation her cryptic message had been understood.
"ACCIO NIMBUS 2000!"
Gabrielle heard some laughter around her from her Beauxbatons compatriots.
"Does the boy really think he can summon his broom from this far away?"
"It's in the castle. What a waste of time."
"Well, say goodbye to the youngest champion."
'Please Harry, please prove them wrong.'
The dragon turned on Harry, but with a swish of his wand and a muttered "Avis" there were birds dancing around the dragon's head, distracting it.
'When did he learn conjuration?'
Then, to the astonishment of everyone gathered, they saw something in the distance, something streaking towards Harry at top speed.
Now, the whispers around Gabrielle were different.
"No way!"
"That can't be-"
"Is that his broomstick?"
"Impossible!"
The birds went up in flames moments later, but by that point, it was all academic. As soon as Harry took to the air, the dragon never stood a chance. Gabrielle had known he was good, even prodigious on a broomstick, but until she had seen him go toe to toe with Viktor Krum, she had not understood the true extent of his abilities.
Quite simply, Harry was world class at the age of fourteen.
This fact did not mean Gabrielle did not watch Harry fly circles around the dragon through her fingers, or that she did not scream at the top of her lungs when his shoulder was sliced open, or that she did not leap to her feet with tears of relief in her eyes when he held the golden egg high above his head.
The scariest moment, however, came once Harry was holding the egg high. The keepers of the dragon had evidently underestimated its aggression. While Harry's back was turned, the dragon spouted fire at the fourth champion. Gabrielle screamed as Harry was thrown from his broomstick. When he landed and put out his robes, he seemed perfectly alright, but his broom, his prized Nimbus 2000, fell to the ground as a pile of ash.
Harry was numb as he walked to the champion's tent. On one hand, he was relieved, perhaps more so than ever before that the first task was over. On another, he felt completely and utterly hollow. His Nimbus had been his first true gift. It was a representation that he was not only a wizard, but had done something right for the first time in his life. It serves as a symbol of everything he loved. It had been a part of his life for so long, and if not for shock, he very well may have sobbed for its loss. When he neared the tent though, his smile did waver, if only for a moment when he saw a tall, slim blonde figure waiting for him, arms crossed.
When she saw him though, not even the blazing look in her eyes could prepare him for what happened next. Bracing himself for a slap, a curse, anything but what happened next, Harry was shocked when Gabrielle charged forward with that blazing look in her eyes, reached out to him, and placed her soft, warm lips on his, causing his mind to go completely and blissfully blank as he melted into the feeling.
Authors Endnote:
FINALLY!
Feels so good to get that moment off my chest, as I've been holding onto that for over a year!
In other news, THAT CHAPTER TOOK ME AGES! I hope you guys like the Quidditch match. I've never seen that done before and quite frankly, I spent days trying to figure out how I wanted to write it. That damn thing took me so many drafts I lost count.
Anyways, things are beginning to heat up a little bit, as is clear to see. The next chapter will likely not be overly long, but it will probably be quite dialogue heavy.
Next chapter will probably be out sometime in the second week, or early third week of March. It shouldn't take me long but quite frankly, after the hell that was this chapter, I'm not touching this story for a week :)
Also, later duelling competitions will be shown in greater detail. None of the opening duels were overly important.
Please read and review.
