Chapter 17: Of Secret Meetings and Support

"Are you going on the Hogsmeade visit, Harry?" Hermione asked him the Saturday before the First Task. "It might do you good to get away from the castle for a bit."

"Sure," he said. "Not like you need to convince me…" He frowned. "What about Ron, though? Don't you want to go with him?" Hermione flushed slightly.

"Oh… well… I thought we might meet up with him in the Three Broomsticks."

"Ah, an ambush," Chrys said knowingly.

"No—not an ambush!" Hermione denied. "I just thought you could talk over a few butter beers and—"

"No," Harry said firmly.

Hermione sighed. "Oh Harry, this is so stupid—"

"I'll come, but I'm not meeting with Ron, and I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak."

Chrys snorted. "You don't think that's overdoing it a bit, Harry?"

He glared at her. "Oh all right then!" Hermione snapped. "But I hate talking to you in that cloak, I never know if I'm looking at you or not…"

"Plus, you look sort of like you're muttering to yourself," Chrys added.

"Yes, Chrysanthemum, thank you for reminding me."

"Just pretend you're talking to Chrys," Harry suggested.

Chrys nodded. "And if my voice sounds an awful lot like Harry's, and is floating somewhere to my right, I'll just say I've learned ventriloquism."

A few people flashed their Potter Sinks badges at Chrys as they walked down from the castle, but she and Hermione were much less amusing targets than Harry, so they were mostly left alone.

Hermione kept squinting at the air whenever Harry talked, trying to find him.

"Come on, please just take your cloak off for a bit, no one's going to bother you here."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said. "Look behind you."

Chrys watched as a woman in silky green robes stepped out of the Three Broomsticks. She was talking to a wizard holding a camera.

"Ah! Chrysanthemum Potter!" The woman said as she spotted her. She didn't spare Hermione a glance. "I don't think we've met—I'm Rita Skeeter."

"…Hi."

"Shy, are you?" Skeeter grinned like a crocodile. "There's no need with me, I'm quite a good listener, you know. It must be difficult—your brother getting so much attention when you aren't—" She pulled a notebook and quill out of her pocketbook so fast they blurred. "—How do you feel about that?"

Chrys strode through the door without a word. She heard Skeeter scoff behind her.

"I think you've offended her," Harry said in her ear.

"Yeah, well…" Chrys maneuvered around a couple of patrons at the bar as they looked for a seat. It was packed today. "She offended me first." Harry chuckled. Chrys stumbled over something.

"Oi!" A wizard who smelled strongly of alcohol grunted. "Apologize when you step on someone's foot, girl." He stood up and took a step closer to her. Chrys tensed.

"Sorry."

"What's that?" The man grunted. "Can't hear you!"

"Then maybe you should step outside and cool off!" A voice snapped. Chrys turned to see the landlady of the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta, standing near them with her hands on her hips. "Get out of my pub, Perkins—before I throw you out!" Perkins grumbled, but left. Rosmerta turned to Chrys. "Sorry about that, love—you alright?"

"I'm fine. Thanks, Madam Rosemerta."

She smiled. "My pleasure." She looked around at Chrys, and Hermione who was hovering awkwardly next to her. "Two butter beers?"

"Er, three, please," Hermione said. "We're… meeting someone."

"Three butter beers, coming up," Rosemerta said. "And I think there's a table in the corner."

Chrys and Hermione went over to the table where she pointed.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Chrys repeated. She wasn't. Her heart was thumping for some reason.

"Well… if you're sure, why don't we take this time to go over our H.E.R.S. agenda?"

"Yeah, sure, Hermione."

Hermione took out a notebook where she had been recording all of her research.

"You know," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe I should try to get some of the villagers involved." She looked around the room.

"Yeah, right," Harry said. "Hermione—" He stopped as Rosemerta came over, placing the three butter beers at the table. Chrys paid. As soon as Rosemerta left again, Harry's hand appeared out of thin air and picked up one of the hot butter beers, disappearing a moment later with it. "Hermione, I'm still not sure you're coming at this the right way."

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, eyeing him warily.

"Well... you're sort of..." The third butterbeer disappeared as Harry pulled it underneath the cloak. "...Scaring people away."

Hermione sniffed. "If they're scared, maybe they're not the type of people we want involved!"

"I guess..." Harry said uncertainly.

"Unfortunately, it's people who are scared, people like the school governors, people like Fudge, who have the power," Chrys reminded her. "I'm not saying you need to be best mates with them, but if you could get a few of them to at least hear you out..."

Hermione sighed. "I know. I know we need people like them to pass the policies I want to put through, but we're not even at that point yet. We need more traction, more support if we're going to bring these ideas to people in power. And for that we need a more detailed agenda, something more actionable..."

Chrys leaned her elbow on the table. "It would be easier if we could actually speak to some house-elves… wish I knew where the kitchens were."

"Still working on Fred and George?" Harry wondered.

Chrys sighed. "They won't tell budge. And I've checked the map—" The Marauders' Map was a map their dad and his friends, Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew, had developed of Hogwarts when they were back at school. It had been confiscated some time before they left, but Fred and George had found it years later, using it for a while before passing it on to Harry and Chrys last year, without even knowing of their connection to it. "—But it doesn't show up, so I'm guessing it's unplottable for some reason."

"Hogwarts in general is supposed to be unplottable," Hermione reminded her. "The Marauders were able to find a way around that, but not this room in particular. Which means the Kitchens are extra well protected. Have you asked Sirius or Professor Lupin about it?"

"I mentioned it, but he gave me a really vague answer," Chrys said. "Reading between the lines, I think he wants us to figure it out for ourselves."

Hermione made a thoughtful noise. "Well, that only makes me more determined, I suppose. Although, I'm running out of ideas. What about you, Harry?"

"Uh-huh," Harry said distractedly. Chrys looked around and spotted Cho Chang sitting nearby with her friends. Clearly, Harry hadn't heard a word they had just said.

"So, Hermione and I are moving to America to train dragons how to tap dance," she continued. Hermione stared at her.

"That's nice," Harry said. Hermione giggled. "...What?"

"Oh look!" She pointed. "It's Hagrid!" Chrys looked up to see Hagrid leaning over, talking to Moody. Hagrid had a giant sized tankard next to him, but Moody was drinking from his hip flask. He'd told them during their last lesson that he preferred to eat and drink stuff he prepared himself when he could, to give 'the enemy' fewer chances to poison him. If she hadn't known him, Chrys would've just thought he liked the look of it. The hip flask fit well with his scared face and wooden leg. Chrys froze as Moody suddenly looked at them. He whispered something to Hagrid and then they both walked over.

"Alright, Chrys?" Hagrid said loudly. Chrys gave him a weird look. Why was he speaking so loud? Was he drunk already? "Hermione?"

"Hello." Hermione smiled up at him.

Moody bent down in-between Chrys and Harry, examining the H.E.R.S. notebook.

Then he whispered, "Nice cloak, Potter."

Chrys stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"Not you," Moody growled quietly. "Your brother…"

Chrys glanced at Hermione, who appeared not to have heard anything. She was chatting with Hagrid about what the cold weather was doing to the skrewts—he was hoping they would hibernate.

"Can your eye—I mean, can you—?" Harry stammered.

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks." Moody smirked. "And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you." He straightened up and turned to Hermione. "So what's this H.E.R.S. about, Granger?" Hermione started to tell him excitedly.

Hagrid grinned, and bent down. "Chrys, Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak," he said quietly. He straightened up and raised his voice, "Nice ter see yeh, Chrys, Hermione." He winked and left, Moody with him.

"I wasn't finished explaining," Hermione said disappointedly.

"Why does Hagrid want to meet us at midnight?" Harry wondered.

"What?" Hermione said.

"He said he wanted to meet me and Harry at midnight," Chrys told her.

Hermione's eyebrows went up.

"Does he? I wonder what he's up to? I don't know whether you should go…" She looked around nervously and leaned in closer. "It might make you late for Sirius." Harry frowned.

"Well, I could go meet Hagrid while you speak with Sirius," Chrys suggested. He blinked.

"You're sure?"

She shrugged. "I would like to say 'hi,' but it's more important that he speak to you than me." She tilted her head. "Also, I'm curious about what's gotten Hagrid so excited."

That night she pretended to go to bed early, around half past eleven. She slipped on the Invisibility Cloak and then came back downstairs. She passed by the Creevey brothers, who were trying to charm a stack of Support Cedric Diggory badges to say Support Harry Potter instead. Chrys had tried to help, but had only managed to get the text stuck on Potter Stinks!

She waited by the portrait hole for a moment. Then it swung open and Harry stepped inside as they had planed. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Good luck," he whispered back. "Stay safe."

"Me? Of course, I'm always safe."

He snorted and shook his head.

It was very dark, and Chrys kept tripping over rocks and sticks as she crossed the grass down to Hagrid's hut.

As she got closer, she could see more clearly. Light flooded from Hagrid's windows, and the windows of the Beauxbatons carriage.

She knocked on Hagrid's door.

He opened it and looked around. "You there?"

"Yep." Chrys stepped in and pulled the cloak off her head. She wished Hagrid had a mirror so she could stand in front of it and watch her head seemingly float around. "It's just me, Harry couldn't make it," she told him apologetically.

Hagrid nodded. "Shame 'bout that, but… I think yeh'll enjoy it more than him anyways." He smiled down at her. Then she noticed Hagrid had tried to comb his hair again—the broken comb was stuck in his hair—Chrys sympathized. Also, he was wearing a giant green flower in his buttonhole. "Got summat ter show yeh. It's a real treat."

"What is?" Chrys wanted to know.

"Come with me, keep quiet, an' keep yourself covered with that cloak," he said, which raised more questions than it answered. "We won' take Fang, he won' like it…"

"Like what?"

But Hagrid wasn't paying attention to her. He was already striding forward with his giant strides, leaving Chrys to fling the cloak back over her head and hurry after him into the night.

Hagrid stopped in front of the Beauxbatons carriage.

He knocked three times.

Madame Maxime came out, wearing a beautiful silky shawl. She smiled.

"Ah, 'Agrid… is it time?"

"Bong-sewer," Hagrid said. He held his hand out and helped her down the gold steps onto the grass. They started arm and arm past Madame Maxime's horses—which Chrys would still like a closer look at, but apparently that wasn't going to happen tonight.
What was happening? Was Hagrid on a date? Good for him, but why bring Chrys with them?

"Wair is it you are taking me, 'Agrid?" Madame Maxime asked, still smiling.

"Yeh'll enjoy this," Hagrid assured her. "Worth seein' trust me. Only—don' go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'possed ter know."

Chrys loved knowing things she wasn't supposed to know.

Apparently, so did Madame Maxime, because she fluttered her eyelashes and promised she wouldn't say anything.

Chrys was getting her workout in, jogging after the two of them. They walked around the perimeter of the forest. Finally, Chrys heard men shouting somewhere up ahead. And then there was a roar.

Hagrid led them around the bend.

Chrys gasped, and then quickly clamped her hands over her mouth… but no one appeared to have heard her, and she didn't blame them—there were more important things to be paying attention to.

Four dragons were fighting against their keepers in an enclosure up ahead. Her heart beat fast as the dragons roared and breathed fire. Their scales, fangs, and talons glinted in the light. Chrys recognized two of the dragons from books she'd read.

The silvery blue dragon with the matching blue flames was a Swedish Short-Snout.

The green dragon that appeared to be fighting back less and roaring more quietly was definitely a Welsh Green.

Chrys had no idea what the other two were.

There was a red one with golden spikes around its face—very Gryffindor—and a black one, which was the largest and had a rather spikey tail.

There were about seven wizards to each dragon—trying to get them to settle down—pulling at chains connected to straps around their necks and legs.

They didn't appear to be having much success.

The large black dragon screeched—its yellow eyes swiveling as it looked for an escape.

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" A familiar voice shouted. Chrys tore her eyes off the dragon to look at the wizard closest to their side of the fence. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

It was a warning, but his tone sounded impressed too. Chrys realized why she recognized the voice—it was Charlie Weasley!

"Is'n it beautiful?" Hagrid said softly.

"It's no good!" One of Charlie's colleagues shouted. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!" They all pulled out their wands and he counted. "One! Two! —"

"Stupefy!" The wizards called out. The dragons were showered in red sparks. The flames suddenly went out, and the black dragon landed with a thud that made the trees around them shake. The dragon keepers quickly went to look over each of their charges, making sure their chains were securing connected to pegs in the ground.

"Wan' a closer look?" Hagrid asked Madame Maxime. Chrys couldn't tell if Madame Maxime was as excited as Chrys and Hagrid were, but her face certainly looked determined. She nodded, and Hagrid smiled widely and they walked up to the fence.

"All right, Hagrid?" Charlie said, panting. "They should be okay now—we put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet—but, like you saw, they were not happy, not happy at all…"

"What breeds have you got here, Charlie?" Hagrid asked.

"This is the Hungarian Horntail," Charlie said, of the giant black dragon, which was closest to them. "There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one—a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-grey—" Chrys grinned to herself, proud to have gotten those two correct. "—And a Chinese Fireball, that's the red." Charlie looked over at Madame Maxime, who was walking further along the edge of the fence, to get a look at the others. "I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid." Charlie frowned. "The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming—she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?" Chrys briefly felt bad about her immediate plans to tell Harry when she got back to the tower—and then she remembered Harry had been unwillingly entered into this stupid tournament, and decided if anyone deserved to know, he certainly did.

"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em." Hagrid shrugged, still staring at the Horntail in awe.

Charlie shook his head, smiling a bit. "Really romantic date."

Chrys didn't know about romantic, but she certainly found it impressive.

"Four…" Hagrid noted. "So it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do—fight 'em?" Chrys winced. As cool as they looked, she didn't want Harry to have face them, especially alone.

"Just get past them, I think," Charlie said. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty—" That's good. "—Extinguishing Spells at the ready." Extinguishing Spells? Oh no. "They wanted nesting mothers." Double oh no. "I don't know why… but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's just as dangerous as its front, look." He pointed. Chrys took a longer look at the spikes. Yep, Harry was definitely getting the Horntail. No doubt about it. Five more dragon keepers walked up to the Horntail, and carefully placed large gray eyes next to her in a basket. Hagrid moaned. Charlie gave him a look. "I've got them counted, Hagrid… how's Harry?"

"Fine." Hagrid was still staring at the eggs.

"Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot." Charlie grimaced at the dragons. "I didn't dare tell mum what he's got to do for the first task—she's already having kittens about him—how could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was an age limit!" Charlie did an oddly good impression of his mother. "She was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him. He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!"

Chrys rolled her eyes. Surely, Mrs. Weasley didn't believe that waffle… then she remembered how big a fan Mrs. Weasley had been of their DADA teacher in second year Lockhart, who had turned out to be a huge fraud under the layered on charm. People liked a bit of flash, she supposed—she just wished it didn't come at Harry's expense so often.

She checked her watch. She had fifteen minutes before Sirius' head was due to pop up in the common room fireplace. She should get back before then so she could tell them about the dragons.

She ran up through the dark, trying to remember if anything she'd read about dragons would actually be helpful about sneaking past them.

And then she crashed into someone. She lay on her back, her hand over her mouth trying to stifle her panting breaths, her glasses hanging off one ear.

"Who's there?" A voice called out. Chrys sat up slowly, making sure the cloak was still covering her. "Who's there?" It was Karkaroff, looking around suspiciously. Chrys sat very still and quiet. Karkaroff bent over, maybe thinking he had hit a dog or something. Then, seeing nothing, he snuck along the edge of the forest towards the dragon enclosure.

So, three out of the four champions would soon know what they were up against. It didn't seem fair to Cedric, Chrys thought as she continued up to the castle.