"It is dragons," Harry's voice said lowly on Sunday morning at breakfast. Calla turned around, looking up at him quizzically. Hermione lingered at his shoulder.

"I told you so, didn't I?" Calla said hushedly, glaring at him a bit. "What made you realise?"

"Hagrid... Showed me," Harry admitted. "There's five, one for each of us, and they're nesting mothers." Calla groaned. Nesting mother dragons were fiercely protective of their young, and often much more aggressive than male dragons.

"Did you get a look at them?" she asked quietly, budging over next to Daphne to make room for Harry and Hermione. Fleur sent a quizzical look along the table at them. "What breed were they?"

"There was... A Welsh Green, I think, a Chinese Fireball, Ukrainian Ironbelly, Hungarian Horntail and I think the last one was a Swedish Short-Snout." Some of them were more dangerous than others, Calla thought. They couldn't have just put them all on an even footing, could they?

"I'll read up on those then," said Calla. "I only really know much about the Fireballs and Welsh Greens." Then she frowned, thinking of something. "How come Hagrid wanted to tell you and not me?"

"Well, he only caught me yesterday evening and I don't think he would've had time to find you, but he knew I'd tell you anyway, and you'd probably seen it already."

She gave him a withering sort of look. "And you didn't think to say anything?" She caught Daphne smirking into her bowl of scrambled eggs.

"I - well, I didn't know if you did, and I didn't know what he was going to show me until he did. But you knew anyway, but I wanted to tell you that you were right."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. I get it. You got a plan then?" He flushed sheepishly, looking down. Calla huffed.

"Make sure you come up with one, then," she told him sternly, and looked at Hermione as she said so.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reading," Calla told Harry, who wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, exactly. Newt Scamander loves to talk about how misunderstood dragons are and how to deal with them, but not very much on how to fight the bloody things, which knowing this stupid world is what we'll probably be made to do." She huffed. "I'll let you know if I have a breakthrough, alright, but until then..."

"I'll work on it," Harry agreed, getting to his feet with Hermione just after him. "Promise."

She smiled wryly, watching them go. "Did you see Hermione's face?" Daphne whispered. "I don't think she thought you would be right at all."

Calla shrugged. "I wasn't really paying attention to her anyway. But I guess we've got some more work to do."

"A Hungarian Horntail," Isobel whispered over the table. "Those things are vicious, Calla. I can't believe they'd bring one here!"

"I can," Padma muttered darkly into her porridge.

They spent much of the rest of the day working on homework with Daphne, Padma, Terry and Sue, something Calla found herself enjoying much more when the alternative was learning spells to try and fight a dragon with. She got through her entire Ancient Runes worksheet for Ogham, correctly matching the meanings to the symbols, then finished a Potions essay and her Divination chart. It had been a productive day, and she was quite happy with herself when she went down to dinner with them all, chatting happily about their work. "I kind of do wish I'd taken Ancient Runes," Sue admitted to them as they made their way into the Entrance Hall.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you actually had to do the homework," Daphne said - she had not enjoyed their study session as much as Calla had.

Their spell practice session did not go so well. Terry thought it might be a good idea to try a Summoning Charm - "Dragons hoard things in the stories, don't they? Like Smaug does! You might have to get some of their treasure." - and while Calla hadn't been bad at it in class, now she was getting more and more stressed every time she tried it.

"You need to relax a little more," Lisa told her, observing from the top of a desk, and rolled her eyes. "You're too uptight, Potter."

"Am not," Calla muttered, clenching her wand tighter and aiming it savagely at a pillow. "Accio pillow!" It raised a corner as if in a wave, and then slumped back onto the floor.

Lisa snorted. "Told you."

"Shut up, Turpin," Daphne said. She was only even there because they couldn't very well leave her out when Sue and Mandy were both there too. "She's doing her best."

Somehow that frustrated Calla even more. When the next pillow didn't even do so much as tremble, she shoved her wand onto the desk and huffed loudly, slumping into a chair. "This is bloody hopeless," she muttered, head on the desk. "I might as well just offer myself as a bloody sacrifice."

"You'll be okay," Padma told her encouragingly.

"No I won't," she said. "It was working before! I'm just... Ugh!"

Monday morning seemed to go on forever and yet take no time at all. By the time it was the end of break and she was about to head to Potions after a failed Summoning practice, she was ready to fall asleep and not wake up until Wednesday and pray some miracle had let her magically do the first task without actually doing anything. But even in the Wizarding world that was impossible - well, maybe Polyjuice would work, but it wasn't like she could whip some up in twenty four hours, and there was probably something about that in the stupid binding magical contract.

She was heading grumpily to Potions when there was a stumping sound from behind her, and she turned to see Moody, his bright blue eye roaming over her face. Daphne and Padma crowed from next to her. "Potter," he called gruffly across the hall. "A word."

She grimaced; Snape wouldn't let her off so easy as any other teachers but she supposed she ought to see what Moody wanted. "Tell him I won't be long," she murmured to Daphne, who winced in sympathy as Calla went over to Moody. He held the door open to his office and she ducked inside nervously, looking around.

"So, Potter," Moody said gruffly, sitting her down. She looked around nervously; it was quite different than how it had looked when Remus had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and she could feel all the decorations and instruments pressing in on her from their place along the side tables and walls. "Know how you're going to get past that dragon yet?"

She stared at him. "I'm sorry?"

"I know you know about them," Moody told her. "Dumbledore's told me all about your visions, you know," he licked his lips, "and if you didn't see it already, I expect your brother would have told you by now."

She flushed. "Yeah. He has, but - look I know we're not meant to, I couldn't really help it."

Moody grinned at her and leaned over the table. "I'll let you in on a secret, Potter. Every single other champion is willing to cheat and scheme their way to winning. Miss Delacour? She may look like a pretty face, but she's capable of much more than simply looking pretty. She'd jump at the opportunity to see the tasks ahead of time. The others would all do the same, and you can bet they're all preparing right now. So I ask you again, Miss Potter. How are you going to get past that dragon?"

"I... Well, I don't really know."

"A Ravenclaw girl like you?"

Her cheeks heated. "Well, I have some ideas and I've been doing my research extensively. I think a conjunctivitis jinx would work, but I'm not entirely certain I can pull it off. So I'm working on calming charms, cushioning charms, and shields as a sort of a Plan B." Her words all came out in a bit of a rush, but Moody was looking at her like she was ridiculous and she didn't like that.

"Good," he said gruffly. "Charms and shields... You're playing to your strengths, Potter."

She fumbled a bit, uncertain. "Should I not be, sir?"

He grinned. "On the contrary, Miss Potter, it shows a good deal common sense. A damn sight more than your brother showed me this morning." That got a small laugh out of her, and Moody appeared to be satisfied.

"Off with you now, Potter, away to class."

She smiled as she got up and then groaned, turning back around. "Sir, I've got Snape this lesson. Could you write me a note?"

Moody made a grunting noise, and flicked his wand to summon a piece of parchment and quill. He scratched out a quick note, and Calla stared around the office properly. There was a cracked glass Sneakoscope spinning wildly atop a desk table, much like Harry's that he'd gotten from Ron last year, a large mirror with strange silhouetted figures moving within it like shadows, and a strange, tall golden device a bit like a very squiggly television aerial. The mirror and its shadows were what concerned her the most, and she looked away uncomfortably, spine shivering a little.

"Like my Dark Detectors, do you?" Moody asked gruffly, and Calla jumped, turning around.

"Is that what they are?" She smiled awkwardly then got the courage to ask, "What's the mirror do?"

"That's my Foe-Glass," Moody told her. "See them out there, skulking around? I can see them getting nearer. I know I'm in trouble when I can see the whites of their eyes." He grinned twistedly and Calla nodded nervously, wishing that she hadn't asked. "That's when I open my trunk."

"Right," she said, smiling thinly at him. She stood awkwardly for a moment before Moody held out the piece of parchment to her and she took it quickly. "Thanks, Professor. I'll, uh, see you later."

Xx

When Tuesday morning arrived, Calla was running on about four hours of sleep, and very little food, as she felt anytime she ate anything that she was going to be sick. She practiced spells in the dormitory before everyone woke up - which happened when she almost successfully summoned a book, but it hit the side of Mandy's bed and made her shriek - and at breakfast felt oddly detached from the whole of the world, head ringing. "It's because you haven't eaten enough," Isobel told her, shoving porridge over the table.

"I don't think I can eat."

"Well," Padma sighed, "unless your plan to get past this dragon is to play dead, I suggest you eat."

She ate slowly, every bite tasting like nothing and sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. Her mind kept running over every tragic possibility, recounting her Divination session with Trelawney the night before, in which her sudden death had been predicted three times, and she hadn't seen a single image in the fireplace, which she thought was itself a bad omen. They were among the last out of the Great Hall, and it seemed Harry had the same worry as Calla did. They went to History of Magic together in an uncomfortable, nervous silence.

"We'll be fine," Calla said as encouragingly as she could as they went to sit down. Harry grunted dubiously. "We will." She bit her lip. "Do you have a plan?"

"I have half a plan?" He didn't seem to have convinced himself. "Moody reckoned I should play to my strengths. Flying."

Calla sighed. "Well, that'll be great for you! I can't fly."

Harry smiled wryly. "You'll be fine."

She gave him a look. "I hope so."

The class seemed to disappear in an instant, practically flying by. She had no idea what the lesson had been about, but she had managed to draw a very nice looking blue dragon. She didn't think her doodled dragon - whom she had named Barnabus - would eat her. It was already much better than any real one.

Calla's stomach felt like it had been tied in knots, and she had that same sense of foreboding that usually accompanied a vision, except she knew that wasn't what she had to be scared of. At lunch she had barely eaten half a sandwich before Professor Flitwick was hurrying over to her, seeming very fretful and even smaller than usual.

"The champions are to come down into the grounds now, Potter," he told her in a very squeaky, very nervous voice. Calla felt like she was going to be sick as she stood up, earning sympathetic glances from her year mates. "Time to prepare for the First Task."

"You'll be fine," Padma assured her. "We'll all be cheering for you, won't we?"

Everyone along their section nodded in solidarity, and she smiled nervously. Fleur was coming along towards them, accompanied by Madam Maxime, who seemed giant against the tiny Flitwick. Fleur seemed taller than Calla, too; so much older and more experienced. Her head buzzed like a nest of nervous bees. The four of them exited the Great Hall together, Flitwick wringing his hands nervously. Fleur was looking rather pale, though, Calla noticed, and seemed to have lost her usual composure. Rather than making Calla feel better, this just worried her even more.

"Now, Potter," Flitwick said squeakily, "make sure you don't panic. Remember your precise movements in any wandwork, and pronunciate your words, like I've taught you." He looked very worried. That did absolutely nothing to reassure Calla. "There are wizards on hand to control the situation, but I'm - I'm sure all will be fine, yes. Just do your best, as I'm sure you will... We all have faith in you... And all your housemates are behind you... Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said weakly. "I'm fine."

They went on in an awkward, nervous silence as Flitwick led them around the edge of the forest to where a tent stood, hiding whatever was beyond it from view. Dragons. Calla's stomach flipped.

"You're to go in here with the other champions," Flitwick said, voice squeakier still, as Madam Maxime murmured something to Fleur. "And wait for your turn to - to compete." He smiled shakily. "Mr Bagman will tell you the procedure. Yes, Miss Delacour's ready, on the two of you go... Good luck, Calla."

She felt rather disembodied as she entered the tent by Fleur's side. "Calla!" Bagman called in a booming voice, bustling over to her before she could move from the door; Fleur went to stand in the corner of the tent with Cedric and Krum. Cedric was pacing on the spot between muttering nervously, and Fleur looked more nervous than ever, while Krum looked awfully surly. "How are you, my dear, how are you? Seen that brother of yours? Straggling at the last minute, is he? Ah well, best get some energy in him..." He looked distractedly at the tent entrance and Calla took the opportunity to go on her own to a corner where she lingered awkwardly, watching the other three champions nervously and fidgeting as she tried to run over everything she knew about dragons. Despite all the time she and the girls had spent working on it, she still barely knew what to do, or how.

"Potter," Cedric's voice called; Calla startled, looking up. Fleur and Viktor were looking at her assessingly, and she steeled herself when she looked at him. "How are you feeling?" he asked, beckoning her over.

Shyly she made her way to the three other champions, feeling suddenly very short next to them all; they were all adults, and she was fourteen and barely sprouted. A dragon felt like an even more terrifying adversary now. Harry had just entered the tent and was having his hand wrung enthusiastically by Mr Bagman.

"Nervous," she said quietly, wringing her hands. "I don't really know what's expected, and well, you probably know I'm not great at spells." She shifted to her other foot, catching Cedric's sympathetic smile. "But I'm just going to hope for the best."

Cedric gave her a smile. "Well, according to Zacharias Smith, you're going to do great."

Calla smiled, trying to hide her blush. "I wish. I just want to get this thing over and done with; I'm sure you'll all do great."

"Eez your brother friends with Mr Bagman?" Fleur asked suddenly out of the blue, nodding over to where Harry was stood speaking awkwardly to Ludo Bagman.

"Oh," Calla said. "Er, not really. I'm not sure what they're talking about."

Fleur made a hmph sound and shook out her blonde hair. "I have heard very much about that Bagman. You know it is said that he-"

But Calla never got to hear what was said about Ludo Bagman, as at that moment he returned with a slightly green looking Harry in tow. "Right then," he said, clapping Harry on the back. Harry stepped away neatly, coming to rest at Calla's side. She gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head, and gave her a very strained sort of smile. "Now we've got you all assembled, it's time we let you know what you're in for, eh?"

"When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag." He produced a large, purple velvet drawstring pouch, and held it out to them. "From which you will each take a scale model of the thing you are about to face! There are different, em, varieties, you see. And I have to tell you all something else, too... Your task is to collect the golden egg!"

At those words, the champions had all returned to their nervous states. Calla wrung her hands together nervously, eyes darting around the room. Her throat felt awfully tight, and she was glad Harry didn't try to talk to her, because she was sure she would be sick if she had to open her mouth to say anything.

It felt like no time at all when footsteps passed the entrance to the tent, and Bagman had brought his pouch out again, beaming. First he glanced at Calla then Fleur, holding it out to Calla. "Ladies first."

With a nervous glance at her brother, Calla reached into the pouch and withdrew a large, grey-silver dragon with what could only be iron on its stomach. Her heart plummeted. "The Ukrainian Ironbelly," said Ludo Bagman, somewhat nervously. There was a small plank with a number five around its neck, that swung when it levitated into the air off her hand. "Well, you'll be going last then, Potter, give you a bit time to... Prepare."

She could physically feel the blood drain from her face, and thought it was entirely clear that she was about to be sick. She was vaguely aware of Fleur drawing a - much smaller and less terrifying looking - green dragon, then Krum taking a red and Cedric a blue. It took a moment for her to register when Harry reached in and took the final dragon - number four. "The Hungarian Horntail," said Bagman, beaming at Harry. "You've got your work cut out for you there." He looked almost happy about it.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Calla whispered as they started to disperse. At the sound of the cannon, the first competitor, Cedric, was to step out and begin his task. She was glad she at least wasn't first - she'd certainly need time to prepare herself - but the prospect of waiting for so long while everyone else went ahead of her was frankly sickening.

"We'll be okay," Harry said, looking like he was going to be sick himself. "You know what to do, right?"

"With a Ukrainian Ironbelly?" She stared at her brother. "No. I do not!"

Harry pressed his lips together and nervously patted her on the shoulder. "It'll be alright. Once you're out there, you'll be fine."

"Sure," she replied weakly, sitting down. "Absolutely. Fine. Fantastic."

What did she even know about Ironbellys? Scamander wrote about them a little: he'd worked with them before, and they were the largest recorded breed of dragon, which didn't exactly fill Calla with confidence. Stunning spells wouldn't work, and though she'd heard Fleur mention a bewitched sleep, that wouldn't be powerful enough to calm it. If they were intimidating enough to guard Gringotts, who knew what they could withstand? The model dragon was flying around her, but she noted it was slow, slower than the others' dragons seemed to be. Of course, it was larger, and probably heavier, especially with the weight of iron on its stomach. It would still be perfectly able to squash her, though.

She was just dimly aware of the cheers as the other champions went out, not paying attention until Harry stood up from his seat beside her and she snapped her head up. "You're going already?" she asked, stomach churning.

He nodded firmly. "We'll be alright."

"Mr Potter!" Bagman called.

"See you on the other side."

She couldn't bring herself to go out and watch, just cringe at every comment she heard, and the shrieks as her brother just narrowly dodged fire. What was he doing out there? It occurred to her that brooms were extremely flammable. Calla tried very hard not to throw up.

Her little model Ironbelly was still flying around her and she sighed, reaching out her hand. The dragon stopped and glared at her, a puff of smoke escaping from its nostril. She chuckled waterily. "Come sit," she whispered, holding her hand flat. The dragon glared but she looked back with wide, nervous eyes. Another puff of smoke, but slightly less aggressive. "Please?" Even if she could just hold it, it might held her figure out how to tame a life size version. And to her surprise, the little model dragon flew over to her hand and curled itself into her palm.

Calla stared at it. "Oh." She blinked. "Thank you." She stroked its back, scales hard. This dragon was rather slow, and when it moved it seemed weighed down by its tail. That could work in her favour; the tail would be dangerous because of its weight, but if she was quick then she'd have a speed advantage over the dragon. Of course, that wouldn't matter if the dragon simply crushed her. There was a scream from outside the tent and her stomach did a flip. It seemed Harry was determined to take as long as he possibly could to get the egg, and the minutes stretched infinitely until finally cheers went up and she was being called out of the tent dizzily.

The sounds of cheers flooded her head, but Calla was quite sure she was going to faint. Holding her wand tightly, she tried to put on a brave smile, which she was sure didn't work at all. The crowd quietened, waiting in anticipation as she turned to look at the Ukrainian Ironbelly.

It was massive, casting a shadow across most of the transformed pitch. Its eyes were red and its scales looked chillingly impenetrable. She could see that awful iron glint of its stomach. She didn't even have a plan. Tears of frustration and terror sparked behind her eyes, but she was determined not to cry. She did have a plan, she told herself. She'd been preparing, and she had to have faith that she could do this, even if it felt impossible. Harry had done it. Cedric, Fleur and Krum had all done it. She had to be able to do it too. Calla ran over her preparations in her head. Cushioning charms. Shield charms. Conjunctivitis jinx.

Pressing her lips together, she crouched before the hulking creature and looked timidly up at it. The dragon regarded her suspiciously. She shivered, drawing back even as the crowd cheered and screamed for her. She couldn't do this, she thought, breaths catching nervously in her throat. It was too much. She couldn't fight a dragon, and she certainly couldn't fight this one. What were these people thinking making her do this, as if she was at all capable of it? No, she reminded herself again. Come on. Be brave. She'd been brave before, she just had to get on with it.

Her grip tightened on her wand as if that would do any good; the crowd quietened to a whispered nervousness. She looked around, trying to spy the nest of eggs - there. Most of them were silver, or iron as she supposed, but one in the middle was a brilliant gold. That was the one she was aiming for.

But how to get there? She could sneak around - ironbellies weren't built for speed, or for agility - but she was worried of the fire breath, and the dragon was definitely big enough to trample her. Going under the dragon wouldn't work either, and she couldn't sneak, but knew that going on an offensive would be entirely pointless, seeing as she was fourteen and really not magically capable and also facing a massive bloody dragon.

"I - I'm not here to try and hurt you," she found herself saying. If this breed was bred as a guard dragon, it would be well-trained, and perhaps easier to calm down. The ironbelly turned around to consider her with glowing red eyes. Oh, God. She felt sick. "It's alright. If you just let me past..."

She took a step forward and the iron belly dragon opened its maw to belch out a plume of fire. Calla shrieked and leapt back being a tall grey rock, yelling out a "Protego Flammae!" A wall of pale blue went up shimmering around her, and the fire didn't touch her skin. Okay, so trying to persuade the dragon probably wasn't going to work. It was a foolish attempt anyway. Dragons were definitely not known for being reasonable. Another belch of flames and she doubled over, trembling, trying to calm her breathing as the air around her rippled with heat. She needed to come up with a plan, and fast.

The little dragon Bagman had given her had been slow. She forced herself to think clearly. Maybe, if she timed it right and managed to distract the dragon, she would be able to run past it and make a dash. She was a good runner - from years of running away from Dudley and various other life-threatening situations - if nothing else.

"Come on, Calla!" shouted a voice, and she looked up. The crowd seemed nervous, almost as nervous as she felt.

She made the mistake of turning around again to sneak a glance at the dragon, and almost got another hit of dragonfire. With a squeal, she ducked out of the dragon's way and rolled over the pebbled ground. The dragon howled and she dashed over to another rock, trying to come up with something to distract it. She could make sparks with her wand, she supposed, but to direct them away in a different direction from her... She gritted her teeth, and spoke the first spell that came to mind.

"Propelvarie." Nothing happened and she gritted her teeth, holding her wand tighter. "Propelvarie!" Across the arena, weak red sparks flew up, but they did their job and the dragon turned her head. It bounded over, stomping on the ground and narrowly avoiding the rock Calla was hidden behind. The sparks went up again and with the dragon distracted, she took her chance to dash towards the egg.

The dragon stomped its foot and she let out a shriek as it shook the ground beside her, sending her flying and sprawling onto the rough stones. They scratched at her arms and thighs and she hissed in pain as she pushed herself up to stand.

"Right," she said, panting. "Okay. New plan." She didn't have one. "Protego flammae," she said again, erecting a cool and lightly shimmering blue shield before her. "Cool. Fine. You're a dragon."

The dragon hissed, but there was only a little spray of flames, not the plume from earlier. It seemed... Slightly calmer. Maybe even tamer, if she dared to use such a word. The dragon considered her, seemingly placated a little bit now that she'd stopped moving and agitating it. Then she thought of the dragon from earlier, the little one that had crawled into her hand when she asked. Hagrid always said they were seriously misunderstood creatures, and hadn't little Norbert been sweet sometimes when he wasn't almost burning the hut down? The dragon was only protecting its eggs. She had to show that she wasn't a threat. She needed to keep it calm.

"I'm going to need you to work with me here," she said gently, as gently as she could without her voice breaking. It was the way she might speak to Matilda, that soothing and sweet way. The dragon cocked its head to one side as Calla pleaded with every part of her for the dragon to relax. She held her hands up, stowing her wand in her pocket with the tip just poking out and pointed in front of her. The shield flickered, and her stomach churned. She had to be careful.

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered, making her way closer; the dragon didn't seem to have a negative reaction, so she tried again, concentrating as best as she could on keeping her shields up. They were her main plan now; she wasn't going to try and put any spells on it and risk angering or threatening it. She knew her strengths, she reminded herself, concentrating on keeping her body language open and gentle. "I'm not going to hurt you, or your eggs." The dragon snarled but didn't move to hurt her at all. She didn't kid herself that it could truly comprehend what she was saying, but she had to keep any hint of a threat out of her voice.

"And you're not going to hurt me, are you? We can be friends, darling. You're a very gorgeous dragon." The dragon relaxed just a little, shoulders falling from the hunched position they had been in. She crept closer to the nest, never breaking eye contact with the dragon. She made a point to move slowly and softly. It definitely wasn't calm or trusting, but it wasn't striking out at the moment. "See that gold egg? That isn't yours is it?" It still didn't blink. It was watching to make sure she didn't hurt its own eggs. Smart dragon. She kept her hands above her head, showing that she wasn't going to try anything. "See," she said, "I'm not here to hurt your children."

The dragon snarled and lunged forwards, the momentary connection broken - or maybe it had merely been waiting for its chance to ambush her. Calla shrieked and made a mad dash towards the nest, fingertips scrabbling against the edge of the egg nest just as cold, sharp claws wrapped around her torso, lifting her up in the air. She shrieked, kicking, and tried to twist around. That was a mistake; her eyes fell onto the ground, as she was swung around by the dragon, screaming. Oh, this was all going so horribly wrong. The world seemed to be slower below her, shuddering like ruined video footage. Her stomach swooped, and she was amazed she didn't throw up. This was exactly why she didn't like heights.

"Let go!" she yelled, but the dragon seemed to have no intention of doing so. Calla's head spun.

She kicked back out at the dragon's long leg, beyond the claws, trying to put out another spell, which was again ineffectual. A string of curses rolled off her tongue, and she pulled her elbow down to try and shove at the dragon's claws. A horrid clanging feeling went right through her funny bone and she hissed. That had been a mistake.

Soon enough, either the dragon would drop her and break her neck, or it would roast her alive. Her mind scrambled, and as a last resort she tried to put out a calming spell. It did nothing; the dragon roared and Calla screamed, yelling out a "Bombarda!" towards a rock. Nothing happened, and she kicked back again, head spinning. She could hear people shouting, but their voices were distorted and she couldn't tell what they were saying.

It was time for a new plan. Think, she told herself, but it was very hard to do so when she was several feet in the air and being held a murderous dragon. Even if she got the dragon to drop her, she'd still get hurt in the fall. "You have to let me down!" she yelled at the dragon, which did not respond except with a roar. It plodded over to the other side of the arena, and Calla swayed nauseously in the air, almost being slammed into the wooden stands. A first year shrieked as Calla's leg went through her SUPPORT CEDRIC banner.

The sound seemed to stop the dragon momentarily. She seized the second of confusion to aim another "Bombarda!" at a nearby rock, causing the dragon to turn sharply and drop her in the process. Flailing suddenly, Calla tried a Cushioning Charm, just as her wand slipped from her hand. Her shield flickered before her and she squeezed her eyes shut, bending her knees as she went crashing into the ground, only just managing to land on the balls of her feet, before stumbling over and falling onto her knees. Pain surged through them, hot and searing. She could feel the sting of sharp stones poking through her trousers, and her whole head felt like it had been put on wrong, but she was alive, and nothing was broken. Probably. Maybe her elbow. Her glasses were gone though. Everything around her was blurred, and she couldn't quite focus on anything. Gritting her teeth, Calla reached out for her wand with a trembling hand, pulling herself over the stones towards the egg, and dragging herself eventually to her shaky legs. The dragon was facing away from her, its tail a few feet away. The world seemed to move in slow motion; the dragon turned furiously as Calla made a mad lunge forward, grabbing the golden egg and darting away. She clutched the egg tightly to her chest.

"I've not hurt your eggs," she told the dragon as it turned to her. Of course, it didn't seem to care at all. "See? I've only got this one, and it's not yours."

The dragon breathed a plume of fire towards her and she instinctively yelled, "Protego!" A flimsy blue barrier erected itself, just strong enough to let her run. She was slow, though, body ringing with fear. The dragon's tail whipped out before her and she tripped over against the hard, solid iron. Her legs gave out and she trembled as she tried to shove herself to her feet. Her head felt heavy, and from the tingling feeling in her cheeks she thought the dragon might have caught her there, too.

"I'm not hurting you or your eggs," she panted, trying to breath as she turned. She really needed her glasses; she couldn't focus on the dragon, nor could she make out anything in the stands. Her chest was in pain from where she'd fallen on her ribs. The judges were near, she just needed to get herself and the egg safely out of the arena. "Be still a moment." She looked firmly at the nest and the dragon, though it narrowed its eyes, turned too, and slowly but surely moved towards its eggs.

She wasn't taking any chances. Calla hauled herself further over the stones, legs scraping. It hurt, and she was sure she would have an awful lot of bruises, but right now she just wanted to get out of there. She ran faster than she could ever remember running before, holding the egg in the air as she fled the arena. The dragon handlers rushed in to take her place as the dragon roared.

She could see the figures Daphne and Padma running over, though she could hardly make out their faces until they were right before her and they pulled her away to a different tent.

"Cal!" her brother's voice rang out and she tried to make out his face next to her. He held her arm. "Cal, are you alright?"

"No," she said hoarsely, letting herself be led over to a makeshift hospital bed. This had been a terrible idea. Her stomach gave a painful lurch and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Hurt... Everything."

"Dragons!" Madam Pomfrey's voice cried as she bustled over. "Dragons! At a school! I told Dumbledore, I told him this would be no good! Now look at you!" She set about dabbing some sort of cool paste onto Calla's legs. "Where does it hurt, dear?"

"Everywhere."

"You've got a little burn on your cheek, and that elbow's red."

"Yeah, I think... I hit it on the dragon." Madam Pomfrey tutted. "Did anyone get my glasses?" Calla asked dazedly, as Madam Pomfrey put something foul smelling on her cheek.

"Um, I'm not sure," Harry told her. "I'm sure they will have somewhere."

"If that dragon's stood on them... I can't believe this. No, actually, I can." She groaned and slumped back against her pillow, only to be pulled back upright by Pomfrey. "I bet I'll be last."

"The judges'll give you your marks soon," Harry told her quickly. "Do you think you can get up?"

She shook her head. "You," Madam Pomfrey told her, "aren't going anywhere until I say so."

It was a few moments before Charlie Weasley cane into the Hospital tent, grinning and holding a repaired set of glasses. Calla sighed in relief and took them; her vision cleared immediately, and the familiar feeling of them sitting on her nose was oddly comforting. When she managed to get herself stable on her feet, quite some time later, she went outside into the sunlight with her brother, Daphne and Padma. Hermione and Ron were both lingering by the judges' table, and though Calla frowned at Ron's presence, she decided to say nothing until Harry did. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

"I'm alive," she said tightly, rubbing her sore shoulder. Madam Pomfrey had done a good job, though.

Dumbledore went first, and Calla watched as he raised his wand and sent a shimmering blue number six up into the air. "Six!" Daphne said, clutching Calla's arm. "That's not bad!"

"What did you get?" Calla whispered to Harry, but Hermione shushed them as Madam Maxime sent her own blue number five into the air.

"Not bad," Padma said encouragingly. "You're running at an eleven for now."

"Yeah," she muttered, "out of twenty."

A moment later, Karkaroff was raising his own wand; a bright blue number three went up into the air. "Three?" Daphne said indignantly. "Three!"

"It's fine," Calla whispered, shushing her. It wasn't like she had done well, though such a low score did unsettle her.

Ludo Bagman lifted his wand, sending a number six spiralling into the air. The final mark was from Crouch, a slightly sad blue number five and she calculated quickly in her head. The two sixes made twelve, the two fives a ten, and then three was twenty six. That wasn't good necessarily, but she had technically passed, if she put it into a school context. And she supposed she'd had time to get used to failure. "Where does that put me?" she asked Daphne sullenly.

"Well, Harry and Krum are joint first on forty-one," Daphne said nervously, as she guided her back towards the medical tent. Calla's heart sank, though she tried to be happy for her brother. "And Cedric's third I guess, he's got thirty nine, and Fleur has thirty, so you're... fifth." She winced, and Calla sighed. She meant last. "But Karkaroff was totally biased, he marked you really low!"

"I did rubbish, Daphne. Even if Karkaroff had given me the same marks as Dumbledore did, I'd still be last," Calla said, though it could have been worse. She could have been dead.

"Just you wait," Daphne said, with some very misplaced confidence. "End of the next task you could be second, and end of the third, I bet you anything you'll win."

Calla laughed weakly, flushing. She knew Daphne was wrong, but she liked that she'd said it to try and cheer her up anyway. "We've to speak to Bagman," Harry told her, steering her away in the other direction. "In the champions' tent."

"Right," Calla said. She felt a little better going in now than she had the first time, and with the terror of the approaching task gone, the tent looked considerably more inviting. Though she really wasn't sure she wanted to know what the next task was, and she didn't want to see everyone else considering how awfully she'd just done in comparison. Fleur, Cedric and Krum all came in together, and Calla smiled weakly at them. A thick orange paste covered the whole side of Cedric's face, presumably from a burn.

"Good one, Harry," he said, grinning. "And Calla."

"Yeah," she muttered, looking up. Fleur glanced at her sympathetically, which made frustration prickle at her.

"Well done, all of you!" Bagman said, beaming as he bounded into the room. "Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth - but we're giving you a little bit of homework to set your minds to in the meantime. If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open... see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg - because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"

Calla was rather subdued on her way back to the castle, not least because everyone seemed to be cheering for Harry, and she couldn't get out of her head the number twenty-six. The worst mark in the Tournament. She didn't know what she had expected, but it still stung to know how terribly she'd done. No matter how she'd prepared, when it came down to it, she'd freaked out and let her nerves get the better of her. Barely anything had worked how she'd wanted it to, and she'd been so scared. Lisa was right, she thought. She had over-thought it, worked herself up and convinced herself in all her planning that she wouldn't be able to do it. She hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She'd just have to be better. There were still two more tasks, and at least she had more time to prepare for the next one.

It still felt like an impossible task. Although Calla knew there was no point in resenting her brother, she left him with Ron as soon as she saw the opportunity, and went to the castle alone, ignoring Rita Skeeter calling after her. She didn't want to talk right now. She'd failed, because of course she had. All she wanted was to be on her own and have a bit of a pity party.

When she returned to the common room, her house gave her a half-hearted applause and she sighed as she went upstairs, desperate to get changed into different robes. She set the golden egg down and looked in the mirror when she got in the dorm; her hair was a mess, there was a cut on her cheek and a bruise forming near it. But it could have been worse, she reminded herself with a heavy heart. She sat down on her bed, and Matilda padded over; Calla picked her up gently, appreciating the familiar weight on her lap. "You're alright, girl," she said quietly. "You're much nicer than a big iron dragon."

Matilda gave a superior sort of mew, and Calla chuckled as she took the model of the dragon out of her pocket. It snorted and let out a puff of smoke; Matilda immediately started swatting the air in an attempt to catch it, and Calla found herself smiling. Yes, she thought. Cats were much nicer than dragons.

She would have been quite content to remain alone with her cat and a book after all the drama, but it seemed no one wanted to let her be on her own. Padma, Daphne and Isobel dragged her down to dinner shortly after she got back to her dorm. They kept up an excited run of chatter, greatly exaggerating everything Calla had done well and conspicuously leaving out every part where she'd failed. She sort of loved them for it.

Author's Note: Okay, this chapter was a STRUGGLE. I couldn't decide how I wanted it to go and kept changing things and then when I was finally satisfied with what actually happened, I'd changed it so much that it just felt really choppy and I had to fix that. I've also recently gotten the news that a close family member has just passed away from coronavirus, and I am very much all over the place right now. I'm still working on this, of course, but updates may be less regular for a while, so please bear with me on that.

Nevertheless, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and please, please, stay home and stay safe.