"It's a nice day today, isn't?" Four asked, as she took a moment to smile and give a slight wave to the crowd.
"Yeah. Yes." Harry wasn't up to much of a conversation it seemed.
Was the Boy-Who-Lived scared of a single Utautai? Well, it was a fair enough response. It wasn't like he had a prayer of winning. In the first place, it was pretty mean spirited of One to suggest this kind of competition.
Four loved it.
"Holding up okay? I know this round is a bit difficult, but we only went forward with it because we believe in you. You can definitely win, so keep your chin up!" she encouraged.
He actually looked a little more confident. As if this whole thing was actually about them. Humans really were arrogant little shits. Or maybe he was just stupid? Oh well.
"Yeah. I'm okay. I just hope we start soon."
Eager to get humiliated, huh?
… Well, he had brought a broom, unlike the others. She was a little leery about what exactly Gabriella had told him. Leading him to pick her as an opponent was strange, to say the least.
After all, she hated Four. It was a bit pathetic, really. Just so jealous that One loved them more than her.
"Don't worry. One will start the match right as we begin. It's just polite to make sure you're ready first," Four smiled.
"Right," Harry said, "then you can go whenever."
"You don't want the first move?" Four questioned.
"To what? Waste a bunch of spells while you're singing?"
Well, one of them had finally figured that out. But then again, even dogs would figured it out after seeing it over and over. So he was maybe around that level?
"You don't need to be so rude about it," she scolded, "but you do have the right idea."
She took a step forward, pulling forth a mock orange flower from her pocket.
"Don't hold back, but don't act rashly either! Whether you succeed or not is – ".
"Begin." One cut in.
"-all up to yoOOoooOOOO-uuuuuUu-UUUuuuu!"
Four watched her opponent flinch as she began to call forth her angel, a jarringly and outrageous scream that no doubt cut deeper than her sister's voices, and had to suppress a smirk. One's timing was as good as you'd expect from her, too.
Maybe Four was a little predictable? Or One just knew her too well. But that's how sisters were supposed to be, so no worries.
Harry gripped his broom tightly, and hurried to get some distance between them.
"Behold, the Fourth song: Impenetrable Shield of Antiquity!"
The usual light-show that always showed up when the Utautai decided to get serious shone like the world's tackiest strobe light. At least green was easier on the eyes – unlike certain other colors. Yellow, for instance.
It's like Five wanted everyone to go blind. She ignored the fact that none of them had chosen the colors associated with their power.
"The rare power granted to our own! The stout citadel that protects us! Cast your blighted sins across these very skies!"
Cutting loose always felt great! Finally getting to show off how powerful she really was. Enough of these wizards looking down on them! Inviting them to Hogwarts? As if. They should be grateful that One thought they were useful enough to bother with.
It was satisfyingly ironic – that they were all bent to the Utautai's will without even knowing.
It wasn't exactly moral, but it's not like they'd chosen to have their voices. It wasn't a crime to be born was it?
So, obviously, they weren't doing anything wrong!
"I, Four, summon thee in my name!"
Her fist clenched tightly, held at chest height, face adorned with an eager but gentle grin.
She couldn't wait to see the stupid look on his face.
"Armaros, uphold."
From the flowing concentric circles on the ground, a single green portal solidified.
A dozen wyverns pulled forth, tearing through the air like creatures a tenth their size. Gargantuan chains the thickness of their torsos trailed behind, pulled in their claws with a slavish devotion.
Ten, twenty seconds passed. The seemingly endless chains finally drew to a close, revealing the thing they were raising.
For all their size and numbers, the circle from which they emerged was tens of times larger than necessary for just the wyverns. Several times, even, the size of the one from which Two's angel had emerged.
It was pretty obvious why, when a castle started to rise from the ground, ramparts alone towering into the stands.
Armaros was the reason the arena was so large in the first place, and even then it seemed to barely fit the constraints of One's barrier. Certainly, no dome-shaped shield would have been large enough for it.
After all –
The wyverns carrying it strained even harder, as Four's voice took a deeper note of urgency. The bottom of the walls were finally becoming visible as they reached the ground.
And then left it.
– Armaros was a flying castle.
Four offered a smile down from her battlements as her angel rose into the sky.
Is that little broom going to be enough to reach me?
That… yeah, that explained why Gabriella told him to bring his broom. It was a very good thing he didn't have to actually take that down.
Cedric and Viktor had focused on fighting through to the goal – to grab the flower the Intoners brought into the arena with them, but that wasn't a choice here.
Probably not a good idea, either. What, was he supposed to blow up a few dozen castle walls? In the sky?
No thanks, mate.
But Four really had been a good choice, right?
A massive castle flying in the sky, pulled by dragons, too, was pretty impressive – but what was she going to do, drop it on him?
As long as he could fly well enough, this would be a cinch. Dragons were… well, dangerous, but they were chained to the top. Go from below, and go fast. Just like Quidditch.
Well, just like Quidditch if he was a Keeper or something. Seekers usually came from above. Close enough. Honestly, he felt a little guilty taking this match from Viktor, that would've been amazing to watch.
"What are you waiting for? Come on up. The breeze is wonderful in the sky," Four's invite echoed gently.
Shaking off his consideration, Harry mounted his broom. That was a challenge if he ever heard one, and to hell with ignoring it. If she seriously thought he couldn't fly well enough to land on a castle, she had another thing coming.
The commentators, having mostly kept to idle chatter and pointing out details the less knowledgeable members of the audience might have missed, like the kind of potion Viktor had used, how effective each spell had proved, seemed skeptical as well.
"Surely there's more to this Armaros than simple size. If this is her only advantage, Mr. Potter will almost certainly succeed."
"Ah, but the Intoners haven't disappointed yet! Perhaps a maze? Always a classic, imagine – a giant labyrinth inside a flying castle! Is that not an astonishingly appropriate challenge for our dear champions? Why I do believe that may be exactly what Four has prepared!"
McGonagall dismissed him, "I highly doubt that."
"Erm, why, exactly?" asked a crestfallen, and somewhat dumbfounded, Bagman at her blunt denial.
"One's barrier does not include a spell to see though walls, nor did she ask we prepare such. Do you think she expects our guests to stare at the battlements the whole match?"
"Ah… well, yes, perhaps the clash will take place in the sky then," he coughed.
In Harry's humble opinion, Bagman was a bloody idiot.
The wind howling in his ears, the thrill of daring maneuvers, and the biting chill of high speed flight – honestly, he'd missed flying. It wasn't like he got a chance to practice over break, and with no Quidditch, there'd been no practices either.
But of course, not a year went by where he wasn't almost killed on at least one game per year. So it was pretty nostalgic, when, as he had just begun to pull under the flying castle, a thin green film washed over him and his broom began to immediately pull up. Hard.
"Woah!" he cried as he did his best to force it back down. At first it seemed to respond, but as he got further down, the resistance increased.
After a few seconds, he was pushing with all his might and barely making any progress – rather, it snapped back, completely out of his control. An overwhelming force set him in a path, as he desperately looked around for any way out of… whatever was happening.
What he saw was a spiraling, translucent tunnel, winding up to, and around, the walls Armaros. No matter how he craned his neck, he couldn't see the end of it.
"Oh! Looks like we're about to find out! Keep your eyes peeled!"
Harry really wanted to snap at that guy.
As he reached the center of the tunnel-like magic, the unstoppable force that was yanking his broom hard enough it felt like his hands were about to fall off suddenly vanished.
All of a sudden he had full control of his broom again, and he nearly botched it by flying straight into the magic wall again when the loss of resistance made him jerk down.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he set to figuring out what to do. What he could do, even.
When he'd accidentally jerked down just now, he'd started to feel the resistance from earlier, and now that he was at the center, all his control was back.
So, an incredibly long, magic tunnel that resisted any turning and forced him into a set path. He might be able to go backwards, but if turning gave the same resistance, he'd definitely get knocked off his broom.
Forward was all that was left then. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized he had played right into Four's hands.
That sinking feeling turned to a spike of adrenaline that rivaled his run in with dementors on the Quidditch field when cannons peaked through the dozens, if not hundreds, of windows along the castle walls. Maybe worse, honestly. Harry wasn't Viktor Krum, but he was confident in his flying. Really confident. Being able to fly freely definitely helped stir his courage.
Being almost completely unable to control his flying, on the other hand, made it so much worse.
Harry shook off the sense of helplessness. It wasn't like that. Even if he could barely control where he was going, he still could control it.
"Good luck!" Four cried out, a strange tilt to her voice, as she echoed her older sister's earlier sentiment.
"Oh ho – looks like the Boy-Who-Lived is in for a bind! Four's secret weapon is showing its face! Cannons, and magic to funnel him right into the firing line!"
Not like his life was at stake or anything. Arse. Just more people making Harry's life a spectacle – even if this was, technically, a spectacle.
Fueled by spite, Harry's mind raced in the scant moments he had before the waves of cannon fire began. There was a kind of clarity that only dawned in life-threatening situations, and it was one that he was pretty familiar with.
…
Yeah, he probably had a way through this.
Veering down at a sharp diagonal, the wind whipping, strangely… frayed, he supposed, from whatever Four was doing, Harry clenched his teeth – to make sure he didn't bite his tongue off trying this – and prayed it would work.
Not a moment too soon, either, because a bloody cannon ball wreathed in hazy green almost blew him off course.
A second later, he slammed into the magical pathway's wall, but this time at an angle. Not perfect, but if he could bounce right…
Almost…
Abruptly, just around the point where he would lose control entirely, Harry pulled up sharply to the left. Sure enough, the rebound was most intense right before it took complete control of his broom – so…
If he pulled up at the perfect time…
Harry shot off like a bullet, a bit slower than he expected, but it wouldn't matter if this worked. He flew straight for magical tunnel walls, moving almost twice as fast as before. The rest of the cannon barrage had already passed, thundering through as though the barrier trapping him didn't even exist.
The first round had missed, but he might not get that lucky the second.
Pulling up as close to perpendicular as he could, Harry forced his way through the first few waves of repulsion with ease.
The next few, however, were a nightmare. The closer he got, the harder the push-back was. He knew that, in his head at least, but it was so much worse in reality. His arms felt like they were about to go flying off, and he was clenching his broom tightly enough that his hands were screaming in protest. Even that wasn't enough for him to feel confident that he wasn't about to get blown off.
Just a little more…
He was so close. His broom was slowing to a crawl, but all he needed was another few inches!
Almost! Go!
Harry could taste it!
"That's clever, but it won't work, you know?" Four asked.
Wha-
He stopped.
Half a meter, maybe less. He hadn't reached it.
In a half-blind panic, Harry glanced up at the cannons targeting him, expecting a barrage to be barring down on him, only to do a double take.
Absolutely nothing. A completely clear sky.
Why weren't they firing?
Was she… what, just going easy on him? Did she just stop firing? Was she bloody serious?
From over the battlements, he could just barely make out Four, staring down on him. She was too far away to make out any details – no expressions or even anything clearer than her identity – but even still, he could envision a smug look on her face.
It probably wasn't really there, and he had never seen any signs of Four being that kind of person, but there was an undeniable nagging feeling that he was right.
Her "good luck" from earlier rang in his ear.
Harry saw red.
The unstoppable force that took hold of him the first time he'd tried to escape grasped him. He froze, glaring daggers straight ahead, as he awaited his slow return to the center. Inexorably, the magic that held him moved him back to the middle, even as he continued forward at a leisurely drift.
He clenched his broom hard enough to turn his knuckles white, though this time from an entirely different cause.
There wasn't a noise – no kind of visual cue, no indication whatsoever aside from the abrupt release of the magic hold pushing, forcing, demanding that he return to the center of the cylindrical prison. Even still, he knew the exact moment he would be free, and leaned into his broom just before hand.
One experience wasn't nearly enough to get the timing down normally, but his anger was, uncharacteristically, focusing him.
Harry poured on the speed, and the thundering of cannon fire rang out again. He scowled. If there was any doubt that Four was treating this like a game, that removed it.
She was looking down on him, only shooting when he was moving, like he wasn't even worth looking at. Like she was hunting him – playing around like a cat with a trapped rat.
To hell with that.
He'd made good distance into what had seemed like an endless tunnel, and, rounding the corner, he could see there was a point that it opened into the floating fortress' sky. He'd neared the walls, and it looked even more imposing up close. One had said that the largest of their angel's rivaled Hogwarts in size – and it really did.
It would be intimidating if he wasn't royally pissed.
But he was, and if Four wanted to see him dodge, wanted him to fly like a cornered rat, then he was going to fly.
For a third time, he dove at full speed towards the magic trapping him on his path.
This time, he had no intentions of escaping.
"Ah, I'm not sure a third try is going to change anything. Are all these sudden stops and close calls jarring him? Harry seems to be desperately trying the same thing over and over!"
As if.
Instead of heading straight, this time he came in at an angle. Curving as he reached the deepest slow down, he shot up once more – adding the force of the wall's repulsion to his own speed.
The speed increase wasn't as dramatic, but he wasn't quite ever leaving the push from the walls. Even as he was pushed away, he pushed forward. Something he'd noticed from the first few times he'd been forcefully reset – the push wasn't just moving him to center, it was forcing him to continue forward too.
It died down the closer he got to the prescribed path laid out for him by Four, but if he kept flying into walls, it would keep pushing him. Each time he flew he was a bit faster from the last push, so the next was a little harder.
As long as he could keep at least some of the momentum from the last bounce, like by angling it so the first push back pushed him towards the second wall?
Each time he would be just a little faster. Bouncing all over, pulling the sharpest turns of his life, Harry had to admit that he'd never flown better.
It might've even been fun, if he wasn't steamed.
As it was, all he could think about was showing Four how terrible an idea it was to take him lightly. At the start of all this all, he hadn't wanted to participate. He still didn't, really, but Four had pushed every one of his buttons at the same time. So, whether he wanted to or not, he was going to take her down.
Again, and again he accelerated, pushing forward with teeth clenched to prevent him from biting his own tongue off.
It was a predictable pattern he was flying in, but it was honestly necessary. Any attempt to turn quickly, or maybe even at all would probably end with him either dumped off his broom, or screwing up and flying too straight into a wall.
Four had ignored him twice when he'd reset, but Harry had a feeling there wouldn't be a third time.
Not if the furious rain of cannon fire that hadn't stopped since he'd started accelerating was any indication.
"Oh, ladies and gentlemen, the Boy-Who-Lived is putting on a stunning show! To use Four's own magic against her, why, I've never seen this in all my days!"
The commentary, slurred by the barrier, didn't phase Harry. He was past the point of listening, and all he could focus on was flying. There wasn't a whole lot of mental attention you could spare when you were going this fast.
Still, he was getting just a little excited. By now, he was approaching the end of Four's looping magical pathway. The opening spiraled out towards the ground, high in the sky above Armaros' battlements.
He was so close…!
All he had was a few dozen feet left to fly! Just a bit more dodging, a bit more flying, and he was there. Viktor and Cedric both had failed spectacularly, if he could just succeed here, maybe people would mention Harry Potter as something other than the Boy-Who-Lived!
Winning seemed appealing as more than just a way to survive the tournament by the second.
So… So just a little more!
An impossible loud tearing threw off his concentration. Harry's ears felt like they were about to burst, and his concentration was lost.
He had maybe a quarter of a second to realize what was going on, as the magic forcing him onto a path suddenly vanished, and the sudden lack of assistance in his turn threw him from his broom.
There wasn't even time to realize he was falling as he flipped in the air – no, rather, he would've if something else hadn't stolen his attention.
A massive gap, ripped in One's barrier. A hole that could easily fit a plane.
Instead, it had fit a dragon.
How did he know?
Because of the wide, gapping maw he was staring straight at, and the white dragon maybe half again as big as Gabriella it was attached to.
The last thing Harry Potter ever did was scream – the last thing he ever saw, a woman in white, with cold, angry pink eyes atop the dragon's back.
The maw clamped down, a sharp agonizing pain that reminded him of Basilisk venom tore through his spine, and everything went dark.