Thursday 20th April & Friday 21st April 1995
Harry waved his wand in circles in the air, bringing it up in a spiralling motion. "Transvorto visagus," he intoned. A cosmetic spell, to make his long black school robe look like a Muggle outfit of a t-shirt and jeans.
He hopped on his Nimbus and fumblingly stowed his wand away in his invisible robe pocket. He'd find another way. A Memory Charm might be the most efficient way to deal with his fears about what Susan Bones might blab about, but it wasn't the right one. It wasn't the kind of person he wanted to be. Maybe not a hero, but at least a good person.
"Come on, under the invisibility cloak. We'll fly until we're closer to Grantown-on-Spey, then land and walk."
"I thought we could not use magic in Muggle areas? Won't your spell set off an alarm at the Ministry?" she asked, hopping on behind him on his broom, which wobbled slightly under the added weight.
Harry whispered an explanation to her about how it was only newly cast spells that were a problem, not ongoing effects. They stayed silent while Hogwarts was at all in view, but once on their way through the next patch of woods, he managed to talk her into vowing her silence (on the family honour) about the Basilisk and the secret passages to and from the Chamber of Secrets. He tried to tailor his argument to appeal to Hufflepuff sensibilities: speaking of bonds of friendship and respect for his wishes, honouring his family's historical hideaway that he'd sacrificed the secret of for her sake, a reminder that if she told of it he'd be less able to help others in the future who might need to secretly leave Hogwarts, and his word that she'd be free to tell people about the Basilisk if it ever endangered anyone again and Harry couldn't fix the problem himself for some reason. In the end she was eager to agree to keep silent, and apologetic for her thoughtless disregard of his family's secrets, when she owed him a Life Debt for all he'd done for her.
Susan looked around curiously as they strolled through Grantown-on-Spey, sticking very close to Harry whenever they crossed a road, watching the cars with wary fascination like she'd never seen one before in real life and was worried they might veer unexpectedly at her like some pouncing beast. Harry knew from Daphne's gossip that Susan was a half-blood and he also knew she did Muggle Studies as an elective, but perhaps that didn't mean much for your practical experience when you were raised solely in the wizarding world by your aunt and were cloistered at Hogwarts for three quarters of the year.
When they arrived, Sirius was unfortunately out at a doctor's appointment, but Lupin was, luckily for them both, home at the Grantown Den. He was willing – even delightedly eager – to take Susan under his wing and look after her until it was safe to contact her aunt and formulate a better long-term plan.
"Miss Bones, I am not just willing, I am honoured to have the chance to help you," he promised, as she fretted about possibly bringing the wrath of the Ministry to his door. "I have little I can do to aid the war effort, hidden as I am from wizarding society, and barely able to go out anywhere even amongst Muggles. I am most honestly delighted to be able to assist you. They won't find you, or I; Sirius has been most assiduous in assisting me in warding this place tighter than Gringotts. Should that fail I have multiple escape plans."
Harry left, taking Susan's earnest thanks with him, and hurried back to Hogwarts. It wouldn't do for someone to ask awkward questions about where he'd been when Susan went missing. Thankfully, no-one pressed him uncomfortably. Some students were questioned at length by the Aurors about whether they'd seen Susan, but no-one pressed Harry for answers to any unusual degree. They accepted him as just one of the many chorusing their puzzled negatives. The Headmaster and Professor Sprout moved the interrogations along and kept the Aurors from digging too deep when they could. Sprout looked furious about it all while the Headmaster looked twinkly-eyed and calm. Harry avoided catching his gaze.
Daphne gave Harry a covert grin, but it didn't look like they'd have a chance to talk tête-à-tête in the near future with everyone ribbing him whenever she even tried to whisper to him privately, and watching the two of them with overt interest.
Hermione told him everything went "fine" and thanked him for letting her join in his Transfiguration practice that morning.
That evening up in the dorm Neville shook Harry's hand and thanked him, quietly saying he'd done the right thing; no explanation given since their dormmates might be watching or listening in.
Harry was a mixture of pleased and angry. Hermione had clearly been gossiping. Keeping quiet was rarely one of her talents.
"Don't mention it. Really," he said, his lips thinning (to an odd resemblance of Aunt Petunia's, not that anyone in his dorm recognised the look), "don't mention it. And please tell Hermione the same. I'm surprised she said anything to you, and I wish she hadn't, or made a big deal of it. I was happy to lend her my notes."
Neville looked surprised at first, then calmly understanding. Message received. Hopefully his conscience wouldn't nag at him over this like it did about Harry's truce with the Dark Lord.
Harry pulled his bedcurtains closed and looked over his evening owl post, ignoring his alleged best friend.
Sirius and Lupin had written to him to let him know that Amelia Bones was doing well, "…despite some trouble at work and the mysterious disappearance of her werewolf niece, whom no-one has seen hide nor hair of." She was in good spirits and wrote that she was "optimistic that Susan was fine and safe somewhere." Sirius also promised that he was recovered enough to come and see Harry at the Tournament tomorrow, and that he would help him figure something out for his Muggle Studies if Hogsmeade visits were cancelled. His letter also had an apology that he was sorry he couldn't answer Harry's questions posed in his last letter about his parents and the war, but he was a bit busy with surprise visitors at the moment and would write a longer letter next time.
It was a nice letter. Bless him, Sirius was trying to be covert, and Harry had taken a while to figure out how to be subtle in his letters too. Harry appreciated the reassurance that his rather simple scheme to save Susan had worked out well. The Aurors had hung around the castle all day scouring it in hopes of finding Susan but had eventually admitted defeat and left to join others searching elsewhere, but without any particular show of enthusiasm. Either they didn't have any leads or they weren't really keen on looking for their boss' niece. Perhaps Amelia Bones had some plan to make a fake show of looking for Susan. Harry wondered what her 'trouble at work' was that Sirius had written about.
Snape had written in reply to Harry's hypothetical question about what his parents would have thought of his truce. Snape admitted that his father would very likely have disapproved, but reiterated that he believed Lily would have understood his wish to stay out of the fighting, and would have defended him with all the ferocity of a mother lion with a cub in danger.
She may have been disappointed that you felt driven to such a measure, but so long as you do not actually join the Dark Lord, nor act out in prejudice against Muggle-borns, I am confident that her love and support for you would have been steadfast. Your mother was always very stubborn, in both the best and worst ways; a loyal friend, or a determined adversary. Your wish to stay neutral may have bewildered her (as it was not in her own nature to make such a choice, as she always loved and hated whole-heartedly), but your safety would have been paramount in her mind, as it was to the last. So, I believe she would have respected and supported your decision, especially considering your age.
She always reminded me a little of Mr. Darcy from 'Pride and Prejudice', and she laughed once when I compared her to him, and agreed their tempers were alike, but otherwise it was a poor match as she was no shy wallflower nor so proud or gloomy in mien. She then teased me about who I should be. She thought perhaps I would be better suited as Darcy, but if not, then I must be Mary Bennet. For I was serious far too often, held no great opinion of my own looks, and laboured too hard for my accomplishments. I was most put out, and she laughed until I was forced to join in.
Snape then quoted from the book in question.
'My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.'
Harry was more disheartened than encouraged to hear Snape's guess at to what his parents would have thought of his truce but treasured every word all the same. He had so few stories of his parents, especially his mother, that every single one was precious to him.
Snape also wrote – in invisible ink – confirmation for Harry that Trelawney had indeed been kidnapped by Death Eaters. She was alive… for now. He also urged Harry not to do anything 'foolishly Gryffindor' and told him that 'others' knew and were working on a plan to rescue her.
Harry had a plan. He didn't think it was at all 'Gryffindor' and thought it was actually fairly sensible. Even if people were working to save her already, perhaps he could buy them some time.
Harry sent a letter to Voldemort asking for Professor Trelawney's safety as his nominated person to save for May. His request was a week or two early, but that wasn't too unreasonable, he hoped. Voldemort had never said he couldn't protect adults with his monthly addition to the 'safe' list; it was merely limited to non-combatants, and Trelawney was very far from being any kind of fighter.
After a little thought he carefully didn't use Snape's owl for his letter to Voldemort, nor Sirius'. Usually he just conscripted whatever owl was willing to help out, but he didn't want to risk Voldemort asking any awkward questions about what Snape had written to Harry about, or recognising or cursing Sirius' owl (small though that chance was). Harry carefully phrased his letter like he was just guessing Voldemort had her prisoner, rather than being sure about it. He commandeered a random fan's Hogsmeade Post Office barn owl instead, putting a couple of Knuts in the tiny bag attached to its ankle to pay for its services.
-000-
The morning of the twenty-first dawned bright and clear, and Harry, having to compete in a no doubt perilous Triwizard task later that day, was one of the very few in the whole castle who didn't look forward to having a Friday free from classes. Harry thought that even the teachers looked cheerier than usual at breakfast.
Harry was finding it hard to keep his spirits up, tiredly moving the sausages and scrambled eggs around on his plate while barely eating anything. Between worrying about the Tournament, Neville's ultimatum, the blabbermouth tendencies of both Hermione and Susan, and the likelihood that Sirius wouldn't want anything to do with him when he heard Harry had a truce with Voldemort (even if it was one he might break), he was depressingly certain that it would be a miserable few days.
Most people assumed his glum demeanour was just Tournament nerves, or his currently chilly relations with his best friends, and tried to buck up his spirits.
Luna stopped by his table to gift him a necklace with a pendant made from a Butterbeer cork, "to keep away the Nargles." He smiled when he put it on, which she pronounced was proof that it would do him good.
The Weasley twins told him they'd done a tarot reading for him that morning – their best divination method – which had pronounced that "a strange alliance wins the day." They thought it betokened success in the upcoming task or possibly the Tournament overall, but Neville, lurking nearby but not very communicative, frowned silently at their prediction.
Neville and Hermione both wished Harry luck; though the latter seemed more earnest in her well wishes.
Draco, having been quietly delighted by the wedge between Harry and his other friends, was eager to exploit the fracture in Harry's social circle, and was as effusively loud as Pansy in his support.
"I will be cheering for you, of course. All of Slytherin is behind you, and my parents are coming to watch and cheer as well. Mother says she is going to try and say hello to Black… if he is coming?"
"He says he is."
"Krum is Marchbanks' clear favourite," Daphne observed, "and you can't compete with his silent spellcasting and transfigurations. However, you have getting the highest points from Scamander. So, for Merlin's sake don't go hurting any animals today or you will scuttle your chances for a decent score."
"I'll be as careful as I can," Harry promised.
There was some snickering in the background about Harry's 'girlfriend', which he grandly ignored.
"Bagman is trying to curry favour with everyone so all his scores are high, so just be polite to him and you should be fine."
Harry agreed with that common-sense observation. Courtesy never went astray.
"Good luck out there today, cousin!" Pansy said. "They've put the barricade back up around the Quidditch pitch again, so the task is clearly happening there today!"
Harry nodded. "Thank you. Someone said the tent for the champions has gone up again too; I guess they'll take us out there as soon as breakfast is finished."
That time rolled around all too soon, and while a horde of people were still crowding around Harry and his mostly uneaten breakfast, Headmaster Dumbledore arrived to lead Harry away to the tent.
"How are you this morning, Mr. Potter?" he asked, carefully using Harry's name with only a whisker of hesitation.
"A bit nervous, sir."
"Only to be expected. Remember that courage is not a lack of fear, my boy, it is the strength to face our challenges despite that fear."
"Yes, sir."
"You have your wand, of course? And where is your pet snake this morning? I hope you were not intending for him to help you out again?" Dumbledore asked, with an amused smile. "It was very thoughtful of him to assist you in the last task, however, there were some complaints. Miss Delacour tried to petition to have an owl available to assist her for this task, which was denied by young Mr. Weasley. So, we must keep matters fair."
"I always have my wand," Harry promised. "Storm is being snake-sat by Millicent and Draco. He likes to sit with the 'snake house', and I've promised him they'll give him a nice snack if he behaves. So, he shouldn't cause any trouble this time."
Dumbledore passed him a gold pin with the Hogwarts school crest on it. "If you would be so kind as to affix that on your robes or hat, so the judges can hear the spells you cast today, it would be appreciated. They do not work so well immersed in water, which is why they were not used in the second task. You should wear it for the fourth task as well, so do try not to lose it."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, adding it next to the other hatpins on his pointed black hat.
In the tent, the judges, heads of schools, and Percy Weasley all gathered around to brief the champions on the upcoming task. Much of it was the same as previous tasks: each of the three judges could give up to thirty points, and there were up to ten bonus points for speedy completion of the task. More precise details of what they were to do would be given upon entering the arena.
Coverage of the task was being broadcast for the Wizarding Wireless from the stands, and for the third and also the final tasks the champions would have their own Headmaster or Headmistress providing commentary.
"We decided it would be more dramatic that way!" Bagman explained. "You can rely on your head of school to talk you up. We judges will also share our thoughts at the end, of course."
They drew lots again to see who would go first and drew out tokens from a bag. They were cute little enchanted clouds made of some wispy material like cottonballs and Harry's floated just above the palm of his hand when he let it go. Each twinkled and glimmered with a silvery number. Krum got number one again, just like in the first task, but this time Harry was second, and Fleur was third.
The wait for his turn felt both interminably dull and long, and over far too soon. Professor McGonagall came to lead Harry out to the made-over Quidditch arena.
"Do try not to damage the Quidditch stands, Potter," she warned. "We need those."
"I wasn't planning to?"
"Neither was Krum and yet…" she said, trailing off. "Still, I suppose I should not say anything more on the matter."
She led Harry into the arena where an explosion of cheers greeted him. He grinned happily – a very genuine smile that even Lockhart would have found no fault with – and waved to the audience. It was lovely to be appreciated, fickle though he feared the crowd's affection might be. For now it was everything he could dream of, and perhaps a bit too much love, if anything. The Weasley twins had clearly been very busy spruiking their wares again, for he saw a lot of students in the crowd wearing the newest iteration of their face paint – it was glimmering instead of being flat colours like it used to be – and a fair few had a lightning bolt drawn on their foreheads. Many people were daubed with multi-coloured stripes or designs in the four brightest Hogwarts colours. The Slytherins seemed to strongly favour their own House's green and silver, however, with few opting for the attacked-by-a-rainbow look.
Harry spotted Sirius up in the teachers' section of the stand with the other adults – it looked like there were a lot more adults there than had come to the first or second tasks.
Sirius had Neville's gran sitting on one side of him, and Narcissa Malfoy on the other, and was excitedly waving his red and gold Potter crest hippocampus banner in the air. Lucius Malfoy was harder to spot, as he wasn't next to his wife, but Harry eventually spotted him thanks to his long white-blond hair, sitting elsewhere in the stands next to Minister Fudge and a woman dressed entirely in pink, including her pointed hat. He was surprised to see the Minister until he thought about it a bit more – there really wasn't a lot of live entertainment in the wizarding world, and the Triwizard Tournament was pretty cool.
The stadium was set up with extra additions; three extra giant hoops on extremely tall posts in the middle of the field, looking a bit like the Quidditch goal hoops but set further apart, and at different heights. They looked big enough to drive a car through, presuming it was a car that could fly. The poles were wrapped with colourful ribbons, a bit like a maypole.
On the opposite side of the obstacle course of three rings a burgundy fringed carpet was floating in mid-air; a real magic carpet! There was something box-like sitting on top of it, but even when he squinted Harry couldn't make out the details from this distance.
Close by to him were two wood-fenced animal pens, and the creatures inside made Harry feel very smug that his and his friends' research had paid off! One pen held three of the elephant-sized palomino Abraxan pegasi, stamping around with their shining dinner-plate hooves as they tore at the grass hungrily. One of them had a slightly more dishevelled mane and tail than the others, and Harry suspected that Krum had selected it for the task.
The other pen probably looked empty to many in the stands, but Harry could see that it held three bat-winged Thestrals. The Abraxans were ignoring Harry's presence, but one of the Thestrals lifted its head, watching him with its unnervingly blank white eyes as Harry and McGonagall neared the pens where Percy Weasley awaited them, with a brunette witch in a traditional robes and hat. It took him a moment to recognise her until the old-fashioned microphone she held gave him a clue: it was the Wizarding Wireless reporter who'd followed him around (mostly invisibly) for the second task.
She didn't introduce herself as he approached, she just continued narrating, quoting the task clue again for the benefit of her listeners. She then rambled about his boring outfit of the Hogwarts school uniform, of all things, and the four enamelled gold hatpins (that he'd won from Mer-chieftaness Murcus) representing all the school's Houses on his pointed hat, plus the one with the Hogwarts crest that would help the judges monitor his spellcasting.
She paused her narration to hold the chunky microphone closer to Percy as he puffed up proudly and began explaining the task.
"Harold Potter, you are required to harness and ride one of the steeds available, guiding it through the three large hoops in the stadium, starting with the red hoop, then the green, then the purple, dealing to the best of your ability with any challenges encountered. You must then, by any means you choose, proceed to the locked chest, and open it to release what is inside. After that has been accomplished, it must be safely secured again back in the chest. Your time will start when the gong sounds. Good luck!"
There was a wild cheer from the crowd, and Percy and the reporter Disapparated away, reappearing a second later in the stands with the Tournament judges and the school Headmasters and Headmistress.
A gong sounded, and Harry was off to another explosion of cheers from the roaring crowd. A quick Sticking Charm secured his hat, which in an air-themed challenge he'd be sure to lose at some point if he didn't take precautions. It wouldn't do for the judges to be unable to hear him.
He headed straight for the Thestral pen, to the gasps of the crowd, though he honestly didn't understand why anyone was shocked. Even Hagrid admitted that Abraxans needed 'firm handling'. A Thestral would be much easier for him to manage.
Dumbledore narrated his progress, and could clearly see the Thestrals too. Harry guessed he must have seen at least someone die in the Global Wizarding War with Grindelwald.
"Potter has grabbed some tack off the fence and is making his way into the Thestral pen; a bold choice. No signs of aggression from them, and his confident air should serve him well in interacting with them. Quiet now – one is approaching him, and its leathery wings are flapping a little, it looks excited, I think. No baring of fangs which is a good sign."
Harry kept his wand ready warily as the Thestral approached. "Hello there, beautiful. Would you be willing to serve as my mount today?"
It snuffled at his shoulder, the narration of which caused some gasps from the crowd.
Harry wasn't worried, however, as he had a feeling he'd met this particular Thestral before in the stables. He gave it a brief pat and cast a quick spell on it. It whickered softly.
"De-tangling Charm!" Dumbledore narrated, sounding amused. "I use that one on my hair and beard every day, as it is particularly suited for long hair. It is such a bother to brush! Unusual charm for a young man with short hair to learn, and I have never seen it used on a Thestral before. Good research and application there!"
Harry shakily levitated up the saddle into position with a wordless Levitation Charm, hoping it might help impress the judges a little. He cinched it tight under the Thestral's belly.
"Can you fly us through the red hoop, then the green, then the purple, if you would be so kind, dear one?" Harry asked the Thestral, as he very carefully put the bridle on with his hands. He didn't want to use a charm and accidentally bump it; they had sensitive lips. "Then if you could circle over the flying carpet with the chest on it so I can hop off, we shall be all done, I think. We must watch out for danger, though."
Hagrid swore they excelled at following directions; he hoped that was true.
Dumbledore was describing the Thestral's fanged mouth with relish, as Harry moved the bit into place, to the gasps of the crowd.
"…One quick snap of its jaws right now and our champion would lose a few fingers! Luckily for Potter it is proving very cooperative. Now the tack is all in place you should be able to guess where the Thestral is for yourselves! No doubt the floating saddle and bridle looks very odd to most of you. Incidentally, some say that a Muggle glimpsing one of our 'horseless carriages' drawn by Thestrals was their inspiration for developing automobiles."
Harry put a foot in one stirrup and held onto the pommel of the saddle as he pushed up and swung the other leg over. He just barely managed to get his foot hooked in the other stirrup when with a single powerful flap of its leathery wings the Thestral launched itself into the air, making Harry lean forwards in a desperate attempt to keep his balance and not fall off before he'd even gotten started. Brooms didn't take off until you were ready! He didn't have a hold of the reins; one of his hands had been busy pulling himself up onto the saddle and the other was paranoidly clutching his wand in case of a sudden change of thought by the Thestral, or some invisible airy attack. The reins slipped off the pommel and out of easy reach, but a quick Summoning Charm – wordless to show off – got them back for him.
The Thestral rocketed towards the red hoop, which was near one edge of the stadium close to the Hufflepuff stand. They cheered loudly as he zoomed towards the first of the three obstacles. Having presumably seen it before with Krum's challenge, the crowd wasn't surprised like he was when the entire ring suddenly became wreathed in flames as he approached. The flames lashed furiously, swirled about by the gale-force torrent of wind which suddenly blasted out from the centre of the hoop. It was like being blasted with hot air from an enormous hairdryer. His Thestral wheeled about in alarm, climbing higher to get away from the threat. Harry didn't try to stop it, focusing on getting a few spells cast while he had the chance.
"Incendio Reicio, Incendio Reicio! Protego Horribilis!"
"Two Flame-Freezing Charms, for himself and his mount," Dumbledore narrated, "and a well-cast powerful Shield Charm variant to cover them both."
"Glacius!" The well-practised Freezing Charm took care of the fire on the hoop, snuffing the flames out decisively with a foot-thick coating of ice. "Finite Incantatem!"
The General Counter-Spell didn't stop the wind emanating from the hoop, which looked like just as much a hazard as before, if not worse. Shards of ice were being ripped off the hoop and flung into the maelstrom.
Dumbledore observed, "It looks like Mr. Potter may not be needing those Flame-Freezing Charms after all with the fire snuffed out, at least for the time being."
Harry tugged on the reins and the Thestral reluctantly slowed its dash to safety.
"Tranquille!"
It should have quietened the air into peaceful calm. It had worked fine as a counter to others' wind spells in practice sessions. However, there was a difference between theory and practice, and all it did for him against whatever powerful enchantment was on the hoop was suppress the wind for a few brief seconds before it was back full force, with another spray of ice fragments torn off the hoops.
He tried again, to no appreciable difference, perhaps an extra second or two at most. He couldn't even wheel the Thestral around to face the hoop properly before the wind was back.
Right, he thought, time for plan B. Let's try a cyclone charm to provide a counter-force. He stretched out his right arm, holding onto the reins with the other and gripping the Thestral tight with his legs. "Ventus!"
The Cyclone Hex threw the air currents into utter chaos, and a shimmer of gold light went up in front of the Hufflepuff stands as the students shrieked in mixed delight and fear as a swirl of ice shards were buffeted towards them in a chaotic swirl of misty wind. They hit the shimmering barrier and rebounded harmlessly; not so much as an errant breeze affected the watching crowd.
Harry urged the Thestral forward and it gamely pushed forwards, following in the relatively safe zone behind his cyclone hex. It was tough going, and they were still buffeted about a lot, Harry hanging onto the pommel for dear life and giving up on using the reins. However, Harry's Shield Charm held up and mitigated the worst of the effects of the brutal eddies of wind. As they neared the hoop it became more difficult to proceed, however, and Harry cast another Tranquility Spell to halt all the chaotic winds for the few precious seconds needed for them to rocket through the hoop.
Harry sighed with relief as they slipped through safely. With them through the hoop the breeze didn't restart, and all was calm again. For now.
The second hoop on the green-wrapped pole was upon them before Harry had a chance to regroup and gather his thoughts, and the Thestral shot through it quickly as if wary of lingering too long on the approach this time.
For a second it seemed like nothing had been triggered at all, but Harry knew that was too good to be true. He glanced worriedly behind him and saw a section of the thick golden hoop fold upwards and outwards, releasing what looked like a navy-blue cloud of smoke from within a hidden compartment.
"Whoa there!" he urged the Thestral. "Wait a minute, sweetheart!"
"Accio!" Harry cast, grabbing the reins back and giving them a gentle tug to urge his mount to a halt. The Thestral flew in lazy circles to stay aloft, making him twist about to watch the threat approaching from behind them.
Whatever it was, it wasn't ordinary smoke. It was moving with purpose, swirling about but moving ever closer to him. He squinted suspiciously at it as he renewed his Shield Charm on himself and his mount. It looked a toxic, bright sapphire blue. He cast a Bubble-Head Charm, then one for the Thestral, which gave a startled shake of its head. It settled down quickly, however, when it became clear the spell wouldn't harm it.
As the cloud drifted closer, Harry saw that it wasn't smoke at all. It was a swarm of flying insects.
Insects, of course, thought Harry. Must be something with a sting or bite, so like Bellerophon I'll fall off my pegasus – well, Thestral – when it's stung. Very thematic. Bright blue – must be Billywigs!
"Billywigs," he muttered aloud, his observation startlingly echoed loudly by Dumbledore. Their stings weren't fatal, but if stung too many times he could end up floating for the rest of his life. He could think of a few easy ways to kill or disperse them, but he didn't want to lose points from Scamander by hurting the little Australian bugs. Scamander was the only judge to really give him good scores and Harry couldn't risk losing his favour.
Perhaps he could just… ignore them? They were only an XXX rating and weren't supposed to be dangerous unless provoked. They didn't look like they wanted to ignore him, but perhaps they would with a little encouragement?
"Fumos," he incanted, sending out a smokescreen to confuse the insects as to where their target was. With any luck it would also settle them right down and make attacking him a low priority as they instinctually fretted that a bushfire might be endangering their hive.
"Come on, on to the third ring!" He prodded the Thestral forward with a gentle nudge of his heels and a flick of the reins, and it shot straight upwards, out of the doughnut-like torus of grey smoke. "Slowly though, okay? It's bound to be dangerous. This one was too easy. Get ready to stop if we need to."
Thank goodness it took directions well – Harry barely knew what to do with the reins and was mostly relying on it to guide him, rather than vice versa.
A couple of stray Billywigs escaped the cloud of smoke, the helicopter-like wings on the tops of their heads whizzing them around like tops, but without the support of the swarm they seemed disinclined to head in any particular direction and didn't come near Harry. Success! Scamander should be pleased, Harry hoped.
The final hoop, with the pole wrapped in bright stripes of purple ribbon, was near the Gryffindor supporters' stand. As he approached it he heard a Gryffindor student yell with a magically-enhanced voice, "Watch out! It–"
What exactly Harry was supposed to watch out for remained a mystery, however, as McGonagall furiously hexed the blabbermouth into silence before he could finish his sentence and give Harry an unfair advantage. He'd have to figure this one out on his own.
The Thestral slowed to a halt in front of the third ring, rearing back with powerful backstrokes of its wings.
Inside the centre of the ring, clouds were gathering. Thick, black storm clouds that were so ominously dark he could no longer see through the ring to the other side.
Like puffing a bubble out of a bubble wand, the car-sized hoop ejected a roiling small storm cloud which drifted slowly towards Harry, with intracloud white-blue lightning in its depths crackling and illuminating the cloud with a purple tinge. The hoop itself still contained a roiling mass of clouds; more seemed likely to emerge the longer he waited.
Luckily, Harry had practiced a couple of storm-related spells, since everyone on his research team had been positive air element challenges were likely. Storm had helped him practice his lightning-resistance charm, delighted to get permission to zap frogs (while Harry worked on mastering the charm to protect them). Storm even got a chance to lightly zap Harry himself, once he'd grown confident in his spellcasting.
Harry looked down at the ground, practically for the first time all challenge. Instead of the smooth grassy lawn typical for Quidditch matches, it was scattered with a few added obstacles like it had been for the first task. Below him were a couple of logs, a boulder, and a small thicket of blackberry bushes. The wood would do nicely as a base for his temporary transfiguration; wood to metal was easier than most transfigurations, though Harry still didn't understand why. Supposedly it had to do with the 'fluidity' of living things, and the 'purity' of metal. Back in his first two years he hadn't put a lot of effort into his Transfiguration essays, only wanting a grade of Acceptable, so there were a few lingering gaps in his knowledge of theory. It didn't slow his practical application too badly, though!
Harry aimed his wand at the ground below, while the Thestral wheeled around and out from under the storm cloud that flickered with lightning. "Figura Cuprum!"
The boulder below twisted and reformed into a decorative copper spike: a lightning rod.
Dumbledore gave an explanation for the crowd. "Excellent transfiguration there. Muggle lightning rods work best placed somewhere high, such as atop a church steeple. Magically fashioned lightning rods do not suffer from the limitations of mundane physics, however, and the grounding element of copper will literally attract lightning to the lightning rod's tip, especially magical lightning."
"Protego Fulguro," Harry incanted, with a zig-zag wave of his wand. He repeated the incantation for his Thestral, which snorted nervously as the lightning crackled through the cloud that had followed them.
"Shh, it'll be okay. I've cast a charm to protect you from the lightning, I promise it will work," Harry said, patting the side of its neck. "As soon as a new cloud puffs out, I want you to go through the hoop. Can you do that? We're almost done, and I promise you'll be safe."
Hagrid swore they were very intelligent. It had proved true so far and Harry was extremely glad he hadn't taken one of the difficult-to-handle Abraxans.
The Thestral dipped its head briefly, in what Harry hoped meant acquiescence to his plan.
A jolt of lightning erupted from the cloud overhead, accompanied by a loud crack of thunder. It arced towards Harry before being drawn downwards towards his lightning rod, hitting it with a shower of sparks. A small zig-zag branch of lightning branched off towards Harry too, impacting on his magical shield and scattering harmlessly in an impressive shower of copper-coloured sparks.
The crowd gasped and shrieked with excitement. Harry just cursed the lot of them in his mind for thinking deadly lightning attacks were good entertainment for a school competition. What if he hadn't practised the variant Shield Charm over and over, letting his snake zap him? He'd be headed for hospital right now. He concentrated on soothing his nervous steed. "See? We're fine. Ready? Another cloud's coming soon, then we go. Okay? No clouds on the other side."
While they waited, he decided to have a go at dispersing the storm cloud.
"Finite Incantatem!" Nothing. Damn! Why not? Too far away, perhaps. It was a spell that worked better at close range, it could be that. Or, the lightning clouds were being produced by a powerful curse too strong for the General Counter-Spell to be efficacious against.
"Tranquille!" No luck. The cloud was maybe moving a little slower, but that was all. It was supposed to work to calm troubled air, or water, but perhaps it only worked on natural wind.
Time for another idea he'd thought of. "Ventus!"
A whirlwind of air shot from his wand at the looming stormcloud, scattering it into wisps of mist. The crowd cheered, but Harry couldn't spare the time to appreciate their support, for the hoop spat out another cloud right at that moment. His Thestral gave a mighty beat of its bat-like wings and they were rocketing towards the cloud-filled hoop.
"Protego Fulguro! "Protego Fulguro!" Harry incanted urgently, renewing the protective charms in case they'd waned. He didn't want to take any chances as they literally dove through a lightning-filled cloud, encasing both of them in their own protective bubble.
Harry was blinded as they went through, not by the darkness of the cloud but by the massive spray of bright copper sparks that erupted like fireworks all around them as they dove through the hoop, lightning sparking over and over on his shields.
His vision went white, afterimages of the storm of sparks dancing on his retinas. He clutched his wand tightly with his right hand, and the pommel and reins with his left, completely blind as the Thestral wheeled and swerved about. He blinked furiously to try and clear his vision, desperately trying to remember if he knew any spells to clear his vision. His mind was blank.
There aren't any! Uh… I could transfigure my eyes but–
Another crack of thunder sounded, interrupting Harry's train of thought, and the Thestral let out a screeching whinny, ear-piercing and sharp. His vision danced again with a new flash of light bright against his thankfully closed eyes, the sight bright red and white through his closed eyelids. He had a horrible suspicion they'd been hit with lightning, but at least his shields were holding up.
"It appears Potter is in some strife, having passed through the last hoop without dealing with its enchantment," Dumbledore narrated.
"Ventus! Ventus!" Harry called, aiming blind above them. The original cloud had followed him, perhaps the new one was hovering above him too.
The crowd cheered, so presumably he'd done well. While the Thestral carried him in a hopefully helpful direction, Harry tried to clear his vision with his Metamorphmagus ability. He didn't know any vision-clearing healing spells, he didn't have time to recover his sight naturally, and Transfiguring your own body with a spell wasn't something to do blind. On the back of a moving Thestral. With a poorly-aimed wand. When he'd never done it before. Nope, that was a recipe for disaster.
He held his left hand over his eyes as he concentrated. A rising tide of worried gasps and shouts from the crowd did not help his concentration, and neither did the speculation from Dumbledore about his vision, nor the worried whicker from his mount. However, he think of the distractions in a positive manner, something to use to impress upon himself a sense of urgency. Thunder boomed, again and again. He needed his vision back, and he needed it now!
He lowered his hand and opened his eyes, just in time to see a massive bank of stormclouds erupting from the final hoop behind him, which was now glowing a burning-bright gold. He was too far away to make out the details, even with his magically-altered eyes, but it looked like large runes had lit up along its circumference. Every second a new cloud was spat out: another, another, another, and they were massing into a stormfront that he feared his protective spells would be utterly insignificant against. The bright spring day was darkening from the looming clouds blocking out the light. Off in the distance his lightning rod was doing its duty and attracting crackling bolts of electricity, but it was starting to melt and wilt.
Right. Perhaps it was time for a more Gryffindor approach to solving problems. A spell he'd learnt a year ago from a random fan eager to see him use it to take down Sirius Black – at that time a wanted mass murderer.
"Confringo!" A fiery orange light erupted from his wand and struck the golden hoop, blasting it into hundreds of metallic shards in a massive and noisy explosion. He then blasted away at the clouds with powerful gusts of air until the storm was too scattered to pose a threat.
"The Blasting Curse," Dumbledore said, "legal but not to be used lightly, as if used on a person they may literally explode. Infamously used a decade ago by Peter Pettigrew to devastating effect. A dangerous curse to master, it is taught only at NEWT level. Mr. Potter, however, has obviously picked it up at some point. I do not advise following in his boots without supervision from your Charms Professor, and even then I recommend practising outdoors, for the sake of the castle!
"Potter has followed up with more Cyclone Hexes, and his Thestral appears to be calming; its formerly flattened ears have pricked up again. And he is off to the flying carpet!"
When his Thestral reached the carpet, circling above it, Harry indulged in a bit of grandstanding, in hopes of garnering some extra points from Mr. Bagman.
He swung a leg over the Thestral and prepared to jump off, muttering, "Arresto Momentum."
Dumbledore didn't ruin his surprise by announcing what he'd done, so Harry evoked some shrieks from the crowd as he leapt off the Thestral into midair, drifting down like thistledown towards the thankfully stationary flying carpet.
"Not a silent casting, but an excellent application of the Slowing Charm, which is an OWL level spell. We previously heard Mr. Potter use this in the second task to help him avoid being swallowed whole by the charybdis."
The flying carpet was hovering twenty feet off the ground; too far for Harry to want to accidentally plummet off the carpet onto the artificially arranged bushes and boulders below, but not perilously high. The carpet itself was a faded burgundy and orange with a richly intricate woven pattern, and squashed down a gentle inch where Harry stood on it – enough to cushion his steps but not enough to make him feel unsupported or like he was going to fall at any moment.
He waved a thankful farewell to the brave and helpful Thestral as it wheeled away, then turned his attention to the locked wooden chest in the middle of the rug. He had to release whatever was inside then secure it back in the chest. He already knew it wouldn't be easy.
"'Release that which is dead and yet alive, seen and unseen, then secure it once more to triumph'," Harry muttered, reminding himself of the last part of the task's clue.
Wary of traps this time, he cast the Revealing Charm and lines of invisible Elder Futhark runes shimmered alive in his sight. They glimmered along the rim of the lid and the trunk's base, and on the escutcheon, the silvery decorative plate around the keyhole.
He squatted down to study them without touching them, muttering to himself.
"Hagalaz – storm or air rather than hail I'd say, the base of the runes on the lock. Naudiz and Algiz linked to Hagalaz to protect and trigger if the key isn't used…"
Harry trailed off into silence as he puzzled them out. A burst of air if he opened the chest without the key; it would probably knock him off the carpet.
The rest of the runes around the edge were more standard. Gebō everywhere as a base for generosity, lots of runes chained to it including reversed Naudiz for expanding limits. A good combination to tie an Extension Charm to an object.
"And Odal chained too, for an estate?" he murmured, "This must have a lot of expanded space inside."
Whatever was in there could be big. Nothing for it but to find out. He moved to the back of the chest and cast the unlocking charm.
"Alohomora!"
The lid flew open, and Harry was smugly glad to be on the opposite side of the chest as a torrent of wind gushed out with a noisy wail, with a flurry of leaves and sticks caught up in its maelstrom whirling forwards. And a large, cranky bird emerged in the whirl of wind as well.
"Dooo!" it cried in alarm, giving a deep, low coo. It was a chunky looking bird with brown-grey plumage, a white puff of feathers for a tail, and a large, hooked bill. It was over three feet tall, but squat and plump like a turkey. It flapped its small wings ineffectively as it spun about in the air.
Harry knew what it was, having read Scamander's book about magical beasts cover to cover. The wizarding world called it a Diricawl, while Muggles once knew it as the Dodo.
Dead and yet alive, he thought. Well, it definitely beats fighting an Inferi!
He certainly didn't want an endangered creature to plummet to its death. And if he could get it back in the chest before it got its bearings, then all the better.
"Incarcerous! Accio!" he cast, aiming at the tumbling bird.
It spotted him as he stood up tall from behind the chest. "Doo!" it called, and disappeared in a puff of feathers after Harry had summoned it less than a quarter of the distance towards him, with the attendant slight popping sound characteristic of a house-elf or wizard Disapparating. The conjured ropes disappeared from around it as it popped away, falling to the ground in an empty tangle. Harry honestly couldn't blame it for wanting to get away and wondered absent-mindedly if its technique would work for wizards too. Could he escape being trussed up by Disapparating, once he learnt how?
"An admirable attempt, but Potter's shy prey is used to wizards and not so easily caught," Dumbledore narrated. Harry was irritated to note that he sounded amused. "The wind trap has been ably avoided and has dissipated, but the chase now begins for this rare bird, the Diricawl."
With his Thestral gone back to its pen and time of the essence, Harry made use of the resource at hand – the magic carpet. Luckily, from his occasional correspondence with Miss Kanj and her associate Mr. Bashir who were eager to gain any amici and patrons they could to assist in their quest to open up the British market for their rugs, he knew a little bit about how to steer them.
Harry sat down cross-legged in one of the centrepoints of the pattern and folded his arms. All that was then needed was to confidently channel his will into it like a magic broomstick, and he was off, to the applause of the watching crowd.
What followed was a frustrating game of hide and seek. He chased the Diricawl, spotted it hiding amongst some bushes, or behind a log, and tried to summon it or Stun it, only for it to pop away before his spell hit. On one particularly frustrating occasion he merely managed to accidentally rile up a small swarm of the previously ignored Billywigs that had decided to investigate a hollow log for possible hive-making opportunities.
The crowd was laughing at him as often as it cheered him now, and his cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.
Enough Gryffindor chasing nonsense, he told himself sternly. This isn't working. What would a Slytherin do?
On his next fly past when he spotted the Diricawl he pretended not to see it. He circled around, he came back, and on his second fly past he concealed most of his wand in the folds of his robe and covertly cast a spell with an invisible effect; the Cheering Charm.
"Beo!" he whispered.
Down on the ground, the Diricawl let out a series of soft warbling chirps, like a gosling. Harry slowly guided the carpet down to the ground, cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, and snuck up to the Diricawl. He hit it with another whispered Cheering Charm as he approached, just to be on the safe side. It warbled happily again. Its feathers were all fluffed up with contentment, and its tiny fluffy stub tail waggled from side to side with joy.
Harry snuck up on the bird, and as he drew close he saw that it had a band around one scaly leg, with a small tightly-rolled golden scroll attached, like a post-owl.
It took two tries, but he managed to silently Summon the scroll over to him. Then he repeated the charm, but on the bird itself. With its temperament soothed, it just warbled happily as it floated through the air. Unable to resist the temptation, he – still invisible – gave it a little pat on the head as it reached him. It didn't panic and flap away, it just butted its head into his invisible hand, so he gave it a little scratch on its head, which it seemed to enjoy.
With a combination of the Feather-light Charm and simply carrying the contented warbling bird – which had been as heavy as it looked – he got it back into the chest and closed the lid.
"Colloportus! Finite!" he proclaimed triumphantly, dropping his Dillusionment Charm and various protective spells after he'd safely locked the Diricawl back inside the chest.
A loud gong sounded, and the stadium erupted with cheers. He'd done it!
Mybluerose – Thanks again for your help spot-checking my Latin and brainstorming the Cheering Charm incantation. 'Beo', pronounced 'bay-oh', means to make happy or gladden.