A/N – I'm not a writer, I haven't written anything at all since I finished school years ago, but I've read Harry Potter fanfiction for years and finally decided to just write down all these ideas that have been going through my head. That's all, consider that your fair warning that this isn't going to be some brilliantly written story like the stories written by someone like RobSt.
Maybe this'll be interesting to some people? Maybe not, I'm enjoying myself anyway so here we go…
Chapter 1 – The Champions Tent
30 minutes… 30 minutes was all the time that had passed since Harry had reached into that small drawstring bag and pulled out that tiny model of a Hungarian Horntail. He was pacing in the champions tent, cogs turning in his head, trying the figure out what in the holy hell he was going to do.
Ludo Badman had entered the champions tent and explained to everyone present that they were to reach into the bag and take out a model of the thing that they were to face, he had been the first to plunge his hand in and discovered that the "thing" he was going to face was to be a fully grown, fire breathing dragon. If that wasn't already bad enough, the dragon would be a nesting mother, protecting a nest full of her very own eggs.
His task, along with the other champions, was to simply retrieve the golden egg, well, it didn't seem anywhere near as simple as the way Bagman had said it when one considered the fact that the golden egg would be situated alongside the dragons' real eggs. Each champion had reached into the bag and pulled out their own dragon, of varying breeds, he didn't exactly know a lot about them, but he could hardly fail to notice that the other champions dragons didn't have extremely sharp spikes sticking out of its tail.
He supposed that explained the name "Horntail" but knowing where the thing had gotten its name from hardly helped him any, it didn't change the fact that it's mouth would be full of extremely sharp teeth, teeth which would likely prove very adept at ripping Harry apart and grinding him into mush if it decided he looked like a rather tasty snack.
He wondered vaguely if the dragon would bother roasting him alive first, or if it would rather just eat him raw. Would the crowd out in the arena soon hear the sizzling of his flesh along with the delicious aroma of charred meat? He thought back to summers spent with the Dursleys, of Uncle Vernon cooking sausages in the back garden and the sound of the family having a nice time, while he sat in the kitchen, forbidden from joining in, with a cheese sandwich and a glass of water.
Was that how people would remember him? Just as a smell not dissimilar to that of a sausage on a BBQ? Maybe he'd be spared that, and the dragon wouldn't be hungry, instead just batting him away with its tail when he strayed a bit too close to its unborn babies in his quest to retrieve the golden egg. He'd be flung across the arena, break every bone in his body, be punctured by those aptly named horns on its tail and likely bleed to death before anyone could even consider attempting to rescue him.
He'd entertained the notion of simply refusing to take part in the task, to just stubbornly remain where he was, or even to run away back up to the castle and lock himself in the boys' dorms. He'd dismissed that thought immediately however, he was magically bound to perform in the Triwizard Tournament, not doing so would result in him losing his magic, Dumbledore had explained that to him at least.
He hadn't bothered explaining how such a powerfully magical artifact such as the goblet of fire could've been hoodwinked into accepting a fourth, underaged Triwizard champion. It was called the Triwizard Tournament after all, how could a fourth champion possibly be able to compete? Surely there had to be some kind of get out clause for him since he'd been entered as a fourth champion against his will, in addition to him being underage. But what did he know? He was just a Hogwarts student, why would he question the great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?
Even if he had refused to take part and accepted that he would lose his magic, he had already concluded that someone had entered his name into the tournament with the sole intention of seeing him dead. He'd be dead long before the day was out if he lost his magic, his wand would be no more useful to him than a stick if he tried to use it to defend himself.
His only small comfort was the fact that he was the last champion to face his dragon, he thought he'd be able to pick up some hints from Bagman's commentary and formulate some kind of plan on how to get past the beast. That plan was scuppered moments after Cedric was first to leave the tent and tackle his Swedish Short-Snout though, the crowds' constant screams and Bagman's roars of "GOOD IDEA, PITY IT DIDN'T WORK" hardly gave him much to go on.
Too busy pondering how long he had left to live, Harry didn't even notice the sudden tumultuous applause from the crowd, nor that minutes later Fleur was called out of her tent to face her dragon. Resigned to his fate, he instead spent his last dragon free moments thinking about a certain bushy haired witch who had been one of his best friends for the last four years and everything he never had a chance to tell her.
He'd been slowly falling for his best friend ever since second year when she'd been petrified by that god forsaken Basilisk, that sheer moment of terror he felt when Professor McGonagall led him and Ron into the hospital wing to tell them that Hermione had fallen victim to the Basilisks petrifying stare. Of course, at the time he had no idea that the monster lurking in the chamber had been a Basilisk, it was Hermione who figured that out of course, she'd risked her own life by running off to the library to follow up on that hunch she had. It was only the fact that she'd peered around a corner with a mirror in her hand that had saved her from instant death, seeing the reflection of the giant serpent instead of looking directly into its eyes was the only reason she was still amongst the living. She'd also warned anyone she'd bumped into to look around corners with a mirror first, which was also the only reason that one Penelope Clearwater had also only been petrified, instead of meeting death far too soon.
And then third year he and Hermione had saved Sirius together, he thought back to how he felt during that short ride on the back of Buckbeak up to the window where Sirius had been locked up, the feel of Hermione pressed up behind him, with her arms wrapped around his middle in her desperate attempt not to fall off. She'd always hated heights but didn't even hesitate when their only hope of saving Sirius was to fly on the back of a Hippogriff and break him out.
She'd always been selfless like that, putting the needs and the safety of others before her own and he'd never even properly thanked her for it. He'd never told Ron to lay off her when he made some offhand remark about how she loved books and homework more than anything else, he'd seen how things that Ron often said had really hurt Hermione and he'd never bothered telling Ron to shut it. Back in first year when she'd nearly died to that troll, it was Ron who had said something horrible to her which led her to crying alone in that bathroom, and as far as he was aware, Ron had never even apologised for that.
He was certain that the only reason Hermione even put up with Ron was because he and Harry had been friends since they sat in that same compartment on the Hogwarts express. At least he'd thought they'd been friends, surely if Ron was truly his friend, he would've believed him when he said that he didn't put his name in the goblet of fire, yet he was convinced that Harry had indeed put his name in in his desire to get even more fame. He had enough fame already, and he hated it, another thing that he'd always told Ron, yet he seemingly never believed him.
Hermione and Hagrid were the only people who believed him when he first told them he hadn't put his own name in the goblet or asked anyone to put it in for him. Even Dumbledore had called Harry to his office the day after his name had come out of the goblet and asked him once again if he'd asked an older student to put his name in the goblet for him. Hagrid, the gentle giant and his first friend, even before Ron, who'd taken him from the Dursleys, shown him around Diagon Alley and did his best to answer any questions that an overly excited 11-year-old wizard had.
Hermione had always been there for him, never doubted him, and had known that he'd never entered himself into this tournament from the moment Dumbledore read his name out. He suddenly realised that Hermione knew him so much better than Ron ever did, all he and Ron ever seemed to talk about was quidditch after all, Hermione cared about him and did whatever she could to cheer him up when he'd confided in her about his experiences at the Dursleys.
He couldn't help thinking about the relationship between himself and the bushy haired witch, he'd likely never see her again though, was she sitting in the crowd at this very moment, waiting for his turn and knowing he didn't stand a chance? Maybe he'd chance a glance into the crowd, just for one last look at the person who'd done everything she could to help him prepare for this task. Ever since the date of the task was announced, he and Hermione spent every spare moment of their time practicing spells, and going for a run around the quidditch pitch in an attempt to get into better shape. Nothing they had practiced for had prepared him for something like this though, something that huge and magically powerful he'd have no chance of stunning by himself.
He was living on borrowed time, he knew that for sure, he hadn't been paying attention to whose turn it even was, had Fleur been called out to face her dragon yet? He glanced around the tent and came to the horrifying realisation that he was all alone, Fleur had obviously gotten past her dragon and Krum would be out there now. It would be his turn next; he was going to die; he just knew it.
Out in the stands, a certain bushy haired witch was watching in horror as the dragon keepers led a gigantic sleeping dragon into the arena, they had it suspended between them in some from of giant net, with a few extra dragon keepers trailing along behind it, the nest full of eggs levitating alongside them. The dragon itself must've been a good 20 feet longer than the Chinese Fireball she'd just watched Krum in the arena with.
She was racking her brain, trying to think of something that she and Harry had practiced which could be used to help manoeuvre around the dragon and allow Harry to get his hands on that egg. He wouldn't be able to do what Cedric did and transfigure a rock into a Labrador to use as a distraction without hours and hours of practice doing that first, had Cedric somehow figured out what the task was beforehand? Probably not, he'd had an extra couple years' worth of transfiguration practice than Harry has after all, he's had plenty of time to practice more advanced transfiguration.
Fleur had somehow put the dragon to sleep with a spell Hermione had never seen before, not even with all the extra reading she and Harry had done in preparation, was it some kind of Veela magic? She and Harry had realised that Fleur was Veela not long previously due to the behaviour of one of their fellow classmates, no one acts like that around just any pretty girl, not even Ron Weasley.
And then there was Krum, hitting the dragon in the eyes with a conjunctivitis curse, that was just risky as hell, he'd managed to grab the golden egg while the dragon had been staggering around crushing its own very real eggs, narrowly missing crushing Krum in the process. She'd have lamented the loss of the unborn baby dragons if she wasn't so goddamn worried about Harry.
The only thing that would've given Harry the advantage he needed would've been his broom, he could simply outfly the thing at snatch the egg out from under it, but he wasn't able to take anything with him apart from his wand. If they'd had a couple of days' notice that the task would've involved a dragon then maybe they could've worked on summoning charms, he could've walked into the arena and summoned his broom from the boys' dorms. But they hadn't, and now her Harry was going to walk into the Arena in the next few minutes with nothing more than his wand.
Her Harry? How long had she been thinking about him as her Harry? She'd never managed to gain enough courage to tell Harry how much she really liked him, and now there was a good chance she never would. She thought about it when they exchanged that last hug before Harry entered the champions tent, but she just couldn't do it, she knew he didn't think of her like that anyway, how could anyone? She'd experience years of ridicule from the Slytherins and the likes of Malfoy that she was sure no boy would ever feel like that about her. Of course, had she realised that Harry would soon be going face to face with a fully grown dragon then she'd have likely thrown caution to the wind and just told him how she felt anyway.
She'd never been in love before, but she was sure that feeling in her stomach that she had whenever she was around him could be nothing but. Her mum had started asking questions about Harry last summer, she didn't realise she mentioned him so much in her letters back home, but her mum had always been an extremely intuitive woman, her dad had always said that Hermione had got that from her too. Her mum had never met Harry unless you counted seeing him for a couple of minutes at Kings Cross at the end of the year, but she had been considering inviting him to spend some of the Christmas holidays at her house so she could introduce them properly.
"Are you okay Hermione?"
A voice from directly to her left brought her out from her thoughts about Harry. She hadn't realised she'd been sitting there crying silently until she reached up and tried to wipe the tears from her face.
"I'm fine Ginny" she said, trying and failing to curb the flow of tears, "Just worried about Harry".
She felt Ginny put an arm around her and give her a gentle squeeze, "Harry will be fine Hermione, he always figures out a way".
"This is a dragon though, look at the size of it Ginny! What's he supposed to do against that?" she shot back, abandoning her attempts to stem the flow of tears.
"I'm not sure, but he'll find a way back to you" Ginny replied, rubbing Hermione's back comfortingly. "You do realise he likes you, don't you? He won't let a dragon get in his way of telling you how he feels. Though I'm sure he's in that tent wishing he'd said something to you before now".
"What are you talking about Ginny?" she replied, shock and confusion doing what her hands could not and temporarily stemming the flow of tears, "I'm like a sister to him, he doesn't think about me like that" though hope was suddenly filling her heart.
"I've got six older brothers Hermione, I know what a guy looks like when he's falling for someone" she said, giving the older girl a wink, "Just the way he looks at you is enough of a clue, he's head over heels in love with you, he's just afraid you'll reject him".
"I wouldn't", she replied absentmindedly, not realising she'd all but admitted her feelings for Harry while in a crowd full of people. She looked around hastily to see if anyone apart from Ginny had heard her and saw Hagrid sitting a short way away giving her a knowing smile.
She looked down at her lap hastily, feeling the flush rising in her cheeks, Hagrid wouldn't say anything, he probably already knew how she felt about Harry considering how much time they'd spent together having tea in his hut.
How had that short conversation with Ginny make her feel so much better? She knew Harry would be okay now, Ginny was right after all, he always manages to get out of sticky situations, he would have a plan, he'd be in the tent right now just ironing out the kinks. He'd get past the dragon, completely uninjured and then later she'd finally tell Harry how she feels.
Back in the champions tent, there was no plan being made, Harry had adopted one of Ron's favourite sayings "We'll just have to wing it mate", so that's what he was going to do. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he would, and then he'd tell Hermione how he felt.
As if timing itself with his thoughts, the sound of a cannon blast rung around the tent, followed by Ludo Bagman's voice magically amplified.
"AND NOW FOR OUR FOURTH AND FINAL TRIWIZARD CHAMPION, HARRY POTTER!"