A/N: Pushing on.

I think there are also some plot-threads that are going to disappear past this point. They seemed a good idea back last year when I wrote the first chapter, but getting into later ones I just think they'd be out of tone. Hopefully you won't notice them disappear except for seeing some unresolved parts from earlier in the story, such as Jasmine discovering she is related to Slytherin which I actually think I might work in if I can tweak the original idea a lot, but it's not going to be the same as my original one. The rest though… I have a bad habit of introducing stuff and promptly forgetting about it; sorry about that. Probably because I don't have much more than an outline for what's going to happen in the story and I generally write on the fly.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.

Chapter 16

Jasmine couldn't help but smile as a group of beleaguered-looking owls swept down across the Ravenclaw table to dump a long and lumpy package in front of her.

"What's that?" inquired a fifth year sitting down not far from her, Gavin Cooper she believed his name was.

"That is the spoils of war," she answered simply, grabbing up the brown-paper wrapped item as the birds flew away and hauling it over her shoulder before making for the doors. She needed to bring this up to her rooms to properly unpack it. She knew precisely what it was – after all, the company had warned her that her order was nearly complete – and it was just in time for the coming Hogsmeade weekend, too.

###########################################################################

"Bloody hell, you look like a cowboy," was Hermione's initial response when she saw Jasmine's clothing that Saturday.

"Are you saying I look like a boy?" the ravenette responded with a raised eyebrow beneath her brown leather akubra.

"No, but, wow," the bushy-haired girl stated. "Where did you get all this from?" she asked, gesturing at her form.

"The company I sold the dragon to; I made this part of the negotiations, and it's why I dealt with an Australian company," she answered.

In Jasmine's own opinion, she looked like she meant business. Starting from her head, she had her akubra, made from the tanned underside of the dragon belly most likely, and with a band wrapped around the base and a mainly flat, wide brim. Then came her long, duster-style coat. This was more obviously made from the dragon, as it was mottled between bronze and brown with the depressed and brushed out scales dropping to halfway down her calves and swaying out to the side when she walked. Finally, her feet were clad in hardy brown leather boots laced up on the front halfway up her foreleg and with a chunky rubber base for traversing muddy terrain, likely also made from the underside. Her denim jeans and black button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone did admittedly leave the combination in all looking a bit cowboy-like, but it did the job of advertising her as a dragon-slayer – and thereby to leave her alone.

It wasn't armour, sadly, but a large number of charms wouldn't make it through – as dragon-hide was notoriously resistant to them – and some minor hexes were affected too. Not to mention, of course, that it was fire-resistant.

"I like the hat," Nadia commented, having stayed mostly silent as she looked her up and down.

"It's a silly hat," Hermione said firmly.

"Don't diss the hat," Jasmine replied with a mock-frown, "the hat is cool."

"No it isn't."

"It is."

"It definitely isn't."

"Is this the degree of argument you two genii can have with each other?" Nadia commented in amusement, "simple contradiction? Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

The twin scowls on their faces only made the brunette laugh harder.

###########################################################################

"Are the wards fully configured?" the ravenette inquired as she stepped through a large entryway, feeling the enveloping shiver of magic over the space.

"Yes, Miss Adler," Mr Pewtey confirmed, following behind her. He was a thin chap, with brushed-over brown hair and glasses. The muggleborn had been an accountant for several years until the computer age had made his job largely redundant and had struggled to find a new one in the economic crises of late; hence, he was indebted to the group giving him control over Magical Britain's first casino. "Magic is dampened within the space, as well as any use of it setting off alarms and showing red sparks near the user, and of course we have breath tests at the entrance for potion residue. The posted guards should do the rest."

"Excellent," she replied, regarding the large room of roulette wheels and card-game tables with a trained eye. "And has the bar been properly stocked?"

"Er, I'm not sure," the man frowned, "I'll check and make sure it's ready for the opening night."

"See that you do, and that the vouchers for a free drink are given out," Jasmine responded, before turning to walk back into the elegantly dark-panelled main-hallway.

The building served several functions; there was obviously the large area on the ground floor dedicated to games of chance of varying types, as well as a bar ready to supply drinks; also on the ground floor was another room which contained a long counter manned by several bookies, and with the bets and probabilities they were offering for Quidditch games and such cycling magically on blackboards behind them; from the receptionist's desk, rooms could be booked upstairs in what amounted to the hotel section; and finally a large hall encompassing a portion of the second and third floor was available to be rented out for events.

From the outside, the building was ostentatious with its marble pillars and Greco-Roman styling that was surprisingly not uncommon amongst the Pureblood elite.

All that was needed for opening night was the strong notice-me-not variant of warding keeping the resident of Diagon noticing the section of buildings that had disappeared, creating essentially a wall of magic facing the Alley but leaving the back end open for the construction crews needed to build the casino.

With a spin, Jasmine surveyed the entrance hall once more, noting with care the large boards with gold filigree writing explaining how to play the casino games and banning anyone under eighteen from the floor.

They had to be clear on what happened and how it worked, as when inevitably someone complained or tried to start something – perhaps involving the DMLE – they could state with honesty that the rules were in plain sight.

This would hopefully be one of her biggest money-makers in Britain and, oddly, it would be entirely legitimate. After all, why would she need cheat or be illegitimate when the house always won already?

###########################################################################

"So this is your plan for the Third Task," Hermione stated as she surveyed the board of parchment.

"Several plans for separate contingencies," Jasmine replied, "you can see what my favoured one is on the left, and growing less preferable as you move right."

"It eases my mind to see you're just as prepared as the last two, but I still can't help but worry," the bushy-haired girl bit her bottom lip as while sending a sideways glance at the ravenette. "The whole idea of putting you in the Tournament to kill you; the Third Task is its logical conclusion, and where they'll make whatever move they were planning."

"I know; another reason for all my contingencies," the Ravenclaw agreed. "I'm still having trouble working out who exactly wanted me put in." A hand fingered the notebook on the desk below her planning-board.

"May I?" Hermione gestured towards the book, and Jasmine obligingly handed it over. Opening it up, the Gryffindor raised an eyebrow. "Dumbledore on page one, you really don't trust him, do you?"

"Ignoring his questionable hiring preferences and his attempts at controlling my life, just first year on its own would be enough to make me consider him; I've begun to suspect that the Stone wasn't just a trap for Voldemort but for me as well," Jasmine replied, "he's a manipulative old coot who buys into his own legend. However, I don't think this one was him – it puts him in a bad situation politically by upsetting the balance of this international co-operation act in his school's favour."

"Karkaroff, I'll agree with you there," Hermione said upon turning over a few pages to the next bio.

"He willingly took the Dark Mark, regardless of later actions to save him from Azkaban. He's also been sneaking around and arguing with Snape."

"Yes…" the girl trailed off as her finger slid down the page, dating odd occurrences in his movement, "this is quite comprehensive; have you been following him?"

"I haven't the time for that; I simply have my ways." Which involved a certain magical map of the school and some modified dictaquills.

"Moody?"

"There's always something with the defence teacher," Jasmine replied wryly. "So far, we've had a man possessed by Voldemort, a paedophile, a werewolf, and now a certifiable nutjob."

"He's not that bad."

"I'm not saying he's not knowledgeable; it's his teaching methods and the way he acts. Not to mention that he actually persuaded the Headmaster to allow him to use an Unforgiveable on students."

"Yes, though in fairness, it was interesting to see how the Imperius worked, and feel its grasp. Not to mention being able to get rid of it."

"You threw it off even quicker than I did," Jasmine commented, thinking back to the strange sensation.

###########################################################################

"Imperio," Moody incanted, and all of a sudden, everything was fuzzy.

A ringing persisted in her ears, while all other sound was muffled, and Jasmine couldn't help but blink as the world seemed to shift around her. Within her mind, dense white fog had rolled throughout Hogwarts, and she was choking on it as she tried to breath.

'It's clogging…stopping me thinking,' flashed through her brain in the place as she pushed herself to stand, attempting to assert her willpower and forcing the fog to recede by about a metre around her. She couldn't see the walls, where was she? Everything was foggy.

"Jump On The Table." The command rattled through the space, clanging inside her head and through her still open eyes in the real world she could now see a wooden table, clear as day. And there was a need to jump on it, her limbs wanted to push her over.

'No,' she thought, pushing back as the fog reached for her again. 'This is my head, my mind! I am in Hogwarts' Entrance Hall; the House banners are over there, the point totals are below the crest in glass tubes filled with gems, the height of the room is…' She continued, concentrating for all the second that passed in real time, forcing her visualisation of Hogwarts to coalesce and reform. With each perfectly detailed brick that appeared, the fog receded.

"Jump On The Table!" The barked order was ignored as she looked around her mind, smirking at the last vestiges of wispy mist at her ankles before moving her awareness form the imaginary space to the real world, turning back to the man with a wand pointed at her.

"No," she enunciated clearly, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she stared the grizzled ex-Auror down. He blinked at her, before smiling toothily.

"Well done, Miss Potter, very impressive mental willpower," he congratulated, "do you study Occlumency?"

"Not exactly; I just have an organised mind," she replied.

"10 Points to Ravenclaw," Moody stated firmly, "now, who's next?"

###########################################################################

"Yes, well I was just concentrating very hard on something before he cast the curse; makes it easier to throw off," Hermione replied, flicking over the pages. "He's been patrolling alone at night?"

"Most nights; I can't see when, if ever, he gets some sleep," Jasmine said while moving around to eye the notebook from behind the Gryffindor.

"Bagman and Crouch," the bushy-haired girl said as she turned the next few pages over, "and that's it?"

"It would need to be an adult to cast that powerful a Confundus charm on the Goblet, and get past the age line. A few of the Seventh years could have done it, but I don't have time to investigate all of them," the ravenette stated, "and both Bagman and Crouch strike me as odd. Bagman I know has been avoiding some Goblins as well as the Weasley Twins about debt collection from gambling he's done." The Twins were none-too-pleased about the man stealing a not exactly small portion of their savings, and Jasmine was slightly annoyed at wasting money that should be going towards them developing products and bringing her some dividends. "Not to mention being a weird character, and he's also personally wished me luck on both the previous tasks and I believe he has placed a bet on me winning. Probably one big enough to pay off his debts. The thing is, I don't know if that is on me winning, or perhaps dying, or anything else."

"And Crouch?"

"Strange man. His son was a Death Eater whom he sentenced to Azkaban, where he died, swiftly followed by his wife. Once head of the DMLE, now demoted to International Cooperation, all because of Voldemort losing the war and his son being unveiled. If his treatment of his child is anything to go by, he finds his political position to be more important than anything else, and being a cold-hearted pureblood on-top of everything else, I wouldn't put it past him to be a Death Eater, or at least sympathiser. Furthermore, I know he's been acting strangely these last few months – hasn't been in the Ministry much except to attend Head of Department meetings."

"But he was the man in charge of combatting the Death Eaters in the last war," Hermione protested.

"Yes, but how much have you heard about how effective the Ministry was at that? Their defence was shocking, and they mainly served as clean-up crew to remove bodies and obliviate muggles after an attack. The Ministry was riddled with spies and sympathisers, and likely still is since so few were ever prosecuted. And, if you were Voldemort, wouldn't the most effective turncoat you could have be the one co-ordinating the defence against you? I know that were I in his position, Crouch would have been the target to aim for."

"You've got no evidence though, this is just conjecture."

"Oh, of course," Jasmine relented, "but it's enough to put him down as a possibility. That's all that book is, really. Despite watching them, I am no closer to determining who entered me and why." 'Well, maybe I do have some ideas as to the latter; if Voldemort possessed Quirrel in First Year, that means he's still around and not dead, and he's had time to plan before approaching me. He's the one most likely behind this, which really does not bode well.' "Still, I have my plans for the Third Task drawn up, and I stand a firm chance of victory."

"Only a firm chance? The other day you were certain."

"Well, nothing in life is certain, especially where magic is involved. It can, however, be predicted within a certain degree of accuracy."

###########################################################################

The suit was smart, but Jasmine couldn't help but fidget at the tightness. She had never quite considered how different the male form was, or indeed other people's bodies, since her only prior usage of Polyjuice was with a girl relatively similar to herself in both age and bodily proportions. Mr Pewtey was also a good half-foot to perhaps a foot taller than her, which was extremely disconcerting as the floor was further away than it should be. Still, she would still prefer to be the one dealing with the issues tonight. Word had come through the DMLE that Scrimgeour was planning to raid and shut down the casino this evening, after some pressure from a snobbish pureblood whose son had lost a fair bit of money at the casino and had then slipped a bribe to higher-ups to have it ordered down to the DMLE.

With slow footsteps, Jasmine moved over to the window overlooking Diagon below. The casino had opened only two weeks ago, and already the traffic was astounding. On the first night, a bit of trickery with magnets on the roulette wheels and such things was used to play the odds in the public's favour, while plying them with cheap or free drinks. Word had quickly spread that the place was an easy way to earn money.

Of course the day after the opening, everything had been reset to be normal and all evidence of trickery hidden, and now people left either jumping for joy or slumping in misery. It was their own fault, really; gambling was a tax on the stupid as it was in plain sight that, statistically, they would always lose.

The pawn-shop that she had had set up across the street was also doing record business as people traded in items for straight up cash to gamble away. She had even been informed that one man had attempted to put up the deed to his home against his losses for the night in one last desperate bet, but she had set down firm rules that stakes were restricted to coinage into house chips – which were magically protected from tampering with or duplicating and the like – and nothing else.

Finally, the red robes appeared before the building with a cracking sound, and Jasmine put on an accommodating smile in preparation before leaving Pewtey's office, pausing only to take another gulp of foul-tasting potion from a hip flask.

"Head Auror Scrimgeour, to what do we owe the pleasure?" she announced in a voice not her own as she descended the stairs from the first floor into the lobby, approaching the group of Aurors with her carefully created smile.

"I'm here to shut down a place that is cheating people out of their money. And you are?" the lion-like man growled similarly to his namesake.

"Arthur Pewtey, I'm the manager. What do you mean cheating people of their funds? I believe you have the wrong place," she said with surprise, "this is a legitimate business."

"Then how would you explain your raking in of gold and the number of people leaving here penniless?" he demanded.

"That's all the luck of the draw, I'm afraid, and do not forget that there are also those who leave with full pockets as well," she smiled innocently.

"What do you mean, luck?" he asked, obviously unaware of the function of the building much like many purebloods.

"This is a casino, Mr Scrimgeour, where games of chance can be played. The rules of which can be seen here; it's all quite simple," she gestured to the walls and the large boards upon them. "A casino is a perfectly legal business practice, and one that has existed for years; just ask any of the muggleborn or raised among your Aurors." She gestured to the group, the majority of whom shuffled around while frowning. Much like everywhere else in the Ministry, there was still a bias in who got to attend Auror training due to blood, money and connections. Scrimgeour simply frowned and raised a single eyebrow.

"Um, sir," one of the younger ones piped up, "he's correct on that, if this is a casino."

"Come, let me show you and we can sort all of this out." She raised a hand to gesture towards the main floor, and the gruff man grudgingly followed her past the archway and guards in uniform. He shivered as they passed through, likely from the magic dampening field.

"Why is this area warded so much?" he inquired, looking out over the floor of roulette wheels and card tables.

"To prevent cheating," she answered, "any use of magic within this space sets off certain alarms and makes it obvious who did it; the games must remain fair after all. Now, allow me to show you how, say, the roulette works?" She gestured over to a table where four people were gathered around, facing the calm man in red uniform spinning the wheel up and depositing the ball. "The wheel over there spins, and a ball goes around the outside. When it eventually stops, it rests in one of the little holes which are each numbered from zero to thirty six, further alternating between red and black, with nought being green. Now, the table is where you place your bet on what the ball will land on," she waved her hand over as a man placed a last minute chip down. "Now, you see there he has placed one in the first-dozen section. That is, he thinks it will land somewhere between the numbers one and twelve, inclusive. It's a relatively safe bet, with odds of twenty-five to twelve of winning, and if he does win, he gets double what he bet. Safer bets will give smaller pay-outs, whereas ones with smaller odds have greater pay-outs. It's all on the wall over there, clear as day."

"Those are all the different options?" he stated, looking over the large board showing a picture of the table and various circles with a capital letter inside, and the associated information on the right with the name and the pay-out.

"That's right, and each number on that wheel is just as likely to appear as the others – there is no tampering whatsoever – and as you can see, no magic is used. It's all luck," she replied deftly, before laying a guiding hand behind his back to turn him over to a table where a game of poker was being played. "Now here, I believe that wizards are familiar with poker?"

"Yes, I do know poker," the man said neutrally.

"Well, it's exactly as it seems; just a game of Texas Hold 'em, I believe. The House takes five percent of each pot, of course, for fees, and the dealer's wages, the cards, the venue, etcetera. Again, standard practice in the muggle world – although they charge anywhere from two and a half to ten percent, depending on the venue. Over there we have blackjack, and there are various other games and such, and I assure you each and every one is perfectly legal. We checked. There is absolutely nothing illegitimate about this business, and there is no legal reason to close us down or arrest anyone. We're just trying to introduce a muggle business into a gap in the wizarding market."

"I still want to go over this setup to see that these…games are fair," he answered.

"Of course; we're closed from three am to seven pm, so any time between then is fine if you wish to examine anything, although I assure you, you'll find nothing. There's no magic and no trickery involved; a lot of this was bought directly from muggle suppliers. Generally, they have better carpenters and we didn't need to explain what everything was to them."

"I believe a few of us shall stay around and observe for a period of time," he replied, glancing over the room's contents.

"Of course; I'll tell the barman to give you anything you ask for, on the house, while you're here."

"We are still on duty, you understand?"

"No reason business shouldn't be mixed with pleasure."

###########################################################################

"It's time to push forwards," the cloaked figure at the head of the table announced as they appeared from thin air. "We hold Britain firmly, and it shall be our staging point as we expand across Europe. Mister Scabior," the man perked up and looked to the figure.

"Yes, sir?" he inquired nervously – still not entirely having kicked the habit of uncertainty in Moriarty's presence. Greyback seemed to be the only one unconcerned.

"Reach out to any contacts you have on the continent – magical and non – prioritising France as our next port of call. There is work to be done, and so much new business to do."

###########################################################################

"You really shouldn't worry so much over the exams, you know," Jasmine said as she held her finger up against a piece of parchment, moving down as she studied the lines of neat writing.

"Says the one who doesn't need to take them this year," Hermione stated, not looking up from her book.

"She's right, though; these exams really don't matter that much," Nadia commented, "we don't take our OWLs until next year; these are just normal end-of-year internal exams. They're not qualifications or anything, just a marker for the teachers to see how well we're doing."

"So we shouldn't disappoint them," the bushy-haired girl argued.

"You won't disappoint them, and endlessly studying won't do much to help you out, just to stress you out," the brunette argued back, "you get too worked up over this stuff, Hermione, you need to calm down a bit. This level of stress isn't good for you. Listen to the Healer."

"Healer-in-training," the other Gryffindor retorted sourly, "that's why Jasmine is looking over your recipe."

"Well, she is a potions prodigy," Nadia said defensively, "and I'm fairly sure this potion will work, but it's always good to get a second opinion, and a third possibly if you'd look over it. Especially since this is important."

"So you admit that your coursework is important, but not that these exams are?"

"Well, considering this is my NEWT coursework versus internal exams that are basically only for student reports, I'd say so, yes."

"Well," Hermione began.

"Oh, enough you two," Jasmine interrupted, "you're both stressed if you're bickering over this small of a thing. Hermione, she's right; you shouldn't worry this much over the exams – they are mainly for benchmarking us and working out where we all are as regards to material we need next year, and that we have a year to correct any problems that may arise. They want to know what we don't know, not what we do. And Nadia, stop worrying over this recipe. It seems fine, and I can tell you it should work as intended; however I would recommend substituting the belladonna neutralised by Emberscale gizzard with a lacewing neutralised by wormwood infusion. It will make it a bit thinner, and reduce its potency somewhat, but it'll be less dangerous if you mess up the quantities of ingredients by some degree. Belladonna is a tricky one to tell when it's been neutralised, and you don't want something which is accidentally poisonous if you didn't neutralise enough of it, or highly combustible if you did too much. Apart from that, I don't see why you shouldn't test it out."

"Right, I'll bring that up with Madam Pomphrey before I try brewing it," the girl said gratefully as she took the piece of parchment back.

"How much do you need in the way of coursework?" Jasmine inquired curiously – certain NEWT subjects required projects of some description, Arithmancy among them, but each had different specifications.

"Well, I'm supposed to specialise in some field of healing, and provide a new and valid contribution to the subject – this potion being mine – which is then documented in a paper to be submitted. And I then also need to be trained in some methods in that field and be able to answer questions on them in the final exam. All in all, it counts for forty percent of my final grade," Nadia answered.

"And you chose dentistry as a specialism?" she queried.

"Well, it isn't something many magical Healers have approached," the Gryffindor stated while leaning back against a desk, "most dental problems are solved by removal and regrowth of the tooth – which uses a variant of skele-gro, which is expensive and painful. This paste," she held up the piece of parchment, "should heal a sore tooth and repair the nerves inside. Plus, Hermione's parents offered me work experience at their clinic this summer – I'm hoping to learn a lot about how muggles treat healing. I couldn't believe you two when you said they actually cut people open and then stitch them back up like a seam of cloth." She shivered with a repulsed look on her face.

"It works, and you have to note that surgery is by-and-large a very successful method that's tried and tested," Hermione said defensively.

"I'm not saying that, I just want to know how it works, and why," she responded.

"That's quite a Ravenclaw attitude," Jasmine commented, "are you sure I'm not rubbing off on you?"

"We both know you're a closet Slytherin," Hermione said with a snort. Jasmine simply shrugged, not denying anything.

"I'm an academic, first and foremost, and so to Ravenclaw I went. Any personality traits that Slytherin house supposedly supports... well, is Malfoy particularly cunning? Or Crabbe and Goyle? I'd rather think I am not in the slightest bit like them."

###########################################################################

Not for the first time, Jasmine was incredibly happy to have her invisibility cloak. The Quidditch pitch – which had also seemingly been magically expanded to a greater size – that housed the maze for the Third Task was under some guards from the Ministry, mainly junior hit wizards on training, in order to prevent cheating or spoiling of the event. Not that it would stop the Ravenclaw, of course.

Walking out onto what once was the pristine pitch – which she did hope was returned to its former glory afterwards, she could admit to perhaps enjoying Quidditch at times – she regarded the walls of hedges that stood around nine foot tall, and made up of dark green leaves. The Task was due to happen in one week's time, and so everything had been finished up on schedule. All that needed to be done was for the Cup to be placed in the centre of the maze on the day itself. And for it to be stocked with all of Hagrid's beasties, of course.

Getting up and close to the nearest hedge, Jasmine surreptitiously glanced around – despite her invisibility – before withdrawing a pair of platinum-bladed secateurs that poked beyond her cloak to snip off a twig of the plant. Quickly, it was picked up and placed under a stasis charm, and Jasmine watched as the piece that she had cut off magically regrew and was replaced exactly as it was before.

"Five seconds regrowth time for roughly eight inches," she muttered as the plant settled down, before turning to walk back towards the castle.

###########################################################################

"This is the cutting you wanted me to identify?" Nadia inquired as she regarded the twig with a few waxy green leaves sprouting off it.

"Yes, oh, and here's your secateurs back," Jasmine handed over the implement with its precious-metal blade. "Why is it made of platinum, anyway?"

"It's the one noble metal that doesn't affect any magical properties of the plants; same reason you have different metal cauldrons that give different effects, but platinum is inert and doesn't have any effect," the brunette answered as she turned the twig over a few times while examining it. The book she had brought was quickly opened up and a few pages consulted. "Well, I can't be certain, but I believe this is Cyrilis Aenta. It's a quick growing hedge plant that can be shaped quite easily; quite a few old houses have gardens with it in. The reason it's not more widely used is that it's difficult to maintain and keep in one area and in the desired shape; there's a few offshoots that are easier to manage. What's this for, anyway?"

"Confirming my suspicions; like you said the other day, it's best to have an expert verify your assumptions when it's something important on the line," she answered. She had originally known of eight or nine possibilities, which had been narrowed down to four when she saw the hedge herself. Now Nadia had confirmed what she had hoped for, but would have needed to spend a number of hours looking through identifying books to certify otherwise.

"Important as my NEWT coursework…is this for the Third Task?" the Gryffindor asked with a curious look.

"Maybe, maybe not, depending on if it would incriminate me to reply in the affirmative," the ravenette gave a shark-like smile. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go make some final preparations for my performance next Saturday." As she turned to leave, she could hear the girl behind her chuckling slightly.

"Oh, Jasmine; always two steps ahead of the game. The other three aren't going to know what hit them," Nadia said with a laugh.

"They'll have egg on their faces when they lose to someone three years their junior," she replied nonchalantly, that same smile still adorning her features. It was almost in the bag, now all she needed to do was turn up and win.

###########################################################################

The slight whistling of the wind, and a splashing from the lake as Nadia skipped a stone across its surface was the only thing that broke the silence of the surprisingly warm – for Britain anyway – late afternoon. The other two girls sat up next to each other, leaning against a gnarled tree that afforded some privacy from those on the grassland behind them, also enjoying the reasonably sunny day while revising.

"What if something goes wrong?" Hermione declared, breaking the peaceful moment.

"It won't," Jasmine replied reassuringly.

"But what if it does?" the Gryffindor turned her head over to stare into emerald eyes. "This Tournament is deadly, and we know that whoever entered you is likely to make their move in this Task."

"Then we'll deal with it, or them," the ravenette stated firmly, while moving her hand to grasp Hermione's tightly. "I'll come back, don't you worry."

"I'll hold you to that."

As the pair turned back to the peaceful scene in front of them, they just caught the image of Nadia smirking at them before turning away to skip another stone. It was a rare moment when the Earth seemingly stood still, and allowed them time to simply be at rest.

Of course, nothing lasts forever.

###########################################################################

Unlike the Second Task, there was actually cheering at the Third. Afternoon light shone down on the packed stands of students, parents, reporters and even dignitaries, home and foreign.

Attention was mainly focused either on the physical champions themselves, or the same floating screens from the Second Task related to their necklaces. Also similarly to the prior event, all three champions were dressed differently. Delacour had once more opted for muggle means, and favoured a light blue and silver fleece tracksuit. Diggory, who this time appeared to be looking less at Delacour and more at the maze, had chosen what looked not dissimilar to rugby gear used by muggle private schools several years prior; a thick, long-sleeved shirt striped yellow and black and with the school crest over his heart, black shorts, and sturdy brown leather boots with studs on the underside. Krum had opted for a tan-coloured tunic, emblazoned with his school crest across his chest, crisp red trousers and hefty leather boots that left him looking quite military in appearance. A lot of attention was once more addressed the way of the youngest champion, however, whose form was entirely obscured in a long black cloak with a deep hood that stopped anyone seeing what was underneath. Jasmine simply smiled, knowing her reveal would probably cause some shock and was best revealed at the opportune moment. She had spent a lot of time preparing it, after all.

###########################################################################

"Miss Potter," the potion master drawled as he yawned while unlocking the door to the potions' rooms, "I agreed to allow you access to here this early in the morning, requiring no little inconvenience on my part, I do not think it unreasonable that I should ask why."

"It's relating to the Third Task this afternoon," Jasmine replied simply, readjusting her hold on the pewter cauldron filled with pouches and vials.

"I believe that using potions that will affect your performance are banned, are they not?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow while pushing the door open.

"The rules specifically state anything you imbibe," the ravenette explained, handing him a piece of parchment while she walked over to her customary place on one of the side-benches in the prep-room.

"Ah, I had wondered as to your interest in this when you asked me about it a few months ago; a clever diversion around the rules," the dour man replied as he looked over the recipe she'd given him, "remind me, how did you not end up in my house?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir," she stated innocently while unpacking her ingredients and placing them in order on the bench.

"Your mother said the same thing," Snape commented as he placed her recipe back down on the desk. "Might I ask how you're going to use this?"

"That would be spoiling the surprise, sir."

###########################################################################

Her smile only grew as Bagman stepped up to the fore for the penultimate time, and quieted the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man once more dressed in his tatty Quidditch robes announced, Crouch standing by his side looking ever aloof and uninterested in the whole ordeal. "Welcome, to the final task of the Triwizard Tournament!" He waited for the cheering to die down, seemingly relieved that there actually was some this time around. "In this task, the Champions simply have to get through the maze – which they will each enter from their own entrance – and reach the Triwizard Cup which lies at the centre. The first person to touch the Cup, wins the Tournament! Now, the time at which each Champion will enter the maze is dictated by the points they stand on. For each point they are ahead, they will receive six seconds longer than their compatriots." Jasmine frowned at that, but didn't let it affect her too much. They had lowered it from ten seconds before the task started, so the change was allowed. It was all to give her less of a lead over the others, since she would otherwise have had nearly seven minutes on them. "Since Jasmine Potter is in first place with eighty points, hers is the benchmark time. Viktor Krum is in second with forty points, so he will leave four minutes after Jasmine. Miss Delacour is in third with thirty points, and will leave a minute after the Durmstrang Champion. Mr Diggory is in fourth place with twelve points, meaning he will leave a hundred and eight seconds after Miss Delacour. But fear not, you all; this is by no means a one horse race." 'You're completely wrong there, you poor little man. This might be over before the last champion even enters.' "The maze is full of traps, and creatures, and obstacles that will make movement through it very difficult, and the Champions still have to find their way to the centre! I believe we are in for quite a spectacle. Now, Miss Potter, on the sound of the cannon, you will enter the maze and the timing shall begin. Are we ready?" The resounding roar from the crowd made Jasmine think of her fighting ring beneath London's streets; there really was little difference in her mind, and yet it was her business that was illegal. Go figure. "Then in three, tw-." Bagman was cut off as the cannon-blast interrupted him, and he sent a glare at Filch who was supposedly operating the ancient war-machine, and said squib was to be found on his back struggling to get up after it had pushed him over.

Jasmine smirked a little at the scene as she decided it was show time regardless, shrugging off her great cloak. She was quite a sight, that was for sure. Her clothing was muggle sourced, once again, and basically amounted to a dark blue sports bra, clinging black short shorts of the same material, and short, military black leather boots. To a society that was still half-stuck in the Victorian age, especially as far as fashion was concerned, showing that much skin was practically scandalous, especially with how the sportswear clung to her lithe form. However, it likely wasn't the only thing the watchers were concentrating on in regards to her appearance.

Her entire form was covered with spiky swirls, lines and circles standing out with their blue hue against her pale skin. They swept across her entire body, reaching from her forelegs right up to her forehead in ways that had never before been seen in the British Isles. The woad was nothing new, of course, in-fact the paste-like substance was an ancient recipe brewed from the blue blood of fire-crabs found off the coast of Scotland and used often in potions, and various other items found in the North of the island. It was this that the Picts had used to keep the Romans out many, many centuries before. It extracted power from the user's magical core, and imbued their bodies with extra power they would not ordinarily have. It was traditionally used on the front line warriors who had Ogham runes to increase the strength of their limbs, making them faster and stronger; however usage like that could not be sustained for long, as channelling the magic through their flesh damaged it after too-long exposure.

Of course, she wasn't using it for that reason, or using any of the runes that her ancestors had.

These were from a book she had studied often, given to her by Hermione as a Christmas gift, on African tribal runes. Those were designed to be inked onto the skin and withdrew small amounts of magic every day, getting the body to grow in a certain way or encourage one thing or another over the space of several years by doing it slowly. Those runes were rarely used for muscle growth, though, and were more commonly used for changing the properties of skin; making it impervious to harm, or able to withstand the blistering heat of deserts and the like. It was the latter that she had layered across her form.

The Celtic method and African runes combined allowed for her to temporarily make her skin fireproof, although if she kept them on too long she would have a number of ill-effects, however it would do for the duration of the Task. And of course, it allowed her to use her favoured tactic.

Ignoring the crowd's stares, she stepped forth into her entrance and immediately drew her wand, which– along with everything less than a few centimetres from her skin – also fell under the 'field' of the woad runes, and was protected from flames.

"Veloxia Flagrante," she incanted clearly, watching as a plume of fire spewed from the end of her wand into the hedge opposite her; quickly setting it ablaze in the inferno of fire, but it was combatted by the regrowth of the plant. "Bombarda," the second spell to exit her holly wand was yellow in colour, and the blasting curse blew apart the section of organic wall, and Jasmine quickly jumped forward through the gap – feeling only a tickling from the fire still blazing around her – to the other side. A quick glance both ways showed no creatures around to cause her trouble, and so she turned to watch the hedge slowly growing back to its former self, forcing the last sparks away since it was so saturated in sap that it was too wet to burn properly. "About eight seconds, more than enough time," she muttered after the hedge had 'healed' itself, spinning back to face the next wall ahead with a grin. "Veloxia Flagrante."

###########################################################################

The acromantula, which was about the size of a dog, screeched and keened horribly under the end of her well-practiced fire spell. The ravenette didn't let up until it was nothing more than some burned chitin; it never hurt to be sure, after all.

In almost boredom – but with a slightly more tired wave than when she began – she cast her customary spell at the next piece of hedge, swiftly followed by an explosive curse before jumping through the hole she made.

On the other side, she took a moment to rest her hands on her knees; this was tiring her out a lot more than she'd accounted for in planning. Straightening up with a groan, she stilled upon regarding what was in front of her.

And then Jasmine smiled.

There it was, in all its gaudy glory; the cup appeared to be made of artfully carved crystal and sculpted gold, with roaring dragons making up the handles on the side and 'Triwizard' engraved into the hexagonal crystal bowl-shaped part of the cup.

With a triumphant expression on her face, the ravenette reached forward to grab the trophy by a golden serpent's neck.

The smile didn't drop with the tugging at her navel, as the world whipped by around her, squeezing in a familiar way; she had used plenty of portkeys before, and she certainly wasn't going to throw up in front of the public.

Her smile did disappear, however, when she was deposited in a place that definitely wasn't where she was supposed to be. Spinning around, one major thought flickered through her head.

'Oh bugger; Hermione's going to kill me.'

A/N: And there's your cliff-hanger. Also, I actually managed to sit down and write this! I haven't written this much this quickly in a while – like I said previously, most of the other chapters were held in reserve for a while, and been extensively combed-over and added to before posting. This one might not have that, as I don't know if I'll have the time, so I apologise for any mistakes or typos.

Also, I'd appreciate any ideas on what to call the Casino, as the only half decent one I could come up with was Hadrian's Villa, which sounds rubbish. Anyhow, until the next time!