Harry Potter and the Season of the Heart

by Ice-Tea-1983

My take on Harry's Sixth year, seventh year, and an epilogue skipping a few years in time. Not HBP or DH compliant.

7. Chapter 7

Time passed, as it does regardless of circumstances, and Harry finally got the opportunity to kiss Hermione more often.

Hermione's birthday passed, and she was very happy with the dinner the two had alone in their common room, and seemed pleased with the bracelet Harry had given her as a present. He was certain she would have loved a book more, but he thought that a book seemed slightly cold. The bracelet had been crafted on request, and was composed of silver and gold threads braided in Celtic knots to form the loop for the hand, and connected on a perfectly smooth dome-shaped ruby that had a rose etched into it in platinum and diamond. Every time Harry thought of her, it would glow softly. She had kissed him thoroughly in thanks for the bracelet, and nearly singed herself on the live candles at their table as she had not bothered to step around it.

The soreness Hermione had experienced for a few days after she had her accident while stretching abated soon enough, and she was able to return to training without giving away any indications of anything being wrong. She had written her parents on a weekly basis, and informed them of her accident, they were very understanding, although she voiced her suspicion about their delayed response by them having taken the question of the probability of this accident to a physician.

Dumbledore was a very skilled Potions Instructor, even with his jovial nature. Hardly surprising considering that he was one of those who discovered the Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood. The Slytherins suffered from the lack of their former Head of House, as the nepotism was no longer present, meaning they did not get away with things they did before, they did not get points for no reason, and the other houses were not deducted points for being smart or for something instigated by a Slytherin. This meant that the Slytherin students had to live up to their house's reputation to get away with things.

During Care of Magical Creatures class, it was discovered that the reason for Madame Maxime being at Hogwarts was in two parts. The first was that Hagrid had managed to propose to her, but was unable to afford a fancy ring. The second reason was that the French board of education found her to be half-giant, and in the regular unbiased view caused them to fire her from her position as headmistress. She had then moved to Hogwarts to assist Hagrid, her fiancée, in his job as teacher.

---

It was the last week of September when Dumbledore stood in front of the closed doors of the Great Hall when dinner was usually served, and announced that all should step outside so they could greet their guests, grouped together according to year, Head Boy and Head Girl in front with the teachers.

Everyone followed the command, students trooping out and grouping together with their own year, subconsciously dividing into houses as well, on the front lawn of the castle. It was beginning to darken already, and Dumbledore stood and gazed at the sky which was slowly colouring to the purple that matched his star and moon covered robes. His silvery white beard and hair were taking on soft hues of the sky, and the headmaster himself was humming a merry ditty as he stood and tipped from heel to toe as he sucked on a lemon drop.

'How will the other schools be arriving?' asked professor McGonagall.

Dumbledore chuckled in his usual way. 'If I told you that, I would be ruining the surprise.'

The students were not exactly pleased to learn this, but kept their peace, as it would not be nice to force things out of the headmaster.

'Ah, here we have the Salem Institute of Magic,' announced Dumbledore, looking down towards the Hogsmeade station.

A black serpent was coiling itself across the sky, coming closer and closer. Some students exclaimed that it was a dragon, but the elder students put those fears to rest.

'It's a train!' exclaimed Neville after a moment of intense staring.

Indeed it was, it was a darkly coloured train of a modern design. The sleek form came down, and pulled to a stop near the banks of the lake. The train was so large; it was obvious that it was meant for more than just transportation. The windows of the dark blue train were tinted dark, so there was no way of telling what went on inside, but after a moment, the doors opened, and students poured from it, numbering near a hundred all in all, every single student wearing casual clothing.

A grown man stepped out of the train, amidst his seventeen and sixteen year old students, and approached the Hogwarts group, his students following behind. The man was of slightly higher than average height, brown hair and appeared to be in his forties. He wore a casual brown suit and green tweed blazer, with black leather patches attached to his elbows.

'Brown, old friend!' stated Dumbledore happily and clasped the hand the man extended automatically. 'Good to see you again, it has been far too long!'

'Nearly twenty years, Albus,' agreed the man, obviously the headmaster of the American students.

'Please, step inside, dinner will be served shortly, as soon as everyone is gathered.'

'Thank you, Albus,' Brown turned to his students. 'Alright, you heard the man! Inside, and behave! Remember that you are guests and represent your continent, so act dignified!'

On his way in, Brown shook hands with all of the staff that had lined up, including Harry and Hermione.

As the students of the American continent made their way inside, the Hogwarts students returned to their scouting of the horizon.

Harry was the first to spot that a portion of the grounds not far from the Quidditch pitch was heating to the pint where there were distortions in the air. From this distortion, it appeared that a tiny village of clay huts grew out of the ground, which was turned into warm brown soil. Suddenly, the illusion of a distortion vanished, leaving the clay huts and soil.

'Ah, the Dark Continent School of Magic,' commented Dumbledore.

A mass of dark faces poured from the huts, and were led by a large powerfully built man, he reminded Harry of Kingsley Shacklebolt, but with a closely cut head of hair and slim glasses. He also wore a smart business suit that had a black pin at his high necked shirt instead of a tie. A row of pearly white teeth appeared as he came closer and spotted Dumbledore.

'Compton!' greeted Dumbledore merrily. Harry idly wondered if the man could ever greet anyone with anything but friendliness. 'Brown is already inside, please join them, as I dare venture this is not a climate your students are accustomed to.'

Headmaster Compton smiled silently and greeted all the staff and Heads before he proceeded inside, followed by a sea of grey and white boarding school uniformed students. All but the headmaster appeared to be freezing in the mild British autumn air. Harry wondered what those students had been expecting when temperature was concerned. It seemed lucky for them that the patch of the grounds their huts were on was heated, so they wouldn't go cold for too long.

'And here is the Magic Academy of the Rising Sun,' commented Dumbledore casually.

On the grounds, not too far from where the Dark Continent's encampment was, a shower of purple and pink petals rained down from a great height. As they descended, a tree became visible behind the shower. A cherry tree of a very grand scale, with windows, balconies and doors embedded into the trunk, warm light pouring from within.

The main door opened, and a female figure stepped out, clad in a soft purple kimono with golden print of trees and phoenixes. Her dark hair was done up in a bun that was held together by a pair of decorated and lacquered chopsticks, and a pink fan that matched the kimono in print covered most of the lightly decorated face. The woman radiated the warmth and caring of a mother, although her figure would not confess of any childbirth on her part.

The woman elegantly glided across the lawns, closely followed by students clad in blue and grey boarding school uniforms.

'Yorokobashii e Hogwarts, Saijin-san,' greeted Dumbledore in a formal bow, but he did not bow too deep, or his glasses and hat would have come off. 'I hope our school will be most hospitable during your stay, and that none offend your students' honour.'

'Albus-san, you are too formal,' giggled the woman pleasantly but seemed grateful for the greeting.

'I should hope so,' jested the headmaster. 'Please, you and your students are welcome to join our other guests as we wait for our last one. The feast shall be served as soon as the Australian contingent has arrived.'

'Arigato, Albus-san,' bowed the headmistress and proceeded to bow at each teacher and Head before she and her students entered the castle. Harry could tell that this woman was not only older than she appeared, but would absolutely age gracefully and live past one hundred and fifty years of age, unless shortened by accident or intent, and would retain some beauty even in death. Her students seemed to admire and respect her, and from what Harry could tell, there was no trace of veela blood in her.

It came as quite a surprise to everyone when a huge anchor lowered itself from the sky and into the lake. No one had seen anything, but suddenly a great Cruise Ship was floating in the air above the lake, higher than the tallest of Hogwarts' towers. An army of small black dots fell off the ship, causing some of the students to gasp in fear of the victims, only to have the majority of the witches and wizards that dove perform – to some degree of success – the Wronski feint, before landing before Dumbledore.

The students all wore powder blue robes, which the boys seemed to hold slight aversion to.

A blonde woman in her thirties stepped off her broom, which she had ridden sideways as a proper lady should, and greeted the headmaster.

'A pleasure to meet you, Miss Banks,' returned Dumbledore and gracefully gave her hand a kiss on the back. 'If you'd follow us, the other schools are waiting in the Great Hall. The feast will start as soon as we have presented our champions.'

The students all steamed inside, the Hogwarts students having been standing out for nearly three quarters of an hour, and the Woollongong students were used to a warmer climate, so it was of utmost importance for most to enter as quickly as possible.

When everyone entered the Great Hall, they saw that the hall itself was enlarged to hold the large crowd, instead of four house tables and a head table; there were now a large number of smaller circular tables seating ten at the most. The foreign students had gathered at tables where their own country was in superior number, while the headmasters and teachers of those schools had gathered with the others of their profession. Conversations of several languages were spoken, excitement nearly tangible in the air.

Harry and Hermione found seats near the tables occupied by the teachers, but Harry was unable to sit, as all five headmasters of headmistresses were waving their champions up from their seats.

Dumbledore stood to make the introductions.

'Welcome everyone, to Hogwarts,' he started. 'I hope all our guests will feel at home during this yearlong championship, but before we can have any sort of championship, we must all be introduced to our champions! So without further ado, let me introduce to you, Miss Samantha Johnson of the Salem Institute!'

A girl that looked to be a ditzy blonde stood and waved eagerly, blowing kisses as people applauded her. She had a build that many women would kill to attain, and men would kill to "own". Her wardrobe left little to the imagination, even if all her "bits" were completely covered. Harry idly wondered how she managed to won the American Triwizard Tournament, as she hardly looked like she could figure out what two and two would make, let alone remember a spell to save her life.

'And from the Dark Continent, we have Ngame!'

A boy that was obviously no stranger to hunting stood, a scar running vertically across the right half of his face. His black skin shining in the light.

'From the Rising Sun Academy, Kasumi Tsuniko!'

A girl at about Hermione's height stood, blushing at the attention. Her brown hair tied into a low ponytail that was tied with ribbons at evenly spaced intervals to the tip of the hair, which reached to her lower back. Her uniform was immaculate, and she wore a near undetectable amount of make-up. The girl bowed respectfully to her teachers and the so far announced opponents. While her torso assets weren't as large as those of Samantha, she could hold her own, and was most definitely fit in body, and a twinkle in her eye spoke of withheld information. She was acting less intelligent than she really was.

'From the Woollongong School of Magic, we have Bruce Cooper!'

A boy with a folded bandana covering his head stood u on the table and did a back-flip back down to the floor before sticking his arms out in victory signs, his short red hair sticking out at his forehead. The bandana had the caption of "DAREDEVIL". He also looked the type to chase anything in a skirt, which would be unfortunate, as robes could on occasion look like long skirts, and not many wizards cared much for keeping their hair short.

'And last, but certainly not least, from Hogwarts, Harry Potter!'

Harry looked about and waved tentatively, wincing as several people wolf whistled at him. He was aware that he had developed very much physically since the last photograph taken of him in human form, and that he surprised several with his new appearance, some more positively than others.

Dumbledore clapped his hands and food appeared on every table, with a variation of dishes from all over the world.

Ron was not too happy about this ('Eating fish raw is unnatural! Give me good old Bubble and Squeak any day!') and stuck with what British meals he could find.

The meal was consumed amidst friendly banter and conversation, and Harry felt the eyes of several individuals at several times during the feast. It was nearly unsettling having people staring at him as he ate, but he had six years of practice in ignoring it, and carried on as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He could tell Hermione was slightly more on edge with all the new girls and women present, and discreetly rested his free hand on her hand to calm her.

Several of the foreign students would at times stand in their seats and take photographs, like Collin Creevey was prone to do, bathing the Great Hall in bright lights. Harry knew that at least five of those photos would be printed in various wizarding papers the following day. Hopefully the other champions would be mentioned in those papers as well … he didn't like being called attention-seeker when he had done nothing to warrant the attention he got.

At least Snape wasn't there to try and personally deflate Harry's supposedly swelled head as he had been trying to do since the moment Harry stepped onto Hogwarts' grounds. The problem with Snape trying to deflate his head, was that there wasn't much to deflate to begin with. Harry had been insecure for ages, and only during the past two or three years had he started becoming more confident.

Malfoy had tried to do what his former Head of House had done, but with far less results, as his words bore as much weight as a single grain of salt in the entire ocean.

Harry discussed his theories with Hermione, concerning what they normally talked about when they weren't being studious, training or affectionate, namely killing Voldemort, in gobbledygook so as few as possible could understand. As they talked, they absorbed some of the Japanese words they heard through the hall, but made no move to try and understand it yet. They knew that with the Merpeople spell, they would be able to learn from memory of only a few spoken words at the least, and saw no reason for trying to draw attention to themselves.

Nearly two hours passed before Dumbledore stood from his seat and dismissed quietened everyone down.

'As you all have been made aware, this is the World Wizarding Championship,' the aged man started. 'As such, the five competitors are given roughly one month to prepare themselves to face their first task. It shall not be revealed yet what that task is, as we wouldn't want any repeats of our Triwizard Championship, where two competitors were spirited away by a portkey and into the grasp of the enemy.'

It was by now too late in the evening to start the evening DA lesson, so it was postponed until a later date, with extra hard training the following day.

---

The first morning after the arrival of the foreign schools was a slightly confusing time for the members of the DA, as the foreign students walked the corridors and asked questions about everything, including membership in the DA, which they had found out about when they were asking about the school.

Harry had no problem with accepting foreign students, because maybe they would spread the concept on to their schools, and help form an international club instead of merely a school club. Not to mention that the more that were proficient in the duelling and fighting arts, the tougher would Voldemort's – or any future Dark Lord's – rise be. Fawkes was once more borrowed for the sorting, and only ten interested, about four from the Rising Sun, two from Woollongong, two from Salem and two from the Dark Continent were accepted of those interested that had tried. And these had to be acquainted with their routine, slowing the process of the others by about two days, grand total. One or two had some informal – or formal where the Rising Sun Academy was concerned – training in the martial arts, so it was slightly easier for them to adapt, they also found the newly developed style very effective and stylish. It looked nearly like a dance when Harry and Hermione demonstrated a few kata for the new members. The ones with knowledge of martial arts remarked how extraordinary it was for someone with such a muscular build – Harry – to move so gracefully without the aid of magic.

Word had spread quickly, and new international members were initiated into the Duelling Club to even out the advantage.

---

It was two weeks into the new month when Harry and Hermione were teaching mild Summoning spells, a dark figure with a sword was summoned by an overly nervous Japanese student, who had been informed about the dangers of Summoning, and gone in over his head. They had only learned one or two of the spells that could be cast with a wand, for security reasons. It would be unsafe to have dozens of children that knew how to Summon beings of molten lava, as large as dragons, to do their bidding in a fit of rage. But even good wizards and witches are capable of mispronouncing even the simplest of spells, which was the reason they now had a ninja made of pure shadow, with glowing red eyes.

The Shadow Ninja hissed and made to decapitate its summoner when Hermione whipped out a gun from under her arm, and fired a single shot through its head, causing it to explode in a red light. Before the corpse hit the ground, everything about it dissolved into a misty shadow.

Silence met the muffled explosion, and everyone turned to Harry and Hermione who were doing some last checks before putting away the enchanted gun.

'Get back to training, and don't try something larger or more dangerous than a fairy,' barked Harry.

Everyone quickly went back to their own business, pretending not to look at the two.

'That's one secret less,' mumbled Harry out the corner of his mouth, pinching Hermione's bottom in punishment for giving the secret so quickly away.

Hermione squeaked in surprise at the pinch, and stuck out her tongue at him.

Harry captured said tongue in a quick but emotional kiss.

A chorus of whistles made them end it and return to supervising the DA.

'Harry!'

Harry was roused from his task of animating a chair to do tap dancing without falling over by the excited voice of Collin Creevey's little sister.

'Dumbledore wants you to come with me,' she panted breathlessly. Being too young for the DA, she was very out of form compared to those who were in it. 'Something about getting you weighed …'

Harry groaned and got up. 'Another Weighing of the Wands Ceremony …' he muttered. 'I'll be back as soon as possible, love.'

Hermione coloured slightly from being called by that endearment so publicly, but nodded and waved him out.

'Lead the way, Charlotte,' he muttered to the recovering second year.

The energetic child bounced to attention and apologised to professor McGonagall for interrupting her class before grabbing Harry's large arm and attempted to drag him along. Harry merely let himself be dragged along, while trying to retain his dignity. He did not want to be seen as a giant softie like Hagrid was, fear and respect went a long way in letting Harry keep his privacy, and he was getting tired of declining the offers of the Daily Prophet made to print articles about him. Gringotts really helped him with keeping things under control, but if the rumour got out that he was being led around by the hand by a girl nearly small enough to be stacked on top of herself three times before reaching his full height, the various companies would assume him soft enough to allow using him without permission … again. That simply would not do.

The pair arrived at the doors of the Great Hall, and Charlotte stopped her progress there.

'You have to go in there,' she said eagerly, 'I have to go back to class now,' she added and sprinted down the corridors before disappearing behind a door that started pretending it was a wall. The door even managed to convince a suit of armour to block it to make it look more real.

Shaking his head at the insane castle, Harry entered the Great Hall, where the other four champions had gathered near the table usually occupied by the headmasters and headmistresses.

Not far from them stood three persons. One was a nervous looking man, pad and quill in his hands, and eyes darting about, looking for someone. Next there was Rita Skeeter, her Quick Quote Quill perched on a piece of parchment, ready to write. Her mannish hands holding a compact mirror that she was currently using to touch up her make-up, and her horned glasses perched on top of her head so as not to get in the way. Finally there was the Daily Prophet's photographer, who was doing some last minute checks on his equipment.

Harry slipped past the three and joined the other champions, making Samantha shriek in fright as she realised someone had simply appeared beside her without her noticing.

The spectacle brought attention to Harry by everyone.

Harry cringed at the noise, and mentally flinched as Rita Skeeter suddenly appeared before him, pumping his hands and having her photographer snap photos every few seconds.

'Mr Potter,' greeted the unknown man with a pad. 'I am from the Chocolate Frog Company, and we were told you had agreed to let us use you in our cards, would now be a good time, or should I come back at a less hectic moment?'

Harry sighed. He remembered authorising that card, but he also remembered that they were to wait for about a year before printing it. His mother had been very proud of him when she heard of the offer and encouraged him to take it. She had also remarked how she wished she could see her son, and how much he had changed. He shook himself from the memories and turned to the man.

'Later would probably be better,' Harry remarked. 'I will get in touch with you during the summer.'

'Of course,' agreed the man sadly.

'Harry! Good to see you again!'

Harry wasn't happy about Rita being so familiar with him, as they had only met a few times, and hardly a single one of them had been pleasant. The woman in her mid forties gave the young man a hug, to which Harry stood as stiff as a board and refused to return.

'You do realise that the Daily Prophet won't be able to publish any articles about me without my permission, right?'

Rita scoffed. 'Hardly,' she replied. 'The agreement was that any article about you, exclusively, was to be checked by you. I read the contract. This is an article about the World Wizarding Championship, therefore the Prophet will be able to print anything, as long as it isn't solely about you, the Boy-Who-Lived. So, tell me, how did you manage to sneak in here without being noticed? An invisibility cloak? A spell?'

Harry, who had raised a brow at the comment about his contract snorted. 'Muggles aren't the only ones who do not pay attention to their surroundings. I walked in, pure and simple. You were all just too immersed in your own dealings to notice.'

Luckily, Harry had no further need to speak, as Dumbledore and the other headmasters and headmistresses entered, followed by Ollivander. The group took their seats at the table they usually sat at, with Ollivander in the middle. Harry took out his wand to save some time and to keep his holster hidden, and winced slightly at the sight. His wand had not been polished as much as he wished it had been, and there were dents in the wood where it had impacted against various things. The wood had eve started to mould itself to his hand at the hilt, or rather where he usually gripped it. He never realised how hard his grip was until now.

'Miss Tsuniko, if you would please,' urged Dumbledore with his usual smile.

Kasumi Tsuniko stood from her seat, blushed as she looked upon Harry, and walked elegantly up to the table where she handed Ollivander her wand.

'Oh, a fine wand,' commented the wand maker in his airy voice, Harry idly wondered if he was related to Luna in any way as they seemed to share many personality quirks. 'Ten inches, willow, with a whisker of a Kitsune for a core, very unusual …' he gave the wand a wave, as though testing for balance. 'It has seen its fair share of use, if the scratches are anything to judge by …' he sniffed the wand a couple of times before looking up. 'Strange musky odour … possibly the polish… let me see here … Vino!'

A fountain of dark red wine shot from the tip of the wand and into a goblet. Ollivander took a sip and let the liquid be swirled around a bit in the goblet before setting it down, seemingly satisfied.

'Exquisite,' he commented. Kasumi accepted her wand back, and was blushing for some reason.

'Miss Johnson,' continued Dumbledore.

Samantha Johnson came forward and commented; 'Please, call me Sam,' before handing Ollivander her wand. Harry could have sworn she was winking at him not long after her comment.

'Hmm … a good wand, this …' muttered Ollivander. 'Twelve inches, oak – a curious material to use in a wand – with the horn of a unicorn … I'm partial to the hair of a unicorn, but this works just as well … the top half seems to have been in frequent use … it has a similar peculiar odour to that of Miss Tsuniko's … do you use the same brand polish?'

'Er …' blushed Sam, Kasumi blushed as well. 'I guess we might …'

'Oh, well … not important, let's see here … Ovum Cocoa!'

A brown bubble grew on the tip of the wand before landing on the table as a chocolate egg, complete with a bow in sparkling colours. The old man with his staring eyes cracked the egg against the table and watched as the shell fell to pieces, and a tiny chick of white chocolate that tweeted feebly for a moment before falling still, much like the chocolate frog which would move for a bit. The man bit into a piece of the chocolate shell and chick.

'Perfection,' sighed the man and allowed the others to have a taste. Sam got her wand back and returned to her seat.

'Mr Cooper,' Dumbledore called.

Bruce Cooper got up from his seat and walked up to the table, not a care in the world.

'Not bad,' commented Ollivander, 'Nine inches, Beech, tail feather of an augury … slightly bendy … poorly maintained, although it hasn't seen much more use than during class …' the spindly fingers of the wand maker ran along the wand, 'there appears to be some green substance left on it from something or other … let's see how it fares … Fulmen Calamus!'

A crack of thunder rung out in the Great Hall, and a spark of lightning flew out the window under the ceiling where the owls normally entered.

'Excellent.'

'Mr Ngame,' stated Dumbledore.

The African hunter stalked up to the table, his wand already out and ready.

'Hmm … Cherry, ten inches, and the fang of a Nundu … very curious combination …' muttered Ollivander and peered at the wand. 'Fairly well used and maintained … although it has seen one or two battles without being used, I see, the small chip in the hilt shows that it was hidden away at the time … OK … Sanitas Argumentum!'

A beam of white shot out of Harry, on whom the wand had been trained, and an illusion of him appeared hovering between Harry and Ollivander. The representation of Harry was unfortunately nude, and small arrows of energy were sticking out from all over him, tiny comments on his health written at the end of the arrows. Nothing was wrong, or there would be a red mist surrounding the writing, but it was not the least bit funny for Harry whom had just been seen nude in front of not only nearly a dozen strangers, but a photographer as well, and as this was an event article not entirely about him, they could safely show any photographs they took of him, including the ones the photographer was currently taking photographs on the orders of Skeeter.

'Very good.'

'Mr Potter,' finished Dumbledore.

Harry was conscious of not having maintained his wand for a while as he approached the table and handed over his wand.

'Yes, this I remember, very curious … holly, eleven inches, one tail feather of a phoenix … oh my, this certainly has been used a lot, and you've got quite a grip, Mr Potter … not been polished in a while … perhaps one of the young women could lend you their polish …' Harry noted that both girls blushed deeply and smiled in anticipation at this comment. 'Vocare Ego Umbra Miles!'

A black circle appeared on the ground, and a black figure rose from it. A black sword in hand, a black round shield on its arm, black armour covering every inch of its body. Harry's senses were screaming of danger, and his hand nearly automatically darted out and pierced the armour without aid or apparent resistance, making a cavity where the heart should be. The figure dissolved into black mist nearly instantly, leaving Harry to explain how he was able to punch through metal, skin, organs and bones in one light punch.

'I've been training,' he simply stated, trying to sound intimidating so no questions were asked.

Lucky for him, this worked, as one or two of them seemed to have soiled themselves, the photographer was one of them.

'Well, now that this is out of the way, I would say that the champions are free to leave,' declared Dumbledore, his face showing no sign of surprise at the events that had just taken place.

'Yes,' agreed Ollivander and returned Harry's wand to him.

The photographer halted the champions for a group photo, and Harry had to endure having both of the female champions next to him, dangerously close to him. Hermione was not going to like it when she found that she had two more contestants for him, even if he was firmly set on her. Hermione was far too insecure about herself, which led her to think – at times – that Harry would leave her as soon as something better came along.

He would really have to do something to secure her beliefs in his love. There were two options; one, make love to her – something they had both agreed to postpone until they were at least out of Hogwarts, maybe until marriage. Two, propose to her – something he was already in the planning stage of.

---

Time passed surprisingly fast, with studies, having conversations with his mother who was still in her diary, training, Head Boy duties and alone time with Hermione, and sooner than he had expected, the day of the first task was upon him. There had been little activity from Voldemort, apart from mounting forces gathered all over the world, and the occasional attack on Muggles and Muggle born. Fudge was actually contemplating revealing the wizarding world to the Muggles so they could have aid, but this suggestion was met with heavy resistance and claims that Muggles would become too dependent on magic to solve all their problems. Harry had sent in a letter to the Quibbler, asking the general wizarding population if wizards and witches did not depend too much upon magic. He did so under an assumed name, and the letter brought many agreements, also anonymous. Hermione had reacted to the photographs in the Daily Prophet the way Harry had anticipated, namely becoming slightly cold for a few days, as though she was testing him, checking if he would seek comfort in other girls' arms. Harry made it a point to remain as close to her as possible, and when not doing anything, while not in her company, he sat in his room, reading. He had noticed that the Marauder map had vanished, and knew that Hermione would study it from time to time.

It was Hallowe'en, and everyone were milling out to the Quidditch pitch where it all would take place.

The five champions were ushered into the dressing room on the end closer to the castle, where they were to wait until they were called. Harry dressed in training clothes, but made sure to hide away a few blades for safety. The five of them sat there and listened to the stands being filled.

Ten minutes into the waiting, Dumbledore and the other headmasters and headmistresses entered with Cornelius Fudge, who looked about until he spotted Harry, then cringed in remembrance of his past actions against Harry.

'Good, you are all present and accounted for,' opened Dumbledore. 'It is time to initiate you into what your task will be.' A shrieking roar was heard from the outside, sending shivers down most spines. 'Ah, it appears Hagrid and his baby brother has released one onto the pitch already, good … it'll give it some time to calm down before we begin.'

'You will each be facing a Graphorn,' interrupted minister Fudge impatiently. 'The tasks of this Championship were designed to give the champions something of practical use for after the Championship, and acquiring some hide from a Graphorn is the first ingredient you will need to complete it.'

'Thank you, Cornelius,' commented Dumbledore. 'Yes, that is exactly what you will be doing. You will – in turn – enter the pitch and carve a piece of the Graphorn's hide from its living body. Not to worry,' he added seeing the revulsion on the girls' faces, 'the Graphorn heals very quickly, and some salve will be applied to aid it, so they will not suffer lasting damage from this encounter … chances are that they will not even remember anything of this before night comes.'

'All that remains is to determine the order you will enter in,' finished Fudge.

'Quite right, Cornelius,' agreed Dumbledore, although annoyance could be mildly detected on the elder man's face. 'And for just that purpose, we have decided to resort to a highly advanced, complicated method of selection that would be fair for all involved, while remaining completely random.'

He reached out and plucked the bowler hat from the Minister for Magic's head and tossed in some scraps of paper.

'Miss Banks, if you would do the honours?'

Harry nearly laughed at the expression on Fudge's face, and a guffaw escaped his control at the highly advanced and complicated method of selection Dumbledore had told them about. Drawing names from a hat. The Australian headmistress reached into the lime green bowler and rooted about for a bit. She then pulled out a piece of paper.

'The first to go on will be …' stated Dumbledore, 'Samantha, good luck.'

Miss Banks returned to her rooting, and found another.

'Samantha will be followed by … Bruce.'

Again, the hand returned to the hat.

'Bruce will be followed by … Harry.'

Harry sighed, at least he wouldn't be first or last, the two most dreaded positions for contests.

'Harry will be followed by … Ngame. Which leaves Kasumi for last. Please wait here until your names have been called.'

The group of six exited the locker room for the teacher's box, and the five students from separate continents were left to wait again.

'So, Harry,' started Sam. 'How attached are you to that girl that seems attached to your arm or hip?'

Harry idly noted that Kasumi leaned forward slightly at the question, revealing interest.

'Very,' replied Harry. 'I believe there to be a hidden bond between us, as she seems to know when I am in any kind of distress without me saying or doing anything to reveal it. I intend to spend the rest of my days keeping her happy in any and all ways I can.'

The answer seemed not to have the desired effect of driving the attempts of the two girls away, but instead made them sigh wistfully, and Harry could have sworn he saw tiny red hearts floating both around their heads and in their eyes, but dismissed it as having seen too many cartoons in secret as a child, and nervousness for the task he was about to face.

Not long into the wait, a magnified voice boomed out.

'Would Samantha Johnson please come out,' the magnified voice of Dumbledore rung through the area, easily penetrating the walls and doors of the Quidditch pitch.

Sam growled at the full use of her name, but complied with the order, preparing her wand and walking out the door leading to the pitch, head held high and with the pace of a condemned walking to the gallows.

A boom of cheers exploded as soon as the door closed, welcoming the girl.

Harry shared a look with his fellow champions, and they nervously waited. A plane of glass lit up on the wall, showing a rocky mountain region within the Quidditch pitch. A large purple beast was grazing on some patches of grass, horns sticking from its head, and its rocky hide looking very tough, more so than Harry thought himself able to cut through with his blades. The powerful muscles under said hide also told him that stealth and speed was of utmost importance in this task.

Sam's name was written along the bottom left of the glass, just as her tiny figure became visible over the ridge of rock. Compared to the Graphorn, Sam wouldn't even reach the thing's knees. There was no sound, even from the stands, as the crowds – who filled even the additional rows in the stands, added for this Championship – were too excited about what the American champion was going to do.

The four watched as Sam started hunching over, sneaking her way across the mountain terrain. She was amateurish in her performance, but she went unnoticed by the huge beast, until she yelled out a quick succession of carving spells that created a small triangle wound at the Graphorn's shoulder. A summoning charm tore the patch of hide from its body, and was caught by Sam, who nearly dropped it in repulsion.

The Graphorn was not about to let this deed go unpunished, and charged at the blonde, who stood rooted to the ground in fear.

The American blonde was lobbed by the head of the beast into the air, and would have flown out of the pitch if not for the protective barrier that had been erected around it to contain anything inside.

Hagrid and Grawp were quickly on the pitch, restraining the large being while a small squadron of wizards trooped onto the pitch to stun the Graphorn.

There was a breathless silence as madam Pomfrey raced to where Sam had crashed into the ground. The silence grew deafening as the nurse examined the girl, and a roar of triumph rose from the stands as the witch stood up and gave a positive gesture at the teacher's box.

The numbers; five – six – four – five – five twenty-five, appeared on the glass, tallying up Sam's score.

The name and numbers moved and shrank up to the top right corner, where the small numbers vanished, leaving only the name and total score.

Another shrieking roar went out across the area as another Graphorn was released into the mountain area, just as the last person vacated the pitch.

'Would Bruce Cooper please come out,' boomed Dumbledore's voice.

Bruce bounced out of his seat and raced out the door, screaming his personal war-cry, which was promptly drowned out by the roaring salutation of the audience.

Bruce's name appeared on the bottom left corner of the glass, and his figure came racing over the top of the large rocks, abandoning all pretence of stealth in favour of surprise.

The crazy Australian actually managed to run right up to the Graphorn and mount it, clinging to its horned head as it bucked like a bronco across the stone terrain. The boy waved with his bandana and looked like he was having a very great time, riding on the huge beast. After a moment, he imitated Sam and carved a relatively small piece of hide from the beast's shoulders. Unfortunately, this was the last straw for the Graphorn, and it managed to dislodge Bruce, flinging him straight into the air to crash directly onto rocky ground, where the Graphorn started trying to trample the boy, if not for the quick reaction of Hagrid and Grawp, who rushed onto the pitch and held the creature down and away from Bruce while the twenty – or so – wizards came to stun it and madam Pomfrey rushed out to examine the boy for how many injuries he had.

After a series of tests had been preformed – the same one Harry had been exposed to during the most recent weighing of the wands was used as well and it lit up red nearly all over– the matron made the same positive gesture, but was a bit hastier in getting the boy off the pitch than she had been with Sam.

The numbers; six – six – five – seven – five twenty-nine, appeared like it had with Sam.

Bruce's name and total score ended up above Sam's, the numbers one through five appeared in front of their names, displaying their current position in the race for points.

Harry stood, knowing he would be called upon next, and got everything ready.

'Harry Potter, please enter the pitch,' boomed Dumbledore's magnified voice.

Harry took a calming breath and walked to the door, bracing himself for the task ahead, and hoping his strategy – developed over the two previous champions' performance – would get him through this in one piece. Hermione was sure never to forgive him if he injured himself in any way.

He opened the door he had walked through countless times in the past, either for training or for a Quidditch match. This time it was something more dangerous than any Quidditch match could ever be. He was about to face a beast that giants could have trouble dealing with, all alone. He consoled himself with the fact that it didn't breathe fire, or he'd have to be even more cautious. As it stood, he was about to face several tons of muscle, rock like hide and horns nearly as hard as diamonds.

The cheering from the crowds forced itself over Harry like a wall of water, arriving just as sudden as any sneak attack he had staged in the labyrinth he set up every night before his DA was allowed to leave the meeting. He stood still for nearly two full minutes before the noise died down. Harry suspected a silencing charm was being erected around the pitch to achieve this end.

He remembered how Sam and Bruce had gone about things, and made himself a mental map of the area by pushing his magic out around him and having it bounce back like a sonar or radar, allowing him to see any movement within the area. This was a very recent discovery Harry had made during the labyrinth part of a DA meeting. He had been surprised and sprayed in the face by something than blinded him and burned – he later realised it was pepper spray – and he had sent out his magic to try and knock the target back, but succeeded instead in receiving images of the world around him, allowing him to react accordingly when he saw the student that had sprayed him try and knock him unconscious – a goal many had set for themselves after Harry had started the training. That student had been more than stunned when Harry managed to find out where he was about to hit, and dodge and counter appropriately, resulting in a mild bashing. Harry did not realise how similar his recently discovered ability was to that of a certain blind comic book hero, nor would he agree if he was told.

The Graphorn had calmed down from the noise and herding, and was sniffing some patches of grass not too far off, probably smelling the scent of the two other Graphorns that had been there within the hour. It was naturally weary as there was a scent of fear and blood in the air, something humans can normally only pick up on where there are heavy concentrations of both. Harry was by no means normal, as his Animagus form left some senses in his human form, allowing him better senses than even an untrained werewolf.

Deciding to be as stealthy as possible, Harry shifted forms, and stood as he had about a year ago, as the werebeast like creature. There were few shadows to hide in, but Harry managed to find some, and manipulated them to suit his means. To those who were watching, it appeared as though Harry crawled into a hole in the ground, and that the small hole was slowly moving. This was not so, as Harry was physically moving a shadow from within, slowly creeping up on the giant beast that was unaware of Harry's proximity. He was nearly under the beast when he struck, sending twin horizontal cutting hexes at the Graphorn, both hitting with nearly four feet between them, tearing great gashes along the shoulder of the beast.

The Graphorn, unable to determine where this unprovoked attack came from, started to panic, and ran in a random direction, screeching wildly in fear, agony and confusion. After a moment, Harry sent another dual curse, slicing the hide vertically, nearly seven feet between them, crossing paths with the other two cuts, creating a surface piece at six and a half foot times four, which fell out at the violent movements the terrified Graphorn was making. Harry winced as he saw a great deal of exposed muscles and tendons, and trickling blood. He imagined being partially skinned alive would be slightly more painful than having ones bones regrown, but less painful than the Cruciatus curse, two things he was fairly certain the Graphorn had never experienced.

He returned to the here and now, and noticed that the Graphorn was still moving in panic. As not to spoil the hide by having the Graphorn trample it, Harry summoned it to him, stepping out of the shadow.

The Graphorn spotted its tormentor, and started its rampaging charge for revenge. Harry expected as much, and in return raced at the thing, defying the thing's logic, and scaring the wits off more than half of the audience Harry had half forgotten he had. He didn't dare try to stop it physically, as a Graphorn was heavier than even uncle Vernon's car, and while it was charging, reached speeds of nearly fifty miles per hour, equalling more than Harry thought he could handle even on a good day, and those horns looked very nasty.

With a mighty leap, Harry landed on the hunched back of the Graphorn and ran onwards, landing behind it as the beast continued onward directly into a large boulder. Not much damage was done to the Graphorn, but the boulder was reduced to a heap of pebbles. The Graphorn shook its head and was about to charge at Harry again when Grawp and Hagrid weighed it down together, quickly followed by the score of wizards that then stunned the beast.

Madam Pomfrey charged out onto the pitch to examine Harry for injury, and was stunned to find her most frequent patient back in the form he had been stuck in for over half a year. And seemingly without a scratch at that.

Harry noticed his state and shifted back, muttering some cleaning charms and banishing charms on the unwanted parts of his hide.

'And the results!' boomed Dumbledore's voice, suddenly breaking the silence that had existed, and allowing the cheers of the audience to be heard once more. Harry looked up to see all five headmasters and headmistresses raise their wands, and ribbons shooting out, forming the numbers; seven, six, eight, nine and seven, totalling at thirty-seven.

Any comment from Harry was cut short as he was bowled over by a worried girlfriend who alternated between yelling at him for being so reckless, and congratulating him on his score as well as affirming her affection for him. Kisses alternated with shakes and sharp fingers in the chest and back again.

'You two had better vacate the pitch now,' recommended madam Pomfrey, seemingly satisfied with Harry's state of health, 'they will start the next round any moment now.'

Harry nodded and stood, Hermione following his movements as they strode off the pitch.

'Don't you scare me like that again,' Hermione added as soon as they were off.

Smiling at the affection he could feel, Harry picked a spot with a good view of the Quidditch pitch, and sat down, Hermione joining him, and started doing a more thorough job of cleaning the hide of blood and other nasty things. He doubted that what the hide would be used for would require it being in the exact state it had been in when torn from the body. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the stench from the hide vanished with the remainders of the blood and gore, not even aware of doing so.

Together, they watched as Ngame entered the pitch, to an explosion of cheers, as with all the others. From this side, Harry could hear more clearly the gasps and screams of the audience as Ngame tried a less advanced method of the one Harry used, sneaking about and slashing off a piece of the Graphorn's hide.

It appeared to work to a degree, until the boy stepped out of the shadows he had been hiding in and the Graphorn rammed into him. Not much damage was done to the hunter, but something caused the boy to hug himself. If Harry recognised the symptoms, he would say that the boy had a broken rib, or maybe more … nothing madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to fix within the night.

The boy was given the score; six, seven, six, six, five, a total of thirty.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to arrive at the injured boy's side, and dragged him off the pitch, giving a signal to the teachers' box that Ngame was not mortally wounded.

Harry folded the leather into a thick bundle and laid it beside him as he watched Hagrid and Grawp release the next and final Graphorn.

Hermione had by now calmed down and was just sitting close to Harry for assurance of his health. Her head was pressed against his chest, letting her hear his heart, while Harry's arm encircled her shoulders. He liked sitting like this, it was intimate and – in a manner of speaking – romantic, had the setting been a different one. He wasn't very used with displays of affection from his childhood, he actually disliked physical contact as the only ones he was given as a child was meant as punishment, but Hermione had managed to get him comfortable with her presence and enjoy her close proximity.

Kasumi walked out onto the pitch, and Harry could tell that the girl was very nervous, as they all had been.

Having watched the amount of success that Harry and Ngame had, she also hid herself from view as she cut into the Graphorn with cutting hexes.

However, this was where her luck ran out, as the Graphorn discovered its torturer when she came out of hiding to summon the hide to her, and it charged not long after.

Harry watched as Kasumi froze and was gored through her stomach by the huge beast, before she was lobbed towards the exit of the pitch, making her crash into both the barrier and ground.

Hagrid and Grawp were very soon upon the beast, and madam Pomfrey was even quicker upon her newest patient. After a few spells, the matron raised her arm in a positive gesture at the teachers' box, where the ribbons now shot out to form the numbers; five, five, four, six, and seven, totalling at twenty-seven.

Thus far, Harry had managed to get in the lead. He hoped he was not marked up for his previous fame, but he was slightly pleased, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Hermione gave a girlish squeal and tried to squeeze him in half, congratulating him and warning him to be more careful during the next task. The threat held above his head was a week of non-intimacy. Now that Harry had nearly become dependent on that intimacy, a week was likely to drive him around the bend and give him withdrawal symptoms. Harry wondered if madam Pomfrey managed to heal aching hearts of the emotional kind, but decided it would involve far too much work for her to do so. He planned on giving the matron a year off from him, even if he had to forfeit his position as champion in this championship to do it … too often had he heard muttered comments about taking up far too much of her time as he lay in her hospital wing.

'The champions are asked to clean the hides they collected, and keep them safe for later use,' declared Dumbledore. 'That has been it for now, the next task will be the day before Christmas, followed by a Yule ball. Have a nice day, and fare well to all you who travelled far and wide to witness this event.'

---

Over the course of the following weeks, Hermione became gradually more possessive, though she didn't try to be so in the open. Whenever Harry had a free moment out of his tight schedule, she tried to occupy it and kept him out of sight of other girls, studying for the NEWTs was the most often used excuse – obviously the choice in telling her about the suspected ideas the female champions might have was a bad one as she was too insecure about herself to think she could compete, and instead tried to keep Harry alone. Harry had time and again told her that he loved her and would never stop doing so, and was starting to wonder if he should hurry up his proposal plans to put an end to this insecurity.

The DA was advancing nicely, the newest members having fully adapted to the hectic schedule, and all were looking forward to kicking the Duelling Club's behinds at the end of the year.

Bruce and Ngame joined the morning exorcises with the DA, finding the game of Dodge ball very enjoyable when played against as agile opponents as the DA were becoming. Bruce had recovered nicely from his severe injuries, having spent two weeks in the hospital wing and another two weeks on crutches. Ngame had spent three days and nights in the hospital wing before madam Pomfrey let him go. Unfortunately for the boy, he wasn't as persistent about leaving as Harry normally was, and was very obedient where the matron was concerned.

Harry had formally and officially asked Hermione to be his partner for the Yule ball, both to halt any unwanted suitors and to assure Hermione that he still wished to be with her. He felt that he shouldn't take it for granted than Hermione would be his partner just because she was his girlfriend, and made sure to express his belief as he asked.

Snow fell during the second week of November, and steadily increased in thickness.

A Hogsmeade weekend was held with no warning whatsoever, to make sure no one knew about the dates in advance. However, Harry thought it a good time not only to restock his supplies, but also spend some time with Hermione in a romantic setting. As he led Hermione into Madam Puddifoot's for some tea and scones, he could have sworn he saw Luna drag Ron into the bookshop.

The Hogsmeade weekend had calmed Hermione's fears somewhat, but Harry could tell she was not completely over it.

He had caught her eating less at meals, and confronted her about it. She had wanted to go on a diet, so she wouldn't seem as chubby ('I already eat enough for two,' she had sulkily admitted). Harry argued that she ate as much because of the near constant activity she kept her body in, and that he didn't want her to go on a diet. ('I don't want you, or anyone I know, to know what it feels like to go around hungry when there was enough food around,' he had debated heatedly, referring to his childhood at the Dursleys.) Hermione had given in after a while, and gone back to eating her normal amount, but made certain that it was not all fat and un-nutritional items.

The day of the task arrived sooner than Harry had thought, yet again, and one morning he was shepherded down to the Quidditch pitch with the other champions. A path had been made from the castle to the Quidditch pitch, allowing people to walk to and fro with dry feet.

Once more, Harry found himself in the locker room with four other people, waiting as they heard the stands being filled. It sounded like there were more people there now than last time, which in itself was a frightening thought to the champions, although they all did their best to hide their fears.

It was nearly half an hour later that the headmasters and headmistresses entered, accompanied once more by Cornelius Fudge and two Aurors. Harry caught a glimpse of the pitch before the door closed, and saw a dense jungle instead of a mountain. The jungle didn't look too different from the one the DA had battled the Duelling Club in last year.

'Welcome back,' greeted Dumbledore jovially. 'You will be facing a nest of Occamy today. My reason for being so blunt is so my introduction would not be interrupted, as I was during the last task …' here he directed a look at the Minister for Magic. 'Anyway, in the middle of the Occamy nest, there are five items, all identical to the others. You must obtain one of those items for yourself to finish the task. If you take more than one item, you will automatically forfeit this task, and not be allowed to continue, do I make myself clear?'

All the five teens nodded solemnly, knowing the consequences of cheating.

'Headmaster,' added Harry when he saw the group was about to leave, 'what is the item and what do we need it for?'

Dumbledore smiled one of his mystical yet infuriatingly innocent smiles.

'You will recognise it as a silver bridle, more than that you will have to figure out for yourselves.'

The adults left them without announcing the order of events, making the teens even more nervous.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the plane of glass flickered to life again, the five names along the upper right corner in order of position, with Harry in the lead. Sam hadn't seen this before and was shaken to hear her name being called up as the first champion to enter, again.

The cheering was now only heard through the ceiling, which was directly under the stands, meaning that Dumbledore and the other headmasters and headmistresses had decided too much noise on the pitch could lead to disaster with the various dangerous creatures if they were startled. The glass showed a dense forest with a pit in the middle, where writhing forms could be seen as heat signatures. Sam was crashing through the jungle, not ready for the dangers of the terrain or the creatures she was facing.

Harry could see Sam blunder through the thickets with all the grace of a drugged elephant in a small tea shop.

'That's just insane,' he commented. 'The Occamy will feel her coming long before she sees them.'

Ngame came up beside him. 'Indeed,' he agreed in a low rumble. Harry could see his lips move out of synch with the word. A subtle clue to the translation spells in use. 'When hunting, one should never let the prey know it is being hunted.'

'A difficult feat with a winged and legged reptile that has a natural ability for Legilimency and Occlumency,' Harry agreed.

Sam arrived at the edge of the clearing that the pit was in the middle of, and found herself facing hissing creatures that were rearing their heads in threatening gestures. As they were out of hearing range there was no sound, but it wasn't hard to imagine how the creatures would react. Because of this, they didn't hear the spell used, but the effects were that there was a large explosion that blew away some portions of the foliage, and removing the need for heat vision. None of the Occamy were killed, but were temporarily scattered.

While the Occamy were gathering themselves from the explosion, Sam raced into the centre of the nest and grabbed onto the first flicker of silver she saw, getting halted only momentarily from the very large size of the bridle she was holding on to before she used levitation charms and ran as quick as she could.

As soon as she cleared the trees, her score was given as the wizards that were there to restrain the Occamy did their jobs.

Five, four, six, four and three were her points, taking her in the lead with a total of forty-seven.

Madam Pomfrey came onto the pitch and started her examinations, now exposing yet another champion to the humiliation of the health check spell. Quite a few snapped photographs of the scene for later enjoyment.

Sam's headmaster was ready to keep her bridle safe until it was needed, and guided his student off the pitch as soon as madam Pomfrey agreed.

Bruce came next, having been the second-to-last in points.

The madman had decided on his usual method of handling things, namely run in head-first.

While the Occamy seemed prepared for enemies, they were clearly not expecting some human to dive into their nest without a fear in the world, grabbing a piece of silver from the ground as the serpents struck, biting non-toxic bites at all areas they could reach. Bruce managed to get out of the jungle, but madam Pomfrey pulled him along to the hospital wing without stopping to test him, as he was clearly only suffering from blood loss and the countless scratches and cuts caused by hundreds of teeth and clawed feet.

Harry could only shake his head at the foolhardy boy. What was he thinking rushing into a nest of dangerous creatures like that?

The boy was given the points; six, seven, five, six and six, totalling at fifty-nine. His headmistress was obviously not pleased with having to handle his bridle, but put up with it.

Kasumi put up a better show, actually showing some ingenuity by casting a quick succession of levitation charms on the Occamy, before walking in and grabbing the bridle. She forgot, however, that the Occamy had wings, and was surprised by the Occamy swarming her. She was quick enough to run away before being damaged severely. Even madam Pomfrey seemed to think her in fine enough shape to walk off on her own. Headmistress Saijin graciously brought the bridle with her, looking as elegant as ever.

Kasumi was given the points; seven, six, five, six and eight, totalling at fifty-nine, and a joint first place with Bruce.

Ngame learned from his opponents' mistakes, and snuck through the jungle as though he had done nothing else in his life, and knew this jungle like the back of his hand. The Occamy still knew he was present, but were merely mindful, watching for any sudden move as an excuse to attack.

A few quick transfiguration spells later, and a small army of simians charge into the nest and through.

The Occamy, seeing a choice meal just run past forgot all about the human lurking about, and set off after the small mammals.

While this went on, Ngame snuck into the nest and stole away the nearest bridle, escaping with only a scrape across his face from a protruding twig he had not seen.

Madam Pomfrey was happy to see a relatively unharmed champion, and Harry could make out the mutterings of "crazy old coots" and "total disregard for safety" through the glass.

Ngame was given the points; seven, six, eight, five and six, totalling at sixty-two, and placing him in the lead.

Harry didn't have to be told that it was now his turn, and got up from where he had sat down while watching the others.

While watching, Harry had realised that these were serpents, and might be more cooperative if they were approached politely by someone who spoke their language.

Harry stepped out of the locker room and into a jungle. The heat was very credible to the native lands of the Occamy, and Harry had to remove his shirt to keep it from getting soaked from the sudden bout of sweat. Hermione could hardly blame him for not wanting to boil inside out.

Hearing the complaining hisses from the Occamy, Harry knew where to go, and made sure to use all methods of stealth he knew of not to be detected. The Occamy would most likely attack first and ask questions later if he was detected.

'Nassty humanss,' he heard from the nest, 'sstirring up all thiss messss with uss.'

'Why can't they leave uss alone?' agreed another. 'We are alwayss bothered. They ssteal our eggss, and now they want uss to ssit guard for them while their young ssteal what we are to be guarding!'

'Not all humans are bad,' Harry hissed into the nest, throwing his voice so it would seem to come from a different direction.

'Who sspeaks?' demanded the Occamy as a whole.

'I do,' admitted Harry and came out of the thickets, and seated himself on the edge of the pit. 'And I mean you no harm.'

'A Sspeaker!' chorused the Occamy, 'What bussinessss have you, Sspeaker, with uss?'

'I came to claim the last of the silver bridles,' Harry confessed nonchalantly. 'But don't worry, you will not be punished for allowing me to take it, this is merely part of a test in a competition.'

'Sso, wizardss think it amussing to torture and taunt innocent sserpentss?' asked a particularly large Occamy.

'Not at all,' interrupted Harry, 'the others were merely ignorant about your intellect, and fear things with scales. I'm not all that frightened, and as I can converse with you …'

'Hmm …' the Occamy paused. 'Very sskilled, you are, Sspeaker, in sshielding your mind. We sstill know you are hiding ssomething … a passt ssin againsst sserpent kind perhapss?'

Harry blanched.

'I have killed one serpent in my time,' he admitted. 'But in my own defence, the basilisk was attacking me at the time, and all I had to defend myself was a sword. I would have died from the venom it managed to inject into me, but a last minute intervention prevented that.'

'Thiss iss true,' agreed the Occamy. 'And a great sservice you performed ass well, bassilisskss are a perverssion of sserpentss everywhere and have no resspect for the old code. No sserpent iss to harm a Sspeaker, even if it goess againsst a direct order or threat.'

Harry cautiously lowered himself into the nest. 'Then, would you mind if I were to take the remaining silver bridle?'

'Take it, Sspeaker,' hissed another Occamy. 'We cannot harm you, nor do we wish to.'

'Thank you,' said Harry and stepped forward, grabbing hold of the bridle, finding it surprisingly light for something made of silver. 'I will see if there is anything I can do about your living conditions.' He added. 'Would you mind if wizards only approached your eggs after they had hatched?'

'That would be ssplendid, Sspeaker, but we will not hold you to ssuch a promisse, ass humanss tend to forget ssuch thingss.'

Harry nodded, knowing how many wizards thought of snakes and the ilk.

'Thank you for your cooperation,' he stated seriously as he came over the edge of the pit.

'Fare well, Sspeaker.'

Harry was met with deafening silence as he came out of the line of trees. He hadn't expected a deafening roar of applause through the silencing charms, but he could see that everyone were stunned silent, even the wizards standing along the edge of the pitch were silent, their jaws hanging limply.

Hermione was the only one who didn't seem affected, and was racing onto the pitch, wrapping herself around Harry in a hug.

The bridle fell to the ground as Harry returned the hug.

Neither of them saw the score.

A polite cough interrupted their reunion, and the two turned to face Dumbledore, although Hermione still had er limbs wrapped about Harry, showing no intention of letting go for the moment.

'Well done, Harry, and not a single scratch to boot,' the old wizard chuckled. 'I'll keep the bridle safe until the appropriate moment, if you have no objections.'

'By all means, professor,' said Harry and indicated the bridle on the ground. 'Although I have a request.'

'Speak up, then, Harry … what is this request?'

'The Occamy were complaining about their condition,' said Harry, 'and I hoped they could be improved.'

'If you compose a list of demands, I will have a look at it and see what can be done,' said Dumbledore. 'I can make no promises, though.'

'The list will be on your desk in the morning,' assured Harry.

'Very well, now, I think it is time you went to the castle and got changed, the Yule ball starts in three hours.'

Hermione had barely let the man finish before dropping to the ground and setting off for the castle with Harry in tow. Her mad dash was not halted by the vast amounts of snow that covered the grounds, nor did the distance, as she did not stop until she was in the Gryffindor Head common room. Harry nearly fell over when he was left to stand on his own, and from the sudden deceleration.

As soon as he regained his balance, Harry realised that Hermione wanted to get ready for the event that was about to take place, and decided to spend the next couple of hours in conversation with his mother, or possibly experiment with some more with his spell.

He was about to check the time when he accidentally scratched the formulae for his spell with some ink, and produced a different result entirely if the spell was cast. Harry had luckily copied the original before sitting down with this one, in case he made an error, and did not lose months of study. However, the result was interesting. While different from the intended spell, this could be of some use against dark creatures.

Harry tested the spell quickly.

'Caritas Arma!' he intoned, thrusting his hand forward like he was stabbing something with a sword.

Light flickered from his hand, and a sword not unlike Gryffindor's sword grew from it, although there was no colour, only white. The glowing weapon stayed in his hand, feeding off his good emotions like the Patronus did. Maybe this would make it possible to kill a dementor if Voldemort managed to Summon some.

He dispelled the weapon and repeated the spell, imagining a different weapon.

It worked perfectly.

Every weapon he was imagining at the moment he was uttering or thinking the spell became manifested in his hands.

He was ready to jump and dance special jigs in glee at his success when Hermione knocked on his bathroom door, and called that the bathroom was ready for him now. He looked at the time and saw he had half an hour left before he and the other champions were to meet in front of the Great Hall.

Harry had a hurried shower, praising magic for not running out of warm water like Muggles do, and dressed in his finest robes, which happened to be a pair Hermione had selected for him the last time they were in Diagon Alley nearly two weeks before start of term. It was dark green with black trimming, and silver stitching to make the shapes of various protective runes and magical animals. Underneath he wore a black shirt and black trousers.

He gave up on his hair, knowing it behaved the way it wanted, and went out into the common room he shared only with Hermione to wait for her.

Ten minutes later saw Harry getting nervous, as they now only had five minutes to get through the castle.

He was about to tear Hermione's door off its hinges when it opened and Hermione stepped out.

Had it not been for the bluish colour, Harry would have thought he was staring at an angel in a simple silken wedding dress. Her normally adorably bushy hair, which she had taken to putting into a pony tail, was pinned up into a chignon that was very decorative, and it was nearly unfathomable that one person could manage that task on her own. She was wearing silken gloves that went up her bare arms, ending just above the elbow, a nearly invisible pocket was sown into the forearm of it, where her wand was stowed. Her face was beaming, clearly satisfied –nay, thrilled – with the reaction she got from Harry.

Harry was so stunned at the transformation that he momentarily forgot all about his good news with the spell.

Hermione giggled girlishly and took hold of Harry's elbow, subtly urging him into action.

Harry snapped from his daze and noticed their close proximity.

'You could put angels to shame, looking so beautiful,' he breathed without realising he said it aloud. She blushed deeply through the modest amount of make up, making Harry realise he had said it.

'You're exaggerating,' she muttered modestly.

'No,' argued Harry. 'Quite the opposite, actually. I can't find a better comparison than that.'

Hermione simply blushed and chose not to reply to this claim. Together they descended the boys' staircase, as it was the only one they could both step on without sliding down a stone slide in their fine clothing.

Harry beamed with pride as he led Hermione through the common room, and out the portrait, and through all the hallways and passages he knew. He was aware of some students stopping to stare after them, and was proud that he had the most beautiful young woman in the world on his arm.

---

In the Entrance Hall, a colourful throng of people were gathered and waiting for the doors to the Great Hall to open.

Harry spotted Malfoy and Parkinson together, although Parkinson was practically wrapped onto his arm with all her limbs, her pug like face scowling at any witch that as much as dared to watch in Malfoy's direction. Crabbe and Goyle were flanking the pair, wearing the same dress robes they had the last time there was a Yule ball at Hogwarts, they were also mysteriously absent of a partner. Bullstrode was on the arm of the charming Miss Zabini, forming an odd couple, like the younger and female version of Laurel & Hardy.

Further down the hall Harry saw Ron being cornered by Luna, who had foregone her normal attire and accessories for a pure white dress robe with white flowers braided into a necklace and one to form a tiara of sorts. Ron was wearing deep red dress robes with gold trimming, apparently the twins had remembered their agreement.

As soon as Harry and Hermione became visible, the crowds parted like the red sea before Moses to let them across to the doors where the other champions and their partners were waiting with the teachers, headmasters and headmistresses.

'Mr Potter,' stated professor McGonagall, who was directing the champions, 'you and Miss Granger will be standing here,' she led the two to the right door as it opened, Ngame and Padma Patil stood on one side of them, Sam on the other. On the opposing door, Sam's partner was facing her, next to Kasumi and a stern looking fellow from her own school, and Bruce who had managed to talk his way out of the hospital wing and was accompanied by Lavender Brown.

With that, the Yule Ball was officially opened, and the students and carefully security-checked guests flooded into the Great Hall, past the champions, their partners and the present staff of the schools.

When all had passed, the champions were allowed to escort, or be escorted by, their partners inside. The hall was even bigger than it had been when the guest schools arrived, and banners from each of the five schools adorned the walls, along with banners from various clubs in those schools. The arch shaped table at the very end of the hall was meant for the champions and staff, and the statue of Hermione was placed facing the apex of the arch. The rest of the tables were small intimate and round, seating six at the most. A raised platform in the middle of the hall was meant for dancing, and another along the wall was filled with instruments but no band. Along the walls, bushes of roses were planted, all blooming beautifully.

As Harry leads Hermione to her seat, he can't help but notice that Rita Skeeter was sitting at a table very close to them, her Quick Quotes Quill and parchment at the ready, and her photographer standing in his seat, snapping shots all around to make sure that the editor of the paper had a few scenery photographs to choose from.

After everyone had found their seats, Dumbledore stood.

'Welcome everyone, to the Yule Ball held in arrangement with the World Wizarding Championship,' the headmaster opened. 'This event will last until eleven o'clock, as a great deal of our students will be departing for home in the morning, to spend time with their families over the Christmas holidays. Instructions for ordering a meal can be found at the bottom of the menus at every table, for those who need them, that is. There will be dancing during the night, but at no set times, so if you feel like dancing when the music strikes after I finish this speech, let the mood be your guide between choices. Let the festivities begin!'

The instruments on the platform raised themselves into the air and started playing of their own accord, and excited chatter broke out.

Harry saw Hermione huff slightly at the abuse of house-elves, but she remained silent.

Harry surprised most present by ordering relatively simple meals for himself and Hermione, knowing it would be less work for the two house-elves that were most likely waiting eagerly for instructions. Dobby and Winky had done an excellent job of not being seen this year, and Harry knew they were doing their best.

Both Harry and Hermione ignored the reporter that was sitting tensely and listening with baited breath for anything Harry had to say to Hermione and vice versa. To this end, the two conversed in a large mix of languages and in hushed tones.

Hermione was very excited about Harry's spell and demanded he show her as soon as the ball was finished. She revealed that she had also had a minor amount of success with her own invention. Judging from the intrigued face Dumbledore was hiding behind his beard and fork, the old coot understood every word they were saying despite the frequent language switch.

The attempts to capture his attention by Sam and Kasumi were ignored, or at least they were when he could get away with it, however voiced questions and such were more difficult to avoid, as it would be downright rude, as opposed to ignoring winks and blown kisses.

Harry was surprised to find Fleur Delacour present, with her fiancée Bill Weasley.

The two female champions seemed to be too stunned by Harry knowing a veela and not being affected by her to do anything but stare. Had they known that Harry was an unofficial master at Occlumency, they would not have found it so strange, but the art of Occlumency was very obscure so it wasn't even certain they had heard of it.

Harry was surprised to find that the wedding was set for immediately after school this year, so they could hold the ceremony quickly without having to worry about attacks before the honeymoon. They had also postponed it for this long so all the family, including Harry and Hermione, could be present. Harry made a mental memo to himself to keep his barriers up at full strength during the ceremony, as Fleur's mother and sister were sure to be there as well, making two quarter veela and one half, one of which would have no control, over her charms because of inexperience.

Not long after they had eaten, Harry stood from his seat and bowed to Hermione.

'Would you allow me the honour of having this dance?' he asked, holding out his hand hopefully.

Hermione smiled, dabbed her lips on a napkin and accepted his hand.

Returning the smile, Harry moved the hand up to his elbow and guided her to the raised platform, where one or two elder couples were dancing to the slow but beautiful music, which ended by the time the younger couple arrived, to be replaced by another of its kind.

As they stepped onto the platform, Harry gently pulled Hermione closer and swung her around to face him, wrapping one arm about her waist and wrapping his other hand with her opposing one. They waited for a few bars before finding an appropriate place to start dancing.

Neither noticed the hundreds of eyes that followed their every graceful movement as they slowly and smoothly twirled on the raised platform, in perfect synchronisation with each other and the beat the music followed.

The two of them stared into the other's eyes. They didn't speak, as their eyes did all their speaking for them. Ever since Hermione had made her intentions about him clear, Harry had started believing in the old saying; "the eyes are the windows of the soul", because whenever he looked into Hermione's eyes, they spoke of love that could not be broken, insecurity in herself which was covered up by her bookish front, and hope in the future, that everything would turn out fine.

Harry stared into the eyes of the woman he loved, seeing the same emotions play out, but because of their current activity and place the insecurity was dampened. So lost was he in those eyes that he never noticed their lips meeting and their eyes closing, all that mattered was the woman in his arms, and her safety.

The sudden explosion of wolf-calls and applause caused the two to part lips and look around with a blush as they realised they weren't alone.

The minuet ended precisely then, and the two bowed and curtsied respectively in thanks for the applause before returning to their seats. Harry saw that the two female champions were glaring daggers at Hermione, yet trying to hide it from Harry with pouting looks in his direction and clearly meant he should take them dancing next, ignoring their own partners for the moment.

As the next tune struck up, Harry saw Luna dragging a blushing Ron up to the dancing area, an airy expression in place as usual. It was also unfortunate that Luna didn't seem to mind continuing the dancing even as the music died down for a moment, seemingly content to twirl in Ron's arms – to his discomfort. He could see that Ron tried to persuade her to return to their seats without him or her causing a scene.

Neville had become lighter on his feet, and Ginny was not wincing nearly as much as she did when she danced with him during the last Yule ball. Harry saw that she was very happy about her dance partner.

The rest of the evening passed without much happening, other than the two female champions giving up on their pursuit for now.

Harry spent most of the time conversing with Hermione in a multitude of languages, while gauging Dumbledore's expression to see how much of it he understood. After having gone through a score of languages, they came to the conclusion that Dumbledore had made friends enough with the merpeople to be given the same spell they had, and that they needed to speak with him concerning what they were sure he had heard.