"Mein Schulleiter."

Igor Karkaroff looked up from his ornately carved desk aboard the Oryol. A strangely pensive Viktor Krum had entered his chambers.

"What is it Viktor?" he asked, annoyance leaking into his tone. He was in the middle of making some calculations for the next fiscal year. If he could only convince Minister Vogel to make another donation, he wouldn't have to cut back on his newfound love for caviar…

"Mein Schulleiter, it's about Potter."

Karkaroff waved him off unconcernedly. "There's nothing to be done about it now, Viktor. Albus Dumbledore made it quite clear to me that he is to compete. You must remember we are foreigners here. Our ways are not their ways. But he is just a boy, and you are a man. You should not have too much trouble, yes?"

Viktor shook his head in frustration. "Da. I am not worried about that. It is something else…"

"Well, what is it? I don't have all day you know."

Krum could've begged to differ, but chose not to argue the point. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Potter. I think he may have encountered her…"

Karkaroff looked up again, his dark eyes staring piercingly at Krum. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the sounds of the creaking and groaning of the ship.

"You are sure about this?" Karkaroff finally asked.

Krum shook his head. "Nyet. It is only a suspicion. He asked me about our numbers, and looked sick when I told him we were thirteen"

Karkaroff slammed his fist into his desk. "How is this possible? I thought we had her contained! He should not have been able to see her… Viktor, you know what this means…"

Krum swallowed hard, a deep look of fear upon his face. "It will be done," he finally answered in a whisper, and then turned to leave.

"Oh and Viktor? Perhaps you should also persuade the Potter boy that if he did see something, he is mistaken, yes?"

Krum nodded mutely. "Yes mein schulleiter."

Harry Potter sat hunched over a desk in the library. He was surrounded by piles and piles of books higher than his head. His green eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was more messy and out of control than ever.

After retrieving his father's cloak, Harry had spent the night searching the restricted section, desperately looking for any and all references to the demonic. His search had yielded scant results.

The fact of the matter was that such subjects were considered the darkest of dark magic. And not just by the Ministry of Magic, but evidently by Hogwarts too, as all the books in the library that did mention demons felt meticulously curated.

Historical records proved the most fruitful. Harry learned in a dusty tome thicker than his leg that the Wizengamot had banned the few books covering the subject long ago, and the penalty for disobeying was severe, to put it lightly. He had read with grim fascination about the account of a dark wizard in 1829 who was given the kiss after being caught distributing a book called Secrets of the Underworld.

The disproportionality of it struck him as curious. Why did the ministry care so much? Harry could think of very few things that would get you executed. Even the so called "unforgiveable curses" usually resulted in Azkaban, not losing your soul.

Harry had more questions than answers, and precious little information to go on. It became clear that to get any further with this devil girl mystery, Harry would need to get his hands on some rare books.

Books whose mere possession was enough to warrant a fate worse than death. Not an easy task, to say the least. It would probably require frequenting some shady establishments in Nocturne Alley.

Unfortunately, Harry didn't have time for that right now. The wand weighing ceremony was tomorrow, and the first task was just a week after that. Harry still had no idea what that would involve apart from "testing his daring," whatever that meant. In any case, he was unprepared.

And so Harry Potter delayed his investigation of the Durmstrang girl from hell until after the first task.

It was only by pure luck that Harry managed to find out about the dragons. Harry had been walking back from the wand weighing ceremony, muttering angrily about that annoying Skeeter reporter, when he heard the voices of Ron and his new friends. Not wanting them to see him, Harry ducked into an alcove.

"Can you believe the nerve of Potter? Getting out of potions just because he's a champion. As if he wasn't actually a massive cheater? Somebody ought to teach him a lesson," complained Seamus Finnigan.

Ron laughed. "Don't worry about that arse. He'll get what's coming to him at the first task."

"Why do you say that?" asked Dean Thomas.

"Dragons. That's the first task. My brother Charlie sent me a letter about them, probably expecting me to pass it along to Potter." He snorted. "Like I'm going to do that."

Finnigan and Thomas roared with laughter. "Bet you a butterbeer he doesn't last more than five minutes!" said Thomas.

Ron joined them in laughter. "I'd have to be daft to take that bet. I'd say no more than thirty seconds."

Harry had tuned out the rest of what was said. He had been frozen in the alcove for a long while after. A dragon. He'd have to fight a real fire breathing bloody dragon. He couldn't believe Ron.

Harry could understand Ron being upset at him. Even insulting him and breaking their friendship. But to put his life in danger? Harry hadn't thought Ron could go any lower, but somehow he always managed to find a way to surprise him.

The days leading up to the task went by quick as a flash after that. Harry had looked and looked, spending so many hours in the library it became like a second home to him. Yet despite his best efforts, besides for the conjunctivitis curse, he had found no weaknesses which he could exploit for fighting a dragon.

There just was simply no way one man, let alone a teenager still in school, could take on a dragon all by himself and live. Dragons weren't rated XXXXX level dangerous creatures by the Ministry for nothing. Only experienced teams of specially trained dragon handlers ever got close to them, and even then it was still dangerous.

In essence, what they were asking him to do was tantamount to suicide. But perhaps that was the point. The words of Moody rang clear through his mind again. If someone wanted him to be killed, they would certainly get their chance come tomorrow.

The day of the first task dawned grey and misty. An accurate reflection of Harry's mood as he rolled out of bed with a groan. A chill breeze was in the air that made Harry shiver while he dressed.

"Hey Harry," Ron called to him.

Harry ignored him and tried to walk past, but Ron jumped out of bed and blocked the doorway.

"Get out of my way, Ron," Harry said, anger seeping into his voice. He did not want to deal with this right now.

"Harry, listen, I wanted to talk to you. Me and Hermione were talking and I-"

Ron stopped short as he suddenly found himself looking down the business end of Harry's wand.

"Get out of my way, Weasley, or you can watch the first task from the infirmary."

It was a fuming Harry Potter that showed up to tent where all the champions were to meet. Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor were all already there. It appeared they were just missing someone from the Ministry. He went to a corner to brood while they waited.

Ron's audacity was infuriating. To think that after the way he had treated him for past month, he could just walk up to Harry and act as if nothing happened. Some people just never learned.

Suddenly Ludo Bagman burst into the tent. Weirdly, he looked like he wanted to speak with Harry about something, but decided against it at the last moment.

"Well, gentleman, ladies," he quickly amended after a glare from Fleur. "This is it. The first task. I bet you're all nervous. Understandably so, of course. But this is the moment you've all been wai-"

"Weel you pleaze get on with eet Meester Bagman. I would vairy much like to get thees ovair with," Fleur interrupted.

Bagman cleared his throat. "Ahem. Yes. Well, without further ado, I will reveal to you the object of the first task. Your mission is to get past one of four dragons and retrieve from their nest a golden egg!"

Cedric was the only one to look surprised. He turned a rather nasty puce-green color. Fleur whipped her hair back looking bored, and Krum gave no reaction at all. As for Harry, well, he was just trying not to think about it.

Bagman deflated like a balloon at the lack of reaction. "Yes. Very exciting, I know…" He pulled a small cloth bag out of his pocket. "Everyone please choose one," he said, offering Fleur the first choice.

She looked pleased when she pulled the common Welsh green.

Krum was next, and he got the Chinese fireball.

Cedric, who looked like he would be sick at any moment, got the Swedish snort-snout. Which left…

"Ah yes. The Hungarian Horntail, fiercest of the lot. I wish you luck, Mr. Potter. You'll need it," said Bagman.

Harry too now looked sick.

"Enter the arena you hear the cannon blast and your name called. May the best man, erm, or woman win. Good luck!" he said, before fleeing the tent in a rush.

Harry only stared at the miniature dragon model in his hand. He was so dead.

Harry's spent the minutes before his turn counting down the ways he could get himself killed. His plan was the one Mad-Eye Moody had come up with. He would try to outfly the dragon. More specifically, he would try to outfly a fire breathing dragon on his wooden broom. What could go wrong?

Unfortunately, Harry hadn't been able to come up with a better plan. He had really wanted to talk to Hermione about a few fledging ideas he had, but ultimately they amounted to nothing, as she was still pretending like he didn't exist. And Harry was loathe to get on his knees and beg.

But now, when his life was on the line, Harry couldn't help but wonder if maybe it wouldn't have been smarter to swallow his pride and beg anyway. At least then he would've had a fighting chance. Trying to outfly a dragon was insane. Pure madness.

"What's pure madness?" asked Viktor Krum, apparently catching him talk to himself.

Harry blinked, looking around at the empty tent. Fleur and Cedric must've gone already. Harry felt a little bad for not helping out the older Hufflepuff, but he had had so many other things on his mind recently that he completely forgot about him.

"Potter?" Krum asked again.

Harry refocused on the Durmstrang champion. Now that it was almost his turn, he did look a little nervous, which amazed Harry. He hadn't thought Krum capable of any emotion except surliness.

"It's nothing, Viktor. I was just thinking," he said, expecting that to be the end of the conversation.

"Potter, I must warn you. That girl you saw, she-"

Harry looked up sharply at him. "How do you know what I saw?" he demanded, instantly on guard.

Just then, the cannon sounded, and Bagman's announcer voice filled the tent. "WELL DONE CEDRIC! A NICE USE OF TRANSFIGURATION. NOW PLEASE WELCOME THE DURMSTRANG CHAMPION, VIKTOR KRUM!"

The cheers were deafening, even from where they stood inside the tent. Harry wondered how he hadn't noticed them before. But Viktor didn't move. He stood rooted to the spot as he continued staring at Harry.

"You know not what you are dealing with, Potter. There are dark forces at play here beyond anything you can imagine. Stay away from that girl. You never saw her. And we never had this conversation."

And without another word, Krum exited the tent to roaring cheers.

The sunlight was blinding when he pushed through the tent flaps to the arena. The clouds had gone away and the misty rain had stopped. Despite the booing, Harry smiled. If he was going to die, he couldn't imagine a more beautiful day to do so.

"AND OUR YOUNGEST CONTESTANT WALKS INTO THE ARENA TO FACE DOWN THE HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL. JUST WHAT MAGIC DOES HE PLAN…"

Harry tuned out the commentary. He had to focus now. He climbed up over some boulders and then he saw it.

The model didn't do it justice. It was the most ferocious looking beast Harry had ever seen. A monster out of his nightmares. It was easily the size of a three story building. Its massive jaw lined with razor sharp teeth looked big enough to swallow Hagrid in one bite. And it's reptilian yellow eyes were glaring right at him.

Harry quickly pulled out his wand. "Accio Firebolt!" he performed the summing charm, then ducked behind a boulder. And just in time too, as a blast of golden yellow fire bathed the area he had been standing in just seconds prior.

Laughter rung out. Harry realized with some shock that people actually found this entertaining. Him nearly being burned to death was funny to them. Anger boiled up in him, demanding to be released.

Harry jumped out from behind the boulder after another blast of dragon fire, wand already raised.

"Caecus!" "Caecus!" "Caecus" "Ca-"

Harry's first two spells had missed completely. His third hit, making the dragon roar in fury and pain as its left eye swelled shut. He was forced to duck back behind the boulder before he could get another chance, but he was a little slow doing so, and a bit of his robes got singed.

But Harry didn't bother putting it out, because at that moment his broom finally arrived. It soared into the stadium and zoomed right over to his hiding spot behind the rock, floating just two feet off the ground.

Harry jumped on without hesitation and took off into the sky. He actually laughed with happiness at the feeling of being back in the air again. It was the most wonderful sensation in the world. But the roar of the dragon brought him back down to earth.

Over and over again he circled just overhead. Darting just out of reach when it would lunge at him, and diving to avoid the massive beams of enchanted flame it sent rushing his way. Finally it had enough, and with an earthshaking roar it broke free from its restraints.

Harry had a surreal moment where he just sort of watched the dragon fly up to him, not moving an inch. It was purely instinct that made him barrel roll out the way, just barely dodging before its spear like teeth snapped him and his broom in half like a toothpick.

"Ha! You'll have to better than that to catch me!" he taunted, immediately regretting it as a spiral of blazing hot dragon fire forced him to dive sharply.

Weaving in out of the stands, Harry left the stadium behind entirely as he tried to shake the dragon off his tail. But the Horntail was persistent.

Sweat beaded down Harry's forehead as he poured on the speed. Faster and faster he urged his broom, until he was going so fast that he could barely see where he was going anymore.

But the Horntail kept up without ever losing pace. In fact, it seemed to be gaining on him. Harry had already had a few close calls as he swerved out of the way of a swipe of its claws or it's flailing tail. Sooner or later it was going to land a hit, and then it was all over.

Feeling desperate, Harry pulled into a steep climb, then shot off in the direction of the castle. Seconds later he was hurtling at break neck speed in a steep incline around the astronomy tower.

The Horntail gave chase, but it was here that the advantage finally tilted in Harry's favor. Harry was better able to maneuver around the various projections and outcroppings of the castle, and so he was finally able the put some distance between him and the dragon.

The problem was that Harry was required to pull near impossible feats of acrobatics as he dodged through and around the roof of the castle. It was inevitable that he would mess up. And mess up he did.

He had just shot through a section of railing barely big enough to fit his broom when he crashed straight into an enormous gargoyle. As if watching in slow motion from afar, Harry's eyes widened in horror as his broom was ripped out from underneath him, and he was sent plummeting over the edge.

That should've been it. He should've died right then and there. But something completely unexpected happened.

Someone caught Harry.

He opened his emerald green eyes, which had screwed tightly shut in fear, and stared up into the hypnotic purple gaze of the one face he had hoped never to see again. It was the demon Nikita. Harry Potter has being held aloft hundreds of feet up in the air in the arms of a winged she-devil.

"Nice to see you, Harry," she boomed in her unearthly voice.

"Nice to see you too," Harry replied faintly before promptly passing out.

He awoke on a ledge of one the Hogwarts towers, his heart thundering loudly in his chest. Looking around wildly, he saw no sign of Nikita. He did see his broom laying nearby, which he quickly walked over to and tucked between his legs. There was a letter attached to the front of it.

In ink that looked suspiciously like blood was the following:

TO Harry Potter.

FROM n.

He pocketed it, fully intending to destroy it later. Right now he had a tournament to win.

It was amusing really. Almost funny, but actually a bit depressing. The change in the way everyone how treated him after he bested the dragon was staggering. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and overnight Harry had gone from being a hated cheater, to a brave model Gryffindor.

Was popular opinion really that fickle? Harry was really starting to believe so. Because besides gaining his peer's respect again, Harry had also noticed another change. One that he greeted with perhaps more trepidation than he had the prospect of facing dragons.

Girls. They were suddenly talking to him. Like a lot.

He couldn't even go to the great hall for breakfast without being accosted. Just the day before some 6th year Ravenclaw he couldn't remember ever speaking with had asked if he would attend the Yule Ball with her.

"Sorry, I'm not interested. But thank you," Harry had said with a blush. He felt bad about saying no, especially when the poor girl burst into tears and ran out of the hall sobbing.

Harry had consistently told girl after girl no when he was approached. It wasn't that there weren't girls he wanted to go to the ball with. Quite the opposite.

In fact, he had been sorely tempted to say yes when the, ahem, well endowed Susan Bones from Hufflepuff had asked. Harry would've loved to go with her. There was just one small problem.

He wasn't supposed to be alive.

Apparently, no one saw what happened with the dragon once he left the stadium. In fact, no one had seen the Horntail at all for quite a while actually. It simply hadn't returned to the stadium once it lost track of Harry.

Free of its restraints, it had flown off into the sky and was never seen again. Harry had even heard rumors of a generous reward being offered for any information pertaining to its whereabouts.

But more importantly than the dragon, no one has seen the giant flying demon that saved his life. If it wasn't for the letter that still sat unopened in his pocket, Harry might've thought it never happened at all.

How was he supposed to go dance with a pretty girl after something like that?

Something else that bothered him was Krum's warning. That more than anything else assured Harry that he wasn't going crazy. But the implications of that fact were much more sinister.

The only logical conclusion to draw was that there was a demonic entity secretly being kept aboard the Durmstrang ship, perhaps disguised as a student. For what reason, Harry couldn't say. But they obviously didn't have full control over it, or Harry would be about two inches high and completely flat.

But that brought up the question of why "Nikita," if that was her real name, had saved him. Was it possible for a demon to be altruistic?

"This is absurd," Harry growled to himself. There was only one place where he could find out the truth. It looked like he would be spending another long night under the cloak.

A/N: Hoped you enjoyed! I really had fun writing this chapter. Let me know what you think. Please review, review, review!