Chapter 28: THE FIRST TASK
The morning of the first task, Harry felt like sleeping and saying he was too sick to compete but Ron had dragged him out of bed by the wrist. A bolt of thunder cracked outside, flashing in Harry's eyes. He looked outside and saw it was raining. Great, thought Harry, not only do I have to do some amazing piece of magic, but I have to do it soaking wet.
"You're going, Harry, and I won't hear another word," Ron demanded as Harry got to his feet, having had fallen on the floor. "Go down to breakfast, eat -- and you better eat because Professor McGonagall looked really worried when I asked her what the first task is --" said Ron very seriously, "and she'll find you in there and tell you where to go."
Harry felt far too sick to eat after hearing about Professor McGongall. He looked at his wand and then at Raides, truly wishing he could use a staff instead of a stupid wand. Feeling he would probably lose his lunch when he found out what the first task would be, Harry dressed, put on his glasses and went down to the Great Hall to pick at something to make it look like he'd been eating. His nerves were on end and it was just no good trying to force food down his throat when everything wanted to go the other way: up.
He supposed last time, when he'd found out that the first task was to get passed a dragon and steal a golden egg, that he would have passed out in front of the school when he saw the real version of the miniature model he'd picked out of a small bag. Now, he supposed the only thing that would be worse would be if he had to fight a dragon. Far from knowing that he probably could kill a dragon if he wanted to, getting the proper spell to come out would be a much more difficult task when you could barely hold your wand straight.
Every Gryffindor he passed on his trek into the Great Hall gave him encouraging words but nothing worked to lift the great weight that had settled inside of him and he kept getting more and more worried over what the task would entail. Hermione quickly shot down the idea of having to battle a balrog, a very, very tall creature made of fire
"Are you kidding?" she said to him, eyeing him like he was an idiot. "You need Clades Ultimus to kill them and you do recall that that spell is ancient magic and everyone hoped it was long forgotten until the Mark of Ancients remembered it for you."
"I'd still like to know how I was able to use spells I'd never even heard of," said Harry, a dazed twinkle in his eye. "Raides can remember spells but she's supposed to have her memory wiped out. Wonder if --"
"-- it is related," said Raides, munching on her morning meat. But then, like usual she grinned and said, "But I still don't know how."
"Harry!" called a voice from far away.
Harry turned to see Sirius walking towards him.
"How're you doing?" Sirius asked.
"Terrible," Harry replied with a laugh.
He wanted to stand up but figured he wouldn't be able to until he had to walk outside. On a happier note, it was a big relief for him to see another friendly face just before he had to go make an idiot of himself in front of the school.
"Remember that letter where I said I would tell you about you-know-what?" said Sirius. "We'll talk about it just after the first task. I don't think there's enough time now because Professor McGonagall was behind me," he added, grinning.
"Potter!" called another voice from far away.
Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall, looking very white, waving him over.
Harry tried to say "see you" but all that escaped his mouth was a hoarse sort of grunt and, feeling queasy, he stood up and walked over.
"The champions are congregating out by the Quidditch field," she told him. "There is a tent set up where you will receive instructions on the first task. I must confess," she said, now sounding very distressed, "I found out what the first task is as of this morning and --"
She stopped abruptly, clasped a hand to her mouth and swiftly walked away.
"Good luck!" called Sirius and Hermione as Harry left the Great Hall.
Harry, not feeling any better at all, headed out towards the Quidditch field where there was a tent erected not ten feet from the exit out of the castle.
Sebastian was already there, looking perfectly happy, though slightly wet from the rain, sitting down on a chair inside the tent. It was quite like the previous one the champions had to wait in, which was small and cramped -- and this one was no better. Adrianne joined a minute later and Harry immediately saw the worry he'd been experiencing mirrored perfectly by her own bluish eyes. She wasn't speaking and Harry had a strong suspicion she was just as worried -- possibly as frightened -- as he was. Whether Sebastian knew what the first task was or not, Harry didn't care. Sebastian, every time Harry had seen him, was looking pompous and very irritating. Every time Adrianne's eyes flickered over him, some part of her always gave a short spasm and Harry had an even stronger suspicion that she disliked him as much as he did.
Within a few more minutes, the silence only broken by Sebastian's grins and grunts of happiness, Harry saw the school spilling out onto the grounds and Bagman joined them very shortly after this had started. Several people were holding umbrellas. Bagman was holding a bag, which furthered Harry's feeling of nausea. The last time Bagman was holding a bag, he had asked them to pull out a miniature model of a dragon. Was it the same task? That wouldn't be so bad, Harry thought...
"Hello, hello!" he said brightly, the usual boyish grin on his face, as he stepped inside the tent. He took one look at the glum faces of Harry and Adrianne and then said, "Why so worried? Take a page out of Sebastian's -- er" and he coughed, watching the two of them scowl.
"Yes, well. The first task is very straightforward, if not slightly more difficult than the last Triwizard Tournament's first task," said Bagman. He held up and jiggled the bag he was holding in his hand. "You will take out two figures from this bag which will mark the two -- er -- opponents you will be facing. The entire school grounds is the battlefield for this task but we have placed charms all over so they cannot escape or fly too high.
"Your opponents are two dragons," he continued. "One dragon is holding a key, which you need if you're to open what the other dragon is holding. Your other dragon will be carrying a black box laden with gold trimmings. It is your job to find where the box and key are and to get them. I will explain it's contents after the task.
"The dragons fly, and as such, they aren't quite nearly as dangerous as those in the previous first task. But they are still quite formidable and there will be dragon trainers flying around on their own brooms in case things get ugly. You are, of course, allowed a broomstick, as I'm sure your Headmasters were instructed on," he added to Adrianne and Sebsatian. "Everyone will be provided with a Dragonback.
"You are not supposed to damage the box, points will be taken away if it takes any. It cannot be destroyed, of course but, in any case...
"I think that does it for the rules. Any questions?"
There weren't any questions to be asked. By the look on Adrianne's face, she now felt the same as Harry felt -- that he had swallowed a Stomach Swirler. Looking at Sebastian, Harry thought fiercely to himself that he was just showing nerves by showing extra pride.
Bagman held the bag up once more.
"Ladies first?" he said, holding it in front of Adrianne.
She pulled out two dragons, neither of which remotely as bad as the fierce and very large Hungarian Horntail Harry had faced three years ago. One was a Longhorn and the other, a Short-Snout. The Longhorn had the number two on it's feet.
Just as Bagman held the bag in front of Harry, an earsplitting roar cracked the air and Harry was forcefully reminded of the Horntail. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to chase one of those around in the air on a broom. Harry pulled out a Peruvian Vipertooth, which Bagman took the time to tell Harry was the smallest, but fastest flier of all dragon breeds, and a Ukranian Ironbelly. Harry was not happy to see that it was the largest of all the dragons. The Ironbelly had the number three on it's feet.
Sebastian pulled out a Ridgeback, the same breed of dragon Hagrid had owned for a short time, and an Opaleye, bearing a one it's feet.
"You are not allowed to kill the dragon unless your own life is in danger," Bagman told them once everyone had taken a seat. "Of course, you'll probably have a job trying to do so!"
Just then, a whistled sounded.
"I've got to be going!" said Bagman. "You three will be just fine. Keep your heads on, stay focused and get that box! Mr. Leon, with me if you please?"
And he was gone. Sebastian, with a proud look on his face, followed Bagman. Thirty seconds later, the sounds of Sebastian tackling his dragon met Harry's ears.
It was far worse than Harry ever could have imagined.
Bagman was making commentary and the first thing Harry heard was the roar of both of Sebastian's dragons and Bagman yelling "Oh, my, he almost had it there!"
The crowd, yelled, screamed, shrieked and gasped as if they were one. Sebastian did many things, apparently, because Bagman was now numbering them. Nothing seemed to work. Harry heard a huge blast of fire that could only mean one thing. Unfortunately, thought Harry, Sebastian had gotten away.
"That was a mighty close call, folks! Let's just hope he doesn't try that again! And the Ridgeback goes flying towards the Forbidden Forest. Oh, close shave. Skilled with a broom but not that quick! Hindered by the rain, no doubt! He does look quite wet, folks..."
Adrianne was turning a nice shade of green and kept throwing her sheet of silvery-blonde hair back in what was unmistakable worry. In what was about an hour later, the simultaneous roar of the crowd as one being came right before Bagman announced Sebastian had gotten the box and the key.
"Very good! And with only some, well, no injuries too fatal, I'm sure! And now, the marks from the judges."
There were no numbers called out as there hadn't been last time either. The judges were drawing numbers in the air with their wands. There was clapping and the whistle sounded again. Adrianne, now the color of the grass outside, left, leaving Harry so very alone.
Bagman's commentary made Adrianne's go with the dragons ten times worse than Harry hoped it was.
"Very, very close shave with two streams of fire. Oh, I say!"
Fifteen minutes into it, Harry heard a thud, a high pitched scream and a jet of fire. Adrianne had been hit by one of the dragon's wings and had fallen thirty feet to the ground.
"She will be all right, it seems. That's why we have dragon trainers flying around!"
But when she got back into the air, her situation hardly improved. There was another thud of dragon wing against human flesh and another high pitched scream but Adrianne seemed to have been able to stay on her broom this time. Ten minutes later, Bagman shouted that Adrianne had obtained the key, nearly getting a face full of dragon claws and nearly fourty minutes after that, had obtained her box.
There was another pause while the marks were being shown, in which time Harry took the time to stick his head between his knees and take steadying breaths. He'd not had very much to eat and didn't want to lose any of it, especially while flying fifty to eighty feet in the air. Harry was quite sure the Vipertooth would be giving him a run for his money.
And then the whistle sounded again and Harry, the grass before his eyes going in and out of focus, stepped out of the tent. His two dragons, the Vipertooth and the Ironbelly, were chained to the ground by a dozen or so each horrendously thick metal chains that were glowing, magically enhanced, thought Harry, so they wouldn't break.
If Harry thought the Horntail was dangerous, it didn't hold a candle to the sheer size of the Ironbelly now standing before him. It had metallic gray scales, deep, fiery red eyes, fangs large enough to pierce Harry's head and split it in two and he was quite sure it weighed enough to flatten Hogwarts should it land on top of it.
Bagman, holding an umbrella in one hand, handed him the Dragonback in his other as two dragon trainers released the dragons. They immediately glared their eyes at Harry, soaring one hundred feet overhead. Shaking from head to toe and finding himself telling Bagman that he was just fine, Harry kicked off the ground after the dragons, feeling that flying towards London would be a better option.
At once, the Vipertooth glared menacingly at him again, baring it's teeth at him and soared off after Harry. It was extremely fast, almost too fast. He flattened himself to the broomhandle, getting a torrent of rain in his face and turned to look behind himself. The Vipertooth was falling behind but ever so slowly; this was surely a very fast-flying dragon. But it wasn't going to get Harry anywhere if he wanted to get the key or box off of it and he didn't even know where it was yet.
The best thing Harry could do, and the easiest, would be to summon a dragon of his own to at least scare off the Vipertooth. The Ironbelly wasn't even close but would surely hurt if it happened to hit him with a wing or it's tail... and then there was the issue of it's bad breath.
Suddenly, something in his gut instinct told him to turn sharply upwards and he did so... looking down and seeing a jet of flame where he'd been just a second ago. Harry circled the entirety of Hogwarts, the Vipertooth tailing him closely. He brought it back around towards the Quidditch field, flying over the heads of the people in the stands where people were pointing up at him. Harry was far too high up to hear anything they were saying but it didn't matter anyway; not having to hear Bagman was slightly comforting.
He flipped his legs over the broom, now flying backwards, to see if he couldn't steal a look to find either the box or the key on the Vipertooth. The Ironbelly wasn't much trouble; it was flying very slowly.
Harry took a good look at the Vipertooth, flying over North Tower and heading towards the Forbidden Forest. It's fangs were bared and he got a scary good look at the claws on it's hands; they looked vicious. But, trying to put the thought of what it would do to him should it catch up, Harry gave the entire dragon's body the once-over, trying for dear life to find the box or the key. He was Seeker, after all, on Gryffindor House's Quidditch team, the youngest one in a century when he joined in his first year; he had to be good at spotting small things -- very small things.
And there it was, glinting at him in the sunlight: the key was tied to a rope, attached around the dragon's middle and sitting on it's back. What a great place, thought Harry, that's not going to be easy to get.
So he put his instincts in the forefront, turning towards West Tower, doing a u-turn over the Forbidden Forest and flipping his legs to fly normally again. Harry needed to get near the dragon's back without getting himself killed. But how?
Surely those talons were as vicious as they looked and the the tail was no less of a threat than any other part of the dragon. There was one hope Harry could think of: it was not nearly as fast as a speeding Dragonback broomstick.
Acting far more bravely than he felt at the moment, cruising over the Astronomy tower and heading back towards the Quidditch field, Harry made a sharp turn and flattened himself once again on his broomstick. Flying at breakneck speed towards the Vipertooth, Harry was met with nothing other than a wing to the head as the dragon made a quick swipe at him. He completely lost control of his broom after this and hurtled towards the roof of the castle, landing with a hard crunch on top of it, feeling something in his leg give a painful snap as he landed. But there was another problem as he dug a hand into his robes to look for his wand: it wasn't there. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to go searching for his wand with two dragons tailing him (and like trying to get a key and box off a dragon is any smarter? he thought miserably to himself).
A far more pressing matter was that of his leg, he thought, so he needed to get that stupid key and box as fast as possible. Harry climbed back onto his broom and kicked off into the air again, muttering "Faster, faster!" to the broom as the Vipertooth was catching up.
"DRACONUS ICILIA!" he thundered, stupidly pointing a finger behind himself.
A puff of snow came out of his fingertip and the wind blew it away.
Okay, calm yourself, think straight and try to think that you aren't doing something insane by chasing these dragons, Harry told himself.
Not feeling remotely more calm and now quite green both from the thought of chasing after a dragon one hundred feet in the air (now flying over the Quidditch field and the crowd) and the pain in his leg, Harry tried the spell again.
A blast of snow erupted from his fingertip this time, forming into a tiny dragon made of ice, barely two feet high. But it was able to do it's job; it started pelting the Peruvian Vipertooth with snowballs, irritating it beyond belief. One landed on the Vipertooth's eye, causing it to issue a jet of flame from it's mouth that narrowly missed giving Harry a new hairstyle as he panicked and dived downward.
Thoroughly shaken, Harry looked over his shoulder. As the dragon made of ice exploded into a flurry of snowflakes, the key on the other dragon's back had been shaken and the length of rope had been loosened. Although now it was closer to the claws than was comfortable, he probably had a much better chance getting at it then when it was on top of the dragon. Against his better judgement, Harry tried again.
Making an about face over the back of the Quidditch field and heading towards the lake, Harry spun his Dragonback around. In one quick move, he then hurtled under the Vipertooth, got a length of claw that tore his robes and left a sharp pain in his upper shoulder and, with his good arm, tore the key off the length of rope, pulling the dragon down several feet and breaking the rope as he zoomed away. The Vipertooth let off an earsplitting roar, issuing a jet of fire from it's mouth underneath itself that cleanly missed Harry but it ignited the length of rope as it flew forward. The rope burned up in an inferno, hitting the ground as ashes.
He had done it, he had obtained the key but there was blood freely flowing from both his shoulder and the cut on his leg where his pants had torn when crashing on the castle roof. With no wand, he didn't think he had much chance of closing either wound. Turning a shade of white, feeling slightly dizzy and stuffing the key in the pocket of his soaked robes, Harry turned his attention to the Ironbelly.
Then something frightening hit him. If the Ironbelly was slow-moving and the Vipertooth very fast, how was he supposed to slow to Ironbelly speeds with the Vipertooth wanting revenge? Sure it was easy with only one dragon chasing you, but... two? He half wished dragon skin could get as wet as his school robes, slowing the Vipertooth down just as much as Harry's soaken cloak was slowing him down.
Just then, Harry gave a start as a bolt of lighting cracked from the stormy skies again. He looked skyward and got an idea. Perhaps it wasn't so bright, but it just might work.
He'd been able to control lightning before. Maybe if he directed it at the rope, he could break it and the box would fall... and he could make a fast dive to catch it before it hit the ground? It was an idea, the only one he had in mind at the moment... and both his leg and shoulder were really hurting him now.
Harry needed to be able as fly as fast as he possibly could. Plucking at the drenched cloak on his back and feeling the water gush out of it by just squeezing it between his fingers, he flew towards the Quidditch field and crowd, taking the cloak off his back and dropping it. He turned quickly back up as a pudgy girl dashed out of the crowd and onto the field, presumably to grab it...
Now slightly lighter, the only thing getting rid of his cloak did was making him more airdynamic without the cloak whipping behind him like some sort of parachute. It did make him slightly faster -- not much -- but hopefully enough. The only question now was would he be able to aim a lightning bolt at the rope on the dragon? He did see the box; it was tied to the Ironbelly in the same fashion as the key was on the Vipertooth.
Closing his eyes and hoping against hope, Harry heavily concentrated his thoughts on the clouds above him and the bolts of lightning streaking across the sky.
A bright flash of light, a gasp of the crowd below, Harry opened his eyes.
There was a patch of grass on the ground one hundred feet below him smoking -- that meant he had missed.
Harry kept his eyes open this time and concentrated again, staring intently, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his shoulder and leg which was very hard to do at this point. Now flying towards the greenhouses, Harry hit his target. A lightning bolt streamed from the sky, giving the Ironbelly's head a good shock and do nothing but angering the dragon.
Harry led it back over the Quidditch field and tried again... and missed again, hearing another, louder set of gasps from the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bunch of people running. Paying no attention to it, the fourth time was golden.
A zig-zagging bolt of lightning struck from the sky, hitting the rope dead on, burning it up on the dragon and releasing the golden box. Filled with adrenaline now and not letting the dragon's roar of pain distract him, Harry flattened himself once again against the broomhandle which sent him rocketing towards the plummeting box. He reached out the hand from his uninjured shoulder and snatched the dropping box out of the air.
But the scene on the ground as the dragon trainers in the air subdued the Ironbelly and Vipertooth with charms was not inviting to return to. Someone had been hurt; Harry suddenly realized all those people running as he came back towards the Quidditch field were running to whoever it was. He could only make out random words because much was blocked out by screaming.
"Dead!"
"Struck by the bolt from Potter!"
"One hit and he died?"
"It wasn't on purpose, of course not!"
Harry's heart sunk just as fast as he'd dived to hit the ground with a thud, nearly making his broken leg collapse under the weight. Clutching his bleeding shoulder, dropping the broom, key and box and hopping across the grounds, Harry saw Raides running up to him along with Ron and Hermione. Ron and Hermione were both wearing the same sort of panicked face as the one slowly growing on Harry's. Raides was wearing her usual smirk which upset Harry in a way he couldn't explain. She seemed to not care that something very serious had happened, that someone had died.
When Ron and Hermione had led Harry over to the crowd where a group of people were huddled around a body in the middle of the Quidditch field, Harry's heart then sank even lower.
It was Dudley.
Harry simply stared, transfixed, at the burnt patch of hair upon Dudley's thick head and then at the lifeless blue eyes set in his pudgy face. He was struck with a pang of guilt. All the times Dudley had made fun of Harry, all the times Dudley had chased him around school or at Privet Drive with a raised fist, all the raging fits Dudley went into to get what he wanted... it spun madly in Harry's mind in a whirl of color and voices. None of that mattered anymore. Dudley was dead, struck by a bolt of lightning that Harry had misaimed at a target.
He never thought he'd ever feel something, deep inside, about anything concerning Dudley but the one thing he hadn't counted on witnessing was the end of Dudley's life. And worse yet, he, Harry, had done it.
Was he going to be sent to be expelled? Thrown of the wizarding world? Sent to Azkaban? Or would someone realize he would never, in his entire life, wish death upon anyone (except maybe Voldemort)?
Something made him want to look down at Raides just to see the look on her face. Gripping his hurting shoulder even tighter as the pains turned into throbs, he turned to face the golden and scarlet lion and saw that she was smiling, gazing nonchalantly at the lifeless Dudley just feet from her. And then, to Harry's -- and many other people's -- horror, she began laughing.
"How can you laugh?" cried Harry, his mouth hanging open, turning to her with a panicked eye, hardly daring to believe what his ears were telling him.
She looked up at him. "People die," said Raides simply, turning away, "life goes on. You're still alive, aren't you?"
This did nothing more than further Harry's feeling of guilt.
The people all around him were now being ushered back inside the castle by the teachers. Several people were crying, some people were making rude gestures at Harry as they passed and others still were tell him they knew he didn't really mean to do it.
Harry stuck out a hand atop of Raides' head and a second later, she was being thrown from Harry's hand like a spear, lifeless herself, as the Staff of Cybele as far away as his uninjured shoulder would allow.
He didn't even want to think of how the Dursleys would react knowing their son had been killed while away for not even four months in his first year of wizarding school -- which they didn't even want to send him to in the first place. Throw in the fact that Harry had killed him and he might as well kill himself at the end of the year instead of even dreaming of going back to Privet Drive. He was quite sure they'd be ready with the axe the minute he set foot through the front door.
Rain cascading down his saddened face, he simply didn't know what to do until he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back and a voice saying, "Come on, Harry. There's nothing you can do. Your leg's broken and bleeding and your shoulder's bleeding badly. Come on."
Harry suddenly became aware of the stings in his leg as someone grabbed him just above the elbow of his uninjured arm and wheeled him around to walk back into the castle.
The morning of the first task, Harry felt like sleeping and saying he was too sick to compete but Ron had dragged him out of bed by the wrist. A bolt of thunder cracked outside, flashing in Harry's eyes. He looked outside and saw it was raining. Great, thought Harry, not only do I have to do some amazing piece of magic, but I have to do it soaking wet.
"You're going, Harry, and I won't hear another word," Ron demanded as Harry got to his feet, having had fallen on the floor. "Go down to breakfast, eat -- and you better eat because Professor McGonagall looked really worried when I asked her what the first task is --" said Ron very seriously, "and she'll find you in there and tell you where to go."
Harry felt far too sick to eat after hearing about Professor McGongall. He looked at his wand and then at Raides, truly wishing he could use a staff instead of a stupid wand. Feeling he would probably lose his lunch when he found out what the first task would be, Harry dressed, put on his glasses and went down to the Great Hall to pick at something to make it look like he'd been eating. His nerves were on end and it was just no good trying to force food down his throat when everything wanted to go the other way: up.
He supposed last time, when he'd found out that the first task was to get passed a dragon and steal a golden egg, that he would have passed out in front of the school when he saw the real version of the miniature model he'd picked out of a small bag. Now, he supposed the only thing that would be worse would be if he had to fight a dragon. Far from knowing that he probably could kill a dragon if he wanted to, getting the proper spell to come out would be a much more difficult task when you could barely hold your wand straight.
Every Gryffindor he passed on his trek into the Great Hall gave him encouraging words but nothing worked to lift the great weight that had settled inside of him and he kept getting more and more worried over what the task would entail. Hermione quickly shot down the idea of having to battle a balrog, a very, very tall creature made of fire
"Are you kidding?" she said to him, eyeing him like he was an idiot. "You need Clades Ultimus to kill them and you do recall that that spell is ancient magic and everyone hoped it was long forgotten until the Mark of Ancients remembered it for you."
"I'd still like to know how I was able to use spells I'd never even heard of," said Harry, a dazed twinkle in his eye. "Raides can remember spells but she's supposed to have her memory wiped out. Wonder if --"
"-- it is related," said Raides, munching on her morning meat. But then, like usual she grinned and said, "But I still don't know how."
"Harry!" called a voice from far away.
Harry turned to see Sirius walking towards him.
"How're you doing?" Sirius asked.
"Terrible," Harry replied with a laugh.
He wanted to stand up but figured he wouldn't be able to until he had to walk outside. On a happier note, it was a big relief for him to see another friendly face just before he had to go make an idiot of himself in front of the school.
"Remember that letter where I said I would tell you about you-know-what?" said Sirius. "We'll talk about it just after the first task. I don't think there's enough time now because Professor McGonagall was behind me," he added, grinning.
"Potter!" called another voice from far away.
Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall, looking very white, waving him over.
Harry tried to say "see you" but all that escaped his mouth was a hoarse sort of grunt and, feeling queasy, he stood up and walked over.
"The champions are congregating out by the Quidditch field," she told him. "There is a tent set up where you will receive instructions on the first task. I must confess," she said, now sounding very distressed, "I found out what the first task is as of this morning and --"
She stopped abruptly, clasped a hand to her mouth and swiftly walked away.
"Good luck!" called Sirius and Hermione as Harry left the Great Hall.
Harry, not feeling any better at all, headed out towards the Quidditch field where there was a tent erected not ten feet from the exit out of the castle.
Sebastian was already there, looking perfectly happy, though slightly wet from the rain, sitting down on a chair inside the tent. It was quite like the previous one the champions had to wait in, which was small and cramped -- and this one was no better. Adrianne joined a minute later and Harry immediately saw the worry he'd been experiencing mirrored perfectly by her own bluish eyes. She wasn't speaking and Harry had a strong suspicion she was just as worried -- possibly as frightened -- as he was. Whether Sebastian knew what the first task was or not, Harry didn't care. Sebastian, every time Harry had seen him, was looking pompous and very irritating. Every time Adrianne's eyes flickered over him, some part of her always gave a short spasm and Harry had an even stronger suspicion that she disliked him as much as he did.
Within a few more minutes, the silence only broken by Sebastian's grins and grunts of happiness, Harry saw the school spilling out onto the grounds and Bagman joined them very shortly after this had started. Several people were holding umbrellas. Bagman was holding a bag, which furthered Harry's feeling of nausea. The last time Bagman was holding a bag, he had asked them to pull out a miniature model of a dragon. Was it the same task? That wouldn't be so bad, Harry thought...
"Hello, hello!" he said brightly, the usual boyish grin on his face, as he stepped inside the tent. He took one look at the glum faces of Harry and Adrianne and then said, "Why so worried? Take a page out of Sebastian's -- er" and he coughed, watching the two of them scowl.
"Yes, well. The first task is very straightforward, if not slightly more difficult than the last Triwizard Tournament's first task," said Bagman. He held up and jiggled the bag he was holding in his hand. "You will take out two figures from this bag which will mark the two -- er -- opponents you will be facing. The entire school grounds is the battlefield for this task but we have placed charms all over so they cannot escape or fly too high.
"Your opponents are two dragons," he continued. "One dragon is holding a key, which you need if you're to open what the other dragon is holding. Your other dragon will be carrying a black box laden with gold trimmings. It is your job to find where the box and key are and to get them. I will explain it's contents after the task.
"The dragons fly, and as such, they aren't quite nearly as dangerous as those in the previous first task. But they are still quite formidable and there will be dragon trainers flying around on their own brooms in case things get ugly. You are, of course, allowed a broomstick, as I'm sure your Headmasters were instructed on," he added to Adrianne and Sebsatian. "Everyone will be provided with a Dragonback.
"You are not supposed to damage the box, points will be taken away if it takes any. It cannot be destroyed, of course but, in any case...
"I think that does it for the rules. Any questions?"
There weren't any questions to be asked. By the look on Adrianne's face, she now felt the same as Harry felt -- that he had swallowed a Stomach Swirler. Looking at Sebastian, Harry thought fiercely to himself that he was just showing nerves by showing extra pride.
Bagman held the bag up once more.
"Ladies first?" he said, holding it in front of Adrianne.
She pulled out two dragons, neither of which remotely as bad as the fierce and very large Hungarian Horntail Harry had faced three years ago. One was a Longhorn and the other, a Short-Snout. The Longhorn had the number two on it's feet.
Just as Bagman held the bag in front of Harry, an earsplitting roar cracked the air and Harry was forcefully reminded of the Horntail. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to chase one of those around in the air on a broom. Harry pulled out a Peruvian Vipertooth, which Bagman took the time to tell Harry was the smallest, but fastest flier of all dragon breeds, and a Ukranian Ironbelly. Harry was not happy to see that it was the largest of all the dragons. The Ironbelly had the number three on it's feet.
Sebastian pulled out a Ridgeback, the same breed of dragon Hagrid had owned for a short time, and an Opaleye, bearing a one it's feet.
"You are not allowed to kill the dragon unless your own life is in danger," Bagman told them once everyone had taken a seat. "Of course, you'll probably have a job trying to do so!"
Just then, a whistled sounded.
"I've got to be going!" said Bagman. "You three will be just fine. Keep your heads on, stay focused and get that box! Mr. Leon, with me if you please?"
And he was gone. Sebastian, with a proud look on his face, followed Bagman. Thirty seconds later, the sounds of Sebastian tackling his dragon met Harry's ears.
It was far worse than Harry ever could have imagined.
Bagman was making commentary and the first thing Harry heard was the roar of both of Sebastian's dragons and Bagman yelling "Oh, my, he almost had it there!"
The crowd, yelled, screamed, shrieked and gasped as if they were one. Sebastian did many things, apparently, because Bagman was now numbering them. Nothing seemed to work. Harry heard a huge blast of fire that could only mean one thing. Unfortunately, thought Harry, Sebastian had gotten away.
"That was a mighty close call, folks! Let's just hope he doesn't try that again! And the Ridgeback goes flying towards the Forbidden Forest. Oh, close shave. Skilled with a broom but not that quick! Hindered by the rain, no doubt! He does look quite wet, folks..."
Adrianne was turning a nice shade of green and kept throwing her sheet of silvery-blonde hair back in what was unmistakable worry. In what was about an hour later, the simultaneous roar of the crowd as one being came right before Bagman announced Sebastian had gotten the box and the key.
"Very good! And with only some, well, no injuries too fatal, I'm sure! And now, the marks from the judges."
There were no numbers called out as there hadn't been last time either. The judges were drawing numbers in the air with their wands. There was clapping and the whistle sounded again. Adrianne, now the color of the grass outside, left, leaving Harry so very alone.
Bagman's commentary made Adrianne's go with the dragons ten times worse than Harry hoped it was.
"Very, very close shave with two streams of fire. Oh, I say!"
Fifteen minutes into it, Harry heard a thud, a high pitched scream and a jet of fire. Adrianne had been hit by one of the dragon's wings and had fallen thirty feet to the ground.
"She will be all right, it seems. That's why we have dragon trainers flying around!"
But when she got back into the air, her situation hardly improved. There was another thud of dragon wing against human flesh and another high pitched scream but Adrianne seemed to have been able to stay on her broom this time. Ten minutes later, Bagman shouted that Adrianne had obtained the key, nearly getting a face full of dragon claws and nearly fourty minutes after that, had obtained her box.
There was another pause while the marks were being shown, in which time Harry took the time to stick his head between his knees and take steadying breaths. He'd not had very much to eat and didn't want to lose any of it, especially while flying fifty to eighty feet in the air. Harry was quite sure the Vipertooth would be giving him a run for his money.
And then the whistle sounded again and Harry, the grass before his eyes going in and out of focus, stepped out of the tent. His two dragons, the Vipertooth and the Ironbelly, were chained to the ground by a dozen or so each horrendously thick metal chains that were glowing, magically enhanced, thought Harry, so they wouldn't break.
If Harry thought the Horntail was dangerous, it didn't hold a candle to the sheer size of the Ironbelly now standing before him. It had metallic gray scales, deep, fiery red eyes, fangs large enough to pierce Harry's head and split it in two and he was quite sure it weighed enough to flatten Hogwarts should it land on top of it.
Bagman, holding an umbrella in one hand, handed him the Dragonback in his other as two dragon trainers released the dragons. They immediately glared their eyes at Harry, soaring one hundred feet overhead. Shaking from head to toe and finding himself telling Bagman that he was just fine, Harry kicked off the ground after the dragons, feeling that flying towards London would be a better option.
At once, the Vipertooth glared menacingly at him again, baring it's teeth at him and soared off after Harry. It was extremely fast, almost too fast. He flattened himself to the broomhandle, getting a torrent of rain in his face and turned to look behind himself. The Vipertooth was falling behind but ever so slowly; this was surely a very fast-flying dragon. But it wasn't going to get Harry anywhere if he wanted to get the key or box off of it and he didn't even know where it was yet.
The best thing Harry could do, and the easiest, would be to summon a dragon of his own to at least scare off the Vipertooth. The Ironbelly wasn't even close but would surely hurt if it happened to hit him with a wing or it's tail... and then there was the issue of it's bad breath.
Suddenly, something in his gut instinct told him to turn sharply upwards and he did so... looking down and seeing a jet of flame where he'd been just a second ago. Harry circled the entirety of Hogwarts, the Vipertooth tailing him closely. He brought it back around towards the Quidditch field, flying over the heads of the people in the stands where people were pointing up at him. Harry was far too high up to hear anything they were saying but it didn't matter anyway; not having to hear Bagman was slightly comforting.
He flipped his legs over the broom, now flying backwards, to see if he couldn't steal a look to find either the box or the key on the Vipertooth. The Ironbelly wasn't much trouble; it was flying very slowly.
Harry took a good look at the Vipertooth, flying over North Tower and heading towards the Forbidden Forest. It's fangs were bared and he got a scary good look at the claws on it's hands; they looked vicious. But, trying to put the thought of what it would do to him should it catch up, Harry gave the entire dragon's body the once-over, trying for dear life to find the box or the key. He was Seeker, after all, on Gryffindor House's Quidditch team, the youngest one in a century when he joined in his first year; he had to be good at spotting small things -- very small things.
And there it was, glinting at him in the sunlight: the key was tied to a rope, attached around the dragon's middle and sitting on it's back. What a great place, thought Harry, that's not going to be easy to get.
So he put his instincts in the forefront, turning towards West Tower, doing a u-turn over the Forbidden Forest and flipping his legs to fly normally again. Harry needed to get near the dragon's back without getting himself killed. But how?
Surely those talons were as vicious as they looked and the the tail was no less of a threat than any other part of the dragon. There was one hope Harry could think of: it was not nearly as fast as a speeding Dragonback broomstick.
Acting far more bravely than he felt at the moment, cruising over the Astronomy tower and heading back towards the Quidditch field, Harry made a sharp turn and flattened himself once again on his broomstick. Flying at breakneck speed towards the Vipertooth, Harry was met with nothing other than a wing to the head as the dragon made a quick swipe at him. He completely lost control of his broom after this and hurtled towards the roof of the castle, landing with a hard crunch on top of it, feeling something in his leg give a painful snap as he landed. But there was another problem as he dug a hand into his robes to look for his wand: it wasn't there. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to go searching for his wand with two dragons tailing him (and like trying to get a key and box off a dragon is any smarter? he thought miserably to himself).
A far more pressing matter was that of his leg, he thought, so he needed to get that stupid key and box as fast as possible. Harry climbed back onto his broom and kicked off into the air again, muttering "Faster, faster!" to the broom as the Vipertooth was catching up.
"DRACONUS ICILIA!" he thundered, stupidly pointing a finger behind himself.
A puff of snow came out of his fingertip and the wind blew it away.
Okay, calm yourself, think straight and try to think that you aren't doing something insane by chasing these dragons, Harry told himself.
Not feeling remotely more calm and now quite green both from the thought of chasing after a dragon one hundred feet in the air (now flying over the Quidditch field and the crowd) and the pain in his leg, Harry tried the spell again.
A blast of snow erupted from his fingertip this time, forming into a tiny dragon made of ice, barely two feet high. But it was able to do it's job; it started pelting the Peruvian Vipertooth with snowballs, irritating it beyond belief. One landed on the Vipertooth's eye, causing it to issue a jet of flame from it's mouth that narrowly missed giving Harry a new hairstyle as he panicked and dived downward.
Thoroughly shaken, Harry looked over his shoulder. As the dragon made of ice exploded into a flurry of snowflakes, the key on the other dragon's back had been shaken and the length of rope had been loosened. Although now it was closer to the claws than was comfortable, he probably had a much better chance getting at it then when it was on top of the dragon. Against his better judgement, Harry tried again.
Making an about face over the back of the Quidditch field and heading towards the lake, Harry spun his Dragonback around. In one quick move, he then hurtled under the Vipertooth, got a length of claw that tore his robes and left a sharp pain in his upper shoulder and, with his good arm, tore the key off the length of rope, pulling the dragon down several feet and breaking the rope as he zoomed away. The Vipertooth let off an earsplitting roar, issuing a jet of fire from it's mouth underneath itself that cleanly missed Harry but it ignited the length of rope as it flew forward. The rope burned up in an inferno, hitting the ground as ashes.
He had done it, he had obtained the key but there was blood freely flowing from both his shoulder and the cut on his leg where his pants had torn when crashing on the castle roof. With no wand, he didn't think he had much chance of closing either wound. Turning a shade of white, feeling slightly dizzy and stuffing the key in the pocket of his soaked robes, Harry turned his attention to the Ironbelly.
Then something frightening hit him. If the Ironbelly was slow-moving and the Vipertooth very fast, how was he supposed to slow to Ironbelly speeds with the Vipertooth wanting revenge? Sure it was easy with only one dragon chasing you, but... two? He half wished dragon skin could get as wet as his school robes, slowing the Vipertooth down just as much as Harry's soaken cloak was slowing him down.
Just then, Harry gave a start as a bolt of lighting cracked from the stormy skies again. He looked skyward and got an idea. Perhaps it wasn't so bright, but it just might work.
He'd been able to control lightning before. Maybe if he directed it at the rope, he could break it and the box would fall... and he could make a fast dive to catch it before it hit the ground? It was an idea, the only one he had in mind at the moment... and both his leg and shoulder were really hurting him now.
Harry needed to be able as fly as fast as he possibly could. Plucking at the drenched cloak on his back and feeling the water gush out of it by just squeezing it between his fingers, he flew towards the Quidditch field and crowd, taking the cloak off his back and dropping it. He turned quickly back up as a pudgy girl dashed out of the crowd and onto the field, presumably to grab it...
Now slightly lighter, the only thing getting rid of his cloak did was making him more airdynamic without the cloak whipping behind him like some sort of parachute. It did make him slightly faster -- not much -- but hopefully enough. The only question now was would he be able to aim a lightning bolt at the rope on the dragon? He did see the box; it was tied to the Ironbelly in the same fashion as the key was on the Vipertooth.
Closing his eyes and hoping against hope, Harry heavily concentrated his thoughts on the clouds above him and the bolts of lightning streaking across the sky.
A bright flash of light, a gasp of the crowd below, Harry opened his eyes.
There was a patch of grass on the ground one hundred feet below him smoking -- that meant he had missed.
Harry kept his eyes open this time and concentrated again, staring intently, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his shoulder and leg which was very hard to do at this point. Now flying towards the greenhouses, Harry hit his target. A lightning bolt streamed from the sky, giving the Ironbelly's head a good shock and do nothing but angering the dragon.
Harry led it back over the Quidditch field and tried again... and missed again, hearing another, louder set of gasps from the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bunch of people running. Paying no attention to it, the fourth time was golden.
A zig-zagging bolt of lightning struck from the sky, hitting the rope dead on, burning it up on the dragon and releasing the golden box. Filled with adrenaline now and not letting the dragon's roar of pain distract him, Harry flattened himself once again against the broomhandle which sent him rocketing towards the plummeting box. He reached out the hand from his uninjured shoulder and snatched the dropping box out of the air.
But the scene on the ground as the dragon trainers in the air subdued the Ironbelly and Vipertooth with charms was not inviting to return to. Someone had been hurt; Harry suddenly realized all those people running as he came back towards the Quidditch field were running to whoever it was. He could only make out random words because much was blocked out by screaming.
"Dead!"
"Struck by the bolt from Potter!"
"One hit and he died?"
"It wasn't on purpose, of course not!"
Harry's heart sunk just as fast as he'd dived to hit the ground with a thud, nearly making his broken leg collapse under the weight. Clutching his bleeding shoulder, dropping the broom, key and box and hopping across the grounds, Harry saw Raides running up to him along with Ron and Hermione. Ron and Hermione were both wearing the same sort of panicked face as the one slowly growing on Harry's. Raides was wearing her usual smirk which upset Harry in a way he couldn't explain. She seemed to not care that something very serious had happened, that someone had died.
When Ron and Hermione had led Harry over to the crowd where a group of people were huddled around a body in the middle of the Quidditch field, Harry's heart then sank even lower.
It was Dudley.
Harry simply stared, transfixed, at the burnt patch of hair upon Dudley's thick head and then at the lifeless blue eyes set in his pudgy face. He was struck with a pang of guilt. All the times Dudley had made fun of Harry, all the times Dudley had chased him around school or at Privet Drive with a raised fist, all the raging fits Dudley went into to get what he wanted... it spun madly in Harry's mind in a whirl of color and voices. None of that mattered anymore. Dudley was dead, struck by a bolt of lightning that Harry had misaimed at a target.
He never thought he'd ever feel something, deep inside, about anything concerning Dudley but the one thing he hadn't counted on witnessing was the end of Dudley's life. And worse yet, he, Harry, had done it.
Was he going to be sent to be expelled? Thrown of the wizarding world? Sent to Azkaban? Or would someone realize he would never, in his entire life, wish death upon anyone (except maybe Voldemort)?
Something made him want to look down at Raides just to see the look on her face. Gripping his hurting shoulder even tighter as the pains turned into throbs, he turned to face the golden and scarlet lion and saw that she was smiling, gazing nonchalantly at the lifeless Dudley just feet from her. And then, to Harry's -- and many other people's -- horror, she began laughing.
"How can you laugh?" cried Harry, his mouth hanging open, turning to her with a panicked eye, hardly daring to believe what his ears were telling him.
She looked up at him. "People die," said Raides simply, turning away, "life goes on. You're still alive, aren't you?"
This did nothing more than further Harry's feeling of guilt.
The people all around him were now being ushered back inside the castle by the teachers. Several people were crying, some people were making rude gestures at Harry as they passed and others still were tell him they knew he didn't really mean to do it.
Harry stuck out a hand atop of Raides' head and a second later, she was being thrown from Harry's hand like a spear, lifeless herself, as the Staff of Cybele as far away as his uninjured shoulder would allow.
He didn't even want to think of how the Dursleys would react knowing their son had been killed while away for not even four months in his first year of wizarding school -- which they didn't even want to send him to in the first place. Throw in the fact that Harry had killed him and he might as well kill himself at the end of the year instead of even dreaming of going back to Privet Drive. He was quite sure they'd be ready with the axe the minute he set foot through the front door.
Rain cascading down his saddened face, he simply didn't know what to do until he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back and a voice saying, "Come on, Harry. There's nothing you can do. Your leg's broken and bleeding and your shoulder's bleeding badly. Come on."
Harry suddenly became aware of the stings in his leg as someone grabbed him just above the elbow of his uninjured arm and wheeled him around to walk back into the castle.