Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Thirty-Two | Three Heads are Better Than One

Instead of going to go and research, I march a warpath towards Dumbledore's office, blistering fury emanating off of me.

Shit, fury doesn't even begin to cover how I feel. Rage? No, that's on the same level. Seething, incensed, maddened. I'm not furious… I'm fucking apoplectic.

No, I'm goddamn homicidal.

I can't believe the stupid old prick didn't do anything to prevent the ridiculous addition of these new fucking monsters to the Tournament.

A manticore, quintaped, and a goddamned chimera? Fucking lunacy.

I grit my teeth angrily at the massive statue guarding the entrance to his office, growling deep and low at the inanimate object. Somehow sensing my rage, it spins about, allowing me entrance to the geriatric maniac's abode.

I can feel the stone shuddering against my feet as I continue on, magic practically leaking from my pores as I tear a path up the dizzily winding steps, pushing my hand forward and knocking the door off its hinges, not at all interested in opening it by hand.

The heavy wooden frame crashes to the ground, the clap deafening as I step right over it, my hair standing on end and flailing wildly in an unseen tempest, bloodthirsty serpents set ablaze like the writhing mass that adorns Medusa's skull.

Dumbledore's eyes nearly pop out of his face as I wave my hand, obliterating a small end table next to me with but a gesture, the metal screaming hideously as it's twisted into a ball, shuddering spasmodically as it crunches and compresses into a heap of scrap, its contents crushed within its gnarled grasp.

"What in the fuck were you thinking?" I bellow, slamming my hands on his desk, the wood shuddering in protest. "A fucking chimera? Do you not understand how dangerous that is? What if one of the other champions gets it? Are you so brazen as to allow another student to die? Do you just not give a shit? What the fuck goes on in your head old man?"

"The chimera? That wasn't a part of the tasks before?" Dumbledore asks coolly, his glasses sliding down his nose. He readjusts them slowly, a stern look on his face. "I thought it was quite ridiculous and tried to argue against their inclusion into the tournament." He pauses, eyeing me warily. "Although I did briefly entertain the idea that the creatures would get me out from under your spell if you happened to… perish whilst fighting them, I discounted it quickly as I didn't wish for the other, innocent champions to be hurt or killed."

I chuckle wryly. "So? You tried to argue against it? You're Albus Dumbledore. It doesn't matter if your influence on this countries politics is all but dead, your words still carry weight."

"You don't understand, you foolish girl. I tried, but I was incapable of even uttering a single word in protest. Your damned… restrictions that you put on me made it impossible."

My restrictions?

What could I have possibly said that would prevent him from… oh.

Oh.

"Fuck… fuck," I mutter, my fingers tangled in my hair as I yank painfully at the roots. "I can't believe I was so stupid! Such a catch all… 'don't interfere with the Tournament,' gods, I'm a dumbass!" I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the frenzy that I've worked myself into. Standing next to an open window, I breathe deep, allowing the chilled air to cool me from the inside out.

All of the other champions may end up dying because of what I've done. Viktor, Cedric… Fleur may die because of what I've done.

"Why the concern? Are you worried that you can't handle the beasts?" Dumbledore interrupts, catching my attention.

I look up at the man angrily, an insult threatening to escape me. I hold back, biting my tongue. "Me? I know I can handle it. Yes, it's going to be incredibly difficult, and I may have to grow back a limb later, but the other champions?" I sigh loudly, looking up at the ceiling in consternation. "I can't let the other champions die because of my own stupidity."

Dumbledore frowns at me, and I can't help but wonder if he's actually as thick as he seems to be. "Do you really still think that I'm some sort of demon, all fire and brimstone? The other champions don't deserve this. They're what? Seventeen years old? People who haven't seen and gone through the things that I have. They have no fucking idea what kind of shit show this is going to be. These are people- no, children, who've signed up for a bloodbath, and they don't even know it."

I collapse heavily into the seat in front of Dumbledore's desk, kneading my temples slowly, praying that my rising headache doesn't get exacerbated by the stress I'm suddenly under. "Is there anything you can do to get this changed? Anything at all?"

Looking very unsure of himself, Dumbledore steeples his fingers, a dour look on his face. "If I could, I would have done it already. Unfortunately, it's much too late for me to make changes to the first task, let alone the others." He puts his hands up placatingly. "It seems that it's written in stone."

God damnit.

"Well, I've wasted enough time, I have to go and warn the others." I quickly get to my feet, casting a glance in Dumbledore's direction as I leave. "The next time you can do something to prevent deaths, let me know, call for me to come to your office for a meeting or the like. I don't want something like this to happen ever again. Understand?"

He nods hesitantly, unable to ignore my command.

I huff loudly, waving my wand and repairing the door on my way out, tumbling down the stairs as fast as I can as I make my way out to the Beauxbatons carriage.

It's the middle of the night, and I can't go and find Cedric considering I have no idea where the Hufflepuff's dormitories are, so I'm going to have to settle for letting Fleur and Viktor know as soon as I can.

The crisp air greets me once more as I stride out onto the grounds, my steady pace quickly taking me to the foot of the great carriage, where I knock twice, the even beat echoing throughout the magically expanded transport.

After a few lazy minutes, a droopy eyed student opens the door, looking at me with no small amount of frustration for waking them up.

Quoi?" he mutters, brushing frazzled brown hair out of his eyes and glaring at me.

"I have urgent business with Fleur Delacour," I state, hoping that he understands English well enough to recognize my severity. "I need to see her immediately."

He rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, I'm assuming it's derisive towards all things English. I hear stumbling down the halls and muted whispers, and my breath hitches as Fleur walks into view, looking impeccable as always. Hell, she doesn't even have mussed hair, the only sign that she just crawled out of bed being the set of bath robes that she's wearing.

"Is everything alright?" she asks, frowning. "I was told there was an emergency."

I glance around, before nodding. My words catch awkwardly in my throat as I go to speak, like hooks are nestled in my voice box drowning what I want to say. I still feel a tentative anxiety around Fleur after being rejected by her, completely unsure of how to approach the situation. "It's about the first task."

Fleur smiles kindly at me, shaking her head, obviously unaffected by the same mental hiccups that I've been afflicted with. "I already know about the dragons."

"Forget the dragon," I argue, before pausing suddenly. "Dragons? Plural?"

She looks at me oddly, slowly tilting her head. "Yes? I was told by Maxime the other day that I was to fight a dragon, I assumed that everyone was going to face one as well."

I ignore the niggling thought at the back of my head. "Did she forget to mention the manticore, quintaped, and fucking chimera?"

Fleur pales dramatically, her normally healthy alabaster skin looking sickly white. "Chimera?" she whispers, staring past me, suddenly losing her usual cool attitude, unabashed fear in its place. "You're joking."

"No, I'm afraid I'm not joking," I reply sadly, gritting my teeth. "They might as well have brought in a nundu."

She curses loudly, a long string of English and French laced together into a verbal tirade of biblical proportions, her hands clasping and unclasping as she steps out of the carriage and attempts to pace a small crater into the ground.

"Dragons were dangerous enough alone, but a chimera, not to mention the other creatures?" she swears, briefly covering her eyes with one hand before dropping it into a fist. "Thank you… I'm going to do my best to prepare for the coming fight. I'm assuming you'll be contacting Viktor and Cedric?"

I nod. "I'm not about to let the two of them get killed."

"That's good, that's good…"

She trails off, looking at me with concern in her eyes. "I think we should band together and train. There's no sense competing when every one of us may not come out of this alive."

That's a good idea. A very good idea. But I don't think I should train with them in the case that I accidentally reveal too much of my powers. If even one of them lets slip that I can cast spells way above my perceived ability, I'm going to have a much more difficult time fighting Voldemort come June.

I'm only comfortable with him know that I have power over the earth, and planning accordingly. If he realizes that I can control the air or have the knowledge, power, and ability to use spells that are well past the level of a mastery, I'm going to get the shit kicked out of me. I need him to overestimate and underestimate me at the same time.

"Thank you, but I won't be able to join you." I quickly put my hand up at Fleur's immediate argumentative expression. "Trust me when I say that I'll be fine, but I won't be able to work a full training session into my schedule, I already study enough on my own as it is."

She looks hesitant, but quickly acquiesces, a morose look etched into her features. "Don't get yourself killed, mon amie."

I smile at her, a mix of happiness and anxiety all tossed into one wry grin. "I'll do my best."

I give her one last wave as I head off, making my way over to the sinister Durmstrang ship. There's a student on watch, looking over the deck and smoking idly, the cherry red end of their cigarette glowing with each errant puff. They stand up when they notice me, calling out, "Who goes there?" in a thick Slavic accent.

Looks like they're a theatrical bunch.

"Helene Potter, here to see Viktor Krum,' I respond, bowing my head and going with the flow. I can practically feel the student sneering at me from here. "I've come to parlay."

I giggle when the student huffs and walks off, the sound of a slamming door announcing him going below deck. A few minutes later, Viktor strolls up, and invites me up to deck.

I climb up the steep ramp, noticing that Viktor has ink smudges over his hands, and he's still fully dressed. Must be a night owl.

"I heard that you need me?" he asks gruffly, crossing his arms in a slightly intimidating way.

Like I said before, not much intimidates me, so his show of bravado is met by a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"I've come to warn you about the first task," I state, Viktor tilting his head at my mention of the tournament.

"What would my competitor be here to warn me about?"

"Well, the chimera for one."

Viktor immediately loses his arrogant mask, looking at me in horror. "A… a chimera?" I nod resolutely, Viktor shaking his head in disbelief. "I cannot believe this. A chimera… what other creatures are there? I know Karkaroff was going to visit the pens tomorrow, but I need to know now."

"A manticore, dragon, and a quintaped," I say, Viktor blanching with each and every addition to the list.

He walks over to the mast and smashes the bottom of his fist against it, anger rolling off him in waves. "Podqvolite! Those bastards! Da eba, I can't believe this." He halts his furious rant, turning back towards me. "You're not lying, are you?"

"Not a word of it."

"Laĭna…" Viktor sticks his hand out, shaking mine briskly. "Thank you for warning me of this… travesty of a decision that the organizers have made. You're a respectable competitor."

I shrug. "It's the least I could do. Fleur already knows, and I'm going to tell Cedric tomorrow when I have the chance, probably after breakfast. Just to let you know, Fleur was wanting to get all of us together to train, and while I can't make it, I still think it's a good idea."

Viktor nods approvingly, his thick eyebrows knitted together as he thinks it over. "Da, this is a good idea… are you sure you do not need help? Someone as young as you will surely have difficulty."

"I'm going to be fine, I've got my own private tutor," I lie, Viktor taking the bait and relinquishing his efforts to bring me into the fold. "I look forward to competing with you Viktor, may the best one win."

He smiles broadly, his normally stony expression breaking into one of respect. "May the best one win," he says, shaking my hand once more.

I trod carefully down the ships ramp, heading back to Hogwarts, terribly eager to get some rest after such a long day.

-:-

I spear the bit of thin steak in front of me, drawing it up to my lips and chewing slowly. I grimace, suddenly being torn away from my meal as I remember the article Rita Skeeter had published this morning.

No, she didn't do anything to drag me through the mud, nor did she for the other champions, something I found quite surprising.

What happened was she told the world the unique composition of my wand.

Bloody bitch must have been writing the whole thing down, and to reveal the making of one's wand is a massive breach of privacy for a witch of wizard. A wand reflects the wielder, both through its use and its composition. So for Rita to let the world at large know that in addition to being a warriors wand, it's also deeply tied to life and death, she's inadvertently given out the knowledge that I'm someone not to be trifled with.

This means she's given Voldemort information that I didn't want him knowing yet.

What a pain.

I know it's not the end of the world, and to be quite honest it's not even that big of a deal, but it's going to make my fight with him come June a bit more difficult now that he knows I'm not just some simple, lucky little bastard who had the most dangerous curse in the world bounce off my noggin and kill him on the spot.

I also still find myself pondering what I'm going to have to do to prepare for the coming task.

Knowing my luck, I'm going to end up drawing the chimera. After warning Cedric the other day, who sputtered endlessly about how he had no idea what he was getting into and how absolutely and utterly fucked he was, wherein which I was awkwardly patting him on the back and telling him that everything was going to be okay, I went to the library to study over the creatures.

Chimera's are renowned for their viciousness, and while it's true that they're terribly difficult to fight monsters, the reason they're so feared is because of their intelligence. They're capable of intelligent thought, while not on the same level as a human, it's still terrifying to realize that they can plan and reason rather than just rush headlong into a fight driven by instinct.

Additionally, the damn things regenerate at a ridiculous speed, making them nearly impossible to kill. All three heads have to be removed, destroyed, the necks cauterized, and then the body burnt to a crisp with fiendfyre before it's truly dead.

Fucking ridiculous.

So, I'm going to be fighting against a nigh immortal, intelligent, and stupidly strong monster that prefers to play with its food before it eats it.

By play with it, I mean keep it alive for hours upon hours while it taunts them with its sickening inhuman voice, taking a bite out of you here and there until it finally decides to put you out of your misery by boiling your insides with its venom.

Really cheery stuff.

I stuff a bit of baked potato into my mouth, pushing it into one cheek with my tongue and crushing it between hardy molars, the relieving tinge of pepper and cheese washing over my mouth with each subsequent bite.

Regeneration, that's the key. I haven't done a ritual in a while, and I don't give a fuck if the world sees my hand fall off and reattach itself a few seconds after it's gone, regeneration is the key to my survival.

But is there a regeneration ritual that's as strong as I need it to be?

I wrap up my dinner, smiling at the girls as I get up to leave, running off to the Room of Requirement.

I walk in, immediately pulling out my book on blood rituals and scouring over it with a keen eye, praying that I come across something that can help me.

A way to improve one's dexterity and hand eye coordination looks incredibly useful, better balance and all that. I add that to my mental list as I continue on, searching and searching and searching for nearly an hour before I come across a few rituals that bolster one's regenerative abilities.

Such a pain in my ass that indexes weren't used at all in books this old. It would make my life so much simpler if I could just snap my fingers and find the fucking page I need.

So… it looks like a few of these rituals are pretty standard, amplifying one's regenerative abilities to an inhuman speed, but it's not as inhuman as I need it to be. All of these say that a broken arm will heal in a day, a normally mortal wound stitching itself together in a few hours without any magical aid, sickness becoming nothing more than a memory due to the magical antibodies running through your system when it's all done and over with.

At least, I assume it's antibodies. I'm not sure any of the purebloods even know what an antibody is. The guys probably still think that 'a gentlemen's hands are always clean.' Thank God they believe that healing is below them, otherwise St. Mungo's would need a much bigger morgue.

Ah!

There it is, a ritual that will be so strong that my head could be cut off, and unless it was portkeyed away or incinerated the instant it left my shoulders, it would reattach itself good as new.

Now that's some impressive magic.

Let's see what I need to do… pretty standard runic sequence, maybe a bit more complicated than normal. Mostly centered around the spine, so I'll have a bit of difficulty working the knife blind, but I've gotten good enough at this sort of thing that it's basically second nature.

Wait, what's that asterisk for? Were asterisks even invented then?

"Fuck me running," I whisper as I read over the highlighted point of the ritual.

Chimera's blood is required.

No wonder it works so well, it used the creature's regenerative properties in its own, actually bonding the user with the blood of the animal. Sure, I wouldn't be entirely human when it's all done and over with, but since when have I ever been normal to begin with?

I mean, I had basilisk venom and phoenix tears running through my veins in my last life. That had to have changed my genetic makeup somehow. I'd have been terribly surprised if it didn't.

So… it looks like I'm going to need to somehow get my hands on chimera's blood, something that I know you can't find for sale pretty much anywhere, and I doubt I'd be able to get an in at some shady potioneer's in Knockturn before the first task.

Christ, I'm going to have to get the blood from the animal myself.

I can't just walk in though, and the creature is bound to know that I'm there, so how in the fuck am I going to do this?

I'm going to have to infiltrate the camp that the creatures are being kept in. But what happens if the handlers are alerted to my presence if I can't retrieve the blood without fuss? Should I stun the lot of them? Probably, but how am I going to get them all in one place?

I could probably get away with stunning the majority of them. As long as I don't use any elemental powers I should be in the clear.

I laugh quietly, suddenly realizing that I'm on another mind-numbing adventure. God, this is not how I expected my night to go.

Unfortunately, it's also not the time to bust out my new duds, much to my chagrin.

I tuck the book back into my bag, exiting the Room and quickly making my way back to Ravenclaw Tower.

I take the stairs two at a time, tearing off my robes and pulling Death's cloak out of my pocket, throwing it over my shoulders and smiling as it melts and twists about me, fitting snugly, yet still having the stereotypical look of standard robes, dancing around my ankles like a fine dress.

"Where are you off to?" Hermione asks, walking out of the bathroom wearing an oversized t-shirt and checkered pyjamas, a towel wrapped around her head and hanging precariously off to the side as it completes its arduous task of drying her thick and bushy hair.

"I'm going to go and get some ingredients required for a ritual I need to undertake," I state, shutting my trunk and locking it with a flick of my wand.

Hermione sits down at the foot of her bed, rummaging through her trunk for a book to read. "What ingredient would that be?"

"Uh… chimera's blood?"

She drops the book to the ground, a loud thud resonating throughout the room. "Chimera's blood?" she screeches, the towel having fallen off her head and her fingers tangled in wet hair, pulling at the roots. "You're going to go get chimera's blood? Are you insane?"

"Yeah, a little," I shrug, Hermione groaning loudly as she puts her face in her hands.

"Please don't get yourself killed, alright?"

I put my hand to my chest, lifting my chin. "I swear that I will come back tonight alive, although I may be slightly maimed when this is done and over with."

She shakes her head, looking at me with wonder and fear. "Only you can casually go out to retrieve blood from one of the most dangerous creatures in the world."

I shrug playfully, smiling at her. "What can I say? I'm an impressive person."

Hermione smacks me on the shoulder, before pulling me into a hug. "Stay safe, alright?"

I hug her back, rubbing her shoulder blades comfortingly. "I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me. I'm going to have to kill the damned thing in a week and a bit anyways."

"You're going to what!?"

I rub the back of my head sheepishly, remembering that I haven't updated Hermione on the situation, nor have I informed Sirius and Octavius.

I should probably get around to that.

"Well… you know how I said I was going to be facing dragons in the tournament?" I ask, Hermione nodding slowly. "They uh- well, things have apparently changed, and I'll have to face either a dragon, a manticore, a quintaped, or a chimera."

Hermione throws her head back, exhaling loudly. "I… what the hell is wrong with the wizarding world!?" she cries, flopping backwards, arms held out over her head. "Seriously? This is what they're having a group of seventeen-year-old students, as well as a fourteen-year-old go up against?"

"Yeah, bunch of bastards aren't they," I agree, double checking to make sure I have a few unbreakable vials on me to hold the blood in. "I've already let all the other champions know what's going on, and I chewed out Dumbledore for not preventing this from happening. Unfortunately, one of the commands I gave him made it impossible for him to interfere with the tournament at all, so he was literally incapable of preventing this."

"I'm guessing you used a catch all statement?"

"Yeah, it was beyond stupid of me, but I did."

Hermione rubs her face tiredly, sitting back up. "Well, you better come out of this nightmare in one piece, otherwise you're going to have to face me."

I pale slightly, having long ago been conditioned into fearing Hermione's wrath on an instinctual level.

"Absolutely. Wouldn't dream of it," I state hastily. "Now, I've got a chimera to milk… okay, that really wasn't the best way to say that," I add at Hermione's disgusted look. "Alright, alright! I'm going!"

I pull the hood of Death's cloak over my head, immediately disappearing from sight as I start my trek back down the endless flights of sentient stairs towards the Forbidden Forest.

Stone turns to gravel, crunching loudly underneath my feet, the ragged stones slowly morphing into damp grass as I carry on forward, massive looming trees standing overhead like guardians, their branches tickling the sky and their roots stirring the earth.

I step over uneven ground, treading deeper and deeper into the forest, following the cacophonous sounds of a roaring dragon, flecks of moonlight that seep between the thick needles above guiding my way. I eventually set sights on a flicker of orange in the distance, the ethereal reflection of fire off of bark notifying me that I've reached my destination.

I step forward with trepidation, glancing around and sighing in relief when I see that the quintaped is long asleep, the manticore having followed suit, it's wings curled around it's body like an enormous bat as it lies motionless in its cage. My gaze carries on, past the scurrying guards who've now subdued the horntail, the ferocious dragon slumped against the floor of the forest, puffs of smoke emitting from its nostrils as it's forcefully put to sleep.

I catch sight of the chimera, the creature looking as if its sleeping, but I wouldn't put it past it to be pretending in the case that one of the handlers wanders in and provides it with a drawn out and messy meal.

I silence all of my clothes apart from Death's cloak, the garment already unearthly quiet, as well as casting a scent cancelling spell on myself for good measure. With a blink, I'm within the chimera's cage, my breath frozen as I stand still, praying that I wasn't detected.

If I want to do this right, I'm going to have to be as stealthy as possible. I know I can't bleed the thing and not expect it to wake up, but if I can subdue it before it has a chance to wake, it's going to be much easier for me to complete my task.

After nearly five minutes of doing an incredible statue impression, I realize that the creature hasn't been alerted. Tip-toed, I slowly creep forward, ears perked up as I get closer and closer to the nightmarish being in front of me.

I freeze as it snorts loudly, the lions head twisting into a more comfortable position, broad chin resting on massive paws. I wait, hands trembling, before deciding to take another few steps towards the monster.

In a flash, all of it's heads are reared, glancing about wildly.

"I know you're there…" it growls, its voice low and guttural, trailing across the cold nights air like a whisper, yet its words carry sickening weight. "I can't hear you, I can't smell you… but I know you're there."

I glance around, a couple dozen handlers quickly surrounding the cage and muttering amongst themselves, wondering what's gotten into the beast.

Fucks sake, of course this couldn't be even remotely easy. Looks like it's time to knock out a small platoon of people who are just trying to do their damn job.

Thinking quickly, I blink out of the cage, shooting sparks in the air and attracting the attention of all of the handlers, who spin about, heads twisting and turning as they attempt to locate an invisible foe.

I send off an area stunner, catching a good portion the group who immediately collapse to the ground like rag dolls, slumping over and on top of one another in a comatose pile. Some of them try to revive their co-workers, but I move to knock them out too, blinking forward and sticking my wand in the small of one woman's back, a bright flash of red signalling that she's out of the fight.

"Oi! Get the bastard!" one of the handlers shouts, a surprisingly well-kempt man sporting a trim red beard and slicked back hair, presumably the boss of the group.

He waves his wand, a cutting curse flying from the end of it in my general direction. I jump over the beam of light, chunks of rock and dirt peppering the hem of my robes as I drive forward, punching the man in the stomach with inhuman strength and sending him flying into a tree, crashing to the ground unconscious.

I allow myself to be visible, the remaining stragglers beginning to rain spells down upon me that I dodge and weave under, slowly advancing towards the cluster of handlers desperately fighting against me.

I curse as a torrent of fire washes over my leg, having not drawn up a shield in time. With a flick of my wrist, a large gust of air strikes at the man who injured me and a companion next to him, knocking their heads together loudly and sending them tumbling down.

The rest of them begin to panic, one man attempting to run off into the dark. He's easily taken care of with an errant stunner, catching him in the back of the head and causing him to trip over his own feet, slamming face first into the ground.

With another few lazy flicks of my wand, the remainder of the handlers are knocked unconscious. I levitate them up and away from the cage, tucking them safely off to the side in the middle of the clearing between the cages, as distant as possible from the chimera.

Speaking of the animal, it lowers its main head, sniffing as it stares me down, sniffing errantly as it attempts to learn my scent. It's tail dances curiously, tongue flicking out of its mouth every few seconds as it joins in on the investigation. The goats head is lolling about once more, a sickening grin on its face as its eyes roll madly in its skull, nonsensical chittering leaking out from between sharp, glistening teeth, stained in red.

I guess it's eaten recently.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" it sings mockingly, circling its pen with loping, lazy strides, eyes glued to my own the whole while. "I haven't played in oh so long. Let me taste you. Let me tear you… flesh and bone in my belly, guts on my lips! Let me tear you limb from limb! How I'd love to hear the lovely pops as your bones snap and crumble! Let me stick my paws down your neck and rip out the delicious secrets you keep inside!"

I shudder at it's mocking tune and the words carried in it. This monster needs to die come the first task. There's no way I can allow something so disgusting to live. Additionally, I now find it hard to believe that it can only be considered 'slightly intelligent' what with the way its speaking. This creature may end up being cleverer than most humans in a fight if its use of language is anything to go by.

I blink into the cage, jabbing my wand towards the creature and watching as rotting hands rise up from beneath it, surprising the creature and pulling it to the ground, tearing muscle from bone. It roars loudly, its other two heads hissing in pain as chunks of flesh begin to dot the floor.

I look on in horror as thin trails of blood fly up towards the gashes and canyons in its skin, pulling the torn flesh with it. Like pearlescent strings, the bits and pieces of gore are drawn back up towards its body, lacing themselves back into their homes like they had never been removed in the first place.

"Sick, dark magics! Pain!" it bellows, head thrashing wildly as it tears furrows into the ground with its massive claws. "I will devour you slowly, human. I will drink your blood and stamp out your life! I will laugh as I rip you apart piece by piece, savouring every last bite!"

I bring my hands up, encasing the monster in earth and stone, chunks of rock and powdered dirt laced together to create a makeshift prison for the abomination. Not wanting to give it any ground, I transfigure the earthen bindings into thick steel, drawing up layer after layer of earth over the cage and only leaving the monsters head visible.

I pant heavily as the chimera roars its fury, thrashing about as it attempts to escape the trap, but to no avail. I know this won't hold for long, but it will give me enough time for what I need to do.

God, that took a lot out of me. Note to self, stop trying to compact earth and stone. After wiping out the acromantula, you'd think I'd have remembered how tiring it is to do that.

As quick as I can, I dash towards the monster, dodging its biting fangs and deeply slicing into the only visible part of its neck with a well aimed cutting curse, just below the jaw. An artery is severed, and its lifeblood begins to spill out to the ground below. I hold a large vial underneath, the container eagerly drinking up the crimson liquid.

"It cuts me! You dare to cut me!? Filthy carrion, disgusting little creature!" it growls, it's malicious gaze locked on mine, unadulterated fury, and a deep hunger swimming within the depths of its bloodshot eyes.

I ignore the chimera's murderous protests and notice that the blood has begun to bubble. I throw a cap on top of the vial, watching in morbid fascination as it attempts to escape its new home, churning angrily against the magically reinforced cork that holds it back, a thick metal clasp holding down the stopper.

I repeat the process, filling three vials with the liquid and trapping it within, constantly eyeing the coffin that the chimera is bound within, checking for any cracks over its surface.

As soon as I notice a single break in the bindings, I blink out of the cage, tucking the vials into my robes and pushing my hands forward, allowing the makeshift prison to collapse and return to the earth, burying the steel deep below the forest.

The chimera doesn't just roar, it screams, homicidal ramblings flying out of its gaping maw at a mile a minute, the words so closely laced together as to be completely nonsensical.

Christ, that was something else. I'm not at all looking forward to trying to kill the abomination, especially if subduing it took that much out of me. Exhausted, I go to begin my walk back to bed when I spot an oddly familiar glint of white out of the corner of my eye.

I spin around to see the Albumancer standing in the tree line, their shining white robes fluttering just above the ground, making it look as if they're floating on air.

"Long time no see," I say after sticking my wand to my throat, disguising my voice.

The Albumancer inclines their head respectfully, looking towards the raging chimera as it systematically destroys the floor of its cage. "That was quite impressive," they drawl, turning back to face me. "Are you tired?"

I roll my shoulders, checking myself over to make sure I wasn't too hurt in the commotion. I feel relief wash over me when I find that my only injury is the burn across my thigh and hips. I press my hand to my chest, and while my heart no longer beats, I still feel the time numbing effects of an adrenaline rush. There's probably something I'm missing when it comes to human biology, but learning why I can still feel the effects of cortisol isn't at the top of my priority list.

"That took a bit out of me, but I'll survive," I concede, poking curiously at the burn on my leg and hissing at the pain. I guess it's a bad one. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard rumors of a chimera at Hogwarts and came to investigate. I'm not pleased to find that the rumors were true," they say, a bit of anger leaking into their distorted words. "The British are so far behind the rest of the world, and this creature being brought from overseas for a gladiatorial contest is just another glaring example of that."

"I couldn't agree more. Did you not hear that a fourteen-year-old is competing in the tournament against her own will? The insanity of it all."

I can feel the Albumancer eyeing me curiously underneath their hood. "Yes, it is quite ridiculous."

I lick my lips, wondering whether I should breach the subject of reincarnation and all that mess.

"You have something you wish to ask of me?"

I laugh quietly, nodding my head. "I was just curious… what were you brought back for? Were you brought back?"

"That's quite a personal question," the Albumancer states emotionlessly, tilting their head up to peer through the branches above.

I blush beneath my hood, thankful that it can't be seen. "Sorry about that. I'm just so eager to learn more about the only other person on this Earth who can understand me, you know?"

"I understand." The Albumancer nods, clasping their hands behind their back. "I was brought back after having died. I imagine Death was the one to ferry your soul back here, but in my case, it was Life."

"Yeah, he's a bit of a prick, but when you get to know him he's a nice guy," I chatter, happy to finally speak with the mysterious stranger once more.

Laughing, the Albumancer shakes their head. "I can imagine. I haven't had the pleasure yet, but I know that I'll eventually meet him some day."

"Hopefully not for a long time."

"Yes, that would be preferable… if you don't mind my asking, how old are you?" the Albumancer asks hesitantly, curiosity getting the better of them. "You've got the silhouette of someone young, but I imagine you're quite a bit older, just as I am."

"Ah! I'm sure I'd be giving too much away if I told you that," I smirk, wiggling my finger back and forth. "Just… read the Daily Prophet. I'll be… revealing myself, so to say in a few weeks. If you want to seek me out then, I'll be quite easy to find."

"Revealing yourself? Are you insane?" they gasp. I can practically hear their jaw drop.

I laugh again, loudly this time, clutching my belly as I bend over. I collect myself quickly, wiping a tear from my eye. "What? I'm not going to have an interview and say, 'Hello, I'm a Necromancer!'"

I ponder what to do for a moment, before realizing that I have a good opportunity to provide the Albumancer with a clue as to who I am. "I'm sure only you'll be able to figure out my identity when the news breaks… it will be quite subtle, but when you see this-" I lift my palm, an earthen replica of my own hand rising out of the ground and waving at the Albumancer, who shirks back at the sudden display of potentially dangerous magic. "You'll know it's me."

They nod, once more resuming their regal pose. "I'm assuming that earth and air are your given powers?"

"Yeah. Fire and water for you?" They nod once more. "That makes sense. Life was born from fire and water, and it eventually turns to dust and ash, scattered across the winds… quite poetic if I'm being honest. I wonder if that was intentional on Life and Death's parts."

"Hmm? You're a reader of poetry?" the Albumancer inquires, a smile in their words.

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Not really, but someone I know recently ignited my interest in the art."

"Well, if you do decide to begin delving into poetry, I would highly recommend E. E. Cummings. His works are… interesting. The flow to his writing is sporadic, but I feel that it adds charm to it."

"Well, I'll make sure to keep that in mind." Another pained roar from the chimera gets my attention, and I turn to see the handlers beginning to stir. "Well, it looks like nap time is over, and that means it's time for me to leave." I incline my head towards the Albumancer, smiling beneath my hood. "It was good to see you again. Good luck in your endeavours, and I hope that you seek me out face to face when you discover who I am."

"It will be my pleasure," they reply, a flash of white signalling their departure.

Oh yeah, I don't need to walk back.

Smacking myself on the head for forgetting such a simple thing, I blink back to my room just as the first of the handlers returns to the lands of the living, quickly removing Death's cloak and pondering what to do about my burns.

My staple healing charm isn't very effective when it comes to burns, considering it's used to knit flesh back together rather than repair damaged skin. I curse, realizing that I'll need to ask Severus for some dittany tomorrow to treat the wound.

Exhausted beyond belief, I tuck the vials of chimera blood into my trunk, safely nestled underneath a pile of neatly folded clothes. With a groan, I cast a numbing charm over my burned side and climb into bed, asleep before my head even strikes the pillow.

My thanks to Commando2341 for reminding me where the little chimera bit comes from. All credit for the idea behind the creature and others being introduced to the story can be given to Temporal Knight, and his fantastically fun, 'Harry Potter and the Rune Stone Path.'

frankieu: Er- Helene can be a bit of a dick, murderous, and oblivious when it comes to little things like planning, but she isn't about to murder heaps of innocent people. Sorry to say, but something like that has no chance of happening in this fic.

Bearmauls: I know I already PM'd you about this, but I'd like to say to the rest of the readers that just because someone has been bullied, it doesn't mean they're incapable of doing the same. In fact, most people who are bullied act out on others in the same way that they've been harassed.

Fleur has been lusted after, taunted, and treated with disdain her whole life because of her heritage. It would make sense for her to treat others the same, whether she's aware of it or not.

PascalDragon: Yep! Even though Rita is on Octavius' pay roll, she's still a shark and will take any opportunity to make a quick buck.

The Tournament is going to be incredibly dangerous when compared to canon. Expect to see some especially awful shit happen.

Kira007GoddessofChaos: I've considered it, but that's a trope that I don't feel like approaching. I will admit, I'm a total sap and one of my guilty pleasures is soul-bond fics. I don't believe something like that could be worked into this story without making it feel too clichéd, as it's already got a healthy amount of cliché in it to begin with.

Thank you for the idea though.

sandenzel So, I'm not quite sure what you mean by 'cliché' when it comes to Helene's abuse, but I'm going to presume that you're referring to her fear and disgust of Bagman.

Everything that I've written when it comes to the psychological effects of trauma has been extensively researched and studied long before being put into the story, and while I hate to be that person who goes all preachy, and I sincerely hope that this doesn't come across as holier-than-thou, I'd like to explain my approach.

I've just about completely my honors degree in psychology, with my primary focus being the field of behavioural neuroscience. To narrow it down even further, psychopathology is my main interest. The field is a passion of mine, and it's something that I like to think I know a bit about after four sleepless years of study.

Helene is responding as many others do after having dealt with an extremely traumatic experience: emotional distress when triggered, a physical reaction when triggered (nausea, in this case), and disgust both with herself and others. She also fits the bill of avoiding her issues, which is a common symptom in those having suffered from a traumatic experience, and she's doing it by utilizing her extensive occlumency talents to supress her emotions and ignore what she feels. She's also been irritable, expressing anger quite readily, another common reaction of trauma victims.

If the way I've written her trauma is clichéd, then I hope that the cliché becomes more common. I've seen too many authors approach trauma, specifically the topic of PTSD as a result of sexual assault, not fully understanding the gravity of the subject. Many either pass over the horrific event like nothing happened in the first place, utilizing it as solely for shock factor, or worse, they go too in depth and describe the events to an uncomfortably vivid degree.

Vruon: Yeah, I know, but the age difference between fourteen and seventeen is immense, regardless of longevity. That's an integral part of our mental development, so the idea of a seventeen-year-old being with a fourteen-year-old feels too much like the younger partner is being taken advantage of, something that I'm not interested in writing.

Lillisa34: He didn't do it intentionally!