Have I ever thought that James Spookie, one of the best Haphne authors on this site, would add this story to his favorites? No, but that's what happened XD. I've been staring at my mail for over ten minutes after receiving the notification, and I just couldn't believe what had happened XD. But, I guess it pushed me to sit down and write down this chapter. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 7

The remaining days have passed by in a blur. Harry had no idea when it happened, but he had suddenly found himself in a tent with two other Champions; Cedric was already dealing with the First Task. Despite refusing to eat breakfast that morning, he felt sick; Harry was sure that he would throw up as soon as he entered the arena that was barely visible through the flapping material that served as the entrance to the tent. Something was moving uncomfortably in his stomach as all he could do at that moment was wait. The miniature version of a Hungarian Horntail was standing on a small table barely a meter away from him. From time to time, it would breathe a small cloud of fire in his direction, though it never managed to reach him. That won't be the case on the arena, though, he thought dryly, as his body shook once again.

For the past two weeks, he had been practicing the Summoning Charm relentlessly to be sure that, when the time came, he would be capable of casting it perfectly. He couldn't remember the last time he had dedicated so much of his attention to mastering only one spell. Harry practiced it on anything he could – his books as he was packing himself in a hurry for classes, his glasses after waking up, and even his clothes. When he was sure nobody was looking, he even cast it on the books in the Library where he's been spending most of his time between and after classes.

He had ventured down to the Chamber of Secrets only four times during the past two weeks, though each time, he was hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. As the days were passing by, he was becoming more and more agitated and nervous; the desire to be alone as he practiced was something he couldn't leave unsatisfied.

Daphne didn't seem to notice or care. During Potions, they kept working together on the Sleeping Draught, although they weren't in such a hurry anymore. Instead, they were preparing the instructions for the brewing part that wouldn't begin until at least a half of their class managed to figure out their potions. They needed one more pair to start making the Sleeping Draught, but they were more than ready to do that.

If I survive today.

Harry wasn't sure what caused him to search through various Defensive Spells, but he was glad that he had spent some of his time in the Library on doing just that. With approval from Daphne in form of a raised eyebrow and a subtle nod of her head, he spent his time in the Chamber practicing 'Protego' and 'Aquamenti' Charms. The existence of the Shield and Water Charms seemed too perfect for him, especially since the dragons were still haunting his mind at nights. Thanks to the notes he took on both of those spells, he managed to learn to cast both of those spells, though it didn't come to him as easily as the Summoning Charm. Still, even without Daphne's aid, he was able to master them to a certain degree. Although, he had to admit that he was disappointed when he read that 'Protego' didn't work against the dragon fire.

A sudden roar startled him from his thoughts, causing him to straighten himself up in his seat. His head turned right immediately, though not much could be seen through the entrance to the arena. For the purposes of the First Task, none of the Champions was allowed to watch others if they hadn't faced their dragon yet. Harry suppressed a groan as he leaned against the backrest of his chair; his arms were resting on his knees, and one of his legs was moving rapidly up and down, seemingly on its own. One more time that day, he made sure that his wand was in its place, safely hidden in a holster that was attached to his left forearm. Once again, he checked if his only means of defense was easy to draw. Despite the positive outcome of his experiment, he failed to calm down.

Earlier that morning, when he was still sitting in the Boys' Dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower while others were eating breakfast, he made sure that his Firebolt would be able to reach him as fast as possible. He placed it near the window he left wide open before leaving the Tower and the Castle.

Harry's body trembled as the voice outside of the tent, he recognized as Dumbledore's, announced Cedric's success. His left leg was constantly moving up and down as he breathed in and out heavily, doing his best to attempt to calm down his nerves. A few minutes later, Fleur left the tent.

Harry turned his head slightly to look at the Bulgarian Seeker. The man's face was a mask seemingly carved out of stone. He was standing next to one of the wooden pillars supporting their tent; his attention was focused solely on the entrance behind which Fleur disappeared less than a few minutes earlier. His arms crossed over his chest, and his wand was in a firm grip of his left hand. Nothing in his posture betrayed if he was nervous or relaxed. He sees it as just another Quidditch game, Harry commented in his mind after noticing a look of determination in the Bulgarian's eyes even if he wasn't facing him.

Come on, Potter, you've killed a Basilisk when you were twelve, he said to himself in a futile attempt to increase his courage. No one expects you to kill the dragon now. Just don't let it burn you to death too quickly, he added. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he made sure he remembered all the incantations and wand movements. A small stone flew into his hands as he muttered 'Accio,' and the air in front of him rippled as he cast the Shield Charm. Protego doesn't work against the dragon fire, he reminded himself, doing his best not to let that tiny piece of information slip away from his mind just before the First Task. A jet of water burst out of his wand as he muttered 'Aquamenti.' At least I'll be able to extinguish the fire if I don't die instantly, he thought with a dry smile. The miniature version of the Hungarian Horntail looked at him with a puzzled expression on its animated muzzle. As if it wanted to show that it was also capable of doing such tricks, the small beast let out a torrent of flames from its muzzle. Harry couldn't hold back a chuckle as he saw it.

"Good luck, Potter," a voice spoke suddenly, causing Harry to look up from his feet instantly. Victor Krum was looking at him with the same stony mask on his face, though a tiny smile was hiding in the corners of his lips. It took Harry a few seconds to realize that Fleur had also managed to complete the First Task, and it was Bulgarian's turn to enter the arena. And then I'll be going to my own funeral.

"Good luck," he called back, surprised that his voice didn't betray him. His throat was dry all of a sudden, and once again, something moved in his stomach, making him wonder if it was a good decision to skip breakfast that day. It was already well past lunchtime, so the only meal he would be able to eat that day would be dinner. If I make it back to the Castle for dinner.

The Bulgarian Seeker smirked at him before disappearing behind the entrance to the arena. Harry was left alone in the tent.

Harry stood up from the small mattress he was sitting on and walked towards the spot where Krum was standing less than a minute earlier. He looked at the tent's flaps, attempting to catch a glimpse of what awaited him behind the safety of his temporary prison, though nothing managed to get through, even though a strong wind was blowing outside. We can't watch other Champions, he remembered as he directed his attention away from the entrance. Angry roars and loud applause of the audience apparently failed to attract his attention.

Out of habit, Harry pulled out the folded photograph that he intended to keep close to him at all times. Three faces were smiling and laughing at him; one could be a mirror reflection of his own. Despite his raging nerves and the seriousness of the situation, Harry failed to keep the smile from finding its way onto his lips. If things go right, we'll see each other soon enough, Sirius' words echoed in his mind, causing the smile on Harry's face to grow wider. I won't see him if I allow that dragon to fry me today, he said, pocketing the photograph.

"Three of our Champions have now faced their dragons!" Dumbledore's voice managed to make its way into Harry's mind, causing him to look in a mixture of shock and terror at the tent's flaps. The cheering and applause of the audience served as a background for the Headmaster's announcement. "And so each one of them will proceed to the next task! And now, our fourth and final contestant!" Dumbledore exclaimed. Even with magic amplifying his voice, it was still difficult to understand what he was saying over the sounds in the background. Harry's heart was racing in his chest, threatening to pump its way out of his ribcage, and his legs carried him towards the entrance to the arena.

The flaps moved aside as he approached, and for the first time that day, Harry could get a better look at the arena that could become his graveyard in a not-so-distant future. His breathing was shallow as he observed the maze created of large rocks. Something crunched beneath his shoes as he approached the arena, causing him to look down. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but gravel didn't seem so frightening. At least these aren't bones, he thought with a dry chuckle. He breathed in deeply in another futile attempt to calm himself down. Retrieve the egg and avoid the dragon, he reminded himself as he slowly but surely made his way towards the arena. Just like Quidditch, he tried to cheer himself up. Catch the Snitch, avoid the Bludgers, he added, doing his best to push back the voice that kept repeating to him that Bludgers didn't breathe fire.

After leaving the tent, Harry had found himself walking through a narrow, short tunnel created out of the large stones. The gravel continued crunching beneath his shoes, and some of it was moving aside due to his weight. After sitting for over two hours in a barely lit tent, the light of the day caused him to squint his eyes, making him slow down his pace for a second or two. The shouts and screams of the audience that used to exist as a mere background were making their way into his mind with each step he took. To his great surprise, Harry realized that they were cheering him on as he finally managed to make out his name being yelled by the crowd. He looked around the small part of the stands that wasn't concealed by the stones above his head. Due to the distance, Harry couldn't recognize anyone but a large gathering of gold and red indicated that these were his Housemates. I wonder how many of them have the badges today, he couldn't stop that thought from entering his mind.

Attempting to block out everything around him, just as he was used to doing while playing Quidditch, Harry directed his gaze away from the stands, moving it towards the center of the arena. There, on one of the many large stones, laid a nest, filled with a few white eggs. From that distance, they seemed tiny, though Harry had no doubts that they had to be huge if he managed to see them so clearly. In the middle, amongst the white ones, was placed a golden egg – his target. Retrieve the egg, avoid the dragon, he reminded himself one last time before drawing his wand and leaving the short tunnel.

If that was even possible, the cheering got louder, though Harry did his best to push those voices aside. They were nothing more than a distraction. He looked around, scanning the arena with his eyes. Every single rock was lying motionlessly, and his trained Seeker's eyes hadn't caught even the slightest movement. The path between him and the egg was filled with small canyons created by the large rocks. He gulped heavily, tightening his grip around his wand.

"Accio golden egg!" he yelled, pointing his wand at the nest. His heart was beating loudly, and blood was thumping in his ears. His eyes widened in surprise and fear as the golden egg didn't move. But it worked in the tent, he commented, feeling the cold hand of dread tightening its grip around his heart.

If someone asked Harry what caused him to move at that moment, he wouldn't be able to find an answer. Maybe his Quidditch instincts kicked in? Or perhaps it was the fact that during each time at Hogwarts he had to fight for his life and his mind seemed to develop a sixth sense. Regardless, before the young boy had the opportunity to question his failed attempt at summoning the egg, his body moved on its own accord. He didn't register it until he hit the hard ground as the result of his jump. A split second later, he heard a crashing sound behind his back that caused him to move his head in that direction.

In the spot where he had been standing less than two seconds earlier, a large tail was lying; next to it, one of the rocks was shattered to pieces. Harry's eyes widened in shock as he followed the tail upwards with his gaze, quickly finding its owner. On the rocks that served as the roof of the short tunnel, the Hungarian Horntail was standing, though that one was much larger than the one Harry had left in the tent. The beast pulled its tail back as it turned around to look at him; a loud roar escaped its mouth, indicating that the dragon was angry that it failed to kill him.

Harry didn't waste a single second more on wondering and jumped to his feet, barely avoiding being hit by the tail. Despite its size, the dragon seemed to be terrifyingly fast as it continued moving its tail, aiming it at Harry's most recent position. Luckily for the young boy, though, the Bludgers were also incredibly fast, as he had the misfortune to find out during his second year. The time spent on the Quidditch Pitch seemed to pay off at that moment as he managed to avoid being crushed by the Horntail, even if by mere centimeters.

I think that the dragon would be more interested in some fat sheep than you, Daphne's words from two weeks earlier echoed in his mind, reminding Harry of the wand in his hand. It wasn't a conscious decision, however, as he moved his wand in a full circle in front of himself and yelled the incantation that Professor Lupin has taught him a few months earlier. He was vaguely aware of the shocked gasps that erupted amongst the crowd.

A silver stag shot out of his wand, standing right between Harry and the dragon. Although a deer by no means resembled a sheep, the boy's instinctual decision seemed to work. With wide eyes, he observed as the dragon lost all interest in him, instead of focusing on the silver Patronus that started running on the rocks. At that moment, Harry had no idea why he had cast that spell, though he was sure his instincts were to blame. However, he couldn't deny that it worked, and the Horntail was distracted by the animal that, in its eyes, was a much better dinner than Harry.

Without wasting a single second more, Harry turned around and started running towards the center of the arena. The gravel continued crunching and sliding beneath his feet, almost causing him to lose his balance a few times, but the boy didn't stop, nor did he slow down. From time to time, he kept glancing back to make sure that the dragon was still distracted. Luckily for him, the misty stag was doing its job in keeping the beast occupied and protecting him.

Harry was already at the same stone slab as the nest. His legs were working as fast as his muscles could allow. He was almost there – his fingers bare centimeters away from the golden egg as something heavy suddenly collided with his stomach, sending him tumbling down to the ground, away from the stone slab in the center of the arena. His breath was violently knocked out of his lungs and his vision blackened for a split second as his body collided with hard rock. His left arm suddenly exploded with enormous pain as it was the first part of him that made contact with the stone surface. Correcting his glasses, Harry looked up, only to see that the Horntail was near the middle of the arena. It must have remembered its prime duty and lost all interest in the conjured stag. Or perhaps it has managed to reach Harry's Patronus and realized that it wasn't a real animal? The young boy had no idea.

Once again, Harry jumped to the side, driven by his Seeker instincts. That time, however, it wasn't the tail that was sent at him. Instead, a huge wave of heat erupted behind his back as the dragon, remaining true to its nature, breathed fire at the Fourth Champion. He pressed his left hand close to his chest; his mind was slowly beginning to register that his body had been damaged, and all he could feel at that moment was a tremendous pain that seemed to consume his entire left forearm. Harry guessed that it was his luck that he didn't hide his wand back in the holster as he was sure that it wouldn't survive the collision.

The Hungarian Horntail seemed to be unfazed by the boy's condition as it glared at the young foul that attempted to steal one of its eggs. Its eyes turned into narrow slits, and its muzzle was partially opened. The dragon's large chest expanded, indicating that it was breathing in before it sent another torrent of flames at the young boy.

"Aquamenti!" Harry yelled, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to jump away in time to avoid being burned to death. His mind correctly remembered the fact that the Shield Charm didn't work against the dragon fire, but his body didn't. Instead of drawing a letter 'S' in the air with his wand, Harry lifted his right arm in a semicircle, high above his head, before dropping it in a vertical motion.

To his, and apparently the audience's shock, his wand didn't produce a jet of water. Instead, a liquid wall appeared between Harry and the torrent of flames, though it evaporated almost instantly when the two elements collided. Due to the strength of the dragon's attack, Harry stumbled backward a few steps before he managed to regain his footage.

The fact that its attack had failed again seemed to enrage the huge dragon even more if that was possible. Unfazed by the young boy's refusal to die, the Hungarian Horntail unleashed yet another torrent of flames at the wizard that was doing his absolute best simply to remain alive.

That time, Harry managed to find shelter behind one of the large rocks, just as the dragon was about to attack once again. His left arm felt as if it caught fire, causing him to look at it from time to time to make sure that it actually didn't happen. His heart was racing in his chest, and his lungs were burning. Blood was thumping in his ears, and his muscles seemed to be exploited to the fullest of their possibilities. Even though he was capable of spending much more time chasing after the Snitch, he had never felt so drained in his life.

The rock behind his back began heating up as it absorbed the dragon's fiery breath. Using that momentary pause in the mad pursuit, Harry risked glancing from behind the rock. Due to the dragon's attacks, he found himself almost as far from the egg as during the beginning of the First Task. He cursed internally. If things continued as they have until that moment, he would simply collapse due to exhaustion. Then, he would be either crushed by the dragon's tail or burned alive.

But he wasn't dead yet. The pain in his left arm was a constant reminder of that fact. Just like Quidditch, he repeated like a mantra. Catch the Snitch, avoid the Bludgers…

He almost failed to stop himself from slapping his face as the sole purpose of learning the Summoning Charm returned to his mind. Playing Quidditch was impossible without a broom.

"Accio Firebolt!" Harry yelled with all the strength he had, performing a semicircular movement with his wand, pointing it at the sky.

He had to hide his head once again as the dragon decided to choose that moment as the best time to breathe fire at him. The rock behind his back continued heating up, though it was nothing compared to the other side that was forced to face the full wrath of the dragon's breath.

Harry looked upwards in the general direction of the Castle, anticipating the Firebolt to appear in that part of the sky. When his eyes caught sight of the relatively small object making its way through the air, Harry's heart leaped up into his throat. Soon, the subtle whooshing sound of his beloved broom slowly started making its way through all the screams and shouts and yells coming from the stands. For the first time in hours, Harry's lips curled up in a genuine smile.

Firebolt was fast, that much was obvious. Harry was well aware that he couldn't simply sit and waste time. He quickly gripped his wand with his teeth, making sure that it wouldn't slide away. It wouldn't do him any good if he managed to lose his only means of self-defense at that moment. He tried his best to push away the pain that still controlled his left forearm and glanced behind the stone once again.

There was no time to think. There was no time to calculate or speculate on the righteousness of his decision. There was only time to act. The whooshing sound that was becoming more and more audible was the only indication for Harry on where the Firebolt was. Putting his entire faith in the skills he developed and mastered while playing Quidditch and his instincts, Harry leaped out of his hiding spot.

It took him a full second to understand what had happened. Suddenly, his feet weren't touching the ground, and his legs curled around something straight. His left arm was still firmly pressed to his chest, and his teeth continued gripping his wand. The fingers of his right hand, though, were tightened around a wooden stick and wind was blowing into his face, almost causing him to drop his wand. He blinked a few times, glad that his glasses were providing him with slight protection against the wind. It worked, he realized after two or three seconds of flying.

He didn't allow himself to marvel at that, though, as the First Task was far from over. After quickly getting a better understanding of his surroundings, Harry directed his Firebolt towards the center of the arena. Suddenly, running away from the dragon wasn't nearly as difficult as it was in the beginning.

Despite the enormous, nearly unbearable pain in his left forearm, Harry changed the grip on his broom. Even though it hurt, he was well aware that he wouldn't be able to capture the egg with his damaged hand. He hissed quietly as he forced the fingers of his left hand to curl around the wooden handle. Tears danced in the corners of his eyes, but the wind managed to force them away.

His gaze was focused only on the nest and the eggs in them, mainly the golden one. Having never flown on the Firebolt while playing Quidditch, Harry wasn't fully aware of its real possibilities. The distance between him and the nest was decreasing rapidly, much faster than his old Nimbus 2000 would have allowed him. The young wizard reached out with his right hand, lowering the trajectory at the same time in hope of ending the madness that was supposed to be the First Task.

However, the dragon seemed to anticipate his movements.

Before he managed to get his other arm hurt, Harry retreated his right hand as the torrent of flames hurried towards him once again. And once again, the young boy cursed inwardly. So close. A metallic sound, somewhere behind him, caused him to turn his head around as he attempted to locate the noise's source.

The Hungarian Horntail was wrestling against a long and heavy chain that was attached to its neck. Harry's eyes widened in surprise. That thing is on the chain? He asked himself.

Only to see the beast breaking the iron links of the chain.

Was on the chain.

The beast's attention returned to him as the dragon managed to free itself from the confinement. As fast as he could, Harry removed his wand from between his teeth, afraid that he would break it if he continued gripping it like that. He slid it into the sleeve of his shirt before correcting the grip on his broom.

While he was focused on the dragon behind him, Harry failed to realize that he was flying directly towards the secluded part of the stands where the teachers and other honorable guests were sitting. It was too late to turn around at that moment. The young wizard urged his broom to make half of the rotation around its own axis, causing him to fly upside down. Harry wasn't sure, but he guessed that he would have hit his head against the wooden construction that supported the white material if he didn't find a way to avoid it. Instead, he flew relatively safely between the heads of his teachers. I'm so getting detention for this, he commented in his head as he caught a glimpse of Professor's Snape glare, who had to slide aside to avoid collision with Harry's head.

The fact that he had left the arena didn't stop the dragon from its pursuit, though. Harry more heard than saw as the beast behind him ripped the white material and destroyed a part of the stands. Get it away from the eggs! His mind screamed at him, dictating orders to his tired limbs. Just like Quidditch, he reminded himself again. Catch the Snitch, avoid the Bludgers.

Harry leaned forward on the Firebolt as the distance between him and the arena was increasing rapidly, though the Hungarian Horntail remained relentless in its pursuit. The wind seemed to be doing its best to tear his robe to shreds, but he couldn't care less about that at that moment. Increase the distance, he ordered himself. His left forearm was burning, and white spots appeared on the edge of his vision as he attempted to fight back the pain.

The dragon breathed fire again, though the Firebolt's velocity allowed Harry to avoid being burned to death without the necessity to roll to the side. The young wizard pulled sharply at his broom, forcing it to turn right. He was pretty sure that the distance between him and the arena was large enough for him to outfly the dragon. At least he hoped it was. However, Harry failed to predict one crucial thing.

Turning around while the dragon was behind him caused him to fly directly at the beast for a few seconds. His eyes widened in surprise and fear as he observed the rows of razor-sharp teeth gradually approaching his face. Once again, his instincts took the best of him that day, forcing him to descend rapidly, barely avoiding ending up in the dragon's muzzle as its dinner. He flew towards the ground, and the mist stretched over the majority of the land.

His eyes caught sight of a stone bridge connecting Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, and an idea found its way into his mind. The roof of the bridge was supported by pillars that were placed no more than three meters away from each other. He knew he was fast, and he knew he was agile. He couldn't count how many times chasing after the Snitch had led him to fly between the wooden barns of the stands. Flying between the pillars would be a child's play compared to that. And he was certain that the dragon wouldn't be able to squeeze its large body through those holes.

With that thought in mind, Harry leaned forward on his Firebolt, urging it to go even faster. The distance between him and the bridge was getting smaller and smaller as the young wizard chose the hole to fly through. The dragon roared behind him, reminding the boy of its presence, though he never forgot that.

No more than five meters away from the bridge, the Firebolt shook violently, causing Harry to lose control over his flight. He screamed out of fear and pain as the sudden bolt reminded him of the poor condition of his left arm. The bridge continued approaching as the dragon breathed in sharply behind him. Harry closed his eyes and raised his hand to his head in an attempt to protect his head from the impact.

However, the impact never happened. At least not for him. He was sure that he heard correctly that something had hit the stone bridge, but he was also certain it wasn't him. His broom was in one piece, he was still flying, and he wasn't unconscious. After stabilizing his flight, the young wizard turned around, risking a glance at the beast that continued to chase after him for what seemed like hours, though in reality, it couldn't have been longer than a dozen or so minutes.

The dragon was gone. The only indication that the large beast used to exist was a roar that seemed to be fading away steadily. Harry blinked a few times in surprise, certain that the exhaustion of his body was taking its toll on his mind.

However, he wasn't mistaken. The Hungarian Horntail was gone and in its place was only a huge hole in the bridge that was previously filled with pillars. I'm so getting detention for this, he thought once again before it occurred to him what had truly happened.

The dragon was gone, and he was alive.

A large grin found its way onto Harry's lips, and despite his injuries, most of which he hadn't even acknowledged, he chuckled. Then, he chuckled once again. And again before it turned into full laughter.

The Bludger is gone, catch the Snitch, Potter, a voice in his head, surprisingly similar to Daphne's, spoke. Shaking off the initial shock, Harry directed the Firebolt towards the arena where the nest, and the golden egg, were waiting for him.

As soon as the arena was within his eyesight, the loud cheering of the crowd reached his ears. His heartbeat was slowly returning back to normal, and his lungs seemed to accept more oxygen than during the past few hours. His smile never left his face as he flew past the stands and towards the center of the arena.

When he was above the stone slab on which the nest was placed, Harry swiftly jumped off the Firebolt, not caring where it landed. His legs were shaking, but he still managed to force them to work. His left arm was still firmly pressed against his chest, though the pain seemed to have lessened drastically. With the wide grin still on his lips, the young wizard bent down, and raised the golden egg with his healthy hand.

The cheering seemed to increase as he presented the audience with his victory. He was vaguely aware of Madam Pomfrey, that seemed to materialize at his side as he spun around slowly, making sure that everyone saw him holding the egg. Professor McGonagall also appeared next to him out of nowhere, but Harry couldn't make out a single word she was saying as his attention was focused on something else. Or rather, someone else.

For the first time during the Task, his eyes found Daphne. She was standing amongst other Slytherins who weren't as enthusiastic in their cheers as the rest of the Houses. The young girl was clapping slowly, still carrying that trademark smirk on her face. It seemed as if she was waiting for him to look at her, because her eyes immediately found his. Even though not a single muscle moved on her face, her gaze managed to convey the message.

Chamber.

Harry's grin widened, and he nodded his head before allowing Madam Pomfrey to escort him back to the tent.

That's it for today. I hope you've enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought of this chapter because writing action scenes is extremely difficult for me. Answering one of the comments, I don't intend to make this a 'revenge fic.' I've read quite a few stories with some form of bashing and rarely have I found it done with style or grace. I'm not trying to portray hatred but rather a disappointment. Let me know if I'm doing a good job with that, and see you in the next update.