The Prince-Who-Lived

Chapter Eighteen

Next Saturday was the first Harry saw of Alan in the library. School had been particularly miserable, and Harry had thought no one could have been feeling worse than him. The entire week had been spent trying not to seem to worried, trying to seem angry with an underage Slytherin champion, trying to agree with the others assessments without garnering Neville's unwanted attention. He didn't think he'd succeeded in the last. Harry wondered how close Neville had come to being a Slytherin but that worry didn't manage to outweigh his concern for Alan. Apparently that concern was valid: Alan looked sick and so thin as to be skeletal. Bags under his eyes left an even greater skeletal impression, and he must have chosen robes slightly to large on purpose to exacerbate the fact. Harry sat across from him with a grimace and didn't pull out a book.

"Alan …" Harry murmured. Alan put his book down and shut it thickly, looking at Harry blankly. "Are you doing okay?"

A sickly grin twisted his face. "I'm okay." He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I think not a person in the school is glad for my selection, except for whoever put me forward. They must be dancing with glee at how well this is working." He laughed harshly. "They won't even have to wait for the tasks to finish me off; the other Slytherin's should do the job just fine."

"They haven't …" Harry began, worried. Alan snorted.

"Why do you think Slytherin's dropped so many points this week? Did you think I missed Potions Friday for the Hell of it? Nah, I got clipped with a bone-breaker fetching my books, and then found that weird poison bomb in my bag. Hospital wing overnight for it."

Harry winced. Alan didn't seem to notice, tilting his chair back on its legs. "I've been getting food direct from the kitchens and using Green's poison analyser on everything I eat after I had to spit out breakfast Tuesday when my pendant heated up. I think Slytherin likes me as a champion less than the rest of the school does … although that poison might have been Ravenclaw work …"

Alan trailed off after a good look at Harry's face. He dropped his chair back down, and Harry was surprised at the truly earnest look he wore.

"Harry, I'm going to be fine. The precautions aren't all that unexpected, and the hostility isn't new. Blaise and Lucille Pupp both are making a point of clearing the air, and Severus announced to the common room that if I get attacked once more, he'd put Slytherin at zero and keep us there himself the next month." Alan gave a wry grin, "He did a snapping good job of 'Slytherins must present a united front to the school, and do not turn upon each other for any reason whatsoever.' He gave me a pointed look for that one too. I honestly wasn't glaring at Draco that much, though." He defended. Harry just laughed lightly. Alan and Draco did not get along, and it wasn't a secret. Harry nodded at the reassurance.

"I suppose you can handle it. Good practice, at least." Harry offered. Alan nodded slowly, but it didn't remove the earnest expression; Alan wanted him to relax about it. Harry smiled weakly. "I trust your dad will take care of you, Alan. He won't let you come to harm."

"He won't." Alan allowed. "Thank you."

Harry inclined his head lightly, and ducked to fetch his bag and his own work. They settled silently into casual camaraderie as they usually did. Harry knew Alan noticed the short glances he keep shooting at him out of concern, but his only reaction was a small amused smile.

IIII

The next week was no better for Harry, but Alan's colour returned to normal and he didn't miss any more classes. He returned to eating in the Great Hall, although attending to his food looked extremely strenuous from what Harry could see. The school was slowly settling into sullen acceptance of Alan, and that Friday seemed to settle the matter of his position, as Draco started in on him before on Potion's class.

"You really are an attention whore, Prince."

Harry came up with Ron and the others behind him, overhearing the thrown barb. Once they rounded the corner, however, they walked clean into a firestorm, not a sound coming from Alan's mouth as three spells ran straight past them. Harry immediately threw up a silent shield his father had taught him, a spell that was auror-quality, but it wasn't in time, and behind him, Hermione squealed painfully.

"Ron, check Hermione." Harry ground through his teeth, keeping his attention on his shield. Alan had seen them, now, and was correcting his aim, but Draco had his back to them, and kept skipping in place. Only a few more spells were thrown, and ricocheted, before Snape stormed down the corridor like a vengeful demon.

"Enough!" He snapped. "Alan, Draco, both of you hand over your wands and get into my office immediately. Anyone caught in the crossfire, come here."

Harry dropped the shield and turned, biting back his first response as he saw Hermione's condition. Her front teeth were crawling down to the neck of her shirt, and she was whimpering and covering them with her hands. Harry grimaced.

"None of the rest of you were hit?" Behind his friends were the rest of the Gryffindor class, all of who hadn't been in the way. Once reassured that the others were safe, Harry took a deep breath and grabbed Hermione's hand. Dealing with Snape wasn't going to be easy, and if he said one thing wrong, Alan would just have to forgive him for hexing his father. Hermione followed reluctantly as Harry approached the gathered Slytherins with their own casualties. A break opened, and Harry situated himself inside it, looking up at Snape with forced casualness.

"Professor, Hermione was caught with a teeth-growing spell." He spoke with a firm look, hoping Snape would catch the expectation in his eyes.

Severus, however, paused and opened his mouth. Harry flashed him a vicious grin and spoke over him.

"You said we should bring any collateral damage to you, sir, if they'd been caught in Prince and Malfoy's fight."

Severus grimaced. "Come here, then, Mrs. Granger, and let me see." Hermione cautiously stepped forward, but didn't remove her hands. Harry moved to her other side, placing himself between her face and the Slytherins, before he gently pulled her hands down. Hermione's teeth had continued to grow, and Snape sighed. "I can't fix this here; please head up to Madam Pomfrey. Potter, I expect you back in class in ten minutes. Escort her."

Harry glared at him, and led Hermione back up the hall. He jerked his head to send Neville and Ron inside and continued with his assignment. He'd have to run to get back to the class in ten minutes, but he could make it. Neville would take his bag in for him.

Harry got back to class with not a minute to spare, and he was in and seated. Neville, beside him, sighed heavily, jerking his head to indicate Collin Creevey bouncing nervously on his heels at the doorway; Severus, Alan and Draco weren't back yet either. Harry raised his eyebrows, and Neville sighed.

"He's here for Alan. Something about a ceremony and a photo shoot for the champions."

Harry grimaced. Not two minutes later, the door to Snape's office slammed open and Draco and Alan strode out, followed by a dark-faced Severus. Upon seeing Collin, he fixed him with a firm glare.

"What do you want?"

"Sir, I was sent to fetch Alan Prince for a ceremony for the champions."

"Surely it can wait." Severus growled low.

"I was said to take him now …"

"Fine, leave your things here, Prince."

"He needs to take his stuff with him …" Collin was wilting under the vicious glare he was receiving, but Harry could feel no sympathy for him. Across the room, Alan was gently thumping his head against his desk, before he just stood and quickly crossed the room to pass Harry and leave through the door, not waiting for Collin, his bag slung angrily across his shoulder. Collin ran after him, and the door shut with a very final sounding thud.

Looking back to the front of the class, Harry felt a shiver of nervousness. Severus Snape was a jet-black thunderhead, and he felt that the storm was about to break. This would not be a pleasant class.

IIII

Alan only stopped to allow Collin to pass him once he felt calm enough to not hex the boy from behind for dragging him out of class. The boy looked like he wanted to ask him several questions at once, but a fierce glare that brought out the best of Alan's resemblance to his father shut him up quickly and sent him loping ahead to bring him to the room upstairs. Alan stepped inside and Collin darted off, leaving him there with his dark expression. Let everyone know that he was having a bad day; misery simply loves company.

The school Heads, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Templar sat behind the desks lined along the far wall, Bagman talking to a witch dressed in brilliant magenta robes. In a corner, Krum was sulking alone and Fleur was standing by the door, shooting annoyed glances in Krum's direction. Off to one side, a man with a smoking camera was shooting looks at Fleur; looks that Alan was sure were the cause of her upset.

Mr. Bagman turned and suddenly smiled brightly, a smile that faltered faintly as Alan scowled at him. "Wonderful!" He determinedly beamed. "We were thinking you'd never make it, Alan."

"Call me Prince, sir." Alan ground out. Bagman didn't seem to notice, but just to his right Mr. Templar coughed lightly into his hand, smothering a faint smile. He tapped Bagman on the shoulder, and then stood himself.

"If you'll forgive Mr. Bagman, Prince," He gave a smile he apparently thought would be reassuring; Alan was in too foul a mood to care, "we're here to conduct the wand-weighing ceremony, to ensure all three of you have your wands in top working order.

"My wand is fine." Alan snapped. "I don't need you and yours to tell me that, Mr. Templar. Let's get this over with." He shrugged irritably, and Mr. Templar's smile faded into a sigh as he settled back into his seat.

Dumbledore stood in his stead, and gently tapped the desk. Alan moved out of the direct path to the door and leaned against the wall beside it, partially opposite where Fleur had been pouting. As Dumbledore drew their attention, however, she straightened and stepped forward. Krum remained stationary as well, merely turning to watch. Dumbledore seemed unaware of the two faintly hostile champions and continued with a bright smile.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander." Dumbledore began. Alan quickly scanned the room and felt a muscle in his eye twitch as he suddenly spotted him by a window. He was pale, with large eyes and a small stature. He remembered Harry talking about Ollivander when discussing his wand, and the unusual traits it possessed. Alan had been as fascinated with the brother wand feature as Harry had been with Alan's core.

"He will be checking your wands to ensure they are in good condition before the tournament." Dumbledore finished. Ollivander stepped from the wall and further into the room, running his eyes calmly across the three champions.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, if we could have you forward first please?" He was now in the centre of the room, and, at her name, Fleur swept forward to pass over her wand. Ollivander took it gently, and twirled it between his fingers. The wand emitted a number of pink and gold sparks before Ollivander brought it up close to his face and looked it over carefully.

"Yes," He murmured, "nine and a half inches … inflexible … rosewood, containing … dear me …"

"A hair from the head of a veela." Fleur said proudly. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

"Yes, of course." Said Ollivander. "I've never used veela hair myself, I find it makes for rather temperamental wands. However, if it suits you, it's often best. The whole purpose of the tool …"

Ollivander ran his hands down the length of the wood, checking for nicks or bumps, and then he tapped it against his palm, muttered Orchideus and a bouquet of flowers appeared from the end. Ollivander smiled faintly, bundled the flowers together and handed them to Fleur as he dismissed her with a calm, "Fine working order, indeed. Mr. Krum, you next please."

Krum slouched forward and thrust his wand into Ollivander's grasp, standing sullenly beside him with his hands thrust into his pockets. Ollivander took the wand with the same delicacy he'd grasped Fleur's and quickly looked it over.

"Hmmm, this is a Gregorovitch creation if I'm not mistaken. A fine wandmaker, but the styling is never quite … however, yes …" He lifted the wand to his eyelevel and looked it over with his fine attention to details. "Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, yes …" His eyes slid to Krum and then back to his wand. "Rather thicker than one usually sees … quite rigid … ten and a quarter inches … avis."

The wand blasted like a gun and a bunch of small twittering birds flew from the resultant smoke and into the watery sunlight.

"Good," Ollivander said with relish. He then fixed Alan with his strange gaze. "Mr. Prince, then?"

Alan stiffly pushed off the wall and stalked over to him. Once there, he pulled his wand from his wrist and handed it to him handle first. Ollivander reached for it, and paused an inch away.

"Please remove the enchantments for me, Mr. Prince?" Ollivander asked casually, withdrawing his hand minutely. "And if you have a second wand, I'd like to look at that as well."

Alan took his wand back with a faint smile and ran his left index down its length. "I only have one wand, although I snatched a friend's off him for the evening. Would you like to look it over too? I might steal it for one of the tasks sometime."

Ollivander took his wand when he extended it this time, and turned his eye to it as he responded. "If you'd like me to take a moments look I certainly could, although taking a friend's wand isn't normal etiquette you know."

"He's only in Potions. It's antidotes; he shouldn't need it and he let me take it, besides."

Ollivander raised his eyebrows again, and returned to eyeing the wand. "An American wood, redwood, but your accent said as much." Alan merely shrugged. "Eleven inches, flexible … your core …"

"Jabberwocky tongue." Alan drawled. "It's a tad uncommon."

The silence in the room was palpable, and Alan smirked. The incident with the jabberwocky had been profitable in the end, but it didn't make it any less stupid.

Ollivander looked at Alan for a long moment before he turned back to eyeing the wood. He got a rather irritated look when he found several burns and a small series of pockmarks, but he finally just sighed heavily and twitched the wand with a subtle twitch. A piercing whistle rang out, and Ollivander dropped the wand quickly. He stepped back as Alan snatched it out of the air and gave him a fierce glare.

"I had asked you to remove your enchantments." Ollivander snapped.

"I did." Alan responded blithely. "That one wasn't one of mine. However, I can disable it for a moment." Alan did so and handed it over once more. Ollivander shook his head, and conjured a short illusion of a cat gambolling about before handing it back over with a faint smile.

"The wand and the enchantments upon it work fine. Would you still like me to glance over the wand of your friend?"

Alan nodded and pulled the thin wood out of his pocket, handing it over end first once more. Ollivander took it shortly and frowned as he looked it over. He spoke the qualities in a faint murmur none could hear, and then gently conjured silvery bubbles from the end. He handed it back with a short nod, but then held on as Alan grasped it in turn. His expression was dead serious.

"I never would have expected such friends, Mr. Prince." The emphasis on his name left his knowledge of Alan's lineage plain. Alan had hoped he wouldn't remember whom he'd sold the wand to, but he guessed his lack of any colour to his skin should have made his preoccupation obvious. Ollivander held on for several moments longer before he left go with a faint, "Take care."

Alan didn't think he meant to keep himself safe. Pocketing the Holly and phoenix feather wand, Alan nodded tersely, and then glanced over at the predatory woman in magenta and the photographer. He grimaced; such attention was not on his list of things to do. Dumbledore stood, prepared to dismiss them, but Bagman stood before Alan could cross the threshold and demanded photos. Trying to relax his back was futile; the ordeal of being yanked about into various poses was intolerable. Finally, however, they were released. Before he could make the door again, a red-taloned hand grasped his shoulder and he turned to look at the brilliant blonde reporter in magenta with a grimace. Wishing he could have hit his growth even three months sooner, Alan looked about an inch or so up into her eyes and glared with all the might he could muster. It didn't even dent her hairpiece. Then again, that could probably survive a sledgehammer.

"Mr. Prince?" She crooned. "Might I have a word with you?"

Alan looked her over once more and felt a suspicion nag at his mind. "Depends on how honest my words will remain once they're on your notepad." He hedged.

"I'm Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet." She elaborated. "Your comments on this tournament would be wonderfully appreciated. Underage champion, how you got in, your regards to you father, Professor Snape … is there any favouritism from that?" She asked once more. Alan watched her face as she spoke and felt he'd sooner deal with an honest predator, like Hagrid's skrewts or that jabberwocky again.

"Ms. Skeeter." Alan bit off. "I'm not speaking to reporters. I'm going to supper. Leave. Me. Be." Alan pulled from her grasp and stalked out the door, walking quickly down the hall and leaving the rabid reporter behind. He had a sinking feeling that wouldn't be the last of her.

However, first he had to return Harry's wand. He'd snitched it on his way out of Potions, and he should be missing by about this point. In the entire interest of not worrying his friend longer than he had to, and not in the least ensuring that the reporter could try to stop him again, Alan broke into a lope down the castle halls, skipping down the stairs quickly. As he'd rather anticipated, supper had already begun and at the doors Harry was waiting with a glare already tracking his progress. Only a few seventh years were wandering by, and Alan quickly arrested his pell-mell pace to stroll down the stairs. He made to walk in without saying anything to Harry, but Harry quickly put his hand out and grabbed his shoulder. Alan stopped, and raised his eyebrow.

"Prince, I believe you have something of mine." Harry reported coolly.

Alan looked bewildered. "I have nothing of yours, Potter. I wouldn't touch your things if you paid me."

Harry ignored Alan's sneer and jerked his chin up. Alan observed he was probably being antsy about the height difference once more. Alan was already three inches taller than him with no stop in his growth.

"My wand, then?" Harry asked in the same cool voice. Several people walking near them froze. Taking someone else's wand, much less the wand of someone you weren't close to was a grave breach of etiquette.

Alan just smiled, slipped the wand from his pocket and offered it to Harry handle first. Harry reached for it, paused, and glared straight into Alan's eyes. Harry knew about the enchantments Alan used on his wands, and it was a smart decision to hesitate. Alan pressed the wood into Harry's hand and let go with another mocking smirk, before striding through the doors. Harry stalked through beside him, purposefully not looking at him and hissing something under his breath, audible only to Alan.

"You will teach me your personal enchantments one of these days, Alan." Harry griped.

Alan kept his amusement from his voice. "Yes, I will."

Harry spun on his heel to return to his own table, and Alan slipped into his seat beside Blaise and across from the sixth year Lucille Pupp. A glance proved at least two people were watching him eagerly, and Alan fought the desire to put his head into his hands. Time to run the poison gauntlet once more. Although he was quite confident none of the poisons would kill him, he didn't want to get sick. He just hoped they'd die down by the next week. They weren't going to get a new 'champion' just because he was sick.

Otherwise he'd have engineered a sickness himself.

IIII

The Hogsmeade weekend before the first task seemed to come a lot sooner than Harry would have liked, and the trip was nowhere near as enjoyable as it might otherwise have been. Alan had said he wasn't going to go, because he really just wanted to try and look through a few more books he might need to know. Thus Harry was forcing himself to look cheerful when he knew even Ron and Hermione were picking up on his nervousness. Neville had given up on asking why he was out of sorts and just drove the conversation however it would go, effectively keeping Ron and Hermione from asking questions. Partway along, Hagrid trundled in and sat down with Moody. When they got up to leave, Hagrid came over to their table and smiled, leaning down to whisper between Harry and Neville.

"Come to my hut at eleven tonight; I want to show you something. You'll like it."

He then straightened, and asked in his normal voice, "What'cha kids up to this weekend, then?"

Neville smiled and winced, and Harry leaned back. "We're just hanging out, Hagrid. What were you talking with Moody about?"

"Nothing much," Hagrid inched his eyes away and looked mildly guilty. Harry shook his head slowly.

"Good to hear, then." Harry succeeding in fighting down his laughter. "Good to hear. You heading back up, then? We'll probably come down for tea or something tonight, you know?"

"That'd be wonderful." Hagrid beamed. "It's getting cold, though, so remember your cloak." The emphasis was unmistakeable, and Harry hoped everyone chalked it up to Hagrid's eccentricity.

Harry nodded, and then waved him out of the pub before turning back to the others and holding his head in his hands. "I feel like some pixie is taking a hatchet to my skull from the inside."

"You're stressed, Harry." Neville snapped. "Go figure. What might Hagrid want us for, and what cloak?" He insisted. Ron and Hermione watched with amusement, and Harry turned slightly to face Neville before raising his hand in a one-finger salute. Ron snorted; Neville was unaffected, and his expression didn't change.

"Fine." Harry groused. "It's my cloak we need. One between the two of us, since I don't think I can keep you from coming." Neville snorted derisively; Harry ignored it. "And apparently he wants to show us something. Go figure."

Neville brightened considerably. "Maybe it's the first task? What if they were bringing something in? My dad said there was a huge fuss about importing some magical creatures. What might they be bringing?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, if we go by your presumption at the train, it would probably be dragons at some point. Because of Charlie, remember?"

Neville's eyes glazed for a long moment. Harry fought down some snickers; while Neville wasn't an avid fan of magical creatures, if you waved a dragon under his nose he'd sit up and follow like a puppy to sausage. Harry didn't know whether to sigh in irritation, or amusement. He definitely wasn't going alone now.

IIII

"Holy," Neville breathed, falling flat onto his bed. He and Harry had just returned, and Harry tried vainly to hush him. Not surprisingly, it didn't work, and Harry settled back onto his bed with a wry grin. Neville laughed. "Dragons, Harry! We get to see them go up against dragons! I can't wait to see who gets the Horntail!"

Harry's grin wilted slightly. "It's going to be horrible; they could get hurt so bad …"

"Harry." Neville sat up and eyed him carefully. "Harry, they know what could go wrong; there will be safeguards, from the dragon handlers themselves to Dumbledore and the other two heads. The teachers should be out there as well; the champions will be fine." Neville made a rough face and then sighed, lowering his voice to a low whisper. "Stop worrying about Prince. He'd probably scare the dragon just by glaring at it."

Harry jerked back and nearly slid off his bed before he regained his composure enough to laugh weakly. Alan probably would glare at the dragon, but that wouldn't really scare it. His laughter trailed off and Harry returned to eyeing Neville with concern. Neville's face was unreadable, and he quickly doused the light before Harry could look much longer, settling into his own bed. Harry waited a moment and then stepped over to put his hand on Neville's shoulder.

"Brother." He whispered. They hadn't used that endearment between them for … Harry didn't think it had been used since before they'd come to Hogwarts. That was too long. "Brother, I'll be fine. I'm just worried for a friend, is all."

Neville was silent for a long moment after, but as Harry lifted his hand to leave, Neville pulled it back down with his own. He didn't look up, but Harry could see his mouth pull into a smile from the side. "I know … brother. Go to bed already."

IIII

Alan was already in the library when Harry came in the next day, and he smiled warmly at him. "Harry, where did you get those bags under your eyes from?"

Harry looked up at him, and then away for a moment. Alan put his book up and leaned forward; this was unusual. About to ask, he closed his mouth and waited patiently. This was Harry's turn.

"Alan … Hagrid took … Neville and I down to see something last night. It was the first task. It's dragons." Harry whispered.

Alan felt like his blood had frozen for a moment. He spoke past it, closing down on his feelings to keep working. "Dragons?" He knew he could handle this. He knew it. But his knees were still feeling a tad more watery than he'd like. He shook his head and looked back up at Harry. "What kind of dragons? Do you know?"

"Swedish Short Snout, Chinese Fireball, and a Hungarian Horntail."

Alan closed his eyes and shook his head once more. This was more than he'd been expecting.

"I don't think you have to fight them, or anything. Charlie, one of the handlers that came with them, commented that they were all nesting mothers."

Alan looked up at Harry, and then gave him a small, thankful smile. He nodded shortly, and then gathered his books together. "I need to go talk to a few people. See you, Harry." Alan paused at the shelves, and looked back at Harry with a wry smile. "Thank you."

He turned and left, walking as quickly as he could and then breaking into a short run once outside the library, heading for his father's office. He slowed occasionally for a prefect or teacher, but kept up a quick pace as he made his way downstairs. He quickly opened the door to his father's rooms, stepped inside and froze.

"Hey, nephew." Geoffrey waved warmly from his seat near the fire across from Severus.

Alan stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him before he swore under his breath and then gave Geoffrey a warm smile. Geoffrey turned once more, a little concerned since Alan didn't smile like that for just anything. "What's up, pup?"

"The first task is dragons. What do you remember of that fiasco with the jabberwocky which might help me get past it?" Alan quickly asked. He was rewarded as Geoffrey's jaw dropped while he turned an interesting shade of pink.

Severus looked between the two of them with interest and poured Geoffrey another drink, waving Alan into the next seat over.

"Alright, how do you know its dragons and what was this about a jabberwocky?"

Alan gave Severus a quick smile and tried to grab the glass he'd poured for Geoffrey. Geoffrey recovered in time to snatch it from his grasp and drain it before he'd gotten anywhere with it, and Alan frowned even as he answered his father.

"An informant told me, and the jabberwocky was a nuisance Geoffrey took care of in Georgia and managed to make a fiasco of, despite being successful. My wand core is from that jabberwocky. And now I need to get past a dragon, so I presume that something that could hold a jabberwocky should be effective for at least some time against a dragon."

Severus rubbed his nose and looked between them. "Which is larger, a jabberwocky or a dragon?"

"Dragon, easily." Geoffrey answered. "The fear in a jabberwocky isn't size or strength. It's just hideous, devious, and the largest carnivore in America. Not to mention it does have hallucinogenic poison and a voice fit to make a banshee throttle it in offence." Geoffrey shrugged. "But to subdue it, you could easily modify it to a dragon, I'm sure. What were you thinking of, Alan?"

Alan smiled at Geoffrey as Severus poured himself another drink with a faint shake of his head, and began to outline his plan.

IIII

Monday came sooner than Harry expected. He hadn't seen Alan again Sunday, but he presumed Alan had spent the entire time going over his plan of attack. Harry was just waiting on his worry, staying awake all through History of Magic, staring out the window and hearing nothing of Professor Binns' lecture. He didn't doubt that Alan would be fine, but there was certainly some concern about just how 'fine' he would remain. He'd seen Alan tense as soon as he mentioned dragons, a ready sort of tense, that was just waiting for the blow to fall and the fight to begin.

Both Alan and Severus were absent from lunch, and Harry felt his stomach flip over as it was announced that the students were to follow their Head of House to the site of the First Task. Harry walked casually next to Ron and Neville; Neville apparently completely distracted talking to Hermione. Too distracted, in fact, to even look at Harry. Harry stifled the feeling of betrayal, and quickly engaged Ron in conversation as they made their way to the stands, and then into their sections in random order. Harry pulled from the conversation to move into the very front row, nearly ninety degrees removed from the judges' seats themselves. Neville hesitated, and then turned and stood directly beside Harry and bowed Hermione into her seat before taking his own. Ron was torn between sitting by Hermione or Harry, but quickly walked past them to take the seat opposite Neville on Harry's other side.

Harry smiled at Ron, tried to catch Neville's eye but was foiled by his quiet conference with Hermione and so Harry looked past them to the judges' seats. They were sitting quietly, with two empty seats. Madam Maxine was on the edge closest to them, engaged in apparently warm conversation with Mr. Templar, who was apparently enjoying himself, watching Madam Maxine with occasional pleased glances around the stadium. Beside them were two more empty seats, and then Professor Karkaroff was leaning against the last chair with a sullen expression.

"Hey, you taken a good look at the arena?"

Harry turned back as Ron spoke, and then glanced down at the arena. Four dragon handlers were walking in holding a large bundle of dragon eggs on a blanket, laying it quickly down on a small raised dais angled out of the middle of the floor, closest to the wall by their section. Ron was eyeing the eggs with interest and Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I'm very glad I'm not down there."

Harry stifled the nervousness that stirred up. A second glance at the judges' table proved that Dumbledore had shown up and Ludo Bagman darted along shortly thereafter. Harry and most of the rest of the stands jumped as a stifled roar sounded, and the large blue-grey Swedish Short Snout was led out to her eggs, which she saw and hunkered down on immediately. At the top of the pile, was a small – in comparison to the others – golden egg. Harry looked at it, feeling fascinated, and jumped when Bagman spoke up.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

A/N: Yes, I'm a horrible evil person and no, I did not engineer this. I hope you enjoyed reading, and would love for you to read & review! The next chapter will go up once I return from my holiday, so probably on the sixth of Jan. Enjoy, and Merrry/Happy Christmas, or whichever Holiday is yours.

Fire & Napalm