The tiny model dragon wriggled in the palm of his hand. Harry wondered briefly the extent of complex spellwork it took to create it before he caught himself; now was not the time to be admiring magical toys. Cedric had left as he returned from his odd talk with Bagman but Delacour and Krum. It was maddening, listening to the crowd's reactions without knowing exactly what was going on.

In a moment of quiet, Harry heard a tiny sort of squeal, startling him out of the trance. He looked carefully over to where Delacour and Krum had waited (Cedric had been pacing earlier and Delacour seemed determined to keep the ground warm) but he wasn't really convinced it had come from one of them. With a frown, he raised the miniature Hungarian Horntail to his ear and, despite his somewhat numb state, was surprised to hear a gentle rhythm of breathing from what he had assumed was an object.

"New Papa?"

He pulled the 'dragon' away from his ear and shook his head. The stress must be getting to him if he was starting to hear strange things like that.

"Where's papa Mitya?"

Harry stared hard at the dragon, bringing it close for inspection. After a moment it blinked and gave a tiny wailing hiss; he wondered if the other two could hear it.

"You speak Parseltongue?" Harry whispered, focusing on the feel of the creature's scales against his skin.

"I only speak mama," it replied, only raising further questions.

Deciding to leave it for now, Harry instead asked, "Are you a Horntail?"

"Papa said I'm Zerkalo," it replied. "Can't hear baza very good."

Harry realised, vaguely, that Delacour had left the tent at some point to face her own dragon. The number that had been hanging around his creature's neck had been a four so he assumed that meant he was last. Krum was still in the tent but didn't seem focused on what Harry was doing.

He ran his finger along the creature's underbelly; hoping to find it soft. He was disappointed to feel scales, although not quite as hard as the tiny spikes that adorned the little thing's body they probably still provided a strong shield for the actual dragon. He jumped at the whistle that signalled for the next champion.

He left the little 'Zerkalo' for now and listened to Bagman's commentary, trying to put actions to the words in his head.

"Very daring!" the cheery voice of Bagman rang out followed promptly by a horrific screech of the Chinese Fireball Krum was facing. "That's some nerve he's showing and - yes! He's got the egg!"

Harry felt his stomach drop as he comprehended those words; you're next.

"Can I put you in my pocket?" Harry asked the little fake dragon. With what he hoped was an affirmative noise he placed it deep in his left pocket.

When the whistle sounded, Harry rose to his feet (his legs seemed to made of marshmallow) and stumbled forwards. "You don't have to catch it, don't be afraid." He muttered quietly to himself.

He tried to focus all of his attention on the Hungarian Horntail in front of him, the crowd was merely a blur of different colours surrounding his task. He could barely make out the nest let alone the golden egg from his current position, the Horntail crouched low over it, her bright yellow eyes squarely in his direction (a stark contrast to her dark scales). He couldn't make out where the dozens of spikes ended against the pale sky.

Harry raised his wand high into the air like a beacon and shouted the incantation, "Accio Firebolt!"

He knew the broomstick would be a little different to the pillows or the gobstones. He held his breath until he saw his Firebolt zooming towards him; it came to a stop with a gentle nudge to his hand and he climbed on as gracefully as he could manage while keeping tabs on the dragon. His fears of flying seemed unwarranted; all of his nauseous panic was left on the ground as he gained altitude. He hovered above the enclosure.

"Vo! I never get so high," the creature exclaimed. Harry patted around his pocket and let it climb up his sleeve, settling on his chest. He could feel tiny claws digging into his chest but it wasn't nearly as bothersome as Hedwig when she was particularly annoyed, more akin to a kneading cat than anything else.

Harry refocused on the dragon; she had stayed on the ground but he could see what could only be her wings unfurling and being pulled back in agitation. He dropped closer to her and began drifting back and forth to coax her up into the air. She stretched her neck into the air as he floated back up, shooting a stream of fire (easily dodged) at him and crushing the arena under her thrashing tail.

The little creature was chattering about the different students it picked out of the crowd and Harry did his best to drown the noise out. He backed up in the air as the dragon slowly reared up, prepared to launch herself after the pesky human and the sun struck the golden egg. Just as the Horntail spread her wings fully, claws barely touching the ground he dove sharply almost parallel to her body and brushed his fingertips across the eggs. The dragon's tail came down on his left and it took all his willpower to stay on the broom as the spikes dragged through his flesh. He shifted the egg to rest between his legs, holding it in place with his right arm and landed in the only other opening in the enclosure.

McGonagall and Hagrid congratulated him, pointing him to the medic tent. Madame Pomphrey greeted him with a rather disgusted scoff of "Dragons!" and muttered further while she treated his injuries. Much to his embarrassment, he had to strip his robes and muggle clothes off (he could feel the creature squirm in the pocket of his pants).

Three dark red gouges stood out against his pale skin, Harry only felt a strange tingling in the area but Madame Pomphrey seemed mortified. She slathered the left side of his torso, as well as his shoulder and upper arm, with a purple goo that smoked slightly. A zap of pain flooded the cuts but Madame Pomphrey only poked him with her wand and the gashes closed up.

"You're lucky the one in your shoulder was shallow but these two will scar I'm afraid," she tutted. Harry fingered the slightly rough lines and thanked the matron. He pulled his too-big sweater back on, casting a shoddy reparo on the rips, and sat quietly at Madame Pomphrey's instruction.

It was barely a moment before Hermione and, to his immense happiness, Ron burst into the tent.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione squeaked out. "You were amazing, you really were!"

After a moment Ron said shakily, "Harry, whoever put your name in that goblet I - I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

Harry felt a spark of anger but it petered out quickly as the compounded exhaustion of the last few weeks washed over him. He felt tears threatening to spell and pulled Ron into a hug. Hermione had burst into tears and latched onto the both of them before dashing out of the tent. They both pulled away to watch Hermione.

"Barking mad," said Ron with a short laugh. "Harry, c'mon they'll be putting up your scores…"

Harry retrieved the egg and his broom and walked alongside Ron back into the now empty enclosure. The redhead was chattering about the other champions but Harry was just basking in the glow of both his victory and at having his friend by his side once again.

When they were nearly to the other side he noticed a golden table where five figures sat; the first judge could only be Madame Maxime at that height. She must have given him a score when she twisted her wand through the air as Ron commented, "Not bad, I suppose she took marks off for your shoulder…"

He had done decently, judging by Ron's remarks and the volume of the crowd.

He remembered, briefly, the strange experience earlier of stumbling down to what might as well have been his death with McGonagall; he was almost euphoric on the return trip. He felt almost invincible, of course it wasn't meant to last. It wasn't until after the party in Gryffindor that he would be reminded of the parselmouth creature waiting patiently in his pocket when it clamped its tiny jaw around his finger at two in the morning...

Notes

Gradual changes; foreign words were put through Google translate and Romanised by me. The creature's way of speaking is a bit of a mix of accented pronunciation and infant speak. Mitya is not an important character (I have no future plans for him) just me personally making the Triwizard Tournament more involved as regions or something idk

~ LQD