Pokemon Master Razit, ShadowCub: She doesn't get the eggs, just the dragon itself.

whitetigerwolf: The junior champions will indeed do all the same tasks; the only difference is that they will generally get some "advantage" that the senior champions have to do without. The advantage will be different for each task, obviously.

skywiseskychan: Jen acts a lot more social than Harry did in canon, so the Puffs don't have as many reservations about her. Also, Cedric discreetly informed them that he and she would be working together since they're both Hogwarts champions, so her coming over wasn't quite as out of the blue as it appeared. A lot of the leeway Luna gets is due to her being such a gentle soul and Jen finding her amusing.

jadesabrexiv: The Ministry and Hogwarts won't do anything to Jen for two reasons, both of which I mention below. While your suggestion would be a good way for Jen and Hermione to learn about each other, Jen doesn't have any reason to do so at the moment. The mention of house elves in the first chapter is about how the Dursleys treated Jen; Lily shares a similar viewpoint to Hermione, so the Potters don't have one of their own. Dobby did, in fact, try to warn Danny away from Hogwarts. Malfoy's pins are even more effective against Danny for the simple reason that he wasn't chosen for the junior spot; instead, he somehow "cheated" for the more prestigious senior position. The actual mechanics of black magic aren't really important at the moment, but Jen could make a Death Focus because that was her first human kill; not only was a life sacrificed, but so was her innocence. The dragon bones hold no more power than they would had it died of old age.

Faraway-R: I've never heard that proverb before; it's certainly more fun that "Living well is the best revenge". Jen's role in the coming war isn't totally clear, but you can be sure she won't be siding with the Order. She's far too Dark for that. I don't plan for her to be much in the way of a front-line fighter, either.

Disclaimer: Did Harry really outfly a dragon in the First Task with nothing more than a scratch? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

Chapter 20
Opportunities Unforeseen

"I don't need to be in here, Madam Pomfrey. See, I'm fine!"

"Be that as it may, Miss Black, all champions are to be examined after every Task," the nurse said as she ran a wand over the blind girl. "If you're truly uninjured, you will be back out getting your score in just a few minutes."

Jen huffed at the unnecessary tests. Once she had been poked and prodded to the woman's satisfaction, Pomfrey went to the tent flap. "You may see her now. Last cubicle on the right."

Five figures entered and immediately ran towards her. Barely did she have a chance to stand before Narcissa grabbed her. "Jen Black, don't you ever do something that foolhardy again! Do you have any idea how terrified we were?!" The woman pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I'm okay, Auntie, I'm okay." Jen turned to the rest of her family. "What the bloody hell happened?"

"You fighting a dragon happened," Ted said succinctly. "We all were scared out of our minds with worry, though obviously some more than others…" He nodded at his sister-in-law, who Jen could feel silently crying into her shoulder. This worried her; Cissy would never lose her Pureblood decorum in public like this.

She cast a quick cheering charm on her aunt, friend, and former lover to slow the tears and set the woman on the exam table. She then sat next to Cissy, Andi taking the opposite side. "I was in no real danger. It was far too focused on my simulacrum to pay any attention to me."

"And we know that, up here." Sirius rapped on his head with his left hand, his right moving to his chest. "Down here, though, we were still stuck on you being in a pen with an angry dragon. I just hope the other Tasks aren't like this."

"Well, this was the Gryffindor Task. It makes sense that it would be the insanely dangerous one." Sirius put on an affronted expression and was about to respond when a commotion from the stall next to them caught their attention.

"What do you mean, you don't know if he'll be okay?!"

Jen felt Pomfrey quiver in irritation. "Dammit, Lily, I'm a school nurse, not a Healer! That means I treat broken bones and other minor injuries; I don't have a clue what to do about second-degree dragonfire burns! He can't be treated here."

"Please, just tell me my baby's going to be all right!"

"Healer Carson is one of St. Mungo's best and a specialist in creature-induced injuries. If he says to trust him, I will. I've told you all I know; for an actual prognosis, you'll need to floo to the hospital and ask him."

"What caused that drama?" Jen asked, feeling one of the three people in Potter's cubicle leave in a rush.

"Danny Potter flew a victory lap once he had his egg. The Horntail didn't like that too much and decided to teach him a lesson. The fire caught his legs and the tail end of his broom, but the kid managed to crash right in front of this tent before he passed out." Jen nodded at Dora's words; it explained the charred wood she had noticed on the way in. "Dragonfire's a lot like dark magic in that it resists magical healing. A friend of mine, Charlie Weasley, is a dragon handler, and he's covered in scars from them."

"He's not the worst injury, either," Sirius added. "That Durmstrang girl tried to attack her dragon directly. She was aiming at the eyes, at least, but she was too slow to get out of its way when it hit back. The handlers had to stun it and carry her in here."

"Yes, Danny was lucky today," interrupted the second Potter parent as he rounded the thin wall between cubicles.

Sirius scowled in his direction. "What are you doing here, James?"

"Look, I get that you're angry at me, and I don't blame you one bit. I just wanted to check on Jenny—"

"Thank you for the concern, Lord Potter," she replied. The formal title caused the man to wince. "However, not being a member of your House, I would ask that you not address me with such familiarity."

He gaped. "Not a member of my House? You're my daughter, for Merlin's sake!"

"One you wanted nothing to do with. You cast me out when I was an infant, if you care to remember."

"You have to understand that I only did that—"

"Your actions speak for themselves," she snapped, cutting him off. "There are only so many ways to interpret abandonment. However, I fail to comprehend why you are seeking to reconcile with me now. If you did not want me when you discarded me and did not regret your actions for the next thirteen years, what would make you change your mind now?"

Cissy, her eyes dry, glared at the unwanted visitor. "He's inviting you back because you're a dragon slayer. It is incredibly rare for someone to kill a dragon on their own; the most recent was Matthew Abbott in the 1830s, and he was a fully trained wizard facing a young adult, not a student killing a nesting mother. You just made yourself extremely valuable politically and financially."

"Politically I understand – the masses love their heroes, after all – but financially? The dragon belongs to our House, not me."

"Apparently you didn't read the Rights of Conquest in their entirety. Even though you claimed the carcass for our House, we are obligated to give you a third of the profit, or you can sue for the dragon's entire worth. The reason I said what I did is that your bride price as a dragon slayer is at least five times what it would have been yesterday, likely ten times."

"That's not what I'm doing," Potter yelped. "This isn't some game!"

"What other reason could it be? You've already shown that you feel no paternal affection towards me," Jen retorted. No matter how he denied it, politics had to be the why he wanted her back in House Potter. According to her aunts' lessons the previous summer, he had fallen far in the eyes of society when he married a Muggleborn; having a squib for a daughter would have been a political nightmare and could have caused the Potters to be formally censured, perhaps even lose their status as a Noble House. But with one child being the Boy-Who-Lived and the other a dragon slayer…

Too bad she would rather burn herself to ash than bear the name Potter again. "I take great pride in being a Black and have no reason to change that. They are my family, not you; you lost any chance of calling yourself my father when you threw me away to some magic-hating Muggles. Now, if you don't mind, please remove yourself from this area."

Potter bristled, his face flushing and his heart beating so fast she could feel the change in his pulse. "I'll take this to the courts if I need to. It's for your own good, even if you can't see it at the moment. You'll be back with your real family soon, Jenny, I swear it."

"Do. Not. Call me that," she snarled. She was being careful with her words due to their audience, but she would not stand for being addressed by that name. The little girl who had used it was a weak, broken thing, unable to fight off even a bunch of drugged-up Muggles. "The only person who could get away with calling me 'Jenny' is dead. I am Jen to my friends and family, and Scion Black to you.

"You think you can force the Ministry to give me to you? With what, I ask. Do you have documents validating your claim?" He looked away at her question. Sirius was present for her birth and had told her about it the previous summer. The Potters had been too afraid of the Dark Lord Voldemort to travel to St. Mungo's, instead calling in a midwife who was also a friend of the family. When Cissy looked through the Ministry's Hall of Records for a birth certificate, she couldn't find one; Daniel Potter's was there, but it had been submitted and backdated in November of 1981. The Potters, in their attempt to hide the truth, had created a situation where she did not legally exist until Sirius filed the paperwork recognizing her as a member of House Black. Between that and the procedure her aunts had put her through, there was a greater likelihood for her to have a unicorn as a pet than for the courts to hand her over. "You don't have a snowball's chance in hell of gaining custody over me. But please, take your best shot; I'll find it incredibly amusing."

Sirius grinned wickedly. "Do you remember that moment, James, when we saw each other on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters? Do your remember what I said? We have no sympathy or comfort to offer you. You made your bed, now lie in it. Go to your wife and son, but leave my heiress alone."

"Yes, please leave. You have disturbed my patient more than enough." Pomfrey, the third presence in the adjacent cubicle, came over and pointed at the tent entrance. Potter made to argue, but elected to abandon that course of action at the severe expression on her face.

Once the man was gone, the nurse turned to Jen. "I'm sorry, dearie. James and Sirius were such good friends in their school years that I didn't think to stop him from coming over. If I had realized…"

"It's not a problem, Madam," Jen responded gently. "There was no way you could have known about the bad blood between us."

"That doesn't change the fact I'm responsible for my patients' well-being." Pomfrey sighed before straightening. "Anyway, you're in perfect health and ready to leave. The judges have said they're ready to give out the scores, so just head back towards the stands."

She nodded and, after promising her family to spend some more time with them afterwards, exited the tent. Cedric, Leroux, and Delacour were right after her, with Krum following a few moments later. Though the walk was short, an awkward silence lay over them. None of them could think of anything cheery to say, and somehow, 'Hey, I'm glad you're still alive!' didn't seem appropriate.

The quintet was greeted with loud cheers as they entered the stadium once more, and they waved to their fans for several moments. The noise had to stop eventually, though, and Dumbledore rose from his seat at the far end of the arena. "Well, this has certainly been an exciting morning! Let me first congratulate all of you on a job well done!" He paused, waiting out the renewed applause.

"In first place is Cedric Diggory, who did a spectacular job distracting the Short-Snout by transfiguring rocks into cattle and goats. He receives forty-eight points out of fifty." The crowd erupted again, though the Hufflepuffs were loudest. Then again, why should they not be?

"There was a tie for second place, with each gaining forty-four points. Viktor Krum used the Conjuctivitis Curse to great effect, but his injury cost him. Philippe Leroux demonstrated unconventional thinking with the summoning charm and left unharmed; however, the judges agree that he would have benefitted by adhering to the spirit of the Task more closely."

Jen slapped her hand over her face; at the other end of the line, Krum did the same thing. Why didn't I try something that simple? Leroux chuckled at their antics, causing her to pinch his arse hard with her magic. His squeal and jump raised her spirits slightly.

"Fourth place is also tied. Though the rules did expressly not forbid Jennifer Black from killing her dragon, we feel such a restriction was easily inferred. Death should never be one's first recourse." There was a great deal of booing from the stands, though the intended recipient was unclear. She figured it was the Headmaster; if slaying a dragon was as awe-worthy as Cissy had stated, her being penalized for it would certainly irritate the Purebloods in attendance. "Still, she gains forty points, as does Daniel Potter, whose foolhardiness and injuries marred an otherwise incredible performance."

That's interesting. The scoring wasn't difficult to figure out: five judges, fifty points total, ten points each. The foreign heads and Bagman had radiated pique at Dumbledore's words; she figured those three gave her nines or even tens for her strategy, results, and lack of injuries. Crouch's indifference could indicate a middle to high score, though probably the latter for seven or eight. That left Dumbledore with anywhere between two and six, just enough to put her even with his precious golden boy. Nodding slightly, she pondered the reason for such a low score. Maybe his distaste of killing is due to him being so old. With practically his entire life gone already, does the inevitability of Death's approach terrify him? A foolish, if natural, fear, but it doesn't mean he has to take it out on me.

"Fleur Delacour is at sixth place with thirty-five points. Though the only damage suffered was a burnt outfit and a twisted ankle, some of the judges," here Dumbledore turned pointedly to Crouch and Bagman, "felt that was excessive considering the much-diminished danger posed by a sleeping dragon." Delacour stiffened, not that Jen could blame the older girl. The real reason was certainly that she was a Veela, but since their species was not recognized as having equal rights as humans in Britain, there was nothing she could do about it.

"Unfortunately, Ingrid Eberhardt failed to retrieve her egg, and is therefore in last place with no points."

Dumbledore sat while Bagman stood and moved into the space the old man had vacated. "Let's have another round of applause for our magnificent champions, eh?" Claps, screams, and their names echoed around them for a few moments. "I will now give out the information for the next two Tasks. First is our Slytherin Task, and it will consist of… a wandless duel!"

Jen honestly feared the top of her head would fall off due to the width of her grin. At least she managed to keep her maniacal laughter inside. Should I at least give the others a little chance? Oh, who am I kidding; come to mama.

"You will be allowed other means of casting magic, of course. So long as it isn't a wand, you're free to use whatever you can think of. Thankfully, you'll have plenty of time to research your options; the Task is scheduled for the twenty-first of January.

"The Ravenclaw Task is third and takes place almost two months later, on March eleventh. Everything you need to prepare for it is inside the egg you retrieved this morning."

She thought back on the egg's smooth surface; she had felt no hinges or clasps. While we may have to 'crack' it to get to the information, I somehow doubt that the judges want us to do that considering the Task is meant to test our intelligence and research abilities. Still, I'll reconsider that alternative should I start running low on time.

"That's all I have to say. Thank you all for showing your support for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament! Students, I believe it is now time for lunch, so try not to trample the shorter of your fellows on your way in." A sizable proportion of the crowd laughed at that, likely parents of said teenagers.

Jen turned away from the arena and made her way back to the tent, where the Blacks were waiting with a smirking Flitwick. She hadn't shared a meal with her family since coming to Hogwarts, and honestly…

She missed that.

Shortly after midnight, the door to the hospital wing opened, only to close a moment later. With a brief quiver in the air, Jen faded into view. Moving quietly so as to not disturb the other occupants in the room, most of whom had supposedly experienced a bad reaction to one of the Weasley's pranks, she made her way to Eberhardt's bedside.

Poor girl. Indeed, her form was rather pitiful: the bed's sheets were tucked tightly around her lower half and bandages covered her face. I wonder how bad it is. Gently, Jen slipped her mental probes into the somnolent mind.

Ingrid was getting scared now. She couldn't move her legs no matter how hard she tried, her head hurt, and her English wasn't good enough to follow the fast-paced conversation above her. The last thing she remembered was scrambling away from her dragon for the First Task; what could have possibly happened?

"Enough! She's awake." The familiar voice of Doktor Gregor Schlemm, Durmstrang's resident Healer, cut off the rest. He moved into view and sat beside her. In German, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"What's wrong with me? Why can't I move?"

He sighed and patted her hand softly. "I'm afraid I have bad news, Mädchen. The dragon tore your back open. Normally we would simply put you together again, but…"

"But?" she squeaked.

"When you were injured, the claws severed your spinal cord. Nerves channel magic from your core and are therefore incredibly difficult to heal; repairing the cord itself is impossible. I'm sorry."

No. No no no no no. "I'm… I'm paralyzed?" How was she going to move around her house, go to class, hold down a job, if she couldn't walk? Her family was barely middle-class; the prize money was why she entered the Tournament to begin with, to help them! Though her parents would try their best, there was no way they could support an invalid. What was she going to do?

He sighed again. "It's worse than that." Worse? How could this get any worse?! "Because you can't keep up with the other champions for the next Task, the Goblet will consider you to be withdrawing from the Tournament; it made such a decision before. When that happens… it will penalize you by stripping away your magic."

She could only stare in shock and fear. Being a squib was a fate worse than death, but to be a cripple on top of it!

"I've called your parents; they'll arrive tomorrow. I wish there was something we could do to help you." A tear running down his face, the Healer rose and shooed the others out of the room, giving her solitude in which to grieve.

"Well, that makes things interesting." What to do? She could leave now and remove a competitor, making the rest of the Tournament that much easier. No one would ever know she was there, and it wasn't like she could be blamed. As Schlemm had said, it was impossible to repair the girl's spine.

On the other hand, she wasn't completely heartless. However well she had adapted to her blindness, being disabled was difficult. Eberhardt's family was magical; the girl wouldn't be able to retreat to the Muggle world like she could. Instead, she would be stuck as a second-class citizen, earning pity, then scorn, and eventually hate from her family as their lives grew harder. Saving her from that future would take little effort.

And it wasn't like Jen would get nothing in return.

She levitated the German before turning her over, the sheet and thin gown falling to the bed. "You're incredibly lucky, you know," she murmured, laying a hand on the topmost of the jagged rips marring her patient's back. "I'm probably the only person in the world who can do this."

Due to nerves' ability to channel magic, spells to heal them simply slipped off, effectively making them magically resistant. The key to working with them was therefore to flood them with so much magic that they couldn't get rid of it all; the energy would instead be absorbed, allowing it to produce the desired effect. This brute force method was highly inefficient, capable of sending an average individual into magical exhaustion should they attempt to repair a tiny fiber. If, however, there was someone who had an infinite amount of magic…

Jen kicked off her trainers, shuddering a bit as bare feet met the cold stone floor. While she had healed herself numerous times, doing so to another person required far more strength and control. She widened her connection to the planet as much as was safe, feeling her own nerves sing in arousal and pain. Sinking her power into Eberhardt's flesh, she felt around much like she did with her sonar. Upon finding the tear, she grabbed the nearer of the girl's wrists with the hand not channeling magic; by 'pushing' with one hand and 'pulling' with the other, she made a circuit of healing energy, magic arcing over the gap caused by the injury.

Slowly, the frayed nerves stretched towards their other halves, touching and immediately sealing due to the power flowing through them. The speed increased as the damage was erased. Finally, she pulled away. Quickly restoring the nerves in her own body that she had overloaded, she slid her left hand down Eberhardt's back. "One down, two to go."

The other spinal tears posed no complications, and Jen rose from her bent position. She pulled her watch out of her pocket and felt the hands; to her surprise, half an hour had elapsed since she entered the room. "That took longer than I expected. I'll have to keep that in mind if I ever decide to do something like this again." Just for fun, and to enjoy the power thrumming through her body a little longer, she let her magic spread over Eberhardt's body. The lacerations sizzled as they closed, scar tissue that had started to form dissolving, and the bandages on the older girl's face fell off as smooth skin replaced the tender burns. Once all the wounds she could feel were gone, Jen called her power back and narrowed her link to the global reserves. It was unfortunate that she could only heal new injuries; if not, she would have fixed her eyes as soon as her magic was unchained.

Sliding the sheet over Eberhardt's nudity, she left a mark on the girl. "Just so there won't be any misunderstandings in the near future, sweetie. Until your school goes back to the Continent, you belong to me."

Jen put her footwear back on and made herself invisible once more. Her method was far superior to the disillusionment charm Moody had demonstrated in class; rather than making her flesh transparent, which according to the ex-Auror created a tell-tale distortion, she bent the light coming in her direction so that it went around her. Without refraction, it was physically impossible for anyone to see her. There was only one downside: Elsie had pointed out that anyone she made invisible with her would be blinded due to the lack of light entering their eyes. She too would have to deal with that once her vision was restored, but after relying on her sonar as her primary sense for nearly eight years, it was likely her sight would be relegated to the same status as her hearing and smell; important, but not crucial.

"Pleasant dreams, dear little Ingrid. I wish I could be here when the Healers find that the impossible has happened right under their noses."

If Tracey had to describe Jen in one word, it would be 'contradictory'. She had a hard time understanding her best friend: Jen was blind, yet she moved around the school better than any student other than the Weasley Twins. She was a half-blood but the heiress of the über-Pureblood Blacks and most comfortable around Narcissa Malfoy of all people. She was too Slytherin to be Sorted into the Snake Pit and yesterday faced down a nesting dragon with nary a flinch. And now the other champions are running around like pixies with a kneazle at their heels, but is she in the library? No, she's teaching ickle firsties how to play poker!

"Jen, can we talk for a minute? In the hallway?"

"Sure. I should fold this hand, anyway." Tossing her cards onto the discard pile, she stood and joined Tracey outside the room they had commandeered. Ravenclaws and Slytherins generally got along well, so it wasn't too difficult for Jen to find a room where the first years of the two Houses could get to know each other. It isn't hard for her, certainly. If practically anyone else had tried to do this, they would have nothing to show for their efforts. "What did you want to talk about?"

Tracey frowned. Did the other girl honestly not realize what she was in for? Bluntness was the best way to hammer her point across. "Have you started researching alternate foci yet?"

"Nope."

She wanted to scream at Jen's glib tone. Instead, she managed to grind out, "And why not?"

Jen cocked her head, her nonverbal signal of confusion. "Because it's not going to be a problem? I don't understand your distress. The Task isn't for nearly two months; I have plenty of time to sort everything out."

"Oh, there you are." Tracey sighed as Lovegood wandered up. While she didn't begrudge the two their friendship, she personally preferred to stay as far away from the blonde as was polite. That Lovegood had been hanging onto Jen like a limpet the previous afternoon and would undoubtedly do so after every Task made it that much more difficult. "I've been looking for you."

"Why?" she asked.

"The Foghuffers said Jen would show me something interesting today."

Of course they did. Once again she toyed with the idea that Lovegood was a Seer; they were known to be a little 'odd', too. It was that, or she was running around with an over-possessive psycho. Not a good combination.

Jen hummed as she thought and nodded after a minute or so. "Something interesting? I suppose I could." The older Raven entered the room next to the first years', Tracey and Lovegood following. "Tracey, could you explain why you are so worried about the next Task?"

"It isn't hard to understand. We use wands because they make magic a whole lot easier to cast. There are other ways to cast magic, but they're either big and unwieldy, too weak to be useful, or so specialized that they can only do a single thing. Would the entire civilized world use wands if they weren't the best focus we can make?" She frowned slightly as she realized she was practically repeating the lecture her mother gave her when she asked that question years ago.

"This Task is based on the traits of Slytherin House, most likely cunning. I think that means you have to find out about a number of options, choose the one you can build the best strategy around, practice using it, and spend some of your time observing the other champions so you can plan countermeasures. While it wouldn't hurt to wait for the others to pick their tools, it also leaves you with less time to find your own. If nothing else, you need to see what you can easily get ahold of."

Jen nodded. "I understand where you're coming from. Do you have anything to add, Luna?"

"Only that wielding a different focus will take some getting used to. The sooner you start practicing with whatever you're going to use, the easier it'll be to cast with in January, and the better you'll do."

"You both have good points." Tracey glared at the girl, annoyed with her tone. She probably wasn't trying to be condescending, but it certainly came across that way. "Now for that show you were promised. This is why you why you needn't be so concerned."

Drawing her wand, Jen held it in front of them, one hand at each end of the wood. "What is this?"

"Your wand?" the Slytherin asked, unsure where this was going.

Jen smirked and, with a sharp twist of her wrists, snapped her wand right in front of them! Tracey couldn't hold in her gasp, nor could Lovegood. Only criminals under life sentences and people exiled from the Wizarding World had their wands snapped; didn't Jen understand the meaning of what she had just done? Not only that, there was no way to fix a broken wand. She was defenseless until she could get a replacement!

The girl tossed a piece to each of them. "I ask again, what is this? Look closer." Tracey did and was immediately confused. While it looked like a wand on the outside, there was no inner chamber where the wand core should be, just more wood. Why was Jen carrying a blank wand around?

While she was pondering, Lovegood answered the question. "It's a practice wand, often used by children in their pre-Hogwarts education so they can become familiar with the various wand movements."

"Correct, Miss Lovegood. Ten points to Ravenclaw." Still grinning, Jen crooked a finger. Much to her friends' shock, the pieces of wood flew to hover in front of her. With a pinching gesture, they connected and fused; there was no way to tell that they had ever been separate. The now-repaired blank began orbiting her, soon joined by a few chairs and a nearby desk. Jen just stood there, hands in her pockets and a smirk on her face. "You see, I don't use a wand for any of the magic I cast. It's all freeform, controlled entirely by my will.

"I will certainly be Slytherin for this Task, but not in the way the judges expect. Instead of careful planning, I will use subterfuge and twist the rules to my advantage. While the other champions are limited to whatever they can research and train with for the next seven weeks, I have my full repertoire literally at my fingertips."

Tracey stared in awe and a small degree of fear. Only the strongest witches and wizards ever develop true wandless magic, and even then it's limited to minor charms like glamours and summoning. If she's really using wandless magic for everything, including curses and transfiguration… Merlin and Morgana, just how powerful is she?

On the bright side, at least I don't have to worry anymore about how well she'll do against her competitors. They won't know what hit them.

Ingrid sighed as she slipped into her room on the ship, at long last away from the Healers who had hounded her since she woke the morning after the First Task. Overnight, all the injuries she had received mysteriously disappeared, including the crippling damage to her back. Doktor Schlemm, who had told her she would never walk again, practically fainted from shock when she did just that, and the English Healers were equally astounded.

Then they transferred her to a hospital, which annoyed her immensely; she didn't care how she had healed from that, only that she did! She had spent two days there being subjected to every test the sadistic staff could think of before they finally threw up their hands and let her go, but even then she knew there was someone in a green robe watching her every move. Never had she considered that miracles might bring more problems with them than they solved.

Throwing her cloak onto the bed, her attention was caught by an envelope sitting on her desk. She picked it up and examined it; the back was held closed with a blob of wax, but there was no impression in it. Who used wax without applying their seal? She tore open the envelope and unfolded the sheet of parchment inside.

Fraulein Eberhardt,

If you are reading this, you have finally been released from the Healers' tender mercies, your legs functional again. You are welcome.

My assistance, however, is not free. I have done you a great favor, and it is only appropriate that you repay me. In the future, I will give you tasks; maybe one, maybe many. You will complete them, regardless of what they are, and you will do so with a smiling face and an unmoving tongue. Should you think to refuse, remember this: if I can give you back your ability to walk, I can certainly take it away once more.

I look forward to watching you compete in the rest of the Triwizard Tournament. Do not make me regret giving you this opportunity.

Ingrid snickered to herself; how like a stereotypical villain could someone get? Her eyes dropped to the signature, and her laughter stopped. There was no name, only a single bird track. Shaking, she raised her right wrist next to the parchment and stared at the shiny burn of the exact same shape that had appeared when her injuries vanished. Suddenly, this letter was anything but a joke.

I don't get to play around with Jen's full potential nearly enough. There's so much she can do, yet she has no need for it most of the time. Also, writing evil-sounding notes that aren't incredibly corny is harder than you'd think.

Silently Watches out.