Hello! I couldn't sleep last night so wrote this short little one shot. Much shorter than I normally write, but it just ends nicely there. I hope you enjoy my insomnia writing! :)
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the youngest Triwizard Tournament champion in centuries, was standing alone in the tent erected for the champions. He felt a wave of nervousness wash over him as he gazed at the entrance of the tent, observing the other champions, Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum, and Cedric Diggory, eagerly welcoming their families who had come to support them.
Harry's heart sank as he watched them. The tent was a mixture of noise and colors, the excited chatter of the relatives blending with the sharp rustling of the tent canvas in the wind. His fingers curled around the coarse material of his robes, the loneliness seeping in. After all, who would come to support him? Sirius was on the run, the Dursleys wouldn't show up in a million years, and his parents... his parents couldn't be there.
The tent flaps rustled again, and Harry looked up, expecting another family for one of the other champions. But instead, he saw a head of flaming red hair, followed by a woman with a kind face and a warm, inviting smile. His heart leaped. It was Molly and Bill Weasley.
"Harry, dear," Molly said, wrapping him in a warm, motherly hug. "Did you really think we'd let you do this on your own?"
Harry allowed himself to melt into the embrace, his nerves momentarily soothed. He breathed in deeply, the familiar scent of Molly washing over him - fresh bread, a hint of cinnamon, clean laundry, and something uniquely Molly that was comforting and homey. His cheek rested against the soft fabric of her robes, the weave pattern slightly rough yet comforting against his skin. It was a tactile reassurance, grounding him amidst the storm of his nerves. Molly was here. He wasn't alone. The fears of the upcoming task seemed to retreat, if only for a moment, as he found solace in the arms of the woman who had become a mother figure to him in these last few years.
Bill patted him on the shoulder, a reassuring presence. "We're here for you, Harry," he said, his eyes twinkling with the same fierce loyalty that Harry had seen in Ron's eyes countless times.
Harry felt a lump in his throat. This was family, he realized, even if not by blood. The Weasleys had become a family to him, giving him the love and support he needed in the absence of his own. His hands relaxed on his robes, and he found himself returning Molly's hug, whispering a small "thanks" that was drowned in the noise of the tent.
After a moment of warmth and reassurance in the noisy tent, Bill gently suggested, "Let's get some fresh air, yeah?" His tone was casual, yet the understanding in his eyes was clear. He knew Harry needed a break, a moment of calm before the storm that awaited him.
With a nod, Harry stepped out of Molly's comforting embrace. Together, the three of them navigated their way out of the bustling tent. The cool air outside was a welcome relief, carrying with it the scent of fresh grass and the distant hint of burning wood from the preparations for the first task.
As they ambled away from the noise and towards the edge of the Black Lake, the trio was wrapped in an amiable silence. The calmness of the water, its surface undulating softly with the wind, mirrored the tranquillity that Harry felt with the Weasleys by his side. The Hogwarts castle stood tall in the background, its stone walls glowing warmly in the afternoon sun.
Molly's hand found Harry's in the cool silence, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Bill started to talk about his days as a student at Hogwarts, recalling tales of mischief and adventure with a nostalgic glimmer in his eyes. Harry found himself listening attentively, chuckling at the right moments, his mind drifting away from the impending task.
Bill continued his light-hearted chatter, his stories about Fred and George's first-year pranks and his own escapades in the castle, causing Harry to chuckle. Harry felt his nerves ease, his thoughts of the impending task pushed to the back of his mind.
However, after a while, Bill's tone changed subtly. He glanced over at Harry, assessing whether the boy was calm enough for what he was about to say. "You know, Charley couldn't be here today," he began, a hint of seriousness in his voice that wasn't there before.
Harry's eyebrows raised in intrigue. Charley Weasley, the dragon expert. Of course, he couldn't be seen helping Harry, not when he was meant to be impartial.
"But," Bill continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He did have a few things he wanted me to pass on."
Harry looked at him, his full attention now on Bill. Molly gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.
"Dragons," Bill started, his tone informative, "they're not invincible, Harry. They're creatures, just like any other. And every creature has its weak points."
He went on to share Charley's advice, talking about dragon species, their behavior, their blind spots. He told Harry about their fiery breath and how it can't be sustained for too long. He spoke about the importance of speed and agility when facing a dragon, and the need for a clear mind and quick thinking.
As Bill concluded, the morning sun was climbing higher, casting long, dancing shadows on the grass. The hum of anticipation from the spectators was becoming more evident, but with the Weasleys at his side, it was bearable, even somewhat comforting.
"Now," Molly began, her gaze soft yet determined as she turned to Harry. "I may not know much about dragons, but I do know a thing or two about courage."
Harry met her gaze, his heart pounding in his chest, but he nodded, urging her to continue.
"Courage," she said, her voice steady, "isn't just about facing fears head-on. It's also about knowing when to pause, when to take a step back and assess the situation."
She reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind Harry's ear. "You've got plenty of courage, Harry. But remember, you also have a quick mind. Use that. Think your actions through, don't just rush in."
Harry swallowed hard, absorbing her words. He'd always been the type to rush into things, to act first and think later. It had served him well in the past, but he knew Molly was right. This wasn't a situation he could just blunder into. This was a dragon he was about to face.
Molly gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. "And remember," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "no matter what happens out there, we're proud of you, Harry. We care about you, not because you're the Boy Who Lived, but because you're you, our Harry."
Harry felt a lump rise in his throat at her words. No one had ever said something like that to him before. The Dursleys certainly hadn't cared about him for who he was. It was a moment that warmed his heart, and in spite of himself, Harry found his eyes misting over. He blinked hard, trying to keep the tears at bay.
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. The words felt inadequate for the gratitude he felt but they were all he could manage.
He turned to Bill then, offering him a shy smile. "And thank you too, Bill," he added, his voice steadier. He had only really met Bill once before and didn't know him as well as the rest of the Weasleys. But Bill had come today, just like Molly, showing Harry the same kindness and concern that his family was known for.
Bill's smile was warm and understanding as he clapped a hand onto Harry's shoulder. "No need for formalities, Harry," he said, his voice gentle. "I've heard so much about you from my family, it's like you're my brother."
The words struck Harry with a force that left him momentarily breathless. A brother. He'd always wanted a brother, a real family. To hear that from Bill, it was... it was more than Harry could have hoped for.
Feeling a sudden surge of affection for the older Weasley, Harry reached out, wrapping his arms around Bill in a hug that was as much a thank you as it was a silent acknowledgement of their bond.
Bill chuckled, returning the hug with a brotherly affection that made Harry's heart feel full. "Go out there and give them hell, Harry," Bill said, pulling back and giving Harry a firm nod of encouragement. "We'll be right here, cheering you on."
Harry nodded, finding his resolve in Bill's words. He took a deep breath, grounding himself once more before stepping back from the Weasleys. "I... I better go back to the champions' tent," he said, his voice steadier than he felt.
Molly enveloped him in another hug, her embrace firm and comforting. "Good luck, dear," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
Pulling back, she gave him an encouraging smile. "We'll be in the stands, watching. And remember, no matter what happens, we're so proud of you."
Harry nodded again, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said, the words barely more than a whisper. He gave them one last smile, his heart swelling with gratitude for their presence, their support, and most of all, their love.
He then turned and walked back towards the champions' tent, the weight of the task ahead settling back onto his shoulders. But this time, it was manageable. This time, he wasn't alone.
Meanwhile, Molly and Bill watched him go, their faces etched with concern, but also with pride. They exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them, before turning to head towards the stands.
The atmosphere was electric, a buzz of anticipation hanging in the air. The Weasleys found their seats, their gazes fixed on the champions' tent. They would be there, cheering on Harry, just as they promised.
As Harry disappeared into the tent, he found his heart racing, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. But he remembered Molly's warm embrace, Bill's encouraging words, and the knowledge that they were there for him, watching, cheering, and believing in him. And with that thought, he felt a renewed sense of determination coursing through him.
He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. But more than that, he was Harry Potter, the boy the Weasleys cared for. And with that thought, he squared his shoulders, and prepared to face the dragon.