Hey guys! So, I intended to do a quick oneshot, and then this monster came out instead, so…to be fair, there is a lot going on in the fourth book, and I wanted to create lots of opportunities for things to be seen.
Please Read and Review!
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Enjoy
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To say Harry was stressed didn't even begin to cover it.
Minutes ago, his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, binding him into a guaranteed death race with older students for the glory of his school. This was the reason why, of course he was sitting by the fire, catatonic, barely aware of the respective Heads of the different schools and various judges arguing over his fate, and most definitely not aware of the concerned glances Hogwarts' resident big brother (even to the Slytherin's; you can't hate someone that nice) Cedric Diggory threw his way from time to time.
Instead, he stared into the flames, his thoughts starting to stray to ponder if he was going to end up like the logs sitting in the grate; burning, burning, burning, until he snapped and popped and disintegrated into ash, to be swept away and disposed of in a timely manner. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts, that he missed the entrance of his Head of House and his Potion's Professor. It was a pity that he wasn't paying attention, because he would have seen the murderous glares that both teachers shot at Barty Crouch for suggesting that Harry had asked an older student.
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"Mr. Potter."
At the sound of his teacher's distinctive baritone, Harry jerked his head up, turning it around so fast that it cracked. Panicked green clashed with suspicious black, which morphed into something intangible.
"Did you put your name in the Goblet?"
Harry shook his head emphatically, eyes wide.
"Did you ask an older student to put your name in?"
Harry shook his head again, his eyes starting to sting, to his great embarrassment. Fleur's comment about him being a 'leetle boy' stung his teenage boy pride, but, in truth, that's what he was to them; a little boy far out of his league. Snape looked taken aback momentarily at the sight of the tears, and discretely handed him a handkerchief, before turning to the assembled adults.
"He speaks the truth. Mr Potter did not put his name in the Goblet of Fire."
"An 'ow do you know this? 'E could be le mentuer."
"Madame Maxine,' Harry watched in astonishment as his professor gave a deep, flourishing bow, 'I do not encourage my students to lie to me. They know the consequences of their actions if they do. Perhaps, if you do not believe Mr Potter, other…arrangements can be made to find out the truth?"
Madame Maxine flushed slightly, but inclined her head gracefully.
"Perhaps, Maître Prince, I shall take your words into account."
"Snape, actually, Madame. Maître Prince is my cousin, but it is a common mistake."
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"Stop trying to protect him! Mr Potter is guilty of entering this competition, and must participate!"
Simultaneously, Snape, McGonagall and Maxine levelled near identical glares at Karkaroff, who discretely loosened his collar.
"I say, won't this be jolly! A surprise late entry, but selected by the Goblet nonetheless! Two champions for Hogwarts, and a little unfair, but think of the publicity! The Boy-Who-Lived; Champion of Hogwarts! The Prophet will have a field day with this!"
Those glares transferred to Ludo Bagman, who was two sandwiches short of a picnic to notice at any rate, and Harry stiffened.
"Great,' he muttered, 'more publicity. Just what I always wanted."
Behind him, Cedric snorted.
"What am I, chopped liver?"
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Unfortunately, Harry had missed a little of what the judges had said, and only caught "…a surprise, to test your bravery. Goodnight!"
Harry watched, eyes wide, as the judges, Dumbledore and Karkaroff left, leaving Snape, McGonagall and Maxine with the champions. Maxine turned to Fleur, and said something in rapid French, to which the blond witch replied, irritated. Maxine snapped at her, and then left. Fleur huffed, and sat down on a chair, folding her arms angrily. Krum stared into the fire, face blank, and Cedric plonked himself into an overstuffed armchair.
"Well,' the Hufflepuff heartthrob declared, 'things really are up shit creek without a paddle."
"Language, Mr Diggory, although I cannot fault you for putting this situation so aptly into words." McGonagall sighed. "Mr Potter, I wish to see you tomorrow morning after breakfast, to discuss the remainder of your school year with you."
"You're expelling me!?" Harry blurted out, the old fear of returning to the Dursley's early rearing its ugly head with vengeance, and his breath started coming in quicker gasps. McGonagall looked taken aback, and Snape gave him a look out of the corner of his eye that bordered on curious. Krum stood up straighter and turned to look at him, while Fleur uncrossed her arms and stared at him, and Cedric stood up from his chair, a protest on his lips. Harry, however, had his gaze fixed on Professor McGonagall, eyes searching her face frantically for any tell-tale signs of disappointment, anger or lies.
"I am not expelling you, Mr Potter, never fear of that."
'…never fear…never fear…never fear…' Harry started to hyperventilate as McGonagall's words took a sinister turn, before transforming into his uncle's voice.
'Never fear, freak, you'll get what's coming to you soon enough. Never fear, no one will hear you scream. Never fear, no one will save you now.'
His vision tunnelled, and black spots began to dance across his vision as people called his name, but all he could hear were the jeers and taunts thrown at him by Dudley and his gang, Vernon yelling at him, and Petunia shrieking for him to do his chores, weed the garden, make breakfast, be less freakish, shut up, do as your told, don't ask questions. There were arms encircling him, and Harry fought them, trying to escape his cousin's friends before Dudley could come along and beat them. Then, one voice, who was most definitely not his uncle rose over the clamour.
"Harrison James Potter, you will cease your antics at once!"
The voice was a far cry from his uncle's furious bellows, yet held an unyielding tone of command that something deep inside him responded to. Harry ceased struggling, and the arms around him loosened, but still held him against a muscular chest. Harry stared up into illimitable black eyes, and felt himself flush with shame with his actions, before something occurred to him.
"Is my name actually Harrison?"
There was a vibrating feeling against his back, and Harry looked down, noticing the thin yellow band on the sleeve of a grey jumper. Cedric. Of course. It took him a moment to realize that Cedric was trying not to laugh at him. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow.
"It is on your birth certificate, but I would advise you not to spread it around. Names have power." His voiced softened slightly at the end, and there was a mild hunted look about him. Harry nodded, and was about to ask a question, when he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder.
"I vill help, Potter. Dis…is not right."
"Oui." Fleur stood up. "If 'e will 'ave panic attacks about this, then 'e is telling la vérité."
"Besides,' Cedric spoke up, pulling Harry into a tight hug, 'this bloody tournament is about Inter-School Unity, right? My classes have been cancelled and so have Harry's; why don't we work together?"
McGonagall gave them all a small smile.
"What wondrous young people we have in front of us, Severus. Very well. Mr Potter, I will still give you assignments so that you are not too far behind, and I'm sure Severus will do the same. Don't forget our meeting tomorrow, Mr Potter. Goodnight."
"Good night, Professor McGonagall." Harry murmured, giving her a shy smile. McGonagall returned it, and left, leaving only Snape with the champions. He fixed them all with a look, which made them wilt a little, before rolling his eyes.
"Don't stay up too late. The press comes tomorrow morning." Cedric groaned, and Viktor sighed, dropping to the floor beside Cedric with his head in his hands, muttering dark things in Bulgarian under his breath. Fleur sniffed, before descending to the floor with such grace that it made sitting down look like an art form. Snape spared them one more look, before he seemed to come to a decision.
"The rules forbid the participants from asking teachers for help. However, it does not state that any other outside influence is forbidden." He looked at Harry pointedly, and Harry grinned. Snape left, and Cedric pushed Harry off his lap.
"You need to eat more; you're far too light for fourteen." He worried. Harry rolled his eyes, but his grin was fixed firmly in place. Cedric frowned.
"Why are you grinning?"
Harry bounced in place.
"Do you think that Professor Lupin would help us with this? I know that he hasn't taught you two,' he gestured to Fleur and Viktor, 'but Si…someone told me that he was world recognized in DADA and History of Magic."
"I 'ave a sester who is a Maître of Runes and Arithmancy."
"My bratovched is good vith Potions and Charms."
"Madam Hooch has a niece with qualifications in Transfiguration."
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Harry looked at his fellow champions, and saw in their eyes a newfound friendship; a bond that was forged in planning against the Ministry and the stupid tournament. Cedric grinned back at him, before turning to Fleur.
"Now, the important question. I know Krum can fly, obviously, and Harry and I are both Seekers, but…do you play Quidditch? If so, would you be interested in a pick-up game sometime?"
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Harry laughed.
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"Dragons."
"I'm going to die."
"Da."
"Oui."
The four champions sat in a rough half-circle in front of the fire that was cackling away at their misfortune, in an abandoned classroom on the third floor (not the one Fluffy was in, thank God). Fleur, upon seeing the classroom during one of her many explorations around the castle, had decided that it was a good meeting place, and had transfigured a chair into a couch, making it permanent by carving Runes on the underside. Cedric had pilfered an armchair from the Hufflepuff Common room, Viktor had melded a few desks together with some strange Bulgarian spell and added cushions, while Harry had asked Dobby for a spare chair. Dobby had not only returned with an overstuffed green armchair that, he declared, was from the Slytherin Common room years ago, but with a large table, some house banners (Slytherin and Ravenclaw were changed to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons) and a few other decorations.
Viktor had, upon being told what the 1st Task was by Karkaroff, had signalled the other champions and told them. Needless to say, they weren't taking it well.
"I'm fourteen." Harry stared at the fire. "How the hell am I supposed to defeat a dragon?"
"Mon dieu, this is insane."
"Are they mad?"
"Dis is not gut."
The door opened, and Professor Snape walked in, pausing at the sight of the four catatonic champions.
"Hi, Professor Snape." Cedric and Harry chorused, voices lacking any sort of cheer.
"I see you found out, then." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "And a reminder that curfew is in five minutes, Mr's Potter and Diggory. Don't be caught by Filch."
"Remus says not to fly, because they see it as a sign of attack,' Harry moaned, 'but flying is the only thing I'm good at. I can't throw a potion at it, I can't attack it and I can't change it. I don't have the power to slow it down with elements, either."
"I'm conjuring something to distract whatever dragon I get."
"I can use Veela charm to zing it to sleep."
Viktor was silent, and Harry turned to look at him.
"Viktor?"
"I vas planning to blind it." They all stared at him, aghast. "But it may cause damage to eggs. Running through options now." Viktor suddenly sat up straight, staring at Harry.
"You said somethink about elements?" Harry nodded.
"Yeeessss?"
"I can slow it down with ice." Viktor leaned back, face smug. Harry sighed.
"Now I don't have a plan. This sucks."
"Save your teenage drama for two months' time." Professor Snape chided, causing all champions to stare at him in confusion. He stared back, innocent as he could get, before looking up at the ceiling.
"Oops, I've said too much." Harry narrowed his eyes, but Professor Snape turned to go, ignoring the curious gazes with expert ease.
"I've always wondered what it would be like to talk to a dragon." Snape mused, whimsical. "They must have some excellent stories from living so long. Who knows, they may be quite intelligent." With that cryptic comment, he left, throwing a "Don't be caught out after curfew!" over his shoulder.
They all stared at the space he had been, puzzled.
"They zay 'e iz mad. Brilliant, but mad." Fleur ventured after the silence had grown too thick.
"He is well known in some circles for being eccentric." Cedric conceded. Harry frowned, turning Professor Snape's comments over in his head, before is clicked.
'…talk to a dragon…quite intelligent…' He glanced at his fellow champions.
"I do believe I have a plan." he smirked at their baffled looks.
"Vat is it?" Viktor asked. Harry grinned.
"I think I'll see if I can hold a conversation with a dragon."
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"A Ball?!" In the Champions Common room (as it was called by the four of them) Harry slumped into a chair next to the Bulgarian Seeker, who also had a look of impending doom etched upon his face. Fleur lay sprawled out on the floor in a most unladylike fashion, arms over her eyes as if to shield herself from this great calamity.
"I vant the dragons back." Viktor muttered.
"Seconded." Harry called.
"Motion carried." Fleur threw from her position on the floor.
Cedric walked in, a goofy smile on his face.
"I have a date!" the other three groaned, and threw whatever was closest at the cheerful Hufflepuff. Cedric squawked as he was hit with a pillow, a cushion, and a high-heeled shoe covered in glitter that narrowly missed a valuable part of his anatomy. He wasn't entirely sure who had thrown what, but was willing to bet that the shoe was Fleur's.
"I say, why all so glum?"
"Boy-Who-Lived."
"International Seeker."
"Part-Veela."
"And?"
"Fans, my dear Hufflepuff,' Harry declared, 'are incredibly vexing. So are teenage boys who don't think with their heads. Also, I can't dance. Although,' he turned to Fleur, 'if the lovely champion from Beauxbatons would save a dance for me, it would be much appreciated."
Fleur giggled, and waved her hand.
"I would be 'onoured, Monsieur Potter. And if Monsieur Krum would be 'as so kind to save me a dance?"
"Da, I vill. But not one for Potter."
Harry tossed his other cushion at Viktor. It missed, and hit the imposing form of Professor Snape. Harry froze, and eyed his teacher warily. Professor Snape merely tossed it to Fleur, who mumbled her thanks as she put it behind her head.
"Mr Potter, Professor McGonagall would like to speak with you." Harry groaned, and stood up.
"Any chance that I could face the dragons again, sir?" Snape smirked.
"Not on your life. I had to see Madam Pomfrey after Professor McGonagall crushed my hand during your first task. She's not happy with you."
Harry winced, and followed his professor towards McGonagall's office.
"Sir? Do the teachers get to ask someone to the ball as well?" Professor Snape stopped, and turned to look at him.
"Why?" His tone was guarded, and Harry shrugged.
"I mean, I heard that one of the 7th years was going to ask McGonagall if her boyfriend could come, but he's already graduated, so she'd need permission, and I wondered if the teachers had a plus one, or whether they had to go with each other."
Professor Snape snorted, and they continued up the stairs.
"Out of the five males employed at this school, excluding Binns, Flitwick, though excellent when it comes to choral arrangements, cannot dance without tripping up. Hagrid…goes without saying, Babbling abhors social functions more than I do, and the Headmaster plays for the other team. Both Babbling and I used to get hounded when the Yule Ball was still running, but it fell out of favour three years before you came to school, after Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks spiked the punch with six bottles of Firewhiskey. Of the female staff, Sinistra hates crowds, Vector…is a reasonable dancer, as is McGonagall, Trelawney couldn't predict when she'd eat breakfast, let alone the dance steps, and Sprout prefers her plants."
Harry sniggered at the description of Trelawney, but frowned.
"You didn't actually answer my question."
"No, I didn't. This is your stop, Mr Potter." He turned to leave, but paused.
"You are allowed to bring someone younger than you to the ball. If you are hunting for a date, try find someone who you won't mind being stuck with for the evening." He whirled off in a flutter of black, and disappeared down the hallways. Harry frowned, but knocked on the door, and entered the office when she called him in.
"Mr Potter, about the ball…"
"I can't dance!" Harry blurted out, hoping that his Head of House would be able to help him. McGonagall looked taken aback, before a small smile played at the edges of her mouth.
"And I daresay other students will be in the same position. Nevertheless, I wish to talk to you about the opening of the Ball. As champion, unofficial or not, you must open the Ball, and…"
She trailed off as Harry paled, and sank further into his seat.
"I'm doomed."
"Nonsense. Do you have a date?"
"No." Came the answering moan, of a teenage boy resigning himself to the fact that he must ask a girl to the ball. "I don't know who to ask."
"May I suggest looking at your group of friends, before you decide to branch out? If you make it clear that you will be going as friends, then hopefully, there will be no…misunderstandings later."
Harry thought for a moment, before his face broke out into a grin.
"Don't embarrass Gryffindor, right?" McGonagall frowned, but nodded.
"It would be preferable if you didn't. But not embarrassing Hogwarts comes first."
Harry grinned, and stood.
"Thank you for the advice. I need to find my date before someone else gets to her. Bye!"
He shot out of the office, and down the hall towards the library, hoping that he'd find her, before it was too late.
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Lily shifted nervously beside him, resplendent in a flowing forest green gown that accented her own pine-green eyes, pale skin and black hair, and was accented by the same colour tie that Harry had added to his dress robes (read, suit, because the dress robes looked exactly like it sounded; dress robes). Harry's whole idea of going to the ball with her as friends had solved Lily's own dilemma; Draco Malfoy and Adrian Pucey had both asked her. The funniest thing about it was that once the other champions saw his date, they were wonderfully confused.
"Harry, 'Cedric had begun, 'aren't you an only child?"
"I didn't know you 'ad a seester." Was Fleur's comment.
"Is dis your twin?" Viktor had asked.
Indeed, both looked so similar to each other that many first assumed that they were related. Unfortunately, they weren't; Harry had checked, as had Lily, to see if he could come live with them during the summers on a technicality of blood relation (he had stayed at her family mansion over the holidays anyway, without telling Dumbledore). Lily had even braved bringing up the taboo topic of squibs to see if there was a relation through there, but like most Pureblood families, the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Moon didn't keep track of their squibs.
Following McGonagall's advice on going as friends, and Professor Snape's on finding someone he wouldn't mind being stuck with, he'd asked his closest girl-friend, Lily (and wasn't it odd that his closest friend shared his mother's name?) to the ball. It had to be hush, because even though most of Slytherin were okay with Harry after he apologized to most of them for insulting them due to ignorance (and Lord, his holidays had been filled with Pureblood etiquette since), there were still the occasional few (Malfoy, Pucey, Warrington, Parkinson) who abhorred Harry's presence. He had considered asking Fay, but she had walked into a study session all giggly, and crowed that she'd gotten a date with Theo Nott.
Which meant that there was another Gryffindor/Slytherin pairing at the ball, so Harry and Lily wouldn't be the centre of attention too much.
"You nervous?" Lily whispered, clenching Harry's arm a little tighter.
"Just remember the steps, and let me lead. If in doubt, sneak glances at the other Champions." He whispered back, earning himself a giggle and a smile.
The other champions, especially Viktor and Fleur, had been very patient in teaching both Harry and Lily to waltz (Lily had been taking lessons from her parents for years, but it was different with Harry, who was near enough to her height that it caused a difference), and hadn't complained about the sore toes (especially Fleur), and had made them practise and practise until Harry was waltzing in his sleep, and subconsciously doing the steps on the way to his classes (much to the amusement of his friends, especially once he started humming).
He snapped back to attention when he heard Dumbledore announce them.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please give our Champions a round of applause."
Lily's arm tightened around his forearm until it was painful, but her face stayed impassive. Harry straightened his shoulders as Viktor exited with Morag McDougal, Cedric with Cho Chang, Fleur with Aeron Prince (Ravenclaw 6th year), before he himself stepped out from the antechamber, and into the ballroom. He had to struggle to keep his jaw from dropping, as he entered an enchanted forest, complete with real fairies and a strange, luminescent breed of butterfly that fluttered around. He almost missed the start of the music, if Lily hadn't dug her nails into his shoulder to grab his attention. The music was, thankfully, the same music they had rehearsed to, so when they started to dance, they all started at the same time, and it couldn't have looked better.
Lily spun in his arms, feather-light, and her hair flared out behind her like a knight's pennant. She had a bright grin on her face, and Harry didn't need a mirror to know that his own face held one just as light.
He catches a glimpse of Dumbledore waltzing with McGonagall (dressed in a formal version of her clan tartan), and Professor Babbling dancing with the blue-haired Fae woman he'd brought to school on Valentine's day once. Professor Vector was dancing with a teacher from Durmstrang, and laughing at something he said, while Professor Sinistra chattered with a Beauxbatons teacher in a wheelchair who had scars down her face.
Harry, spotting Fleur and Cedric leaving the floor, was quick to follow, Viktor and Morag coming up behind him as they left.
"Well done Harry, and Lily." Cedric congratulated them, his arm around Cho's waist. "Superb dancing."
"All thanks to you." Harry replied. "If you all hadn't helped me, I'd be in the dance floor hexed to oblivion for standing on Lily's toes."
Lily smacked him on the arm, mock-affronted. Harry turned to stick his tongue out, when a whirl of black caught his eye, and he turned to look. He stared.
Professor Snape wasn't wearing black robes.
He did, however, make the midnight blue robes he was wearing look sophisticated and elegant, unlike the many other males in the room who looked mildly uncomfortable. His hair was tied back and away from his face, although a few strands drifted over his eyes in an attempt to rebel. Harry however, immediately felt self-conscious and jealous as soon as he saw him dance. Professor Snape didn't dance as much as he glided across the floor, dragonhide boots sliding across the polished floor with nary a sound, while his posture was impeccable, and he carried himself with a grace that was never seen within the Potions classroom.
His dance partner, the woman Harry remembered her name being Evan, was dressed in a black and midnight corseted gown, her pale shoulders bared to the slight chill in the room. Her fiery curls were twisted into an elaborate bun, but, much like her partners, there were a few shorter strands that curled across her cheekbones. They moved in tandem, perfectly in sync, their eyes fixed on each other as if there wasn't anyone else in the room, while he expertly navigated the crowds, and she spun and twirled and floated according to his whims.
And Harry wasn't the only one to notice the two.
Slowly, couples drifted off the dance floor, candlelight flickering compared to the beacon at sea, until the dance floor only contained the two.
Looking closer as 'Evan' spun around, Harry noticed a black, cursive script across her shoulder blades.
'After all this has passed, I still will remain.
After I've cried my last, there'll be Beauty from Pain.
Though it won't be today, someday I'll hope again.
And there'll be Beauty from Pain.'
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Beside him, Lily gasped.
"That's Evangeline Rosier!"
"Who?" Harry stared at her blankly. Lily shot him a sympathetic look.
"I forgot you didn't grow up with me. There was this huge scandal back when my parents were at school. Apparently, Lady Rosier was impersonating a boy so that she could come to Hogwarts, and…well, they say that's how she and Professor Snape got together. They shared a dorm, and he noticed a few things that didn't add up, but covered for her. But, come Graduation, she was ousted by Avery and Mulciber." She hesitated for the barest fraction. "Professor Snape is the reason why Avery walks with a permanent limp, and Mulciber lost an eye. They tried to rape her, and her magic backfired, due to the pureblood virginity clauses. She was never the same afterwards, but when Snape found out…he was almost expelled."
"Sheesh, 'Cedric whispered, 'I remember my parents talking about it as well. Professor Snape called on an old pureblood tradition that no one expected him to know, because he was a half-blood. It basically stated that he had a right to challenge Avery and Mulciber to a duel over Lady Rosier. Her father didn't protest, and Snape levelled them both within five minutes."
"It was most romantic,' Fleur said dreamily, ''ow 'e fought for her 'onor. There were tales around Beauxbatons about it for years. Many of the older girls wanted it to 'appen to them."
"Yes, well, Evan and Sev are quite close. But, what your parents didn't know was that Evan was always quite sick, and the attack damn near killed her. If it weren't for Severus pulling a three-day brewing spree, she'd be dead."
The group spun around, coming face to face with a tall, blonde man with a crystal-blue gaze. Viktor was the first to react, snapping into a deep bow that echoed the one Harry had seen other foreign students direct towards Professors McGonagall, Snape, Babbling, Vector, Flitwick and even Sinistra.
"Maĭstor Liert."
"Mr Krum." The man nodded in return, reaching out a slender hand and using a long finger to lift Viktor's chin. "None of that, now. Not for Nadia's little cousin."
Viktor, to everyone's amazement, flushed, and avoided the man's gaze. The man turned to the others.
"My apologies for my extremely bad manners. My name is Karl Liert; Master in Potion's, Herbology and Transfiguration."
Fleur dipped into a curtsey that was echoed by Lily and Cho. Harry and Cedric bowed in imitation of Viktor, and the man chuckled softly, even as the music faded.
"None of that. If you turn around, you will see the rare occurrence of your Professor blushing as he realizes that once again, he has accidentally become the centre of attention."
Indeed, Professor Snape had twin spots of pale pink upon his normally pale complexion, and he was studiously looking anywhere but the applauding crowd. Evan, similarly, seemed to find her shoes very interesting, and her blush was more pronounced then Professor Snape's. But, they did bow to the audience, before moving off the floor once the applause had finished, making their way over to where the champions and their mysterious companion was standing as the music started again.
"Karl!" Evan exclaimed, pulling the man into a hug. "I thought you were at the Master's conference in Dublin."
"I was in the neighbourhood, and decided to drop by. I borrowed your Floo, Sev. Hope you don't mind."
Professor Snape rolled his eyes, submitting to a manly hug between the two.
"No, of course not. What brings you here? I mean,' he gestured around, 'you hate most social functions of this…ilk."
Karl looked embarrassed, and bit his lip. Snape narrowed his eyes, before his lips twitched into a small grin.
"You were being harassed, weren't you?" Karl nodded, face pale.
"There were so many…" he breathed. "All clamouring for a kiss with their bloodied lips and pointed teeth. Never again shall I return there, for fear of not returning."
"Ever the poet, Karl." Evan smiled. "Would you care to dance, since you're here?"
Karl bowed.
"I would be delighted, Lady Rosier. Sev, I believe Rory is begging for a dance."
"Then I shall attend." Severus gallantly handed Evan off to Karl, with a whisper of "Behave", before sweeping off to twirl Professor Sinistra to the floor, with a small nod in the directions of the four champions and their dates. It was Cedric who finally broke the silence.
.
"Do you think he'd offer dance lessons?"
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"This is by far the stupidest thing I've ever done." Harry muttered to the other champions. "Eternal glory? By what, diving into the freezing cold lake in the middle of February? We'll freeze before we even get to the…whatever will be down there at any rate, because the clue was so bloody cryptic."
"Amen." Cedric muttered, eyeing the Gillyweed in Harry's hand with something akin to distaste. "Is that really your best option?"
"I can't maintain the Bubble-Head charm long enough. It pops around the twenty minute mark. Neville swears by this stuff, and it apparently lasts for an hour."
"Bonus." Cedric leaned closer, eyeing up Viktor's impressive abdomen.
"I can see why all the girls flock to him, I feel quite intimidated."
Harry sniggered, and gestured to Fleur, who was shivering in a very thin, silver swimming costume.
"I feel sorry for Fleur. Veela don't do well in water, being fire-based and all."
"Keep an eye out for her." Viktor leaned into their conversation. "Judges…too excited."
"Panem et Circuses." Harry muttered, garnering two confused looks from the older champions, before he elaborated. "Bread and Circuses. So, essentially, food and entertainment."
"The danger is the food…"
"And ve are da entertainment."
"Charming." Fleur chattered, clenching her teeth in an attempt to stop them from clacking together hard enough to break. "After this, we go to Cannes. See films, swim in warm water."
"I'm keen." Harry rubbed his arms, eyeing the judges with no small amount of hate. "I wish they'd bloody hurry up. I'm freezing."
"Amen." Cedric repeated, slinging an arm around the French Champion in order to lend her some of his rapidly vanishing body heat.
"Champions, on your marks!" Bagman cried, and they each made their way to the end of the dock.
"Set…" Harry stuffed the Gillyweed in his mouth and chewed ferociously, grimacing at the bitter taste.
There was a bang as Harry swallowed, and the champions dove into the lake, each heading off in their different directions.
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Fleur was raging.
Really, it was a sight to behold, as she screamed in French at the judges, her skin steaming, as she held a mini-Fleur close to her, who was sobbing into her big sister's stomach. Viktor, standing protectively over a tall, whippet thin blonde who was shivering so hard he had to sit down, stared in amazement, and a little bit of admiration. Harry, with his arms around Lily Moon in order to warm her up (and prevent her from catching hypothermia) and Cedric, cuddling with Cho, stood a healthy distance away, mindful of the French woman's wrath.
"Impressive. Most impressive." Lily chattered. "Do you think she could teach me how she does that? It could be very useful in the common room."
"Malfoy would wet himself." Harry snorted, and Lily beamed at him.
"That's the point. Besides,' she looked towards the stands,' everyone knows that Malfoy has been dethroned by Blaise and Theo, no matter how unofficially. Theo for the front, and Blaise for the shadows."
"Sounds...complicated." Cedric finally said, Harry nodding in agreement.
"I'm glad I'm a Gryffindor. Slytherin sounds complicated."
"You have no idea." Lily murmured, before she pushed away from Harry suddenly. "Skeeter!" she hissed, and Harry immediately handed her his spare blanket to put over her own.
"Mr Potter! Mr Diggory! A quick word?"
"Fuck off, bitch?" Lily suggested to Harry, voice low, and Harry sniggered into his hand, before pulling a shirt over his still-damp torso. A wind had picked up, and it was bitterly cold.
"I'm afraid, Ms Skeeter, that I will have to decline,' Harry began,' as neither of my guardians or even my Head of House are available, and I am a minor."
"Well done." Cedric muttered, before turning to Skeeter. "I have one comment, and one comment only." Skeeter leaned forward, her Quick-Quotes Quill poised over her parchment.
"If myself or any other Champions and their hostages get ill from this hare-brained scheme to swim in the lake in winter, in Scotland, then the committee for this event will be hearing from the Heads of many families, including the Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Potter and Moon, the Noble House of Diggory, and their French and Bulgarian equivalents. This event was ill-thought out, dangerous, and moronic, no matter the entertainment value. I expect this quote verbatim, Ms Skeeter. If not, then the Daily Prophet will lose its primary stakeholders and financial backers."
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Skeeter stared, before scuttling off to go bother someone else. Harry knew it was cruel of him, but he secretly hoped that she'd go for Madame Maxine, if only so he could see the spectacular glare that the French Headmistress was able to level at anyone.
"Sorry for dragging you into this, guys,' Cedric ran a hand through his hair,' I wanted to scare her badly enough to leave us alone."
"It doesn't matter. I'll just need to notify father about the current situation, before Skeeter asks him about it. He doesn't like surprises."
Harry, remembering the tall, dark and lean man who thoroughly intimidated him, couldn't help but imagine Lord Moon hexing Skeeter (he operated on a 'hex first, apologize later' basis) as soon as she showed up. Judging by the look in Cedric's face, he had the same image as well. Viktor came up beside them, the shivering blonde leaning into him in order to absorb body-heat. They nodded at them, and Lily offered a wave.
"Who's your friend?"
"Dis is my…drugar, Jakome Zuhaitz."
"Bună." The youth offered them a shaky smile, and Harry caught a glimpse of elongated canines. He narrowed his eyes, and darted glances to his hands, skin, neck and then his eyes. His crimson eyes. The vampire shrugged.
"Da, I am undead. Do I care? Nu, I do not. It is a fact of life, if you'll pardon the pun."
Harry bit his lip, and studied the ground momentarily, before looking up as a horrid though occurred to him.
"Can you survive being underwater, or even being in the water? And what about…sunlight?" he whispered the last word, and Jakome shivered…no, Harry realised, it was a tremor; a sudden tensing of the muscles.
"No. That is why Viktor won, da? I needed to be out of there, but…I'll need to feed early the longer I spend in the sun."
"Do you require blood now, Master Zuhaitz?" Lily enquired, face carefully blank. "I would be willing to donate, if it is critical."
Harry hesitated only a second before nodding his agreement. "As would I."
Jakome smiled at them, and shook his head.
"Nu, but I thank you for the offer. Perhaps later, once I have sufficiently curbed my need, and only need a 'top-up'. I do not wish to drain anyone completely."
"Never let it be said that the British didn't take care of their guests." Cedric quipped, and there was a smattering of laughter. Looking around, Harry spotted Professor Snape arguing in hushed tones with Master Liert, hands making tight and tense gestures, Professor Snape occasionally touching his left wrist, and making frequent glances towards Karkaroff and Moody. He frowned, before turning back towards the group, wrapping a warm arm around Lily as they moved towards the Quidditch locker rooms for a shower.
No use upsetting Filch, after all.
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Harry was numb, tears dried long ago upon his cheeks, and eyes staring at everything and nothing. He was seated on his hospital bed, voices rising and falling around him, and demands to know exactly what happened washing over him like waves over rocks. None of it mattered, though, because Cedric was lying on the bed next to him, struggling to breathe through his punctured lung and the gaping wound in his side.
The final task had been a disaster, with Viktor being Imperiused, before casting a Crucio on Fleur. It had left just Harry and Cedric running after the cup, and both had reached it at the same time, silently agreeing on a Hogwarts Victory, before they were whisked away to a graveyard straight from Hell. An Avada had been thrown, and Harry and tackled Cedric to the ground to that the Hufflepuff would live. From there, it had been a tough duel against the man in Sirius' memories; Wormtail, or Peter Pettigrew. Harry had gotten off lightly; something about a ritual for Wormtail's master, but Cedric had taken the brunt of the attack, stating that since he was the oldest, he'd take care of Harry.
He'd come out of the duel with a fractured tibia, a Bombarda to the side, and an over-powered Knockback Jinx that had slammed him against one of the many tombstones that had littered the graveyard. In the meantime, Harry had sent his Patronus to Sirius, who in turn had alerted McGonagall, who had sent for the Aurors. McGonagall had been livid that Harry had been put in danger, but that was nothing compared to Sirius, who had donned his Lord Black persona, and teamed up with Lord Moon, Lord Diggory, Lord Krum and the French Ambassador, and were currently tearing a new one over the ministry for endangering their heirs.
Right now, Madame Pomfrey was in conference with Amos Diggory, and giving him the bad news. Cedric wasn't expected to live through the night. She had done all she could, but all she could do now was make him comfortable. And Harry knew that it was his fault.
If he'd been quicker in summoning his Patronus, or had shielded Cedric while he was casting, or had even thrown his own spells at Wormtail, then Cedric may have been able to see another sunrise at Hogwarts. Instead, he was unconscious, and slowly dying as the blood trickled into this lungs and drowned him from the inside. Cedric, who was everyone's big brother, and who had held him at the very start while he had a panic attack and believed him when he said that he hadn't entered himself in the tournament. The vision of Hogwarts without everyone's favourite Hufflepuff was something intangible and unfathomable.
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Harry didn't see the spell that sent him to sleep, nor did he feel Sirius arrange him on the bed so that he was comfortable, or the blankets that were tucked around him. He may have blushed, but it was the first time since his parents were alive that he'd been tucked in.
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It was near dawn when Harry re-woke, and he immediately noticed several things.
- There was someone next to him, chanting something
- There was the scent of blood on the air
- He couldn't hear Cedric breathing
Harry panicked, and shot upright, about to shout for Madame Pomfrey, when he realized who, exactly, was standing next to his bed. His eyes met Sirius' eyes, and his godfather gave him a wan smile around the Latin pouring form his mouth. The second person, who was closer to him, was Professor Snape, uttering something in a weird, lilting language that was pleasing to the ears, doubly so when combined with Sirius' slightly higher tenor. Harry chanced a glance at Cedric, and blinked.
His face was flushed, and he was breathing easier, whilst the hole in his side was closing, slowly but surely, under the light from Snape's wand, while Sirius' was pressed to Cedric's chest, where the broken rib was. Both men were speaking quietly, and Harry could practically taste the magic that was winding around the bed.
They finished, and Harry felt almost empty when the magic disappeared. Sirius came over to him, and perched on the side of his bed, ruffling his hair before pulling him into a hug.
"If anyone asks, I wasn't here. I went home late last night to prepare for your return. Professor Snape came to deliver potions before he returned home for a family emergency that he received at dinner last night."
"It's good to see you, Siri." Harry mumbled into his godfather's chest, and he felt Sirius laugh softly.
"I'll give Remus your regards. See you in a week."
"Black, we must leave. The Pomfrey is waking." Snape urged, waving his wand over Cedric one last time, before sweeping the curtains aside. With a kiss on Harry's forehead, Sirius was gone, both he and Snape melting into the shadows.
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Harry looked at the Hufflepuff sleeping peacefully now, and tilted his head.
"So Professor Snape is a better healer than Madame Pomfrey? I wasn't expecting that."
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There you go. READ AND REVIEW!
The poem quoted by Karl Liert is one of mine, so please, no plagiarizing. The script on the back of Evangeline Rosier is from 'Beauty from Pain' by Superchic[k]. Great song.
Cheers,
Siofra.