I do not own any dignity, valor, or honesty.

Chapter the Eighth: In Which Harry Slayeth a Dragon, Besiegeth the Professor Snape's Office, Eateth a Whole Molasses Cake, SPEAKETH IN ALL CAPS, Saileth the High Seas, Maketh It to First Base With Malfoy, and the Author Talketh Out of His Arse.

"I don't understand why we need to be interviewed."

Harry was annoyed. Public appearances always annoyed him. The pictures were always taken on his less-handsome side, the reporter always got the facts wrong, and somehow other people were always mentioned in what should be his article.

Draco, on the other hand, was cool and self-assured, ignorant of the torment which lay ahead.

"Prepare yourself, Potter, for my greatness!"

"Where is it?" asked Harry.

"What?"

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"Your greatness."

"Right where it always is."

"And where is that?"

"With me!"

"It wasn't apparent."

"Insult!" shouted Malfoy.

Harry gave him a look of sheer confusion.

"Mine or are you delivering one?"

"…Both!"

"You're using 'insult' as an insult?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Well it's not very good, is it?"

"I could've called you a Weasley."

"What's that supposed to mean?" growled Ron through a mouth full of crisps.

Malfoy elaborated, "It's a sorry existence you lead, living in that ugly house packed to the brim with nuisances and eating food not fit for rats."

"You get used to it," defended Ron.

"Used to filth? I should hope not."

Ron turned even more scarlet.

"Nobody likes you, Malfoy! You're too much of a bully for anyone to really care about."

"Is that the best you've got, Freckles?"

"Ooh. Freckles. I've never heard that one before. How about trying blood-traitor? Muggle-lover? Lanky hot-headed git? Ronald McWeasley?"

"Who's insulting who now?"

"I- You- Shut up!"

"Good comeback."

"Glad you noticed."

"That was sarcasm."

"Blasphemy."

"Never mind."

"I already don't."

Malfoy stormed away as Ron laughed triumphantly.

"Malfoy might win more often if he didn't let himself get so frustrated with Ron," commented Susan.

"Malfoy is nothing but a slimy snake," cheered Ron.

"He's not that bad," murmured Harry.

"Not bad? He's a Slytherin! A Slytherin, Harry! They're all bad!"

"Blaise is your friend and he's in Slytherin."

"That's different. He's too attractive to really be a Slytherin. There must have been some kind of mistake."

Harry, Susan, Dean, Violet, and Padma gave him a sharp look.

"That is hypocritical," Susan pointed out.

"I've got my rival picked. I'm probably closer to Malfoy than any of you," said Ron.

Harry and the others stopped to consider this as Ron left to get more crisps from the kitchen.

"Is it stupidity or genius?" Harry asked in a hushed whisper.

"This is Ron we're talking about."

"So… stupidity?" said Dean.

"100 points," Susan said flippantly.

"Thanks a bunch, Trebek."

"He really might be on to something," argued Padma.

"Cannabis?"

"Yeah, but I mean an idea."

"You mean like his grasshopper circus?"

"No, a good idea."

"It has merit. Now I'm not saying it's brilliant, but I'd pay to see one," said Susan.

"Forget Ron, today's the interviews," said Harry.

"Here we find the native Gryffindor engaged in a social confrontation with members of his pack and those of others," said a voice.

"What now?" groaned Harry as he turned to confront a woman in an emerald green robe trimmed with scrollwork inscribed gold bands, a goblin stenographer, and a dwarf with a magical camera.

Just to be clear, he really is a real dwarf, not the 'Hi-ho hi-ho' variety nor a midget. It doesn't really have an effect on the story, but it bugs me when people equate the groups.

"It appears he's noticed us and is putting on an aggressive display in an attempt to exert dominance and establish his territory. Note the dark-rimmed eyes. From the looks of things, he has been under a lot of stress lately. It may even be possible that he is competing with another for dominance."

"Wizarding interview?"

"Yup," Susan nodded.

"Great."

"See how the male Gryffindor interacts with the Ravenclaw. Notice that he is comfortable around her. A rare sight. I can only assume that their packs have some form of truce."

"Can I kick her a**?"

"If you don't mind spending time in prison," said Padma.

"Know what they do to Hogwarts students in Azkaban?" asked Dean.

"I'm beginning to detect some hostility from our subjects," interrupted the woman. "We should back up a bit and continue filming at a distance."

When she had left, Harry turned to Dean, "So who was that, exactly?"

"Rita Skeeter," he said in a derisive tone.

"What a wicked woman," Susan said and shook her head in disapproval.

"So I don't suppose it's an actual interview," Harry said sadly.

"Afraid not," said Dean.

"At least we have our first DADA class today," consoled Susan.

"We'd better hurry," said Padma, checking her magical watch. "Or else all the good seats will be taken."

"Good seats?" asked Violet.

"Reckon as there's going to be a grand entrance. It's the first class, after all."

The little group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws scurried to the classroom and got some decent seats near the front. And for Violet, in the back. The class gradually filled with students and everyone waited anxiously for Professor Moody to enter. They had begun to think he might not be coming at all when he fell through the ceiling in an explosion of plaster onto Neville's desk.

"Constant vigilance!" he roared as Neville got up from where he had fallen.

"But does it have to be on my desk?" whined Neville.

"Yes. Yes it does."

"Why is it always me?"

"You have to be more vigilant! And you did look a bit softer."

Neville moaned about how that was what his fortune cookie said but otherwise stayed silent.

Hermione raised her hand, "Sir, do you know where Professor Lupin is? We're waiting for him."

"Professor Lupin had some business to attend to. I'm afraid he won't be back for a few days. Until then, I'll be teaching you."

"The nerve!" whispered Pavarti angrily, "He can't even show up to our first lesson!"

Moody waited for silence before beginning the lesson.

"Your first lesson will be about the three most forbidden curses."

"More forbidden than the Infidelius Charm?"

"Especially more forbidden. Can any of you tell me what one of them is?"

"I know one," said Terry Boot. "The Imperius curse."

"And what does that do?"

"It forces the person it's used on to do as commanded."

All the boys turned their heads to the side and raised their hands to rub them over their mouths in consideration.

"Let me remind you, these are forbidden curses."

"Of course," mumbled the boys.

"And can anyone tell me what the second forbidden curse is?"

Hermione's hand shot up but Moody pushed past her and glared down at Violet, who shuddered so much that her notes and ferret magazines tumbled to the floor.

"Well?" growled Moody.

"The- uh- the- uh- the Transmorgrification curse."

"And why is it forbidden?"

"Because it forces its subject to be transformed into whatever the caster is thinking of indefinitely," she whispered, trembling.

"Can you show us?" growled Moody, making it almost a purr.

"It's forbidden!" squeaked Violet.

"Only on humans. That caged snake on my desk on the other hand would look better as a cute little creature of the forest, wouldn't it?"

Violet squeaked again, then slowly raised her wand with a trembling hand and pointed it at the cage.

She closed her eyes and cried out, "Transkorpus Sekka!"

The blue light which shot forth from her wand tip spun just wide of the cage, instead hitting the foe glass behind it. The indistinct figure in the glass twisted and writhed, shrinking into its clothes before disappearing altogether. The class was collectively silent.

Finally, Dean broke the silence, "What about the third curse?"

Violet collapsed in a dead faint. Luna rushed over to check her.

"Mister Thomas, you know perfectly well that the final curse is the killing curse, whose name I shall not utter in this company. Needless to say, it is the worst of the three. If any of you lot ever use it, it'll be me who brings you in, dead or alive."

The class ended on a somber note. As they rushed to their next class nearly everyone was chattering excitedly about the lesson. Neville and Luna helped Violet up to the infirmary.

By lunch, the entire school knew that Violet had turned Draco Malfoy into a ferret. There was going to be a hearing in three days.

"Anyone want to bet on Draco Malfoy for the first task?" asked Ron.

"Yeah… no," said Pavarti.

"What kind of chance could he possibly have, unless the challenge is to dig a hole?" joked Seamus.

Lavender frowned at him, "Stop making fun of Draco. He must be going through quite an ordeal."

"Big word," muttered Ron.

"Hermione taught it to me."

"Draco's never been a ferret before. I bet he's on pins and needles. We should do something for him," said Ron. "I suggest we put him in a paper bag."

"Let's be humane," said Lavender.

"Let's be inhumane," echoed Seamus.

"What does any of this have to do with helping me complete the first task?" asked Harry.

"Nothing. Does it have to be?"

"Yes."

"Too bad," shrugged Pavarti.

"We can hinder the competition, at the very least," reasoned (not really) Ron. "If all you have to do is not screw up as badly as the other champions, then winning will be much easier."

"That sounds an awful lot like cheating to me."

"Think of it as playing to win."

"That sure sounds fair," muttered Harry.

"Fair? This is the Triwizard Tournament we're talking about! It's a cheating competition!"

"Ron, you're scaring me."

"Why is everyone surprised when I know something?" Ron asked the air.

"It's just one of those quirks of life," said Pavarti.

"You didn't have to live with him for all your life," muttered Ginny.

"Stop talking mean about Ron. He didn't do anything to deserve it!" cried Lavender.

And the estrogen brigade strikes again, thought Harry, covering his ears under guise of brushing back his hair to drown out some of the screaming.

Some minutes later they reached the common room and after Lavender gave the password, they entered. All was in a state of disarray. Hermione was suffocating under a toppled pile of books, Dean had apparently been testing the strength of his grenades, and Neville was sitting peacefully asleep in front of the fire.

Ron edged around the hole in the floor and kicked Neville's chair over, then picked it up and sat in it.

"Elegant," commented Harry as he too edged around the hole.

"Who wants to fix it this time?" asked Lavender as she pressed herself to the wall.

"It's Neville's turn isn't it?"

"It's always my turn," grumbled Neville.

"And it always will be," comforted (not really) Lavender.

Seamus came bounding down the stairs with a piece of parchment in his hand.

"Harry!" he shouted.

"What is it?"

"There's a letter here for you from Hagrid! He says he has to show you something."

"I suppose you read it, then?"

"No."

"How do you know what it's about?"

"Eh?"

"How do you know what the letter's about?"

"Lucky guess."

"…"

"Okay, I read it. How could I resist? You guys were gone for like ten minutes."

"Glad to know you can resist a temptation," Harry said sarcastically.

"It's not in my nature," admitted Seamus.

Harry took the letter and read it through twice. It didn't seem like one of Hagrid's drunken notes inviting Harry down to blow up whatever new magical creature he had gotten his massive hands on. So Harry decided that walking down to see Hagrid would probably not turn out horribly.

That evening, Harry strolled down the sunset-streaked lawns, down past the lava pits, the overgrown hedges, the giant murderous tree, and through the boar gate. Hagrid's hut squatted like a pooping toad. And speaking of toads, there was Umbridge, checking off boxes on a notepad. She stood there, occasionally looking up at the hut with an expression of utter disgust.

Harry couldn't really blame her. He waited two minutes before she moved off. By then he was bored and couldn't wait to find out what Hagrid had for him so he could go back to the common room. He walked up to Hagrid's door and banged loudly on it. Hagrid opened the door and smiled widely when he saw him.

"'Arry!" bellowed the giant man. "I expected yeh earlier! What kept yeh?"

"Homework and that awful toad woman, Umbridge."

"There's sommat wrong with that one," Hagrid said, troubled.

"Yes, there is sommat- I mean something- about her that I don't trust."

"It's not good luck ter speak ill o' others too much," Hagrid said, waving his hand in front of his beard. "I asked yeh to come down 'ere fer another reason. The Triwizard Tournament has a long history o' cheatin'."

"And we're going to carry on the grand tradition?"

"Exactly. Jus' let me get ready ter go."

Hagrid looked himself over in front of his cracked mirror, downed two bottles of good bourbon, and splashed a tankard of something which smelled of alcohol and piss over his head.

"Ready," spluttered Hagrid, pulling his soaked hair out of his eyes.

"Ready," agreed Harry.

The walk down to the lake was fairly uneventful, unless you count the smoldering crack bush, the violin school field trip, and the Weasley twins' fireworks stand, all of which were the victims of one of Dean's grenades at some point earlier in the day, and now proved difficult obstacles to circumnavigate. There were even a few giant catherine wheels spinning across the grounds.

"What exactly do you want me to see?" Harry asked as they neared the lake.

"It's a surprise."

The lake wasn't their final destination. This has nothing to do with a terribly mediocre film franchise, by the way. Hagrid led him along the lakeshore to the forbidden forest. In the fading light, they slipped into the trees. It became immediately apparent to Harry that he was underdressed for a twilight stroll in the forest. Mosquitoes the size of European swallows descended on them, and it was only through a herculean effort on the part of Hagrid that Harry was not carried off.

In a clearing ahead, Harry could see enormous balls of flame shooting up into the air and flashes of light, as though a bunch of stormtroopers were missing at some rebels. When they were a little closer, Harry could see what was happening and immediately wished he weren't so close.

They were dragons. Obviously dragons. The gigantic fireballs should have been a dead giveaway. Three or four wizards ran around pathetically trying to keep them under control with flashes of light from their wands, which seemed to be proving ineffectual. Hagrid bustled over to lend a hand, or, in this case, a foot. With one might crunch of his boot heel on its toe, the first dragon coil in pain, whimpered, and submitted to the wizards' ropes. Hagrid did this three more times until all four dragons were under control.

"It's just like raisin' children," explained Hagrid, "If yer show 'em who's boss, they'll play nice."

"You must be Harry," said one of the wizards who had been subduing the dragons. "I'm Ron's older brother Charlie. He's told me a lot about you."

"I'm actually a really nice guy, once you get to know me."

Charlie laughed, "I heard that you took my place on the Quidditch team as Seeker. And I heard you're a winner."

"I am at that."

"Good luck taking on your dragon. There'll just be one for each of you, but trust me, one's more than enough for any wizard."

Hagrid "Hhmph"ed.

"Except Hagrid," admitted Charlie.

"What kind's this one?" asked Hagrid.

"That? That's a Hungarian Horntail. Right nasty. The blighter's got a fire breathing maw of daggers on the one end and a giant slashing tail of spikes on the other."

"How much you want to bet that's my dragon?" muttered Harry.

The morning of the first challenge was an early one. The sun was eager to see Harry's torment.

So early, in fact, that Professor Lovecraft had to banish the sun twenty minutes after it went down so everyone could get a full night's sleep. It was in the early hours of moonrise that Harry went out for a walk.

Harry wasn't the only one still awake and restless. Twice he passed Draco while wandering the halls. Both times he laughed when he was out of sight, but the second time he also felt a bit guilty. Malfoy was going to have a worse time of it than him. A ferret wouldn't stand half a chance against a dragon.

Harry spun around and walked swiftly after Draco. He caught up with him on the third floor, near where Harry had accidentally helped blow up half the corridor in his first year.

"Draco."

The ferret stopped, turned back to look at him, "What do you want?"

"The first task is dragons."

"What?"

"You heard me. The first task is dragons. There are four- one for each of us."

For a minute the ferret was silent, then, "Why are you telling me this? Are you trying to keep me awake?"

"You don't need my help for that. I just thought you'd want the help."

"I don't need your help. A Malfoy doesn't take charity."

Before Harry could say anything else, Draco had scurried off around the corner. He sighed and went back to walking.

Fourth floor. Fifth floor. Secret passage. Fourth floor. Seventh floor. It was as he was passing the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet that Harry heard a call. He turned to see Luna standing in the hall behind him.

"Hello, Harry."

"Hello, Luna."

There was an awkward moment.

"…"

It's still going.

"…"

It was a particularly awkward moment, after all.

"…"

"What are you doing, walking around so late at night?"

"I could ask the same of you?"

Harry hesitated only a moment, "I'm a bit nervous about the first task tomorrow."

"Oh, Harry, I'm sure that if anyone can survive it, you can."

"Well, thanks, but it's dragons. That's the challenge. I have to fight a dragon tomorrow and not die in the attempt."

"What difference does it make? You're the strongest wizard in our year. Hermione knows a lot, Ron's half a dozen years older than you, but no one has anywhere near as much power as you do."

"Gee, thanks."

"And you've got me, too!" trilled Luna, getting excited.

"So? You can't help me tomorrow. I have to go it alone."

"That's true. But we still have tonight to get ready. I'll help you prepare and then tomorrow your chances will be that much better!"

Harry considered this. Harry had warned Malfoy on the off-chance that he could make a plan to save himself. Why couldn't he, Harry, do the same?

"I would be honored to have your help," said Harry with a broad smile.

"Excellent! Follow me, I know the perfect place to get ready!"

She pointed back up the corridor to a small, unassuming wooden door across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his troupe of buffoon troll ballarinas.

"Has that door always been there?"

"Not exactly. Actually, it's something of a secret."

"What's inside?"

"Anything we could possibly need."

And so, for the second time that night, the sun rose.

Harry stuffed the last of his equipment into his pockets, then started on his shoelaces. Luna pulled her pants back on and looked around for her shirt.

"Do you really think I'll stand a chance?" asked Harry.

"I don't doubt you'll succeed," Luna said as she fetched the rogue shirt from the warlock statue.

Harry redid his laces a second time, then rose. He stood and looked at Luna for a second, then pulled her into a tight hug. A moment later he had shut the door behind him and set off for Gryffindor Tower. There was one last thing he needed to fetch from his trunk.

Luna waited until he had gone before she disposed of a ripped contraceptive in an ornate silver urn marked with Slytherin's crest. There was no reason to make Harry worry.

Next Time on HPMF:

Malfoy: Have at thee!

Hagrid: I'll believe this when boar statues fly!

Hermione: I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it!

Ron: What, are you promoting the event or something?

Dean: Our Potter can't hope to match dragon-power of that magnitude