A/N: Mira Mirth just updated On The Way to Greatness, which is probably the best Slytherin Harry story on this website. If you haven't read it, stop reading this chapter, immediately archive binge On The Way To Greatness, and come back here when you're done. (There's a link in my profile, for those who aren't comfortable using the search function.) And while you're over there, be sure to review, and let Mira Mirth know I sent you.
A week after discovering that dragons were the first task, Harry was feeling reasonably well prepared. His summoning charm was coming along nicely, after his work with Hermione. If his Firebolt was in sight, Harry could summon it from any distance. If it was out of sight, Harry could still summon it from hundreds of yards away, as long as he knew where it was. If he didn't know where the Firebolt was, it had to be quite close.
The only difficulty was that Harry didn't know the location of the first task. If it was too far away from the quidditch shed, Harry might not reach the broom with his charm. But if Hermione brought the broom closer, she might not have a chance to tell Harry where it was. They resolved to compromise. Harry and Hermione would walk together to the first task. She would carry his Firebolt as close as possible. When ministry officials told Hermione that she couldn't come closer, she would wait in that spot until Harry summoned the broom.
Harry also spent a significant amount of time practicing his flying with Draco. Harry enjoyed it so much that he almost felt guilty. When he expressed this to Draco, his friend got a wicked grin.
"If you're enjoying this, then I've been going too easy on you!" Draco said.
"What's that mean?"
"You'll see. Just wait until the next time we fly."
At the next flying session, Draco arrived at the quidditch pitch with Warrington, Montague, and a half-dozen bludgers. Harry spent the next hour trying to dodge bludgers that were sent at him by his three teammates. Harry finished the practice short of breath, half from the exertion of flying, and the other half from a bludger he had taken to the ribs.
The only person who wasn't making significant headway with preparations was Tracey. She had found some useful things—for example, although dragons were not fully sentient, like humans or merpeople or centaurs, they were more intelligent than mundane animals. A dragon was semi-sentient, closer in intelligence to a grindylow or a kappa or a unicorn. This made Harry's task both more and less difficult. A fully sentient creature would be difficult to outwit, so the semi-sentience would work to Harry's advantage. If dragons had been fully sentient, though, there would be a chance that Harry could communicate with it in parseltongue and negotiate his way through the task. With only semi-sentience, however, the difference between a dragon and a serpent was too large of a gap to bridge.
But for all the interesting things that Tracey was able to find about the life and habits of dragons, there was next to nothing on the subject about what to do if one encountered a dragon. The small girl was becoming enormously frustrated.
"Every book says the same thing: run!" Tracey complained to Harry at dinner. She was sitting next to him, waving her fork dangerously to emphasize her point. "And whenever I find something that doesn't suggest running, the book is either flagrant speculation or exaggerated boasting! It's like being in class with Lockhart all over again."
"Madam Pince probably just doesn't want students biting off more than they can chew," Harry said. "One student gets a stupid idea about slaying a dragon, and all the books with anything useful are chucked into the Restricted Section."
Tracey grinned, then leaned over to Harry and whispered in his ear. Her breath was warm. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Breaking curfew with you, I imagine," Harry said under his breath.
"You read my mind," Tracey whispered. "Meet me in the common room at eleven, and bring your cloak and map." She patted Harry on the leg, then sat up and returned to her meal.
"What are you two whispering about?" Pansy asked. She was sitting several seats away, across the table, between Blaise and Draco.
"Tournament stuff," Harry said, waving his hand vaguely in the air.
"Care to tell me about it?" Draco asked.
"Later," Harry said. "When I don't have to shout it for the entire Great Hall to hear."
Later turned out to be much later that night, just before Harry left the dormitory. Harry walked over to Draco's bed, tucking the Marauder's Map into his robes as he went.
"I'm going out," Harry said quietly. "I have some research to do about dragons."
"I'll come with you," Draco said quickly, getting to his feet.
"No, Tracey is already coming along," Harry said. "Only room for two under the cloak."
"Okay. Good luck." Draco climbed back into his bed.
"Seriously? That's it? You aren't going to try harder to come along?"
Draco grinned. "Nope. I get it." Draco leaned forward and nudged Harry in the ribs with his elbow. "Have fun doing 'research.'"
Harry drew back and made a face. Draco was acting really strange. "Why are you acting so weird?"
"Nothing's weird," Draco said, again flashing a knowing grin. "Enjoy yourself. Don't get caught."
Harry shook his head and walked out of the dormitory. If Draco was going to deny being weird, there was nothing Harry could do to stop it.
The common room was empty except for Tracey, who was waiting for Harry in a large chair near the fireplace. Even though she was a fourth year, she was still dwarfed by the enormous arms and high back of the chair. It would be easy for her to fit under the invisibility cloak with Harry.
"Ready?" Harry asked.
"Can't wait," Tracey said. "I've been thinking about this all day." Tracey climbed out of the chair and stepped close to Harry. Harry pulled the cloak around them, and then activated the Marauder's Map. There were no prefects or professors near the door to the common room, and the path to the library seemed fairly clear.
"Let's go," Harry said.
The pair arrived at the library without incident, although they did have to tiptoe quietly past the office that Dumbledore had temporarily assigned to the Department of Magical Games and Sports and the Department of International Magical Cooperation. There was a light coming from under the office door, and a glance at the map showed Harry that Mr. Crouch was inside the office.
Tracey stayed close to Harry, preventing her feet from slipping outside the cloak, and the two passed by without notice.
Getting into the Restricted Section of the library was absurdly easy. Once they were inside the library, and simple unlocking charm opened the locked gate; Madam Pince clearly counted on her presence to keep students out of the Restricted Section far more than the lock itself. Harry silently thanked Professor Snape as he and Tracey slipped through the gate.
"We're probably safe to take off the cloak," Harry said. "There's nobody around to see us."
Tracey nodded. Harry pulled off the cloak and tucked it into his robes. Tracey didn't immediately move away.
"We should be careful," Tracey said. "There are a lot of strange books in here—books that shout when touched and the like."
"How do you know that?"
"I heard Madam Pince talking about it, once," Tracey said. "A seventh year on a research assignment had gotten bit by a book and was sent to the hospital wing. Madam Pince was wishing that the book had been something louder but less aggressive."
"So there are books in here that can bite me and send me to the hospital wing, but you're warning me about books that can shout?"
Tracey smiled and touched Harry's arm. "What's worse, Harry? Getting bit, or getting caught?"
"Getting caught." Harry smiled back. "I'll be careful. Let's split up and see what we can find."
Harry and Tracey searched for the better part of an hour. Harry found a couple books about magical creatures, generally, but nothing specific to dragons. Tracey, however, found an ancient tome titled Dragon Fire, Dragon Fierce that appeared to be bound in dragonhide.
"Looks like a good bet," Harry said. "Let's tuck this away and get out of here."
Tracey frowned. "Don't you want to stay and look through it?"
"The longer we're out, the more likely we are to get caught," Harry said. "We should go back."
"Okay, I guess. What if it doesn't have what we need?"
"Then we come back tomorrow."
Harry noticed that Tracey seemed to cheer up after his last comment. She had seemed periodically frustrated over the past few weeks, and Harry hadn't been able to determine why. Maybe keeping an upbeat mood would help Tracey do the same.
When Tracey and Harry arrived back at the common room, Tracey grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him toward a table. "Let's start reading," she said.
"I'm tired," Harry moaned. "It's past one, and we have classes in the morning."
"But… aren't you excited? Don't you want to work on this together?"
"It can wait until tomorrow," Harry said, trying to remain cheerful. He pulled his wrist from Tracey's hand and stretched his arms out. "We both could use the sleep. We'll work better when rested."
"Fine," Tracey said abruptly. "Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." Tracey spun on her heel and stormed toward the girl's dormitory, tucking the book under her arm. Harry watched her as she disappeared through the door. He had no idea what had just happened, but he was fairly certain that he had done something wrong. Or that Tracey thought he had.
Harry yawned. The source of Tracey's mysterious behavior could wait until morning. It was time for bed.
The next day, Harry tried to find Tracey before breakfast, but she was nowhere around the Slytherin common room. When Harry and Draco finally arrived at the Great Hall, Harry saw that Tracey and Daphne were already seated and eating. Or, rather, Daphne was eating. Tracey was chattering at her dark-haired friend, waving her arms in the air and rolling her eyes dramatically. Daphne was nodding periodically and calmly eating her food. Like Harry, Daphne knew that Tracey would not be distracted once she started on a rant. The only thing to do was let Tracey rant, and wait for Tracey's frustration to run its course.
Once Harry was seated, he scratched a quick note on some parchment: Tracey, is tonight after dinner a good time to read about dragons? He cast a quick hovering charm and dropped the note into Tracey's lap.
Tracey unfolded the note, and began to smile as she read it. She looked down the table at Harry and nodded enthusiastically. Harry smiled back. Tracey turned and began to excitedly talk at Daphne once again.
Draco, trying to get Harry's attention, jabbed Harry in the arm with a fork.
"How'd it go last night?" Draco asked.
"Easy," Harry said. "Walked right in, got the book we needed, walked right out."
"Mmmm hmm," Draco said. "And what else?"
"Nothing else," Harry said. "It was almost one when we found the book, so we came right back."
"Ah," said Draco. "So it took you a long time to 'find the book,' eh?"
"Yes, I don't spend a lot of time in the Restricted Section." Harry took a bite of toast. "You're acting weird again," he said. "What's going on with you?"
"I'm not acting weird," Draco said. "But you won't tell me anything, so I have to drag everything out of you."
"I told you what happened!" Harry said. "There isn't anything else to tell!"
"Okay, fine," said Draco, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "If that's how you want it."
"That's how I want it, because that's how it is. I'm not trying to cut you out of the tournament preparation, Draco. You're my best mate, and I haven't forgotten what you did for me at the beginning of the year."
"Darn right you haven't," Draco said, pointing at Harry with mock seriousness.
Harry laughed. He finished his last bite of toast and washed it down with a glass of milk. "Let's get to class."
That night, when Harry arrived in the common room after dinner, he was not surprised to find that Tracey was waiting for him. Dragon Fire, Dragon Fierce was open in front of her, and she was thirty or forty pages into the book.
"Find anything interesting?" Harry asked.
"Not yet," Tracey said. "Then again, we don't know what we're looking for, other than 'how to fight a dragon.'"
"Not fight," Harry said. "Survive. How to survive a dragon."
"If you can fight and win, then you're still alive at the end, right?"
"I guess," Harry said. He was reminded of his conversation with Snape, the morning after his name was pulled from the Goblet. Mediocrity was not encouraged. "Actually, I do have something specific that we should look for," Harry said.
"And you haven't told me already?" Tracey punched Harry lightly on the arm. "What is wrong with you?"
"I just thought of it," Harry said. "When I talked to Charlie Weasley, I asked him what I should do about the dragon fire. He mentioned something about fighting fire with fire if I got desperate. I don't remember reading anything like that, do you?"
"No," Tracey said. "But at least we have something to look for, now!" Tracey turned back to the book. "Let's both read, and we can go back to the beginning later to make sure I didn't miss anything."
Tracey moved the book over slightly, and leaned closer to Harry. The book wasn't large, and the script was hard to read. Harry leaned over, as well, trying to get a better look. His shoulder lightly bumped Tracey's, but she didn't move away.
They read like that for the better part of an hour, before Tracey finally found something. "Here it is," she said, pointing to the lower part of the right-hand page. Harry, the slightly slower reader, hadn't gotten there yet. "It's in the section about mating rituals. 'A dragon's flame is used not only for defense and attack, but also for display in mating. A single male dragon will use his flame to impress the female. If two male dragons display for a single female, flame will meet flame, resulting in a spectacular conflagration in their midst.'"
"What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"I don't know," Tracey said. "Maybe there's more." Tracey flipped to the next page, but the book moved on to an overly-detailed discussion of the mechanics of dragon mating.
"So that's all we get," Harry said. "One sentence, coming from a book that's older than dirt, and an off-handed comment from a dragon tamer. It's almost like they want me to get roasted."
"Don't get down on yourself," Tracey said. "Using your Firebolt is a great plan. I know you were hoping for more, but you're going to do great." Tracey draped her arm around Harry's shoulders and gave him a squeeze.
"I keep telling myself that, but it's nice to hear it again," Harry said. "Go back to that part about the conflagration. I want to read that again."
Tracey turned back a page, and Harry leaned toward the book. There was a small mark near the end of the sentence, set slightly below the rest of the text.
"What's that mark?" Harry asked.
"It looks like letters," Tracey said. She, too, leaned closer, putting her face near Harry's. "I can't read it, though."
"I'd say it's a footnote, except there's nothing at the bottom of the page," Harry said.
Harry and Tracey were struck by the realization at the same time. "Endnotes!"
Tracey grabbed a handful of pages and flipped to the back of the book. There was, in fact, a large section of endnotes. They seemed to be tangents unrelated to the main text, but there were occasional maps, charts, and drawings.
"There it is!" Harry said, pointing toward the page. There was a crude hand drawing of a nesting dragon, with two larger dragons flying above. The larger dragons were breathing fire at one another, and where the flames met, an enormous roiling ball of fire was suspended in the sky. The drawing included a hand-written note: Observed by the wizard Trobor in the year 1100.
"Spectacular conflagration is right," Harry said.
"Look at the scale," Tracey said quietly. "If this is accurate, that explosion is as big as the dragon itself!"
"Not going to be of much use, then," Harry said. "I'm sorry I sent you on this wild goose chase."
"Don't worry about it," Tracey said. "I don't mind. And we know more now than we did last night. Let's see if there's anything else in here that you can use."
Tracey turned back to the front of the book. She continued to read enthusiastically, but Harry was not nearly as engaged. His reading slowed considerably, and he didn't speak up when Tracey began turning pages that Harry hadn't finished. Harry trusted Tracey to find anything useful that could be found, and he was just too frustrated to read everything himself.
Damn. He had really thought that he had something with fighting fire with fire.
*!*!*
The morning of the first task was unlike any other morning that Harry had ever experienced. Harry's stomach was churning, and he felt as if he was constantly on the verge of vomiting. He had a headache, which he suspected was from gritting his teeth together because of tension. He would catch himself clenching his teeth, and force himself to let go, only to discover several minutes later that he was clenching his teeth again. Harry's feet even hurt, probably because he spent the previous night pacing back and forth in the dormitory.
"Harry!" Draco shouted.
Harry's head snapped up. "What?!"
"You've been sitting there for five minutes, starting at your shoe."
Harry looked down. His hands were on his shoelaces, and they were pulled tight, ready to be tied. Apparently, he had gotten lost in his thoughts. Although, Harry couldn't remember what he had been thinking about. Probably dragons.
"HARRY!"
"What!"
"You're doing it again. Tie your shoes."
Harry tied his shoes quickly, before he could become distracted again.
Harry and Draco left the dormitory and entered the common room. The common room was a mess from the previous night. Most of the house had stayed up late, speculating about the task and how Harry would do. Harry had left Draco downstairs to manage the crowd; Harry had been far too nervous to put on a proper social performance.
"Harry!" Tracey waved at Harry across the room. She was dressed in green and silver, and was proudly sporting her 'Potter Stinks' badge. "Let's get you down to breakfast."
"I'm not hungry," Harry said.
"Yes, you are," Tracey said. "You just don't know it."
"I don't want to eat."
"But you must," Tracey said. "Not a lot, but you have to eat something."
"Grrm." Harry was did not like this plan. Putting anything in his stomach seemed like asking for trouble.
"Even just a muffin," Tracey said. She grabbed Harry's arm and began tugging him toward the door. "Let's go."
"No," Harry said petulantly. He might have to compete in the tournament, but he didn't have to eat.
"It might be your last meal," Draco said with a nasty little grin. "You should make it count."
"You are not helping," Tracey said to Draco. Harry had dug his feet into the carpet and was now actively resisting.
"Fine, fine," said Draco. The blonde boy walked behind Harry and began pushing Harry's back. "If Tracey says you have to eat, then you have to eat."
"I really hate you guys sometimes," Harry said, resigning himself to breakfast. Harry stepped forward quickly. Suddenly deprived of resistance, both Draco and Tracey stumbled. Harry stood up and straightened his robes. "Okay. Let's at least pretend that I have some dignity left. To breakfast."
Breakfast seemed like it took an eternity, but an eternity was not nearly long enough. Harry managed to choke down a muffin and some orange juice. As he ate, he looked at the rest of the table. Most of the Slytherins, like Tracey, were wearing their 'Potter Stinks' badges. (Goyle's was on upside-down.) Everybody was wearing green and silver. They seemed to be treating the first task just like a quidditch match. Except in quidditch, nobody got killed or horribly injured.
Actually, that wasn't true. People got horribly injured all the time in quidditch, and the sport had seen more than its share of deaths, but Harry was never afraid of a quidditch match. And Harry was going to be on a broom, today. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad, after all.
As breakfast neared its end, Dumbledore stood at the front of the Great Hall. "If I may have your attention. Students who wish to observe the first task are directed to the Forbidden Forest, which will not be forbidden for the duration of the morning. Please follow your professors and do not stray from the forest path. Champions will please follow their Headmaster or Head of House to the Champions Tent, where you will convene prior to the task."
When Dumbledore finished speaking, nearly everybody in the hall stood and began to move toward the doors. Harry grabbed his juice and took several large drinks, suddenly seized by the fear that he would never eat again.
"Come on, mate," Draco said in an upbeat tone. "Let's go slay a dragon!"
As Harry, Draco and Tracey left the hall, they found Hermione standing near the main doors to Hogwarts. She already had Harry's Firebolt in hand—they had retrieved it from the quidditch shed the day before.
"Ready?" Hermione asked.
"Nope," Harry replied. "But I don't think that matters, now."
"You'll be great," Tracey said. Her voice seemed to be overflowing with confidence.
"You're prepared," Hermione said. "You've practiced flying. You've practiced summoning charms. You've studied dragons. There's nothing more you could have done."
"If you don't survive this, well, I guess you were never meant to see your fifteenth birthday," Draco said.
"Don't be an arse," Hermione said. She and Draco had stopped their acidic comments toward each other, but razor-sharp banter still flew whenever the two were in close proximity.
"I'm trying to make him feel normal," Draco said. "If you keep talking about how horrible things will be, you'll freak him out!"
"Let's just go," Harry said. He had spotted Snape through the crowd. "The more we stand around, the more nervous I get."
Harry and his friends walked over to Professor Snape, who led them to the Forbidden Forest. As they neared the holding pen for the dragons, Harry saw a large tent that had been erected. Behind the tent were enormous bleachers, larger even than those in the quidditch stadium.
Draco and Tracey split off to find seats in the Slytherin section. Draco shook Harry's hand and wished him luck, and Tracey gave Harry a quick hug. Hermione, according to plan, followed Harry for as long as possible with the Firebolt. Snape finally stopped her just outside the tent. "Champions only past this point, Miss Granger," Snape said.
Harry shrugged and pointed at a large rock just outside the stadium. "Wait there," he said. "It'll be an easy spot to focus on."
Hermione nodded. "Good luck, Harry."
"Thanks," Harry said. He waved, then walked into the tournament tent before things could get any more awkward. He kept his eyes to the ground, refusing to meet Snape's gaze.
When Harry arrived in the tent, Fleur Delacour was already present, as was Madame Maxime. Cedric Diggory was sitting in a chair at the side of the tent. Dumbledore was speaking with Ludo Bagman, Mr. Crouch and Percy Weasley at the side of the tent. As Harry got his bearings, Igor Karkaroff and Victor Krum stepped through the tent flap behind him. Snape, apparently, had already left for the stands.
"Good, we're all here!" Bagman exclaimed. "Let's get down to business, shall we?" He stepped forward and held out a small bag. "Inside this bag are four tokens, representing the challenge the four of you will face. Each of you will draw a token, choosing your opponent at random." Bagman shook the bag. "Don't be shy. Come on, then!"
Harry stepped forward. Might as well get this over with.
"Good lad! Reach right in!"
Harry reached into the bag and drew out a token. He didn't look immediately—instead, he watched the faces of his competitors. Nobody reacted when they saw the small dragon in Harry's hand. Harry's suspicion had been correct; the only headmaster who wasn't cheating was Dumbledore.
"Ah, the Swedish Short Snout!" Ludo said.
Harry looked down and saw a blueish gray dragon figure in his hand. A small number "one" hung from its neck.
"Looks like you'll be the first to go, Harry. Who's next?"
Krum drew next, and pulled the Chinese Fireball. Krum would be third. Cedric motion for Fleur Delacoer to draw next; she drew the Welsh Green, and would follow Harry.
"And that leaves you with…" said Ludo.
"The Hungarian Horntail," muttered Harry. Cedric reached into the bag and drew out the Horntail.
"What was that?" said Barty Crouch from across the tent. His head had snapped around, and he was glaring over his shoulder at Harry.
"Just a tickle in my throat," said Harry. Crouch's eyes narrowed, but he turned back to Dumbledore without further comment.
Ludo continued in his cheerful tone. "So, each of you has selected your adversary! Good luck!" Ludo turned away, then quickly turned back. "There was something else I was supposed to tell you…"
"What are we supposed to do?" Harry asked.
"Ah, yes! Your task is to, er, collect the golden egg. That was it. Good luck to you all! Harry, if you will come with me…"
Ludo placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and began to draw him toward the door.
"Bad luck going first," Bagman said. "Judges always hold back the good scores… If you need a tip or two, I can help you, Harry. Nobody will know…"
"No, that's okay," Harry said. Crouch was watching Harry again, glaring across the tent. "I think I have it under control."
Distantly, a whistle blew.
"Goodness!" exclaimed Bagman. "I have to dash! Good luck, Harry! Wait for the second whistle, then come on out." With that, Bagman was gone.
Harry glanced back. Bagman was following Crouch and the three headmasters out of the tent. The other three champions were the only wizards remaining in the tent, and they each looked a little green. Krum was sitting on a stool, staring at the floor, Diggory was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, and Delacour was wringing her hands around her wand. Harry was slightly reassured that everybody was just as intimidated as he… but hot on the heels of that thought was the realization that dragons were intimidating seventh year students, and Harry was only in his fourth year.
Before Harry's thoughts could spiral out of control, the second whistle sounded. As Harry stepped toward the exit of the tent, he heard Bagman's booming voice over the loudspeaker.
"And now, here is our first champion… HARRY POTTER!"