Chapter 42 - Rising Action
Unknown to Pansy, the confrontation was the subject of a discussion between Harry and the Jewels.
"I don't like the girl," Harry was explaining, "but that doesn't mean she deserved to be hit, and especially not for being polite to someone. After all Draco's crap, I just wanted to kill the little prick and be done with it," he admitted embarrassed, "but there were good reasons that stopped me. The first is that he didn't deserve to die over what he did to Pansy, however much it offended me. Second, it would have upset Pansy if I had killed him in front of her, to say nothing of how you girls would have felt about that, and I was angry because Draco had upset her. It would've been totally counterproductive to 'solve' the situation by doing the same thing. Third, of course, it would have caused a lot of trouble and I have no wish to leave you girls because I was sent to prison."
He sighed at the end, him and each of his clones getting hugged close which helped.
"I also didn't want to come into the open like that, I mean, a public showdown in front of hundreds of students from three schools? Hardly the way I was taught to fight, it's more like some Gryffindor stereotype to let them see you coming to attack them, giving your opponents time to attack first. There's a time and a place for that, which is only when you know your opponents cannot hurt your people so the psychological boost is worth the risk. Honour in war lies in protecting your own people. The lives of the enemy aren't as important as the lives of those under you. That's why you have to be sneaky and deceptive in war and never give them a fair fight."
The girls took some time to digest that. For the Slytherins, it was an easy pill to swallow, but harder for the Gryffindors. It was also contrary to what society told them was good and honorable.
Sally-Anne asked one question which had been bothering her. "Harry, you said something that I didn't understand. You told Draco that he would live to regret it. Didn't you mean that he wouldn't live to regret it?"
"No, Sally-Anne, I meant it exactly as I said it. If he died, he would be getting off lightly compared to other things that could be done. Much worse, especially for someone like him, if no one pays him any attention at all, good or bad, if no one cares enough even to yell or shout or hit him. He would be reduced to having to steal food and shelter, utterly alone even in a crowd. No one's pride can survive that for long, and pride is what Draco lives for."
The girls shivered and gave him grateful looks when he started giving out back rubs. They each gladly changed topics, talking about their schoolwork or interests instead. It turned out that Lavender had managed to get the latest essay assigned by Professor Flitwick completed without telling anyone or asking for help, earning her praise for her good work. The others hadn't yet done so, more interested in their other classes.
At about that time, Fleur and Yvette had dropped in, finished with their own classes for the day and grateful for the chance to relax with friends. Harry's other friends also dropped by in pairs or small groups, staying for a time or leaving again, lending a friendly atmosphere to it all.
They had learned of the Allure from the two Veelas and agreed to give the girls a chance, finding that even with them concentrating the effect on Harry, the two beautiful witches still seemed extra attractive. Since they knew it wasn't intentional, the guys and girls didn't have much of a problem with their presence but they still couldn't relax as much as Harry and the Jewels. The Jewels knew that Harry would never give them cause to worry and in a way, the experience with Fleur and Yvette only served to strengthen their bonds.
One side effect of concentrating the Allure that way became apparent to the pair later when Yvette shyly confessed to Fleur before bed that for a week, all her dreams had featured Harry in some way or another. Since they were aboard the Beauxbatons carriage, she had spoken in her native French. Her jaw dropped when Fleur admitted the same had happened to her too, "But I don't see a problem with that."
With the barriers dropped, both of them had heard quite a bit from the Jewels about Harry that they would only share with trusted confidants, especially the bits about how good he was in bed. "I have been dreaming about trying certain things with him, even. And he is certainly handsome." Fleur said with a saucy smile.
That was the night before, and Harry had noted their extra attention to him in the morning. So had the Jewels, and Hermione cornered the pair in the bathroom on their next break. "Alright, Fleur, Yvette. Just what is going on with you and our Harry."
"Nothing, 'Ermione, nothing at all has passed between us." Fleur defended herself from the charge.
"But that's not all, is it," she pressed, "it looks like you want it to. Am I right?"
Fleur was about to deny it but seeing the look in the younger girl's eyes she changed her mind, letting out a long breath which drew Hermione's attention for a second. "Oui. Yes, you are correct. At least, 'e is very 'andsome and kind and ze only man that I 'ave ever known to be completely immune to ze Allure." As she spoke more, her passion grew more along with her French accent.
"There are other good looking ones out there, Cedric Diggory, for example. And he is also kind and helpful."
"Zat is true, yes, but 'e does not 'ave ze, ze spark, ze life, zat 'Arry has. 'E is certainly unique, n'est-ce pas?"
Hermione grinned, "Oh you don't know the half of it, Fleur." Her face shifted to a concerned look. "But aren't you moving rather fast? You haven't even known him a fortnight yet."
"But zere is nothing 'appening between us, and I would not force anything, even if I could." Fleur protested.
"Oh not that, I mean in terms of liking Harry."
"Ah, that. He is a strong man, one who 'as a big heart and a will of iron. Whether 'e knows it or not, it is easy to fall for such a one as 'e." Both French girls nodded and sighed wistfully at that, their accents growing less noticeable as they relaxed.
Hermione blushed. "It is."
After that, the girls finished their business and when the older girls had gone, Hermione started telling the other girls what had been said.
The girls thought about it, and talked about it, when they had the chance. Fleur and Yvette didn't press them. They weren't going to push their way in, and had been much happier since they became friends with the group, even if nothing else happened. They didn't tell Harry about it, as they felt that it was better to keep him as a friend rather than risk pushing him away.
However, these musings were interrupted in the afternoon when all the Champions were pulled from class.
Harry was sitting in Potions, going over antidotes with Leanne, his partner for the lesson, when a knock on the door pulled Snape's attention away from Lily's boy. Colin Creevey, the former stalker, edged into the room of the most feared professor in Hogwarts and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room.
"Yes?" Snape asked curtly.
"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."
Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin.
"Mr Potter has another hour of Potions to complete." Snape coldly informed the visitor. "He will come upstairs when this class is finished."
Colin went pink.
"Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman wants him," he said nervously, "all the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photo graphs. …"
Harry caught Snape's eye, getting a short nod at his unspoken request to speak. "Sir, no one bothered to ask us about taking any photographs. Why should I give them what they want if they are going to be rude about it?"
"Please, he's got to go. All the champions-"
"Very well, very well." Snape snapped in a worse mood than ever. "Potter, leave your things here. I want you back down here later to test your antidote."
"Please, sir — he's got to take his things with him," squeaked Colin, "all the champions —"
"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter — take your bag and go! Miss Moon will have to complete her potion without your assistance."
Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for the door, the picture of reluctance.
"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" said Colin, starting to speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind him. "Isn't it, though? You being champion?"
"No, Colin, it's a burden, just like it was the other times you asked." Harry sighed briefly as the two set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. "What do they want photos for, Colin?"
"The Daily Prophet, I think!"
"Ah." said Harry. "Let's see if their people are smart."
"Good luck!" chirped Colin, ignoring Harry's attitude, when they had reached the right room. Harry knocked on the door and entered alone.
He found himself in a fairly small classroom. Most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle. Three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.
Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. When she spotted Harry, she favoured him with a smile tinged with some amusement, knowing he had no desire to be in the papers.
A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smok ing slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye. Harry noted the way he looked at her, but said nothing.
Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.
"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come … nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment —"
"Excuse me?" Harry asked. "Just what is this ceremony and why did no one bother to ask permission to take photographs? For that matter, why did none of you even tell us?"
"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead." Bagman spoke in the same jovial voice. "The expert's upstairs now with Dum bledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter." Bagman added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet. …"
"Maybe not that small, Ludo." Rita Skeeter was eying up Harry like he was the scoop of a lifetime.
Harry decided to play the stubborn schoolkid here. It wouldn't take much acting given he was already ill-disposed towards the Ministry official who had done all he could to cajole Harry into going along with the deadly Tournament in the first place, despite Harry's opposition..
"Excuse me, Mister Bagman," Harry interrupted, ignoring Skeeter, "but I still have not given my permission for you or anyone else to take photographs of me. As you will recall, I was entered against my will. I only agreed to take part in the Tournament under protest, and I most certainly did not agree to any of these extras."
Harry turned to the reporter from the paper. Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that con trasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled specta cles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.
"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know … to add a bit of color?"
"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is — if Harry has no objection?"
"Of course I object." Harry said instantly.
"But, Harry." Ludo protested.
"What is it with you people using my name without permission, Mr Bagman? Is common courtesy just too hard for you?"
"But you're famous! Everyone knows your name!"
"Everyone knows Mister Dumbledore's name, too." Harry swiftly rejoined.
"Please, Mr Potter, everyone is expecting to see you."
"No, Mr Bagman. I never asked for this fame and I don't see why I have to put up with it. Now, I may consent to take part in this Wand Weighing if it is a vital part of this Tournament. I can not consent to photographs or interviews with Miss Skeeter here."
Turning to the woman in the eye-searing robes, he added regretfully, "Miss Skeeter, I have an arrangement with Mr Smudgley if I wish to talk to your paper. He said I would be insulting him if I talked to another reporter instead. He was most insistent about that!"
"But without a quote from the Champions, who will read my article?" Rita cried tears, certain that would sway him.
"Oh, I will, I assure you, Miss Skeeter, and all my friends," he gave her an innocent smile, "but then, I'm just a schoolkid, Miss Skeeter. I didn't want to be in this tournament at all." Harry laid bait for her, figuring to distract her.
"Did you know it's been two weeks and I still haven't heard anything about the investigation they promised to make about how my name was put in. Whoever did it managed to outwit all the security, too. I think people ought to know about that, don't you, Miss Skeeter? Retired Auror Moody even said this was an attack aimed at me."
Rita conceded the argument to Harry for now. Besides, she would have other chances at him, and he had just thrown her the idea for a juicy scandal. She could milk it for weeks, throwing in lots of names as possible suspects and slinging mud at whoever she wanted. And then, when it was proved to be all rubbish, she could turn around and blame the paranoid ex-Auror instead for starting a panic.
It wouldn't stop her from dragging the young man through the mud, of course, but she might not do everything to him, and he had earned himself a reprieve for now.
Ludo Bagman, on the other hand, was horrified but powerless to stop the avalanche that Harry had started. He knew he could never outwit Rita Skeeter which was why he had been trying to give her what she wanted in the hope that she wouldn't go after him.
He was cheered up as any further opportunity for the witch to make trouble was curtailed by the arrival of the Headmasters of the three schools and lastly Mr Ollivander, whom Harry still remembered with exasperation.
"May I introduce Mr Ollivander," said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table, "he will be checking your wands to ensure they are in good condition before the tournament."
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.
Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.
"Hmmm …" he said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.
"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches … inflexible … rosewood … and containing … dear me …"
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur proudly, "one of my grandmuzzer's."
"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair my self, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands … however, to each his own, and if this suits you …"
Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently check ing for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.
"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order." Mr. Olli vander dismissed her, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."
Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her before sitting next to Harry.
"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I re member it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particu larly fine male unicorn … must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quar ter inches … ash … pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition. … You treat it regularly?"
"Polished it last night." Cedric said, grinning.
Harry rolled his eyes at Cedric and bit his tongue. Here was prime grade material handed to him on a silver platter and he couldn't use it. At least, not for the moment. As he waited for his own turn, he considered which wand to show the creepy old man even as he hoped his friend's words didn't come back to haunt him.
Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."
Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.
"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I … however …"
He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.
"Yes … hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees … quite rigid … ten and a quarter inches … Avis!"
The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.
"Good." Mr. Ollivander handed Krum back his wand. "Which leaves … Mr. Potter."
Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.
"Aaaah, yes," said Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleam ing, "yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
Harry could remember too. He could remember it as though it had happened yesterday. The old bastard had whined like a petulant child when his customers had the nerve to want extra wands, never mind that they were quite prepared to pay for them. No, Ollivander was too much the prima donna, concerned about his art or some such rot.
Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry. "This wand is in perfect condition. In fact-" Ollivander broke off frowning. "Why haven't you been using my wand?" he demanded.
"I have been using the wand I bought from you, sir."
"Oh, yes, you have been using it for some classes, but not all of them!"
"Of course not."
"But, without a wand, how could you perform the work?" Ollivander moaned.
"Who said I didn't have a wand, sir? If you remember 'well', then you know that I was going to get another wand elsewhere. I did."
"Show me, Mr Potter. Show me this other wand of yours." Ollivander could have put the Malfoys out of business with his sneer.
Harry made sure to recover his holly and phoenix feather wand first before getting out the dogwood and dragon heartstring wand which was likewise taken by the wandmaker and examined very closely. A quick spell produced party streamers from the end and it was clear Ollivander was very reluctant to pronounce it fit for use. "Ah, one of Kiddell's productions. It is adequate, I suppose, and certainly has seen more use than my wand has. Very well, it too passes inspection.
"Nevertheless, it is an insult to me that you would prefer another wand, Mr Potter."
"Is this your challenge to a duel, Mr Ollivander? If not, I have had more than enough of your insults, too. There is no law or regulation against owning multiple wands nor did Mr Kiddell take issue with making money. Both wands work for me."
Harry noticed that Cedric looked conflicted. He seemed unhappy that Harry was challenging Ollivander's pet peeve. The others who had gone to Hogwarts, and presumably had wands from there, also looked like they wanted to take Ollivander's side. Fleur, Viktor, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff on the other hand were taking Harry's side. If he had to guess, part of it was a dislike for the English wandmaker and his disparaging remarks. With Fleur, he felt that their friendship was the bigger part of it.
To Cedric, he added, "I came to Diagon Alley to get my supplies, the same as anyone else before their first year. When we wanted to get our wands, we tried going to Ollivander's and he was rude, surly, creepy, arrogant and refused to treat us with any respect. After getting just the one wand each there, we headed to the other wand shop where the shop owner was glad to have our business, found good matches quickly and wished us a good day as we left.
"Mr Ollivander may know his wands, but I won't buy from him again if I have the choice."
Rita Skeeter was almost drooling at this news. Sure it was over three years old, but no one else had beat her to the story of the Boy-Who-Lived's brush with Garrick Ollivander. She didn't notice Harry retrieve his wand but then again, Ollivander took a little while to notice that fact too and he had been holding it in his hands.
Destroying Ollivander's reputation, though, the very thought of puncturing his over-inflated ego made her loins stir. Yes, with the Boy-Who-Lived not actually wanting his fame, it made it almost boring to skewer him with her quill, but oh how he was lining up juicy targets for her and he didn't even know it!
While Rita fondly imagined that her acting skills were up to the task, Harry could easily guess her train of thought very closely. By putting so many other people in her sights, people who one way or another deserved her treatment, she would find it harder to muster up the interest to go after him or his friends, two of whom were Champions in the Triwizard Tournament.
Cedric and Ludo though were looking mollified now that they had been let in on the secret, as it were. Actually, Harry had thought Cedric already knew about his backup wand, but obviously not. Well, Cedric was a nice guy and all, but he was far too trusting and oblivious in some ways, an innocent.
As for Ludo, Harry figured the guy was mostly glad that Rita would be going after someone other than him in her articles.
"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table and drawing everyone's attention back to him. "You may go back to your lessons now — or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end —"
Feeling that at least something had gone right in this affair, Harry got up to leave, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"
"Er — yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon the future articles she would write. "And then perhaps some individual shots."
The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast every one else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum, whom Harry would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. Harry, though, made sure that he was always in the least noticeable place in the single shot he allowed. And if he happened to make the photographer's hand slip while taking the photograph? Well, that was just a bonus.
The photographer seemed keen to get the photogenic Fleur at the front naturally, but Rita Skeeter kept trying to drag Harry into greater prominence, though she always failed. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champi ons, only to have Harry disappear when it was time for his.
As Fleur told her when Rita complained, "'E did tell you he would not appear in any photographs. Harry Potter does not like his fame. Au revoir." She left with a smile, knowing that she would be in the photographs no matter what Miss Skeeter thought. It was one of the good things about being a Veela, knowing that she was beautiful without the normal self-doubt.
The next morning, Harry was mildly surprised that the Daily Prophet wasn't carrying the article on the Wand Weighing Ceremony. Their silence only lasted until the evening when the headline screamed
"THE CHAMPION WHO WASN'T"
The front page article was devoted to Harry Potter, and reports of his unwilling entry into the deadly Triwizard Tournament. They covered several of his previous encounters with danger, including the public version of what happened with Slytherin's Basilisk and the assault of Dementors on the Quidditch Pitch. They ended with a suggestion that maybe someone had used the Tournament as cover for an effort to get rid of the teen wizard who had brought down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while only a baby.
Harry saw that it was written by Andy Smudgley, the same reporter he had dealt with before, upholding his side of their deal to report true things about Harry Potter in exchange for preferential treatment when the Boy-Who-Lived wanted to find a reporter to tell people anything.
Skeeter's article on the Tournament itself wasn't all positive towards Harry, however, as it painted him as a stubborn boy who refused to follow the Ministry representative's instructions regarding the Tournament, rather than someone quite rightly refusing to take part in a deadly sport. There was even a suggestion that he was a coward trying to hide from danger, though it was fairly subtle by the paper's standards.
Harry had already resolved to write to Smudgley to deal with the attack on his character, now in a stronger negotiating position thanks to his political and economic connections. He didn't anticipate needing to use those in his dealings, as Smudgley was already abiding by the terms of a deal that gave him effectively exclusive rights to articles on the hottest commodity in Magical Britain. No, all Harry really wanted to do was to find out how to get rid of Skeeter from his life, and he anticipated Smudgley would be happy to cooperate with him in order to get one over his own competitor.
Still, there was a silver lining to Skeeter's article for Harry, as the comments about him were lost in a flood of accusations Rita had unleashed on the Ministry, Dumbledore and the foreigners and the usual list of targets. It seemed more that Rita was incapable of letting anyone get mentioned in her articles without an insult or lie printed about them.
Indeed, when only the few students who read the entire article even saw the slurs, and those few were the more intelligent or suspicious, or already Harry's friends, who rejected them outright, Harry found he didn't have to worry about the accusations. That didn't mean he would forgive the witch for her unprovoked attacks.
Harry's friends had noticed the comments about Harry and weren't happy with Skeeter, including Madam Bones who took a dim view of any attacks on her family and friends. There wasn't much they could do yet, however. Harry had sent off a letter to his contact, asking for advice and had readied a quote to use if that turned out to be a good idea, just in case.
The whole affair died unnoticed, though, with Skeeter concentrating her efforts on other targets. Harry and Fleur spent some time talking about the Tournament and ideas for the first task. Harry still wasn't worried too much. At worst, he would use a Replacement technique to swap out with one of his clones.
Harry's laid back approach came to a screeching halt when one of his clones noticed some wizards setting up a large enclosure off to the side of the Forbidden Forest. The clone snuck up close to them and listened in, hearing them talk about their work. He froze in place and almost got caught when they mentioned bringing dragons to Hogwarts for the Tournament. Worse, nesting mother dragons, the most territorial and vicious of the breeds, and bringing a Hungarian Horntail, to boot. According to their gossip, she wasn't just the worst of the ones they brought, but the worst breed that lived. It could shoot fire at a range of forty feet. All of the dragons though were far stronger than the wizards, however, who had chosen to keep them drugged up for the journey. Their arrival was impressive, coming down out of the darkness in huge crates and chained up tight. Harry noted their size and strength, and their bad tempers when awoken prompting the thirty or so handlers to fire stunners en masse.
The next morning when Harry got the memories, he and his clones each gave a heartfelt "Fuck!" wherever they were. Hermione, reading his emotions, decided to cheer him up by taking it as a suggestion, and she was moaning his name five minutes later. Afterwards, she suggested they all meet to discuss whatever it was. Harry, bonelessly relaxed in her arms, agreed, and he met with the Jewels in the Room of Requirements after breakfast.
"Dragons?!" Ginny screeched. It was hard to blame her, really. "Why the hell hasn't Charlie told us that's why he's back in the country? Oh yes, that certainly was that red haired wizard you saw, Harry. He's mentioned a few times that he was the only redhead at the dragon reservation where he worked."
"Ok, you can ask him yourself later, Ginny," Tracey told her firmly, "right now, we have more important things to worry about, like what will Harry do when he has to face one?"
All eyes turned to the green-eyed man.
"Well, one thing I won't do is give it a fair fight. I'll try to avoid killing it if I get the choice, they're supposed to be fairly intelligent and I'd really rather not kill a mother trying to protect her children." He shuddered in revulsion. "Still, if it comes down to a choice, I will make sure I come back to you."
"That's good, Harry," Cho smiled, "but I think we would all feel better if we knew you had a plan for how to go about it."
"From what I saw, they're obviously strong and heavy, as well as resistant to Stunning Spells. It took half a dozen to put down each dragon. They aren't that fast, however, nor are they especially tricky or stealthy. And while strong, the chains they were using were enough to overcome that.
"That gives me a lot of options. I can use wires to tie it up, try the various swords and so on to cut it down or hamstring it, try illusions to distract it, or some of the elemental techniques. I might try some of that Sleeping Draft they used to keep them knocked out on the way over, if I can find out how much I need and get it shipped or made in time, except that I'm not supposed to bring any magical item with me.
"Of them all, I'd like to use wires first. They're great for restraints and I can throw them like I was using an Incarcerous spell on the dragon. We'll know I wasn't using magic, but it will at least look magic enough that the crowd and the judges shouldn't complain. If those fail, I have enough speed to give me the time to use something else, like the illusions and the cutting weapons. That's three options right there, each of which should work."
He looked around at the girls he loved, letting them examine his idea for flaws while he cuddled with them. They talked it over for half an hour before Megan had a thought.
"What about the others, Harry? They can't know about this yet, and they'll be in far more danger than our big, strong man." Megan grinned as she rubbed Harry's arms and back.
Harry grinned back at her for a second. "You're right, they weren't there last night unless they managed to fool my clone and the dragon handlers. I'd be happy to tell Cedric and Fleur, of course, but should I tell Krum?"
While Krum was admired for his flying, little else recommended him to the group. He was just as grumpy as ever and had been dismissive of the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students. While he was at least a little better about the Champions, he seemed to believe that he would naturally be better than them. That hadn't stopped the Bulgarian from spending a lot of time in the library, studying up on things that could be useful for the Tournament. Unfortunately for the Ravenclaws and Harry's friends, that drew groups of giggling girls trying to spy on him and disrupting the peaceful environment.
Sophie spoke up, "I think you should offer it in exchange for a favour, Harry. This is knowledge that could save his life, so it has significant value to him. Giving it away to someone unfriendly seems wrong, too. Why should he get to behave poorly and still get the same benefit as people who put in the effort to be nice?"
That question stopped the more Hufflepuff reaction of wanting to share the information freely from their sense of fair play, making them think more about what actually was fair in this instance.
Sue Li took up the thread, "I agree. He's made it quite clear he doesn't want us lesser beings around, he has those giggling girls following him and making it impossible to study in the library in peace, he doesn't want to make this a friendly competition. Why not give him what he wants?"
They eventually agreed, some reluctantly, that Sophie's idea had merit. After they broke up their snugglefest, Harry sought out Fleur and Cedric, finding Fleur with Yvette as expected and guiding the pair to a disused classroom.
"Oh Mr Potter," Fleur giggled, "taking ze two of us to zis place and locking ze door. Whatever do you have een mind?"
Harry smiled briefly at their flirting. "Nothing so fun, ladies, I apologise. It's about the First Task."
"Oh, what is it, 'Arry?" Fleur had sobered up fast at his serious manner.
"I found out what we're going to be facing when one of my clones investigated the presence of some wizards I had never seen before. They brought in nesting mother dragons, Fleur, and we're going to have to face them. I'm not sure yet what we'll have to do, mainly because the handlers don't seem too sure themselves. They did mention being glad we didn't have to fight them, though, just get past them or something."
Fleur's legs couldn't hold her up at that revelation, collapsing into a chair that Harry hurriedly fetched for her. "Merde!" she swore, reverting to French in her shock. "What happened to making sure this tournament wasn't deadly?!"
"I don't know, Fleur," Harry replied in the same language, "however, I am not that surprised. Hogwarts isn't what I would consider safe. As you know, Mountain Trolls, killer plants, bait for thieves or Dark Wizards, all in my first year here. Second year I had the hundreds of Acromantulas and the Basilisk. Last year it was a hundred Dementors. Compared to that, a single dragon isn't so bad."
"But this is only the First Task. What will they throw at us in the other two?" Fleur cried.
"Whatever it is, I am willing to help you if you wish," Harry offered. "I have already defeated other Class XXXXX creatures and at least the dragons only seem to be big, tough and magic resistant. That's better than something that kills you with its eyes or its poison, or something that's listed as unkillable."
"This is true,' Yvette put in, trying to help cheer up her best friend. "I think you should accept his offer, Fleur."
"Perhaps," Fleur agreed, "though I had wanted to use this Tournament to prove myself. Harry, would you be willing to wait until I ask for help?"
"Of course, Fleur, though if it looks like you're in too much danger, may I step in anyway? I wouldn't want to lose a good friend if there's no need." Harry smiled. "You can do the same for me, if you like."
Fleur rolled her eyes and returned to speaking English. "I have seen enough to know you are unlikely to need my help, 'Arry Potter. Still, zank you for ze thought. Ok, I will accept your offer, and thank you very much for making it."
"Anything for a friend."
"Speaking of your friends, are you not going to offer to help Cedric?"
"Of course I am, but he's got class now so I'll have to catch him later."
The French girls took down the privacy spells, returning to their walk around the castle, while Harry headed back to his friends. He had sent a note to Cedric asking for a private meeting when they were both free later that day, and Cedric turned very pale on hearing about the dragons.
Harry made the same offer to help out, making Cedric grin. "I'm not helpless, you know. Besides, how would it look if I had to get help from you when you're not only younger than me, but you've been complaining about even being in the Tournament?"
"Better than if you got badly hurt," Harry countered, "still, mate, it's your choice. You're a good friend and I wouldn't feel right if I didn't try. Besides, you'd do the same for me, I know it."
Cedric smiled. "Thanks, Harry. I do get it, but I should be fine. You can step in if it's a real emergency, I guess, though I'd prefer it if no one had to know. It's hard enough convincing people I'm a real Champion without them seeing me being rescued by you."
"Fair enough, and I'll do what I can," Harry offered.
"Thanks, mate."
Harry then wandered over towards the Library but got stopped just outside the Hufflepuff section of the castle.
"Harry!" Justin called out from the group of guys.
Heading over to his friends to see what they wanted, they walked him into a classroom and put up the best privacy spells they could on the walls, floor and ceiling.
"Hey, Harry. Something happened this morning that had you swearing. Is everything alright? You said you would tell us after breakfast. So, what's up?"
"I did say that, didn't I? I found out last night what stunt they're pulling for the First Task of this thing. There are four dragons in a large pen out in the Forbidden Forest. They breathe fire and everything. From what I overheard, each of them are nesting mother dragons, all different breeds ranging from a Welsh Green to a Hungarian Horntail, the deadliest variety of all."
"So, Harry, what's the plan?" Wayne asked, confident that Harry could do it.
"I figured I would use a few things from my other bag of tricks." Harry smiled at his fellow Hufflepuff.
"Oh? A big fireball technique?" Ernie asked as his inner pyromaniac came out to play.
"How about a water dragon? Water cancelling fire and all of that." Terry Boot offered.
"Or wind blades?" Michael Corner asked with a bit of pleading. Invisible blades were cool.
"No, if he cuts up the dragon then the handlers will be upset. Minister Fudge might try charging Harry for killing it, or at least want someone else to pay to replace it."
"Guys, we haven't heard from Harry yet." Justin pointed out with a grin. Instantly, a dozen heads turned in Harry's direction.
"It's no big secret, well, not from you I mean. You see, I was watching the way that the handlers used ropes and so on. So I figured Plan A would be to use some ninja wires. They're tough and almost unbreakable and I can guide them with my chakra to wrap around whichever dragon I get. If it works the way I think it will, the dragon will be immobile and couldn't breathe fire on me. If it fails, I move onto Plan B."
"What's Plan B?" Neville asked nervously.
"That's where I use Illusions of myself moving to one side while I sneak up on it from another angle. I don't think they'll tell us to kill the dragon. They're valuable beasts as well as very hard to kill. Still, whatever their idea is, an Illusion should help if it works."
"And if that fails?"
"If that fails, I bring out the swords and knives and dodge like mad." Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "It might be a little harder to do that without revealing more abilities, but better to lose the advantage of surprise than to lose my life."
"That is why you keep these things in reserve." Kevin said with the others agreeing.
The Ravenclaw turned the conversation onto lighter things after that.
The last Champion Harry found in the Library as usual. He was also the only one who was suspicious of Harry's motives in asking for a private meeting. Harry nearly had to swear a binding Oath to get Krum to agree so he wasted no time once they were alone, wanting to get this over with already.
"I have information you need, Krum. In exchange, I want something from you. Since the information could help save your life, the payment would have to be in proportion."
"Vat is this information?" Krum demanded.
"It is regarding the Tournament. I discovered something about it that you need to know."
"Zen give it to me, Potter."
"Not without an agreement from you." Harry replied firmly. "You have been rude and offensive since you got here, so there is no way I will tell you for free. If you want the information, you will have to pay for it."
"But I heard you telling that Headmistress you don't need the money from the Tournament." Krum complained.
"You're right, I don't need the money. But you do need the information. So you can find a way to pay for it or you can miss out on it."
"I don't carry around great sums of money, Potter. How can I pay vithout that?"
Harry appeared to consider the matter. "You could swear to owe me a favour equivalent to how valuable the information is to you."
Krum was suspicious but agreed, swearing the Oath correctly on the second try after he tried to fake the first one.
"Dragons. They're putting each of us up against dragons for the First Task. Class XXXXX creatures, one each. There are four different varieties but they're all nesting mothers, including the most dangerous breed, the Hungarian Horntail."
Krum turned paler than usual, nodding. "You vere right, Potter. I did need that information. It was a bargain well made." He sketched a short bow, obviously unaccustomed to having to thank anyone.
They parted ways at that, Harry more than glad to be back among his friends.
A couple of days before the task, Harry's clone on watch saw Hagrid escorting Madame Maxime to the enclosure at midnight. Karkaroff had followed them, fairly quietly for a wizard, and also saw the dragons. The next morning at breakfast, Fleur gave Harry a grin, indicating she had been told by her Headmistress, while Krum glared at Harry though he was at least a little glad at being able to impress Karkaroff by already knowing the secret.
Harry ignored Krum's unhappiness, however. He didn't lie or force the Bulgarian to accept the deal and after Krum tried to cheat him, any sympathy for him vanished.
Friday night, Fleur discussed with Yvette a number of things in their shared compartment as she tried to relax before the task. In the end, Yvette just reminded her that if she got into serious trouble, she would still have Harry looking out for her. Fleur laughed and agreed, but the reminder did its job, helping her get ready to sleep at last.
Cedric stayed up, practising spells for his strategy, helped by a few of the other Sixth Years.
Krum ate a hearty dinner and some restorative potions that were advertised to get body and magic in top condition.
And Harry found himself comforting his loves more than they comforted him, reassuring them that he would be fine and would be sure to get out of danger.
When the day of the First Task dawned, the students got up earlier than usual and headed to the Great Hall to talk with their friends about the Tournament. Harry's friends were no different, wanting to give the three Champions Fleur, Cedric and of course Harry their support.
Support in the school was mostly for Harry, despite his best efforts to promote the others, as he was the most popular and the most famous. Draco's camp in Slytherin were behind Krum because he was a Pureblood and the two English Champions were unpalatable to them.
Fleur had a sizable following, not much behind Harry's, due to her beauty (and Allure) and her acceptance by Harry as a friend thus making her safe in their eyes.
And Cedric had the third largest base, mostly among the older girls who found his boyish looks and nice guy outlook appealing, and among the boys who resented Harry's good fortune with the girls, even 'bagging' Fleur.
There were no clear House lines in the divisions apart from Krum's small following, so the betting and gossiping was reaching a fever pitch, despite few of the gamblers knowing what the task would entail. Harry's friends, who did know, had refused to bet against him, but by the same token, they weren't sure how the judges would react to Harry's tactics.
There were no other topics of conversation of any note at lunchtime, either. When Professor McGonagall came down to the Hufflepuff table, she caught the eye of the three Champions sitting there. Lots of students at the other table were watching her every step of the way.
"Miss Delacour, Mr Diggory, Mr Potter, the Champions have to come down onto the grounds now. You have to get ready for the First Task."
Minerva had yelled at Albus in private over the fiasco with Harry being named, but her hands were tied. He couldn't be removed from it and she wouldn't risk his health by trying to help him with the tasks. She had to trust that his parents' training would make up the difference in age and education with the other Champions, and that none of them got seriously hurt.
Her confidence in the Headmaster had been slipping further and further since the summer the previous year, and she didn't know if it could fall any further.
She gave the Champions a reassuring nod then waited for them to finish their meals before leading the trio to a tent erected nearby the dragons' enclosure. With the other students out of sight, Minerva gave Harry a smile and a "Good luck" before allowing him to follow Cedric into the tent.
Harry smiled back, "Thank you." He understood that she had wanted to help out but held back because of the risk to him. She had taken the time to talk to him of his parents' time in Hogwarts and various incidents showing their creativity. It was as close as she was willing to go to the edge of risking crossing over into breaking the rules given the supposed danger to Harry. While only mildly useful, it was entertaining and wonderful in its own right to hear more about the family stolen from him.
"It's time." Minerva told herself as she followed in the young man.
In the tent, Harry smiled at Fleur and Cedric who smiled back.
"Harr- Mr Potter! Good-o!" Bagman boomed out happily, ignoring the tension in the students. "Come in, come in! Now that we are all here - time to fill you in!"
Harry wondered if the man was able to realise how big a fool he appeared being so jovial. He shelved the thought as Bagman spoke more.
"When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" - he held up a small purple silk bag and shook it at them - "from which you will select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too... ah, yes ... your task is to collect the golden egg!"
Krum nodded grumpily, while Fleur and Cedric relaxed fractionally. While they trusted Harry's information, there was still the fear that they would be asked to fight the dragons after all. Harry gave his own short nod to show he understood the instructions.
A minute later, the thundering of hundreds of feet passed near the tent, the chattering of excited voices, students laughing and joking as they headed to the seating set up for the audience.
No sooner had they passed than Bagman opened up his sack. "Ladies first," he said as he offered it to the beautiful girl.
Fleur reached in and withdrew a perfect model of a Welsh Green with the number two around its neck. Next Bagman offered it to Viktor Krum who pulled out a miniature Chinese Fireball with the number three. Cedric was next, getting a Swedish Short-Snout and the number one. That just left the Horntail to Harry who pulled his out with no evidence of surprise, disappointing Bagman who had wanted to see some reaction to pulling out the most dangerous of the bunch.
"Well, there you are!" said Bagman with more of his unwelcome joviality. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, you see? Now, I'm going to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now, Harry, could I have a quick word? Outside?"
Harry just ignored the man at that point. If he remembered to call him Mr Potter, then he would reply. Instead, Harry just chatted with Fleur and Cedric, helping to calm their own nerves with his display of confidence.
After several tries, Minerva who had been watching took pity on the man. "Mr Bagman, I think you will find that if you remember your manners, Mr Potter will listen to you."
Ludo went a little red at that but kept his anger from going any further. "Mr Potter?"
"Yes, Mr Bagman?"
"Would you come outside for a quick word?"
"A very quick one, I suppose. After all, you have the commentating to do, don't you?" Harry asked sweetly.
Bagman groaned and nodded and led them a short distance away into the trees, pasting on a fatherly expression. "Now, feeling alright, Harry? Anything I can get you?"
"Yes, as it happens. A way out of this ridiculous situation. It's nothing you haven't promised to give me before, mind you." Harry's reply could have cut bank vaults.
"Yes, well, um, I - I just wanted to ask if you have a plan. I don't mind sharing pointers, if you'd like them." Bagman was clearly nervous. None of this had been going to plan. "I mean, you're the underdog, Harry. Anything I can do to help."
"Do tell." Harry encouraged him, suspecting this might be one way to get some revenge on the man. Betting on a competition he was judging was illegal in Great Britain, and he was willing to bet that it would at least cause a scandal in Magical Britain too.
"Well, I mean, I-" Fortunately, or unfortunately, the whistle blew at that moment and Bagman cried in alarm "Good lord, I've got to run!" as he hurried off.
The First Task of the Triwizard Tournament was starting.
Thank you for reading.