A Study in Magic
by Books of Change
Warning/Notes: This is a BBC Sherlock and Harry Potter crossover AU. The HP timeline and BBC Sherlock's timeline has been shifted forwards and backwards to match up. One major BBC Sherlock character's gender has changed for the sake of the plot. The story was planned and written before season 2 (but incorporating elements of thereof as much as possible). Readers beware!
Chapter Fifty Seven: The First Filming
Hermione felt like a solider about to face her first battle without the benefit of a General when she joined Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville at the Gryffindor common room. Her anxiety mushroomed after they went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, because it became very clear the boys' plan for the task filming merely encompassed: 1) meet Percy, 2) go to dragon enclosure and 3) film task and check map.
"Ron, you have to introduce us to everyone from the ministry so we can get their names," Hermione hissed. "And I do mean everyone."
"I know. Don't nag," Ron snapped whilst munching on his bacon.
"Do you know when Percy's going to be here?" Hermione asked again.
"Uh…"
"Call him now."
"Fine," Ron grumbled, digging into his pocket.
"Harry, do you have the map?" Hermione asked, turning her attention to him.
Harry, much to Hermione's relief, wordlessly pulled out a folded piece of old parchment from his messenger bag and handed it over.
"What about your camera equipment?" Hermione asked as she tucked the map in her notebook.
Harry's jaw dropped slightly. "I don't know, I forgot."
The relief Hermione felt earlier vanished.
"You need them right now! We won't have the time to go and fetch them after morning classes!"
"I'll check the Music Room," Harry promised.
"You better," said Hermione furiously.
Julia joined them at the Gryffindor table. Besides her usual tote, Julia was carrying a small padded bag, which she gave to Harry.
"What's this?" Harry asked.
"The cameras," said Julia, gifting Hermione a bout of gratifying relief. "Keep the cameras in it when you're not using them. Oh, and you'll need your broom for the aerial shots."
The look on Harry's face made it obvious it hadn't occurred to him to think about aerial shots.
"Oh. Right," he muttered.
They went to their morning classes afterwards. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure—though of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there. In fact, the members of the OBH were likely the only students who knew what to expect.
Hermione, Harry, Ron and Neville talked how one could face a dragon alone armed with only his/her wand as they sat through History of Magic as soon as their fellow Gryffindors were soundly asleep.
"I have no idea how the champions are going to tackle them; their hides are supposed to be imbued with ancient magic so spells can't penetrate…"
"Yeah, you should've seen how many people it took to just stun them. So that rules out the Stunning Spell…"
"Well, there are Switching Spells… but what's the point of switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs for wine gums or something that would make it less dangerous…The trouble is, like you said, not much is going to get through a dragon's hide … I'd say Transfigure it, but something that big, you really haven't got a hope, and I doubt even Professor McGonagall … unless you're supposed to put the spell on yourself? Maybe to give yourself extra powers? But they're not simple spells, I mean, we haven't done any of those in class, I only know about them because I've been doing O.W.L. practice papers…"
The six of them had a hasty lunch of sandwiches after their second morning classes. They then left the Great Hall to meet Percy. On their way across the Entrance Hall, Hermione reminded Harry that he still hadn't fetched his broom.
"Are you not doing aerial shots?" asked Hermione.
"Oh, I will," said Harry.
"But we haven't the time to…"
Harry lifted his wand in lieu of answering.
"Accio Firebolt!" he cried.
There was a pause. Then they heard something speeding through the air behind them. Hermione turned around and saw a broomstick hurtling toward Harry from the marble stairway, soaring into the entrance hall and stopping dead in midair beside him. Harry put the broom on his shoulder and gave Hermione an ironic look.
"Cheeky," Hermione huffed, while her other friends chuckled.
They spotted Percy Weasley at the bottom of the stone steps outside. Percy, who was wearing brand-new robes of navy blue for the occasion, had a smug look that made Ginny mutter (loudly) that he ought to be fined for it.
"I've been promoted," Percy said before anyone asked, and from his tone, he might have been announcing his election as the new Minister of Magic. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant. That's how I'm here at all."
"Has he stopped calling you Weatherby?" asked Ron snidely.
Percy shot Ron an ugly look. Then after taking a long, dignified breath, Percy led them towards where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest. Throughout the trek, Percy talked nonstop about his job.
"Mr. Crouch has needed an assistant for long time. Hardly surprising—he's overworked. He's not as young as he was— though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and he's been under constant scrutiny since Sirius Black turned himself in… he was above reproach, of course. He even dismissed his house-elf for allowing an intruder inside his home. But, well, as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since the elf left. And then we had the tournament to arrange, and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with— that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around— no, he deserves a break. I'm just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon."
They walked into the forest. As they approached a thick clump of trees, Harry pointed at the tent screening the enclosure. Its entrance was facing towards them.
"The champions are going to wait inside the tent until the task starts," Percy explained. "You can film them after you meet everyone from the ministry."
"Will we get to see Mr. Crouch?" asked Harry.
"I don't think so," said Percy pompously. "He's very busy. He's one of the judges, you know."
Harry turned around and shrugged. Hermione sighed through her nose. She supposed it wasn't a disaster; they already knew what Crouch looked like and knew his name, having met him at the World Cup.
They passed by the tent. Over thirty wizards and witches were standing before the enclosure, Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman among them. Crouch looked his usual self, his toothbrush moustache perfectly trimmed, hair parted unnaturally straight and robes immaculate. Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing next to the grim and severe Crouch and before the harassed-looking Ministry workers and dragon keepers. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again.
"There they are!" said Bagman happily, waving.
"I hope we aren't late, Mr. Crouch," said Percy breathlessly.
"You are not," said Crouch dryly. "Thank you, Weatherby."
Percy turned pink. Ron clamped his mouth shut in a desperate effort to not snigger. Ginny had to kick him in order to remind him what he was supposed to do.
"… Hello, we're from the OBH," said Ron very seriously after recovering. "I'm Ron Weasley, the assistant director. These are my friends Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter…"
As soon as he said Harry's name, the vast majority of ministry workers and dragon keepers squawked and pointed. Then they clamoured around Harry to shake his hand, ignoring everyone else. Ginny and Julia rolled their eyes at this rather typical reaction to meeting Harry Potter, and Neville's sympathy to Harry's plight was plain on his open face. The only exception was Ron; Hermione couldn't help but notice he looked very hurt and perhaps even a bit angry.
Then Hermione heard the ministry workers say their names and started jotting them down, trying her best to look like she wasn't.
"Bartholomew Bellentine, Mr. Potter; it's an honour to meet you in person!" said a burly, square-jawed wizard.
"Quintin Switch, Mr. Potter; delighted to see you!" said a tall, sinewy wizard who had a mass of floppy brown hair.
"Alfred Jackson, Mr. Potter! I always wanted to shake your hand!" said dark-skinned wizard with dreadlocks.
This went on for several minutes. Quintin Switch and another witch kept coming back for another handshake. Charlie Weasley gave Ron and Ginny a rueful and slightly embarrassed smile as his colleagues continued to crowd around poor Harry. Soon, Crouch had enough.
"We're pressed on time, gentlemen, and there are charges you need attending to," he barked impatiently. "I also need to explain the rules."
Switch shook Harry's hand one last time before joining his fellow dragon keepers. Hermione felt dismayed as she hastily put her notebook away. She wasn't confident she'd got all the names, let alone remembered all the faces.
"No one is allowed to enter the enclosure or interfere with the task while a champion is within the premises," said Mr. Crouch, speaking as though he was pronouncing a divine fiat. "The only exception is ministry personnel, who will interfere if the champion's life is in danger." Then, curiously, Crouch glanced at Harry. "I was told you are the cameraman, Potter. That puts you rather close to the source of danger."
"I'll keep my distance," said Harry. "I don't think I'll do a lot of close-ups anyway."
"You will use your broom?"
"For the aerial shots," Harry confirmed, miming a flying broom with his hand.
Mr. Crouch raised an eyebrow. "You are planning to take different kinds of 'shots'."
"Yes…?" said Harry, looking curious.
"I recall," Mr. Crouch said, "that the Magical Mobile Network's World Cup broadcast showed images one can only make if the game was recorded at different locations inside the stadium simultaneously. I assume this is what you are going to do."
"Yes."
"How are you going to do this when you alone are the cameraman?" Mr. Crouch asked in conclusion.
Harry multiplied himself into two without missing a beat. Bagman's jaw dropped and Crouch's eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets.
"…I see," said Mr. Crouch a bit unsteadily, after Harry banished his clones. "Yes, that would work. Your reputation as Hogwarts's best spell-caster is not unfounded." He cleared his throat. "Weatherby, bring the badges."
Percy came forward, solemnly holding up six shiny gold badges hanging on purple lanyards. Each badge had a name engraved on it.
"This is to differentiate you from the other students," Mr. Crouch explained. "Put it on."
Hermione took the badge that had her name on it from Percy and hung it around her neck. The rest of her friends followed suit. Mr. Crouch checked his pocket watch after they were done.
"I need to take my seat at the Judge's panel," he said. "I'll leave the rest to you, Ludo."
"Leave it me, Barty!" said Bagman cheerfully. "I'll be explaining the task procedures to the champions," he said as Mr. Crouch walked away, Percy following him like a devoted terrier, "You should come along! Your customers might want to see the champions' reactions…"
"You lot can go," said Harry, looking at them meaningfully. "Get the really good seats…"
"Yes, of course," said Hermione quickly as she pushed Ron and Neville's backs so they would start moving. "See you later, Harry!"
Harry nodded once, and then followed after Bagman into the tent, taking the camera out as he walked.
"I'm not sure if I got all the names," said Hermione anxiously as they hurried over to the empty audience stands. "I wrote as quickly as I could, but they were crowding around Harry like so many bees, I…"
Julia raised a very familiar-looking smartphone.
"Never rely on your own memory if you can take a video," she said.
"Brilliant!" Hermione breathed. "Oh, this is wonderful! We can reference both the name and face with that!"
"Let's check the map now," said Ginny as they picked up the pace. "Once everyone gets here, there'll be too many names to track."
"You're right," Hermione agreed. "Okay, let's take a look…"
-oo00oo-
Harry looked around as soon as he entered the tent. All three champions were inside already. Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned.
"All right, lady and gentlemen—time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to offer each of you this bag"—he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them— "from which you will each 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!"
Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths. Harry would have felt like that if he were in their shoes…
They waited. In no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, and joking. Harry hovered awkwardly, alternating between directing the camera to the interior of the tent and the goings outside of it. He also wondered if Hermione and the others had found the agent.
Once the audience stand was full, Bagman opened the neck of the purple silk sack.
"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.
She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon — a scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had the number two around its neck. Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.
The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the Hungarian Horntail. It had a number three around its neck. Krum didn't even blink as the miniature model stretched its wings and bared its minuscule fangs; he just sat back down and stared at the ground.
Cedric was last. He put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-grey Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck.
"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "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, do you see? Now, I'm going to have 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. Now Harry, could I have a quick word? Outside?"
"Er…yes," said Harry blankly, and went out of the tent with Bagman, who walked him a short distance away, into the trees, and then turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face.
"So how is the company doing?"
"Good, I guess," said Harry. "Why do you—"
"A lot of new customers?" said Bagman, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "This broadcasting thing is really brilliant, you know, and I don't mind helping you out. I mean," Bagman continued, lowering his voice still further, "I heard you're interested in broadcasting local Quidditch matches. If you need my word of reference…"
"No," said Harry so quickly he knew he had sounded rude, "I mean, no, this isn't something I can decide…"
"But it's a wonderful idea, Harry," said Bagman, winking at him. "It'll bring a lot of profits…"
"No, really," said Harry, wondering why Bagman was pushing the idea, and wondering why he was talking to him about it. "I'm just the cameraman. If you want to talk about this, you should talk to Ron…"
A whistle had blown somewhere.
"Good lord, I've got to run!" said Bagman in alarm, and he hurried off.
Harry returned to the tent just in time to see Cedric emerging from it, greener than ever.
"Good Luck," said Harry.
Cedric opened his mouth, but all that came out of it was a sort of hoarse grunt. Harry felt a deep sense of pity as he watched Cedric walk past on shaking legs. Deciding he should split his attention between the waiting champions, and the dragon enclosure at both ground and air level, Harry duplicated himself into three, sent one clone back to the tent, and joined Cedric's trek through the trees, into the enclosure.
It felt as though he'd entered into a highly coloured dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Swedish Short-Snout, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon Cedric, a horned, scaly, silvery-blue monster, and already letting out sparks of blue flame from its mouth. The crowd was making a great deal of noise and Harry's ears were ringing.
The roar went even further up in volume when Cedric started to move towards the dragon, clutching his wand with bloodless fingers.
Harry watched him go as he sent his other clone to run around the enclosure. Then he swung his leg over his broom and kicked off from the ground.
-oo00oo-
This wasn't possible.
Hermione studied the Marauder's map again, checking every name next to the dots clustered sparsely around the enclosure and periodically looking up to see the terrifying sight of Diggory trying to distract the Swedish Short-Snout with the Labrador he transfigured out from a rock. There was Switch, Jackson, Bellentine …
No. No, matter how many times she checked, all of the names and faces were correct. How?
Hermione brought her MMN phone to her ear.
"Do you see anything?" she asked frantically.
"Nothing," said Julia's voice furiously. "I even looked at the judge's seat, and all the names check out."
Hermione swallowed. What did this mean? Did the maps not work? Was the agent not here? Was Sherlock wrong?
Ron, who had ceased to pay attention to the map the moment he saw the dragon, was staring opened-mouthed at the unfolding task.
"Diggory almost got his head set on fire," he said. "Look—he was really close, too. Ouch!"
Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.
"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."
Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.
"I told you he wouldn't have anything to do. Potter wouldn't let Weasley or Longbottom to anything dangerous or difficult."
Ron didn't answer; the Short-Snout had let out a long jet of blue fire and the Harry on the broom narrowly dodged it, drawing a loud gasp from the crowd.
"You know how I think how Potter choses his friends?" said Malfoy loudly a few seconds later. "It's always people you feel sorry for. See, there's the Weasleys, who've got no money, the Mudbloods, like Granger here— and of course there's Longbottom; he's got no brains."
Ron jumped to his feet. Neville went bright red as he turned to face Malfoy.
"I'd rather be someone Harry feels sorry for than someone who you'd admire, Malfoy," Neville snapped.
"You tell him, Neville," said Ron.
Malfoy let out a derisive laugh.
"Well I suppose being Saint Potter's lackey is better than being nobody," he drawled. "Because really, what else have you got? No magic talent, no wizard family worth mentioning … you two are just tagalongs, leeching off the aftermath of Potter's glory …"
Ron's eye flashed. He reached for his wand.
"Ron!" Hermione said warningly.
"Go on, then, Weasley," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "None of the teachers are here to look—do it, if you've got the guts—"
For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.
"Furnunculus!" Ron yelled.
"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.
Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles— Ron's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione square in face, blinding her.
Hermione heard Goyle bellow as she clutched her mouth, whimpering, as her two front teeth — always larger than average — sent shooting pains into the centre of her skull as she felt them lengthen at a rapid rate.
"Hermione!"
Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Ginny swiftly took his place, blasting Malfoy with her Bat-bogey hex and Crabbe the Leg-locker curse. Hermione fought against Ron's effort to drag her hands away from her face. She didn't know how long her front teeth had got, but she could feel something touching her chin, and that couldn't make a pretty sight.
"You'll pay for this, Malfoy!" Ron roared, doubling back after staring at Hermione's face in horror for a second. "C'mon, let's go," he told Hermione. "There's probably a healing tent somewhere near by…"
Hermione grabbed the Marauder's map and let Ron lead the way.
-oo00oo-
Harry let his camera hang on his neck by its strap after Fleur Delacour retrieved her golden egg. He then removed his ministry-issued nametag with much irritation. The badge flapped over his face every time he made his broom serve or turn, blocking both his view and that of the camera. Having no better idea and pressed on time, Harry stuffed the badge into his camera bag, closed the cover and refocused his attention downwards.
"And here comes Mr. Krum!" cried Bagman, as Krum slouched into the enclosure.
The Horntail crouched protectively over her slat grey eggs, swishing her spiked tail, which left deep gouges on the ground. Krum approached her slowly, flat-footed and round-shouldered.
Then Krum cast a spell right in the Horntail's evil yellow eyes.
"Very daring!" Bagman yelled, as the Hungarian Horntail emitted a horrible, roaring shriek, and the crowd drew its collective breath. "That's some nerve he's showing!"
Krum ran towards the eggs as the Horntail trembled in agony, its eyes sealed shut, furling and unfurling her wings, roaring and breathing fire everywhere. Harry grimly thought it was only a matter of time before the Horntail would try to roast either him or the audience.
Harry plummeted just as the Horntail blindly turned towards his direction. He wasn't as lucky this time as he was with the Swedish Short-Snout—he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes.
He could feel it stinging, he heard the crowd groaning and screaming, for whom Harry didn't know, but the cut didn't seem to be deep. He turned around to the back of the Horntail, just in time to catch the sight of Krum retrieving his golden egg amongst the squashed cement-coloured fellows.
"Yes, he's got the egg!" Bagman screamed over the renewed roar of the crowd. "Mr. Krum is the quickest get his egg! That certainly puts the odds to his favour!"
Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail. Unfortunately, the Horntail was in full rampage. She swung her spiked tail indiscriminately and kept breathing jets of fire at the ground, like she knew the threat towards her eggs came from below and wasn't chancing it.
Harry then saw one of the dragon keepers stumble and fall, and the Horntail dipping her head down towards him.
He dived without thinking. The Horntail opened her mouth; Harry knew what it was going to do and transfigured a hardened earth dome over the fallen dragon keeper, shielding him from the jet of fire that was released a second later. The fire expended harmlessly against the dome and Harry pulled up just in time to avoid another swipe of her tail and a hard crash to the ground.
"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"
Harry zoomed away from the dragon as the dragon keepers finally restrained the Horntail. He smoothly landed before the entrance of the enclosure, where Professor McGonagall and Hagrid were hurrying to meet him.
"Of all the reckless, dangerous things you could've done…!" cried Professor McGonagall as he got off the Firebolt. "Nevertheless, that was excellent bit of transfiguration, Potter." Harry blinked at the, for her, extravagant praise. He also noticed that her hand shook as she pointed at his shoulder. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey for that … Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already…"
"Yeh saved his life, Harry!" said Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors'—"
"Yes, I'm quite sure he did, Hagrid. Potter, the first aid tent, please…" said Professor McGonagall.
Harry walked out of the enclosure, still panting, and saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried.
"Dragons!" she said in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; he could make out Cedric's shadow through the canvas, but Cedric didn't seem to be badly injured; he was sitting up, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry's shoulder, talking furiously all the while. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You're very lucky. This is quite shallow. It'll need cleaning before I heal it up, though…"
She cleaned the cut with a dab of some purple liquid that smoked and stung, but then poked his shoulder with her wand, and he felt it heal instantly.
"Now, just sit quietly for a minute— sit! There's nothing more for you to do now, is there?"
"I still have to film Krum's scoring," Harry protested.
"You still have your clone running about, don't you?" said Madam Pomfrey. She then bustled out and he heard her go next door and say, "How does it feel now, Miss Granger?"
Alarmed, Harry jumped to his feet and ran into the screened area next door, just as Madam Pomfrey left it to check on Cedric.
Hermione was sitting on a camp bed, looking at a small mirror and examining her teeth. Ron was fuming next to her with his arms crossed. Julia, Neville and Ginny were crowding the small space, looking anxious and worried.
"What happened?" Harry asked urgently.
"Malfoy," Ron spat, with so much venom it caught Harry by surprise. "He cursed Hermione at the audience stands."
"Oh," said Harry, blinking. "You okay, Hermione?"
"I am now," said Hermione, covering her mouth as she turned around. "Madam Pomfrey shrunk my teeth back to normal…"
Harry winced at the implications. "Good. Now what about the agent? Did you find him?"
The silence that followed was very telling.
"You didn't," said Harry flatly.
"Everyone's name checked out," said Hermione squeakily. "I checked three times and the results were the same."
Harry felt doubt and panic boil up like smog in his head.
"The agent didn't have to come for this task," said Julia reasonably. "He might have decided to lay low for now, wait until we aren't as alert to suspicious activities… maybe even wait until the last task…"
The fog of doubt subsided a little.
"Yeah…" muttered Harry, his heart thudding loudly to his ears. "Yeah, you're right…"
Harry left afterwards to 'film' the Champions, per Hermione and Julia's insistence. Fleur, Cedric, and Krum were all leaving the healer's tent together by that time, apparently to receive instructions for the second task. One side of Cedric's face was covered in a thick orange paste, which was presumably mending his burn.
"Good one," said Harry, smiling at Cedric.
"Thanks," said Cedric, grinning back.
"Well done, all of you!" said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the first tent a few moments after Harry and the three Champions arrived there. "Now, just a quick few words: You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth— but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open… see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg— because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"
Harry left the tent, rejoined his friends and they set off back toward the school. Percy and Charlie hurried over to meet them on their way.
"That was unbelievable bit of flying!" said Charlie Weasley. "I've never seen anyone fly like that, and I've seen Jason Shin at his worst. Now, listen, I've got to go and call Mum, I swore I'd tell her what happened— oh yeah, and Percy wants your badges."
"Mr. Crouch's orders," said Percy gruffly. "And I must say, you came very close to being charged for task interference, Harry…"
"Oh, shut up," Ginny snapped. "You try and stand perfectly still when a dragon is breathing fire at you…"
Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville handed back their badges to Percy. Harry dug into his camera bag, but found it empty.
"It must've fallen out when you dived," said Ginny sensibly.
Harry felt a bit uneasy at the explanation. He remembered closing the Velcro cover firmly shut after stuffing the badge inside the bag. But the possibility he didn't shut it properly wasn't zero, so Harry dismissed the feeling.
They started to walk back around the edge of the forest, talking hard; Hermione told Harry how Ginny put the leg-locker curse on Crabbe and demolished Malfoy with her Bat-Bogey hex, and Harry told them about Bagman's strange behaviour just before the first task had started, how he tried to circumnavigate Ron to push the idea of filming local Quidditch matches, despite Harry's insistence he was only a cameraman. That seemed to drain the strange air of silent resentment around Ron somewhat.
As they rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them.
Harry blinked at the strange witch standing right in front of them, blocking their path. Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.
"Hello, Harry," said the woman, her eyes on Harry. "I'm Rita Skeeter."
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: Details, details, details… I had to iron out a lot of details before writing this chapter. The boys are lucky the girls are there to cover up their stoopid-ness (I once read a comment that Hermione often acts like Ron and Harry's single mother; I thought it was spot-on).
I'm dividing my attention between two writing projects (an original story and ASIM) at the moment, which, sadly, is affecting my ability to update ASIM as frequently as I used to. I'm still working out the balance.
Yule Ball is next. I think.