"How come we keep practicing in here?" asked Harry, tired of seeing the same dusty, broken things around him. "Wouldn't it be better to practice outside?"
"I have my—" began Sirius, but Harry grew irritated and began walking away. "Harry! Where are you going?"
"Away from you," Harry snarled, flipping a table aside to get in Sirius's way. Sirius's continued silence about his activities in the Room of Requirement had reached a tipping point for Harry. He knew it had something to do with horcruxes or Voldemort, as that was one of the few topics that Sirius and Remus were frustratingly secretive about.
Every time Harry thought he was closer to finding out what kept Sirius returning to the Room of Requirement, the answers seemed to slip away like sand in his hands. He stormed off, running away from Sirius, unwilling to spend another minute with his deceitful godfather.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER! YOU GET BACK HERE!" Sirius yelled.
Harry stopped in his tracks, startled by his godfather's sudden outburst, and turned around.
"Okay, okay, okay," Sirius said, putting his hands up in surrender. "That's enough. We're going to talk – now – and you can tell me what's going on."
"Why are you keeping things from me?" Harry screeched. He seethed in anger, his fists shaking at his sides, and his heart beating rapidly. "Why are you always lying to me?"
"I'm not—"
"YES, YOU ARE! YOU'RE A LIAR! YOU NEVER TELL ME ANYTHING ANYMORE!"
"It's for your own—"
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! TELL ME THE TRUTH!"
Sirius sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. "You're right. I'm keeping things from you…I've been keeping things from you for a few months. It's not because I don't think you're capable of understanding."
"Then tell me," Harry said harshly. "I want to know!"
"First, Harry, you need to understand that part of why we keep some things from you really is for your safety," Sirius said tiredly, as Harry scoffed. "I mean it. I don't know if you realize this, but you attract more trouble than any person I've ever met. Even if Remus and Tonks weren't your guardians – adoptive parents – whatever you want to call them, your parents chose me—"
"They're not here anymore, are they?" Harry spat, seeing the color drain from Sirius's face.
"They're not," Sirius said somberly. "But no parent would want you to be risking your life. I know you're angry, but please listen to me. Lying to you wasn't right, but neither is being a prick to me."
Harry's eyes widened; Sirius never spoke to him like this.
"You want the truth?" Sirius continued, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "If you want me to be honest with you, all I ask for some respect. I realize you've had a lot of shitty adults in your life, but Remus, Tonks, and I are really trying. I know you're angry and scared."
Sirius put his hand in his chin and peered down at Harry. "I know you hate being kept in the dark and being treated like a child, but in many ways you're still a child. You deserve to just get to be a kid – get into good trouble, spend time with your friends, and not worry about killing an evil wizard. Now you're in this bloody tournament and you've got to fight for your life. Forgive me if I want you to focus on one lethal experience at a time."
Harry opened his mouth to speak but Sirius rambled on, "If you want to know what I've been doing up here, I'm looking for a horcrux. Lyall tried to look for it last year, but was unsuccessful. Dumbledore believes one is in the castle and this is the only place that hasn't been inspected." Sirius gestured out towards the centuries of student rubbish. "Obviously I have to come here more often than I'd like, and I still haven't found it."
Harry, no longer willing to wait to speak, blurted, "But I know we can kill a horcrux with Fiendfyre! You're making me practice with it! Why can't we destroy it together?"
Sighing, Sirius replied, "Because you saw what happened to the other horcruxes. They're not meant to be easy to destroy. I've been wanting you to focus on surviving the Triwizard tasks."
"But I can do that and help you! Is that all you're hiding from me?" Harry demanded.
"Yes," Sirius said, stifling a yawn with his hand. "I know you, Harry. I know that if you had the choice, you'd come up here and try to find the horcrux by yourself or with your friends. What if something happened to you? Or Ron? Hermione? Ginny? You're clever and bright, but you're not fully trained."
"Let me help you," Harry pleaded. "I want to help. I want to bring him down!"
Sirius gazed at Harry, exhaling slowly through his nostrils. "You can help me only on a Saturday or Sunday. I don't want you here on days you have classes, because this won't take priority over your homework…or preparing for your tasks."
Harry narrowed his eyes at Sirius, thinking that defeating Voldemort was significantly more important than any History of Magic essay or Triwizard prize, but Sirius's stern eyes and clenched jaw seemed to disagree.
"If you help me, you have to stay with me at all times," Sirius continued firmly. "And, if we happen to find the horcrux, we'll figure out a time and place to destroy it safely."
Harry considered the options. He knew Sirius could find him on the Marauder's Map, even under the Invisibility Cloak. After a moment's thought, he agreed.
"One more condition. You aren't to tell anyone what we're doing. Moony'll have my head if he knew I was letting you help."
"I won't tell anyone," Harry promised. "But why did Dumbledore think there's a horcrux in the castle? Which one is it? And why can't we just set the whole Room on Fiendfyre?"
"I'll answer your questions as soon as we get through your practice today," Sirius said, taking Harry by the shoulder and leading him back to where they began. "I'm more concerned about you getting roasted alive than I am in telling you about Voldemort's past, okay?"
Harry stifled his protests. As curious as he was about Voldemort, he admitted that Sirius did have a point. If he was scorched to death in a month's time, he wouldn't survive to see Voldemort defeated.
Thus, he lined up a new set of objects to practice fire spells on and got to work.
…
Valentine's Day had arrived at Hogwarts. The only Valentine's Day Harry had paid any attention to was in his second year, when knobheaded Lockhart tried to dress up the castle, in an abysmal effort to cheer everyone up from the basilisk attacks. Harry hadn't realized it was Valentine's Day until he arrived at the Great Hall that Tuesday morning to find it covered in lurid, pink decorations, fairies, and a flurry of paper hearts crisscrossing in the air.
"What's all this?" asked Ron, narrowly avoiding a paper heart hitting his forehead, as he took a seat at the Gryffindor table.
"It's Valentine's Day, Ronald," Hermione said sharply. "I thought Lavender would've reminded you by now."
Ron paled and reached into his rucksack, pulling out the first scrap of parchment he could find. Harry watched, amused, and tried to meet Ginny's eyes, but she turned away from him, sticking her nose in the air instead.
"What did I do?" Harry muttered to Ron, but Ron shushed him as he began writing a messy Valentine's letter to Lavender.
Hermione smiled to herself, holding a large paper heart to her chest, sighing contently when she opened it.
"What's that?" asked Harry. "A Valentine?"
"From Etienne, her boyfriend," Ginny said, glaring at Harry. "He remembered."
Harry frowned, wondering why Ginny was so irritated, but a flurry of owls came in for the morning mail. He was confused when a parcel was dropped off in his lap, along with two envelopes. One was blank while the other was written in Tonks's hand with a directive to open it first.
Harry ripped the letter to read.
Dear Harry,
In case you forgot, this is for Ginny. Say it's from you. Thank me later.
Love,
Tonks.
Perplexed, Harry wondered if Ginny would like the mystery parcel, especially if it was from Tonks, but as Ginny appeared to be in a foul mood, he figured it wouldn't hurt. Seeing that Ron had finished writing his letter to Lavender, Harry snatched the quill, scrawled Ginny's name on the envelope and hoped for the best.
"Err…Ginny?" Harry said, meeting Ginny's bright brown eyes. "This is for you?" Ginny took it, eyeing him warily, and opened the envelope first. As soon as the envelope was open, Harry realized his mistake and felt like sinking into the floor.
The card inside was singing.
Orchids are white
Ghost ones are rare
Flowers are radiant
But never more than your hair
Sunflowers reach
Up to the big blue skies
But none of that compares
To the look in your eyes
Oh Ginny, my Ginny
Won't you please say
You'll be mine forever
This Valentine's Day
Ginny was bright red, her face like a brilliant sunset, but she was smiling. Harry had sunk into himself, trying hard not to notice the many people who had come around to listen to the song. Fortunately, Ginny tucked the card back in the envelope, just as it began with "Orchids are white," and she proceeded to open the parcel, which contained a box of chocolates.
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw that Ginny grinned further. He was gobsmacked when she stood from her seat, hugged him, and thanked him for the very thoughtful Valentine's Day gift. She even kissed him on the cheek, which led him to put his hand there, feeling his face grow hot instantly.
However, to Harry's dismay, he saw the flashes of a camera and the unpleasant, heavy-jawed reporter, Rita Skeeter, who was simpering wickedly at him, her quill continuing to scratch rapidly against an enchanted parchment. Harry's heart sank, knowing that his complete mortification would be front page of the next morning's Daily Prophet.
Harry tried to look anywhere but at Rita, instead letting his gaze travel to the others. Lavender, who had been sitting across from Ginny, held Ron's scrap of parchment, looking as though she would throttle Ron at the next available moment. Hermione smirked at Harry; her eyes drifted over to Ron, who gaped at Harry, and Fred and George, who were red in the face from laughter.
"Young love," Skeeter said, her hands spread out as if she had the Prophet in front of her. "No, no…Burning Love!" The quill scrawled quickly and Harry put his face in his hands, wondering if he would feel this hot when he tried to beat the fire challenge for the second task.
A pair of hands landed on Harry's shoulders and he jumped nearly a foot in the air, calming only when he saw Sirius behind him.
"Excuse me," Sirius said loudly, in Skeeter's direction. "I hope you know he's still underage, as is Miss Weasley."
"I'm well aware, Professor Black," Skeeter replied curtly. "I'm only permitted to write about the champions with regards to their tasks, especially if they're underage. But surely if something were to happen to young Mr. Potter, the world will want to know of his little romance? A love that just burns…just like the fires of his upcoming task!"
Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder, mumbled something under his breath that sounded unsettlingly like a death threat, and then proceeded to say something in Skeeter's ear that sent her clacking away on her heels mere moments later.
"If you'll come with me, Harry," Sirius said calmly. Harry felt grateful Sirius stepped in, especially as he seemed to prevent the worst of the mocks from the Slytherins, and even more thankful when Sirius led Harry up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"What did you tell her?" Harry asked, as Sirius closed the door.
"I told her that if she tries to publish any more than the truth from you, I'll be 'accidentally' knocking her into the inferno you're looking forward to in a few weeks."
Harry sputtered, shaking his head, but Sirius didn't seem to make much of it.
"I brought you in here for another reason. I think I've found the horcrux," Sirius said, beaming.
"You did? Can I see it? Where is it?" Harry asked, all thoughts of embarrassing valentines disappearing from his mind.
"Dumbledore has it…but, if I'm right, you'll help me destroy it, Harry."
"When?"
"At your next task," Sirius replied. "If there's no Fiendfyre, we'll take care of it together, okay?" Harry nodded, itching to see Dumbledore to find out if Sirius had found a horcrux.
A gaggle of students started filing into the classroom, so Harry couldn't stay much longer. He cursed himself for forgetting to ask Sirius to talk to Tonks about the humiliating valentine, especially when students passing him by jeered at him and sang out lyrics from the singing card.
However, at his Charms lesson, Harry plotted his revenge. He asked Professor Flitwick how to charm a Howler, and once he'd mastered the charm, he looked forward to sending Tonks a series of strongly, loudly worded letters over her valentine's blunder.
…
The second task had finally approached and Harry had a knot in his stomach. He knew his friends and family were nearby, including Sirius, who had indeed found a horcrux, but none of that made much of a difference when he emerged from the champions' tents to the edge of the Quidditch pitch. As with the first task, Amelia Bones led them to their assigned places, where it was determined that Fleur would go first.
Fleur stepped into the middle of the Quidditch pitch, pale and shaking. She looked especially tiny from where Harry stood, but despite the looming threat of the second task, she held her head and wand high.
To the left of the champions stood a dozen professors, four from each school. Harry didn't know the names of any of the Beauxbatons or Durmstrang professors, but the Hogwarts professors were the four Heads of Houses. To the right of the champions stood Barty Crouch Sr., who cast an Amplifying Charm on his voice only moments after Fleur nodded at him, indicating she was ready.
"Miss Delacour has chosen air as her element. She has one hour to overcome the challenges ahead. Begin!" Crouch Sr. announced.
Flitwick and two professors aimed their wands at Fleur. The burst of magic created a wind tunnel around her, gradually increasing in speed and intensity as the seconds went by. Fleur was thrown up into the wind tunnel, thrashing against the winds that contained her. The winds grew stronger the harder she struggled, the tunnel twisting and dragging her around like a rag doll across the Quidditch pitch.
Harry wasn't sure how long Fleur was spinning inside the wind tunnel, but eventually, she broke through, landing on the grass as if she'd just taken a Portkey. Harry thought the task was over, but instead, Flitwick and the other two professors swished their wands, sending a blast of cold air out of their wands. Harry felt the chill before Fleur did, but it was clear that she wasn't expecting the freeze that settled around her. Harry watched her move her wand, sparks coming out of it frantically while the freeze grew, making her lips and skin blue. Just when he thought she couldn't take anymore, the freeze gave way to a gentle, warm breeze.
Fleur's skin grew from blue to pink under the heat wave. She strained as blisters formed on her skin, some bursting open grotesquely. Fleur fought it, screaming through the pain, as her skin burned under the heat. Then, suddenly, she was thrown up in the air.
Flitwick and the other professors flung her in the air, batting her around like a Quaffle, though against invisible barriers. Harry knew she was badly hurt but she kept going, struggling against the invisible, airborne fight. At last, Harry saw red sparks emerge from her wand, indicating she'd given up, and she was released from the air. Flitwick and the two other professors slowed her fall, and she landed, wailing and covered in blisters, on the Quidditch pitch.
Madam Pomfrey bustled across the Quidditch pitch with a conjured stretcher, Madam Maxime at her heels, and they took Fleur away as the crowd looked on. Harry gulped, looking to his immediate left and right, where Cedric and Viktor were gaping at the place where Fleur had been.
Harry came to the conclusion that no broom could've helped him past the element of air in the second task. Viktor and Cedric seemed to make the same connection.
"Miss Delacour was unable to finish her task!" Crouch Sr.'s booming voice announced. "Our second champion, Mr. Krum, is next!"
Viktor got a reaffirming nod from Karkaroff and he moved forward to the middle of the Quidditch pitch, standing precisely where Fleur had been taken away. Flitwick and the two professors were replaced by Sprout and two new professors, who spoke quietly to each other before turning their wands to the center of the pitch.
Crouch met Viktor's eyes, and seeing him nod, declared, "Mr. Krum has chosen earth for his element! He has one hour to overcome the challenges ahead. Begin!"
No sooner than Crouch finished speaking, Sprout and the other professors shifted the earth underneath Krum. The earth cracked and broke apart at odd angles, but Krum was prepared, hopping from one plot of earth to another. He seemed to be dancing from one slab of earth to the other, avoiding rocks that sprung up from nowhere and blasts of earth that spun around him. It was mesmerizing, seeing him move agilely, until the earth stopped shifting.
Suddenly, the ground righted itself. Viktor, halfway between leaps, landed on a spot of flat grass that sunk into the earth. He screamed as the earth took him in like quicksand and he vanished without another trace.
Sprout and the two professors at her side still had their wands pointed at the ground, despite the disappearance of Viktor Krum within. Karkaroff shouted at the ground in Bulgarian. Other Durmstrang students yelled too, gesticulating wildly at the earth that had swallowed Viktor whole.
The minutes ticked by and Viktor still didn't appear. The crowd became anxious, but neither Sprout nor the other professors had lowered their wands.
"It has been one hour!" Crouch Sr. called, startling Harry and Cedric. The spectators gasped as time went on until finally, a mud-covered, bloodied Viktor came shooting out of the earth, flopping out onto the grass with a thump.
Just as with Fleur, Madam Pomfrey came out with a conjured stretcher, though with Karkaroff running behind her, angrily shouting at her in Bulgarian.
Harry breathed hard, wondering what terrors Viktor had experienced underground, but he didn't have time to dwell on it as Crouch was readying Cedric, the next champion.
"Mr. Krum went over his allotted time by twenty minutes! Next we have Mr. Diggory, who chose water for his challenge. As with the other champions, he has one hour to overcome the task!" Crouch Sr. said, gesturing for Cedric to walk onto the pitch.
Sprout and the two professors helping her were replaced by Snape and a new set of professors, which meant that Harry would experience fire from McGonagall and the last two professors. Snape and the other two professors, one each from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, stepped up and pointed their wands at the center of the Quidditch pitch.
Crouch Sr. met Cedric's eyes and began the new task. Harry was surprised when the pitch didn't immediately become a lake; rather, Snape and the other professors conjured ropes of water out of their wands and started whipping them around Cedric. He fought them off but then bolts of lightning started falling around him. Cedric had to dodge torrents of water around him, narrowly missing being electrocuted by bolts of lightning as he fought off the downpour that fell down around him.
Harry could hardly see where Cedric was; only flashes of a yellow-and-black figure moving around the pitch showed any indication that he was still inside the torrential, conjured storm. While two of the professors continued blasting water and lightning around Cedric, Snape conjured hunks of ice, which began flying around the pitch like Bludgers and blasting apart as they hit each other, showering Cedric with Snitch-sized balls of hail.
As the hail came down rapidly, piles of ice built up around Cedric, stopping him from running wildly around to avoid the bolts of lightning and now-waves of water that sent him spinning and sliding along the ground. Soon the Quidditch pitch became filled with small mountains of ice and snow, toppling over each other and sending increasingly bigger avalanches towards Cedric.
The lightning disappeared as more snow and ice fell toward Cedric, who stumbled and slipped against the freezing water underneath his feet. All the water that had formed from the conjured storms became a frozen lake, barring Cedric from running away. He blasted back as much of the avalanche as he could, but like Viktor before him, he became buried under the ice and snow within seconds.
Harry gasped when the ice and snow solidified, making it appear as if Cedric would be frozen solid in a sheet of ice. Snape and the other professors continued what they were doing, keeping their wands steady as they created a glacier on the Quidditch pitch, locking Cedric within it. The crowd roared, wondering what was happening, when suddenly the glacier cracked loudly.
Thunderous cracks filled the air as the glacier broke apart slowly. Harry felt the heat coming from Snape's wand; the cracking gave way to rapidly melting ice, which in turn created the lake Harry initially expected. A black and yellow blur floated in the water, unmoving, and Crouch Sr. stopped the task instantly.
Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Sprout, and Mr. Diggory all converged on Cedric, taking him away without another word.
"Mr. Diggory failed to defeat his task!" Crouch Sr. said cheerfully, as if Cedric hadn't collapsed – or worse – on the Quidditch pitch. "This leaves us with our final champion, Mr. Potter!" He turned to Harry, who felt as if his legs were going to collapse underneath him at any moment. He trudged forward on the Quidditch pitch, barely registering the thunderous crowd around him.
Harry had expected severe, cruel challenges for all the champions, but the level of injury Fleur and Viktor had sustained was beyond his wildest imagination. He didn't know if Cedric had even survived being trapped in a glacier.
Harry thought it very possible that he wouldn't survive the next hour, especially if Fiendfyre was part of the challenge. Nevertheless, he stood tall and held his wand out ahead of him; his only consolation was knowing that if Fiendfyre appeared, Sirius would be waiting with the horcrux. It was an artefact related to Ravenclaw – something like a tiara, Sirius had explained – and it was one more piece of Voldemort that would see its end.
Harry shook the thoughts out of his mind as he saw McGonagall and two professors taking their places, wands at the ready. Harry took a deep breath, hoping it wasn't his last. He nodded at Crouch Sr., and the announcement was made.
Harry didn't hear the last words of Crouch Sr.'s speech as the ground underneath him sizzled and scorched. The grass disappeared and the pitch became a dry, barren wasteland. Harry yelped, dodging a ball of fire that landed to his right. Quickly the sky became orange-red as fireballs of all sizes rained down on him. His agility was his only strength; there was no spell fast enough for him to cast that would slow the fireballs or even make them disappear.
What began as Snitch-sized fireballs, similar to Cedric's hail, grew to Bludger-and-Quaffle sized fireballs, scorching the earth further and creating huge walls of flame that closed in on Harry, no matter where he ran.
The Quidditch pitch was large, but it rapidly dwindled in available space as the fireballs set it on fire. Harry sweat bullets down his face, chest, and back. His glasses barely stayed on, sweating as he was, and he held them up with one hand as he sprinted over and around the flames that threatened to burn him alive.
Every few minutes, he felt as if he could finally catch his breath, only to have another roaring fire spring up around him, scorching him and singeing the edges of his robes.
A large structure appeared to be coming up on the other side of the pitch. It was dry land, seemingly unaffected by the raining fireballs, and Harry darted around the heaps of fire to get there, hoping he could rest there for a moment.
His hopes were dashed when the fiery inferno around him blocked his way. However, he silently thanked the flames seconds later when the enormous pile of earth began to spew ash, smoke, and molten lava.
McGonagall and the other professors created a volcano, and it was blasting its magma out, sending spurts of lava everywhere.
The fireballs were child's play compared to the coils of lava streaming down from the sky. Unlike the fireballs, which landed somewhat neatly onto the earth, the lava poured down erratically and increased the amount of flame on the ground.
Deciding he could no longer outrun the fire, he spun around, conjuring ropes of water out of his wand, creating huge clouds of steam that rose up into the sky. For every fire he tried to put out, a new one would spring up. The billowing clouds of steam made it harder for him to see; only the heat of the fire and the flashes of lava raining upon him gave him any indication that the task continued.
Out of the corner of Harry's eyes, he saw a fiery shadow moving toward him. It was shaped like the basilisk, snarling and spitting fire at him, taunting him with its glowering gaze.
This was Fiendfyre, and it was more terrifying than anything Sirius had ever conjured during their practice sessions. Harry tried the counter-curse for Fiendfyre, but it seemed to make the burning basilisk even angrier as it reached out to Harry, sending sizzling licks of cursed fire to his robes. He yelped, took off his robes, and ran, trying to avoid the tongues of lava floating ahead and landing everywhere he tried to turn.
The smoldering basilisk pursued him and he ran, casting every spell he know to let him run through fire, as there was no longer a place he could look that wasn't covered in a blazing inferno.
Harry realized why none of the others had noticed the time; it was impossible to hear anything over the roar of the fire around him. He also realized the difficulty of casting red sparks if he was in trouble; no amount of red sparks could be seen over the rising walls of flame that surrounded him.
Another snarl came from the basilisk; Harry ran faster, shouting out any spell that could help him, only to find that his dragonhide boots, which were meant to be fireproof, were falling apart from repeatedly stepping in puddles of lava.
The smoke and ash was overwhelming; he gasped for air, wondering why it was becoming so hard to breathe. Determining he couldn't take any more of the lethal fire, he attempted to shoot red sparks in the air to ask for help. His feet suddenly burned and he ran, wheezing, until he ran into something solid and lost consciousness.