Watching the task proceed, Arabella was unable to watch without getting a sick feeling inside her stomach. As Cedric emerged from the mouth of the tent, it felt as if a monster with needle-like teeth was as knawing at her intestine. Beside her, Hermione and Blaise patted her on the back, murmuring reassuring things or what they believed was reassuring.
"It'll be okay," said Hermione in a low whisper.
"Diggary's pretty talented," agreed Blaise with a slight nod. "I'm sure he'll pass with flying colors— Lyla too if she remembers the spell—"
The dragon released looked down in utter disgust as the small figure of Cedric nervously stepped back.
"And here is our first champion, Cedric Diggary, representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" said Bagman's voice over the roar of approval. "This first task tests the daring of each champion— just what will he do? His goal is to retrieve the Golden egg from the mother dragon, which is a Swedish Short-Snout. Let's give it up for DIGGARY!"
Green around the face, Cedric quickly moved into action, darting across the open arena and sliding underneath a large slab of stone, avoiding a fierce blast of fire. The crowd gasped loudly like a single-headed entity. He flicked his wrist, and a small flare of light came from his wand tip. Inches from where he crouched, a large rock went through the most interesting transformation Arabella had seen, morphing into a large black dog.
The beast barked madly and began snapping its jaws at the mother dragon's tail. The Swedish Short-Snout inhaled sharply and ducked her head towards the creature, where Cedric made a direct b-line for her clutch of eggs.
"Brilliant!" yelled Bagman's magically modified voice, "I think he's got it, ladies and gents— Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow."
The Swedish Short-Snout huffed and snapped at the large dog, who growled back and bounded to the other side of the arena. The dragon watched it carefully and slowly began to shift. However, halfway through her shifting, the mother dragon appeared to have changed her mind and reared her head back, blowing a plume of fire that nearly engulfed the Hogwarts Champion.
"I can't watch," moaned Arabella, shutting her eyes tightly. "Tell me what happens— actually don't— "
"He's taking risks, this one!" said Bagman's voice. "Nearly there, nearly there… ah, he seems to have been caught by the flames after all. Sad… such a clever move as well—- pity it didn't work!"
Barely opening her eyes, Arabella glanced down worriedly. Cedric was once more under a protective slab of stone, shielding his face from the massive creature. The Swedish short snout screeched a horrible cry of anger and blew another furious plume of fire. Even from where they sat, Arabella could feel the intense heat.
"It looks like he's been burned," observed Theo, binoculars pressed to his face. "Ohh, it looks like he got a face full of flames—"
The large black dog howled and appeared to sink its teeth into the dragon's flesh. The Swedish Short-Snout howled as well, stamping her feet in pain and frustration. It was here that Cedric made his next move.
"Oh— now that the dragon's distracted, it looks like he's going to make it!" shouted Theo eagerly. "Just avoid its tail, Diggary! Oh, come on! Just—"
Unable to stop herself, Arabella yanked her friend's binoculars free from his grasp.
"Hey!" Theo said, startled. "Needn't be so forceful," he grumbled.
The dragon had completely turned its body now, it's full attention on the dog. It blew hot flames in all directions, but behind it, where Cedric hurriedly ran forward. He looked absolutely awful, his clothes burning and his skin looking painfully red. Arabella watched as he snatched the Golden Egg and dove back underneath a series of rocks, and the audience bellowed with glee.
"Very good indeed!" Bagman was shouting. "And now the marks from the judges!"
Arabella didn't pay attention to the marks and watched in fascination and horror as many wizards came storming the arena, wands raised and spells being cast. The Swedish Short Snout roared in fury, only to be stunned moments later. Slowly, she swayed where she stood, and then, as if in slow motion, she began to fall. She barely made it clear of her eggs, and the ground shook as she landed, unconscious.
"This is horrifying!" shrieked Daphne, her face so pale it looked as though she turned into a ghost. "I really hope Lyla's got a plan— this is awful to watch!"
"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"
Arabella watched through her binoculars as Fleur emerged next, pale and sweaty. Despite her nervousness, she held her head high and her wand tightly in her hand.
"And now, for the Beauxbatons champion, who will retire as her own Golden egg from the fierce Welsh Green!"
The Swedish short snout had been moved out of the arena, and a new dragon replaced where she once stood, a fierce green beast with wide amber eyes. Once set onto her clutch of eggs, the mother dragon's gaze zeroed in on the Bobatones champion, narrowing in pure rage. Without hesitation, Fleur darted forward in plain view of the dragon. It snorted and reared its head, preparing to attack. However, it never got the chance. Fleur raised her wand and performed a series of complicated wand movements, which appeared to have an immediate effect— the Welsh Green began to sway, as if in a trance.
"What's she doing?" shouted Draco over the crowd's cheers.
"Trying to make it fall asleep?" Daphne said, narrowing her eyes to better see what was happening below.
Fleur darted forward and came within inches of the eggs before the dragon let out a loud snort, flames shooting from its nostrils. Fleur, clearly not having taken in its ability to snort flames, danced out of its range, her skirts catching fire.
"Oh, I'm not sure that was wise!" shouted Bagman gleefully.
Fleur seemed momentarily panic-stricken, flailing for a second before she summoned a spout of water from her wand. After appearing to gather her nerves, she once more stepped into the beast's clear line of vision and began her odd wand movements once more. The Welsh Green's eyes rolled back into her head, her whole body swaying in time with Fleur's wand movements.
"She's doing it again?!" Arabella bellowed. "It didn't work the first time. What makes her think it'll work a second?!"
After minutes of swaying, the champion moved, rushing forward and snatching at the eggs. The dragon gave one more of its snorts, and flames once more came racing down to meet the earth.
"Nearly there!" said Bagman. "Careful now…. good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"
The onlookers were going mad.
"She can't possibly— my god! She's doing it again!" screamed Hermione in distress.
Once more, Fleur looked to be lulling the creature to sleep. This time, her efforts seemed to pay off at last. The crowd bellowed their approval.
She had snatched up her Golden egg and bounded towards the arena's edge, where more wizards raced out to subdue the Welsh Green.
After points were given (something Arabella wasn't interested in at all), Bagman cried out, "And here comes Mr. Krum!"
The Bulgarian Seeker came out slouched, his dark eyes scanning the arena hurriedly. Unable to help it, Arabella wondered what Lyla must be feeling, able to hear but not see what the other champions were doing.
"And now for the representative of Durmstrang, who will retrieve his Golden egg from the ferocious Chinese Fireball!"
Krum didn't even hesitate. He charged the beast head-on, raising his wand and shooting a spell directly into the beast's eyes.
"Very daring!" Bagman yelled excitedly. "Well done!"
The dragon emitted a horrible, roaring shriek while the crowd drew its collective breath.
"That's some nerve he's showing— and— yes, he's got the egg!"
The dragon stumbled around in obvious pain and trampled many of her eggs before collapsing to the ground. Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished— it would be Lyla's turn any moment now.
As the whistle blew, signaling that it was now her turn, Lyla shivered, noticing dimly that her legs seemed to be made of marshmallows. She waited. And then she heard the whistle blow. She walked out through the entrance of the tent, the panic rising into a crescendo inside her. And now she was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.
She saw everything before her as though it was a highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down from stands that had been magicked there since she'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon Lyla, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Lyla didn't know or care. It was time to do what she had to do. . . to focus entirely and absolutely on the thing that was her only chance.
She raised her wand.
"Accio Nimbus Two Thousand!" she shouted.
Lyla waited, every fiber of her body hoping, praying. . . . If it hadn't worked. . . if it wasn't coming. . . She seemed to be looking at everything around her through some shimmering, transparent barrier, like a heat haze, which made the enclosure and the hundreds of faces around her swim strangely...
And then she heard it, speeding through the air; she turned and saw her broomstick hurtling toward her around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside her, waiting for her to mount. The crowd was making even more noise. . . . Bagman was shouting something. . . but Lyla's ears were not working properly anymore. . . listening wasn't necessary...
She swung one leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. And a second later, something miraculous happened… As she soared upward, as the wind rushed through her hair, as the crowd's faces became mere flesh-colored pinpricks below, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog, she realized that she had left not only the ground behind but also her fear and anxiety… she was back where she belonged… This was just another Quidditch match, that was all. . . just another Quidditch match, and that Horntail was just another ugly opposing team.
She looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the gold one, gleaming against its cement-colored fellows, residing safely between the dragon's front legs.
"Okay," Lyla told herself, "diversionary tactics. . . let's go. . ."
She dived. The Horntail's head followed; she knew what it would do and pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where she would have been had she not swerved away.
"Great Scott, she can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"
She soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following Lyla's progress, its head revolving on its long neck— if Lyla kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy— but better not push it too long, or the beast would be breathing fire again—
Lyla plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time she was less lucky— she missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet her instead, and as she swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed her shoulder, ripping into her robes— she could feel it was stinging, could hear screaming and groans from the crowd, but the cut didn't seem to be deep. . . . Now she zoomed around the back of the Horntail, and a possibility occurred to her...
The Horntail didn't seem to want to take off. She appeared too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping those fearsome yellow eyes on Lyla, she was afraid to move too far from them. . . but the girl had to persuade the mother dragon to do it, or she'd never get near them. . . . The trick was to do it carefully, gradually...
Lyla began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make the dragon breathe fire to stave her flying assailant off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on the human. The dragon's head swayed this way and that, watching her opponent out of those vertical pupils, fangs bared…
Lyla flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with her, its neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, like a snake before its charmer. . .
Lyla rose a few more feet, and the mother dragon let out a roar of exasperation. Lyla was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but the girl was too high to reach now. . . . the dragon shot fire into the air, which Lyla dodged.. . . the beast's jaws opened wide...
"Come on," Lyla murmured, swerving tantalizingly above her, "come on, come and get me. . . up you get now. ."
And then the dragon reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small airplane— and Lyla dove. Before the dragon knew what the girl had done or where she had disappeared to, Lyla was speeding toward the ground as fast as she could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs— she had taken her hands off the Nimbus— had seized the golden egg— And with a massive spurt of speed, she was off, soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under her uninjured arm.
It was as though somebody had just turned the volume back up— for the first time, she became properly aware of the noise of the crowd, which was screaming and applauding as loudly as the Irish supporters at the World Cup—
"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get her egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Miss Potter!"
Lyla saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail and, over at the entrance to the enclosure, McGonagall, Moody, Snape, and Hagrid hurrying to meet her. She flew back over the stands, the noise of the crowd pounding her eardrums, and came in smoothly to land, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. . . . She had got through the first task. She had survived.
"That was excellent!" cried McGonagall as the girl slid off her broomstick.
"You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey," said Snape as he gestured at her arm," before the judges give out your score."
"Over there," said McGonagall shakily, "she's had to mop up Diggory. . . ."
"Yeh did it, Lyla!" said Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' -"
"Thank you, Hagrid," said Lyla loudly so that Hagrid wouldn't blunder and reveal that he had shown her the dragons beforehand.
Moody looked very pleased, too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket.
"Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," he growled.
"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please. . ." urged Snape.
She 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 the girl inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; she 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 Lyla's shoulder, talking furiously all the while. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what will they 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 her shoulder with her wand.
"Now, just sit quietly for a minute— sit! And then you can go and get your score."
She bustled out of the tent and heard her go next door and say, "How does it feel now, Diggory?"
Lyla didn't want to sit still: She was too full of adrenaline. She got to her feet, wanting to see what was going on outside, but before reaching the tent's mouth, a flurry of figures came darting inside.
Arabella flung her arms around Lyla without preamble, clutching at her tightly.
"Y-you di-did it," she gasped out, eyes red from fallen tears. "You— I really thought— you're okay!"
"You were absolutely brilliant, Lyla!" shouted Draco enthusiastically, clapping both hands on Lyla's shoulders.
"A-a-amazing!" sputtered Theo dazedly.
But Lyla wasn't looking at Arabella, nor Draco or anyone else. She was staring at Ron, who'd gingerly made his way into the tent after the others. He looked terrible, an awful shade of green, and gazing at Lyla as if she were a ghost.
"Lyla," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet - I - I reckon they're trying to do you in!"
It was as though the last few weeks had never happened— as though they were meeting Ron for the first time right after she'd been made champion.
"Caught on, have you?" said Arabella coldly. "Took you long enough, you prat."
The rest looked nervously between the sisters and Ron. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Deep down, Lyla knew the boy was about to apologize, and suddenly, she found that she didn't need to hear it.
"It's okay," she said before Ron could get the words out. "Forget it."
"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've -"
"Forget it," Arabella interjected. And to everyone's great shock, she threw her arms around his neck and let out a small, choked sob.
While that happened, Draco carefully slid one arm around Lyla, squeezing her tightly. He seemed to be making sure she was truly in front of him.
"You alright?" He said in a low whisper. "Watching that—"
Lyla smiled, her heart doing an odd sort of tap dance. Why did she get like this when close to the pale boy?
"I'm okay," she said, hugging him and pressing her check to the side of his neck. "Believe it or not, it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be— being in the air really helped."
Ron was smiling nervously as Arabella pulled herself from his grip while Hermione was beaming from ear to ear. Daphne, Blaise, and Theo merely grinned.
"Glad to have you back in your right mind, mate," said Theo cheerfully, slapping Ron on the shoulders.
"Barking mad," muttered Daphne, shaking her head. "But yes, good to have you back."
"Lyla, c'mon," said Ron eagerly, gesturing to the field, "they'll be putting up your score in no time."
Picking up the golden egg and her Nimbus Two Thousand, feeling more elated than she would have believed possible an hour ago, Lyla ducked out of the tent, all her friends by her side. Ron was talking fast.
"You were the best, you know, no competition! Cedric did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground. . . turned it into a dog. . . he was trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, it was a pretty cool bit of Transfiguration, and it worked because he did get the egg, but he got burned as well - the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it would rather have him than the dog; he only just got away. And that Fleur girl tried this sort of charm. I think she was trying to put it into a trance - well, that kind of worked, too, it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire - she put it out with a bit of water out of her wand. And Krum - you won't believe this, but he didn't even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, though. Hit it with some spell right in the eye. The only thing is, it went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs - they took marks off for that. He wasn't supposed to do any damage to them."
Ron drew breath as he and the others reached the edge of the enclosure. Now that the Horntail had been taken away, Lyla could see where the five judges were sitting— right at the other end, in raised seats draped in gold.
"It's marks out of ten from each one," Draco said, and Lyla squinting up the field, saw the first judge— Madame Maxime— raise her wand in the air. What hooked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a prominent figure eight.
"Not bad!" said Ron happily as the crowd applauded. "I suppose she took marks off because of your shoulder…."
Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number nine into the air.
"Looking good!" Blaise yelled, thumping Lyla on the back.
Next, Dumbledore. He, too, put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.
Ludo Bagman - ten.
"Ten?" said Lyla in disbelief. "But. . . I got hurt. . . . What's he playing at?"
"Lyla, don't complain!" Daphne yelled excitedly.
And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused momentarily, and then a number shot out of his wand, too - four.
"What!?" Ron, Theo, and Daphne bellowed furiously.
"Four?" said Arabella with disgust.
"You lousy, biased scum-bag!" yelled Ron heatedly, "you gave Krum ten!"
But Lyla didn't care. She wouldn't have cared if Karkaroff had given her zero; Ron's indignation on her behalf was worth about a hundred points to her in the end. She didn't tell Ron this, of course, but her heart felt lighter than air as she turned to leave the enclosure. And it wasn't just Ron. . . those weren't only her friends cheering in the crowd. When it had come to it, when they had seen what she was facing, most of the school had been on her side as well as Cedric's. . . .
"You're tied in first place, Lyla!" shouted Arabella tearfully. "You and Krum!"
"Amazing!" bellowed Charlie Weasely, hurrying to meet them as they set off back toward the school. "Listen, I've got to run— got to go and send Mum an owl, swore I'd tell her what happened— but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah— and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes... Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent."
Her friends said they would wait, so Lyla reentered the tent, which somehow looked quite different now: friendly and welcoming. She thought back to how she'd felt while dodging the Horntail, and compared it to the long wait before she'd walked out to face it... There was no comparison; the wait had been immeasurably worse.
Fleur, Cedric, and Krum all came in together. One side of Cedric's face was covered in a thick orange paste, which was presumably mending his burn. When he caught sight of Lyla, he grinned broadly, still looking handsome despite his injuries.
"Good one, Lyla!"
"And you," responded Lyla giddily, grinning back.
"Well done, all of you!" said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as though he personally had just got past a dragon. "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 consider 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!"
Lyla left the tent side by side with Cedric and rejoined her waiting friends.
"You want to walk with your boyfriend up to the castle?" whispered Theo to Arabella in an audible tone when both Hogwarts champions were only steps away.
Cedric looked down, clearly embarrassed, while Arabella merely laughed nervously. Rather than do just that, however, the boy only gave the dark-haired Potter a shy smile before waving a friendly goodbye and marching back around the edge of the forest. When he had vanished from sight, Arabella gave her friend a good slap on the side of his head.
"I will kill you," she said in a low, furious voice. "One day, Nott, mark my words…."
As they returned, Hermione and Draco told Lyla what the other champions had done in more detail. As they rounded the clump of trees behind which Lyla had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leaped out from behind them.
It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them.
"Congratulations, my dear!" she said, beaming at her. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How did you feel facing that dragon? How do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?"
"Yeah, you can have a word," said Lyla savagely. "Goodbye!"
And she set off back to the castle with her friends, all doing a terrible job at concealing their laughter.
Arabella and Lyla followed Ron and Draco up to the Owlery that evening to find Pigwidgeon so that they could send Sirius a letter telling him that Lyla had managed to get past her dragon unscathed. On the way, both sisters filled Ron in on everything Sirius had told them about Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time they entered the Owlery, Ron was saying that they ought to have suspected it all along.
"Fits, doesn't it?" he said. "Remember what Parkinson said about her dad being friends with Karkaroff on the train? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup. . . . I'll tell you one thing, though, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here — Let me—"
Pigwidgeon was so over-excited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Arabella's head, hooting incessantly. The boy snatched his owl out of the air and held him still while Lyla attached the letter to his leg.
"There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. "You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament… I'm serious."
Arabella and Lyla knew that Ron was only saying this to make up for his behavior of the last few weeks, and they appreciated it all the same.
"She's got a long way to go before she finishes this tournament," Draco said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" said Ron. "You and Trelawney should get together sometime."
He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg was much longer and heavier than usual — Lyla hadn't been able to resist giving Sirius a blow-by-blow account of exactly how she had swerved, circled, and dodged the Horntail. They watched Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness.
"Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party," said Arabella with a grin. "We've been given special permission to celebrate in the Astronomy Tower."
"- Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now," added Ron with a grin.
Sure enough, when they entered, the explosion of cheers and yells greeted them. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Lyla zooming around the Horntail's head, with a couple even featuring Cedric with his head on fire. Arabella and Lyla helped themselves to food; Arabella had almost forgotten what it was like to feel properly hungry and sat down beside Lyla. Ron was back on their side, Lyla had gotten through the first task, and she wouldn't have to face the second one for three months.
"Blimey, this is heavy," said Seamus, picking up the golden egg, which Lyla had left on a table and weighing it in his hands.
"Open it, Lyla, go on!" encouraged Pavarti. "Let's just see what's inside it!"
"She's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules. . . ."
"She was also supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on her own as well," muttered Draco.
"Yeah, go on, Lyla, open it!" several people echoed.
Dean passed the egg, and Lyla carefully dug her fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.
It was hollow and completely empty — but the moment it was unlatched, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing Arabella had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, who had all been playing the musical saw.
"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, hands over his ears.
"What was that?" said Neville, staring at the egg as Lyla slammed it shut.
"Sounded like a banshee," said Lavender. "Maybe you've got to get past one of those next!"
"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "Y-you're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"
"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George with a roll of his eyes. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. In all honesty, I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing . . . maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Lyla."
"Want a jam tart, Blaise?" asked Fred.
Blaise looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering up. Fred only grinned.
"It's alright," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch—"
Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.
"Just my little joke, Neville. . . ."
Blaise took a jam tart.
"Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?" asked Hermione.
"Mhm," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house elf. "'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful . . . get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."
"How do you get in there?" Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice.
"Easy," said Fred, "a concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and —" He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. "Why?"
"Nothing," said Hermione quickly.
"Going to try and lead the house elves out on strike now, are you?" sighed George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"
Several people laughed. Hermione didn't answer.
"Don't you upset them and tell them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"
Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.
"Oh — sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot — it was the custard creams we hexed —"
Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared, looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.
"Canary Creams!" George shouted to the excitable crowd. "Fred and I invented them — seven Sickles each, a bargain!"
It was nearly one in the morning when Lyla finally proclaimed that she needed sleep. She sleepily thanked all who had been together to help throw such a celebration and quickly stumbled out into the corridor, being supported by Blaise and Draco from both sides.
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