A/N: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
An overwhelming silence reigned in the Champions' Tent as Harry, Krum and Fleur waited for Cedric to finish his attempt at the Golden Egg. Outside, the crowd screamed, yelled, and gasped at regular intervals, like a single, many-headed entity witnessing a daring fight between Man and Beast. Bagman's commentary formed the backdrop for this auditory experience, his words conjuring vivid imagery in the three Champions' heads.
"Oh, narrow miss there, very narrow!"
"He's taking risks, this one!"
"Clever move - pity it didn't work!"
This continued on for fifteen long minutes, before finally, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the Golden Egg.
"Very good indeed!" Bagman commented, his voice nearly drowned out by all the cheering. "And here come the marks from the judges!"
But, to their surprise, he did not shout out the marks given; Harry supposed the judges were holding them up and showing them to the crowd only, as a way to keep the other Champions in the dark regarding their competitors' performances.
"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, you're up next!"
A light tremble ran through Fleur's slender body, from head to foot. Harry felt a spark of compassion for the girl, but this feeling was quickly snuffed out by the realization that he would soon be in her position. She left the tent with her head held high and her hand clutched firmly around the handle of her rosewood wand.
The same process started again.
"Oh, I'm not sure that was wise!" Bagman shouted gleefully. "Oh... nearly! Careful now... good lord, I thought she had it just then!"
Ten minutes later, Harry heard the crowd erupt into applause once more.
"She's done it! Fleur Delacour secures the Golden Egg!" Bagman exclaimed. "Now, for the judges' mar-…"
A deafening crash, followed by a collective gasp from the crowd drowned out the rest of Bagman's sentence. An assortment of screams went up from the stands. Orders were barked out, and spells were fired. Fierce roars filled the air, the thundering sounds of a dragon in agony. Harry and Krum both sprung to attention, eyes fixed on the tent entrance.
A different voice came on the speaker.
"There has been an accident," Albus Dumbledore said, his tone laden with firmness. "Fleur Delacour has been injured by her dragon after procuring the Golden Egg. She is being taken back to the Champions' Tent as we speak in order to receive medical attention. Her marks will be distributed at a later time, once we have made certain of her recovery."
Seconds later, a group of people came barging through the tent flaps, carrying an unconscious person on a stretcher between them. Madam Pomfrey was in the lead, walking at a brisk pace over to the other side of the spacious interior. As Harry and Krum watched, she brought forth her wand, and transfigured a nearby wooden stool into a hospital bed.
"Stand back, you boys," she said, turning around to send both of them a tense stare. "She's badly hurt."
Harry's eyes immediately went to the person on the stretcher, and he felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her.
Crimson claw marks ran diagonally across her chest, having torn apart her clothing and skin like paper. They started just below her now exposed breasts, and reached all the way down to her right hip. Rivulets of blood streamed across her porcelain skin, trailing red lines that flowed with worrying intensity.
Below, the damage was even worse. Her entire left leg was missing from the thigh down, leaving straps of loose flesh dangling from a mangled wound. A severed bone stuck out from the crimson clutter, the remnants of a once-whole skeletal structure.
Then, she was gone from view, hidden beneath the mass of people working tirelessly to save her life. A sudden urge to throw up bubbled forth in the pit of Harry's stomach. He quickly beat it back down again.
"Alright, everyone!" the voice of Ludo Bagman sounded from outside. "I know we are all worried about Miss Delacour, but alas… the show must go on! For now, let us all divert our attention to our next Champion; Viktor Krum!"
A tense atmosphere filled the Champions' Tent as Viktor Krum let out a sigh, uncrossed his arms and walked over to the exit. He did not appear to be particularly nervous, but it was clear in the way that he moved that the sight of Fleur had shaken him somewhat.
Harry watched as the Bulgarian Seeker ducked low and stepped through the tent flaps, his robust form disappearing into the afternoon light outside. He felt much more aware of his body than usual; the slight surge of his blood running through his veins, the tingling sensation in his fingers, and the hyper-focused state of his mind. Yet, at the same time, he also seemed to be outside himself, as if he was seeing the walls of the tent and hearing the crowd from someplace far away.
"Very daring!" Bagman yelled, and Harry heard the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek. "That's some nerve he's showing! – and… wait… no, I can't believe it! He's got the egg! Viktor Krum has taken home the victory!"
Applause shattered the wintery air, and Harry felt his chest tighten; Krum had finished, and that could only mean one thing; that it would be Harry's turn any moment now.
He stood up, dimly noticing that the commotion around Fleur had died down a bit. She appeared to be in a stable condition, for now at least. He drew a deep breath, and waited.
Before long, he heard the whistle blow.
Once more unto the Breach… he thought, bringing forth the replica-wand Hermione had made for him the day prior, and walking towards the exit.
Hundreds of faces stared down at him from wooden stands that had been magicked into existence and draped with Hogwarts colors, separating the crowd into sections. Roughly three-thirds of the space wore these colors; the Gryffindor red, the Hufflepuff yellow, the Ravenclaw blue and the Slytherin green. The last one-fourth had been relegated to the visiting schools, with one half belonging to the Durmstrang Institute, and the other to Beauxbatons.
Casting a quick glance up at the Ravenclaw section, Harry spotted Hermione sitting in the middle of the fourth row, next to Luna. Both girls wore tense expressions, their mouths drawn into strict lines that belied their calm appearance. It looked especially strange on Luna, who was rarely seen without her aloof and dreamy smile. Neville, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen, his timid form drowned in the sea of rowdy Gryffindor students.
At the other end of the enclosure stood the Horntail, crouched low over her clutch of eggs. Her piercing, yellow eyes were fixed firmly upon him, as her spiked tail swiped at the ground, tearing yard-long gouge marks into the rocky surface. Black wings unfurled from her body, stretching out in a show of intimidation.
Alright then… Harry thought, taking a deep breath to strengthen his resolve. Let's do this. Opposite him, the Horntail growled out a spark of flame, as if to match his determination with her own.
Closing his eyes, Harry raised his replica-wand to the skies, and shouted out one simple command.
"Accio Firebolt!"
A weighty silence descended upon the enclosure, before confused murmurs broke out amongst the crowd. Even the judges were sending each other quizzical looks from their seats, as if unsure if his actions fell within the Tournament rules. Was he allowed to summon a broom from outside the arena to help him? Or was that grounds for disqualification?
Harry did not give their confusion much thought. Hermione had studied the official rules, and told him this would be a viable strategy that would not get him booted from the Tournament. And Harry trusted Hermione with his life.
The confusion dragged on for just a bit longer, before a brown blur suddenly appeared on the horizon. Heads turned to stare in fascination at the incoming object. A tiny smile forced its way onto Harry's lips. The Firebolt racing broom he and Hermione had purchased in Hogsmeade two days prior was proving itself a worthy investment. Hermione's plan might just work, after all.
The Horntail turned a curious eye towards the approaching broom, a baritone growl escaping from her throat. Yellow eyes narrowed, and her body tensed. An anxious feeling settled in Harry's chest.
The broom came closer. It was now clearly visible in the sky, zooming towards Harry. A tense silence descended on the crowd. Everyone's eyes were fixed firmly on the flying object.
At last, it reached the arena. It went past the stands. It homed in on Harry, heading directly towards his chest. And then…
The Horntail opened her mouth, and swallowed the whole thing in one fell swoop, right as it flew past her. A shocked gasp went up from the crowd.
"W-Would you look at that?! It would appear the Horntail has just… eaten Harry Potter's broom!" Ludo Bagman exclaimed. In the stands below him, Hermione's face went deathly pale. Her plan had failed. And there was no real backup.
Well… shit, Harry thought as he watched the Horntail turn what he could swear was a satisfied smirk in his direction. That's not good.
As if to accentuate his point, the dragon rose up on its hind legs, casting a wide shadow across the ground. A deep rumbling sound leaked from its mouth, and Harry could see the beginning traces of an orange glow flare to life inside its nostrils.
Fuuuuck.
Before he even got the chance to properly consider the situation, Harry's body acted on pure impulse, throwing him to the side and into cover behind a large rock. Seconds later, the Horntail let loose her stream of devastation, scorching the terrain with her blazing hot fire-breath. Harry felt a powerful tremor run through the stone he was hiding behind as the beam of death made impact with it from the other side.
Please don't melt, please don't melt, please don't melt… he prayed as the rock shook and quivered, and rivers of semi-molten mass started running down the sides. His heart was beating wildly in his chest now, sending a veritable torrent of adrenalin surging out into every part of his body.
After what felt like an hour, the Horntail finally ceased her onslaught of fire, leaving a half-melted, steaming hot pile of rubble in her wake. A thoroughly shaken Harry stepped out from the ruins.
"O-Okay, I'll admit…" he breathed, stopping midway through his sentence to ride out an incoming coughing fit. "… that was kinda scary."
The dragon did not seem to find his meager attempt at humor particularly entertaining, as she immediately shot back into action, rushing towards him with thunderous steps and an open maw.
Oh, give me a break!
Right as she was about to crush his frail body between her colossal fangs, however, Harry suddenly vanished from sight. The Horntail's gargantuan mouth closed on nothing but air as he apparated to the other side of the arena with a loud crack.
A gasp went up from the students. Nobody outside of his close circle of friends knew that he could apparate, after all, including the staff.
"G-Good heavens! I can hardly believe what I'm seeing! Harry Potter just… apparated across the arena in an instant! There is absolutely no way he should be able to perform such a feat as a Fourth Year!" the voice of Ludo Bagman rang out, clearly shaken by what he had just witnessed. "Moreover, I am pretty sure that Mr. Potter does not have a license to apparate in the first place, so I'm curious to see what the Department of Magical Transportation will have to say about this!"
Oh, like I give a shit, Harry sneered. I'm fighting for my goddamn life down here, the last thing I'm worried about is some stupid fucking license!
Ahead of him, the Horntail had seemingly regained her wits, as she turned a nasty glare in Harry's direction, yellow eyes brimming with fury.
"Alright then," Harry growled. "Come at me."
He did not have to wait for long. The Horntail soon came charging at him yet again, intent on tearing him apart with her fangs. And again, Harry apparated away from her just as she was about to bite into him. This time, however, he turned around as soon as he reappeared, and fired off a Diffindo at her unprotected back.
The Severing Charm struck true, and hit a soft-spot between two of her scales. A splattering of blood shot forth from the freshly opened wound, coloring the rocks below a vivid crimson, accompanied by a howl of pain from the Horntail.
"Oh yeah," Harry smiled. It was a hideous smile, one that sent chills running down the backs of those gathered in the stands. "Now we're talking."
The Horntail did not let this small setback distract her for long, however. Flapping her enormous wings, she used the aerial boost this gave her as a means to hurl herself across the arena, directly towards Harry. Again, he prepared himself to apparate away. But this time, the Horntail was prepared.
Instead of going for him with her mouth, she used her lengthy tail instead, swiping at him from the side with astonishing speed. This sudden change in tactics caught Harry off-guard, and he just barely missed his window to dodge. A terrible scream of pain was ripped from his lungs as the force of the blow flung his body across the rocky terrain, the bronze spikes on her tail tearing into his skin and drawing blood in the process.
Up in the stands, a shriek sounded from Hermione as she watched her best friend and lover be hurled into the rocks, his body crushed by the overwhelming forces at play. Even Luna couldn't stop herself from crying out, as her silver eyes went wide with fear and shock.
An overwhelming, all-consuming sense of pain flooded Harry's brain as he finally came to a stop against a particularly large rock. He immediately knew that he had broken several ribs and his right leg, which didn't bode well for the rest of his fight against the dragon.
Turning around on the ground with a whimper, Harry tried to take stock of the full damage done to his body. He did not have to search for long in order to arrive at the final conclusion.
I'm going to die here.
The realization shot through him like a bolt of lightning. Every other thought vanished from his mind, as the core of his being focused on this singular truth. He was going to die here, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
A collection of holes littered his left side, curtesy of the Horntail's spikes. Jets of blood pumped out from them at regular intervals, feeding the steadily growing pool of red underneath him. A dull ache throbbed in the back of Harry's head as he watched the puddle expand, his life essence draining away and staining the rocks.
I'm going to die.
A little ways away from him, the Horntail flashed her grotesque fangs in his direction, a primal display of victory over the conquered prey.
I'm going to die.
A thousand scenes raced across Harry's mind, recalling past experiences and conversations. His life with the Dursleys, his meeting with Hermione, the fight against the Basilisk, the Obscurus incident, the time he spent living with Hermione and her parents… And finally, the ritual. The soul-changing experience of misery and pain, marking a new beginning, and the birth of a new him.
You channel magic directly through your blood now.
Hermione's words reverberated in his head, and before long, lucidity dawned on his waning mind. A thought sparked into existence, an idea so dubious and fleeting that, on any other day, he would have discarded it without hesitation. But in that moment, as he was bleeding out in front of a stunned audience, it was the only hope he had. And thus, he surrendered himself to it.
I channel magic through my blood, Harry thought, raising heavy eyelids to stare at the crimson pool underneath him. But that blood does not need to be inside of my body.
A ripple ran across the surface of the puddle.
I can still control it… even when it isn't in my veins.
Up in the judges' corner, a tense-looking Albus Dumbledore suddenly rose from his seat, hand clenched firmly around the handle of his strange-looking wand. The judges next to him barely registered the movement, as consumed as they were with the sight unfolding in front of them. The intent behind the action burned clear in Albus's piercing blue eyes. He was not going to let the Boy-Who-Lived die here, even if that meant interfering with the Tournament.
Just as he was about to raise his wand and cast a spell, however, something… strange… happened. The blood that had pooled around the young Harry Potter suddenly began quivering, as if being shook by violent forces invisible to the naked eye. A wave of confused murmurs spread through the crowd, as wide eyes homed in on the phenomenon.
The oscillations quickly began picking up speed and frequency. An angry groan escaped Harry's lips as he forced himself up on one knee, a thin stream of blood leaking from a gash in his forehead.
This better fucking work.
Magically produced emerald-green eyes gave way to burning crimson, as the Colovaria spell cast on his irises folded and broke under the weight of the energy surging through them. Drops of blood combined to form slithering tentacles that rose up around him, coiling and twisting as if alive with a mind of their own. The blood gushing from his wounds defied gravity to join in the merging, swelling the tentacles to even larger dimensions.
Stunned faces and open mouths filled the stands as the students watched in petrified silence. Even Hermione couldn't hide her surprise, her chocolate eyes teeming with confusion and slight horror.
The Horntail's mouth opened to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth as she growled at Harry, her tail scraping across the rocks in a display of intimidation. But Harry was too far gone to care. His mind was a mess of emotions, bubbling and effusive, mixing and interweaving, with a singular thought burning bright in its warping center.
The blood-tendrils reached a point above his head, where they began consolidating into something bigger. A gargantuan creature slowly took shape, made of roiling crimson liquid. A serpent. But not just any serpent.
A tiny sound leaked from Hermione's lips as recognition shot through her perplexed mind.
A Basilisk.
The Horntail rose up onto her hind legs to meet this new challenger, extending her wings out as far as they could go. An orange glow emanated from somewhere deep within her throat, threatening fire and brimstone.
A tense moment of silence descended as this crimson Basilisk and the Hungarian Horntail regarded one another with hostility. Then…
The Basilisk shot forwards with supernatural speed, diving straight into the Horntail's open maw.
A loud gargling sound reverberated throughout the arena as the thick liquid burrowed its way into the dragon's throat, filling her from the inside out. Unhinged eyes opened wide as the Horntail cast her long neck about in wild panic, swiping and clawing at the terrain around her. Her back arched as she heaved and retched, her massive body trying its utmost to expel the blood. But it was to no use. This was not just any blood, after all. It was blood that was under the direct control of one Harry Potter, whose eyes sparked with anger and killing intent. No mercy was to be found in their crimson depths.
The spectators watched with terrified eyes as the action unfolded. Nobody could truly believe what they were witnessing.
Harry Potter was choking a dragon to death using his own blood.
Moments turned to seconds, and seconds to minutes, until at last, the Horntail reached for the heavens, her mouth opened wide as she cried a silent scream. Then… she fell silent, her yellow eyes growing vacant as the life left her, and her enormous body came crashing down to the ground.
A tense silence reigned as the dust settled. The fighting was over. A victor remained standing.
Then, suddenly, a veritable torrent of blood flowed out from the fresh dragon corpse, as Harry Potter let go of the spell. The liquid dispersed in a cone-shaped form, emerging from the creature's frozen maw.
I've done it, Harry thought, a grim smile reaching his lips. I've won.
And then, the world went pitch-black, and he passed out.
The Hospital Wing was a long, rectangular room, located on the second floor of Hogwarts Castle. It consisted of eight hospital beds with white sheets, a cupboard containing numerous remedies and potions, a row of privacy screens and an oaken door leading in to a tidy office headed by Madam Pomfrey.
Usually, one could find several wounded students occupying the beds. But today, there was only one.
Hermione had been here several times before, yet the place still made her feel anxious. There was just something about hospitals and clinics that put her nerves on edge, which was perhaps a bit ironic, given the fact that both her parents were dentists. Loud footsteps bounced off the brick walls as she paced down the length of the room, headed directly for the one bed she knew to be occupied.
It had been four days since the end of the First Task, and Harry had yet to reawaken. Four long days of waiting. Hermione fervently hoped this would be the last.
Right as she was about to reach the far wall and her desired destination, Madam Pomfrey suddenly swept into her field of view, white attire and pale skin made blinding by the morning sunlight flooding in through the massive windows.
"Miss Granger," she nodded, a strange warmth present in her gaze. "Back again, are we?"
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione responded, a soft breath leaking from her lips "Back again."
"You look dreadful," the matron commented. "So pale one could almost mistake you for a ghost."
"It's been a long week," Hermione said, running a tired hand through her brown curls. "I'll make sure to get some proper sleep once Harry wakes up."
"You should get some rest now, not later," Madam Pomfrey continued. "And while I appreciate the dedication to your friend, you don't have to continually show up here every single day. He's not going anywhere, after all."
"See, you wouldn't be saying that if you knew him like I do," Hermione replied drily.
"The point, Miss Granger…" the matron said. "Is that you also need to remember to look after yourself. Or there won't be much left for Mr. Potter to find once he wakes."
"I'll… take it under advisement," Hermione nodded. "Now, can I please just see him?"
"Fine."
Stepping away, she allowed Hermione ample space to pass by, but not before handing her a strange-looking potion that she (surprisingly enough) did not recognize.
"Don't worry, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, having noticed her confusion. "I only gave you a Vitamix Potion. You should feed it to Mr. Potter in precisely three minutes. It should help aid him in his recovery."
"Oh. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said. "I'll make sure to do that."
"Yes, you will. Now, go ahead. He's waiting for you."
Sending the matron a grateful nod, Hermione moved further into the room, before finally arriving at her destination. One look was all she needed to know that nothing much had changed with Harry. He still looked as pale as the day before, the only indication of life being the steady movement of his chest as he drew breath and exhaled.
"Morning, Harry," she said as she got seated in the chair next to him. "How was your night?"
As usual, there was no response.
"Madam Pomfrey told me to feed you this," she continued, popping the lid off the slightly bent vial. "It's apparently called a Vitamix potion. I'd never heard of it before, if you can believe that."
Placing a hand on the back of his hair, she tilted his head and pressed the vial to his lips. Before long, she had emptied the entire thing into his mouth, and forced him to swallow it.
"Hopefully that'll help wake you up," she said, as she discarded the vial and rested her head on his chest, eyes glancing upwards. "I really hope it does, at least."
Laying there, she used one of her hands to gently stroke his chin as she listened to him breathe, the slow, rhythmic pace of it oddly calming to her anxious heart. It was like a reminder that he was not in fact dead, even if it kind of felt that way right now.
"Come back to me, Harry," she whispered. "Please…"
A long, shaky breath escaped her lips. She had gotten close to crying again just then. But she had promised herself that she wouldn't. And so she forced the urge down, feeling it wither and die somewhere deep within herself. Crying was a waste of time. Harry would come back when he was ready. That was all there was to it.
She would've liked him to be ready a tad bit sooner though. He was really taking his time.
A/N: I'm alive! Funny how quickly time flies when you're busy. November was exam month, so little work was done on my stories. University comes first, after all. But now, it's December, and that can only mean one thing. Fanfiction time.
Expect at least two more chapters before the end of December. I'll try my best to get the next one out before the 12th (as I'll be going to Paris from the 12th to the 16th), but I make no promises.
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts on the story. This chapter is kind of a game-changer as well, so the comments should be extra spicy. I do read all of them, you know.
Soon at 1000 Follows. Special A/N to come when we reach said milestone. Big thank-you's to everyone.
I'll see you guys in the next chapter. Twisted out.