A/N: Howdy everyone! Check out the HAPHNE discord #fanart for the illustrations from my wife. As always, thank you to those who review, favorite, follow and PM! See you next week!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just happy to be here!
Kudo points to those who can guess where the name for the dragon came from!
Chapter 18
November 2, 1994, appeared on the screen. Harry awoke in the Room of Requirement, sat up, and stretched the aches from his muscles. It had been a whirlwind since he'd been chosen as the fourth Triwizard Champion. The night of Halloween had been harrowing since Harry had returned to Gryffindor tower shortly after visiting Sirius in the Room of Requirement.
His fellow Gryffindors had been less than enthused about his entry into the tournament, regardless of how it had happened. Harry had quickly gathered his trunk and departed under cover of his invisibility cloak after sensing planned hostilities chiefly promulgated by Ron Weasley.
One of the perks of being a Champion was a full pass on all fourth-year curriculum, including exams. Harry would not have to attend classes, could not be assigned detentions for skipping, and was allowed complete access to the restricted section of the library.
This worked fine for Harry, who was well into NEWT material, courtesy of his summer from hell with Tonks, Andromeda and Sirius at the helm. The Room of Requirement, per Rowena, could produce any book within the restricted section, so that perk did not aid Harry much.
What did help Harry, however, was the ability to ignore classes and study on his own. This meant he spent most of his day in the Room of Requirement being drilled by Sirius. Tonks and Andromeda would take over whenever they were available. Harry found, to his dismay, that his summer from hell was not only being extended to this year but was also intensifying now that he was going to deal with a live dragon for the first task.
Harry had almost, almost, revealed the truth of Sirius Black to Astoria. It had taken Andromeda to talk him out of doing it. The Little Lioness was earning her nickname by tearing into anyone foolish enough to badmouth Harry around her. Unfortunately, the anger only served to provoke her blood curse and the poor girl had spent last night in the hospital wing. Harry had made sure to visit her and thank her heartily for her defense of him.
He had also managed, somehow, to convince her to stand down. Harry had assured Astoria that he was fine, sleeping in a safe place, and taking the tournament seriously. Astoria had been too tired to argue and reluctantly agreed to ignore what people said about him.
Of course, the badges, childish as they were, did not help Astoria's temperament. Harry made sure to include the badges in his agreement with Astoria on what she was supposed to ignore. Harry knew, without a doubt, that practically every student in Hogwarts would be wearing the 'POTTER STINKS' badge by the end of the week.
Harry had suffered far worse insults than a silly badge, and had pointedly ignored those, predominantly Slytherins, who wore them. That is, until he ran across Daphne Greengrass sporting one while walking to class, hand in hand, with Theodore Nott.
Despite his thicker skin, both figuratively and literally, courtesy of the Dursley's, Harry found Daphne wearing the badge stung his feelings. A lot.
Harry shook his head, and the memories of the previous days, and exited his bedroom, adamantly determined to channel the consistent positivity Sirius sent his way regarding his relationship with Daphne.
It would work out.
He found Sirius sitting at a table, cradling a cup of hot tea, while hunched over a book. On the wall, the portraits of Salazar, Rowena and Arcturus were in a lively discussion about Wizengamot politics. Harry tuned them out as he plopped down next to his Godfather.
"Morning, pup," Sirius said casually as he turned a page on the book and took a sip of his tea. He hissed and set the tea down heavily, causing a little to slosh out and splash atop the table. "Damn! Still too hot! I can never get it right!" Sirius groused and turned toward Harry. "You want tea or coffee?"
"Er, tea please," Harry replied as Sirius stood and made his way to make some. Harry peered at the text Sirius had been hunched over. "What are you reading?" he questioned aloud.
"Book on dragon physiology," Sirius called from the kitchen before returning with a steaming hot cup of tea and setting it down. Harry pushed it aside, determined to wait at least ten, maybe twenty, minutes for it to cool. "We'll be able to narrow down which dragons to study once Nymph figures out which four species are being imported."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"Something on your mind, pup?" Sirius questioned over the rim of his cup.
"Lots," Harry admitted. "I was just thinking I need to go see Tori in the hospital wing this morning."
"Then go," Sirius shooed him off. "Merlin knows that tea will still be warm when you return," Sirius joked with a wry grin.
Harry stood and made his way to the door leading out to the seventh floor.
"Oi, pup," Sirius called. "When you get back, we're going to continue your dueling lessons. Papa Sal also wants you to practice more parseltongue spells, which means you'll be locked in a room with his portrait for a few hours. Why he insists on that secrecy nonsense is beyond me, seeing as how I can't understand a word you two are, uh, hissing."
"It's family magic!" Salazar called from the middle of his heated discussion with Arcturus.
Sirius and Harry both rolled their eyes.
-GU-
November 21, 1994, flashed across the screen. Harry and Sirius sat at the table in the main room of the Room of Requirement, going over the battle plan for the first task.
"I'm telling you, Sirius," Harry pointed at the diagram of a black scaled dragon. "My Potter luck dictates I'll get the nastiest of the four. It'll be the Hungarian Horntail."
"Merlin, kid," Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose. "You realize that Potter luck is what allowed for some of the most spectacular pranks Hogwarts has ever seen to be pulled, yeah?"
"That was my dad's version," Harry waved off Sirius's counter. "Mine is not that way, and you know it. Let's just plan for the Horntail. Even if it has nothing to do with my luck, our mystery offender who entered me will ensure I'm matched against the Horntail."
"Can't argue with that…" Sirius trailed off bitterly. "Fine, kiddo, you win. But first, let's talk about your robes, yeah?"
Harry blinked. "My robes?"
"You did read the rule book I gave you?"
"Well, yeah," Harry scrunched his face in thought. "But I was just going to wear my normal robes, without Gryffindor colors."
"And that would work," Sirius acknowledged. "But we think it would be better if you made a statement."
Harry contemplated quietly for a minute. "You mean the basilisk robes?"
Sirius winced. "Sadly, they won't be ready in time."
Harry snorted derisively. "What a surprise…" he drawled sarcastically.
"Yeah yeah," Sirius grunted. "Potter luck. I get it. Shut up." Sirius smirked, "We'll just have to go with the next best thing."
"Dragonhide?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "You sure that won't royally irk the dragon I'm going to face?"
"While correct that dragonhide is, technically, the next best thing," Sirius waggled his finger, "you have an advantage that no one else has."
Harry cocked his head to the side. "And that is?"
"You're Heir Black," Sirius pointed. "Which means you can wear the Black family robes."
With that statement, Sirius waved his wand and a set of gray robes materialized atop the table. Harry reached forward and fingered them curiously.
"They feel so light and soft," Harry stated as much as asked.
"No idea what they're made of," Sirius admitted. "I pulled them from the Black family vault. As Heir Black, you can wear them."
"Any idea who last wore them?" Harry questioned.
"Oh, most definitely," Sirius chortled. "Gramps."
"Arcturus Black?" Harry questioned incredulously.
"That's right, boy!" Arcturus called from the wall. "Are you quite finished with him, whelp? I would like to have words with him."
"Almost, Gramps! Don't get your knickers in a twist!" Sirius called cheerily.
"Why you-!"
"Anyways," Sirius said loudly, "I know you're still determining what exactly it means to be a Potter, pup, and that's okay. Just remember that you're a Black by blood too. That's what these robes represent," Sirius dropped his hand atop the robes. "When you wear them, know that the Black family magic supports you, empowers you, and that your family will always be there for you."
Harry swallowed heavily. "Thank you, Sirius." Harry reverently took the robes in his hand. "That means the world to me."
Sirius stood and gave Harry a hug. "Anytime, kiddo. Now, go talk to Gramps before he has a stroke." Sirius pursed his lips. "Can portraits have strokes?"
"You're dangerously close to finding out!" Arcturus hollered, causing Sirius to laugh.
Sirius gestured at Harry and motioned toward the wall where Arcturus resided. Harry grimaced and stood, taking the robes with him. He approached the portraits and noticed, surprisingly, that Salazar and Rowena were observing with a knowing glint in their eyes.
"Stand up straighter, boy!" Arcturus barked and Harry automatically obeyed. Weeks of auror drills, duels, and volatile magics had caused him to obey commands first and ask questions later. "That's better!" Arcturus sniffed. "You are Heir to four great houses and one day shall be their Lord. Your posture should reflect your impending Lordships."
Harry opened his mouth to offer a snarky comment but halted as Arcturus held up his hand.
"I wanted to speak to you of your grandfather Charlus, boy," Arcturus said in much softer tones. "And what it means when you wear those robes."
Harry's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly, always happy to learn more of the Potters.
"Those robes are a Black family heirloom, as I'm sure the whelp indicated," Arcturus began. "What he wouldn't know, is that those are the robes I wore at the height of the war against Grindelwald, when he attempted to conquer Europe."
Harry gawked.
"They are enchanted to deflect minor jinxes, hexes, and curses, as well as some of the more virulent curses. Additionally, they will not allow you to be harmed by Black family magic, as it was Black family magic that was used to enchant them centuries ago."
Harry nodded dumbly.
"When you wear those robes, boy, you wear a legacy that is long and storied. The Black family name has always carried a dark history. It comes with the name, as well as being pioneers and innovators of the Dark Arts." Arcturus grinned maliciously. "It is this legacy that people fear and speak of only in whispers. A legacy of power, boy."
Harry frowned and moved to speak but Arcturus glared at him.
"Power does not equate to evil," Arcturus explained. "Your grandfather was an excellent example of this. Charlus was a jovial man, quick to laugh, infuriatingly personable, and cared deeply for those he considered friends or family." Arcturus shuddered suddenly, "When provoked to anger, however, Charlus was cold, calculating and ruthlessly efficient in his decimation of his enemies."
Harry flinched.
"This bothers you?" Arcturus questioned. "It shouldn't. War is ugly, boy. Charlus played his part, and his enemies trembled at his approach. He was my brother in everything except blood. We bled together quite often, and his blood has flowed into those robes on many an occasion. In a way, they are as much his as they are mine."
"Charlus never cared for people's opinions," Arcturus continued. "There is no greater example of this than when he took my grandson into his household. Charlus always did what he felt was right, and nothing could move him once his mind was set. Resolve, boy. That is what Charlus had in spades. It is what you must learn to project. Unflagging resolve."
"I'll try," Harry said.
"Do more than try," Arcturus said harshly. "Steel yourself! People's opinions can turn as swiftly as the weather. Only your own beliefs matter. There was a truth to Grindelwald's motto: Magic is Might. His dogged belief that those without magic were inferior is where he erred greatly."
Harry stood straighter and gave a stiff nod.
"Charlus taught me a valuable lesson early on in our friendship," Arcturus said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "I pass it on to you, as he was never allowed the opportunity to do so himself. It matters not how you are remembered, young man. It is how we live that determines our legacy. So live, Young Potter. Live life without regret, unyielding in your resolve, and walk in your own power, while those who have gone before you uplift you as you forge your own path."
"Well said," Salazar quipped while Rowena nodded with a small smile.
"Do not let the weight of these legacies inhibit you, dear," Rowena offered. "Instead, as Arcturus advised, allow those legacies to bolster you and give you strength."
Harry smiled slightly. "I will. Thank you. All of you."
"I would wish you luck, but you are Heir Potter-Black," Arcturus said proudly. "So instead, I shall await news of your exploits patiently."
"Just as you are Heir Slytherin," Salazar said with a wry grin. "Be proud of your heritage, my Heir! Never be reluctant to use your gifts, for they are gifts!"
"And never cease in your quest for knowledge and learning, Heir Ravenclaw" Rowena finished with a smile.
Harry wordlessly returned to the table where Sirius had been watching with a wistful gaze.
"Feel better?" Sirius questioned as Harry sat down.
Harry appeared dumbfounded and gave a hesitant shrug as he sipped his now tepid tea. "I don't know," Harry admitted softly. "They speak of family legacies so strongly. All I know is that the burden laid upon me feels too heavy to carry."
"It can be," Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Which is why you share that burden with your family, pup."
Harry smiled up at Sirius, feeling his spirits lift. "Arcturus gave you a talk like that too I take it?"
"Well, it was filled with much more swearing and calls for me to pay attention," Sirius said playfully. "It was Charlus who gave me the talk that I remember though," Sirius revealed. "Very similar to what you heard just now from Gramps."
Harry hesitated and fingered his teacup. "And did you agree with what they said?"
Sirius caught Harry's eyes with his own, looking uncharacteristically solemn.
"Every word, pup. Every word."
-GU-
November 24, 1994, appeared on the screen. Harry stood in the Black family robes as Andromeda fussed about him, straightening his collar and smoothing imaginary wrinkles out. Sirius and Tonks both sat on a nearby couch grinning ear to ear as they watched.
"You missed a wrinkle, Andi," Sirius mocked.
"Shush, Siri," Andromeda called over her shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with making sure our Harry is presentable."
Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror as Andromeda moved to check the back of his robes. The robes looked good, and fit him perfectly, courtesy of some fitting charms. They were dark grey and appeared rather plain to the naked eye. Sirius had made sure to obscure the Black family crests so no one could associate Harry Potter with the Black family.
The robes felt light and allowed for full mobility, something traditional robes typically inhibited. Harry had spent the last three days dueling in the robes to get a feel for them and had found them extremely useful. The enchantments that repelled lesser curses allowed him to take certain liberties in duels, although he was chastised still when a spell got through his defenses.
"You'll stay here, Sirius?" Harry asked as Andromeda finally deemed him presentable.
"You have my word, pup," Sirius nodded begrudgingly, looking none too pleased.
"It's too risky, Mutt," Tonks poked Sirius in the side. "They've only just begun relaxing securities since your last sighting on the continent."
"I get it," Sirius harrumphed. "Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."
"I'll make sure you get a pensieve memory," Tonks promised before pursing her lips in thought. "Can the Room of Requirement produce one of those?"
"Yes, it can, dear," Rowena called from the wall.
Andromeda cast a quick Tempus spell and began prodding Harry toward the door. "Just in time. Now, remember, Dora and I will be watching from the stands, so do your best!"
"I will, Aunt Andi," Harry promised with a grateful smile. "Thank you."
"You remember the plan, Squirt?" Tonks stood after giving Sirius a final poke.
"Which one?" Harry snarked, earning him a cuff on the back of the head.
"Cheeky bugger," Tonks grumbled.
"Dora!" Andromeda scolded and immediately began fussing with Harry's hair. "Now look what you've done!"
"Sorry, mum," Tonks said, abashed. She stuck her tongue out at Harry when Andromeda wasn't looking. Harry mimicked the action, causing Andromeda to roll her eyes in exasperation.
"Merlin! You two are behaving like children!" Andromeda complained and playfully pushed Harry to the door. "Off with you, young man!"
"Yes, ma'am," Harry grinned and departed, drawing his invisibility hood up as he did.
He rarely allowed the populace at Hogwarts to see him these days, except for Astoria, who he visited at least once daily. Harry was still peeved that he couldn't introduce Astoria to his family, as it would make things a whole lot easier. He understood why, though, and made the best of the paradigm he was in.
Knowing Astoria would be forced to accompany the other Gryffindors, Harry made his way to the quidditch pitch where a stadium had been erected. He entered the tent reserved for the Champions and lowered his hood, relieved that he had gotten there before anyone else.
"Thank you, Aunt Andi," Harry muttered under his breath.
He wasn't alone long, as Fleur Delacour entered shortly after, with Madam Olympe Maxime in tow. Harry gave the two a brief nod and continued to sit on a stool in a corner, arms folded defensively. He closed his eyes for a moment and controlled his breathing while using his Occlumency training to steady his emotions.
Nothing is determined yet, Harry thought. There's no guarantee I'm getting the Horntail. Maybe Sirius will be right, and I'll get the Welsh Green…
"Excuse moi," a melodic voice interrupted his ruminations.
Harry's eyes popped open to find Fleur standing in front of him. "Um, hello." he greeted softly, his voice laced with confusion.
"I 'ave not seen you," Fleur said in slightly accented English. "'Ave you been well?"
Harry's head tilted slightly as he studied the gorgeous half-veela. He gave a nonchalant shrug. "As well as I can be." He watched as Fleur's eyes roamed across his body and resisted the urge to squirm in his seat. "You?" Harry questioned and cleared his throat as his voice broke.
Fleur fidgeted and shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously. She unconsciously tucked a strand of silver-blonde hair behind her ear, painfully reminding Harry of Daphne in the moment. "I wanted to apologize for my words when you were chosen," Fleur said timidly. "And also, to tell you I believe you when you say you did not enter the tournament."
Harry was stunned. He hadn't been sure what to expect with the conversation, but that certainly wasn't it. "Th- Thank you," Harry stammered. "That means a lot to me."
Fleur smiled shyly and nodded, clearly pleased with herself. "It is clear to moi you are not a leetle boy after all," she said as she turned to leave.
At her words, a sudden urge surged through Harry. "Hey, Fleur," he called tentatively, his breath hitching as she turned around to regard him once more.
Merlin, she is beautiful, he thought. The sudden, random, thought surprised Harry, and he quickly shook his head and clamped down on his mental shields.
"You do know what this task entails, yes?" Harry asked.
Fleur stared at him intently, almost as if weighing and measuring him. Finally, she gave a single, stiff, nod of her head.
"Oui."
Satisfied, Harry gave a toothless smile. "Brilliant. Good luck then."
"And you as well," Fleur's eyes blazed with an emotion Harry couldn't identify as she turned on her heel and glided back to where Madam Maxime was standing.
Harry pondered the rather pleasant interaction with Fleur as Victor Krum and his Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, entered the tent. Both looked quite confident and at ease, and Harry assumed they too knew about the dragons. Dumbledore and Cedric Diggory entered last, and the group waited on Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman to enter.
Harry observed as Cedric paced nervously, muttering under his breath, his visage pale and a thin sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. While he didn't owe anything to the 'True Hogwarts Champion', as the school called Cedric, Harry couldn't in good conscience not tell Cedric about the dragons, seeing how nervous he was.
So, when Crouch and Bagman entered and Dumbledore began speaking with them while Maxime and Karkaroff swiftly joined in, Harry made his way subtly over to Cedric, who didn't appear to notice his presence.
"Cedric," Harry hissed, causing the young man to nearly trip over his own feet.
"H-Harry!" Cedric exclaimed in surprise. "You startled me!"
"Yeah, you seem like you're in your own world," Harry raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright?"
Cedric hesitated for a moment before sighing and lowering his shoulders wearily. "It's just this task," he admitted. "No one has given us any clues outside of a date. What are we supposed to do? What are we facing?"
"Dragons," Harry replied immediately.
Cedric paled even more than he already was. Harry took a precautionary step backwards in case the older boy decided to expel his breakfast.
"You're sure of this?" Cedric whispered in a strained voice.
"Positive," Harry said firmly.
Cedric began trembling uncontrollably and placed a hand on his forehead. "Merlin's beard, Harry! What am I going to do?" He paused, his eyes widening in shock. "What am I saying?!" he scolded himself. "What are you going to do, Harry? You're three years younger than me!"
The concern in Cedric's tone touched Harry and he offered a genuine smile of gratitude to the Hufflepuff. "You're going to listen very carefully, Cedric," Harry instructed in soft undertones. "I've got several plans for the dragons, and I don't mind giving you one."
Cedric blinked in utter disbelief. "Y-You're s-serious?" he finally stammered out.
Harry pointedly ignored the voice of his Godfather echoing in his head, crowing in victory at his favorite pun.
"Yes," Harry ground his teeth, promising himself that he would hex Sirius first thing when he saw him. "Are you any good with transfiguration?"
"It's my best subject," Cedric nodded feverishly.
"Brilliant," Harry grinned. "When the task starts, transfigure several large dogs, and have them create a ruckus. It should annoy and distract the dragon long enough for you to sneak around under a disillusion charm to get the egg."
"That's a sound plan, Harry," Cedric admitted. "What if I can only manage to transfigure a single dog?"
"Then move fast so you don't get burned," Harry answered. "You won't have much time if you only have one dog."
Cedric's visage turned grim, and he gave a solemn nod, stood straighter, and his face gained a little bit of color back. He looked down at Harry fondly. "Harry, thank you," Cedric said as he held out his hand and gave Harry a firm handshake. "You just saved my life."
"Happy to help," Harry said hurriedly as the headmasters and event organizers broke from their huddle.
Bagman was practically bouncing on his heels in anticipation and staring almost hungrily at Harry, which unnerved him. At Bagman's incessant gesturing, the Champions gathered nearby while the odd man held forth a small bag and explained their challenge would be revealed after each Champion selected.
Of course, Harry thought dryly as Fleur pulled the Welsh Green, easily the least threatening of the bunch. Seconds later, Harry snorted aloud, causing many to raise an eyebrow as he amusedly reached into the bag and pulled out a miniature Hungarian Horntail.
Harry smirked as it preened and tried to make itself as ferocious as possible. Can't wait to rub this in Sirius's face, he gloated internally. He looked away from his miniature dragon to find both Fleur and Victor studying him critically. Harry met their eyes boldly, daring them to say what was running through their minds.
They didn't, and instead turned toward their own miniature dragons as Cedric was instructed to exit on the cannon blast. Soon it was only Fleur and Victor in the tent with Harry, who returned to his stool and steadied his breathing. Arcturus Black's words echoed in his mind and resonated with his core.
Steel yourself!
Harry exhaled slowly as his magic began to build within.
Live life without regret, unyielding in your resolve…
A cannon blast resounded. Harry hardly heard it. Fleur exited the tent.
…and walk in your own power…
Magic began thrumming around Harry as he continued to center himself, all his focus turned inwards as Andromeda had instructed him. With his eyes closed, he did not see Victor glance at him in awe. Another canon blast summoned the Durmstrang Champion from the tent, and Victor lurched away to face the Chinese Fireball dragon he'd selected.
…while those who have gone before you uplift you as you forge your own path.
Harry opened his eyes and magic, his magic, crackled around him, pulsing regularly. He stood and flicked his wrist, sending his wand into his hand as he approached the exit of the tent. He stared down at his left hand, currently clenched in a fist.
"As you say, Grandpa Black," Harry murmured. "Walk in my power."
The final cannon blast sounded, and Harry took a calm step forward, unaware that his magic was projecting all around him, its intensity palpable.
No, not just my power, Harry resolved firmly within his mind. My family's power. Potter, Black, Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
He cleared the makeshift hallway from the tent to the stadium and entered, his eyes focused straight ahead. He blinked once to adjust to the sunlight and saw the massive Hungarian Horntail curled protectively around her eggs. Razor sharp teeth lined the beast's maw, and saliva dripped down as it exhaled heavily, several tendrils of smoke wafting into the air.
Sleek midnight black scales covered every inch of the dragon, accentuated with spikes as long as Harry's legs along the dragon's spine and club-like tail. Harry knew those spikes were poisoned, and while the poison likely wouldn't affect him much outside of nausea, courtesy of Serena the basilisk, Harry didn't want to test his luck.
Harry paused as he heard a hissing whisper from the direction of the dragon. Salazar Slytherin's voice echoed in his mind.
Never be reluctant to use your gifts, for they are gifts!
"Can you understand me?" Harry hissed in Parseltongue.
The dragon's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "A True Speaker?" she wondered aloud, but her voice sounded strained and agitated. Understandable, considering her situation and perceived threat to her clutch of eggs.
"I mean you no harm," Harry assured.
"It lies!" the dragon hissed as her claws gouged the stone below her with ease.
"My name is Harry," Harry said calmly with his left hand held up unthreateningly while his right hand fingered his wand. "Harry Potter."
The dragon shook its head and caught Harry's emerald eyes with her own red ones. "Khisanth."
"My Lady Khisanth," Harry bowed low, despite his mind screaming at the foolishness of the notion. "I fear you have been deceived. One of the eggs in your clutch is not your own."
A bead of sweat dripped down Harry's cheek as he continued to slowly pour magic into the arena around him. It swirled and pulsed around him, seeping into the ground.
Khisanth twitched in agitation, her massive frame heaving with each breath. "Rip!"
Oh damn, Harry thought and frantically began analyzing the arena for a familiar rune that he knew would be nearby. A rune he'd encountered once before in the Chamber of Secrets. He waved his wand and cast an advanced detection spell which pinged back from an area that made Harry almost groan aloud: beneath the dragon.
Odds are it's on the egg I'm supposed to acquire, Harry thought. And likely tampered with, seeing as…
"Tear!"
…Khisanth is parroting Serena… Harry prepared himself for the dragon's impending attack.
Having been so distracted by the Hungarian Horntail before him, Harry had not noticed the stadium's silence ever since the cannon blast heralded his turn. His magic, which he had unconsciously summoned, had flooded into the stadium, startling many an observer.
Then Harry Potter had entered, standing tall, wearing robes of unknown origin and make, and facing a dragon with a casual ease betrayed only by the sweat beading on his brow. Silent awe was the only appropriate reaction to the spectacle, and even Draco Malfoy found words escaped him as his nemesis began what could only be described as a conversation with the dragon.
As a flicker of hope to circumvent the inevitable confrontation with Khisanth found its way into Harry's core, he blotted out the unnatural silence that he was only just now becoming aware of.
And he missed the malicious grin of one Draco Malfoy.
A glimmer of gold flashed as Khisanth raised on her haunches and Harry, in desperation, shot out a rune dispelling charm at the egg. Potter luck struck again, however, as a singular voice cut out across the stadium, shattering the silence.
"Potter is the Heir of Slytherin after all!"
Daphne… Harry flinched as her voice, which he still yearned to hear, overrode his focus. The flinch cost him dearly, as his spell ricocheted off the dragon's thick hide. Oh hell…
"KILL!" Khisanth roared and a jet of flame followed her cry.
Harry was already moving. Months of training with Tonks and Sirius had taught him the core precept that, in a duel, movement was life. He dove into a roll as the flame melted the spot he'd just been standing and came up behind a larger rock where he immediately began hissing in parseltongue.
Sirius's voice echoed in Harry's head, and he found himself immensely grateful for his Godfather's incessant reminders.
Remember the plan if everything fails, pup! Sight, sound, smell!
Harry finished his spell from Salazar Slytherin, and the magic he'd saturated the ground with previously flared to life and dissipated, becoming a thick, silver-green mist that clouded the arena. As soon as Harry was sure he was obscured from view, he pulled up the hood of his invisibility cloak, not wanting any observers to know he had such a tool.
Sight.
He then jabbed his wand upward and began chanting in parseltongue, empowering the spell Rowena Ravenclaw had taught him. Harry felt the residual magic in the air flare up and there was a huge pull on his core which he stubbornly ignored.
The cacophony of sound that was the spectators ebbed as the sky itself began to churn while Harry continued to hiss and swirl his wand. Clouds formed and darkened rapidly. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Harry completed his casting and sagged to his knees, breathing heavily.
Sound.
Rain poured down in sheets, drowning out everything apart from the angry roar of Khisanth while slowly dissipating the conjured mist.
Smell.
Harry heaved himself to his feet and pointed his wand at his face where he silently cast a Black family spell that allowed his eyes to see through the now-dissipating fog he'd conjured. He then staggered toward Khisanth who was standing protectively over her eggs. Harry quickly slipped beneath the dragon and snatched the golden egg from her clutch.
Harry moved away and waved his wand over the egg, preparing to dispel the rune. He completed his spell just as Khisanth's tail crashed into his side, sending him flying into the nearby stadium wall where he crumpled to the ground. The golden egg rolled away from his limp form lazily.
Forgot the cloak will only hide larger objects if it's in blanket form… Harry thought groggily as his head spun and he struggled to get to his feet.
Harry was quite sure he'd dispelled the offending rune and was hoping that Khisanth would return to her senses. What he'd failed to realize, however, was that dragons were quite proud creatures and did not take well to slights, perceived or otherwise. A sharp intake of air signaled an impending eruption of flames, and Harry knew there was nothing he could do to avoid it.
Harry ignored the throbbing pain in his arms and legs and forced himself to his feet where he leaned wearily against the wall. He shakily dropped the hood of his cloak as he observed several handlers having entered the ring in attempts to subdue the royally irate dragon.
It didn't matter as Khisanth exhaled, sending a gout of fire in Harry's direction. Harry reacted on instinct, summoning every bit of his remaining power and overpowering an Aguamenti. Despite the rain somewhat weakening Khisanth's fire, Harry found himself quickly fighting a losing battle. Steam erupted where the fire and water met, deathly hot.
Harry's wand arm trembled violently as he scraped the bottom reserves of his core. The dragon fire seemed to go on forever.
Just a little more! Harry thought desperately.
The fire ceased, and Harry fell to his knees, completely exhausted. His body refused to move as he sat back on his heels, his chest heaving from the strain. He heard several handlers shouting and another massive intake of air. Fire bellowed forth once more from Khisanth's maw and Harry grinned sardonically as his end approached.
A slight tingling in the back of his mind occurred and, just as quickly as it arrived, was gone. A flash of orange flame, barely seen as the oncoming dragon fire roared closer, and Fawkes appeared with a trill of greeting. Harry laughed wearily, coming out more as a cough, as the phoenix touched his shoulder and, in another flash of fire, they were gone seconds before the dragon flame washed over the spot Harry had just been.
They reappeared in the medical tent in a flash, causing several to cry out in alarm. Madam Pomfrey promptly scolded them as she moved around Harry, her wand waving in complex patterns. Harry's breathing was strained, and he winced as he looked down to see blood dripping out of the bottom of his robes. His vision swam and he fell back onto a soft pillow, finally realizing he was on a bed.
Harry heard indistinguishable voices around him as he struggled to breathe, and then he felt something cool drop into his mouth. It traveled down his throat, igniting a pleasant, relieving warmth through his body. His vision cleared and steadied, allowing him to see the head of Fawkes as the phoenix shed another healing tear.
"Thanks, buddy," Harry said wearily and reached up to pet the phoenix. His hand spasmed violently on the way and Harry dropped it to his side in frustration.
Damn Cruciatus curse, Harry groused internally. Wormtail just had to hit me with it…
Fawkes chirruped weakly and combusted atop Harry's chest, causing another chorus of yelps and a high-pitched, girlish scream. Harry tenderly reached up cradled the baby phoenix in his hands as Madam Pomfrey promptly vanished the residual ash.
"Merde!" Harry heard the melodic voice of Fleur exclaim.
"Miss Delacour, control yourself!" Pomfrey demanded, muttering irritably as she continued to monitor Harry's vitals. "Honestly, you would think people have never seen a phoenix before!"
"That's because most haven't," Harry croaked, proud of his cheekiness.
"Hush you," Pomfrey rolled her eyes and stood back, hands on hips. "You'll be pleased to know, Potter, that Fawkes here has done my work for me. You'll be right as rain within the hour."
"What about the poison?" Harry asked.
"Poison?" Pomfrey furrowed her brow. "The only poison I show on the report is…" She trailed off in understanding, her face paling.
"Good to know basilisk venom overpowers Hungarian Horntail venom," Harry quipped.
Fawkes chirruped pleasantly and flapped his tiny wings. Harry nuzzled him with his finger and sighed as the pain in his body dwindled away. Madam Pomfrey turned her attention back to Cedric and Victor, both had several burns from their encounters. Cedric gave a thumbs up and smiled when Harry caught his eye.
Harry returned his gaze to Fawkes when a commotion erupted within the tent as the judges and Bagman entered in a flurry. It took a cannon blast from Pomfrey's wand to restore order, and, after much more controlled deliberation, it was determined that Harry's score would be halved for violating the spirit of the competition by having Fawkes interfere.
Unable to keep his dumbstruck expression off his face, Harry balked at them. "I was just supposed to let the dragon burn me alive then?" Harry said in a low, dangerous tone.
Bagman at least had the courtesy to appear abashed while Crouch, smoothing his pencil mustache, glowered and sniffed indignantly.
"The rules clearly state that a Champion must compete alone with no outside interference," Crouch barked.
"They also state that a Champion can summon aid after the task has begun," Harry countered.
Crouch spluttered, clearly incensed at being corrected. "The meaning behind the rule is for objects!"
"So, I was supposed to what…" Harry looked at each of the judges, "Summon my broom and outfly the damn thing?" he deadpanned sarcastically.
"My boy-" Dumbledore began, only for Harry to interrupt.
"Regardless of the meaning, the wording states that I can summon aid." Harry indicated the baby phoenix in his lap, "Which I did,"
Fawkes took that moment to chirp quite animatedly at the judges.
"Nevertheless, our ruling is final!" Crouch bellowed.
"Whatever," Harry sneered at the lot of them. "Is that all?"
"Yes, yes, that's all," Bagman interjected before tempers could escalate. "The egg is your clue for the next task, Harry. It will be held on February 24th."
"Brilliant," Harry grunted emotionlessly as he stood, gathered his egg, placed Fawkes on his shoulder and dusted off his robes with his wand hand.
"Would you like to know your score?" Bagman asked with a hint of his usual cheeriness in his tone.
Harry scoffed. "No," he spat the word out with as much distaste as he could muster. "I never asked to be put in this damn tournament. I don't care what I scored. All I want to do is survive at this point. How about you lot put your efforts towards more important matters, like how the compulsion rune on my egg was tampered with?"
Crouch laughed mirthlessly. "You expect us to believe-"
"I don't give a fuck what you believe," Harry overrode him, causing a round of gasps. "Khisanth was spouting the exact same words the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets was spouting."
"Who in Merlin's name is Khisanth?" Bagman questioned confusedly.
"The Hungarian Horntail you morons had a fourteen-year-old boy face," Harry called over his shoulder as he made his way to the exit. "And no, I will not take you to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry called in parting. He hesitated and walked over to Pomfrey.
"Where is Tori?" Harry asked.
"Who?"
"Astoria Greengrass," Harry clarified with a small smile. "She should have been tearing this tent down by now."
Pomfrey leaned in close, whispering, "She had another episode and is in the hospital wing in the school."
Harry cursed softly, causing Pomfrey to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Sorry," he winced. "Is she okay?"
"As well as she can be," Pomfrey assured. "You can see her later tonight."
"Thank you, Poppy," Harry gave a grateful nod and turned to leave.
"Don't push yourself too hard, young man!" Pomfrey cautioned.
Harry raised a hand in acknowledgement and exited through the tent flap into the cool air, breathing deeply. Fawkes had burrowed down into Harry's shoulder and was sleeping contentedly. Harry was rather surprised Dumbledore hadn't bothered to comment on the arrival of the phoenix but didn't give it much more thought.
Fawkes was a free creature, bonded or not, and would respond to whomever he chose. There was nothing Dumbledore could do to prevent it either. Harry felt something tentatively grab his hand and he jerked it free reactively, spinning on his heel with his wand immediately in hand.
A familiar yelp of surprise emanated from the female; one Harry recognized immediately by her beauty.
"Fleur," Harry greeted calmly. "I prefer people not sneak up on me."
"Mon Dieu, 'Arry," Fleur gasped and placed a calming hand on her chest. "I 'ave never seen someone move that fast."
Harry straightened and his wand vanished back into its wrist holster. "When events seem tailored to bring about your demise, you learn how to react," he shrugged.
"So, I 'ave gathered," Fleur admitted with a slight nod. "You are an interesting Wizard, 'Arry."
She really is pretty, Harry thought suddenly and, once again, stubbornly shook his head and clamped down on his mental shields. He noted a flicker of surprise cross Fleur's eyes and snarled as understanding struck him, nearly drawing his wand on her.
"I would appreciate you keeping your allure under control, Miss Delacour," Harry growled. "I do not appreciate anyone, even beautiful girls such as yourself, attempting to manipulate my emotions."
Fleur gaped at him. "Y-Y-You can ignore it?" She stammered. "Truly?"
Harry blinked. "Your allure?"
She nodded fervently.
"I…" Harry trailed off a moment in thought. "I think so?" he stated as much as asked.
"What did you feel just before you reacted?" Fleur pressed eagerly as a gust of wind blew through the area and sent a few strands of silver-blonde hair glimmering in the sunlight.
"I thought you really were pretty," Harry admitted with a slight dusting of pink across his cheeks. "Then I realized your allure was causing the subtle thoughts."
"Magnifique," Fleur exhaled in awe and then blushed prettily as she twiddled her thumbs and swayed from foot to foot, clearly nervous.
Harry observed as she futilely attempted to brush her long hair that had blown free back behind her ear. The wind was having none of it though, and instead sent more of her hair billowing about.
"W-would it be acceptable for me to ask you to Hogsmeade?" Fleur asked timidly.
Harry's eyes widened.
"Boys," Fleur paused and swore under her breath. "Non. Men like yourself are rare, 'Arry."
"Oh?"
"Oui. You are a powerful Wizard who can resist my allure," Fleur gestured in his direction with a shaky hand. "I 'ave never encountered someone like you and would like to get to know you better."
Harry clenched and unclenched his wand hand as it spasmed suddenly. "I, um, can't go to Hogsmeade," he informed. "I, er, was banned for this year."
Fleur cocked her head to the side. "A story you can share over dinner then?" she prompted. "I will talk with Madam Maxime, and you can join me in the carriage?"
Harry swore internally as a war raged within himself. On the one hand, he desperately wanted to join Fleur for dinner. Regardless of the allure, Fleur was stunningly beautiful. She also, for the most part, seemed genuinely nice as a person, which Harry appreciated. After the last couple of months of enduring Daphne's passive-aggressive behavior, he was almost at the limit of his endurance.
Could Fleur fill the gaping hole in my chest? Harry thought as Fleur stared at him hopefully, her feelings bravely on display. Would it be so wrong to go on a date with her? To entertain the notion that maybe Daphne isn't what I so desperately want her to be?
He opened his mouth to reply when his breath hitched as a sudden pain erupted in his chest. His body temperature rose swiftly, and he felt pure revulsion stir in his stomach, nearly doubling him over. The 'other hand' had reared its head, reminding Harry of the family magic he still had no understanding of.
There was also the realization that, despite how beautiful Fleur was, he still found Daphne to be more so. Images of her golden blonde hair flashed through his mind's eye. Her smile and her mesmerizingly sapphire blue eyes. The feel of her lips when they had kissed what felt like eons ago.
He sighed, and Fleur saw the answer in his eyes long before he could speak it, as evidenced by her grimace.
"I understand, 'Arry," she said softly. "I can see it in your eyes."
Harry opened his mouth to apologize when she held out a well-manicured hand to halt him.
"Should you ever change your mind, I would welcome your company, 'Arry," Fleur was unable to keep the sting of the rejection from her tone but pressed on nonetheless, "and I 'ope that we can at least be friends."
Harry forced a smile.
"I would like that, Fleur."
"Merci, 'Arry. Merci."