On the day of the First Task, I stood in a tent in the Forbidden Forest with the other champions, waiting for what we all knew was coming (although not in any real detail). We traded the usual empty pleasantries, trying our best not to show the nerves that we all felt.

Finally, Ludo Bagman, still dressed in his rather tight old Quidditch uniform, strolled in carrying a small purple sack of some silken material.

"Excellent!" he cried, grinning vapidly. "You are all here! I'm sure you are eager to get started, wot? When the audience has assembled, I'll be offering each of you a model of..."

His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "...the thing you are about to face! There are different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too..."

He paused, and I was sorely tempted to make a comment about something burning.

"Ah, yes . . . your task is to collect the golden egg!"

We all nodded our understanding and waited a bit longer as what sounded like hundreds of feet stamped past. Finally, Bagman raised the sack.

"Ladies first!" he called gallantly as Fleur drew out a model of a Welsh Green marked with the number 2.

"Dragons," I said blandly. "I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell you."

Cedric threw me a glance and winked. Who knew he was a Casablanca fan?

In short order, Viktor drew a Chinese Fireball (marked with a 3), and Cedric a Swedish Short-snout (marked 1).

And then it was my turn. The model, marked with a number 4, was the most vicious of the lot:

A Hungarian Horntail.

"Yikes!" Cedric cried. "I'm not sure which of us has the worse luck, Potter."

"Considering you actually wanted to be in this mess..."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"Well, there you are!" Bagman said jovially. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons! Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first. Just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Excellent!"

He looked at me, "Now... Harry... could I have a quick word? Outside?"

I shook my head, "Sorry, sir. I don't swing that way."

He spluttered, and the other champions chuckled.

"Yes. Um. Right," he stammered. "Good lord, I've got to run!"

Shortly after that, the whistle blew, and Cedric stepped out, a bit green around the gills.

I closed my eyes and thought back to the research I'd shared with my friends...

"OK, next on the list is the Hungarian Horntail," I'd remarked. "What does the book say about fighting them?"

Hermione turned a few pages, scanning the text. "Don't. Apparate if you can, run like hell if you can't. They are considered one of the most cunning & dangerous breeds."

I chewed my lip. "If the Horntail is smart, maybe I could try talking to it? Make a bargain of some sort? There can't have been that many parselmouths in the Tournament..."

Luna shook her head. "It looks like a Slytherin champion named Godwin Gawnt tried that in the 14th century. It... did not end well."

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"You don't want to know. You really don't want to know," she replied.

"Do they have any weaknesses?" I muttered. "Even a food allergy would help..."

"Um..." Neville replied, raising a hand. "I might have something."

"We aren't in class, Nev," I answered, grinning despite the stress. "What have you got?"

"Well.. it says here that dragons hunt by sight. You could try a Conjunctivus Curse?"

"I'm not sure I could hit a target that far away…" I mused.

"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Your cloak!"

I shook my head. "The Tournament Rules say I can only bring my wand, but that does give me an idea..."

The whistle had blown twice more, and each Champion had returned with their prize, somewhat the worse for wear. And then it blew one last time.

I stepped out of the tent, took a deep breath, and proceeded through a gap in the fence around the dragon enclosure. The Horntail crouched at the other end, eyes glittering as she protected her nest. Her tail thrashed, carving deep grooves in the earth.

"Myrddin..." I muttered, "If this works, I'm going to buy you the biggest drink I can find."

I raised my hands to the sky, gathering my will. I'd never attempted a glamour this large, and the mantra was my only chance.

"Anadl sarff," I began. "Swyn marwolaeth a bywyd, dy arwydd o wneuthuriad!"

I repeated it again. And again. And again. Slowly, inexorably, the clearing filled with a foglike mist, blocking all from view. I could hear Bagman ranting about what I was doing, but I couldn't afford the distraction. When all was concealed from sight, I stepped into the fog and let it transport me to the nest.

Moments later, I had my prize and returned to my starting point. With a final shout of "Dy arwydd o wneuthuriad!" I let the fog dissipate.

"Potter has done it!" Bagman shouted over the crowd's gasps. "I don't know how, but he's done it!"

I turned around and headed back to the tent.

I made it three steps into the tent before I started feeling dizzy, and with my next step, I keeled over completely.

When I came to, I was lying on a cot while Madame Pomfrey waved her wand over my body with her usual slightly amused expression. Behind her, Neville and the girls watched with worried expressions.

"Ah, Mr Potter," the matron remarked. I'm so glad you could join us. Is quidditch not dangerous enough for you?"

"Hi, Poppy!" I replied. "We really have to stop meeting like this. People might suspect!"

She sniffed and repressed a slight smile. "You couldn't handle me, Mr. Potter. Especially with severe magical exhaustion. What in Merlin's name you were thinking!"

"Hey! At least I didn't try something stupid like trying to outfly it!" I retorted.

"No, you only drained almost all of your magic with a spell I've never even heard of! What spell was it?"

"I'd be interested in that myself, my boy..." a familiar voice intoned. I carefully sat up, rearranging my pillows for support, and turned my head to see Dumbledore and the judges standing nearby. "Where did you learn such a fascinating conjuration?"

"It's just an old charm I came across, Headmaster," I replied.

Mr. Crouch glared at me. "Have you been dabbling in dark magic, Potter?"

Madame Maxine sniffed, "Zere is no way that such a leetle boy could learn a spell that none of us knows. Do you know eet, Igor?"

"Ve do not teach it at Durmstrang. Hy hef never seen a spell like it."

Crouch snorted. "I still think it's Dark Magic... that's how he defeated the Goblet too!"

"Now, now, Barty," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling. "I'm sure it's nothing of the sort. Right, Harry, my boy?"

"Gosh, yes, Albie!" I didn't say. Instead, I merely nodded.

"There you go. Since the other champions have already received their scores, we'll give you yours now. Maxime?"

"Sept," she replied.

"Six," Karkaroff chimed in.

"Two," Crouch replied, grumbling. "I still say he's going Dark."

"Ten!" Ludo replied, eyes a bit wild for some reason.

"And a ten from me. Thirty-three. Ludo, please announce it to the crowd. Sadly, that will put you in last place, my boy."

"I'll try to live with the disappointment, Professor," I drawled.

He smiled down at me in a rather condescending manner and walked off, rambling about lunch with the other judges.

Moments later, a blond missile crashed into my chest, knocking me back into my pillow. Luna didn't say a word, seemingly content to snuggle.

For half a moment, it looked like Hermione wanted to join her but instead chewed her lip uncertainly.

"Go ahead, Hermione," I remarked. "You know you want to."

"What was that spell? And don't feed me that line about 'just an old charm', Potter!"

I gave her my most innocent puppy eyes, but she merely stared back. They were more effective when I was just a skinny runt, I guess.

"Féth fíada," I replied simply. Neville's eyes widened.

"The Fairy Mist? How in Merlin's name did you learn about that?" he asked.

Luna giggled into my chest, replying, "Exactly!

"In this wise they came, without vessels or barks, in dark clouds over the air..." Hermione quoted. "That's from the Lebor Gabála Érenn. I didn't think it was real!"

"It's just what I said it was," I replied. "Magic that was old when even the Founders were young. I'm a bit surprised that you know about it, though, Nev."

He blushed, "Fairy mist is also the name of a plant. I looked it up in my Gran's library once."

Hermione grinned at him. "You always surprise me, Neville..."

My stomach grumbled. "I guess that means it's lunchtime. Poppy, do you have anything?"

"I'm your nurse, not your housekeeper, Mr. Potter," she replied. "If you promise me to stay away from major magic for the rest of the day, you can go."

"Free! Harry is free!" I cried as Luna climbed off my lap. I bounded to my feet, wobbling a bit before Nev caught my arm, "Quick! Before she changes her mind!"

"As if!" she retorted, "I do have actual patients to take care of, Mr. Potter. And don't forget that egg of yours!"

She pointed to the golden egg sitting on a nearby table. Luna snatched it up as we slowly made our way back to the castle.

Ron Weasley was waiting for us at the door to the Great Hall, his face white.

"Harry," he said seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet... I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you?" I replied coldly. "Took you long enough."

"I shouldn't've..." he stammered.

"Forget it," I stated. "Just... forget it."

His face flushed, and he ran off. Hermione watched him go, her face sad, as Neville gave her a hug.

"Wrackspurts," Luna remarked, "Almost every boy has them."

I had a sudden wave of deja vu, but it passed as we went in for lunch.

After a surprisingly quiet meal, we all trooped up to the rooms the Castle had provided. Over time, they had expanded from a simple bed chamber with a washbasin to a surprisingly modern flat, complete with a bathroom, a comfortable lounge, and a fully functional kitchenette. Luna had dubbed it the "hollydeck" after some Yank TV show Hermione liked, and the name had stuck.

I snagged a couple of bottles of butterbeer from the icebox as the others arrayed themselves around the lounge.

"I wonder how all these appliances work without power," I mused aloud.

"I'm not certain," Neville replied from the sofa. "But I'm guessing 'magic'?"

Naturally, I hit him. Gently. Well, mostly gently.

After we'd roughhoused a bit, to the girls' exasperation/mild amusement, I passed him the other bottle, which he gratefully accepted. For a few minutes, we silently enjoyed each other's company, thankful that the first hurdle had been passed.

"I just wish..." I said at last.

Luna sat beside me and leaned into my side. "What, Harry?"

"I wish Sirius could be here," I sighed. "I miss him, and I worry that he'll get caught."

There was a soft ringing, like the sound of a cloister bell, and a portrait of a young wizard appeared on a nearby wall. He gave an oddly familiar grin, and the frame swung open, revealing a rough tunnel behind. Moments later, Sirius appeared at the entrance.

I leapt to my feet as he moved in for a hug. We simply stood there for a while as he kept murmuring "Thank Merlin" into my hair.

"How?" I asked. Hermione clapped a hand over Neville's mouth.

"I'm not sure. But when Reggie's portrait suddenly appeared in the cave and said you needed me, I came straight here," Sirius replied.

"Reggie?"

"That would be me", the wizard in the painting answered. "Regulus Arcturus Black, at your service."

He bowed deeply. "Mother commissioned my portrait after Siri left home. I updated the template just before... well, let's just say I had my reasons."

Sirius's eyes were full of tears, "I miss you still, brother."

"Arse," Regulus replied fondly.

"Wanker," Sirius responded.

"Anyway, when Hogwarts said you needed Siri, I was happy to help," Regulus continued. "And so, here he is."

"Thank you," I murmured. He merely nodded in acknowledgement.

"But this is a party!" Sirius cried, "Firewhiskey for everybody!"

"Um, we're underage, Mr. Black," Nev replied uncertainly.

"Just for me, then!" Sirius grinned, "Is that the thing?"

He bounded over to the golden egg, which Luna had placed on an unused chair. "Can I open it, Harry? Can I?"

I shrugged, "Go ahead, Sirius."

Sirius dug his fingers into the crack around the lid and pried the egg open. A loud screech filled the room, like the wailing of the damned. He dropped the egg, narrowly missing his foot, and covered his ears. Hermione dashed over and slammed the egg shut, ending the caterwauling.

"Merlin!" Sirius swore, "That's even worse than that woman Lennon married. What kind of a clue is that?"

"No idea," I replied. "But according to Bagman, I have until February to work it out. There's nothing to worry about."

A few days later, McGonnagal announced the Yule Ball.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Anadl sarff. Swyn marwolaeth a bywyd, dy arwydd o wneuthuriad! - "Serpent's breath, charm of death and life, thy omen of making."

It's a Welsh translation of the "Charm of Making" from John Boorman's Excalibur film.

Lebor Gabála Érenn - Literally, "The Book of the Taking of Ireland", but more commonly called "The Book of Invasions", a work of Irish history dating back to the 11th century.