A/N : I DO NOT own anything, every recognisable character, event, action, incantation belong to J.K. Rowling. Updates may be irregular because of school, among other things. My first language is not English, so to you expert English writers and speakers, expect some mistakes here and there. I will do my best to correct them, though.
This story is rated M for a reason.
Long story short, I'm fucking tired. Ever heard of Blank Page Syndrome? Well I'm suffering from that right now. And I changed some stuff, I am no longer writing according to a plan, I write as the ideas come in.
Anyways, here's chapter 11.
Chapter 11 - Firefight With a Beast
"Fleur!" Two voices exclaimed.
"Maman! Papa!"
Harry and Fleur had just walked into the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosemerta's pub. A week had passed since Fleur had received her mother's letter. Today was it, today, Harry would be officially meeting Fleur's parents as her boyfriend. Fleur could almost feel the nervous energy leaking out of Harry. Fleur could understand, she knew herself well enough to certify she would be nervous when Harry would take her to meet his family. Harry had wanted to leave a good first impression on Fleur's father and had wanted to bring out his dress robes but Fleur knocked that idea out of his head. She was taking him to meet her parents, not some royal monarch. At least that's what Fleur thought. As for what Harry thought, his girlfriend's parents might as well be royalty.
"Fleur! We 'ave reserved a room, come let's talk," Apolline said excitedly.
The room Fleur's parents had booked was, by the looks of it, one of the finest the pub had to offer. Fleur smiled brightly at her parents, glad to see them after a few months. Fleur looked up at Harry. He didn't look uncomfortable at all, which was a relief. Nevertheless, Fleur still sneaked in a gentle squeeze on Harry's arm.
"Maman, Papa, this is 'Arry Potter, my boyfriend, as you both know already," Fleur introduced, feeling just a tinge of awkwardness at her less than original introduction. Neither Apolline nor Harry were fazed by it though.
"Ah! Well I finally get to meet the man that now 'olds my daughter's heart!" Apolline smiled warmly at Harry.
Harry's lips twitched upwards. "And I finally get to meet the woman Fleur got her looks from."
Fleur never expected the day she'd hear her own mother giggle like a schoolgirl to ever come. But apparently that was today.
"Flattery will get you far, that is for sure, Monsieur Potter," Fleur's mother said before adding in a lower voice, "but chocolate will get you even further with my daughter."
Fleur felt her cheeks heat up a bit at the mention of her… affections for chocolate.
Her mother cleared her throat. "Now, before chocolate leads us too far astray from the topic we came here to discuss, I am Apolline Delacour, Fleur's mother, and this is Sébastien Delacour, Fleur's papa."
Harry shook Sébastien's hand and kissed Apolline's knuckles as a bottle of wine appeared on the low table in the middle of the room along with a set of glassware.
"It is an honour and a great pleasure for me to finally meet my girlfriend's parents," Harry assured both Delacour elders.
"The pleasure is all ours, Monsieur Potter," Sébastien spoke up for the first time. "I do 'owever 'ave some questions for you concerning, well, my daughter. You see, it is my duty as a father to ensure my daughter is always happy and cared for."
"And you want to see if I meet all your expectations," Harry summarised.
"Yes, that is correct, but this would also allow me to determine if you are… worthy of my daughter."
Fleur rolled her eyes. She had never brought someone, let alone a boyfriend, not that she had anyone before Harry. Fleur didn't know what Sébastien was going to ask but she was certain it was going to be something either impossible for Harry to answer, or highly private. And her suspicions were validated not two seconds later, when Sébastien asked Harry, "'Ow are you doing financially, Monsieur Potter?"
Harry frowned. "How does that relate to - he pointed to Fleur then himself - me and Fleur being together?"
"So should the need arise, you would not be able to financially support Fleur, or yourself, for that matter?" Sébastien questioned sharply.
Fleur cringed. She had thought this was going to be just Harry meeting Papa and Maman and maybe they'd exchange a few words. But this might as well be a full on interrogation. Fleur sneaked a glance at Harry, who didn't look outraged or even fazed by Sébastien's question.
"That is not what I said, Monsieur Delacour. I do not need to disclose the full extent of my wealth to you, but since you are asking and I am in love with your daughter, I can tell you that I am more than capable of providing for myself and Fleur and a few more. If we made careful choices, we wouldn't even need to work and still be very well off."
Sébastien had the decency to look impressed by that. It pained him that the young man before him had probably painted him as a greedy bastard with how he had started this conversation but he had to make sure. Fleur came before everything.
"And if you had to choose between saving yourself and saving Fleur, what would you do?"
Fleur's jaw dropped. Had she misheard or did her father seriously ask that question? Fleur was not going to let Harry answer that. She already knew what the answer would be but she did not want Harry to say the words. It made her feel so selfish, and that feeling only got worse, considering what Sébastien had asked previously.
"Stop, Papa, that's it. 'Arry, don't answer 'im," Fleur said before turning to face her father. "What are you doing?" She hissed in a harsh whisper. "I brought 'Arry 'ere for us to 'ave a nice time as a family, not for you to fully interrogate 'im!"
Sébastien did not back down, nor did he flinch at Fleur's tone. "I am doing this for your own good, Fleur. He is your first boyfriend, I 'ad to make sure my little girl would be treated correctly."
Fleur rolled her eyes. "Men," She muttered. "So tactless…"
"Then 'ow would you 'ave preferred I ask 'im?"
"I would 'ave preferred you not asking 'im that type of question at all! If you wanted to know, you could've just asked me!"
"So you know the answers to the questions I asked?" Sébastien questioned.
"Yes I do! 'Arry doesn't 'ide things from me, well apart from 'is monetary situation, that is. But even then, 'e 'as treated me too many dates already and you surely knew about those! That alone should've given you an idea of the type of person 'Arry is!"
While Fleur and Sébastien were talking in hushed whispers, Apolline had pulled Harry into a whole other conversation. Apolline loved her husband dearly but this was one of his only flaws. Sébastien tended to be way too overprotective and it had often resulted in arguments in the past. Apolline did not want Harry to feel unwelcome, so while her daughter and her husband debated whatever it was that they were debating, she had rowed Harry into a conversation about his magical work.
"Alors let me get this straight, you did not buy your own wand and instead you created your own?"
"Well I did buy my own wand, but - Fleur can fill you in on some of the holes in the story if you want, she knows all about this - it stopped working sometime before the final exams last year, I think. So I had to get another wand but there was something that pushed me to not buy another one."
That had confirmed two things for Apolline. She hadn't really expected Harry to disclose any sensitive information to her. Knowing he knew nothing of her, but from what he told her, Apolline was now absolutely sure Harry was this generation's magical Titan. The urge he had said that pushed him to not buy a wand, that was the superior magic of a Titan guiding him. People said magic was sentient but one could only really understand to what extent magic itself could act if they had the overdeveloped capabilities of a Titan.
And the wand, Apolline was sure it was outstandingly powerful. She was sure that the magical pulse she had felt during summer was from the creation of Harry's very wand. Before she could stop herself, Apolline's question slipped past her lips.
"Can I see your wand?" She asked.
A green blur shot out from within Harry's sleeve and twisted elegantly in the air before stopping at Apolline's hand's height. Apolline looked down at the wand with wide eyes before looking back up at Harry.
"Can I…?"
Harry nodded in agreement to her unfinished request. Apolline carefully took the wand in her hands. As soon as her fingers touched the wood of the handle, she shivered.
"It's freezing to the touch," she said, making Harry frown.
"Hmm, that's strange."
"What's strange?" Apolline asked, confused.
"Well Fleur used my wand quite a few times, and she always said it was pleasantly warm for her. And when I hold it, it feels like holding a steaming mug of coffee. I thought maybe, with you and Fleur both being Veela, you would also feel warmth when holding my wand."
Apolline frowned. "That is indeed quite the mystery, isn't it? I see where you get your logic from and I do 'ave to admit, it makes quite a lot of sense and yet, it is somehow not correct. What is the core of the wand?"
"Liquid dragon fire."
Apolline winced. "I take it was a pain to collect and even more difficult to incorporate into the wand?"
Harry nodded. "It was, I had to kill a Hungarian Horntail and had to get my sister to carve the runes into the wood."
"But just the wood would never 'ave been enough to contain something as volatile as liquid fire, from a dragon no less."
"How do you know that?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Because the Elder Veela of our enclave uses a similar wand. Hers has a core made of liquid fire as well, but from a fallen Veela. You know about the… special abilities one is granted if they are Veela, oui?"
Harry nodded. The fireballs Veela could throw with their bare hands was the third most dangerous form of magical fire one could face, losing out only to a dragon's flaming breath and Fiendfyre. "So you understand why there is an emerald at the end of the handle of my wand?" Harry asked, to which Apolline nodded.
"A power stone. Would I be correct to assume you - or your sister - have carved multiple runes around the crown of the emerald to contain the power of the wand's core?"
"Yes, you would be correct. You know your Runecrafting and enchanting very well," Harry said. He could clearly see where - or rather who - Fleur got her passions from.
"Well of course I do," Apolline sniffed hauntingly. "I am not one the most renowned Enchantresses of Europe for nothing, you know?"
Apolline looked down her nose at an unimpressed Harry for a second before both of them burst out laughing. Apolline was laughing hard. Harry's unimpressed look at her had been so precious.
"I have to tell you, Mrs. Delacour, that Fleur does that act much better than you do," Harry said, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Do you mind if I try casting a spell with your wand, 'Arry?" Apolline asked, half expecting Harry to outright refuse.
"You're curious to see if the wand being cold for you to touch will affect its casting?"
"Precisely."
"Sure, I don't mind, try it. I'm actually curious about it myself."
Apolline raised Harry's wand and pointed it at her unsuspecting husband's back.
"Silencio," she muttered.
Nothing happened. Sébastien kept on arguing with Fleur. Apolline looked down at the wand. "And you say Fleur has no problem using your wand?"
Harry nodded. "We tried making a colour changing ribbon for Gabrielle once and Fleur was too lazy to go grab her own wand so she used mine to enchant the ribbon. The enchantments worked as they should."
Apolline looked pensive for a moment. "And 'ave you tried using Fleur's wand?"
Harry shook his head. He hadn't.
"Fleur!" Apolline said loudly, interrupting her in her tirade.
"Quoi?" Fleur said, turning around irritably.
"It's alright Fleur, you don't need to be mad, and I did not mind your father's questions. He only did what he thought was the right thing to do for his daughter," Harry reasoned. "I was just having a lovely conversation with your mother about my wand and she had-"
"Oui, I 'ad a question. Can you let 'Arry use your wand? I want to see something."
Fleur looked at Harry who shrugged. Fleur shrugged as well before handing her wand to Harry. There was something familiar about Fleur's wand, Harry decided. It was as if he had already met the wand. Apolline seemed to have guessed what Harry had felt.
"Fleur's wand's core is a hair given to her by her grandmother. You probably felt like you've already met the wand before because of how Veela genetics are passed down from mother to daughter. Most of the time, physical characteristics and behaviours change only very slightly."
Harry nodded. It did make sense when Apolline put it like that.
"Now, 'Arry, try casting a spell," Apolline said.
Harry pointed the wand at the flowerpot that sat at the edge of the window of the room.
"Aguamenti!"
A jet of water shot from Fleur's wand's tip.
"Huh," Harry said, surprised. "It actually doesn't feel that much different than my own wand, albeit it feels like it wouldn't bend to my will that easily. Is there a particular meaning to me and Fleur being able to essentially swap wands?"
"Euh," Apolline hesitated. "I do not know for sure and I wouldn't want to give you false information. Which brings me to my next point."
Apolline reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a small pendant. Fleur gasped quietly at the sight of the pendant before blushing.
"This, 'Arry, is a Blood Key. More specifically, a Blood Key crafted by the Elder Veela herself. It will grant you unrestricted and unlimited entry to the Veela enclave. Fleur will be bringing you there with her on the first weekend of the New Year, and, well, the rest is up for you two to discover!" Apolline added a little bit too cheerily for Harry's comfort. The conspiratorial wink the woman gave her daughter wasn't very reassuring in the least. It was probably an inside joke between mother and daughter Harry wasn't aware of.
"Are you ready Fleur?"
"Whatever for, 'Arry?"
"The first task. It's in three days now. Are you prepared?"
"Of course. We may be in love, but this is still a competition. One that I intend to win, 'Arry."
"Oh right," Harry said, smirking, "say that to me again when the name Harry Potter will be written on the trophy."
Fleur sniffed tauntingly at Harry. "You may want to get your eyes checked, 'Arry, because it shall be the name Fleur Delacour that'll be written on the trophy. You may 'ave won my 'eart, but you won't win the Triwizard Tournament."
"You seem fairly confident, knowing that I'll be in first place after the first task, and you shall be staring at my backside, from your second place" Harry said, giving Fleur an amused look.
"Mistake again, mon coeur, it will be you, who will be staring at my backside from second place after the first task. You seem to be making a habit out of staring at my backside lately anyways so nothing new, oui?"
Harry looked away from Fleur's triumphant smirk, a small tint of pink dusting his cheeks at being caught. He had thought he was discreet, but apparently not enough.
"So, how far are you at with that spell we spent multiple hours of research on?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
Fleur's eyes lit up excitedly. "I thought you'd never ask! But it is coming along pretty well. I did the merging Arithmancy of Bombarda and Stupefy, so theoretically, the spell should work. From now on, it is only a matter of figuring out the right incantation, which the Arithmancy finale should be able to give me. You can go over the Arithmancy with me if you wish…?"
"Sure," Harry nodded. "So how long until you expect to be able to fully incorporate the spell into your spell repertoire?"
"It will be our repertoire of spells, 'Arry. It is not like I enjoy keeping secrets from you. And you taught me a lot of your own spells so, I guess this evens us out, or it will, eventually. But if I keep going at my current pace - and with your regular help like usual - I think I can wrap this project up by the first week of December."
"We won't be able to test it in a real life situation until the second task then," Harry pouted a little.
"That is quite unfortunate," Fleur agreed before she purposefully exaggerated her accent. "Now, I 'zink 'zis eez enough studying for today, oui? 'Ow about we study somez'ing else? Maybe more up close and… personal?"
Tonks stood in a huge enclosure, Hunter, Ghost and Ripper were right behind her.
"You know," Ripper said, poking Tonks on her arm, "I completely forgot, last time at the Ministry, but we really should get you and Harry some code names, you know, for the job. It'd provide at least some semblance of anonymity and, the most important part, it'd sound so much cooler!"
"Quit being a kid, Ripper," Hunter said in a low voice, "we've got a job to do."
"Yeah well the dragon handlers that are supposed to meet us are nowhere to be seen so…"
"Oi!" Someone yelled. "You four over there! Are you the security the British Ministry sent?"
"That's us!" Hunter yelled back.
The dragon handler that had yelled quickly made his way over.
"There's only four of you?" The man asked incredulously.
"Is that a problem?" Ghost grunted.
"Well yeah, obviously? Just the four of you could probably barely handle a single dragon, never mind handling the entire security of the operation!"
"Someone didn't read our record files," Ripper sniffed disdainfully under her helmet. "Had you read those, you would probably know we could handle this entire operation but ourselves."
The dragon handler sputtered. "Well, whatever, you guys just make sure you do your job and we'll do ours."
And he marched off to a group of wizards and witches that was relentlessly shooting Stunners at an enraged green dragon. Thick chains were already wrapped around the mouth of the beast, preventing it from breathing fire.
"Does running security also mean we gotta help these dragon handlers?" Tonks asked Hunter.
"Does helping them improve the security of the enclosure?"
"Fair enough. Yo Charlie! Is that you?" Tonks yelled.
The redhead that was supposedly Charlie turned towards Tonks. "Do I know you?" He asked, making Tonks frown before she remembered she had her helmet on. Unfortunately, protocols prevented her from removing the helmet when she was on a job site.
"Yeah, it's Tonks, don't mind the helmet," The Metamorph said.
Charlie observed Tonks for a moment before making his decision. "Alright then. It's really great to see you again, Tonks, even if it's with your, er, whatever you want to call your equipment. So! You're supposed to be our security detail, right?"
"Yup!"
"Do you mind giving us a hand with the Common Welsh Green? Actually if all four of you could give us a hand, it'd be greatly appreciated. My team has tried wrestling it to sleep since sunrise, without much success."
Ghost chuckled. "Now that's something for me!"
Ghost made to move towards the dragon but Charlie put his arm out, stopping him. "I would just like to caution you all to some of the more, erm, obscure things about dragons," Charlie said. "There's something we, at the dragon reserve in Romania, like to call Rule One. Never, and I insist, never face a dragon alone. They have something akin to an aura, like a shroud of magic, that'll destroy your Occlumency shields and wreak havoc in your mind. The most common thing people having encountered dragons report is a feeling of dread, imminent death, and a feeling of desperation. It is one of the reasons for which dragon handlers always work in massive teams of at least a dozen people. The more minds there are, the thinner the dragon's aura is spread, and therefore it isn't nearly as damaging and dangerous for the mind, as opposed to facing the dragon alone. Very few people are capable of being near a dragon and retain their full mental capabilities. The common folk simply freeze in fear. That is if they aren't incinerated by the dragon's breath first."
With Charlie's lesson about dragons finished, Tonks stepped up and as soon as she got within 15 metres of the dragon, she felt something, almost as light as dust, brush against her conscious mind. She didn't feel the desperation Charlie had mentioned earlier, but she definitely got the feeling of dread the dragon gave.
"CHAINS!" Charlie bellowed at his team. Chains as thick as a human forearm sprung from the soil, wrapping themselves around the Common Welsh Green's limbs, trapping it in place. The dragon couldn't roar, its jaw was firmly locked by chains. But the beast nonetheless growled and did its best to escape the chains it was trapped in, and to no avail.
"STUNNERS!" Charlie yelled again. "ON THREE, EVERYONE, ONE, TWO, THREE! STUPEFY!"
Red beams shot at the green dragon from every wand surrounding it. The dragon reeled, tugging forcefully against the chains that were holding it down. Metal clanked as the dragon handlers and the Black Squad unleashed an onslaught of crimson Stunning Spells at the dragon.
Ghost growled, annoyed. How was the dragon still standing when at least a dozen people and a few were blasting it with Stunners? Ghost lowered his wand for a second to breathe before he concentrated every single strand of his magic to his core.
"STUPEFY!"
A gigantic ball of red light exploded from Ghost's wand and soared towards the unsuspecting dragon. The beam was at least a dozen times bigger than the average human. Ghost's spell struck true and slammed the Common Welsh Green into the ground, unconscious. Charlie turned around, looking at Ghost with a flabbergasted expression etched onto his face, just as said man collapsed to the ground. The spell had taken way too much out of Ghost.
Ripper rushed to her fallen squadmate, passing her wand over Ghost's unmoving form. The Diagnostic spells came back positive. Ghost was alive and well. "The spell says Ghost should be back on his feet in about half an hour or so," Ripper informed the rest of the team. "Last time he tried doing this sort of giant 'mega spell' shenanigan, he knocked himself out for a solid three hours."
"Well," Charlie suddenly appeared, looking as cheerful as ever, "at least we got one of them dragons down, three to go!"
Everyone except Ghost - who was still unconscious - groaned.
Fleur,
While I am aware that we are not as close as you and Harry are (and, speaking frankly, because I know what you two are often up to, I hope you and I are never going to be that close because it would be very weird.), I still consider you to be a good friend and you are someone dear to Harry. You would probably know what my job entails since Harry probably told you about it and he's also part of my job team so… Anyhow, I am under direct orders that stipulate that under no circumstances, am I to disclose information or discuss anything that has to do with the Triwizard Tournament.
You probably noticed a package along with this letter, which leads to me explaining what that package is and what it's for. I did my research on Veela and I talked to the two or three Veela that are working as Unspeakables in our Ministry's Department of Mysteries. According to my research and what I have gathered from my co-workers, Veela are able to sustain any form of fire that does not burn hotter than their own flames. I actually would've liked to have that ability, now that I think about it. It would've prevented quite a few burns, courtesy of the cooking stove that I still have no idea how to use. I've rambled a bit and strayed from the topic.
In the package I've sent, you will find a set of blue robes (clothes?) (I did my best to make them match Beauxbatons' uniform so that no one will have any suspicions). I have had to wrestle, almost literally, the whole DMLE's department staff to get my hands on the robe weaver. Well, him and the Master Enchanter. Had I not been part of Black Squad, this set of robes would've probably cost me more than I'll ever make. The robe is almost perfectly fireproof. It won't protect you against Fiendfyre because that is simply impossible, but a dragon's breath is easy stuff for it. And since Veela aren't able to withstand the fire of a dragon's breath, I thought I'd send you an early Christmas present. The fireproofing runic array was drawn by the Master Enchanter and it was weaved onto every single strand of silk of the robe by the robe weaver. The two had to work relentlessly for over 50 hours to get the job done.
I am not allowed to say anything to you, Fleur, but this may or may not have something to do with the Tournament. Hope you stay safe, and say hi to Harry for me, will ya?
NT
P.S. : Tell Harry to send a note to Hunter, and specify that Ripper and Switch are the ones asking. This is probably gibberish to you but he'll understand.
Fleur folded the letter and stashed it in her drawer. She carefully ripped the wrapping of the package that Dora had sent her. What looked like a copycat of her daywear uniform fell out. Top, skirt and shorts, all the same powder blue as her uniform as well. The only difference was the feeling of the set of clothes Dora had sent. It felt much more… luxurious, silky, to the touch. Fleur couldn't help but be impressed. That quality of material, for free? And now it was hers? She had to be dreaming! Before Fleur could get too ahead of herself, she decided to test whether what Dora proclaimed about the fireproofing runes being infallible were actually true.
Fleur took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She had to maintain excellent control over herself. She did not want to transform in the middle of her room on the carriage. Her other form was one of the very few insecurities Fleur still carried. The blazing inferno flared. Fire welled in her veins, her bones, her being. Her fingertips began smoking, getting brighter by the second. A shimmering fireball formed in Fleur's palm, floating. Fleur threw the packaging of the parcel away before dropping the fireball onto the blue robes.
The flames splashed harmlessly against the silk of the skirt. Two more fireballs later, Fleur was convinced the top and the shorts were just as fireproof as Dora had said they would be. Fleur let the fire die down within her. It took her many deep breaths to steady her racing heart. Keeping the intense emotions that came with a Veela producing flames was challenging. Fleur tried the clothes on. How Dora had managed to get her exact size for everything, Fleur had no idea. She was pretty certain even Harry didn't know such things. But Fleur wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. With the first task being only two days away, Fleur could only hope to figure out how fireproof clothes would help her out for the task.
And Fleur also had to pass Dora's word to Harry. With nothing better to do and no idea what the first task could possibly consist of, Fleur set out to find Harry. Fleur left the Beauxbatons carriage hastily. Even if it reminded her of her school, she much preferred Hogwarts, mostly because of the people she had met there. Fleur strolled through the castle's hallways, having no idea where Harry could possibly be. They had shared breakfast together and parted ways soon after. Fleur had a class to attend and Harry had said something about checking some Arithmancy. Maybe he was at the library.
Eventually, Fleur found Harry. He was in the library, with her notebook open in front of him and three huge scrolls of parchment next to it. As she approached, Harry looked up and smiled.
"Hey Fleur," He said tiredly.
Fleur plopped down on a chair next to Harry and pressed her lips to his cheek. "I 'ave been looking all over the place for you," said Fleur, pouting.
"Well I haven't strayed from my spot much today. I can afford to miss some classes, you know, Champion's privilege, so I checked over the Arithmancy for the 'exploding stunning spell' - is that what you want to call it?"
Fleur nodded. "Oui, that is essentially what the spell is supposed to do so I guess the name fits it well. So? What did you think? Did you find things I missed in the Arithmancy?"
Harry shook his head. "I did not expect to find anything amiss in your calculations, Fleur. And I did not find any. All that is left now is finding the incantation and testing the spell."
Fleur grinned. She was excited by the prospect of having successfully merged another spell. The fact that this one could potentially come in handy in a fight was just an added bonus.
"Did you need me for anything?" Harry asked, setting his quill down.
"Oh! Oui, I received a letter not too long ago this morning from Dora."
Harry frowned but he nodded for Fleur to continue.
"She sent a package too, and, actually, I'm wearing what she sent me right now."
Harry looked perplexed. "She sent you a… set of your normal… uniform?"
"Non, she sent me an enchanted set. This one is fireproof."
"Why would she send you that? Did she explain anything to you?" Harry asked.
"Mhm," Fleur nodded. "She can't say exactly for what but it has something to do with the first task. Apparently, fireproof clothes are supposed to be helpful. Did she not send you anything?"
Harry shook his head in the negative. "And just how much fire can these fireproof clothes withstand?"
"A lot of fire," Fleur said. "I tested it in my room and not even my fire could burn through the fabric."
Harry gave Fleur a once over. "Your hands, your face and your legs aren't protected," Harry remarked.
"I know," Fleur sighed. "But at least most of my body is protected. But even then, we still do not know what the task will entail and how fireproof clothes are of any usefulness."
It was the Wand Weighing Ceremony. For an event with such a grandiose name, the officials could've done better than choose a simple unused classroom to host it in. Madame Maxime had insisted on accompanying Fleur to the Wand Weighing Ceremony herself. There were reporters and photographers for multiple magical papers from across the world also present in the room. Harry was glad he had left the Duelling Tournament without giving his statement after winning it and he intended to do the same with the Triwizard Tournament.
"Champions," Dumbledore announced once Harry, Fleur, Viktor and Charles were all settled in the room, "today, we are hosting the Wand Weighing Ceremony. It is only a small event during which an esteemed wand-crafter will inspect your wands to ensure they are in working order for the tournament."
"And to take pictures for the paper," one photographer said, leering eagerly at the four champions. He was probably very excited at the prospect of having the pictures he took on the front page of whatever paper he worked for.
"Yes, yes, pictures afterwards," Dumbledore nodded, though he sounded very annoyed. "Garrick should be here any moment now…"
There was a knock on the door and an old man walked in, shaking Dumbledore's hand energetically. "Albus! My friend! You must know, it is a great honour for me to be granted the privilege of inspecting the Champions' wands! When can I begin?"
"Right now, if you would, Garrick," Dumbledore said quickly when one of the reporters opened her mouth.
"Oh, yes, very well!" Garrick Ollivander said jovially before turning towards the Champions. "May I start with our only lady? Miss…?"
"Delacour. Fleur Delacour," Fleur introduced herself before handing her wand to the aged wand-crafter.
Ollivander took out a monocle from inside his robe and began inspecting the body of Fleur's wand closely. Ollivander began muttering under his breath.
"Rosewood, nine inches… and a half… scratches, none… blemishes, none either… polish, recent enough. And… Oh, dear me! The hair of a Veela as core! How ingenious! A masterful craft if I do say so myself! Orchideous!"
Ollivander produced a bouquet of flowers and handed them to Fleur along with her wand before adding, "your wand is in excellent condition, Miss Delacour."
"Merci, Monsieur," Fleur thanked the old man, accepting the bouquet and her wand back.
"Next, Mr…?"
"Potter. Harry Potter."
"Your wand, if you would, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said.
Harry handed his wand over to Ollivander, careful as to not point the tip of the wand at the wand-maker. Ollivander held the wand close to his eyes, inspecting it carefully.
"This is… hmmm… not one of mine. And icy cold to the touch, how interesting…"
"Nope, it's not."
Ollivander either ignored that comment or didn't hear it.
"This seems like, ebony? Ah! Yes, definitely ebony… And… Oho! What's this?" Ollivander brought the wand even closer to his eyes, if that was possible. He even held it up to his ear, as if he was trying to discern if the wand made any sounds. "Mr. Potter, if you could give this old man a hand, please? I have never seen anything like this… What core does your wand contain?"
"The liquid a dragon spits into fire, sir," Harry answered.
Ollivander gave an impressed nod. "I don't know any other wand-crafters that would dare work with such a volatile substance… Might I inquire as to who made this wand for you?"
Harry shook his head. "They made me vow to never reveal their identity, Mr. Ollivander. I'm sorry to disappoint you."
But Ollivander waved Harry off. "Oh, none of that, young man. Lots of wand-makers prefer to keep their identity secret. I myself have no experience in working with non-solid cores but if I must judge from my knowledge of the art, you have, in your possession, Mr. Potter, a most deadly artefact. I will request a word from you after all this ordeal is done, if that would be alright with you Mr. Potter."
"It is alright with me, Mr. Ollivander."
Ollivander spent another very long moment inspecting Harry's wand but strangely, he made no comment on the gemstone that was embedded at the back of Harry's wand's handle. After a moment, Ollivander conjured a fountain of wine with Harry's wand and declared it was in excellent condition. Krum was next.
"Hm… Gregorovitch I presume? I've always wondered how his style worked… 10 inches… and one quarter… Hornbeam wood, is it? Oh! And dragon heartstring. A fierce combination…"
The aged wand-maker conjured a cloud of smoke with Krum's wand and declared it was in excellent condition.
"And lastly, Mr…?"
"Potter, sir, Charles."
"Potter?" Ollivander's eyebrows rose slightly before he turned to Harry only to find the young man to be nowhere in sight. "Where'd he- is… huh?"
"It's a complicated thing, Mr. Ollivander," Charles said in a quiet voice.
"Garrick, please, do carry on with the wand inspection please," Dumbledore said.
"Yes, yes," Ollivander quickly amended, "of course, forgive an old man for being overly curious… Now, what do I have here? Aha! But how could I forget, one of my very own, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches exactly, and it would seem… yes, recently polished… very well. This wand is also in excellent condition."
Dumbledore was just about to dismiss everyone when one reporter yelled out, "Pictures, Professor, Pictures!"
An invisible Harry sighed from his corner of the room. He had hoped to escape the photo-shoot. The reporters would likely have a field day when they learned that he and Fleur were a couple as well as fellow competitors. The photographers that were here with the reporters began ordering the Champions and the staff around, directing them into different positions for their pictures. Most of the reporters seemed to want Fleur in the foreground and the Veela seemed quite uncomfortable with all the attention she was getting. Fleur shot a desperate look at Harry. Harry sighed. This would only give the reporters more to write about. But if it made Fleur more comfortable, then Harry was more than willing to do whatever it took.
Fleur, whom the photographers had placed in the foreground, sitting on a chair, was pulled up by Harry. Harry wrapped his right arm around Fleur's waist. Fleur sighed in relief as soon as she was pulled out of the foreground. As Harry had expected, quills started to scratch furiously as soon as the reporters saw the more than friendly behaviour from Harry and Fleur. Harry sighed. This was going to be a few long weeks.
With the Wand Weighing Ceremony done, Ollivander pulled Harry out of the room.
"Mr. Potter," the aged man started. "What I am about to say is something no wand-maker should ever bring up. Ever. With the press in the room I could not speak my mind for fear of retribution but with them gone, I request, plead you to listen to me."
"Go on," Harry prompted the man. He was curious as to what this was about.
"In all my years as a wand-crafter, I have never once laid my hand on something that felt as different as your wand. The word 'powerful' would come as redundant to you but that is what I would describe your wand as. I am sure you are familiar with the tale of the Three Brothers?"
At Harry's nod, Ollivander carried on.
"Then you must know about what they call the Elder Wand, the Death Stick, the Wand of Destiny. In my years of youth as a traveller, I have heard rumours, fantasies even, of the quests for the legendary wand. Power-hungry men and women went on the blood quest for the fabled wand. Codswallop all that, I say. You see, people that wield great power tend to like to cover their tracks, protect their blind backside."
"My point is, the Elder Wand, rumoured to grant infinite power - an exaggeration, I am sure - to its wielder, was so sought after because its allegiance changed so easily. Stripping a mortal soul of the blessing of life is no difficult feat. The history of the Elder Wand is stained with blood. So this is my request. Bind your wand to yourself with blood. Use the Dark Arts and whatever means you have to create an artefact that only obeys to you. Once you die, naturally or not, the power of the wand dies."
"I do not have the right to take away anyone's wand, nor would I ever want to, but you must understand that power corrupts people, no matter how golden their heart is. Consider this as the words of an old man who has seen too much bloodshed in Men's hungry conquest for power. A wand as unique as yours, Mr. Potter, is bound to eventually be noticed. And people will come after you for it once they hear of the feats you have accomplished. Please, Mr. Potter, for the sake of our future generations, I implore you to consider my words."
And with that, Ollivander left, leaving behind a deeply troubled Harry.
"No, Hermione, Ron and I are still not talking. He still thinks I cheated my way into this blasted Tournament."
"You have to see his side of things too, Charles," Hermione reasoned. "I know you didn't enter your name, but you have to understand how Ron sees things."
"And how does he see this shit?" Charles grumbled.
"In my opinion, he feels… like less. He always walked in your shadow, the shadow of your fame and that story with You Know Who. And now that your name came out of the goblet, it only serves to add to your own fame while he is left in the shadows."
"Ah!" Charles exclaimed. "So this is about being famous and recognised? Well Ron can have all my fame for all I care. I don't need it, nor do I want it."
"C'mon, Hagrid wanted to show you something, did he not?"
"Yeah, he did, and- Oh shit! I'm almost late!" Charles said in a slightly panicked tone.
"Don't worry Charles, I got your cloak and the map, let's go!" Hermione said, gently pushing Charles towards the Fat Lady's portrait.
Charles looked stunned for a moment before he grinned. "What would I do if I didn't have you, Hermione?" he said good-naturedly.
A faint blush dusted the young girl's cheeks. "Well for starters you'd have to go back upstairs to get your cloak and the map…"
The two shared a laugh as they covered themselves with the Invisibility Cloak and walked out of the Gryffindor common room. With the help of the Marauder's map, they managed to make it to Hagrid's hut in a quarter hours' time. Charles knocked.
"Hagrid!" Charles said in a harsh whisper. "Open up! It's us!"
"Charles! That yer?" Hagrid's voice echoed from inside the hut.
"Yes, it's me!"
"Alrigh' jus' a sec' I'll be righ' with ya."
A moment later, the door of Hagrid's hut swung open and the massive man appeared. Charles and Hermione shared a look. Hagrid's unruly hair was slightly wet and it looked like he had tried to tame it.
"What the-? Hagrid?"
"Yes?"
"The hell did you do to your hair? And- Is that a tie you're wearing?"
Whether Hagrid simply had his head somewhere else or he simply chose to ignore the question, Charles would never know, but Hagrid did not answer him. Hagrid steered them to Beauxbatons' carriage. A second later, the door of the carriage swung open and Madame Maxime appeared.
"Monsieur 'Agrid," the tall woman greeted. "Where are you taking me like this, late at night?"
"You'll see," Hagrid promised. "They're quite the sight to admir'."
"What the- ?" Charles whispered. "Did he bring us on a date?!"
Hagrid shot a look at where he thought Charles and Hermione were before discreetly jerking his head towards the Forbidden Forest. Maxime looped her arm through Hagrid's and let him lead her into the forest, Charles and Hermione following not far behind. A few dozen metres or so into the forest, ferocious roars suddenly reached the odd group of people's ears. Periodically, a part of the forest in between the trees would light up.
"Ta-Da!" Hagrid said cheerily. "Dragons for the First Task!"
There were four dragons, each in a cage. There was one that, despite the darkness of the night, was distinguishably green. It was the smallest of the four dragons. Charles couldn't see the farthest one but when it spit fire, he caught a glimpse of a dark, blood red scale. The one to the right of the green dragon had blue scales. Charles noticed this one had a slightly shorter snout than all the other dragons. And the last one, Charles shivered when he saw it. He prayed to Merlin he wouldn't have to face this dragon. It was, by far, the largest and biggest dragon of the lot. Entirely black apart from sickly yellow eyes, this dragon's entire body was weaponised. Giant spikes spiked the dragon's tail. And this dragon looked to be the calmest of all the other three. Something definitely seemed off about it.
Having seen enough, Charles tugged on Hermione's sleeve. "We have to go, I need to make a Floo call to my father. I can't face these dragons without help, I gotta figure something out!" Charles whispered, panicked.
Charles and Hermione rushed to the castle as fast as they could under the Invisibility Cloak. As soon as they burst into the Gryffindor common room, Charles rushed to the fireplace. There was one advantage to being part of a respected family in the British magical society: you were allowed to make Floo calls from any and every fireplace, as long as you had Floo powder with you.
Charles dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace and threw a pinch of Floo powder from a pouch he always kept in his robe pockets. "Potter Manor!" He called before sticking his head into the green flames.
"Dad!" Charles called. "Dad, you still awake?"
Heavy footsteps, a grunt of pain and several skipped steps later, the dishevelled image of James Potter appeared.
"What the- Charles? Have you seen what time it is?"
"Yes, I did, but never mind the time, I need help, ungently!"
"Help for what?" James asked with a raised eyebrow, all sleep had left his system.
"The First Task!" Charles said, his voice quivering just once.
"Oh. I see. Tell me everything you know."
Charles told James about everything he saw, the four dragons, Hagrid and Maxime both knowing about the dragons. James' frown creased more and more as Charles continued recounting the event. In the end, he sighed.
"I don't know much about dragons, Charles, they are out of my area of expertise, but I can help you put a plan together. Each of the four dragons you described have their own set of weaknesses. You'll have to do your own research on them because I frankly know nothing about them, bar the name of the species. From what you described to me, the black one is the most dangerous."
"Yeah, I kinda figured that out already," Charles muttered.
"It's a Hungarian Horntail. Maybe Hermione can help you do your research, but whatever you do, you have to do it fast. The task is in two days now, is it not? Anyhow, the dragon with the blue scales is a Swedish Short-Snout. The red one is a Chinese Fireball and the green one is a Common Welsh Green. I don't know much about dragons but I can tell you two things. I've heard from colleagues that have had to handle dragons at one point or another and they all said the same thing. They never worked alone. Something about the dragon completely frying their brains or something if they faced the beast alone. Also, no matter how thick the armour on any magical creature, there is one guaranteed weak spot in their guard: their eyes. If you can, you can momentarily incapacitate the dragon with a spell directly to its eye. But remember son, safety first. I want you back home alive at the end of this year, understood?"
Charles nodded. "Guess I won't get much sleep in the next two days," he sighed. "Good night Dad, I've got a ton of research to do, starting now. And I've yet to figure out a plan…"
"Good night son, you'll be alright, I'm sure of it."
Charles extracted his head from the fireplace. Hermione was looking concernedly at him. "Well," Charles announced. "I am likely not going to sleep very much in the next two days, I've got a ton of research to do."
"I'll help you," Hermione immediately offered.
"Thanks," Charles said with a grateful smile. "I can't afford to gamble on the fact that I won't end up having to face one of the dragons so I have to learn everything I can about all four of them. Just great. Hungarian Horntail, Chinese Fireball, Swedish Short-Snout and Common Welsh Green. Hungarian Horntail, Chinese Fireball, Swedish Short-Snout and Common Welsh Green. Hungarian Horntail, Chinese Fireball, Swedish Short-Snout and Common Welsh Green."
"Charles?"
"Hm?"
"You're repeating the dragons' names like a maniac."
"Oh."
Charles and Hermione shared a careless laugh, despite the imminently upcoming First Task. One that could easily turn out to be deadly.
"How would you like a midnight trek to the library?" Charles asked, picking his cloak and map up.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the very first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"
The crowd cheered and roared. The delegations of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were amassed in a gigantic stadium. Not quite as big as the one of the Quidditch World Cup, but it was fairly close. The reason for such a big stadium was because of the witches and wizards all across the world that had come to Hogwarts to watch the task. Originally, the British Ministry of Magic had been against the idea of advertising the tournament to international communities. They were convinced by the office of international relations however, that if the tournament was to be transformed into a sort of even for people all across the world to watch, then the magical businesses on the English Isles could potentially see an incredible boost in their income due to the waves of newcomers that would want to watch the three tasks of the tournament.
The stadium had to be built outside the wards of Hogwarts, in the mountains surrounding the English school. The landscape provided natural prevention against adventuring Muggles. Near the stadium, a tent was erected, the Champions' Tent. Harry stood against one of the poles that held the tent up. He and Fleur hadn't been able to figure out exactly what the task was about, but judging by the rocky arena that was awaiting them outside the tent, Harry had a fairly good idea of what they would be up against. Fleur was wearing the fireproof clothes Dora had sent her a few days prior, idly twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her index.
Harry glanced around the tent. Only the Champions were currently in the tent. Krum was lying on a conjured medical bed that did not look comfortable at all. The moody Quidditch star was still, Harry couldn't even discern his respiration. Fleur didn't look too bothered by what they were going to face. Harry smirked inwardly. His girlfriend already had the advantage of being immune to pretty much every type of fire and added that to the fireproof clothes Dora had sent her, Fleur had very little to worry about. Harry glanced at the youngest champion, Charles Potter. Now he was looking nervous. Very nervous. His face was pale but still held a façade of confidence, which Harry could commend him for. Charles' hands were twitching and he was tapping his foot impatiently, as if he couldn't wait for the task to be done with. It was almost like he knew what they were going to face.
Suddenly, Bagman, Maxime, Karkaroff, Dumbledore, Crouch and a whole lot of other people burst into the tent.
"Champions," Crouch barked, "gather 'round. Today you shall be facing the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. It is designed to test your daring and courage in the facing of the unknown. Security measures have been put in place but do not hesitate to pull yourself out of the task should the need arise. Safety comes before winning, ain't that right?"
Nobody answered. Crouch, undeterred by the lack of response from the champions, pulled a darkish purple satin bag from within his cloak. "Ladies first," He said, presenting the bag to Fleur.
Fleur frowned but she reached into the bag. Something tickled her palm, making her flinch. Fleur slowly pulled her arm out of the bag. A tiny green dragon clung to her palm, spitting small bouts of smoke at her. Fleur glanced at Harry. So this was what the fireproof clothes were for. Fleur made a mental note to thank Dora profusely for the fireproof clothes. A dragon's fire burned hotter than a Veela's and Fleur would've probably gotten injured pretty badly had she faced the dragon head on. But that didn't answer the question as to why Dora hadn't sent a set to Harry as well. Fleur hoped it was because Harry had something up his sleeve.
"Mr. Krum," Crouch presented the bag to Krum.
The Bulgarian reached into the bag and abruptly pulled out a red-scaled dragon; the Chinese Fireball. He didn't even glance at the miniature dragon in his palm. He already knew about the task, Harry realised.
"Mr. Potter," Crouch said, holding the bag in front of Harry. Harry reached his hand in. His finger touched a spike. Harry glanced at the youngest champion. He'd spare him of the extra challenge that a Horntail presented. Harry took his hand back out of the bag and surely, he heard a sigh of relief coming from Potter. He also knew about the dragons, it would seem.
"And finally, Mr. Potter," Crouch turned the bag over and a blue dragon with a significantly shorter snout fell into the palm of Charles.
"Now, Champions," said Bagman, "you have all drawn your opponents. If you look carefully, each of the miniature models of the dragons have a necklace with a number around their neck. They are the order in which you shall be facing your dragons. Your task is very simple. Collect the golden egg. Doing so will grant you a clue as to the contents of the next task. Fail to collect the egg and you will find yourself at quite a big disadvantage."
Harry looked down at his Horntail. The little dragon had a tiny necklace with the number one carved into it. Harry glanced at Fleur. The Veela held two fingers up.
"Mr. Potter," Crouch said, "at the sound of the cannon, you may begin your task. Your timer starts as soon as you step into the arena. Miss Delacour, you are second. Mr. Krum will face his dragon third and Mr. Potter will wrap things up. Champions, you are allowed a quarter of an hour for last minute preparations."
Harry put the miniature dragon in his pocket and went up to Fleur.
"Fleur," he said in a hushed whisper, "dragons have a-"
"I know, 'Arry," Fleur reassured, "I did my research on the side, you know? I did promise you I'd be the one walking away at the end of the day as the winner of the first task. I intend to keep that promise."
"Okay, okay," Harry said, relieved, "as long as you've got a plan."
"Which I do, mon coeur. Don't worry about me, worry about yourself. I wouldn't want an easy win if you're reckless."
Fleur roughly pulled Harry in by the front of his robe and kissed him. "Good luck 'Arry!"
The cannon shot. Harry gave Fleur a confident smirk and headed outside the tent. The entrance to the arena where the Horntail was likely awaiting him was fairly obvious. As Harry walked into the rocky arena, he felt the air ripple around him. Wards. Those had likely been set up by the officials to protect the crowd and the stands. According to rumours, there were some very important people amongst them.
Harry reached the end of the entrance and the roars of the crowd that had come to watch the spectacle reached his ears. Thousands and thousands of faces looked down at him. Harry spread his arms wide and the crowd cheered him on, making him grin. Just the simple recognition from the crowd and their support made him feel twice as tall as he was. Harry could see why some people lost themselves in their fame and forgot who they themselves were.
The Horntail was nowhere to be seen, however. Harry made it forty metres into the arena before he felt something was off. The aura that had surrounded the Horntail he had faced in Hungary this summer was nowhere near as aggressive and powerful as this one Horntail's. Something was off. And just then, an enormous spiked black tail appeared in front of Harry, seemingly materialising out of the void. It was only Harry's incredible reflexes that saved him from being impaled on the Horntail's tail. An orange shield appeared, blocking the tail's swing instantly. The shield, whilst not useful at all against magic, was extremely efficient at absorbing all the kinetic energy from incoming objects, rendering them harmless.
Harry quickly backed off, drawing his wand. The Horntail had used its claws to grip onto the stone above the entrance to the arena, in an attempt to surprise Harry. With its strategy at eliminating Harry early on failing, the Horntail quickly flew over to its nest, covering the eggs once more.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Hogwarts' very own Champion! Harry… POTTER!" Bagman yelled with his amplified voice. "I must remind you ladies and gentlemen, that the English Champion is not to be dismissed easily! He is the winner of the European Duelling Championship of '94 and the one that ended Master Duellist Flitwick's undefeated streak! Let's give him the honours he deserves!"
The crowd yelled and roared their support - or hate, there were all kinds of people out there. Harry tuned their voices out. He had more pressing matters at hand. The much more amplified aura of the dragon was one of such problems. Even against an almost infallible Occlumency such as his own, Harry could hardly control his mind from being bewitched by the dragon's aura. His legs began to tremble and his fingers began loosening their grip on his wand. Harry shook his head furiously. He could not afford to lose to a simple magical shroud!
"And it looks like Mr. Potter is succumbing to the Hungarian Horntail's enhanced magical shroud! How disappointing! Who would've thought Mr. Potter would go down like thi- Wait! What's this he's doing?"
Harry had tried something in a desperate attempt. The wards around the arena prevented him from casting his own wards. They did not, however, prevent him from playing with them. And so, Harry had seized the strands of the ward that protected the crowd from the dragon's aura and tethered it to his own head. The crowd did not need that specific ward anyways; there were too many people for the shroud to be of any effectiveness.
The dragon seemed to have also realised that its aura no longer had any effect on Harry. The Horntail roared and opened its jaws at Harry. A torrent of flames shot from the dragon's gullet. Harry twirled his wand and a dark purple dome shaped shield appeared. The fire the dragon had spit was harmlessly deviated to the side. The dragon growled in annoyance. No human could stand up to it for this long and not perish. Harry was growing slightly impatient at the lack of forward attacks from the dragon. He wondered if the dragon was vulnerable to electricity. Maybe that trick he had pulled on Ripper would work the dragon as well. Well it was worth a try anyway. And if it didn't work, then too bad, the dragon would lose its life.
Suddenly, the dragon dashed forward, abandoning its hatch of eggs. Claws reached out, trying to cut Harry to pieces. Harry could only frantically dodge the incoming blows from the dragon. The beast was too fast for him to use the kinetic energy absorbing shield at this range. The dragon was practically all over him now. It was growling in undisguised fury and savageness. Flames rained down on Harry once again, forcing him to roll underneath the dragon and pass between its legs. That manoeuvre almost cost Harry dearly. A spiked tail smashed into the ground where his head had been only a millisecond ago.
Harry cast another dark purple shield with his wand as another jet of burning hot flames was shot his way. In his left hand, a blue sphere appeared. Harry made the sphere of water grow, until he simply couldn't anymore. And then he threw it. The enormous sphere collided with the ground and exploded, covering the whole arena in water. Harry released his shield, letting it shatter. His feet were soaked. Harry jumped and used his wand to blast air underneath him. To anyone in the crowd, it looked like Harry had suddenly started flying. The same red sphere of energy he had used on Ripper appeared in Harry's hand, small bolts of electricity crackling at the surface of the sphere. The dragon was much bigger than Adriana was so Harry also made the red sphere gain volume. And he dropped it. The sphere exploded in a shower of sparks and bolts as it hit the ground. The bolts of electricity reached the dragon and electrocuted it, knocking the beast out cold. Harry had just enough presence of mind to shoot a shield - the same orange one he had used to stop the Horntail's tail - at the nest before the dragon collapsed atop it. Thankfully, Harry's shield protected the eggs from being crushed under the dragon's weight.
Harry stopped blasting air underneath himself and he smoothly drifted through the air and to the ground. He collected the egg from the lot of real dragon eggs and victoriously made his way to the exit, the ground yelling and cheering for him madly as he left the arena, untouched.
"NOW WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT!" Bagman yelled, "THIS WAS A SHOW OF INCREDIBLE UNKNOWN MAGIC BY OUR FIRST CHAMPION! LET'S GIVE IT UP ONE MORE TIME FOR HARRY POTTER!"
Fleur had just made her way into the arena. For some reason, the entire place was wet, like it had just rained or something. She looked up in the stands and she caught a glimpse of silvery hair just like hers. Her mother had come to watch the task. And was that Harry that was next to her? Fleur squinted her eyes and whoever it was that was standing next to her mother definitely looked like Harry. Well, Fleur smirked inwardly, if that was indeed her boyfriend, then she'd just have to make sure he watched as she beat his score.
The Common Welsh Green sat protectively over its batch of eggs, the golden one twinkled under the sunrays. Fleur looked around herself. Harry's task hadn't produced as many shards of rock as she would've liked. Maybe, for once, Harry had decided against using brutal force and instead resorted to smart, precise spells. Fleur blasted a particularly big boulder into a million shards of rock. She then transfigured the heap of rocks into cats. Each of the felines would take on a small share of the dragon's shroud, therefore reducing the load it would have on her own brain.
The green dragon spit fire at Fleur. She had gotten too close for the beast to feel unthreatened. Fleur dodged the incoming jet of fire, still a little wary of her fireproof clothes. She wouldn't rely on those unless it became absolutely necessary. The dragon growled and hissed at Fleur. As soon as she moved an inch, the dragon would growl. Its eyes were glued to her, as if daring her to inch forward. Fleur took a few seconds to think of a plan. At least the cats were idle and did not approach the dragon. Fleur was thankful they split the dragon's shroud with her. Even with its power diminished, Fleur could feel her Occlumency struggle. She had to act quickly.
The dragon took the few moments of idleness of Fleur to slap a large boulder towards her. The massive rock flew towards Fleur at an alarming speed. Fleur's wand snapped up, making the rock explode. The shards of rock flew and one of them grazed Fleur's leg, slashing through the skirt. The shard had opened a small gash but Fleur paid it no mind. The crowd, especially the male part of the crowd, had their eyes glued to her every movement. An idea formed in Fleur's mind.
She levitated the shard of rock back into the air and made them spin in a spiral. Fleur aggressively swung her wand towards the dragon and the sharp rocks flew towards the beast. Fleur hastily applied a Disillusionment Charm over herself and released her Allure. She hoped the rocks combined with her Allure would be enough to distract the dragon. Fleur made a run for the nest.
The Welsh Green raised its wing, the sharp rock shards collided harmlessly against the skin of the wing. The Allure was what made the difference though. The dragon seemed thoroughly disoriented by Fleur's Allure. And to most of the crowd, it had the same effect. To them, it felt like Fleur was everywhere around them. Her Allure whispered sweetly in their ears, words they could not comprehend. They weren't words, more like a mix of sounds that sounded, for the lack of a better word, alluring, like the most enchanting female voice the men in the crowd had ever heard.
Fleur, however, had managed to sneak past the dragon's enormous legs and managed to collect her golden egg. Fleur dropped the Disillusionment Charm so that the officials could see her leaving the arena. At the last moment, the dragon gave a long sigh, a jet of fire escaping its jaws. Fleur never saw it coming. Thankfully, the fire splashed harmlessly against the silk of her fireproof uniform.
The crowd had gasped when the dragon had unintentionally spit fire but they breathed an incredulous sigh of relief when Fleur wasn't burned to crisp but instead walked away like nothing in the world was wrong.
"MISS DELACOUR FINISHED HER FIRST TASK IN STYLE!" Bagman said cheerily. "QUICK AND EFFICIENT FROM THE YOUNG FRENCH LADY! LET'S GIVE HER THE APPLAUSE SHE DESERVES!"
Krum was the third to face his dragon. The Chinese Fireball wasn't protecting its eggs idly. As soon as Viktor had stepped into the arena, the dragon was pacing in circles around its nest. His plan was simple. Karkaroff had already warned him about the dragons, so he had studied every weakness the dragons had and the only common weakness that Viktor had found all breeds of dragons shared was their eyes. Viktor strode towards the dragon and as soon as he was within spell range - but out of the range of the dragon's shroud, he shot a Conjunctivitis Curse directly at the Chinese Fireball's eye. The spell connected and the dragon roared in pain. The large lizard twisted painfully and thrashed in all directions. In its pain, the Chinese Fireball crushed at least half of its eggs.
Viktor winced. That had not been part of the plan but it was too late. What had happened couldn't be changed. Viktor rushed forward. He could only afford to be close to the dragon for a split second or else the dragon's aura would likely destroy his brain. The dragon's blindness was only temporary and the pain had more than likely enraged the beast. Just as Krum was about to reach the nest of eggs, the air became heavy with smoke. Something was wrong. Viktor looked up and the dragon had curled into a ball. The Bulgarian immediately backed away. The two seconds he had spent surrounded by the shroud were perhaps the most unnerving and painful two seconds of his entire life. The dragon's whole body was releasing… smoke? The air was now suffocating. And the area around the dragon was burning hot now.
The air pulsed and the dragon gave a discharge. The public and the Champions now learned why the Chinese Fireball was named so. The dragon had turned itself into a giant ball of fire before discharging and drowning the entire arena in a pool of flames. Viktor had barely managed to dash behind a boulder and erect a water shield before he was surrounded by flames. The Fireball roared to the sky and searched for Viktor. With his plan to simply use brute force and force his way past the dragon falling through, Krum had to think of another strategy to complete his task.
Maybe the simplest of ideas was the one that would work the best. Viktor summoned a nearby rock and transfigured it into something akin to the shape of a bowl. With a few precise flicks of his wrist, Viktor disillusioned the rock and sent it flying towards the unsuspecting dragon's nest. Viktor made the invisible bowl scoop the golden egg up and he summoned the whole thing back to him as the dragon roared, enraged, thinking one of its eggs had been stolen. Krum picked the egg up and made a beeline for the exit. The Chinese Fireball dashed forward towards Viktor and slashed. The tip of its claw sliced into Viktor's back, ripping the Bulgarian's robe, opening a deep gash. Blood started pouring out and pain started to cloud Viktor's mind. But he had made it to the exit. The last thing Krum saw was four dark figures with dangerous looking helmets rush into the arena, their wands blazing.
Charles was a nervous wreck. He hoped dearly that his spell would work. He had practised relentlessly in the past two days and nights. It didn't matter to him if he came in first or last in the task. All that mattered was that he completed it, and left the arena alive. As soon as he stepped into the arena Charles raised his wand.
"Accio Firebolt!" He yelled, pointing his wand vaguely in the direction of the castle.
And then he hid behind a boulder and waited. The Swedish Short-Snout was much too preoccupied by its hatch of eggs to pay any attention to whoever had just stepped into the arena. Charles waited and waited until he heard it, his Firebolt was soaring towards the arena before coming to a perfect stop in front of him. Charles mounted the broom and immediately shot into the sky. It was like he was in a Quidditch match once more. All nervousness and stress left him. The dragon he had to face was no more than a particularly menacing opponent.
Charles had read up on dragons in the last two days as well as practising the Summoning Spell. He had found out that dragons, no matter what species, all had an aura of sorts that would destroy any being with magic's mental capabilities, rendering them into a sort of soulless container, a bit like a magical being post Dementor's kiss. But that was the long term effect of exposure to the shroud anyway. If he avoided being under the aura for too long, Charles would be fine.
Charles dived expertly, just close enough to the Short-Snout for it to feel threatened, but out of range of any of its attacks. And that stratagem continued on for quite a while. Dive in close, circle the dragon for a few times, fly away, and repeat. Each time Charles would dive, the dragon would follow his trajectory closely, craning its neck in every possible direction. It was a commendable strategy. If you could not beat the enemy head on, then toy with it, tire it out until you strike the final blow.
The dragon roared in frustration after what was perhaps the ninth manoeuvre by Charles. It was extremely annoying to have to constantly deal with an insect sized human that kept hovering over your head. Charles was simply trying to bait the dragon into standing up. Its current position prevented him from diving in to grab the golden egg. Charles faked a dive to the left and that was the last straw for the Short-Snout. It roared, spitting a long jet of fire towards the Firebolt and got up on all fours. Charles seized the opportunity and dived. The shroud washed over him making him flinch violently on his Firebolt but he kept pushing the broom forward.
Sweeping the golden egg up, Charles didn't even bother looking back and he sped towards the exit of the arena. That was his only mistake. The dragon swung its wing, in a last desperate attempt to stop the thief from stealing one of its eggs. The wing clipped Charles' shoulder, drawing blood. The wound might have been painful, but at least he had done it. Charles had survived the first task.
"AND THERE YOU HAVE IT! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS CONCLUDES THE FIRST TASK! THE JUDGES ARE ALLOCATED A FEW MOMENTS TO DELIBERATE BEFORE THEY GIVE OUT EACH CHAMPION'S SCORE. NOW, LET'S GIVE ALL OUR CHAMPIONS ONE LAST ROUND OF APPLAUSE!" Someone had taken over the commentary from Bagman.
The judges, consisting of all three heads of the three schools, Bagman, Crouch, one teacher of each three schools and an official from each of the foreign countries, took a few moments to discuss what they had seen and each judge came to their own conclusions.
"First up, we have the score for Hogwarts' First Champion, Harry Potter!"
Harry, who had sneaked into the stands and was currently next to Appoline, looked attentively at the judges' lodge. Madame Maxime went first. She gave Harry a 9. Harry nodded, satisfied. He did hesitate a bit into the first few minutes of the task. Next was Karkaroff. The man seemed very reluctant in raising his wand. A 6 materialised in the air. Harry rolled his eyes. Of course someone had to play favourites. Dumbledore, Bagman and Crouch each gave Harry full marks. Harry grinned. Karkaroff could shove his bias up his ass. The Professor representing Hogwarts, judging by the absence of a person under the 9 that appeared in the air, was Flitwick. The other two teachers both gave Harry 8's whilst the officials gave Harry and 8 and a 9 respectively.
"Harry Potter has managed a score of 87 out of 100, which puts him in first place!" The announcer yelled in his amplified voice. "Now let's have the score for our French Champion, from Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour!"
Maxime also gave Fleur a 9. Karkaroff, if he could have any less honour, gave Fleur a 5. Dumbledore gave Fleur a 9 as well. He had taken off a point because Fleur had slightly injured her leg, even if it was only a small gash. Bagman, Crouch and the Durmstrang Professor all gave Fleur straight 10's. Flitwick gave her a 9 and Fleur's own teacher gave her an 8. The two foreign representatives both gave Fleur 9's.
"Fleur Delacour has managed a score of 88 out of 100! Incredible! Harry Potter is pushed down to second! Miss Delacour takes first place! Now let us have Durmstrang's Champion, Viktor Krum's score!"
Krum's last minute injury cost him dearly, with only his Headmaster giving him a perfect score. Krum ended up with a score of 72 out of 100.
"Viktor Krum now holds the third place! Let's have the score of the youngest champion ever in the Tournament's history! Charles Potter!"
The judges had taken the most time arguing about Charles' performance. On one side, half the judges felt like there was too little magic demonstrated by the youngest champion, who had only cast a Summoning Charm. A powerful one, but it was still only a single spell. On the other hand, there were the judges that felt like controlling a broom to the level Charles had done deserved an exceptional mark. And that was how Charles ended up with a score of 77 out of 100.
"And that's it, ladies and gentlemen, for the First Task!"