12th February 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.
They were met on the outskirts of the forest by a frazzled Professor Pomona Sprout, Headmaster Dumbledore, Ludo Bagman and Lord Crouch. The latter of whom had, according to Ron, been taking a lot of fire from the discovery that his son had in fact been alive all along.
There had apparently been calls for investigation and for him to step down from his position of Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Madam Bones had taken the time to confirm for Harry that while the man was discreetly under investigation, the Wizengamot had determined that he was not a danger to others at present and that pulling him from the Tournament and replacing him would do more harm to public perception than good.
She had looked less than pleased about the whole matter, but apparently until voting finished and was tallied on the new Minister, the British Wizengamot as a whole was calling the shots and she like all the other Department Heads was expected to honour and uphold their decisions.
Madam Bones had stood beside Lord Crouch while the group had questioned Harry about the Questing Beast, which apparently hadn't been a planned addition to the task. She had seemed more intent on keeping an eye on Crouch's behaviour and actions while he performed his duties than on adding any questions for Harry, aside from to ask whether he had been harmed and needed a Healer.
It had become readily apparent that none of the gathered had any knowledge of where the Beast had come from, though it had been suggested that it was possibly the result of whomever had charmed the Goblet of Fire into forcing Harry's entry into the tournament to begin with.
Though they simultaneously admitted that theory might have been a long shot, given what they knew about Questing Beasts.
In the end they had opted to put the matter behind them in order to see to the second half of the task, and Harry and Cedric had been ushered to the champions pavilion in the arena for a light snack to help replenish their spent energy and to be looked over by Madam Pomfrey.
Which turned out to be a good thing, since apparently Viktor had run afoul of a Tebo while in the forest and had been lightly gored.
Though how someone could be 'lightly' gored, Harry had been uncertain.
Fleur it seemed, had gotten off as lightly as Cedric, only having bumped into a territorial Ashwinder which she had quickly frozen and a small group of Pixies which she had similarly frozen then stunned for good measure.
Idly, Harry had wondered if they weren't the same Pixies that Gilderoy Lockhart had brought onto Hogwarts grounds during his tenure as Defense Professor.
They were escorted to the arena and Harry and Cedric both spent a moment while walking to peer around and wave back at the students that waved and shouted trying to get their attention.
In the Champion's Pavilion Fleur and Viktor were already seated, talking quietly while they took from a platter of sandwiches that had apparently been brought over specifically for them. Harry idly recalled that several food stands had been set up around the arena for students to take their food and sweets from.
An agreement that had come about in part to make sure potential buyers would walk by the two Weasley Wizard Weezer's stands that were selling merchandise for the tournament and some of Fred and George's specially crafted treats.
So far the most popular items according to the twins were, the assortment of badges - particularly the one that cycled from the Swedish Short-Snout in its natural state and its transformed duck shape - which were pretty cheap so everyone could afford several that quickly found their way onto bags and robes. And the memory globes which each contained a memory of one champion match from the first task.
Harry had initially wondered about the point of having four separate globes when one crystal globe was sufficient for all four memories. George had explained that while they could have done so, by splitting them into multiple distinct parts made them a set that could be collected, which was what a lot of students had been doing with the small horde of badges that were on sale.
The young king had considered the possibility, had even had it in mind to a degree when the original idea to make merchandise for the Tournament both for PR purposes but to also make sure every participant went home with something to show for risking life and limb.
He hadn't honestly considered just how well received the whole idea had ended up being. He'd had to pop back to Skyfall specifically to pick up a small squad of house-elves to help with the whole production and retail process, something that had earned him some impressive thoughtfully narrowed side-eye from Hermione, even if she had kept her thoughts to herself for now.
Which honestly, had surprised Harry quite a bit until he found out that apparently Hermione had managed to spot one of them alone and had tried to give her a handkerchief only to be very politely pointed to Hildegara, who in turn had decided to show off her courting gifts.
As Harry understood things, Hermione was currently distracted learning about elf culture from Hildegara between jobs.
Though Harry had no illusions as to the fact that a long talk would still be required before she either relaxed about the topic or took up arms all over again.
He didn't know what it was that made him so avoidant of even the idea of confrontation with Hermione, he was more accepting of the minor squabbles he sometimes got into with Ron over this or that. Though most of those were about quidditch and schoolwork, so he rather doubted they could be counted on the same scale.
Frederick had suggested that it might stem from an internalised fear of somehow disappointing or otherwise driving away his first friends. Something he knew wouldn't have been the end of the world since some people do just grow apart as their lives and particularly their interests take them in different directions.
His own study into psychology had told him as much.
Still, right now he was feeling rather grateful to a much newer set of friends, or at least friendly acquaintances as Fleur, Viktor and Cedric were largely focused on their own lunches and weren't staring at him the way the adults had been. Though Cedric was still sneaking looks at him when he thought he wouldn't notice.
Harry looked up as the pavilion curtains parted and stepped inside. "Alright Champions, if you're all rested and finished with your lunch we'll head into the arena now so we can introduce everyone to the stage for the second half of the task."
Each of the teenagers regarded the other for a brief moment before they started rising to their feet, eager to be underway.
Almost in unison Harry and the other champions stepped through the wide opening of the pavilion and out into the grounds of the arena. The crowd of students and staff that had refilled the stands post lunch cheered at their appearance; scarves, flags and an assortment of noise makers being flailed about in the air.
The young king sought out Hermione and Ron in the stands almost immediately, giving them a smile and wave, which extended to Neville and Luna who happened to be sitting nearby.
The arena looked quite a bit different from the last time Harry had seen it.
The floor had been altered into a solid polished stone platform in the center of the ring which housed four rather complete looking brewing and preparation stations, including lattice racks beside each that contained one of each sort of cauldron or other such tools.
Around the outside of the raised platform, before the barrier that separated the stands from the arena floor sat a ring of tables that stretched around the entire arena floor. They were piled high with an assortment of ingredients and reagents from a multitude of regions. It all totalled, Harry knew, to more than a small fortune.
Much, much more.
He wondered if the expenditure had been approved while the late Minister Fudge was still in office, or if someone hadn't snuck the purchase through in the chaos that had come after.
It did make for a rather weighted show of wealth.
If a person understood what they were looking at and the fluctuating market - and black market - price of each item. Things that Harry knew from his studies and the regular reports that Goldhammer shared with him, since the goblins made it a point to know the worth of everything that might cross their path.
Too many years of being taken advantage of and short changed for their efforts.
Given the curious looks on the other three champions he doubted they actually understood the raw value they were currently sharing an arena with.
To one edge of the arena, a stone faced Professor Snape snapped his wand out in a quick little swirl and an illusionary image of the four teenaged champions swam into being, one bust representation hovering above one workstation each in a readily understandable show of assigned work area.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you all enjoyed our brief break and managed to pick up a little something at the food and merchandise stands because the second half of the task is about to begin!" Mr. Bagman announced as he made his way to the very centre of the raised platform in the middle of the arena.
He made a gesture back at them and the four teens made their way forward, each of them moving up to their assigned workspaces.
"Now, as you can see our wonderful champions have each been assigned a place to work where they'll be hard at work proving their abilities with the complex art of potion crafting." Bagman said, turning on the spot as he spoke to address the whole crowd. "For this half of the task, our champions must use all those wonderful ingredients they managed to find and harvest in the first half."
He paused to gesture to the ring of ingredient laden tables. "This bounty you see ringing the arena is all up for use, they may all take freely from these tables to add to their concoctions. So long as they also use the ingredients they harvested themselves. Because you see in this half, every correctly prepared ingredient and every correctly brewed potion or paste will gain them points. But each failure and indeed each piece of viable ingredient left over after the time is up will cost them points."
Harry cocked his head, thinking that over as he pulled his shrunken box of ingredients out of his pocket and set it to one side of his prep table, enlarged to its normal size.
"Each successful preparation step will gain them five points. Then again each successful brew turned over for judging will gain them twenty points. Our panel of potion master judges will review each concoction submitted to them and either award or remove points based on its quality and complexity. Which means a well brewed potion of an advanced or higher difficulty will be worth more points and may just be what it takes to secure top spot in this competition."
Staring down at his box of ingredients Harry's mind was already churning over possible uses. Most of the plants and small critters he had decided to harvest lent themselves to restoratives of one sort or another, though there were a couple that were key ingredients in sleeping potions.
Bagman swung around again, a broad grin on his face. "Now, that's not to say our champions are limited to only one brew. In fact, they can create and submit as many as they can complete. Provided of course they keep in mind the few rules of this round. That means each champion has the possibility of submitting multiple works, each of which will earn or lose points for them.
"And remember, once the end of brewing time arrives, any incomplete concoctions will cost our champions a heft twenty points each. So the risk is just as high as the potential reward." The Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports announced.
That, Harry decided, made things a touch more difficult.
They had to choose one or more suitably advanced brews, prepare all their individual components correctly, brew them to a satisfactory quality, and use all of the things they had harvested in the first half without waste.
Nevermind that some brews called for the leaf a plant but not the stalk. Or the wing or juice or some other part of the whole, but not the remainder of that whole plant, insect or mineral.
Quietly, at the back of his mind, Harry had a brief thought that the person who had concocted this second Tri-Wizard task was a bit of a dick.
He half tuned out the rest of 's speech to instead return to combing through the potions and salves he knew before coming to the conclusion that based on the ingredients he had harvested, he would be looking at at least three brews going simultaneously at a minimum.
Though even that was a bit of a stretch and would still leave him with one or two parts of his ingredients left over.
Mr. Bagman gave them the order to begin and Harry immediately moved to the outside ring of tables and began to stroll around them, peering at the ingredients as his mind went to work inserting, replacing or removing potential ingredients from hypothetical concoctions.
Given the scarcity of some of the ingredients he wanted to avoid wasting anything if it could be avoided, the fact that it would cost him points only added fuel to the drive.
He had a vague back-of-the-mind sort of awareness of the goings on around the arena. He could hear Mr. Bagman introduced the four potion masters that had been brought in to judge and offer observations and explanations as things progressed.
Probably for the best. Harry didn't think most people would find watching others spend hours methodically preparing then brewing what-have-you particularly riveting.
But by the time Harry had made his second steady pace around the ingredient tables he had found himself with an idea.
Admittedly one he hadn't been entirely certain would work, but an idea nonetheless.
He moved to collect the ingredients he was missing, carefully measuring and counting them out so he wouldn't end up wasting anything. Harry floated the things he was picking up behind him, absently aware that each item was being noted and hypothesized about with first of the potion master's Bagman had cornered for commentary.
He had left his conjured case with the bits he had harvested in the first half open at his station and he could see out of the corner of his eye that they were currently stopped beside his work station and were pointing to this or that in the case.
He paid it little to no mind and instead kept at his own current task until he returned with his chosen bits and pieces whereupon he cleared his throat to gain their attention.
"Yes, King Harry, did you have a question?" Mr. Bagman asked, bright crowd-pleasing smile in place.
"A matter of ruling from the judges." Harry stated as he set down the last of his ingredients in neat arrangements near his prep board. "As far as ingredient gathering is concerned, are we, the contestants permitted to utilise those we can derive from our own person?"
Both Mr. Bagman and the potion master both blinked at that, obviously taken aback by the query. The potion master - Master Arkadius Pheely, Harry's mind supplied, the other British potion master along with Snape - recovered first.
"There is no rule for this task regarding the use of ingredients gained from a human donor, no." The man stated, head cocking to one side. "Although certain arrangements would need to be made if you were seeking to use more sensitive ingredients."
Meaning semen or vaginal discharge which were sometimes used in fertility potions and tinctures that were used to treat certain injuries to the genitals. And in post-birth healing, which Harry knew from his lessons with Healer Graves was in itself an injury of sorts, especially during the first child's birth when the body hadn't been trained to do what it needed to.
As much as it usually followed an instinctual proceeding, there were still things the body could get wrong. Tearing, prolapse and more.
Rather hair raising stuff, Harry thought.
"In particular I'm asking in regards to the harvesting of a measure of blood from an animagus form." Harry specified to get to the point, since he knew some cultures, or even people viewed an animagus in a rather particular fashion.
Both men blinked again, staring at Harry for a moment getting stuck on the knowledge that he was implying if not outright admitting to being an animagus.
Eventually they shook off their shock and Master Pheely gave a nod. "Given the nature of the animagus it would be rather contrary to allow participants to harvest from their human form but not their beast form. Do you require assistance?"
Giving it a moment's thought Harry eventually inclined his head. "That would be appreciated, my other form is rather large."
"Very well, what needs to be harvested and what quantity?" The man asked, moving to the tool racks that sat to the side of the prep station.
"Blood, specifically fifty milliletres worth, stored in a crystal phial until needed." Harry instructed then with a thought and a flex of magic he had lifted himself sufficiently into the air to transform.
He felt the tingle and stretch that was becoming more and more familiar as he transformed, something Sirius had told him several times would become so familiar he wouldn't even register it anymore.
Long body stretched out above the arena, Harry ignored all the pointing and exclamations and instead focused on weaving himself into a lazy circle so he could lower himself in a spiral and get at least his arms down to Master Pheely so the man could bleed him.
And hopefully without sending any of the tables or his fellow contestants flying with his bulk.
He could just imagine Snape shouting point deductions while pinned to an ingredient table by Harry's tail.
The dragon-king got himself in accessible range, holding out one arm to the rather stunned looking man and used his other to point to a section that had slightly softer scales that could be pierced. "Just here should be easiest for you." He instructed.
The men both startled at the sound of his voice, though Harry really couldn't blame them since it seemed to be the going reaction to finding out that he could still talk even as a beast.
Although Harry was rapidly learning what Britain classified as 'Beast' and what the rest of the world did was looking like very different things.
Bloodletting done and the small wound healed, Harry settled back into his human form and took the phial of blood from the older man with a quiet word of thanks before turning his attention to his ingredients. Each required rather exact preparation, more so than would normally be acceptable for the average brew.
A twitch of magic had several cauldrons flying from their place on the racks to their expected place on enchanted burners. Two pewter, one gold and one cast iron, each of which had a specific purpose.
He made quick work of filling the first three with the water they needed and set the temperature on their burners while he and several charmed tools went about slicing, dicing, mincing, grinding and otherwise rendered each item into its required form before taking a step back.
He absently noted that a different potion master had moved to spectate, making quick notes as she surveyed his work with each.
The young king turned his attention away from the woman and instead moved to gaze at each of his lit cauldron to gauge their readiness. Seeing that it was he flexed his magic again so the first few he would need were hovering in the air ready to be included into the bubbling liquid.
He had set up the cauldrons so that of the three that were currently lit the two that had the closest time synchronisation for stirring and ingredient addition time were side by side so he could work on them easier at the same time. The third had a more sedate stirring regimen which happened to fall into lulls in the other two, so he could alternate between them pretty decently.
Provided he had equated correctly for the effect the external ambient temperatures and wind - slight as it was - would have on the brewing process.
Harry set the first ingredients to slowly add themselves to the water of their respective cauldrons while he started stirring, one mixing rod in either hand. His left moved a silver-steel rod in spiralling motions, while his right moved a copper rod in a jagged zigzag pattern.
Absently he wondered if this was the magical equivalent of someone patting their head while rubbing their belly.
More and more he zoned out of the world around him as he worked, focused almost solely on his brews and the steadily climbing temperature he had been feeling the longer he stood over the boiling, steaming cauldrons.
He had noticed since he had attained his animagus form that he was more sensitive to heat while his native body temperature sat several degrees cooler than human normal. Which effectively meant he had to pay slightly closer attention to his own body during summers and winters than he had previously and that intense potion sessions, few as they had been since his having left the Dursleys, were more wearing on him than they had been previously.
At a small lull in the mixing and adding, Harry shucked his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, the top few buttons of his shirt quickly and efficiently having been undone so his neck and collarbone were free from the slightly stifling material.
Down to more relaxed waistcoat and rolled sleeves Harry had leapt back into it.
He focused on his task, only vaguely aware of the questions he was occasionally asked and the answers he gave in response, more interested in timing his additions than on just about anything else. Each of the base potions he was crafting were considered to be advanced, his end product though, if he got it right and it worked like he hoped would be a masterclass in potioneering.
If he got it right.
There were so many little things that could go wrong, he knew.
Stir too little and the brews could clump up.
Stir too much and the ingredients could separate entirely.
Stir in the wrong pattern while infusing it with magic and the brew could fail to charge and render.
Too much of one thing or not enough would also affect the end outcome.
Just as using the wrong binder or trying to combine them at the wrong time.
Because in essence he had chosen to brew existing potions together and then add to that combined mixture to create something new.
Something the world needed.
Or at least a few quiet people in it.
To one side he absently noted Mr. Bagman announced that there was only a half hour left for them to complete their brews.
He had been half aware of the other champions submitting this or that brew of their own as they completed them over the last few hours, absently heard points being awarded or subtracted as they were judged. He pushed it away, kept the whole of his attention focused on his task and kept his sweat from dripping into the mix and potentially ruining it.
Twenty minutes left and he had spelled the first three cauldrons to levitate around the fourth which he negligently transfigured from cast iron into diamond and had begun the process of adding the three into it at a steady rate he fought to keep even.
Neither one could overpower the other two or the blending would fall apart and the entire brewing session would be ruined.
While his magic kept them pouring in thick steady streams from their cauldrons Harry had begun to manually add in powdered unicorn horn which would coax the three mixtures to coexist and blend in harmony rather than trying to collapse into their base parts. At the same time it would heighten the effects of the brew and add its own element to the finished product.
Once all three were added successfully he had a brief window of mellow figure eight stirring before he carefully started to add in the last of the ingredients bit by bit. He watched for each expected shift of colour, counted each stir and swirl and sparkle.
Finally the concoction was a clear smooth consistency with a rainbow of sparkles that danced around each other in the air. Harry killed the burner and carefully poured a dose into a crystal potion phial before he looked up and immediately found himself the focus of several piercing gazes.
Harry licked his dry lips and summoned a fresh kerchief to pat the sweat from his face and neck. "Potions completed." He announced, as he set the finish product on a conjured tray beside the three base potions.
He carefully slid the tray closer to the group and conjured a stool to heave himself onto.
The potion mistress that had been watching his preparation of the ingredients hummed and reached forward to pick up one of the phials and held it up to the light of the sun. "Steady cobalt blue, gentle bubbles…" She noted before bringing it down under her nose and unstoppered it momentarily. "...and a subtle scent of honey and warm sand. By all evidence a perfect Everlasting Elixir."
She passed it along to the others who studied it in turn before giving a nod, though Harry noted that Snape's seemed a little grudging and his frown was quite deep, though the rest of his expression was closed off.
The next familiar potion was picked up and subsequently examined, turned this way and that as they each tried to find flaws.
"Flawless Draught of Peace." Potion Master Pheely announced eventually, reclaiming it and setting it down on the tray again.
"And I know that other one looks like a masterful recreation of Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction." The second foreign potion master announced. "I've crafted it enough times to know."
"Which leaves...this." Snape intoned slowly, reaching out to rest a bony potion stained finger next to the final clear and sparkling potion. "What, pray tell, is this supposed to be?"
From his spot on his stool Harry cocked his head to one side, turning thoughtful. "I think I'll call it the Potion of Healing Serenity."
"What?"
It always amazed Harry - in a quiet way that he had no intention of admitting to - just how his former potion professor could infuse a single word with a scowl even when his face remained as blank as a stone.
"I thought given the abundance of rare ingredients it would be interesting to create something new. So, with the combination of the Draught and the Unction with the Everlasting Elixir to make the effects of the potion more permanent in nature, plus the last ingredients to bind and add the final layer to the mix, I've got the Potion of Healing Serenity which should heal both body and mind simultaneously and bestow a lingering sense of peace in the patient it's prescribed to." Harry explained, gesturing to each of the individual potions that had gone into the end product.
Three of the four potion masters glanced at each other while Snape kept his black eyes locked on the teen.
"You expect us to believe you crafted a new potion in the space of three hours?" Snape asked, his voice a low drawling rumble. "And if so, that we judge a potion we have no ready means to evaluate at present?"
Harry, exhausted from the brewing and wishing for nothing more than to curl up in a comfortable spot for a nap sighed. "Well, no one ever accused me of making your life easier, Master Snape."
Which really, might have been the most honest thing Harry had said in a while.