The air around Hogwarts was filled with a sense of anticipation and tension as the first task of the Triwizard Tournament approached. Now that Harry knew what lay ahead—dragons—there was a new urgency to his preparations. The anxiety gnawed at him constantly.
One crisp afternoon, Harry, Ginny, and Ron found themselves down at the Quidditch pitch. It was a rare moment when no one else was around, giving Harry the perfect opportunity to practice the advice Charlie had given him: use his skills as a Seeker. He would need to be fast, nimble, and unpredictable to avoid the dragon's fiery attacks.
"Alright," Ginny said, her voice firm as she stood with her broom in hand, eyeing Harry with a determined expression. "The most important thing is to stay ahead of it, keep it guessing. You can't let it lock onto you, Harry. If it does, you're toast—literally."
Ron gave a grim nod. "Exactly. You've got to think like a Seeker but be even more evasive. Dragons are faster than any Seeker you've faced."
Harry took a deep breath, straddling his Firebolt and pushing off from the ground. The familiar sensation of flying took hold of him, the cold air rushing past his face, but this time, it wasn't the peaceful, exhilarating experience he was used to. This was training for survival.
From the ground, Ron and Ginny shouted instructions, urging Harry to try different evasive moves, spins, dives, and sharp turns. They threw rocks into the air as makeshift obstacles, which Harry dodged as if they were fireballs from a dragon's mouth.
"Dodge left!" Ginny yelled, throwing another stone high into the air.
Harry whipped his broom sharply to the left, narrowly avoiding the stone before spinning into a steep dive, his heart pounding. The dragon's fire might come faster than that, he thought grimly, but it was good practice.
"You're getting better!" Ron called, squinting up at Harry as he weaved through the air. "But you need to be faster on the dives!"
Harry gritted his teeth, pushing his Firebolt harder, practicing quick drops and sudden pulls upward. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chilly autumn air. He could feel the pressure of time weighing on him—he had to get this right. The dragon would give him no second chances.
After a particularly difficult manoeuvre, Harry landed back on the pitch, his chest heaving with exertion. Ginny walked over, her face flushed from the cold but her eyes filled with quiet admiration.
"You're getting the hang of it," she said, giving him a small, encouraging smile. "You'll be able to stay ahead of that dragon, no problem."
Harry smiled back, his breathing still labored. "Thanks. I just hope it's enough."
Ron approached, slapping him on the back. "Don't worry, mate. You'll be fine. Just keep practicing."
When they weren't on the pitch, Harry, Ginny, and Ron spent their time in the library, poring over dusty books about dragons, trying to find anything that might help Harry during the task. Hermione had joined them in the evenings, eager to dive into the research and help.
The library was dim and quiet one evening as Harry and Ginny sat together at a long wooden table, their heads bent over a thick volume titledFantastic Beasts and How to Manage Them. They were flipping through pages on different types of dragons, looking for any mention of defense strategies, though the information they'd found so far hadn't been particularly helpful.
"None of this is going to help you during the task," Ginny muttered, her finger skimming over a passage about Hungarian Horntails. "They don't even mention how to avoid the fire."
Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I know. Everything here is just about how dangerous they are. As if I didn't already know that."
Ginny gave him a sympathetic smile. "We'll find something. There's got to be something in these books."
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed from a nearby row of bookshelves. It was Krum and Karkaroff with a large stack of books being carried in a leather sling bag.
"Quick," Ginny whispered, grabbing Harry's arm and tugging him down behind the tall stacks of books that lined the walls. They both crouched low behind the table, hidden from view as the footsteps grew louder, "They might be checking out a book with some more information."
But the space between the bookshelves was narrow, and in their haste, Harry found himself pressed up against Ginny in the tight space. His back was to the shelves, and Ginny was just inches in front of him, her back nearly flush with his chest and she tried to crane over a shelf to see the books that were in the bag. The warmth of her body was immediate, and Harry felt his heart rate spike as her hair brushed against his face.
They stayed perfectly still trying to see what books they were checking out, but Harry's mind was far from the library now. The feel of Ginny pressed against him was impossible to ignore. Her warmth, the subtle scent of her shampoo, and the way her breath hitched slightly as she leaned back just a little—it all sent a strange, fluttering sensation through his chest.
Ginny shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing his arm, and she glanced up at him, her brown eyes wide but amused. "Did you see anything? I was too short to get a good glimpse" she whispered, her voice barely audible, but Harry could hear the edge of frustration in it.
"Um no," Harry replied dumbly. In truth he had totally forgotten to look.
After a few more seconds, Ginny tilted her head slightly, her voice a soft whisper. "You alright?"
Harry blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Yeah, just… thinking about dragons."
Ginny chuckled softly, her breath warm against his neck. "Dragons, sure."
Finally, Krum and Karkaroff left the library, and Ginny slowly shifted away from him, though not before glancing at him again with a little smile. "Come on, let's get back to the research. We've got a dragon to prepare for."
After their brief encounter with Viktor Krum and Karkaroff in the library, they all returned to the Gryffindor common room, where they resumed their plan to help Harry prepare for the first task. Hermione had already claimed a spot near the fire, a large stack of books surrounding her as she pored over spells and ancient dragon lore, trying to find anything useful.
Their primary strategy had shifted after days of research yielded little in terms of direct defenses against dragons. Hermione had suggested that a well-practicedSummoning Charmmight be Harry's best shot—if he could summon his Firebolt during the task, he could outfly the dragon and avoid its fire.
In the evenings, they gathered in the common room to practice. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione sat together, casting the spell over and over again as Harry worked to perfect it.
"Accio Firebolt!" Harry said firmly, his wand aimed toward the dormitory stairs.
The wand sparked with magical energy, but once again, his broom remained stubbornly upstairs.
Ron winced. "Still not quite there, mate."
Ginny grinned, nudging him playfully. "You'll get it. You're getting better at summoning other things, at least." She pointed to a pile of quills, books, and other small objects scattered across the floor—each one having been successfully summoned at some point during the evening.
Hermione, who had been watching closely, nodded approvingly. "You're definitely improving. The Summoning Charm takes precision, and it's much harder with something like a broomstick. Keep practicing, Harry. The more you do it, the more natural it'll become."
Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I just hope I can pull it off when it matters. I can't exactly stand there and wait for my broom to show up when I've got a dragon breathing down my neck."
"You'll do it," Ginny said confidently, her brown eyes steady on him. "Just keep practicing, and when the time comes, you'll be ready. But I think it's getting late. We should all go and get some rest."
Over the following days, the tension at Hogwarts grew as rumors about what the first task might be spread like students suggested it might be a duel between the champions. Others guessed that they might be required to brew potions and charm various objects, much like an exam. No one had come close to the real task.
One afternoon though, while Harry, Ginny, and Hermione were studying in the library, Ron came rushing over, his face flushed with excitement.
"Harry," Ron panted, skidding to a stop beside their table. "I just overheard Fleur talking to that giant lady. She was saying something about the dragons. I think she knows!"
Harry sat up straighter, exchanging a glance with Ginny. "So, it's not just Viktor, then. Fleur knows, too."
Hermione frowned, looking thoughtful. "It makes sense. Her school's dorms are just near the forest where you met Charlie. Someone was bound to make the connection. But that means the only one who doesn't know is Cedric."
The four of them exchanged uneasy looks, the weight of the situation sinking in. Everyone else knew about the dragons except Cedric. It didn't seem right.
"Should we tell him?" Ginny asked, her voice soft but firm. "It doesn't seem fair that he's the only one who's in the dark."
Ron nodded, though he looked hesitant. "Yeah, but what if he finds out later and thinks we're just trying to throw him off or something? I mean, it's one thing to warn him, but it's another thing to get involved."
"We'd be helping him," Hermione said pointedly. "It's not about winning or losing. It's about making sure everyone has the same chance."
Harry leaned back in his chair, thinking hard. He wasn't close to Cedric, and part of him felt awkward about approaching him with the news. But Ginny was right—it wasn't fair for Cedric to go into the task without knowing what he was up against.
"If it were me," Harry said after a long pause, "I'd want someone to tell me."
Ginny nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Then that settles it. You should tell him, Harry."
The next day, after classes had ended, Harry spotted Cedric in the courtyard, talking to Cho Chang. They were sitting on one of the low stone walls, Cho laughing at something Cedric had just said. Cedric and Cho looked happy together, and somehow that made things simpler for him.
Gathering his courage, Harry approached the pair, feeling the weight of the conversation he was about to have.
"Hey, Cedric," Harry called as he neared them, and both Cedric and Cho turned to look at him, surprised.
"Harry," Cedric greeted him with a friendly smile. "What's up?"
Harry glanced at Cho, who gave him a polite smile before standing up. "I'll leave you two to talk," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll see you later, Cedric."
"Is everything alright?" Cedric asked, noticing the serious look on Harry's face.
Harry took a deep breath. "Look, Cedric, I need to tell you something. Something important about the first task."
Cedric raised an eyebrow, his expression turning cautious. "Alright. What is it?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, but then he thought about what Ginny and Hermione had said—about fairness, about giving Cedric the same chance everyone else had. It was the right thing to do.
"It's dragons," Harry said quietly. "The first task is dragons."
For a moment, Cedric just stared at him, as if trying to process what he'd just heard. "Dragons?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I found out a few days ago. Krum knows, and so does Fleur. I didn't think it was fair for you to go into the task not knowing, so… I wanted to tell you."
Cedric looked down for a moment, his expression thoughtful. When he looked back up, there was no trace of suspicion or anger—just gratitude.
"Thanks, Harry," Cedric said, his voice sincere but also a bit awkward. "I appreciate it. You didn't have to tell me, but I'm glad you did."
Harry nodded, relieved that Cedric had taken the news so turned to walk away but Cedric grabbed his arm clumsily "About the badges" Cedric said "I'll tell people not to wear them."
Harry gave a half smile at him and returned to the common room. The truth was that, since Ron was back to normal, he had been completely unfazed by them.
The morning of the first task dawned cold and gray, a thin mist curling over the grounds of Hogwarts. The sky was heavy with clouds, and the chill in the air seemed to seep through Harry's bones as he sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, his breakfast untouched in front of him. Around him, the usual hum of conversation echoed, but it felt distant, almost muffled.
Harry wasn't hungry. His stomach was tied in knots, and the mere thought of eating made him feel queasy. The first task was hours away, but the anxiety that had been building all week was now fully settled in his chest.
Across from him, Hermione was busy skimming through a textbook, though Harry doubted she was really reading it. She kept glancing up at him, her eyes filled with concern, but she said nothing. Ron, seated beside Harry, was staring blankly at his plate, his usual appetite nowhere to be found.
Ginny was next to Hermione, her hand idly twisting a fork between her fingers as she studied Harry with the same worried expression. None of them seemed to know what to say, and the silence between them only made the anticipation worse.
After a while, Harry pulled his wand from his robes, deciding to practice the Summoning Charm one last time. He had gotten much better at it over the past few days, and the thought of relying on his Firebolt to escape the dragon's fire gave him at least a small sense of control.
"Accio quill!" Harry muttered quietly, aiming his wand toward the stairs leading to the dormitories.
There was a tense pause, and then, with a soft whoosh, his quill came zooming down the staircase and into the Great Hall, landing gently beside him.
"Nice!" Ron said, perking up a little.
Hermione smiled, clearly relieved. "That was much faster this time, Harry. You've really got the hang of it now. Have you put your broom on your bed like we discussed?"
Harry nodded, feeling a small flicker of confidence, but it was overshadowed by the reality of what lay ahead. He was going to face a dragon. No amount of practice could fully prepare him for that.
"Remember what Charlie said," Ginny added, her voice quiet but encouraging. "Stay calm, use your instincts. You'll be fine."
Harry gave her a small, grateful smile, though his heart was still pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe her, to believe that he could get through this—but the fear of the unknown was almost overwhelming.
Just then, the doors to the Great Hall creaked open, and Harry glanced up to see Barty Crouch Sr. entering, his stiff posture and severe expression making him stand out among the students milling about. He approached the Gryffindor table with purposeful steps, his eyes fixed on Harry.
"It's time," Crouch said, his voice curt. "The champions are to make their way to the champions' tent to prepare for the task."
Harry's stomach flipped at those words, and for a moment, the room seemed to spin. The time had come.
Ron stood up beside him, clapping him on the back with a tight smile. "You've got this, Harry."
Hermione was next, pulling Harry into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. "Be careful," she whispered. "You're going to be brilliant. Just trust yourself."
Harry nodded, his throat dry as he hugged her back. When she let go, Ginny stepped forward, her expression a mixture of determination and something else—something Harry couldn't quite place. She hesitated for a split second before pulling him into a hug, her arms sliding around his waist.
The contact sent a jolt of warmth through Harry, and for a brief moment, the world around them seemed to fade. Ginny's embrace was firm but gentle, and there was something in the way she held him that made Harry's heart beat just a little faster. Her hair brushed against his cheek, soft and warm, and as she pulled away, her hands lingered at his waist for just a second too long.
Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, Harry felt something stir between them—something he hadn't quite acknowledged before. Ginny's cheeks flushed slightly, and Harry could feel his own face heat up in response. The moment was brief, but it left him with a strange sense of longing.
"Good luck," Ginny said softly, her voice steady despite the tension in her eyes.
"Thanks," Harry muttered, still feeling the warmth of her touch as he stepped back, his mind suddenly more jumbled than before.
Crouch cleared his throat impatiently, breaking the spell of the moment. "Let's go."
