Hello, lovelies!

It has been a long week and even longer weekend. FanFiction was down for days and there was a sheer amount of panic on my part — the majority of my stories are backed up, but I started them all so long ago that not ALL of them are. I don't read fanfics much anymore — well, not at all, truthfully — but there was a moment where I thought I'd lost the first few chapters of T&E , Broken, and Forgive and Forget. There's so much work, time, and effort that goes into writing them and the thought of losing them all was truly devastating, even if I have no immediate plans to return to the last two while I work on this series.

That being said, I HAVE backed them all up to Google now, so they are safe and sound. And, to be EXTRA safe, I'm going to back them all up on AO3 as well. I'm not totally familiar with AO3, so we'll see how that goes, but, in the event — God forbid — that FanFiction has more long term issues in the future, the option is there for all of you to continue reading over there if you so choose. I'm still waiting on an invitation email to join the site, so it may be a few weeks before that actually happens.

An additional side note: I've said it a million times, but I'll say it again. I appreciate each and every one of you who favorite and follow this story, and my others, or favorite/follow me as a writer. You've all been so very kind as I navigate this series and its characters, and I truly started posting again with the expectation that no one would really enjoy them except for me. As I was a TAD afraid that I wouldn't be able to say that to any of you again (whether that's overdramatic or not, that's up to you hahaha), I'm saying it again now. I love you all, and I'm so very grateful that you're here.

All that to say, enjoy this chapter and there's still more to come!

Bookcozy: If George Weasley were real, I would get nothing done. Also, I debated having George suspect nothing about Tori and Fred until the reveal, but I just don't think that it falls in line with how close he and Fred are, and how perceptive I've made him throughout the series. So, he'll only be slightly blindsided. It's going to be so much fun to write, no lie.


Chapter Twenty Three

Time had a very odd way of speeding up exactly when she didn't want it to.

All of the times she'd wished it would — waiting to hear what had happened to Ginny, waiting to hear if Harry had broken his spine when he had fallen off his broom, the time she'd gotten so painfully ill that she'd wished for her body to either speed up it's healing or do her the favor of taking her out entirely — and nothing had happened, but now that she was praying for it to slow down, to stop entirely, it was racing by her before she even had time to blink.

It was all too horrible, too overwhelming. Everyone around her was laughing, joking, filled with excitement at the prospect of seeing what was to come, and here she was barely managing to keep it together. She felt like she was floating somehow, like she was having some sort of out-of-body experience, watching herself walk across the grounds with everyone else, watching them point and whisper about her, watching her limbs moving as if she barely remembered how to use them.

It was obvious where they were supposed to be going — there was a clump of trees near the edge of the forest that had been being used to house the dragons, and she was sure the enclosure was somewhere near there, but there had been a tent that had been erected, its entrance facing the castle, screening anything from their view.

Students were walking around the tent, hundreds of feet crunching the leaves and twigs beneath them, the chattering so loud that it pressed against her ears until she felt like they might explode. Or maybe it was merely the pressure from her brain, her panicked thoughts so intense that it felt like her brain was swelling with them. Or maybe it was both — the pressure was coming in from all sides.

There had been stands magicked behind the tent, high enough that they'd be able to see everything within the enclosure from all directions with little difficulty. The thought of going up there and watching four people — her brother among them — battle dragons was twisting her stomach in knots.

She stopped abruptly, causing someone to run into her from behind, and nearly sending her flying forward. They grumbled darkly at her, but she didn't bother apologizing — instead, she turned tail and ran in the other direction, stumbling over branches and twigs, running sloppily into trees and pushing herself off of other students as she passed. Her breathing was ragged, as though she'd been running for at least a mile, sawing in and out of her at a frantic pace; her eyes blurring everything in front of her so that she could barely see.

Her knees gave out several yards away from the enclosure, and she had to catch herself with her hands on the ground before she fell flat on her face. Her hair fell around her face, hiding her from view, but she didn't have time to pull any of it back before she was heaving. Not that it really mattered — she hadn't eaten anything in two days, so there was nothing for her to throw up, but her body clearly didn't get the message. It was worse somehow with an empty stomach, like her entire body was trying to tug her stomach up her throat in retaliation for having nothing else to give.

She'd have tried to breathe through the anxiety-induced nausea, but she couldn't get any oxygen in when her body was too busy revolting against her. She didn't even realize at first that someone had come running after her until gentle hands pulled her hair back from her face and another rubbed soothing circles on her back. There was something mortifying about knowing that someone was watching her fall to pieces and try to heave up her insides, but she was not at all in control at the moment, and couldn't get herself to stop no matter how much she begged herself to.

It felt like hours before her body gave up trying to kill her and her throat was burning from the effort. Her breathing was still harsh and her face was wet from tears she hadn't realized she'd been releasing. There was something so exhausting about being this on edge for days, and her entire body wanted to sag completely. She had a very strong urge to lay down on the hard, cold ground and not move until this entire thing was behind her. It would be horribly uncomfortable, but giving up sounded so much less exhausting than doing this some more.

"Are you okay?"

She hated the gentleness in Tori's voice as she spoke, and based on her proximity, it was her who was holding her hair back from her face. Not entirely surprising — this wouldn't be the first time she'd had to do so, although normally it was because she'd gotten too sloshed to do it herself, not because she couldn't keep her wits about her.

As far as answering her went, though, she didn't see the point. It was the sort of question that seemed rhetorical given the circumstances, considering she was clearly not okay. Although, maybe she'd meant okay as in no longer dry heaving. Either way, she couldn't answer. She was done for the time being, but the blind panic was still ever present, and she couldn't always tell where her anxiety was heading until she was already there.

The best she could do at the moment was try to even her breathing and convince herself that she wasn't going to pass out altogether. George was somewhere near because she could smell cinnamon, and she was fairly certain that there was nothing out here in the woods that would smell like that. Maybe he was the one rubbing her back, she couldn't tell.

She hoped not — throwing up in front of her boyfriend was the absolute last place she wanted to be.

The fact that she could think that at all was probably a good sign. She hadn't been totally lost at least, although it felt like she was drifting at sea.

Fred stepped in front of her suddenly, confirming her suspicions about George being the one rubbing her back. She didn't see concern on Fred's face often, and it was horribly out of place — like if she'd seen McGonagall grinning at her, something that made her entirely uncomfortable to think about and made her want to run in the opposite direction to avoid it. She felt like that now, even as she watched the eldest Weasley twin kneel in front of her until their knees were touching, though he said absolutely nothing at all.

It was odd, having all three of them sitting around her in the middle of the forest when she could hear the rest of the school still excitedly making their way into the stands several yards away.

Tori dropped her hair so that it fell down her back again and laced their fingers together instead. Truthfully, she had no idea what exactly the three of them were doing, except maybe using physical contact in an attempt to steady her emotionally — Fred with his knees pressed to hers, George still rubbing soothing circles, Tori squeezing her hand, and none of them saying a single word. The only other time she could remember them doing that had been with the Acromantulas, and she'd thought it just a one off.

"Are we just going to sit here all day?" she said hoarsely when the silence carried.

It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but she wasn't entirely used to the three of them being silent about anything. It was, surprisingly, Fred who answered.

"If that's what you need."

There was something very emotional about having Fred Weasley be the one to respond in the affirmative, in a tone that gave no room for argument. Of the three of her friends, his approach to her anxiety tended to be more on the deflective side — banter and jokes and a casual apathy to the entire thing in an attempt to distract her from the enormity of the feelings. It tended to work in the majority of situations, and he had an uncanny ability for making it work, but it made her chest cave in a little when he let down his joker facade for her benefit. She was used to gentle understanding from Tori and George, but she could always tell the severity of the situation if Fred followed suit.

Comforting at the same time that it was worrying because she must look like a lunatic.

"Harry would probably prefer if we were there though," Tori said from beside her.

A good point. A rational one. The only reason she'd been coming down here to begin with, despite wishing she could have been anywhere else. She didn't want her brother to look into the stands and not see her there, even though the thought of watching him like a lab rat was a nightmare of its own.

"I can't do this," she said, the nausea coming back suddenly at the thought of watching him again.

How much more mortifying would it be if she threw up all over Fred?

"You can," Tori said resolutely. "You've always set everything aside for Harry. You can do it one more time. He needs you there, and you know it. So we can sit here all day if you want, but you're going to hate yourself if we do."

She would. Showing up was important, she knew — she'd had several school plays in primary school and neither her aunt or uncle had ever shown. She'd learned at an early age that they simply didn't care enough about her to be present for those events. If they allowed her to participate in them at all. She hadn't bothered asking after they'd left her in the school yard all night after she'd had one.

Not showing up for Harry was simply not optional. She'd walked herself to any of his school events if her relatives refused to take her, and starting now for the mere reason that she couldn't stomach the thought of something bad happening was a truly selfish reason. Arguably just as selfish as her aunt and uncle refusing because they had "sleep to catch up on."

She needed to pull herself together. She could do that. All she had to do was breathe in slowly…hold for five…breathe out slowly. And not think about the risks of what she was about to watch. Between those two things, she could at least manage to get herself off the ground and into the stands.

So she did it — she breathed in and out as slowly as she could manage until the pounding of her heart slowed and she could no longer feel it in her throat. The nausea was ever present, but she was pretty sure she had it under control for the time being.

"I'm okay," she said eventually, nodding at Tori to underscore the words.

Tori stood slowly, pulling her up with her, and she had to continue with the deep breaths as she pulled her in the direction of the enclosure.

"C'mon," Tori said gently. "Hermione and Ron are saving us seats."

She didn't bother responding, although she was grateful that Hermione had had the presence of mind to know that she wouldn't want her to see her falling to pieces. She'd have assumed it was Ron, but because she had working brain cells, she stuck with the assumption that it had been Hermione.

Fred and George followed behind them without a word, and Nessa had to continue taking slow breaths the entire walk to their seats. They were the last to arrive in the stands, but Hermione and Ron had somehow managed to secure them all seats in the very front row. There was nothing in the enclosure at the moment, but it was a rocky environment. The rocks themselves were so massive that they looked almost like they'd cut out pieces of a mountain range and left them in the middle of the forest. The largest rock at the end of the enclosure was flat at the top, and was displaying a nest of eggs.

They were massive eggs, too. At least ten to twelve inches and they were a beautiful opaline color that glittered in the cold November sun. They looked almost as though they had scales on them, and she'd needed no formal training at all to know — based on that alone — that these were dragon eggs. There was one egg, however, that sat in the dead center that was clearly out of place. It was just as large, just as scaly, but it was a bright, brilliant gold.

Ludo Bagman came rushing from the tunnel of rock that she assumed was the entrance to the enclosure from the champions' tent. He looked excited, almost giddy, as he took his place at the front of the stands that held the teachers. They all sat dead center of the enclosure, and the judges — Maxime, Karkaroff, Dumbledore, Crouch, and Bagman — were in the front row, all of the other Hogwarts professors sitting behind them.

In a magically modified voice, Bagman spoke to them, in the same voice he'd used during the Quidditch World Cup.

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!" There was a roar of noise from the spectators all around the enclosure. She could see a sea of people sporting the horrid green of the Support Cedric Diggory! badges, and nearly the entire crowd — aside from the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations — were waving the Hufflepuff flag. "Now, our champions have been briefed on their task, and are waiting anxiously to face what lies ahead of them. The first task is intended to test each champions' daring and nerve. They will enter the enclosure one at a time, and face their very own dragon —"

As if in answer, there was a roar so loud that it felt like it shook the ground beneath them, and several students began muttering excitedly. It was hard not to flinch when half a dozen wizards appeared, dragging with them a chained dragon that looked righteous pissed. Charlie was among them, shouting orders at the men around him as they attempted to wrangle the creature to the eggs at the end of the enclosure.

It was a massive, albeit beautiful creature. Much larger than even she could have imagined in her head. It had to be at least twenty two feet tall, its scales a beautiful, shimmering silver-blue. The moment she was placed atop her nest of eggs, she roared again, the sound of it making Nessa's ears ring, before she took a massive swipe at the men closest to her. All but one managed to jump away in time, and the crowd made a sympathetic noise as he was flung into the nearest rock harshly.

"That is one pissed off dragon," Fred said from Tori's other side, as a spray of blue flames ignited from the dragon's nostrils.

It was horrifying enough to watch a dozen men attempt to control the beast enough to get it chained to the rock that held the eggs. The chain was long, and clearly only served the purpose of keeping the dragon from flying off because the dragon would have full movement around the enclosure, and Nessa's horror was growing by the moment thinking about the fact that four students — basically all children, although they likely wouldn't appreciate her saying so — would be the ones to face them.

"The Swedish Short-Snout," Bagman called, as the men succeeded in their task and took places around the enclosure, hidden from the champions' views, and all of their eyes trained on the dragon. She did not relax even as the men backed off, hunched over her eggs, and her beady eyes scanning the crowd around her for any sign of movement toward her eggs. "A beautiful creature, indeed, who's fire is hot enough to reduce timber and bone to ashes in a matter of seconds —"

"I think I'm going to be sick again," Nessa said weakly, swallowing compulsively. Tori and Hermione each reached for one of her hands, but it did nothing to soothe her at this point.

" — Our first champion," Bagman was saying, "will be out here in just a moment. His task is simple — he must get past his dragon with the golden egg in his grasp in order to pass the test."

"Very simple," Tori snorted sarcastically.

Nessa jumped when a cannon sounded off from the direction of the tent, and the crowd roared so loudly that she could barely hear Bagman over the noise.

"Our first champion to face his dragon will be Cedric Diggory! Good luck, chap!"

Nessa couldn't even be bothered to cheer with the rest of the crowd as Cedric emerged from the rocky tunnel, looking green. She didn't blame him, particularly because he looked a lot smaller compared to the dragon standing fifty feet in front of him. It was comical almost, except for the fact that it would take a mere five seconds to render him to nothing but a pile of ash.

There was a heavy, bated silence around the stands as Cedric stood frozen in the entrance as if he wasn't quite sure what he should be doing. The dragon across from him was much the same, her beady eyes having locked only on him, her claws gripping at the rock she was perched upon. Her claws alone had to be the size of Nessa's shin alone and looked like they could rip through someone in a matter of minutes.

She couldn't breathe as she watched Cedric's eyes sweep slowly across the enclosure, taking in his surroundings, looking for any type of cover he could find. There wasn't much — the rocks didn't exactly provide the best coverage, and the ground was uneven and sloping, small pebbles and broken rock littering the spaces that he would be able to walk on which didn't make keeping his footing any easier.

She watched him release a heavy breath, gripping his wand tighter, and lifted his head to the stands, scanning the crowd around him. His friends cheered loudly when his gaze passed over them, which sent the rest of the crowd roaring in encouragement, but Cedric's gaze continued scanning until his gaze locked with hers.

She hadn't spoken to him since that day on the courtyard when they'd gotten into an argument, and that seemed horribly selfish now. She was still pissed at him, sure, but she should have told him good luck at least. Just because they were fighting didn't mean she didn't care about him, and she regretted not having said so now.

Her hand around the base of her throat, and likely a very anxious expression on her face, she took her chances and mouthed "Good luck" at him from her position anyway. She wasn't entirely sure he could see her, but he must have because he smiled weakly, squared his shoulders, and nodded resolutely, before taking a step forward.

The moment he did, the Short-Snout batted her wings dangerously as if preparing to take flight in his direction. She could tell he wasn't particularly fond of this movement, but he dared another step, and another, until he had reached the first set of very large rock formations without incident. A good sign that he could do so, but Nessa found her anxiety growing instead of easing. Fifteen feet out of fifty was still not very much, and the way the dragon was crouching over her eggs looked horribly defensive.

She had no idea what Cedric had planned based on his attempts to get closer, but she sincerely hoped he'd planned something. Though in his defense, he'd only known about the dragons for less than a day before the task had begun — she didn't blame him if he didn't have a very thorough plan laid out.

The moment he took another step, the dragon roared, pushing herself as far forward as she was willing to without leaving her eggs, and breathing a line of blue flames in Cedric's direction. Unless he wanted to lose the ground he'd already covered, he was forced to roll to the side to avoid it, and Nessa's scream died in the screams of the crowd at his narrow miss.

She was sure Bagman had been talking the entire time, and she'd merely drowned it out, but she distinctly heard him saying "Oooooh, narrow miss there, very narrow…he'll have to have a plan moving forward if he expects to get any further than this, I'm afraid. Naturally territorial, dragons, and fiercely protective of their young —"

She had to tune him out again because it didn't help her anxiety to hear him commentating on the horror before her. She wished she'd tried to convince Cedric not to enter the tournament at this point. She'd told herself that he was old enough to make the decision for himself, and that was all well and good, except for the fact that she was certain that no one was old enough to face off against a dragon with zero training.

Cedric was forced to scramble to his feet, taking off at a dead sprint as the dragon moved, gathering her breath again.

"Your wand, moron!" Tori yelled from beside her. "What is the plan here?"

"Clearly, he doesn't bloody have one, does he?" Fred yelled over the crowd's shouting when the dragon gathered enough breath to blow another ball of fire in Cedric's direction. He dived this time, trying to gain as much forward momentum as possible, and only barely managed to hide beneath a large rock before the flames washed over him.

Nessa could feel the heat of them even from her position and she shuddered at how horrifying it must be to actually be down there and feeling it more directly.

"He's taking risks, this one!" Bagman shouted through the roaring of the crowd.

There was so much loud cheering when he managed to avoid the flames, but there was no way he'd get any further without some way to pass the dragon. He was a mere ten feet from her now, and she knew it, her eyes locked on the rock she knew he hid behind. She clearly had no desire to move from her nest of eggs, but she did move forward again, a rock crumbling beneath her powerful clawed feet, and Nessa winced when Cedric crawled in the opposite direction, clearly sensing her approach. Another step and another crumbling rock, some of the pieces flying in Cedric's direction and coming to rest at his feet.

She didn't need to be near him to hear the vicious swearing he let loose at that point, clearly trying to think of some way to distract the creature from him long enough to gain some more ground.

He was so close…

He grabbed one of the rocks that had fallen near him and tossed it across the enclosure. The dragon was momentarily distracted by the sound of the rock rolling across the ground, and Cedric took his chances, rising to run forward again, but the dragon was apparently much more intelligent than she'd been given credit for because when she spotted no movement, she turned back to her original lookout. Cedric had not even managed to climb on top of the rock he needed to get around before she noticed him and let out another spew of fire, forcing him to release his footing and fall back into place.

"Clever move — pity it didn't work!"

"Clever, my arse," Tori muttered as the yelling and gasping of the crowd died down.

It was horrible, really, watching and listening to everyone mutter and talk around her about this thing that was horribly, horribly dangerous. As if Cedric were no longer a human being at all, and this was a game with no stakes. It was barbaric, the wizarding world's very own version of trial by combat, except they were providing them with a target other than another human being. But no one around her seemed to agree with her thoughts at all — except maybe Hermione, who looked horror struck beside her. The excitement around her was palpable, so much so that she almost felt like she could reach out and touch it with her hands.

The students didn't waver in their excited scrutiny. It was like they were watching him in a fishbowl, their faces pushed up against the glass until their breath fogged it up, and he was being scrutinized so heavily that his every movement was no longer his. It made her want to be sick, hearing the whispers and muttering around her, making the feeling so much worse. In this day and age, there were millions of ways to demonstrate someone's magic or intellectual prowess in a way that didn't require this level of danger, but, despite her horror, she couldn't look away either. Like watching a car crash right before her eyes or a train being derailed, it felt like if she blinked even once, her entire life would be altered forever.

So she did what everyone else did, and watched with bated breath, as Cedric looked around for a better idea to gain more ground and grab his egg. She knew him well enough to know the moment he got an idea, his eyebrows raising slightly as if he were debating whether it were his only available option. He seemed to think so because he pointed his wand at one of the remaining rocks nearest him, and muttered a spell.

It turned into a very large black labrador, and barking immediately rang out in the enclosure. The dragon froze, her beady eyes locked on the new target viciously. Cedric transfigured the only other rock near him into a stick and chucked it across the enclosure — the dog immediately went running for it. Nessa held her breath, as the dragon turned her gaze toward the dragon, and her back to Cedric, who used the opportunity to scramble up the tallest rock and sprint toward the eggs.

He was going to make it, she thought disbelievingly. He was going to make it with barely a scratch and —

She truly didn't count on how quick dogs were in fetching sticks, nor how quickly a dragon might get bored of something that clearly had very little intelligence to attack her eggs. And she knew that Cedric hadn't because there was a moment — a horrible, singular moment — where he froze because the dragon was turning toward him again, and he was far too close now, in wide open space, to not be obvious that he was making a run for the nest she was so carefully protecting.

"RUN, YOU MORON!" Tori was screaming from beside her, other people in the stands seeming to recoil in anticipation that this might very well end horribly for their champion.

Cedric seemed to snap out of his momentary horror just as the dragon spotted him. The roar she let loose at him being so close rattled the stands, and Cedric was forced to sprint toward her anyway. Nessa was muttering to herself anxiously — "Oh God, oh God, oh God," — as she watched Cedric's hands grasp the gold egg in the middle firmly and attempt to sprint away from the nest, to make himself appear like less of a threat, but it was too late —

Nessa screamed when the Short-Snout released a hot breath of air in Cedric's direction just as he was diving for cover. The sound was drowned out by the shouts of the crowd, by Hermione and Tori screaming next to her, and the shouts of the dozen wizards in the enclosure shouting Stunning spells at the creature, who was clearly intent on chasing Cedric down in order to get her egg back.

The dragon fell with the loudest thud that Nessa had ever heard, and there was a long, protracted moment where the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of the wizards below, barking orders at each other and shuffling the dragon and its eggs out of the enclosure.

"He's not…" Hermione whispered horrified, clearly too afraid to finish the sentence.

No, he could not be. There was no way — he could not have died when the last thing she'd ever done to him was chew his head off.

Oh God, he couldn't be —

There was a roar from the crowd, the moment Cedric was helped to his feet by one of the dragon tamers, and he raised the golden egg above his head with one arm, his grin wide and excited. There was a horrible burn mark on his cheek, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. Nessa had been so frozen with panic that she didn't even have it in her to cheer with the rest of the crowd — she just released a huge breath of relief and rested her head on the banister in front of her, muttering thanks to anything that was listening to her.

"Alright, love?"

She could tell based on his tone that he wasn't particularly fond of her reaction, although he appeared to be trying to mask it with genuine concern for her. They hadn't talked about Cedric in awhile, and there was some irritation that he still held ill feelings toward the man, but now didn't seem like the time to bring that up. So she just lifted her head and nodded at him once.

"Do you think his face will scar like that?" Fred said gleefully.

Nessa made an angry noise, and Hermione scolded him immediately, but Tori tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't know, but I hope so," she said appreciatively. "Nothing quite like a man with battle scars —"

"For Merlin's sake —" Fred growled, giving George an irritated look.

"Very good indeed!" Bagman shouted as the enclosure was cleared and Cedric was brought to the middle to face the judges. "And now the marks from the judges!"

Madame Maxime was the first judge to raise her wand in the air, and a long silver jet of light flew from the tip, forming a five. Nessa grimaced — not exactly horrible, but not great either. Crouch came next. He shot a number six into the air. Dumbledore, a six as well. Bagman, a seven — perhaps overly kind, but still — and lastly, Karkaroff, with a two.

That pissed her off, and she started yelling obscenities at him. He could have died, and he hadn't, but all he got was —

"A two?" she shouted, as Cedric was carted off to the tent again. "He must be joking! It wasn't that bad!"

Sure, he'd hardly had a plan. Sure, he'd hidden until he'd figured one out, but at minimum he'd shown he could think well under pressure. And he'd completed his task. A five seemed like the minimum he should have received. A two was just insulting.

Tori rolled her eyes, and patted her condescendingly on the hand.

"Relax, he passed, didn't he?" she said with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, if you aren't expecting some bias with his lot, you'd be dead."

"Well, I hope he's not like that the whole bloody tournament," George said, his dislike for Cedric clearly not enough to outweigh the ridiculousness of the score he received. "If he gives Harry the same thing when he sees him on his broom —"

"I'll kill him," Nessa said heatedly.

No chance — her brother was a great many things, but a slouch on a broom was not one of them. Unless he didn't grab his egg at all, a two was simply unacceptable.

"She's got real anger issues, you know that?" Ron muttered to Hermione.

His eyes stayed decidedly forward when Nessa turned to glare at him and Tori snorted.

"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled, as the cannon went off again. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Nessa hadn't been paying much attention as they'd been maneuvering a new dragon and its nest into the enclosure. It was a smaller dragon — not by much, but it still made her a little resentful that Fleur had gotten what appeared to be an easier hand than Cedric — and it was a vibrant, emerald green color. It, too, had a smattering of eggs in its nest, but they were an earthy brown color with flecks of green, and utterly smooth.

Fleur exited the rock tunnel as if she would have liked to be anywhere else. It was the first time Nessa had seen her usually unruffled, superior composure slip at all. It almost looked like she was trembling from head to toe, even as her gaze locked with the dragon at the other end of the enclosure and her hand tightened resolutely on her wand.

If Nessa had thought Cedric small in comparison to the dragon, it was nothing compared to the way Fleur looked. She was tall, but fairly petite, and the dragon had to be twenty times wider than her at minimum.

Fleur did not take nearly as long working herself up to facing her dragon, as if she were afraid that if she hesitated too long, she might just convince herself not to go through with it entirely. She was more careful about her approach, keeping her gaze locked with the dragon in front of her, clearly testing its limits by stepping side to side as she stepped closer. It followed her with its eyes, and, unlike Cedric's dragon, it appeared to back closer to its eggs rather than going on the offensive and trying to neutralize what it clearly saw as a threat.

It would be tricky getting this one to see her as enough of a threat to step off the nest and grab the egg…

The moment Fleur got too close for comfort, however, it let out a mighty roar in warning — one that sounded oddly musical. Fleur stopped immediately, eyeing the dragon in interest before taking another step forward. It didn't bother roaring this time, merely blowing a warning shot of fire at her instead, so that she was forced to jump to the side.

She flung a curse directly at it that hit it on the neck —

"Oh I'm not sure that was wise," Bagman shouted gleefully.

He was not wrong — the dragon, clearly enraged now that Fleur had taken the offensive approach, rose fully to its legs, leaned forward slightly and sent a hot, scorching flame in her direction. Fleur dodged it only barely — this dragon had much more patience, but it's flames came out in longer bursts than Cedric's had.

Fleur was forced to aim her wand again, and fire another curse. She was clearly aiming for the eye, but the dragon seemed aware of her tactics, clearly having been conditioned enough within the confines of the dragon reserve that it knew exactly where its weakness was. It moved, its tail swishing dangerously, and took a chance at swinging its claws at her instead. Fleur jumped backward, aiming simultaneously.

"Oh…nearly!" Bagman shouted. He sounded far too happy about the events unfolding before him and there was something very irritating about that. "Careful now…" Fleur's aim was dead on, but the dragon turned to spray fire at her again, and it hit its forehead instead. Fleur was clearly swearing, although Nessa would have expected this to be against her upbringing. Clearly the pressure was enough for her to forget all decorum. "Good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

It took her three more times, and several dodging of flames, before she finally managed to sink the spell into the dragon's eye. Nessa watched, expecting the dragon's eye to swell or ooze or whatever it was supposed to do with the Conjunctivitis Curse, but the only thing that happened was that the dragon paused entirely, huffing large breaths, and its eyes slid half-closed.

There was a moment of hesitation from Fleur, clearly trying to determine if the spell had done what it was meant to, before she took off at a sprint toward the eggs. Whatever sleep-like trance she had put the dragon in surely wouldn't last long on a creature that large, and she didn't have much time to finish the task unless she wanted to start the entire process over again.

She had just bent down to grab the golden egg when the dragon, as if sensing her there, blew out a large breath of fire in its sleep. The crowd yelled in surprise, but Fleur had managed to turn so that it was only her skirt that went up in flames. With a quick spell, she'd doused them, and taken her egg away while the group of wizards worked on trading out the dragons once more.

There was a smattering of polite applause — this attempt was clearly not quite as exciting as Cedric's attempts had been — but Nessa couldn't help but notice the dark looks that her fellow students were sharing, as if they had no intention of cheering for Fleur if it killed them. An odd thing, considering it was their school that would win if she did.

The judges again presented their marks — hers were much better than Cedric's had been, but still mid-range, all except for Maxime, who seemed to give her higher marks through an act of prejudice alone. Nessa was beginning to see a pattern here as the cannon went off another time, and Fleur was shuffled out of the enclosure.

"And here comes Mr. Krum!" cried Bagman as Krum stepped out of the tunnel.

The crowd was loud as they watched the famous Quidditch player, taking in a collective breath in anticipation. Nessa was momentarily distracted by Tori's harsh swear.

"What?" she said, looking over at her curiously.

"Harry got the Horntail," she said angrily.

Well, of course, he had, Nessa thought anxiously. It was always that way, wasn't it? Good luck was not within Harry's cards. At any point. Ever.

She was momentarily distracted from the panic that was planning to rear its head again by the fact that Krum, very stupidly in her opinion, decided to take off toward the Chinese Fireball at a sprint. There was a smattering of shouts among the crowd, although most of them appeared to be holding their breaths entirely, particularly as the dragon let out a horrible, roaring shriek.

"Very daring!" Bagman was yelling, and the dragon let out another warning yell.

Nessa could not for the life of her figure out what Krum's plan was, even as he raised his arm and fired off a spell. He was still running toward it, clearly with no intention of stopping, and there was something horrible about wondering if he was going to be eaten right in front of her.

This dragon was the largest of them all so far, a deep scarlet color, and its flames were spherical in shape, more like fireballs than the previous ones had been. It allowed it to shoot out more controlled bursts at a time and it was employing that technique, shooting them at Krum in strong, timed bursts. There was some surprise on her part that Krum, who was quite burly, had the reflexes that he did, as he dodged each one of them carefully.

The crowd was roaring because he still wasn't stopping, he was coming up to the dragon, he was nearly in front of it —

The curse he was firing hit its mark, directly in the eye. It roared in pain, thrashing its head, and stumbled backwards, crushing some of its own scaly, red eggs beneath its feet. Tori shouted in alarm, but Nessa had the feeling it had nothing to do with the fact that Krum had started weaving his way through the dragon's panicked steps to grab his egg and more to do with the eggs being destroyed.

"That's some nerve he's showing — and — yes, he's got the egg!"

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass. It had taken him nearly no time at all to complete the task, and his points reflected that — 8, 7, 7, 8, 10. Nessa muttered to herself angrily at Karkaroff's 10. There was no way to argue at that point that he was not being entirely biased and —

The sound of the cannon this time made her heart stop in her chest.

Harry was next. She was going to have to watch her brother come face-to-face with a dragon in mere seconds.

Because she couldn't yet stomach the thought of looking over and watching her little brother walk out from the tunnel, she looked at the dragon he would be facing instead.

Bad idea.

"Oh God, that's —"

"Massive, yeah," Tori grimaced sympathetically.

It truly was — it was twice the size of the other dragons, at nearly fifty feet. She looked more like a lizard than her other companions had, and she was crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her yellow eyes focusing on what Nessa assumed had to be Harry entering the enclosure. She was monstrous and evil looking, and she was pissed. Nothing had happened yet, but she was livid, her wings half-furled, and her spiked tail thrashing, leaving yard-long gouge marks on the hard ground.

Oh Jesus, she was going to be sick again, she could feel it.

She swallowed compulsively, her horrified gaze shifting from the dragon to Harry. He was a speck, a tiny, black dot compared to the dragon before him, and she did not have to know him well to see the fear on his face.

The crowd around her was making a great deal of noise, but she couldn't tell if it was friendly or not. There was blood rushing so loudly in her ears that she couldn't sense anything that was happening around her.

She watched, the panic rising in her like a wave, as her brother raised his wand and shouted the spell. Her entire heart was thundering in her chest, the bile rising again, the pounding and whooshing in her ears, every muscle she had tensing up like a string being pulled taut. The Firebolt didn't come immediately — she knew it wouldn't, but even despite this knowledge, her panic grew anyway as if the logic was merely semantics.

She couldn't believe this was where they were at the moment. If it didn't come…if he hadn't managed to focus enough…if the panic had distracted him too much…

"Breathe, Vanessa."

She couldn't. Not even when George moved to stand behind her, the scent of him enveloping her. Not when the Firebolt still wasn't here and she had no idea when it would come — if it would come.

How long had it been? It should only have taken a minute and a half. It had been ten minutes, hadn't it? It felt like ten minutes. And Harry was still standing there, looking awkward and scared. People were beginning to laugh around them.

Where was the bloody broom?

She saw her brother's head snap to the side as if in a movie, watched an all-consuming relief flutter on his face, just before she saw the broom come to a stop beside him, waiting for him to mount.

The air she had been holding came whooshing out of her at once, in sharp, panicked gasps. She felt a little light-headed now as she watched her brother mounting the broomstick and kicking hard off the ground. Bagman was shouting something, but she couldn't hear it…the crowd was going insane, but she couldn't hear that either.

She just tracked her brother with her eyes as he rose and rose and rose until they must have looked like pinpricks below him. She watched that fear that had taken over his mind and body fade away as he returned to his version of normal.

Her heart rate was slowing, the noise in her ears being replaced by the roaring of the crowd, her limbs were relaxing.

Trust him.

She could do that.

He could do this — this was nothing more than another Quidditch game, and she had full confidence in him for every one of those. He was comfortable on a broomstick, he was brave on a broomstick. He could fly. There was very little in this world that she knew for absolute certainty, but that was one of those things. A given.

And watching him on that broomstick now, as he dived for those cement-colored eggs reminded her of that. Watching him swerve away from the jet of flame that the Horntail shot at him as if it were merely a Bludger, she didn't know why she'd doubted him at all.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

"Come on, Harry, come on!" Ron yelled from the other side of a nervous-looking Hermione.

Tori was laughing delightedly, gripping the arm of Fred's robes as if she were trying to make sure he was watching what she was. She shouldn't have worried — Fred was shouting elatedly, George's shouting sounding so similar that Nessa couldn't even tell them apart anymore.

Nessa watched, some of the anxiety in her stomach unfurling a little, as her brother soared higher in a circle. The Horntail followed his progress, its head revolving on its long neck. He could make it dizzy if he kept up with the circles, but the Horntail opened its mouth, clearly losing patience, and Harry dove.

Fred and George's groan was drowned out by the sound of Nessa and Hermione's scream of horror. Harry missed the flames, but the dragon's tail came whipping up to meet him as he plummeted. He swerved to the left, but one of the spikes still grazed his shoulder. His robes ripped, and he winced, but he seemed mostly unconcerned with the wound.

Which should have been relieving to her — it likely wasn't deep if he didn't pay it much mind — but the anxiety had tensed in her stomach again, the reminder of what her brother was facing hitting her like a ton of bricks.

It was George's hand she was gripping now, and she had no idea when she'd grabbed it, but she was sure he couldn't feel it at this point — that she might have been crushing bone even — but he didn't seem altogether concerned about his hand at the moment. George was watching Harry carefully, talking some sort of Quidditch maneuver to Tori and Fred that he thought could work if Harry would just —

Harry began to fly back and forth above the dragon, not near enough that she would blow fire at him, but close enough that she would keep her eyes locked with his. Her head swayed with him, her fangs bared. Harry flew higher, and her head rose with him. Nessa was confused about whatever tactic this was, but when he rose again, and the dragon's neck inclined to its fullest extent, she understood.

The Horntail was much less likely to part with her nest to protect it as the other dragons had been. She was still hovering over them, protecting them with her entire body and she had not moved an inch from where she'd been to begin with; Harry stood no chance of getting the egg unless he could get her to raise to meet him, to lift off the nest just a little…

"Come on, you lazy bitch, go get him!" Nessa yelled, smacking one of her hands against the banister in front of her as her brother continued to rise and the dragon remained exactly where she was, her head stretching as far as it could. Tori and the twins were laughing at her for her choice of language, but she didn't even care. "Goddammit, get off the eggs!"

The dragon roared in exasperation — Harry was like a fly that she clearly wanted to swat, but he was too high to reach now. Her tail thrashed, she shot fire at him — which he dodged — her jaws opened wide, snapping at him dangerously…

"This is ridiculous," Nessa swore angrily. "He's right there —"

The dragon reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last — there was a moment of heart-stopping panic because the wingspan was at least the size of a small airplane, and Jesus, if Harry hesitated even a second too long, it would kill him, she was sure — and Harry dived. Before the dragon even knew where he had gone or what he had done, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs that were now unprotected by her great, clawed feet. His hands were off the Firebolt — he'd grabbed the golden egg in his palms —

And with a huge spurt of speed, he was soaring over the stands, that great golden egg safely tucked under his uninjured arm.

Nessa had no idea what was going on around her, but the screams were loud, almost as loud as she remembered the World Cup being. None of it really mattered because she was screaming too, the relief and the pride and the residual excitement and frustration being ripped from her with the single sound. She was flinging her arms around an elated Hermione and Tori, their shouting just as loud as her, and they must have looked ridiculous because they were jumping too, all of the nervous energy they'd had before the task needing some sort of outlet.

"THAT'S OUR SEEKER!" Fred and George were shouting, their voices louder than everyone else around them, their fists in the air, as if Harry had just won them the House Cup again.

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

The dragon keepers were rushing forward to subdue the Horntail, and Harry landed over by the entrance of the enclosure where Moody, McGonagall, and Hagrid were congregating to speak to him. Nessa didn't even have to nudge at Ron and Hermione because they were already racing toward the exit to meet him, and Nessa followed closely behind.

"He's with Madame —"

McGonagall didn't even have the time to finish because Nessa was already racing past her and into the tent. It was divided into cubicles, but she could see Harry's shadow through the canvas.

"Dragons!" she was saying in a disgusted tone. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You're very —"

She didn't get to hear what he was because the moment she laid eyes on her brother, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly. Harry hissed in pain.

"Miss Potter, that is not the way you should behave —" Pomfrey admonished, but Nessa wasn't listening.

She was pulling away to look at her brother closely, eyeing him up and down carefully. It looked like only the shoulder wound, thank God. She peeled back the layers of his robes to look at it, and blew out a sigh of relief.

"Are you done checking me over now?" Harry said with a roll of his eyes, though he was grinning. "Because I'm fine. And I'd like to know why you're crying."

Nessa gave him a confused look and raised a hand to wipe her cheeks. They were definitely wet. She hadn't even realized she had been crying, couldn't have said when she had started. Apparently choosing to trust Harry could handle the dragon did not mean that her emotions had caught up with her brain.

"She's been crying since she saw the Horntail," Tori said from behind her. "You did great, Harry! I mean, truly spectacular flying —"

"This is not a halfway house!" Madame Pomfrey said, pointing in the direction of the tent that had no cubicles. "I am trying to care for these students, and I do not need you three" — she gave Tori and the twins a very sharp look that they merely grinned at — "to be making things worse. Go wait over there." Fred and George blew the older woman a kiss, but obliged anyway, dragging Tori with them to stand and wait until Pomfrey had decided Harry was cleared to speak with people. Madame Pomfrey turned to face Nessa again with a no-nonsense look. "Miss Potter, since you interrupted my treatment of your brother, you tell me what you should do."

"I — uh —" Nessa stuttered in surprise. She hadn't expected the question and there were still so many racing thoughts in her head, her anxiety still trying to settle after everything it had put her through in the last week. Madame Pomfrey stared at her, clearly with no interest to rush the answer she wanted, and Ron and Hermione were sharing a look that was clearly meant to convey pity on Nessa's behalf. "It's shallow —"

"He's lucky, yes," Pomfrey said, raising an eyebrow.

"No one's denying that," Nessa said with an eye roll. She'd gotten used to the matron's poor bedside manner, and she, in turn, had gotten used to Nessa's snark and eye rolls. They didn't even seem to phase her at all anymore. "As I was saying, it's shallow, so you should clean it, and then use the Cut-Mending Spell to stitch it back together."

"And what is that spell?"

"Secare Amendo."

"And how does it work?"

She wanted to roll her eyes again because she hadn't been expecting a Healing exam when she'd come in to check on her brother. The easier option, however, seemed like answering the question.

"It stitches the wound back together by repairing each layer of severed skin, working from the bottom up, until no damage is left. You can use it on anything from a paper-cut to a gash like Harry's. Using it improperly can cause the cut to worsen and sting, which would require a different spell altogether to heal."

They stared at each other for a second before Madame Pomfrey harrumphed. Nessa smirked, but didn't bother pointing out that she didn't think that her mentor should be so disappointed that she'd gotten the question correct.

Harry gave her a wide-eyed look as Madame Pomfrey grabbed a tin of purple liquid to clean the wound. It smoked and stung as it came into contact with the skin, burning away all of the layers of skin that were too dirty to repair so that she could seal the cut without worry of infection.

"She's really relieved I got the question right, don't worry about it," Nessa said, waving Harry's look away and trying to distract him from his discomfort while she cleaned him up. Madame Pomfrey snorted, but didn't bother denying the claim. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Nessa, really," he said, grinning at her again. "The moment I got on the broom it was like — like I was just playing Quidditch —"

"Another very dangerous activity, I might add," Pomfrey snapped, poking at his shoulder and dragging it down slowly, watching carefully as the skin knitted back together. When she was satisfied, she gave him a hard look, and said, "Now, just sit quietly for a minute — sit! And then you can go and get your score."

She bustled out of the door and went to check on Cedric next door.

"You were brilliant!" Hermione said the moment she disappeared. Her voice had come out high and squeaky, and she had fingernail marks on her face from where she had been clutching it in fear. It felt a bit better that she hadn't been the only out there panicking, although at least Hermione hadn't been crying. "You were amazing! You really were!"

"You were," Nessa agreed, stepping forward to hug him tightly. The relief that he was breathing was palpable, almost dizzying. A small cut was the best that could have happened, considering the circumstances. She pulled away and cupped both sides of his face to look at him seriously. "I'm so proud of you."

Harry cleared his throat, and batted her hands away.

"Thanks," he said awkwardly. "Now, would both of you quit looking at me like that? It's —"

He stopped speaking altogether, seeming to notice for the first time that Ron was in the room with them. He was standing very awkwardly in the corner, his face very white against the vibrant color of his hair. It made him look like a ghost.

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

Nessa coughed to hide her laugh. The entire thing between them had been entirely ridiculous to begin with, and Ron saying things they already knew seemed like a very stupid thing to say by way of an apology.

"Caught on, have you?" Harry said coldly. "Took you long enough."

Nessa wanted to laugh again, but this time because the situation was so awkward, as Ron stared back at him as if trying to think of what he should say. Hermione stood nervously between the two boys, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly —

"It's okay," Harry said before he could get the words out. "Forget it."

"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've —"

"Forget it," Harry said.

Then they were grinning at each other as if nothing had happened at all. Nessa rolled her eyes to the ceiling and opened her mouth to make a quip about their bromance, but Hermione suddenly burst into tears and she was too busy giving her a wide-eyed look instead.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry told her, bewildered. Nessa hit him upside the head in exasperation — she really needed to talk to him about how to talk to girls.

"You two are so stupid!" Hermione shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before any of them could stop her, she had given both of the boys a hug and dashed away, now positively howling.

"Barking mad," Ron said, shaking his head.

The twins and Tori stuck their heads back in with wide grins.

"Was that Hermione crying?" Fred said, stepping into the room when he didn't spot Madame Pomfrey. "Thought you might have lost the arm based on the way she was wailing. I imagine that'd be quite hideous."

"But you look just as hideous as always, Harry," George said with a grin. Harry chucked the tin of purple paste Pomfrey had been using at him in retaliation. "I assume the two of you kissed and made up then?"

Both Harry and Ron went immediately scarlet, refusing to look at each other, and started spluttering indignantly.

"We didn't kiss!" Ron hissed as if his brother hadn't been entirely joking.

"Well when you do," Tori said, a serious expression on her face, resting a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder. "Just know that we support you —"

She laughed uproariously when Ron shoved her into Fred in annoyance.

"C'mon, Harry, they'll be putting up your scores…"

"We'll go with you, if you don't mind," Fred said. "Seeing as we helped and all. This git definitely didn't."

Ron ignored him as he exited the tent with Harry by his side. He was talking fast, explaining to Harry in great detail how he was the best of the champions and what everyone else had done. He stopped talking when they reached the edge of the enclosure and the judges were in clear view. Madame Maxime raised her wand in the air and what looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.

"Not bad!" said Ron as the crowd applauded. "I suppose she took marks off for your shoulder…"

Stupid. No way that someone could get out of a dragon enclosure without at least some injury. Charlie had burns up and down his arms, and he worked with them every day.

Mr. Crouch was next. He shot a number nine into the air. Fred and George clapped Harry on the back excitedly, nearly sending him flying forward. Not that he seemed to care — he was grinning too widely. Dumbledore was next, and he also put up a nine. Bagman a ten —

They were all grinning now, jumping up and down excitedly.

Karkaroff raised his wand and then, after a momentary pause, shot out a number four.

"What?" Ron and Nessa bellowed together.

Nessa rounded on the twins and Tori as if they were to blame, pointing at Karkaroff accusingly.

"Four? He can't be serious! He's — that's —"

"It's fine, Nessa," Harry soothed, grabbing her arm and grinning widely. "I don't care if he gives me a zero."

"Good thing he didn't," Tori said with a pointed look at Nessa. "She'd have burnt the whole school down."

Nessa rolled her eyes, despite the fact that she couldn't deny the claim at all, and opened her mouth to retort, but Charlie Weasley came hurrying over to them with a large grin.

"You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!" he said excitedly, pulling Tori into a hug absentmindedly. "Listen, I've got to run, I've got to send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened — but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah — they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes…Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent."

He hurried off, patting his brothers on the back as he went.

"I can wait," Ron offered and Harry nodded.

"Riveting as we're sure that conversation will be, we've got some — er — things to plan," Fred said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "An unplanned trip to Hogsmeade, if you will."

"For your party, of course," George said with a grin. "We'll see you back in the common room."

"I should probably help Madame Pomfrey, so I'll head back with Harry," Nessa said, taking a step back to make her way back to the champions' tent. "And I want to check on Cedric."

"Hey, ask him if he can keep that burn, will you? It's very sexy —"

"Alright," Fred growled, grabbing Tori's robes and pulling her in the other direction back toward the castle, drowning out the sound of Nessa's laugh.

Harry and Ron made their way back to the tent, but George took a step toward her and pulled her up to meet his mouth, kissing the breath right out of her lungs.

"What was that for?" she gasped when he pulled back.

He was grinning at her widely, his cheeks red from the November chill, and his eyes twinkling.

"I missed your laugh," he said honestly. It made her heart break and swell all at once somehow, the realization that she hadn't been the best to be around lately. "And I'm proud of you — you did good today."

That distracted her. Mostly because she did not agree with the assessment — crying aside, she'd been dry heaving in the forest before the task had even started. That hardly felt like she'd done a good job of controlling her anxiety at all.

"How do you figure that?" she said skeptically. She could have brought up the forest incident, but since he'd already witnessed it, she chose to spare herself the embarrassment of having to remind him.

"Good for you, I should say," he said, grinning widely. She smacked him lightly on the arm in reproach. "It started out a bit rocky, but you ended well. You trusted Harry in the end. So, yeah, I'd say you did good." She had no idea what to say to that, but her heart was swelling so much that she was sure it might burst. "Also, you look very cute with your nose all red from the cold."

She giggled slightly when he kissed her nose to emphasize his point, and then he kissed her again, pulling her flush against him, and tangling his hand in her hair. She had nearly forgotten where they were by the time he pulled back from her with a teasing brush of his tongue. She didn't even care about helping Madame Pomfrey or checking on Cedric, if she were being totally honest.

She was very tempted to just follow George Weasley off to the castle, and forget the rest of it.

"I'll see you soon, love," he promised, kissing her on the cheek in farewell and grinning at her crookedly before he turned and jogged after his twin and Tori.

She watched him walk away, grinning stupidly after him, and she had to take several deep breaths to get the giddiness to settle in her stomach.

There was just something about George Weasley…


Two updates in a row that are on time! Who'd have guessed! This chapter was surprisingly difficult to write, so please let me know what you think. I can't believe we actually made it to the first task. Task two is upcoming…eventually.

Also, Google docs keeps trying to change Bagman to Batman LOL. I think I caught them all, but you know, sometimes my brain fills in the blanks for my eyes, so there's a chance I didn't. I apologize if I missed any.