Note - I clearly own none of the below. Playing in JK's playground. Reviews would be hugely appreciated, thanks.

Chapter Four: Press and Preparation

The early morning light filtered through the high, arched windows of their private dorm at Hogwarts, casting a soft glow over the stone walls. Harry sat at the small, round table near the hearth, a steaming cup of black coffee warming his hands. Across from him, Sirius lounged in a worn leather chair, his brow furrowing as he skimmed the morning edition of The Daily Prophet. The faint crackling of the fire filled the room, the flickering flames casting shadows over the ancient stone, as Sirius's expression darkened with each line he read. The air was thick with quiet tension, broken only by the occasional rustle of the newspaper.

"They're at it again," Sirius muttered, tossing the paper onto the table with a huff. The front-page headline screamed at Harry: 'The Boy Who Lived: Will He Survive the Tournament's Perils?'

The Boy Who Lived: Will He Survive the Tournament's Perils?

By Rita Skeeter
Special Correspondent for The Daily Prophet

The Triwizard Tournament—a legendary competition known for its gruelling tasks, deadly creatures, and the very real risk of death. It has claimed the lives of many brave witches and wizards over the centuries. Yet, this year, a twist that no one saw coming has captured the attention of both the magical and Muggle worlds alike: Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, has been thrust into this perilous event. But the real question on everyone's lips is this—will he survive?

Already infamous for his miraculous survival of the Killing Curse cast by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as a mere infant, Harry Potter's name is once again at the forefront of magical headlines. However, unlike the infant saviour who unknowingly defied death all those years ago, Harry is now faced with challenges that will test his abilities, his will, and his readiness to stand alone. Some argue that his name was entered into the Goblet of Fire through nefarious means. Yet, regardless of how he got there, the reality remains—he must now face the tournament's deadly trials.

Yesterday, at a packed press conference held at Hogwarts, Potter stood alongside the other three champions—Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum—each representing their respective schools in the ancient competition. Unlike his competitors, however, Harry is a surprise entrant, too young according to the tournament's rules, yet bound by its magic. While others might falter under the pressure, Potter held himself with an air of confidence far beyond his years. Gone is the shy, timid boy who once dodged the spotlight. Now, standing before the world, is a determined young man ready to take on his destiny.

But is that confidence enough to carry him through the harrowing trials ahead?

Anonymous sources close to the Ministry have confirmed that the first task will involve dangerous magical creatures—dragons to be exact, with a Hungarian Horntail in the mix, one of the most fearsome dragons in existence. Dragons are notoriously deadly, their fire capable of incinerating a fully grown wizard in seconds. How will Harry fare against such a challenge? Some insiders whisper that Harry has been training relentlessly under the tutelage of his godfather, the recently exonerated Sirius Black. Could this give the Boy Who Lived an edge in the tournament? Only time will tell.

Potter's entrance into the Triwizard Tournament has sparked fierce debate across the magical community. Many parents have expressed outrage, questioning how a boy of just fourteen years could be allowed to compete in a tournament notorious for its danger. "It's irresponsible," said Elvira Nott, a concerned mother of two students at Hogwarts. "This isn't some school competition. People die in this tournament! To force Harry Potter—barely a child—into these life-threatening tasks is reckless."

Others, however, view Potter's participation in a different light. "He's not just any boy," said Barnabas Cuffe, editor of The Daily Prophet. "This is Harry Potter we're talking about. If anyone can make it through, it's him." Indeed, Potter's story of survival is already legendary. But will that be enough to survive the Triwizard Tournament?

Whispers from within Hogwarts suggest that Potter's magical capabilities are already significantly above those of his peers, with one source claiming that he has been training in everything from advanced duelling techniques to physical combat. However, these claims raise even more questions. What kind of training could prepare a fourteen-year-old boy for a battle against some of the darkest and deadliest forces in the wizarding world? Is he being used as a pawn in a larger game—a game that could cost him his life?

There is no denying that Harry Potter's story has captured the hearts and minds of the magical community for years. His fame is unparalleled, his legacy cemented as the boy who defied the Dark Lord. But now, as he steps into the most dangerous challenge of his young life, we must ask ourselves: is Harry Potter truly prepared to face the deadly tasks that await him? Or is he merely a child being pushed into a contest that could leave him dead?

Only time will reveal the answers, but one thing is certain—whether he survives or not, the Boy Who Lived is walking a perilous path. With each trial, the weight of his legacy will grow heavier, and the world will be watching to see if Harry Potter can live up to his name.

Stay tuned for ongoing coverage of the Triwizard Tournament as we follow every twist and turn, every triumph and tragedy. Will the Boy Who Lived survive the deadliest tournament in magical history? The clock is ticking.

Harry's eyes skimmed over the article Rita Skeeter had written, but they stopped dead at one word: dragons. His stomach lurched, and he set down his coffee, suddenly feeling nauseous. Dragons were dangerous—lethal, even. The idea of facing one in just a matter of weeks made his mind race. He could already see the hulking, fire-breathing creature in his mind's eye, scales glistening with menace. He swallowed hard, trying to calm his nerves.

Across the table, Sirius noticed Harry's tense posture and set the paper aside. "You alright?" he asked, his voice calm but probing.

Harry nodded, but it was far from convincing. "Dragons, Sirius. They're going to throw me in front of a dragon."

Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I saw that," he said, his tone serious but steady. "Look, I won't lie to you—dragons are no walk in the park. But you can handle this. The key is not to panic." His sharp grey eyes held Harry's gaze, grounding him. "We'll figure this out."

Harry nodded again, but this time his hands were still trembling. "What if I mess it up? One wrong move and..."

"And that's why we'll come up with a plan," Sirius cut in, his voice resolute. "We're not going to send you in there blind. We'll figure out the best way for you to get through this. You're not alone in this, Harry. Not by a long shot."

Harry exhaled slowly, feeling a little of the tension leave his body. He trusted Sirius—he always had. If anyone could help him face a dragon, it was him.

Sirius continued, his tone shifting to something more relaxed. "Now, about your schooling," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I spoke with Dumbledore yesterday about your training. Your tutors from Canada will continue working with you next year, but for now, Minnie, Flitwick, Snape, and Dumbledore have all agreed to meet with you one-on-one. They'll assess where you are and tailor their lessons to make sure you're ready for anything—especially in this tournament."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Snape too?" he asked, unable to hide his distaste.

Sirius's mouth twitched into a smirk. "Yeah, I know. Look, it's important that you make your own views on him. Severus and I will always have our issues. You don't need to get involved with that… Merlin, he was your mum's closest friend for years. Although none of us knew why" Sirius paused for breath. "Anyway, like it or not, the man knows his stuff. Potions could one day save your life—and Snape's one of the best. So, keep your head down and take what you can from him."

Harry sighed, feeling both relieved and slightly apprehensive. It wasn't just the dragon he had to worry about. He had a year's worth of schooling to catch up on, and it seemed like everyone was putting him through his paces.

"But don't stress yourself out too much," Sirius added, his voice softening. "We've got a solid plan. The professors will help you stay on track. You'll get through this, and when you do, you'll be stronger for it."

Harry managed a small smile, though the weight of the tournament still pressed heavily on his shoulders. "Thanks, Sirius," he muttered.

After the tense conversation about dragons with Sirius, Harry felt like his mind was still racing. Despite Sirius's reassurances, a lingering dread gnawed at him. But now, he had to face the day. With a sigh, he left their dorm and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

As soon as Harry pushed open the massive doors, he was greeted by the low hum of murmured conversations, but the noise quieted almost immediately. It was clear that nearly every student had already read The Daily Prophet. Wide eyes and hushed whispers followed him as he walked toward the Gryffindor table. He could feel the weight of their stares, and the familiar sensation of being under a magnifying glass returned. It felt like he whenever he stepped outside—the Boy Who Lived—only now, there was a fresh layer of fear and morbid curiosity. After all, the Prophet had made it clear: Harry Potter was going to face a dragon.

He scanned the room and locked eyes with Cedric Diggory, who sat at the Hufflepuff table. Cedric gave him a small nod, his expression sympathetic, though he too looked concerned. Fleur Delacour, sitting with the Beauxbatons students, was more guarded, her face pale and eyes sharp with unease. Harry caught her gaze as well, and they shared a look—no words, but an understanding passed between them. They were all champions, all facing the same unknown perils, and the reality was setting in for everyone.

"Harry!" Neville's voice broke through his thoughts as he approached the Gryffindor table. Hermione sat beside him, both looking worried but offering smiles that held more reassurance than anyone else's.

"Alright, mate?" Neville asked as Harry sat down across from them, sliding onto the bench.

Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Honestly? I'm not sure."

Hermione leaned forward, her expression as serious as ever. "Harry, it's just one article. Rita Skeeter is a sensationalist. She could've easily embellished the whole thing. We don't even know if dragons are part of the first task for sure."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How else would she know, though? I mean, dragons, Hermione. They wouldn't just let anyone guess something like that."

Hermione bit her lip, clearly considering this. "But think about it—how would she know? I doubt the organizers would just casually mention that champions will be facing dragons. It's too dangerous to leak something like that."

Neville nodded in agreement. "She's right. Maybe it's just a scare tactic—get the public talking, make the tournament seem more thrilling."

Hermione frowned, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth. "Even if it's true, you have time to prepare, Harry. We can work on spells to help you defend yourself against a dragon—shield charms, evasion techniques, anything to help."

Neville chipped in, his tone quiet but supportive. "You've always been good at practical magic, Harry. And you've faced dangerous things before."

Harry smiled wryly at that. "Yeah… something I don't even remember. And everything else in a controlled setting with Sirius ready to help."

Hermione smiled at him, her eyes earnest. "You survived, Harry. The fact you don't remember it is irrelevant."

Harry looked at her, appreciating the confidence in her voice, but a pit of unease still formed in his stomach. "I don't even have a plan. If it is dragons, what am I supposed to do? I can't exactly hex a dragon into submission."

Hermione tapped her fingers against the table, thinking. "You wouldn't necessarily need to subdue it. Maybe the goal isn't to fight the dragon but to outsmart it. You're quick on your feet, Harry. If you focus on agility and staying ahead of whatever challenge they throw at you, you might not even have to directly face it."

"Outsmart a dragon," Harry muttered, his tone doubtful. "That's easier said than done. They breathe fire, Hermione. And they're massive."

Neville leaned in a bit closer, his voice lower. "You know… Charlie Weasley, Ron's brother, worked with dragons, didn't he? Maybe we could write to him, see if he can offer any advice. Even if it's not allowed for him to tell you specifics, he might know a few things that could help."

Harry glanced up at Neville, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. "That's actually a good idea, Nev." Though Harry had never met the Weasleys, he knew about them and their reputation. Sirius had always stressed the importance of understanding the other prominent wizarding families.

Harry's mind began to whirl as he considered Neville's suggestion. It was a solid idea—if Charlie worked with dragons, then surely if anyone had practical advice on how to handle them, it was him. He was just about to mention it when Neville, suddenly looking eager, stood up from the bench and glanced toward the Gryffindor table, spotting a familiar head of red hair.

"Hey, Ron!" Neville called across the hall, his voice louder than usual, drawing a few glances from nearby students.

Harry blinked, momentarily taken aback. He hadn't spoken much to Ron Weasley since he'd arrived, though he knew him as a Gryffindor from Neville's year, and obviously as one of the Weasleys given his characteristically red hair. Harry watched as Ron looked up from his breakfast, startled at first, but then grinned when he saw Neville waving him over.

"Yeah?" Ron called back, pushing away from the table and weaving his way through the crowded Great Hall to join them.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Neville's sudden enthusiasm but didn't say anything. Neville seemed almost excited, and Harry couldn't help but feel curious as Ron approached their table.

"What's up?" Ron asked as he reached them, glancing between Neville, Hermione, and Harry. His easy grin faltered slightly when he noticed Harry, his eyes widening as if only just registering that the Harry Potter was sitting at their table.

"Neville, Hermione, Harry," Ron greeted them, sounding a bit more formal than usual as he nodded at each of them.

"Hi, Ron," Harry said with a smile, trying to ease the tension. "We were just talking about the first task, and well... Neville mentioned your brother Charlie works with dragons."

Ron's eyes lit up immediately. "Yeah, Charlie's with the Romanian Dragon Reserve. He's practically obsessed with dragons. Why, er—why'd you ask?"

Neville chimed in before Harry could respond. "You haven't seen the Daily Prophet this morning, then? Harry's competing in the tournament, and, well—looks like the first task might involve dragons."

Ron's expression shifted from curiosity to understanding, and then to something resembling awe. "Blimey, dragons! That's insane!" His gaze flicked to Harry. "You're gonna face one of those things?"

Harry nodded, feeling the weight of Ron's amazement. "I'm still hoping not, but…. I was wondering… do you think Charlie might be able to give me some advice? Nothing too specific—just... you know, anything that might help."

Ron's face broke into a grin again, more genuine this time. "Oh, definitely! Charlie would love to help. He's mad about anything to do with dragons, and if there's anything that could give you an edge, he's the one to ask." He hesitated for a second, then added, "I could write to him for you, if you want. Or if you prefer, I can ask him to contact you directly."

Harry felt a surge of relief. Ron was being kind about it, and Charlie's help could be invaluable. "That would be brilliant, Ron. Thank you."

"No problem at all," Ron said, his grin widening. "I'll send him an owl today. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to help out—probably bombard you with dragon facts."

Harry chuckled, feeling the knot of tension in his chest ease a little. "I'll take any advice I can get."

Ron gave him a thumbs-up before adding, "And hey, if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask. I mean, I know we don't hang out much, but everyone's rooting for you… and Cedric, of course."

Harry was taken aback by the genuine offer of support. He hadn't expected it, but he appreciated it more than he could say. "Thanks, Ron. That means a lot."

"No worries. I'll get that letter out straight away," Ron said before turning back toward his own table. He gave a wave over his shoulder, and Neville beamed after him.

"See?" Neville said, sounding satisfied. "Charlie's practically a dragon expert. You're in good hands."

Harry nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. He wasn't entirely out of the woods yet, but for the first time that morning, he felt like maybe he was taking a step in the right direction. "Thanks, Neville," he said sincerely. "That was a great idea."

Neville blushed slightly but shrugged it off. "Just trying to help."

Hermione, ever practical, leaned forward again. "Once you hear back from Charlie, we can start planning. In the meantime, we'll go over every spell we can think of that might be useful. This task may be dangerous, but you're not facing it unprepared, Harry."

Harry nodded, feeling the familiar determination rising within him. With his friends by his side, maybe he had a fighting chance against whatever was coming.

Just as he was about to take another bite of his food, the sound of firm footsteps echoed across the hall. Harry looked up to see Professor McGonagall approaching their table, her expression characteristically stern, but there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at him.

"Mr. Potter," she said, her Scottish accent cutting through the hushed murmur of the hall. "If you have a moment, I have time for a catch-up now. We haven't had a proper discussion about your schooling this year, and I think it's high time we did."

Harry glanced at Neville and Hermione, who both gave him encouraging nods. He took a deep breath and stood up, feeling slightly more grounded.

"Sure, Professor," he replied, his voice steady despite the swirl of anxiety still brewing in his chest.

As he followed her out of the Great Hall, Harry could still feel the eyes of his fellow students on him, but with his friends' words lingering in his mind, he walked with a little more confidence. He didn't have all the answers yet, but they had started to form a plan—and with the help of those who cared about him, maybe, just maybe, he would survive this tournament after all.

Harry sat stiffly in a large, plush armchair across from Professor McGonagall's desk, his hands resting on his knees as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. McGonagall's office was orderly and polished, with stacks of parchment and books arranged neatly on every surface. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting soft golden rays across the stone walls. The Gryffindor crest hung proudly above her desk, and various magical knick-knacks occasionally emitted faint glows or movements.

Professor McGonagall sat across from him, her sharp gaze softened by a smile that Harry hadn't expected. She leaned forward slightly, hands clasped as if choosing her words carefully.

"So, Mr. Potter," she began, her Scottish accent warm and inviting, "how are you finding Hogwarts so far?"

Harry shifted a little in his seat. "It's… different," he admitted. "I wasn't sure what to expect, but it's been good. Everyone's been really welcoming."

She nodded approvingly, her eyes twinkling in that knowing way that made Harry feel she'd seen countless students, all with the same uncertainty he felt now.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "I was disappointed when I heard you wouldn't be joining us sooner. You see, Harry, I taught your parents. And your godfather." A rare, fond smile tugged at her lips. "Lily and James—remarkable students, both of them. Your mother had a rare talent for Charms, and your father… well, Transfiguration was where he truly shone. He was a natural."

Harry blinked, intrigued by the image of his parents as young students. He'd heard stories from Sirius, but hearing it from Professor McGonagall felt more grounded, more real.

"Sirius, though," she continued, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, "was always a bit too daring for his own good in Transfiguration. I remember one time he tried to turn his chair into a broom during class—without permission, mind you. To his credit, it did fly. The problem was, it wasn't built for much else. He thought he'd test it by jumping down a flight of stairs. Broke both ankles, naturally."

Harry stifled a laugh, shaking his head. "That definitely sounds like him."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Harry's response. "Indeed. Sirius always had a certain… flair. And I see he's been pushing you in your training quite a bit."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he has. He wants me to be ready for whatever comes next. Especially now with the tournament."

McGonagall's expression softened slightly, and she leaned back in her chair, observing him closely. "Sirius has told me about your progress. He speaks highly of your abilities in Transfiguration." She paused, her eyes searching his. "But he also mentioned you've been struggling with accuracy."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling a little exposed. "Yeah," he admitted. "I can do the transformations, but sometimes they don't turn out exactly the way I want."

McGonagall nodded, as if she had expected that answer. "Accuracy is often the hardest part of advanced Transfiguration. Many students can master the theory and perform the spells, but true mastery requires more than just saying the words and waving your wand."

She stood and crossed the room to one of the bookshelves, retrieving an old, worn tome and flipping it open to a page. She gestured for Harry to look. The page depicted a detailed diagram of a teacup being transfigured into a bird, with annotations highlighting various aspects of the transformation—shape, texture, weight.

"Transfiguration isn't just about changing an object's appearance," McGonagall explained, her voice calm but instructive. "When you transform something, you must visualize it completely—how it looks, of course, but also how it feels, how much it weighs, the consistency, whether it's warm or cold to the touch. That's just for inanimate transfigurations."

Harry frowned slightly, trying to follow her reasoning.

"Take this teacup," she continued, tapping the illustration. "When you transfigure it into a bird, you shouldn't just think about the shape of the bird. You need to consider its feathers—how soft they are, how light the bird becomes compared to the teacup, how the bird will behave or react in certain situations. If the transformation lacks these details, the spell can go awry."

Harry nodded slowly, the concept beginning to make sense. He had been focusing solely on the visual aspects of his transformations—getting the object to look like something else—but he hadn't thought much about anything else.

McGonagall closed the book and turned back to him. "I want you to start practicing this—each evening, before you go to sleep, pick an object, something simple. Don't try to transform it. Just hold it, feel it, and focus on its details. You need to practice visualizing the entire object, Harry, not just the shape. Think about the weight, the temperature—how it feels in your hands. It's not just about what it looks like but the essence of what you're creating. This way, when you perform Transfiguration, you'll be able to picture it fully in your mind."

Harry considered this, nodding as he realized how much this exercise could improve his accuracy. "I'll give it a try," he said, determined to work on it.

McGonagall smiled approvingly. "I'm confident you'll see a difference." She paused for a moment, then added, "You've learned quite a lot from your private tutors, Harry. I've read their reports, and I must say, they've done an excellent job in preparing you. Given your skills—and your involvement in the Triwizard Tournament—I think you'd be better suited attending the seventh-year N.E.W.T. classes here at Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes widened. "Seventh-year?"

"Yes," McGonagall said firmly. "You're more than capable of handling the material. I'll be meeting with the other professors to ensure that you're assessed and placed accordingly. Professors Flitwick, Snape, and even Dumbledore have agreed to oversee your progress. It won't be easy, but you'll receive the best instruction we can provide. It's clear that you're ahead of where we would expect a fourth-year to be."

Harry swallowed, trying to process the idea of joining the seventh-year classes. "That's… that's a lot to take in."

"I won't deny it's a challenge," McGonagall said, her gaze sharp but kind. "But one I suspect you're up to?"

Harry nodded, a slow grin forming on his face. The idea of joining the older students and pushing himself further excited him. It felt like the right step forward, especially with the tournament looming over him.

"I hope so." he said confidently.

McGonagall's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. "Good. I'll see you in class. In the meantime, keep practicing that visualization exercise. It'll make all the difference."

Harry stood, feeling a renewed sense of determination as he shook McGonagall's hand. As he left her office, he felt a strange mixture of excitement and nerves. Seventh-year classes, advanced Transfiguration, and the tournament… it was a lot, but it felt like the path he was meant to take.

A/N: Reviews would be hugely appreciated, thanks.