NINE - Nothing's Ever Easy
Fleur eyed the refreshments table and wondered how anyone could possibly eat at a time like this. Perhaps it was meant to be somewhat of a last meal she thought morbidly while glancing at the two besides her and Harry. Viktor appeared calm as he leaned against a wooden post with his eyes closed, breathing steadily, while Cedric kept mumbling something under his breath.
She was proud of Harry's nobility; he'd informed the others early on about the dragons. Her headmistress was quite surprised to discover that she had already known. The fact that Madame Maxime had attempted to inform her filled her with shame for her school. She highly doubted Professor Dumbledore had informed the Hogwarts champions and this was confirmed when she had raised the subject with Harry.
A shiver passed through her, the flimsy tent doing little to keep out the Scottish chill. The cold, coupled with the upcoming challenge had formed a knot in her stomach. There were times in the past when her nerves had gotten the best of her, but she wasn't going to let that happen today. Her plan though simple, made use of her inborn abilities as a veela. She could have found an alternative, but the opportunity to show the bigots in the audience what a veela was truly capable of, was too big to pass up. It was a risky, she knew this.
To even so much as attempt to enchant a dragon would be considered ludicrous by most. If she wavered in her song, the dragon might break free, and if it did, her close proximity to it would put her in serious danger.
She turned her attention to the object of her affections. The youngest champion on the other hand, unlike her, was allowing his nerves get the best of him. He'd been pacing back and forth with his wand in hand for several minutes now. He would have to calm down before he started shooting sparks.
"Come sit 'Arry, you are going to dig a 'ole in the floor," she called from the couch.
Harry let out a breath. She scooted to the side, patting the open space.
"Sorry… I'm just worried," he mumbled softly, meeting her eyes.
Fleur sighed internally at the tightly wound panic in them. She reached for his hand, pulling him down and intertwining their fingers.
"Breathe 'Arry, you can do this."
Her soft, melodic lilt eased the tension from his shoulders. He calmed slightly, and after a few deep breaths, squeezed her hand.
"It's not me I'm worried about."
Fleur's cheeks pinked at the care in his voice. Ignoring the fact that they weren't alone in the tent. She cupped his cheek with her free hand, turning him towards her and placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. Harry rested his forehead against hers as she whispered.
"Do not worry about me mon chéri. I will not fail. Focus on your task, and we will celebrate with 'Ermione tonight."
Harry breathed in her presence. Her allure washing over him, he enjoyed the way it made the air lighter to breathe and the hair on his arms stand on end. The three had been dancing around each other for a month now. People had begun to notice the intimacy in their behaviour with one another, whether it was sitting too closely to one another, or the more obvious gestures. Such as Fleur fighting with his hair in the middle of the great hall. They'd not gone beyond chaste little kisses on the cheek though. The upcoming task too important to risk the distraction. But perhaps with the looming shadow of dragons out of the way, they could let their feelings be known.
Now Harry knew he wasn't the most observant person when it came to romance. But in this situation, it was pretty damn hard not to figure things out. They weren't behaving as if they were merely friends, and he's seen Fleur and Hermione together. He wasn't blind to the obvious attraction between them.
Fleur wasn't really a surprise, but he'd only known her for a relatively short time. Hermione on the other hand had never shown any prior indication that she was attracted to both sexes, but he was open-minded. The time spent with the Dursleys had taught him what not to be. He'd long since known to disregard any lessons or opinions they'd tried to instil in him.
Their little moment was interrupted by a flash, accompanied by grating voice of Rita Skeeter.
"Oh my! What is this!" The rude reporter hastily entered, followed by her gopher of a cameraman. Fleur disliked the creepy man greatly; he'd stare at her constantly from his place, when he wasn't hiding his face behind the camera.
"Love!? Between champions! Tell me how this happened, the readers must know!"
Harry stood abruptly, his anger surfacing. They'd seen how this woman treated the tournament. Her articles were more focused on trying to stir up drama, lacking any semblance of noteworthy reporting. The comments on Fleur's heritage had done nothing but spread ignorance in a society which already treated veela unfairly.
Before he could confront her, Viktor intervened. The stoic Bulgarian had a dislike for reporters, especially those of Skeeters sort, often hounded by them.
"This is no place for you voman, ve have task to prepare for. Leave." His accent came out far stronger than usual.
"Now now Viktor, don't be like that," tried the woman, not at all phased by the hostility, moving into his personal space.
Fleur was thankful for his interruption, Harry had already snubbed Skeeter once. Clearly the Daily Prophet cared little for accuracy when reporting and it wouldn't be smart to antagonise her further. Especially since laws against libel seemed a foreign concept in Wizarding Britain. There would be a time for getting even, but it was not now. They had more important things to worry about. Big fire breathing, flying things with teeth…
She rubbed Harry's arm and felt the muscles in them relax. His attention away from the ongoing confrontation.
"Thank you," he said, placing his hand over hers.
"Task first, zat woman second 'Arry."
"You're right, we can deal with her later."
"Remember your plan?"
"I do, I've got this, just focus on yourself." Harry lifted her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it. She smiled in response. Glad that Harry had become more open with his displays of affection.
Hermione would say she was used to feeling this way, with all of their adventures so far. But it would be a lie. You never really got used to it. The feeling of dread washed over her as she watched them bring the dragon into the arena. 'A Welsh Green?' she thought, trying to remember everything she knew about the dragon.
"Fleur should get this one," said Ron from beside her.
"Why do you say that?" she asked, grateful for any reason to put her mind at ease.
"They're... lazy… She'd have an easier time convincing it to fall asleep than most other dragons."
The bookworm looked back at the beast and watched its jaws snap at one of the handlers.
Seeing the committee members enter the tent where Harry and Fleur were waiting. She really hoped Ron was right...
The tent entrance rustled as Mr. Crouch entered, the rest of the committee behind him.
"Champions. If you'd please gather around."
Harry and Fleur joined the others in the centre of the tent.
"The time has come for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Courage in the face of the unknown."
"Your challenge is to retrieve an item. A golden egg kept in the nest of a dragon," he paused, taking note of their reactions to the news. Seemingly satisfied, he continued. "You will be scored on your ingenuity, as well as the speed at which you accomplish your task. Points will be deducted for any damage to the real eggs in the nest."
"It is imperative that you succeed, as the egg contains a vital clue for the second task."
Crouch lifted a squirming bag, little growls emanating from it. "In here are four miniature representations of the dragons you will be facing. One for each of you," said the man, opening it. "On the side of each is a number, signifying the order in which you will attempt the task."
He held the bag open towards the only female champion. "Ladies first."
Fleur steeled herself and reached into the it. She winced slightly before pulling out a small green dragon, with a number 2 on its side. It had her finger gripped within its mouth.
Harry watched Cedric and Viktor retrieve their dragons, a Swedish Short-Snout for Cedric, while the Bulgarian had gotten a Chinese Firebolt. He noticed Professor Dumbledore's expression harden after Viktor had gotten his.
'They've all been different… That leaves either a Horntail, Ridgeback, or an Ironbelly for me. Great.'
Fleur stiffened beside him, having come to the same conclusion. He felt her hand on his back close, grabbing a hold of his shirt, as if to prevent him from retrieving his miniature.
"Mr. Potter, if you may."
The moment Harry felt the little spiked form. He knew he'd gotten a Horntail... Removing it from the bag to show the others was simply a formality. He tensed at the sight of it. It looked every bit as mean as the books they'd read had said…
"Merde..." whispered Fleur fearfully.
"The Hungarian Horntail. Good luck young man," said Mr. Crouch ominously.
Harry compared his miniature to the others. Where theirs were exotic in a way, the Horntail appeared savage. Harry glanced at Fleur out of the corner of his eye. While terrified about the prospect of facing the beast represented by the little dragon in his hand. He was somewhat relieved in a way. Were she to have gotten the Horntail, he'd have been beside himself with panic.
Professor Dumbledore stepped forward.
"Mr. Diggory, at the sound of the canon you will enter the arena, after which it will be Miss Delacour's turn and so forth."
"Champions. We will see you soon, best of luck." He left, the rest of the committee along with Rita and her cameraman following behind.
Fleur grabbed him by the shoulders turning him towards her and pulling him aside. "Remember zhe tail, avoid zhe tail 'Arry! And remember zhe spells, and zhe tail-"
Even with the threat of the dragon looming, Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Fleur was reminding him far too much of Hermione right now. The girls were more similar than you'd expect.
"Why are you laughing!?"
Harry shook his head smiling ruefully. "It's nothing," he said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. Fleur's eyes widened as he moved in. She was too stunned to respond to the sudden kiss.
It was short, and chaste, and over too soon... He pulled away. She opened her eyes, blue meeting green.
"You kissed me?" Her voice, a breathless whisper.
"Uhm, yeah?"
"You kissed me…" she repeated, sounding surer of herself.
Harry was getting worried now, afraid that he may have overstepped. He tried to apologize. "I'm sor-"
Fleur didn't let him. She'd been holding herself back too long for him to take it back. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him towards her. His surprised gasp was all Fleur needed to slip her tongue into his mouth. She grinned against his lips when he began to respond, his hands going to her side. Their impromptu make-out session seemed never-ending. Neither cared that they weren't alone in the tent.
Eventually the sound of the canon dragged them back to reality. The pair turned, spotting the wide-eyed expression on Cedric's face, along with Viktor's raised eyebrow.
"I think that was for you Cedric," said Harry, with a nod towards the exit. The Hufflepuff, snapped out of his stupor. "Uh thanks Harry."
"Guess I'll see you all on the other side…"
They smiled at him encouragingly; the double meaning not lost.
Harry held Fleur close returning to the bench as they listened to the crowd's gasps and cheers. Fleur pressed herself to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. They didn't speak, simply basking in each other's presence. His heart leapt to his throat at the second canon blast. Her turn was next and there was nothing he could do to help once she walked out of the tent. Harry has always been someone who took things upon himself. Knowing he had to stand back while Fleur faced a dragon was amongst the hardest things he's ever done.
The young veela hugged him tightly, trying to draw strength from him. Neither said a thing until they'd reached the entrance. Harry squeezed her hand. She turned, offering him a weak smile.
He kissed her forehead. Fleur let out a breath as he spoke, trying to mask his fear with confidence. They were both too afraid to voice the possibility that this might be the last they ever saw of each other.
"You've got this Fleur, focus and don't let your voice waver.
"Show them what you're made of."
Fleur nodded into his shoulder. Leaning back, she kissed him trying to pour every bit of herself into it. Separating, she gave him one last kiss on the cheek. "I will see you soon mon chéri."
Hermione had just watched Cedric very nearly get roasted alive, the dragon not falling for his decoy. He'd changed his tactic to try to annoy and confuse it by transfiguring several sheep instead of just the one. She had to admit, his control was impressive. Multiple inanimate to animate transfigurations was very advanced work. There was a reason the goblet had chosen the Hufflepuff out of all the Hogwarts students who had submitted their entries.
The dragon decided to simply fill its surroundings with as much fire as it could muster. Had Cedric not had a very conveniently placed boulder beside him. He'd have been killed. It was by sheer luck that one of his sheep actually managed to distract the dragon long enough for him to make a desperate run for the egg.
The Hufflepuff champion had succeeded, and he'd done so with only minor burns. Despite seeing him accomplish the task, it didn't settle her nerves in the slightest. Her thoughts were only for Harry and Fleur. She wouldn't be able to relax until they were both safe. She had felt slightly relieved when Mr. Bagman declared the Welsh Green as Fleur's opponent.
It was moments later when the canon sounded.
The Beauxbatons champion walked out of the tent with all the poise of a Queen.
She'd already known Fleur was extremely talented, having seen her prove it every day, but this cemented it. If anybody doubted the goblet's selection, they'd be fools to keep believing so now. Hermione watched the dragon stare down at Fleur. It growled, baring its teeth and Fleur met its gaze head on, neither willing to cede to the other.
Fleur parted her lips, and the most beautiful song Hermione had ever heard filled the arena. The magic in her voice had the calming aura of a Patronus. She felt herself relaxing, the nerves that had been so tightly wound, loosening. Fleur had practiced in their presence, but she had never showed this amount of power during any of their training sessions.
She was giving it her all now, and it was enough.
Struggling to resist, the dragon stumbled. Its growls softening as anger gave way to exhaustion. Scattered yawns spread throughout the stands. The audience were merely bystanders caught in the range of her song, while the dragon felt the full brunt of her magic.
Fleur walked forward and stopped right in front of the resting dragon's head. Tiny puffs of fire left its maw as it slept. She placed a hand between its eyes, rubbing the little crest there as her song reached its climax. The dragon had succumbed completely. Fleur turned her attention upwards, facing the crowd defiantly. The unspoken message delivered by her eyes.
"Don't underestimate me."
Hermione's breath laboured as she stared in awe. Fleur's gaze drifted to the bookworm she had become so fond of. The proud smile she found there, had her hold her head higher. The tiny upturn of Fleur's lips and the smile in her eyes was only noticeable to those who knew her. She left the sleeping dragon, collected her egg calmly and simply walked out of the arena, not a single scratch on her.
The crowd didn't get to see her knees buckle as she sat on the hospital bed under Madam Pomfrey's care, the adrenaline giving way to exhaustion. Cedric was laid down on the far bed, his arm wrapped in bandages while he sipped on a potion, grimacing each time.
The Matron immediately began checking her over.
"I'm alright Madame, only tired, zhe dragon didn't touch me."
"I see so," responded the woman, putting her wand away.
"That was a very impressive performance, Miss Delacour."
"Merci..."
"Are we finished?" asked Fleur standing up impatiently.
"I want to be there for 'Arry," she added apologetically, realizing her rudeness.
"You may," answered Madam Pomfrey, not holding the lapse of respect against her.
"But here, take this before you leave."
Fleur accepted the small vial. It was filled with a familiar looking reddish-brown potion.
"Pepper-up?"
"That's right. You'll be extra tired later, but I think you need it for now."
Fleur downed the potion. The peppery taste reminiscent of times her mother had brewed it for her to cure colds. Her complexion improved as the exhaustion left her. Pepper-up always felt like taking a dip in a warm bath while being caffeinated all at once.
"Better?" asked the kindly Matron, taking the empty vial from her.
"Oui... Merci Madame."
"Good, now head on out. I'll be watching from the tent."
Fleur thanked her as she made to leave, eager to join Hermione in the stands. Though she was not explicitly instructed to do so, it was expected that she sit among the Beauxbatons contingent. Madame Maxime was already annoyed with her closeness to Harry, a competitor. As well as the lack of time she spent among her classmates. Apparently, it gave the wrong message.
Her headmistress be damned, she had just walked into an arena with a dragon. She wanted to see Hermione and couldn't care less what others thought.
Fleur spotted her target seated beside their redhead friend Ronald. Rushing over, she ignored the scattered congratulations from audience members, and avoided Madame Maxime's attempts at eye contact. A few scathing looks from the woman is a small price to pay in exchange for the bone breaking hug Hermione grabbed her in as soon as she was in range of the beautiful bookworm.
The blonde had since learnt, that when emotionally overwhelmed, Hermione defaulted to 'squeeze the life out of it'… It was an amusing contrast to the normally serious behaviour from the girl, and something she found very endearing. Hermione pulled her down, scooting over to make room before she began fretting over her. Their friend Ron still struggled in her presence at times and kept his composure by focusing on the surroundings. It was a shame he wasn't as resistant as some, but the effort was appreciated, nonetheless.
"I'm alright 'Ermione," placated Fleur, grabbing the hands which were running over her.
Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "And Harry? How is he doing?"
"E is well, but I worry... 'is dragon is zhe 'orntail..."
Fleur watched Hermione's eyes widen before she looked down before her expression morphed, mirroring her own trepidation.
"A horntail…" she replied with a whisper.
"Bloody hell... A nesting horntail. Are they bleedin' mad!"
Fleur looked up over Hermione's shoulder at Ron's exclamation.
"No no... He'll be fine," said the bookworm, gritting her teeth.
"Yeah, that's right Hermione. He'll be fine. It's Harry," added Ron, sounding more confident than Fleur would expect from the normally stuttering redhead.
Harry sat in silence, practicing a breathing method he'd learnt from Madam Pomfrey. His nerves had gotten the better of him earlier. Fleur's already faced her challenge. All he could do now was trust in her. Trying to focus, he thought of something Madam Pomfrey had told him.
'You need to keep a level head at all times Harry. An overwhelmed healer makes mistakes.'
His heartrate slowed as he twirled his wand in his hand. The warmth it radiated was comforting in times of stress. It felt like being around Fawkes. Harry had never told anyone, but that day in Diagon Alley, he was terrified that at some point. He'd be told that it was all a mistake, that he wasn't really a wizard, and that he'd be sent back to the Dursleys. When he'd spent all that time in Ollivander's, trying to find a wand, while being rejected by every single one he held... It only served to cement his fears. All until he finally held the wand which ultimately chose him.
He was able to believe it. He really was a wizard, and he really was going to a magic school. Ever since then, during times when he felt overwhelmed, he would hold his wand in hand. Whether the feeling of reassurance he got from it was all in his head or not. He couldn't say. But it helped, and that's what mattered.
When the canon sounded for the third time. The stoic older boy barely reacted other than a hardening of his expression.
"Good luck," said Harry as he watched him leave.
Viktor nodded. "You too."
Alone now. Harry closed his eyes, returning to his breathing exercise. His mind kept straying to Fleur and her wellbeing. But there was nothing that could be done on his side to put those worries to rest. He needed to focus on his task, and only his task. If he goes into the arena with his mind elsewhere. He'd likely be killed.
He had a plan, it would be madness to attempt the task without, but he also knew from experience that the moment things began. Shit usually went out the window and winging it becomes the only course of action.
Why would this time be any different?
The longer he sat there waiting, the more difficult it became to keep his thoughts from drifting to the morbid. Being the last to go deprived him of the small comfort of company. All he had was a tiny dragon miniature, roaring up a little storm and shooting puffs of fire.
He sighed.
'This must be what a slave in Rome felt like, awaiting their turn to face death in an arena.'
Hermione supressed a whimper at the sight of the beast being brought into the arena. Her grip on Fleur's hand tightened to painful levels. The Horntail made the other dragons appear tame. It was savage looking, massive, dwarfing its predecessors. Where the other dragons were smooth and elegant. This one was rough with spikes from head to tail. There was a madness and rage in its eyes that just wasn't there on the other dragons.
"Merde…" whispered Fleur, her face pale.
"T-They're mad! They can't expect him to face that!" exclaimed Hermione frightfully.
Ron said nothing, his jaw clenched as he stared at the dragon, hoping his friend was well enough prepared. The crowd's reaction varied. There were some among them who cheered at the sight of the dragon. While others, cared more for the wellbeing of the contestant expected to face it.
Madam Pomfrey cursed the tournament from her place at the medical tent's entrance. She was responsible for the wellbeing of the students, and to even consider bringing in dragons was already madness. But to expect a student to face the spiked behemoth currently raging at being coerced into the ring.
She was going to rip the organisers a new one.
The stern healer's thoughts went to Harry. The boy had been in her care several times, and survived ordeals that would best most adult wizards. She could only trust in him to pull through again and be ready to patch him up. Like always.
Harry stepped into the arena. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the change in light.
He immediately ducked behind the nearest boulder. Peering around the edge, he took in his surroundings. The arena was filled with jagged boulders and uneven terrain, surrounded by high walls upon which the audience stands were situated. His eyes immediately found the girls. Fleur's champion outfit easily spotted among the little outcropping of Gryffindor's. How much he wished he could just be up there with them and not stuck in a stupid arena.
"And our final competitor enters the arena!"
Finding the Horntail was easy enough... It was massive and covered in spikes from head to tail, nested in the centre of the arena. His thoughts echoed Madam Pomfrey's at that moment, all the time spent around the woman was beginning to rub off on him.
Harry noticed a chain around its neck, keeping it grounded and away from the audience. Irritated by the noisy audience, it blew fire towards the stands allowing him to get a measure of its range. The books weren't entirely clear on it, since every dragon was unique. Thankfully, the Horntail had yet to notice his entry, a blessing he was going to take full advantage of.
Harry pointed his wand at the ground.
"Serpensortia," he incanted softly, summoning a python.
"In the dragonssss' nessst, there isss an egg which sssmells different to the ressst. Ssswallow it and take it through there-he pointed at the exit on the far side -wait for me on the other ssside."
Hidden from the audience, his actions with the snake were only noticed by a handful. Some in the crowd began to jeer, thinking he was hiding away and doing nothing.
The python nodded once before slithering off towards the nest. Now Harry knew the dragon would notice it if he didn't provide some sort of cover. On to the next step of his plan. Unlike Cedric, Harry was only a fourth year. He was far from being able to perform transfigurations at the level the Hufflepuff had showcased. Even if he were in the same year. Harry's talents laid more in charms. Which he was going to use.
"Tenebris Fumo"
His wand began rapidly expelling smoke, quickly filling the area around the dragon's head. Sirius had recommended a conjunctivitis curse, but that would rely on accurately hitting it in the eyes. A risky idea that had Fleur scoffing. In return she had recommended a spell which practically amounted to the magical equivalent of tear gas. The conjured smoke stung the eyes and burned your nose something fierce but left no actual damage.
The horntail roared, stepping back in an attempt to escape the cloud. Harry kept the spell going just long enough to make to prevent that from happening.
"What's this!? Smoke? It seems Mr. Potter is attempting to hide his approach!" Mr. Bagman wasn't wrong, but he wasn't entirely right either. Harry's plan was to avoid the dragon entirely by making his way to the exit while the snake retrieved the egg.
The dragon raged in pain. Eyes burning and unable to see, it panicked, turning on the spot and flailing wildly.
…
Meanwhile up in the stands, Fleur watched the Horntail get more and more agitated. She witnessed the snake retrieve the egg from the nest unnoticed by the rampaging beast. All Harry needed now was to get out of there. But of course, nothing is ever so easy when it comes to him...
The Horntail, in an effort to rid the area of smoke began breathing fire and swinging its tail wildly.
Fleur screamed as the raging dragon landed a hit on Harry when he was forced to take a path closer to the centre, clipping his shoulder and throwing him off his feet. Her first reaction was to rush to his aid. She was pulled back along with Hermione by Ron.
"Stop! You can't go down there!"
…
Harry clutched his bleeding shoulder and grit his teeth, it hurt like hell, and his arm hung limp, with the bones shattered. He was losing blood, if he didn't stop it soon, he would be too weak to attempt anything. The pain helped to keep him alert. He wasn't able to see the wound. His left eye burned as blood had gotten into from a cut on his brow. A dull ache accompanied the sting of the cut.
Fortunately, the dragon had yet to find him. The hit wasn't targeted. While making his way through, the only route available forced him closer to the dragon. In its commotion, a spin had sent the tail in his direction. The spot he had found himself in, already didn't have the best footing, preventing him from avoiding the blow.
Harry retreated to safe distance, it was far outside of the dragon's range, but held no clear path to the exit without moving towards the centre again. The Horntail hadn't yet found him, but it knew he was present now, having felt the impact with its tail. Harry leaned his back against a boulder, while he took inventory of his injuries. The most urgent was his shoulder. There was a lot of blood, but not enough to suspect a clean artery cut.
He needed to deal with the bleeding before anything else, or risk passing out from blood loss. Thankfully his right arm was uninjured, and he'd not lost or damaged his wand. Harry grit his teeth, he had to wait to until the wound was sealed before he could cast a numbing charm. The magical nature of dragons already made healing harder. He wasn't proficient yet with the more effective wound knitting charms, but the most basic would hold for now. With his wand held to his shoulder, he began.
"Ligamentum Vulnus," whispered Harry repeatedly, as he slid his wand across the wounds edge.
The skin and muscle stretched across the gash, sealing the wound, but it was weak. Overstressing the injury would tear it open again. Harry sighed, there was nothing he could do about the bones; his shoulder was far too damaged to attempt charming them. He needed potion treatment. He could prevent his arm from moving at least.
The smoke was gone now and without it covering his scent, and with him bleeding, the dragon had found him. He could only hope the python had made it to the exit already. Harry heard the clang of metal followed by an enraged roar. The chain had likely just saved his life. Unable to reach him, the dragon had resorted to breathing fire in his direction. Even at his position, outside of the range of its breath, Harry could feel the heat. Dragon fire was amongst the hottest magical fires in existence.
The fourth champion was working under serious pressure now. He could feel the boulder heating up against his back. He used his free hand to lay his limp arm against his chest before readying his wand once more. It came as a surprise to learn that the petrification charm was a medical spell which gained popularity as a schoolyard hex. Madam Pomfrey had explained the original purpose behind it was to freeze a body in place to be moved without worsening any injuries.
She had also taught him a variation that was used just for situations like the one he currently found himself in. It was possible to limit the petrification to isolated areas of the body.
"Petrificus Partialis"
His shoulder stiffened. He pointed his wand at his elbow next, repeating the spell. His healers equivalent of a "cast" in place. Harry followed it up with a numbing charm to dull the pain. The only other injury that needed immediate tending was the cut bleeding into his eye. A simple Episkey and some conjured water to wash away the blood had that resolved it.
Both eyes open again, and no longer at risk of bleeding out anymore. He was able to focus on the other problem. The one breathing fire down his back. He was stuck… There was no way to move from his boulder without ending up burnt to a crisp... The only avenue available to him was to somehow incapacitate the horntail. A peak around the corner nearly had his eyebrows burnt off.
Maybe if he was lucky, the dragon would get bored and just go back to tending its nest? The sudden burst of fire answered his unasked question.
Not likely…
Harry wiped the sweat from his brow, the heat was becoming unbearable.
'Think Harry. Think.'
Shifting to the side, he sucked in air when his arm grazed the hot side of the boulder.
'That's it!'
The Horntail wasn't able to breathe fire non-stop. It had to pause to draw breath. A stunner wouldn't even make it flinch, it would take a dozen wizards to even have a hope of taking down a full-grown dragon that way. Harry thought of the lightning charm they'd practiced from Dumbledore's book. If he landed it in the mouth right as it made to breathe fire, it might just work. He didn't need to knock the dragon out, there was no way he'd pull that off anyway. He only had to get it to stop long enough for him make a run for it.
'Only…' he thought sheepishly.
Harry knew he had one shot at this, so he had to make it count. With a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, he waited for the it to stop breathing fire. He needed to begin the wand motion right as it ended, or he'd miss the window.
'Wait for it...'
'Now!'
The spark gathering at the end of his wand was larger than any attempt he'd made at the spell yet. In the judges stands, Professor Dumbledore's eyes widened in shock, his voice a whisper. "Volare-
-Fulminata!"
A blinding flash of light and a crack of thunder followed Harry's cry, leaving the crowd with spotted vision and ringing ears. Harry though had taken the brunt of the sound wave. The force from the spell had thrown him backwards against the searing boulder. He screamed as it burned through the fabric covering his back. The impact had also torn open his shoulder again. He felt a sharp pain radiating from his ears, the audience who had been pretty loud until this point were silent. He couldn't see anything on his left side again. One of his spectacle lenses had shattered, some of the glass having gone into his eye.
The crowds sight finally cleared up, and they were awestruck at finding the dragon spasming in pain. Harry had landed the shot within its maw, bypassing most of its magical resistance.
The seriously injured young man looked over the dragon from the ground. He saw Hermione yelling, desperately pointing towards the exit. Spurred into motion, with a near stumble, he stood, clutching his should and ran as fast as his battered body would allow. Madam Pomfrey's wand was in motion the second he'd stepped through. Losing his balance, he tripped. The Matron hastily caught him, levitating his form to the nearest bed, getting to work immediately.
The audience was frozen in place, unable to believe the sudden turn of events. They'd gone from watching the fourth champion hide behind a rock, tending to his wounds. To in the next instant, see him bloody, running past a downed dragon. Only a handful of them actually knew just how much power he'd had to have put behind the spell and how hard it would be to control.
The girls rushed towards the medical wing, followed by the Weasleys. Fleur stopped them from barging in, preventing the group from disturbing the healer's efforts.
They entered slowly.
The sight of Harry laying in the bed. His shirt removed while Madam Pomfrey worked frantically was one that would haunt them forever. His face was covered in blood and so was his hair. His spectacles were removed and laid upon a small table. A drop of red running down its frame. Ron made a squeaking sound while Ginny covered her mouth.
The twins were solemn. Fred pulled Ginny into his arms while George just stared on. Hermione was inconsolable, sobbing into Fleur's shoulder as Ron rubbed her back. The blonde unsure of what to do, just whispered into Hermione's hair. An assistant on loan from St. Mungo's urged them from the tent. Pulling it shut in front of them.
They could only pray now and hope for the best.
END CHAPTER NINE
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