The Dragon

Within a matter of only a few days upon learning that Harry had been entered into the Triwizard Tournament, Nicholas and Perenelle had arrived in Britain. They had taken up residence in a humble cottage in the West Country, posing as an elderly couple seeking a rural retreat for their remaining years.

It was not as though they were likely to be recognised, even amongst the magicals, but the Flamels preferred to conduct their business as discreetly as possible.

Whilst Perenelle set about making the house a temporary home, Nicholas had begun to familiarise himself with the country.

It had been centuries that he had spent any significant time here, and Britain had certainly changed.

Spearheading the industrial revolution amongst the muggles had seen it become a wealthy land, prosperous, and a far cry from the often-war-torn mess Nicholas remembered.

The wizarding culture here, remained largely the same.

As the muggles developed, they left behind their magical counterparts, as had much of the rest of the world.

There was not a place that Nicholas had visited that muggles and magicals lived in any semblance of harmony.

The former feared what they did not understand, and given the rather tumultuous history between them, the magicals would forever be cautious at best and outright hostile.

It was merely the way the world worked.

Still, Nicholas had enjoyed his outings here.

Both magical and muggle London had proven to be interesting. Today, however, the alchemist found himself in Hogsmeade where he was awaiting the arrival of his young charge.

He was deeply concerned for Harry, as was Perenelle, and how he was coping with the prospect of the arduous task ahead of him.

Nicholas had no doubt the boy had deciphered the unsubtle clue he had included in his last missive, but he was curious to see the approach Harry had decided upon.

Tangling with a dragon was a foolish undertaking indeed, and yet, Nicholas was in no doubt that Harry would have devised a way to do so.

Whether it was safe or not was another question. However, how much could someone mitigate such a significant threat to them?

Nicholas did not know.

Other than his work with the blood of the creatures, they were far beyond his realm of expertise.

Harry would find a way. He always did.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow as a young a man he did not recognise entered the room he had rented in The Three Broomsticks and shook his head as Harry revealed himself.

"Your Transfiguration skills are rather exemplary for your age," he praised. "You're already working on disguises?"

Harry nodded as he took a seat on the sofa.

"You never know when it will be useful."

"Like now?" Nicholas chuckled. "None are aware you are here?"

"No."

"Good," Nicholas declared as he eyed the boy.

Given the circumstances, he looked well enough. Harry did not appear to be losing sleep nor neglecting his food.

"Please tell me you have found a way."

"I have," Harry confirmed with a sigh. "It's not fool-proof, but it will show them that they shouldn't underestimate me."

"You know, Perenelle will be furious if you do something stupid."

"Being within one hundred feet of any dragon is stupid," Harry pointed out.

"It is," Nicholas conceded. "Well, we will both be there. Perenelle is fretting of course."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"I didn't enter myself."

"I never thought for a fleeting moment you did," Nicholas assured him. "You have a proclivity towards taking risks, but the tournament provides you with nothing, but somebody did enter you, Harry, and I implore that you tread carefully."

"I am," Harry promised. "I'm trying to figure it out, but it all leads back to one person, no matter who put my name in the goblet."

"But they are the immediate threat," Nicholas said firmly.

"They are," Harry agreed, "but they won't personally hurt me. Voldemort will want to kill me himself. If he doesn't, there will always be that question mark over his legitimacy."

Nicholas hated to admit it, but Harry was right.

"Are you familiar with the Delacour family?" the boy asked.

Nicholas frowned as he nodded.

"Not for some time now, but they are a well-respected family in France. I believe there have been a Minister of Magic or two with that name. Why?"

"One of the champions is a Delacour, a veela, and I met her father. He attempted to use Legilimency on me."

"He did what?"

Harry held up a hand to calm Nicholas.

"Not aggressively," he explained, "but he definitely tried to read my surface thoughts."

Nicholas cursed in his native tongue.

"What did he see?"

"Nothing," Harry answered simply. "I already had my guard up when I was approached by them, well, the younger sister of the champion."

Nicholas hummed unhappily as he pondered what little he knew of the Delacours.

"Did you say a veela?"

Harry nodded.

"Mr Delacour's wife is a veela, as are both his daughters."

"Interesting," Nicholas mused aloud. "I expect that would have been quite the talking point. A man from a prominent family marrying a veela."

"Is it frowned upon?"

"Not as such," Nicholas replied carefully. "Veela are quite accepted as living among the magicals in France, but are treated with caution by most, and contempt by others. Their reputation is unwarranted. For the most part, they keep to themselves to avoid allegations being levelled at them. I do not believe I need to explain the nature of these allegations."

"No," Harry confirmed. "I have experienced the effects for myself."

"But you are able to fend them off?"

Harry nodded.

"It was not easy with three of them so close," he admitted.

Nicholas smiled.

"I do not believe the Delacours would use their abilities in such a way," he assured him. "Being as one of them married into a highly-respected family, I expect they do all they can to avoid drawing that kind of attention to themselves."

"I think you're right," Harry replied. "I was just curious. I've seen how Fleur is treated, even by her classmates."

"It is the plight of being a veela, unfortunately. Now, I will be keeping a close eye. I've not heard anything that causes me concern, which is concerning in itself. If Voldemort is indeed behind this, then he is doing so with the utmost care. I can only guess what his intentions are, but for now, you must remain vigilant."

Harry chuckled as he stood.

"You sound like Moody."

"Moody?"

"He's our Defence Professor," Harry explained. "He used to be an auror and is as paranoid as anyone I've met."

"He sounds like a smart man," Nicholas murmured. "You would do well to be a like him."

Harry nodded.

"I don't have a death wish. I'm doing all I can to stay as safe as possible."

"That's all I ask of you, Harry."

The boy offered Nicholas a smile before reapplying his disguise and taking his leave of the room.

Despite the assurances, the entire situation continue to irk the alchemist.

Something was a afoot, and not knowing what it was bothered the man deeply.

He needed to ponder just what possible outcomes Voldemort was hoping to achieve from this, and what part Harry as expected to play.

(Break)

Ron had been bitterly disappointed at the announcement that the Quidditch season would not be proceeding this year. For the past three years, he had been under the impression that now would be the time that he would have the opportunity to become a member of the team, but that wasn't to be.

The prospect of witnessing the Triwizard Tournament first-hand had sweetened the blow somewhat. Still, his dream of playing his beloved sport had been put on hold.

What Ron hadn't expected, however, was for both Harry and Hermione to be occupied so much.

The latter had made it her personal mission to free every house-elf that worked at Hogwarts. The girl was proving to be quite barmy about the entire thing, and Harry…

Well, Harry was just Harry.

He'd always been busy since first year, but always made time for Ron to play chess or sit so that they could do their homework together.

It had come as quite the shock when his friend's name had been chosen by the Goblet of Fire, and Ron wouldn't pretend to himself that he did not feel more than a little put-out by it.

Not that he believed Harry had entered himself. There as a small part of Ron that wanted to blame him for it, but in truth, he couldn't bring himself to.

Besides, although he had not known it, with both Harry and Hermione so busy, their absences had granted him the perfect opportunity to prepare himself for the return of the Quidditch season for the next school year, and the redhead had been quietly practicing.

It wasn't easy to do alone, but Ron would come to the Quidditch Stadium during a free period or two during the week where he could become familiar being in front of the goalposts and where he could practice flying around them.

Over the years, he had read dozens of articles containing tips for budding Keepers, and he was putting the advice to use, as he intended to do now.

"Sorry little brother, no can do."

"Charlie!" Ron gasped as the man pulled him into a tight embrace. "Are you here for the…"

Charlie held up a hand to silence him before nodding.

"I am," he confirmed. "Did you not read my letter?"

"I did," Ron assured him. "I just forgot it was so soon."

"And Harry?"

"I showed him it. I think he already knew."

Charlie nodded grimly.

"As does the French champion, and I'm certain I've seen that Karkaroff bloke around the den."

"Have they really got to fight one of them?" Ron asked excitedly.

"No," Charlie chuckled. "If it was a few hundred years ago, maybe, but not this time."

"Can I see them?"

"You'll see them with everyone else. Mum would kill me if I let you anywhere near them."

Ron nodded his understanding.

"Anyway, you can't come into the stadium. It is being prepared for the task, so best you go back to the castle before you are seen and people start making accusations of cheating."

Ron nodded and hugged his brother once more.

"See you tomorrow?"

"I'll be around," Charlie replied with a smile, "and Ron? Not a word to the others."

"I won't say anything," Ron promised before leaving his brother to his work.

It hadn't escaped him entirely that the first task would be taking place the following day, but Quidditch had a way of distracting Ron from just about anything else he may have been thinking about.

To him, there was little else more important than the sport he revered, except for his family and friends.

Nonetheless, having been reminded that the tournament would truly begin tomorrow, he once more found himself excited by it, and wasn't so disappointed that he would miss a little of his training today.

It would be worth it to see what the champions would have to do, even if he was growing more and more concerned for Harry.

(Break)

"And for Mr Potter, the Hungarian Horntail," Crouch whispered.

Harry eyed the miniature dragon he held and took hold of its snout as it attempted to bite his finger. He should have known he would get the worst of the bunch, but it would not alter his path.

"Your task is to retrieve the golden egg amongst the clutch of regular dragon eggs," Crouch explained. "You will only be allowed to take your wand into the stadium. The number on the chest indicates the order in which you will go. Are there any questions?"

None of the champions spoke, and Crouch shared a look with the other judges before addressing them once more.

"The best of luck to all of you."

With that, the judges left, leaving only the champions within the tent.

Harry immediately noticed the lack of surprise shown by both Krum and Delacour. They had been forewarned of what the task was. Cedric, on the other hand, had become quite pale.

"Bloody hell," the older boy cursed as he began pacing around the tent restlessly.

Harry could only shake his head.

He'd had little doubt that Karkaroff would find a way to seize an advantage, and he'd even considered that the French would do the same.

Cedric was very much a fair player, and that had come back to haunt him.

"So, only Cedric didn't know," Harry mused aloud. "Oh, don't bother denying it, Delacour. It's written all over your face. You too Krum."

"I have no idea what you mean," the French champion replied airily.

Harry snorted derisively.

Krum merely shrugged, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.

"You knew?" Cedric questioned.

Harry nodded unashamedly.

"I did. Cheating is something of a tradition, and neither Karkaroff nor Maxime want to lose."

Cedric could only shake his head as he continued to tremble with fear.

"The Short-Snout has thick hide and shoots flames from its nose," Harry sighed, taking pity on the older boy. "It's not so fast and is distracted easily. You'd be best to distract it and get in and out fast with the egg."

Cedric looked at him questioningly.

"I don't fancy seeing you die, Diggory," Harry chuckled humourlessly.

Cedric nodded gratefully and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You know, I was hoping I'd be able to outdo you in this after Quidditch last year," he huffed good-naturedly.

"There's always the next task," Harry pointed out.

"There is," Cedric agreed. "Thanks, Harry."

"I hear you are very good at Quidditch, Harry Potter," Krum spoke, his accent thick yet it did not mask his curiosity.

"He'd probably give you a run for your galleons," Cedric answered.

Krum laughed heartily, an odd sound from someone usually so surly.

"I would like to see it," he declared "Especially if you jump from your broom to catch the Snitch. One of the Hogwarts students said it was more than two hundred feet in the air."

Fleur scoffed at the very thought.

"It was," Cedric confirmed before Harry could speak. "It was in his first year too. He's completely insane."

Krum's busy eyebrows rose in surprise and he nodded appreciatively.

"That is crazy," he murmured. "Maybe we will one day play together, da?"

"Maybe," Harry agreed.

Before the conversation could proceed, they were interrupted by the voice of Ludo Bagman addressing the crowd within the stadium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the time has now come for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

The audience cheered their approval, and Bagman had to speak over them.

"The task is as follows. The champions must retrieve the golden egg hidden amongst the others, but they will not be alone. Keepers, if you please."

A loud roar caused the ground beneath their feet to tremble, sobering each of the champions as the reality of what they would face truly set in.

The crowd had fallen oddly silent, and Cedric was once again pale.

"First to take on the challenge is Mr Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts!"

"Good luck, Cedric," Harry offered.

The boy evidently could not speak and offered only a nod in response before taking his leave of the tent to face what was waiting for him.

The commentary that followed was rather ominous as Bagman gave a play by play without revealing much of what Cedric was doing.

"Oh, that is going to be sore."

"Wait, he might have it…YES! Mr Diggory has retrieved his egg in a little over twenty-three minutes. Well done, Mr Diggory, well done indeed!"

For several moments, only the roars of the dragon could be heard until it fell suddenly silent, replaced by another beast shortly after.

"Next to face their dragon is Miss Delacour of Beauxbatons!"

Although she did her best to hide it, Fleur too was a nervous wreck as she exited the tent leaving Harry alone with Krum who was growing more nervous by the minute.

"Are you more nervous now than you were for the final?" Harry queried.

"Now," Viktor murmured. "Nothing in the final was going to light me on fire."

"True," Harry chuckled.

"You do not seem nervous at all," Krum replied with a scowl.

Harry shrugged in return.

He was nervous, more so than he had ever been in his life, but his breathing exercise and keeping himself centred was helping greatly. He was acutely aware that he would soon be facing off with a monster, but he had planned for it, had played every possible scenario over in his mind.

At worst, he would be killed, though it would likely be quickly.

Dragon fire would reduce him to little more than a pile of charred bones in a matter of seconds, and the claws would all but tear him clean in two.

There were certainly worse deaths to endure, though Harry didn't find any appealing, not when he had so much left to do.

"And yes, Miss Delacour has retrieved her egg in a little over eighteen minutes. That was very well done!"

"You're up next."

Krum nodded and began pacing similarly to how Cedric had and Harry suspected the Bulgarian was now keen to get it over with.

"Our penultimate competitor is Mr Viktor Krum, representing Durmstrang!" Bagman announced around ten minutes after Delacour had retrieved her egg.

Krum left silently, and Harry released a deep breath.

He couldn't decide if going last was a blessing or a curse. Regardless, he felt the weight of the moment bearing down on him, and as Ignotus had throughout his life, Harry closed his eyes as he kneeled in the corner of the tent.

He was not one for prayers for the most part. Vernon had been very much against any types of religion, but in this moment, Harry felt the need to do something other than pace tirelessly until it was his time.

"I don't know what to say other than I hope you can watch over me," he whispered. "If Fate is my enemy, then you are my ally. I am turning to you as Ignotus, Cadmus, and Antioch did. Come Death, come."

It was an odd sense of calmness that washed over him as he spoke. Although the fear was still very much present within him, Harry felt somewhat better with the thought that Death would be in his corner.

"Krum has done it!" Bagman declared, pulling Harry back into the moment. "My, that was impressive."

Not knowing how long he had until his name was called, Harry reverted back to his breathing exercises, seeking solace within his own mind. It could only have been mere moments that he focused on the deeds of his ancestors before he heard Bagman speak once more.

"And now, finally, it is Mr Potter's turn to take on his dragon."

The roar that punctuated the announcement was the loudest and most ferocious yet and Harry knew the task ahead of him was indeed a monumental one.

Steeling his resolve, he drew his wand as he exited the tent and made his way through the tunnel where once more, he would confront Fate in what seemed to be an endless attempt to see to Harry's end.

(Break)

Cedric winced as his burnt skin pulled tightly from the effort of looking towards the door upon Krum entering. He too had not escaped his tryst with the dragon unscathed and limped towards one of the other beds.

Madam Pomfrey tutted as she cut away the Bulgarian's robes, revealing a significant burn of his own.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Cedric snorted.

Krum grunted, nodding his agreement.

Still, it could be worse.

Had Cedric not anticipated the gout of flame from the Short-Snout's nostrils, his injuries would certainly have been more significant.

Delacour had suffered only minor burns but had not spoken a word since she'd arrived in the medical tent. Her eyes seemed to be haunted and she seemed to be questioning her decision to enter the tournament.

Cedric had undoubtedly gotten the worst thus far, though Krum's leg looked as though it had been barbecued.

"There," Madam Pomfrey declared once she had finished applying the burn salve.

"Thank you," Viktor muttered as he surveyed the damage. "That will scar."

"Probably," Cedric agreed. "At least you still have your leg."

Krum allowed a rare smirk to grace his lips and Cedric stood as he heard the crowd cheering once more.

He wanted to see for himself how Harry would perform, even if he knew it would be difficult to watch. Regardless, he could not sit still any longer and he exited the tent, swallowing deeply as he took in the sight of the dragon awaiting the youngest champion.

"Bloody hell, its massive," he whispered.

"Da," Viktor agreed.

Cedric had not been aware of the other boy following him, nor did he expect to see Delacour arrive only seconds later.

"It is a monster," she declared.

Cedric nodded and watched the entrance to the tunnel that Harry would emerge from.

At first glance, he appeared to be relatively calm, and Cedric frowned as the claxon sounded and Harry set to work.

"What is he doing?" Viktor questioned curiously.

Cedric did not know, but as Harry finished twirling his wand, a bright purple dome appeared, encapsulating the entire area set aside for the task to take place.

For a moment, Harry simply looked upwards, taking in the various runic arrays on show.

"He's not going to attempt to destroy the defences, is he?" Delacour asked worriedly.

"No," Cedric answered.

Harry was known for being rather reckless, but even his risk-taking had limits.

"He is trying to decipher them," Viktor broke in. "He is going to see if he can use them to his advantage."

"He cannot!" Fleur gasped. "If he does something wrong…"

Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing, and with another wave of his wand, the dome vanished before he set to work once more.

"He wasn't trying to use the defences," Cedric mused aloud. "He was looking to see how strong they are."

"Why would he do that?" Fleur questioned.

The answer came in the form of a deep, groaning sound as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble.

"Bloody hell, what is he doing?"

The other two champions did not have an answer, but the trembling grew with intensity until the boulders in the pit began to crumble. Nonetheless, Harry continued with his efforts, twirling his wand in intricate patterns, and mouthing words that none could hear.

The trembling ceased as soon as Harry stopped, and though it appeared nothing had happened, he was breathing heavily from his efforts.

"Look!" Fleur urged, pointing towards the sky.

Cedric frowned as he spotted a single black feather spinning to the ground, and those within the stadium began talking amongst themselves, wondering just what had happened.

The champions, however, remained transfixed on the feather until it touched the floor.

A deafening explosion rent the air, and Cedric felt himself shoved back a foot or so from the force, but he did not lose sight of what was happening.

What must have been dozens upon dozens of ravens appeared from the destroyed rocks, and in amongst them all was Harry, seemingly unfazed by what was happening around him.

"Did it just get really cold?" Fleur asked.

The dragon unleashed an almighty roar followed by a gout of fire towards the birds.

Cedric's eyes widened as the ravens suddenly merged into an enormous, cloaked figure that bore the brunt of the fire.

"What is that?" he choked weakly.

Krum and Delacour were as dumbstruck as him, and even more so as the dragon stopped and began to cower as the figure glided towards it.

Seizing his moment, Harry quickly gathered the egg before turning his attention to the cloaked being that continued to bear down on the seemingly terrified creature.

"NO!" he said firmly.

The figure looked towards him and Harry shook his head.

Cedric could only look on as it complied, offering Harry what seemed to be a bow and left the dragon be. With a screech, it dispersed into the ravens once more and they all took to the sky as Harry exited the pit, unscathed and leaving a silent crowd in his wake.

The coldness that had enveloped the stadium finally abated, yet Cedric still felt it within him.

"What was that?" Krum asked a moment later as those within the audience began talking amongst themselves.

Cedric could only shake his head.

The only thing he could compare it to was the time the Dementors had invaded the Quidditch pitch, yet somehow, this was even colder.

He shuddered as he made his way back into the medical tent as Bagman announced the judges would be taking some time to confer amongst themselves.

(Break)

Both Nicholas and Perenelle were impressed by what they had witnessed, and equally relieved. Harry had managed to complete the task in a way that was visually pleasing and did not see him come to harm.

"Do you have any idea what he did?"

Nicholas shook his head.

"Not entirely," he murmured. "It doesn't matter. He did what was necessary."

Perenelle nodded her agreement, though Nicholas would be discussing it with Harry. He was certainly curious as to what the boy had done. It was not a mere spell he had cast, but something more akin to very old magic.

Nicholas was no expert on the subject, but he had seen his fair share of feats throughout his long life.

What business Harry had knowing it was something else entirely.

Although rather powerful in its own way, it was not the most convenient of approaches.

Old magic had fallen out of favour as developments were made to simplify endeavours. The downside had always been that newer and faster techniques for creating similar effects were not as impressive nor powerful, but they were sufficient.

Evidently, Harry did not believe so in this instance.

It was as puzzling as it was impressive, but Nicholas was certain the boy had chosen his path for a reason.

(Break)

"I'm afraid I am quite lost," Ludo declared as the judges gathered in the tent set aside for them. "Could someone explain to me what Potter did?"

"It was a rather impressive display of old magic," Madame Maxime answered thoughtfully. "Unless I am very much mistaken?"

Albus frowned as he shook his head.

"No, my dear, you are not," he replied. "It was old magic Harry used, and to great effect."

"The boy scared the dragon," Crouch snorted. "What kind of magic is capable of that?"

Albus did not have a precise answer for that particular enquiry, but his theories on magic were usually accurate.

"I believe it was the coldness that elicited the response from the creature," he mused aloud. "You must remember, we were shielded from much of it. The dragon would have experienced it in full. I expect the sudden change in temperature was quite the shock and it triggered its instincts to fly away. Being chained to the ground, it could not."

"That makes sense," Igor murmured, "but how did he create that effect? Was it all just smoke and mirrors?"

"Alas, I cannot be certain," Albus sighed. "Harry exerted a lot of energy creating what he did, and it was done to great effect. I do not think it can be denied that his performance was admirable. Neither the dragon, the eggs, nor the champion was harmed throughout, and that was the objective of the task. He retrieved the egg much quicker and safer than any other champion."

The judges murmured their agreements, some more reluctantly than others.

"I must say, it was an impressive showing," Olympe conceded. "The only question that remains is whether there is anything he can be penalised for?"

(Break)

"I told you I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," Harry grumbled as the healer fussed over him.

"Give it up, Harry," Cedric urged. "You know she will get her way."

Harry huffed but followed the older boys' advice, and within a moment or so, she was satisfied that he had not been hurt.

"Why are you all staring at me?" Harry asked when Madam Pomfrey left.

"Bloody hell," Cedric muttered. "Are you going to explain what you did?"

"No," Harry answered simply.

Doing so would involve disclosing much more information than he was willing to, to anyone, let alone those he was competing against.

How could he tell them that the magic he used was intended to be a curse as much as it was a blessing bestowed upon his ancestors by Death?

Even in Harry's mind that had slowly become accustomed to it, the notion sounded ridiculous.

"I have never seen anything like it," Krum said appraisingly. "I have read about old magic at Durmstrang, but nothing like that."

"And you won't," Harry returned with a shrug. "I made that one up myself."

That was partially true, at least. In Ignotus's book, he had read of a spell that Cadmus had used to summon beings from within the stone.

Harry, however, did not possess it, and had relied upon Death to provide what he needed. His wish had been granted with much more than he'd anticipated.

Harry had been prepared to have to combat the impressive flames of the dragon, but the magic had taken care of that for him.

In a way, he felt as though he had cheated somewhat, but he took comfort knowing that the magic cast had been done by him, even if the true effects had been positively unexpected.

Had the figure not acquiesced, Harry would have needed to take another approach.

Once more, Death had proven to be his one ally in all that he had faced thus far, an alliance that had seemingly been in place centuries before Harry had been born.

"Come Death, come," he whispered fondly.

"Harry!"

He turned to see a pale Ron and Hermione at entrance to the medical tent, the latter looking at him questioningly.

"They're about to read your score."

With a nod, Harry followed the duo until he found himself in one of the stands where the judges were gathering on the opposite side of the stadium.

"How did the others do?" he asked.

"They gave Cedric thirty-eight, Krum forty-two, and Delacour forty-four," Hermione explained. "You did the best by far."

Ron nodded his agreement.

"What did you do?" he probed.

"Just a few tricks," Harry said dismissively.

Hermione did not seem to believe him, but before she could press him further, Bagman placed the tip of his wand to his throat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, having conferred amongst ourselves, the scores for Mr Harry Potter are as follows."

Dumbledore was the first to reveal his judgement, firing a number ten into the air. Maxime, Crouch, and Bagman followed suit, receiving cheers of approval.

Karkaroff, however, hesitated before scoring Harry a seven, eliciting a slew of jeers from the gathered crowd.

"Taking the lead with his exceptional performance, and the winner of the first task with a score of forty-seven points is Harry Potter!" Bagman announced.

"You deserve it," Cedric's voice sounded from behind. "Maybe now certain people won't underestimate you," he added pointedly as Fleur and Viktor joined them.

"I will not," Krum chuckled. "You did well, Harry Potter."

Fleur only nodded before turning away.

"I think we have to meet in the champion's tent," Cedric explained, shooting a look of disapproval towards the French champion.

"We will meet you in the common room," Hermione assured Harry.

"Fred and George had already said there will be a party," Ron added with a grin.

Of course there would be a party. The twins would not miss an opportunity to pilfer the kitchens.

"How're your burns?" Harry asked Cedric as they made their towards the champion's tent.

"They hurt," Cedric snorted humourlessly. "Thank you, Harry. You didn't have to help me out."

"You would have figured it out."

"Maybe," Cedric replied uncertainly, "but I probably would have gotten worse than this. I owe you one."

Harry waved him off.

"No you don't. This is a competition, remember. I'm sure you won't be expecting everyone else to be as honourable as you from now on."

"I won't," Cedric muttered as they entered the tent where the judges were already waiting for them.

"A most impressive showing from you all!" Bagman praised. "Now, the eggs you retrieved are a clue that you must decipher before the second task takes place on February 22nd. I wish all of you the best of luck."

The heads of each school remained behind whilst Bagman and Crouch left, and only a moment later, those who had come to watch the champions entered.

"I am so proud of you, Ced!" Amos Diggory gushed as he wrapped the boy in his arms.

The man was beaming, though who Harry assumed to be was Cedric's mother looked terrified.

"Let me take a look at you."

Harry turned just as a young woman cupped his cheeks, and it took him a brief second to realise that it was Perenelle who had disguised herself along with Nicholas who looked on amusedly.

"I'm fine," Harry assured her.

Perenelle hummed as she gave him the once over, nodding when she was satisfied that he was not hurt.

"Well done, Harry," Nicholas offered. "I did not doubt you for a moment."

The praise elicited a genuine smile from Harry.

Nicholas did not give such a thing unless it was due or he was truly impressed, so it truly meant a lot coming from the alchemist.

"I didn't get burned."

"No, and for that, I am grateful," Perenelle sighed as she placed a kiss on his cheek. "You do worry an old woman."

"It isn't my fault."

"And that is why I am being so lenient with you."

Harry exchanged a look with Nicholas and the man offered him a knowing grin.

"When is the next one?"

"February. We have a clue to figure out before then."

"Then I urge you to begin working on it immediately," Nicholas replied. "The quick you solve it, the more time you will have to prepare."

"I will," Harry assured him. "I can't see it being worse than dragons."

"I would not be so sure," Nicholas said cautiously. "There are many things worse than dragons in this world, not creatures perhaps, but there are creations and magic that are quite frightening."

Harry nodded his understanding.

He had seen for himself there were things more terrifying than a dragon, well, terrifying if one was fearful of such an inevitable eventuality.

Still, Harry would not ignore Nicholas's advice.

He would revel in the joy of the day and begin his work on solving the clue tomorrow.

If the first task was anything to go by, he would need time to prepare.

Not solving the clue in a timely manner could prove to be detrimental, after all.

"We will allow you to celebrate with your friends," Perenelle announced. "Do write to us, Harry. Even if it is just to say hello."

"I will," Harry promised.

He cared for the Flamels more than anyone else in his life.

Nicholas had saved him from the Dursleys, and both had taught him more valuable lessons than he could count.

Regardless of the help the cloak had provided and the influence it had in shaping him, Harry knew that he would be lost without Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel.

(Break)

"Are you not pleased with your performance?"

Fleur offered her father a sad smile.

"I am."

She was being truthful. Fleur was not disappointed with her approach. Both Cedric and Viktor had taken longer and had both suffered more injuries than her.

It was Potter's performance that occupied her mind.

Fleur prided herself on her magical ability and knowledge. The charm she had used was an obscure one that she had been convinced would see her clear at the top of the rankings.

Potter had outshone her.

She was not too proud to admit to herself that he had performed better than all of them, but how?

He was three years younger than her. How did he have knowledge and ability in the type of magic he wielded.

"He was brilliant, wasn't he?" Gabrielle questioned, nodding towards Harry.

"He was," Fleur admitted unashamedly. "I have been underestimating him."

"And you were rude to him," Gabrielle pointed out.

"He was rude to me!"

Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

Fleur was willing to admit she had been wrong about Potter's ability, but that was as far as her self-searching would go.

"Do you not think you are being unfair?" her mother asked gently.

Fleur scowled at her and her stomach sank as Gabrielle walked boldly over to him.

"Not again," she groaned.

"Hello, Harry Potter," Gabrielle greeted him cheerily. "I just wanted to say, from a little girl to a little boy, that you did really well."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" Harry sighed.

Gabrielle grinned as she shook her head.

"Can you teach me the spell that you used?"

"I'm afraid not. It is a secret."

"I can keep a secret!"

"I'm sure you can," Potter chuckled. "Your sister does not look happy again."

"She's never happy," Gabrielle huffed.

Potter laughed.

"Well, she might not like me, but at least I haven't made her angry enough that she's thrown fireballs at me. That is what you can do, isn't it?"

"You've been reading about us?" Gabrielle asked, surprised.

"I thought it might come in useful. I think I'm safe so long as none of you start sprouting feathers. If that happens, then I'll run."

Fleur frowned as her father snorted amusedly and Gabrielle gaped at the boy.

"It's probably for the best you do. An angry veela is not an enemy you want, Harry Potter."

"I'll remember that. Thanks, little veela."

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at Potter as he left the tent.

"He's going to pay for that," she declared.

"Oh dear," her father sighed. "Come on, let's go before we have a feathery incident."

Fleur almost felt sorry for Potter.

If Gabrielle was really intent on getting to him, she would find a way.

Still, Fleur did not think her sister would attempt to harm him. For reasons unbeknownst to her, Gabrielle had taken a liking to Potter.

No, she wouldn't harm him, but she would certainly make a nuisance of herself.

"The poor boy has no idea what he's done," her father murmured.