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| USED UP SOCKS |
song: margaret by lana del rey.
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ARA WAS WAITING IMPATIENTLY FOR HARRY IN THE COMMON ROOM, her foot tapped the ground rapidly as she crossed her arms; They'd both agreed that they would tell Hermione about what the first task would be, but Harry was taking longer than normal and she was starving.
Finally having had enough of waiting, she made her way up the staircases that led to the boys' dormitories, and knocked loudly on the door, "Harry? Harry, you better be up! We'll miss breakfast!"
Silence.
Ara groaned, "Look, I'm coming in! You better be dressed!"
She burst through the door to find Harry fully dressed as he tried to pull a. . .hat onto his foot? He hadn't even noticed her entrance with his hassling.
"You do know that's a hat and not a sock, right?" Ara voiced.
Harry jumped at the sound of her voice, accidentally hitting his head against one of his bed posts, "Ara! Wha—what are you doing here?"
"It's late, and I just wanted to make sure you hadn't slept through, we said we'd tell Hermione after breakfast, remember?" Ara said, amusedly watching as he rubbed his head.
"Oh, yeah, I'm just trying to get this on—"
"Harry—that's a hat."
"I–I knew that," Harry mumbled, as he went to find his actual socks.
"Well then, I'm starting to wonder whether you know what hats are for then."
"Funny," he muttered sarcastically.
When Harry finally got all his clothes on the right parts of his body, they hurried off to find Hermione, locating her at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, where she was eating breakfast with Ginny.
"Morning!" Ara greeted the two of them as she and Harry settled on the seats across them. "Alright there, Gin?"
Ginny gave a tired grumble, she seemed to only have the strength to eat, she laid her head down on her crossed arms on top of the table. "It's too early, Ria." Ara chuckled and smoothed out some of her sister's hair.
"Good Morning," Hermione smiled. "There's still plenty left if you want some."
She motioned towards the porridge in the middle and Ara held up a hand, "Thanks but no thanks, it looks like a bunch of—"
"It does not look like vomit!"
Ara raised an eyebrow at her, "If you say so, but I'll stick with eggs on toast for now," she turned to Harry. "And you? Would you prefer vomit—" Hermione gave a sound of protest. "—or normal food?"
"I don't think I'm hungry right now," Harry said.
"You should still eat at least something small," Ara said as she reached to grasp a small banana muffin.
"I'm really not that hungry—" Harry started as Ara pushed the muffin in front of him.
"Eat,"
Harry rolled his eyes but eventually gave in, and when they were finally all fed he then dragged them out onto the grounds. There, he and Ara told Hermione all about the dragons, and about everything Sirius had said, while they took another long walk around the lake.
Alarmed as she was by Sirius's warnings about Karkaroff, Hermione still thought that the dragons were the more pressing problem.
"Let's just try and keep you alive until Tuesday evening," she said desperately, "and then we can worry about Karkaroff."
"Not the easiest task," said Ara, clicking her tongue. "Death follows him everywhere."
"Can you be serious, please?" said Hermione sternly.
"You see I can't do that because I'm actually–"
"Please not another one of those jokes again!"
They walked three times around the lake, trying all the way to think of a simple spell that would subdue a dragon. Nothing whatsoever occurred to them, so they retired to the library instead. Here, they pulled down every book they could find on dragons, and the three of them set to work searching through the large pile.
" 'Talon-clipping by charms . . . treating scale-rot . . .' This is no good, this is for nutters like Hagrid who want to keep them healthy. . . ."
" 'Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate . . .' But Dad said a simple one would do it. . . ."
"Let's try some simple spell books, then," said Harry, throwing aside Men Who Love Dragons Too Much.
He returned to the table with a pile of spell books, set them down, and began to flick through each in turn, Hermione whispering nonstop at his elbow as Ara tried her hardest to stay awake, blinking sleepily at the pages of the book she was holding.
"Well, there are Switching Spells . . . but what's the point of Switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs for wine-gums or something that would make it less dangerous. . . . The trouble is, like that book said, not much is going to get through a dragon's hide. . . . I'd say Transfigure it, but something that big, you really haven't got a hope, I doubt even Professor McGonagall . . . unless you're supposed to put the spell on yourself? Maybe to give yourself extra powers? But they're not simple spells, I mean, we haven't done any of those in class, I only know about them because I've been doing O.W.L. practice papers. . . ."
"Hermione," Harry said, through gritted teeth, "will you be quiet for a bit, please? I'm trying to concentrate."
His eyes snapped to the side when he heard even breathing, seeing that Ara had fallen asleep with her head on top of an open book. She looked to be already deeply gone but that serenity of slumber was broken when Hermione noticed her figure as well, she slammed her book on the table, making Ara shoot right awake.
"Damn," Ara rubbed her eyelids as she sat up, her voice hoarse. "Can't even let me sleep."
"You're supposed to be helping!" hissed Hermione.
"Oh—right," Ara cleared her throat as she picked up the book and tried to read it again.
Ara would be lying if she said she didn't feel bad for falling asleep in the middle of such important research, but she was honest when she said she hadn't even noticed. The book pages had just seemed so welcoming and comfortable that she couldn't resist resting her head for a bit, not expecting her eyes to close. She hadn't been getting enough sleep these days, her skull always seemed to start aching even more at nighttime, preventing her from sleeping.
"Ara?"
Ara hummed in response and turned to Harry, who was looking at her with an expression of uncertainty, she didn't realise that she had zoned out and had been staring blankly at the book in front of her.
"Can we talk after the first task?" blurted Ara flatly before he could ask her if she was okay. "I need your opinion on something. . ."
"Oh—yeah, sure," said Harry, his eyebrows furrowed.
Ara gave him a short smile and then continued looking at the book, trying to focus on it rather than falling asleep again.
Harry's brain filled with a sort of blank buzzing, which didn't seem to allow room for concentration. He stared hopelessly down the index of Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed. Instant scalping . . . but dragons had no hair . . . pepper breath . . . that would probably increase a dragon's firepower . . . horn tongue . . . just what he needed, to give it an extra weapon . . .
"Oh no, he's back again, why can't he read on his stupid ship?" said Hermione irritably as Viktor Krum slouched in, cast a surly look over at the pair of them, and settled himself in a distant corner with a pile of books. "Come on, Ara, Harry, we'll go back to the common room . . . his fan club'll be here in a moment, twittering away. . . ."
And sure enough, as they left the library, a gang of girls tiptoed past them, one of them wearing a Bulgaria scarf tied around her waist.
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ARA BARELY SLEEPED THAT NIGHT, FOR SHE'D HAD a very strange dream in which she had seen flashes of a rather old house along with a snake, a big snake. She'd felt undeniably cold as she stood inside the old, dark, and empty manor, it'd felt, in some way, sinister. One could practically hear the calls of the ghosts that once took residence in the property. It'd been so vivid that Ara woke up drenched in sweat, breathing heavily as she searched for her dog plush, hugging it to her chest in order to calm herself.
Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream. . she'd repeated to herself. Maybe it was just a way that her mind had of reminding her of Harry's dream that he'd had during the summer. That was it.
She'd felt as if she was on autopilot all morning, she barely took notice of the water hitting her when she showered or the burning of her tongue when she brushed her teeth. Her mind had been on either her dream or Harry's task, which made shivers run down her spine at the possibility of witnessing him dying at the claws of a dragon.
Now she was sitting beside him in the Great Hall, inspecting his nervous appearance, his fingers were constantly tapping against the table and his body gave random shakes every now and then. He was terrified and she knew it. Never had she felt so powerless, as much as she wished she could stop all of this for him, she couldn't do anything.
"You nervous?" whispered Ara as she ate her bacon.
Harry nodded, unable to form words. Ara licked her lips, choosing the teasing approach, "Think of it this way, you've survived Voldemort, a dragon should be a piece of cake," She was aware that her voice lacked cheerfulness.
"Yeah, just a dragon . . ." murmured Harry. He finished his bacon with difficulty (his throat wasn't working too well), and as he, Ara and Hermione got up, he saw Cedric Diggory leaving the Hufflepuff table.
Cedric still didn't know about the dragons . . . the only champion who didn't, if Harry was right in thinking that Maxime and Karkaroff would have told Fleur and Krum. . . .
"Ara, Hermione, I'll see you both in the greenhouses," Harry said, coming to his decision as he watched Cedric leaving the Hall. "Go on, I'll catch you up."
"Harry, you'll be late, the bell's about to ring —"
"I'll catch you two up, okay?"
"Come on, 'Mione," said Ara, already sensing that Hermione would try to retort back, she linked her arm with hers and dragged her away.
By the time Harry reached the bottom of the marble staircase, Cedric was at the top. He was with a load of sixth-year friends. Harry didn't want to talk to Cedric in front of them; they were among those who had been quoting Rita Skeeter's article at him every time he went near them. He followed Cedric at a distance and saw that he was heading toward the Charms corridor. This gave Harry an idea. Pausing at a distance from them, he pulled out his wand and took careful aim.
"Diffindo!"
Cedric's bag split. Parchment, quills, and books spilt out of it onto the floor. Several bottles of ink smashed.
"Don't bother," said Cedric in an exasperated voice as his friends bent down to help him. "Tell Flitwick I'm coming, go on. . . ."
This was exactly what Harry had been hoping for. He slipped his wand back into his robes, waited until Cedric's friends had disappeared into their classroom, and hurried up the corridor, which was now empty of everyone but himself and Cedric.
"Hi," said Cedric, picking up a copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration that was now splattered with ink. "My bag just split . . . brand-new and all . . ."
"Cedric," said Harry, "the first task is dragons."
"What?" said Cedric, looking up.
"Dragons," said Harry, speaking quickly, in case Professor Flitwick came out to see where Cedric had got to. "They've got four, one for each of us, and we've got to get past them."
Cedric stared at him. Harry saw some of the panic he'd been feeling since Saturday night flickering in Cedric's grey eyes.
"Are you sure?" Cedric said in a hushed voice.
"Dead sure," said Harry. "I've seen them."
"But how did you find out? We're not supposed to know. . . ."
"Never mind," said Harry quickly — he knew Hagrid would be in trouble if he told the truth. "But I'm not the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know by now — Maxime and Karkaroff both saw the dragons too."
Cedric straightened up, his arms full of inky quills, parchment, and books, his ripped bag dangling off one shoulder. He stared at Harry, and there was a puzzled, almost suspicious look in his eyes.
"Why are you telling me?" he asked.
Harry looked at him in disbelief. He was sure Cedric wouldn't have asked that if he had seen the dragons himself. Harry wouldn't have let his worst enemy face those monsters unprepared — well, perhaps Malfoy or Snape . . .
"It's just . . . fair, isn't it?" he said to Cedric. "We all know now . . . we're on an even footing, aren't we?"
Cedric was still looking at him in a slightly suspicious way when Harry heard a familiar clunking noise behind him. He turned around and saw Mad-Eye Moody emerging from a nearby classroom.
"Come with me, Potter," he growled. "Diggory, off you go."
Harry stared apprehensively at Moody. Had he overheard them?
"Er — Professor, I'm supposed to be in —"
"Never mind that, Potter. In my office, please. . . . Where's your friend? Black?"
"Ara? She's in Herbology. . . why?"
Moody said nothing as he simply groaned under his breath, Harry followed him, wondering what was going to happen to him now. What if Moody wanted to know how he'd found out about the dragons? Would Moody go to Dumbledore and tell on Hagrid, or just turn Harry into a ferret? Why did he want to know where Ara was? Was she in trouble? Maybe Moody had caught her throwing hexes at students.
He followed Moody into his office. Moody closed the door behind them and turned to look at Harry, his magical eye fixed upon him as well as the normal one.
"That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter," Moody said quietly.
Harry didn't know what to say; this wasn't the reaction he had expected at all.
"Sit down," said Moody, and Harry sat, looking around.
The office was full of a number of exceptionally odd objects that Harry supposed Moody had used in the days when he had been an Auror. On his desk stood what looked like a large, cracked, glass spinning top; Harry recognized it at once as a Sneakoscope. In the corner on a small table stood an object that looked something like an extra-squiggly, golden television aerial. It was humming slightly. What appeared to be a mirror hung opposite Harry on the wall, but it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving around inside it, none of them clearly in focus.
"Like my Dark Detectors, do you?" said Moody, who was watching Harry closely.
"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing at the squiggly golden aerial.
"Secrecy Sensor. Vibrates when it detects concealment and lies . . . no use here, of course, too much interference — students in every direction lying about why they haven't done their homework. Been humming ever since I got here. I had to disable my Sneakoscope because it wouldn't stop whistling. It's extra-sensitive, picks up stuff about a mile around. Of course, it could be picking up more than kid stuff," he added in a growl.
"And what's the mirror for?"
"Oh that's my Foe-Glass. See them out there, skulking around? I'm not really in trouble until I see the whites of their eyes. That's when I open my trunk."
He let out a short, harsh laugh, and pointed to the large trunk under the window. It had seven keyholes in a row. Harry wondered what was in there, until Moody's next question brought him sharply back to earth.
"So . . . found out about the dragons, have you?"
Harry hesitated. He'd been afraid of this — but he hadn't told Cedric, and he certainly wasn't going to tell Moody that Hagrid had broken the rules.
"It's all right," said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. "Cheating's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been."
"I didn't cheat," said Harry sharply. "It was — a sort of accident that I found out."
Moody grinned. "I wasn't accusing you, laddie. I've been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won't be. They'll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only human."
Moody gave another harsh laugh, and his magical eye swivelled around so fast it made Harry feel queasy to watch it.
"So . . . got any ideas how you're going to get past your dragon yet?" said Moody.
"No," said Harry.
"Well, I'm not going to tell you," said Moody gruffly. "I don't show favouritism, me. I'm just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is — play to your strengths."
"I haven't got any," said Harry, before he could stop himself. Ara briefly passed through his mind but he was sure that Moody wasn't referring to that kind of strength.
"Excuse me," growled Moody, "you've got strengths if I say you've got them. Think now. What are you best at?"
Harry tried to concentrate. What was he best at? Well, that was easy, really —
"Quidditch," he said dully, "and a fat lot of help —"
"That's right," said Moody, staring at him very hard, his magical eye barely moving at all. "You're a damn good flyer from what I've heard."
"Yeah, but . . ." Harry stared at him. "I'm not allowed a broom, I've only got my wand —"
"My second piece of general advice," said Moody loudly, interrupting him, "is to use a nice, simple spell that will enable you to get what you need."
Harry looked at him blankly. What did he need?
"Come on, boy . . ." whispered Moody. "Put them together . . .it's not that difficult. . . ."
And it clicked. He was best at flying. He needed to pass the dragon in the air. For that, he needed his Firebolt. And for his Firebolt, he needed —
"Ara, Hermione," Harry whispered when he had sped into the greenhouse three minutes later, uttering a hurried apology to Professor Sprout as he passed her. "Ara, Hermione — I need you two to help me."
"What d'you think we've been trying to do, Harry?" Hermione whispered back, her eyes round with anxiety over the top of the quivering Flutterby Bush she was pruning.
"What do you need help with?" mumbled Ara as she loosened her tie around her neck with her gloved hand.
"I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon."
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AND SO THEY PRACTISED. THEY DIDN'T HAVE LUNCH but headed for a free classroom, where Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room toward him. He was still having problems. The books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the room and dropping like stones to the floor.
"Concentrate, Harry, concentrate. . . ."
"What d'you think I'm trying to do?" said Harry angrily. "A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason. . . .Okay, try again. . . ."
"Just—as you say the incantation, imagine the object flying towards you," said Ara encouragingly, making a motion with her hands as if she were trying to attract something.
Ara suggested skipping Divination to keep practising, but Hermione refused point-blank to skive off Arithmancy, so therefore only Ara and Harry stayed.
"Okay, like I said before," said Ara as she pointed her wand at a nearby book. "Just imagine it coming towards you, like this, Accio book!" The book flew from its place on the table directly into Ara's outstretched hand.
"Now you try it," continued Ara as she placed the book back down on the desk.
Harry sighed heavily and pointed his wand at the book as he said, "Accio book!" But it didn't move. He let out a groan of frustration. "I'm hopeless, I'm gonna die tomorrow."
"No, you're not, I'll kill you if you die. It just takes time," assured Ara as she went to stand by him. "Maybe you are doing the wand movements wrong—" she grabbed his wrist gently and guided his aim towards the book again. Harry felt his face grow hot at the small contact and cursed himself for getting distracted. "—Now try it."
Still a little flustered because Ara's hand didn't move from his wrist, he nodded and said, "Accio book!" The book didn't fly towards them but it did jerk slightly.
"Did you see that?" said Harry excitedly. "It moved!"
"See? A few more times and you'll master it!" grinned Ara in delight.
And so Harry continued to recite the incantation over and over again until finally the book flew towards him at a rapid speed, Ara had to act with her fast reflexes and catch the book before it hit his face since Harry didn't expect it to actually work.
"Now all you need to do is actually catch the thing," Ara chuckled as she placed the book down.
But Harry was too excited to listen, "I did it! I—I might actually have a chance!"
Harry suddenly went to Ara and wrapped his arms around her in a hug and, before she'd even had the opportunity to encircle her own arms around him, he lifted her and spun her around as they both laughed in contentment, filled with hope at the fact that Harry could actually survive this. He could live.
Finally, when the only sound that remained was their quieting chuckles, he set her down on the floor, still keeping her close as they broke the hug, dazedly staring at each other's faces for a moment. For a second, everything was quiet and still, the only movement being a strand of Ara's hair brushing against Harry's forearm, causing goosebumps to appear on his skin. The only sound was their joint breathing as they stood mere inches apart.
"Thank you," said Harry breathlessly, his pupils dilating as his warm green eyes stared into her cold grey ones.
Ara blinked a few times before smiling softly at him and whispering, "You're welcome."
After that, they went down to dinner and ate rather quickly, then returned to the empty classroom with Hermione, using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid the teachers. They kept practising until past midnight. They would have stayed longer, but Peeves turned up and, pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown at him, started chucking chairs across the room. Harry, Ara, and Hermione left in a hurry before the noise attracted Filch, and went back to the Gryffindor common room, which was now mercifully empty.
At two o'clock in the morning, Harry stood near the fireplace, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, quills, several upturned chairs, an old set of Gobstones, and Neville's toad, Trevor. In the last hour Harry really got the hang of the Summoning Charm and now could actually catch the things he summoned.
"That's better, Harry, that's loads better," Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased.
"Well, now we know what to do next time I can't manage a spell," Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Ara, so he could try again, "threaten me with a dragon. Right . . ." He raised his wand once more. "Accio Dictionary!"
The heavy book soared out of Ara's hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it.
"Harry, I really think you've got it now!" said Ara delightedly.
"Just as long as it works tomorrow," Harry said. "The Firebolt's going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it's going to be in the castle, and I'm going to be out there on the grounds. . . ."
"That doesn't matter," said Ara firmly, "just as long as you're concentrating really, really hard on it, it'll come."
"We'd better get some sleep . . . you're going to need it," said Hermione tiredly.
Harry had been focusing so hard on learning the Summoning Charm that evening that some of his blind panic had left him. It returned in full measure, however, on the following morning. The atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure — though of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there.
Harry felt oddly separated from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing "We'll have a box of tissues ready, Potter " as he passed, it didn't matter.
Though he felt different, less disconnected, with Ara.
He could never possibly feel lonely if she was around; her spirit was too lively, her laugh too bright, and her smile too dazzling. No matter how dark the day or how dreadful the situation was, she was a constant in his life. She was like a safe, someone Harry could lean against and know that she'd be right there beside him, she was a peaceful oasis in the middle of a desert of misfortune, and he couldn't be more grateful.
Time was behaving in a more peculiar fashion than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so that one moment Harry seemed to be sitting down in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch . . . and then (where had the morning gone? the last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to him in the Great Hall. Lots of people were watching.
"Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now. . . . You have to get ready for your first task."
"Okay," said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.
"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine!"
Ara stood up and wrapped her arms tightly around him, squeezing the air right out of him as she clung onto his neck with great strength, seemingly not wanting to let go of him any time soon. Harry hugged her waist, catching the scent of daisies and leather that seemed to never leave her, he let himself bury his head in her hair for a moment.
"Don't die, okay?" whispered Ara, she felt Harry squeeze her tighter. "Or—"
"You'll kill me, I know," Harry tried to chuckle as they finally pulled away, Ara gave him a watery smile when he finally started to step away.
He left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem herself either; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.
"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head. . . . We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand. . . . The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you. . . . Are you alright?"
"Yes," Harry heard himself say. "Yes, I'm fine."
She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.
"You're to go in here with the other champions," said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there . . . he'll be telling you the —the procedure. . . . Good luck."
"Thanks," said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. She left him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside.
Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working rather hard, as though they had forgotten how to do it.
"Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily, looking around at him."Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"
Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again.
"Well, now we're all here — time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" — he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them — "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too . . . ah, yes . . .your task is to collect the golden egg!"
Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths; that was certainly how Harry felt. But they, at least, had volunteered for this. . . .
And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking. . . . Harry felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a different species. And then — it seemed like about a second later to Harry — Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.
"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.
She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon — a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck. And Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.
The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.
Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-graySwedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs.
"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now . . . Harry . . . could I have a quick word? Outside?"
"Er . . . yes," said Harry blankly, and he got up and went out of the tent with Bagman, who walked him a short distance away, into the trees, and then turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face.
"Feeling alright, Harry? Anything I can get you?"
"What?" said Harry. "I — no, nothing."
"Got a plan?" said Bagman, lowering his voice conspiratorially."Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean," Bagman continued, lowering his voice still further, "you're the underdog here, Harry. . . . Anything I can do to help . . ."
"No," said Harry so quickly he knew he had sounded rude, "no — I — I know what I'm going to do, thanks."
"Nobody would know, Harry," said Bagman, winking at him.
"No, I'm fine," said Harry, wondering why he kept telling people this, and wondering whether he had ever been less fine. "I've got a plan worked out, I —"
A whistle had blown somewhere.
"Good lord, I've got to run!" said Bagman in alarm, and he hurried off.
Harry walked back to the tent and saw Cedric emerging from it, greener than ever. Harry tried to wish him luck as he walked past, but all that came out of his mouth was a sort of hoarse grunt.
Meanwhile, in the stands, Ara, Hermione and Ron were sitting together as they watched Cedric Diggory emerge from the tent.
"Can you stop that?" hissed Ron at Ara because her leg kept bouncing up and down from the nerves.
"No, actually, I can't," snipped Ara, starting to do it harder just to annoy him.
"Go sit somewhere else then—"
"Ara?"
She sharply turned around and found Atlas' beaming face, he had a grin on his face as he approached them and motioned at the empty seat beside her, "Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Yeah, it's fine," Ara said absentmindedly. He sat down with a sigh, looking around them. "Why aren't you with the other Beauxbatons students?"
"I see their faces too much, I thought it was time for a change. Besides, Hogwarts students seem more lively," he said.
"Fair point," Ara shrugged.
They continued making small talk as the tasks of Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Krum went on. Ara didn't really want to appear rude, but she didn't really care to watch their performances. She only really paid more attention when Fleur came out, cheering for her as Atlas did the same for his classmate, being one of the noisier ones as he shouted encouragement in French.
Finally, it was Harry's turn.
As soon as he came into view, Ara felt Hermione take hold of her arm as her leg started to shake once again.
There was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon Harry, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. Ara could practically see the panic in his body language.
"Your wand, idiot," Ara murmured to herself when she saw he was taking too long.
Almost as if he could hear her voice in his head, he raised his wand, "Accio Firebolt!" she heard him faintly shout.
Down in the arena, Harry waited, every fibre of him hoping, praying. . . . If it hadn't worked . . . if it wasn't coming . . . He seemed to be looking at everything around him through some sort of shimmering, transparent barrier, like a heat haze, which made the enclosure and the hundreds of faces around him swim strangely. . . .
And then he heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise. . . . Bagman was shouting something . . . but Harry's ears were not working properly anymore . . . listening wasn't important. . . .
Ara let out a shaky breath when he swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. And a second later, something miraculous happened. . . .
As he soared upward, as the wind rushed through his hair, as the crowd's faces became mere flesh-coloured pinpricks below, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog, he realised that he had left not only the ground behind but also his fear. . . . He was back where he belonged. . . .
This was just another Quidditch match, that was all . . . just another Quidditch match, and that Horntail was just another ugly opposing team. . . .
He looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the gold one, gleaming against its cement-coloured fellows, residing safely between the dragon's front legs. "Okay," Harry told himself, "diversionary tactics . . . let's go. . . ."
Ara wasn't even sure if she was breathing, she was too entranced by the scene in front of her as her hand had a punishing grip on Atlas' forearm, which she hadn't even noticed she had been grabbing.
"I-I can't really feel my fingers anymore," croaked Atlas, wincing.
"Right," said Ara distractedly as she let go of him, her eyes wouldn't leave Harry.
Ara watched as Harry dived. The Horntail's head followed him; He pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away — Ara was a nervous wreck now as she chewed the inside of her cheek, her heart beating so fast that for a second she entertained the worry of it bursting
"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"
Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck — if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy — but better not push it too long, or it would be breathing fire again —
Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky — he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes —
Ara gave a fearful gasp and all around her she could hear screaming and groans from the crowd, she vaguely heard Ron's terrified choked sound. She squinted her eyes. . . the cut didn't seem to be deep. . . .at least from what she could barely see. . .
The Horntail didn't seem to want to take off, she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping those fearsome yellow eyes onHarry, she was afraid to move too far from them . . . but he had to persuade her to do it, or he'd never get near them. . . . The trick was to do it carefully, gradually. . . .
He began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared. . . .
He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, like a snake before its charmer. . . .
Harry rose a few more feet, and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now. . . . She shot fire into the air, which he dodged. . . . Her jaws opened wide. . . .
And then she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small aeroplane — and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs —he had taken his hands off his Firebolt — he had seized the golden egg —
And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his uninjured arm, and it was as though somebody had just turned the volume back up —for the first time, he became properly aware of the noise of the crowd, which was screaming and applauding as loudly as the Irish supporters at the World Cup —
"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"
"YES! YES! YES!" Ara and Hermione cheered as they grabbed each other's arms and started jumping up and down, screaming thrillingly as Atlas and Ron stared at each other with wincing faces from their screeching voices, they were certainly the loudest in the crowd.
"Let's go!" said Ara as she grabbed Hermione's hand and she grabbed Ron's. She gave Atlas a departing smile, patting him on the shoulder as he amusedly stared at them with a grin. "See you later, Atlas!"
"A bientôt!" he replied.
Meanwhile, Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail, and, over at the entrance to the enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid hurrying to meet him, all of them waving him toward them, their smiles evident even from this distance. He flew back over the stands, the noise of the crowd pounding his eardrums, and came in smoothly to land, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. . . . He had got through the first task, he had survived. . . .
"That was excellent, Potter!" cried Professor McGonagall as he got off the Firebolt — which from her was extravagant praise. He noticed that her hand shook as she pointed at his shoulder. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score. . . . Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already. . . ."
"Yeh did it, Harry!" said Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' —"
"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry loudly, so that Hagrid wouldn't blunder on and reveal that he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand.
Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket.
"Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," he growled.
"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please . . ." said Professor McGonagall.
Harry walked out of the enclosure, still panting, and saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried.
"Dragons!" she said, in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; he could make out Cedric's shadow through the canvas, but Cedric didn't seem to be badly injured; he was sitting up, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry's shoulder, talking furiously all the while. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You're very lucky . . . this is quite shallow . . . it'll need cleaning before I heal it up, though. . . ."
She cleaned the cut with a dab of some purple liquid that smoked and stung, but then poked his shoulder with her wand, and he felt it heal instantly.
"Now, just sit quietly for a minute — sit! And then you can go and get your score."
She bustled out of the tent and he heard her go next door and say, "How does it feel now, Diggory?"
Harry didn't want to sit still: He was too full of adrenaline. He got to his feet, wanting to see what was going on outside, but before he'd reached the mouth of the tent, three people had come darting inside — Ara, Hermione, followed closely by Ron.
"Harry!" called his favourite voice excitedly. "You did amazing!"
Ara jumped on him, embracing him as carefully as she could but still causing him to wince slightly because of his injuries, though he didn't care as he wrapped his arms around her as well, exhaling a relieved breath.
"You were brilliant! You really were!" Hermione said squeakily when Ara and Harry pulled apart.
Harry took his eyes off of Ara's beaming face and turned to look at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.
"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet — I — I reckon they're trying to do you in!"
Although it wasn't how she expected them to makeup, Ara was happy that they were finally talking to each other in a more civil manner.
It was as though the last few weeks had never happened — as though Harry were meeting Ron for the first time, right after he'd been made champion.
"Caught on, have you?" said Harry coldly. "Took you long enough."
Ara and Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologise and suddenly he found he didn't need to hear it.
"It's okay," he said, before Ron could get the words out. "Forget it."
"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've —"
"Forget it," Harry said.
Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back.
Hermione burst into tears.
"What's wrong?" Ara asked her, bewildered as she placed an arm around her.
"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry told her.
"You two are so stupid!" she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front.
"I mean, you're not lying," said Ara and the boys sent her pointed looks.
Then, before either of them could even register what was happening, Hermione had given the three of them a hug and dashed away, now positively howling.
"Barking mad," said Ron, shaking his head. "Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores. . . ."
Picking up the golden egg and his Firebolt, feeling more elated than he would have believed possible an hour ago, Harry ducked out of the tent, Ara and Ron by his side, talking fast.
"You were the best, you know, no competition. Cedric did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground . . . turned it into a dog . . . he was trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, it was a pretty cool bit of Transfiguration, and it sort of worked, because he did get the egg, but he got burned as well — the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it would rather have him than the Labrador; he only just got away. And that Fleur girl tried this sort of charm, I think she was trying to put it into a trance — well, that kind of worked too, it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire — she put it out with a bit of water out of her wand. And Krum — you won't believe this, but he didn't even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, though. Hit it with some sort of spell right in the eye. Only thing is, it went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs — they took marks off for that, he wasn't supposed to do any damage to them."
Ron drew breath as he, Ara, and Harry reached the edge of the enclosure. Now that the Horntail had been taken away, Harry could see where the five judges were sitting — right at the other end, in raised seats draped in gold.
"It's marks out of ten from each one," Ron said, and Ara and Harry, squinting up the field, saw the first judge — Madame Maxime —raise her wand in the air. What looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.
"That's pretty good!" said Ara as the crowd began to cheer.
"Not bad!" said Ron. "I suppose she took marks off for your shoulder. . . ."
Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number nine into the air.
"Looking good!" Ron yelled, thumping Harry on the back.
Next, Dumbledore. He too put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.
Ludo Bagman — ten.
"A ten!" yelled Ara as she slapped Harry's shoulder enthusiastically.
"Ten?" said Harry in disbelief. "But . . . I got hurt. . . . What's he playing at?"
"Harry, don't complain!" Ron yelled excitedly.
And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too — four.
"What?" Ron bellowed furiously. "That's unfair!"
"Four?" Ara shouted, her mouth hanging in disbelief. "You biassed scumbag! Put an actual score up you little—!"
But Harry didn't care, he wouldn't have cared if Karkaroff had given him zero; Ara and Ron's indignation on his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him. And it wasn't just them . . . those weren't only Gryffindors cheering in the crowd. When it had come to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of the school had been on his side as well as Cedric's. . . . He didn't care about the Slytherins, he could stand whatever they threw at him now.
Then, for some odd reason, he gently guided his hand towards Ara's and held onto it firmly trying to calm her angry rant. Ara paused, feeling this foreign feeling in her stomach when Harry grabbed her hand, it was like—it felt like fluttering? She was getting a stomach bug, that's what it had to be.
"You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!" said Charlie, hurrying to meet them as they set off back toward the school, taking his time to greet his siblings, and giving them both brief hugs. "Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened — but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah — and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes. . . . Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent."
Ara and Ron said they would wait, so Harry hesitantly dropped Ara's hand. He didn't want her to leave yet, but then he reentered the tent, which somehow looked quite different now: friendly and welcoming. He thought back to how he'd felt while dodging the Horntail, and compared it to the long wait before he'd walked out to face it. . . .There was no comparison; the wait had been immeasurably worse.
Fleur, Cedric, and Krum all came in together. One side of Cedric's face was covered in a thick orange paste, which was presumably mending his burn. He grinned at Harry when he saw him.
"Good one, Harry."
"And you," said Harry, grinning back.
"Well done, all of you!" said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as though he personally had just got past a dragon. "Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth — but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open . . . see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg — because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"
Harry left the tent, rejoined Ara and Ron, and they started to walk back around the edge of the forest, talking hard; Harry wanted to hear what the other champions had done in more detail.
As they were walking, a previous thought entered Ara's mind and she recalled how she'd told Harry that she wanted to speak to him after his task. She decided it was best to do it now before she lost her nerve, but before she could call for his attention, they rounded the clump of trees behind, and a witch leapt out from behind them.
It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand-blended perfectly against them.
"Congratulations, Harry!" she said, beaming at him. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How did you feel facing that dragon? How do you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring? How does it feel to have such a faithful lover cheering for you in the stands?"
"Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at the word 'lover'. "Good-bye."
Ara snorted, not bothering to hide it as she all but laughed at Skeeter's incredulous face before they left her gaping. They continued to walk for a few moments, and when Ara decided that they were far away enough from Rita Skeeter's watchful eye, she grabbed Harry's arm, causing him to stop in his tracks.
"Can we talk?" said Ara in a low voice.
Harry looked baffled for a moment but then what she had said in the library came into his mind and by the look on her face, he could tell it was important; he looked at Ron, who had stopped as well and was looking at them confusedly.
"You go ahead," said Harry with a nod at Ron.
"What are you going to talk about—?"
"It's private nosey," said Ara with a sweet smile.
Ron rolled his eyes but left them nonetheless, Ara waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Harry, her expression quite serious.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" said Harry in a nervous tone.
"Er—well, how do I start?" Ara ran a hand through her hair. "I've been having headaches."
"Headaches. . .?" said Harry, obviously confused.
"Well, yes, but they don't feel normal," she said as her voice dropped into a lower tone. "They're unrealistically strong and sometimes, well, my nose starts bleeding out of nowhere even if I haven't done anything to cause it, and. . .I had this dream, but it felt so real and not long ago I had another one with a house and a snake—"
"So. . .you're having dreams like me?" Harry said carefully.
"I don't know," Ara said honestly. "But I'm pretty sure someone tried to kill me in my bloody mind—"
"What? Kill you? Who—can they even do that in your mind?" Harry exclaimed, utterly bewildered and concerned.
"No idea, maybe they were just trying to scare me but I think. . .I think it could've been Voldemort. . ." Ara said, watching as Harry's face turned to stone. "Only, he wasn't in a physical form, it was like. . .like his mind was there but his body wasn't, to be honest, I'm not even sure if it was him—"
"It has to be him," Harry said, frustratedly nodding to himself. "It–it can't have been anyone else, and with my scar hurting and that dream I had about someone wanting us dead. . .it's him."
"But—how is that even possible," Ara shook her head, hopeless. "Harry we practically blew him up in the chamber of secrets when we destroyed that diary, there's—I don't want to believe he's that resilient."
"We believed he was gone for good after our first year," Harry said, his tone turning angry. "Then the chamber of secrets happened and now this."
Ara watched as Harry went over to sit himself against one of the oak trees near them, his cheerful mood from the victory gone as he clenched his jaw. She carefully made her way closer and sat beside him, their shoulders touching as she crossed her legs and leaned her head back.
"Nothing is certain, Harry," Ara said gently. "This. . .this might all just be in my head, my dream could've been just a dream and my headaches could be migraines, this might all just be coincidence—"
"How do you explain my scar hurting then? And my dream? How do you think my name ended up in the goblet? Does that sound like a coincidence to you, Ara?" Harry snapped slightly, picking at the grass.
"I don't know," Ara said frustratedly, for once she didn't have an answer to give him. "Maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that all of this is nothing to worry about, because if I start to believe it's real, then we have to go through it again, we have to save the day, get beaten up, and get up and act like nothing happened while the people around us continue on and we're left behind like some used up socks."
Harry huffed a sad chuckle, "Looks like we'll be used up socks together then."
"Seems like it," Ara whispered before painfully closing her eyes. "I'm sorry I messed up your good mood—"
"Hey–no," Harry quickly turned to her, making her look at him. "I'm glad that you told me, trust me, I'm happy that you decided to speak with me, it means a lot."
"It means a lot that you listen," Ara muttered.
"I'll always be here to listen to you, Nyx, it doesn't matter when it is or where."
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾
HEEYYYY
This chapter is a bit meh, idk there's something about it that I don't really like BUT, I hope you guys liked it!!
We got so many Hara hugs in this chapter omg, their love language is definitely physical touch <3
qotd: long hugs or short hugs? LONG HUGS!
Remember to COMMENT and VOTE!
I'll see you soon loves <3