See bottom of the page for a brief trigger warning.
The night before the task, Harry was so terrified, he didn't feel anything at all. He tried to go for a run but just ended up in front of the dragons, hands tingling, legs shaking, a bit dizzy but other than that not feeling anything at all. It was an odd feeling. Disconcerting. Like being untethered from the earth; emotionally detached from everything.
He found he didn't care. He knew he needed sleep and he'd done all he could to prepare, but all he could think of was dragons.
He ended up taking out his broom and flying. The Thestrals joining him. But he still ended up at the dragons. So he decided to talk to the dragons again, instead.
The dragons were being moved from their clearing, and into pens outside a large arena, that Harry assumed would be where the task would be held. The dragons were clearly not at all happy with the move, and the handlers were running this way and that, frantically; trying to calm them down and put out small fires. Harry wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that even if Charlie knew he was there, he was too busy to get away and talk to him.
Harry ended up under his Invisibility cloak, using Parseltongue trying to calm them down. He crouched invisibly on the back of a Thestral and spoke to them. He introduced himself and tried to explain what was going on. The Thestrals had followed him down. They seemed to be fond of him. He did like the odd creatures. He often said hello or brought them something when he was out in the forest. They did not seem at all bothered by the dragons and seemed perfectly happy to keep walking between the four dragons as Harry tried to talk to them. The Dragons would not be swayed though. They believed that the fake eggs were real.
(The eggs were spelled, he'd learn later. They'd used something to trick the dragons. They potioned them. That was what had riled them up. Charlie couldn't tell him because of the Geas.)
Eventually, Charlie figured out what was going on as the dragons were all acting oddly, looking into space, though no-one is there. Cocking their heads to the side as if listening, growling and hissing at each other in return.
Charlie found Harry, (or more to the point he finally noticed the Thestrals) at two in the morning. He'd thought it odd that the Thestral was walking back and forth close to the dragons. He dragged a numb Harry off to his tent to sleep.
Harry didn't really protest when Charlie led him into his tent and enlarged the bed to fit them both comfortably. Charlie's gentle hand on his back burned though, and he shifted away from it, his brain too foggy to think straight or make any decisions at all, let alone complex ones about his opinion on the touch. Charlie just hugged Harry briefly and wrapped him up warmly in blankets.
Harry looked at them as if he'd never seen them before. Harry was shivering. His teeth chattering, he frowned briefly, but just sat there. Charlie cast a strong warming charm over him and curled up next to him under his own blankets, tugging Harry sideways, so he ended up lying down before he put out the lights.
Harry just lay there stiff as a board, not feeling the warmth of the blankets or of Charlie, who pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around him protectively. He stared at Charlie's hand in the dark, that was running a scorching line of heat up and down his side, soothingly. Slowly, he defrosted. Slowly, he relaxed. He watched the hand still as Charlie fell asleep, still draped limply over his side. It was warm and maybe comfortable?
He was still a ball of distant and detached anxiety, but finally drifted off his dreams filled with hissing and fire. But he was, for once warm.
He woke still numb, to Firenze poking his head into the tent, "Come youngling. We shall check the herd's snares before you go to your next lesson."
Harry got up robotically and found that Dobby had put his bag next to Charlie's bed, with a fresh change of clothes. He got dressed mechanically and noticed dimly that Charlie was already gone. How did he manage that without waking him up? Harry was a very light sleeper.
There were Thestrals outside the tent. They nudged him with their bony faces nosing at his fingers hoping he would rub at their velvety (if slightly scared and tattered) ears. Harry just stared at them, not really seeing.
Firenze went up to Charlie, speaking to him, "Keep your people out of the deep forest, Fire-Hair." Charlie nodded at him, saying something back, but Harry's ears were not working. Charlie lifted a hand in greeting in Harry's direction but Harry just stared. Charlie's face shifted into a slight frown and Harry's gaze shifted once more to the dragons.
He jumped when Firenze put a hand on his shoulder and led him into the trees. He obeyed without protest; glad to be out of sight, safe in the trees.
Harry skipped breakfast. Not managing to even eat the toast Winky brought him, so she plied him with a bit of extra nutrient potion instead. The school was in a state of nervous anticipation, and while people had finally eased up on hexing him and quoting the article, they all seemed eager to see him fail. The Gryffindors seemed to be rooting for him out of principle. But the rest of the school seemed to be booing and hissing at him, and some had even gone as far as to say they'd have tissues ready for when he was picked up in pieces afterwards.
Harry just snorted at the idea of anyone picking up the broken pieces of him if it went wrong. When had anyone ever done that?
He did not remember History of Magic and before he knew it, Hermione was leading him into the Hall for lunch. Harry could not have said whether he had gone to Transfiguration at all.
He picked at his lunch; not eating any of it, but managed to subtly identify that Winky had added some more nutrient potion to his goblet of pumpkin juice.
"Potter," a voice called irritatedly, "Potter!" He turned to find McGonagall behind him calling his name. He would have cursed himself for not paying attention to his surroundings, if he'd felt enough of anything to care.
"Ma'am," he said in a hollow, detached voice.
Her expression softened slightly, and he wondered why.
"Potter, the champions have to come down to the grounds now... You have to get ready for your first task," she said, moving as if to place a hand on his shoulder, but he stood up out of reach.
"right," he said hollowly.
"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine!"
He must have followed McGonagall out of the Hall, but he didn't remember it. He thought she may have been talking to him, but he didn't seem to hear her as she led him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon.
She tried to put her hand on his shoulder again. Was she trying to comfort him? Why on earth would she do that? He stepped out of her reach. She was talking to him again, but it seemed to just buzz in his ears, as she led him around the edge of the forest, to the dragon arena.
Harry saw that a tent had been erected. Its entrance faced them, screening the dragons from view. She was calling his name again; looking faintly concerned. He turned to look at her. It was an odd expression on her face, her eyebrows were slanted down slightly, her forehead crinkling. She didn't normally look at him like that. He wondered what was wrong with her. He wondered briefly if he should ask, but decided it would be unwise. Adults didn't like you questioning them.
"You're to go in there with the other champions," she said, 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," he managed, and turned back to the tent, only to see Luna appear next to him. He blinked at her.
"Good Luck, Harry," she said, "how are you feeling?"
He blinked at her numbly, not quite computing what she'd asked. Luna nodded perceptively and headed inside.
Taking a moment, Harry pulled out a few fire-proofing potions from his bag and downed them. The now familiar icy feeling washed over him. He shivered slightly. He took another breath, tucked the empty vials back in his bag and considered activating the runes on his cloak and clothes. But decided against it. He didn't want them confiscated if they were noticed to be magical. He supposed technically they would probably consider it cheating.
He didn't care.
He didn't want to be BBQed. He fully expected that if something went wrong, the tournament judges would all just stand back and watch.
He stepped into the tent. Bagman and the three school head's were inside, along with Rita Skeeter and her photographer. Harry suddenly remembered he was called 'Bozo.'
Delacour was sitting in a corner on a stool, looking clammy and far less composed than usual. Krum just looked grumpier than normal, and Diggory was pacing but offered a smile when Harry entered. It was the first smile anyone had directed at him other than Hermione and Luna all day. He just looked at Diggory blankly. Why was he smiling at him? As far as Harry could remember, Diggory thought Harry, a liar about entering and was up to no good.
"Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily, looking around at them. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"
He looked somehow like an overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions and proper officials. He was wearing his old, too small Wasp robes again.
"Well now! We're all here. Time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly, only to be cut off, by Dumbledore, "Miss Lovegood, you need to return to the stands now."
"I'm here for the Quibbler sir," she replied, looking around curiously, fiddling with the strap of her camera.
"Ah, but Ms Skeeter is here to cover the tournament. You're not needed, my dear." He said in that grandfatherly voice of his.
Harry watched wondering distantly if Luna would leave or stay.
"Ah, but she's not allowed to write about Harry. Harry has a contract with the Quibbler, only I can write about him, sir" Luna said, turning to Skeeter, "isn't that right, Ms Skeeter?"
Skeeter grimaced, and Harry saw something move across Dumbeldores face. He couldn't identify it, his brain moving too slowly. He felt his insides tense seemingly impossibly tighter.
"Harry, my boy, what have you done? We have a contract with Ms Skeeter," Dumbledore said, turning to Harry.
Harry was starting to feel a prickling tingling sensation in his fingertips again, dizzy. His heart seemed too big for his chest, beating painfully.
"You should not have signed anything without my permission, Harry-" Dumbledore continued.
"Mr Potter," Harry said softly.
"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked, confused.
"My name is Mr Potter, sir," Harry repeated.
"Now Harry, don't make a scene, my boy," Dumbledore dismissed, "Now, I'm just here to confiscate any magical items except for our champions wands."
They were all scanned, Diggory had a Gringotts key and Delacour, a hair comb, which she gave to Madame Maxime. Diggory called a house-elf in a pillowcase, with a crest Harry didn't know and give it to him. The strange elf popped away again, taking the key.
When they get to Harry, he handed Luna his bag, and let them scan his glasses. But when he went to put his own Gringotts key, and the Bezoar necklace in his bag, Dumbledore requested Harry hand the key over.
Harry frowned slightly but put it in his bag anyway. It was blood warded, no-one can get into, and it would certainly keep it safe from Dumbledore.
Dumbledore said, "surely you don't want to leave something so important in a mere school bag, Harry? Let me keep is safe for you, my boy."
Harry felt a tingle of magic along his skin, and it made his skin crawl. He was uncomfortably aware of everyone staring at him. He could hear the scratching of quills.
Dumbledore went on, "surely you trust me, my boy! I'm your guardian. It's my job to look after it for you. Something that important won't be safe in a mere bag."
Harry was startled that Dumbledore was willing to reveal his guardianship. He was also starting to feel irritation penetrate the fog of numbness. He pulled up the same confusion he had felt when Bill first mentioned magical guardians.
"What? No you're not. My muggle aunt is. You said that's why I have to live with her." Harry put as much confusion into his voice, hoping his supposed naivety may start to paint Dumbledore in less of an all-knowing brilliant light.
"Ah but I'm you magical guardian. Surely you haven't forgotten?" Dumbledore said, and Harry had to hand it to him, it was a good counter-play.
"What's a magical guardian, Professor Dumbledore sir? I've never heard of it before. Does that mean I don't have to live with the Dursley's any more? They'd be ever so pleased to be rid of me," Harry said, playing it up, only a little.
He wanted to go on, mention the tournament contract, but he didn't want to directly confront Dumbledore. The man was too powerful. It was better to be sneaky and subtle; to slowly paint him grey instead of light. Especially now that the man was looking flustered.
Before Dumbledore could reply, Dobby popped in, and Harry thanked him when he took his bag from Luna and popped away again.
Looking irritated at being derailed, Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Bagman cut him off again, ushering the headmasters, and headmistress out of the tent. Harry watched him go with detached relief.
"The audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" - Bagman 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."
Harry glanced around. Diggory had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again. He looked slightly green. Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths. Harry imagined he'd probably feel like that if he could feel anything.
Rita started flitting around questioning the other champions, taking photos, and being a general nuisance. Luna, however, stayed in a corner, scribbling on a bit of parchment.
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 Delacour.
She hesitantly put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a Welsh Green, holding a number two in her paw. Harry watched Delacour's face carefully. She showed no sign of surprise, but just a determined resignation. He had been right; Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.
Krum was the same. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball, with a number three. He didn't even blink. He just put it on the table and sat back down, staring at the ground.
Diggory, put his hand into the bag and out came the Swedish Short-Snout, with a number one.
Harry didn't even blink in surprise at his luck of drawing the most dangerous of the dragons. But he peered curiously at the little dragon, when he put his hand into the bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, with the number four. She stretched her wings as he looked down at her, and bared her minuscule fangs.
Rita flitted around directing Bozo to take photos again, and Harry didn't protest when Luna snapped one of him as well. Though, hers was not of him but of the little model dragon. He handed it over to her, and she beamed, stroking it's back and said, "I'll hang on to her for you."
"Well, there you go!" said Bagman grabbing their attention again. "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? And I have to tell you something else too... ah, yes... your task is to collect the golden egg! Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Ms Skeeter, you'll want to go over to the judging box for a good spot, you too I guess Ms Lovegood, Ms Skeeter will escort you."
They left, taking Bozo with them.
"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?" Bagman said hurriedly.
Harry frowned at Bagman using his first name and responded cooly, reluctantly following him out of the tent. Bagman walked him a short distance away, into the trees, and then turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face. It immediately made Harry tense and bristle suspiciously.
"Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?" He asked patronisingly.
Harry frowned at him, "no thank you, sir" he said with curt politeness.
"Got a plan?" Bagman said 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 even further, "you're the underdog here, Harry... Anything I can do to help..."
"No," said Harry quickly, "no thank you sir."
"Nobody would know, Harry," said Bagman, winking at him.
"No, thank you, sir. I'm fine," said Harry, irritated now. He was already being accused of cheating, he didn't need Bagman blackmailing him with it later.
A whistle blew somewhere.
"Good lord, I've got to run!" said Bagman in alarm, and ran off.
Harry watched him go and walked back into the tent as Diggory left it, greener than ever.
Harry went back inside to Delacour and Krum. It was just the three of them now.
Seconds later, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Diggory had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model.
Harry drifted over to the table in the corner of the tent, which had the purple bag on it, and the three discarded dragon models. Abandoned. Harry frowned at them. They were kind of cute.
"Pity your real-life counterpart are not as small and agreeable," he hissed under his breath to them in Parseltongue.
A roar.
A whistle blew.
Delacour left.
Harry was dimly aware of noise in the background.
Another whistle.
Krum slouched out, leaving Harry alone.
Harry looked at the little dragons instead and wished that he wasn't about to face their real-life counterpart. He felt sorry for them then, the little models crouching on the table, forgotten by their champions. Was he going to be abandoned too? Would the wizarding world abandon him like the other champions did the model dragons when Harry had done whatever it is they wanted of him?
Harry flinched when Krum's dragon let out a screech of pain, and he thought she was screaming something about eyes. He felt sick now and stood up.
His legs weren't working properly, and it took him two goes to make them hold him up. The floor tilted alarmingly, seeming to move in its own. He put a hand on the table to steady himself. He couldn't feel the tiny mushroom clouds of fire, that the tinny model Fireball was puffing onto his fingertips. He looked at them.
They were being abandoned.
He pocketed them.
He could feel them squirming in his pocket as he waited by the door. He tapped the runes in his cloak, and clothes, activating the protective magic. He couldn't feel the tingling of the magic. He hoped it worked. He hoped he didn't need it.
He exited the tent at the whistle.
He was aware in a detached way, of the noise the crowd was making, that Bagman was making. But he couldn't hear it. He couldn't make sense of it. It was just noise. He walked mechanically past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.
Everything in front of him seemed like a highly coloured dream. Colours blurring together, not making any sense. Hundreds and hundreds of faces in the stands, stared down at him, blurring together into a sea of meaningless colour and noise.
There was a dragon in front of him. The Horntail. She was crouched over her eggs, her wings half-furled at the other end of the enclosure.
Her eyes were very yellow, standing out against her dark scales. She was snarling; he noted, "stay away, stay away" and "leave us alone."
She was thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground around her, like an agitated cat. She was terrified for her eggs, and it was coming out in fury, he realised
He felt for her then. Really he did. He took a step back, slowly, so not to startle her, and remembering his plan, lifted his wand to his throat briefly.
"Sonorus Homodeus" he murmured, so the crowd could hear him, but his voice would not disturb the dragon.
"I swear, on my life and magic," Harry said, speaking the carefully chosen words, "that I did not enter my name into the goblet of fire. I did not ask anyone else to enter it for me and had no knowledge of how it happened. I furthermore swear that had I known at the time that an oath would have removed me from this tournament when my name came out of the cup, that I would have done so. I had no idea about contracts or oaths. I was raised muggle, but I didn't get the introduction like the muggleborns. I didn't know that there was a way out, or I would have taken it. I participate only under protest because it will kill me if I don't. I am no TriWizard Champion. I have no interest or intention of winning. The real champions are Delacour, Diggory and Krum. This tournament is, as far as I am concerned between them. I'm just an extra, being dragged along for the ride, while trying not to get murdered.
So as I say so mote it be.."
He took another breath, and lit his wand, shooting red sparks into the air, to prove what he said was true as he still had his magic.
Satisfied, they would now know he was not a liar, he murmured, "Quietus,"
He turned back to the Horntail. She was watching him, her eyes narrowed. He walked slowly towards her and pointed his wand at his throat again, "Sonorus Draconis."
He didn't particularly care if they heard him, but he needed her to be able to hear him without him getting too close. He knew she had excellent ears but wasn't sure if that would be enough over the racket that the crowd was making.
"My lady?" He asked cautiously, moving slowly closer to her.
She hissed, and he stopped, "what do you want speaker? Stay away!"
"There is an imposter in your nest!" He said, pointing.
She let out a snarl, and her head swung around to look at her eggs. But she turned back to him and hissed, "Lies! Thief!"
"They put a gold egg in your nest. They want me to steal it!" Harry hissed back, "I don't want to! But I'll die if I don't."
"Why should I value your life over one of mine?" She hissed back, and she had a point, Harry, though detachedly.
"It's not a real one. There's a gold one. They've charmed it so that you think it's real. It's not. It's the one on top. They fool you for their games." He said, stepping closer again and pointing. She hissed, and he was glad he was not within reach of her claws. He had forgotten about her tail though, and he leapt back when it came swinging towards him.
It caught him, but only on the ankle. He fell, scrambling back. Bugger, he thought, as his ankle burned. He could feel the poison from her spines already.
"Accio Golden Egg," he tried, holding out his wand.
The egg came hurtling towards him, but the Horntail whipped around and caught it in her jaws. She spat it out immediately; however, hissing furiously, and opened her jaws. Flames engulfed the egg.
Harry's shoulders slumped but other than that, he just watched.
The flames went out eventually, and the egg still sat there, shining, seeming even more gold than it was before.
"Told you so," Harry muttered.
Her head swivelled towards him again, and he scrambled to his feet, "I don't suppose I can have it now?" He asked.
"No, it's shiny. It's mine!" She hissed back, picking it up in her teeth and placing it back in her nest. Harry sighed. Of course she would be a hoarding dragon too.
"You really want my gold egg?" She asked, peering at him, and he took a step back.
"Yes," Harry said, "well no, actually. I don't, but they do," he jerked a thumb in the judge's direction, "they want me to get it for them, for this stupid game."
"What?" She hissed, confused.
"Entertainment." He said simply wondering if game was not a word that translated into Parseltongue, "I have to do three tasks for them, or I die. One of them is to get the egg off you, and it will tell me what I have to do for them next. I didn't want any of this any more than you do. But I'll die if I don't, and it will probably hurt. I don't want to hurt anymore." He finished quietly, "so yes, I guess I need your egg, but I don't want it, per se."
"They make a hatchling dance for them or die?" She spat out, furious again.
"Yes," he said bluntly not really caring if she was mad at them. He would have been mad too, if he'd not been so numb. But she seemed to have enough anger at the situation for the both of them.
She looped her tail around Harry carefully, pulling him into the shelter of her wing and roared at the judges. It was a deafening noise, and a tongue of fire shot out from her jaws and all the way over the arena to the judges. The handlers quickly put up flame repellent shields, but when Harry peeked up over her wing joint, he noticed happily that the top of Dumbledore's hat was smouldering. He grinned, "thanks."
"Fine," she said, turning to Harry, who was now sitting gingerly on her tail between the spins, "but what will you give me in return?" She asked
"What do you want?" He asked
"Well, you don't really have much do you?" She said, looking at him, "I suppose there are some nice spiders in that forest. I want one. A big one."
He blinked at her a moment, then figured that if he was a dragon that big, a spider like Aragog would probably be a good meal.
"Hagrid won't like that, and I'm not sure how I'll manage it. They tried to eat me last time, but I'll do my best."
"They sent you in there?" She asked.
"Not that time, they did when I was 11, but that time I was trying to rescue a friend and ended up in there."
"They don't seem to like their young much, these wizards," she said, looking thoroughly puzzled.
"I know, right?" Harry agreed conversationally, less numb and terrified than before, now he was sitting with her in her nest talking as opposed to fighting her.
She made a deep humming rumble in her chest, making smoke tendrils coil out her nostrils before saying, "Well then, you come back tonight, and try your hand at getting me my spider. If only you could fly, it would make your hunt, so much easier. If you can get a big one, that would be lovely. But a few little ones would also work I suppose." She reasoned.
"I can do that, I have a broom. I can fly," Harry said after thinking on it for a moment.
"We have a bargain then," she said, reaching over and touching her nose to his and huffed softly. His face tingled and he coughed as felt her magic slide over him.
"You will keep your word," she said, and he felt that the magic of their agreement settle bindingly. But it wasn't uncomfortable this time.
"I will do my best," he said.
She nodded and said, "get off."
He carefully climbed off her tail and onto the ground again. She tossed the golden egg so that it rolled out a few feet from him. He walked over and picked it up.
"Thanks," he said, before turning to look at her again, curiosity starting to penetrate through the fog, "Um one other question though, can I ask you a few questions later? Are you guys here long?"
She looked at him, curling protectively around her eggs again, "one more night and yes youngling, you can," she left out a rumble that made him jump before he realised she was laughing at him.
He grinned, "can I touch you?" He asked, hopefully.
She blinked at him and stared as if he were a particularly odd insect, then extended her head with an air of someone humouring a very small child's rather odd request. She let him stroke the smooth scales of her nose. They were warm, hard and smooth like glass. Close up, he could see that she wasn't just black, but her scales had a slightly metallic iridescent sheen to them.
"You're lovely," he hissed, "thank you. For everything, I'll see you tonight."
"Sunset," she preened under his praise.
END NOTES
TRIGGER WARNING:
Disassociation - Harry is experiencing such intense emotions around the task that he disassociates and stops feeling his emotions.
The next chapter will be posted in a week from now