They Shook Hands: Year Four (Original Version)

Dethryl

Story Summary:
Harry Potter's new life with his godfather, Sirius Black, is the stuff his best dreams were made of. As they turn 12 Grimmauld Place into a real home, Harry finally gets to hear all about his father and mother. At the Quidditch World Cup, Harry learns of the upcoming Triwizard Tournament from Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Back at Hogwarts, there's treachery afoot, as Harry is named as a fourth Champion. Can his reputation recover from what the other Houses are saying? Who will stand with him? Who will stand against him? Tasks of immense danger loom, and dark shadows are gathering again. How can Harry survive with life and limb in peril? Will Harry ever be the same again?

Chapter 14 - The First Task

Chapter Summary:
Harry makes his final preparations, and Millie helps him pick out his clothing. If his wand arm binds, he'll be toast. Harry draws second in the order and the Chinese Fireball for an obstacle. Will his plan be enough to let him get the egg? And how will the other champions do? It'll be a hot time at the old castle tonight!
Posted:
11/06/2009
Hits:
1,661
Author's Note:
All chapters are posted on Schnoogle. All chapters and some juicy extras are posted on



They Shook Hands : Year Four

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Fourteen - The First Task

When Harry opened his eyes, his first thought was that he had only hours left to live. His skills and practice would all be for naught, and the dragon would pick him out of her teeth with one claw.

No, he thought back defiantly. I'm going to get past that dragon because I've got a plan. I've got a good plan, a great plan. It's a Slytherin plan with some Gryffindor elements in it.

Harry wasted no time in rising. He didn't want to just lay around and worry, so he grabbed his bath things and headed to the bathroom. He could wash and worry at the same time. He most often took showers, but today he activated one of the special features of the Slytherin bathroom. With a touch of his wand and a single word of command, the tiles began rippling and changing. A bathtub rose up from underneath, and steamy water immediately began to pour from the tap. Harry hung his dressing gown up on the hook and stepped in. The water was the perfect temperature, as it always was. Harry thought it would be quite swanky if there were jets like a hottub. That would be really good for after Quidditch matches too.

Eventually other Slytherins began to rise and shine. Draco sauntered in and looked inquisitively at Harry before nodding in sudden comprehension.

"Get loose before the big Task," he said. "Good idea."

"I was actually hoping to practice a bit more. I haven't done any dodging on the ground. If you guys hover above me and shoot down spells, I could try to avoid them."

"That's a good idea. Well, we'd better hurry up to breakfast then, hadn't we?"

"Yeah." Harry didn't really want to leave the comfort of the bath, but his stomach disagreed. He remained as long as he could after washing all his various bits. Draco amazingly took a shower in only ten minutes.

"That's some kind of record, right?" Harry asked cheekily.

"I skipped the conditioner."

"You skipped the conditioner? And you plan to appear in public?"

"I have good hair. It can survive one skipped treatment."

In the dorm, Harry pulled out a plain black school robe and threw it on over a uniform shirt and pants. He didn't bother with a tie, nor a hat. He planned to remove his robe for the Task, but he had no appropriate clothing for strenuous athletic activity. Of course if things went according to plan, there wouldn't be any need for it. If.

Harry, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle hustled up to the Great Hall and found Millie, Pansy, and Jenna already eating. Laine, Ginny, and the other third year girls, Lucas, Arcen, and the other third year boys, were present and accounted for.

"Good morning, Harry," Pansy said, as though it were any other day. "Sleep well?"

"I've done better."

"One way or another, it'll be over soon."

"It's the 'or another' that has me worried."

The girls all giggled at Harry's wit.

"Do you know what you're wearing?" Laine asked. "You don't want anything that's going to possibly bind your arm. I was thinking maybe a dueller's tunic, because those don't have sleeves."

"I don't have a dueller's tunic."

"I think you just might," Millie said. "I got a package from Mum this morning filled with clothes. The note said it was all yours, so long as you wear some of it for the Task. I took a look, and you should definitely consider it."

"Sure," Harry agreed amicably. He didn't have a lot of variety in his clothes. There were his school robes, his everyday robes, Quidditch robes, and some fancy robes for formal occasions. He had a lot of nice shirts and trousers, but it wasn't anything he would go off on an adventure wearing. "Where is all the stuff?"

"I had the owls take the box to our room. We'll get it after breakfast."

An owl arrived at that moment for Harry, bearing a parcel perhaps the size of a loaf of bread. The note attached was from Mr. Malfoy, and read simply that it was always wise to be prepared for any eventuality. Inside the package, Harry found a pair of black trousers with a scaly, smooth surface. It was the same material as his gloves for Herbology.

"Dragonskin!"

"Gehzunteit," Jenna said, looking over. "Whoa, trousers? Someone sent you dragonskin trousers?"

"Well, we know how well dragonskin can protect us from stuff in the greenhouses," Millie said. "I imagine the idea is the same. It's good against fire, acid, venom."

"Your dad is amazing," Harry said to Draco. "Where'd he find these?"

"I learned a long time ago to never question my father's skill at business."

In the common room, Millie went to get the box of clothes her mum had sent up. They congregated in the boys' room, sending Tim, who had been having a lay in, storming off to the showers.

The selection of clothing was top notch. There were dueller's tunics without sleeves, with sleeves, short robes that ended at his waist, ones that hit mid-thigh, tight-fitting trousers, and even several varieties of the best Muggle athletic footwear.

Harry grinned upon seeing those. Dislike of Muggles only went so far when one's neck was on the line. As Mr. Malfoy had been known to say, Muggles obviously made better footwear, because they had to walk everywhere. While that wasn't strictly true, Muggles did a lot more walking than wizards.

He ignored the trousers in favour of Mr. Malfoy's present. When he tried them on, it felt like he'd coated his legs in oil. They were perfectly comfortable, if a bit on the conforming side. Harry just hoped the dragon he faced and the one whose skin had become his trousers hadn't been friends.

To Harry's surprise, Pansy and Jenna did not pick out what shirt or robe he was going to wear. Millie picked carefully through the assorted articles, sorting each to a pile. Then she took two piles and began discarding items as she held them up to Harry's chest. The Slytherin-green short robe she eventually decided on nicely covered his now not-so-skinny thighs. The sleeves of the robe were also cut close, and the cuffs at the wrists were tight. Silver trim and embroidery sparkled brilliantly. He looked quite dashing, actually. All he needed was a floppy hat with a ridiculously long feather to look completely Renaissance-era. He was certainly quite the object of discussion when he went up for the noon meal.

Morning lessons had been cancelled, and Harry spent the time down in the Chamber of Secrets preparing. He had the others get above him and shoot hexes down at him while he dodged. He was pretty bad at it, and he really hoped he got a slow dragon that was easily distracted.

The lock on the broom shed had been destroyed with a Blasting Curse. Harry had called Kreacher up and set him as guard over the shed so no one made off with the Firebolt. All of his plans had been laid. He was out of time. Now he had a date with destiny.

Professor Snape escorted him down to the champions' tent after lunch. Snape's piercing eyes studied Harry intently. Harry wondered what he was looking for. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because he flicked his wand at the front doors. They swung open on silent hinges, for they had been oiled for the arrival of the foreign guests.

"You go in to this Task as a representative of this school and of our House," Snape said as the walked. His black robes rippled in the stiff breeze. Additionally, he wore a green sash with silver trim over his left shoulder. "Remember that Slytherin valued cunning and ambition. Win by your wits. If it comes to force, mere chance can decide. You are intelligent, Mister Potter, though some of your past actions have been ill-considered. As there is no possible consideration here, I have faith in you to persevere and overcome if you keep your head."

"Sir?" Harry asked cheekily. "Can we not joke about me losing my head?"

Snape twitched a smile. "Stick to the plan, Mister Potter, and we will be celebrating tonight."

They had arrived at the pavilion where the champions were to be secluded until the start of the Task.

"May Slytherin watch over you, Mister Potter," Snape said, tapping Harry on the shoulder with his wand. "May Merlin keep you safe."

"Up Slytherin!"

Harry was the first of the champions to arrive. Krum walked in second, and even his slouching couldn't disguise his nervousness.

"Hey, Krum," Harry said in greeting.

"Potter," Krum replied shortly.

"Nervous?"

"Some. I am vondering if I have prepared enough. You?"

"The same," Harry admitted, figuring if anyone would understand, Krum would. "Facing the unknown always raises that question."

Krum's face darkened. "Da, the unknown."

So Snape had been right. Krum did know about the dragons. Fleur's face when she walked in a few moments later side-by-side with Diggory confirmed her knowledge as well. Harry breathed a sigh of satisfaction. He'd done the right thing to tell Cedric.

The crowd seemed very jovial as they arrived. Harry supposed he would have been too if he hadn't been about to face a dragon.

Mr. Bagman arrived just then and explained that the champions' goal was to retrieve a golden egg. He still refused to even say the word dragon, and it wasn't until they drew miniature models from a pouch to determine the order and also which dragon they would face that they "learned" the truth.

For his own part, Harry drew number two. He would be marching in to the proverbial colosseum after Fleur. He had also drawn the Chinese Fireball. It was the quickest of the four dragons, Harry knew from his reading. That made it the most dangerous. A Fireball's breath would burn you to a crisp in an instant and disintegrate you to ashes the next.

Fleur had been dealt quite a bad hand. Not only did she have to go first, but she'd drawn the nastiest dragon of the lot, the Hungarian Horntail. From the reactions of the crowd, things didn't go particularly well, but she did eventually get around the thing, though Mr. Bagman called for the Healers immediately. A team of dragon handlers came in to remove the angry beast.

Harry turned to the Gates of Hell. He resolutely set his jaw. Now was the time. It was now or never. Dear Merlin, please just don't let me look too stupid.

"And now, the second champion! Hogwarts' own Harry Potter!"

The colours stabbed vividly in to his brain. The Fireball, a red dragon with smooth scales the colour of blood with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air. The snout was stubby, and the protruding eyes made a tempting target. Its body was more serpentine than he'd expected, and the stubby wings didn't look as if they would carry it very far.

The plan. Stick to the plan. Harry raised his wand.

"Accio Firebolt!"

He didn't waste time waiting for the broom to come. He pointed his wand at a fair-sized rock and attempted a Transfiguration far beyond stone to mouse. The resultant pig didn't look very porcine, but it had four legs, a curly tail, and it squealed plenty loud.

The crowd applauded his Transfiguration, but Harry wasn't done. In a fit of inspiration, he added wings, but there was still too much stone in the pig for it to fly. Harry sent it levitating up around the dragon in hopes of luring it away.

There was his broom! In relief, Harry hopped on and took to the skies. Now he was much more mobile and evasive. Hopefully there wouldn't be any need for his special trousers to ward off dragonflame.

The dragon seemed to be interested in the pig. It was sniffing the air now, but still not budging from its place over the nest of eggs. The golden egg was easy to spot. Harry just had to get in there. He sent the pig in closer.

With frightening speed, the Fireball's head snapped out and crunched on the pig's body. With a horrid gnashing, crushed stone began falling out of the dragon's mouth. Harry's Transfiguration hadn't been all that good. Deprived of food, the red beast roared in anger and spat out a broken tooth.

"Mister Potter's pig falls to pieces, and now the dragon looks upset!" Bagman announced.

Great, he'd made it mad. Well, so much for that plan. Snape had been right. Don't depend on uncertain skills. Harry nodded. Time to go for his certain skills.

Harry charged directly at it. When the dragon saw his approach, it blew a jet of flame at him. He dodged neatly, ignoring the heat. He flew in close and pointed his wand. The red flash of the Conjunctivitis Curse bounced off the scales around the dragon's eyes, and Harry was forced to dodge again as another flame headed his way.

"Great Scot, Potter knows how to fly!" Bagman needlessly told the crowd. "But his spells are proving ineffective against the Fireball."

Nasty big pointy teeth clacked on empty air as Harry dodged nimbly. He fired the spell again as he zoomed around the dragon's head. The bolt of light deflected in to the ground. Moody hadn't been kidding about aim. Harry's still wasn't good enough. Time and again, his spell was deflected by the natural armour. He had more time to aim than he'd had with his friends down in the Chamber of Secrets, but bulging eyes or not, the target was so small.

His other uncertain skill had failed him. He would have to get in closer.

Harry's flying grew more frenzied, and the crowd was fully emotionally engaged with him. Bagman had ceased to commentate, watching awestruck with the rest of them as Harry made the dragon dizzy.

When he saw his chance, Harry looped down and snatched the golden egg right out of the nest. He whipped around the dazzled dragon several more times before zooming away with the egg raised high.

The crowd went berserk.

Harry could barely believe it. He'd made it through unscathed! He threw back his head and howled his delight. His cry was matched by the dragon, as the team of dragon handlers took it away.

He landed, and Sirius was there waiting. His godfather grinned hugely at him and wrapped him in a fierce hug. Harry was laughing, from exhilaration or the relief of stress he wasn't sure.

"Well done, Harry. Well done. I'm so proud of you."

Harry had quite impressed the judges as well, for he earned perfect marks from Bagman and Percy. Dumbledore gave him a nine, while Madame Maxime delivered a seven. Karkaroff insultingly gave Harry only five, spawning boos from the Hogwarts crowd. Even those who were against Harry personally thought he'd done extremely well.

"Shall we sit?" Sirius inquired. "Care to see the rest?"

"Yeah." Harry needed to gauge how good his tactics had been compared to what the other champions came up with.

He looked up and saw Draco waving at him. He turned to Sirius and gestured with his head. Sirius nodded, and the pair made their way up the stairs and in to the stands.

"Jolly good show, mate," Draco congratulated him.

Pansy looked like she'd been biting her nails. She drew her wand. "Thank Merlin you're safe!" With a wave, her nails returned to an unblemished condition.

"Yes, Merlin," Harry said with a grin. Thank Professor Snape, more like. "Well, I did pretty good. How'd Fleur do?"

"She tried to put her dragon into a trance," Jenna replied. "The Horntail went all sleepy, and she tried to sneak by it, 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 while she was doing that, the dragon woke up. She made a run for it. It mauled her pretty good, but she'd already gotten the egg. They needed to call in the dragon handlers to get it off her, and the Healers took her away immediately."

"She got thirty-four points. You're in first with forty-one. Up Slytherin!" Draco said.

"Please show some love for the Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum!" Ludo Bagman announced.

Krum had drawn the Swedish Short-Snout. It was almost beautiful. Lithe, with silvery-blue scales, its flame was a brilliant blue. The crowd ooh'd and aah'd in appropriate awe.

It seemed that Krum wasn't quite a slouch on the ground after all, because he scampered quite nimbly up on a rock to give himself a clear shot. He wasted no time in any sort of diversionary tactics at all but fired a Conjunctivitis Curse!

Red light flashed out of the end of Krum's unusually thick wand. His aim was remarkable at that distance, and the curse caught the dragon right in the eye. The Short-Snout screamed in pain and thrashed around. The nest it was supposed to be guarding was forgotten as it stomped away. When the dust settled, Harry saw Krum picking up the golden egg from the half-pulverized imitations.

"And Mister Krum's done it!" Mr. Bagman announced to the roaring crowd. "He captures the golden egg!"

"Wow, an excellent time," Draco said worriedly. "But the dragon mashed the eggs. They'll have to take points off for that, right?"

"They should. But who knows what to expect? I would have thought Karkaroff would give Harry more than five," Jenna replied. "I mean, he gave Fleur four, and she barely did it at all. The dragon never got anywhere near Harry."

"Ten?" screamed Sirius when he saw Karkaroff's mark. "You mangy, clay-brained scut! Ten? Get your eyes and wits checked!"

Krum got a combined score of thirty-seven, putting him in second place behind Harry. Jenna squealed and gave Harry a big hug. "Up Slytherin!"

"Diggory's still got to go."

Diggory had lucked out. He'd drawn last position and also the Welsh Green. If one could claim any part of this tournament was easy, this would be it. The smallest of the four, Harry was struck by how pretty its green scales were. They were the exact colour of wild grass. The Green opened its maw and roared a surprisingly melodious challenge.

"The other Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!"

Diggory looked confident as he stepped in to the arena, but upon seeing the crowd of people, he gulped visibly. He pointed his wand at one of the medium-sized rocks littering the place and employed some Transfiguration. His dog was better than Harry's pig. It actually looked like a dog, and Diggory sent it off to distract the dragon. The dragon was definitely interested in the Labrador, and it moved away from the nest. Diggory made his move.

The cheering of the crowd must have alerted the dragon, because it turned sharply and lunged back to the nest, breathing fire. Diggory dodged out of the way and tried to grab for the egg, but couldn't get it. He was forced to retreat.

Perhaps inspired by overhearing Harry's performance, Diggory performed his own Summoning Charm. Harry knew the Hufflepuff Seeker kept his broom in the broom shed between matches and practices, so only a few moments later, Diggory was in the air. He went back to the beginning and Transfigured another stone to distract the dragon. The Green was either dumb or hungry or both because it went right for the dog again. As it was snacking and slurping down a tasty treat, Cedric flew in and snatched the egg out of the nest.

"What a copycat," Pansy scoffed. "It's almost cheating."

"Cheating is a grand old tradition of the tournament," Sirius said wisely. "Look, the judges aren't giving him a very good score."

Diggory scored thirty-four, tying with Fleur for third place.

"Congratulations, Harry! You're in the lead! And the Weasley twins were taking bets on how long you'd last," Jenna said derisively.

"I hope they lost all their money."

"They're Weasleys, Harry," Draco laughed. "You know they don't have any money."

"That's some egg," Sirius said, changing the subject and giving Draco a stern look. They had been too busy watching the other champions to examine it yet.

It was about the size of a small grapefruit, barely gripable in one hand, and ovoid. There was a knob sort of thing on the top, and Harry wondered would happen if he turned it.

"Harry Potter! Mister Bagman wants all the champions back at the pavilion."

"I'll be waiting right here," Sirius promised.

"I won't be long, I hope."

Harry pushed his way through the departing crowd. He nodded to Diggory as they went through the tent flap.

"Well done, all of you!" said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as though he had just got past a dragon himself. "Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half 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!"

Only Sirius had stayed behind to wait for him. His friends had gone back to the castle. That was unusual for them, and he wondered if Sirius had sent them on their way. Side by side, the two men ambled up the path to the castle.

"I'm very proud of you," Sirius said, breaking the silence. "I know I already said that, but I wanted to say it again. To not only get past a dragon, but to be in first place! James and Lily would be proud of you too. You did very, very well out there today."

"Thanks." Harry still felt like everything was a bit surreal. "I feel disconnected. I was so focused on the dragon that I didn't think about anything beyond it."

"How long before the next Task?"

"Not until next term. End of February."

"Good. Plenty of time to recover from this. We'll have to get cracking on that egg after the new year. In the meantime, relax a little."

"Sounds great."

Sirius and Harry walked in casual silence back up to the castle doors. Harry turned to his godfather to say farewell, because Sirius could go no further.

"I'll see you in a little less than a month. Once term ends, you can come down to the village any time. We'll work on your lessons and get you up to the next level if we can."

"I can't wait."

They embraced fiercely. Harry found the crushing strength of Sirius' arms very comforting.

His friends were waiting for him in the entrance hall. They spent hours reliving every single moment of action during the first Task, and Harry did his best to remember. It was all a blur for him. His last coherent thought was his wish to not look dumb in front of the whole school.

After dinner but before dessert, Professor Dumbledore stood up to address the student body.

"Attention! Before we all enjoy the fine sweets, I should like to inform you all of a new development in the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry perked up warily. What now?

"Today's fine spectacle was some splendid sport, was it not?" There was a rumble of assent. "It was quite exciting to see two of Hogwarts' finest Seekers take to the air again. With a mind to the lack of Quidditch this year, the school governors, in conjunction with Headmaster Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, and myself, have arranged a friendly broom race to be held next term."

The student body exploded in to a flurry of excited discussion. The potential for glory for students other than the Champions was naturally well-received. Harry hoped it would serve to mollify some of the outrage that had developed over his inclusion as a fourth Champion.

"Entry is open to any student fourth year and above, and of course to all of our guests. Madam Hooch will be coordinating the Hogwarts entrants. The prize will be a pre-production model of the new Cleansweep Eleven."

The prize was equally tantalizing. The Cleansweep 10 had just come out and was rivalling the Nimbus 2001 in popularity. It was nothing on Harry's Firebolt, but not everybody could afford to spend that kind of money.

"Further details will be made available at the start of next term. Until then, practice hard. Now, enjoy your pudding."

"A broom race!" Draco looked ready to dance. "Tally!"

"Father takes us to the Swedish Annual every year," Millie volunteered. "We Floo to Kopparberg for the start, but we've never gotten to see the end because you have to Apparate to Arjeplog."

"It runs for seven hundred kilometres through a dragon preserve," Laine added. "It started up several years after the Tournament With No Winner on the same land."

"That's ghastly," Jenna commented with an exaggerated shiver.

"I wonder what the course is going to be. Think it'll go through the Forbidden Forest?" Draco asked.

"Maybe around the lake?"

After dinner, Harry was accosted by Susan and Hannah before he went down the stone steps in to the dungeons.

"Hey, Potter. Harry," she corrected herself. "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I doubted you about the dragons." Susan sounded very sincere.

"Me too."

"You really played fair, even though you didn't have to. I respect that."

"Thank you."

"Congratulations on first place," Hannah said.

"Thanks. Diggory deserved better than tied for last." Though he hadn't done better than Krum, he had done better than Fleur. Third place in his own right was just about correct.

"There's two more Tasks to go. We've got to go. There's celebrating to do."

"Same here."

Susan and Hannah's apology made Harry feel loads better. Now that the true nature of the Tasks was known, surely others would realize that Harry would have been completely crackers to submit himself. Any rational person would have to admit the truth now.

But as Harry discovered in the dorm that night, he was not totally surrounded by rational people.

The party in the Slytherin common room that night was one to tell stories about. Professor Snape was on-hand to make sure things didn't get entirely out of hand, but he left after only an hour -- after which point, things naturally got out of hand. Several of the tables had been enlarged and were now groaning under the sheer weight of food that the house elves had sent up. The wizard's wireless filled the common room with music, and there was a great deal of talking, shouting, toasting, and boasting.

Harry was escorted to a comfortable chair where trays of sweets and treats were placed in front of him. Anything he asked for was made available, by order of Bole and Derrick. They, along with Higgs, Rosier, and the rest of prefects, had decided to resurrect an old tradition of Slytherin House. While the uppers could and did order the firsties around with impudence, they wanted to bring back the caps. All of the first years were now made to wear little pointed caps in green and silver whenever in the common room. The "elfs" had to wait on any upper year student who wanted anything. They had debuted the idea for the party, and Harry was quite glad he hadn't had to go through such a hazing. Of course, he reflected, in first year, he'd been team Seeker, so he would have been able to give the orders anyway.

Jenna ordered her poor cousin Rachel around mercilessly. In addition to fetching her food and beverage, Jenna also made her cousin lavish attention on Tim and Blaise, who were unable to study in the quiet of the dorms, because there was none. They sat together in an oversized chair at the edge of the room, and every time Rachel brought over a glass or plate, Tim would get irritated and send her off.

Many older students were dancing where the tables and chairs had been pushed aside to make space. The fast songs were popular with most everyone, but only couples stayed out for the slow ballads. After they'd let their stomachs settle for a bit, Pansy stood up as a slow song came on the wireless. "Draco, I want to dance."

"So dance."

"I want you to dance with me, you prat."

"I don't dance."

"What do you mean you don't know how to dance? You most certainly do, you bally liar!"

"Oh, I know how to dance. I just don't."

"Malfoys are excellent dancers!"

"Yes, we are."

"So let's dance!"

"I don't dance."

"Argh!" she shouted in frustration. "You obstinate, pig-headed Muggle-licker!"

"I am none of those things!" Draco shot back. "And if I do lick Muggles, should you be snogging me on a regular basis?"

"Why don't you want to dance?"

"I just don't."

"That's not good enough," Pansy declared. "I want to, and you are my boyfriend, so come dance with me."

Draco stood up, his face unreadable. "Pansy, do you want to dance?" he asked meticulously.

"Yes, thank you."

He led her to the dance floor. They twirled around, but they were also having a very heated conversation.

The ballad ended shortly, and a featurette of the Weird Sisters began to play. Harry and Jenna danced to a number of songs, and once they took a break to get some butterbeers, Harry quickly found his dance card filling up. Laine wanted to talk about what he thought tomorrow would bring. Harry had no good answer, so he sent her twirling. She spun around and planted her feet, striking a pose with her arms outstretched. She took small steps towards him, and Harry gathered her in to his arms again.

Harry danced many dances, but only the fast songs. He remained firmly on the sidelines for anything slow. He drank butterbeer by the case. After the raucous celebration, Harry and the lads retired to the dorm.

"I'm glad the music's finally off so I can think clearly," Tim said as soon as they walked through the door.

"Tim?" Draco drawled. "Why are you being such a wet blanket? Are you sore about being wrong? Wouldn't you say that the deadly nature of today's Task proves that Harry didn't put himself in to this?"

"The Task wasn't as bad as all that. Not a scratch on you, is there, Harry?"

"No."

"Of course not. Once upon a time, the tasks were deadly. A fourth year student with a fourth year Charm got first place. Pathetic." Tim sounded absolutely disgusted. "They're all celebrating as though you actually did something phenomenal. I mean, of course you were going to win. It's simple mathematics. All the headmasters will vote for their own schools. And Bagman will never vote against the famous Harry Potter. And Percy Weasley won't do anything to risk his ickle sister. So let's just say you could win even if you fell on your face. Which I'm not discounting yet. There's still two Tasks to go."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "You really are delusional, aren't you? I could have died out there today."

"But you didn't, thanks to your cheating. Did Weasley tell you about the dragons? Is that how you knew exactly what to do? It's revolting," Tim sneered. "Must be the Muggle in you."

"Stuff yourself, Nott!" Harry snarled, taking a step forward. Tim had hit it exactly right how he'd found out about the dragons, and the accusation of cheating rankled. He was calling Professor Snape a cheater too. "All the other champions knew!"

"The French bitch is a half-breed to begin with, and who knows her lineage? It's not like I can go look it up in the library." Tim wasn't letting up an inch. "Krum's only claim to fame is Quidditch. Diggory's the only pureblood in the competition, and the only reason he knew was because-" Tim broke off with a puzzled expression. "How did Diggory know about them? Because he knew what to do."

"I told him." Harry was giving Tim the sternest glare he could summon. "Because I knew the others knew too, and that wasn't very fair."

"You knew it didn't matter because you had two of the judges already in the bag."

Harry wanted to hex Tim. Nothing else would convince him.

"I don't know what it's going to take for you to realize I'm not lying," he said. "But until you get your head out of your arse and apologize, I don't want to hear a single word out of your mouth."

"And if you do?" Tim looked belligerent. Harry wondered if he'd have to draw his wand and do it faster than Tim.

"Then I'll turn Pansy loose on you."

Tim glared. He and Pansy were fairly evenly matched when it came to verbal sparring, and Tim had been raised to respect women. So long as Pansy did not escalate their conflict to the point of duelling, he could match her only with words, and her tongue was quicker than her wand.

"I'd wish you luck figuring out that egg," Tim said scathingly, "but you don't need luck."

With that taunt, he threw himself in to bed and drew the curtains.

to be continued...


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