Written in the Stars - A Champion’s Woes

A Champion’s Woes

Quidditch was not something that Pansy had ever truly been interested in but having been all but dragged to every one of the house games since the beginning of Hogwarts, she had grown accustomed to watching it.

However, although she found little enjoyment in the sport, she could not help but be in a state of awe as she watched Harry and Viktor Krum competing for the Snitch, their reckless and seemingly death-defying antics eliciting gasps and looks of concern from all that had ventured out to watch them train.

“It’s not that impressive,” Draco sighed airily. “They just both have good brooms.”

Pansy rolled her eyes at the boy, and even the rest of their housemates shot him looks of irritation.

Those who knew the sport well could not deny that the display was impressive, even if Pansy detested being rudely awakened at the crack of dawn to see it.

“Why don’t you challenge them, Draco?” Blaise suggested. “Show them what a real seeker can do.”

Draco snorted.

“It would hardly be a fair competition,” he declared. “Both have a Firebolt and I still only have a Nimbus 2001. Father has promised me the upgrade, but the waiting list is impossibly long and not even the Malfoy name can change that.”

Blaise smirked at the blonde.

“Well, with a flier of your calibre, I’m sure Krum or Potter would be happy to loan you theirs to face the other,” he pressed.

Draco shook his head.

“And risk them placing a curse on it? I do not think so.”

Pansy and the others knew that Draco was attempting to save face whilst posturing in his typical way, but as ever, none commented on it further than Blaise dared.

They feared the Malfoy name, and with good reason.

Draco would one day be the Lord of the prominent family, and he was certainly petty enough to bear a childhood grudge or slight against him.

It meant that he was all but untouchable at school.

Too many were already attempting to curry favour with the boy for the future, and others would simply defend him to protect their family interests that were already in place.

It was frustrating to say the least, and even Pansy had her part to play in the farce.

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sight of Harry and Krum diving vertically towards the ground, and she gasped, placing a hand over her mouth.

Before the expected collision with the ground came, however, both managed to pull out of the dive, and Pansy relaxed.

“Don’t worry, your boyfriend is safe,” Draco said scathingly, a twisted smirk tugging at his lips.

Many of the others that heard the comment laughed, and Pansy released a deep sigh.

“Harry is not my boyfriend,” she reiterated for what felt like the hundredth time. “We are friends and have known each other since we were small children.”

Draco pointedly ignored her and Daphne raised an eyebrow in Pansy’s direction.

“So, nothing has ever…”

“No,” Pansy said firmly. “Nothing has ever.”

“But she wants it to, don’t you, Parkinson?” Draco broke in with a sneer. “Potter and Parkinson. It has quite the ring to it.”

Pansy gritted her teeth in irritation.

There was nothing that would change how happy she was that Harry was here, but she could do without the comments and speculation from her housemates.

“Krum got it,” Blaise announced, pointing towards the Bulgarian who was holding the Snitch aloft.

“Of course, he did,” Draco scoffed. “Potter didn’t stand a chance. It makes me wonder why Krum bothers with the half-blood.”

The passing Viktor evidently heard what Draco had said and turned his broom back towards the group of Slytherins and landed in front of them, his typical scowl in place.

“Who said that?” he questioned, his thick, Bulgarian accent not masking the irritation he felt.

“Draco here was wondering why you train with Potter,” Blaise echoed Malfoy’s question. “He seems to think it is a waste of your time.”

Krum’s nostrils flared as he stepped closer.

“I train with Harry because he has proven to be the best flier I have ever flown against,” he declared proudly, “and for your information, he is the only person to have ever beaten me to the Snitch.”

Draco was lost for words, but the other Slytherins murmured interestedly at the revelation.

“Did he really?” Blaise asked.

Krum nodded.

“We both ended up in the medical bay with some broken bones, but he got it before I could, and I have no shame in admitting I gave it my best.”

“Impressive,” Blaise murmured, eliciting a nod from several others.

Krum nodded before turning his attention back to Draco.

“Do you play?” he questioned.

“He’s a seeker, just like you,” Blaise answered before Draco could.

“Then you go against him and answer your question for yourself,” Krum urged.

Draco shook his head.

“I d-don’t have my broom.”

“You can use mine,” Krum offered, shoving it into Draco’s chest.

The boy had no choice but to accept it into his trembling hand, and Viktor whistled to Harry who approached the group with a questioning frown.

“Malfoy here believes he can beat you in a seeker’s duel,” Krum explained.

“I d-did not say that!” the blonde denied.

“You heavily insinuated it,” Krum pointed out. “Do you accept his challenge, Harry?”

“Why not,” Harry answered with a shrug.

“I’ve never flown a Firebolt before,” Draco defended.

“Then get up there and get used to it, it’s not much different from other brooms, just faster,” Krum explained. “Go on.”

Reluctantly, Draco mounted the broom and kicked off from the ground, the words of encouragement from the Slytherins following him.

Harry and Krum watched his progress, the latter murmuring in his native tongue and Harry looking on as though he was bored.

Draco was a brilliant flier, one of the best at Hogwarts, but his display seemed to be rather pathetic compared to what Pansy had seen from Harry and Krum, and she was certainly no expert on the topic.

“ARE YOU READY, DRACO?” Krum called after around twenty minutes had passed, using his wand pressed against his neck to make his voice reverberate around the stadium.

Too proud to admit that he had been an idiot, Draco nodded and Harry mounted his own broom, a hand on his shoulder from Krum halting him before he could take to the sky.

The older boy spoke once more in Bulgarian, and though Pansy could not understand a word he said, she doubted he was telling Harry to treat Draco kindly, and Harry’s expression of focus left her in no doubt as to what would happen next.

Krum released the Snitch he was still holding into the sky, and for the next several moments, Pansy looked on as Harry toyed with Malfoy who had clearly bitten off more than he could chew.

Despite the mismatch, she had to give credit to her housemates who did not stop cheering for the blonde, though Harry evidently tired of whatever fun he was having quickly and caught the Snitch before Draco had even noticed he was chasing it.

Both landed, and Harry merely handed the golden ball to Krum who stared smugly at the furious Draco, his ego unable to admit that he had been bested.

“You have been flying your broom longer than me!” he defended angrily.

“And if you were as good as you have made yourself out to be, that wouldn’t matter,” Harry replied. “Give me a Nimbus 2000 and I would still beat you.”

Draco narrowed his eyes as his cheeks reddened, though he was somewhat calmed by a hand on his shoulder from Cassius Warrington who whispered a few words in his ear.

Harry snorted amusedly, offering Pansy a smile before he turned to leave with Krum, but the former stilled as Warrington spoke his next words louder.

“He’s still the son of a mudblood whore,” the seventh year declared.

Pansy felt her own anger pulse through her veins, but it was a sense of dread that filled her as Harry turned, his expression unreadable as his gaze burned into Warrington.

Even Krum appeared to be concerned as he tried to placate Harry, but he would have none of it.

“I’m going to give you three seconds to draw your wand,” he whispered dangerously, flicking his own into his hand. “One, two…”

Warrington removed his at the count of two, but the gesture was for naught.

Before any could comprehend what had happened, Cassius was writhing on the ground, screaming in agony from whatever Harry had done to him.

The boy had moved so quickly that Pansy had merely blinked and missed the entire exchange.

The result, however, spoke for itself and as Warrington’s screams ebbed away into a quiet whimpering, she chanced a glance at her friend who was transfixed on the rest of the Slytherins.

“I warned each and every one of you,” he whispered. “If another word is spoken of my mother, I will make this look like a tickle.”

Even Pansy swallowed deeply at the declaration and watched as Harry left with Viktor who was attempting to calm him down, for what good it would do.

“Bloody hell, where does it hurt, Warrington?” Marcus Flint asked.

“Everywhere,” Cassius groaned.

Pansy peered over her gathered housemates to get a look at the boy, wincing as she caught sight of his grotesquely twisted arm and the burns on his face.

What Harry had done, she could only guess, but she doubted that any other of her housemates would provoke him in such a way again.

They were braggarts, and they could be dense at times, but none of them were completely stupid, though Draco would likely somehow provoke Harry’s ire.

Still, maybe being taught such a lesson would do him good, but Pansy doubted it.

Draco would always be his cruel self, and there was nothing that would deter him from that, not when he believed that there was none that could stand against the Malfoy name.

(Break)

Cassie watched as Gellert inspected the locket that Kreacher had given to her. He twirled it about his fingers as he hummed interestedly, murmuring words to himself that she couldn’t hear.

When he was done Gellert closed his eyes and nodded before releasing a deep breath.

“Despite the unpleasant nature of what he has created, it is an exceptional piece of magic,” he declared.

‘So, it is a Horcrux?”

“It is,” Gellert confirmed, “but that is not the most impressive thing about this. No, what I have learned about the man is most interesting.”

“What have you learned?” Cassiopeia pressed.

“We will get to that,” Gellert said dismissively. “First, you need to understand the magic it takes to create one of these.”

“Sacrifice,” Cassie replied.

“Yes,” Gellert agreed, “but it is not as simple as merely sacrificing someone. No, there must be a true desire to separate the soul, to keep it safe. Only the most powerful emotion of self-preservation can create that.”

Cassiopeia frowned confusedly.

“Fear,” Gellert informed her. “One must truly fear death for such a feat to be accomplished in this way. Voldemort is terrified of death, and that makes his Horcruxes all the more dangerous.”

“More dangerous?”

Gellert hummed thoughtfully.

“His fear is so deep that even the separate piece of soul within the container feels it. As such, it will take desperate actions to preserve itself. The locket, for example, has the ability to feed off of ambient magic to keep itself strong, but also the ability to unleash what I believe would be a powerful attack on the mind.”

“That is concerning,” Cassie mused aloud.

“It is,” Gellert agreed, “but it will only be effective on someone who has either been in close proximity of it for an extended period time and has become susceptible to the magic, or someone who is already weak-minded.”

“So, it will not affect us?”

Gellert shook his head.

“In the short term, no, but if it was in your possession for several years, it could, and even take control of you.”

“Merlin,” Cassie whispered worriedly.

“Indeed,” Gellert sighed, “but it is of no concern because you will destroy it soon enough. However, we have not discussed the most curious thing about it.”

“Go on,” Cassie urged, rolling her eyes at the smirk tugging at his lips.

“The magic that created this is not natural.”

“Not natural?”

The grin Gellert wore did not shift as he leaned closer towards the bars of his cell.

“Voldemort has artificially strengthened his magic.”

Cassiopeia frowned deeply at the revelation.

“How?”

Gellert scratched his chin as he took a step back.

“I suspect he would have done so through a series of rituals, perhaps using blood magic, or even other forms of sacrificial magic. It is a very dangerous undertaking, and I cannot fathom why he would risk it. His natural magic is one of the strongest I have felt, and to take such measures could have been disastrous to say the least. A single error could have left him a squib.”

“Then why would he do it?”

“Power,” Gellert answered. “His campaign relied on him being magically strong enough to defeat any that would challenge him, but he must have invested years into his practices. Albus said that Voldemort was the most gifted student that has passed through Hogwarts during his tenure, and I have no doubt the man remained dedicated to building his skill. To be able to stand with Albus in any capacity is impressive to say the least, and Voldemort did so on several occasions.”

Reluctantly, Cassiopeia nodded.

“So, he is a very dangerous man,” she said worriedly.

“As dangerous as he can be foolish,” Gellert chuckled. “Albus, even now, laments that men such as he and Voldemort rarely make mistakes, but when they do, they tend to have much direr consequences. I believe that Voldemort has proven that here, but I need to confirm it. Would you happen to have anything Harry has created magically?”

Cassie’s frown returned as her hand went immediately to the necklace Harry had given her for her birthday only a month prior.

“He enchanted this with built in warming charms and some other things,” she explained as she handed the pendant and gold chain to Gellert.

The man said nothing for several moments as he inspected it the same way he had with the Horcrux.

“Do you have anything he made earlier?”

“This ring,” Cassie replied, removing the piece of jewellery from her finger. “He gave it to me for Christmas during his first-year t Durmstrang. It lights up whenever he is writing to me. He connected it to a quill.”

Gellert smiled as he took it and held it in his other hand.

“That is interesting,” he declared after a moment, laughing to himself amusedly.

“What is it?” Cassiopeia enquired.

“Well, when you gave me the Horcrux, I had my suspicions. That along with the parseltongue ability Harry has already demonstrated led me to believe that there is more to it than that, and these have confirmed it,” he informed her, handing back the ring and necklace.

“Confirmed what?”

“That Voldemort gave Harry more than just the parseltongue, much more.”

“Such as?” Cassie pressed.

“A part of his own magic, that goes without saying, but also the benefits of whatever rituals he has carried out,” Gellert explained. “The signs of the very same enhancements are in the ring, but more prominent in the necklace. It seems that the stronger Harry’s own magic becomes with age, the more it is absorbing of Voldemort’s to further strengthen it, including the magic of the rituals.”

“Is that not dangerous?” Cassie asked worriedly.

Gellert shook his head.

“On the contrary, it is rather spectacular and beneficial,” he assured her. “Harry is benefiting from the rituals without the risk of undertaking them.”

“But it is Voldemort’s magic,” Cassie pointed out.

“No, it isn’t,” Gellert said firmly. “Harry’s magic is very much his own. I suspect that it is actively suppressing whatever of Voldemort’s is within him and allowing small amounts of it through at a time when it is able to absorb it. Think of it as Harry’s magic being drip-fed a concoction that is benefitting him greatly.”

“So, there is nothing to worry about?”

“No,” Gellert replied immediately. “It truly is quite a wondrous thing that will serve him well. I expect that when he reaches his majority, the process will be complete, and Harry will be all the better and stronger for it.”

Cassiopeia nodded, though she was not entirely convinced nor pleased by what she had learned.

She did not like the idea of Voldemort’s magic being inside the boy.

“Can it be stopped?”

“No, and attempting to do so would likely kill him,” Gellert sighed. “It would be such a sudden change, and any weakness could allow for Voldemort’s own to truly take hold. As things are, this is the best-case scenario for Harry. He will be fine, Cassie, better than fine if truth be told. I would bet my life on it.”

Although Cassiopeia did not like it, she would defer to Gellert on the matter.

She had never met another who understood magic the way he did, and she was grateful to have his expertise at her disposal.

“We wait and see then?”

Gellert nodded.

“We wait and see just what Harry will become,” Gellert agreed excitedly. “I have always expected much of him, but now, I truly expect an excellence that even Albus will not believe. Now, how is life with your new guest?”

Cassiopeia huffed irritably.

Sirius was eager to meet Harry, to speak with him to explain what had happened the night Voldemort had murdered his parents, but Cassiopeia had not even informed the boy that she had found his godfather.

It would be a lot for him to take in, and though she knew she would have to do it soon, she wanted Harry to be ready in his own time and she would not compromise on that.

Still, it would be Harry’s choice how he handled the matter, but if Sirius was expecting a warm welcome, the man had better think again.

(Break)

Barely a day went by that each of the group didn’t receive a missive of sorts from Harry. Sometimes, it was a letter that they could reply to, and others were seemingly thoughts he had decided to share with them.

He even reminisced some of the memories they had shared together, something that each of them appreciated receiving.

In truth, the dynamic of the group was not the same without him being there, but they were making the best of it.

“There he goes again,” Lucinda muttered irritably, nodding towards Barkus who was once more attempting to assert himself over some of the younger students.

“What do you think will happen this time?” Ana sighed as she looked on intently, wondering what Harry had in store for the boy.

They had all pondered how Harry continuously thwarted Barkus from afar. Ana had even written and asked him.

His approach had been rather genius, and though she did not know how he had pulled it off, it was proving to be effective.

I broke into his dorm and placed several curses on his wand, his robes, and even his underwear. Whenever he attempts to harm someone without cause, the curses will react in a variety of ways.

Thus far, they had witnessed Barkus having his underwear pulled up and over his head, his robes becoming transparent, and even being backhanded by a nearby statue of a famous gypsy witch.

Still, the boy had not learned his lesson and continued to be a nuisance around the school.

“I’m guessing he might shit his pants,” Cain snorted.

Ana nodded thoughtfully

She certainly wouldn’t put it past Harry to resort to such a measure, though she hoped he wouldn’t.

“Maybe he’ll vomit uncontrollably,” Jonas guessed with a shrug.

Both were proven to be incorrect.

As Barkus raised his wand to curse one of the second years, a ghostly fist shot upwards from the ground below and collided with his groin.

The wand he held clattered to the ground as the boys that looked on winced sympathetically.

“Shit, you know that had to hurt,” Cain muttered, grimacing at the sight of Barkus trembling and groaning on the ground.

“He deserves everything he gets,” Lucinda replied with a giggle.

“What are you laughing at, you half-breed bitch?” one of Barkus’s lackeys demanded to know as he stalked towards the girl.

Lucinda merely raised an eyebrow in his direction.

The boy was around the same height, but thickly built, though the vampire was not intimidated.

“I was laughing at the idiot making a fool of himself once again,” Lucinda replied somewhat demurely, her gaze sweeping up and down the boy as though he was a piece of meat. “Do you have a problem with that?”

The boy clenched his jaw as he reached for his wand, only to be seized around the throat and slammed into the nearby wall.

He whimpered as Lucinda lifted him with ease, baring her fangs as she grinned at him.

“Now that was a rather silly move, wasn’t it?” she whispered. “If I did not think your blood was so worthless and weak, maybe I would consider taking some,” she added, licking her lips.

“You c-can’t,” the boy choked. “You’ll be expelled.”

Lucinda hummed.

“True,” she conceded. “You’re certainly not worth that, but if you ever attempt to draw your wand on me again, I will take great pleasure in tearing your limbs from your sockets. Do you understand?”

He nodded, and Lucinda threw him bodily down the corridor where he skidded to a halt, his eyes widened in fear as she continued to glare at him.

“I think Harry should be careful when he comes back,” Cain deadpanned.

Lucinda snorted.

“I could have done that to him any time I wished over the years,” she said dismissively. “Maybe one day I will.”

Without another word, she walked on towards their next lesson of the day and Ana shook her head.

Each of them had their gifts.

As a half-elf, she was excellent with Charms, her earth elemental abilities, and even esoteric magic that required an affinity with nature, but the speed and strength of a vampire was something to behold. Add to that the ability to wield magic as Lucinda could, she made for quite the frightening prospect.

Ana was pleased and equally relieved that she and the girl were friends.

She certainly would not wish to be on the wrong side of her.

It seemed that only Harry had leave to goad her in any way he wished without being subjected to such violent repercussions, though Ana often felt he was dangerously close to pushing too far.

Still, Lucinda gave as good as she got with the boy and managed to prevent herself from causing him any real harm, even if she threated to cause it.

No one else would evidently be so lucky, just as Barkus’s friend had just found out.

Harry Potter was somehow an exception, and even though Ana would not pretend to understand the plights of being a vampire, he should certainly consider himself lucky.

(Break)

Professor McGonagall frowned as she felt the bones in Harry’s hands to ensure he had transformed them back to their natural state, humming to herself as she did so.

The woman was not pleased how deeply Harry had gotten into the process in his Animagus pursuits without supervision, but she was impressed, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“I had a rather enlightening conversation with Professor Dumbledore earlier,” she said pointedly. “He did not go into detail but asked me to keep an eye on a rather unpleasant situation between yourself and Mr Warrington of Slytherin.”

Harry nodded unabashedly.

“He got less than he deserved, as far as I’m concerned,” he replied.

McGonagall pursed her lips.

“Might I assume that he said something unpleasant to you?”

“You might.”

“And what was it that caused such a reaction?”

“He called my mother a mudblood whore.”

McGonagall stiffened, her own expression becoming quite thunderous.

It took a moment to compose herself before she deflated.

“Unfortunately, as I am sure you have seen for yourself, there are those at Hogwarts with rather strong views.”

“It’s no different to Durmstrang,” Harry said dismissively. “If anything, it is worse there.”

McGonagall seemed surprised by the revelation but chose not to comment on it.

“Regardless, I’d warned them already after Malfoy almost slipped up,” Harry explained, “and I gave Warrington the opportunity to draw his wand. I was just quicker.”

McGonagall shook her head.

“Are you in any trouble?”

“Professor Karkaroff was proud of me,” he snorted. “He even defended me against that Potions professor who tried to make something of it.”

“Professor Snape?”

“Big nosed, greasy bloke who looks as though he hasn’t seen sunlight in a decade? That’s him. I thought him and Karkaroff were going to kill each other, but Snape quickly changed his mind when he heard what Warrington said. He became angrier,” Harry added with a frown. “Last I heard was that he went to the Hospital Wing and gave him detention for the next two weeks, well, when he gets out.”

“Professor Snape would not have liked what Warrington said,” McGonagall sighed.

“Even if he was a Death Eater?”

“How do you know that?”

Harry shrugged.

“I make it my business to know who might be my enemies,” he answered. “It still doesn’t explain why Snape would shift so quickly.”

“Because Professor Snape and your mother were once friends, since before they came to Hogwarts,” McGonagall revealed. “Of course, with your mother in Gryffindor and Professor Snape in Slytherin, their friendship was doomed to fail.”

“So, Snape became a Death Eater?”

“I do not believe it is that simple,” McGonagall huffed. “I would not jump to conclusions, but I must warn you, I would not expect any semblance of friendliness from him. He and your father were bitter enemies, and without wishing to speak ill of one of my colleagues, Professor Snape is rather bitter and petty when it comes to James Potter.”

Harry was surprised by the revelation.

“Why did they hate each other?” he asked.

McGonagall shrugged.

“Your mother, for one thing,” she sighed. “Your father seemed to be interested in her from the moment they met, and they seemed to compete for her attention. It certainly didn’t help that your father was a talented wizard, popular with other students, and the best Quidditch player in the school. Not that any of that impressed your mother,” she finished with a smirk.

“It didn’t?”

McGonagall shook her head.

“No, your mother did not show any interest in your father until they were in their sixth year when he had grown up considerably,” she explained. “It is quite understandable. Your father could be a real pain. Between him and his three friends, they caused enough trouble around the castle to last me an entire teaching career.”

Harry chuckled at the expression of exasperation the woman wore.

“What sort of trouble?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, mostly harmless pranks and truancy, but it was so regular that I had a permanent headache because of them. At least once a week I’d have them in my office for something or other, and in detention even more regularly.”

Harry laughed once more.

He had always wondered where he’d gotten his own sense of mischief from, and now he knew.

“I expect you yourself have caused more than your share of trouble, have you not?”

“Me, Professor?” Harry asked, clutching his chest dramatically.

McGonagall hummed, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.

“It’s like I said, you remind me of him very much, and not just because of your appearance. Even now, I am reminding myself that it is not James Potter sitting before me.”

“But you liked him?”

The woman smiled as she nodded.

“As frustrating as he was, he had a certain charm about him that you seem to have inherited, and I can think of so few that I grew fond of in all my time here.”

Her words warmed Harry, and he too smiled at the lasting effect his father had on the stern Transfiguration professor.

“What about my mother?”

McGonagall snorted amusedly.

“Your mother was very opinionated, stubborn, and strong-willed, but was also one of the kindest and sweetest people you could ever hope to meet. She was talented too. She adored Charms and Potions just as much as your father did Transfiguration. I have no doubt that both of them would be very proud of you.”

“I hope so,” Harry murmured. “Thank you, Professor, for speaking about them with me.”

McGonagall smiled once more.

“I have dozens of stories to tell, Harry, and we have the rest of the year to share them. I would, however, urge you to speak to Professor Flitwick also. He knew your mother better than any here.”

“I will,” Harry assured her.

“And do try not to make too many enemies,” the woman sighed. “Not all of the purebloods here are like Mr Malfoy or Mr Warrington.”

“I know, I met Susan Bones and Terry Boot today during a Defence lesson,” he explained. “They were both polite and respectful. I suppose when the others learn that I am to be the next Lord Black, their attitudes will change, especially since many have gold from the family invested in their businesses.”

Professor McGonagall nodded her agreement.

“How did you find your Defence lesson with Professor Moody?”

“The man certainly knows his stuff,” Harry praised. “All of the teaching I’ve experienced here has been excellent. Durmstrang and Hogwarts are certainly different, but brilliant in their own ways.”

“Why did you choose Durmstrang?” McGonagall asked curiously.

“Because it was the best school to avoid my fame and to prepare me for the uphill struggles I will face when I return,” Harry answered honestly.

“So, you intend on returning?”

Harry nodded.

“It may not feel like it, but Britain is my home, and I have my responsibilities here,” he explained. “Maybe I won’t live here, but I will need to be intimately familiar with it. I will hold two prominent seats on the Wizengamot, and as I said to Cornelius Fudge when I met him, things will be different. I cannot sit idly by whilst scumbags like Malfoy and his ilk get away with everything they have done.”

“You will make some powerful enemies,” McGonagall sighed.

“Or is it that they will have a powerful enemy that will never bow down to them regardless of what they do?”

McGonagall shook her head.

“Well, life on the Wizengamot will certainly be interesting. I hope that Professor Dumbledore is ready for it.”

“I expect he will be,” Harry chuckled. “I don’t plan on arriving quietly and hiding in the shadows. I will certainly make my mark when the day comes for me to return.”

McGonagall released a deep breath.

“Spoken just like your father’s son,” she sighed. “Just be careful, Harry. I would not wish to see you meet the same end your parents did.”

“I won’t,” Harry assured her. “It will be the others that fall.”

(Break)

Viktor could only shake his head as he exited the forest, his limbs feeling like jelly and his mouth dry at the prospect of what he must face during the first task.

Dragons.

Of all the things in the magical world, it had to be dragons.

Karkaroff had come to fetch him an hour ago, his expression always having been rather grim, but somehow even more so as he led Viktor through the thickets of trees to the large enclosure surrounded by the burnt remains of trees.

There were three of them in all, one for each of the champions.

Did the others know?

Viktor shook his head as he neared the ship.

Of course they knew.

Well, Maxime would ensure Delacour did, at least.

Beauxbatons had not won a tournament for decades before it had been banned and the headmistress would do whatever it took to not fall into that habit.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Harry’s voice pulled Viktor from his thoughts.

He was seated on the bow of the ship with the Slytherin girl he knew.

They could often be found there late in the evening, and though the other Durmstrang students didn’t like it, none of them would mention it to Harry.

“Could be my own,” Viktor snorted humourlessly.

“What is it?” Harry asked, switching to Bulgarian seamlessly.

He had made considerable effort to learn several languages since starting at Durmstrang. Out of all the students that had come along, there was not one he couldn’t converse with.

“I know what the first task is,” Viktor replied darkly. “It’s Dragons!”

“Well, I was guessing you weren’t going to be asked to oil up, wrestle the other champions and then go for a shiatsu, and I wish I had not thought of that,” he added with a grimace. “Then again, I wouldn’t mind seeing the French champion oiled up.”

Despite his maudlin mood, Viktor chuckled.

“I do not think your friend would like you saying that,” he snorted.

Harry’s gaze shifted to Pansy and he frowned.

“Am I missing something?” she asked confusedly.

“No, Viktor’s just having a bit of a meltdown,” Harry explained.

“Oh, well, I’ll leave you to it,” Pansy declared as she stood and wrapped her arms around Harry. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry nodded, and the girl kissed him on the cheek before leaving, looking back at him more than once as she did so.

What amused Viktor the most was that Harry seemed to be oblivious to it.

“Are you really that dense?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Harry returned with a frown.

Viktor couldn’t be certain if he truly was so ignorant, or he was purposely being difficult.

Unsure, he boarded the ship and took a seat a short distance away from the younger boy.

“You know, there are a lot of girls back at Durmstrang that would be quite jealous with how much time you spend with her,” he chuckled, nodding towards the direction Pansy left in.

“She’s my friend,” Harry replied simply.

Viktor raised an eyebrow in his direction.

Harry really was rather clueless.

The Bulgarian cursed under his breath in his native tongue.

“Do you not realise how many girls are interested in you?”

“Interested in me?”

Viktor shook his head in disbelief.

“Zabini for one,” he pointed out. “She’s always saying how much she would like to date you.”

“She does?”

Viktor grinned amusedly as he nodded.

“She’s not the only one. I can think of at least another five or six.”

“How do you know this and not me? No one has mentioned anything.”

“Because you are always surrounded by the girls in your year,” Viktor explained. “No other girl has a chance to get near you. Everyone just assumes you’re dating one of them.”

“But I’m not,” Harry defended.

Viktor held his hands up placatingly.

“It’s just what everyone thinks. That’s why they don’t say anything,” he sighed.

Harry hummed as he dragged a hand through his hair.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Anyway, we have more important things to focus on. What are you going to do about the dragon?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor murmured. “Any ideas?”

Harry shrugged.

“You’re the champion.”

“Harry,” Krum huffed.

Much to Viktor’s relief, Harry took pity on him.

“Well, you have to consider what they are going to want you to do,” he began. “I highly doubt they want you to fight a dragon.”

“Wouldn’t they?”

“Of course not, you idiot,” Harry chuckled. “You’d be roasted alive. No, I would think the dragon is just an obstacle for you to overcome, and if that is the case, then there must be something you need to reach.”

“So, I just need to find a way to get around a dragon. Sounds fun,” Viktor snorted.

Still, he was pleased that he wouldn’t have to fight one, and he felt foolish for having believed that would be the task.

“The question is,” Harry continued, “what is the end goal, and how will you distract the dragon enough to reach it?”

Viktor could only shake his head.

“What are a dragon’s weaknesses?”

“The eyes,” Harry answered, “but I can’t imagine they would want you to harm it. Dragons are protected creatures.”

“That won’t stop it harming me,” Viktor pointed out.

“That’s true,” Harry replied with a smirk, eliciting a scowl from Viktor.

The boy was enjoying this too much for his liking.

“What would you do?” the Bulgarian questioned.

“I wouldn’t have submitted my name to begin with,” Harry sighed, “but, you should use something you are already good at. Don’t try to do anything ridiculous, fancy, or new.”

“Play to my strengths?”

Harry nodded.

“And also learn as much as you can about what species of dragon you may face. They’re not all the same.”

Viktor deflated as he nodded.

“Thanks,” he offered sincerely. “I thought they would want me to fight one.”

Once more, Harry grinned, but this time he leaned in.

“Just of interest, where are they keeping the dragons?”

“In the forest,” Viktor replied with a frown, his eyes widening as he realised just who he had revealed that information to. “Why, what are you planning?”

“Nothing,” Harry said innocently as he headed towards the door leading to the galley. “I might just want to have a look.”

The boy was insane, but Viktor had known that for years now.

Only Harry would actively seek out a trio of dragons.

He probably believed he could befriend them.

Viktor shook his head at the thought of his friend with three dragons at his behest.

“Merlin help us,” he muttered, the vision proving to be rather unsettling.

Pushing them aside, his focus shifted once more to what he would soon face, and he groaned as he laced his head in his hands.

What had he gotten himself in for?

For the first time since he had submitted his name, Viktor was beginning to wish he hadn’t.