He drags the other champions off to the side as soon as they've finished eating breakfast. Both Fleur and Viktor look exceptionally nervous, a lingering hint of dread in their eyes that they're trying and failing to conceal from him, but Cedric doesn't seem to have any idea about what's going on. "Dragons, the task is dragons," Harry hisses quietly, though he waits until he's certain that they're out of earshot of any students or professors who could possibly overhear them. "What are we gonna do?"
Cedric goes so pale that he almost looks like one of the many ghosts that linger around Hogwarts. "... Dragons?"
Fleur has a very grave expression as she nods. "Yes. Zere are four different kinds, one for each of us. Ze Welsh Green, Fireball, Short-Snout, and 'Orntail, non?" She looks to Harry with a questioning hum, and he shakily nods in silent answer. "Zank you. Madame Maxime zought so, but she wasn't sure."
"Karkaroff didn't know that much," Viktor grumbles under his breath. "But he vas sneaking around, so vhat can I expect? Ve make a plan for each, then? Or a plan for each of us that ve can change depending on the dragon?"
Cedric seems to have regained a bit of the color in his cheeks, heaving out a sigh as he murmurs, "Probably a plan for each of us that we can change if needed. It'll take our individual abilities into account better, and that'll make it more likely for all of us to make it out of this alive."
The four of them head out onto the castle grounds as a group, and Harry tries very hard not to glance up at the Astronomy Tower as they walk into the courtyard. Part of him still wants to be up there. Part of him still wants to go for one last flight at the soonest possible opportunity. "I vas thinking the Conjunctivitis Curse," Viktor muses idly as they sit down beneath a great, towering pine tree. "Dragons are very resistant to spells, but their eyes are vulnerable."
Harry grimaces faintly as he shakes his head. "I wouldn't. They're all nesting mothers, so attacking them in any way is just going to get you killed. And might even end up crushing some eggs. Besides, they're meant to be obstacles, not opponents. There's something else involved."
"They're vhat?" Viktor repeats with wide eyes, sounding eerily similar to Malfoy. "That is… so stupid. I cannot even begin to–!" Viktor takes a deep breath, sighs, and mutters, "I vill come up with something else."
"Well, we could always fly?" Cedric suggests hesitantly. "I know three of us are pretty good fliers, but we're only allowed to come with our wands…"
"The Summoning Charm!" Harry cries out with a smile. He's suddenly very glad that he was forced to struggle with it for so long, or else he may not have thought of it. "We could always place our brooms nearby, and then summon them to us when the task starts? It's not against the rules. Technically." It's a pretty good idea. It'd make for a good show too, but… honestly, Harry isn't sure he trusts himself to be high up in the air right now. The thought of just letting himself fall is a bit too tempting for him to be completely comfortable with it.
"I'm not a very good flier, but I was zinking zat I could 'ypnotize them," Fleur murmurs with a contemplative hum. "I 'ave enough veela in me for zat, and I'm pretty fire-resistant too. I should be fine. Do you zink you'll be alright to fly, Harry?"
"... Honestly? No. I'd feel better if Cedric borrowed my Firebolt instead. I know you like playing on the school Cleansweeps to be fair and all, but you'll need every advantage you can get out there. And Viktor already has a Firebolt, so…"
"But vhat about you?" Viktor asks with a concerned furrow in his brows. "Vhat vill you do?"
"... How similar do you think Parseltongue and whatever language dragons speak are?" Harry muses with narrowed eyes. He has no real reason to believe that dragons can understand Parseltongue, but the thought won't leave his mind. Norberta never spoke a word to him, but she was newly hatched. The dragons that just arrived for the task are, understandably, very upset. Their roars didn't sound like anything but roars to his ears, but it's very possible that they weren't meant to. They easily could have been screaming their fury to the world without any real meaning beyond that.
"Huh…" Cedric blinks, considers that, and tilts his head to the side. "That's a really good question, actually. I have to imagine that they at least share some similarities…"
"You speak Parseltongue, Harry?" Fleur asks, eyes glittering with intrigue. "'Ow delightful! It is a very rare gift."
"I do," he confirms sheepishly, feeling rather surprised that she's so pleased by it. Maybe the hatred for Parselmouths is just a British thing? That would make sense, what with the whole Voldemort situation.
"Draconic and Parseltongue share roots, but they are not the same," Viktor murmurs with a contemplative hum. "She vill likely understand you, but you vill have no guarantee she vill listen. And some dragons are closer to serpents than others. You vould be better off with the Fireball or Horntail."
"Well, that's only my first plan anyway… I'm thinking that I'll phone in a friend." Three blankly confused stares are the only thing that greets him, and Harry laughs as he explains, "We have to go into the first task with just our wand, but just like there's no rule against summoning things afterward, there's no rule against asking for help either, is there? As long as I'm the only wizard involved…"
Cedric's eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, that's so clever! You're going to ask a house elf, aren't you? I can't imagine too many would be terribly excited to be anywhere near a dragon, though…"
"Dobby?" He doesn't even have the time to blink before the house elf is by his side, rocking back and forth on his feet in clear excitement.
"The great Harry Potter sir be needing something?"
"Hey, Dobby!" Harry grins, patting the grass next to him and smiling even wider when Dobby takes a seat. "I have a question for you. Remember when you said there was no rule against house elves helping the champions?"
Dobby wrings his hands as he rapidly nods his head, eyes going wide in blatant excitement. "Yes, I be remembering! Does the great Harry Potter sir be needing Dobby's help?"
"Only if you want to," he reassures him. "You can say no; I'll figure something else out. And you can just call me Harry, you know? We're friends."
Dobby's smile grows even wider. "Dobby can be helping! Anything for the great– For his greatest friend Harry?" Dobby asks hesitantly, and Harry can't even begin to hide how pleased he is by it.
"Yeah, that works," he says with a warm laugh. "But seriously, you can say no. The first task is dragons, and we're supposed to get past them or something? I figured you could always just pop me past like you did before…" Honestly, he feels ridiculous for not thinking of that sooner. He was very overwhelmed, sure, and definitely not thinking clearly, but it's still more than a bit embarrassing.
"Dobby can be doing that! You just be asking for Dobby when you needs him. Dobby is being there. He is not caring if Winky calls him a bad elf for being away from the kitchen because Dobby is a free elf, and his greatest friend Harry is being the one who freed him from his awful, no-good master. You be asking for anything, and Dobby will be saying yes."
"Just remember that you can say no, okay?" he whispers quietly, feeling a bit guilty now. He's not trying to take advantage of Dobby, but it kind of feels like he is anyway. "You're a free elf. That means you don't have to listen to anyone, not even me."
"Dobby be knowing that, his greatest friend Harry." Dobby pats his hand with a smile, standing up and brushing a few stray strands of grass off of his pillowcase. It's stained a faint green around the edges. "But he be thanking you for saying it anyway." Dobby pops away with a barely audible gust of wind, and Harry leans back with a relieved sigh.
"That's me covered, then. Should we talk about the differences between the dragons now?" Fleur is staring at him like he's something wondrous, Cedric has a massive smile on his face, and Viktor just looks quietly confused. Harry's not quite sure what that's all about.
Still, none of them comment on it. Viktor clears his throat before pulling out a roll of parchment instead, explaining, "One of your friends vanted us to have this." It is utterly surreal to even hear someone call Malfoy his friend. "Said he knew a lot about dragons? Ve can always do more research after, but…"
"Reading a condensed version first won't hurt anything," Harry agrees easily, mostly because he's curious about what Malfoy would find helpful for them to know. They all lean in very close to read his very fancy, loopy handwriting that looks more like it belongs to a professor than a student.
I'm ranking these in order of least to most dangerous, for the record, though they're all obviously still dragons and not to be underestimated.
1. Common Welsh Green: Not the most docile dragon there is, but definitely up there on that list. Welsh Greens prefer to avoid human contact altogether, so she's the least likely to attack you unless you're actively trying to harm her eggs. Merlin, I hope they don't have you taking an egg. That would just be suicide, regardless of the dragon. They're also the smallest of all the dragons involved in this, averaging about eighteen feet long from snout to tail tip.
2. Swedish Short-Snout: Their flames are a serious problem, and if you don't get yourself medical attention almost immediately after getting burned, there's a strong possibility that you could lose a limb. Their fire is blue for a reason. Do not let it hit you. They generally avoid humans in the wild, so at least they don't typically have an inclination for human flesh? The last two would eat you without hesitation. I don't think there are any rules against forfeiting so long as you genuinely try, so if it burns you, forfeit. Seriously, it's not worth it.
3. Chinese Fireball: These dragons are dreadfully fast and just as clever, and they're known for not only eating humans but actively hunting them. The good news is that it's easier to dodge a fireball than a constant stream of fire. The bad news is basically everything else. You have to constantly keep moving with this one.
4. Hungarian Horntail: I cannot believe they actually brought one of these. What were they thinking? Horntails are easily the most aggressive of all the dragon species, and they're even more ferocious when defending their eggs or young. They can easily reach fifty feet long, their fire can shoot just as far, and even dodging their fire will not save you from their spiked tail if you're within whipping range. They also actively hunt humans when the opportunity arises. I cannot even begin to express how utterly moronic it was for them to bring a Horntail into this. It's like they're trying to…
As for general advice, I only have one word for you: Run. Don't make a production of it, don't draw things out. Just get in, do whatever you have to do, and get out. Quickly. Survive.
Good luck.
'Huh,' he thinks with an idle hum. 'That's positively helpful, actually. Abilities, temperaments, size for the notable ones… And all without any of us giving the game away by suddenly showing an increased interest in dragons. Who knew Malfoy had it in him?' Maybe this isn't quite as helpless as Harry feared. Though if dragons are the first task, he really dreads to think of what the other two have in store for them. 'One step at a time, Harry,' he reminds himself. 'One step at a time.'
The day of the first task arrives in what feels like the blink of an eye, and even with a solid plan, and the knowledge that he could always use the Summoning Charm to take his Firebolt back from Cedric if he really had to, Harry's nerves return in full force. He barely manages to force down any food at all, and he regrets doing so almost immediately afterward. He feels terribly queasy.
"It's going to be okay, Harry," Fleur reassures him with a grim smile. "We are all going to make it out of this. And if I 'ave to, zen I will march onto zat field and 'ypnotize your dragon too. I do not care if zey zink it's cheating."
"Thanks, Fleur." Harry's voice is embarrassingly wobbly, and he tries to discreetly wipe at his eyes. The others definitely noticed, but he doesn't care so long as the rest of the school didn't. "You're the best. Honest."
"I find that very offensive, Harry," Cedric sniffs with a playful smile tugging at his lips. "I may just have to revoke my offer to show all of you where the kitchens are after the first task is done and over with."
"What? No–!"
Viktor chuckles at Harry's clear dismay, the traitor, and says, "Ve could alvays get this… Dobby to show us. Your threat is empty."
"Damn, I didn't think of that." Harry snorts, giggling quietly as Cedric snaps his fingers and plasters an exaggerated, downright unnatural, and entirely faked scowl on his face. Harry knows exactly what they're doing. They're trying to distract him from what's about to happen so he doesn't get too stuck in his head about it, and it's working shockingly well.
They're such good friends. It's hard to even miss Ron and Hermione with Fleur, Cedric, and Viktor around. McGonagall approaches their group with her typical, unreadable expression, though her eyes do look a bit pinched with unease. "It's time for the champions to make their way down to the grounds. You'll need some time to get ready for your first task."
"Okay," Fleur agrees easily, helping him stand and offering a reassuring smile before the four of them step forward as one. It looks like they've practiced this, and honestly, they have, just a little bit. They all really want to show a united front, and it's working if the quiet murmurs around all the other tables are any indication. "Zen let us go."
A faint smile curls McGonagall's lips when she sees the way the older champions close ranks around Harry, shielding him from the view of others and staying in position long after they're outside of the castle. "Now, don't panic," she murmurs, clearly speaking to Harry. "Just keep a cool head. We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand. Just do your best, and none of us will think any worse of you. Are you feeling alright?"
"Not really," he admits faintly. "But I think it'll be okay. We have a plan."
McGonagall levels an evaluating look at all four of them then, and they all blink back with wide, innocent eyes. Or, well, they try to. Cedric looks dreadfully guilty, and Viktor only manages to look a bit cross-eyed. McGonagall snorts. "You all know exactly what you're facing, don't you?"
"I 'ave no idea what you're talking about," Fleur sniffs indignantly. "Us, cheat? Never. Zat is absurd."
"Why am I even surprised?" McGonagall mutters under her breath as she leads them toward the Forbidden Forest. A huge tent is currently blocking their view of the dragons being kept within. "Harry is involved. The very first thing he's going to do is break the rules. Or at least bend them beyond all recognition." Harry has a feeling that she's really going to like his plan. Or start complaining about him giving her gray hairs. Maybe a bit of both. "Mr. Bagman will be telling you all the procedure. Good luck, and be careful."
"Ve vill be," Viktor reassures her with a faint grimace that is probably meant to be a smile. "And ve vill ensure Harry is fine. Damn the rules."
McGonagall's eyes are faintly misty when she leaves them, though she remains remarkably composed, otherwise. Harry exchanges a nervous glance and a nod with each of the champions before they enter the tent together. "Ah, there you are!" Bagman cheers good-naturedly as soon as he sees them. Harry really wants to punch him. He is so obnoxiously cheerful about sending them to their potential deaths. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"
They all take a seat, each quirking an eyebrow in eerie synchrony as if to say, 'Well, go on then.' Bagman stutters slightly as he continues, "W-Well, now that you're all here, I suppose I should fill you in! Once our audience has arrived, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag." Bagman holds up a small, purple bag and shakes it around idly. "From which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are, er, different varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too… What was it again? Ah, yes! Your primary task is to collect the golden egg!"
This is stupid. This is so stupid, and Harry is going to cry. Cedric looks like he's going to be sick, Fleur's fingers are twitching in barely restrained fury, and Viktor's eyes are glinting with something dark and immensely displeased. It doesn't make this situation any better, it doesn't make this situation anything less than the literal worst-case scenario, but it makes him feel a bit less alone, nonetheless. At least they have a plan. Harry may have actually keeled over on the spot if this was dropped on him unexpectedly.
There is something immensely disconcerting about hearing so many people walking past their tent laughing and talking like this is just another day. His brain just can't quite connect that image with the fact that he's going to stare death in the face today. He can't understand why anyone would be happy about what's happening here today.
It hardly feels like any time at all before Bagman opens the bag that will seal their fates. "Ladies first," he says while holding it out to Fleur. Her hand is trembling slightly as she reaches inside, pulling out a tiny, perfect model of a Welsh Green with the number two hanging around its neck. She immediately grimaces, casting a glance back in Harry's direction. Despite Viktor's belief that he would have the best chance of talking to one of the two more dangerous dragons, it's clear that she was hoping he'd get that one. Cedric doesn't look particularly happy about this turn of events either.
Fleur's eyes sharpen as she asks Bagman, "Are we allowed to trade with other champions?"
"I'm afraid not, my girl! Whichever one you draw is the one you go against; that's part of the rules. Though really, you certainly won't find an easier dragon to face than this one… Ah, perhaps that's it! You wish to have a better chance to prove yourself? This will still be plenty impressive, and there are always the other tasks!" Bagman reassures her, and Fleur's face grows more sour by the second. It's obvious that she doesn't think much of his intelligence, but honestly, neither does Harry.
Bagman lifts the bag toward Viktor, but he shakes his head and says, "I vill go last. Harry should draw next." Bagman looks vaguely confused by that, but he obliges him easily enough, holding the bag out to Harry instead with little more than a shrug. Harry gives Viktor a wobbly, appreciative smile, grateful that he's giving him even a few moments of extra time to fine-tune his plan based on what dragon he picks. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and reaches toward the bag.
Harry's hand barely gets through the ring of fabric before something sharp pierces his finger, and he yelps as he draws his hand back out. His startled expression swiftly shifts into one of resignation when he sees the model of a Hungarian Horntail latched onto his finger, the number four swinging tauntingly from its neck.
Viktor grimaces, Cedric curses under his breath, and Fleur looks like she's about to set this whole tent on fire. Harry just steps back with a sigh. "Why is my luck so awful? Why?" he whispers despairingly.
"Bad luck there, Harry!" Bagman pats him on the shoulder in a poor attempt at consolation. It's rather undermined by the excited glint in his eyes. "But what a wonderful show that will be!"
"Are you out of your mind?!" Fleur snaps. And woah, are her fingernails getting sharper, or is he just imagining things? "'E is only fourteen, and 'e didn't choose to be part of zis! Zere is nothing entertaining about it! 'Orntails are deadly, and dangerous, and 'e is only a child! You will let us trade!!"
Bagman pales slightly, taking a step back with his hands raised in surrender. "I really can't let you! The goblet will bind both your magic and his if you try. The lottery aspect is part of the original tournament rules, so it's not flexible. Besides, he's the Boy-Who-Lived! He'll be fine." Bagman waves his hand dismissively, and that has Viktor scowling even deeper. Fleur looks like she's about to march forward and snap Bagman's neck, but Cedric manages to hold her back. Barely. A quiet screech of frustration escapes her throat, but Fleur eventually settles into simply leveling Bagman with a glare that would have him dropping dead in a heartbeat if she was part basilisk instead of part veela.
Cedric draws the Short-Snout, giving him the dubious pleasure of going first, and Viktor ends up drawing the Chinese Fireball, which has the number three hanging around its neck. Bagman keeps a safe distance from Fleur at all times, and his eyes never quite leave her trembling form.
Bagman isn't particularly bright, but even he can see that she's shaking with rage, not fear.
"W-Well, there you are! 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, you see?" No shit. They're not stupid. "Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment. Because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, so just go out there when you hear a whistle, alright? Now… Harry? Could I have a quick word? Outside?"
"I'll pass." He stares Bagman down until he finally gets the hint and leaves, running faster when the first whistle blows well before he's rejoined the crowd.
"Well, that's me then, isn't it?" Cedric shakes his head with a nervous laugh. "Just gotta make sure I don't get burned. Thanks for letting me borrow your broom, Harry."
"Anytime! Good luck out there."
"'Old on a moment!" Fleur says before silently casting a spell on Cedric with a wink. "Flame-Freezing Charm. The rules say we cannot bring anything but our wands with us, but zere is nothing saying we cannot apply spells before ze task. Or zat we 'ave to cast it ourselves. It won't make you immune to a dragon's fire, but," Fleur shrugs as an odd, trilling laugh rumbles in the back of her throat. "It should 'elp."
"Thanks, Fleur!" Cedric calls out as he runs out of the tent, knowing that people will start asking questions if he takes too long. Fleur then applies the spell to herself, Viktor, and Harry with a smug, self-satisfied grin.
"Are you sure?" Viktor questions quietly. "Vhat are you going to do if you get vorn out during the task?"
"Fire-related spells are easy for me," Fleur explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You know zat. The Flame-Freezing Charm is included in zat category, and I 'ave a natural resistance anyway. I was able to go light on myself. 'Ypnotizing the Welsh Green should not be 'ard, and I won't get ze chance to come back and apply it after I go."
"Thanks, Fleur," Harry murmurs with a faint smile. Viktor only grunts, but he's got a faint grin tugging at his lips too. What's Harry so nervous about? He's not facing this alone at all, really, and he's survived every other encounter that's been thrown at him so far with far less help than he's received for this.
A nesting Horntail isn't exactly an easy thing to handle, but neither was the basilisk. Harry's going to ignore the fact that he almost died in the Chamber of Secrets. It's best not to think about that right now.
Just sitting and waiting while his friends are in danger is the worst feeling in the world. Every scream and cheer of the crowd has him tensing, and Bagman's commentary certainly does not help. Harry tries to tune it out, but he's not very successful. Finally, about ten minutes later, he hears the deafening roar of an enraged dragon.
"Very good indeed!" Bagman cheers. "You can see the Seeker in him! That flying… And now, the marks from the judges!"
Harry supposes that they must be holding up scorecards when nothing but silence follows, then, after a few painfully long moments, they hear the cheering of the crowd. A whistle comes shortly after. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"
Fleur marches out of the tent with her head held high and a fist clenched around her wand. He really hopes that the Welsh Green is easy to hypnotize, for the dragon's sake. Fleur's scary when she's angry. Harry's just glad that she's angry for him, not at him.
It's barely three minutes later when the whistle blows again. Bagman is still spluttering in shock when Viktor walks out of the tent. From the sounds of it, Viktor has a much harder time with his dragon than Fleur did with hers, but that's to be expected when he's up against a Chinese Fireball. The Firebolt is fast, but the Fireball is faster, and Harry can hear the 'oohs' and 'aahs' of the crowd that follow what he can only assume to be several close calls. But fifteen minutes later, Viktor secures his egg and the whistle blows one final time.
He expects to feel panic then, but the lingering nerves that have been haunting his every step ever since his name came out of the Goblet of Fire are nowhere to be found. He just feels… Numb. He's not sure that it's a good thing.
Harry steps out of the tent. His hand is oddly steady as he walks forward, staring at the behemoth of a dragon before him with grim concentration. He tunes out the crowd as he strains his ears, listening to her rumbling growls and, if he focuses hard enough, the hissing that underlies them. It's very difficult for him to understand her. It sounds like she's saying words he should know the meaning of with such a heavy accent that he can't understand her anyway. But he can pick up a few words.
"Eggs… Kill…! Away!!"
Harry keeps a safe distance between himself and the dragon, eyeing the chains that tether her to the earth with no small amount of relief. This is doable. He has to stay far, far away from her to stay out of the range of her fire, but this should work. He takes a deep breath, raises his wand to his throat, and says, "Sonorus!"
The crowd watches on, curious about what he's planning to do, and a small smirk tugs at his lips as he says, "Forgive me, Great Mother. I don't want to be here any more than you do." The crowd gasps sharply, but he tunes out their muttering and surprised shouts as he locks eyes with the dragon standing before him. "The wizards have placed a false egg in your nest. I need only retrieve it before I can leave. I can stay far away from you and your eggs, and you can check them to make sure I'm telling the truth. Is this acceptable to you?"
Giant, yellow eyes even bigger than his head stare him down. The dragon seems to understand something of what he's saying, but… "Protect eggs! Away! Away!!" Not enough to understand that he isn't threatening her. Harry heaves out a sigh.
"Quietus," he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck with a groan. He was really hoping that he wouldn't have to do this, but needs must and all of that. "Dobby!"
And the sweet, rabidly protective house elf that is his best friend does not even blink at the sight of the Horntail. He merely looks at Harry, ignoring the outraged shouts just as easily as he is, and asks, "What does Dobby's greatest friend Harry be needing him to do?"
"I have to get the fake, golden egg that they hid with all her real ones. Do you think you can do that?" Dobby nods enthusiastically, ears flapping in the wind. "Thank you. Just be careful, okay? Do whatever you need to do to make it safe for yourself."
"Dobby can be putting mama dragon to sleep," his loyal friend says, and with a snap of his fingers, the Horntail begins swaying in place. It doesn't take very long for her to close her eyes, rumbling snores escaping her throat with puffs of smoke and flame. "Dobby is being right back!" And in the blink of an eye, Dobby disappears and reappears with a golden egg nearly as large as he is cradled in his hands. "Here you be going!"
Harry accepts the egg with a grateful smile. He hasn't even been standing here for two whole minutes. "You're the best, Dobby."
Dobby shuffles back and forth shyly. "So is you, Dobby's greatest friend Harry!"
"This is an outrage!" Karkaroff yells so loudly that he has to be using the Amplifying Charm. Harry refuses to believe otherwise. "Using his house elf in the tournament is against the rules! He's only allowed his wand and what he can get with it!"
"Dobby is being a free elf!" his friend declares, loud and proud for the whole stadium to hear. "And Harry is being his friend! There is no rules saying he cannot be asking for help from friends, only teachers! Dobby be checking! He be breaking no rules because Dobby is not being a thing!!"
Karkaroff's face steadily grows redder and redder as Dobby scolds him, standing defiantly at Harry's side. Bagman clears his throat, stuttering, "W-Well, it's certainly unconventional, but so long as he still has access to his magic, it's not against the rules…"
Harry thinks of the feeling of absolute joy and longing he felt when Sirius offered him a home. He thinks of Fleur's dedicated training and how she never gives up on him, working with him until they figured out the best way to help the information stick. He thinks of Viktor promising to make sure he got out of this alive, and he thinks of the risk he took in teaching him a few dubiously legal curses, at least in Britain, to ensure that outcome. He thinks of Cedric's staunch defense of him to his own housemates, refusing to let up until they agreed to let things go back to normal, even if some of them do still believe that Harry entered himself in the tournament.
"Expecto Patronum!" A brilliant, white stag leaps from his wand, cantering around him in wide circles as he tosses his head about. He pauses once he's certain that there's no danger to be found, turning and tilting his head at Harry in a silent question. "No danger. Sorry, Prongs. Just proving a point."
Prongs snorts, he can certainly see it for all that his Patronus doesn't make a sound, and dips his head in a regal bow before disappearing entirely. Dumbledore looks torn between being pleased and worried about this turn of events, and the rest of the judges look utterly dumbfounded as Harry quirks an eyebrow at them and asks, "That proof enough for you?"
Harry doesn't wait for an answer. He promptly turns around, not caring one whit about Bagman crying out about the scores, and walks over to the first-aid tent as Dobby waves farewell and pops away. Fleur and Cedric are both shockingly okay, but Viktor does have a nasty gash on his side.
"You vere a huge help," Viktor murmurs as Madam Pomfrey flutters around him, muttering about dragons beneath her breath. "Thank you, Fleur. I vould have been toast without you."
"Of course! We're friends, non? We should all 'elp each other where we can."
"Harry!" Cedric cries out when he finally spots him, checking him over for injuries before Madam Pomfrey even gets the chance. Harry can't help laughing at his immediate mother-henning. "Are you okay? We heard a lot of yelling."
"Yeah, I'm fine," he promises. "Didn't even get a scratch. Everyone was freaked out about me talking to her, and then they got pissed about Dobby helping me. Karkaroff tried to say I broke the rules, but I summoned my Patronus and shut them all up about that. It was really funny."
"I am so glad zat you are alright!" Fleur cries out, pressing a kiss against each of his cheeks before wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "I was so worried when you pulled out zat awful 'Orntail. I cannot believe–!"
Bagman bursts into the tent, red-faced and panting as he says, "Harry, your score…!"
Harry heaves out a weary sigh that makes Bagman splutter in disbelief. "I don't give a toss about my score. I'm not trying to win. The task is over, so leave me alone."
Madam Pomfrey scowls fiercely before ushering Bagman back outside. "I will not have you disturbing my patients!"
"The boy is fine!"
"He said no! And I have half a mind to rip into you myself for this. Dragons, of all things…! And nesting mothers, no less!! Of all the hare-brained, idiotic–!" Bagman beats a very swift retreat when he's faced with the full extent of Madam Pomfrey's fury, and the anger practically melts off of her face as soon as he's gone. She barely stifles a laugh at their dumbfounded expressions before shooting them a wink. "I was opposed to having this tournament at all. More ego than common sense, the whole lot of them. It was canceled for a reason, and it should have stayed that way." Madam Pomfrey's smile softens as she glances over at Viktor and says, "You should be just fine if you allow yourself a couple of days of rest. Dragon claws are nothing to be trifled with, so don't push it before then, understand?"
Viktor immediately dips his head in a nod. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good." Madam Pomfrey returns the gesture with one of her own, looking Harry over and murmuring, "And Mr. Potter? I do hope that I don't have to see you in my wing this year. You end up in there entirely too often for my liking."
"I'll do my best," Harry murmurs with a sheepish grin.
He feels like he could sleep for a solid week. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey is only able to hold Bagman off for so long before he insists on having a conversation with all four of the champions back in the original tent. The four of them make their way towards it together, and Harry notices Hermione and Ron standing to the side, looking proud and hesitant and so many emotions that he can't be bothered to keep sifting through right now. He looks away. Maybe, just maybe, if he gets an apology from them both, he'll be able to forgive them, but he'll never be able to forget how they abandoned him when he needed them most. He'll never be able to trust them again, not like he used to. It's a bit sad, but…
Harry looks all around him, and the champions are shielding him from everyone's view again. They instinctively slow their pace to make it easy for him to match it, and he has never felt more valued or respected by anyone in his life. He has never felt like this with Ron and Hermione. Certainly not when Ron and his fits of jealousy always made Harry feel so guilty about having money, money that his once friend refused to let Harry share with him out of stubborn pride, that he kept wearing Dudley's old cast-offs beneath his robes during the school year. Certainly not when Hermione bulldozed over Harry's efforts to study in his own way, by focusing on the practical part and working his way back to the theory since that's what usually works best for him, and insisted that she knew what was best for him.
They're not bad people. Harry knows that. They've both been there for him through some truly terrible things, and they're keeping secrets for him, even now, that could easily get him in a lot of trouble. Ron is still the person who asked his brothers to help save Harry from the Dursleys. He's still the person who stood by his side when everyone discovered that Harry is a Parselmouth, regardless of the fact that he hates snakes. Hermione is still the person who lied to protect them when they saved her from a troll in first year. She's still the person who set Snape's robes on fire because she thought it would save Harry when Quirrell was jinxing him. They're both still the people who sent him food over the breaks and made sure he didn't starve during the summer months.
But they're both still so… childish. Sheltered, in a way. Ron goes home to a family that loves and cares for him so much that it hurts Harry's heart to even watch it. To see how much he takes it for granted. It's hard to believe that Ron is jealous of Harry when he has everything that Harry ever could have wished for. Hermione's trust in authority figures is steadfast and unwavering despite how many times the adults at Hogwarts have proven untrustworthy. She's naive.
And Harry has never had that luxury. He's always been painfully aware of just how cruel the world can be, and he's always known that those with power cradled in the palms of their hands are more likely to abuse it than not. Dumbledore is his magical guardian. He keeps sending him back to the Dursleys even though he begged him to… 'Don't think about it. Don't think about it. There's nothing I can do.'
Ron and Hermione aren't bad people. They aren't even bad friends, really. But… maybe they've never really been all that similar after all. Maybe they all just… latched onto each other to deal with terrible circumstances that no one else understood. Maybe they were shaped by blood and tears and fear that eventually crumbled away beneath the pressure of it all. 'One time too many, huh…?' Maybe Hermione had a point.
Maybe their friendship has always been destined to fall apart.
Harry is jolted back into the present when Bagman starts speaking, startled to realize that they'd walked all the way back to the champions' tent without him realizing. "Well done, all of you! Now, just a quick few words. We've got a nice, long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth, but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're holding there, you'll see that they open. See the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg! That will tell you what the second task is and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go then!"
They barely make it five steps away from the tent before Skeeter is crowding around them. Her eyes have locked onto Harry, as if the other champions aren't standing right there with him with fierce glares fixed on all of their faces, as she says, "Congratulations, Harry! I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How did you feel facing that dragon? How do you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring? How do you feel about having the same gift as You-Know-Who?"
None of them stop moving, but Harry can't quite resist the urge to look over his shoulder and toss back, "Yeah, you can have a word. Goodbye! Feel free to quote me on that."