Unofficial Portkey Archive

Hermione detested large group meetings. Often, they would devolve into a sounding board for grievances against one another instead of actually developing a solution. There was too much politics involved. A solution couldn't be presented because it would offend another person's ideas. Credit for an answer would be taken by the person least deserving of it. It was a chaotic mess that could often be simplified by not having the meeting at all.

When Cedric Diggory asked each of the champions in person to meet at the unused Astronomy tower, Hermione suspected the worst.

She arrived at the astronomy tower thirty minutes ahead of time. Considering it was unlikely anyone else was there, she waited another fifteen minutes before entering the tower. Opening the door, she was surprised to find Cedric already present. He was levitating the thirteen chairs around the circular table he managed to fit in the small tower. As he lowered the last seat, he noticed Hermione standing in the doorway and smiled at her.

"Your reputation precedes you, Hermione," Cedric said.

"And what reputation is that?" Hermione asked.

Intelligent. Aloof. Bitch.

He pointed at her and flashed that million Galleon smile again. "Harry always said you were the most prepared dueler he ever encountered."

Wrong.

Harry thinks I focus on the minutiae of logistics and spellwork instead of dynamism and flexibility. Of course, it's a lot easier to say that when you can perform wandless magic.

"Even Harry gets things right sometimes," she said, not bothering to correct him.

"I have a feeling he gets things right more than he gets things wrong. He even manages to worm himself into conversations when he's not even here. Forgive me. I don't think we've ever properly met. Cedric Diggory."

He walked towards her and stuck out his hand in a very proper greeting. Hermione had a feeling he would have a very firm grip; such was the approach of the Alpha. She extended her hand and accepted the handshake.

Correct.

Cedric disengaged and waved his arm over the table. "Come take a seat. I suspect we won't be seeing the others for another few minutes unless someone else decided to be very punctual."

Unlikely. I actually arrived here fifteen minutes ago.

Hermione chose the seat at the three o'clock spot of the table. She preferred having her back to the wall and enjoyed the scenic view of the Forbidden Forest. From her seat, she could see the canopy of the large forest and the mountains that stretched out behind it. It was a sunny day, unusually warm for November, and there was very little wind, even in the Astronomy tower. Summoning one of her leather bound journals from her bag, Hermione placed it atop the table and opened to a specific page.

The page in question had specific notes and details on every Hogwarts champion. It had taken some time to collect all of the information, but if they were going to fight together for this tournament, then she wanted to know all of their strengths and weaknesses. Every free hour for the better part of two weeks had been devoted to this vast array of notes. Hermione had categorized all of their fighting abilities as well as ranking them as a way of deciding who was going to be most useful.

First on her list was the person sitting across from her.

"What do you have there?" he asked.

She didn't know whether it was small talk or if he was genuinely interested in her notes. Her default mode was not to trust anyone's motives, so she responded, "Just some notes and questions I wrote down for this meeting."

He raised his eyebrows as he tried to read the journal upside down. "That's a lot of notes and questions for one meeting."

"Well, I do like to come prepared. I'm good at that. What are you good at?"

"That much I can see," Cedric said with a wry smile. "I'm a pretty good flier. Shame they don't have Quidditch here anymore though. Do you have any questions for me while we're waiting?"

How did you learn the Patronus Charm at age fifteen? Why do you tend to use Expelliarmus instead of Stupefy? Against Marcus Flint last year, you used a spell that conjured a giant ball of water that enveloped the Slytherin. Natural element conjuration isn't taught at Hogwarts. Where did you learn that? You increased your use of non-verbal spells almost 63% from last year. Was there an epiphany you had regarding non-verbals?

"Do you think we stand a chance of winning?" Hermione asked instead.

"I think we have a very strong group and if we work together, there's no reason for us not to win."

Hedging. Why is he hedging? No point in saying maybe.

Hermione nodded as if she accepted his answer and returned to her notes. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Hermione reviewed each of the champions. After a while, she noticed that Cedric was steadfastly staring at her. Without looking up, she asked, "What is it?"

He squinted at her, cocking his head as he examined the top of her head since she was still reading from her journal. "Are you sure you're not a Ravenclaw? I've never known a Gryffindor to be so…"

"Studious?" Hermione finished.

"I was going to say serious. Then again, maybe I just think all Gryffindors are like Fred and George."

Wrong.

Fred and George can be serious when they want to. They're an ambitious pair with plenty of postgraduate ideas. They could also be very cruel.

In her experience with pranksters in Muggle primary schools, there was an always undercurrent of cruelty in their jokes. They were just as likely to laugh at their victim as well as laughing with them. She remembered a time when Fred and George snuck a few spiders into one of Ron's backpacks, causing the second youngest Weasley to scream in terror in the Common Room. Fred and George were smart enough to know Ron's obvious inferiority complex, so why did they go out of their way to embarrass him in public? Perhaps it was a sibling relationship she didn't understand, but Hermione found it cruel and unnecessary.

On cue, the twins arrived, boisterously loud and obnoxious as usual. Lee Jordan and Stephen Stebbins entered after them, raising the count to six champions. They took their seats in a cluster near Cedric.

"Lo, Hermione!" Fred said. He had a slightly longer face than his brother. It was easy to distinguish which twin it was after spending so much time with them.

She nodded back at him, content to keep her silence for the time being. The five boys exchanged some talk about Quidditch teams that didn't interest her. A few minutes passed until the door opened again. This time, Marietta Edgecombe and Cho Chang walked into the room, Angelina Johnson and Roger Davies not far behind. They all talked amongst themselves, excluding her from the conversation.

They're more comfortable with each other. That means they're going to reinforce each other when it comes time to do the tasks in the tournament.

Stephen Stebbins, Heather Locklear, and Marcus Belby were the next trio to join their meeting. Marcus, the Ravenclaw only a year ahead of her, politely nodded at Hermione as he took the seat beside her. That left the only seat to be between her and Cho.

Belby has an affinity for Potions. He was able to produce an Endless Fire potion within a House match that got him in trouble with Snape in his Third Year. However, he's not a particularly skilled duelist, barely managing a positive win rate in individual duels. No malintent detected in his spell pool.

Seven at night was their proposed meeting time and it wasn't until five minutes past that Harry finally appeared. He burst through the door as if he had ran up the whole flight of stairs. The dozen people turned to look at the Bringer of Lightning and he took a second to catch his breath. The only path to the empty seat required him to walk around the circular table. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Fred nudge George in the arm right before Harry sat down.

No.

The chair collapsed beneath Harry and engulfed him in colorful, conjured feathers. He took a second as the feathers fluttered to the ground, artfully gathering around him. Marietta guffawed loudly at Harry's plight while the others barely contained their laughter. George look at Fred with feigned seriousness and said, "Looks like our poor Slytherin here has gotten himself in a bit of a...hairy situation."

"Really?" Fred said rhetorically. "They're feathers. That doesn't make any sense. You couldn't have just conjured a bunch of hair?"

"I went for the dramatic effect." George shrugged.

Cedric cut them off. "Alright, enough."

Harry muttered an Evanesco to clean himself up and restored his chair as well. Hermione blinked as she saw him wave his hand instead of his wand to fix his chair with a simple Reparo. Judging by the lack of incredulity from everyone else, she must have been the only one who noticed.

More wandless magic, Harry? You've been busy.

Harry looked quite tired, the dark circles only one symptom of his fatigue. She had rarely seen him in the past week, even when she summoned him through the coin. His response was that he had some extra classes with Trow and when she pressed him for more information, Harry had been slow to respond. Even now, he was late to the meeting. It also never ceased to amaze her how cruel others could be. Fred and George must have been planning to prank Harry before they even entered the room and while they played it off as a joke, there was an implied warning to the lone Slytherin: your past achievements mean nothing here.

Cedric stood to address everyone. "I called this meeting so we can get a sense of each other and try to understand our strengths and weaknesses."

I can tell you every one of them for each person at this table.

"We're going to be in this together and there are going to be some dangerous tasks ahead. Whatever goes on at Hogwarts with everything stays in the Room. I've looked at Durmstrang and Beauxbatons and while they don't go through day to day training like us, they are far less fragmented. They deal with each other on a more regular basis, so I think we should start learning and even training with each other."

Harry's training ideas.

"Kind of packs our schedule, doesn't it?" Roger asked.

Cedric nodded. "Yes. They don't separate the students into Houses, so they have a lot of familiarity with each other. They also don't have the sort of competition we have here. I think all of you know what I'm getting at…"

The Hufflepuff had certainly done his homework. Hermione had reached the same conclusions when she began her initial research on the two other schools before they even arrived at Hogwarts. That Cedric would be so bold as to imply their rivalries would hinder them was quite a progressive step.

"Good thing there's only one Slytherin here, right?" Marietta said.

Harry barely bristled at the insult. In fact, it was as if he hadn't heard her at all. He was staring at the forest, a heavy look on his face. When everyone swiveled to him for an expected response, Harry blinked and looked around at everyone.

"Um...sure...yeah," he stuttered.

"Looks like Harry took a...fall," George said.

"Still not funny," Fred followed up.

"Point proven," Cedric said, throwing a disappointed look at Marietta, Fred, and George. "We're not going to win if we spend the whole time sniping at each other. At the end of the day, the only people who are going to be able to help you is everyone in this room. So whatever happens here, I think we should put all of that behind us when we step in for one of the tasks."

"Good speech, Ced, but do you have anything else besides some motivational sayings?" Roger leaned back in his chair, distinctly unimpressed.

"I actually do," Cedric answered. "We need to find out what the First Task is. Any advantage is going to be invaluable. We only have a week until the First Task and we don't know a single thing about it. Does anyone know anything about it?"

When no one answered, Cedric nodded. "I thought as much. That should be our first goal: find anything on the First Task."

They exchanged some more theories on what exactly the First Task was going to be, but it was plainly evident that no one had an inkling of what it actually was. Hermione tuned most of it out, instead focusing on possible leads on how to find any information on the task. Cedric was right in this respect; if they didn't know anything about the First Task, they would likely lose.

The meeting adjourned quickly after that and the group prepared to disband. Hermione performed a nonverbal spell under the table and slowly packed her things, feigning normalcy. When Fred stood up, everyone heard the loud tear of fabric ripping as the bottoms of his pants remained stuck on the chair. To his credit, the Gryffindor didn't even blush and took it in stride.

Tit for tat.

"I think you've left your pants, Fred," George commented.

"I knew I shouldn't have eaten all those Sticky Samplers!"

There would be retribution, no doubt, but Hermione couldn't let them go unchecked. A little bit of humility was good for everyone.

Especially for Fred and George.

Unfortunately, their target would be Harry and not her. Already, she could see the gears turning in their head as the twins always wanted the last word. Harry barely laughed and didn't say a word. Sparing Fred a cursory glance, he rushed off to the exit. Annoyed that he did not even show the slightest bit of gratitude for the revenge she extracted, Hermione quickly followed him.

She made sure to keep some distance away from him at first, not wanting others to cotton on to the fact that they were more than classmates. Ducking her head and pretending to read and walk, Hermione made sure to keep him one turn ahead and ensured that no one was tailing her as well. When the coast was clear, she darted forward to catch up with Harry.

"You're welcome," she said.

"Wasn't asking for your help."

Back to enemies, then.

"You've been ignoring me," Hermione stated, walking with him as they descended a set of stairs.

"I've been busy," Harry countered.

"Taking on some extra work?"

She knew that he had been up to something in his spare time. A secretive glance at his schedule during breakfast on a previous morning revealed an additional class after dinner time. There was no designation of what type of class it would be, so she had followed him one night and found him to be the only participant of said class. Was he receiving private lessons with Trow?

Harry shot her a look full of warning. "Is there something you want?"

"This board room project was your idea and you haven't been responding to me. Luna and I have made some promising breakthroughs, so it would be nice to at least get some confirmation that we should continue on."

"Yeah, keep doing it. We'll talk more after the First Task." Harry attempted to walk away and end the conversation, but she reached out and grabbed his wrist.

Hermione felt him flinch and guilt washed over her for surprising him. Since they had formed their quasi-friendship, she had learned that he did not like being touched unexpectedly. Hermione suspected it had something to do with the abuse from his uncle. Putting on a cool face, she probed, "Are you going to be able to do this? You don't seem very focused."

Harry looked at her, but he wasn't really seeing her. She searched his eyes, but his mind was far away, even with their close proximity. Standing so close to him reminded her of how short he was. He was just an inch or two taller than her and they had reached the age where some of the boys were beginning to fill their frame. It was strange that such a great wizard was so diminutive but perhaps her notions of what a great wizard should be were all wrong.

"I'll be ready," he responded.

He had always come through before, but Hermione had a sinking feeling that there was something amiss with this Slytherin.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Three days passed without any progress on finding out what the First Task would be. Hermione, for her part, paid attention to conversations between professors, but she found nothing abnormal. They would obviously be the last people to divulge the details of the First Task, but any little clue could be pivotal.

As she marched the winding staircase to Theory, Hermione found herself annoyed that none of the other Hogwarts champions had found anything else either. She tried approaching the First Task like another session of Battle class, but she liked having the information in front of her. It was preferable to have a main plan and then other subsidiaries from it when the inevitable chaos of battle occurred.

How am I supposed to put together a plan when I don't know anything?

The thought had crossed her mind a few days prior, so she decided to take a different tack. If no one could find anything on the First Task, then she would at least start learning what she could from her opponents. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were the obvious leaders of their respective schools. Reading up on Veelas, Hermione found that they had some powerful magic. Yet, Fleur would only have a fraction of those powers as she was only a quarter-Veela.

Unsurprisingly, there were long sections detailing Veelas and their affinity with sex magic. Hermione only skimmed through these sections as she wouldn't personally have to deal with them. Other abilities included their already infamous ability to attract men as well as natural flight. Only time would tell whether Fleur could perform the latter.

Disappointingly, most articles about Viktor Krum only covered his Quidditch exploits. There was very little she could glean except for the fact that Krum was a fantastic flyer. If there was an opportunity for him to exploit that skill, he would no doubt take it, but seeing as how she was a terrible flyer, Hermione found no reason to read any more about him. She would certainly not try to out-fly Krum.

She was the first to arrive to the classroom besides Flamel. The only furniture in the room were five chairs and a device in the corner. It resembled a windmill with a crystal ball at the end of the swinging arm. It moved in a methodical circular manner, the room lighting up whenever the sun struck the crystal ball.

"Good morning, Hermione," Flamel said.

"Professor," she responded.

There were five minutes before class was supposed to start, and the other three had made a habit of arriving right on time and never earlier. She sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence, the wind whistling through the tower. Flamel looked at her and gestured towards the device.

"Care to take a guess?" he asked.

Everything with Flamel seemed to be a test, so she sat up and started analyzing the object. There was nothing particularly special about it. The stand and the arm looked to be made of gold, while the orb was crystal. It could have several magical properties, but the most pertinent question to ask was: what was the purpose of the circular motion?

Her first thought was that it generated energy and the subsequent energy could be focused onto the crystal ball. Luna had discovered that crystal was important for creating projections and images, so perhaps the device was some sort of projector. That was one theory, at least. Hermione gave herself one more minute to respond.

If it's not a projector, then perhaps it is used as a shield. Any spell could be blocked when it reaches the approximate radius and focuses on the crystal. Hermione realized she was grasping at straws without any clues, much like her search for information on the First Task.

"It could be a projector of sorts. Crystals have been known for their usefulness in creating holograms," she answered.

Flamel nodded, stroking his extensive mane. "Interesting."

And that was all he said.

The door opened and the other three shuffled in. Harry took his customary seat next to her and she could detect the slump in his shoulders out of the corner of her eye. Still down, she thought. All eyes were on Flamel as he balanced himself on just the two legs of his chair. He gestured around them and asked, "Can anyone tell me what you have learned in this class so far?"

You have an affinity for chairs.

"We have limits to our magic," Susan answered.

"Yes you do," Flamel confirmed. "Do not let that scare you. Knowing your limits is important. Your body is specially attuned to your magic. I assume you have all learned about the Unforgivables?"

Four nods confirmed that fact.

"So can anyone tell me why everyone wouldn't just use the Killing Curse in a duel to the death? It is unblockable and guarantees an instant death. Why wouldn't you just use that?"

"Well...it's an Unforgivable," Terry stated, "It's punishable by death."

"Surely, someone looking to kill another wizard would not care. After all, it is only punishable if he is caught. There are other reasons, Terry. Think again."

"Professor Moody described it as an abomination," Susan said.

"But why?"

It was Harry who provided the first acceptable answer. "It directly attacks magic, doesn't it?"

"And why is that?" Flamel continued to prod.

"Well, that's how it has to kill people," Harry said slowly, "the spell has to attack the person's magic instead of the body. How else could it kill so instantly?"

Even when he's down, Harry still gets the right answers. She hated when someone else answered correctly first.

"The Killing Curse seeks to destroy magic. It is unnatural for magic to be removed from this Earth. It upsets the balance and do not underestimate the need for the world to balance. Point and counterpoint, yin and yang, whatever you think it may be; magic has a need for balance."

"But why?" Hermione parroted Flamel's earlier question. "It doesn't make sense that there's an innate need for balance. What requires magic to be balanced?"

"It is the way of the world. There are many names for the study of it but consider everything around you. Magic is not an ethereal force that is pulled out of nothingness to create spells. It exists in a constant state that can be added and subtracted. Think of a rock displacing water. The water has to go somewhere, does it not? Magic operates in much the same manner. When you levitate a chair, can you do it infinitely?"

Of course, they couldn't.

"The magic has to go somewhere. The Killing Curse is effective because it destroys the magic within the host. Every being has the smallest ounce of magic, whether they know it or not. We wizards and witches just happen to have more than most."

"So Muggles can do magic?" Terry asked.

"Muggles have an infinitesimal amount of magic. Not enough for them to ever conjure a spell even under the most dire of circumstances. Yet, there is enough so that if you wished to cast the Killing Curse, it would end their life. The same is true of wizards and witches except that our bodies react more violently to even the slightest losses of magic. You can feel it when you overexert yourself, can't you?"

Four nods answered his question.

"So how does the Killing Curse work? We have established that magic needs to be balanced. We have established that the Killing Curse seeks to destroy the magic within a host. How does the spell work?"

Think.

If magic always had to be balanced and the Killing Curse aimed to destroy magic, then it would stand to reason that either magic had to be created during the spell or some form of magic. Flamel did not negate the supposition that two equal losses of magic could also keep it balanced. Arithmancy used to be a course in Hogwarts before the transformation. Hermione wondered if it dealt with the numerology of keeping magic even.

Destroy magic and create magic. Destroy magic and destroy magic.

The latter would be the more malevolent act. Moody described the curse as unnatural and an abomination. If the Killing Curse resulted in the destruction of magic, then magic also had to be destroyed from the caster.

"Does it take magic from the caster? Destroys it at the source in order to destroy the magic within the target?" Hermione proposed.

Flame balanced himself on one leg of the chair now, an increasingly precarious position that defied gravity. He was staring at the spinning contraption in the corner of the room and Hermione continued to wonder whether or not the object had any relevance to this lesson.

"On the right track. But wizards don't lose magic when they perform the Killing Curse, do they? There have been plenty of dark wizards and witches over time that have used the curse and there have been no signs of them losing power after they kill someone. So, again, how does it work?"

How am I supposed to know how it works if I can't ever cast it?

Susan and Terry were pretending to think of a solution, but Hermione knew when others were stalling for an answer. They had no idea. Hemming and hawing, shifting around in their seats, the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were no closer than Hermione to discovering how the Killing Curse worked.

"Anyone?"

Flamel leaned back on his chair as he asked the question. He seemed to have a rather lazy approach to asking these questions as if the Killing Curse weren't particularly important. Hermione hated classes like Flamel's; they were full of hypotheticals and theories with little references. Was she supposed to take Flamel's word on everything he said? How could she possibly verify it?

"Maybe the Killing Curse temporarily takes away some of the magical ability of the caster?" Hermione took another stab. "Maybe it has a lingering effect on how powerful the caster's spells are? The destruction of the magic in the target is counterbalanced by a like displacement in the caster for an extended period of time."

Flamel shook his head, his pointed beard swaying back and forth. "You're thinking too much of the quantitative effects of balancing magic. It is not an equation, Hermione. When I speak of balancing, I do not mean that magic is assigned a number and the like number has to be added or subtracted to balance. It is much more complex than that."

"Then how are we supposed to know? You laid out the parameters that magic has to be balanced and the Killing Curse aims to destroy magic. How is there any other possibility besides the fact that magic has to be removed from the caster?" Hermione argued.

"It does something else to the caster," Harry interjected.

The three other legs of Flamel's chair slammed on the ground and he showed great dexterity by coming to his feet at the same time. Waving one hand towards the door, Flamel cast an unknown spell. Twisting in her seat, Hermione saw a thin layer of gray mold wrap around the doorframe.

Some variant of the Imperturbable Charm.

"Pay close attention to what I am about to say," Flamel instructed.

Pointing to the open windows of the tower, Flamel cast another spell that brought about the same gray mold. It enclosed the window, shutting out any light. He then lifted his hand with his palm facing upwards and gently blew into it. A fireball the size of a Quaffle appeared within his cupped palm, illuminating the room.

All wandless magic, Hermione marveled.

The fire in his hand was unnatural, never flickering. It cast a long shadow and slightly obscured Flamel. Terry shuffled in his seat while Susan gripped the edge of hers. Darkness was not something any of them were accustomed to. The bright lights and numerous candles of Hogwarts rarely left them sitting in the darkness. Harry, however, sat comfortably in his seat, almost embracing the blackness.

He can do that too.

But Harry's version of the glowing light spell drew from other lights within his vicinity. Hermione vividly remembered how the whole cave seemed darker when Harry wandlessly performed a Lumos. Flamel conjured the fireball out of his own magic, a much greater feat. In a sense, it was a perfect example of balancing. It gave even more validation that some sort of magic had to be deducted from the caster of the Killing Curse.

"Harry is right in that it does something else to the caster. Hermione, as always, was logically right in saying that it has to cost the caster something to perform the Killing Curse. Where she erred was the oversimplified thought that the Killing Curse could be reduced to an equation," Flamel said.

Never in her life had Hermione ever been referred to as overly simple.

"Then what does it do?" Hermione said with a bit of bite in her voice.

"One," Flamel said.

Flamel brought his right pointer finger close to the fireball floating in his left hand. A black spark jumped from his finger into the fireball. Though the light was bright, Hermione found no trouble in keeping her eyes on it. She could see black tendrils swirling within the orange light, little fingers that would rise and fall depending on the flames.

"Two."

Another spark jumped from his finger. More black tendrils this time, swirling in and out of view. It didn't yet consume the light, but the difference was noticeable. Dark magic.

"Three."

Jet black magic poured out from Flamel's fingertip as it consumed the ball of light. There was still a glow, but it was no longer bright and illuminating. Instead, it was a shadow that covered the room. The barest flicker of light flashed across the room and caught the steel of Harry's glasses. Sparing a glance, she looked at his green eyes.

They were mesmerized by the darkness.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tracey twirled a strand of her around her finger and released it, watching her hair spring from the tight coil. She sat in the Slytherin Common Room, waiting for Draco to come down from his dormitory. The rest of the Fourth Year Slytherins were scattered on the plush armchairs and deep carpets. Most were lounging around and playing idle games. Some were finishing homework and reviewing notes. Tracey was doing neither.

Madame Pomfrey had stressed the importance of creating an advanced potion for their end of year review. Scouring through her textbooks, Tracey found that a majority of the more advanced potions required various items that weren't actually available in Slughorn's stores. How am I supposed to create potions without ingredients?

She enjoyed the class, despite the challenges Pomfrey bestowed upon them. It was certainly more fulfilling than Battle or Strategy class. The more time she spent in those classes, the more she resented the obsessive competition it fostered. She still followed every order Harry gave her, but with each order he gave, Tracey felt more removed from him. Why couldn't things stay the same?

He was always going to leave you behind. She tried to shake the voice out of her head, but Tracey couldn't deny the truth of it. She wrapped another stray curl around her finger, pulling at it a little harder. Blaise plopped down beside her, occupying the rest of the long armchair. He was grinning, but the smile rarely reached his eyes these days.

"Galleon for your thoughts?" Blaise asked.

"They're not nearly that expensive," Tracey said.

The person that occupied her thoughts descended the staircase, his chin tucked into his chest. Tracey caught his green eyes as he turned his head slightly to address the rest of his classmates. Harry nodded at them, not speaking as he shuffled by.

"Commander," everyone murmured.

After Harry left, Pansy commented on his recent lack of communication. "What do you think is wrong with him?"

"He has a lot to deal with. Battle class. The First Task. All of the other tournament business. It's enough to make anyone crack." Tracey quickly rushed to his defense.

"He asks a lot of us. Maybe he should lay off for a while," Nott said.

"I have enjoyed not having the extra practices," Pansy added.

And we're suffering because of it. Two losses in a row in their recent classes was proof enough for Tracey. Harry was not his usual sharp self, missing obvious moves from Granger and Bones in their respective matches. Draco and Blaise could technically supercede his orders, but neither had corrected him when it was obvious he was making a mistake. Neither of them seemed to want to take charge.

"We will not lose." Blase mocked Harry's serious delivery, drawing a few chuckles from other Slytherins.

"I will obey," Pansy added.

They would often take to making a parody of Harry behind his back. For a while, no one did it out of fear of retribution from Harry. Blaise started it first, lightly joking about Harry's seriousness and poking fun of their relentless practice schedule. Tracey said nothing, not wanting to be the one who spoiled the fun. Inside, she burned with embarrassment for Harry.

"Can't believe that Mudblood beat us," Pansy said. "Even I knew it was pointless trying to go uphill against them. What was Potter thinking?"

"Potter wasn't thinking. He doesn't think straight against the Mudblood," Blaise said.

Stop it, Tracey thought. You're getting too close. She tried to catch his eye, but he ignored her. If they knew them, any remaining respect would be gone. Granger might not have been her favorite person, but she was Harry's friend. Tracey would not speak up against the rest of her class, but she would not abandon Harry just yet.

"She's such a fucking Mudblood, too. Can you believe how big her head has gotten ever since she got picked for the tournament? A Mudblood of all people!" Pansy said.

The moniker was widely used in private company. Granger, in particular, often drew the word Mudblood from the Slytherins. Tracey refrained from using it, but she was not above giving a chuckle if someone used it in a particularly amusement context. Now, though, it seemed too much. She hated feeling this way. Every emotion and reason compelled her to hate Granger, but right now, she pitied the Gryffindor.

"I'll say this," Blaise started, "we probably need to keep a better eye on what's going in Battle class. I don't know if we can trust Harry to be reliable the whole time."

Before anyone could interject, another voice cut in.

"Potter's still the Commander." Draco stood at the base of the stairs, an imperceptible look on his face.

"Since when have you been such as suck-up, Draco?" Pansy asked.

"As long as we keep on winning, Potter's still the Commander."

"As long as we keep on winning," Blaise repeated.

Draco still had a blank expression as the words hung heavily in the air between them. It was no secret that Blaise resented Draco for having a secondary leadership position even though Blaise was the one on the Leadership track. The contempt on his face was more expressive than Draco's simmer and it made Tracey uncomfortable. Not a few weeks ago, they were a House united under Harry's green lightning bolt. Now, they are acting like vipers.

Tracey stood up. "Draco, let's go."

"Late night date?" Blaise teased.

"Homework. Not that would you know what that is," Tracey said, shoving his shoulder.

Draco and Tracey had to be quiet as they approached the Hospital Wing. It was already after hours and what they were planning to do broke several rules. Still, Draco agreed that in order for them to get ahead in Medical, they would need to get access to ingredients that others did not have. Pomfrey kept her own personal store and Tracey had been a resident in the Hospital Wing enough to know that the mediwitch would leave the ward unattended if there were no patients. Unless something drastic happened in the four hours since dinner, it was unlikely there was anyone within the Hospital Wing.

Carefully now. Tracey poked her head around the corner, hidden underneath the Disillusionment Charm. They were casting it in spurts when they were out in the open, trying to conserve their magical energy whenever they were actually hidden. Creeping along the wall, Tracey took the lead as she pushed open the door of the Hospital Wing. Listening closely, she heard nothing. There was only silence. The moon bounced off the large windows at the far end of the ward, casting an eerie blue light along the ground and walls. The torches were damp and unlit. She could scarce see three feet in front of her.

She felt Draco's hand on her back, using her as a guide as they crept quietly along the outer wall of the room. They had to be careful even if it seemed like the room was empty. Pomfrey spent many a night in the back office and neither Draco nor Tracey could tell if she was present. Any spells would potentially trigger a response. Reaching the back office, Tracey found no one present.

"I think we're okay," she said.

Draco disengaged the Disillusionment charm and looked around to make sure they were truly alone. "Who knows what spells and wards Pomfrey has in here. Stay alert and get ready to disillusion if you hear anything."

Acknowledging his orders, Tracey walked to the door of Pomfrey's personal store room. A simple Alohomora was surprisingly effective after Draco checked for any other magic. Inside was a cupboard almost twenty feet deep. Jars of various sizes lined both walls, no doubt providing ingredients not readily available in Slughorns' dungeons. Draco agreed to keep an eye out by standing near the door of the cupboard while Tracey explored the items within.

She was looking for a few particular ingredients. Rootweed to stabilize volatility. Blackened snail shells for their reusability. Fine elephant bone powder for their versatility. All of these ingredients were expensive and rare. If Pomfrey had those, it would give Tracey a considerable advantage and let her get ahead of the rest of the class. She held her wand in front of her, the Lumos casting a bright glow as she read the various labels. A few minutes passed with no luck and she paused to look back at Draco.

He was standing against the door, the moonlight hitting him in the face as his eyes scanned the room. There was no doubt he had been a changed person since the start of the school year. Rumors over the summer had reached her even in Spain. The Malfoys were being investigated for money laundering and not paying the proper taxes to the goblins. Further inquiries led to a raid of the Malfoy manor and the discovery of a host of dark items that led to Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment.

With the elder Malfoy in jail, the family name dropped considerably. Narcissa, Draco's mother, was a Black and they were held in less esteem by the rest of the Purebloods since Sirius Black's defection and subsequent mass murder of Muggles. Even though the Purebloods held no love for the Muggles, appearances were important. With the Malfoy name being dragged through the mud with trial after trial, Draco lost a lot of his respect and prestige among his classmates. With Crabbe no longer returning, Draco lost his other bodyguard. He was isolated from the rest of his peers in just one summer.

"Thank you for coming with me," Tracey said suddenly.

"Don't thank me too much. Go on about it quickly. We can't dawdle too long in here. I still need to look for things too," Draco said.

"I'm serious. You've changed. I couldn't imagine you helping me like this last year."

"Situations change. You don't survive by just doing the same thing over and over. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly held in the highest regard anymore."

"I'm sorry about that. Your father…"

"My father was an ignorant and weak man. My mother was a pushover who let him do whatever he wanted. Good riddance," Draco said.

Tracey quieted, recognizing the venom in his voice. She had thought the same of her own parents from time to time.

"I apologize," Draco said. "There just comes a time when you realize you have to do things yourself instead of relying on everyone else. It just took me a while to understand that. Longer than it should have."

He spoke without looking at her, his mind somewhere else. His blond hair was combed back and parted to one side. Gray eyes matched gray light of the moon. Hey may have fallen in stature, but he still held himself upright and proud like any Malfoy would. If his father was sent to Azkaban on an extended basis, he would become the heir and owner to the Malfoy fortune and name.

"My father isn't the easiest person either." Tracey wrapped a finger around a strand of hair.

"I guess that's one thing we have in common then," Draco said.

Tracey cut off their conversation and continued looking for the necessary potions. Slug essence was used for cuts and lacerations but unneeded for the potion she had in mind. Ground granite was common enough to find. An incredibly rare vial of tears from a phoenix would be noticed if she pilfered it. Rootweed. Not enough to be noticed but suitable for my potion, Tracey thought as she picked up a box.

A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and pushed Tracey firmly into a small alcove between cupboards. The chilling cold of the Disillusionment Charm slid over her body from top to bottom and Draco grabbed her wand to douse the Lumos.

"Shhh," he whispered into her ear.

His breath was cold. Or is the air cold? They were so close that she couldn't tell. Straining her ears, Tracey heard footsteps outside. The deep closet was dark as Draco had mindfully closed the door behind him. Carefully now.

Light flooded the long closet as Madame Pomfrey opened the door. They couldn't move. The slightest breath or flinch would create a ripple. Pomfrey was in her night clothes, a fluffy, white robe pulled tightly over her body. She bent down and picked up a jar containing an unknown substance. Tracey did not dare to breath.

Draco was holding onto her shoulders for support. His fingers dug into her skin, but he was surprisingly calm. His cold breath skimmed her ears. His cold hands almost made her shiver. A flush crept along her skin and Tracey was thankful for the Disillusionment Charm. She didn't think she could hold her breath for much longer. Letting out a slow exhale, Tracey thought her breathing might as well have been a gust of wind for how loud it sounded.

Pomfrey finally left, closing the door and dousing them in darkness again. Tracey waited until she heard the other set of doors close before she finally exhaled loudly, releasing the tension that had built in the pit of her stomach. Draco let her go and blood rushed to her shoulders, warming them again. Shaking, she turned around and carefully illuminated the closet again. Draco's narrow face was not a few feet from her, his silver eyes still darting around.

"Let's hurry before there's any more surprises," he said.

The pair separated as she searched the shelves. Her eyes tracked up and down, making quick work of the ingredients she did not want. Further in Tracey went, noting Pomfrey's extensive store. At the back, the closet went even deeper, extending in an L-shape. Until now, there were various glasses, jars, and boxes. Within the indented part of the closet, there were just ceramic vases. Tracey stopped, lifting her wand high so the light covered more ground. Six shelves on both sides were covered with these tan ceramic vases. Doing some mental math, Tracey estimated there were fifty vases. Curious, she lifted the lid and peered inside one of the vases.

"Draco," she called out.

There was no response as Tracey's heart raced, the implications too obvious. Could it be so simple? It made no sense to store so many vases of this material. Identifying it was easy enough. She had read of the substance in one of the first chapters of her book, Common Potions for the Common Witch.

"Draco!" Tracey said louder, craning around the corner to find Draco stuffing his own ingredients into his pocket. "You have to come here."

The blond hurried down once he was finished and asked, "What is it?"

Wrestling one of the lower vases to the ground, Tracey lifted the lid and cast her light right over it. Inside was a light blue liquid. It was of a similar consistency to mud but more cohesive. Even in the dim light, the glow of the substance was substantial.

"Burn salve," Draco said. "Are they in all these pots?"

They lifted the lids off a couple of the vases and found the bright blue burn salve in all of them. Ten, twenty, thirty, fourty, fifty, sixty, sixty-seven. Sixty-seven pots of burn salve.

Draco came to the same realization not a few moments later.

We have to tell Harry.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Dragons," Harry announced.

They were in the tower again, crammed around a round table. Hermione dropped her quill as Harry revealed the reason for their meeting. It was just two days before the First Task and Cedric had desperately rounded everyone up for an emergency session. Once inside, the other twelve champions watched Harry stand up and deliver the news.

Dragons. Monolithic creatures. Endangered species. There were very few left in the world. Less than fifty to be exact. Too dangerous to be commonly found around wizards and witches. They can also…

"Fire-breathing dragons?" Fred said.

"You can't be serious," George said at the same time.

Harry nodded. "My source is very good. I don't know many and I don't know what kind, but we're definitely going to face dragons."

Hermione sat back in her chair, contemplating the madness of whoever would unleash dragons upon school children. She could have understood other various tasks or challenges but no one could control dragons. If Harry was right and they were supposed to face one, there was no one that could tell the dragon to stop. They were unpredictable beasts.

"Who is your source if you don't mind me asking?" Roger was skeptical.

"I'm not going to say, but I'm one hundred percent sure it is going to be dragons."

"I believe him." Cedric backed Harry, standing up as well. "And I think we need to start creating a plan."

"These are dragons," Lee Jordan emphasized, his dreadlocks bouncing. "Their scales are so hard that our spells hardly do anything against them. Their sheer size is enough to crush our bones into finely grained powder. Their senses of smell and taste have few rivals so forget about hiding from them. Fire hot enough to melt steel into a pool of liquid. Leathery wings that blow down trees when they take flight. Who the fuck do they think we are?"

They have weak spots. Their eyes if you have a good shot at them. If they extend their neck, the scales are sparse and the skin can be broken. Very few weaknesses but they are there, Hermione thought.

They squabbled for the better part of three hours, missing dinner and no doubt eliciting some sort of curiousness from the rest of the school. It was no coincidence when the whole of Hogwart's Champions went missing. Hermione wondered who Harry's source was. She knew when he was confident in his answers, and Harry was positive that it was dragons.

Their eventual plan was ill conceived and not agreed upon. They were to split up into teams. "At least the dragon will have to fight for their meal," George had said. Three teams of three and one team of four. Two teams would focus on distraction and defense; a variety of spells that ranged from obscuring the dragon's vision to simply making loud noises. The other two teams would focus on either taking the dragon down or hurting it enough to accomplish whatever goal they needed.

Then came the matter of whose team everyone was on. Cedric did his best to split them up evenly, but it eventually broke almost evenly into Houses. Fred, George, Lee Jordan, and Angelina were on one team. Cho, Marietta, and Roger on another. Stephen Stebbins, Heather Locklear, and Cedric made up the Hufflepuffs. That left Harry, Hermione, and Marcus Belby, the fifth year Ravenclaw.

The runt of the litter. Perhaps they think the dragon will try and eat the smallest prey first. Oh well, I like being first anyway.

Hermione slept poorly that night, falling asleep as she read The Dangers of Occlumency. Another set of dreams of Hogwarts falling apart left her tired as the sun rose over the Gryffindor tower. The book was still open across her chest and her clothes were damp with sweat. She had not even bothered to change out of them.

Harry was nowhere to be found the next day as Hermione wanted more information on who is source was. Breakfast eluded her as did lunch. Fred and George were surprisingly chipper considering there was a strong chance they could be served up charred and well-done after facing the dragon. She stared down at her lunch, chicken and potatoes, and the urge to vomit almost overtook her. Looking up, Hermione caught Cedric's eye and the older Hufflepuff smiled at her in an attempt to ease her fears she supposed. This could be my last lunch.

On the eve of the First Task, she picked up another book but found she could not read What are Dreams? Dragons plagued her mind and another wave of nausea overwhelmed her. Maybe I can fake a pregnancy. Surely, they wouldn't judge me too harshly if I backed out because of that? There was still the opportunity to quit the tournament. Ludo Bagman had made sure they understood that rule. But what would the other Gryffindors say if she were the first of the Hogwarts Champions to quit? Gryffindor, House of the Cowards.

She slept quietly the night before the First Task.

The morning was filled with fanfare and much support from all of Hogwarts. For once, they were united as everyone wore a pin that bore the insignia of every House. Some wore additional pins that professed their support of varying persons and Houses. Let's go Cedric! Fly, you Ravenclaws! Give me Gryffindors any time! Ravenclaw! Hufflepuff! Gryffindor!

There were no pins for Slytherin or Harry.

After breakfast, the champions were ushered into a large tent to get changed and prepared. It was there that Ludo Bagman finally announced the goal: to steal an egg. His eyes were glittering and he had a mischievous smile as he danced around the question of what they would be fighting but by now, everyone had to know it was a dragon. Bagman fooled nobody.

They were allowed to wear trousers and a plain shirt. First, they draped a protective vest made out of thick leather. It fit like a sweater, coming down to just above Hermione's wrist. Socks that felt like rubber and all-purpose trainers were required for all of them. An H for Hogwarts was stitched onto the vest as well as their corresponding House emblem. Finally, a thick robe was draped around her. A string curled itself around the holes in the front, fastening it against her chest. There was a slight cape billowing behind her as Granger was sowed along the upper back. Hers was black with accents of burgundy while Harry's robe held hints of green. The others also had various designs of their House colors.

Harry donned a pair of fingerless gloves. When Hermione pointed looked at them, he said, "Dragonhide gloves. Tracey got them for me. It's been said that they can handle dragon fire."

"We'll find out soon enough," Hermione said.

Hogwarts would go last as they were the host school. Durmstrang exited the tent to the racuous cheer of the crowd beyond. There must have been some sort of muffling charm on the tent as they only heard a dull, constant buzz whenever the tent flap was closed. The thirteen Hogwarts Champions sat quietly. Some were whispering spells to themselves. Others were burying their heads in their hands. Hermione bounced her knee, tapping the point of her wand against her thigh. Eyes and neck. Eyes and neck. Eyes and neck.

The bile rose from her throat as she leaned over and threw up. Her hair was luckily held back in a tight bun. Wiping the bits of vomit with the sleeve of her robe, Hermione kept her head down. No doubt everyone else witnessed her stomach finally winning over her mind. Someone cast an Evanesco to clean up her mess.

"Thank you," she said, anticipating it was Harry.

"Are you going to be okay?" It was not Harry.

Looking up, Hermione found Cedric standing over. She could see Marietta laughing behind him and she was glad that someone could find laughter as they were led to their slaughter. Harry, seated across from her, was glaring at Marietta or Roger or all of them.

"Needed to do that," Hermione said. "Best to get it out of the way."

Cedric placed what he must have thought was a comforting hand on her shoulder. She tried not to flinch.

"Do you remember the plan?" Cedric asked.

As if I ever forget.

"I'll do my part."

As Beauxbatons left, Hermione pushed back the urge to regurgitate again. Eyes and neck. Eyes and neck. Eyes and neck, she kept reminding herself. Fred and George were quite good at creating a spectacle. If they could distract the dragon for just long enough, then they would stand a chance. A chance to live.

There was a slight alteration to the plan as Cedric changed his group's objective to obtaining the golden egg. The dragon will be guarding the egg. If we could lead the dragon away from it. If we could just keep the dragon's head turned long enough…

"HOGWARTS!" Ludo Bagman's booming voice called them out.

Is it already time? Hermione felt like she had just entered the tent. In reality, almost three hours had passed since then. They lined up single file to exit the tent. Cedric was in the front, still gently reassuring those around him. Roger was next followed by Fred, George, and Lee. Stephen and Heather broke the Gryffindor block so they could regroup with Cedric quickly. Angelina, Marietta, and Cho all stuck together. Marcus Belby, quivering and shaking, came next. Finally, Hermione and Harry were at the end of the line.

Standing behind Marcus, Hermione could hardly see in front of her as the Ravenclaw's large body blocked her vision. She could feel her heart thumping against her chest, almost pounding against the thick robe draped around her. Vomit came out of her mouth one more time as she leaned over, taking care not to get it on anyone's shoes.

"I think dragons spit out fire, Hermione," Fred said from the front.

Eyes and neck.

Neither Durmstrang nor Beauxbatons had been seen since they left. Perhaps they were all eaten. Surely, they wouldn't let this continue if they were. If they can make it out alive…

The line started moving, a hesitant shuffle of feet. The crowd grew louder as the tent flap opened, lifting the muffling spell. Hermione forced her feet to move as her mind quickly reviewed everything she could. Three teams of three and one team of four. Fred and George will distract. Cedric's team will go for the egg. Eyes and neck. Other two teams will try to incapacitate or distract. Marcus is on our team. Lead it away from the neck. Never take your eyes off the dragon. Eyes and neck. Watch out for fire. The Protego is weak against fire as it is a natural element coming from a dragon. What else? Eyes and neck. What else?

Time had run out.

Harry's soft voice brought her out of her panicked thoughts. "Whatever happens, stay with me."

The sun blinded her temporarily. She shielded her eyes, but the blindness was only temporary as her eyes adjusted and the sun hid behind a cloud. They were being funneled down a path with walls of stone on either side. In the distance, raised high above them were rafters filled with people. They were cheering. Or screaming. It was hard to tell. It was almost as if they were in a daze as no one rushed to their spots.

The stone path finally expanded into a wide field of jagged rocks. It closely resembled the battle against Harry during the beginning of Third Year. She almost commented that to him when a ear-splitting roar interjected. The guttural noise must have brought her to senses. Suddenly, she could smell the sulfur and burnt stone in the air. It was pugnant, watering her eyes instantly. Hermione could taste the fire in the air on her tongue. If anyone doubted Harry's source, they were…

Hermione couldn't finish her thought.

"Oh," Harry said behind her, no doubt seeing the challenge ahead of them.

Dragons.

Three to be exact.

* * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Projected update time: 43 days

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