Chapter 9 The First Task

They were in the stands when Hermione walked up the stairs and plunked herself at the end of the row. She noticed that the four judges were in a stand of their own, located on the edge of a quarry gouged in to the Quidditch pitch. She could recognize the four judges and the guest of honor on behalf of the Ministry. Madame Maxine was unmistakable, as was Dumbledore sitting beside her. Durmstrang headmaster Igor Karkaroff seated on the far end, as far from the others as possible.

In London two nights before, a magically weak but politically powerful wizard paced in the British Minister of Magic office. Cornelius Fudge was quickly reaching the end of his rope. The tournament had originally been an excellent idea and an opportunity to reinforce his standing after the Quidditch World Cup. Then the "Quibbler Situation" with Harry Potter collided with the "Black Situation," and things had spun out of control. Dumbledore, the minister had concluded seemed to be losing grip on his magical menagerie.

Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic Dolores Umbridge was to replace ill and absent Barty Crouch. It was a political damage control maneuver, and nothing more. Percy Weasely would just have to deal with that. That was precisely how the Undersecretary found herself seated on the far left, and closest to the action, with Griphook, who took a great delight in giving a toothless smile to Umbridge every time she attempted to glare at the goblin.

Luna pulled Hermione in to a hug, "How's Harry?"

She laughed, "He was the one reassuring me that everything was going to be alright!" They all laughed at that, but the nerves were visible to all who knew where to look. Luna was not her normal dreamy self as her foot vibrated like jackrabbit on steroids. Ginny had gone slightly pale, a stark contrast to Colin who was an interesting shade of green. The Twins were still laughing and joking, promoting the various different pieces of homemade prankster merchandise, but their smiles were tight. Seated closest to the bushy haired teen, Luna felt her go rigid as the first was part herded and part hauled in to the enclosure, "Fuck me!" she whispered.

The Sweedish Short-snout, was huge, at least the size of a pair of overweight rhinoceros, winged with claws and vicious fangs in place of horn. Add to that, the ability to breathe fire and it seemed like Hermione's worst nightmare was about to come true, "The champions have to face that?!"

Ginny nodded, "One each… and if Harry's luck holds…" They all knew that it meant he would get the largest, nastiest, meanest dragon in all existence.

"That would be an Argentinean Silverback but those are extinct," thought Hermione, "I hope!"

Its scales were a silvery blue and it was clear that the dragon did not appreciate its predicament, following Cedric back and forth. A burst of sapphire colored flame lanced out. He dived behind cover. The top portion of his rocky outcrop was now molten slag.

Dragons fortunately cannot breathe a continuous stream of fire for more than ten or fifteen seconds - at least nesting mothers will not to conserve their strength. Over the constant roars of the dragon, they could catch only fragments of the commentary from Ludo Bagman, "…Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow…" Dodging from one rocky outcrop to the next, Cedric circled around and pretty much where he wanted to be, ten feet from the clutch of eggs. Waving his wand in a complicated pattern, he transfigured a rock in to a dog and sent it out to do battle with the dragon. The Yorkshire terrier is the smallest of its breed but has no lack of courage as it charged to engage its foe that had more than a hundred times the size advantage.

Cedric dashed out, his twelve-inch wand extended before him, "Accio!" he whispered. The golden egg flew from within the nest and he caught it with one arm. He heard the roar, and was barely able to turn in time to see the dragon reduce his terrier to a fine ash. Cedric felt pain explode along his left arm, shoulder and the side of his face. However, fortunately he had completed the task as he managed to scramble clear of the dragon as Bagman shouted his success to the crowd, "...Very good indeed! And now the marks from the judges!"

"Miss Delacour, if you please!" The Veela stood tall, and proud before the dragon and began to do the unexpected. She began to sing, quietly at first, but slowly letting her voice drift in range and then power, as she unleashed the full force of her Veela charm. The dragon was enchanted, its head swaying from side to side as it followed her slow movement. The men in the crowd were doing pretty much the same thing. The dragon was simply enchanted and gave an almost sleepy snort of contentment as its head drooped, coming to rest on its fore claws and began to snore.

Fleur advanced, singing all the while. It absent-mindedly scratched its nose with a fore claw, and continued to snore like a tank engine. A burst of flame leapt from its nose and caught her robes. Fleur extinguished the burning edge of her robes with a burst of water. Fast asleep, she continued to sing until she had walked in and walked out of the nest, holding her egg high. The Welsh Green continued to sleep. It was the calmest the dragon had been in days.

"And here comes Mr. Krum!"

Victor stood his ground before the Chinese Fireball and it lived up to its name, unleashing multiple balls of fire in a dangerous spread that hammered shallow ash black craters three feet apart. Victor met the baleful eyes of the dragon, whipped his wand up, around, and thrust forward slightly, firing the first curse of the Tri-wizard tournament: "Conjunctivito!"

"Very daring!" Bagman was yelling as the Dragon went on a blind rampage, unleashing fireballs in a rough arc at the ground directly in front of itself in an attempt to protect its eggs by sheer volume of fire. But it is tiring, and draining on a Dragon's magic, and the creature slumped and then staggered somewhat, crushing several of its own eggs that only served to renew its anger. Fortunately, it was now facing the wrong direction. Dodging flaying tail the Quidditch sensation retrieved his egg.

Gringotts knew how to look after its Champion. Where the other champions had entered wearing little more than their robes, Harry wore the dragon scale armor of the Bha-zhak Kha-dorath. The scales were the muted color of tarnished silver that did little to detract from its appearance. He wore a heavy cloak across his shoulders and silence descended as the stadium studied Harry as he stalked from the Champions tent and paused, critically eyeing the second nastiest dragon on the face of the planet: The Hungarian Horntail. It had taken almost a dozen dragon handlers just to maneuver the beast in to the enclosure.

All dragons are capable of manipulating fire in some form, whether a cone of flame; or explosive flaming orbs. The horntail however, seemed capable of producing a molten stream that super heated the rocks Harry was using for cover. "Retrieve the Golden Egg," he muttered darkly as he dove and weaved his way between cover, and the creature's flaming halitosis. He had not counted on the horned and spiked covered tail that whipped round and narrowly missed and gouged a scar through the ground. Diving back behind cover for the moment, he took a breath, "Accio Golden Egg!"

Unsurprisingly, that had no effect: He was too far from the egg and the dragon's innate magic was no doubt blocking his spell. However, the dragon had felt the spell targeting something in her nest. Irritated before, now she was pissed off. Twin streams of fire chased Harry the width of the quarry before the horntail let up for a moment.

"Accio Firebolt! Bombarda Maxima!" the quarry seemed to blow itself apart as the rocks disintegrated in to fist sized lumps filling the air with dust and smoke as he recast the spell and continued his demolition work. With the cloud of smoke hiding him from judges and spectators alike, he levitated the mass of rubble and banished it at the dragon's nest.

The Horntail saw the incoming rock shower and recoiled, curling its tail and draping a wing over its nest to protect its eggs from the incoming rock storm. However, it never stopped scanning for the annoying single mouthful snack. There was, however no trace of Harry and it drew a rumbling breath as it retracted its wing to check its eggs.

From inside the nest, Harry took flight, carrying the Golden Egg under one arm as he corkscrewed to the left, "Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?" He gained altitude, putting him beyond the reach of the nesting horntail that roared in unbridled rage.

Hermione would have probably passed out, were it not for the support of her friends, who were pretty much holding his brown-haired girlfriend and each other upright throughout the entire trial. They cheered louder than anyone else as Harry dismounted his broom and slung in casually over one shoulder, standing before the gathered judges, "Omelet anyone?"

Ms. Umbridge could only stare in amazement at the youngest champion's accomplishment when Bagman made a surprising announcement, "…youngest champion also the fastest to complete the task! This will no doubt shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!" Whatever the marks were, Harry frankly did not care. First, to reach him was Hermione who practically leapt on to him, and kissed him until he was nearly senseless.

His retinue were a short distance away watching with undisguised amusement as the other champions and Ludo Bagman joined the couple, "Harry, you received a total of forty four points, and have tied for first place with Victor Krum," explained Bagman, "If you'll just join the other champions for a moment…" Harry reentered the tent, which somehow looked quite different now: friendly and welcoming. He thought back to how he had felt while dodging the Horntail, and compared it to the long wait before he had walked out to face it… There was no comparison: The task itself was nothing compared to the wait. Fleur, Cedric, and Krum all came in together. A thick orange paste covered one side of Cedric's face that was presumably mending his burn. He grinned at Harry when he saw him, "Good one, Harry."

"And you," said Harry, grinning back.

"Well done, all of you!" said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as though he personally had just got past a dragon. "Now, just a quick few words. You'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 all holding, you will see that they open… see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg - because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"

Cho Chang had watched and she was now on the verge of tears. She could have had it made and instead everything had gone wrong. Harry had seen to it that she had lost her position as prefect over Loony Lovegood! She thought that the tournament was taking too much time away from her and Cedric. They had fought and argued constantly about that and then she had forbidden him from attending Potter's dinner party because she was not invited. That had been the last straw! Luna. Everything had started going wrong because of Luna! All because she had suddenly had an all-powerful friend! Revenge, she swore quietly, would be hers.

The residence was the site of a unique dinner that evening. The guest list was not overly long, but the first guests to arrive were the three Champions from their respective schools. Cedric Diggory arrived and Fleur Delacour followed shortly. Victor arrived slightly later and apologized for his tardiness - something to do with Headmaster Karkaroff trying to prevent him from attending.

Harry had considered the number of expected and unexpected guests and decided to leave the passage down from Moaning Mrytle's bathroom for the foreseeable future. With the number of guards, and the wards, it was a practical solution as nobody else spoke Parseltongue. Though the Floo was something of a security breach, a quartet of Axe Masters stood guard, one in each corner of the small foyer.

The rest of the guests arrived shortly thereafter and the final count was three triwizard champions, a matching number of Hogwarts professors and another half dozen students when the final two guests, made their entrance via the Floo, both landing gracefully: Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Senior Accounts Manager Griphook of Gringotts. It was an awkward first few minutes for everyone, not due to the difference is just race but also due to the differences in age. Conversation gradually developed its own flow and rhythm, shifting and morphing back and forth between topics with no one dominating and everyone participating, as talk eventually turned to the shape of the wizarding world during dessert. Dobby had outdone himself with a rich molten chocolate cake, "The tournament was supposed to be about building relationships, friendships between rivals schools but it's not happening,' said Harry.

Luna shrugged, "The tournament in many ways, reflects the state of the wizarding public," the comment drew a glance from Amelia Bones; "You've taken control of your public relations through the Quibbler and published the truth. The last edition and three reprints sold out in record time… we're expanding to cope with the demand."

Harry let his attention wander around the table, listening to everything but commenting on nothing for the moment, until the conversation moved to a topic of interest, "…victory, fame and honor for my school are certainly considerations but I would be more interesting in finishing this tournament with friends," said Fleur.

Victor was also nodding, "My main reason for coming to Hogwarts was to hopefully make friends but our headmaster has us virtually confined to the ship, he is obsessed with victory. I am not. I become a professional Quidditch player this summer and a bad injury could end my career before it begins." It turned out that while an international Quidditch superstar, the Bulgarian was quiet and reserved, preferring a simple life, spending his free time working for one of several different charities near the modest home he shared with his parents.

It was Cedric that brought up a principal point of concern, "But what happens when the prophet get its hands on this? The fact that the four of us are suddenly friends yet supposed to be competing against one another. You worked a deal for your protection," acknowledged Cedric with a nod towards Harry, "I'm just surprised that the Quibbler" he shot an apologetic glance towards Luna, "could afford to pay you."

Harry laughed, "I sold my rights to the Quibbler for one galleon, and Griphook," the Goblin gave a polite smile, "was kind enough to draw up the contract. So everything was legal and above board. Best deal I ever made!"

Victor was sure that somebody has hit him with a bludger and that his hearing was suddenly deficit, "One Galleon? Exclusive rights for one Galleon?" the Bulgarian rumbled.

"I got what I wanted: Media protection. It was worth it."

"I can see the benefits Harry," the Bulgarian's eyes literally smashed their way across the room to where Luna and Penelope were still deep in discussion, "Do you think the Quibbler could offer me a similar deal, for the duration of the tournament? I have no desire to read in the Prophet that some student of Hogwarts, or Beauxbatton is having my love child…."

"You could do worse than a student Victor," said Cedric with a grin, "A professor or two perhaps…" he didn't have to complete the speculation as Victor's eyes took on house elf proportions as his eye brows almost disappeared in to his hair as the professors in attendance looked equally scandalized.

"I know that you three have hardly had fair treatment at the hands of the Prophet," a remarkable understatement considering Rita Skeeter's article on the Weighing of the Wands ceremony, while devoid of his picture had failed to get the names or the other champions and their schools correct.

Victor grunted in agreement, "If you trust this, Quibbler…"

Hermione raised a hand in warning, "They are still a paper, but they publish the facts and the truth whether you do good or evil. You would get the right to reply…" That was good enough for Victor and Cedric. Fleur needed no convincing that media protection would be a good idea. Griphook produced three contracts, moments later they were enveloped in the gentle blue glow before Luna sat down to interview the three champions while Colin, who was never far from his camera, snapped a selection of pictures.

The hour grew late and all, whether student, staff or champion began to take their leave though it was not lost on anyone that the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been encouraged to linger. Finally, alone, Harry moved things along, "Ms. Bones, thank you for agreeing to meet me in private."

She smiled, "I have to admit, I was rather surprised at your invitation. To what does this pertain?" one does not rise to one of the highest positions in magical government by being blind to the obvious. She could tell in which direction this was going and what, or more precisely, whom the conversation was going to be about, but she wanted to hear him say it, and not jump the wand, so to speak.

"My Godfather ma'am, explained Harry in all seriousness, "Mr. Sirius Orion Black."

Hermione went to bed but Harry had a long, blow-by-blow account for Sirius, including his conversation with Ms. Bones that made it clear: Only a pardon from the Minister of Magic could exonerate him. Hedwig ruffled her feathers at the sheer length of the letter, and gave a soft hoot of protest. However, Hedwig took the letter with the quiet self-assured dignity of her kind and flapped in to the night. Despite the first task, a successful dinner party, and half an hour writing the letter, the young man wandered in to the training area, activated the dummies and began to duel.

His dueling style had evolved as he stole ideas and tactics from all of his tutors, and while capable of holding his own against for an extended period, he was no closer to defeating Griphook or any of his other tutors and professors. The night wore on and the stack of destroyed dummies entered double digits when Harry set to work against two dummies at once. Finally, it was almost three in the morning when the young man hit the showers and the collapsed in to bed.

Igor Karkaroff was alone in his private quarters aboard the vessel, and sat frozen with the shot glass half way between the table and his lips. His hand shook for an instant but then steadied, "It takes a great deal of courage to ambush a man from behind."

"Good evening Igor," said Moody, "You're looking remarkably well." Igor dropped the glass, all color draining from his face, "I'm here to extend an invitation from our master who can't wait to renew your acquaintance." Igor felt his blood turn to ice with the thought of meeting the Dark Lord again, but the Auror who had captured him. When had Alastor "Mad Eye" Moony ever been sympathetic to the Dark Lord! "You can be of use to our master, with access to the grounds and tournament venues and the castle itself. This is the only reason that you are still alive!"

That simple statement reduced Igor to tears of terror, "Please, Alastor, I'm a dead man if I appear in front of my…our master, I can't go back."

"Return willingly and take your chances or I will send your corpse," growled the Auror as he dropped an old boot on the table.

The trembling Durmstrang headmaster unwillingly took it.