The Lie I've Lived
Every Rose has a Thorn

By JBern

Previous A House of Cards Flawed Assumptions The Summer of Change Of Innuendo and Ice Cream Closets and Secrets Plans are Subject to Change I Belong to Nowhere Censure and Sensibility Bartering the Truth Every Rose has a Thorn Appearances Can Be Revealing What's the Price of Your Fame? Caged Fear Sometimes, It's Good to be Me Code of the Marauders Dancing in the Whirlwind The Dykstra Shuffle A Prayer for Forgiveness Out of Africa The Geist and the Grotto Mind Your Manners Head Games Humiliation and Other Diversionary Tactics Cry Havoc Next

Chapter 10 — Every Rose has a Thorn

I smell water, fresh running water.

That’s not an unusual thing as I travel a hundred or so yards inside of the Forbidden Forest in my Animagus form.   There is a huge lake around here, after all, but the wind isn’t coming from the right direction for it to be the lake.  

I’m testing my hand, — well technically, it’s a hoof right now, but it’s still sore.   With the race tomorrow, I need to really test it to make certain it’ll hold up to twenty laps around the five-mile course from the castle to Hogsmeade and back.   A soaking and a quick drink would be nice, but I’ve been over this path before and there are no streams in this part of the forest.

It seems I also smell a mystery.   I keep moving, but I feel the tingle of magic, Aversion wards keeping animals back, probably humans as well.   I focus wielding Occlumency against the barrier.   Notice-Me-Not charms and their ilk work against people looking for something, so I focus on my sense of smell.   There is water here and I am looking for it.

A cold shiver passes through my body as I cross beyond the ward line — a taste of primal fear for any animals that have made it this far.   Someone dearly likes their privacy.   I slow and look for telltale signs of further warding.   I don’t see anything, but I slowly pace forward towards the now-audible noise of a spring.   Both the grass and trees have changed slightly, making this all the more curious.

There’s a row of bushes filled with some tasty looking berries, which force me to resist my urges to nibble on a few.   Not until I know what I’m dealing with.  

It’s a bubbling hot spring, apparently from nowhere, with a little waterfall action going on.   The overall effect is very beautiful and serene.

The naked witch with her wand in her hand pointing at me is also quite fetching, even if I think Fleur Delacour is a "witch with a B."

She relaxes upon realizing that I am just an "animal" and places her wand back on the silver platter floating next to her.

She addresses me in French.   Some of the words don’t seem right; I fill in what she is saying to the best of my ability.   "Oh, you startled me.   Welcome to my grotto.   You are my second visitor this week.   The other was a Unicorn.   You must indeed be a powerful magical creature to have passed through the wards.   Can you understand me?"

I make a nodding motion with my head.

"Well, an intelligent magical creature, one who can understand a real language!   Here I was beginning to fear that I wouldn’t encounter any intelligence in this wretched country, especially near this castle."   Fleur’s disdain for England is almost comical.  

She typically wears her hair up when in uniform.   It’s a mistake on her part.   Down is much better.   Wet is even better.   It gives her the whole water nymph motif.   Of course, she could intentionally be downplaying her looks.   I find myself rather enjoying the free view of her breasts, with the benefits of my superior animal vision to boot!   Frigid bitch she may be, but by the gods, she has a fabulous body!   I’m sure the Hat will let me hear it for being a peeping Tom, but it’d let me have it even worse if I turned and left now.   If it’s a choice between "damned if I do, or damned if I don’t," I think I’ll pick "do" and at least earn it.

"The water is fresh and the berries on the bushes are in season.   I am certain you are wondering what a bit of France is doing in this backwards country."

She spreads her arms out tracing them along the surface of the water in a rather sensual manner.   "This is a tiny bit of my home enchanted by my mother and father and contained within the necklace I wear.   It can only exist for an hour per day, but it is a sanctuary to where I can escape.   I dearly miss my home, but there is a large world outside my family’s estate.   If nothing else, I must tell myself that this experience will make me appreciate my home even more."  

Cocking her head sideways, she frowns.   "Forgive me, but I do not recognize what type of animal you are.   The study of Magical Creatures is not one of my strengths.   I must consult my books when I return to that awful place.   You clearly aren’t a regular deer, nor are you antelope or gazelle.   The horn structure reminds me of the gazelle, but it is different.   Still, I enjoy a good mystery."

The water is refreshing and warm.   I put my healing left foreleg in to get it in the water.   That’s much better.

"You only put one leg in?   Are you injured?   Oh, you poor thing!   Here, let me look at it."   Fleur moves gracefully through the water and comes up to the edge of the spring.   If I ever need to raise some quick galleons, I can always sell this memory and call it Fleur’s Forest Follies.   The rest of her nubile body equally defies description.   Sure I can resist the aura, almost completely in my Pronghorn form, but there’s no reason not to appreciate what nature has clearly gifted her with.

The platter laden with soaps follows her, keeping her wand close by.   It’s nice to see that she has some common sense to go with her uncommon assets.   She runs her hand along the soft fur of my foreleg and inspects it carefully.   Now I know that Hat is going to give me no end of shit about this.   Of course, it did berate me for not learning what I can about my opponents, so who am I to question what opportunities Fate offers up to me?  

I shuffle back out of her grasp as she reaches for her wand.   "No, do not be worried.   I am simply going to cast a Diagnostic charm and perhaps a Numbing charm.   It will make your leg feel better.   Still, you are justified in worrying anytime a human reaches for their wand."

The numbing charm feels pretty good.   She definitely has some skills and is clearly the most talented student the French have to offer up.

"Yes there are some signs of damage here, but it looks like you are already mending.   Do you possess enhanced healing abilities?   I am sure there is a story behind this wound.   This forest is positively barbaric, yet they put a school here and allow vile spiders and who knows what else to exist here.   It baffles me to no end, but I don’t need to tell you what silly creatures humans are, do I?"

There is less of a bitter edge to her voice.   Apparently, she’s a different person when alone.   Given how notoriously quick to judge people are around here, I should be more open-minded.

"There!   That is as much as I can do for you.   Go ahead try it out.   Isn’t that better?"   I respond by prancing a bit for her which makes her laugh.   "My, what a proud beast you are!   Sadly, our time is almost up, my sanctuary will return to the medallion around my neck.   I should get dressed now.   I thank you for your visit noble creature.   Perhaps if you are by this way again, you will visit me once more."

I nod my head.   It’s not being a peeping Tom if she invites me back.   Of course, if I were in my human form, I don’t think the invite would still apply.

Watching her commit a sin by covering that body of hers, I decide that it’s best if I don’t bother her with unnecessary details.

Damn, I really need a good shag.

------

"Have you been up all night?"   I ask Hermione.   It’s five in the morning.   I can’t sleep any more.   The pre-race jitters have already hit.   I’ll choke down some breakfast and maybe find an empty classroom and work off some of that nervous energy.   The naughty part of my mind makes me wonder if Fleur gets this too and how she "works it off."

Hermione answers me before I get too far down that tangent.   "Well, I needed to complete my homework for the weekend so I could really start preparing for the competition.   After I finished, the room was so quiet and peaceful that I didn’t see the use in going to bed.   Everyone seems excited about the upcoming race.   I thought you only got nervous before a Quidditch match.   Stop that!"

It annoys her when I start touching her books and rearranging them.   She has a table pulled up to the couch in the common room and has the start of "Bookhenge" going on.   I just help it along by making the necessary architectural improvements.   It’s a behavior of my friend, genus Bookus Obsessivus, which I usually don’t see until the end of the year exams.   She’s really taking this team competition seriously.

I keep stacking her books and casually respond, "Maybe it’s just broom sports in general.   Plus, I was only able to make three full speed runs through the course before my hand was throbbing too much.   That’s seventeen less than the race.   I can keep it in tight on my body during the straight-aways, but most of the direction changes can’t be done with just one hand."

"Are you doing anything for it?"

"I gave it a nice soaking yesterday."   How nice I wasn’t about to tell her.   "I’ll use a Numbing charm right up until they check us for any enchantments before the race.   I’d take a chance on taking a Pain Reducer, but if I win, I know someone will demand a test and they’d show up.   They’ve gotten tighter on testing in the last few years."

"Oh that’s right! I remember hearing that the Holyhead Seeker was suspended for three matches last season when someone caught her with Aerogel smeared on her garments to cut down on the wind resistance."

I feign surprise.   "You actually listened to Ron about Quidditch?   Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

She rolls her eyes at me.   "Just because I’m not foaming at the mouth about the sport doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy aspects of it without becoming a lunatic.   I still think you should have someone check that awful goop Malfoy uses in his hair, but then again the one doing the checking would be Professor Snape…"

"So what are you studying?"   I approach this question with a slight trepidation.   The answer won’t be anything less than five minutes and it could stretch into an hour long discussion if I let it.

Her eyes fill with the usual excitement when someone asks that question.   "I’m looking for a good idea for my presentation paper.   Part of the team competition means that each participant must write an original research paper on a subject covered by the schools curriculum.   The other schools receive copies and perform a cross examination in which the presenter must defend their theories and conclusions."

"And you said all that in one breath!"   The bloke that does end up as her boyfriend will certainly be impressed by her lung capacity.   "So what are your ideas?"

"Roger is doing History of Magic combined with a Charms presentation.   Did you know he can trace his family history back to Roman times?   He has some accounts in his family scrolls about the magic used by the Romans to turn back Boudicca and the Iceni.   He plans to generate a visual representation of how the battle took place using the ceiling of the Great Hall.   Melinda from Hufflepuff has a flare for Runes and …"

 "That’s nice, but I wasn’t asking about Roger or the rest of the team.   What are you doing?"

"Well no one wanted to do anything with Care of Magical Creatures, so I’m looking at creature rights.   You know how much research I did with Buckbeak last year.   I’ve been rethinking the whole house-elf situation since we talked about it."

She does have a mound of notes.   It’s not so much of a touchy subject, but one that’s blatantly ignored.   "That’s a pretty risky choice.   You’ll probably ruffle a few feathers with that."

"Well, in that case, let the ruffling begin!   Don’t get me wrong, Harry.   I love magic and all the things it lets me do, but sometimes the mentality of these people positively sickens me!   This blood purity rubbish is so institutionalized, but if I write a paper and deliver it in a debate format, they won’t be able to simply thumb their noses at me and say that’s the way it is.   They’ll have to defeat my position with facts that don’t exist!"

There is a certain magic that exists when Hermione gets passionate about a subject.   Her teammates will probably mutiny when they see the rough draft.   Thought provoking is one thing, but I’ve no doubt that her paper will be seen as an insult.   She’s probably going to destroy every job opportunity she’ll ever have by standing up on a podium and telling everyone present (and possibly listening in on the Wireless) what a bunch of bigots they really are.   Knowing my friend, she’ll even do it with a smile on her face.

I’m guessing in about four years, I’ll start managing the Potter trusts.   I’ll need a good manager.   No, I’d better leave that to the Goblins.   I’ll find something for her.   Maybe build a laboratory, stock it, give her the key, and tell her to go nuts — before she drives the rest of us nuts that is.   "Tilt a few of those windmills for me, Madame Quixote."    

"I never knew you read Cervantes."

Damn!   James did.   Cover quickly.   "There are books in my summer ‘prison,’ you know.   Mostly, they collect dust.   Dudley watched a cartoon version on the VCR when he had to do a report on it."   The lie is easy enough.   Guess I have to be careful about speaking French as well.  Maybe, I’ll check out a beginner’s book from the library and make sure she sees me with it.

"I have a copy upstairs somewhere if you want to read it again?"

I tweak her a bit.   "Rereading a book for recreation?   People do that?"

She grimaces good-naturedly.   "Oh Harry, just when I think you’re finally maturing, you go and say something like that.   Speaking of which, how are you and our even less mature friend getting on?   I’ve been trying to stay out of it, but you know as well as I do, that I won’t be able to resist much longer."

"I’m amazed you’ve held out this long.   Ron continues to be pig-headed.   Guess he still thinks I’ve been treating his family badly.   I was thinking if I won this race of offering him the first prize Peregrine.   It’s nice, but the Firebolt is still better.   More and more I’m wondering if you or Neville would like to have it."

"That’s a wonderful sentiment, Harry, but I don’t think I’d have a use for a real racing broom.   I think Neville would be chuffed to get one, though.   One thing that’s impressed me this year in the midst of all this mess is how you’ve been going out of your way to be nice to Neville."   She finishes with a grin trying to embarrass me slightly before continuing, "You could always save it for when Ron isn’t being a prat.   I know it’s a long shot, but it’s bound to happen one of these days."

"I’ll keep it in mind.   Why don’t you go get some rest?   You’re clearly not studying, and when you’re making jokes like this, it means you’re tired.  Besides, I need all the supporters I can get.   There’s still a bunch of people in this dorm who want to see Krum or one of the others run me into the ground."

"I suppose so, but I really should finish this chapter…"

I groan.   Some things never change, even if I have.

------

"Nice day for a race, Harry.   Are you ready?"   Cedric looks over at me.   Professor Flitwick and a Beauxbatons instructor are performing the final checks for Charms here at the starting line.   Ludo Bagman’s voice carries throughout the rapidly filling Quidditch stadium, threatening to drown out our conversation.

"Ready as I can be.   It’s a fast broom.   Have you picked a new advisor yet?"

He gives me a goofy smile, "I turned down a lovely offer from our Divination professor.   You’ll notice a few of my sixth year and seventh year friends volunteering in Astronomy, grading the first through third year’s work to give Professor Sinistra extra time.   She’ll be my new advisor."

I guess Cedric’s on the other end of the spectrum from me.   I’ve been doing a "wonderful" job of keeping the teenagers angry at me, while he’s actually gainfully employing some of them.   My respect for him creeps up.   The Professor also seems to have benefitted from the addition of several assistants.   Sadly, I can’t picture many people from Gryffindor doing that for me.   "Good plan there, mate."

"Thanks, though her advice won’t really help me here.   It’s bad enough I have to fly against you, but Krum as well!"  I see Krum glance over at us with a derisive look.

I figure I should clue him in.   "I’m less concerned about Krum than I am the two French witches.   They’re actually broom racers."

"Really?"   Cedric croaks out.

Now I know how much fun the Hat got out of dropping that little nugget of information on me.   I gave it ten galleons this morning and Dobby was going to place the bet for the Hat.   "You really should learn something about your competition mate.   My guess is Gesalt Brooms is trying to lure whichever of them wins over to their racing team."

The two witches in question are standing next to us and both share a knowing smile.   Fleur laughs, "Aimee already races for them.   Perhaps you should do a little more research, young boy."

"And a good morning to you as well, Miss Delacour.   Don’t let them worry you, Cedric.   I’m sure this’ll be easier than our last match against each other.   Just like chasing a Snitch."

Aimee snorts, while Cedric shakes his head violently, "Nice to see you can joke about it."

I shrug it off.   "Any near death experience older than a month is fodder for jokes.   Hello, Professor."

The Charms Master moves his wand over me and his French counterpart follows suit.   "I’m glad to see you are in good spirits.   Good luck to both of you.   All of Hogwarts will be cheering the two of you on.   How is your hand?"

Sadly, it’s no secret that my hand was mangled.   This of course means that my hand will be a target for any rider giving me a check during the race.   "Madame Pomfrey has a pair of Pain Relievers waiting for me at the finish line.   It’ll hold together."  

I catch the Beauxbatons instructor using a Diagnostic charm and give him a pointed look of disgust.   "Yes, it’s about fifty percent.   I figure I’ll just let you know now, so you don’t have to whisper when you tell them."

The man gives me a foul look, "That spell is within my rights to cast.   I am allowed to check for this by the rules."  

I snap back at him.   "I didn’t see you using that particular Diagnostic charm on Krum.   No doubt you already know that I intern in the Infirmary here, good sir.   The charm you are using doesn’t detect any enchantments, merely the overall physical condition.   If you want to hide behind rules and justify what you do, that is all well and good.   However, don’t try and be coy when I call you on it!"

My outburst gathers the attention of most around us.   Flitwick gives the Frenchman his own foul look and pointedly asks if he is done here.  

Krum is staring me down as they move on to Cedric.   "Time to see how much of a braggart you really are, English."   Athena Manos is a few feet away looking bored at the obvious posturing, but absorbing every word.   From what I’d gathered about her practice runs, she’s either trying to fool everyone or she isn’t going to be a threat.  

Krum continues as I get a grin on my face.   "Why are you smiling, boy?   Do you think I am underestimating you?   I do not underestimate anyone!   I am Krum and you are just another obstacle in my way.   Unlike Diggory, you are not top in your class.   You are a mediocre student at best, decent on a broom, but mostly you get by on luck."

Aw, Viktor did his homework.   Wonder how long it took Snape to turn over everything he knows about Harry James Potter.   Good thing Snape doesn’t really know shit.   Truthfully, I’m not smiling at Krum or his attempt at intimidation.   The humor is directed at the beetle clinging to his cape.   Rita is getting her usual "inside scoop."   "I’m sorry, Viktor.   I was just remembering a joke my advisor told me.   It has to do with anal seepage and somehow you reminded me of it."

Viktor’s English isn’t good enough to pick up on it, but the wide eyed expression on Cedric’s face and the scowl on Athena’s shows that they caught it.   Krum walks away after another few mocking exchanges.   Hanging out with the Hat has significantly "expanded" my vocabulary.

Cedric leans in as we see Krum getting an explanation of what the "brown squirts" actually are.   "Harry, I can’t believe you just said that!"

"He came over here to rile us up or maybe just fuel his own ego.   I’m only trying to humor him before I shut him up.   Either way, I can’t really lose."

"Why’s that?"

"He keeps complaining that I’m nothing but a boy.   If he finishes ahead of me, he beat a boy.   If I finish ahead of him, he was beaten by a boy.   I want to win, but I’ll settle for just finishing ahead of him."   The glimmer in Diggory’s eyes tells me that he has aspirations of his own.

Fireworks erupt from nearby and Bagman’s voice rises to an impossibly loud level.  

"Ladies and Gentlemen!   It’s time for the racers to take their places at the starting line.   The waiting is over and the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!   Who will ride to glory?   Krum?   Potter?   Delacour?   Diggory? Beaucourt?   Manos?   Twenty grueling laps around this five mile course will decide the winner.   The victor will receive ten points in the overall competition and the brand new Peregrine racing broom that they rode to victory!   This new racing broom from Gesalt brooms is on display at various points in the stadium and will be on sale starting tomorrow!   Joining me at the starting line is legendary broom crafter, Vanya Gesalt.   She will be today’s ceremonial starter.

And now, it’s time for the Triwizard Tournament to begin!"

------

A blast from Gesalt’s wand and we’re off, accelerating over the audience’s heads and out of the stadium while jockeying for position.   The two French witches surge forward, but the slower moving Athena Manos forces them to adjust their trajectory, and Krum shoots into the lead.   Aimee Beaucourt is right behind him, with Fleur and me fighting for third place.   Too much Quidditch makes me leery of objects right next to my broom.   I brake too soon going into turn one and Fleur slips a broom length in front of me.   She flies like she is one with her broom, with a fluidness and grace that few can ever hope to match.

I happen to be one of those few.   Maybe it’s the Pronghorn in me, but I know I could out-fly James Potter.   Compacting my body to lessen the wind resistance, I do my best to "get small" and follow in her wake.   Muggles call it "drafting"; the magical world calls it "stealing wind."

Raw speed — it’s all the adrenaline I could ever want!   The rush of the wind fills my lungs.   Lying forward and pouring it on, I lean into the third turn and hear the screams of a group of people floating on their brooms outside the course markers.   The first corkscrew is coming up.

Passing through the second ring that makes up the turn, my eyes check to make certain that the band at the tip of my broom is still green.   Fail to pass through a ring and the band turns red.   This corkscrew is a vertical drop through four offset rings with only about ten feet separating the last ring from the ground; in this case it’s the water of the lake.

The rings can only fit two of us through at a time.   I’m in still in fourth place, with Cedric right on my tail.   The two French witches and Krum are ahead of us.   Aimee’s trying to move on Krum -- oh, that’s a hell of a check.   She spun pretty hard off that bump. Looks like I’m in third place now as she tries to recover.   Krum flies in a vastly different manner than both Fleur and me.   He wrestles with his broom, using his small, muscular frame to pit his magic and sinew against the Peregrine.   The Bulgarian rides his broom like a wild beast!

A broom race is a very long obstacle course.   In Unlimited races sanctioned by the International Broom Racers Association, teams use whatever broom their team chooses.   The Restricted Category, like this one, limits all contestants to using the same models to level the playing field.   Most of the action in these races takes place in the turns and corkscrews, which is where the crowds tend to congregate.   There are turns, which are two of these floating rings near each other, to force a direction change.   There are also six "screws" - two that force you to go straight up, two that go down and one each for left and right.

Shifting my weight and nosing over, I dive through the top and Sloth Roll left to make the second ring.   The rotation continues and I can make out the merfolk staring straight up at me from underneath the barely moving water.   Coming out of the screw, Cedric’s a little wild and clips the water a bit.   How did he manage that screw at that speed?   He’s making a run on my right side.   This is a long straight-away.   I max the broom out and hold him off, but he’s less than two feet behind me.   He’s outweighs me by almost two stone, so I can out accelerate him, but the girls are even lighter than I am.   Turn four is a "soft turn" and I‘ll be able to keep my speed up, but he’ll try and bump me off the course at the second screw or in turn five.

I’d forgotten how good Diggory is on a broom.   No doubt he wants to finish ahead of me to prove that it’s the Firebolt that makes the difference when we play Quidditch.   Guess I’m not the only bloke flying with a chip on my shoulder.  

Guessing when Cedric is going to make his move, I slow and swerve, bumping him first.   The smack is unexpected on his part but now, instead of slowing into the upward screw, I’m accelerating.   That separation gets me at least five broom lengths of breathing room.   Without his threat, I can concentrate on catching that blue spec in front of me.   Let’s see if I can get on Fleur’s tail and "draft" her some more.

There are far worse places I could be.

------

Those that aren’t on brooms at the turns and corkscrews are in the Quidditch stands.  They have turns nine and ten, the other downward screw, and the start/finish line in their view.   Everyone wants to see one of us do a face plant right into the field.   The cheers ring out loudly as I come through the first lap in uncontested third place.   Bagman’s amplified shouts fill the air, but I’m moving too fast to really make out what he’s saying.   Starting the second lap by flying just slightly over the crowd’s heads, I spare a glance over my shoulder and see that Aimee has already started to close on Cedric.

I’m in a very good spot right now.   Cedric and Aimee will slow each other up.   Fleur will likely challenge Krum within three laps to give her ample time to recover if something goes wrong.   From what little I can tell Viktor is still flying fearlessly, but Fleur is content to chase him down gradually and strike probably coming out of a soft turn, where the odds that any contact will slow him down just as much and she can out-accelerate him.

Thinking too hard is distracting me from my task.   The ache in my damaged left hand will start soon.   Occlumency protects my mind and can help me block some of it, but the rest I’ll just have to fly through.   Concentrate on the course.   Make each turn and corkscrew count.

I’m close enough to see Fleur make her first feint towards Krum.   He blocks her easily — too easily.   She’s going to dog him, annoy him, and wear him down as he fights her off every few turns.   It’s as much mental as it is physical.   Provided all hands remain on the broom shaft, bumps and contact are legal; a grab is not.   There are other fouls such as ramming and spearing that I need to be cautious about.

The merfolk are making crude gestures at me by the fourth lap.   Aimee wiggled past Cedric when I wasn’t looking, but I’m ahead of her by better than twenty broom lengths.   Diggory isn’t letting her go that easily.   If the second Durmstrang champion doesn’t pick it up soon, she’ll be in danger of being lapped by the midway point of the race.   Of course, there’s a chance that it’s a strategic maneuver on Krum’s part.   If Athena lets him by unimpeded and starts blocking Fleur like she did at the start, it’ll allow Krum to build a better lead.  

By the end of lap eight, I’m maybe six lengths behind Fleur and Viktor as they continue to battle.   Aimee has also cut my lead in half, but if she’s smart, she’s going to let me get up there and try to mess up the number one and two spots and try to seize the opportunity.   Exiting the turns, I let off my grip to rest my throbbing hand.   Don’t let up Potter, look for your window and make your move.

Exiting turn nine, Fleur just brushes Viktor’s tail twigs with the tip of her broom!   That’s arrogant as hell!   She’s basically telling him to move or she’ll move him.   Angrily, Viktor gives her a hard waggle which drops his speed, trying to force a collision.   She tries to go low and right.   Contact!   Both of them bounce and veer losing some of their forward momentum.   Now or never!   I elevate and push while they’re trying to regain their speed.   Straight over Krum’s shoulder and cut hard into turn ten.   Bringing it into the stadium, there’s a new leader and his name is Potter!   The crowd is screaming their lungs out.

I resist the urge to look back.   I’ll feel it when one of them gets close to me.   Aimee should be closing on them as well.   There’s nothing in front of me now except Manos waiting to be lapped.   She’ll try to jam me up and let the others close on me playing the spoiler role.

Laps blend into each other.   I rest my hand where I can, but more and more, I feel the pressure of being in the lead.   The short flowing cape of Athena Manos is getting ever nearer as the cheers grow louder with each lap.   Her technique is too sloppy for this to be intentional; she’s just not very good.   Lap thirteen has me right up on her.   Her clumsy attempts at blocking me aren’t really working, but Viktor and Fleur creep ever closer.   I’ll take Manos in the first screw and see if I can give her a dunk in the drink.   It’ll be a move of inches, but if I pull it off it’ll be epic!

I run up on her in turn three forcing another clumsy block while jostling her, and getting another feel for how she responds to it.   She swipes at me and I pull alongside of her.   Okay, I hadn’t counted on her being that sloppy!   New plan, we can go through the screw side by side.   We bump all the way through the four rings but I stay higher and give her the kiss of death when we bottom out splashing her into the water to the shouts of the people circling nearby.   My boots drip water as I skim over the surface of the lake.

It costs me though.   Fleur and Viktor are close now as I get up to speed.   They’re obviously not fighting anymore, wanting to draw near me before trying to make a move.   I reach behind with my right hand and brush the twigs, checking for any damage from the collision.  I’m pleased to find none.  

Lap sixteen finds me still in the lead, but I can feel them breathing down my neck, as certain as my left hand has developed a heartbeat of its own.   My teeth grind with every exertion of pressure from my clenched fist, but I hold on. The area through Hogsmeade is full of Durmstrang students and Slytherins.   Karkaroff said that as soon as the race is over his students are free to visit the town, and they look like they plan on taking full advantage of it.

Krum makes his first move on turn five of lap seventeen.   Not so fast there, "Krummy."   I’ve come this far and I’m not about to give up yet.   I bump him back on turn six and through the right hand corkscrew.   He’s a foot or two behind me as we race side by side.   Fleur’s drafting both of us now and waiting for her chance to take us both.   I can see the predatory look in her eyes.   Viktor on the other hand, has the constant scowl I’ve grown accustomed too.   The tip of his broom smacks at my injured hand, but I keep it near the tip and out of his reach, while approaching turn seven.   He’s trying to work the inside while rubbing against me.   I rub right back.   His elbow smacks against my back a few times and he starts to slip back as we enter the turn.   I beat him back again!

Or did I?   The next part happens so fast, I can’t really tell what happened.   He slid back and into me and my broom yawed hard.   Bastard got his hand on the back of my broom and must have "twigged" me!   I spin hard and out of control.   Pain shoots up my leg when I sideswipe the thick wooden hoop.   There’s the sharp crack of twigs and a bone breaking.  

Instinctively, I pull up.   Broom riders scatter while I fight to retain control.   Pain blurs my senses.   I slow and inspect the damage.   My right lower leg bone is broken.  I try to steer through the pain. My damaged broom slows and I feel back there.   Blood is coming from where the twigs dug into my calf.   The bone’s not protruding, so the blood loss will be minimal.   The race official flies over to me and asks if I can continue.

"Did you see Krum foul me?" I demand with my hand probing parts of my leg checking for more injuries."

She answers flatly, "No.   The two of you were flying too closely and spectators obstructed the view."

There’s nothing more to be said except, "I can continue."   The witch sends of colored sparks indicating an injury with rider continuing.

Cedric, Aimee, and Athena get by me while I’m trying to gingerly pry my calf off of the three or so twigs piercing the skin.   The Durmstrang witch was a lap down, and if I can hold her off, I’ll at least pick up a point.   There’s no way I’ll catch any of the others.

"Oh, tough luck there, Potter!   Looks like you can’t handle playing with the adults after all," The ferret on his Nimbus circles nearby his voice amplified by his magic as I prepare to start back up.

I don’t even bother with a reply and speed off.   I’ll let my pranks answer him - often.   I can still place fifth if I can hold off Athena.   It’s a good broom.   Even with a third of the twigs bent or broken, it’s flying near top speed.   If Gesalt wants a quote from me, they’ve got it.  

Coming through the stadium, I can see everyone pointing at me and hear the shouts.   Some might even have gotten a drip or two of the red stuff on them.   The others are already probably in Hogsmeade, but I’ll be damned if I let one of them lap me.

Fleur manages to get within one turn of lapping me when I cross the finish line for my final trip around the course.   At least it isn’t Krum!   Five more miles with Athena trying to close the gap, but she won’t get there.

There’s a bit of lightheadedness as I reenter the stadium and make the final corkscrew.   I cross the finish line and turn my broom slowly towards the medic tent.   There’s a heated discussion going on at the judge’s tables.   Karkaroff and Dumbledore are exchanging a few words, with all the other riders there.   Poppy is just staring at me as I float towards her.   I’ve never seen her quite this angry.   Don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

"Hover over the table, Mr. Potter.   Roll to the bottom and land on your back."

She runs her wand along the leg and scowls at the people at the edge of the tent looking in.   "Tell me, Mr. Potter.   Was the one point you earned in this competition for finishing in fifth place worth flying nearly twenty miles with a broken leg?"

"Ask me at the end of the Tournament and I’ll have an answer for you.   For now, let’s just call it pride."

"Do not mistake pride for stubbornness, Mr. Potter.   It is an all too common mistake.   How is your hand?"   She sets the leg manually.   I suppose she’s doing it to prove a point.

"The one bright spot in all of this is that I don’t really notice my hand anymore.   Could I trouble you for a Pain Reducing potion, perhaps a Numbing charm if you don’t have a tonic handy?"

She gives me a thin smile, "Of course.   In my recklessness to treat your injuries, I overlooked your comfort.   Blood Replenisher first and then the Pain Reducers."   I grab the three vials and drink them slowly.   Poppy applies a Numbing charm to my lower right leg.   Ah, that’s better!

"I will return in a few minutes when I have dispersed this crowd and we can transport you to the infirmary."   She exits and McGonagall enters.   She’d been keeping guard at the door and with Poppy out there coming as close to swearing as I’ve ever heard her, my head of house comes in for a visit.

The witch dispenses with the formalities of asking about my leg and hand.   I’m awake and the nurse has stepped outside.   That’s more than enough for her.   "I’ve lodged a protest on your behalf, but the race official at that marker was obscured by the crowd, which was largely composed of …"

"Durmstrang and Slytherin students."   I finish for her.

"Yes, Miss Delacour was the only one with any chance of seeing if Mr. Krum committed a foul.   She says that she did not see it, since she was positioning herself to pass.   Headmaster Karkaroff pointed out that even if his student committed a foul by current IBRA standards, they do not govern this particular race and only the rules of the Triwizard Tournament apply here."

They prepared their defense ahead of time, cagey bastards.   Fine, I concede this round to them.   "Nothing to be done then.   Makes me wonder if he would have done it to Delacour."

"Indeed.   If you will permit me to act as your spokesperson, I will extend your congratulations to Miss Delacour on her victory and to Miss Beaucourt, Mr. Diggory, and Miss Manos on a well-flown race.   Your leg and hand should be healed before next weekend and the first round of dueling.   You will report to my quarters on Wednesday night and we will make certain that you and Mr. Diggory are schooled in proper dueling techniques.   Professor Flitwick would normally do this, but as he is one of the referees for the event, it is not permitted.   I have loaned Miss Granger my personal copy of a book called Defensive Dueling.   I would highly encourage you to seek her out."

She fishes in her handbag and removes a sealed envelope.   "This also arrived for you this morning from the Ministry.   It contains a provisional Apparition license.   You will reserve a block of time from eight in the morning to noon to learn the art of Apparition.   As the tournament was conceived for people that are ‘of age,’ some of the later tasks may require this skill.   I would encourage you to seek out some of the sixth or seventh years for assistance in this."

I like the idea of slighting Krum by not acknowledging him. "Thank you Professor.   I appreciate it."   Defensive Dueling, James read it a back in his fifth year.   Good introductory manual focusing on the essentials of shielding yourself during a duel.   Good thing that the duels aren’t right now or I’d probably kill Krum.   I’ll have to consider my strategy for my first round of dueling.   Do I want to finish in the middle of the pack or do I come out with wands a-blazing?

Who am I kidding?   The moment I step onto a dueling platform, I’ll go all out.   I have too much James in me not to get competitive.   Minerva congratulates me again on my perseverance and moves to leave. I hear a few words exchanged and the flap to the tent moves back as McGonagall allows Aimee and Fleur into the tent.

"Ladies?"   I arch an eyebrow at them.

Aimee smiles, speaking in French, "You flew well today, Harry Potter.   We wanted to stop by and congratulate you."   Fleur doesn’t look all that pleased.

"Thank you.   Both of you were every bit as good as I expected.   What did they say about the protest?"

Fleur purses her lips and shakes her head at me.   "The IBRA did not, in fact, sanction this event and their rules do not apply.   Even had I seen Viktor Krum with his hand on your broom, there was no foul by the rules governing this race.   I suggest you be satisfied knowing that you flew well, anything else makes you look both petulant and spoiled."

"Excuse me?"

"Did the collision addle you?   Protests are for those that are whiners, not winners!   I am leaving now."   She spins on her heel smartly and walks away.

Aimee shoots Fleur’s back an exasperated look while turning back to me.   "With more training, you could easily fly professionally."

I resist mentioning that with the end of the race that Fleur has returned the broomstick to its rightful place — shoved up her arse!   Instead, I choose the higher path.   "Thank you for the compliment."

"You earned it.   Gesalt is always looking for new talent.   My Aunt is also the manager for their racing team.   She had kind words to say about your abilities when I landed."

"Were they kinder than Fleur’s?"

She smiles, "Fleur dislikes large crowds."

"Best I can tell, she dislikes all of England."

This gets an amused laugh from the brunette.   "Very true.   Do not be offended if she seems cold.   She is a very private person and it is her way.   From her perspective, everyone wants something from her; she is a celebrity."

With no small amount of sarcasm, I answer.   "I think I can identify with that."

"Yes, I suppose you can.   My aunt asked that you keep Gesalt Racing in mind as you approach your sixteenth birthday.   Contrary to the evidence in front of you, the sport tends to have fewer injuries than Quidditch and the average career lasts much longer."

"A little early recruiting?"

She feigns innocence rather well, "Of course not!   I am just here to congratulate you on a race well flown.   I would never dream of trying to influence you.   Now, if you will excuse me, I must go find Fleur and ensure she does not inflict bodily harm on those wishing to congratulate her."

-----

I allow a few visitors in the Infirmary.   The "agreement" means that one of them is Rita.   She’s just leaving with her quotes when the next group enters — Ollie, Penny, and Hermione.  

"You looked good up there Harry, except for the tough break at the end there, mate."   Ollie starts with a bad pun.

"Thanks, second stringer."

He gets a big old grin on his face.   "Not for much longer!   I’ve already heard that next season they’re going to have an open competition.   The bloke in front of me hasn’t been living up to that new contract they gave him, and they feel he needs a bit of motivation!"

"Good on you, Ollie."

"Our General Manager was in the stands today.   He liked that you flew through the pain, and told me to send his regards and hopes for a speedy recovery."

Hermione interrupts, "Harry, I can’t believe you’re not angrier about all this!   This vile Viktor Krum is going to get away with it."

I shrug, "Depends on your perspective, Hermione.   Penny, I’ll give you the same quote I just gave Rita.   Viktor Krum employed a questionable tactic during our race because his ego couldn’t tolerate the idea that he might not be the best flier out there.   That distinction clearly belongs to Fleur Delacour, but were it not for my injured hand holding me back, he wouldn’t even be the second best rider in that race."

Penny’s brow furrows, "Are you certain you want to bait him right before the dueling begins?"

"If he looses it during a duel, there’ll be too many witnesses.   A cheap shot in front of a crowd will cost him endorsements.   Besides, I’m not worried about dueling Krum."

Hermione looks furious.   "Harry!   They teach both Dueling and Dark Arts at that school.   Don’t be foolish!"

"But they don’t teach fighting Death Eaters, or facing down dozens of Dementors, or a Basilisk.   I’ll be careful on the dueling platform, but I won’t be intimidated by him."   Only Ollie knows that I have the memories and life experiences of a Professional Duelist at my disposal.   Penny and Hermione are obviously worried.

"Do you even know the Protego Shield yet, Harry?"

"I’ll be fine, Hermione.   Trust me."

Penny also expresses concern, "Dodging will only get you so far, Harry."

I must have been under a Silencing charm as Hermione just keeps going, "I’ve been going over the wand motions and can already cast one.   It’s very important you master this spell in the next few days."

Scooping my wand up, I generate one for her and switch the wand to my left hand and do it again.   It’s the only way to silence her.   Well technically it isn’t the only way…if she wants me to practice my Stunner, I can knock her out for awhile.   Either way, I’ve no intentions of casting a simple Shield or a basic Stunner during any of these duels.   I do a quick little spell that identifies any insects in the room, looking for any beetles, but find none.   Rita must be on to her next victim.

"Like I said Hermione, I’ll be fine."

"When did you learn to do that?"

"I was very busy this summer and I’m not just up in this ward brewing potions and cleaning bedpans.   Remember the Switching spell in Transfiguration?   If I really wanted to walk right now, I’d just switch my leg for Ollie’s and let him rehab it."

"Hey!"

"Don’t worry, I won’t.   I just said I could do it if I wanted."  

Hermione quiets, but I know I’m not going to hear the end of it.   She bides her time while I visit with Penny and Ollie, trying to give my journalist friend all the quotes I gave Rita plus a few more.   When they leave, Hermione lingers.

"Harry, you’re keeping things from me, aren’t you?   And I’m not just talking about the vow you took."

"Yes."   I gesture to the bed next to me and she sits.

"But we’re friends…"

"And I hope we always will be."   I say.

I can almost see the wheels in her head turning.   "Is this why you gave me the book on Occlumency?   It’s not just about Snuffles, is it?   There’s more too it than that."

"How have you been getting on with Occlumency?"   Best way to answer her is with doublespeak.

She mutters, "I’ve been so consumed by getting ahead on my coursework so that I could have time for the Inter-School competition that I haven’t really been able to do much with it.   If you need me to, I’ll resign from the squad."

"No."

"You might need my help."

"I might, but I have others I can lean on if it comes to that.   You earned your opportunity on the school team and you deserve a chance to be in the spotlight.   Years ago, you dismissed yourself as books and cleverness, but there’s much more to you than that.   My secrets can wait."

"I’d be willing to take a vow of secrecy."

"It wouldn’t stop a Legilimens or someone using a truth serum.   I’ll ask you to trust me.   It’s too important for a vow, but not important enough for you to give up something you want this badly."

"You sound awfully certain for a person nursing a broken leg."

"She’s got a point, Potter."   I look and see Dobby standing there holding the Sorting Hat.   No one has passed my privacy ward.   "You owe me sixty galleons."

"You already borrowed twenty from me.   It’s nice to see you too, Hat.   I’d been wondering where my advisor was."

"Fine, you owe me forty galleons and what would I have been doing here anyway?   I didn’t realize that I’d need to advise you against flying into solid objects.   I was beginning to believe that you weren’t actually that stupid.   Do you need reminders to inhale and exhale?   I suppose I could tell you how badly you performed today, but I think you already know that.   If you intend on winning, you have ground to make up."

"Thought you were going to wager on Fleur."

The Hat harrumphs, "As did I, but apparently this sniveling ball of monkey shit you employ didn’t like the idea of me betting on the witch to win, so instead, this retarded elf put the bet on you."

Dobby’s turn to mutter, "Nasty Hat wanted the Great Harry Potter to lose!"

"Insane vermin.   Where were you when your Master needed assistance?"   Damn thing really does know how to get at everyone’s weak points.

"Dobby was where Master Harry Potter told him to be, listening to nasty Hat make nasty comments.   You are not a good piece of magic.   Dobby knows this."

Hermione starts, "Master Harry Potter…"

The Hat continues yanking Dobby’s chain, "An ironic statement coming from a house-elf of all things.   Do us all a favor, Dobby.   Shut the fuck up."

Dobby tosses the Hat away from it and runs over to me.   "Can Dobby get Harry Potter anything?   Dobby is sorry that Albus Dumbledore takes Harry Potter’s map.   Dobby wants Harry Potter to trust house-elves.   Winky was a bad house-elf."

The witch next to me crosses her arm and I get that sinking feeling in my gut that happens whenever the elf starts speaking in a crowd.   "Harry, do you own Dobby now?   I’d like an answer.   Who’s Winky?"

"No, I’m paying him on a trial basis, but I’m leaving the option open.   Dobby, let’s not talk about Winky anymore."

"Right. Dobby will not talk about the bad elf who tried to kill Harry Potter."

"Dobby!"

"Harry!"

I don’t know how much more of Dobby’s "help" I can take right now.   "Dobby, thank you for bringing the Sorting Hat here.   In the future, just ignore any ‘nasty comments’ it makes.   Would you go to my dorm and bring my book bag on my bed here?   I need it.   After that, how about something to eat."

He disappears and I’m left looking at a frustrated Hermione Granger and a bemused hat.   I guess I need to explain this, "Winky was the elf owned by the Death Eater trying to kill me.   She died during the battle trying to protect her Master."   I pause for a second searching for words that won’t come.   "It appears that anything beyond that is protected by my vow of secrecy."

That answer doesn’t satisfy her.   "This reinforces my argument that House-elves should not be owned, Harry."

The Hat offers its opinion, "Really Granger, try hanging around some of them, especially Potter’s little dipshit.   You’ll find they likely wouldn’t know what to do with freedom if it was given to them.   If they did figure out what to do with it, we’d be in even deeper trouble.   Go down in the kitchens and watch them work.   See how happy they are."

"They don’t know any better!   What right do we have to enslave them?"

"And you do?   Fine Granger, you seem to like masturbating to logic puzzles; try this one.   What if I told you that house elves were the bound spirits of imps that formerly roamed this land and caused mayhem and chaos everywhere?"

"Are they really?"

"Tell me you did not just say that, Granger.   I thought you once had some potential.   Yes, house-elf sounds more pleasing to the ear than minor demon, you mental midget.   So, tell me, should we free the demons and hope that centuries of servitude will prevent them from reverting to form?   Look how much grief Potter’s causes just trying to serve him.   If that idiot ghost taught anything other than Goblin Wars, you might actually know something about real history!"

I can honestly say that I didn’t know that either, but then again, I haven’t been alive for over a thousand years.   This is probably another example of those dirty little secrets.

"Hermione, you could interview the Sorting Hat for material for your research paper."

"Could I?   It’s your advisor.   I wouldn’t want to take it away from you."   She sounds both wary and excited at the same time.

"What do I get out of this, HJ?   I’m working with you, not for you."

"You can quit being a sphincter about money; we’ll take the trip to Italy already."

"In that case, I’m at your disposal, Granger."

"What’s in Italy?   Are you going to Rome?"

I gesture with my hand, "Don’t ask — just don’t ask.  You don’t want to know.   Listen, I’m starting to get tired.   Hermione, why don’t you take the hat with you and come back tomorrow?   Hat, go easy on her.   Don’t traumatize her too much."

Hermione gives me a peck on the cheek and a hug.   "I forgot to mention that Ron was a bit put out that he wasn’t on your visitor list."   Her look becomes more serious, "I told him that maybe he should consider being a better friend.   Honestly, he is so frustrating sometimes."

"I thought you were staying out of it."

"In my defense, he came to me.   Though, I’d venture today that if the positions were reversed, you’d be a bit more understanding, instead of whining about not being on the visitor’s list."

"Tell him that if he wants to come by tomorrow, I’ll add him.   I was in a bit of pain when Madame Pomfrey was asking."   Do I really need this shit today?

I already know the answer.   No, I don’t.   Lying back on the bed, I try to erase most of this day from my mind.   Hopefully, somewhere in France, Padfoot is in bed with two women and a four pack of Rejuvenation potions.

------

Neville comes by the next day carrying the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet.   Ron has yet to show here since I told Poppy to let him in if he came.   It makes me wonder why I even bothered.   I can obviously still be friends with Hermione.   Maybe I will even be better friends with her now that I’m a bit more focused on the more important things in life.

My new favorite male fourth year Gryffindor and I sit and read through the paper which recaps the race.   Rita’s article is her usual spiteful self.   At least the majority of the rancor isn’t directed at me.   Of course, if she suddenly reverses herself and starts acting nice, well everyone would see through that about the time they finish the article.   Instead, she focuses on how much danger I’m in and how unprepared I am for the tasks ahead.

I guess those are the tradeoffs one has to make.   Neville and I chat for a time as Poppy tends to a couple of students with minor ailments before releasing them.

Our quiet discussion is interrupted by the Head Girl entering.   Melinda Turpin is Lisa’s older sister and a Hufflepuff.   If Lisa is anywhere close to looking like her sister in three years, I’ll have to keep her in mind.   "Good morning.   The Headmaster asked that I come retrieve you for the assembly.   Are you able to walk on your leg?"

 "I’ve already taken a Pain Reducer, and Madame Pomfrey has me in a walking cast.   I’ll see you there, Neville."

I watch my housemate run off and test my leg.   In the Muggle world, I’d be off this thing for months, but magic is truly wondrous.   By the coming weekend, it’ll be like it was never broken.   Considering crutches or a cane for a moment, I decide not to.   Krum doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.   Turpin waits outside while I dress.   In reality, I Transfigure the garments I’m wearing into everyday wear.

Melinda walks slowly beside me and doesn’t really talk until I start, "Hermione says you’re doing runes for the competition team.   She sounded very interested."

Obviously, Ancient Runes is Melinda’s passion.   I seem to recall some announcement a few years ago that she received the highest score on her Runes O.W.L. in a century.   Thanks to JP’s memories, I’m fairly conversant in them as well, at least enough to follow along with what she’s babbling on about.   She’s just slightly shorter than I am, and keeps her brown hair straight and shoulder length.   From what little I know about her, she’s dating the Slytherin seventh year prefect, Octavius Pucey.   One of the Muggleborns stuck him with the name "Octapucey" after a film, and it has stuck.   As one of Snape’s little enforcers, I have no love for him.

"So what are you planning on after Hogwarts?"   Two minutes is enough Ancient Runes for today.   Just because I can now understand what she’s talking about doesn’t mean I’ve developed a sudden fascination with the subject.

"Oh, I’ve got several offers from the Ministry, but I’m probably going to take a year and travel to visit some of the actual locations where all these runes are located.   Gringotts has an interesting offer for me to join a Curse Breaking team as one of their translators."

"But?"

"The job is in South America and Incan isn’t my strong suit.   Octavius isn’t too thrilled at the prospect of me traveling either.   He’s made that perfectly clear."

I roll my eyes, "The only jobs with more travel in them than Runes specialists and Curse Breakers belong to Herbologists.   My guess is that he wants a trophy girlfriend on his arm at all his fancy parties.   You actually having a career might interfere with that."

She looks at me critically.   "This is none of your business, Potter."

I ignore her to make a point.   "So, was he upset that Snape left him off the competition team?"

"He hasn’t really said." She answers evasively.  

"Sure, he hasn’t.   Especially since Roger is leading it up."   There’s no love lost between Roger Davies and Pucey.     The Slytherin swore that he was going to be Head Boy this year as well.   Hell, he probably thought he was going to be the Hogwarts representative in the tournament.   All in all, it just hasn’t been his year.   Let’s see if I can add to his woes by getting Melinda to dump him.

"Didn’t I just tell you to get your nose out of my business?"   Burrow far enough and you hit a nerve.   That’s probably the right spot to plant a seed or two of discord.

"I’m not trying to start a row with you, only offer a bit of outside perspective.   All I’m saying, Melinda, is that you’re a smart and attractive witch with a true gift for Runes.   Don’t let a bloke hold you back from something you enjoy doing just because his ego can’t handle dating a witch more successful than he is.   It’d be a damn shame to see that kind of talent going to waste."

She looks at me thoughtfully.   The flattery seems to have softened her cross look.   "I appreciate your concern, Potter, but I have things under control, thank you very much.   Come on, let’s get to the assembly."  

I hadn’t planned on starting my revenge with Pucey, but I seem to recall him being out there at the turn when Krum fouled me.   Even if he wasn’t, well… I’m sure he’s done something to warrant it.

JP would have probably tried to work his charm on the Head Girl and see how far he could get.   He and Sirius had a game collecting "points."   Any girl you shagged in your year or above was worth one point.   Prefects were worth two and the Head Girl was worth five.   JP quit the game after the death of his parents.   However, JP didn’t have a busted leg to hobble on.   On one hand, I might have developed — or is it reacquired — a petty, vindictive streak.   On the other hand, telling a pretty girl that it’s okay to stand up to her pompous arse of a boyfriend is really helping her.

Who knew mischief making could be such a noble cause?

------

Most of the students are already in the Great Hall as Melinda leads me up to the stage.   I grab a seat next to Cedric, who seems pleased to see me and exchanges a few words with his fellow Puff.

Viktor Krum gives me a smug look.   Yeah, just wait until the duels, maggot.   You’re mine.   Athena politely nods and continues the conversation she’s having with Aimee.   Fleur is doing her best to look cold and aloof.   She has it down to an art form.   When my leg is better, I’ll have to try and find her little grotto again.   Of course it would reinforce her opinion of how barbaric this place is, if my Pronghorn form showed up favoring another leg.

A few minutes pass before Igor Karkaroff stands and motions for the doors to be shut.   In thickly accented English he begins, "Today, we speak of the coming tasks in the Triwizard Tournament.   Broom race is over and now we duel!   Only two outcomes in duel, victory or defeat!   It is Trial of Combat.   First duel is with wands on Saturday. Three duels fought on the first day and two on the second day.   Each champion on this stage will duel all five others.   Four weeks from first duel is second.   This one is with staff, like days of old.   Winner is person that remains on the platform.   Loser is on ground staring up at winner.   Third duel is months away, with wands again.   Each duel won is worth one point in the overall competition."

Staff fighting, hadn’t expected that!   Nothing wrong with a tradition that involves beating each other with sticks!   Here Dudders thought the magical world was backwards!   James played around with staves as a kid, but that was a long time ago, and last I checked, I’m still in the body of a fourteen-year-old boy.   I glance at Cedric.   He’s a tall, lanky, ball of muscle.   It’ll be interesting to see him go up against a shorter, more compact Krum.

Karkaroff lets the murmuring die off before continuing.   "There is reward for the duelist with most points in all three rounds of dueling.   Telemachus Manos, three time champion duelist, gives winner two months of private dueling lessons at his school in Greece."

More than a few eyes wander to Athena.   How closely is she related to Telemachus?   She sure wasn’t picked for her broom flying skills.   This adds a layer of complexity to things.

"Now, we must talk about a task weeks away.   Champions must prepare for this task ahead of time amidst everything else.   It is Trial of Ingenuity."   He paces a lot while speaking.   His steps bring him back to something covered by a blanket.   With a flourish he whips the blanket away revealing a scale model of a room and a knife with a jeweled handle.

"This room is Puzzle Room.   Puzzle Room challenges the contestants."   Karkaroff taps the model with his wand and a much larger image appears in the air with a stick figure standing just inside the doorway.   The former Death Eater holds the knife up high.   "The goal is to retrieve this dagger from the other side of the room!   This dagger once wielded by Wiglaf in service to King Beowulf!   It is very sacred relic.   The room does not give up its prize easily.   Earth, Water, Air, and Fire protect Wiglaf’s dagger.   Look closely."

The figure steps into the room.   The outer walls and ceiling erupt in flames. For the first thirty feet, there is ground, but pillars of solid rock rise and move to block the figures progress.   Earthen hands reach out to grasp the figure’s feet.   His wand moves the figure forward.   "Earth or fire must be overcome first."

The ground ends with water covering the next portion of the room.   "Now is next choice, water and air will try to stop champions.   Which do you challenge?"   Geysers of water appear mixed in with whirlpools.   Dangerous looking vortexes of air swirl across the surface of the water.   A small, but brightly burning ring of fire is the last barrier protecting the dagger.   Karkaroff makes the figure move to the end and retrieve the image of the relic and return to the starting line.

"Looks too easy in my picture, does it not?   This I warn you, is very dangerous in Puzzle Room.   Not for the weak-hearted and certainly not for children.   Pulverized by earth, burned by fire, scalded or drowned by water, and battered by air — those are the choices.   Puzzle Room is even more dangerous because the champions do not have their wands!"

The crowd gasps at that.   Gee, I wonder who the "children" comment was directed at?   Karkaroff finishes.   "Only what each champion brews or enchants may be brought into the Puzzle Room.   To win, they must solve the puzzle ahead of time.   Is that not right, Albus?"

Dumbledore stands, "Thank you, Igor.   Indeed, the Puzzle Room is an enchanter’s challenge that will test the resourcefulness and problem-solving skills of our champions.   They may brew potions and craft items to aid them in retrieving the Dagger of Wiglaf.   This momentous event will take place the day following the Yule Ball.   The champions will have until then to devise a winning strategy that allows them to retrieve the weapon in the least amount of time.   Hogwarts will be providing our six budding enchanters and brewers with their own workshop warded to allow access only to them and their advisors.   The champions will have full use of our raw materials.   If we do not have something, the contestant may order the raw material and have it delivered.   However, all the enchanting, brewing, and runes carving must be their own work.   Each contestant will be tested with Veritaserum and questioned by myself, Madame Maxim, and Headmaster Karkaroff to ensure that the work is indeed that of the champion."

I look for and find a leering Snape.   His gaze bores into me.   There’s a sharp thrust of Legilimency, but I look away when I first sense it.

Dumbledore smiles in his genial manner looking at all six of us.   "I look forward to seeing what imaginative solutions the six of you devise.   Portraits from each individual school will be installed in the room to watch for anyone attempting unauthorized access."  

Turning back to the crowd after giving us the more specific instructions, he finishes, "Now, this is the part you are all wondering about, the prize for the winner of this task.   Naturally, we are not going to give the winner this heavily enchanted dagger, but I have something nearly as priceless.   For the person that completes the task in the least amount of time, I have a rare and valuable prize — a Pensieve."

Dumbledore pulls the covering next to him away and there is a simple looking basin that appears worn and very old.   It’s somewhat lacking compared to some that James saw during his life, but it’s not the appearance I care about.   "Owning one is beyond the means of most wizards and witches, but to posses one with such a historic past is truly something to be proud of.     Indeed, this well traveled and heavily used artifact could use a cleaning and a good polishing.   It comes to us by way of the estate of my dear friend Nicolas Flamel.   This was his personal Pensieve and the memories of one of the greatest minds that ever walked this planet once circled in this Pensieve.   I do not lie when I tell you that museums, private collectors, and even a few Ministers have requested this humble piece.   His wife, who just so happens to be the maker of this four hundred year old relic and a longtime proponent of bringing back this tournament, did not wish to consign it to such a fate.   Her exact words were, ‘It is meant to be used and have a purpose, not gazed upon and allowed to collect dust.’   As someone that has also been described as a bit of an old relic, I could appreciate the meaning of her words."

Everyone laughs at his joke.   I like that Pensieve.   I want it.   Most of the others around on the podium do too.   Six weeks is a tight schedule, especially with two duels and who knows what else waiting for me, but the prize is well worth it.   This sounds like a job for a once and future Marauder.

Previous A House of Cards Flawed Assumptions The Summer of Change Of Innuendo and Ice Cream Closets and Secrets Plans are Subject to Change I Belong to Nowhere Censure and Sensibility Bartering the Truth Every Rose has a Thorn Appearances Can Be Revealing What's the Price of Your Fame? Caged Fear Sometimes, It's Good to be Me Code of the Marauders Dancing in the Whirlwind The Dykstra Shuffle A Prayer for Forgiveness Out of Africa The Geist and the Grotto Mind Your Manners Head Games Humiliation and Other Diversionary Tactics Cry Havoc Next