Chapter 156: Seven Rings of Beginning (1/2)
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The link is also in the synopsis.
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[The chapter is edited by my dear friend and Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]
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”Hermione,” Harry whispered when he had sped into the greenhouse three minutes later, uttering a hurried apology to Professor Sprout as he passed her. ”Hermione— was he serious?”
”It's Quinn West; I'm pretty sure he wasn't having you on. Not with the first take so close,” she whispered back, her eyes round with anxiety over the top of the quivering Flutterby Bush she was pruning.
”But the task is tomorrow after lunch,” he said.
”Quinn said that if you use the spells correctly, you'll be fine,” whispered Hermione. She didn't look at Harry— maybe it was because she was concentrating on the plant in front of her or wasn't confident in her words.
Yesterday morning, Quinn had called them outside the Great Hall and announced that Harry's training was over and that he had already taught him everything he needed to survive a dragon.
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”Don't be stupid, and you'll be fine. Relax till the first task, rest, and make sure you're in tip-top condition.” This was Quinn's last statement to the group before he up and left without any prior indication.
After that, they didn't talk to him even once— or, to be specific, Quinn didn't speak to him. They saw him briefly at the Great Hall, but that was it.
.. .
”If you're nervous, we can always practice,” said a voice.
Harry craned his head to see Ivy, his sister, standing behind Hermione, with a weirdly subdued plant in her hand.
And so they practiced. The trio didn't have lunch. They headed for a free classroom, where Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room toward him. Quinn had taught him a short assortment of spells that he could use against the dragon at his own discretion.
”Concentrate, Harry, concentrate...”
”What d'you think I'm trying to do?” said Harry, snapping. ”A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason... Okay, try again...”
He wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but Hermione and Ivy point-blank refused to skive off Arithmancy, and there was no point in staying without them. He, therefore, endured over an hour of Professor Trelawney, who spent half the lesson telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths.
”Well, that's good,” said Harry loudly, his temper getting the better of him, ”just as long as it's not drawn-out. I don't want to suffer.” Ron looked for a moment as though he would laugh; he certainly caught Harry's eye for the first time in days, but Harry was still feeling too resentful toward Ron to care. He spent the rest of the lesson trying to attract small objects toward him under the table with his wand.
After Divination, he forced down some dinner, then returned to the empty classroom with the girls, using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid the teachers. They kept practicing until past midnight. They would have stayed longer, but Peeves turned up and, pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown at him, he started chucking chairs across the room. They left in a hurry before the noise attracted Filch and went back to the Gryffindor common room, which was now mercifully empty.
Harry stood near the fireplace at two o'clock in the morning, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, quills, several upturned chairs, an old set of Gobstones, and Neville's toad, Trevor. Only in the last hour had Harry felt that he had gotten used to all the spells taught to him.
”That's better, Harry, that's loads better,” Ivy said, looking exhausted but very pleased.
”Well, now we know what to do next time I can't manage spells,” Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, ”threaten me with a dragon. Right...” He raised his wand once more. ”Accio Dictionary!”
The heavy book soared out of Hermione's hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it.
”Harry, I really think you're ready!” said Hermione delightedly.
”Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry said.
Harry had been focusing so hard on learning the spells that evening that some of his blind panic had left him. It returned in full measure, however, on the following morning. The atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure— though, of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there.
Harry felt oddly separated from everyone around him, whether they wished him good luck or they hissed ”We'll have a box of tissues ready, Potter” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn't just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon and start trying to curse everyone in sight. Time was behaving more peculiarly than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so in a moment he seemed to be sitting down in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch... and then (where had the morning gone? the last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to him in the Great Hall. Lots of people were watching.
”Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now... You have to get ready for your first task.”
”Okay,” said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.
”Good luck, Harry,” Hermione whispered. ”You'll be fine!”
”Thank you, Hermione,” smiled Harry in return.
'Hmm?' Ivy looked at her brother and best friend. It was a little strange to see two people who quarreled almost every day, acting so cordially towards each other. Looking at them individually and together, she felt that something had changed.
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- (Scene Break) -
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Harry left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem herself either; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.
”Now, don't panic,” she said, ”just keep a cool head… We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand... The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any worse of you... Are you all right?”
”Yes,” Harry heard himself say. ”Yes, I'm fine.”
She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.
”You're to go in here with the other champions,” said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, ”and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there… he'll be telling you the— the procedure… Good luck.”
”Thanks,” said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. She left him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside.
Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than expected, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working somewhat hard, as though they had forgotten how to smile.
”Harry! Good-o!” said Bagman happily, looking around at him. ”Come in, come in, make yourself at home!”
Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again.
”Well, now we're all here— time to fill you in!” said Bagman brightly. ”When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag” —he held up a small sack of purple silk and showed it to them— ”from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different —er— varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too… ah, yes... your task is to collect the golden egg!”
Harry stared at the golden egg, and except blinking, not a single part of his body moved.
'Aah— So this is what he meant by the egg!' thought Harry. Now that he thought about it, Quinn had been weirdly insistent about the term 'egg.'
Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once to show that he understood Bagman's words and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths; that was certainly how Harry felt. But they, at least, had volunteered for this...
And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking... Harry felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a different species. And then —it seemed like about a second later to Harry— Bagman opened the neck of the purple silk sack.
”Ladies first,” he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.
She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon— a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck. And Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.
The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground. Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry put his hand into the silk bag, pulled out the Hungarian Horntail and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it and bared its little fangs.
”Well, there you are!” said Bagman. ”You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle—”
The loud cheer from the hundreds outside made Bagman flinch. The champions were inside, so what had got the audience so excited.
Everyone inside saw a wisp of flame enter their tent through the open flap, which surprised everyone even more. All looked at each other wondering if someone knew what was happening. But none knew what was going on outside.
”D-Did they let out the dragons,” asked Cedric.
Bagman shook his head. ”... No, the dragons should be still inside.”
”Then what is it?” questioned Krum.
”I don't know,” muttered Bagman and had just taken a step towards the tent flap when they heard a voice resound throughout the stadium.
”Ladies and gentlemen and interesting miscellanea— beloved friends and tolerated acquaintances,” the voice paused, ”Welcome... to the Triwizard Tournament!”
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- (Scene Break) -
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A couple minutes before the audience went wild, Eddie Carmichael sighed as he looked to his right.
”Do you really have to do this,” he asked, ”can't you like — be normal.”
”You don't like it? I thought you would be stoked.”
”No, you nutter!” blurted Eddie, ”this is absolutely rubbish!”
”Don't say that,” smiled Eddie's companion, his best friend, the grinning Quinn West, ”didn't you like it when I showed it to you yesterday? You even praised me.”
”I did no such thing!”
Eddie sighed and recalled the events of yesterday.
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After the dinner feast, Eddie strolled through the Hogwarts ground with a toothpick sticking off his mouth. It was a calm night, with a clear sky, no signs of any incoming rain. The weather was truly great for the area around Hogwarts.
”Why in the world would that bloke call me here after supper,” muttered Eddie. While he enjoyed the good weather, he wasn't the type to go out for a night stroll.
He finally stopped at the decided spot, standing just below the Astronomy tower.
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”Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald,
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling,