harry makes friends
After the shock of being selected as a champion, Harry knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t the only one angry about this.
Viktor Krum had barely spoken since the selection, his expression unreadable, but Fleur Delacour? She was *livid.*
“You ‘ave no right to be in ze Tournament!” Fleur snapped, arms crossed as she glared at Harry. “It was meant to be *three* champions! Not four!”
Harry sighed. He had expected this reaction.
“I *know*, Fleur,” he said firmly. “I didn’t put my name in the Goblet. I don’t *want* to be in this Tournament.”
Fleur scoffed. “Ah, but now zat you *are* in, you will still compete, non?”
Harry hesitated. “I have to. The contract’s binding.”
That gave her pause.
Viktor finally spoke. “Then what do you want from us?”
Harry took a deep breath. “I want us to *work together*.”
Fleur narrowed her eyes. “Why would we do zat?”
“Because,” Harry said seriously, “something isn’t right. The Goblet shouldn’t have let a fourth name through. That means *someone* wanted me in this Tournament.”
Viktor and Fleur exchanged looks.
“Think about it,” Harry continued. “This Tournament is already dangerous. What if it’s *rigged*? What if someone wants me dead?”
That got their attention.
Viktor crossed his arms, considering Harry’s words. “You believe this is sabotage?”
Harry nodded. “I don’t know who did it, but I don’t think it was an accident.”
Fleur frowned but seemed to be thinking it over. “And what exactly do you propose?”
Harry exhaled in relief. “We watch each other’s backs. We don’t have to *help* each other win, but we can make sure none of us *die*.”
There was a long pause. Then—
“I am listening,” Viktor said slowly.
Fleur pursed her lips, looking Harry over carefully before sighing. “Fine. But only because I do *not* like being part of someone’s little game.”
Harry grinned. “So we have a deal?”
Viktor gave a small nod. Fleur hesitated, then extended her hand.
“Deal,” she said.
As Harry shook it, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could get through this in one piece.
---
Harry left his meeting with Viktor and Fleur feeling a little more at ease. At least they weren’t actively trying to sabotage him. But that didn’t mean things were *good*.
As he walked into the common area of Malfoy Manor, he wasn’t surprised to find Draco already waiting for him—sitting comfortably on *his* chair. Or more accurately, on *Harry’s* chair with his legs stretched over the armrest, looking completely at ease.
Harry huffed, walking over and nudging Draco’s foot. “That’s *my* spot.”
Draco smirked, not moving an inch. “Correction—this was your spot. But since you were *busy* making alliances, I’ve claimed it.”
Harry rolled his eyes before swiftly sitting down, ignoring Draco’s dramatic gasp of offense as he pulled the blond into his lap.
“You were saying?” Harry teased, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist.
Draco huffed, but there was no real annoyance in his expression. Instead, he settled in easily, his head resting against Harry’s shoulder. “Fine. You win *this* time.”
Lucius, who had just entered the room with Narcissa, paused at the sight. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Narcissa, however, smirked. “Draco, dear, I do hope you remember that *chairs* are meant to be used *individually*.”
Draco only smirked back. “I’m quite comfortable, Mother, but thank you for your concern.”
Harry felt his ears go red, but he tightened his grip just slightly. He *liked* Draco here—liked the way he just fit against him.
Snape, who had followed the Malfoys in, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Merlin help us all,” he muttered under his breath, but it was obvious to anyone paying attention that he wasn’t *actually* mad.
Sirius, sprawled on the couch with a cup of firewhisky, snickered. “I have to admit, I never saw *this* coming.” He grinned at Harry. “Potter, I’m proud. You managed to tame a Malfoy.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t *tame* him.”
“I *am* untameable,” Draco agreed smugly, tilting his head up to kiss Harry’s jaw.
Sirius groaned dramatically. “Ugh, they’re so *disgusting*, Lucius. Do something about your son.”
Lucius simply sipped his wine. “No. This is rather *entertaining*.”
Harry buried his face in Draco’s hair, half in affection, half to hide his burning face.
But despite the teasing, despite the looming First Task, he felt… safe.
For now, that was enough.
---
Harry was already in a bad mood when he walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts. The real Moody was still missing—something that both Sirius and Lucius had been keeping an eye on—but for now, they were stuck with this version.
Draco, sensing Harry’s irritation, casually sat on his lap as they settled into their seats. It had become a habit by now, and the other students had simply learned to ignore it (or in some cases, accept it with a mix of amusement and horror).
Fake Moody—or whoever he was—stomped into the room, his wooden leg making a distinct thunk with every step. His magical eye swiveled around the room, landing briefly on Harry before moving away.
“Right,” Moody growled. “I’m here to teach you lot what the real world looks like. And the real world doesn’t care if you’re not ready. Dark Wizards don’t care. They will come at you with everything they have, and you’d better be prepared.”
Harry wasn’t sure why, but something about the way Moody was looking at him made his skin crawl.
The lesson quickly turned intense. Moody demonstrated the three Unforgivable Curses, and Harry’s fists clenched as he watched the Imperius Curse force a student to do ridiculous things against their will.
When it came time to demonstrate on him, Harry fought back.
He wasn’t even sure how he did it. One moment, Moody was telling him to jump on the desk, and the next, Harry was pushing against the command, forcing himself to stay still.
Moody’s eye narrowed in clear interest. “Well, well. Potter resists.”
Harry ignored the weight of that stare and sat down as quickly as possible, Draco’s hand gripping his wrist under the desk in silent support.
After the lesson, Harry had barely stepped into the hallway before Cedric Diggory caught up to him.
"Potter," Cedric said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Listen, I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but I think you should know—"
Before he could finish, Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour arrived, both looking serious.
“You need to know about ze First Task,” Fleur said firmly.
Harry frowned. “Why?”
Viktor crossed his arms. “Because it is dragons.”
For a moment, Harry thought he had misheard. “…What?”
“Dragons,” Cedric repeated. “They’ve got them for the First Task.”
Harry stared. “You’re kidding.”
Fleur shook her head. “We saw zem being moved into ze enclosure. It is not a rumor.”
Harry took a slow, deep breath. Dragons. Great. Just great.
At that moment, Draco and the rest of their group arrived.
“What’s going on?” Draco asked, eyeing Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor suspiciously.
Harry exhaled and gave him a look. “Well. Turns out I’ll be fighting a dragon.”
There was a long silence.
Then:
“WHAT?!” Draco’s voice practically echoed in the corridor.
A group of second-years flinched and scurried away.
Ron and Hermione both looked equally horrified. Blaise muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I told you this tournament was ridiculous.”
Draco, meanwhile, looked absolutely murderous. “Dragons?! That’s what they’re throwing at you? Oh, wonderful, fantastic, no big deal, just a dragon—”
Harry placed a hand on Draco’s waist to calm him. “It’s fine, love. I’ll figure it out.”
Draco turned to glare at Cedric. “And you just found this out?!”
Cedric, looking slightly overwhelmed, raised his hands in surrender. “I thought he should know.”
Draco huffed and spun back to Harry. “We’re going straight to the adults.”
Harry sighed, already knowing this was going to be a very long conversation with Sirius, Snape, and the Malfoys.
Because if there was one thing his family hated, it was when someone put Harry James Potter in mortal danger.
---
Harry barely had time to blink before Draco grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards the nearest fireplace.
“Draco,” Harry sighed, “this is really not necessary—”
“Not necessary?!” Draco spun around, looking absolutely livid. “They’re throwing you against a dragon, Harry! A dragon! And you think we’re just going to ignore that?”
Before Harry could protest further, Draco tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames and called out, “Malfoy Manor!”
The second the green flames took them, Harry knew there was no escape.
---
Lucius Malfoy was in his study when two teenagers stumbled out of the fireplace. He barely had time to raise an eyebrow before Draco launched into a furious tirade.
“They’re making Harry fight a dragon!”
Lucius set down his glass of wine with deliberate slowness. “…I beg your pardon?”
“The Triwizard Tournament!” Draco fumed. “The First Task—dragons! They expect him to fight one! It’s absolutely—”
“Ridiculous,” Narcissa finished from the doorway, having clearly overheard. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were sharp.
Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I appreciate the outrage, but it’s not like I have a choice—”
Lucius stood.
The room seemed to drop in temperature.
“Oh, you always have a choice, Harry.” His voice was dangerously smooth.
And that’s when Harry realized—Lucius Malfoy was about to go to war with the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
---
It got worse. Because of course Draco wasn’t done yet.
“Oh, we’re not finished,” Draco muttered as he dragged Harry back to the fireplace.
“Draco—”
“Grimmauld Place!”
Harry barely had time to sigh before they were spinning again.
When they landed in the Black family home, Sirius was mid-conversation with Remus and Snape (who, shockingly, had not yet murdered him). The three men turned to see the furious blond boy and the resigned Chosen One appear in the room.
Sirius grinned. “Harry! To what do I owe the—”
“He’s fighting a dragon,” Draco interrupted, hands on his hips.
Silence.
Sirius blinked. Then blinked again.
“…Come again?”
“A dragon!” Draco threw his hands in the air.
Snape’s expression darkened instantly.
Remus straightened, his warm amber eyes now sharp and assessing.
Sirius, on the other hand, exploded.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, A DRAGON?!”
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples.
This was going to be a long night.
---
Harry stood in the Champion tent, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on him. The other champions were tense—Fleur adjusted her gloves, Krum looked as brooding as ever, and Cedric kept shooting Harry supportive glances.
Draco had tried to sneak into the tent earlier, only to be forcibly removed by McGonagall, who had the patience of a saint. Harry could still hear Draco’s indignant yelling somewhere in the distance.
“You’re making him fight a bloody dragon, and I can’t even be here?”
Harry smiled to himself. Even when he wasn’t physically present, Draco’s dramatics were a comfort.
Bagman called them over, and Harry’s stomach twisted. This was it.
Pulling the Hungarian Horntail.
Brilliant.
He could already hear Sirius swearing furiously in the stands. Lucius, no doubt, looked ready to hex someone. Snape probably regretted ever letting Harry survive this long.
But there was no backing out now.
The Plan.
Step one: Summon his broom.
Step two: Don’t die.
With his heart pounding, Harry stepped onto the rocky arena, the crowd’s cheers fading into white noise. The Hungarian Horntail loomed before him, massive and deadly, its golden eyes locked onto him.
It let out a low, menacing growl.
Harry didn’t wait.
“Accio Firebolt!”
For a terrifying second, nothing happened.
Then—
His broom shot into his hand like a lifeline.
Flying.
Harry shot up into the sky, heart racing. The dragon lunged, but he dodged, the heat of its breath scorching behind him.
The crowd gasped.
In the stands, Draco had probably gone into cardiac arrest.
“Come on,” Harry muttered, circling the dragon, testing its movements. It swiped at him—he dodged, twisting midair, moving faster and faster.
The dragon grew angrier, snapping at him, moving away from its nest.
Now.
Harry dove.
Straight for the golden egg.
The dragon roared—
The crowd screamed—
And just as the beast lunged—
Harry grabbed the egg and pulled up, the tip of his broom barely clearing the dragon’s tail.
The whistle blew.
It was over.
The Aftermath.
Harry landed, breathless, egg clutched in his arms. The crowd erupted.
And then—
Draco tackled him.
"ARE YOU INSANE?" Draco shrieked, shaking him.
"Nice to see you too," Harry gasped, grinning.
Draco scowled—but he was trembling, his grip on Harry’s robes tightening. "You absolute idiot, you could’ve died!"
Harry, still high on adrenaline, wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and spun him. "But I didn’t!"
Draco smacked his shoulder, face flushed. "I hate you."
"No, you don’t."
Draco huffed, but he clung to Harry. "Fine. But I will be holding this over your head forever."
"Fair."
Behind them, Lucius was seething, Sirius was half-cheering, half-yelling, and Snape looked like he needed a drink.
Harry just grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Draco’s temple.
"See? No big deal."
Draco pulled back just enough to glare at him. "Next time, I’m tying you to a chair."
Harry just laughed.