“It’s you and a dragon.”
November 23
“Sam?” Harry poked his head in Sam’s bedroom. “Are you awake?” he whispered.
The light from the laptop in Sam’s room was on, a film was playing, but muted. It wasn’t all that late though, not really, maybe around midnight. By their usual standards, it was practically early for everyone to be in their beds.
Dean had practically enforced a bedtime after dinner though, insisting that they all needed at least eight hours of sleep. Harry had tossed and turned for a few hours in his bed before he finally gave it up and went to find Sam.
“I’m awake,” Sam murmured quietly from beneath the red blanket on his bed. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“So are you,” Harry pointed out, still lingering in the doorway. “Can I - er…”
Harry didn’t quite know how to word what he wanted, why he was there. Harry only knew that he had been suffocating in his room, even with the window wide open.
Sam seemed to know what Harry wanted even without Harry saying it though.
“C’mon.” Sam rolled on his side and threw back the blanket on the side of the bed near the door. “It’s cold.”
Harry didn’t wait to be offered again, he just hurried across the room and scooted in Sam’s bed. Sam looked tired with his hair all mussed up and standing in odd angles, but his eyes were soft and sympathetic when he dropped his head on a pillow and peered at Harry.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Sam guessed accurately.
“No,” Harry said. He shifted around until he was comfortable enough to lay his head back on one of the pillows and stare unseeingly at the ceiling. Sam’s bed seemed more comfortable than Harry’s, it had a great many less owl feathers to poke Harry’s legs anyway.
Harry had tried to sleep, truly. Every time he closed his eyes though he pictured a huge dragon breathing fire at him while he stood uselessly. Every person Harry had ever met at school would be there, laughing at Harry as people had done after his godfather’s trial.
People thought Harry was amusing, describing everyone instead of saying their names. It wasn’t a joke though, it was the only way Harry could explain most of the time and it was incredibly frustrating.
How would they all feel to know the names of their friends and family but be unable to say it? To know spells that they spent years learning, but couldn’t cast unless they read it off a paper?
It wasn’t funny.
It was even less amusing when Harry pictured the frustration that he had felt during the trial consuming him while he faced down a dragon. Harry could have ruined his godfather’s life then when he was frustrated and running his mouth, he might lose his own in just a few hours.
“I couldn’t sleep either,” Sam said, probably lying. “You wanna lay here and be emo or go make a bunch of nifflers?”
Harry grinned humorlessly at the options given to him. Harry didn’t need to practice, he was about as good as he was going to get; he and his brothers had spent most of the day out in the field practicing. It wasn’t quite the same when Harry knew that Dean wouldn’t truly hit him with the pipe and that Sam wouldn’t catch him on fire, but it was enough of a reassurance that the nifflers would get the job done at least.
“Just lay here,” Harry said. “I think our neighbor might be sore if I keep making nifflers.”
They were fast and terribly obsessed with the garage full of shiny tools. Harry didn’t keep a great eye on them and every time he thought he rounded them all up, their neighbor would show up with one or two of them
“Dude, don’t let Bobby fool you, I swear he kept a little grey one to hunt down screws for him,” Sam said with a huffy laugh. He was quiet for a moment, then, “It’s going to be fine.”
“Yeah, I know,” Harry lied, seeing a dragon in the shadows on Sam’s ceiling. “It’ll be fine.”
Harry had expected for those hours to drag on while he laid in Sam’s room. With Sam’s even breathing, eventually dropping off to something deeper and louder when he fell asleep, it could have lasted for days.
It only felt like minutes later that there was a rap of knuckles on the door that had Harry jerking from the light sleep he had given in to.
“Rise and shine,” Dean called from the other side of the door. “Harry? You in there?”
Harry opened his mouth to reply and found that his throat was too dry, too constricted with nerves.
“He’s in here, Dean,” Sam yelled sleepily as he shifted around and began stretching. “Start some coffee, will you?”
“Start it yourself, bitch,” Dean called back.
“Jerk!”
Harry was sluggish as he turned on the bed and forced himself to sit up. It was too early… but it wouldn’t be soon. They had been over the plan a million times and Harry knew that at six they’d be portkeying to the village. Then they would wait to discover if Harry was bound to compete in the tournament or not…
If not, they could go home. If so, Harry would be facing a dragon shortly.
“I’m going to be sick.” Harry dropped his head in his rather sweaty palms and tried to swallow down the bile churning its way from his stomach to mouth. His body was already fighting against him, as if it knew that Harry would be putting it in an incredible amount of danger soon and was warning him against it.
Sam put his hand between Harry’s shoulder blades for a few seconds, just a warm reassurance that he was there. Harry drew some comfort from that and mentally scolded himself for being so - needy? childish? scared? - bothersome.
“I’m fine,” Harry eventually said. He inhaled deeply and focused on breathing out in an even stream. He wasn’t able to fake a smile when he raised his face, but blank was good enough.
“You can get a shower first,” Sam offered. “I’ll start the coffee.”
A shower was good, coffee would be even better.
Harry used the hot water in the shower to loosen his muscles, wake his brain up. It wasn’t a quick shower, but it didn’t last long enough either.
After he toweled off, Harry pulled his clothes on slowly. His pants, jeans… his dad’s shirt… someone’s socks (Sam’s? Maybe?) then the boots that were steel-toed and recently charmed fireproof.
Harry stalled as he combed his hair, brushed his teeth, combed his hair again. When Harry spotted q-tips in the cabinet, he even cleaned his ears. And, because he knew he’d need it, Harry put on an extra layer of deodorant.
Only after he couldn’t find any more reasons to delay it, Harry gripped the sink with both hands and studied himself in the mirror harshly.
“You will be fine,” he told himself. “You’re being dramatic. There’s no basilisk, no demented professor. It’s just you and a dragon. That’s all.”
Mirror-Harry looked as skeptical as Harry felt, but oh well.
Harry’s brothers were a bit mental that morning. Sam nearly spilled coffee on Harry as he shoved an overflowing mug to him and Dean put a plate stacked with food in front of him the second Harry joined them at the table.
Harry looked at the bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes, and waffles that covered his plate and decided Dean must not have slept either.
“I’m not hungry,” Harry said, beginning to push the plate away.
“You’re eating,” Dean argued, shoving it rather aggressively toward Harry. “Food, kid. You have to have food.”
“Dean—”
“No,” Dean cut off Sam before he even let him speak. Sam’s eyebrows blew up, but Dean was clearly in a snippy mood.
“He’s gotta eat or he’s gonna faint,” Dean said. He sat back in his chair and scowled with his arms crossed. “Eat.”
“I won’t faint, I will throw up,” Harry said truthfully.
Dean wouldn’t relent, “Two bites, dude. I slaved over that stove all morning.”
Harry couldn’t be guilt-tripped into eating, not if he knew he would get sick in front of the entire school, plus two other schools. It was bad enough that Harry knew he’d end the day a laughing stock, no need to make it worse.
Dean stared deadpan at Harry, refusing to break eye contact. Dean couldn’t truly think that would work on Harry, not when Harry was going to be facing a dragon within a couple of hours. Dean didn’t blink, he only stared.
“Two bites,” Harry scowled. He snatched a waffle, one of the freezer ones that Dean always soaked in syrup, and took a bite. Harry chased it with coffee, then took another bite.
Satisfied when he saw Harry taking an unforced third bite, Dean turned to nagging Sam.
“Eat, Sam,” Dean told him, reaching over to snatch the newspaper out of Sam’s hands. Harry didn’t know when Sam subscribed to the wizarding newspaper, but Harry’s general discomfort with the day only increased when he saw a photo of himself with his brothers on a page. All Harry saw was a headline that had the word ‘tournament’ in it, that was the most he wanted to see.
“Bossy,” Sam said, rolling his eyes for Harry’s benefit.
Harry forced a grin, but he didn’t feel up to their usual playful banter.
Except when silence fell between them, it was tense. They were all stressed, not just Harry. If that meant that Harry put a little more effort into eating than he wanted, it was only because Harry hated his brothers being so odd.
“This is gonna be fine,” Dean said suddenly, catching everyone’s attention. “We’re gonna go, Harry’s gonna slay a dragon, then we’re all coming home tonight. Well, actually, we’re going to Bobby’s. He’s throwing a ‘no more nifflers’ party.”
That got a huff from Harry. Sam chuckled, Dean grinned. Then Sam started actually laughing and - because Sam’s laugh was bloody contagious - it made Harry laugh.
“‘No more nifflers party’,” Harry wheezed, laughing like an idiot. “Why can’t he just admit he likes them? They’re so cute.”
“Because he’s a stubborn old man.” Dean was trying to keep from laughing but when Sam clutched his side and fell over in his chair, Dean lost it. “God damn it, Sammy.”
Harry remembered thinking then that he wished… he wished that moment could have lasted forever. Their laughter might have been tinged with hysteria, but it was warm and familiar and every time Harry accidentally looked down at where Sam had his arm slung over the seat of his chair, trying to sit back up, it made him laugh that much harder.
Maybe they had all cracked under the pressure; Harry was just glad they all cracked together.
Too soon, the three of them went outside to take their portkey to the village. Sam and Dean had both showered and dressed in what Harry dubbed their ‘hunting clothes’. Harry had his notes to himself in his pocket, his wand in hand. Harry’s owl peered at them from the railing of the porch, letting out a soft hoot when their neighbor’s door opened.
“Harry!” Their neighbor stepped just outside to yell toward them. “Bobby Singer. You go kick some ass today, kid, got it? You show ‘em that it takes more than some idjit dragon to take you down.”
“That’s real inspirational, Bobby,” Dean yelled back. He used his free hand to swipe at a fake tear beneath his eye. “How long did it take you to come up with that?”
“Respect your elders, boy,” Bobby yelled back, gruff and fond. “Look at the example your settin’ for Harry.”
Their portkey warmed and Harry waved toward Bobby, grateful for the last minute pep-talk, as silly as Dean might have found it.
“Thanks,” Harry yelled. “I’ll see you later.”
… maybe.
Or maybe Harry would be in the belly of a dragon within a couple of hours.
It wasn’t even good odds, not really.
The village was quiet when they landed on the sidewalk outside the usual pub. Harry began to fall and was caught by Dean, just before he landed on his arse. It was warmer there than at home, probably the sun that was up and shining on them.
“Harry! You made it!”
Harry hardly had time to blink the sunshine out of his eyes before he was being grabbed in a hug by his godfather who burst out of the pub. It wasn’t a long hug, it only lasted a few seconds, then Harry had a godfather giving him a very worried look as he held him out at arms length.
“Are you ready?”
“No!” Harry burst out. The hysteria that had been building since Sam’s laughing fit that morning turned to pure panic. “How can I be ready when I don’t even know your name?!”
“Okay, Spazz Master, let’s get you inside.” Dean put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and began lightly shoving him toward the pub door. The other bloke - the werewolf one - opened the door for them and nodded at Harry as they passed.
“Remus Lupin,” he said politely. “And Sirius Black.”
“Wotcher, Harry!” The pink-haired witch jumped up from her seat at the bar, immediately knocking over her stool that hit the floor with a clank. The familiar red-headed bloke beside her chuckled and bent over to help her put it back in place.
“Tonks and Charlie,” Dean reminded Harry as he gave him a push toward a seat. “You’ve got an entourage today, kid.”
“Brilliant,” Harry breathed quietly, too anxious to be polite. Harry sat down and immediately began thrumming his fingers on his thighs, resisting the urge to check the time.
They just arrived. There was an hour before the task started. If the headmaster was right, Harry would be taken to the task right at one o’clock.
Waiting was excruciating.
Dean sat on Harry’s left, Sam beside him, and Sirius took the open seat on Harry’s right side. Lupin sat down beside Sam and they made a very awkward line of quiet people.
“Oh! Here!” Lupin pulled something from his tan satchel and he passed it down to Harry. “I’ve been reliably informed that this is ready to use.”
Harry accepted the gross looking ear on a string and immediately pressed it to his right ear. Once he tapped the ear with his wand and murmured the passcode, it stuck to his ear and disappeared from view.
And then—
“Harry?!”
“Oh, thank God,” Harry sighed, sinking down in his seat. He shook his head when the barkeep held up a bottle toward him, the last thing Harry needed was more fluids to vomit shortly. Everyone else ordered drinks while Harry began chatting with…
“It’s Hermione Granger,” Hermione said, making Harry smile the slightest bit.
“I might remember you,” he said teasingly. “Brown hair, hates books?”
Hermione laughed and that made Harry relax just a bit more.
“You’ve confused me with your many other girlfriends,” she said. “Though, I’ve been picturing Jo as a blonde?”
Harry opened his mouth to say she was and then paused to choose his words very carefully.
“She is,” he said, “not my type at all, really. What are you doing?”
Dean cast Harry an amused look and Harry decided to pace while he talked, partially to keep his nosy brother out of his conversation and partially to work off his nerves.
“We’re at lunch now,” Hermione told him. “I’ve got a book up so nobody knows we’re speaking. I don’t want anyone to accuse you of cheating.”
“It would be a shame to be accused of something I’m doing,” Harry quipped. “How do the others look? Are they nervous at all?”
“Hmm… Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker that is the Hogwarts champion, he looks a bit green. Cho - oh, Cho Chang, from Ravenclaw? The seeker? She’s trying to make him eat, I think. Have you eaten? You should have tea and toast, at least, if you’re up for it.”
Harry turned when he reached one wall of the pub and rolled his eyes toward where Dean sat. It wasn’t Dean’s fault that he didn’t know Harry as well as Hermione, but Harry did feel vindicated that she knew he wouldn’t be able to eat a giant meal before the task.
Dean didn’t see him roll his eyes though, he was involved in a conversation with Charlie, something that involved a lot of hand gestures and grins.
“I ate,” Harry assured Hermione. “I might throw it all back up, but Dean’s naggy.”
Without even missing a beat, Harry saw Dean raise his middle finger at him. Harry grinned when he raised his back then drifted a bit further away to pace in peace.
“I haven’t seen Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang Champion who plays seeker - wow, the Goblet did love seekers, didn’t it? I wonder if Fleur plays Quidditch, because if so, I’d bet she plays seeker as well.”
“It’s a conspiracy,” Harry said seriously. “The dementors teamed up with the goblet to take out seekers. My guess? That blonde boy in that one house is behind it all.”
“Yes, Harry, Draco Malfoy partnered with dementors to enter you in this tournament so that Slytherin can win the quidditch cup next year,” Hermione said, so dry that Harry couldn’t help but laugh.
“Nevermind that you won’t be here next year,” Hermione went on. “I think Ginny Weasley, our friend Ron Weasley’s younger sister, is thinking about trying out for your spot. Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor girl in sixth year this year- she plays chaser for the team, will probably be captain next year.”
Quidditch was good, it was comfortable. Harry could talk about quidditch for… forty-two more minutes.
“Ron said he was thinking about trying out as keeper,” Harry told Hermione, getting a curious glance from Charlie. Harry turned his back and lowered his voice. “I was thinking I might get him a broom for Christmas? You think he’d be weird about it?”
Hermione started whispering as well so Harry assumed she was sitting with Ron. That was good, Harry could picture them sitting together as if things hadn’t changed so much.
“It’s a lovely idea, but you know how prideful he can be,” she whispered to Harry. “What if we shared the cost? He can’t be too upset then. We can tell him it counts for his birthday too.”
“That’s a great idea,” Harry said genuinely. Harry reached out to trace the wall of the pub, looking at initials carved on the wall. There were loads of them, some connected with crude hearts or ‘and’ signs. Harry ran his finger over a set ‘AD & MM’ that seemed practically ancient.
“Oh, I think we’re being dismissed to the lawns now,” Hermione said suddenly. “I won’t be able to talk, but tell me what you’re doing while I walk?”
“I’m in that pub,” Harry told her. “My brothers are here… Sirius, Lupin. Ron’s brother Charlie is here, he’s talking with Dean. And,” Harry grinned, “Tonks, that auror with the pink hair? She’s talking with Sam.”
And Sam was smiling, Tonks was smiling… they had their heads bent together, looking rather chummy. Even if they were ‘only friends’, as Sam insisted after they left Sirius’s freedom celebration, it made Harry happy to see. Tonks was an auror, Sam was like an auror. Tonks was pretty, capable, interesting; Sam needed friends like that.
“Is it weird to hope they start dating?” Harry asked. He leaned against the opposite wall of the pub, subtly watching the others all interact together. “It’s probably weird. I just think Sam deserves to be happy. He’s very kind and - you know… he deserves something good.”
Sam was a good person, he didn’t deserve what happened to the girl he loved in college or the girl he fancied that asked him to kill her. Sam deserved someone like Tonks, someone sturdy and who already knew about his job…
Harry sighed wistfully. “They could be partners on hunts, Hermione. Wouldn’t that be sweet?”
It was so quiet in Harry’s ear for a moment that Harry worried they had been disconnected. And then suddenly Hermione was laughing so loudly in Harry’s ear that he cringed at the volume. Nobody else seemed to hear her though, so the ears were quite private.
“You’re - so… oh, God. Hold on, Ron, hold on, I can’t breathe.”
Harry scowled as his ‘girlfriend’ quite rudely howled with laughter in his ear. Sirius turned from where he’d been chatting with the barkeeper to tilt his head at Harry, silently asking what was up.
“Hermione hates love,” Harry told him loudly, catching the attention of the others. “Clearly, she’s about as romantic as a rock.”
Sirius laughed, as did Sam and Dean. The others seemed confused, but Hermione was complaining in Harry’s ear, distracting him again. Harry turned from the others and walked toward the windows, peering out in the streets.
“I do not ‘hate love’,” Hermione huffed. Harry could picture her face clearly, the little furl between her eyebrows that would be there. “I just think it’s funny how invested in your brother’s personal life you are. I love love, you tactless wanker.”
“It’s hard to not be invested when we all…” Harry had to search his memory for a moment, searching for the term that he heard Sam use before. “Oh, when we live in each others pockets.”
“And clearly you all have very healthy boundaries,” Hermione said. Harry squinted, he thought it was an insult but he struggled to see how. “Fine, if you’re trying to marry Sam off to Auror Tonks, have you picked a bride for Dean?”
“Hmm…” Harry grinned, recognizing that Hermione was playing along to keep him distracted from the dragon he would be facing in… twenty-nine minutes. Harry turned so he could see the others again and he studied Dean, who had brought Sirius in his conversation with Charlie.
Dean was handsome, funny. He was a good cook, a bit overbearing at times. Dean was mental about his car, cleaned his weapons every day, and was someone Harry rather admired. Just like how Sam deserved someone brilliant, so did Dean.
“Not Ron’s oldest brother,” Harry murmured absently. Anyone who - who ‘shagged’ Dean and then never showed up again wasn’t all the dependable, not like how Dean was. Dean was always there when Harry or Sam needed him, he needed someone like that for himself.
“Bill Weasley? Was he - I KNEW IT!” Hermione shrieked in Harry’s ear. “They hooked up, didn’t they? I told Ron that they were making eyes at each other! He said Bill was ‘straight as a stick’, but I knew better!”
“Too personal,” Harry grimaced. “Way too personal, Hermione.”
“Oh, whatever,” Hermione laughed. “Oh! What about Jo? Or Natalie?”
Harry couldn’t recall who Natalie was, but he considered Jo for a second.
“Jo liked Sam, so probably not her.” Harry shrugged then, bemused by his own ridiculous musings. “He’ll meet someone, I reckon. If not, he can marry his car.”
“I think that’s—”
Hermione’s voice cut out when there was a loud roar, so loud that it covered her voice and made Harry pale several shades.
There was only one thing that could make that sound… and Harry would be seeing it face-to-face in twenty minutes.
“I’m going to get off here,” Harry said, his voice sounding rather far away. “I’ll - I’ll call you back later.”
Harry tapped the ear with his wand while Hermione choked out a goodbye. It felt too real then, the task before him. Harry wasn’t even sure why he was so nervous… mental things never bothered him before.
It was his brothers’ fault, Harry realized. When Harry looked at the bar and saw Sam and Dean sitting there, laughing and forcing conversations despite the tenseness of their postures and the rigid lines in their backs.
Harry didn’t want to get hurt facing off against a dragon because - because his brothers would be upset if he was hurt. Dean would hover, do his odd thing where he tried to carry Harry around and feed him at every moment. Sam would bury his worry in books, researching anything he thought might be relevant.
They wouldn’t say they were upset or worried, they’d just show it in a million little ways… like a real family. Like the family that Harry always dreamed about having and finally had. The family that no damned dragon was going to take from him.
Harry didn’t care how big that dragon was, how woefully minimal Harry’s plan was… Harry was going to get past that bloody dragon as quickly as he could and get back to his brothers.
If that dragon thought it would keep Harry from the family he wanted his entire life, then it had another thing coming. Only actual death was going to keep Harry apart from his brothers, and maybe not even that.
When there was only four minutes until Harry would or wouldn’t be transported to the task, Harry was being overwhelmed by last-minute advice by everyone - even the barkeeper.
“These dragons are testy, they’re new mothers,” Charlie said. “Do not get within biting distance, Harry. More than one tamer has lost a limb like that.”
“There’s no shame in runnin’, I don’t care what Albus told ya,” the barkeeper said firmly. “Yer a kid, laddie. You don’t know what to do and you run.”
“Bombarda,” Tonks said slowly. “Bombarda. Put enough power behind it and you’ll blast the dragon just enough to distract it.”
“Harry has a plan and he should stick to it,” Lupin said. “Harry, you can do this.”
“You’ll do excellent,” Sirius added. “I’ll be there, alright? Nothing bad will happen.”
Since that wasn’t reassuring in the slightest and because Harry could see the clock from the corner of his eyes, telling him there was only a minute remaining, he looked toward his brothers. Sam and Dean were brave, brilliant; they faced off with demons, hellhounds, vampires, and werewolves without even blinking.
Their advice was the only advice Harry needed.
“Don’t get eaten,” Dean said, his hand tightly gripping Harry’s left shoulder. Dean’s words might have seemed teasing, but Harry saw how serious he was, how stressed.
“Stay out of range,” Sam added, his hand mirroring Dean’s placement on Harry’s right shoulder. “Stay calm, don’t panic and, for the love of God, Harry, don’t try singing to it.”
Harry barely had time to tell Sam that it was Sirius’s fault that Harry thought hellhounds could be sung to before he was being whisked away, torn from his brothers and dropped on his arse outside of a blue tent.
So Harry was in the tournament.
Brilliant.
Harry stood up on shaking legs and looked around him, trying to place where he was. It only took him a moment, he could see the castle in the distance. The tent sat in the mouth of the quidditch field, though Harry couldn’t see anything past it as it all shimmered, as if being hidden from him.
Before Harry entered the tent, he touched his wand to his ear and whispered, “Mirror.” Harry didn’t say anything, he only wanted it ready in case he immediately had to face the dragon.
Harry slowly opened the tent and looked around, only spotting the other champions. The boy with the curly dark blonde hair was familiar, the others were not.
“Harry, hey.” The boy was standing beside a chair where a pretty witch with long silvery hair sat. The boy nodded at Harry as Harry entered the tent. There was the other bloke who was in the contest as well, the famous seeker who seemed much older than Harry was.
“Hi,” Harry said, nervous and sounding it. Harry heard Hermione whisper something in Harry’s ear, but he was being shuffled out of the doorway of the tent by two new people and couldn’t respond to her.
“Greetings! It is I, Professor Albus Dumbledore.” Dumbledore entered the tent and gave Harry a jaunty wink while another bloke followed him, one dressed in official dark red robes. Harry didn’t know that bloke, but he grinned widely at Harry, showing a missing front tooth and watery blue eyes.
“Harry Potter! Ludo Bagman!” The man, Bagman, offered Harry his hand. “So sorry to see you here, just absurd circumstances, but wonderful to meet you!”
Harry only shook his hand to be polite, not that he thought it was wonderful to meet some random ministry worker.
“Champions, gather around, please,” Dumbledore said. “Ludo, bring the bag and we can begin this task!”
Bagman rushed to join Dumbledore and Harry drifted up to inspect the cloth bag Bagman held curiously. Harry didn’t know what it would contain, only that it would be relevant to the task somehow.
“As you all know, the task designed today is to test your bravery and your astuteness in the face of danger,” Dumbledore told them all. “This bag,” he pointedly took the cloth bag from Bagman and held it up, “will tell us what order you will be competing today and what variety of danger you will be facing. Your goal in this task is to retrieve the golden egg. Understood?”
“Not quite,” the boy from Harry’s school said with a cheery smile. “But I suspect that’s the point.”
Harry didn’t think the other two champions seemed very confused, which made him wonder if they somehow knew what they were facing.
“You’ll see soon, Mister Diggory,” Dumbledore said vaguely. “I’ll begin drawing now… why don’t we start with Miss Fleur Delacour?”
Harry watched Dumbledore reach in the bag and sift around before he pulled out a tiny replica of a dragon with dark green scales and a #2 on a string around its neck.
“Common Welsh Green,” Dumbledore said, passing the lifelike dragon over to Fleur. “Mister Viktor Krum now…”
Dumbledore pulled out a red and black dragon with a #3 that stretched its wings out with a yawn.
“The Chinese Fireball,” Dumbledore said. “And for our youngest champion…”
Harry held his breath, desperately hoping he wouldn’t have to go last. Dumbledore sifted through the bag and eventually pulled out a tiny blue-grey dragon that had long wings and a short tail. The dragon made a tiny and quiet roar when Dumbledore passed it to Harry.
“You will be going first, with the Swedish Short-Snout,” Dumbledore said, referring to the one that was on Harry’s dragon. There was a light in Dumbledore’s eyes, a there and gone look of warmth before Dumbledore gave Diggory the last dragon in the bag.
“The Hungarian Horntail for our Hufflepuff Champion, Cedric Diggory,” Dumbledore cried. “Well! Champions! I wish you all luck! Harry, listen for the horn, you’ll be entering through the back door of the tent when you hear it!”
With just a brush of his hand on Harry’s shoulder, Dumbledore strode out of the tent… still not telling Harry a single thing about his plan.
“Harry?” Hermione whispered. “Are you going first?”
Harry nodded, forgetting for a moment that Hermione couldn’t see him. Harry raised the little dragon he held and blinked when it breathed out sparky smoke at him.
“Harry, a quick second?” Cedric stepped up beside Harry and turned his body to block them from the other champions who had drifted back to where they had been seated before Dumbledore entered.
“Alright then,” Harry said, curious what Cedric might want. The older boy looked serious, Harry couldn’t imagine what he wanted to discuss.
“Do you have a plan?” Cedric asked him very quietly. “I’m not - I don’t want to cheat, it’s only that you shouldn’t be here. It isn’t fair. Do you - do you have any idea what you might do? Because there’s no shame in sitting it out. You could find a place to hide, wait for the time to run out.”
Harry bristled, rather offended by that. “I’ve got a plan, actually,” he lied boldly. “I - er… I just came up with it and it’s excellent.”
“Okay,” Cedric said skeptically. “Good luck then, Harry.”
Harry nodded and inched away so he could speak very quietly to Hermione.
“What a bag of dicks,” Harry whispered, barely audible.
“He’s very friendly,” Hermione said. “Oh! The judges are in place… they’ll be bringing your dragon out soon. Harry, don’t forget, tap your wand to your clothes like Professor Lupin said. And the incantation you need first is Petraniffla Mutatio.”
“Right,” Harry breathed. He repeated the incantation in his head a few times, trying to lock it in place. “Wait, first?”
“There’s a second spell Professor Dumbledore told me, very easy, he said you’ve mastered it. I’ll tell you when you come out - oh, it’s- it’s time.”
No sooner did Hermione say that before a sound like a canon blast exploded. Harry jolted and felt the blood draining down through his body. The other champions watched Harry as he carefully pocketed the little fake dragon and steeled himself to step outside of the tent.
Five steps.
Six.
Seven steps, Harry was outside.
Eight steps, he could hear the screams of an audience that made Harry’s stomach shake.
Nine steps, Harry heard the roar of a dragon.
Harry’s tenth step took him inside the quidditch field. The stands were filled with people screaming and shouting, there was a floating box where the announcer usually sat where Dumbledore and some others sat. Harry hardly noticed any of them, not when he finally saw the dragon that had been plaguing his thoughts for weeks.
The dragon was massive, much bigger than Harry had imagined. It had yellow eyes that were surely the size of Harry’s entire head and its scales were more blue than grey in the light of the day.
“Fuck me,” Harry whispered, feeling suddenly dizzy.
“Breathe,” a firm voice said in Harry’s ear. “Professor Dumbledore is raising his wand and - go! Harry, touch your wand to your clothes, now.”
That voice focused Harry and he took two more steps forward, ignoring the crowd, ignoring the shouts. It was Harry and that great dragon and that golden egg he could just see sparkling beneath the half-curled wings of the dragon.
Harry was going home with that damned egg.
Harry touched his wand to his clothes, feigning as if he were fireproofing them, despite not knowing the spell to do so. Harry planned to transfigure a boulder next, but Hermione stopped him after Harry raised his wand.
“Accio Sorting Hat,” Hermione said confidently. “Do it.”
Harry raised his wand, trusting Hermione, understanding the plan perfectly then. Dumbledore didn’t tell Harry because he couldn’t tell Harry; Harry couldn’t plan for that - he had to ask for it in a moment of need.
“Accio Sorting Hat!” Harry cried, swishing his wand just as he had the many, many, times he summoned things at home. Dumbledore didn’t let Harry down, he didn’t. Dumbledore knew Harry knew that spell, they had laughed when Harry told him how he had been summoning things at home, driving his brother mad for fun. And Dumbledore knew that Harry would know what to do when - yes!
The hat flew toward Harry and nobody seemed to know what Harry was doing when he jammed the hat on his head, momentarily covering his eyes. Harry heard someone, an announcer, making a joke, but it didn’t matter.
I need to be brave. I need something to help me be brave. I have to fight a dragon, please, help me.
Silence, Harry didn’t even have time to sweat before something heavy struck him in the head.
Beaming, Harry whipped the hat off his head to toss behind him and pulled the sword out by its ruby encrusted handle. There were gasps, screams, and applause when Harry held the sword up, feeling much braver with it in his hand.
“Alright, sweetheart,” Harry looked the dragon in the eyes, “let’s do this.”
“Oh. Um… okay, well, you - you know the next spell, s-sweetheart?”
Harry blinked, considered what he… oh. Hermione thought - and he meant… but it was - okay then.
That was a later-issue, Harry needed to focus on the dragon-issue.
Harry began running toward the dragon, holding the sword up so the dragon could see it in all of its shining glory. Dragons liked metals, they liked jewels.
They also liked virgins… so Harry figured he was the dragon’s best distraction.
When Harry tested it, darting toward the right side, the opposite direction of where the boulder he wanted was at, the dragon turned its head to follow him. It was perfect, it was just a basilisk that breathed fire - Harry could look in its eyes and laugh because Harry had the sword and Harry knew the spell and he was going to be fine.
Once the dragon had turned fully to snarl and spit flames toward Harry, Harry pointed his wand at the oversized boulder.
“Petraniffla Mutatio!” Harry yelled, twisting his wrist fluidly, focusing hard on envisioning a niffler where the boulder was.
“GOOD LORD! LOOK AT THAT TRANSFIGURATION! PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL, DO YOU SEE THIS?”
Harry’s smile widened when he saw the transfiguration work. The niffler looked confused and Harry figured it couldn’t see the golden egg properly yet, which meant the dragon needed to move.
“What are you doing?” Hermione groaned in Harry’s ear. “Do not go closer to it, Harry!”
“It needs to get up, show the egg,” Harry said, focusing on the dragon. “Hey, are you cheering for me? That feels like a thing a girlfriend should do.”
Teasing Hermione was good, it kept Harry’s mind off the fact that he was taunting a dragon as he forced his muscles into overtime. Feign to the right, duck and roll when flames were shot toward him, Harry scraped his knee, but it didn’t matter.
“Don’t, oh! Harry!” Hermione screamed in Harry’s ear when the next spray of fire came very close to him. If Harry’s clothes weren’t charmed, he might have singed his leg.
“I’m fine,” Harry said, bouncing back to his feet. He needed to get the dragon up, or at least make it unfurl its wings. Harry saw a small hill between him and the stands and he started running toward it with the sword held straight up, waving tantalizingly in the dragon’s sight.
All of Sam’s training was showing as Harry was able to do the running with the heavy sword in hand, hardly even panting. Harry got to the top of the hill and held the sword out, feeling like a knight in one of the old fiction books from their neighbors house.
“Stand up,” Harry hissed at the dragon, tracking his niffler from the corner of his eyes. It looked torn between peering at Harry’s sword and sniffing toward where the golden egg could be seen. The announcer was saying something again, Harry didn’t know what.
“Bagman is speculating what your goal is, he’s saying you’ll lose points if you harm the dragon,” Hermione said. “Jump. Jump and see if —”
“Levitation,” Harry asked her. The dragon wanted to stand up, it wanted to keep the sword in its sights. Harry just needed to be a little higher.
“Wingardium Leviosa.”
Harry didn’t wait and he didn’t question himself, he only pointed his wand at his knees and repeated the spell.
“Wingardium Leviosa!”
Hermione groaned and Harry laughed giddily when he began rising in the air, the dragon’s head rising as well. When the niffler turned fully toward Harry, much too interested in the sword, Harry began making more nifflers.
They would fetch the egg and bring it to him, Harry’s brothers called them his little army.
“Petraniffla Mutatio!” Harry yelled, wobbling in the air as he struggled to point his wand at another decent sized boulder and to stay upright with the sword in his hand.
Harry’s spell landed, but so did the next stream of flames the dragon sent toward Harry.
“He’s made himself fireproof!” Bagman yelled when the flames touched Harry and warmed him without burning him. Harry used his forearm to begin patting down the flames, more relieved to see that his dad’s shirt was unharmed than he was concerned with being burned.
“And - look at that!”
“IT HAS THE EGG!” Hermione screamed in Harry’s ear. “Finite Incantatem, Harry!!”
Harry saw the second niffler he made running away from the dragon with the golden egg rolling in front of it. The dragon was so distracted by Harry that it didn’t even notice the theft. Harry let out a whoop and ended the levitation spell on himself, landing on the ground rather harshly, and he began sprinting toward the niffler at full speed.
When Harry grabbed the egg, snatching it from the niffler, the low buzz of the audience cleared in his ears and suddenly Harry was surrounded by shouting and shrieking.
“WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT!” Bagman was screaming over the force of the audience that cheered for Harry. “MISTER POTTER HAS — oh, my.”
Harry held the egg up with his left arm so he could turn his head and finally vomit all over the ground.
Harry tried to warn Dean, he did.
Professors rushed out toward Harry then and Harry’s head of house, he knew her name… he just heard it… reached him first and she had him by the shoulder to quickly lead him off the field.
“Excellent, Potter, just excellent,” she said, extreme praise coming from her. There was a triumphant look in her eyes, one that Harry knew was mirrored in his smile.
“You need to see Madam Pomfrey,” she told him, gesturing to a small white tent between the stands. She had the hat in her hands, having rescued it from where Harry carelessly tossed it. “Quickly, before you get your scores. My, NEWT level transfiguration… that was just excellent. Your father was quite like that… just excellent!”
Harry raised the sword in his hand again as he left the field, receiving more ear-splitting applause. Harry wished fiercely then that his brothers were there… they had been the ones who made sure Harry was ready, prepared, it didn’t seem fair that they didn’t get to see the reward of their hard work.
The instant that Harry was out of the enclosure around the field and inside the white tent, he was being fussed over by Madam Pomfrey.
“Sick? Dizzy?” she asked, shining her wand-light in Harry’s eyes. “Was there blood in your emesis?”
“I - no.” Harry resolutely refused to sit down on the bed she kept trying to push him toward. He was fine, no injuries at all.
“HARRY!”
Harry winced again when Hermione’s voice was echoed both directly in his ear and from behind him. Harry turned around and barely had time to hold the sword out of reach before Hermione had lunged forward and thrown her arms around his neck for a hug.
“You did it!” she cried, laughing hysterically. “You were so quick! So clever!”
“So handsome.” Harry’s other friend stood in the doorway of the tent and put the back of his hand to his forehead and pretended to swoon. Harry snickered at him and struggled to flip him off as full as his hands were.
“You have to get your scores now!” Hermione said, pulling away to smile in Harry’s face. “It’s scores out of ten from each judge.”
“Yeah, alright,” Harry said, feeling very light and relaxed for the first time in weeks. “Let me just, er… hey, you, would you?” Harry waved the egg and sword toward his friend who laughed brightly as he took them from Harry.
Harry only needed his hands free for a moment, just to grab Hermione by the waist and turn his head so that he could kiss her. It was gratitude and relief and joy and a million other messages that Harry could never find the words for that he put into the kiss.
“Oh.” Hermione’s eyes were glassy and her cheeks were pink when they broke apart with a gasp that wasn’t altogether polite. Harry worried just for a second, but then Hermione smiled and -
And it was just perfect.
Harry returned to the field with the sword in one hand, the egg in the crook of his other arm. Ron (Hermione thankfully reminded Harry of his name) stood beside Harry and Hermione stood on his other side. Harry couldn’t believe how elated he felt by his overwhelming success.
Harry tried to find Dumbledore’s eyes at the table of judges, silently apologize for doubting him, but he wasn’t sure if the message made it or not. If nothing else, Harry figured that he would bring him a thank you gift to their next study session.
“That’s Madame Maxine, the Beauxbaton Headmistress,” Hermione informed Harry when a very tall woman stood up at the end of the table. Harry held his breath for a second when she aimed her wand up and -
“Nine! That’s great!” Ron cried, clapping beside Harry.
The next was a man Harry knew he didn’t like, the one that attacked Harry’s oldest brother.
“Mr Crouch, Ron’s brother Percy’s boss,” Hermione said.
Mr Crouch aimed his wand up and - another nine!
“That makes sense!” Ron whooped. “No injury, in and out!”
Dumbledore stood up next - Harry didn’t need the reminder from Hermione but it made him feel warm inside that she did it anyway, never forgetting that Harry needed those reminders more times than not.
“THERE WE GO!” Ron thumped Harry on the back when Dumbledore gave Harry a nine as well. “Mate, you’re making looking the others look daft!”
“They haven’t even gone yet,” Hermione reminded him logically.
“Yeah, well…”
The man from the tent earlier, Bagman, was next and Harry was smiling so hard it hurt when he gave him a solid ten.
“WELL EARNED!” Ron had to yell over the thunderous applause. “ONE MORE!”
A tall and thin man with a black goatee stood up next - Igor Karkaroff, the Durmstrang Headmaster according to Hermione - and he held his wand up…
“A FIVE?!” Hermione shrieked. “YOU BIASED - SCUMMY -”
“Mister Potter has received his scores and will now clear the field!” Bagman said with his wand to his throat, amplifying his voice. “The next champion will be out in a moment!”
Harry couldn’t believe the applause he was given by the students, the staff… all people who seemed genuinely happy for him.
Harry didn’t know where to go from there, but he planned to sort of just start walking back toward the village, go find his brothers. He was stopped just outside of the field by his godfather and Ron’s brother who ran toward him.
“Harry! Godric, you’ve got - you were - YOU DID IT!” Harry’s godfather was giddy, smiling for Harry just as much as Harry had been smiling for him a few days ago.
“You did it!” Ron’s brother cried as he started running past them, toward the dragons. “Oi, Tonks said that Dean said for you to hang out here for a while. She’ll fetch you when they get back.”
“Wait, what?” Harry stopped and spun around, gaping at his back. Harry’s heart sank and he was confused. “My brothers left??”
“Dunno,” Ron’s brother threw his hands up as he ran. “That’s just what Tonks said, sorry, mate.”
“Oi! Charlie!” Ron shouted at his brother, but didn’t get any more of a response than Harry did. Harry looked toward his godfather, but he seemed as shocked as Harry was.
“You… you’ve got to wait at the tent, get some information,” Harry’s godfather said, shaking his head. “I’ll go check on your brothers, alright, Pup? I’ll be back, I swear.”
Harry wasn’t sure what was happening when he too turned the other direction and began jogging away. Harry only looked at his friends and was vindicated by their looks of surprise.
“What was that?!” Ron cried, his head whipping back and forth. “And where are you meant to ‘hang out’ at, Harry?”
“The tent, I suppose,” Hermione said. “Unless… Harry, do you want to go to the castle? We could nip down to the kitchens? Get something to eat?”
“That!” Ron said, nodding vigorously. “Let’s get some food. Whatever information they have for you, I’m sure Dumbledore will tell you later, mate.”
“Yeah,” Harry said faintly, confused and a little hurt that his brothers didn’t stick around to find out about the task. Something important must have popped up, some case that couldn’t wait fifteen minutes…
The lure of going in the castle with his friends was just strong enough for Harry to push that hurt back, sure that his brothers would have a good reason for leaving him behind. The castle’s lure got stronger when Harry realized what Hermione said - about kitchens?
“Oh, the kitchens are where the Hogwarts slaves work,” Hermione said, her voice going dark with disapproval. Harry was rather startled by that declaration, until she explained. “There’s hundreds of elves down there, Harry. Oh! There’s one that you’ll know, Dobby? He asked about you when Susan and I were down there…”
Harry let Hermione chatter away while they entered the castle. Harry breathed in the familiar air and relaxed once more even when Hermione began leading him down a pathway he didn’t recognize.
“Oi, mate, you should loan me that map,” Ron said. “I started this game with Seamus, Dean, and Neville. It’s a bit like hide and seek, but more complex…”
Harry got caught up in the conversations with his friends - and then he was sort of attacked by Dobby the House-Elf, and then swarmed by a dozen other house-elves. Hermione did a fair amount of huffing as they were fawned over by happy elves trying to force-feed them, but she didn’t look all that putout.
They had been down there for a while, Dobby was giving Harry a full rundown on his life as a free elf, when the kitchen doors opened. Harry turned and saw Ron’s twin brothers entering the kitchens, seeming surprised to see the three of them there.
“Harry!” One of the twins grinned at him and the other one swept the winter cap off his head to drop in a low bow. “Just the man we hoped we would find!”
“You hoped you would find Harry in the kitchens of a school he no longer attends?” Ron asked while Hermione whispered the names of the twins to Harry.
“We always hope for the best,” the twin Hermione seemed sure was George said cheerily. “We were having a party either way.”
“Having the man of the hour in attendance just makes it better,” Fred chimed in. “Oh, McGonagall’s looking for you. Better find her then sneak up to the tower, the password is Maple Leaves.”
Harry didn’t much fancy running all over the castle, but he begrudgingly let Hermione take him out of the kitchen after telling Dobby goodbye. Ron said he would catch up, he was going to help the twins collect things for the party they were planning.
“You really did do brilliantly,” Hermione said as they walked together. “Were you scared?”
“Not at all,” Harry said. He grinned crookedly at Hermione. “How could I when I had the smartest witch I know on my side?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Hermione laughed, seeming quite pleased with the truthful compliment. “I was scared. You look quite tiny compared to a dragon.”
“Not all dragons,” Harry disagreed. He shuffled around until he could free a hand to reach in his pocket for the tiny dragon he had been given before the task. Harry offered it to Hermione. “For you, since you got me through it.”
“Thank you.” Hermione held the dragon up and laughed when it blew sparky smoke at her. “Now this would have been an easy dragon to get past.”
It would have.
They found McGonagall rather quickly, she wasn’t hard to find as she seemed to be searching for them as well. Harry expected to be told that he couldn’t be in the castle and he had no problem telling Hermione goodbye and going home to his brothers. Even if Harry’s feelings were a bit bruised by them leaving, he was still eager to recount every moment to them.
“There you are!” McGonagall didn’t seem wholly impressed with Harry as she strode toward them in the corridor that connected the kitchens to the entrance hall. Harry still had his egg and sword, sort of unsure what to do with either of them, and he tried a charming smile for McGonagall.
“Sorry, professor,” he started respectfully. “I was feeling a bit ill and Hermione insisted that I had to eat.”
“If you didn’t need reminders then maybe I wouldn’t nag,” Hermione said smoothly, even adding an eye roll.
Harry wasn’t often lucky, but Hermione was sort of an excellent girlfriend to have really.
Professor McGonagall frowned and Harry swore her nostrils flared, as if trying to smell their level of honesty.
“Perhaps you should stay in the Hospital Wing tonight?” she suggested.
“What? Oh, I’m fine,” Harry said hastily. “I should get home soon anyway. I don’t suppose you know if the headmaster is in his office, do you, Professor?”
Harry would need his portkey reset. McGonagall might be able to do it for him though, but Harry should return the sword and find out about the next task so he could start planning.
“Professor Dumbledore?” McGonagall seemed confused, which made Harry confused. “Potter, have you not seen your godfather? He was meant to find you.”
“I saw him earlier,” Harry edged. “Is everything alright, Professor?”
“Yes, yes, he was only meant to tell you that you’re welcome to stay at the castle tonight,” McGonagall told him. “Professor Dumbledore said that he would ensure you made it home in the morning.”
“Oh.” Harry felt a peculiar mixture of disappointed and excited. It was disappointing that it seemed like his brothers were too busy for Harry to return home just yet, but it also sounded as if the twins were going to throw a brilliant party that Harry wouldn’t mind attending.
“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said politely, tugging on Harry’s shirt sleeve some. “Have a good night.”
Harry’s thoughts were very far away while Hermione pulled him through the castle by her grip on his shirt. Were his brothers alright? What had popped up to disrupt their plans for a no more niffler party? It - it had to be important, whatever it was… They had been just as anxious as Harry over the task.
Harry hardly noticed where Hermione took him until she heeled him to the side of a corridor, tucking them in an alcove. Harry blinked and shook off his errant worries about his brothers so he could look at Hermione bemusedly.
“It’s been a while, but I don’t think this is the tower,” Harry said, forcing himself to sound teasing. He shouldn’t have bothered, Hermione had always known Harry’s moods too well; it had always been like that.
“It’s going to be chaotic in there,” Hermione said, smiling shyly at him in a way that was new. It was new and it wasn’t new and Harry liked it. It made him feel a little dizzy, standing so close and being smiled at like that.
It was distracting, definitely.
“I thought maybe - maybe you seemed upset about your brothers, Dean and Sam,” Hermione said slowly as she took the sword from Harry’s hand and leaned it in the corner. She did the same with the egg and Harry had his hands free and hers were around his shoulders and had Hermione always been so bold?
“They’re very capable,” Hermione said factually, her brown eyes focused on Harry’s unwaveringly. “You’re all like that; capable and strong and brave.”
“Careful.” Harry was awkward, unsure, when he put his hands just on Hermione’s waist. His touch was light at first, more sure when she didn’t pull away or cringe or something equally terrible.
“I might think you fancy my brothers,” Harry said, one corner of his lips curled up.
Hermione hummed and leaned up so their faces were very close together. If Harry crossed his eyes, he could see all the freckles on Hermione’s nose.
Harry did not cross his eyes because that would be the least fanciable thing he could do.
“Everyone knows that there’s only one Winchester that’s worth fancying,” Hermione said softly. “And he fought a dragon today.”
And yet… Harry decided that Hermione was twice as brave as he was.
By the time Harry and Hermione made it to the Gryffindor Tower (Hermione was brilliant at whispering things to Harry), Harry had been quite thoroughly snogged and in an excellent mood.
There was a full party happening and Harry found himself being dragged in the middle of it. Everyone wanted to talk to him, to see the egg, to touch the sword. It was as much fun as it was overwhelming and Harry wasn’t entirely upset when Ron offered to give him a pair of pajamas for the night.
“Life saver,” Harry told Ron as they trooped up the dorm stairs together, leaving the party behind.
“You looked bloody exhausted,” Ron chuckled. “Everyone’s just excited to see you, it’s strange with you gone.”
“It’s strange to be back,” Harry admitted. Though, when they entered the dorm, Harry breathed in a sense of familiarity and relief. Even with one bed missing… it was the bedroom Harry had used for years.
Harry’s bedroom at home was much better, but Harry wasn’t sad to be back in the dorm for one night either. The boys got changed in Ron’s pajamas and then they exchanged a brief look, a grin, and then jumped in Ron’s bed at the same time.
“If only Hermione knew I had her man in my bed,” Ron snickered, elbowing Harry with his pointy elbows.
Harry tugged on the blanket, laughing childishly when it nearly knocked Ron off his own bed.
“Have you forgotten that she’s terrifying?” Harry asked him. “I wouldn’t go poking at her.”
“Yes you would,” Ron said, wiggling his eyebrows and making an exaggerated leer. “You’d love to go poking at—”
“Oi!” Harry grabbed a pillow and swung at Ron, laughing despite the heavy blush on his face. “Mind your business, dude.”
“Oh, am I ‘dude’?” Ron grabbed his pillow and swung it right back at Harry, smacking him in the stomach with it. “You’re becoming a proper American, aren’t you, dude?”
Harry laughed while they swapped meaningless insults for a few minutes before collapsing back on the pillows, grinning up at the ceiling. As much as Harry loved his brothers, it was nice having time with Ron too. Ron was sort of like Harry’s first brother… in a way.
“I’ve missed this,” Harry admitted.
Ron grunted and then hit Harry with the pillow again.
“Sap,” he said fondly, grabbing the blanket and covering them both with it.
So… Ron was almost exactly like Harry’s brothers, truly.
‘Chick flick’ moment or not, Harry had a smile on his face when he fell asleep that night.