Complicated Planning
A week slowly went by where it seemed that Harry, Hermione, and Draco all practically lived in the Room of Requirement, and to their credit, they had gained a decent amount of skill in fighting the dragon in there. But they’d also lost a lot of energy and, as a result--of course--they could hardly sit straight in any of their classes.
“Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!” A smacking sound jerked both boys upright in their seats as Professor McGonagall slammed her hand on the desk in front of them. “Will you please try to stay awake for at least ten minutes?” The two boys groaned simultaneously and rubbed their eyes, Draco managing to give his usual suck-up grin, which did nothing to faze McGonagall’s pursed lips and suspecting eyes.
“I understand the two of you are very stressed by the Tournament, but paying attention in classes is still always important. You might even learn something useful for the Task’s, hm?” Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes on the half guinea fowl and half guinea pig on his desk and wondering how knowing how to transform it correctly, like Draco already had before passing out, was going to help him against a dragon.
Of course, he wasn’t supposed to know that, but McGonagall knew he knew, so couldn’t she let them off easy, even just a little bit?
She tapped his desk once more with one long nail. “Work.” She said, before turning on her heel and gasping at Seamus Finnigan, who had succeeded in exploding his guinea fowl. “Mr. Finnigan! What have you--How did you--Don’t touch it. Nevermind just--I said don’t touch it!” Harry sighed and turned his head back to the rodent, picking up his wand and lazily flicking it and muttering the incantation once more. Guess he wouldn’t be getting any breaks soon.
Beside him, Draco succeeded in transforming a second guinea fowl, before sending his supposed friend a shit eating grin. Harry rolled his eyes, pretending not to care or get jealous (he did).
Classes went by much slower for the rest of the day, but even slower to Harry, who was excitedly awaiting his talk with Sirius, which was just hours away now, at the end of the night. And, eventually, after another training session where Hermione neglected to show up and the dragon got tired and Harry and Draco resorted to going to bed early, Harry was back in the Gryffindor common room, sitting in his pajamas, but as awake as he’d been in days in anticipation.
Only problem was he didn’t know how he was going to speak with Sirius. Face-to-face. He hadn’t exactly specified in the letter…
He began to sweat under his collar and turned to the fire, prepared to hop off the armchair he was sitting in and cool it, but instead jumped in his seat, eyes going wide. Sirius’ head was sitting in the flames.
If Harry hadn’t seen Mr. Diggory do exactly this back in the Weasleys’ kitchen, it would have scared him out of his wits, but instead Siruius had merely managed to give his godson a heart attack which, honestly, was the best way for Sirius to show his face to him once more, in Harry’s opinion. Which is why he smiled, sincerely, for the first time since shaking hands with Draco Malfoy.
In an instant he had sprung out of his chair, crouched down by the hearth, and said, “Sirius--how’re you doing?” Harry noticed, to his great joy, that instead of looking gaunt and sunken, with matted, messy hair, Sirius now looked much more clean and his hair was short and brushed. He looked a lot more healthy, that’s for sure.
“Never mind me, how are you?” Sirius immediately asked seriously. “Rita Skeeter’s released a paper already on the Prophet--you’ll probably see it in the morning--and it’s… Oh Harry, it's awful. I’m assuming most of it was made up but… just tell me it was, okay? It was worrying, honestly--”
“I didn’t answer any of her questions.” Harry said angrily, starting to feel his blood boil at the thought of the lies Skeeter must have told, beyond what Draco had read off the parchment. “And neither did Draco. Anything in that paper’s a lie, trust me.” Sirius’ lips thinned to a straight line, and it was clear he was skeptical of something still (most likely Harry’s mention of Draco), but kept it to himself.
“Alright… But are you okay?”
“I’m--” Harry started to say ‘fine’, but couldn’t find it in himself to do it, as his voice caught in his throat instead. But luckily, his voice returned soon, and when it did, he found himself talking more than he had in days--about how no one believed he or Draco hadn’t entered the tournament and brought the other in as a joke. How he couldn’t walk down a corridor without being sneered at. How he was forced to befriend Draco and train tirelessly every day with him--and about Ron not believing him. Ron’s jealousy…
By the end, Sirius was looking at him with his deadened, haunted eyes full of concern fighting through the darkness Azkaban had given them. “Dragons… we can deal with Harry, but we’ll get to that in a minute--I haven’t got long here… I’ve broken into a wizarding house to use the fire but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about.”
“What?” Said Harry, miraculously feeling his stomach sink further than it already had, horrified by the thought of there being anything worse than the dragons who wouldn’t purposefully aim fire away from him, that were still yet to come.
“Karkaroff.” Sirius said. “Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don’t you?”
“Yes--he--what?”
“He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I’d bet everything that’s why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year--to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place.” Well, that certainly explained some interactions between the two.
“Karkaroff got released?” Harry said slowly, his brain taking time to absorb yet another ounce of shocking info. “Why did they release him?” Sirius frowned, as if remembering a bitter memory. “He made a deal with the Ministry of Magic. He said he’d seen the error of his ways, and then he named names… He put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place… He’s not very popular there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he’s been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well.”
Harry stopped himself from stating that Viktor hardly seemed as much as people made him out to be, more of a shy and clumsy man than a ruthless Quidditch star, that Hugo was just a dubious kid who was maybe a little too full of himself, and that Anya seemed quite sweet past the buff exterior. “Okay,” He instead said. “But… are you saying Karkaroff put Draco and I’s names in the goblet? Because if he did, he’s a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop us from competing.”
“We know he’s a good actor,” Sirius said, a grin starting to spread across his face, “Because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn’t he? Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry, and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman’s article last month. Apparently, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts.”
Harry opened his mouth to speak but Sirius cut him off hastily. “Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but I don’t think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one’s going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye’s heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.”
“So… what are you saying?” Harry said slowly, once more. “Karkaroff’s trying to kill me? But--why? And why Drac--Why Malfoy too?” Sirius hesitated.
“I’ve been hearing some very strange things,” He said slowly as well, and darkly. “The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn’t they? Someone set off the Dark Mark… and then--did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who’s gone missing?”
Harry bit his lip, searching for a name in his tired mind before saying, “Bertha Jorkins?”
“Exactly… she disappeared in Albania, and that’s definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last… and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn’t she?”
“Yeah, but… it’s not very likely she’d have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?” Harry said. “Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins,” said Sirus grimly. “She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your Dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It’s not a good combination, Harry. I’d say she’d be very easy to lure into a trap.”
“So… so Voldemort could have found out about the Tournament?” Harry said. “Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?” “I don’t know.” Said Sirius slowly. “I just don’t know… Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the Tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident.”
“Looks like a really good plan from where I’m standing.” Harry had to admit, grinning bleakly. “They’ll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff.” He laughed to himself, coldly, then frowned, eyes going downcast but serious on Sirius. “But… What about Malfoy? What do you think… What’s he got to do with any of this?”
Sirius frowned, looking suddenly very thoughtful. “Well, his father was a Death Eater, we all know that, and his mother, Narcissa, is good as one. Which is what stumps me. If the Death Eater’s are plotting with Voldemort to send you into the Tournament to die, why would they send Malfoy in with you? The only thing I can think is that maybe it’s a punishment. I wouldn’t put it past them.”
“A punishment?” Harry creased his eyebrows together, frowning deeply. “Why? I thought the Malfoy’s were as Death Eater as you could get--”
“Oh they are Harry,” Sirius said quickly. “But that also means they are as cowardly as their slimy friends too. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy avoided Azkaban by lying about being under the Imperius Curse. They claimed to have not believed in Voldemort at any point in their lives, and were left to run free with merely a slap on the wrist. Most Death Eaters who’d have the guts to try and kill you, from what I know, despise these types of people. The type who got free. The type who turned their backs on Voldemort as soon as he fell, and lied so easily. That is why they’d be punished, and I’m sure the quickest way, the worst way to make them hurt was by killing their son.”
Harry looked to the side, biting his bottom lip and sighing. He believed it, which was what made him feel the worst. He believed it because he remembered seeing Draco when the mail arrived, and watching as his face fell and peaking over his shoulder to see it was a letter from his father before he tore the paper away, tucking it into his pocket. He remembered how he’d snapped in the Great Hall, and how he’d gotten increasingly stressed out over the days, despite keeping up good performance in school because of course he had to remain second in the class before dying.
He believed it thoroughly, and the belief in such a horrible truth he’d never imagined finding this horrible truly made him want to puke.
He snapped himself back to reality though. There was no chance Draco would ever manage to get out of this tournament alive if he didn’t first get out of the Task. So now he had more important matters to discuss with Sirius.
“Right but… The dragons, Sirius.” Sirius, who seemed to have zoned out as well, now jerked his head to attention and nodded, speaking his next words very quickly now. “Right--these dragons… There’s a way, Harry. Don’t be tempted to try a Stunning Spell--dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon--”
“Yeah, I know, I saw, we saw,” said Harry, gesturing with his hand to get Sirius to move along.
“But you can do it alone. There is a way, and a simple spell is all you need. Just--”
But Harry had turned his gesturing hand to a hand to make him stop talking, his heart suddenly pounding as though it would burst. He could hear footsteps coming down the spiral staircase behind him. “Go!” He hissed at Sirius. “Go! There’s someone coming!”
Harry scrambled to his feet, and instantly spread his arms out a bit to try to hide the fire. If someone saw Sirius’s face at Hogwarts… well let’s just say things would get a lot more chaotic for Harry then they had already been. But, thankfully, he heard a little ‘pop!’ sound behind him in the fire and knew Sirius had left.
He craned his head to see who was coming down the staircase and saw Ron stepping off the final step in his maroon paisley pajamas. He stopped as soon as his foot hit the ground and, facing Harry across the room, looked around suspiciously.
“Who were you talking to?” He demanded, as usual, far too aggressively. “What’s that got to do with you? Harry snarled, his words also coming out too aggressively. “What are you doing down here at this time of night?” Ron shrugged, playing it off quite easily as he jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around. “I just wondered where you… Nothing. I’m going back to bed.” He started to turn, grabbing the railing, but Harry stopped him, his rage at Ron that had built up for weeks finally spilling over.
“Just thought you’d come nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what he’d walked in on, knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, but he didn't care--he hated everything about Ron right now. About how he had stood by and done nothing while Harry had been harassed, bullied, and broken by stress. How Draco Malfoy had presented himself to be a greater friend than he in the past weeks. At this very moment, Harry hated every little thing about Ron, down to even his ridiculous pajamas.
“Sorry about that.” Ron said, turning to face Harry and gripping the railing while his face went red. “Should’ve realized you didn’t want to be disturbed. I’ll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace.” On a table nearby sat a badge that read POTTER REALLY STINKS (a failed attempt at fixing the badge done by the Creevey’s) and Harry seized it, chucking it as hard as he could across the room, hitting Ron right on the forehead.
“There you go.” He said, stepping back and huffing a laugh to himself. “Something for you to wear on Tuesday.” He laughed to himself once more as Ron rubbed his forehead from where it had smacked him. “You might even have a scar now, if you’re lucky… That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Ron lowered his hand, and glared at him with a real vicious fury.
“I can’t believe you. You hate these badges so much yet you’re fraternizing with the pompous git who made them.” Now it was Ron’s turn to laugh. “Have fun when he tries to kill you in the Tournament Harry, ‘cause he will. Mark my words.” Ron turned then, climbing back up the staircase and vanishing from sight.
Harry stood there, fuming, for a few moments more, as his eyes fell onto the badge, still shining its red POTTER REALLY STINKS words at him. He screwed his mouth up into a sneer and let out a scream into the air, flinging himself into the armchair in anger.
But that anger couldn’t fight his pure exhaustion, and soon he was falling into a deep sleep, as if his argument with Ron had never happened.
-*-*-*-
“I have an idea!” With a slam, Hermione arrived at breakfast that next morning, a large and smelly book landing before her and onto the Gryffindor table in front of Harry and Draco just as she sat down, who were just trying to wake up and enjoy their breakfast. But they were certainly awake now, that’s for sure.
“Well, it’s about time!” Draco said, dropping his toast and standing to get a look at the book Hermione had found. “You know you can’t expect Harry and I to just be flying on brooms the whole Task, especially when we won’t even have brooms.” “Exactly!” Hermione started to flip through the book's pages, talking as she did. “Which is why I’m going to teach you the Summoning Charm.”
“The Summoning Charm?” Hermione looked up at Draco’s suddenly aggressive tone and raised an eyebrow. “Yes. What is it, Malfoy? Do you have a problem with--” “I already know it.” He cut her off, pulling out his wand and flicking it while saying, “Accio apple.” and pulling a green apple into his other hand. “See?”
“Oh.” Hermione looked defeated, but just shook her head, then saying, “Well I guess this just makes things easier. Anyway, the second part of the plan is a lot harder and a lot more complicated.” She sat down on the bench and Draco sat as well as she put her finger on the line she began to recite.
“Dragons have few weaknesses, it says it right here, but they have a particular hatred for small animals, like rodents. Weasels, mice, rats, and ferrets are all among a dragon's greatest fears.” Hermione looked up and frowned at the boys’ dubious expressions. “Harry, I think you should transfigure Malfoy into a ferret again, and it’ll distract the dragon so you can best it!”
The boys blinked once in unison before Draco hunched his shoulders and glared at his plate while Harry rocked back and forth while laughing, not being able to stop himself as he went on and on and Hermione grinned, giggling only slightly before yelling, “I’m not joking!” over his laughs.
“I know you’re not, Hermione,” Harry said, struggling to steady himself and clear his throat. “You never joke but--oh c’mon. I’m not going to transfigure Draco into a ferret again, that’s ridiculous.” “Well…” Hermione looked between the two boys, looking, for the first time they’d ever seen her, completely out of other ideas. “This is all I have for you two. And, like you said, Malfoy, the Task’s tomorrow. I think we got to do it. It makes sense, too. The dragon will get all scared over you as a ferret, so you, Harry, will be able to sweep in and beat the dragon or whatever they’ll want you to do. Plus, transfiguration of humans to animals only works well when the human has already been in that animal form, because then they have a knowledge of it and will be more conscious. Not completely, as these sorts of things are so complicated and dangerous, of course, but better than tranfiguring him into any other animal. You get the point.”
Harry looked over at Draco, who still had his shoulders hunched but now looked more in deep thought, eyes set on Hermione. “You… You’re sure this will work?” Hermione nodded. “And it’s the only way?” A pause, but she nodded, and looked confident enough for Draco, it seemed, as he said, eventually, “Alright… let’s do it.”
-*-*-*-
“Again.” “Again.” “Again, Harry.” “Harry… Again.”
It was hard work. Transfiguring a human into an animal was supposed to be an extremely difficult spell so, naturally, Harry was having extreme difficulty figuring out how to do it. Hermione had briefly suggested enlisting the help of McGonagall, to which all three of them had all decided instantly that that was the worst idea in the history of ideas, and had decided they were on their own.
The good thing was that they didn’t have to worry about the fact that Harry was particularly abysmal at transfiguring the animals they’d stolen from Hagrid back into their original states as McGonagall could always perform that spell after the Task. They just really needed to get this perfect, and now they hardly had any time left, and Harry’s ferret still had the undeniably fiery eyes of the blast-ended skrewt it used to be.
“You’re getting there, Harry, you really are. You’re almost set and then,” Hermione looked over at Draco sitting on the grass a few feet away, not paying much attention as he was focused on the homework in his lap. “You can do the real thing.” Harry glanced over at the blonde and gulped, then turned and pointed his wand back at his next skrewt, sighing and muttering the incantation under his breath.
Hours passed. His transfiguring got better until finally, Hermione stood up and declared. “It’s time for Malfoy!” Malfoy jerked his head up in an instant, eyes wide, then put two and two together, seemed to remember why he was even there in the first place, and sighed.
“Oh… great.” He started to grumble to himself as he stood and folded up his papers and homework, setting his books aside and kicking the grass as he came to stand in front of Harry and Hermione, wincing at the half-skrewt half-ferret disaster from hours ago still skittering across around their ankles. “Just… make this quick, okay?”
Harry nodded, readying his wand in front of him. Draco winced, screwing his eyes shut tight and looking away.
“Ferrifors!”
Draco brought his arms up in front of him protectively, there was a flash of orange light and then… Hermione cautiously opened her eyes to see the blonde had vanished and, in his place, spinning in circles and craning his head to look at himself on the ground, was a pale white ferret.
“You did it!” She gasped, gripping Harry by the shoulders and shaking him while hopping up and down. “You actually did it Harry!” “No,” He turned to her, a wide grin, wider than when he’d talked to Sirius, beginning to spread across his face. “We did it!” He cheered before clutching her to him in a big hug.
They both gave a whoop as they held each other before the high pitched and angry sound of squeaking broke them apart as Hermione turned to the ferret and frowned. “But… How are we gonna get him back?”
And just like that, Harry's smile was gone, and an hour later they were off to bed after a long struggle with trying to reverse the curse and tame a teenage boy with the body and mind of an animal. But the excitement was still there; the truth that yes, together, they had solved the puzzle of the dragon and pulled it together just in time, so when Harry woke up the next day, November 24th, he was all ready for the First Task, and didn’t even feel the slightest bit sick.