Between his classes, homework, and trying to dodge Rita Skeeter, who was on an interview kick, Harry barely had time to eat or sleep, and felt as if he were in a perpetual state of exhaustion.  A dozen times a day, Hermione and Ron asked if he were okay, until he snapped at them to leave him alone.  So they did, but they then recruited Draco and Katie to keep an eye on him, reasoning that they would be ones that he could not refuse if they asked him what was wrong.

"There's nothing wrong with me, Draco." Harry replied irritably when his brother had asked him what was the matter after Charms one afternoon.  "I'm just . . .a little tired."

But Draco, who had seen Harry at his worst, after the horrific nightmares back in Prince Manor, was not fooled.  He had seen his brother play heroic Spartan imbecile before.  "You're not sleeping right, are you?"

"I never said that," hissed his brother, brushing his silky black hair from his eyes. He was letting it grow longer, now that it was not so untamable, and the new style emphasized his resemblance to his father ever further.

"You didn't have to," Draco said smugly. "Why don't you go ask Dad for a Sleeping Draught?"

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Yeah, so fine you wake up tired and sleep through half your classes."

"I do not!"

"Do so."

"How would you know?"

"One, I saw you doing it in Charms with my own eyes. And two, Hermione told me."

Harry huffed and glanced away.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, doing a good imitation of their father. "Little brother, are you going to be sensible and take a Sleeping Draught or am I going to have to inform the old man?"

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked insolently.

Draco slugged him playfully in the shoulder. "No, Dad, you half-wit."

Harry glared at him.  "What happened to the pact you and I made?"

"What one was that?"

"The one where we agreed to not tell Dad anything about our personal lives unless it was a matter of life and death."

"Listen, Harry, I'm normally not a tell-tale, but if you don't get enough sleep and aren't well-rested for the tournament, it could kill you." Draco said seriously.  "People have died before competing in this.  And you'll need to be at your peak in order to survive.  So, for the love of Merlin, take a Sleeping Draught. You can get one from Pomfrey."

"And then she'll ask Dad what's wrong and why I needed one and he'll flip."

"No, she won't.  Patient confidentiality."

"I thought that only applied to Healers."

"Pomfrey is a Healer, dunderhead!"

"Oh." Now Harry felt stupid.

"Or, if you don't want to do that, you could always ask Uncle Phil to send you to sleep using his vampire gaze. He did that to me when Pansy cursed me."

Harry sighed. "Then I'd have to explain to him what's bothering me."

"Harry, mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"What is bothering you?"

Harry bit his lip.  "All the publicity. I really hate it. Drives me nuts. I feel like I'm being watched all the time, and even when I don't say anything, Skeeter still finds things to write about me. Yesterday she interviewed one of the Creevy kids and he told her about Katie and me, and next thing I know I've got the front page again."

"I know, it's rough." Draco said sympathetically. "It was that way for me too after the trial. All these reporters wanting to know how I felt, what I thought, they tried everything they could think of to get me to talk to them, and when I refused, they just made up stuff.  Skeeter tried to interview me the other day."

Harry eyed his brother warily.  "What did you say?"

"That my dad always said not to talk to strangers," Draco grinned. "Then I walked off."

Harry burst out laughing. "That was brilliant!"

"That's me.  Anything else?"

"Well, of course I'm nervous about the tournament.  I keep imagining all sorts of nasty things about the first task and wonder if I'll be up to it."

"Hmm.  I think you'll be able to complete whatever they throw at you, Harry. You're strong in magic and you know things no other student here does. Like kin-sa-dor.  And swordplay.  And we've been practicing Defense with the dueling club and dad almost every night this week.  Don't sweat it, little brother.  You'll be fine.  You're a Snape, and you're the best wizard in the tournament."

Draco's words made him feel ten times better.  "Thanks, Dragon."

"Anytime, Harry. Now come on, before we miss lunch."

Harry took Draco's advice and asked Madame Pomfrey for a Sleeping Draught.  She gave it to him without asking any awkward questions, to his vast relief. But his good mood didn't last long. He started to look at the way the other champions were handling the pressure and felt he was sorely lacking in composure.

Fleur acted as if all this were beneath her, she was haughty and serene. Cedric took everything in stride, and never seemed to mind the crowds of people about him. And Krum lapped up the attention, posing for shots and agreeing to any and all interviews, he was used to such attention because he was a big Quidditch star.

Harry wondered if it was just not in his nature to enjoy being in the limelight.  Like his father, there were things in his past that he did not want anyone to discover, and he liked his privacy. That Skeeter woman was like a leech, sucking him dry to the marrow, trying to delve into the darkest parts of his past.

Only the time spent with his family at night or Katie during the afternoon seemed to relieve the pressure upon him.  With his family he could just be himself and it was the same with Katie.  He loved being with the Gryffindor Chaser because she never asked him about the tournament, what he expected or if he were nervous.  She was sensitive to his moods and when he was with her he could leave the world behind and just enjoy himself.

They could often be found playing about on their brooms on the Quidditch pitch, he playing her position of Chaser and she of Seeker for variety, laughing and joking. Harry soon learned not to underestimate her, for she had the Gryffindor daring in full measure, and could do maneuvers that made his hair stand on end.

"Come on, fly-boy, beat this!" was her battlecry, and Harry did his best to try.

It was fun competing with her for the fun of it, without worrying about scoring or the Quidditch Cup.  He had never realized just how much fun it was to simply play for the love of the game until then.

And even better than that was taking her in his arms afterwards and kissing her breathless.  She loved to play with his hair, running her fingers through the silky strands.  "You're so sexy, Harry Snape," she would purr and he would laugh and kiss her pert nose.

Once he caught Krum staring at them after one such snogging session and it made him feel uncomfortable-defensive and prickly. "What are you looking at?"

Krum had shrugged and smiled insolently. "Vell, it seems you are hardly old enough to date, and yet you have a girl. I vas wondering how it vas possible."

Before Harry could reply, Katie did so.  "It's possible because Harry's not a glory seeking prat like you, Krum." Then she took her boyfriend by the arm and strode off towards the castle.

Harry was grinning the whole way. "I can't believe you told him off that way!"

"Why? I call them like I see them, and he's so full of himself I'm surprised he doesn't blow up like a balloon and explode.  Guess that's what happens when you let fame go to your head."

"Then it doesn't bother you that he's this big Quidditch star and you just insulted him to his face?"

"No.  He might be good at flying, but his attitude stinks. I hope you kick his arse when the tournament starts, Harry. C'mon, fly boy, I have to study for my Advanced potions and I need someone to quiz me."

"At the back of the library?"

"Yes.  That's the quietest spot."

After going back to their dorm to put away their brooms and get Katie's potions text, they headed off to the library.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle were sitting in the shadow of Hagrid's hut, just beyond the gamekeeper's pumpkin patch, studying a book Ron had snitched from the twins titled A Guy's Guide to Gaining a Beautiful Girlfriend.  It suggested several ways that an awkward or shy or totally clueless boy might be able to snag a pretty girl, or any girl that caught his fancy. 

"All right. Now what does it say about talking to her?" Crabbe asked Ron, whose turn it was to read a chapter.  "How can you quit not being able to speak when you see her? Or sound like a blithering idiot?"

"I dunno," Ron said.

"Read the book, Weasley, you dolt!" cried Goyle.

"Oh. Right." Ron blushed. "Uh . . .it says to think about what you want to say before you say it.  That way you won't trip over your words.  Don't stare at her for too long, and let her start talking about something first and then reply to it, that way you won't feel awkward since you have something to talk about.  Tell her she's pretty or compliment her in some way, but don't make statements that are untrue. Girls hate liars."

"Okay . . .I think I can remember that," Goyle said, a bit uncertainly.

"Does it say anything about stuff girls like to get from you?" asked Crabbe.

"Uh . . let me see . . " Ron flipped the pages.

They discovered that most girls like simple and honest gifts, like flowers, or a poem, or some kind of cute stuffed animal, or maybe a dinner out in some restaurant. A book if she liked to read, some jewelry if she liked that.  Try and find a gift that fit her interests.  

"When introducing yourself to a girl for the first time . . .look her in the eye and speak naturally. Smile and tell her your name," Goyle read the next chapter.

"That doesn't sound too hard," Ron said, but he was immediately assailed with doubts.  What if he went to introduce himself to the girl of his dreams and he ended up forgetting his name because he was so awed by her beauty. Had that ever happened before? He could see it happening to him.

"Okay. Now we just need to find some girls." Crabbe stated.  "Where do we look?"

Ron and Goyle exchanged mutual glances of exasperation. "Well, Vince, since we're not in a monastery, I'd say there are plenty of girls right here." Goyle said.

"And don't forget, there are some new girls here from that fancy French school," Ron reminded them. "And you know what they say about French women. They're hot!"

"Aye, that Fleur is part veela." Crabbe said.  "Sweet Merlin! But she would never look twice at a bloke like me."

The others agreed glumly that the same was true for them. 

"But it can't hurt to look, now can it?" Ron said.

They stood up, brushing the grass and leaves off their robes and went to walk back towards the castle, where they found a bunch of Beauxbatons girls gathering at the lake.

Ron looked them over and saw a pretty blond-haired girl smiling and laughing with two other girls. He recognized her as Fleur and the other two were also quite attractive. One was a dark-haired girl with huge eyes the color of whiskey, fringed with long lashes, she was not willow-thin, but was well-rounded, as his mum liked to say. He felt his mouth go dry. 

Wow! She's really sweet looking. I like . . .I really like.

He tried to remember what the book had said about introductions, but the advice muddled in his head, and he finally just decided to act casual and say hi.

So he stuck his hands in his robes, after first casting a Neaten-Up charm over himself, that way she wouldn't notice how sweaty they were, and headed over to the lake.  He whistled casually, until she glanced up and looked at him and then he stopped abruptly, making a kind of "Eeep!" noise that he tried to turn into a cough, swallowed wrong, and then ended up coughing for real.

As he struggled for air, he felt a cool hand on his back and a soft voice muttered, "Easy there.  Stop fighting and just . . .breathe."

Her voice, which was like rich velvety chocolate, brought him back and he calmed enough to take a decent breath.

"Are you all right?" she said, her voice had a very faint accent, just enough to sound slightly exotic.

"Err . . .yes . . .I just . . .swallowed too fast . . umm . ."

He looked up and right into the loveliest pair of whiskey-colored eyes.

"Wow!"

She looked puzzled.  "What is it?"

"You . . .your eyes . . .err . . .I mean . . .they're really . . .uh . . .interesting." As soon as he said that, he wanted to kick himself. Hard.  Idiot! You're supposed to introduce yourself before you give her a compliment.

"Oh. Yes, well, I get them from my grandfather.  He was Rom."

"Rom? I thought you were French."

She giggled.  "I am Breton, from Brittany, and also part Romany . . .Gypsy, you would say." She tossed her mane of nightdark curls and gave him a sweet smile.

She smiled at me! At me! He felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. "Oh. That's nice."

"Thanks! And you are?"

"Umm. . . I'm a Gryffindor and . . .my name is . . ." To his horror, he found he could not remember who he was. Dear sweet Merlin! Maybe that choking fit caused brain damage! I've suffered memory loss! George always said I'd lose my mind someday.  But she was looking at him, waiting for him to speak. " . . .George . . .I mean Ron . . .I'm Ron Weasley." He managed to take his hand out of his pocket, give her a smile that he was sure made him look like a sick pig, and said, "Pleased to meet you . . ."

"Zara." She replied, taking his hand. "Zara Racette. I am happy to make your acquaintance, Ron.  Or is it George?"

"N-No. George is my brother. I just . . . was thinking about him before . . .I mean . . .just ignore me, I'm babbling."

"Not at all. I find you quite . . .how do you say it . . .ah . . .charming. Yes?"

He nearly swallowed his tongue. "You . . .do?"

"Oui. Very much so . . .and cute as well!"

"R-really? Well, I think you are too." He blushed. "Uh . . .what year are you?"

"How old am I?"

"Yes."

"I am fourteen."

"Me too!" He couldn't believe how lucky he was.  He was actually talking to a girl and she was the same age and actually thought he was cute!

She looked over at Crabbe and Goyle, who were hovering like immense brids of prey further back.  "Who are your friends?"

"Uh . . .they're Vince Crabbe and Greg Goyle.  They're uh . . .sort of shy." He nearly hit himself in the forehead. Good going, Weasley! Now they're going to kill you!

But Zara laughed, not unkindly. "Oh? Then perhaps Gabrielle Marchant and Jeannette Arnaud could help them, oui?" Then she called over two more girls, a sweet-looking golden-haired one and an auburn-haired perky one and whispered to them.  In two minutes flat, the girls had gone up to Crabbe and Goyle and introduced themselves.

Wow! It really worked! Ron beamed, feeling like he was floating on air. "Uh, Zara? Would you . . .would you like to go to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer?"

"Hogsmeade? You mean the village beyond the castle?"

"Yeah.  There's a place called The Three Broomsticks there. They serve the best drinks there-hot and cold. And also have great fish and chips and sausage and onions. Would you . . .like to come?"

"Bien sur!" she exclaimed. "It will be . . .how you say . . .an adventoor, yes?"

"It sure will!" Ron said, and he gave her his most dazzling smile. A date! I finally have a date! That's so . . .incredible.  Now I just have to make sure I have enough Sickles and Knuts to pay for everything.  He dug into his pocket and to his relief found the ten Sickles he had won off of George betting him that Snape wouldn't take points from Gryffindor from the brawl after the fact.  Hogsmeade, here I come! With the gorgeous Gypsy Zara!

* * * * * *

Slytherin dormitory

Two nights later:

" . . .start, cart, mart, part . . .Merlin! None of these are any good!" A frustrated Goyle threw his twentieth parchment ball across the room.  "Draco, what rhymes with heart?"

Draco rolled over, picked up a shoe from beside his bed and lobbed it at his friend.

"OW!" Greg yelled. He rubbed the back of his head. "What the hell was that for?"

"Greg, just shelve the blasted poetry for now and go to sleep!" growled Draco. "Before I make you rhyme a word with "dead", because if you don't shut up, that's how you're going to feel in about two seconds."

"Okay, Draco. Sorry."

 Draco shoved his head back under his pillow and yanked the bed hangings closed. Merlin, but I wish they never discovered those Beauxbatons girls! It's like living with two stupid horny dogs! He groaned and punched his pillow, trying in vain to fall asleep.  All they do is talk about Jeannette and Gabrielle, and how they adore them.  I hope I never acted that way when I first started going out with ‘Mione. Otherwise I'd have hexed myself.

* * * * * *

While Draco was cursing his roommate's preoccupation with girls, Phil was tracking Karkaroff and Madame Maxime.  It was unusual to see those two together and Phil had immediately become suspicious.  Something was up and he was determined to find out what was going on. He trailed the two with no more noise than the wind, veiled to the max, his fangs showing briefly over his bottom lip.     

They crept cautiously from the castle, looking about furtively before leaving, and then they made their way down past Hagrid's hut to a large clearing a few feet into the Forbidden Forest.  Madame Maxime was panting slightly by the time they arrived.

"What is so important, Igor, that you had to pull me away from my dessert?"

"This. Take a look," the tall wizard gestured grandly with his fur-collared robe to a series of cages set in a semi-circle. In front of them were several wizards wearing the leather garments of Animal Keepers with the insignia of a paw upon their uniforms. Their organization favored human treatment for many magical creatures, even the large predators.

As the large Headmistress of Beauxbatons leaned over to peer in the cages, Philip glided around the side and took a peek at what magical creatures were inside. His violet eyes widened in shock at what he saw.

In the first cage prowled a large manticore, its scorpion tail lashing restlessly against the bars, great lion paws flexing and clawing the bottom of the roomy cage. In the cage was a raw haunch of beef, but the manticore was not interested in eating right then. It had a curiously human-like face, but its lips wrinkled back to reveal rows of gleaming fangs the size of a lion's. Bat wings rustled angrily, clearly it did not want to be confined and it snarled low in its throat warningly.

Madame Maxime got a hairsbreadth too close and the manticore roared loudly and tried to savage her with a paw.

She drew back, clutching her wand. "Savage beast!"

"Indeed.  But not the worst. Come, see the others." Karkaroff smiled slightly. "These are what our champions will face two days hence.  They will draw replicas from a bag to see which creature they face.  That was Dumbledore's idea.  Fair play." The Durmstrang wizard sneered. "Stupid old fart! The tournament is not about fair, it's about winning!"

Maxime looked concerned. "Zurely you are not pro-posing that ze cheat?"

"Bah! It's not cheating to give our champions a little edge. I'm sure Dumbledore has already told his two." Karkaroff laughed bitterly. Then he led the large witch to the next enclosure.

This one appeared more like a forest verge and it had a large glowing net over it to prevent the chimera dozing upon the rock beneath the shade of a conjured elm from escaping.  The goat and lion heads were snoring loudly and the snake tail was curled about the leonine body, resting.

"A chimera! They are tre terrible!"

"Yes, and it breathes fire too. A great test for a young wizard.  Perhaps Potter or Diggory will draw this one."

In another cage was a huge black hound the size of a pony with glowing red eyes and jaws like a shark's.  It was wearing a golden collar and it growled threateningly at the two wizards, lunging up against the bars, spittle dripping from its jaws.

"And this one?"

Phil stiffened. How did they come by a darkhound? They are native to the Faerie Realm.  Has someone been dealing with the Unseelie? For only they keep darkhounds as pets and sell them to the highest bidder.

Darkhounds were very strong and could blend into their surroundings, but their most deadly ability was being able to teleport at will.  They could only be constrained by a collar with a charm of binding or a certain kind of spell barrier. And they lived to shed blood and feast upon the remains of their victims.

Igor told her of the darkhounds with relish and had the satisfaction of seeing the big woman go pale and make a sign to avert evil.

"Come, now, Maxime! This is not even the worst of what is here. Close though."

The final enclosure was decked out like a pricy boudoir, with a large satiny cushion and curtains and a soft comforter. Coiled upon the pink cushion was a most bizarre beast.  Its lower half was that of a giant snake, its upper half that of a voluptuous woman. She was humming and combing her hair out, her face relaxed as she ran the comb through. Every so often, a forked tongue slipped out between her teeth.

She looked up from her task, spied the other wizards and hissed, "Come to gawk, have you? Perhaps you should join me." She gave Igor a sultry smile, showing long fangs, though her teeth were otherwise much like his own.  "Wouldn't you like that, little wizard?" she said, practically oozing charm.

Igor gulped and started to walk forward, plainly enchanted by the creature's voice. "Yes . . .yes . . " He drew nearer the cage.

Maxime grabbed him and shook him roughly, lifting him off his feet. "Snap out of it, you fool!  She's bewitching you, dolt! Accursed lamia!" She shook her fist at the lamia and dragged Karkaroff away.

Phil, though he was not affected by the lamia's coercion spell, felt a shudder run through him. This was one of the deadliest creatures in both realms, a demon made flesh that lived to eat the flesh and souls of children.

:Are they mad?: Smidgen blinked into view and stared in horror at the lamia.  :To summon such as that as a task? They rouse what is best left undisturbed in the lower pits of hell!:

Aye, dreamweaver. The lamia is a terrible opponent, even worse, in its way, as a dragon.  For the lamia is immortal, and cannot be slain unless it is on its home plane. Phil hissed, the evil aura radiating from the monster making his skin crawl.

:But it can be banished.:

True. But only by a master sorcerer skilled in breaking Dark curses and the like. None of the children have that kind of experience or time to learn any. The best they can do is try and avoid her or hurt her so badly that she ceases to attack.

:Whose idea was it to entrap these creatures?:

I believe the wizard called Crouch agreed to it.

:He is a fool then! What shall we do about this, Phil? Harry must not be allowed to face these monsters without preparation. We must warn him, even if it's against the rules.:

It is not, since the other two plan on doing just that.  But first we must tell Severus.

Smidgen blinked away back to the dungeons and after a moment, Phil tore off running, using his vampiric speed to get to the dungeons in under two minutes.

* * * * * *

"Have they lost their bloody stinking MINDS!" Severus vented when the shimmerling and the vampire had told him what they had discovered.  "A manticore, a chimera, a darkhound, and a lamia? Those would be dangerous tasks for an adult wizard, let alone mere children, of age or not!"

The Potions Master rose and paced his quarters, too agitated to sit still, his black robes rustling about his ankles.

"Does Albus know about this?" he paced about much like the manticore, and if he had a tail, Smidgen was sure he'd be lashing it furiously. "Of course he does," he answered his own question a moment later. "Nothing happens in the tournament without the old man's approval! Blast and damn!" he clutched the medallion under his shirt hard. The manticore, chimera, and darkhound were vicious nasty opponents and not to be taken lightly, but they could be killed. The lamia, however . . .there were few spells he knew that could thwart such a creature and of them, all of them were beyond his son's level of skill. "They are insane, expecting students to stand up to a lamia! The Devourer of All Children!  What defense will they have against that?"

"Not a very good one," Phil replied grimly.  "But Harry does have one advantage the others don't, Sev."

"What's that? His reckless courage?"

"No.  His Amulet of Inheritance." Phil replied. "That amulet was forged in the Seelie Court, by magesmiths."

:Yes, you are right Tall, Dark, and Sexy! The amulet protects against dark auras and such, it will protect Harry against the lamia's coercion and her hypnotic gaze.: Smidgen agreed.

"And what about her lightning speed, she moves like a serpent, and can also spit venom like a cobra," Severus pointed out.

"Can you make a potion that will proof against snake venom?"

"Yes, against ordinary venom, but a lamia is ten times more potent," Severus fretted. "I can only try.  If I succeed, I can give some to all the participants, that will at least save them from dying from poison."

"All of them?" Phil raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, they are children, and their lives are not pawns upon a chessboard." Severus snapped.  "Bloody tournament!"

"Will you tell Harry, or shall I?" asked Phil.

Severus considered. "If I am to brew the anti-venom, I need all of my free time. Plus I am not sure I could maintain my composure. Would you mind?"

"Not at all," Phil reassured. "There may even be a few sword moves I can teach him before he faces the creatures on Tuesday."

"I would be eternally grateful, Philip."

"It is no trouble, Sev.  We shall discuss it tomorrow."

:And I shall keep an eye on the others, especially Karkaroff.: Smidgen sent. :I don't trust that one as far as I can spit. There is something evil and dishonorable about him.:

"Thank you, Smidgen," Snape said sincerely. "And now, I must go and brew."

* * * * * *

  "Again! Thrust with your full weight behind the blade, Harry!" Philip reprimanded, his face stern and set.  "Without that you won't be able to penetrate her hide if you have to. Do it over!"

Harry sighed, wiped the sweat off his brow, and repositioned himself in front of the practice dummies, which were shaped like the different mythological creatures he would face soon.  He had known that Phil could be a tough taskmaster when it was warranted, but never had he worked Harry so hard.  They had been three hours in the Room of Requirement after supper and Harry was feeling utterly exhausted.  But Phil had not called a halt yet and he wasn't about to disgrace himself and ask to stop.  He was the heir to Prince Manor and he needed to learn to fight in order to survive (and maybe win) the Triwizard Tournament.

Phil had told him of the creatures he might face and also about Severus brewing the anti-venom.  The vampire had stressed the need for Harry to be physically at his peak, alert and ready for anything. His uncle had practiced kin-sa-dor maneuvers with him as well as the sword, telling him that the martial arts could be used against all the creatures if needed.

"I know they all expect you to use magic alone to defend yourself, but you have an advantage in knowing armed and unarmed combat, and you shouldn't waste it. These creatures won't hesitate to kill you, Harry, so you must play to your strengths and be ready for anything."

"Constant vigilance, like Moody says?"

"Yes. Or, as my old swordmaster used to say, watch your back, watch your sides, and for God's sake watch the damn person in front of you.  Battle is a quarter skill, a quarter luck and half up to the grace of God.  I have never forgotten that advice.  It has saved me many times.  Now I tell it to you. Learn what I teach and you will come out of there Tuesday alive and whole."

Harry took his uncle's words to heart and so did not whine when Phil ordered him to practice the thrust and parry again and again. He ached, he was tired, but that was to be expected. He knew he would feel a lot worse if a chimera breathed upon him, or a manticore stung him with its tail, or a darkhound bit him, or a lamia ripped him apart.

At last Phil called a halt, said that Harry had improved a little, and that he should go take a shower and sleep.  They would have more sessions like this until Tuesday and Phil also told him about his amulet giving him protection against most dark creatures, especially demon-kind, like the lamia.

"However, that does not mean you should get cocky or overconfident, Mr. Snape. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry respectfully, then he went to put away his practice blade. "Thank you, Uncle Phil."

The vampire chuckled wickedly. "You're welcome, lad. Though I'd wager my best horse you won't be thanking me tomorrow morning.  Good night, Harry."

"Night, Uncle Phil," Harry said, then he left for Gryffindor Tower.

* * * * * *

Monday night Severus made Harry sleep in his quarters and take a Sleeping Draught before bed.  He knew his son would remain awake the whole night else and that was not what he needed.  Harry did not bothering protesting, when Severus got that particular look in his eye, he would not budge if the sky were falling down. 

Tuesday morning dawned, and Harry drank the anti-venom Severus gave him, it tasted like cold tea and nothing more.  He had gone and given Cedric his dose a few days ago and told him about the four mythological creatures they would face. Cedric had thanked him and Harry had shrugged and told him he owed him one for sticking up for him that day against the other students.  Fair was fair and a Snape always paid his debts.

The first task was scheduled for the afternoon, and they made everyone go to class and lunch before going to gather upon the Quidditch pitch.  Harry and the other three champions were let out of class early to pose for pictures and be interviewed again by Skeeter. Harry endured all of the publicity stoically, counting the minutes till he was to face the living myths.

Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Katie had all wished him good luck beforehand and so had his father. But his hands were now clammy and sweat trickled down his back.  Sure wish I had one of Dad's Stomach Calming Elixirs right now. Good thing I hardly ate luch, otherwise I'd be leaving it all over the ground.

Finally, the interview session was over and the champions were led into a tent where Ludo Bagman awaited them.  "Hullo, everyone! All set for the big match? Good!" He beamed congenially at all of them.

Fleur looked haughty, Krum had a scowl on his face, and Cedric smiled back at him politely. Harry tried, but feared he only looked like he had gas and not eager to face the task ahead.

Bagman cleared his throat.  "Now then, the rules for this task are as follows.  You must find a way to get past a certain creature and retrieve a small gilded scroll case where it is lying upon the ground.  That scroll case contains a clue to the second task . . .if you survive the first one that is." Here he chuckled. "A little joke, sorry. You may use any means at your disposal to defeat the creature, but please refrain from killing it if you can.  Some of these species are endangered and rare."

"What are they?" asked Fleur.

"You will find that out in good time.  Points will be given for creativity and effectiveness of spellcasting and reaction time and how quickly you retrieve the scroll case.  The judges will give you a score based upon those things and the one with the highest score will win this round.  If you fail to retrieve the scroll case or are too badly injured, you will be disqualified.  Are you all ready then?"

The four champions nodded.

"Good. Reach into this bag here and pull out what you find there," Ludo said, picking up a large scarlet silk sack.  "Ladies first, Miss Delacour."

Fleur reached into the bag and pulled out a replica of a darkhound.

Cedric was next, and he drew the manticore.

Krum drew the chimera, which left Harry with the lamia.

His heart pounding, he cupped the small figurine of the lamia with its odd serpent body and reminded himself that this was what Phil had been training him for. He would succeed.

"Wait here until you hear your name called, then come out.  I shall inform the others of your opponents."

All too soon they heard Dumbledore announce, "Will Viktor Krum step forward? You are to battle a chimera."

Scattered applause followed as Viktor stepped out of the tent.  Harry wondered if he could be last again.

One by one the others were called and Harry could not tell how well they did, for the crowd screamed and applauded so loudly, they rivaled the snarls and growls of the beasts. From the sounds, he thought the others had managed to complete their tasks. Finally, Harry was the only one left in the tent, and it was then Phil appeared, holding a sheathed rapier.

"Harry, I don't have long, but I figured you could use this.  Keep it in here since you are not supposed to carry weapons into the arena, but you may summon it to you later." He set the sword down.  "Remember, strike with your full weight behind the blow, no hesitation.  Or else she will have you.  Use what you have learned and you will be fine. Remember, you are the heir to Prince Manor and the blood of kings runs in your veins." He gave the nervous wizard a hug, clapping him on the back.  "Merlin go with you, nephew."

Harry straightened and gave Phil a brave smile.  "Thank you, uncle.  Tell Dad not to worry too much."

The vampire grinned.  "I will."

Then he vanished just as Dumbledore called Harry's name.  Harry squared his shoulders, centered himself, and walked out, the black cloak with the number four rustling about his ankles.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, and for an instant he could not hear himself breathe.  But he focused upon the enclosure where the lamia was sitting, eyeing him with interest.  She had a strange smile upon her face, one that gave Harry the chills. The lamia was oddly beautiful, her dark emerald hair shimmered in the sun and she was voluptuous, her top half covered by a diaphanous shirt, her lower half was a snake, with patterned green, black, and red scales. 

Hundreds of faces peered down at him and he felt like a goldfish in a bowl, but then he focused upon his enemy and stepped through the gap, wand at the ready to summon the rapier. 

But as his feet entered the enclosure, the lamia turned the full force of her gaze upon him and he slowed.  Time seemed to stop and he was frozen, and suddenly the lamia vanished and he saw his mother, reaching out to him with both hands imploringly.

"Mum?" he murmured, trying to think past the fog in his head.  Why was everything so misty, so confusing?

There was a burning sensation upon his chest. Sharp and annoying, he reached up to scratch it and his hand closed over the Amulet of Inheritance.  Instantly Lily was gone and he could see the lamia, swaying back and forth in a hypnotic pattern, her top and bottom halves undulating in a mesmerizing dance.

A Glamour! But glamours don't work on the fae and I am of the Prince-Valinek line. The lamia was drawing closer now, in the space of a minute she had come the length of the thirty-foot enclosure, and her smile widened, revealing long fangs like that of a deadly viper. 

"Come to me, little one," she sang, crooning an ancient lullaby.  "Come and let me hold you."

Harry shuddered, her voice was like silk, and all at once he recalled Phil's instructions.  Don't listen to her song, it can beguile, and once she has you in her arms, you will be hers for eternity in death.  He quickly cast a Muffling charm and the seductive voice was blotted out.

He chanted a quick Shield Charm.  "Protego!"

The lamia hissed, her face twisted into a hate-filled smirk, and spat out a long viscous green stream of venom. 

It struck the shield Harry had erected and bounced off.

The crowd screamed and cheered.  Then Harry was moving, circling to the right, as the lamia uncoiled and lunged at him, her hands growing three-inch claws that she wielded like scythes.

Once, twice, the charm repelled them, but Harry could feel it fading, the claws were magic, and each strike weakened the shield.  On the fourth strike the shield collapsed, but Harry had known it would and sprang up, twisting his body in midair and kicking out with his left foot in the kin-sa-dor move known as the Gryphon's Strike.

His foot caught the lamia square in the jaw, rocking her back upon her tail, though she was not knocked out like a normal person would have been. Dazed, she shook her head, screeching.

"Holy Merlin!" exclaimed Bagman. "I've never seen anything like that!  Where did he learn that maneuver?"

Harry ignored Bagman's voice, instead landing lightly upon his feet, and crying, "Accio rapier!"

Like an arrow from a bow, the rapier shot out of the tent and sailed into the boy's hand, Harry caught it instinctively, without even looking. He quickly yanked off the sheathe and faced the angry demon serpent again. 

"Come on, snake-face! You want a piece of me?" The lamia snarled.  "Come and get me!"

Harry set his feet firmly, just as Phil had taught him.  Then he watched the lamia's eyes and chest, seeing the eyes glitter with fury and the chest tense just before she flung herself on top of him.

"I shall strip the bones from your flesh, foolish child, and feast upon them!"

Harry thrust upwards hard.

The rapier slid into the lamia's breast like a hot knife into butter.

The demon screamed, and Harry stepped back, yanking the blade out of her. 

Black blood flowed from the lamia sluggishly, and she writhed, spitting venom and curses upon the young wizard. 

Harry ran past her to the golden scrollcase which rested upon a pillow, but just as his fingertips touched the object, it vanished in a puff of smoke.

The crowd gasped. What was this?

Harry gaped, then whirled about at the lamia's mocking laugh.  Harry, you idiot! Remember, she's a fae creature, master of illusion! It was a trick!

The lamia waved her tail mockingly, and Harry then saw the scroll case held tightly in her tail. 

"Looking for this, little boy? Come and get it!"

The wound in her torso had almost closed, he saw in horror. Then she reared back and sent more streams of venom at him.

Now he blessed the hours he had spent with Phil and Severus, working on dodging missiles and footwork.

He skipped neatly away and around the venomous spittle, which left burning holes where it struck the earth. 

Strategy, Harry. Use your head. He panted, trying to think of  a way he could get the case without getting too near her.  He did not know if he would get lucky enough to stab her a second time, now that she had been wounded she was wary.

The object is to get the scroll case.  I need a diversion.

He lowered the rapier and began to wave his wand about, seeming as if he were casting some kind of spell. The lamia's eyes were now watching his wand hand.

Harry concentrated and non-verbally summoned the scroll case with wandless magic. 

Distracted, the lamia did not feel the sharp invisible tug upon the case until it was already halfway out of her grip and by then it was too late.

The case hurtled through the air and Harry stuck his wand up his sleeve and caught it in midair just the way he did the Snitch.

The crowd went wild, screaming and cheering.

Harry smiled, for he had done it.  He had completed the first task.

He backed slowly away from the lamia and towards the enclosure entrance, rapier held at the ready.

"A blight upon thee, little wizardling!" she hissed, and shot towards him.

Harry stepped back, sword held in a classic stance, and the lamia twisted hard to avoid the shining silver blade, anathema to her kind.

Harry lunged once more and felt the rapier's tip pierce the serpent part of the demon's body.

The lamia howled and shrank away, but her claw lashed out, catching Harry alongside the cheek.

It left a stinging scratch that made his face go numb, but he ignored it.

Harry released the rapier then, leaving it embedded in the lamia, and sprinted the last two feet to the entrance and through the gap.

"Now that's what I call a face-off!" Bagman cheered. "Who taught him how to fight that way?"

Harry paused outside the enclosure, one hand going to his throbbing cheek, which was now bleeding and burning fiercely. He still clutched the scroll case in his other hand. His breath was coming in panting gasps as the adrenaline rush drained out of him.

Back in the arena, the lamia had managed to pull out the rapier and snap it in two.

She seemed to grow to ten times its size, looming over the enclosure, mouth agape, venom flecking her fangs.  "Filthy fae-child! How dare thee strike me?"

The furious demon uncoiled with the swiftness of its cobra brethren and made for the entrance.

Bagman shouted, "Hold! Get back!" He made a complicated pass with his wand, and a glowing barrier sprang up.

The lamia struck it, sparks flew all over, and then she began to come through, laughing in triumph.

Everyone gasped in horror.

Harry backed away, terror shooting through him. Why wasn't the lamia becoming subdued?

"Ludo, what are you doing?" shouted Crouch.  "You told me you could control the thing!"

"I . . .I could. I don't know why it's not working!" Bagman shouted, panicked. He shouted the spell again, but it fizzled and died.

In another moment the lamia would be free, and once free, would be able to kill all in her path.  "Venegeance is mine, wizards!"

She wriggled halfway through the entrance, Ludo's barrier crackling but not halting her.  "So many children, so little time!"

McGonagall, standing next to Severus, pointed her wand and transfigured a small pebble into a massive rock face in front of the lamia.

But the lamia sneered and slithered quick as a thought up it. 

"She's escaping!" screamed Rita Skeeter. "Do something-anything!"

There was pandemonium up in the stands, as students tried to leave and were nearly trampled.

Dumbledore quickly cast a Calming Charm over them, and cried, "Everyone, remain where you are, please! Do not panic!"

Back in front of the enclosure, Crouch was screaming at Bagman, "Banish her, you idiot! Quickly!"

"I-I'm trying!" sputtered Ludo, panicking.

"Allow me."

Snape shoved the stuttering incompetent idiot aside and faced the lamia, who had slithered right down the conjured rock face.  His amulet burned and glowed as he faced the serpent demon. 

The lamia checked sharply.  "Accursed fae blooded sorcerer!" She shielded her eyes from the amulet's fierce glow. "Ahhh!"

Severus pointed his wand and cried sharply, "Get thee hence, demon! I, Severus Snape, banish thee back to the hell you were spawned from! Licentia, Diabola!"

A glowing silver streak exploded from the ebony wand, struck the lamia and illuminated the cringing half-serpent creature.  She screamed, writhing, but to no avail. A glittering portal appeared above her and sucked her through, sealing itself shut an instant later.

Snape's face was the color of parchment, mute testimony to how much the spell had cost him to cast.  He swayed upon his feet for an instant, exhaustion sweeping through him, but managed to remain upright. He could collapse later. There was a fool that needed the hide flayed off him first.

"Wow, Snape, that was simply amazing!" Bagman gushed. "How-"

"Shut up, you twit!" Severus whirled upon the other wizard, his eyes blazing. "What kind of idiot summons a lamia without knowing how to banish it? Around hundreds of children? Do you know what would have happened if she had gotten free completely? Do . . .you?"

He was practically spitting, and he confronted Bagman nearly nose to nose, and Bagman cringed and cowered away from the furious Potions Master like a misbehaving first-year.  "I . . .I thought I had her under control, Snape! Really!"

"You thought? Next time, Bagman, leave the thinking to those who still have brains in their heads," sneered Severus.  "You are lucky I know how to banish demons, or else there would have been deaths today in your precious tournament! Or don't you know that a lamia's main food source is children? Eaten alive, fool! What were you thinking, bringing one into this world to be faced by a child? We banished them for a reason!"

Ludo went green and gulped sharply.  "But . . .but I thought that was just a legend . . .I didn't really believe . . ."

"Next time, do your research!" snarled Snape.  "Incompetent bungler! Stick to playing Quidditch!"

He spun away from the other wizard so he would not be tempted to hex him into a puddle of pond slime. 

Then his eyes fell upon his son, his hand pressed to his bloody cheek.  "Harry! You're bleeding. Let me see."

He rushed over to his son.

"I'm fine, Dad, don't fuss-ow!" he yelped as Severus tilted his face up and probed the scratch.

"Your entire cheek is swollen and turning purple." Severus stated. "Come, let's get you to the hospital tent, Harry.  Merlin only knows what kind of filth that creature had upon her claws." He took his son firmly by the shoulder and marched him towards the medical tent.  "I'm proud of you, son."

Harry smiled through the pain.  His father's words were the only reward he needed right then.