Draco was about to kill one Ronald Weasley. Really, the redhead was being a total git; hadn’t he learned back in second-year that Harry was not out for glory? So, Draco had watched, and listened, and plotted. He may have a Ravenclaw badge on his robes, but deep at heart he was a true Slytherin. And he had the help of two of the castle’s premier pranksters. Fred and George Weasley were willing to join with the young Snape for the betterment of their brother, and for Harry’s peace of mind. They just hoped they would be able to accomplish their goal before either Harry totally gave up on the beast, or before Molly Weasley discovered what was going on.

Mind you, the twins had originally opted for just sending her an owl – but Draco had convinced them to forestall that measure in favour of out and out humiliation. Feeling that their brother needed bringing down a peg or two, the followers of Loki agreed.

So, they had met in secret in an old unused dungeon classroom – one that the twins had purloined early in their careers at Hogwarts (with Snape’s tacit agreement – as long as none of the products saw the light of day in his classroom) - and concocted a time released potion that would remind Ronald Weasley why his family and friends felt he was being a total arse.

Operation: Prat was a go.

****

Harry was starting to feel the pressure as the days quickened towards the first task of the tournament. While his core set of friends – minus Ron – were supportive of him and believed him when he said he hadn’t manoeuvred his name into the cup, the rest of the school and the foreign guests were not convinced. Soon enough banners, flyers and buttons proclaimed the schools support of the one true Hogwarts champion – Cedric Diggory. Dumbledore would just tsk tsk his way through the corridors and turn a blind eye toward it all. Severus and Hagrid would remove them when they saw them, but in minutes they would be replaced.

Severus had banned any tournament related propaganda in his classroom which included the flyers, buttons, newspapers and magazines. If he saw them, they were confiscated and destroyed. It was the least he could do to try and make things less hostile for his offspring. And Harry truly appreciated it – but it was one classroom. Even McGonagall hadn’t gone as far as confiscation. She hadn’t even banned the buttons – which alternated from “Support Cedric – Hogwarts’ true Champion” to “Potty-Snape – Hogwarts’ true Cheater”.

His brother and friends had taken to walking with him to and from classes as attacks had begun again. Nott – his own personal fiend – had even tried to hex him one day when his back was turned. The Slytherin hadn’t counted on Moody’s spinning eye catching him in the act and before the hex could leave his lips, he had been turned into a white rabbit and spent the rest of the day locked up in a cage on Moody’s desk in the DADA classroom – the subject of colour changing spells when Moody felt like it. When he was finally released and turned back, he looked as if a rainbow had sicked up on him.

The fact that Harry’s best friend, besides his brother, thought that he was a glory hound was like someone had taken a knife and twisted it in his gut. He had tried to talk to Ron, but the boy had given him a cold shoulder and walked away without saying a word. Every so often, however, Harry could feel Ron’s eyes boring into him and we would turn only to find the redhead scowling at him.

And then there was the problem of finding a girl to take to the dance. Harry was having no luck at all. It didn’t help that most of the school wasn’t talking to him, or that most of the eligible girls in the tower were already dating someone and thus had guaranteed dates. Those that weren’t, had dates before the first week was gone.

The foreign girls weren’t any good either – they considered him an interloper into the championship and thus beneath their notice.

He was beginning to think he’d have to ask Eloise Midgen...

Even his brother had a date! And he wasn’t telling Harry who it was – which Harry considered very unfair; what if he tried asking the same girl? Can you say ‘Awkward’? But Draco insisted that he wanted Harry to be surprised and felt fairly confident that Harry wouldn’t ask this girl.

And speaking of Draco, he was being awfully secretive these days. But Harry really didn’t have time to worry about that, he had an extra session down in the dungeons with his father and he truly needed to get down there. He was so single-minded in his pursuit that he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and ran into a mountain of moleskin, losing his balance and landing on his derriere. He shook his head to clear its ringing, and looked up and up to see Hagrid peering down at him, concern etched on the man’s face.

“’Arry! Yeh alright?” he asked offering a hand up to the youngster.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Hagrid. Sorry about that,” Harry said while straightening his robes.

“Don’cha worry, ’Arry, I twern’t lookin’. I was goin’ teh send yeh a message – can yeh meet me after classes today for tea? Som’mat I’d like teh show yeh.”

Harry thought quickly; he’d missed having his talks with Hagrid. “I’ll see if Dad will let me loose early. I’m on my way there now.”

“Oh, well, yer trainin’ comes first!” His friend looked crestfallen.

Harry hastened to reassure him. “No, no – it should be fine. Really! I’ll see you at five?” Hagrid brightened up, clapping Harry on the shoulder. It was a testament to his training that he was able to hold his ground against the onslaught of the large hammy hand.

“See yeh then and – oh, yeh might want teh bring yer cloak – yer special one...” Hagrid winked at him while whispering.

 “Gotta go, see yeh at five!” Hagrid hustled away leaving a perplexed Harry behind him. But he soon noted the time and had to run in order to make it to his appointment on time.

****

“Concentrate, Harry,” Severus admonished, pacing around his son, arms locked behind his back. “Direct the flow through your fingers just as you do the wand. Feel your core, tap into it, direct it along your arm into your hand and out through your fingers. Imagine the result you want to achieve, aim your focus to that one goal – making the feather rise... Steady... see the feather floating in the air in your head and send your magic through your fingers... very good... higher, higher... excellent. Now direct its path... good...” He watched as the goose quill rose unsteadily into the air as his son wandlessly and wordlessly instructed his magic to obey him. Soon the quill was dancing around the room as if being ridden by a Quidditch player and, when directed, landing safely in the pen stand.

“Well done!” Severus commended, ruffling Harry’s fringe in affection. Harry leaned into the contact, happy that he was finally making headway in this most difficult of magical studies. Severus had been insisting he learn this branch as it could mean the difference between life and death if Harry was ever captured and separated from his wand or put under a silence spell. He could do spells wandlessly now, nearly as adept as with one, as long as he could speak the incantation – but take the voice away and it was like he was a first year all over again. But just then he had finally felt the connection between himself and his core, something his dad and Professor Moody said were integral to him mastering this subject. He felt that now he would be able to make some headway.

“Can I go to Hagrid’s now?” Harry eagerly asked.

“Yes, go to Hagrid’s. I suppose taking tea with him you’ll miss supper? I shan’t be worried then if you miss it – but come back here afterwards.”

Harry nodded and headed down the hall to his room to drop off his book bag and grab his invisibility cloak. He didn’t know why Hagrid wanted him to bring it with him, but he was sure he’d find out soon enough. He tucked it under his jumper and grabbed a heavy jacket, leaving off his robes now that the school day was done. He was pretty sure his father would not approve the use of the cloak and he really didn’t want to explain it, as he didn’t understand the need either.

Slipping out into the corridor, he dodged groups of sneering Slytherins who laughed and flashed their buttons in his face as he hurried past; ‘true Cheater’ burning itself into his brain.

Thus, it was in a bad mood that he gratefully climbed the steps into the gamekeepers hut, sliding onto the oversize bench and inhaling the bracing aroma of the black tea that Hagrid served, Fang sitting contentedly next to him laying his jowly head in Harry’s lap and sighing. Harry obliged the hound by absent-mindedly stroking its head.

“Feelin’ better now?” asked Hagrid, sipping from his own giant cup. “Those students are outta line with those badges, ‘Arry.”

“I know – but there’s nothing I can do. Dumbledore is ignoring them and I think I’m supposed to as well. Besides, they’re right – Cedric is the true champion. I’m just in there because someone cheated the cup and entered my name under a fourth school. It doesn’t matter whether I did it or not – once it accepted my name, I was bound by the contract. At least that’s what Mr Crouch said that first night.” Harry took another long pull on his tea, letting the warmth infuse his system. It was starting to get downright chilly in the Scottish highlands.

“Cedric’s being decent about it, and I really hope he does win,” Harry added.

Hagrid frowned. “Yer not going to be thinkin’ about throwing it in his favour, are yeh – that wouldna be right! Yeh have ter give it yer all, ‘Arry,” the man insisted. He pursed his lips then set his cup down decisively. “Did yer bring yer cloak?”

Harry nodded, patting his stomach to indicate where it was hidden.

“Good. Pull it out an’ follow me, I got som’mat ter show yeh!”

Harry did as the man asked; keeping the cloak around his shoulders, but his head exposed. Hagrid gave him a double look at the strange sight of Harry’s head and braid bobbing along in mid air, apparently not attached to anything as they tramped through the dense underbrush of the forbidden forest, skirting around the outer edges of it until the castle was lost in the gloom behind them. There was still enough starlight and a half-full moon to see where they were going and Hagrid led them unerringly through the habitat he knew so well.

“They be jus’ over ‘ere.” He glanced at the teen next to him. “’Ere now, ye best be coverin’ up. What we’re doin’ is really bendin’ the rules a bit – but the other headmasters have already seen ‘em – so I thought fair’s fair,” he explained, and Harry obliged by pulling the cloak up and over his head.

Harry let his friend ramble on until he came to a screeching halt when he topped a small ridge and looked down into a clearing below him. Four large leathery dragons were bellowing at the top of their lungs as nearly two dozen handlers were attempting to calm them. Some other handlers were hovering above the quartet of irate wyrms, lowering large baskets full of eggs. A wizard was stationed on each basket to guide its placement, their wands holding shields in front of them to ward against the dragon fire that was bathing the large clearing, searing the grass. Harry knew that the grass wouldn’t grow back for a century at least, so permanently damaging was dragon fire.

Against his better judgement he inched his way closer, past Hagrid who was talking to a familiar looking redhead. He could hear mumbling just on the edge of his hearing – something familiar in its sound. He watched as the basket riding handlers manoeuvred the egg-crates into place over rocky nests that were already radiating heat that shimmered in the cool evening air. Harry could feel the warmth as far away as he was.

When the baskets were in place, while the handlers were keeping the furious mothers away, the sides of the baskets were vanished leaving the eggs toasting nicely on the stones. When the wizard had checked to make sure all the eggs were in good shape, he Apparated to the other side of the enclosure and the handlers let the dragons approach their nests.

The crooning mothers rushed forward, breathing fire over their eggs – an almost gentle flame, Harry noted, that danced and surrounded the hard shells. They began murmuring to themselves as they nosed each egg and used their talons to turn their progeny over, arranging the eggs to their liking before settling in over them. Harry could feel that understanding of them just beyond his reach – why did he feel like he could understand what they were saying... saying... Oh.

Dragons were related to snakes.

They spoke Parseltongue – or at least something close to it. If he could just concentrate some more – He strained his magic to its limit, calling on his ability to understand the obscure language and realised that the Dragons were speaking more of a dialect or heavily accented Parseltongue, which was what was hindering his ability to understand them; but really, it was just a matter of getting used to the phrasing more than anything else.

He crept closer until he was leaning right up against the fence that ringed the clearing. It was much hotter this close to the heated nests and Harry could feel the sweat trickling down his face, back and under-arms.

Yes, now he was sure he could understand these immense flying cousins of the snake. Mostly they were mumbling to themselves about how rude their humans had been to move them to this cold, damp forest where there wasn’t any decent rock to heat properly for a nest. They didn’t really talk to each other – in fact the handlers had made sure that each Dragon was as far away as possible from its neighbours.

Harry could see why – each Dragon was a different breed. He could hear the redhead talking to Hagrid behind him and pointing out the different dragons. There was a Welsh Green – a sweet little dragon who sang lullabies to her eggs as she hunched over them. A red Chinese Fireball was to her right, a dragon who kept her tail towards the rest of her companions as she fussed over her eggs checking each one meticulously and carefully placing each egg in a complicated pattern of light and shadow that graced her nest.

Next in the circle was a Norwegian Ridgeback. This one didn’t talk much, just glared at everyone around it with a baleful red eye, smoke wreathing around its head in a sulphurous cloud. She guarded her eggs as if they were gold, studded with precious stones. She kept mumbling, “Stay back, you better stay back if you know what’s good for you...” She made a lunge at an unsuspecting handler who’d gotten to close. “I told you stay away, you misbegotten son of a ...” But Harry missed what she was going to compare the handler to as the last and most ferocious of the brooding mother dragons had let out a roar as she charged after a hapless wizard who’d apparently made some mistake.

He wisely Apparated to safety as other handlers attempted to settle her down and move her reluctantly back to the nest, her tail thrashing dangerously close to the men and women tending her. This was a Hungarian Horntail – not the nicest of dragons when it wasn’t nesting; but get it when it was brooding and the dragon well known for its hot temper became even worse and the temper could ignite at a single mis-spent word on anyone’s part. She was the most dangerous of all the dragons. Harry shuddered just looking at her and the wicked spikes that covered her from crest to tail tip. He would definitely not want to get anywhere near those things.

He looked around and realised that Hagrid had wandered off – Harry knew not where. Harry understood – his friend was mad about Dragons and Harry was out of sight, thus out of mind. To have this many so close to him was a dream come true. Harry was lucky the moon was still up. He gave one last look and listen to the large wyrms then slipped away back-tracking his trail through the forest edge and coming out near the hidden Slytherin entrance to the grounds.

He cautiously opened the door, stealing away through the shadows in the darkened corridors until he reached his father’s quarters. He stuffed his cloak back under his jumper and gave the password to the portrait, jumping through the opening when it appeared, closing the oak door behind him.

He was surprised when he realised he was alone in the quarters, but took advantage of it to go stow his jacket and cloak in his room and head into the kitchenette to see if there was any food to be had. His head was still in the fridge when he heard the door opening to the quarters. A wordless Protego protected him from the hex his father had sent towards his hindquarters earning him an impressive huff from the man. This was a game Severus and Moody had devised to help in his overall training: ambushing at any time, any place. And all the teachers were allowed to participate – which many took advantage of, to Harry’s chagrin. Cedric – in a show of solidarity – requested he be included in being ambushed for the extra training it provided.

Fleur and Krum just thought the Hogwarts’ students were bonkers.

“If you were still hungry, why didn’t you come upstairs?” Severus asked, slipping his wand back into its sheath.

“Used the Slytherin entrance – I figured Dinner was over. I just got back. Hey, Draco!” Harry greeted his brother as he pulled his plate out of the icebox with some fruit and a sandwich gracing it. He placed this on the counter and went back to pour a glass of pumpkin juice. He looked closely at his brother as he turned back to the counter. “You look like the cat who’s eaten the canary; what happened?”

“Your brother decided to retaliate against Mr Weasley this evening,” Severus explained, settling in at his home desk and getting ready to attack a pile of essays. Harry’s eyes opened wide.

“Ron? What did you do, Draco?” he asked, a warning tone in his voice.

“Nothing too permanent – actually it wasn’t entirely me. His brothers helped.” Draco was grinning to his ears as he leaned on the opposite side of the counter watching his brother eat. He tried to sneak a grape and got his hand slapped for the effort. “We’ve been planning it for awhile, hoping he would come around – but as he hadn’t it was time for something else to happen.” He peered down at his nails, inspecting them for dirt.

“I hate to ask – but what did you do?” Harry played along.

Draco perked up as if given an early Christmas present. Harry got the impression that if his brother had been a Hufflepuff, he would’ve been clapping his hands and bouncing up and down in glee. “Well, I was the diversion so that the twins could pour the potion into his goblet. It worked like a charm...”

Draco had positioned himself at the edge of a crowd heading into the Great Hall; perfectly placed to skim the Gryffindor table. Ron was already seated, his full plate steadily making its way into his maw. The twins were seated close by and Draco let himself be jostled into Ron, making the boy choke on whatever was in his mouth.

“Sorry, Weasley – you should really watch where you’re sitting!” Draco drawled, patting the boy on the shoulder drawing his attention further away from the table as Fred dumped the contents of a vial into the boys drink.

Ron was seeing red as he kept coughing on the food that was lodged, so Draco obligingly thwacked him between the shoulders causing the stuck food to come flying out only to lodge on Hermione’s book. She gave the Ravenclaw a look that could have peeled paint before using her wand to vanish the food-bit.

“Sorry, Granger!” Draco apologised sincerely. He really hadn’t meant for that to happen! She waved him off as George offered Ron his cup to wash down the rest as Draco walked on to the Ravenclaw table where Luna had saved him a spot and waited. It didn’t take long before the potion took affect.

After Ron had recovered, he had begun heaping criticism on Draco, and then lit into Harry – speaking in general to the rest of the table’s occupants.

“I mean, really, the git has a charmed life! Survives an attack by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, rich as a king, gets rules bent for him at every turn – who else has been made a first string Quidditch player the first time out on a broom! And now he managed to cheat the cup and get chosen to participate in the tournament, skipping finals and a chance at all those galleons! And it would be just like him to somehow win, too. Probably by bending the rules once again!” He was working himself into a proper red-faced rant, waving around his fork in emphasis that still had a sausage speared on it.

“Ron, stop it!” Hermione chastised sharply, slamming her book shut in irritation.

“What?” he asked.

“I am sick and tired of hearing you bad-mouthing Harry. I just can’t believe that you think he deliberately found some way to get his name in the cup! When has he ever said he wanted more notoriety? Never,” she pointed out. But he looked at her obliviously.

“Hermione, he gets everything! The rules are constantly bent for him! And he’s rich and famous to top it off! He’s just doing this to get more notice!”

“You don’t learn, do you, Ronald. He would give it up just like that!” she said, snapping her fingers in his face, forcing him backwards on his bench. Hermione was scary when she got in a snit. “He doesn’t need this, and he never wanted it – but now he is stuck with it, and he would appreciate a little support from someone who is supposed to be his friend. This is second year all over!” she ranted in his face before sitting back down, scooting further away from the fourth-year.

“She’s crazy,” Ron said to his sister.

“I don’t think so. I think she’s got it absolutely right. Someone did this to put Harry in danger,” Ginny pronounced to her brother’s stunned face.

“Not you, too! What kind of danger could he be in? Someone always saves his arse anyways; no, he did it – somehow, some way he figured it out.” He stuffed the sausage bit in his mouth and started chewing again. Ginny shook her head and returned to her own dinner. Apparently someone had just told a good joke at the Ravenclaw table behind them, as several were laughing hysterically. Ginny shrugged, continuing to eat and ignoring her brother tapping her on her shoulder. But soon, enough was enough.

“What, Ron?” she huffed.

He looked at her as if she had lost her senses.

“You keep tapping me on the shoulder!” she pointed out, exasperated.

“I am not! My hands are right here!” He held up his hands showing them occupied with a knife and fork.

“Then what... Oh, my...” she said as she turned around, an astonished look on her face. By this time the Ravenclaws were in hysterics and Fred and George were nearly doubled over in laughter as a long donkey tail was swishing back and forth behind the redhead.

Ron looked at her, clearly puzzled by her demeanour until he reached up to scratch his ear and discovered it had moved to the top of his head and was decidedly furry and longer. With a ‘POP’ his lower face morphed into that of a donkey’s and when he attempted to talk, all that came out was a loud, irate bray. The rest of the Great Hall went quiet in stunned appreciation of the prank, then rolls of laughter began as McGonagall shared a look with Professor Snape then, sighing, she got up to slowly make her way down to her Lions’ table.

Hermione looked at him in pity as she gathered up her things to depart. “Well, Ron, it appears you are finally turning into what you’ve been all along: an ass! Perhaps now you will realise what a rotten friend you’ve been these last weeks. Serves you right! Perhaps you should read the tale of Pinocchio to discover how to turn yourself back into a real Gryffindor.” She flounced out of the room with a wink to Draco who had lost the plot with the rest of the room. He managed to salute her and the twins then, still chuckling, dug into his own repast while McGonagall hustled the half-ass up to the hospital wing.

“So, are they going to turn him back?” Harry asked, half-cheering the prank.

“Eventually,” Severus said. “I told the twins to take their time concocting the antidote. I believe Mr Weasley will be stuck in the hospital wing all weekend,” he smirked.

“Shouldn’t someone notify...” Harry began, but Severus held his hand up.

“Already taken care of. If you should hear a small explosion in the future, you will know that his mother has arrived.”

Harry tried mightily to hold back the laughter, but finally gave in, sharing smiles with his brother then hearty guffaws as he pictured Ron. “I hope,” he managed to choke out, “that someone got a photo?”

“Creevey was perfectly placed,” Draco assured him, finally managing to snag a small branch of the fruit, breaking grapes off and popping them into his mouth.

“I want a copy,” Harry insisted.

“Taken care of, and it will be autographed by the twins and I,” Draco snickered.

Harry nodded in satisfaction then cleaned his plate and set it to dry. “So, O devious brother of mine – Wizard’s chess?”

“Best two out of three?” Draco posited.

“You’re on!” Harry headed over to the couch to set up the board and the boys played the night away to the comforting sounds of his father’s quill scratching away in the background.

****

Harry didn’t know why he hadn’t told his father about the dragons, he mused as he lay in bed that night, Draco lightly snoring in the opposite bed. Perhaps it was guilt at knowing beforehand... and he didn’t want to admit it. All he knew was that it hadn’t felt right at the time, and it didn’t feel right to go to his father about it either.  He knew that at this point Cedric was probably the only one who didn’t know what they were facing the following Friday. He fell into a troubled sleep that wasn’t relieved when he woke up in the morning. It just meant one more day closer to his doom.

****

Harry worried all weekend, and never got a chance to warn Diggory until Monday afternoon on his way down to the dungeons for Potions. He saw Cedric in the main entrance, surrounded by a group of admiring Puffs. Harry girded his courage and approached the older boy.

“Diggory, can I talk to you for a moment?” Harry asked.

“Go away, Snape – you’re nothing but a cheater!” One of the groupies said making as if to push Harry away. But Cedric stopped her mid-motion and indicated that Harry precede him to an out of the way alcove.

“Sorry about that,” the seventh-year apologised.

“I’m used to it. Look, I wanted to warn you and this is the first chance I’ve gotten. The first task is Dragons – they have one for each of us,” Harry said his voice low so that others couldn’t overhear.

“You’re sure? You’re not having me on?” Cedric looked alarmed, but sceptical.

“No – I saw them, Friday night. Brooding females,” assured Harry.

“Do the others know?” Cedric looked worried.

“Yes, the other Heads know about it and have most likely already told their champions – you were the only one who didn’t know. Look I’ve got to get to Potions, good luck on Friday.” Harry held his hand out to the older boy who shook it.

“Thanks, Snape, you too. Thanks for the warning,” he insisted, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder.

“Fair’s fair,” Harry said, then with a tiny wave aimed for the stairs to the dungeons at a run, praying he would make it in time.