Year Four - Chapter Eleven

I took deep breaths. In my heart, I was a coward. A courageous coward, but still a coward. When presented with a great enemy, I'd run, and only fight with my back against the wall. Still, I'd also fight if I had the upper hand, or an opportunity to win with ease.

Thus, what does a coward with his back against the wall do when faced with overwhelming firepower? He hides. He cheats. He calls in support.

If chosen, you stand alone. Those words didn't mean anything if I built my own allies. The Gargoyles looked at me, worry stretched across their faces. "Bricks plastered with fireproof potions," I remarked, "Are twice as resistant to flame," I rubbed my chin. "A fire breath wouldn't work. Need an ice one, so a chilling brew should work," I watched the blackboard by the Hall of Shadows' wall, "Then an enduring charm, an impervius one...yes," I rubbed my chin, and glanced at the dragon-shaped enormous statue. "I need to bring you out of here the day before, set you to fly...hovering charm? Floating?"

I flicked my wand, and watched the object I had aimed for soar high in the air, "Alarte Ascendare," but then the object fell back down. No, I needed something else.

Wait. No, I didn't need something else. A hovering charm, an Alarte Ascendare for lift-off every time the wings were snapped, lightweight and enduring charms...yes, yes, it would work. However, in order to get the potions to work, I'd need to spread them evenly all across the ginormous statue.

Which meant I needed ingredients. Which meant I needed cauldrons. Which meant I needed an industrialization process to be done by the near-end of the month.

I did have the money in the vault. I did have the Hogsmeade's weekend to look forward to, the Saturday prior to the task.

"We're retrofitting you, Shadowdrake," my smile was near-on maniacal. "Through a lot of simple things, we're going to make you the very best gargoyle there ever was."

The Draghul, having been called by its name, lowered its large, stony head in my direction, awaiting orders. I merely extended my hand and rubbed its snout, and the stone creature smiled, showing its gleaming stone teeth. I'd need to make those of steel, or perhaps some bullshit magical metal. Still, everything would come after I found a way to bring the dragon out of the room.

A shrinking charm would, theoretically, work. It also wouldn't make him smaller than a large dog, since he was already massive as things went by.

I had a battle plan, though, and because I had a battle plan, I felt reasonably at ease when the day of the wand-weighing ceremony arrived, coupled with the photos for the Daily Prophet.

I wondered if my pictured image would show me threateningly mimicking a slit-throat gesture for whichever Death Eater had put my name, or if it was going to twinkle and smile. Still, as I stepped inside the room in question I found myself the center of the attention, though not in a hostile way. While Krum's expression was pretty much the poster picture of uncaring stone-like indifference, Fleur's was slightly worried. It was perhaps her nature as an older sister to worry about whoever was younger than her, not a threat, and probably just about to die a horrible death in her humble opinion.

Or it was my charisma working its charming wonders.

Ludo Bagman's appearance, up close, made him look like an overgrown schoolboy having had a poor encounter with a bludger. His round blue eyes and short blond hair gave him that kind of look you'd find, coupled with his rosy complexion, on the face of German school quarterbacks eagerly awaiting the start of their rugby practices. "Ah, Champion Number three! A bit late, aren't we? Cutting it awfully close," he said cheerfully. "So young, we'd hope the rules could be bent, but-"

"There will be no rule bending," Crouch Senior snapped curtly from the sides. "The name leaves the goblet, the contestant must compete," he spoke grimly, his eyes narrow and hard. The man felt as if he had a stick up his ass, all things considered. "Perhaps in his death, he will learn not to pit his skills against impossible odds."

"You're the kind of guy who brings the cheer to the graveyard, aren't you?" I answered as jovially as I could. "Oh, oh, oh," I winked at him. "Remind me again, isn't the tournament supposed to be safeish?"

"Of course it is!" Ludo exclaimed, "Well, mostly."

My smile turned ever slightly brittle, and then I quietly tried to wait in a corner, if not for Ludo dragging me in front of Rita Skeeter, doing the presentations.

"We've met already," Rita said, her smile now as brittle as mine. "Quite the charming conversationalist."

"I like to consider myself a self-made student who had the luck to learn under the greatest Headmaster of all times," I answered back, quite politely. "I'm also a reasonable person. Do not do unto others what you do not wish done upon yourself."

"Quite wise, quite wise for someone your age," she said and then amiably walked out. It was nice to know I had either terrified her into not dragging me in a broom closet, thus forcing me to get violent with curses and spells, or she had more brain in her head than I expected her to.

"It will be all right," Fleur said in French, looking amiably down on me. Since she literally had this in the bag, in her mind, there was no need to worry about the silly competition against me. "They will send an expert to check on our wands."

"I guess so," I answered. "Do I look nervous?"

Fleur giggled at that. "Only a tiny bit," she made a gesture with her index and her thumb.

Then, Mister Ollivander stepped inside, the Headmaster by his side. Even Miss Skeeter had returned, if only because she actually needed to get notes on the wands' compositions and take the photos. I reckoned she didn't want to stay in the same room as me for longer than necessary, and I had to wonder why. Hadn't I been pleasantly nice to her?

Mister Ollivander smiled at all of us, and proceeded to check on our wands.

He went through them, reaching mine for last and checking it for a long, long while. "Thirteen inches of Spruce with a Dragon Heartstring at its core, temperamental, prone to accidents, and with a good sense of humor," he eyed me, his eyes glancing all over my face as if trying to find something in my expression. "In firm hands, there are no limits to the wonders of this wand. It may have its own ideas on what magic to perform, but it will serve loyally those who win its trust."

He handed the wand back to me, and I gave him a small nod and a muttered thanks.

"They can all compete," Ollivander said in the end, and then the photos were taken.

First, was the group one. I did my best to stay in the front, but by Dumbledore's side. When it came time for the individual ones, I didn't complain, and gave a smile. "Could we get one more, each champion in it with their headmasters?" I suggested. The photographer agreed readily, as that gave him a chance for yet another photo of Fleur, if with Maxime looming in the background.

When it came time for the one with Dumbledore, the Headmaster gently placed one of his hands on my shoulder, and gave it a light squeeze.

I smiled, as I expected Dumbledore would too.

The next day, on the Daily Prophet's article with the taken pictures stood all of the photos taken.

The most beautiful of them all, in my humble opinion...

...was that of a pair of eye-twinkling wizards.