The Unexpected Prize

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled, upon seeing yet another Dementor in his path; probably another Boggart, he assumed.

A silver doe sprang out from his wand and bounded across the clearing, catching the Dementor in the back. He had heard Oleandra's screams and come running, but to his horror, a familiar face lay at the Dementor's feet, if it had any; Oleandra.

'No,' Harry thought in despair. 'It can't be a real one— it couldn't have given her the Kiss…'

The Dementor screamed, and it began to wriggle madly. Harry had no idea what to think of this; if it wasn't a Boggart disguised as a Dementor like the one he had previously met, then what else could it be?

"Damn you!" a female voice screamed in pain, as the doe rammed into its body again and again. "Not now, not when I've almost succeeded!"

The hooded figure then gave a sharp whistle, and a path opened itself between the hedges, and it quickly escaped through it and out of sight as the walls closed behind it. Wary of any further attacks, Harry called back his Patronus, before finally cancelling his magic.

"Oleandra!" he shouted, running up to her and dropping to his knees at her side. "Are you okay?"

To his surprise and slight disgust, he found that Oleandra had what looked like a beating human heart clenched in her small hands. Her eyes fluttered open, and she winced, putting a hand to her chest.

"Don't crush it just yet," said Viviane, pointing at the Elf's heart.

"Is she gone?" Oleandra mumbled, coughing up some blood, and Harry nodded. "Good," she sighed in relief, before pocketing the heart.

"You need help," Harry said worriedly. "Medical attention. A Healer. Do you want me to send up red sparks for you?"

"Not… enough time," Oleandra muttered, pointing to the ground. "My wand…"

Harry rose to his feet, and scanned the area for Oleandra's wand, shining a beam of light from his wand on the grassy field. He quickly found the two halves.

"I'm sorry," he said, handing the pieces to Oleandra. "It looks like it got broken in the fight…"

"Lend me yours," Oleandra gasped. "Please."

Somewhat reluctantly, he handed her his own wand. She then began to mutter an incantation under her breath, tapping her sternum rhythmically with the tip of the wand. And after a while, she blew a sigh of relief and handed him back his wand.

"Managed to stop the internal bleeding," she said.

"As far as pneumothorax go," said Viviane in relief, "this one wasn't so bad. Your lung hasn't collapsed."

Oleandra waited for Harry to leave her alone and claim his prize, but he was still looking at her in concern.

"Well, go on, what are you waiting for?" Oleandra said irritably. "Just take the stupid Cup and win this bloody tournament. I'm not going to stop you; I can barely stand. And you saved my life, too; you deserve it."

"Deserve it?" Harry scoffed. "I got plenty of help— Hagrid told me about the Dragons; Karkaroff and Madame Maxime also told Krum and Fleur about them. From what I can tell, you were the only one who didn't cheat."

"So what?" Oleandra said tiredly. "They said cheating was a Triwizard tradition; you were the smart one for taking all the help you could get."

"I couldn't have done it without my friends," Harry said quietly. "It's thanks to your hint that Hermione helped me solve the clue; and it's thanks to Neville that I could even do the second task. And even then, you still won that one by a long shot."

Oleandra gave a short, dry laugh. Ow, it hurt to laugh…

"The way I see it," Harry continued, "you're the real winner. So you should take the Cup."

"No," said Oleandra. "You saved my life; that's infinitely more important to me than winning."

Harry stopped talking, seemingly thinking about something. And then…

"We watch each other's backs," Harry said meaningfully. "But we play to win."

"I wouldn't want it any other way," Oleandra completed, a slight smile creeping onto her face.

When Sirius had asked them to look out for each other, back in the cave that had served as his and Lupin's hiding place, Oleandra had told Harry this phrase in order to convince him to accept her help. But now, it was taking on a completely different meaning.

"How about we both take it at the same time?" Harry proposed. "It's still a Hogwarts victory; we both get to win if we tie for it."

"I… I don't know what to say," Oleandra whispered.

"You just need to say yes," Harry said with a grin, extending a hand to her.

Oleandra grabbed his hand and pulled herself to her feet.

"Together, then," Oleandra said. "Draco and the other Slytherins… they won't like this at all. Will you be okay with the other Gryffindors?"

"Professor Dumbledore said that the point of the tournament was to bring us closer to the students from the other schools, yeah?" said Harry. "Well, he never said that it couldn't apply to our Houses, too."

Oleandra leaned on Harry's shoulder, and supporting each other, they hobbled over to the silver trophy, whereupon they each held a hand over one of the Cup's handles.

"On three, right?" said Harry. "One— two— three—"

Oleandra grabbed hold of the handle, while Harry did the same on his side. But to their surprise; they instantly felt the tell-tale signs of Portkey travel; Oleandra felt as if an invisible fish hook had caught on to her insides, pulling her up; her feet left the ground and the world twisted around her.

But no matter how much she wished to let go, she could not; as if a Permanent Sticking Charm had bonded her to the Cup. And suddenly, she had returned to the material world, landing back on firm ground with a sickening crunch.

"Where are we?" she heard Harry say, but she was in too much pain to answer him.

They had landed in what looked like a cemetery; though Oleandra had no idea if this was part of the task or not.

"Someone's coming," Harry suddenly said.

And then, with a wordless scream, Harry fell to his knees at her side, holding his forehead with his hands, his face twisted in indescribable agony.

"Hand me my wand, Wormtail," a cold voice said. "I want the pleasure of killing this one myself."

Oleandra urged her body to move, but her chest exploded with pain the moment she tried sitting up.

"Yes, master," a man's squeaky voice responded to the first.

With a jerking movement, Oleandra finally managed to stagger to her feet; allowing her to witness the two misshapen figures who were plotting her murder before her very eyes. The first, a mousey-looking man she recognized from the pictures she had seen of him: Peter Pettigrew. And the second… something the size of a baby, swaddled tightly in towels and held in Pettigrew's arms.

"Ægishjálmur," Oleandra muttered dizzily.

"Avada Kedavra!" the snake-like Homunculus hissed, pointing its wand straight at Oleandra.

"NO!" Viviane screamed.

But no magical shield in the world could have possibly saved Oleandra; the last thing she saw was the Killing Curse slamming into her chest; its accursed green glare seared into her pupils. Not even a single sound escaped her lips as she crumpled lifelessly to the ground, her eyes still open, yet devoid of intelligence.