21

21: The First Task (August 4, 2003 to August 5, 2003)

He knew what was coming. What else could it be? There were certainly worse things to face, but there were better as well. Even if from another person's point of view that dragons were the greater danger, he would have preferred the fire breathing beasts. They, at least, didn't give him a sickeningly cold feeling.

The only good thing was that it was sure to catch Sirius' attention. There was no chance it wouldn't unless Sirius had forgotten. Harry doubted that. This would work. Sirius was one of the five judges, he'd have to watch. That which had worked against him would work for him. Prior opportunities to confront Sirius had been scarce because of his duties as one of the judges, he'd been kept busy arranging the first task that it'd been impossible to catch him for a private word.

Not to mention it looked bad, a champion fraternizing with a judge. It'd taken the heavy Malfoy persuasive powers coupled with Hermione's rationale to dissuade him. Harry sighed and pushed his breakfast away from him. Today was the big day and he really didn't have the stomach to eat anything. With what he knew was coming, an empty stomach was better than a full one.

"You should eat, Bast," Hermione urged with concern lighting up her chocolate brown eyes. "You need your strength."

"Hermione's right," Draco added his input. "You need to eat."

Both of them were looking at him like they expected something out of him. Most days he just went with what they said, but today was hardly an average day. "I'm not hungry," Harry answered abruptly, standing up from his seat. He needed to be alone for the few hours that he had before the task. It was just too hard now, trying to separate his home world from this world with Sirius here- so close yet so far away. It was too much to handle. He didn't know how much longer he could take being a complete stranger in Sirius' eyes. He was his godson, damn it!

His flight from the Grand Hall was stopped but not until he in the corridors, heading back on his way to the dormitories that had been reserved for the guest students. Long fingers wrapped around his arm, halting his headlong run back to his sanctuary of solitude. "You know, you made quite a scene in there."

Severus. He should have known. Who else had such elegant fingers? Unlike Hermione or Draco, he couldn't ignore Severus. He wasn't even going to try. Severus wouldn't pester him, but he wouldn't stop until he got whatever he wanted said or done. "I suppose I did," Harry admitted. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"As you should," Severus remarked frankly. "Very few people have been in your position, only one other Slytherin." Harry nodded, he knew all this. "I am not aware if you know this or not, but the Tournament has every pretense of fair play. However, that is only the façade it alludes. Of course, no one ever mentions that. Who wants a Tournament where underhand methods deliver the win? It's why Gryffindors rarely win, and why Hufflepuffs can't."

"Because," Harry murmured softly, "they would not think of using information gained by ill ways, would they?" Severus nodded and there was a faint smile on his sallow face. "I know this. I may not know much of the Tournament, but I do know that nothing is ever like what it seems."

Impressive that Sebastian wasn't as naïve as he seemed. Undoubtedly Draco's doing, Severus surmised. Hanging out with the sly Malfoy or the clever Hermione had to sharpen Sebastian, dose him with harsher edge of reality. But there was still this purity about the young man that was rare and entirely unheard of in a Slytherin. It was like he was a bloody Gryffindor, except that he was so obviously Slytherin.

It was too bad that Sebastian couldn't see the deceptive trap that Dumbledore was leading him by the leash into. Maybe this Tournament would wise his favorite student up on the impressive lies that the Headmaster was feeding him. Severus wasn't sure though. Sebastian did seem to have the startling tendency to believe the best in those he cared about. Draco was a great friend, but he was malicious and arrogant to those he cared not of. Hermione was too much of a know it all and bossy to boot. Yet, he didn't think Sebastian noticed. The young man was rather oblivious.

"All very true," Severus agreed, bending his head down so that his lips nearly touched Sebastian's ear. The fact that his body was mere centimeters from the earthy scent of Sebastian shot a rush of desire down Severus' spine. He should be sickened that he felt this way about one his students, but all he felt overwhelmed by was lust. Pure and simple unadulterated want. "The question is… do you know what is coming? What awaits you in the first task?"

He was standing too close. Far too close for Harry's own comfort. But he wouldn't have moved away even if Severus' touch would have literally burned him. The fiery sensations flickering throughout his body was of his body's own cravings. Inside was an internal wrestle. One to not move and let Severus move away, and the other to move closer and brush his body against Severus'. Temptation desired to be fulfilled. It would be so very easy. Move a little closer and there he was.

Severus lifted his head away from Sebastian, even though it was extremely difficult. It would have been too easy to wrap his arms around the gorgeous youth and press him up against the wall and ravage those soft pink petals. Self control was something he prided himself in. It was all the control he had in himself not to give into sweet temptation. He'd pushed his reserves in coming close to Sebastian, but he was relieved to find he hadn't given in.

Disappointment was keen. He had taken too long in thinking and the moment had passed him by. While Severus had been close, it would have been too easy to turn his head and brush his lips against those high pale cheekbones. Accident, he could have called it. A simple accident that at least would give him an answer. He flushed bright red and averted his eyes to the ground. His eyes blazing with desire would give him away. He'd never been good at hiding his feelings.

The sheer emotion in those brilliant green eyes took Severus by surprise. Was that passion that he saw? He gave his head a hard mental shake. Now was not the time to think about that. He could think about that later tonight when he was alone in his bed. At this moment, he had to help his protégée out. He had no doubt that the Durmstrang and Beaubaxton Champions knew what was coming. The question was, did Sebastian?

"Do you know what awaits you?" he repeated hoarsely. "Do you, Sebastian?"

"Yes," Harry whispered. "I know what's coming."

He may have been through one Triwizard Tournament already, but it didn't make the nerves settle in his stomach either. All their wands had been checked out by an unaffiliated wand-maker to make sure that there were no magical enhancements on them. Even though he knew what was coming, it didn't make it any easier. In his assessment of the other champions, he noted that Sahar was reserved and collected not showing any nerves but he did notice that her shoulders were tense. She wanted to prove herself. While Gabrielle wasn't outwardly quaking, her anxiety was definitely showing. It wasn't everyday that one faced the nightmares used to scare them as children.

His bright green eyes flickered impassively toward the judges. Severus Snape was one of them, the Hogwarts judge, as were Olympe Maxime and Igor Karkaroff, who judges representing their own school. None of them were a surprise. Sirius Black as the Dark Lord's representative took his position as co-head judge with Lucius Malfoy, randomly chosen to represent the Ministries of Magic. If anyone ought to cry out against the skewed odds, it was Gabrielle. She only had one judge that would favor her. And even with the French Minster of Magic on the judge's stand, it wouldn't have done her any good.

Since arriving at Durmstrang, Harry had been swept away with the active politics of the Dark Regime as the Dark Lord's government was called. It simply wasn't talked about at Hogwarts; however, at Durmstrang it was very much part of the class structure. Everything here was politically affiliated. It was a well known fact that even though there seemed to be some merit of popular voting, it was only the Death Eaters that assumed those elected positions.

It didn't mean that the government was badly run with corruption. Since their positions were assured, the Ministers of Magic in the divided ethnic groups of Europe didn't have to focus on corruption to maintain power. They turned their attentions to other manners. The people's opinion didn't matter, only Voldemort's did. It made government efficient, relying only on one opinion. It didn't make it fair though.

Unless Sahar proved to be the opposite of the gossip milling around Durmstrang like fire that was being fed by plentiful fodder, she would win this. Out of the five judges, four of them were Death Eaters. Even if Harry was convinced that Sirius and Severus were spies, it was still four again one. Neither Sirius nor Severus could risk putting their positions in danger by not favoring Bellatrix's daughter.

She'd also drawn well for the first task. She would be going last. His usual Potter luck wasn't holding up; he was going first. Luckily, he counted himself blessed that he'd faced a challenge like this before already. He as proven against this; Sahar and Gabrielle probably weren't. He gripped his wand firmly in his hand and stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch.

It felt odd to be standing there and not to be playing Quidditch. At the same time, it as only proper. He had faced his greatest fear in more than once, even if one of those occurrences had been falsehood. He'd never be more ready than he was right now. Turning to stands at the dead center of the pitch, he bowed to the judges. That was the signal the champions gave to say when they were ready. He was ready.

"Drawing the first, the Hogwarts Champion Sebastian Biggerstaff takes to stage for the first task!" exclaimed the announcer from tallest stand. "I am sure rumors have been circulating with a fervor around the campus. The question is… hat is the first task? Some will say that the dragons last year were worse, but how many of you have come face to face with fear itself? Azkaban isn't universally feared for no reason. Housed within its walls are the terrible wraiths, the dark Dementors that feed on the living soul. A suitable first task. Dangerous, to be sure, but the worse is to come…"

Good old Hermione, Harry thought. Without her, they would have never clued into the Azkaban reference that gave them the hint that what else could prepare Sahar there for the first task other than the resident wardens, the Dementors? He steeled his inner nerves. He had faced Dementors before, but he knew from experiencethat it was never easy. Demeneters were fear itself. He feared fear.

An eerie silence descended around the pitch, they were coming. "The five judges spent all week arranging for this monumental task, since they had to make sure that the Dementors wouldn't harm those in the stands. A very powerful ward has been placed on the stands to repel the Dementors away from crowd and instead focus solely on the champion," the announcer continued. "Difficult, yes, but we would hardly want to have our soul kissed away, do we?"

That was a stupid rhetorical question, Harry thought. Bu he needed to stop thinking sarcastically and instead think happy thoughts. Happy thoughts that would help him to conjure a powerful Patrous. To those who had faced Dementors before, this would be an easy task. But he supposed for the others it would not be.

"As you well known," the announcer remarked, "some past champions have needed help in the past to complete their tasks. In the last Tournament, Fleur Delacour needed help to not get her arm bitten off by the Welsh Green. Assistance is only permitted when extreme harm will come to the champion, and getting your soul sucked out is definitely severe enough to warrant aid." He paused dramatically. "Let the 7th Triwizard Tournament begin!"

The cold feeling escalated until it was nearly unbearable. It clawed at Harry; it made him feel helpless. Happy thoughts, he reminded himself harshly only happy thoughts. This was wrong; this wasn't what he'd felt before. This was worse. It was like there were hundreds of them, but that was impossible. No one could vanquish that many Dementors. But he knew his gut feeling was never wrong. Maybe not hundreds, but there were an incredible number gathering.

He was paralyzed. All he could do was watch as the Dementors poured into the the field, not one after another but group after group. It wasn't long before he was surrounded by the black hooded wraiths. He was sure that the temperature had dropped, even if the freezing feeling was all mental. The dead sensation crawled underneath his skin. It overwhelmed his internal senses. It was suffocating his soul, drowning any joyful emotion.

Too many, more than he had ever imagined. Vaguely, he heard the gasp of the crowd and the vocal concerns of the announcer. He hated worrying people. He didn't want them anxious, especially not Draco, Hermione, and Severus. It was a struggle, but he lifted his wand and uttered, "Expecto patronum!"

He didn't expect it to work, at least not at first, not when he felt so utterly dead inside. But work it did. Strong silver lines burst from the core of his wand, weaving around until it solidified into his patronus, Prongs. Unlike the immature stag of before, this stag had full horns that reached out magnificently- maturation had been reached. His father was there once again to protect him. But it was one patronus against an unheard of number of Dementors. The odds were against them.

They always did seem to be against Harry Potter, but he defied them and continued to stump them. It may only be one patronus, but it wasn't any patronus- it was Prongs. This Prongs he had conjured he knew without a shadow of doubt was the strongest patronus he'd ever conjured. Energy radiated off the silvery stag that looked every bit as real as if it were actually not magically called upon. The Dementors felt the strong aura and they were moving away.

His brilliant green eyes met the steel hazel of his father's, a look was shared between them that spoke volumes. Understanding. Prongs knew what he had to do. He turned his head toward the Dementors and with a rush of speed that was supernatural in its swiftness, he charged around the field. His movements were graceful yet so fast that his hooves were a blurred image. Sweeping across the entire arena, he scattered the Dementors out of the pitch with blinding ease.

When it was over, when the soul sucking vermin were gone- he didn't dissolve into nothingness. Instead, with the elegance befitting such a beautiful creature he strolled over to where Harry stood and affectionately rubbed his snout against his son's hand. The feel of a warmth and slight wetness made Harry's brilliant emerald eyes widen. It felt so real. He blinked and Prongs faded from view.

It was then he crashed to his knees. That had taken a lot of magical energy, energy that his body wasn't use quite capable of giving out yet when he'd just hit his majority. It needed the energy itself to manipulate his body from that of a child's to that of an adult's. That was the reason why adults could perform higher level spells and curses, their bodies were better adapted to it. Their bodies made the most use of the inherent magic within them. But at this point, Harry's body needed the magic within him to finish out the majority.

The most strenuous process was done; the part that had left him unconscious for the good portion of two weeks. That still didn't mean his body was done with the changes. Small changes were still occurring, changes that needed to feed upon his magical energy. That was the reason Harry hadn't shown much of an increase in magical power until now.

There weren't many in the crowd that had ever seen a patronus like that. It was no wonder that the young man couldn't rise to his feet. He was drained. He had to be helped off the field by Poppy, who had been standing on the sidelines ready to assist with the mediwizards that the other schools had brought for their champions as well. Not many knew that the reason Sebastian was so weakened was not only because of the patronus charm but because his own body was draining him as well. They didn't need to know that. It was quite scary to think of how much power was going to be able to wield when his body was done changing.

"An incredible performance," the announcer commented once Sebastian had been levitated off the field. "Quite deserving of the nearly perfect score he received from the five judges, a terrific 46." The crowd erupted in applause, especially deafening at the Hogwarts and Beaubaxton stands. "Next up is Gabrielle Delacour, the Beaubaxton Champion!"

The Beaubaxton crowd continued on with their enthusiastic applause, but Draco remained silent in his seat while Hermione clapped politely. When she noticed he wasn't clapping, she gave him a withering look that told him to tell her what was wrong with him. "It's not fair," he stated. She lifted an eyebrow. She needed more to go by than that. "They're going to be using the same Dementors again to face Delacour and my cousin, Sahar. Sahar's going to have it the easiest."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. She believed in utmost fair play.

He sighed heavily. "The Dementors that got hit the hardest by the patronus won't be so willing to stand up against another patronus. The more they're faced with something as pure as a patronus, they're resistance is weakened. Bast's strong patronus will unquestionably make it easier on Gabrielle, and Gabrielle will make it even easier for Sahar."

"Oh," Hermione said. "No wonder everyone was saying she had luck on her side in the draw."

"Yes," Draco responded tightly, "she and she'll need it to beat Bast."

Hermione blinked. A Malfoy questioning one of his own blood? Truly a rarity! "You don't think Sahar will win?" she teased. "I heard you say she'll be impossible to beat."

"The odds are for her," Draco stated calmly, "but Bast's hit majority and she hasn't."

"It seems like her sister, Gabrielle Delacour is having trouble with the first task!" the announcer exclaimed excitingly. That snapped Hermione's and Draco's attention back to the center stage where Gabrielle's faltering patronus, a fading veela was struggling to disperse the Dementors. It was unsuccessful, and the Dementors kept creeping up on Gabrielle. The ones closest were pulling their hoods back, reading to kiss the poor girl.

It was then that two individuals apparated into the field next to Gabrielle, their wands out and ready. Obviously the taller young woman was Gabrielle's sister, Fleur. The resemblance was startling. The curious thing was that the other witch was Madame Maxime, taking it upon herself to help her champion escape the awful Dementor's Kiss. Both of them cast the patronus spell, which pushed the Dementors back steadily. It was more successful when Gabrielle had recovered enough to add her own patronus into the mix. Together, the three of them cast the horde of Dementors out of the field.

"It took three of them," the announcer commented, "but the Beaubaxton Champion managed to clear the Dementors out of the pitch. She's been given the generous score of 30." The applause from the crowd was mainly concentrated where the Beaubaxton students were sitting. "The last one up is our own champion, Sahar Lestrange!"

It took a good amount of time for the crowd to settle down, enough time for Hermione to notice that on the sidelines that Sebastian was sitting propped up on a chair being fussed at by Poppy. It was just like him to insist to watch the rest of the Tournament even if he was feeling light-headed. But his attention wasn't where Sahar was standing, no but at the judges stand. Sebastian was staring at Sirius Black, and the handsome older man was staring back at her best friend. Curious.

"There's something going on between those two," Draco murmured delicately into her ear, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. Did the platinum blond Slytherin know what he did to her? "It's like they know each other, but it's impossible."

"We will have to find out, won't we?" Hermione whispered back into his ear, hoping beyond hope to stir something in him that he had swirled in her stomach.

She wasn't classically beautiful, Draco reflected inside, but Hermione was still striking. He grinned. He liked nothing better to work with her. They made an unbeatable team. Even Sebastian didn't stand a chance against the two of them. "That we will," Draco agreed, staring deeply into her eyes with his own.

"The Dementors have been released into the pitch," the announcer began, "and the Durmstrang Champion shows no hesitation unlike her rivals before her!"

Indeed, Sahar showed no hesitation. Harry almost thought that she'd face Dementors before, almost. Even though she hadn't said the spell aloud, she was mouthing it as if she didn't want to say it until she was sure it would work. "Expecto patronum!" It worked, not as magnificently as his own, but adequate black lines of magic poured from her wand and wrapped around in a dark whirlwind until it formed a grim. Her patronus was a grim that looked astonishingly like his godfather's animagus form.

Well, a young version of his godfather's animagus form. The grim was less ragged, almost youthful looking but it could have been a younger version of Sirius' dog double. Interesting, and it was certainly possible the influence came from Sirius. Sahar and Sirius seemed close. But the patronus represented a vigilant protector, Harry would have thought it would be Sahar's mother not Sirius. Sirius was only a cousin. Then again, Sahar was rather close to Sirius.

He was bound to find out. He had caught Sirius' attention with his patronus. It was only a matter of time until they spoke about it. It was only a matter of when they would have the chance to meet in discretion. He bit his bottom lip. Sahar's patronus was more than adequate, though it didn't seem quite as solid as his own. What helped was that the Dementors seemed weaker. When her patronus came close, they fled. She really did have the luck draw. Her score complimented that said luck; she got a perfect 50.

Let the games begin, he thought as he caught Sirius looking at him again. Let them begin.