Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction. I will also add that any sections or phrases in this chapter that bear resemblance to works by either author or from movies based on works of said authors is recreated in the same spirit of free usage and is not for profit.

A/N: It has been ten years (and one a couple extra months…) since I published the first chapter of Silent Humanity. It may be an arbitrary number of years, but it feels significant. A long time has passed and it's strange to look back on a full decade like this.

I'm curious, has anyone been reading this story since 2010?

I intended to get out the chapter on the date of the anniversary but then I hadn't quite covered everything I wanted to cover. With my updates coming as infrequently as they come, it seemed a little cruel to end it early.

Anyway, onto the reason you're here.

Enjoy the chapter.

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(Last Time)

As Ludo Bagman droned on about the allocation of tickets to Champions, paying guests, students, and the press as well as the various means by which external parties might arrive at the castle on the day, Gaara's mind was still stubbornly refusing to work on a solution to this latest, disastrous problem. He could bring nothing into the Task with him except for a potentially broken wand and the clothes on his back. No sand.

Then another thought occurred to the redhead that compounded the impending crisis of the first Task. Draco was going to be absolutely insufferable after having told Gaara not to rely exclusively on his sand in the Tournament.

Maybe, if he rescinded Draco's invitation to watch, he'd never find out?

Then he'd probably just have his father buy him a ticket and would be both smug and angry.

In Gaara's mental absence, Bagman had finished explaining the minutiae, and when tuned back in, Bagman was saying, "Now we will be opening the floor to questions for the Champions. Thank you for your patience."

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Gaara stood before the gathered press and he felt that familiar twinge in the back of his head, that headache that never went away, never dulled except for when he murdered someone (or, better yet, a crowd of people) who had been bothering him. Gaara certainly felt bothered. And Shukaku, screaming at him to slaughter them all and be done with the problem, was making far too much sense.

Harry had noticed Gaara's mood turn sour. Certainly not because he had some finely-tuned empathic sense of the people around him (Hermione would vehemently deny any such sense existed); it was plainly written on Gaara's face. He looked furious, an expression that looked all the more significant because of his normally calm and composed manner. His hairless eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes were growing bloodshot from not blinking and his nostrils were flaring so harshly, he might have been snarling under the oppressive noise being made by the reporters vying to ask the first answerable question of the Champions.

Harry wondered if he should do something, though he didn't know what he could do in this situation. And why was Gaara so angry. No one had tried to ask him any insulting or proving questions in the last few minutes, and he could hardly be angry about his wand. It wasn't as though nobody had warned him not to pick out bits of wood with a knife.

As they had lined up to answer questions, Harry had hoped the press might notice Gaara's mood and grant him at least a brief reprieve to collect himself while they asked the other Champions some questions.

Harry had made the rookie mistake of assuming that the press had a modicum of human decency when he had this hope. The first question permitted by Crouch had been pointed directly at Gaara like a rapier thrust right at him.

"Gaara, why did you damage your wand?"

The room went quiet as they waited for the furious-looking boy to answer, but he didn't. Gaara didn't even look in the man's direction, he just stared ahead. The reporters standing directly in front of him, after taking their pictures, shifted a little and found that the redhead wasn't looking at them either, he was just staring into space.

Gaara's tactic since he had come to the media's attention had been to steadfastly ignore any questions asked of him (and it had been employed on those outside of the press as well, for that matter). Harry had assumed, in his second false assumption of the moment, that Gaara's apparent rage might have inspired a more forthcoming response. And instead, to Harry's relief and the reporter's frustration, Gaara maintained his absolute silence.

Absolute except for… did Harry hear a hum? Or, was Gaara actually growling a little bit?

Gaara was so apoplectic that he was snarling.

Harry was stuck between sliding a couple inches further away and somehow trying to distract the redhead. There wasn't really any reason it fell to Harry to stop Gaara from doing something stupid but somehow he did feel responsible. Perhaps it was because he was a fellow Hogwarts Champion. Perhaps it was because he was Sirius' other adopted son. Or, perhaps it was because he was the closest person and the only one who could hear Gaara growling.

What could he do?

Aunt Marge used to employ a water spray bottle to stop Ripper from growling at Dudley, but Harry didn't like his chances if he tried casting Aguamenti at the redhead. Certainly not when he was in such an inexplicably bad mood.

After a couple more beats, Fleur Delacour stepped in, breezily remarking that wands do get damaged from time to time, and it must have just been the poorest luck for it to happen so close to the first Task.

Watching that and what followed, with both the elder Champions answering every question, even those directed towards Gaara and him, Harry marvelled at the maturity and professionalism the pair showed. He wondered if it was purely a mark of their ages, that he would be the same when (if) he made it to their age. Or was this another part of what had singled them out as being Champions? Were they exceptional in all things, including press relations?

Yet another area about which Harry could feel inadequate. At least he was better at handling the press than Gaara, he could tell himself.

Eventually Harry had to answer a question or two, since it would have sent a peculiar signal if neither of the British Champions could marshal a single response between them. Sadly, it came at an inopportune moment:

"Mister Potter, are the rumours true that you and Gaara were bitter rivals before you were both selected to be Champions?"

Harry glanced back towards Gaara. No reaction.

"Um… no, I wouldn't say that, no." Harry did not know how to describe his relationship with Gaara, but regardless he didn't want to start any unpleasant rumours in the tabloids about them fighting. "We're definitely not rivals."

Harry was pretty proud of himself for having headed off a press disaster all on his own, like the other Champions.

"So, then you admit that you and Gaara are working together?" The reporter shot back, quick as a whip, "And do you also admit that the two of you worked together to gain entry into the Tournament?"

The room stilled and Harry felt like a deer in headlights. How was he supposed to get out of this one?!

He looked and there was no chance Gaara would clear things up. In fact, Harry could only hope that Gaara continued to keep his mouth shut rather than makes things worse. The adults were staying out of it as well. What could he say? He lied before? Maybe he could fake being under the Imperious and do something crazy to get out of it.

"I for one do not believe for one single second that either Monsieur Potter or Monsieur Gaara had anything to do with the irregularities in the Tournament." Fleur said suddenly, stepping forward a little. "And I doubt that there was any conspiracy by the British to have them both selected to cheat in the Tournament that they proposed."

Krum also spoke up, "And if the British are to blame for the mistake, they would have chosen more experienced Champions to cheat."

Harry felt Delacour was being more supportive than Krum, but nonetheless, they had both spoken in his defence and he appreciated it.

Harry settled down a bit as he was left alone again. Apparently the elder Champions were happy to continue to block questions directed at him, saving him embarrassing himself again and giving them more opportunities to shine. Everyone was happy.

Except for Gaara.

Gaara had done nothing to help their situation and was still looking like a fiercely-sulking child.

Harry contented himself that Gaara wouldn't be able to sit around and do nothing in the actual Tasks, with his autonomous sand being banned, after all.

Despite their best efforts, eventually the questions did finally circle back to the quieter Champions, with a particularly notorious reporter finally pushing her way to the front of the pack to ask Gaara quite pointedly, "Gaara, now that you'll be unable to use the sand you've become known for relying on, how will you cope with the Tasks ahead considering your rumoured magical ineptitude?"

Harry thought everyone might have been stunned with how tactlessly that had been put to the redhead.

Gaara had been staring down at his wand for a few minutes by that point, his brows still scrunched together. Harry wondered how long the reprieve would last before everyone admitted Gaara wouldn't answer the question and they moved on to someone else.

However, always one to confound expectations, Gaara did look up, right in the eyes of the obnoxious reporters, and said, "I will succeed."

No one had expected him to answer, much less to answer with such understated confidence. After that, the reporters, including the most obnoxious one, tried once again to cajole Gaara into elaborating on his first answer, or to respond to any of their other questions. However, it seemed those three words had expended Gaara's expository quotient for the day and he'd returned to his trademark silence.

Eventually the press conference drew to an end. The reporters had not finished with their endless slew of questions but, rather, the assembled Ministry and teaching professionals had started to fidget. An hour of standing was more than some people, enfeebled by age or indolence, could bear.

The adults called an end to proceedings when it suited them, and then the Champions were permitted to leave at last. However, normally first to leave any room given the change, Gaara instead elected to hang back by the wall to see if he could catch a moment with the Headmaster. This was directly contrary to the clear directive he had been given by the decrepit man not long ago, that they could afford to be seen to be colluding.

Delacour and her enormous headmistress left first, whispering between themselves even as Madam Maxine ducked through the doorway. Next went Karkaroff with Krum following behind; no whispers were shared between the militaristic pair. Gaara expected if there had been whispers, they would have flowed in only one direction, from the headmaster to his pupil and there would be no backtalk.

Harry had seemed to be waiting on Gaara, strangely, perhaps thinking they would be going back to what little remained of their double Potions lesson. When it became clear that Gaara was in no rush, Harry huffed, likely realising how silly he had been to expect anything different, and left on his own. Gaara noted that, despite Harry leaving in order to return to their ditched lesson, the Boy-Who-Lived was walking at a noticeably sedate pace. Gaara could certainly relate. Potions with Snape was definitely not something to rush back to.

The reporters started to drift away when no one from the gathering of Hogwarts staff or Ministry officials would respond to their probing questions other than tell them that the ceremony was over. Only one or two bothered approaching Gaara and he didn't even respond to tell them to leave.

Then it was just Gaara, the people from the Ministry, and Dumbledore and McGonagall. Gaara had hoped he would be able to fade into the background long enough for the others to leave or for someone to say something worth listening in on. However, as Baki had often tried telling him, Gaara was not well suited to being a spy. Not least because his bright red hair was about as subtle as Gaara's usual tactics.

"Gaara, could you go back to your lesson, please." McGonagall patiently said.

Gaara found every eye in the office on him and he could happily ignore most of them except for two pairs. Dumbledore's were stern. Gaara assumed he was displeased that Gaara was drawing more attention to himself in the office, or else it was simply the enormous stress he was under.

The other pair of eyes were the ones that impressed upon Gaara the necessity of leaving. Morbidus had managed to remain largely unnoticed in the room filled with reporters in a feat of stealth that had Gaara wondering whether the insectoid man had undergone any sort of training outside of being a civil servant. Now the room was significantly quieter, and in the stillness it was harder to ignore the predator waiting in the back, having watched Gaara for most of the event.

That watching had not gone entirely unnoticed, and it had definitely put Gaara in a worse mood, already soured by the entirely unfair restriction placed upon the Tournament. The way Morbidus looked at him reminded him of the Fourth Kazekage.

Gaara turned on his heel and walked straight to the door without a word or a glance back. He'd noted the time before leaving and he had another fifteen minutes before Potions was due to end. If he went straight there, he would have to spend at least eight minutes in Snape's company, so his choice was limited to leaving the castle for a while (probably a few hours) and pretending he got lost again (an excuse that had increasingly strained credibility over the months and now year and half that he had been in this world), or else he could walked very slowly and arrive just as the lesson had drawn to a close. Snape would be unlikely to complain either way unless Gaara actually did show up to take part in the end of the lesson.

On the other hand, if Potter had hurried back, it would be undeniable that Gaara had skipped the lesson and Snape would deduct more House Points. The points didn't matter to Gaara but Draco still seemed surprised and offended when Gaara wilfully sacrificed them.

Gaara decided Draco's continued disbelief that Gaara didn't value the school point system as the blond did was better to risk than actually having to listen to Snape.

It would be a small miracle if Gaara hadn't murdered the infuriating man by the time he returned home. He should probably warn Dumbledore of that the next time they talked. He doubted it would get him back out of Potions, but at least then the Headmaster could not act so shocked when Gaara actually did crush the head of Slytherin to death.

Dear gods that would feel good.

Gaara recognised that he was starting to get a little light-headed over the thought of murder so he shook off the thoughts and started walking. He wouldn't bother going to meet Draco at the end of Potions. He needed to clear his head right now and he knew just the three-headed distraction that could help him.

Gaara knew roughly where Fluffy would be this time of day so he needed to circle around the castle before he left through the window. None of the professors would be angry with him leaving via the window as long as he didn't walk down past any of their lessons and distract the students.

In a world filled with magic, wizards had a strange hang-up over him walking along walls.

He had to take a different route when the fastest path to the correct side of the castle was blocked by a couple of lingering reporters who were waiting for the Ministry workers to come through. They would be kicked out long before that happened, but Gaara didn't want any of them making his headache worse than the Ichibi already was.

He never had these problems with the reporters in his home world.

It was the elemental nation's worst kept secret that every newspaper had at least one shinobi spy on the payroll. It was just considered the cost of doing business. No one knew who in the newspaper would be the spy, but someone would collect information and alert their kage about any shinobi-related stories. Editors would be bribed, threatened, assaulted, or killed if they didn't immediately withdraw any stories deemed disadvantageous to the village.

In one noteworthy incident that had circulated amongst several villages, one small but widely read paper in Fire was said to be staffed almost entirely by spies. While the paper became a hit with civilians, it soon became apparent to shinobi that almost every story it published was being intercepted and changed as all the stories about nation with a notable shinobi force, including Fire, was filled with blatant lies.

Down the side corridor, Gaara heard a voice. It could have been a lesson being carried out but for the fact that he was reasonably certain none of the professors sounded like that, and that the room he was walking past wasn't any of the classrooms currently in use.

So, who…?

"Don't pay attention to that, it's just taking notes." The voice said in a drawl that Gaara couldn't place. It did sound a little familiar, though. "Now, while it's just the two of us, why don't you tell me the real story of how you came to be entered."

Oh, it was that unpleasant reporter woman, Skeeter. Why was she still here, hiding in what he was beginning to suspect was not a disused classroom but instead a cupboard?

Gaara ignored it.

"Um…" That voice from inside the cupboard Gaara recognised a little more strongly. Somehow, in retrospect, it seemed inevitable that Potter would be the one involved.

Gaara wondered who he could tell about this. Normally McGonagall would have been a safe bet. She would have been up from her office and back here in less than two minutes, and would have hexed the obnoxious reporter in less time still. But she was still in Dumbledore's office.

Gaara could just leave him there. Potter wasn't his problem. Better yet, maybe he could block the door, and then both of the annoyances could stay in there and slowly starve to…

Okay, he was definitely having a murderous day. This is what Aragog's progeny were for; a few dementors would have been good right about now as well.

At times like these, when all he wanted to do was kill people, he tried to imagine what a sane person would do. However, with only assassins and child soldiers to be his point of reference in his home world, he had instead asked himself what his first friend would do. Skipping impassioned speeches, ramen eating competitions or head-butts, Gaara knew he would have to help the acquaintance in need, despite having not internal desire to do so.

Then he could go and kill some spiders in the forest.

Gaara didn't knock. Inside the cupboard stood Potter and Skeeter, and they couldn't be more than a foot apart from one another. Potter looked appropriately uncomfortable with the proximity.

Both Potter and the reporter looked startled to be interrupted, but while the boy's shock morphed into relief at a potential ally to help him escape, Skeeter's did not show any disappointment at her coerced interviewed being prematurely called to any end. In fact, her ruby-red lips pulled into an approximation of a smile when she saw who had burst in.

"Oh, just the Triwizard Champion I've been wanting to talk to!" She exclaimed, holding out her hand to for him to shake or kiss. He did neither. She withdrew her hand easily, as if she were used to her greetings being rejected rudely. "Rita Skeeter, at your service."

Gaara had definitely remembered who she was. In his mind's eye he could vividly recall the multiple inflammatory articles she had written about him.

Skeeter repositioned herself so that she was just ever-so-slighty in the way of Potter's escape, but she had her entire focus directed towards Gaara who stood defiantly in front of her, as if he failed to recognise the awesome power of her pen.

"Now that I've got you here, I have a few questions and I'm sure you would just love to set the record straight." A floating notepad and quill flew out of the cupboard and flipped to a fresh page in anticipation of Gaara's answers.

"First of all, what is your full name? Is it true that you're in hiding and that's why you've hidden your surname from every record?" She started as her quill filled at least a page and half with notes that Gaara did not believe could have been restricted only to the words that had come out of her mouth. "And how did you manage to convince Headmaster Dumbledore to go along with your deception?"

"Gaara is my only name." He thought the truth was less likely to draw suspicions over links between him and the Headmaster.

"But you wouldn't tell me if you were in hiding if you were, am I right?" She smiled and didn't seem to need an answer from him for her quill to continue to nearly shred pages as it scratched along at record speeds.

Gaara didn't bother responding to that question, nor to the one about Dumbledore.

"You were involved in the attack last year, were a thousand dementors laid siege to the castle over the course of the night, weren't you?" Gaara didn't respond. He just needed to figure out how to move her out of the way to let Potter escape and then he could forget the whole thing (until the newspaper came out tomorrow).

When Gaara didn't answer her, she continued. "You were also involved in the capture of Peter Pettigrew as well, if I'm not mistaken. And, again, during the attack at the Quidditch World Cup during the summer, you are supposed to have fought alongside some of the adult witches and wizards against suspected Death Eaters. There were stories that you even killed someone."

Gaara didn't hear a question, but nonetheless her remarks were starting to concern him. He had tried (admittedly, not very hard) to remain inconspicuous since arriving in this world, and yet this woman had taken a particular interest in him and connected him to some important events.

Gaara gritted his teeth and conjured the good person that was inside of him, as Temari had put it once. Killing this woman here would be the easiest solution, and it might head off some likely problems down the road. But there was a witness, and he couldn't just kill people that got in his way.

Apparently.

"If you would prefer to make this a more personal article, I would be happy to oblige you." She said, smiling even wider in what Gaara thought was supposed to be a comforting manner. Gaara hoped his smiles weren't that unsettling anymore. He'd checked in the mirror and he didn't think so. "For instance, would you care to comment on the precise nature of yours and Draco Malfoy's relationship?"

Gaara didn't think any answer would have helped at this point. Draco seemed to be quite sensitive on this topic so Gaara didn't want to make it any worse, and another lesson his family had taught him was that sometimes a denial just made things worse. Temari always teased Kankuro even more when he denied his puppets being dolls.

Then another option occurred to Gaara, rather than killing the infuriating woman. He reached forward, laying his hand on her shoulder and shoved her aside into the cupboard. She braced herself against the wall, looking surprised and dishevelled at the sudden physical confrontation. Apparently she hadn't suspected the delicate-looking child capable of such brute force without using his infamous sand.

Such a simple solution but, as Harry was now able to squeeze out of the cupboard, apparently an effective one. And no one had to die (though the death toll amongst the acromantulas would surely rise as a consequence).

Skeeter looked absolutely shocked to have been thrown out of the way in such a way. Gaara assumed it was an act as he could not believe for a second that someone as obnoxious as her had not been routinely shoved or manhandled in the course of her dubious duties. Frankly, with the way she had been acting, Gaara did not think she could honestly be surprised to face an attempt on her life, even if it turned out to be significantly more successful than any previous, amateur attempts.

"Wait until my readers hear about this!" She declared as Harry moved to stand behind Gaara. He wasn't afraid, he was just eager to leave but he didn't want to leave Gaara there on his own after the redhead had effectively rescued him. Harry's one comfort in this situation was that Gaara was not the type of person to go telling anyone that he'd done it.

"Your readers will struggle to discern fiction from real events." Gaara said.

Skeeter's feigned indignation fell away immediately. "I won't need to embellish my stories for long. You're right, the truth is better than anything I make up, and I will find that truth. Mark my words." She declared with a vicious smile. "And I can smell a story here. A story that will be read all around the world."

Gaara saw the middle-aged woman standing in the cupboard on her own, snarling at him like a wounded desert viper and he again had to consider the supposed wisdom of letting someone like this live to become a more substantial enemy in the future.

Gaara reached forward again, her eyes watching the hand warily but without flinching, and he snatched the Quick Quotes Quill out of the air and snapped it between his fingers.

Gaara was close to her now, and he said softly enough that Potter couldn't hear, "Approach us again and I will kill you."

Rita Skeeter had been threatened many times during her career, and some had even threatened her with death, but none had ever come from anyone remotely as young as the boy before her.

Gaara turned back around and walked away, with Potter almost tripping over his feet to follow after, lest he be left with the reporter.

When they were away from the danger, Harry easily caught up to and walked alongside Gaara. "Thank you for that. I've never been able to deal with people like that. You really helped me out there."

"That was my intention." Gaara said, not looking at Potter.

"Look, I know that we've been at each other's throats for a while, but I really appreciate you getting me out of there." Harry said. He wasn't nearly as god at this as a Huffelpuff, but it would be a huge improvement to be on good terms with his soon-to-be adopted brother and fellow Hogwarts Champion.

"I am not your friend but we are not enemies." Gaara said, stopping at a window.

Harry took a breath to respond, denying he even wanted to be friends, but he caught the words in his throat when he watched Gaara lean forward, trying to open the, in fact unopenable, leadlight. Gaara still looked angry, whether from his encounter with Skeeter or from whatever had upset him so profoundly in the press conference, so Harry assumed he just wanted a breath of fresh air. "I don't think that one opens."

Gaara opened the window anyway, the lead bending and snapping as he physically forced the glass out and away from the castle far enough until it was no longer connected to the frame and fell. Harry gaped a little at the casual demonstration of strength and vandalism.

Gaara climbed up into the window frame and as he leaned out, intending to exit from near the top of the castle, he turned back to Harry. "It wasn't me." He said, before swinging around and out of sight.

Harry rushed to lean out and see what happened but Gaara was just walking down the external wall like it was another stone floor. Harry would really have to press Hermione for the secret behind that trick one of these days. He didn't know when it would come in handy, but it certainly did look rather cool.

The sound of one of the glass panels still caught in the lead came falling onto the window sill reminded Harry that he should be going. If he were to be found in the vicinity of the damage, the blame would almost certainly fall on him in the absence of another suspect (who was now halfway down the castle with a manic smile starting to grown on his unseen face with every step closer to his prey in the forest).

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"I bloody well told you so!" Draco yelled at a volume that might have be labelled indiscreet if he hadn't taken the routine precaution of placing a cursory silencing charm on their room as soon as Gaara had appeared following Draco's own return from dinner.

After having been informed by the proverbial grapevine in the Great Hall about the Weighing of the Wands, Draco had been waiting to remonstrate his foolish roommate on his habitual destruction of his own wand.

Gaara, for his part, was glad he had skipped the rest of the school day in favour of continuing his cull of the giant spiders. If Draco was going to be this obnoxious about the whole thing, he didn't think he could have withstood the rest of the populace sharing their opinion. It was only thanks to the calm that followed a hunt that Gaara was unbothered by Draco's seeming overabundance of jollity over the situation.

Draco took great pride in having predicted the issue with Gaara's overreliance on his sand, as well as his previous warnings on the subject of damaging his wand.

Draco was pacing back and forth, with Gaara sitting cross-legged on his bed examining his wand. "And why didn't you think to clean up your wand a little beforehand? Maybe get a new one."

Gaara tuned him out and just started trying to relax a bit after a bad day.

"And did you really attack that wretched Skeeter woman to defend Potter, of all people?" Draco demanded. "I mean, I'm all for her getting what's coming to her after what she's written, but don't you dare tell me you're on Potter's side now."

Draco swivelled gracefully on his heel to continue his march and his tirade. "I dread to think what that's going to end up costing you in the press tomorrow morning. And all for Potter. Should have just left him to make a prat of himself. At least then- Stop that!" Draco had finally turned to look at his roommate, only to find him gouging one of his knives in the length of his wand.

"What are you doing?!" Draco rushed over and snatched the wand out of Gaara's limp hand. Gaara's only move was to shift the knife out of the way, to save damaging the wand in an unintentional way or slicing open Draco's hand. "Will you not be satisfied until it's completely unusable and you have all the magical abilities of a Weasley or a squib when facing a literal dragon?!

"You've put holes in it! This is the stupidest nervous habit I've ever heard of." Gaara was still just looking at the knife in his hand. Whether or not Gaara was actually transfixed by the knife or he was just avoiding Draco's gaze, the blond couldn't tell. As far as he was concerned, Gaara could continue looking away. He should feel ashamed.

Idiot.

"You know what, I'm keeping it. You can't be trusted with your own bloody wand. Like a first year going home for Christmas."

Gaara suspected that meant Draco had not been trusted with his wand over his first winter holiday. Knowing how the Malfoy's valued their wands and their magic, he could only wonder what Draco had done during that holiday to warrant his wand being confiscated.

"I'll let you have it back when you need it for a lesson. Otherwise, I'll keep it with mine."

Gaara was not too concerned. He'd have pick-pocketed it back from Draco by the end of breakfast tomorrow.

As Draco renewed his speech after having stashed the mangled wand up his sleeve, he tried to focus on chewing Gaara out and not on his growing concern. What could Gaara do against a dragon without his sand or any real magical capabilities? He was fast and strong, Draco could attest to that, but the off-worlder's acrobatics would mean nothing against dragon fire. But what could Draco do to help him with so little time left before the event?

When a sore throat and a dearth of new insults to level at his friend concluded Draco's ranting, he fell into his desk chair and breathed deeply. Gaara had pulled out a book halfway through but Draco knew he had been listening, even if he didn't outwardly react. Gaara had trouble shutting things out at the best of times, so the words would not have been lost on him.

Now, Draco's passionate anger had started to cool, he felt jittery and in need of some productive outlet for his energy. He needed to help Gaara somehow. However, it was nearly time to go to sleep, so there was no time to actually do anything to help Gaara prepare at this late hour. Instead, Draco resorted to an unseemly act.

Despite the horrendous impropriety of it, Draco found himself addressing a letter to Sirius Black on the subject of Gaara. Going over Gaara's head like was unspeakably rude but desperate times called for impolite measures. He would need some help getting Gaara ready (somehow) and there was no time to lose.

Perhaps he should solicit Father for help also. If nothing else, it would soothe his father's ego to be asked 'first'. Even if he did not reject the idea immediately, Draco didn't need to worry about his father taking an intrusive active interest in the preparations. Gaara was something of a sore subject with the head of the Malfoy family, as was the Triwizard Tournament. The most Draco expected, other than a stern rebuke, would be a few suggestions of extremely dark spells that wouldn't outright break the law. And possibly a few that would. Draco would have to check anything sent for Gaara.

When Draco had finished both of the letters, he sealed them and quickly ran to the owlery, conscious that he only had fifteen minutes before curfew. Unlike Gaara, Draco would be liable to receive a detention if he were caught out of the dorm. Gaara had repeatedly failed to appreciate this disparity when they had been hanging out in the evenings and had remarked only after Draco was accosted by a professor that he had known the time but forgotten the implication.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Luna was far too kind to actually use the words 'I told you so', unlike the other blond currently in Gaara's life, but her meaning came through loud and clear all the same. Then again, Gaara had been listening out for the sentiment. He might have been a little sensitive about the whole thing.

But it wasn't as if he really believed it had been a colossal mistake to assume he could use his sand, or frequently damaging his wand over the past year.

Gaara had gone for a walk rather than attending breakfast that morning, breathing in the frigid Scottish highland air and exhaling mist. Luna had evidently anticipated his avoiding the Great Hall and had managed to track him down in less than ten minutes, a new personal record for her.

Gaara had heard from Sirius that morning in a peculiarly prompt letter after the announcement yesterday. Though neither party had mentioned it, Gaara assumed Draco had sent a message to Sirius last night when he left just before curfew, or else Potter had sent one. Typical meddling.

Actually, both of them had sent a letter to Sirius. Though, where Draco's had been sent out of desperation and concern, Harry's had been sent out of a misbegotten sense of duty to report the trouble he found himself in to an authority figure. This was a habit Sirius hoped to break.

While he knew, from his experience with Gaara, that having a secretive child around was troublesome, Sirius could not in good conscience encourage Harry to do anything but rebel and get into trouble. James wouldn't have heard of it.

Well… 17-year-old James wouldn't have heard of it. With time and wisdom, even James would have admitted having one's child confide in one was ultimately a positive. However, Sirius outright refused to become boring and domestic like Prongs.

Gaara appreciated that Sirius cared enough to try and intrude, but he had not found anything pertinent or particularly helpful in his letter. Since it didn't contain anything private, he handed it over to Luna when she politely asked to see, without a second thought.

'To my dearest Bandit,

You are an idiot.

Yours sincerely,

Sirius Orion Black

(Ultimately unsurprised S.O.B.)

P.s. I suppose I have a sacred duty, beyond reminding you of the aforementioned stupidity, to offer you whatever assistance I can without getting myself thrown back into Azkaban.

That, unfortunately, limits me to offering you a few suggestions for spells or strategies you might employ against the dragon you are to face. If you haven't ruined your wand beyond all use (we'll be visiting Diagon when you are next at liberty to do so), the following might be of some utility in the Task to come:

- The summoning charm, which you can find in (amongst other books) – 'Common Charms and How to Use Them' by Hieronymus Pennick. Use it to summon your sand or some of your knives.

- If you get one that's sensitive to light, use the Lumos charm to blind it temporarily.

- Use the sneezing hex on it, which you should have learned a while ago, but otherwise you can find it in 'Childish Japes and Ignoble Practices' by Louise De La Devereux.

- Levitate the dragon out of the ring entirely.'

Luna read these suggestions, and the dozen that followed of decreasing merit, with a gentle smile on her face, appreciating Sirius's sentiment if not the validity of his suggestions.

"He seems worried." She said.

Having read no fewer than a dozen of Hogwarts's finest books on the subject of dragons (and swiftly moving to read all of the remaining in the coming days), Luna could say with some authority than half of Sirius's ideas would not work on a dragon, and the other half would not work coming from Gaara.

Luna, with as much faith as she had in Gaara's overall capabilities, had every doubt that Gaara could levitate an owl, let alone a fully-grown dragon trying to eat or incinerate him; not for lack of raw power, perhaps, but the necessary skill and a functioning wand. While she hoped her friend would know better than to try and use any of these methods, Luna couldn't be too careful when it came to Gaara's safety (and oft-times lack of self-awareness).

"Gaara, I know Mr Black means well, but I'm not sure any of these would be suitable."

Gaara had pulled out a copy of the Tournament rulebook while she had been studying Sirius's letter and only glanced up at her in response to her caution.

Gaara's first idea had been immediately ruled out as soon as the official rule book had been released for this Tournament, spelling out all of the alterations and amendments made to the traditional rules of the Tournaments. One of these new rules, the introduction of which had caused all of this consternation amongst his acquaintances, had been elaborated upon in the rulebook to entirely forbid the entrance of magical items, witches, wizards, or magical beings other than the Champion and their registered wands.

While the wording of the rules did prevent him from employing his first alternative, it did leave open his backup plan, however much he would have rather avoided it.

It was irritating, all the more, that he would need to rely on his backup when his sand was technically not a magical artefact at all. However, barring his fully explaining the nature of his ability to control it, and their accepting that explanation, there was no chance he would be permitted to use it. And even if he were to try and make sand in the arena, he would surely break all records for the duration of a Task, since the stone around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade always seemed to take him an inordinate amount of time to grind and imbue with a useful amount of his chakra.

"I don't think it was very fair of them to wait until so late to release the rules." Luna said, watching Gaara's concentrate on one passage, his hairless brows furrowing. He didn't respond, but she believed he was still listening even if there was no outward sign. He normally tended to listen to what people said around him even if he didn't react, judging by his later remarking on subjects he hadn't deigned to participate in at the time.

"Did you read the Prophet this morning?" She asked.

He had not, but he did glance at her for an instant before continuing reading. His way of saying 'go on, I'm listening'.

"There was a lot of coverage of yesterday's event. None of it was very good. Even if it didn't fill itself with lies, the Prophet is dreadfully written, don't you think?"

No response.

"That awful Skeeter woman wrote another article." Luna though she saw his ear twitch out of the corner of her eye. "It mostly talked about Harry Potter since he's very famous, of course. It suggested he is romantically involved with his friend, Hermione Granger."

Still no reaction, but Luna continued. "I'm fairly sure they aren't. Ginny said they were only friends and that Gryffindor boys are oblivious."

Gaara turned another page.

"It mentioned, you as well, though." She said, getting another glance to signal his rapt attention. She could understand; Gaara did not normally like maintaining eye contact. "It said you violently attacked Ms Skeeter when she tried to interview Harry Potter.

"I'm sure if you did, she was harassing him again. I don't think anyone believes what she says about you, not here anyway. After the way she described you last time, some people think she's mistaken someone else for you. Maybe Ginny's brother.

"You must be careful around her, Gaara. She's unscrupulous, even for a mainstream reporter. She's accused you and Mr Potter of only pretending to disagree and actually working together."

"I am aware of the danger." Gaara said, still not looking at her.

Luna was glad of the acknowledgement, though his renewed attention did make it harder for her to admire how soft his hair appeared to be. She had tried asking Draco what product Gaara used by apparently that was impertinent.

When he was finally done with studying the rules, Gaara handed the book over to Luna who happily traded it for the letter.

Gaara cast one more eye over it before pulling out his wand and setting it alight. It dropped to the floor and was ash soon after. Gaara had reclaimed his wand while Draco was asleep. He was going to need as much time with it as he could get before the Task in a few days and he couldn't have Draco's good-natured interference stop him.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Harry was wishing that morning that he had accepted Sirius's offer to tell him where the Marauders had stashed their bottles of Firewhisky. At the time, he had said he didn't want to know, that he couldn't risk the Twins weaselling the information out of him. Now, however, he was sure he could have snuck half a bottle's worth under Hermione's vigilant nose.

A hangover would not have been half as painful as this morning was turning out to be. And Hermione wouldn't have even been able to smell the alcohol on his breath, sitting more than three metres away from him. She had managed to peruse the entire morning's edition of the Daily Prophet by the time he showed up for breakfast and apparently the latest Skeeter smear campaign had precluded their associating in the immediate future.

Luckily it was still early so, despite the conspicuous distance between them, there weren't very many other at the table yet and Hermione and he could still talk with some measure of discretion.

Unluckily, Hermione had been reading the expanded rules that morning and had delivered the unhappy news that Harry's first plan to summon his broom would not be allowed.

"It seems like a pretty specific rule." Harry complained in a low whisper, trying to cover the distance but avoid being overheard by the not-as-subtle-as-they-think Ravenclaws at the next table. "They're probably just trying to stop Gaara from winning. But they're making it impossible for me too!"

"We've still got time, Harry. We'll find something for you to use." She reasoned, a book propped on her knee at that very moment. She had gotten up early and made her first (of four) trips to the Library that day.

"Oh, Sirius had some good ideas." Harry brightened up marginally. The banning of his original plan to summon his broom had hit him hard last night when he was writing his letter to Sirius, but Sirius had owled him back this morning with dozens of suggestions.

"I hope none of them are too outlandish. Or illegal." She muttered the last part into her pumpkin juice.

"A few of them probably are, but I think he was joking about them. No, there were a couple of spells that he's told me about that I think could be just the thing."

"You've only got a few days, Harry." She warned him in her customary tone.

"I've managed harder spells in less time before."

"Really?"

"Well, I've learned spells in less time, and these can't be that hard." He glanced again at the titles of the books Sirius had recommended to him and they didn't sound too impressive.

"Well, I'm happy to go and have a look with you before Herbology for some of them."

Harry's appetite was not what it normally was that morning, so eager was he to get started on his preparations. "Can we go now?"

Hermione had finished her healthy breakfast already so she began to get up until she noticed Harry doing the same. "What are you doing?"

"We're going to the Library, aren't we?" Harry's face was the model of confusion.

"Not at the same time! I don't want to do anything to add fuel to that despicable woman's rumours." She said, using Harry's astonishment to continue her own movement. "Wait for five minutes and then meet me there."

Harry scowled at her back. He'd make it ten minutes and keep her waiting. Plus, Ron might show up soon (though it would be early for him) and Harry wouldn't mind the extra company in the Library. Hermione could be unrelenting when she had a project to work on. Despite the healthy bump it inevitably gave their grades, even Harry and Ron were somewhat reluctant to pair with Hermione when they were asked to form teams to do homework.

While this was entirely for Harry's benefit, having another slacker in the vicinity would be a comfort.

However, where Hermione outshone Harry in academia, Ron outshone him in sloth, and so after twelve minutes, Harry headed to the Library.

"You'll need to chase after her quicker next time if you want her back, Potter!" Came a jeer from the Slytherin table, presumably having waited all this time for Harry to leave in the same direction.

Harry blushed and walked quickly to the door without looking back. The chuckles coming from multiple points in the Hall (so, from multiple tables), soured Harry's mood even more. When he next saw that Skeeter woman, he hoped he had someone like Hermione nearby to stop him doing something worthy of expulsion to the reporter.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Harry and Hermione were not the only Gryffindors to be having an unpleasant morning. However, where the Gryffindors of the present were fending off scandal and embarrassment, the Gryffindors of the past were instead being confronted with threats a little more pressing.

Dumbledore had requested Minerva attend an impromptu meeting of the senior school officials of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. She was not entirely grateful for the opportunity.

It was quite early in the morning to have to deal with the histrionics resulting from a glorified tabloid journalist's baseless accusations, and yet Minerva appeared as fresh and scathing as if she had been called away from afternoon tea. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had appeared still in his bed robes and sleeping cap, which Minerva was relatively sure was only to make a visual point about the absurdity of interrupting their morning routines.

Evidently unfamiliar with the British press, it seemed both Madame Maxine and Professor Karkaroff credited the words of Rita Skeeter with undue weight and had taken the morning's article to be gospel truth. Apparently it was sufficient to confirm all of the worst doubts the foreigners had about the competition's integrity.

Words like 'outrage', 'fraud', and 'disqualification' were roared at Albus, but Minerva watched her mentor and oldest friend smile calmly and sip his tea without rising to any threat or insult. She had seen this same performance dozens of times before but, as a fellow Gryffindor-alumnus, she couldn't imagine herself holding her tongue like this. If such vitriol were directed at her, she would answer in kind and more.

After ten more minutes of them throwing accusations and demanding answer, the two visiting headmasters finally paused for breath or, perhaps, to finally hear a response.

"Well, I for one, am glad that we've been able to speak our minds so freely and clear the air between us. It is for that reason, if no other, that I wouldn't mind thanking Ms. Skeeter. However, as to the accuracy of her article, I can only definitively refute that Hogwarts or our Ministry was involved in some conspiracy to involve our students in the Tournament. I personally oversaw the security for the Goblet myself, and I can assure you that I would have greatly preferred that none of my students would need to be entered. I certainly would never have condoned two students being forced into such a dangerous contest."

"So, you claim you do not wish for the glory that they would bring you and your school?" Karkaroff demanded.

"My friend, I am very old and have accumulated more glory than I know what to do with. Some days I fear opening my cupboards, that glory might come spilling out from where I left it decades ago." Albus smiled over his empty teacup that he was still pretending to sip nonchalantly. "I would much rather the children not be called into the same sorts of dangers that our generations experienced before them."

"While few living could claim to have accomplished the things you have, Headmaster Dumbledore," Maxine started, "How can we be sure that the children did not concoct this themselves? Or perhaps your Ministry has acted behind your back to increase Britain's chances."

"I won't deny that there is a possibility in all things, even that. However, I would consider the possibility of Harry Potter and Gaara collaborating in any way to be highly unlikely. From what I have gathered, having looked into the matter extensively myself, the two of them don't care for each other much at all. Any civility they display is a matter of courtesy and appearance rather than friendship."

"And your Ministry?" Maxine asked.

"I wouldn't wish to speak ill of Britain's Ministry of Magic, of course, as I'm sure you can understand." Dumbledore said, "But I could not honestly say that the Ministry wasn't capable of such… manipulations. However, as I said, I have overseen many of the steps involved in the preparation for the Tournament, and you have my word that neither I nor anyone from the Ministry was involved in the selection of either Mr Potter or Gaara."

"And we are to rely on only your word?" Igor asked, sneering.

"I'm afraid so." Albus replied. He did not care for Igor Karkaroff, professional courtesies aside, but he would disregard their opposing ideals and their opposing histories for the time being.

"But this still does not explain how two Champions could be chosen for Hogwarts?!" Olympe exclaimed.

"No, and, in fact, it is all the more troubling since it narrows down the possibilities significantly if the administrations of this school and the Ministry of Magic were not involved, nor, I fervently believe, were either of the boys themselves."

"That much I, for one, can trust." Olympe said. "How wretchedly sick the Potter boy looked when he was chosen and at every turn since."

"Who do you suspect, then, Dumbledore?" Igor said, getting annoyed by the old man's continuous drinking of his weak English tea.

"I would bet the Galleons in my pocket that it was the work of Voldemort's remaining loyal followers." Albus was also confident in the fact that his bed-robes did not have any gold in the pockets.

"Preposterous!" Karkaroff jumped back to his feet from the plush chair. "I will not listen to this."

"I do not wish to imply you yourself were involved, Headmaster Karkaroff. But, as I am sure you are aware, there are many elements still at large who supported Voldemort when he was in power and have not taken to heart the virtues of moderations since his downfall." Albus took a certain pleasure in seeing Igor flinch every time he invoked his wayward pupil's taken name.

"You suggest we are simply to accept that this is all a plan to sow chaos and threaten the life of the Potter boy and take no further action?" Madame Maxine asked.

"I do not expect you will accept this anymore than I myself will. However, there is a binding magical contract preventing any of the Champions from being withdrawn or from withdrawing themselves, so this is all a semantic debate. I wanted to discuss this with both of you this morning not because we might uncover the culprit and remedy the situation, but that we might resolve to be on the lookout for whatever might come next, following the attack at the World Cup over the summer and the irregularities in the Tournament."

Minerva was in awe as she watched Albus diffuse the latest crisis. He would have made either the best kind of politician or the worst.

"Now, I think we would all benefit from a proper breakfast and maybe some coffee." Albus said with a warm smile, finally relinquishing his long-since cooled teacup. "And as much as I am always happy to host friends and colleagues at any hour of the morning, day or night, I would ask that you take any words attributed to Ms Skeeter with a grain of salt."

"Your press do not seem to be overly constrained by the burden of truthfulness." Karkaroff said sourly.

"I think we have discussed this as much as will be productive for now." Madame Maxine said, rising to her impressive height.

Karkaroff, who was still standing from his earlier outburst, also moved to leave.

"Thank you both for coming to speak with me. Especially, considering the problems that have already arisen from this Tournament, I believe it is important that we keep the lines of communication open."

Minerva was ultimately glad that she had been able to silently observe the exchange without being called upon to contribute. Though, now that she had observed, she was troubled by what Albus had said about the Dark forces conspiring against Potter.

The entering of the boy's name and the attack at the World Cup had been terrible, but they didn't amount to a great deal compared to the horrors she saw during the last war. However, what really troubled McGonagall was how much these events reminded her of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's rise to power. Attacks here and there, manipulations and schemes to progress his agenda. Her only comfort was that Albus assured her that, as far as the wiser man could tell, the monster had not returned.

Yet.

There would be plenty of sleepless nights in her future, she could foresee.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Lovegood!" Luna had heard her name bellowed in this exact same manner enough times by now to know precisely who was approaching her and for what reason.

"Hello Draco." She said without turning to greet him. He would catch up and normally he preferred to converse while walking alongside her. She suspected he thought the chances were slimmer of them being seen to be socialising if they stayed on the move. Luna didn't mind even if that was the case. As Gaara often said, witches and wizards needed more exercise (especially Draco), so walking around the castle for a while wasn't a bad thing.

When he caught up with her and matched her pace, she asked, "How are you today?"

"Fine, fine." He said quickly, a little out of breath from bustling about the castle so early in the morning.

"That's nice."

"Do you know where Gaara is?" Draco skipped further formality of asking how she was. His mother would scold him if she knew he would forgo his manner so easily or fail to treat a girl (of the appropriate wizarding pedigree) with the proper level of decorum, but Draco was confident his mother wouldn't find out.

Merlin, he hoped she wouldn't find out.

"He's out in the forest again."

"Playing with that overgrown pit-bull again, no doubt." Draco griped.

"Fluffy has been very demanding lately." Luna commented.

"There're only three days left until the Task and he's out playing with the dog…"

"You're worried about him."

"And you're not?" Draco didn't believe that for a second. "As far as I've seen, he's not done anything to prepare to face the dragon."

"I don't know what he's planning either." Luna said. "But I'm sure he's got something in mind."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Draco snorted. He'd watched Gaara reading his normal, random selection of esoteric (and useless) books for the past few days like his life were not imminently in danger.

"Has Mr Black offered any more help?"

"None that he's mentioned, but then, he wouldn't necessarily." Draco said. "He's probably tried to help more but Gaara got something in mind and he's determined to keep it a secret. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was doing it to build suspense."

"That doesn't sound like Gaara."

"That why I said 'if I didn't know any better'. But I do know better." Draco said. "Doesn't make him any less annoying, though."

"I'm worried too."

"What's worse is knowing we'll have to be there to watch."

"At least you'll stand to make some money. Ginny Weasley told me that you placed a large bet with her brothers."

"I wouldn't normally deign to talk about money, but since I was the one to place the bet, I suppose I might as well admit it. Imprudent as betting is." Draco muttered the last part. He'd heard about a number of ne'er-do-wells from his extended family who had succumbed to vices including gambling and lost all of their money. Draco certainly wouldn't be following in their footsteps. "Of course, I don't need the extra money, but I fully intend to take money off of those who would bet against Gaara."

"That's very nice of you." Luna said. "But, I understand that the odds are in Gaara's favour already."

"All the more reason that people shouldn't be betting against him." Draco said simply.

"You're very confident in Gaara despite not knowing his plans." She observed.

"From everything I've seen up until now, I'd be an idiot to doubt him now."

"I hope you're right."

"My only concern is that those poverty-stricken Weasleys might try to welsh on the bet when they lose."

"I'm sure they won't."

"Well, even if they do, I can send Gaara their way and they'll soon pay what they owe." Draco smiled at the thought.

"I wouldn't be so sure Gaara will be willing to do that for you." Luna warned,

Draco didn't want to admit how right Luna was. He had no doubt that he could count on Gaara to protect him if he were ever in danger, but there was not a chance in hell that he could count on Gaara to be his enforcer.

"Are you going to look for him?" Luna said as they neared the courtyard.

"I don't think I'll bother. He's not going to do anything to prepare for the Tournament today and I can't be asked to walk miles to watch him entertain a three-headed dog."

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Lessons that week struggled to maintain the pretence of normality amidst the rising tension in the lead up to the start of the Tournament.

The students of Hogwarts treated both Harry and Gaara like condemned men, requiring the odd elbow from their more considerate friends to stop them from pre-emptively eulogising or reminiscing about the still-living boys. Even the Skytherins, who could normally be counted upon to conceal their personal feelings and thoughts, were clearly spooked.

Following one of their DADA lessons, Gaara was held back by Moody. Draco had panicked a little when Moody told Gaara to stay behind and had tried to persuade Gaara to escape. A number of letters exchanged between his father and he had left Draco with a healthy sense of suspicion and fear about Moody, who had developed quite the reputation amongst the Dark wizards of Britain.

Gaara could appreciate such a reputation so he ignored Draco's nudges, glances and odd whispered warning. He then shook off Draco's guiding arm trying to lead him away. Draco gave up the fight and left to stand outside the door with his wand covertly drawn.

"Seems like young Mister Malfoy is afraid of me." Moody remarked with a smile, pulling himself up from the seat behind his desk with a visible effort. "No wonder, with that father of his. I arrested him more than once, even if we couldn't make the charges stick."

Gaara watched impassively.

"If his son is so afraid of me, he must be involved in his father's affairs." The man's mechanical eye swivelled around as he spoke, presumably examining Gaara's reaction. "You know, I've interrogated grown men who have shown more of a reaction than you."

Gaara didn't bother to comment that he'd been interrogated by grown men who were intimidating.

"I suppose you want to know why I've kept you behind today."

"It is related to the Tournament."

"So, you aren't just quiet to hide stupidity. That's good. It'll improve your chances of surviving the dragon." He said with a short laugh. "I can't offer you any direct help to prepare before the Tournament. The 'no magical sand' rule they sprung on you was unexpected, but you should have been prepared nonetheless."

Gaara was tired of hearing the same rebuke.

"But, even if I can't help you directly, I can certainly suggest some things that might help."

"I don't need any help."

"You most certainly do. I've been teaching you for two months now and I would say your spellcasting is worse than a first year's. A muggle-born first year's, at that!"

"What could you do to help, in that case?" Gaara was curious, with only a few days to go until the first Task, what the professor proposed to teach him.

"I know you've had your Ravenclaw friend helping you learn about dragons, so I'll assume you know as much as you need to about those scaly beasts. What I can tell you about is tactics that might keep you alive a little longer until whatever plan you've come up with can be used."

"I know enough about… tactics to succeed." Gaara had almost used the term 'battlefield tactics', which would have divulged far more than he wanted to the man.

Moody circled around him, inspecting Gaara from every angle. Gaara knew this was just another method to intimidate him as he had used it himself a few times with the Genin in the months before his transportation. That, and because Moody had been watching him intermittently since he started teaching and would have completed any visual inspection with his magical eye of his long ago.

"You've got the bearing of someone who's been in a few fights. And I heard you've been getting into trouble since you arrived." Moody said, finally coming back around to Gaara's front. "But a school boy knows nothing of proper battle. And that's the way you need to think when facing a dragon."

Gaara considered this. "I am adequately prepared."

"No you're not. I've had colleagues, fellow Aurors, who've undergone years of training and fought dozens of enemies killed by dragons when the things have gotten loose or wandered into wizarding areas. I've got a sizeable scar on my back from one of those blighters." Moody shifted a little, the memory bringing the scar's ache back into focus. "And don't be getting confident because of that coating you've got on, either."

Gaara finally met the man's living eye.

"Of course, I noticed." Moody laughed at the hard-earned reaction. "I haven't been going around and telling people about it, though. I can appreciate wanting to wear something to avoid getting scratched."

Gaara wondered at the capabilities of that magical eye. It seemed to be limited in one regard, at least, since Moody appeared to be unaware that his discreet sand armour could deflect more than just the occasional scratch.

"But I doubt they'll miss you wearing it on your way into the Task, and it won't stop dragon fire from turning you into a glass ornament."

"I don't intend on bringing it with me." Gaara had always counted on keeping it a secret so he hadn't wanted it being found at the Task, where he would also be labelled a cheater.

"Then, how do you plan on surviving a dragon?" Moody asked.

"Within the rules." Gaara wouldn't say any more.

"Ha! Just like a Slytherin." Moody slapped Gaara on the shoulder. "Well, fine then, keep your secrets. But don't say I didn't try to help you." He seemed to think for a second. "Or, actually, make sure you do say that. We're not supposed to be involved at all."

Gaara sensed that the matter was finished, so he turned and started walking towards the door.

"Don't worry, he's still out there." Moody said, his eye watching Draco through the wall. "Takes after his father, that one."

Gaara turned to look over his shoulder. "Not in the important ways." He hoped Moody's laudable catchphrase of 'constant vigilance!' meant that the man had placed some sort of privacy spell on the room. While the walls and doors of the castle were very thick and provided pretty reliable sound proofing, he would hate to think of Draco with his ear to the door.

"You're certainly not the average Slytherin, are you?" Moody said. "I've always been able to tell what House someone was when they went to Hogwarts within ten minutes. Pride myself on it. But you're trickier than that. I would have pegged you for a Ravenclaw, except for all of the secrets. Even Dumbledore won't reveal them to me, and I suspect he doesn't know everything."

Gaara turned to him fully again.

"My point is that anything good about Draco Malfoy's personality is probably attributable to his friends here. I certainly wouldn't expect any of his virtues to have come from his parents."

Gaara didn't have anything to say to that. Lucius Malfoy was a terrible person and Gaara would have killed him by now if he didn't think it would hurt Draco's feelings and possibly ruin their friendship, but Narcissa was nice, within the bounds of propriety. It seemed unfair of his professor (and, apparently, previously an Auror), to make such an assessment of Draco based on their limited interactions and his knowledge of Draco's father.

In fact, Draco was always on his best behaviour around Moody, so it could only be prejudice.

"I don't like prejudice." Gaara thought that would make his feelings clear.

Moody smiled grimly, either at the challenge to his way of thinking or at Gaara being so brazen, so un-Slytherin.

"I'm not prejudiced, boy." He said. "I'm experienced. See these scars?" He indicated to his eye and his false legs and then to the rest of his body; clothing presumably concealing a myriad of marks. "I've paid the price to know about that lot and I can recognise them when I see them."

"Or your scars blind you to people who can and have changed." Gaara was not a philosopher, but he felt that was a reasonable rejoinder.

"Well, don't say I never warned you!" Moody barked with another harsh laugh.

Gaara didn't comment or even nod to the professor as he left. True to form, Draco was found outside with his back to the wall and his wand in his hand. He might have looked like an Auror about to raid a hostile base if not for the sheen of sweat and the look of utter relief when Gaara emerged unharmed.

"Are you okay?" Draco seemed almost disbelieving that Gaara might be detained by Alastor Moody, the boogieman to his father's entire social circle, without earning at least a minor hex.

"Yes." Gaara said simply. As an afterthought as they walked away, Gaara added, "You should not be alone with him."

"Who, Mad-Eye Moody?"

"Yes."

"You don't need to worry about that. You wouldn't catch me dead volunteering to spend time alone with Mad-Eye Moody."

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Why have we been called here?" Gaara asked Potter as they neared McGonagall's office. The first Task was tomorrow and while Gaara was not particularly hungry, Draco had insisted on him actually attending dinner in an hour. Gaara wasn't sure of Draco was simply nervous and wanted his company or if he was giving in to his nerves and wanted one last dinner with Gaara. Either way, Gaara believed it was incumbent upon him as a friend to make an appearance, no matter how brief.

So, the question remained, why had the Head of Gryffindor called Potter and he to her office before dinner?

"I don't know. She just told me to come this morning after Transfiguration."

Gaara had not shown up to that lesson but a first year had caught up to him in the corridor after lunch to deliver the message.

"There's not another ritual or a press conference supposed to happen tonight, is there?" Harry asked.

Gaara looked him in the eye, unsure of whether there was anything supposed to happen. "No, there is nothing like that scheduled."

Harry's shoulder slumped with the exhalation of his relieved sigh. "Thank Merlin."

Gaara sped up, wondering if his fast pace might politely inform Potter than he didn't want to walk together. Potter, instead, sped up to match his pace. At least the faster pace might help stave off the worst of the bitter Autumnal chill, even if it would not provide Gaara with peace and quiet.

The door was shut and Potter seemed reluctant to knock. An oddly skittish reaction for a brave Gryffindor. Then again, how brave can the lion cub be when intruding upon the lioness's den?

The desert snake, on the other hand, had no trouble loudly rapping on the ancient door. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could go to dinner, and the sooner he could get back to a warm place to rest.

The door creaked open by itself and inside McGonagall was sat behind her desk with a stack of parchments perched in front of her. She was scratching away at the latest one with her quill and Potter seemed to flinch with each harsh movement. Clearly someone had not studied diligently enough before submitting their assignment to her.

Gaara was becoming suspicious of Potter's reactions. McGonagall had a reputation amongst the Slytherins for being strict but undeniably fond of her House, and Potter had previously appeared to like his Head of House (a foreign concept to Gaara). So, why was he so skittish?

It took a moment for Gaara to remember that Potter might have been on edge because of tomorrow's events. How strange...

For someone who had apparently been involved in numerous life-threatening situations (by civilian standards) in his earlier years, Potter seemed to be remarkably sensitive to danger. Were all civilians similarly encumbered? Gaara had been under the impression that Draco was peculiar in his sensitivities.

"Take a seat, please. I will be with you in a moment." McGonagall said, looking each of them in the eye over her glasses before returning to the piece of work. Both teens did as instructed and watched as she scratched a few more remarks into the parchment and then set it on top of the completed pile of marking.

"Now, I wanted to talk to the pair of you tonight before you compete tomorrow."

Gaara rose to his feet and stood in front of the desk again. He had never enjoyed the idea of sitting when he was being addressed by adults. Beyond demeaning, it also left him open to attack. Professor McGonagall was unlikely to attack him, but he still didn't like the feeling. Potter followed Gaara's lead so that they could both be addressed on their feet.

McGonagall's face spoke of disapproval as they stood in front of her. Quite the opposite to Gaara's feelings, Minerva didn't like students standing with her like they were equals. It was impertinent.

She cleared her throat. "As you are to face the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament tomorrow, each of the schools will be giving one final talk to each of the Champions, reiterating the rules you are to follow. Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me to fill in for him this evening, as he has other matters to attend to."

McGonagall started by reciting the rules, as if neither of the boys were perfectly familiar with the rules already. It took a little while and she was amused to see Potter shifting on his feet, regretting having given up his seat. Gaara was standing so still and blinking so little that Minerva would have suspected he'd somehow substituted himself for a statue if she didn't know that was well beyond Gaara's magical abilities.

"Do you both understand?" She added at the end of a particularly long section of the rules. They both nodded. No statues here, then.

It might have been beyond Gaara's magical abilities, but she had seen him perform a number of impressive feats that were beyond his abilities, and he was closely tied to Sirius Black, so she couldn't assume any mischief was beyond him now.

When she came to the end of the rules, much of which she needed to read directly out of the rulebook, McGonagall softened a little. "I would like to add, as this will be the last time I see you before you compete tomorrow, that you mustn't forget you are fellow Hogwarts students. Even if you cannot work together, I trust that neither of you will forget that fact."

Gaara wondered, if the professor trusted him to remember this fact, why she needed to reiterate it.

"We'll be okay, professor." Harry comforted her.

McGonagall straightened a little at the latest impertinence. "Yes, well, you'd do well to achieve that much, Mr Potter. Do not become overconfident."

Harry did not think he was in any danger of becoming overconfident.

"There is a saying that's sadly fallen out of fashion in recent generations: 'Sometimes Godric felt fear and Salazar felt anger'." When neither boy looked amazed, she wondered if it might have lost something in the translation from Latin.

"I'm not afraid, professor." Harry lied.

She sighed. She would have pulled both of them out of the barbaric contest even if it meant her job without hesitation, but there really was nothing she could do. The magical contract bound to the Goblet was inescapable (she knew, she'd looked into it thoroughly).

Gaara considered whether he could leave now that McGonagall had read them the rules. He was relatively certain that any subsequent conversation was voluntary.

Harry saw Gaara shift in the corner of his eye and when he turned, he was hardly surprised to see Gaara had turned and started walking away without any parting words. Once upon a time, he would have been shocked or even angry at the casual disrespect Gaara showed him and his Head of House, but now it was just one of Gaara's eccentricities.

"You may leave, Gaara." McGonagall said sternly to Gaara's back, not quite as accustomed to Gaara's casual disrespect. Gaara didn't acknowledge her superfluous permission and exited quietly.

McGonagall was just about to remark about the boy's strangeness under her breath when she remembered another impressionable student was still in earshot.

"While I have you here, Potter, I wanted to talk to you about the homework you handed in yesterday." She said, moving back around her desk and searching through the stack of parchment.

"Now, professor?"

"Now, Potter. Take a seat. We'll be done in time for dinner, I can assure you."

What followed was a tense hour that certainly managed to keep Harry's mind off of his impending doom. He didn't notice this, of course, until Hermione pointed it out to him later on. It was very much like McGonagall to use a lecture (read: remonstration) on proper penmanship and research to give him some time not buried in despair.

Gaara went to dinner that evening but left partway through. People insisted on trying to talk to him and he did not have the patience for it right now. He didn't go to bed that night either. Shukaku was being very loud at the moment, probably sensing the tension or the impending… well, not a battle but it presented the potential for fighting.

The beast had been gaining energy again lately after he'd been so docile from the altered seal.

Gaara knew he wouldn't be getting to sleep that night and he didn't want to disturb Draco so he decided to wander around the castle. It was too cold outside to go for a walk in the forest without a good reason and Gaara was wary of culling the spider population too much now that there weren't dementors to supplement his leisure activities.

Draco was not getting much rest that night either. He had been hoping that Gaara would reappear at some point, even as the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning. He'd asked a hundred times but he really needed to know if Gaara had some sort of plan. Or was he going to be sitting in a premium seat to watch his best friend killed by a dragon?

Gaara was capable but dragons were not something a teenager could face without some sort of plan in place.

The clamour outside of his door ensured Draco didn't oversleep after he managed to catch 90 minutes of shut-eye before the normal wake up time for the students expecting breakfast.

Spirits were predictably high (outside of his room), so Draco could only groan as cheering and heavy feet stormed past his door. When some of the noise settled right outside, Draco stumbled to his feet, struggling not to let the momentum carry him right into the desk. He glanced in the mirror and tried to fix his uniform (which he'd fallen asleep in) and put his hair in something resembling a presentable fashion. He looked like a mess but it would have to do since someone had the audacity to start knocking on the door before seven in the morning.

Outside stood a mixture of no-names who could have been from other Houses for all the importance they held in Draco's mind.

"Morning, Malfoy." One of them said. And after a beat, they followed it with, "So… where is he?"

Draco rubbed his aching eyelids with his thumb and forefinger. He might as well have sorted into Gryffindor or (Merlin forbid) Hufflepuff, for all the refinement he was witnessing here and now.

Draco tried to formulate something suitably scathing and witty but his mind was a bit fuzzy with the lack of sleep so he settled for an equally witty slamming the door in their faces.

Breakfast that morning was similarly energetic, with the focus of the hundreds of students on the Champions, except for Gaara who was conspicuously absent. After he did manage to say some scathing and (in one instance cruel) things to people who persisted in asking where Gaara was, his fellow Slytherins did leave him in relative peace.

One of the remainder who still came to ask him was a first year that Draco suspected had been dared. That, of course, did not mean Draco spared him from copious threats and insults. In his mind, the stress and sleep deprivation excused him from any guilt in making the eleven year old cry. Karmically, he believed he was still in the green considering this was actually the only first year he'd left in tears in months. Progress.

As always, the cause of Draco's stress was Gaara and the weight in his gut was beginning to make him angry. He never cared about his old friends like he did about Gaara. Was the warmth of real friendship worth all of this?

Urgh! He'd decide that later if Gaara even survived. If not, he supposed the problem would resolve itself.

"Where is Gaara this morning?" By the deep voice, Draco assumed it was a seventh year.

Draco said, as he swivelled in his seat, "Does it look like he's here… sir?" He barely managed the last part as he found Professor Snape looming over him.

"No. No it doesn't." Snape said.

Draco could only hope his obvious surprise might excuse the unthinkable rudeness in his initial address to his Head of House.

"He, um, left before I got up this morning, Sir." Draco said. "I think he's just clearing his head. Sir."

Snape continued his glare but didn't take any action against him so Draco believed he had been forgiven (or as close as Snape was capable). "Then he shouldn't be away for long." Snape said slowly before walking away.

Draco looked back at the food that he'd piled on his plate in a rather optimistic fit of pique and slid it away. The smell of the scrambled eggs was making him feel a little ill now.

Now, after people had learned not to ask him where Gaara was that morning, some of Draco's closer compatriots were finding tactful ways of informing him how pale he looked.

Harry was receiving similar comments in between being forced to eat porridge. Ron, who was in one of his friendlier moods today, was nearly at the stage of spoon-feeding it to him to get him to consume something before the Task. Instead, Harry managed to get away with eating the bare minimum until there was a loud bang that might have loosened a stone or two in the unseen ceiling of the Great Hall. The sounds immediately halted the raucous conversational noises around the Hall.

Dumbledore was stood at the head of the Hall with his wand still raised and lightly smoking from the simulated cannon fire.

"Good morning everyone!" He spoke so loudly for a man of his age that Harry was convinced he was using a sonorous charm on himself every time he addressed the Great Hall. "Would all of the Champions please proceed to the back of the Hall and follow Mr Bagman to the First Task. For everyone else, those of you who have tickets to watch the Task will be taken there in twenty minutes. Those of you who do not not may listen to the radio broadcast here in the Hall or in any of your Houses. And a word of warning, anyone in possession of a ticket not originally assigned to them will be refused entrance to the Task. And your professors will not pursue a refund for you."

Harry stopped listening to the announcement at that point. Eyes were all on him even as the venerated wizard continued to speak about how the spectator would be organised. Harry noticed the only others standing, other than the Headmaster, were Krum and Delacour, who were all walking at the same pace towards the exit. Harry could see Bagman standing just outside the main entrance of the Hall with an inconsiderately cheerful look on his face. At least his fellow Champions looked appropriately sombre when they neared and the three of them exited as one.

Stood outside the Hall, a little away from Bagman, was Gaara. Harry suspected that he was standing out of sight to avoid Malfoy. He'd heard some of what his one-time nemesis had been saying that morning and it seemed like Gaara's concealed position was either the cause of or a reaction to the blond's mood.

"That's all of us, then, is it?" He looked around as if it was difficult to keep track of four people. Harry had come to resent the overly joyous man for his failure to grasp the hideous nature of this Tournament. When no one chimed in, Ludo smiled even broader and said, "Alright, follow me. Not a moment to lose."

He marched through the castle and out the back to the courtyard. They all followed in a loose grouping across the footbridge and towards the forest. Once in the woods, Harry thought about speeding up to walk alongside someone, but his opportunities for conversation were severely limited. Krum and Delacour seemed to treat him like an unwanted child (a feeling Harry was overly familiar with after his years with the Dursleys) and they tended to take the contest part of the Tournament incredibly seriously, so they wouldn't want to chat with him before competing. Harry wouldn't even entertain the idea of walking alongside Ludo Bagman. He'd definitely get a conversation but some things were just not worth it.

And then there was Gaara. With as often as they were thrust together by chance or design, it was sometimes easy to forget how much he disliked the mysterious Slytherin transfer student.

They walked onward for a while, in the same direction that Harry remembered the dragons were being kept. It made sense, he supposed, not moving the humongous angry lizards more than you absolutely had to. It was a quiet walk, and in that time, Harry envisioned his planned actions for the Task. His finger even started practicing the various waves, flicks, swishes and jabs involves in the spell he'd planned. He'd dropped to the back of the group so that no one would notice what he was doing. They all seemed so calm.

The forest was so thick that Harry saw nothing of the enormous stadium until they had reached the Champions' entrance. Stepping out of the trees and into the clearing that must have been made specially to fit the truly gigantic stadium, Harry had to crane his neck upwards to see the top of it. There must have been some sort of warding on it to prevent it being seen from the castle because, even a couple of miles away, it would have stuck out like a sore thumb.

Bagman didn't stop to admire it, instead he continued to lead them to a tent that had been erected at the base of the stadium and presumably led directly into the arena. It was only as they were nearly upon the tent that Harry finally realised what had bugged him about this stadium. It didn't just look like the one from the Quidditch World Cup, it was that stadium.

Through some magical means, the Ministry had transported the entire Quidditch stadium to the Dark Forest outside of Hogwarts. The penny-pincher in him admired the Ministry for not wasting thousands of Galleons on a second stadium, but another part of him resented the economy being applied to what might well become his final resting place. Unless someone had thought to conjure a hoover for his ashes.

Inside the tent were benches and not much else. Some fabric had been rigged up for a privacy curtain to give the single female Champion a decent amount of privacy when she changed, but otherwise all they would be left with was their thoughts.

Bagman walked over to a small crate and pulled out of it four paper-wrapped packages with small notes attached. He studied the note of the top packages in his arms and strode over to Fleur with a smile. "Here're your uniforms for the Task." He gave the next one to Gaara, who took it rather reluctantly. "I'll leave you to change and be back in a few minutes. You will have to pass through an arch enchanted to detect any spells or magical items you've got on your persons. After you've passed through, you will be given your wands back and you will be ready to start your Task."

When all of them had their packages, Bagman stepped outside and Fleur walked swiftly behind the privacy curtain.

Gaara stared at his parcel and confirmed that the others were opening theirs now. He turned it over and undid the string, dropping it onto the ground as he started to carefully open the paper. Inside he found his uniform, patterned in red and green, which would make Potter and he look like Christmas ornaments. Krum's uniform, which he was quickly climbing into, was gold and red, and Delacour's, when she emerged, would be silver and blue.

Gaara changed quickly so he got to see Potter nearly fall over in his desperation to zip himself up when Fleur emerged from behind the curtain and he was the only one not already fully dressed. When they were all dressed and looking like circus performers in their colourful uniforms, Krum, who was already stretching his muscles and trying to get used to the tight-fitting clothes, went to bring Ludo Bagman back into the tent.

Upon entering he said, "Wonderful. Absolutely marvellous."

Gaara thought the only use that these uniforms would serve would be so that the spectators unfortunate enough to be sitting at the top of the gigantic stadium might be able to spot the Champions from such a distance. At least the Chunin exams let him wear his own clothes. Still, he supposed these would be easy enough to move in.

"Now, it's time for the last preparation." Bagman said as he wandered back over to the entrance flap of the tent where he was handed a small velvet sack by someone outside. "You will each reach inside of this bag and select the dragon you will face. You'll then go through the enchanted arch and face the dragons one-by-one. The purpose of the Task will be to steal a golden egg from the dragon's nest and hold on to it for at least ten second. After all that, our illustrious panel of judges will score you on your performance."

Harry's hand went up before he realised how silly it was to raise his hand in a tent with five people standing in it.

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

"How will we be scored?"

"Pardon?"

"How will the judges be scoring us? What are they looking for?" Up until this point, Harry has assumed that they would be scored based on how quickly they stole the egg.

"Oh, well, it's about how you perform when you face your dragon." Bagman seemed to trail off ever-so-slightly, telling everyone loud and clear that he hadn't thought to check. "Oh, and you must remember that harming your dragon will reduce your scores, maybe even cause you to be disqualified."

'Great, so not only do I not know how to get a good score, if one of my ribs hurts the poor dragon's throat when its swallow me, I could be disqualified and get a score of zero.' Harry was wondering exactly what the unlucky star under which he was born might have looked like. Bright and red, he figured.

"And you need not worry about the judges' objectivity. To ensure that they perform their duties without… succumbing to bias, they have each entered into a Wizarding Oath, promising to be fair."

"I'm sorry to interrupt but, who are these judges?" Fleur said without raising her hand.

"Yes, I was just coming to that." Clearly he wasn't, but none of them had mistaken Ludo Bagman for a capable organiser so they didn't think twice about the lie. "The judging panel for each of the Tasks will consist of Minister Fudge and the three headmasters."

What Bagman had failed to consider was that the unbreakable oath had simply stipulated that the judges must be fair in their scoring, but it gave no specifics on how they should base their fairness. One Headmaster might consider it only fair to award his Champion extra points for all of the professional Quidditch he was missing that year, and another might decide that her prize student deserved an extra point or two to fairly balance out the advantage of Hogwarts having two Champions.

Gaara's mind had started to wander during the talking. He'd never been good in the build up to battle, which might be comparable to this Task. Kankuro had always gotten chatty, and Temari would do something compulsive like filing her already filed nails or polishing her battle fan. Gaara had always just wanted to start the battle early and get straight to the killing. He didn't think that would work here.

Gaara looked to the other side of the tent, from where they would be entering the stadium, but the door past the tent flap was still shut.

Definitely wouldn't work here. Plus, he still had to pick his dragon.

The other Champions looked nervous to Gaara, even Krum and Delacour, who had seemed so mature and confident before.

"Let's not delay any further. We can't be running late so early in the event. Miss Delacour, please go first." Bagman held out the bag to her.

Her hand went in and after a little jerk back and a hesitation, it retracted with a stocky little animate orange dragon the size of a gerbil between her slim fingers. It roared with the intensity of a dog's squeaky toy.

"Oh yes, very good. A Chinese Fireball. And now Mr Krum."

Viktor Krum reached into the bag as well but didn't hesitate, snatching one of the wriggling mini-dragons out of the bag without the care that Delacour had shown. In his heavy fist was another tiny, moving dragon. The green thing seemed to be trying to gnaw on the athlete's calloused thumb unsuccessfully.

"A Welsh Green for Mr Krum. Good, good. Mr Gaara, if you would be so kind." He held out the bag to Gaara.

He didn't like to stick his hand somewhere he couldn't see like this, especially without his sand armour to protect his fingers, but he doubted he would be allowed to abstain from this part of the Tournament any more than the active parts to come later.

The bag was smooth to the touch and then something hard and prickly, moving under his fingers. He tried to grab a hold of it but it slipped out of his grasp and something tried to bite him, though it only really felt like an aggressively pecking bird. He rummaged around and managed to catch the thicker body of one of them.

He pulled out a snarling black dragon and examined it closely. It seemed to resent being manhandled like this, which was fair.

"Oh, you got the Hebridean Black." Bagman said. "It was a bit of a late addition. We were going to have a Hungarian Horn-tail but it didn't take kindly to being transported and they had to leave it at the reserve in Romania. Luckily, Headmaster Dumbledore knows someone who looks after dragons just off the coast."

Gaara re-examined the dragon trying to escape his hand and it looked plenty aggressive even without a horned tail. Perhaps it and the others hadn't appreciated being stuffed inside of a bag.

There were legends of dragons in his home world; another similarity with this one, but here dragons definitely existed. It made him wonder whether there really were dragons in his world that had yet to be found.

Something to look into one day.

"Mr Potter, you're up next." Potter reached in for the last mini-dragon and pulled out a rather elegant-looking blue creature. "Oh, the Swedish Short-Snout. You'll have to watch out for that one."

Gaara doubted any of the Champions would be able to rest on their laurels when their turns came.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Draco sat down in the scarcely padded seat as elegantly as he could and tried his level best to pretend he was sat alone in the premium box seat. Unlike during the Quidditch World Cup, where the best view was halfway to the top where most of the flying took place, the best seats had been moved to just above a protective wall that ran around the circumference of the arena. Gone was the grass and the hoops needed for Quidditch, instead there were dozens and dozens of rocky outcroppings and trenches metres deep. Draco wouldn't want to try traversing the arena even without the dragon.

At one end were huge gates, even bigger than the front gates of Hogwarts; presumably just large enough to fit a dragon through them. And at the other end, Draco saw a much smaller gate, just big enough for a teenager to walk through.

The noise was horrendous as his fellow students, entirely lacking his goods manners, insisted on walking and falling into their seats as loudly as possible while talking, shouting and even screaming in their excitement. At least the students were in the top levels, the worst seats in the house. The rest of the considerable number of better seats were taken by paying spectators.

Draco's first cousin once removed offered him another sugary snack and he turned it down. Sirius Black had been very familiar since he arrived and Draco suspected it was for the same reason that Draco couldn't afford to allow even the barest appearance of reciprocated familiarity. Directly across from the friends and family box sat the judging box, where the Minister sat with the other judges. To the side of that box was filled with a number of Ministry notables. And three rows above those two boxes sat Draco's father and mother, apparently having been banished to a privately bought box with a slightly worse view.

Draco could see his father's anger across the vast arena and he knew his father had seen him arrive too, in a better seat, no less. He would receive no end of grief if father saw him fraternising with Sirius Black as well. And, to a much lesser extent, his mother would not be pleased if he over-indulged in sweets.

His father had not taken kindly to Draco opting to sit as Gaara's friend rather than with his family. He took it to have some greater significance. Luckily Draco's mother was on hand to express the importance of Draco being seen in the most prominent position available. Never too early to start planning his career. Which, needless to say, was to be in politics.

Of course, Narcissa had other motives in mind; seeing as she had never expressed interest in sports, she hadn't been considered for an invitation to go to the Tournament when Lucius was buying the tickets. However, after Draco chose to sit elsewhere, naturally she was given asked. She detested the idea of the Tournament but it was all that anybody would be talking about for months so it was only right that she attend.

Draco wanted to tell off his cousin when he had the audacity to wave up to Draco's parents, but he didn't think they would appreciate it or that Sirius would listen. He would just have to hope that when the event got under way, he would be too distracted to further antagonise them.

Sirius also waved to some others he recognised in the crowd. Remus was sat not too far away from the Malfoys, which made Sirius smile a little. It had been an expensive ticket, but it would make a nice present to celebrate a random Thursday. He'd taken to assigning gifts to random days so that Remus couldn't pretend he would pay him back and feel guilty when he obviously couldn't or insist gifts ad to fall on a birthday or Christmas.

Sirius tried again to offer Draco something sugary that he probably hadn't been allowed to eat at home and then set it down between them. He'd need to be careful he didn't tease Cissy too much or else she might get really offended and blow up his home. Bellatrix was not the only insane one from that side of the family, he had long known.

On Sirius's other side were Harry's friends. Ronald looked grumpy, which Sirius understood to be the result of stress and not the long-running feud between them that seemed to come and go. The boy was also steadfastly ignoring Draco, which was definitely for the best.

Luna showed up late and carrying a book, true to form. She sat down next to Draco, at the end of the aisle. Draco was glad when she immediately thrust her nose in her book without initiating any conversation.

Eventually Granger showed up after most of the rest of the stadium had already been seated. Draco wondered at that. She was typically quite punctual. He wasn't listening in to their conversation (certainly not!) but he overheard Granger saying something about talking to Potter through a tent where he was waiting. She said he was jittery but ready.

So, the exact opposite of Gaara…

Part of Draco regretted not thinking of going to the Champions tent himself, though whether that would have been to converse with the redhead or to shout at him was a mystery even to him.

Hermione leaned forward to look past Ron to the rest of the seats in the box and greeted Sirius with surprising cheer. She said hello to Luna and the blonde girl seemed surprised to be acknowledged, happily returning the greeting.

Granger even went so far as to send out a quiet "Morning, Malfoy." Draco didn't bother to respond, partly because he didn't like her and partly because father's eyes were still on him and conversing with a mudblood would be the final nail in his exquisitely-crafted coffin.

Draco looked around the box to see who else was nearby but he didn't recognise anybody. Fleur Delacour's mother and father where there, along with what Draco believed to be her sister and three more friends. A respectable turnout. The seats that had presumably been allotted to Viktor Krum were notably vacant. Then again, it somehow seemed appropriate for someone like him.

"You're worried too." Draco thought he'd imagined the words until, looking to his left, he saw Luna's eye dart up to him before returning to her book.

Draco continued to survey the arena, trying to imagine what route one would take to get to the other side. "Of course not." His response to her was rude but the cheering, which had increased, was annoying him to no end.

His mood didn't improve, it turned out, when the cheering died down so that Fudge could finally deliver a speech uninterrupted. It was painful to listen to how smug the Minister for Magic was now that he could finally claim the spotlight.

Draco couldn't bring himself to listen to the specifics of his overlong speech, greeting everyone, lauding the spectacle of the reused stadium and the impending Task, commending the bravery of the Champions and so on.

"Merlin, this is as bad as the old Flavian Amphitheatre." Sirius scowled. "And here we've got our very own third-rate Emperor Titus to officiate."

It was remarkable, Draco thought, how easy it was to forget that Sirius was heir to the Black dynasty and had been classically educated even more thoroughly than Draco had been before Hogwarts.

The only useful information in ten minutes of Fudge speaking was that the aim of the Task was to steal a golden egg from the dragons, and that the Champions would be competing in alphabetical order. Luna seemed interested when the dragons that each Champion would be facing were announced, judging by her finally closing her book and paying full attention.

She tried to rattle off details about each dragon but Draco stopped her in her tracks, telling her he would never care. She seemed to accept this in good humour.

After Fudge was finally done with his speech, Ludo Bagman took over to begin his anouncing for the actual Task. He was well suited to the job.

"And our first Champion to tackle the First Task of this Triwizard Tournament is Fleur Delcaour! A talented witch from Beauxbatons that promises to get the challenge off to an exciting start." Bagman introduced the first Champion as the gate at the end of the arena opened.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Delacour seemed to be shaking slightly as Crouch led her out through the enchanted arch and towards the arena door. The unpleasant man had shown up not long after Bagman left, presumably to keep an eye on all of them, just in time to scare off Granger who had come to talk to Potter.

None of the other Champions, Gaara included, had begrudged the last minute discussion. Especially since two of the three, after reading the British newspaper, were convinced that the Gryffindors were dating in secret. Gaara was pretty sure they weren't, but then he simply couldn't understand why one would hide such a relationship.

After Granger had been driven off by Crouch, Potter had settled on a stool and proceeded to look a little stunned. Seeing him this way, Gaara was conscious of the fact that Potter was essentially a normal(-ish) civilian teenager about to face a dragon. This was how people his age were supposed to act in the face of imminent peril.

Krum, on the other hand, seemed to handle the pressure better. His knuckles had turned white, his fists were so tightly clenched, but otherwise he seemed okay.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

At the end of the arena, the significantly larger gate rattled open and in floated a cage big enough to fit a sleeping dragon, which it did. Five or six armoured wizards walked under the cage and were levitating the sleeping, caged Chinese dragon above their heads.

Draco had seen his namesake before when he'd visited reserves on holiday with his mother and father some years ago. Seeing one here now was just as unsettling.

The group of dragon handlers set the vast cage down on a flat area of the stone arena and with a shake of their wands, the cage began to melt away like wax in front of a… well, a dragon. The cage flowed down onto the arena floor and began to form into more rocks and boulders, becoming indistinguishable from the scenery and leaving the dragon almost totally unbound. The only thing between the dragon and flying out of the stadium to freedom was a surprisingly flimsy-looking chain around its neck.

Before the spectators had been led to the stadium, they had been assured that the magical structure had not only been modified to cover the unused bottom rows of boxes and reinforced against fire, but the entire stadium had wards set up to prevent any harm from coming to the watchers.

Though, Draco noted, it would do nothing at all to protect the participants as they tried to steal a dragon's egg.

Speaking of which, one of the handlers was (very gingerly) tiptoeing and climbing into the sleeping dragon's nest. Draco imagined that man was bitterly regretting his life choices or his poor luck as he stepped over the red dragon's tail towards the clutch of eggs, each as big as a man's torso. After one more cautious glance at the snoozing head as large as a carriage, he pulled a bag off of his back and pulled out a golden egg. He then picked up one of the real, white eggs and slipped it into his bag.

Draco hadn't noticed until that point that the stadium had gone eerily quiet. No one dared move. The beast was surely spelled asleep and wouldn't wake up no matter the noise made. But no one was willing to test that belief with a wizard only five feet away from the dragon's mouth.

The dragon wrangler climbed back away to safety and towards the gates at the back of the arena. They closed as he exited and only then did Ludo Bagman, who had joined the judges in a prime seat, started to announce. After his brief introduction, he brightly said, "Don't worry, ladies and gentlemen, the egg will be returned to her after the Task, safe and sound."

As the back gate was just about closed, a wand poked through the gap and shot a bright spell straight at the dragon. It landed and, with a full-body jerk, the dragon shot up, being revived in a foul mood. It took one glance around the stadium that surrounded it on all sides. It breathed deep and, with a great bellow, it shot a ball of fire straight into the stands.

The guests in that general direction screamed, as did many others that watched, but before the fireball could incinerate the spectators, it impacted on the invisible warding that had been set up to protect them. Draco imagined, as spectacular as the sight of the fireball exploding had looked to him from the other side of the stadium, it must have been completely dazzling to witness it up close.

Needless to say, Draco wouldn't be sticking his hand out of the box during the Task. He couldn't tell how far out the protections went and only a crazy person would allow any part of themselves to be within a mile of an uncaged dragon without some kind of magical protection.

And then Fleur Delacour stepped through the human-sized gate at the opposite end to the raging dragon and the Task had officially begun.

Even in his prime seat, Draco thought Fleur Delacour looked rather small from this distance. Stunning but also very far away. How anyone in the highest rows might see anything without visual aids was a mystery. Nonetheless, the reverence following the dragon's initial outburst ceased and the crowd's roaring soon overtook the dragon's.

Draco, meanwhile, was transfixed. He knew that knights and wizards used to fight dragons from time to time, centuries ago, but seeing a lone witch standing across the barren land from a fully grown dragon seemed utterly futile.

The dragon soon spotted the only other living being in the arena and didn't take a liking to her. The Chinese Fireball was a fierce breed dragon, but any reputable handler would warn you that the greatest danger it presented was ranged attacks. Unlike the average dragon that could only incinerate twenty or thirty metres, a Chinese Fireball could send of its namesake blast over several fields.

Spitting a fireball across the arena was easy and almost too fast to process for the spectators that watched it hurtle towards the young witch carrying only her wand. Capable as she was, even Fleur could not counter the attack that was coming straight towards her at the speed of a cannonball without preparation.

Fleur threw herself to the ground and barely managed to avoid immolation. The spectators collectively gasped at the near miss. Several more fireballs followed and Fleur had to roll into a crevice to escape being singed as they passed by and broke against the reinforced perimeter wall of the arena.

"She looked her in the eye." Luna said, having stashed her book and started watching properly.

"What?" Draco barely spared her a glance, wanting to capture every second of the action in front of him.

"Never make eye contact with a brooding dragon. She'll attack."

"I think it was probably going to attack anyway when she tried to steal an egg."

"Oh, I suppose you're right."

In the arena, Fleur had managed to position herself backed against a rocky outcropping where the dragon's flames couldn't reach her. Her wand was raised and she was waiting for the opportunity to start towards her goal in between balls of fire that would char her to the bone if they landed. Not the most auspicious of starts but Fleur was confident the judges would forgive her initial lapse when they saw what she had planned.

When the latest volley ended, Fleur didn't wait more than a second after the last of the flames had burst against her hiding rock before she jumped out and swiftly circled around it to start her run at the angry dragon.

It would later be remarked by a great many that were watching (and a fair few who hadn't actually been watching) that the sight of Fleur Delacour running straight towards a thrashing dragon was nothing short of a enrapturing.

The dragon didn't suffer from that same amazement and as soon as it had regained its breath, it reared back and started shooting off fireballs again, one after another. However, unlike before, Fleur was well prepared this time and her wand was brought level to her eyes, pointed directly forwards, steady even as she leapt over crevices and rocks. When the first ball of fire was only a few feet in front of her, Fleur not breaking pace, her wand burst into light even brighter than the fire, and she was able to run right through the fireball without a singed hair.

She continued running, having to climb over several boulders, and all throughout she seemed to never break her pace. It made Draco feel sore just watching her athleticism.

Fleur, on the other hand, didn't look like she was feeling anything but triumph as she neared the dragon, having either run straight through or deflected every blast of fire that had been sent her way. She certainly didn't look like someone suffering from fear or doubt.

Draco watched as she came upon the dragon several orders of magnitude larger than her and he marvelled as she stayed just far enough away to avoid its claws, each of which were the size of her forearm. The dragon tried to reach her with its claws and even its tail, which she had to duck behind the closest rocky outcropping to avoid, and then tried to burn her even after all previous attempts had failed.

Fleur maintained the distance and started to chant a long and elaborate spell that Draco couldn't hear clearly enough to discern. She started to dodge the fireballs rather than protecting herself magically as she chanted. After a few near misses, Fleur finally stopped in her tracks and shot bright purple sparks right into the dragon's open and smoking maw.

The dragon seems quite surprised and its mouth snapped shut after the spell hit the back of its throat. It paused for a moment and then started to look a little woozy, its head lulling a bit. The fierce sneeze that erupted from the dragon, which seemed to snap it out of its stupor, was apparently not what Delacour had been hoping to see as she immediately went back on the defensive and started chanting again.

"Oh dear! What a shame. Fleur Delacour was using the Robistark Sleeping spell, a high-level enchantment capable of putting a hundred muggles to sleep in an instant. Unlucky for her, she's not facing muggles." Bagman's void rang out.

Draco had tried to tune out the commentator as much as he could but that was a genuinely interesting fact. "Have you heard of it?" He asked without looking away from what Delacour was doing now.

"Yes. It theoretically could work on a dragon when cast on an area not protected by its scales, like inside of its mouth. I'm not sure why it didn't work…"

The dragon seemed more upset after the attempt to put it to sleep and was taking it out on the little witch bothering it, shooting off volleys of fireballs in even quicker succession and trying all the harder to reach her with its talons.

Fleur stumbled once or twice, clearly starting to struggle with the continuous extreme exertion of keeping up with a dragon. If she had been wearing robes, Draco was convinced that she would have caught fire already. Fleur again came to the end of her chant and blasted off her spell into the dragon's gaping mouth, this time just as it had been about to send out a fireball.

The dragon coughed out a few bursts of fire but didn't seem focussed on summoning another full fireball. It shook its head and blinked sleepily. Bagman's ongoing commentary was building the tension amongst the hundreds of spectators and everyone listening around the world.

The dragon finally looked back down to Fleur.

"It doesn't look like it's worked this time either. The dragon has focussed its sights back on Miss Delacour and it is looking even angrier. Let's hope she has another trick up her sleeve. The dragon is now rearing back, it looks like it might be another fireball, and Miss Delacour is readying her wand again. We might be in for more of her wonderful spellwork yet. And now- oh, no, look what we have here! The Chinese Fireball is shaking its head. It isn't paying any attention to Miss Delacour anymore. It looks sleepy! It's dipping to its side, and now to the other. It's trying to steady itself now, it can't stand up straight!

"It's trying swipe at Miss Delacour now but it can't see straight, its missing her entirely. And now it's on the ground, its eyelids are struggling to stay open. It's opened its mouth, its aiming at Miss Delacour. I think we might see one more fireball… but… no, it's closing its mouth again. I think it might be over. The dragon is down for the count!"

Draco joined everyone else watching in feeling impressed that a teenager had managed to cast a sleeping charm on a dragon and get it to stick. Most adult witches and wizards couldn't claim to be able to do that alone, much less being able to boast that they actually had done it.

Then again, it was surely a lot to go through to claim bragging rights.

It almost seemed like a formality, once the dragon had been rendered unconscious, for Fleur to climb over its comatose body to collect the golden egg. Once she had taken possession of it and climbed back away to relative safety, beyond the dragon's immediate reach (if it had been conscious to make use of that reach), a deafening claxon sounded and the Task was officially over for Fleur.

People cheered and Fleur continued walking away from the dragon, struggling to carry the substantial weight of the egg now that the adrenalin had worn off. The large back gate opened again to admit the dragon wranglers, carefully approaching the slumbering dragon with their wands already raised in case it was not as subdued as it appeared.

The wrangler with the bag carefully climbed into the nest again, this time moving even slower while he was carefully guarded by his comrades. After the real egg replaced the stolen fake, the wranglers reformed the cage around the dragon and began levitating the enormous construct back out of the stadium just as the dragon was beginning to awaken and make grouchy noises.

Draco watched it go, his heart still pounding from the close calls a virtual stranger had experienced, and didn't know how he was going to withstand watching his closest friend (and two others) undergo similar dangers. Sirius might have looked like he was enjoying himself as much as the braying crowds all around them as he joined in on the cheering, but Draco could see how pale he was, how his plush armrest was already starting to fray from the grip he'd exerted on it.

All through the dragon removal, and while several more witches and wizards entered the through the back gate to help Fleur on her way out, the judges had been writing or reviewing their notes. When the arena was empty, Bagman started his announcements again.

"The time has come to see what our esteemed panel thought of Miss Delacour's performance just now. I certainly couldn't fault her bravery, but let's see what the experts think." He paused as Dumbledore slowly climbed to his feet. Draco thought it was just as well that Bagman was announcing everything as most of the stadium's spectators, who weren't sitting directly across from the judges' box, wouldn't be able to see a thing.

Dumbledore looked around and then bent down to pick up his parchment. On it, a beautifully calligraphied number was written, but even Draco couldn't read it from where he was sitting.

"A nine from Headmaster Dumbledore!" Bagman helpfully announced, eliciting further howls and hollers of support. Fudge got to his feet more swiftly and held up his parchment without any of the suspense that Dumbledore had generated, perhaps knowing how pointless holding up the number was. "And an eight from Minister Fudge!"

Even the spectators at the top of the stadium might have seen Madame Maxine stand, nearly bumping her head on the top of the judges' box. "A ten from Miss Delacour's own Headmistress Maxine!"

"No bias happening there, then." Draco mumbled.

"And finally a… rather critical five from Durmstrang's Headmaster Karakoff!" A few boos rang out at the clearly unfair score but Draco couldn't imagine anyone was particularly surprised that the crooked man would cheat like this. Even Draco's father had nothing but bad things to say about the man.

Still, despite the harsh final score, thirty-two out of forty was a very respectable result.

Bagman collected the parchments from the judges and addressed the crowds once more. "The judges' comments almost all seem to agree that after a bit of a shaky start, directly spelling a dragon and managing to put it to sleep after it was so riled up demonstrates a remarkable aptitude for charms."

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara dearly wished he had thought to bring his earmuffs from Herbology with him. The cheering coming from the stadium beyond the tightly locked gate was deafening and it was making his bad mood worse. He'd considered whether to ask someone else in the tent to transfigure some ear protection for him but ultimately decided against it. The other two were supposed to be his competition, after all; he couldn't go about asking them for favours.

The others also didn't seem like they would appreciate the distraction either; they had been attentively listening to the announcements filtering through the stadium walls.

Gaara supposed it didn't matter about the ear muffs now. He was up next and he couldn't take anything with him except his Champion's uniform and his mangled wand. He looked down to the black wand in his hand and ran his thumb over its even further diminished state. Maybe Draco had been right and it wasn't a good idea…

A few minutes after the scores had been announced, there was another claxon, drawing people back into their seats and causing Crouch to push off of the wall he had been leaning against since Fleur disappear into the arena. He approached and Gaara nodded, ready to leave.

It came as something of a surprise when Potter jumped up to his feet when he noticed Gaara was leaving. He sped over to Gaara's side and the redhead honestly had no clue what had motivated the approach. Some last minute taunt? Gaara believed that was more Draco's style. A silent nod of respect? Gaara would appreciate the silent part.

"Good luck." Potter said, looking as bashful as Gaara assumed was appropriate when wishing your sometimes-enemy luck before they risked their life.

Surprised or not, Gaara assumed he should say something back to the boy he disliked. "Be careful." Were the only words that came to mind. They were probably appropriate, or at least they were the least likely to start an argument.

After a moment of Potter's face not turning into a snarl, Gaara was sure he had picked the right words. He should start a notebook of correct things to say in different situations. Temari had suggested it once but he'd not managed to say anything without upsetting anyone for days afterwards so he didn't think he would be capable of writing such a book. And then, later, he never had a pen handy.

Harry watched Gaara go with a frown. That had been unusually nice of the redhead. Maybe he was as worried as Harry and just better at hiding it.

Harry's concern was now not just based on his own upcoming Task but because he had a terrible feeling about what was about to happen in Gaara's. It was probably just a feeling but he couldn't dismiss it easily.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"I'll admit it was impressive."

"I'm glad you're able to admit that." Luna said with a soft smile.

"No, what I mean is that the final spell wasn't the most impressive part. Deflecting dragon fire is much more difficult, and to do it while moving!" Draco said, still looking forward so father couldn't see he was talking to someone.

"Oh, yes, I suppose you're right." Luna looked contemplative, presumably considering the logistical issues of shielding against dragon fire.

"That said, giving her ten out of ten was still outrageous. Of course her headmistress would be biased. I expect Karkaroff will give Krum a ten as well. I can only hope Maxine gives him a low score in return and they balance each other out."

"It certainly does seem like a waste."

Draco had elected not to go for a snack during the intermission between Champions. The idea of eating during what was to come was unappealing to say the least.

"I'm worried." Luna said quietly. Draco almost didn't hear her say it.

"He'll be fine." Draco wouldn't say it, but he felt the same way as Luna.

"Damn right he will." Sirius said, full of good cheer. Draco would have believed him if he didn't think he could see a little blood caked under the man's nails where he had been gripping his fists too tightly. He imagined the man's palms would bear a few more marks with the way his knuckles had turned white when Ludo Bagman announced the next Champion would be beginning soon.

Then again, when the time came, Sirius cheered all the louder as Gaara emerged, regardless of any negative feelings he had.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara stepped out into the light of the arena and realised how small the field of the Quidditch pitch had seemed during the World Cup compared to when he was standing in it.

The rocks and crevices would give him some cover from the dragon's fire if needed, but first he had to test whether there was an easier way.

He could see the full-sized black dragon at the other end of the arena, already roaring and snarling at the crowds it had awakened to find itself surrounded by. He could sympathise.

Gaara started running across the arena towards the dragon, staying out of its sight as he went. When he was over halfway across, he settled against a rock to clam himself before he tried Plan A.

Most dragons could not project their fire more than twice the length of their bodies, so Gaara would be perfectly safe this far away. He moved slowly, stepping up onto the nearest rocky outcropping and climbing to the top so that he would be visible. His distinctive and 'poorly-suited-to-stealth' red hair would ensure his opponent would spot him quickly.

If this worked, he wouldn't need to rely on his Plan B.

As predicted, the Hebridean Black noticed him almost immediately. Gaara made eye contact with the brooding dragon and hoped his animal magnetism would finally serve some useful purpose, one way or another. Plan A was so simple that to the casual observer, Gaara would look quite mad, staring down a dragon weighing at least twenty tons.

And Bagman's announcing could readily be described as based on casual observation. "Now Gaara is attempting to stare the dragon into submission. I must admit, I've never heard of a wizard managing to overcome a dragon with just a look, even amongst the great Anglo-Saxon dragon slayers."

Gaara took no notice, instead he was trying to gauge whether his peculiar way with this world's animals would stretch not only to a fully grown dragon, but one that was already enraged and jealously guarding its eggs. Reptilian faces were much harder to judge than canine of equestrian but something about the slight relaxation of its jaw was all the indication that Gaara needed. It had worked.

He would never understand what it was about his influence on this world's animals, or the peculiar nature of those animals to be influenced by him, but whatever caused it had finally benefited him.

Gaara hopped down from the tall rock on which he had stationed himself and started jumping across the space between him and the dragon. He wondered briefly whether he would be able to keep the dragon alongside the three-headed dog in the forest. The groundskeeper with the illegitimate claim on Gaara's dog was widely known to be enamoured with dragons, so he might just be able to manage it if the dragon's temperament was suitable. On the bright side, he knew an overgrown lizard like a dragon would not be prone to the same unpleasant displays of affection as Gaara's mammalian acquaintances.

As Gaara was upon the dragon, he wondered how he should go retrieving the egg. The animals charmed by his presence did not lose their senses, so this black giant would most likely still take offence if he were to just snatch the egg. So, how could he signal his benign intentions, or reveal the deceptive golden egg to a beast too simple to perceive the difference itself?

He was only ten metres away from the great lizard when it opened its mouth. Gaara wondered what sort of sound a dragon made when it displayed affection. It was only the barest luck that Gaara detected the subtle change in temperature from the dragon's breath in time to leap away to safety mere seconds before flames engulfed his previous position.

Gaara had managed to jump high into the air, higher than civilians would ever manage, to avoid the flames, and before he had landed he was already formulating a halfway convincing lie about how he had managed to do it.

"Merlin! Well, whatever Gaara had expected to happen, I doubt it was the dragon sending a torrent of flames after he had gotten close. Nonetheless, Gaara seems to have managed an expertly-timed levitation spell on himself to jump high above the flames just in the nick of time. Any rumours that this young man has had any difficulties casting his spells are clearly mistaken."

Gaara scrapped the clever excuse he had been planning and stored away the levitation lie for later.

Gaara landed and quickly backed away from the clearly enraged dragon. Apparently it had not been stilled by his aura so much as it had been waiting for him to come closer to roast him alive. Clever dragon.

Gaara stayed light on his feet and pulled out his wand so that his continuing acrobatics might more easily be explained away as the result of some spell. Plan A had failed, evidently, so it was onto Plan B. He was, according to Kankuro, one of the least physically able shinobi to ever be on active service for Sunagakure, but Gaara believed he had a reasonable chance of getting past the dragon without any sand or magic.

Gaara tried running under the dragon's legs but as soon as he started towards the opening, the beast opened its mouth and tried to fry him again. Going through the front made him an easy target for the dragon's fire. When he tried to circle around too fast for the lumbering beast to face him head on, the shinobi still found his path blocked. Jaws that bite and claws that catch were accompanied by a tail that whipped by when he tried to attack from behind.

For such a large creature, it was deceptively fast and could defend itself from every angle. Gaara hopped over the Hebridean's talons and tried climbing over the dragon's body. If he stayed close enough, it wouldn't be able to attack as viciously or with as much fire. He heard many people gasp and cheer as he leapt onto the dragon's neck.

It was difficult to hold on, his chakra wasn't adhering to the scales much at all, but Gaara gripped tight and climbed as quickly as he was able. The dragon was wriggling, trying to throw him off or snag him with its claws. Gaara was sure that being caught by either its claws or its teeth would be the end of him. Without his sand armour, he was defenceless.

Shukaku was begging to be let out, as well. Pleading to be allowed to face the dragon and then wipe out the collected witches and wizards all around him. Gaara was used to the noise in his head, but in times like these when his full concentration was required, he did wish the tanuki demon would shut up.

Gaara scrambled out of the way of a claw that rushed at him, leaving shallow cuts in the dragon's own hide. Gaara finally slid over the dragon's back and into the nest, within touching distance of the golden egg, and in a split second he decided to jump straight back out of the nest, over the dragon's flailing tail.

He probably could have laid his hand on the egg, he might have even been able to hold on to it for the full ten seconds in order to conclude the Task, but Gaara was in no doubt that trying to get any closer to the eggs, real and fake, would have resulted in severe bodily harm or death before the dragon handlers could come to his rescue.

Gaara was able to dodge back away from the snarling dragon and outside of its firing range. It seemed even more upset now that he had come so close to its eggs. As the second eldest son of the Weasley clan would warn anyone who asked, never let a dragon think you are an egg thief. Dragons were often aggressive when provoked, but they were rarely as vicious or enraged as when something threatened their eggs.

Hence why there weren't many natural predators of dragon eggs.

And here Gaara was, watching a dragon hiss at him and thrash with all its might to reach him despite the chain around its neck keeping it at a relatively safe distance.

Gaara hopped back onto a tall rock just outside of the range of the Hebridean Black's fire breathing, and reassessed his options, which had dwindled somewhat since the start of his challenge. Trying to tackle the dragon himself again probably wouldn't end well, so that left him with Plan C.

He'd really wanted to avoid Plan C…

Gaara gripped his gnarled wand in his hand and took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult.

The dragon took no notice of his changed stance, now lacking the previous battle-readiness. Gaara raised his wand with a flourish, flicking his wrist a little, and then he brought it to his lips without any verbal spell.

"I'm not sure what contestant Gaara is doing right now. It's a spell of some sort but he doesn't appear to have spoken it aloud. Yet another display of nonverbal spellcasting. But what could he be planning now?"

Gaara tuned out the commentary. He pulled the wand away from his lips and he settled into a comfortable stance. It shouldn't take too long to show signs of working and he'd need to be ready when it did.

"Do you think this is it? The big thing he's been planning?" Luna asked.

"I think it's optimistic of you to assume he's planned any of this ahead of time. So far all he's done is stare at the thing and try his acrobatics."

"Don't be so quick to judge. Gaara's always got a back-up plan." Sirius said, leaning over but without taking his eyes off of the stadium.

Draco wondered how Sirius, who had apparently known Gaara longer than anyone else in this world, could be so oblivious about how half-assed Gaara's plans really were. He acted all stoic and cool but that just disguised his overwhelming stupidity.

Gaara was just standing there.

"Any ideas what he might have done?" Draco asked Luna.

Luna seemed ponderous, a strange look on her usually vacant face. "I thought it might be something to make his voice louder, to startle the dragon or command it somehow, but that doesn't seem like something Gaara would do."

Draco kept watching the redhead and the dragon standing across from each other. He could feel his pulse pounding so hard he could almost hear it. And then he could hear it. Draco wanted to rub his ear, to see if it was clogged or something, but he couldn't possibly do that in public. But now he could hear his heartbeat like a beating, thumping drum, it was becoming quite distracting.

And then Draco noticed Luna was also looking distracted, like she could hear the rhythmic thumping.

"Oh dear Merlin, he hasn't, has he?" A moment of dread realisation hit Draco as his eyes darted back to Gaara in the arena, standing there all calm like he wasn't the most ridiculous human to ever live.

"Hasn't what?" Sirius had none of the same compunctions, his finger wriggling in his ear canal to try and clear whatever was making him hear the beating.

Draco wanted to bury his head in his hands but he couldn't afford to miss what was almost certainly about to happen. "You'll… you'll see in a minute."

"Oh my." Luna said quietly, the truth dawning on her as well.

"What?" Sirius exclaimed. "What spell did he use?"

The rumbling was getting louder now, getting closer, and the stadium was all taking notice. The announcer was making wild speculations about what Gaara might have done with his spell.

When the thumping seemed to be nearly upon them, Gaara turned towards the door nearly behind the dragon, which was splitting its attention between whatever the egg thief had done and the egg thief himself.

Then there was a horrendous banging on the door, something impacting against the giant gates through which the dragon's cage had been levitated earlier.

After several more impacts, the gates flew open, and through them flew the enormous form of a three-headed hellhound named Fluffy, barging into the arena with all three of its heads scouting around for… yes, there he was. Fluffy skirted around the dragon, which was hissing at the dog that was slightly bigger than it.

When Fluffy was nearly to him, Gaara straightened and made eye contact with his faithful beast. He stretched out his thin arm and pointed directly at the dragon and clicked his fingers.

Fluffy whirled on the dragon, barked ferociously, and dove right for it, leaping over the distance between them and was upon it before the much skinnier dragon could let out even a spark. Fluffy's three heads latched on to the dragon's neck and its two forelegs and pinned it to the ground with so little effort that Gaara wondered if he might have been better off just calling Fluffy straight away.

Bagman was animatedly detailing the unbelievable spectacle unfolding but Gaara continued to ignore him. He jumped back down from his perch and carefully approached the locked together beasts. He circled around, knowing the dragon would thrash more and more the closer he got, but he was confident that Fluffy had a good grip on the scaly mother.

He noticed, as he went around the back and avoided the dragon's black, scrambling legs, that Fluffy's tail was wagging as rapidly as if he was playing the most invigorating game. Gaara wondered if Fluffy was really enjoying himself or if it was just the adrenalin.

Steering clear of large or small movements of the immense beasts that would have crushed him without either creature noticing, Gaara climbed into the nest for the second time and retrieved the egg. He climbed back out and retreated to a safe distance. When he was clear, Gaara climbed atop the same rock and watched the two animals locked together. He noticed that at least one pair of Fluffy's eyes were trained on him, as were the dragon's.

How intriguing. Even with three sets of powerful jaws clamped down on its limbs and neck, the dragon's primary concern was for its stolen egg. This seemed like a particularly cruel Task to plan, even aside from the child endangerment, Gaara thought.

Still, he couldn't let this continue too much longer. One of the animals was bound to get hurt.

Gaara raised his wand back to his lips and blew into the hole at the very tip. While it might not have all of the uses that Draco promised a functioning wand could offer, Gaara was fine with his new dog whistle. It was evidently quite useful in difficult situations.

Fluffy stilled when he heard the imperceptible whistle note, all six eyes locking on to Gaara. Gaara clicked his fingers twice and pointed out of the arena gate. Fluffy unlatched all three of his jaws and quickly withdrew, growling at the dragon that was shakily climbing back to its feet. It shouldn't be hurt but it must have been rather startled.

Fluffy ran back out through the gate only after Gaara had said, "Good boy." Fluffy seemed eager to leave, heads held high in pride, to escape the cheers of the stadium. Apparently this was exactly the type of spectacle that witches and wizards had paid through the nose to witness.

"Well, I'd wager in the history of the Triwizard Tournament, there's never been a strategy like that used before. The judges will now consult the official rules to determine whether this… unorthodox method was allowed."

Gaara did not wait to hear his score, or even if he had been disqualified for breaking the rules (which he was confident was not the case). He turned with his stolen egg and headed back towards the Champions' entrance.

The dragon wranglers entered through the broken gate and started to pacify the dragon while another official started to repair the gate.

The crowds watched this happening and Draco finally allowed his palm to make contact with his face. Of course the bloody dog was Gaara's plan all along.

"How funny." Luna said, smiling at the scene below, which was more than Sirius managed to say in the immediate aftermath. He looked rather bewildered.

"Bloody hell." Was all Ron managed.

"Oh my goodness." Hermione agreed. "I'd heard it was still in the Forbidden Forrest but I never imagined Gaara would train it."

"Of course he would blood train the three-headed dog that nearly killed us. He'll probably ride that basilisk into the next Task."

"I'm fairly certain Harry killed the basilisk." Hermione said, habitually, unnecessarily correcting the complaint.

After a moment, Sirius turned to Draco, looking paler than Draco thought was necessary now that Gaara had managed to complete his Task without more than a couple of scratches and perhaps a singed uniform.

"Draco, Gaara asked if I'd let him bring a dog home with him for the summer holidays," He started with a sense of dread. "Has he found another dog, by any chance?"

Luna smiled piteously when Draco face-palmed again. "I'm afraid not, Mr Black." She said.

Sirius had agreed without a second thought, encouraging Gaara without thinking to ask any follow-up questions. It would have been cool to have another dog around.

He hated to be a parent that said no, but he would have to put his foot down on this one.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting way to solve the challenge. I can now confirm that Gaara did not, in fact, break any rules with his unusual method. A Cerberus is considered a magical beast, not a magical being, so its help was not explicitly prohibited. Trust a Slytherin of Hogwarts to find a loophole like that!" Bagman said this with genuine admiration in his tone.

"Now, for the scoring, we will start with Minister Fudge's score." Bagman started. "Oh, and a rather strict six from the Minister for Magic. Clearly more of a cat person!" No one laughed at the joke and certainly not Fudge. Apparently the perpetually flustered man did not have much of a sense of humour.

An audible, nervous cough was heard across the stadium before Bagman moved on swiftly to the other British judge. "And an… eight from Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Rather generous, if you ask me." Draco muttered.

"I don't know about that. I don't want it living with me but it was quite impressive training the three-headed dog like that." Sirius said. He was a mess of nerves, feeling elated that Gaara had come through without more than a few scratches, but now there was still Harry to go; talking about silly things like the three-headed dog called Fluffy was helping to take Sirius's mind off of it.

Madame Maxine was next. Bagman had learned his lesson after Fudge and skipped some of the fanfare. She gave Gaara another six and the entirely unimpressed Karkaroff gave him a four. There were a few boos from the spectators at the extremely low score but Draco could see the man's smug mix of scowl and smirk even from the other side of the stadium.

"The consensus from the judges is that while the dragon was defeated 'creatively' and the use of magic to perform those acrobatics was impressive, the dragon was injured during the Task and the reliance on a magical creature to do most of the work was not something the judges were looking for.

"Well, clearly Gaara failed to impress the judges, leaving him with a score of twenty four. Hopefully Champion Krum will show them something more to their liking."

Draco wanted to scream that it was unfair, that Gaara had managed to subdue the creature without any real injury to himself, but he didn't really want to defend Gaara's stupidity just now. Plus, Draco's parents were still watching him. Sirius had no such reservations, loudly demanding a recount.

Luna was quietly writing notes, Draco noticed. Her fascination with magical creatures had made witnessing a fight between a Hebridian Black and a Cerberus, a spectacle that would never occur in nature, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Draco didn't want to lean over and look too closely, lest he be seen to take an actual interest, but he thought he saw Gaara's name a few times in the cramped margin notes.

Poor girl…

"How on Earth did Gaara manage to tame Fluffy?" Granger asked, leaning forward past the others seated in the way to address Draco and Luna.

Luna was too engrossed in her writing to notice someone speaking above the cheers and boos still reverberating around the stadium. Draco, on the other hand, did hear her, and while he would have been curious to find out why Granger (and presumably Scar-head and Weasel-by) knew Fluffy's name, he wouldn't bother to answer her inane questions on a normal day, let alone with his father and a great many other purebloods watching. In any case, it was probably the oaf who was supposedly the beast's real owner that told them. Those three were always strangely friendly with the groundskeeper.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The oaf in question had been asked by the Headmaster to help with organising the first Task. To some, this might have been an unwelcome addition to their otherwise already difficult duties, but Hagrid knew Professor Dumbledore had his reasons. Rubeus seldom understood what the Headmaster was planning but he guessed he just wanted someone he could trust involved.

And, as Dumbledore undoubtedly considered, Hagrid would greatly appreciate the opportunity to get up close and personal with the first Task's dragons.

He had been trying to calm the Chinese Fireball down following her clash with the French girl when he heard a familiar thumping approaching. He almost didn't believe his ears, but Hagrid was one of the foremost experts on magic creatures in the British Isles and he could recognise Fluffy's footfalls from a mile away. And Fluffy was much less than a mile away now.

Hagrid panicked, dreading the scolding he was going to get from the Headmaster, after Hagrid had fought so hard to keep Fluffy on the school grounds, promising he wouldn't cause any trouble. But why was Fluffy coming? He didn't normally come to bother Hagrid very often, and never from so far away. Especially not since Gaara started playing with him.

So, why had he come? He thought he heard a really high-pitched whistle a minute ago but…

Oh, it was Gaara's turn, wasn't it? He must have taught Fluffy to come when he blew a dog whistle. How clever!

Oh, but that meant Fluffy was coming here to help Gaara fight that pretty Hebridean Black that the Headmaster borrowed for the Tournament. That was not good. Hagrid left the still agitated Chinese Fireball and tried to stand in Fluffy's way.

The giant dog was upon them in seconds, having sprinted there. A few Ministry dragon handlers got it into their heads to try and curse Fluffy but Hagrid managed to call them off before they did anything silly. Fluffy was pretty resistant and would probably attack the wizards if they started something.

Fluffy's eyes (four of them, anyway) locked onto Hagrid's as the beast approached, but unlike on previous occasions when his dog would be suitably cowed by Hagrid's stern warning of 'Fluffy!', this time the dog ran right around him and into the stadium gates.

Hagrid half wanted to scold his disobedient hound and drag him back away from the arena and the other half felt bad for Fluffy since he must have hurt his heads with such an impact.

Hagrid didn't have a chance to approach Fluffy and try and calm him down as, after a couple more impacts, the gates gave way and Fluffy ran into the arena. Hagrid heard the roars of an angry dragon and then the telltale noises of a scuffle between giant beasts, but Hagrid's focus had to remain on preventing the dragon wranglers from interfering and hurting Fluffy or the dragon.

Hagrid had spoken to some of them over the last couple hours and while some seemed to be, like Hagrid, true animal lovers, most of them were just brutes.

So, while he had a chance to try and tend to both a three-headed dog and a Hebridean Black, Hagrid was instead forced to manage human beasts.

After a couple of minutes, Fluffy ran back out into sight, his tail wagging and looking rather pleased with himself. With three doggish smiles at Hagrid, Fluffy ran back out into the forest.

Hagrid was frustrated that, by the time he tracked down the dumb dog later, it would be too late to tell him off as he wouldn't understand what it was about. One had to discipline a pet immediately after they did something wrong so that they connected the misdeed with the scolding. As it was, Fluffy had gotten away with it.

Hagrid would be having a word with Gaara later about this, though, especially after he'd heard the announcer tell him what Gaara trained Fluffy to do. It was time to put an end to Gaara's claim on his dog.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Harry had listened to Ludo Bagman announcing the Gaara's moves with growing disbelief, from his attempt to climb the dragon to his acrobatics and then summoning Fluffy to fight on his behalf. Gaara was known for doing unexpected things, but this was a new level. The strange redhead had somehow devised the strangest possible way to complete the Task.

Krum had actually started talking a little when it was just the two of them, though the majority were really more comments made to himself rather than any real attempt to converse with Harry. Nonetheless, Harry was glad of someone to talk to, in whatever capacity.

Krum had seemed to feel the same as the judges, finding the lack of magic in concluding the Task to be a sign of Gaara's weakness. Krum had even gone so far as to speculate that it was proof that the rumours of Gaara's role in the Battle at Hogwarts was an exaggeration, if not a complete falsehood.

When Harry defended Gaara, claiming to have witnessed his power against the dementors, Krum asked why Harry was defending his competition.

"We're not really friends, or anything like that, but I did see him face the dementors. That's all I'm saying."

"I will believe it when I see his 'special power' for myself, I think." Krum said with a mocking smile.

Harry certainly wasn't going to start a fight with Viktor Krum over Gaara's honour, especially knowing how little Gaara would care about such a thing, but it still bothered him.

"Though, I will say that it is somewhat impressive for someone so young to tame a Cerberus, even if it isn't fully grown yet. Maybe if he survives he can teach about magical creatures."

Harry wasn't sure if that was more mockery or if Krum was being genuine. Having seen that dog as closely as anyone (short of the dog's dinner), Harry could attest to how impressive it would be to train such a beast.

A little while later, after the harsh scores had been called out, Krum was asked to go out and start his Task. Harry refrained from wishing him luck. It didn't seem appropriate. And, anyway, Krum was met with rapturous applause, almost deafening even in the confines of the Champions' waiting area.

And Harry was now alone, barring Crouch who might as well have not been there for all the company he provided. Whether he resented missing the chance to watch the first Task or he resented being made to babysit teenagers, the man clearly didn't want to be there and any attempt to address him was met with a stern reprimand.

Harry sat back on the bench he'd claimed during Fleur Delacour's Task and listened to the (frankly rather amazing-sounding) commentary of Krum's feats. For all of his faults, one could not claim that Krum failed to put his money where his mouth was. Accompanying the commentary was the rising and falling of the crowd's cheers, probably completely familiar to the world-famous Quidditch champion.

Krum was apparently using a mixture of shields and fire-repelling charms to approach the dragon at a sedate speed, not needing to dodge anything like Delacour had. From the way Bagman was describing things, Krum struck quite the heroic figure, approaching the dragon while casually overcoming the dragon fire.

When Krum was upon the dragon, he transfigured nearby rocks in chains to tangle around the dragon's maw. While it was trying to pry the chains off to resume trying to burn the boy, Krum ran into the nest and stole the egg. He'd completed his Task in the shortest time so far, under five minutes, most of which had been spent walking across the arena.

Now Harry didn't just have his life to worry over, he had to worry that he was going to look like an idiot following such a performance. At least if he had followed Gaara, he wouldn't have looked so silly.

Krum received the loudest applause so far as well, which grew again when the scores were being read out. A nine from Dumbledore, a seven from Fudge, a seven from Maxine, and (of course) a ten from Karkaroff.

Bagman said that the judges' scores, thirty three in all, reflected the efficient and powerful display.

Then Harry's blood went cold as the cheers died down, with Krum leaving the stadium and the familiar sound of the dragon being pacified, caged and removed, and another being brought. Harry's very own dragon. For the boy who has everything…

He had scarce few minutes left. Any second now he would be sent out there to face a real, fire-breathing dragon. On his own. No friends, no tools, just Harry and his wand.

Oh, Merlin, he was going to die!

Even if Harry got it into his head to try and run away, he wouldn't make it more than a couple of metres, and then he would be both a coward and dead. At least this way he would face the dragon bravely.

Maybe they could put that on his tombstone.

Here lies

Harry J. Potter

Boy-Who-Lived

Champion who bravely died fighting a dragon

1980-1994

At least they wouldn't need to bother cremating him…

Harry's name was called at last and he shakily rose to his feet. He took a deep breath and tried to locate that same calm he achieved before he went out onto the Quidditch field. He managed to steady his breathing and make his steps look more even, but the calm was only skin deep this time.

Harry followed Crouch's direction and walked through the archway, which evidently didn't detect any magical items or interference (which, frankly, might have been a relief at this point). After that, his wand was returned to him by Crouch, whose bad mood suddenly felt more appropriate. Harry didn't know what he would do if Bagman had been smiling at him in that moment.

Instead, Harry heard his name being loudly proclaimed by Bagman from a safe distance. Based on the roars of the crowd, an added excitement accompanied the announcement because he was the last to compete. Harry tried to focus on the absurdity of that idea; that this event was exciting, thrilling for the crowds amassed in the stands. Harry tried to hone in on his anger, which had been more of a burden than a blessing to him over the past few years, but bewilderment and wrath were preferable to that yellow feeling that had been welling up.

He was not a coward and he was determined to overcome his fear.

The tunnel between the waiting tent and the arena entrance was dark, so the light filtering through the wooden gate cast beams into the falling dust dislodged by the clamour around the stadium that was causing a minor quake in the structure.

The overwhelming noise and light that assaulted Harry as he stepped out of the tunnel into the arena left him dazed. He was blinded for a few moments until his eyes adjusted to the muted, overcast light. Harry hoped it might rain, though it wasn't forecast. A bit of rain might dampen the flames.

Even from here, Harry could see the Swedish Short-Snout towering above the rocks and boulders, roaring at the crowds that were joyfully roaring back at it with their shouts and applause.

Now that he was out and the Task had begun, the crippling stage fight, threat of death and the contemptuous sneers of those who wanted him to fail reminded Harry strongly of his first ever Quidditch match. Though, today, the people sneering weren't limited to the current roster of Slytherins.

Harry took as deep a breath as his lungs would allow and then ducked behind the nearest rock before the dragon could spot him. From what Hermione had told him from her research, the dragon would be able to detect hit scent even after he had hidden but from this distance it wouldn't be able to pinpoint where he was.

Harry quickly cast two spells on himself that Sirius had pointed him towards. The first had no visible or apparent effect to the spectators but it would hide his scent from that point onwards. It was a surprisingly simple spell. The second spells was not so easy.

Harry had spent the better part of a full week outside of classes, and on a couple occasions instead of attending his lessons, learning this spell. It wasn't as difficult as the Patronus last year but Harry couldn't honestly say he felt he had mastered the invisibility charm.

Similar to the disillusionment charm, the invisibility charm would render Harry invisible. But unlike the former, the latter spell would hide him nearly as completely as his cloak. It would only last for about ten minutes and it was exhausting to keep up, but it would mean that the dragon could not spot him approaching nor see him carrying the golden egg away.

The only trick would be staying quiet. There was a third spell that Sirius had told him to learn that would conceal any noise he made, but he had been up really late last night trying to learn the olfactory misdirection charm, which Hermione had said was more important since dragon's have very strong senses of smell. Instead, Harry would have to try and tread lightly.

After a couple of quietly spoken words and a twirl of his wand over his head, Harry faded from view. The crowds all groaned with the realisation that they wouldn't be able to actually watch the Harry Potter facing off against the dragon.

Harry, on the other hand, was hoping that some of the groans and boos would hide the noise he made as he ran towards the dragon. He didn't have very long until his charms would wear off and he didn't want to magically appear when he was close to the dragon.

Every time the dragon's snarling head pointed in his direction, Harry had to stop and wait until the crowd made another noise to distract the beast. It was during one of these brief lulls that Harry took the chance to look up at the spectators.

It was easy enough to spot Dumbledore, Fudge and the other judges, and on the other side were Sirius, Ron, Hermione as well as Luna Lovegood and Malfoy. Everyone was looking around, trying to spot a bit of dust or a moved rock to indicate where he was.

Looking at the distance still remaining, Harry feared it would be impossible to walk it silently in under ten minutes and still give him enough time to get away. However, he tuned out the noises and timed his movements so that the Swedish Short-Snout wouldn't notice him. Eventually, when he let his mind focus entirely on not tripping or making a sound, he was near the nest.

If the dragon had been intimidating from a distance, Harry didn't know how to describe standing a scant few metres away. The reptile was alternating between snarling and roaring now, occasionally sending bursts of fire into the air or at the stands. Even when shot in a different direction, Harry could feel the immense heat coming from both the flames and from the dragon itself. He didn't know nearly as much as Hermione, but Harry hadn't ever known that dragon's bodies were nearly as hot as their fire.

How had Gaara climbed on his?!

The stadium had gone much quieter since it had been over five minutes without a sign of the Champion undertaking the task. Luckily the dragon couldn't seem to sit still, shifting about, swiping at nothing and clawing at itself. It seemed incredibly distressed.

Harry waited until it settled down a little more, just breathing heavily, drooling on the ground and scratching at the stone beneath its talons. Harry circled around until he could step over the tail that felt as hot as a fireplace.

The dragon twitched suddenly after an overzealous Gryffindor in the stands had yelled all of a sudden. Whether it had been a shout of support or impatience mattered little as Harry stumbled backwards and landed in a heap to avoid touching the dragon's scalding hot tail.

However, even in Harry's effort to avoid being detected, he made a noise, his fall causing some of the loose stones on the ground to clack loudly. The dragon roared, swivelling to look at where the sound had come from, even more furious than before.

The Swedish dragon couldn't see much at this point, and even if it could, its quarry was still invisible, but this didn't stop it from sending fire right at the spot where it had heard the noise.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara had been sitting, idly waiting for Potter to finish so that he could go back to the castle where it was warmer and quieter. He should probably also bring a treat to Fluffy in the next day or two. It seemed only fair.

Krum and Delacour were paying more attention to the useless announcer narrating the nothing that had been happening for the better part of ten minutes. Gaara was doing all that he could to tune out the meaningless noise.

And then Gaara's eyes shot open at the sound of an ear piercing scream issuing from inside the arena.

Gaara shot to his feet and ran past the Ministry flunky that had been posted to the entrance of the Champions waiting area. Gaara heard many things now, from the useless guard pursuing him, from the screams and worried complaints coming from the crowds in the stands, from the dragon still roaring, and from that fool Bagman, who was still trying to announce what was happening.

Gaara continued running until he came to one of the discreet gates into the arena. He peered through a gap in the wood and was able to see a lot from just a glance. Potter was leaning with his back against a rock as the dragon raged and sent flame after flame at him. In short, Potter was in trouble.

Worse yet, in a short respite while the dragon trembled and continued to foam at the mouth, Potter turned to peer around the rock carefully, and at that moment Gaara spotted the red and black burns running up his left arm, on his neck and his left cheek. That would explain the screaming. It was a wonder that Potter was still conscious. Many shinobi would have passed out, Gaara thought.

And now Gaara had to make a decision. Should he interfere and help Potter, forfeiting the Task if not the Tournament (with whatever other consequences that would result), and maybe lose his best chance of getting home? Or should he do nothing, leaving Potter to die?

Gaara didn't like Potter but he was supposed to value all life, even worthless, annoying life. And Dumbledore did want him to protect Potter as well as win the Tournament. But, these arguments paled in comparison to what clinched it for Gaara, when he heard Sirius faintly amongst the various screams coming from the stands, shouting for someone to help Harry and even uselessly casting spells against the inside of the barrier.

For Sirius, Gaara would help. If Dumbledore objected, Gaara could negotiate another deal later.

He called his sand from where he had stashed it just outside of the castle. With as rabid as this dragon appeared, Gaara didn't want to risk Fluffy against it. Still, it would take a few minutes for the gourd's worth of sand to reach the stadium. He'd just have to go and distract the dragon himself in the meantime.

"There he is!" Gaara turned and saw a few Ministry lackeys running towards him. Whether they had guessed his intentions or if they just refused to allow a Champion to break with the rules and leave the waiting area, they seemed determined to apprehend him regardless. All the more reason to go straight out and wait for his sand in the arena.

However, as he was about to push his way through the wooden door, magically protected against fire but not his surprisingly hardy shoulder, Gaara's attention was drawn back to Potter's actions in the arena.

A bright light flashed as Potter shouted "Expecto Patronum!"

Out of the boy's wand came some sort of deer made of light in a curious inversion of a Nara technique. The Patronus stag squared off against the unusually aggressive dragon, diverting the dragon's enraged attention sufficiently for Potter to move again.

The Ministry workers were nearly upon him so Gaara started running again, trying to gain some distance to see how things played out. Gaara was significantly faster than the wizards chasing after him so he was able to gain enough of a lead to peer through some of the other concealed gates along the perimeter of the arena.

Eventually, Gaara came to a dead end with one last gate into the arena but more officials had joined the hunt for the missing Champion and they were very close now.

Gaara looked through the gate again and while he had a good view of the dragon's nest and the dragon itself, still trying to burn the intangible deer, Gaara couldn't see Potter from where he was looking.

Gaara heard the first of the pursuers running up behind him, drawing closer. Without turning around, listening to the approach, the moment that the adult hand landed on his shoulder, Gaara grabbed their wrist and flipped the larger person over his hip. The man groaned from his position prone on the floor and Gaara could hear more of them fast approaching. He didn't have long to decide whether Potter still needed help.

Gaara looked into the arena again and to his immense surprise, earning a slight widening of his eyes, he saw Potter stumbling away from the nest, the golden egg held in his un-burned arm.

The Patronus had finally faded by this point and the Swedish Short-Snout was frantically searching for prey. However, by the time it scented Potter, his olfactory misdirection spell having ended some time ago, Bagman announced that the Task was over, Potter had secured the golden egg.

People cheered as the rear gates opened and the dragon wranglers entered. However, where before the dragons tended to ignore the familiar dragon handling professionals since they were at a reasonable distance, the Swedish Short-Snout seemed further enraged by the newcomers.

Gaara would have been interested to watch them contain the mad dragon but the Ministry officials, flanked by Crouch, had finally arrived. He was firmly told off, threatened with further consequences for assaulting a Ministry worker, and guided back the way he came while someone helped the one Gaara had downed back to his feet.

Gaara went willingly as he listened to the dragon screeching and spells being fired.

When he arrived in the waiting area, Krum and Delacour looked to him, possibly expecting an explanation for his abrupt and forbidden departure, or for the earlier scream. Perhaps they just wanted to know why the dragon was making such an ungodly racket and there were sounds of a battle raging in the arena to subdue it.

They received no such explanation. Gaara settled against a wall and waited quietly. There were now three men posted on the door, plus Crouch, and there were others waiting outside.

Gaara could feel his sand nearby, having finally arrived. He commanded it to stay where it was, out of sight. It didn't look like he would be needing it just now.

They all waited together and eventually the sound of the dragon died down and then all was quiet. And then more time elapsed.

Eventually someone showed up to whisper in Crouch's ear and they were all asked to follow them outside to officially conclude the first Task. Gaara wondered why the retrieval of the eggs could not have signalled the end of the Task. Then they could have all gone straight back to their homes and rest. Instead they had to endure more senseless pageantry.

The three Champions were told to stand in the centre of the arena, with Crouch standing behind them.

"Where is Monsieur Potter?" Fleur asked after a couple minutes of waiting, half turning to look at Crouch.

"He is… well, that is to say, ultimately…" Crouch trailed off with a cough and then stood up straighter and pretended to forget he had been answering a question.

The judges finally appeared, walking along a conspicuously flat route that Gaara seemed to remember and now began to wonder if it had been put there so that the judges could walk over for the awarding ceremony without doing anything strenuous like climbing a rock.

Bagman was there as well, and he said that they would now listen to the final Champion's scores and the winner of the Task could be announced. He also mentioned, as an afterthought, that Champion Potter had been excused from the ceremony.

"And, the scores for our final Champion are…" He walked over to Dumbledore, who had a sign already marked up. "A- a 10 from Headmaster Dumbledore!" There was a round of cheering that rose from the spectators. "Minister Fudge is awarding a… 6!" Bagman avoided any further comment on the low score from his boss. "Madame Maxine has given Potter a score of 6. And finally, Professor Karkaroff has given Harry Potter a… 5…" His announcement fell a little flat at that low score. Even the supposedly impartial announcer apparently found that score to be unduly harsh, but he said nothing, just took a moment to let it sink in and collect himself.

"And that gives Champion Harry Potter a combined score of twenty seven! The judges' final verdict was that while the spells used were certainly very impressive, especially given Champion Potter's age, they were not as effective as originally intended and he was the only Champion to be injured."

Gaara felt, with that final consideration, it was a little unfair that Potter had gotten a higher score than him.

"So, the scores for our three Champions are: Viktor Krum in first place with thirty-three points. In second place is Fleur Delacour with thirty-two points. In third place, with twenty-seven points, is Harry Potter. And finally, in last place, with twenty-four points, is Gaara."

There was another round of applause, during which Gaara took a step forward and asked Dumbledore quietly enough not to be overheard, where Potter was.

"He's otherwise occupied. You needn't worry yourself, Gaara." Dumbledore brushed him off. Gaara could not understand it. Burns, including those caused by dragon flame, were simple enough to heal magically so long as they were not nearly fatal, which Potter's hadn't been. So why wasn't he present?

Gaara looked up into the stands and Sirius, Granger and Weasley had disappeared. Seeing him looking, Luna waved but he didn't return it. She probably didn't expect him to.

When the cheering died down, Bagman then presented each of the Champions with the eggs they had been made to surrender as soon as they had left the arena.

First Krum, then Delacour, and finally Gaara. He considered his performance and decided he might need to put some more effort into planning his performance for the next Task if he wanted to win the Tournament. He had been too focussed on just succeeding in the Task and not impressing the judges.

He also considered the heavy golden egg in his hands and whether there was any more significance to it beyond a trophy. Based on the scratches and small dents, Gaara determined this was not actually the egg he had retrieved from the Hebridean Black. He wondered if he could locate the one he had originally had and switch. From the damage to this one, he guessed it was probably Potter's.

Bagman continued his commentary. Telling everyone that the next Task would be officially announced the week before, and it was to take place on the 24th of February. One thing he added, which caught Gaara's ear, was that the Champions had already been given everything they need to prepare ahead of time.

So, the egg (most likely whatever was inside of the egg) was a clue, but then one mystery still remained: what had really happened to Potter?

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A/N: Thank you for reading. I will honestly try to get the next chapter out in some semblance of expedience.

In the meantime, please leave a review.