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SIYE Time:10:31 on 28th March 2024
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Grey Maiden IV: Darkness Rising
By Chris Widger

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Sirius Black
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance, Tragedy
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 181
Summary: Harry's training has begun at last, as has the difficult task of gathering allies. Daphne and his friends will prove invaluable in this job, but then Harry finds himself hurled into a legendary and deadly competition against his will. As the Darkness gathers, he is faced with his greatest test yet. And the penalty for failure might just be death.
Hitcount: Story Total: 132392; Chapter Total: 5767







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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 12: Into the Fire

As the hands of the large grandfather clock located in a dingy corner of the Slytherin House Common Room struck two o’clock in the morning, much of Hogwarts was already asleep, lost in their dreams. The silence was nearly complete, broken only by the occasional pop and crackle as the fire in front of him consumed the last of the logs placed in the fireplace several hours ago.

Harry stared into the flickering flames, engrossed in his own thoughts. The day so widely anticipated had finally arrived. In just a few hours, he would face a creature that would probably not fit into the room in which he currently sat. He was not surprised that he’d been unable to sleep. He was well-rested, relatively speaking. His nightmares concerning what he’d seen in Snape’s mind had not been nearly as vivid nor as frequent as what he’d feared, and the wards of Hogwarts, combined with his own developing Occlumency skills, had so far managed to keep Voldemort at bay.

No, what kept him up now was a very normal thing, as common to Muggles as it was to wizards. He was anxious, excited, even frightened; the same combination of emotions that any performer felt before he did something for the first time. He remembered these feelings well from the moments before his first Quidditch Match, one that hadn’t ended well. Those had been less intense, but the basic human instincts that were activated in these circumstances were the same. Strangely, he was not concerned as much about the possibility that he might not survive to see the next night as he was that he might fail. As much as he’d tried to convince himself that this competition wasn’t worth it, that he didn’t need to win and that winning would accomplish little, he’d failed miserably. He had come to the realization about a half hour ago that he wanted badly to win. Perhaps it was the way that Daphne Greengrass had talked about the others not believing in him. Perhaps he wanted to prove something to his peers, he thought, but it was quite possible that he sought to win respect from another…

Himself.

Sighing, Harry blinked away the afterimage left from the bright flames and heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He didn’t bother turning around.

“You should be asleep,” Ginny said. She went over and sat down next to him. “I know its difficult, Harry, but you’re not going to do anyone any good if you fall asleep and fall off your broom.”

“Little chance of that happening,” Harry said. “I’ll get an adrenaline rush as soon as I get out there, one that should get me through the whole thing. I’ll pay the price tomorrow. I needed time to think, to reflect. This was as good a time as any.”

“Daphne wouldn’t like this,” Ginny observed.

Harry shook his head. “I learned to do this from her. Whenever she has something stressful the next day, she never slept. I’d go to bed and see her sitting in a chair, reading, or just staring off into space.”

“What a role model,” Ginny said under her breath. Harry ignored her. “Hermione’s going to have a fit if she find out you aren’t rested. She’s worried sick about you, you know. It doesn’t matter how prepared you seem, how confident you are — though based on what I’m seeing now, you weren’t exactly being honest with us — you’re still facing a life-and-death situation with an extraordinarily dangerous magical creature. There are so many things that could go wrong.”

“Does it do any good to dwell upon them?” Harry asked, looking over at her for the first time. She wore one of her nightgowns, and her hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She was quite pretty in the flickering light of the fire, though Harry forced himself to not think about that. Now was not the time, and he wasn’t sure if Ginny reciprocated his feelings anyway. There would be time to learn the truth when this was over.

“I suppose not,” Ginny replied. “Actually, it’s probably counterproductive. I’m going to guess that I was wrong in assuming that’s what’s been keeping you up.”

“Yes, you were,” Harry told her, trying to keep any anger out of his voice. “There are…things, things I’ve seen, heard. I don’t really know why I’m thinking about them know of all times.” He laughed, “I suppose that maybe I’m thinking about them because I subconsciously don’t want to think about everything that could possibly go wrong later.”

Gently, almost with trepidation, Ginny rested her small hand on Harry’s arm. He glanced at her, and she smiled. “Harry, I just want you to know, that whatever happens, no matter how bad this gets, I’ll always be here for you. And I know that Hermione feels the same way.”

Harry smiled back, weakly. “I know. And believe me, that knowledge might be the only thing that keeps me sane on some days. You’ve been great friends, and I’m sorry that I haven’t…opened up to you as much as I should.”

Ginny laughed, which surprised him. “Harry, believe me, even with everything you have hidden, and are still hiding from us, you’re a hell of a lot more forthcoming that most boys your age. There are times when I can’t get Ron to give me the time of day, let alone what’s causing him to throw his textbooks around his room.”

“He does that?” Harry asked, grateful for the chance to change the topic.

“Oh, does he ever,” Ginny replied, giving him one of those evil sibling smiles, the one she always gave when she was about to reveal something that her brothers would much prefer stayed secret. “Ron’s got a short fuse and an explosive temper. He never lashes out at anybody but himself though, which kind of worries me.”

“I beg to differ.”

“No, that’s not the same thing,” Ginny said. “Ron’s problems with you are the same as the things that bother him at home. During the summer, he barely ever talks about you or Hogwarts anymore. But maybe he still thinks about them, I don’t know. It’s really weird, Harry. He acts all tough and aggressive, but he’s terribly insecure. I don’t expect you to be sympathetic, and I understand why you really wouldn’t care, but I just wanted to let you know that he has plenty of problems of his own.”

“I…alright…I’ll try to back off of him. He’s hasn’t really bothered me that much of late anyway. I’m sorry, I guess I just didn’t realize.”

“You shouldn’t be expected to read his mind,” Ginny told him. “But I thought it was best that you knew that. He can be a real arse, Harry, but he’s not a bad person. I’m sorry for how he treated you during your first two years here. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sure that one day Ron will look back on it and realize how foolish he was. The point is that you shouldn’t be worrying about him.”

“I’m not,” Harry protested. “You are the one that brought him up.”

“And you are the one that continued the conversation,” she reminded him. “It doesn’t matter. You need to get some sleep, Harry. You can’t rely on adrenaline for something like this. You need to be sharp.”

“Alright, I’ll try,” Harry said, relenting. “Thank you.” Without thinking about it, he reached out and wrapped his arms around his friend, as she did the same. “You’re a great friend, Ginny.”

“You too, Harry,” she mumbled into his shoulder. They broke apart and went their separate ways. Sure enough, Harry was able to salvage several hours of sleep before he had to get up the next morning.

Harry didn’t speak much at breakfast, and for the most part, everyone around him had left him alone. The school was buzzing with excitement on this cool morning in late autumn, ready to witness the First Task of the much anticipated Triwizard Tournament. Krum, Harry noticed, seemed to be in another world entirely, his movement stiff and deliberate, eating ravenously even though he didn’t appear to be very hungry. He no doubt had plenty of valuable experience dealing with pressure situations. He couldn’t see Fleur or Cedric to observe how they were dealing with the stress. He tried to eat as much as he could, to build up his strength. He was exceedingly grateful that Ginny had managed to convince him to try to sleep; he felt a lot more rested than he might have if he’d sat in front of the fire all night.

Once he’d eaten as much as he could stomach, he got up without a word and headed outside. He sensed that Ginny was following him, but Hermione seemed to have decided to keep her distance. Harry appreciated that; he loved his friend, but her visible anxiety would not have done much for him on this day. He knew that Ginny had to be as much of a nervous wreck on the inside, but she did a much better job of hiding it.

Harry took a deep breath of cool morning air, trying to calm his racing heart and maintain his focus. He had a plan; he knew what he was going to do. Once he’d managed to calm himself he’d go back to his dorm and change into some more suitable robes, black and less bulky that also featured some spells to make them fire-resistant. Daphne had purchased them specifically for this occasion. He continued to sense Ginny following him, but didn’t really mind. As long as she didn’t say anything he didn’t have to think about it. He checked his watch, and saw that he had about an hour before he was expected to report to the champions’ tent for his final instructions, instructions that he already had. The only information he was missing concerned which dragon he’d be facing. He prayed it wouldn’t be the Horntail. The thing was as lethal from the back as it was from the front.

“Ready?” Ginny asked, breaking the silence.

“I suppose so,” Harry replied, staring out toward the Lake, which was his intended destination. They made their way down the rocky path from the castle to the large body of water. Harry stopped when they reached it, staring out over the water, his breath a small cloud in the frigid air. Ginny came up along side him. “Any particular reason you are following me?”

“I figured that you’d like company. Or if you didn’t, that you should have it. I don’t think it does you much good to be alone right now.”

“I guess not,” Harry replied. “Was this Hermione’s idea?”

“No, I thought of it on my own.” Ginny replied, barely hiding her annoyance at the implication she couldn’t be perceptive without Hermione’s assistance. Though since he’d wanted to be alone, the question had been more of a criticism of Hermione than it had been a comment about Ginny’s awareness.

Harry didn’t reply for a long moment, taking in the scenery before him, trying to relax and let his anxiety slip away. It worked, to an extent. “I’ll be okay, Ginny. Really, I will.”

“I hope so,” she said. “I think you’ll be okay as well. I’m not sure about Hermione, though. I think she has a bad feeling about this.”

“I never had a choice not to do it, Ginny,” he reminded her. “We’ve known this day arrive for months. Now it’s here. I’m ready for it, as best as I can be.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” Ginny said. “I’d be rather distressed if I heard that you were entirely unprepared and had forgotten all about it.”

Harry smiled. Ginny’s dry sense of humor was probably just what he needed right now. “Yeah, that would not be an ideal situation. Be rather irresponsible of me, to be honest.”

“You can say that again.”

Once more, there was silence between them. Harry gently took her arm and led her over to a bank where they sat down, still looking out over the water. “It’s beautiful with the sun coming up and all,” Ginny observed. “Do you come here often?”

“Just when I need a place to think,” he replied. “It’s private, at least if you pick the right times.” Ginny leaned against him, and he adjusted his position to make them both more comfortable.

“I figured that I’d find the two of you down here,” Hermione’s voice came from behind them. Ginny quickly sat up, and Harry turned around. Hermione made her way over to join them, sitting on the other side of Harry. “That’s pretty,” she said. “I’m not going to bother asking if you are ready. I just wanted to make sure I had a chance to wish you good luck before you headed over to the tent. You’ve got about half and hour.”

Harry was both irritated and grateful for that reminder. “Sorry,” he told Ginny, “I need to go get ready.” He got up. “I’ll see both of you after the First Task. I promise; everything is going to be alright. I will make it through this.”

“I know you will,” Hermione and Ginny said simultaneously. They stared at each other, and Harry sensed he was missing something. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He waved, and then made his way back up to the castle.


Harry, pleased with the fit of the robes that Daphne had gotten for him, slipped into the tent, where Krum and Fleur were already standing around. Cedric appeared several minutes later. None of them spoke. Krum was wearing a pretty form-fitting jumpsuit of some kind that appeared to be made from - or at least reinforced by - dragon hide. Ironic, Harry thought. Fleur wore simple blue robes for the sake of agility, and Cedric was, strangely enough, wearing his Hufflepuff Quidditch robes. They all stole glances at one another, but never held their gaze.

Bagman entered the tent, looking strangely bright and cheery, in sharp contrast to the others present. “Good morning, Champions,” he said in an overly dramatic voice. “Well, I’m sure you all have been anxiously awaiting the details of your first test. It’s a challenging one, I’ll grant you that. Each of you will be tasked with recovering a golden egg located in a dragon’s nest…while distracting or incapacitating a real adult nesting female dragon.” They all simply nodded, belying the fact that all four of them had known this for quite some time. Bagman pulled out a sack that appeared to be smoking. “Now, you’ll find out which dragons you are to face. Simply reach into the sack. Ladies first,” he said, gesturing to Fleur. The Beauxbatons Champion withdrew an emerald green miniature of a dragon, complete with smoke coming out of its nostrils. “Ah, the Welsh Green,” Bagman said. Cedric followed by pulling out a Chinese Fireball. That left the Swedish Short-snout and the dreaded Hungarian Horntail. Harry decided to allow Krum to go next, and to Harry’s intense relief the miniature dragon in his hands was indeed one from his neighboring country. Harry pulled out the Short-Snout. He would have preferred the Welsh Green; the Short-Snout, though it lacked the spikes of the Horntail, was more capable when it came to breathing fire, and was far more agile. That could be problematic given his current plan of attack. But what was done was done. “You’ll enter the arena in the same order,” Bagman explained. Well, good luck to you all!” He winked at Harry, something that Harry missed, distracted by his analysis of the dragon he was to face.

Harry waited in the corner, studying the animated model, trying to pick out specific features of the dragon he was to face. There wasn’t much of note that would really make a difference. The dragons were approximately the same size, though the Short-Snout and the Fireball were probably the most agile of the group.

The crowd noise from the stands outside began to grow. There was an unending silence between the four champions. For whatever reason, none of them seemed comfortable talking, as if it would break some unwritten rule. Harry waited, trying to calm himself, remembering the sequence of actions that he’d planned. If he executed them successfully, he’d be able to neutralize a number of advantages that the dragon had. From there, he’d figure out how to distract the dragon long enough to get past it and retrieve the egg. It was straightforward, but there were a lot of things that could go wrong, even if he managed to get the broom. If he failed in that regard, he’d need to figure out a backup plan, and fast. Daphne’s warning about the dangers of using his magic to the fullest extent of his ability still rung in his ears.

Finally, as the noise outside built to a climax, he heard the muffled sounds of Bagman announcing the beginning of the First Task and describing what the Champions were expected to do in detail. Then there came a series of screams, gasps, and exclamations, caused by the entrance of the Chinese Fireball, Harry guessed. Fleur stood upright and walked to the front of the tent, taking calming breaths, and then stepped out.

For the next ten minutes, the other champions waited, listening to the muffled sounds of roars, screams, Bagman’s play-by-play, cheers, and finally a thunderous applause. None of the Champions were permitted to see what they would be facing, so they had to either infer what was happening from their other senses or simply ignore it altogether. Harry was trying to take the latter approach. Whatever happened to the others was none of his concern. His task was to stay alive and collect the egg, not to worry about the other Champions.

Cedric was next, and he looked more anxious than Harry had ever seen him look at any Quidditch game. Clearly, he was also out of his element. Harry tuned out the sounds completely this time, focusing on what he was supposed to do. It seemed to take an eternity, but finally he heard the applause and saw Krum stand up, back completely straight, eyes narrowed to slits. He walked over, leaving Harry alone, waiting his turn. He tried to listen more intently this time, but Bagman’s commentary was not nearly specific enough for him to figure out exactly what Krum had tried or how successful it had been. What he did hear, though, was a chilling howl of pain and gasps from the audience, followed by Karkaroff calling for a forfeit. Krum hadn’t made it. Harry hoped that he was okay, but realized that he couldn’t dwell on that now. It was his turn. It took several minutes before his name was announced, and he stepped out into the blinding light, taking in the scene before him.

He stood at the entrance of a large, circular arena, the walls above him lined with stands full of screaming students. The rest of the arena was a brutal landscape of massive boulders and sharp rocks, with narrow paths cut in between them, leading to the next on the far side. Standing over that nest was a massive creature, covered in turquoise scales with splashes of dark blue on its snout, tail, and legs. It seemed to still be trying to settle in, get used to its surroundings. Good.

A flick of his right wrist sent his wand shooting into his hand. He raises his wand arm over his head, concentrated, and bellowed, “Accio Nimbus!” Bagman said something that sounded like a compliment for his audacity and daring. Harry tuned him out completely, and stood there, waiting. He realized that he was going to look very, very foolish if his broom didn’t arrive in the next thirty seconds, because the dragon had heard his yell and now stared at him with malevolence. It began to move forward, away from the nest, which Harry found extremely odd. He tried to remember if Short-Snouts were more aggressive than other dragons, but no such revelation came to him. As he thought, he heard the satisfying sound of his broom hurtling through the air, gliding down over the crowd and coming to a dead stop directly in front of him. He breathed a sigh of relief, mounted the broom, and took off, flying so that he was above the dragon. He needed to test its tendencies and reactions if this was going to work. The crowd had gotten louder when he flew into the air, but all he saw of the stands was a blur of color and screaming voices, merging together into something altogether incomprehensible.

He began to his probe of the dragon’s defenses. He dove to the right, coming in as if he expected to simply fly around the dragon and grab the egg. He reversed directions as soon as the dragon moved. It flapped its wings twice but didn’t actually take off, cocking its tail and stretching its head toward where he expected Harry to end up. Harry came at it again, breaking away as it lunged at him. As he went in a third time, fire erupted from its snout, and might have incinerated him and his broom if he hadn’t already taken evasive action. So far, the dragon had reacted to his aggression, not been aggressive itself. But just as he thought this, it took off and flew straight at, leaving its nest altogether behind. Harry could see the rage in its reptilian eyes, the malevolence there. Something was definitely amiss. He frantically dove out of the way of two lines of fire, singeing the back of his broom on the second.

Great, so it breathes fire out of both nostrils. Exactly what I needed, Harry thought, as he swung his broom around again, trying to set up for one last try. But before he could, the dragon rose yet again: screams and shouts filling the arena as he barely got out of the way of the dragon’s claws. Now hovering near the back of the stadium, he hoped that the dragon might try to drive him back further, allowing him to slip around and grab the egg. But though it continued to glare daggers at Harry, it backed off, settling back on to the ground in front of its eggs. Apparently, its desire to kill him didn’t go so far as to override the instinctual protection of its young. Harry moved forward again. He’d completely blocked out the crowd now, and hadn’t the slightest clue if they were thrilled by the aerial acrobatics or bored to death. He really didn’t care.

Harry had an idea. He flattened himself against his broom and turned it to the right, aiming straight for the dragon’s left fore claw. At the last instant, as the Snort-Snout moved to strike him, he turned the Nimbus to the left, paralleling the ground just in front of the dragon for a few seconds. The dragon had tried to follow his course, and blasted fire several meters behind. By moving from its defensive position, it had opened up a small hole to its right, and Harry flew into it. But unfortunately, in his concern about the dragon’s snout and fore claws, he’d forgotten about the other end…

The massive tail of the Short-Snout slammed into the tail of his Nimbus with the force of a brick wall…moving about 150 kilometers per hour. He was fortunate to not have both of his legs crushed by the impact. Still, he and his shattered broom spun out of control, spiraling down, away from the dragon, and slamming into the rocks with bone-crushing force. The force of the impact with the Short-Snout’s tail and the ground was too much for the Nimbus’s Unbreakable Charm, and the broom shattered like it was made of glass. Harry didn’t fair much better. He heard the CRACK of shattered bone, and his entire right side erupted in blinding pain. He rolled over, half-blind from his agony, the pounding in his skull threatening to rip his head apart. He managed not to scream, which probably just convinced Hermione and Ginny that he was already dead.

Though his blurred vision and shattered glasses, he managed to make out a massive turquoise shadow above him, and recognition returned, bringing with it the most basic of survival instincts. The adrenaline which flooded his system deadened the pain, and Harry somehow managed to drag himself behind a large rock, where he tried to figure how just how badly he was hurt. The fact that his right arm was swollen, bruised, and basically useless wasn’t a good sign. He guessed he had a number of broken ribs, some serious bruising, and either a broken or twisted right ankle, he wasn’t sure which. He was sure that if he hadn’t been a wizard, he would have been killed by the impact.

His sense of sight, practically useless between the head injury that was affecting his coordination and his broken glasses, he closed his eyes, reaching for his magic. Then he stopped. He’d promised Daphne, Hermione, and Ginny that winning was not important, that survival took precedence over all. Harry struggled to his feet with his left arm, which seemed to be intact, and, leaning against the rock he was hiding behind, peered out at the dragon. He had to dive to the ground as a sheet of fire descended upon him, missing him by less than a meter. What the hell? The dragons weren’t supposed to attack the Champions, they were supposed to defend their nests…

Harry reached out and touched the mind of the dragon. He was met by hostility, rage, and malevolence well beyond that of a dragon trying to defend her young. The rage suddenly intensified, and Harry realized that making a mental connection probably hadn’t been the best idea in the world. But before he was ejected from the creature’s mind, he felt a Darkness that was too alien to have come from the dragon itself.

The pain was beginning to return. Desperate, realizing that declaring a forfeit wasn’t going to accomplish anything with the dragon in the right mind to kill him, he supercharged a Numbing Spell onto himself. It was a stupid choice; he had a chance of killing himself, but if he was incapacitated by the pain he’d be dead anyway, and in considerably more painful fashion. The pain faded, and a general lack of sensation took its place. Feeling almost as if he was moving through a dream, Harry tucked his broken arm against his chest, picked up his wand with his left hand, and supported his weight with his undamaged left leg. He felt the dragon again, felt danger, fear, and aggression. At the last moment he scrambled for another cover as the dragon literally ripped the rock he was hiding behind out of the ground with a powerful blow. It let loose a deafening roar that Harry more felt than heard; all of his sense had been affected by the Numbing Charm. The dragon snapped at him with its jaw, but he got out of the way in time. Frantically, he tried to develop a plan.

The answer, the only answer, came to him just as quickly. He’d promised Daphne, but he was certain she’d rather have him magically drained than squashed flat by a dragon’s fore claw. Taking several deep breaths, using the side of the stone as a lever, he flung himself into sight, fumbled his wand into position, and screamed.

This time, his magic was not manifested in the form of a purple beam of energy. Instead, it was more like a sheet of light. Harry watched, not through his eyes, but through his magical senses, as it shot outwards and struck the dragon’s legs, shattering the huge bones like glass flutes. The dragon fell, crashing headlong into the ground, roaring in agony. Harry’s energy was leaving him rapidly. Desperately, determination and fire blazing in his eyes, he crawled forward, using only the left side of his body, dragging along the useless appendages on his right side. He scraped and clawed his way past the writhing dragon, moving past it almost unseen. He tore his way up into the nest, teeth gnashing together, groaning with every movement of his broken body. He fell over the edge, and grabbed onto the golden egg. He collapsed then and there, clutching his prize in his hands. Soon after, he felt himself being lifted out of the nest, taken away. He felt his guardian’s presence, heard her voice, and relaxed a bit. Then he allowed unconsciousness to take him.


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