Harry Potter's Pen Pal

Chapter 13

"You know what you're going to do?" Tom asked nervously as they stopped by the tent.

Harry smiled at his boyfriend with great amusement. "Am, love, if all else fails, I can just turn into a dragon."

Tom blushed. "Just... don't die, please."

Harry scoffed. "Of course not." He pecked Tom on the cheek. "Now shoo, my queen," he added in Parseltongue.

His boyfriend froze, blinked, and quickly moved his robes so they were covering his front. Mission accomplished, Harry thought. "Erm. Good luck, Harry."

They shared a short kiss and Tom fled. Harry entered the tent.

Cedric and Delacour were talking in low voices in one corner of the tent while Krum listened in.

"Harry!" Bagman exclaimed. "Good-o! Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Harry sighed. "Mr. Bagman, how many times have I told you ⎯ you do not have permission to call me by my first name. We are not friends. I barely know you."

Bagman paled, and the other three champions stared at him, a mixture of impressed and wary. "Erm... yes, Mr. Potter. I apologize."

Harry ignored him and sat down in one of the chairs in the tent, leaning back and crossing his legs. He spotted Cedric's amused look and Krum's look of interest but didn't acknowledge them.

Bagman attempted to rally himself and mostly succeeded ⎯ he was still slightly pale. "Well, now that we're all here ⎯ time to fill you in. When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering you this bag-" here he held up a sack of purple silk "-from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different ⎯ er ⎯ varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too... ah yes... your task is to collect the golden egg!"

We're taking an egg... from a nesting mother? Are they mad? Harry thought, appalled, but keeping his expression blank.

A few minutes later ⎯ or hours, Harry couldn't tell ⎯ the sound of thousands of excited people came rushing past the tent. A few seconds after that, Bagman held the bag out to Delacour.

"Ladies first."

Delacour reached inside and pulled out a sleek, green dragon ⎯ a Welsh Green ⎯ with the number two around its neck. Delacour didn't react to seeing the dragon, and neither did Krum or Cedric, which told Harry that the other three champions already knew what they were facing.

Krum and Cedric went next; the Bulgarian pulled a Chinese Fireball (number three) and the Hufflepuff Seeker now bore a blue-green Swedish Short-Snout (number one). Harry stood up and walked over to Bagman, carefully reaching into the sack.

He almost laughed when he saw the dragon he'd pulled. Honestly, fate must have a sense of humor.

A Hungarian Horntail was curled up in his hand, sleeping. The number four hung from its neck.

"Well, there you are!" Bagman said. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now... Mr. Potter... could I have a quick word? Outside?"

"No," Harry responded. "If you must ask, Mr. Bagman, I have several back-up plans, but I'm quite sure my original plan will work."

Bagman blanched. "How-"

"I have my ways and means. Now... don't you have a job to do, Mr. Bagman?" Harry asked smoothly.

The man couldn't leave fast enough.