The Grind (And Helping Heather Potter) Ch.17 (old) (Patreon)

“You’ll do fine,” I reassured. “Go out there and wow them for us, yeah, Heather? Show them how brilliant your best friend and teacher are and how wicked you can really be. We’ll be watching and supporting you the whole way.”

Hermione hugged Heather tightly, “Good luck.”

“With the Dragon I pulled, I’ll need it,” Heather grumbled then grinned. “Good thing I have your tattoo to keep the Potter luck to a minimum.”

Hermione wrung her hands in worry, “Oh, I just hope it works. I-I… What if it doesn’t and I let you down? W-What if you get hurt? Oh, it’d be horrible. Are you sure you have to go out there?”

“She does, Hermione,” I cut in. “We went over the tournament’s rules together. So long as Heather’s bound to the Goblet, she has to at least show up to the tasks. She doesn’t have to win or even do well though. So, Heather? Focus on staying alive.”

Heather snorted, “I’ll do more than that. Watch me ace this thing without even drawing my wand!”

“Still,” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. “Nesting Dragons? Honestly, are the tournament’s organizers insane or just daft?!”

“Yes,” I deadpanned. “Yes to both.”

One of those daft morons we were talking about — Crouch if I remembered correctly — growled in the background, “Watch yourself, White! You’re not even supposed to be here. Get outta here so we can start.”

Of course, I pretended to not hear him, “Did you girls hear something? A stuck-up, old gust of wind that hasn’t even read the rules for his own tournament perhaps?”

It made Heather crack a smile despite the nerves she must have been feeling so it was a win in my book. Pissing off a Pure-Blood who was all pig-headed bluster and self-importance was just icing on the cake. The other champions were in a similar state to Heather and I felt a little bad that they didn’t have someone to comfort them. Well, Cedric and Fleur mostly. Victor Krum was as stone-faced as I’d ever seen someone.

Dumbledore and the other school heads had been here for the drawing of the Dragons but excused themselves to act as the judges for the Task. Whoever thought of making them the tournament’s ‘impartial’ judges was a disconnected fool if they thought the champions’ headmasters were without bias. Though, maybe that was the point.

I wouldn’t put it past this feckless tournament. Even if there had been something in the rules about this, I wasn’t going to leave Heather alone to stew in her completely justified anxiety before facing a blasted Dragon. We may have known about the Dragons beforehand thanks to a certain loose-lipped Giant — as did the other champions through ways I could only suspect. But we hadn’t had any time to prepare anything to specifically deal with them. In the end, the plan was still for Heather to wing this off the back of the research we’d developed and training we’d already done.

The first champion was called up to the Task soon enough. I gave Cedric Diggory — the real Hogwarts champion — a nod and wished him good luck. Good kid, that one. Let’s hope he didn’t go ahead and commit suicide by Dragon.

Cheers echoed from the Task’s arena into the tent, doing nothing to soothe anyone’s nerves. Fleur looked to have it the worst though. Krum was seemingly unflappable and Heather had me and Hermione to keep her worries from running wild. And I wasn’t so completely competitive that I wouldn’t comfort Fleur, especially after the moment of intimacy we’d shared together.

I got the French champion’s attention, “Fleur?”

“What do you want, Devil?” Fleur turned a sneer up at me.

I could tell her heart wasn’t in it at the moment so I pressed on, “I just wanted to wish you good luck. From everything I’ve seen, you’re a smart and powerful Witch. I’m sure you’ll do great. Just… remember that your life isn’t worth some brief stint of wealth and glory, yeah?”

Fleur softened as she deemed my words genuine and she seemed to regain some of the spirit she always directed at me, “Merci… Take heart, Devil! I shall not leave my dear Gabby alone to your twisted debauchery.”

I sighed, “I guess that’s as good a motivation as I could ask for.”

Fleur huffed, “Hmph. Indeed. Now, begone, Fiend. I wish to concentrate and I cannot with your devilish visage clouding my mind.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I rolled my eyes. “Good luck again, Fleur. You’ve got this.”

“What was that about?” Hermione asked with narrowed eyes as I returned to her and Heather. Fleur looked visibly less tense after our short conversation.

“Just wishing the competition good luck,” I said.

“You didn’t do that with Krum,” Hermione pressed.

I shrugged, “I don’t know him. Fleur and I at least have something that vaguely resembles a relationship because of her sister.”

“Hmmm…” Hermione just hummed, her brilliant mind suddenly seeming occupied with something.

I left her to her thoughts and began to give Heather a last-minute rundown of what not to do around nesting Dragons according to Newt Scamander’s fantastic ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’. Ironically enough, trying to steal their eggs was the first thing on that list.

Cedric returned to the tent, clutching the golden egg that was the Task’s target and covered in soot and burns. He quickly collapsed under the care of Madame Pomfrey. Fleur was called out and her departure was met with similar cheers as Cedric’s. She eventually returned with her head held high and part of her uniform burned off. For some reason, the idea that others had seen her in such a compromised state set my blood pumping with possessive fervor and I conjured something to cover her modesty.

Fleur acted haughty and unfazed as if she didn’t even notice my assistance. That illusion was broken by the way she clutched the cloak I’d conjured close to her frame. Krum was called out and once again the cheers echoed through the fabric walls of the tent. When he returned, it was finally time for Heather to show the Wizarding World that even though she didn’t want to be in this tournament, she wouldn’t just roll over and take the shite thrown her way…

IIIII

“What… an… event, people!” Ludo Bagman shouted into his mic, hoping to hype up the crowd even more and already envisioning the profits from his semi-legal tournament betting scheme.

“A truly thrilling spectacle!” He continued. “Three champions down, each more daring than the last! The Hogwarts champion Cedric Diggory retrieved his prize with a masterful display of transfiguration and a bit of poor luck. The Beauxbatons champion Fleur Delacour did so with her bewitching Veela charm and was even nice enough to give the audience a stunning show of beauty in the process. And the Durmstrang champion Victor Krum has just finished conquering his foe with fearsome strength and ability!

“All that remains is the tournament’s wildcard champion! The one who shouldn’t even be able to compete! Give it up for the one, the only, Heather Potter! The Girl-Who-Lived! And she faces off against the First Task’s most daunting opponent, a genuine, bonafide Hungarian Horntail!” If Bagman butchered the pronunciation of ‘bonafide’ (he did), only a third of the audience was aware enough of it to cringe.

“Here she comes, folks! The savior of the Wizarding World, coming up to look death in the face once again! Will she live up to her moniker? Or will the Triwizard Tournament claim its first victim since 1792?!”

Heather stepped into the arena, looking impassively up at her cheering audience. None of them mattered in her mind. Sheep and fools, the lot of them. But if they wanted to be entertained, Heather would show them entertainment…

The cheers slowly died into confusion as she waited and waited, not moving a muscle toward the Dragon that was tensely guarding its nest and shooting her suspicious, threatening glances. She was waiting for Atlas and Hermione to take their seats. They’d left the tent at the same time as Heather and she wanted to make sure they got a good view of what she was about to do. The rest of the audience could wait or simply leave for all she cared.

Soon enough, she saw them get into position in the crowd. They sat next to Luna Lovegood and the Weasley twins, though strangely, the twins and Luna had a pair of magical microphones in front of them and seemed to be doing their own version of commentary for the First Task. Still, Heather gave them all an eager, mischievous grin.

She took a step forward and the Hungarian Horntail on the other side of the arena roared. Echoing off every available surface, the roar shook the very air in people’s lungs. The crowd was suddenly silent, only now realizing the monumental task put before the Girl-Who-Lived. Compared to the other three Dragons before it, the Horntail was akin to an Unforgivable over a simple Blasting Curse. It was primed to kill and die to defend its nest. And yet, faced with the most dangerous breed of Dragon in its most dangerous state of mind, Heather was undeterred, completely confident in the people she had on her side and the advantage she, Atlas, and Hermione had developed together.

“M-My word,” Bagman stuttered, forgetting his showmanship for a brief moment even though he was completely safe from the Dragon.

He quickly regained his grove, “W-What an awesome beast! Let’s give a round of applause for Heather Potter’s Gryffindor courage!”

Heather scoffed internally as she continued putting one foot in front of the other. ‘Yeah, make the rest of the school resent me more, why don’tcha? Not like this takes just as much Hufflepuff trust and teamwork, Ravenclaw smarts, and Slytherin preparation or anything.’ She stopped in the center of the arena and slowly directed her magic into the wicked Runic tattoo on her back…

“She’s collecting herself, folks, let’s see what she’ll-…” Bagman commentated, “By Merlin’s wrinkled staff! S-She’s flying! Without a broom! How in the name of magic is she doing that?! She hasn’t even drawn her wand!”

The wind ripped around her, forming an invisible cloak as Heather rose under her own power. The deafening silence of disbelief filled the arena’s stands. Even the ever-boisterous Bagman didn’t know what to say to this impossible development. Across from Heather, the Dragon chuffed and almost seemed to chuckle.

“$$ Hatchling has spread wings. Is still much too young to challenge Nesting Mother. $$”

Heather stopped and blinked at growling chuffs that she heard and understood as clear as day. The Horntail even had an Eastern-European accent and spoke in choppy grammar as if it was some Human babushka in another life. Her flight stuttered before she regained control of her shock. Slowly, Heather’s lips and tongue twisted to make sibilant sounds and she naturally replied in Parselmouth.

“$$ Hello…? $$”

“$$ Hatchling speaks. Good. $$” The babushka-like Dragon replied, almost seeming to nod. “$$ Accent bad but can fix. Need more growl. More bass. Now, go shoo. Nesting Mother will take care of loud Humans. $$”

“$$ Uh, please don’t kill anyone…? Most of them haven’t done anything wrong. $$” Heather requested. “$$ And I kinda… can’t? Leave, that is. I’ve been tasked with taking a fake egg that’s been placed in your nest. $$”

A large gout of flames escaped the Dragon’s nostrils, “$$ Proving Test? Foolish. Even Hatchlings should know to not trick or bother Nesting Mothers. $$”

Heather was starting to feel more awkward than anything else, glancing up at Atlas and Hermione to see they were even more confused than she was, “$$ I still need to get that fake egg. If I don’t even try, I may lose my magic. $$”

This time, she was sure the Dragon nodded, “$$ Ah, tale as old as time, yes. Hatchlings mess with things they do not understand. Very well. Nesting Mother gives Hatchling false spawn. But want in return. Nesting Mother will give Proving Test instead. No foolish. Make Hatchling True Adult Dragon. Tradition. Recognized. Not silly Proving Test given by other Hatchlings. $$”

Heather and the audience watched in stunned silence as the Hungarian Horntail babushka carefully rummaged through its nest with surprisingly nimble forelimbs. It picked the golden egg out of the clutch and held it out to Heather. Cautiously, Heather flew to retrieve it.

“She’s won…?” Bagman’s voice echoed through the arena, too confused to put together any compelling commentary. “Does that count?”

Heather felt the heat of the Dragon brush up against her Runic protections as she took the golden egg from the Horntail’s clawed hand. She could feel the power pulsing off of the magical beast, raw and untamed even though it was ‘chained down’. The Horntail could have been free in an instant if it wanted to be.

“L-Let’s hear it for Heather Potter…!” Bagman tried to bring the enthusiasm and excitement back into the arena. “The Girl-Who-Lived won by… was that Parselmouth? A little dark but I guess if it works, it works.”

The crowd obviously wasn’t on board with how Heather’s Task went. Where were the explosions? The death-defying stunts? The fire?! Before more than a brief scattering of applause could start, Heather whooshed and flew her way up to the stands by Atlas and Hermione.

Before Heather could say anything, Luna jumped in with an eager question, “Are you taking applications for a supervillain rival? Because I know just the supervillain!”

“Later, Luna,” Atlas thankfully knew how to keep Luna’s eccentricity under control.

“Okay!” Luna happily replied and stayed silent so Heather could do what she came for.

“Can one of you hold this?” She asked, presenting her prize.

“Why can’t you hold it?” Hermione asked as a feeling of dread suddenly grew in her heart, a feeling bred from several years of adventures with Heather. “You’re done, aren’t you?”

Heather grinned sheepishly, “Not quite. She wants me to go back in there for something called a ‘Proving Test’.”

“Can’t you tell her no?” Hermione pleaded, the dread in her heart that Heather was about to do something dangerously stupid growing stronger. “She’s just a Dragon after all.”

Heather snorted, “Don’t be racist, Hermione. Besides, how else am I going to become a ‘True Adult Dragon’?”

“Heather Potter!” Hermione gasped. “Don’t you dare!”

Heather’s grin turned unrepentant and Atlas shook his head, laying a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, “Don’t try to get in the way of the Grind, Hermione. It’s as much of a universal law as gravity.”

“What does that even mean?!”

“The Grind is the Grind and becoming a ‘True Adult Dragon’ sounds like a worthy goal to Grind toward,” Atlas said sagely.

“Plus it seems fun,” Heather added shamelessly. “I knew you’d understand, Atlas. Here, hold this for me.”

“$$ Hatchling done? $$” The babushka Horntail asked in a growl that resonated through the still-mostly-silent arena, seemingly growing impatient. “$$ Can mate and tease wingmates later. Once Adult, can claim as hoard. Now, important. Show Nesting Mother Hatchling’s claws. $$”

Heather flashed Hermione and Atlas a smile, “A moment, yeah?”

Hermione had no choice but to nod in resignation. Heather turned back to the Horntail and called out, “$$ Not my wingmates yet, but I’m working on it! $$”

In the background as this was going on, Bagman tried to keep commentating to the best of his ability, “A-Are we done? She won, right? Now she’s handing the egg off to someone in the stands? Isn’t that her coach? Is that allowed-… Oh my Merlin! Is that-?! Heather Potter with a flying elbow from the top rope!”

Seemingly without warning for anyone else, Heather made her return to the arena in the most dramatic way possible. The judges — who were about to present their decision — and the rest of the crowd froze in shock. Heather used her temporary Runic flight to launch herself upward and came down upon the Hungarian Horntail like the wrath of God.

She slammed into the Dragon and the Dragon laughed, “$$ Good Hatchling! Spirit of True Dragon in you! $$”

Heather’s flying elbow dug into the scales on the Horntail’s neck and she discharged a bolt of lightning directly into the Dragon’s flesh. She was quickly sent flying backward by the recoil of her close-range lightning bolt, tumbling in mid-air until she got her metaphorical feet under her again. A single spot on the Dragon’s scales the size of Heather’s elbow with smoke wafting off of it was the only sign of damage.

“Fuck!” Heather swore, swinging her arm as if trying to get blood into it. “That smarts!”

Still, she didn’t let a stinging elbow stop her for long. She launched back in, wrapping her cloak of wind around her tighter. The Horntail let out a chuffing roar. The crowd was stuck between stunned speechless and cheering their hearts out. This was what they’d come for and so much more!

Her instincts and reflexes were running at full tilt, adrenaline pumping through her veins, Heather grinned. The Horntail seemed to match her grin. That was all the warning Heather got before she was dodging to the side to avoid a thick burst of Dragonfire. Calling upon the Runes printed upon her skin, Heather replied in kind.

“Merlin, folks!” Bagman exclaimed. “Look at that fire from the Girl-Who-Lived. She’s got Dragon in her blood and she’s out to prove it! Who else would’ve thought to fight fire with fire against a Magic-damned Dragon?! I’ve never seen anything like this!

“She still hasn’t drawn her wand once! Wandless magic! Are we witnessing the next rise of Morgana?! It certainly seems like it! I, for one, hope so! Look! Now she’s using the very stone beneath the Dragon’s feet! Wandless, silent, handsfree transfiguration! Only Dumbledore could do it better!”

The earthen shackle Heather used on the Dragon’s back foot wasn’t transfiguration per se. It was more akin to telekinesis but the spectators had no way of knowing that. Only Heather, Hermione, and Atlas knew that Heather was completely relying on the Runic tattoo they’d developed together. She’d been the quickest to pick up its abilities and was currently putting that still-developing skill to good use.

Heather’s blood and magic sang in her heart. She’d never felt more alive as she shot flames out of her hands, flew under her own power, and proved herself to an honest-to-Merlin Dragon. She cut her flames off and lightning crackled on her fingertips once again until it was released. Twin bolts struck the Horntail’s flanks, bleaching its black scales white in jagged scars even as it seemed to laugh, unhurt and amused by Heather’s demonstrated power.

‘When in doubt…’ Heather thought, her fists turning into metal as she invoked specific Kanji in her Runic tattoo. ‘Punch a bitch!’

Her protections worked overtime as she flew through the Horntail’s Dragonfire and Heather even began to feel the heat through them. That stopped mattering so much when her fist lashed out and knocked the Dragon’s jaw closed with a vicious uppercut.

“Folks… I think I need to check myself into St. Mungos to see a mind healer because there is no way that just happened!” Bagman announced. “Is this how she defeated You-Know-Who? Punched him in the face with ridiculous baby strength?! I-I think I need to lie down…”

Heather was sent tumbling away again by a flap of the Horntail’s wings. Her flight was canceled automatically, the momentum of her tumble running into the limit of her Runes’ power. She rolled and came up ready to keep fighting only to be stopped by rumbling chuckles.

“$$ Enough. Hatchling proven. None try punching Nesting Mother. Good. Satisfy. $$” The Horntail ‘said’. “$$ Come, Hatchling. Let Nesting Mother bathe in Proving Fire. Will not hurt… much. $$”

Heather hesitated for a moment. But her blood was still roaring in her ears and she wasn’t thinking completely straight. She approached the Nesting Mother fearlessly, still high off adrenaline and battle. She didn’t hear the cheers of the crowd or even the terrified silence that fell over them as they realized Heather was walking straight up to her foe with her guard down.

She stopped before the Dragon, its head leaned down, and the stadium held its breath. The Dragon’s maw gaped and flames — thick as liquid — poured out and onto Heather Potter, cloaking her from view. Outside the cocoon of Dragonfire, screams and terror abounded in the audience. Inside, however, a metamorphosis took place…

IIIII

“My word,” Dumbledore mumbled to himself in awe and almost glee. “What an extraordinary sight. To be able to witness the process… I would have never imagined.

“Dumbledore, you must do something!” Madame Olympe Maxime exclaimed frantically. “She is still your student, is she not?! You must save her!”

“Is too late,” Headmaster Igor Karkaroff said flatly. “She is already dead. From that close, is no surviving Dragonfire.”

Dumbledore chuckled, “I think you will be surprised, Igor.”

Karkaroff scoffed disrespectfully, “That I very much doubt. Not even ash will be leftover.”

Bartemius Crouch Snr paled dramatically, “Good King Arthur… First Task and we’ve already got a death on our hands. The Girl-Who-Lived no less. It was good knowing you folks. I can’t imagine our careers will survive the backlash we get for taking part in this deathtrap.”

“Ah ah,” Dumbledore tutted, his tone growing slightly vindictive and patronizing. “Not our. Your hands. Yours and Bagman’s and the Minister’s. You three were the ones to push for this and take it upon yourself to organize everything. The champions’ safeties were in your magnanimous hands. Why, you would not even humor me when I offered my advice. I believe the expression is ‘You reap what you sow’.”

Crouch clutched his chest as if he would have a heart attack and Dumbledore continued, “Thankfully, that is not what will happen just yet. The oats you’ve sown have not yet come to harvest. Young Heather Potter will be more than fine after this ordeal. But know this, Bartemius, if she was not… I would personally ensure your career was the least of your worries.”

“What is happening, Dumbledore?” Madame Maxime asked slightly less frantically. “If she is not being burned, what is going on? You speak with such confidence. You must know something.”

“Something wonderful and rare,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “I hardly thought I’d ever get the chance to see it in person. It is a process known as Draconic Proving.”

Seeing the lack of recognition in his current companions, Dumbledore happily explained further. It’d been so long since he’d gotten to give a lecture like this, even if it was to his peers instead of his students as he would have liked.

“Draconic Proving is a key step in the life cycle and maturation of Dragons. As Hatchlings, Dragons are seen as part of their mother’s hoard. As they grow and grow, they will start to feel antsy and anxious, wanting to strike out and find their place in the world. That is where the Proving Test comes in.

“Unlike most reptiles, Dragons are wonderfully maternal creatures. The Hatchling’s mother will test them, wishing to discern if they will survive on their own. If the Hatchling passes the test set to them by their mother, they will be recognized by mother and magic alike as True Adults.

“During this recognition process, the mother will bathe her spawn in a phenomenon called ‘Proving Fire’. That is what we are witnessing here. Heather Potter has proven herself to this Hungarian Horntail, something most likely facilitated by her gift of Parseltongue allowing her to communicate with the Horntail. She is not the first Human to undergo this process. Legend has it that King Arthur himself was recognized by magic as a True Adult Dragon, as Dragon-Touched. But young Heather is the first in many, many years. It’s truly quite remarkable.”

The Judge’s box fell silent as its inhabitant processed Dumbledore’s words. A Human becoming a Dragon? Coming from anyone else, it would have been preposterous. From someone as well-read and worldly as Albus Dumbledore, though, they couldn’t immediately dismiss it as fiction. The implications of this long-forgotten information were astounding.

Greed shined in Karkaroff’s eyes, “Interesting… I suppose this tournament was not a complete waste of time after all.”

Dumbledore’s threat of reprisal was swift and thorough, “Igor… If you so much as look at one of my students with the intention of recruiting them — consensually or not —, you will leave Britain in multiple pieces. Still alive pieces, mind you. And I guarantee… Unlike a certain nursery rhyme, you shall not be put back together again.”

Karkaroff snorted to hide the visceral fear that the greatest Wizard of the past two centuries inspired in him, “Da. Message received. Students off limits. I like my pieces connected. They will stay that way.”

Suddenly, Dumbledore was back to his usual genial, grandfatherly self, “So glad we could come to an understanding, Igor. I hope you understand that the same goes for the Ministry if it tries to give young Heather any trouble, Bartemius. She will not be declared a dangerous creature or anything of the like. This is one of the times I am completely willing and ready to bear the political consequences of my interference. Every ounce of my power will be brought down upon those outsiders who dare to harm my charges.”

Crouch nodded shakily, “I-I’ll make sure the Minister is informed…”

Dumbledore simply smiled but his eyes lacked their trademark twinkle, “Yes, you do that. It will not deter him for long, I’m sure, but at least he will have been warned.”

The box fell silent once again. Everyone waited with almost bated breath to see the results of the Proving Fire Dumbledore had identified. Even outside their box, the stadium had mostly fallen into stunned terror.

Still, a sobbing scream reached their ears, “Stop! S-Stop! She’s already dead…!”

Dumbledore couldn’t help but chuckle at that deliciously dark bit of humor. As he did, the Dragon’s fire began to finally fade. No one noticed that it had stopped its breath long ago. The cocoon of Proving Fire around Heather Potter waned and shimmered out of existence, leaving a young woman changed, Touched, and yet, the same…

IIIII

I didn’t freak out at first. It took a lot but I didn’t freak out. Heather walked straight up to the Dragon she’d ‘talked’ to and fought for the better part of an hour and I trusted her. Trusted her to know what she was doing and not senselessly throw her life away.

Hermione could’ve told me that was a mistake if I’d asked her. Trust Heather Potter to not throw her life away? The thought would have been laughable to her. She did freak out, almost jumping out of the stands to stop her best friend from walking straight into the maw of a Dragon.

I held her back, whispering to her, “Trust the protections. Trust the Runes and the magic. Trust your work.”

Almost immediately, I wished I hadn’t. Heather was engulfed by Dragonfire and suddenly everyone was freaking out. Not just Hermione. Not just me. But the Weasley twins and the rest of the crowd as well. We thought we were watching someone die. Only Luna bounced in her seat with excitement and seemed to know better than everyone else.

“Wow! Oh wow!” She exclaimed, continuing before I could turn to censure her. “Proving Fire! Do you know what this means?! The Dragon-Touched are real! The stories of King Arthur are true!”

Hermione was justifiably outraged when she tore her attention from the cocoon of fire on the arena floor, “Luna! How could you celebrate something like this?! Heather’s… Heather’s…”

Luna shook her head, firmly denying Hermione’s conclusion, “She’s not dead. She’s not hurt. Magic and the Nesting Mother have recognized her. She’s proven herself worthy of a Dragon’s maturity. She’s not burning, she’s evolving. Not like: ‘AHHHHHH!’. More like: ‘Schwoop!’ and ‘Mwhahaha!’ Just watch. She’ll come out of that cocoon better than ever!”

The way Luna said it was so confident, so sure, that I felt something tight within me uncoil. Hermione didn’t benefit from the same trust I had in Luna’s Sight, “How?! Heather’s not a Dragon! And she’s only barely fireproof!”

“She is now,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “Or at least, partially one. It’s magic, Hermione. And it’s nature! This is how Dragons reach True Adulthood. It’s extraordinarily rare to see, even for Magizoologists, and even rarer for a Human to prove themself worthy. King Arthur did! Or so the stories say, at least. And now Heather too!”

Luna’s continued reassurance seemed to help Hermione regain control of herself. Being bombarded by new information certainly helped as well. It gave her something to focus on other than the sight of what she’d thought was her best friend being roasted alive.

“That’s… actually quite fascinating,” Hermione said taking deep breaths and trying to keep her gaze from wandering back to the arena floor.

“Isn’t it?” Luna cheerfully agreed. “Dragon-Touched are usually thought to be myths at most! Earning the approval and recognition of a mother Dragon is super-duper hard! Like once in a civilization hard!”

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, “So, of course, Heather manages to do it the second time she meets a Dragon… That’s just her luck.”

Luna cocked her head, “Second?”

“Err…” Hermione stopped herself guiltily. “Nevermind. I, uh, must have misspoke. So about these hybrids?”

Luna easily went along with the change of subject, “Okay! To be honest, we don’t know much about the process. This must be the only time it’s been witnessed in history! Most of what we have is speculation-…”

Her infectious excitement slowly spread and helped to calm the rest of us. The twins breathed twin sighs of relief. Even the people in the seats around us listened intently as Luna began to rant and ramble excitedly about Dragons and Dragon-Human hybrids — the Dragon-Touched. The microphone she and the twins were using for their version of commentary on the First Task picked up Luna’s every word, broadcasting them to their predominantly Hogwarts audience.

Luna spoke of myth and legend and the actual explanations that likely created those stories. She spoke of awesome power and magical instinct and other things I couldn’t help but think already described Heather. Then, of course, Luna went on a tangent about the way the Proving Fire sounded to her eyes and quickly lost her enraptured audience. Closed-minded fools, all of them. At least Hermione didn’t immediately dismiss Luna.

By dinner, everyone in the Castle would know more about Heather’s new condition than she did. Great… As if she wasn’t already facing enough scorn thanks to this tournament. I wanted to believe the students and the rest of the Wizarding World would accept her but I knew better. Let’s just hope no one decided to poke the newly-christened Dragon…

Eventually, Heather’s fiery cocoon faded to ash around her, leaving her swaying in place in front of the Hungarian Horntail. The Horntail rumbled something, probably speaking to Heather. Heather’s head shot up in response and her Runic tattoo activated again. In a burst of movement that was over in a single blink, Heather appeared in front of me and Hermione.

Her emerald eyes glowed with a literal inner fire as she growled, “Mine~”

Then her face was directed skyward and a gout of flame was belched into the air. Tinted the same vibrant green as her eyes, a pillar of Heather’s new Dragonfire pierced the sky, illuminating every face in the stadium with an eerie glow on this overcast day. A wave of Aura and Presence rolled off of her as it did. Heather Potter — the world’s latest Dragon-Touched — announced herself in a burst of magic and Dragonfire.

As abruptly as she began, Heather stopped, coughing as her breath of fire died out, “Bloody Hell…! Talk about a sore throat. Talk about a sore everything, really!”

“Language, Heather,” Hermione chided automatically, still processing the events like the rest of us.

Heather chuckled and those chuckles quickly turned into all-out laughter. The little bit of normality from Hermione must have done her a world of good. The glowing fire in her eyes waned into embers and the slitted pupils I’d only just noticed returned to normal as well. She smiled fondly at us and it became clear she hadn’t changed nearly as much as it seemed.

Things sort of blurred together after that point. Heather was judged and got her score for the First Task. After retrieving her egg diplomatically and then still going back to fight the Dragon, there was only one possible score for Heather. Even the Heads of the other schools agreed and Heather was given a perfect score, putting her in first place — as if that even mattered to us.

After the Task ended, I had to forge a path through the crowd. Heather insisted on getting out of the arena as quickly as possible, citing understandable exhaustion. You would have thought that seeing Heather’s metamorphosis into a Dragon would have made the other students more hesitant but they were trying to come up to talk to her in droves.

I even had to fight off a couple of people who were very obviously not students. A garish-looking woman who claimed to be a reporter was the worst offender. She wouldn’t take no for an answer and I eventually ended up banishing her away from us and tying her up with charmed ropes. She’d probably be let free by someone but we’d be long gone by then.

Before we got back to the Castle, I was stopped by someone that actually deserved my attention. I had the twins, Hermione, and Luna escort Heather the rest of the way while I stayed and humored the interruption.

“Mr. White?” An unfamiliar man approached me and asked politely. “I’m Auror John Dawlish. Would you be willing to answer a few questions for me about your role in the World Cup Riot this summer?”

AN: Yes, the King-Arthur-was-a-Dragon bit is a FATE reference. This isn’t really a crossover, I just couldn’t resist the reference. Let me know if y’all want an interlude of the First Task from the perspective of Luna and the twin’s commentary. I think that could be fun to write.