Beginners: book 1, Goblet of Fire

The Final Task

May blends into June, the grounds growing warm again. We're now able to do most of our work outside, other than the odd raining day. The work is much easier to do in the sun, even studying. And, much to my delight, it gives me more time with Luis.

After classes most days, we're able to find a corner of the grounds to spend sun-drunk evenings together. Harry has now mastered every spell on Hermione's list, so our practicing has winded down, giving us more time to get excited about the up-coming task. Even exams cant dampen the buzz that fills the castle. With only Ron to get through the final seasons, they fly by just like everything else.

Our final exams take place the day of the final task, but the rest of them have been easy enough, comparable to Ilvermorney. Breakfast is noisy and bright, filled with the ruckus of the end of term. This is only added to by the new article on Harry Rita Skeeter releases.

"Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?" Draco calls from the Slytherin table.

"Hey Malfoy, fuck off!" I call back.

"Let me see it," Harry says, snatching it from Ron. "Give it here." I read over his shoulder, and pick up some of the main points, regularly collapses at school, highly suspicious.

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron says. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard —"

"The window was open," Harry replies, still staring at the article. "I opened it to breathe."

"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione says. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" Harry snaps. "You tell me how she did it!"

"I've been trying!" Hermione says. "But I . . . but . . ." Her thinking expression falls over her face, a dull, dreamy look. Then runs a hand through her hair and slowly rises. "I have an idea..." she continues to mutter into space before dashing out the hall, on her way to the library.

"Oi!" Ron calls after her. "We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey," he says, turning back to us, "she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class — read again?"

"S'pose so," Harry says, eyes training back to the paper now lying on the table.

But McGonagall comes sweeping down from the head table. "Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she says.

"But the task's not till tonight!" He startles, spilling eggs onto his lap.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she says. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them." And she sweeps away again.

He stares after her, then at us. "She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?"

"Dunno," Ron says. "But, erm, we should go, gonna be late for Binns."

Harry just nods. I grab my things and follow Ron out, quizzing him on Ogre war dates.

Thoroughly exhausted from writing, we all trundle into the dining hall for lunch, where there are two extra bright red heads at the Gryffindor table.

"Mum- Bill!" Ron says, stunned, sitting next to an older woman with bright red curls, and a man in his mid-twenties with a red ponytail. "What're you doing here?"

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" Mrs. Weasley says, brightly. Harry casts a relieved glance at me, a smile on his face. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"