The Unexpected Task [H.P.]

Chapter 15 - The First Task

~third person pov~

Hermione and Emorie walked silently with the large group of students making their way down to the large circular stadium that had been erected in the outer bands of the Forbidden Forest. Both girls were far too nervous to speak, half worried they'd puke or cry with their words. Emorie was twisting a bracelet around her wrist absentmindedly, her head still swimming with thoughts of the picture she'd found in Magical Schools Across the World, which she hadn't told Hermione about quite yet. She pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind, saving them for later. There were more important things to worry about than looking like some 200-year-old witch.

Upon entrance into the stadium, the girls walked up the stairs and out into the stands, where they found seats next to Ron, who was looking a little green. When the girls sat, Ron barely lifted his head away from his hands, which were knotted in his lap. Around them, cheers sounded, and they heard Fred and George calling for bets.

Hermione was the first to speak. "He's going to be okay, I just know it." It was nice, her promise, but it felt empty and weak. Emorie looked across the stands, which were slowly filling with students and spectators. Across the pitch sat empty, regal seats, which were to be filled with the judges soon. At the far end of the pitch, which was full of rocks, sat a large gate, and a white tent.

Ron rubbed his hands together, shaking his head minutely.

Emorie bristled, "You can't possibly still be angry at Harry."

Ron looked up, and Emorie realized she'd mistaken worry for anger. "I'm not. I haven't been angry for weeks."

Emorie narrowed her eyes. "So not angry- Just too proud to admit it, then?"

"Admit what?" Ron asked, ears quite red.

"That you were wrong." She explained, gesturing to the arena. "That he wouldn't have wanted this?"

Ron merely nodded, and as Emorie looked around the rocky arena, a thought drifted into her head, and she decided she was leaving before she realized she was already getting up.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked suddenly, but Emorie didn't answer. Before she knew it, she was half running down the stairs, through the large crowd, and around the pitch before arriving at the white tent, which hummed with movement and voices. As she walked along the tent, she tried to determine whose voice was who's, trying to identify Harry's within the hushed tones. Finally, almost next to her head, she heard him speak, his voice full of worry. Along the tent wall, she grabbed onto a piece that was flapping in the wind.

Once he finished speaking, Emorie whispered, quite loudly, "Harry? Is that you?"

Met with silence, she started to speak again, but Harry's voice interrupted her, along with the shuffle of his feet, "Yeah.."

Emorie pushed the fabric of the tent aside and stepped through, breathing out a sigh of relief. She looked around the tent, which had four separate sections for each champion corded off. She shifted on her feet, not meeting Harry's eyes. She had thought this far, but not about what she'd say. "How are you... feeling? Okay?" She finished, awkwardly.

Harry shuffled next to her, "I...I..."

She took another deep, steadying breath. "The key is... to concentrate. After that you just have to-"

"Battle a dragon."

Emorie's eyes met his, mournful and worried.

"Don't look at me like that," Harry said, his eyebrows knitting.