Rhiannon came back from the full moon that night thoroughly soaked in dog slobber and sore from playing with a clumsy, eager creature so much larger than she, but truly happy for the first time since her name had come out of the Goblet and determined to stay that way. The first thing she needed was sleep, but after that she went straight to Ravenclaw house to borrow Faye’s owl and send a letter to Sirius telling him everything – the dragons, her alliance with the other Champions, Madame Maxime’s support of her – and to ask for his help. None of the four champions had any experience facing dragons, but Sirius had fought in a war where the opposite side had used them as weapons – if anyone might have an idea how to beat them, especially without hurting them too badly, it would be her ‘dogfather’.

Hey, kiddo, Sirius wrote back the very next day – this time without any blood spatters, clearly he’d been prepared for Una’s antics.

That’s a hell of a first task they’ve set you, Hagrid’s a right good egg for warning you about it. And the day it’s set for, that’s a hell of a thing – the 24^th of November, that’s a full moon, but you know that – good thinking on the fireproofing plans. But you’re going to need to figure out some way around how sore you’re gonna be that day, I’m not gonna watch my kid get torched.

With that in mind, I’m going to come back with Remy next weekend and we can meet up and talk about it all when everyone’s rested. General things to work on before then – dragonscales are pretty much impervious to any spells, whatever you’ve been working on for duelling is no good. Their hearing isn’t much good but their noses are better than yours and they can feel vibrations through the ground. Parseltongue’s no good either, they've strong minds and can just up and say 'no'. Weak points are their mouth, their nostrils and their eyes, or straight in the ear canal if their fins are up – the only bits not covered by scales, everything else will bounce off.

I’m glad the others are on your side – get them in on this, work together and you’ll figure it out. Remember you’ve got a lot to bring to the table too – it sounds like they’ve designed this task to keep you from working together, one dragon per contestant, but that doesn’t keep you from strategising together. Review what kinds of dragon there were, how they behave, figure it out. I’ll see you next weekend to help more personally, alright?

And tell that Fluffy hi from me – he sounds like a pretty neat creature and it’s a breath of fresh air to hear that you’re still squeezing some joy out of life. I love you, kid, I can’t wait to be your dad on paper, and you know Remy feels the same. You know we’re both scared for you, but we’ve got your back even if it means jumping into the damn ring with you. I’ll see you next weekend, alright?

Your soon-to-be-dad,

Sirius

PS: Remus is licking my face and whining, I think that means he misses you.

Rhiannon cried a little on receiving that letter, and she kept it in an inside pocket of her school robes so that it was close to her heart. But Sirius, her dad, was right – she couldn’t freeze, or wallow, not now. She had to tell the others. Fleur probably already knew by now, but she had no idea about the others and they needed to figure out a strategy together. So the very next thing Rhiannon did was call a meeting of her fellow Champions in a secluded courtyard that Tuesday afternoon after classes.

Fleur was the first to arrive, and as Rhiannon had guessed, she already knew about the dragons. “If this is about the task, Madame Maxime already told me,” she murmured as she swept Rhiannon into a tight hug. “No wonder you’re so frightened, that’s a big first task.”

Rhiannon wiggled free of the hug and settled back onto one of the stone benches that stood around the very old, knotted hazel tree in the centre of the little courtyard. “Yeah, ‘xactly – I want t’ talk to the others, strategise, figure out how we’re gonna tackle it but Fleur – it’s not, just the dragons, it’s the fire. I’m... it’s – it-it-it-t-t-t- ‘s not just, fear, it’s... Fleur, there was f-f-f-f-fire, that night, it’s how I got t-t-t-t-turned, I can’t – I, I – I can’t shut down, I, I’ve g-g-g-g-g-got to, find some way to deal with it or I’ll die ‘n front ‘f that dragon, please – there’s three weeks, I have t’, t-t-t-to figure out some way t’ d-d-d-deal with it.” she stammered, clutching Fleur’s hands as the tall girl rushed to comfort her. “There’s f-f-f-four, dragons I mean – th-tha-t-t-t-t, that means they’re ssssss-s-s-s-s-stopping you f-f-f-f-f-fighting my bat-t-t-tles, I – I can’t die, I can’t leave ‘mione and Luna and everyone behind, you’ve got t’ help me figure out how t’ fight.”

Fleur’s face lost any trace of a smile, of hope or reassurance. There was only sick, grim determination and a distinctly haunted cast to her sharp amber eyes. “Merde, you’re right – they’re trying to split us up, they don’t know they’re going to make a bloodbath. Thank – oh, thank whoever that your, er, Hagrid, is it? That he got a tip off, and he brought you along, or this... well, not to criticise your ability, but... with a big, ah – trigger? Something like that... we might have been standing at your funeral in a month’s time instead. And I don’t want to have to bury you, it’d be like... like burying Gabrielle, ma sœur, or – you get the idea.”

Rhiannon swallowed, trying to keep her breathing even through a closing throat. She knew what was at stake, it took every ounce of her stubbornness to keep from fleeing the castle altogether at the thought of facing dragonfire, of dying while those she loved most were forced to watch. “I do,” she agreed miserably. “So we have t’, figure out some way I can survive that fight, on my own.”

“Fight?” Cedric inquired by way of a greeting as he entered the courtyard. “What are we fighting, d’you know something we don’t?”

“Y’ could say that,” Rhiannon replied grimly, with a nod to Viktor as he stooped beneath the archway that led from the castle interior and shuffled into the courtyard a few paces behind Cedric. “Uh, ‘s about the first task, I – I got a look ‘t it. Ced, Viktor – they’ve got us ag-g-g-g-g- fffffucker, we – Ced, we’re ffffighting dragons.”

Cedric’s ruddy complexion turned ashen and he sank onto one of the stone benches, while Viktor staggered in shock, swore under his breath and sagged against the castle wall for support. “Dragons, you’re – you’re serious? Fuck, who am I kidding, you wouldn’t lie about this... Are we all fighting a dragon or, are they splitting us up, do you know? Shit, I’m sorry, I know you’re probably freaked, but – this changes everything, we’ve got to strategise.”

Fleur shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Four dragons. I doubt they would put all those together in a ring, they would rip eachother apart long before they started on us... No, I think we are looking at one on one dragon fights – they have to think of what the crowd will want to see, after all,” she trailed off cynically, her lip curled in disgust.

Viktor pushed his lank hair from his face and lurched across the courtyard to a more secure position one of the stone benches near the three of them. Now they were all seated, they turned in to face the tree so they could better see eachother, and Viktor nodded to Rhiannon by way of an acknowledgement. “Dragons. Did you get a look at what kind, or perhaps how old they are? There is a great deal of variation in behaviour, if we know more we can plan better. I would prefer not to die, I have yet to win a Quidditch World Cup.” he asked them, soft-spoken as always but with a notable clipped tone in his voice that suggested he was just as worried as the rest of them.

Rhiannon thought back to the firelit clearing and to the pictures in her Creatures textbooks. She hadn’t taken a good look at the dragons at first, being too frightened and then distracted by Fluffy, but they had returned to the clearing on the Sunday night and Rhiannon had taken a closer look at their future opponents. She didn’t want to hurt them, frightening as she found them – they were just animals, and they were frightened and confused – understandably, she sympathised with that, which meant that these fights would be wholly unwilling, neither side wishing to fight the other – and they could use that. “They’re n-n-n-n-nesting mothers. All ‘bout the same kind of maturity and size, first clutch apparently – I’d, guess they’ve been chosen like that on purpose. They’re scared, too,” she explained, frowning to herself as she searched for details in her weary brain. “Uh – s’ffice t’ say, they’re huge. I, can’t even describe how big, it hurt my neck just t’ look, but um... one’s a Hebridean Black. They’re native t’ here, but further out around the islands ‘n stuff – big, territorial, kinda like polar bears behaviour wise – don’ even like other Hebridean Blacks around, the one they got w’s rescued as a wee’un when her nest got attacked, so she’s almost three b’t they grow real fast at first. Think she’s the youngest though, um, what else... uh, there’s a brown ‘n gold one, spiky bastard and really ornery, pretty much terrifyin’ at every angle...”

“That sounds like a Hungarian Horntail,” Viktor chimed in, his face twisted into a grimace. “They are certainly terrifying – they are found in Romania too, but Hungary got the credit as they were found there first. I think the only advantage you’ve got is that they’re poor fliers – at least in a situation like this. They can travel well enough, but they have very little agility in the air so they fly mostly to migrate, not to hunt or fight.”

Rhiannon wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s... probably useful, I just can’t think how yet. The others, uh... there’s a red one, very long body, a mane and a crest of sort of, fin-hair somehow, my distance vision is no good and I... uh, didn’t have my glasses on but I’d guess, Chinese Fireball? Though I know they’re found a lot wider spread than that, an’ there’s other Chinese dragons anyway, but, I don’t know, I’ll get the books out in a bit... uh, the last one, it’s, blue I think, or blue-grey. Swedish Shortsnout, and I r’member that ‘cos I looked it up after it singed the hair off my – nevermind. But uh, blue fire breath, ‘s got the hottest flame of any known dragon species, so... do not mistake the lack of spikes for it bein’ nonthreatening, that thing is spicy,” she finished with a wince. Newt Scamander’s Book of Dragons was in her school backpack and she fished through it until she found the heavy leather tome, just in case anyone had more questions that she couldn’t answer unaided.

“That’s certainly an array of species – it’s going to make it tricky to strategise, each one of those behaves totally differently. The Fireball can even cast spells, they’re as smart as any human. The Shortsnout has incredible proprioception and they’re as dangerous in the air as on the ground, it seems like they think and process in three dimensions as easily as, I don’t know, a shark. And you’re right – if all four are nesting mothers, that’s important – the task probably involves getting something off them.” Cedric mused, scribbling in a notebook as he spoke – plans of attack, angles, shapes, just like he would handle a Quidditch game.

“None of us want to get burnt,” Fleur interjected with a sideways glance at Rhiannon. “Especially as we are facing something called a Fireball, and the dragon with the hottest firebreath in the world. So our first priority must be the Flame-Freezing Charm, no? As a last line of defense, keep us from getting, well, rôtir, before we figure out actually beating the task.”

“Diversions also,” Viktor offered gruffly, and Rhiannon acknowledged him with a nod and a grim smile.

“Perhaps also working without senses,” Rhiannon piped up cautiously. She didn’t want to reveal the depth of her own traumatic pyrophobia, but there was a good reason for all of them to fear fire right now. “In case you get fire-blinded, you’d want t’ be ready. The Shortsnout ‘specially, it’s really bright.”

Cedric nodded and reached across to pat Rhiannon on the shoulder in some mix of reassurance and admiration. “Good idea, I wouldn’t have thought of that – we’d be screwed if we didn’t consider that. In general, dragons have two weaknesses – eyes and mouths, everything else is armoured, but I’m guessing we’re all on the same page of not wanting to orphan a nest of dragons, yeah? But if it comes to it, shoot to kill – we’re talking bombarda or expulso, sagitta, reducto - in the mouth or up the nose, eyes aren’t a good kill point. If you’ve got a bit more distance on it, the Conjunctivitis Curse is good to disable them, keep ‘em from targeting you, but you won’t have any luck Transfiguring it. Impediment, knockback, all useless, they’re way too powerful. Which we’re going to want to work on stealth, reflexes, using the environment – I’ll talk to Hooch, she’ll probably help us set up a training course, but uh – Disillusionment, silencing charms, that kinda shit’s gonna be what we need because we can enchant ourselves just fine.” he rattled off with an awkward shrug. “Uh – Dad’s on the werewolf team now but he used to do general beast management, dragons come up a fair bit, so I learned some stuff,” he explained as they all stared at him.

Rhiannon in particular bristled and shivered uncomfortably. She knew that Amos Diggory worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, specifically heading up the Werewolf Capture and Affairs sub-department, but for some reason – probably because she’d had a terrible crush on him since the age of eleven – Rhiannon had never connected that to Cedric in particular, and an uncomfortable weight of a fear she had thought conquered settled in her uneasy stomach. It had never crossed her mind that Cedric might not accept her if he discovered her to be a werewolf. But his father worked in an office who primarily existed to mess up werewolves’ lives – there was a very real possibility that Cedric could view her the same way, and that frightened her in a very visceral way as she listened to him meticulously break down how to kill a dragon if it came to it. She had considered telling the Champions her secret, she needed to figure out how she would navigate the task while incapacitated by the full moon, but now... no. No, she would have to wait and talk to Fleur, and Sirius when he arrived on the weekend.

The four of them settled into an uneasy rhythm, playing a game Fleur called ‘Invisible Tag’ for the purposes of practising their Disillusionment and Silencing charms, as well as stealth, reflexes and tracking something by sound rather than sight. Rhiannon tossed up whether or not to dull her hearing with audiminus, but eventually decided against it – she needed the practice more than she needed to stay hidden.

Afterwards, thoroughly worn out and sore, Rhiannon set off toward the Slytherin common room to visit Hermione, Ginny and Dudley. She leaned heavily on the walls and her cane as she went, and her attention was scattered with fatigue – or else she would have noticed the characteristic drag-thump of Professor Moody’s wooden leg on the stone floors. Instead, Rhiannon was startled by the gruff, imposing man’s sudden appearance and she stumbled back into a wall, eyes stinging in the torchlight and she felt her heart sink with the certainty that she had just revealed herself. “Uh – P-p-p-p-professor M-m-m-oody, nice t’, to see you,” she lied quickly, pasting a fragile smile onto her face. Maybe if she pretended nothing was the matter, he would let it slide.

“No it isn’t, I’m a scary old codger and you’re a terrible liar, Potter,” Moody retorted brusquely. “You want to get better at that – and at hiding those eyes, that startle response is going t’ be a problem for you unless you get it under control.”

Rhiannon bristled irritably – she couldn’t get it under control, it was a startle reflex, the surprise was sort of the whole problem. “Right, fine, you’re a scary old git an’ I was goin’ somewhere, what d’you want?” she asked him crossly – far more disrespect than she’d ordinarily show a teacher but frankly he’d annoyed her and she was too tired to be polite.

Moody chuckled and clapped Rhiannon on the shoulder, grinning laconically. “Good, you’ve got spirit - you’ll need that too. As for what I want, well, probably what you want too – to keep you alive. Dead Potter, bad for everyone’s morale, and we both know the Dark Lord will return – we don’t need everyone mourning some dead figurehead when he does.” he told her quietly, his voice like gravel in a rainstorm as it echoed through the dimly-lit hallway.

Rhiannon shivered and backed away, caught off guard by Moody’s grim, callous assessment of the situation. He wasn’t wrong, but nobody had ever spoken to her like that before, like another jaded adult aware of her own significance to the resistance that would grow when Voldemort came back – because Rhiannon had encountered him too many times to believe the more popular story of his death. “I... I, s-s-s-suppose, that’s a way t’ put it,” she mumbled.

Moody chuckled darkly. “And aware of your own mortality, and your position. That’s good too. You’ve an old head on your shoulders for a fourteen-year-old. Now, c’mon, let’s sit down before something gives out,” he advised, and indicated with his free hand the open door of what looked like an empty Potions classroom.

Rhiannon pulled her school cloak tighter around her shoulders as if it could provide some protection from the disconcertingly sharp professor, and cautiously followed his gesture into the empty classroom where she perched on a desk near the back and eyed him warily. “So, you – you want me to stay alive. And I know I messed up, you saw me eyes.” she stated, watching Moody closely for his reaction.

The professor’s wry smile was as disquieting as the rest of them. “Oh yes. I knew there were werewolves, I make your potions after all. And I’m sure you’ve done the maths by now, the first task falls on next full moon, so you have to come up with a way to get around the mobility troubles, right?” Moody inquired, but it was clear he already knew what the answer was.

“Yeah, I – I was gonna ask my dad an’ Fleur for some help,” Rhiannon agreed cautiously, fiddling with her ring and her bracelet to keep from biting her nails.

Moody frowned and made a disapproving noise under his breath. “This is a competition, Potter. However you’d like it to go, any one of those champions could choose the prize money over you at any moment – you have to rely on yourself. That’s how you’ll get through the task, too – focus on your strengths,” he warned her.

Rhiannon bristled – she didn’t like the insinuation that her new friends, her pack, might betray her. But Moody wasn’t wrong that the prize money – thirteen thousand Galleons, a fortune to anyone – was a factor she hadn’t thought about enough. The other champions were choosing to support Rhiannon instead of working to win the competition for themselves, that could create resentment, even betrayal... she shivered and hugged herself tightly. She didn’t want to doubt them, that felt like a betrayal all of its own... but the crotchety former Auror could well be correct. Betrayal or not, they were probably facing these dragons one on one, and that meant she had to focus on sharpening her own skills – not just on teamwork.

“I don’ – I dunno, what skills I’ve got,” Rhiannon muttered, biting her lip anxiously. Strength and speed, she had those in far greater capacity than a human of her size should – but around the full moon, she simply hurt too much for them to be useful. Quick reflexes were totally negated, and she was certainly clever at the best of the times – but the brain fog the full moon brought on was seriously limiting. “Ev’rything’s, pretty much soup aroun’ then.”

“Yeah, and it makes you a bit of a cripple, I know the drill,” Moody agreed briskly. “But think about it – you’re a Quidditch player, aren’t you? If you’d ditched every full moon, your secret would be out by now.”

“True, but, I can’t take a broom in the arena,” Rhiannon replied with an uncomfortable shrug. “Else it’d be the perfect solution – I c-c-c-c-an fly, lot better’n I can walk ‘round then.”

Moody sighed and rubbed his temples wearily. “Lord, kid, you’re bright but you can be a right space cadet – you’re a witch, aren’t you? They let you have your wand- I’m sure you can figure out the rest. Use your brain – that’ll keep you alive as much as any spells you can think up.” he told her grouchily.

With that, Professor Moody seemed to consider his teacherly wisdom suitably passed on and hauled himself out of his chair and departed without so much as a goodbye, his peg leg and cane clomping noisily on the flagstone floor. Rhiannon stared blankly after him, the gears turning in her head as she put the pieces of Professor Moody’s advice together in her head – she had a wand. The rules of the tournament had been posted all around the castle as advice for students considering entry – and there was no rule against Summoning something from the outside, only against bringing it by hand when entering the task. Special considerations were made for mobility equipment... but if she could Summon her Firebolt into whatever environment they faced in the first task, she needn’t worry about that.

All at once, Rhiannon’s determination was renewed and she sprang from her perch on the desk and hurried off down the corridor toward the Slytherin common room. She needed to practice Summoning spells with Hermione – and to speak with Dudley about preparing a fireproofing solution to soak her beloved broom in in preparation for the task.

A/N: The next chapter is coming along slower than planned, sorry, I am acutely unwell thanks to black mould poisoning and I can barely think let alone write coherently (that requires oxygen, which I am short on). Sorry :/ I feel crap and I'm only getting out snippets at a time.