The day of the tournament arrived, and the air at Hogwarts was thick with excitement and tension ready to burst. From morning, the curious, expectant gazes of students drifted toward one place—no, two places.
Cedric Diggory, and Harry Potter. The two Champions.
Carina reached for a scone as though none of this concerned her, but in truth, her nerves were quietly burning to ash.
Madame Maxime of Beauxbatons had apparently extracted information through what could only be called a honeytrap—a technique that seemed physically impossible given her stature. How that had worked was anyone's guess. The target must have been Hagrid.
Karkaroff had then shadowed Madame Maxime and learned the contents of the first task.
Dragons.
Not just any dragons—the most vicious kind. Female dragons guarding their eggs.
Karkaroff trusted Carina completely. Carelessly so. She had played along with his boasting just enough to draw out the information, then passed it directly to Harry.
Now the outcome rested entirely with him.
"What do you think the task is today? Malfoy, do you know anything?"
Barnette Crabbe asked, her face bright with excitement. Carina dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
"It'll be announced right before the task. Suppress your curiosity until then."
"You know something! What is it, what is it! Just tell me!"
Under normal circumstances, Carina would have told her—with a certain air of superiority, naturally. She had always enjoyed the quiet thrill of sharing privileged information with a select few.
But this time, she paused to think.
Would telling Barnette put Harry in danger?
Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour already knew what the task involved. If they knew, then the information was hardly a secret anymore. And the task was today.
One more person knowing wouldn't change anything. Carina finished her calculation and gave a small gesture. Barnette caught the signal and leaned in.
"Dragons."
Carina covered her mouth with the napkin and whispered. Barnette's expression shifted slowly from confusion to astonishment.
"Wow! Really?"
"Shh. It's a secret. I'd rather not explain how I found out."
Barnette gave exactly the reaction Carina had hoped for—she always did. Bouncing with delight over the new information, Barnette suddenly turned with a worried look.
"Oh, but won't the Cham... won't the Champions be in danger?"
The thought made Carina anxious as well.
The opponent was a dragon. So what if Harry knew? Did knowing make dragonfire any less hot? Did it make the creature any weaker?
Dragon hide was said to be so saturated with magical power that it took at least six skilled wizards to handle one. Harry alone couldn't leave a scratch.
The eyes were a weak point, but striking them risked enraging the beast further. And if it was something as swift and powerful as a Hungarian Horntail—with that spiked tail—he could be struck before he even got close...
Carina's face went pale at the thought.
"What do we do, Barnette."
"Don't worry too much. Dumbledore must have thought of everything. Surely he wouldn't set this up without any safeguards?"
The rare sight of Barnette Crabbe offering comfort materialized before them. Somewhat reassured, Carina straightened up.
"You're right. If he's running a tournament like this without any regard for safety, he has no business being Headmaster. If he's even half as great a wizard as his reputation suggests, he'll have prepared for this. And if he hasn't, I'll make my objections perfectly clear."
Barnette listened, then muttered with a wry expression.
"You know, Malfoy. You're not even trying to hide it anymore."
"Hide what?"
"You don't even realize it...."
Barnette shook her head. Meanwhile, Gray Goyle, who had been reading the Daily Prophet, approached Carina with an indignant look.
"Malfoy. Look at this. It's an interview by that hack journalist Rita Skeeter!"
Carina looked at the section Goyle was pointing to. A remarkable name was printed there.
[The bachelor professor Snape, of the silky hair, dabbed at his eyes when asked about his parents... But true to his Champion's spirit, he soon overcame his grief and spoke with dignity. 'Even now, I sometimes weep when I think of my late parents. But I feel no shame... because I know they are watching over me...']
The moment Carina read it, she drew a sharp breath.
Someone had replaced a name—presumably 'Harry'—with 'the bachelor professor Snape, of the silky hair.' The result was spectacularly absurd.
Honestly, laughter at this point would have been an act of God. But Carina held herself together with remarkable restraint, preserving both her dignity and, as it happened, her loyalty to Snape.
She cleared her throat softly and glanced toward the faculty table. One look confirmed they had read the Daily Prophet as well.
McGonagall was grinning broadly. Snape was staring at Harry with the expression of a man who wanted to kill Harry Potter himself before anyone else got the chance.
Harry, for his part, was at the center of a commotion at the Gryffindor table, where bursts of laughter erupted at intervals—they had clearly read it too.
"Tasteless prank. Though what's worse is the Daily Prophet printing it without so much as a proofread."
"Exactly! And they ran this ridiculous content on top of it!"
Carina read the next paragraph.
[The bachelor professor Snape, of the distinguished nose, has found true love at Hogwarts. His close friend Colin Creevey reports that he is rarely seen apart from Hermione Granger—a notably beautiful Muggle-born girl, and, like the bachelor professor Snape of the gleaming teeth, one of the school's top students.]
"How dare they describe our House's professor like this! Malfoy, we can't let this go!"
"...You're right. We can't."
The interview had been submitted with Harry and Snape's names transposed. Which meant, taken at face value—
Carina looked at Harry with a cool, set expression. Harry flinched.
Every class ended before noon. The professors had spent their lessons dropping pointed remarks that stoked everyone's anticipation to a fever pitch.
The Triwizard Tournament began after lunch, which meant the only time Carina had to see Harry Potter was during the midday break.
Carina skipped lunch entirely and waited outside the Great Hall. Students passed by, glancing at her before filing in—this happened several times.
At last, a group of Gryffindors appeared, Harry Potter at their center, making their way toward the Great Hall.
Carina swept past them as though she were just leaving, tossing her hair back. Surely he'd notice and follow.
But Harry didn't spare her a glance. He walked straight into the Great Hall with the others.
Carina stopped dead. Through the closing doors, she watched Harry disappear.
"Fine. So that's how it is."
Some people had spent the entire morning worrying. And the person in question looked perfectly at ease.
If he had a plan, he could have told her in advance—then she might have had some peace of mind. She'd given him the information about the dragon, hadn't she? Didn't that earn her at least that much?
Carina tucked her resentment away and stalked down the corridor.
Then Harry burst out of the Great Hall. He sprinted down the corridor toward her and, before she could react, pressed something into her arms.
"Put this on and come find me."
He draped a silver-grey cloak over her. Then he flashed a grin and disappeared back into the Great Hall.
Carina held it up. An Invisibility Cloak.
After lunch, the students were directed by their professors down to the grounds.
Barnette had apparently already told everyone she knew that dragons would be appearing. When the creatures were revealed in the arena, the crowd erupted—but not a single Slytherin looked surprised.
Carina turned the Invisibility Cloak over in her hands beneath her robes.
Put this on and come find me.
It was an unreasonable, presumptuous request. Slipping away for that long would draw suspicion.
She watched for her moment.
"Each Champion must face their assigned dragon and claim the golden egg from its nest! The panel of judges will award points based on their performance!"
Ludo Bagman was mid-explanation. While every eye was fixed on him, Carina rose from her seat.
"Barnette. Just for a moment—"
"Go on. I'll hold your spot."
Barnette understood without being told.
She was an obliging friend—useful, in that way. Perhaps too obliging for the harsh world of wizardry. Carina made a mental note to look out for her more, then slipped down from the stands.
She pulled the Invisibility Cloak around herself away from prying eyes and moved carefully toward the Champions' tent, making sure her footsteps made no sound.
The tent was large and open. Carina hovered at the entrance, invisible.
Even under the Cloak, a tent flap swinging open on its own would raise questions.
She waited, growing anxious, eyes fixed on the entrance—and then Cedric Diggory emerged, his face a mask of dread and barely contained fear. Carina slipped through the gap before it closed.
Inside, Viktor Krum stood staring at the ground. Fleur Delacour paced in circles. Harry sat gripping the arms of his chair. All of them looked like they were barely holding themselves together.
Carina gave Fleur a wide berth and made her way to Harry's side. How to let him know she was there? If she spoke, Krum or Fleur would hear.
She hesitated, then looked at Harry's hands—white-knuckled around the chair arms, drained of colour from the force of his grip.
'All that composure, and it comes to this.'
Of course. The opponent was a dragon. Even Harry Potter couldn't face a dragon without his nerves fraying.
Carina studied those hands for a moment, then reached out.
She wanted to take his hand instead of the chair arm. To still the trembling, even a little. She laid her hand gently over his.
The moment her Cloak-covered hand touched his, Harry parted his lips as though he'd been waiting.
"Took you long enough."
"What?"
Before she could finish, Harry caught her hand and pulled.
The Invisibility Cloak had a remarkable quality. It didn't merely render its wearer invisible—it created the feeling that even sound was forbidden.
Carina couldn't protest without risking a noise. Harry drew her in and settled her onto his lap.
She whispered urgently.
"Wait—"
"It's fine. No one's paying attention to me."
Literally true. Krum and Fleur were each lost in their own worlds, not sparing Harry a glance.
Still, speaking aloud was out of the question. Carina pressed close to Harry's ear and whispered, hoping the Cloak muffled her voice as well.
"Are you ready?"
"I have a plan. I wasn't quite ready in here"—he touched his chest—"but that's been taken care of."
"Idiot."
Carina muttered it and shot him a look he couldn't see. But Harry laughed as though he'd read her expression perfectly.
"If you have time for lines like that, you could be running through one more spell. In the heat of the moment, spells can fail to—"
She stopped.
There was cold sweat on his face. His claim about not being mentally ready hadn't been entirely false bravado.
Carina reached through the Cloak and tapped his cheek lightly, meaning to wipe it away. Her voice, muffled by the fabric, carried something she hadn't quite intended.
"...Don't wear yourself out before you've even started."
They passed the time in near-silence—whispering in fragments, or simply feeling the warmth of the other through the cloth.
Fleur left the tent. Cheers rose, and a dragon's roar followed, and then Ludo Bagman's voice announced the end of a round.
"Now, a brief pause for scoring!"
Whether it was that announcement, or simply being beside each other—Carina felt herself growing calmer.
Even that unreliable Fleur Delacour had apparently survived. What reason was there to think Harry couldn't? There would be trained wizards standing by. Dumbledore would be there with his wand.
The person she could feel so vividly beside her right now—she couldn't imagine him gone. Couldn't picture that future.
She wouldn't allow it, either.
"Next—Viktor Krum of Durmstrang!"
Krum left the tent. Carina exhaled slowly.
Someone might still enter, so she kept the Cloak on—but at least she could raise her voice slightly.
"Do you have a plan?"
"Of course. A brilliant one. Quite romantic, actually."
"...The way you say that makes it sound completely unreliable. You'll do something reckless and end up flat on your back again."
"Don't worry. I'm going to Summon my broom. No matter how bad it gets, I'll be able to get myself out."
That was a relief. At least he had a means of escape.
At some point, Carina had stopped hoping Harry Potter would win. She only wanted him not to get hurt. Victory and glory mattered far less than seeing him walk back with a smile.
In her first and second years at Hogwarts, she had learned how fragile a life could be. And yet someone's death remained something too enormous for her to bear.
If Harry were to disappear—could she survive it?
Carina pressed the point once more.
"If it gets dangerous, run. I've said it before—if you get hurt—"
"You'll kill me. I know. I won't get hurt. I promise."
She believed him, and yet the unease remained. Trust and reassurance, it seemed, had very little to do with each other.
Carina's mind drifted to the Daily Prophet article. She knew the timing was poor, but she brought it up carefully.
"About that article in the Daily Prophet."
"Oh, that?"
Harry sounded rather pleased with himself.
"Did you see it? I gave the reporter an interview, but her Quick-Quotes Quill must have malfunctioned. Wrote 'Snape' every time I said 'Harry.' And apparently there wasn't time to check it before it went to print. Not very credible, but at least it's entertaining."
He rattled on as though he'd accomplished something legendary. But that wasn't what Carina was asking about. She had no particular interest in that part.
"Not that. The part about Granger. 'True love found at Hogwarts'?"
"Ah."
Harry let out a small, pained sound. He looked genuinely aggrieved.
"You don't actually believe that, do you?"
"...Of course not! I'm asking about your conduct!"
Carina snapped.
Hermione Granger had prominent front teeth that invited comparisons to a rodent, and hair so thick and untamed it resembled a long-haired dog. But a face whose flaws were conspicuous had a way of delivering a fresh shock when those flaws were concealed.
Not that Carina had any doubts about her own appearance. With her lustrous platinum hair and doll-like features, she was unquestionably the most striking girl at Hogwarts. Fleur, with her Veela blood, was perhaps the only one who came close.
But insecurity didn't arise from absolute comparisons. A tower that is wider at the top than the bottom feels unstable—that was simply how it worked.
Her feelings for Harry had grown larger than her confidence in herself, and so the anxiety was inevitable.
"How carelessly must you have been behaving for an article like that to appear? Mind yourself from now on. Conduct yourself with some decorum. Understood?"
"I'm always perfectly decent."
"Anyone can say that."
"I mean it. I'll prove it in this task."
The cheering had faded. Krum's round was over. Harry glanced toward the tent entrance.
"My turn soon. Go back to the stands—that way you can watch me make a magnificent escape from a dragon."
"Idiot. Just don't die."
"Hmm. I think I'd feel considerably braver if a certain princess gave me a kiss."
Carina exhaled in disbelief. A princess and a kiss—how old was he, exactly, to reach for such a tired combination.
But Harry closed his eyes with the air of someone fully committed to receiving one. He looked prepared to stay rooted to the spot until she obliged.
Carina said, coolly:
"That line is terribly clichéd."
"It's a classic."
"It's almost repulsive."
"I'm uncultured. I'll work on it. So—are you going to?"
"...I never said I wasn't. Fool."
The Invisibility Cloak was a remarkable thing. It erased its wearer from the world—and, it seemed, erased a certain measure of shame along with them.
If she hadn't been wearing it, Carina would never have done something as mortifying as leaning in of her own accord to press her lips to his.
The fabric of the Cloak touched Harry's lips.
Beneath it, she was invisible.
No scent reached him.
Separated by a single layer of cloth, there was no sound—none of the soft, telling noise of lips meeting lips.
What remained was only the fact of the kiss. Nothing more.
But for both of them, that was enough.
And then, belatedly, the shame arrived.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
The sound of invisible footsteps fleeing. Harry broke into a broad laugh and gripped his wand tightly.
"And now, our final Champion! Harry Potter!"
The unease was gone. Harry felt something fill him—a warmth that reached every part of him—as he stepped out into the arena.
When Carina tucked the Invisibility Cloak inside her robes and returned to the stands, Barnette immediately shifted to make room for her.
Barnette asked nothing. But Carina was still nagged by the fact that she'd missed three rounds. She cleared her throat, preparing some excuse for her absence.
"Ahem. Barnette. I—"
"You must have been in a hurry. Your face is red."
"Oh? Yes. It is."
"Sit down and watch the next round. It's Harry Potter's turn."
Carina had expected Barnette to pry. Her lack of interest was surprising—and welcome. Resolving to be kinder to her, Carina turned her attention to the arena.
Harry Potter walked out holding a single wand. His opponent, by ill fortune, was a Hungarian Horntail—vicious, powerful, with a spiked tail and a temperament to match.
The Horntail growled, tracking Harry's movements. Harry circled it at a wide radius. The dragon turned its head to follow him, neck held rigid.
Just as the crowd's anticipation was reaching its peak, Harry raised his wand skyward and called out.
"*Accio* Firebolt!"
A Summoning Charm. And from somewhere in the distant castle, a broomstick came streaking through the air—sleek, elegantly finished, unmistakably the finest broom in the world. A Firebolt.
"A Firebolt?"
"Harry Potter has one?"
"Wasn't that Malfoy's?"
There was, officially, only one Firebolt at Hogwarts. Barnette turned sharply.
"Malfoy. Did you lend him yours?"
"No. I didn't lend him anything. Mine should be in the Slytherin dormitory."
"Then—Harry Potter bought his own? But there's no Quidditch this year!"
No Quidditch this year, and yet Harry had bought a Firebolt.
Carina arrived at the answer with very little effort.
Harry Potter had simply wanted to fly the same broom as Carina.
It was absurd. It was childish. And despite herself, the corner of her mouth curved upward.
"At this very moment, our young Champion is taking to the air on his Firebolt!"
Harry Potter rode as though the Horntail didn't exist—sweeping through the arena, drifting close to the stands as if showing off. The crowd gasped and cheered at the sight of him and the broom.
Then Harry's eyes found Carina's.
She told him with a look: stop showing off and finish the task.
That seemed to be enough. Harry wheeled toward the Horntail, seized the moment when the dragon spread its wings, and snatched the golden egg in a single lightning strike before gliding clear.
She hadn't seen the earlier rounds, but Carina was certain.
Harry Potter was in first place.
She smiled before she knew she was doing it.