In Her Eyes Lies Her Heart

By two thirty Tuesday morning, Harry had mastered the summoning charm. An hour and a half of Eve’s tutelage proved more useful than any teacher he had ever had. Tired, but satisfied, he Hermione and Eve decided to call it a night.
“Just remember Harry, visualize the Firebolt as it is, as you want it to be, but not as you need it. If you look too far into the future, you’ll paralyze yourself,” Eve said, escorting them to the Common room.
“Yeah, but the Firebolt’s going to be much farther away than the eraser,” Harry said, worry already starting to work its way back in.
“That doesn’t matter. Distance is of little consequence. If you do as I have told you, as you have done tonight, it’ll come,” she gave him a small smile.
They made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady without any incidents. Hermione gave the password and they climbed into the hole behind the painting. Once inside, Hermione made her way to the dormitory stairs, then paused.
“You should get to bed Harry,” she said, frowning.
“I will, I just want to talk for a bit,” he said, waving her on. He watched her go, and waited till he heard the dormitory door snap shut before turning to Eve.
“I just –” he began awkwardly. “I wanted to apologize for yelling at you earlier…and I wanted to thank you for whatever it is you did to me. It really helped,” He finished, rather lamely. The firelight reflected in her hair, giving it a molten appearance, and her scarlet eyes seemed to dance in the flickering flames. He still remembered the pull of those eyes, and forced himself not to look at them anymore.
“Don’t worry about yelling at me, I’ve had my share, I can handle it. Hermione on the other hand,” she said glancing to the stairs. “She is strong, but she is also kind, and soft hearted. She has only you and Ron. She doesn’t have anyone else to really call friend. You should take care when you yell at her. She is equally likely to be wounded as she is to hex you.” Eve crossed her arms, as if cold, and stared into the dying fire. “As for thanking me, don’t mention it. As you said…it is my purpose.” Harry thought she sounded forlorn, but could not bring himself to comfort her. Somehow, he did not feel she would let him.
“Good luck, Harry. And good night.”
When Harry finally crawled into bed, he fell asleep almost instantly. He dreamed about flying, and dragons, and mesmerizing, scarlet eyes.

The next morning, the atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to drop off their things and walk down to the grounds for the task.
Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were whispering him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter” as he passed. The calm Eve had given him the night before was gone, replaced by a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he might lose his head completely and refuse to enter the arena. Time was moving in a more peculiar fashion than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so that one moment he seemed to be sitting in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch… and then (where had the morning gone? The last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to him in the Great Hall.
“Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now…. You have to get ready for your first task.”
“Okay,” said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.
“Good luck, Harry,” Hermione said. “You’ll be fine!”
“Yeah,” said Harry in a voice that was most unlike his own. He looked to Eve, who gave him a devilish smile and winked.
As he left the Great Hall with professor McGonagall, he saw Eve stand from the corner of his eye. By the time they had reached the Castle door, he felt something heavy fall into his pocket. He put his hand in and felt soft fur, and smiled, giving Eve a scratch. She bit him, but not hard, so he knew she wasn’t upset. He felt a little happier, knowing she was going to stay with him.
McGonagall did not seem herself either. She seemed tense and worried, and as they descended the front steps, she put a hand on Harry’s shoulder in an uncharacteristically familiar fashion.
“Now, don’t panic,” she said, “just keep a cool head…. We’ve got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand…. The main thing is to just do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you… Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he said, feeling Eve press her head into his palm comfortingly. “Yes I’m fine.”
Professor McGonagall led Harry at a brisk walk, and when they arrived at the place, she ushered him into the Champions Tent blocking the view of the arena.
Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn’t seem as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working rather harder than usual.
“Harry! Good-o!” said Bagman happily, looking around at him. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home!” He was nearly bouncing with excitement, beaming around at them all. “Well, now we’re all here- Time to fill you in!” said Bagman brightly. “When the audience has been assembled, I’m going to be offering each of you this bag”- he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them-“from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different-er- varieties, you see. And your task will be to collect the golden egg!”
Cedric returned to pacing, and Harry found himself a cot to sit on while they waited. He heard hundreds of students marching past, laughing and talking as they found seats in the arena. Finally, the rumble died down, and Bagman pulled out the sack.
“Ladies first,” he said, offering it to Fleur.
She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon- the Welsh Green. It had a number two around its neck. Viktor Krum went next, and pulled out the Chinese Fireball, with a number three. Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tide around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry put his hand into the bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. The little dragon stretched its wings wide and bared its miniscule fangs.
“Well, there you are!” said Bagman. “You each have pulled the dragon you will be facing, and the number is the order in which you will go. I have to leave now, because I’m commentating and judging, so just go when you hear a cannon blast, all right?”
Bagman ran out of the tent, leaving the four Champions alone. Not long after, the cannon blast came, and Cedric left the tent, looking scared but determined. Eve crawled out of Harry’s pocket and curled up on his thigh. Harry absentmindedly stroked her, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. It was worse than he had imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed… yelled… gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past his dragon. And Bagman’s commentary made everything worse…. Horrible pictures formed in Harry's mind as he heard things like: “Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow” and “Clever move- pity it didn’t work!”
Harry sat on the cot for what seemed like eternity, listening to his fellow champions fighting their dragons. When Krum’s turn finally arrived, and Harry was left alone in the tent, Eve changed and sat beside him. The crowd kept gasping and screaming, and Harry felt his resolve slipping away.
“I don’t suppose you could do that thing you did again?” He asked, hopefully,
“No, I can’t,” She said, softly. “It’s very dangerous, very old magic… To perform it on you again would lead to disaster.” She looked at him. “Just remember to think of the broom only. Not the Dragon, and not the egg. The task is nothing until you have that broom, so don’t even worry yourself about the egg until then.”
Harry nodded, flinching at the sound of a roar, followed by a collective gasp. Eve hesitated, then took his hand and looked him straight in the eyes. “Just don’t fuck up.” She smiled and Harry laughed for the first time in what felt like years. She squeezed his hand, stood, and left to join the crowd.

Eve joined Hermione and Ron in the crowd just as the Dragon handlers were moving the Chinese fireball to make room for Harry’s Horntail.
“How is he?” asked Hermione, wringing her hands.
“Nervous,” Eve said, truthfully. “But he’ll do fine. He knows what to do.” She hoped she was right.
The handlers brought out the Horntail with her clutch of eggs, the golden one hidden among them. They chained her to the spikes in the ground, and she hovered protectively over her eggs, snapping at the handlers who got too close. She spewed fire, and Hermione squealed.
The Cannon blast reverberated of the stands, and spooked the dragon, so that she was already in a rage when Harry entered to arena. Eve saw him enter, and saw him freeze at the sight of the dragon.
“Come on Harry,” she whispered. “Do the spell.”
Harry lifted his wand, and although the crowd was too loud to hear him, she knew he had shouted, “Accio Firebolt.” Some of the crowd laughed, thinking he had failed a spell, for there was no visual sign that anything had happened, but Eve knew. Even before she heard the whistling of the broom through the air, she knew he had done it.
The broom zoomed over the top of the crowd, and without missing a beat, Harry lunged, landed on the Firebolt and was airborne.
“Yes!” Harry flew better than Eve had ever seen anyone fly. He swerved and dove and dodged the dragon with skill that surpassed even James. Eve found herself gasping and admiring along with the crowd. He was antagonizing the dragon, staying close enough to be a threat, but far enough that she would have to move to get him. The Horntail followed Harry with her eyes, and slowly… ever so slowly… she sat back on her haunches… reaching for him… And Harry dove straight between her legs and snatched up the golden egg before she even knew he moved.
The crowd erupted, and Eve screamed along with them, grabbing hold of Hermione and jumping up and down. Harry landed on the far side of the arena and waited as the handlers took the Horntail away. He went to hold the egg up, but cringed in pain, dropping the egg to the ground. Nobody else seemed to notice. Eve pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the protestations of the students she shoved out of her way. She reached the railing and vaulted it, landing hard on the arena floor 30 feet below. She heard gasps of surprise and astonishment behind her, but ignored them and ran to Harry.
“Harry, are you okay?” she asked, worried. He was holding his arm, and she could smell burnt cloth and flesh. “Let me see, come on,” she gently pulled his arm out, and saw a long burn stretching from his wrist up his forearm. The skin was still sizzling slightly, and Harry swayed a little. “Easy, now,” she steadied him. “Let’s get you to Madame Pomfrey. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Harry said wincing as Eve guided him out of the arena. “But, wait, where did you come from, anyway?” He added, looking around, confused.
“That was excellent, Potter!” McGonagall said, rushing to meet them. “You’ll have to get that patched up before you receive your scores,” she said, pointing a wavering hand to his arm. "Bring him over here, Eve, Poppy is tending to Cedric back in the main tent.”
Eve guided him to the tent, and sat him down on a cot to await the nurse.
“You were superb, Harry. Really excellent flying,” she said, sitting beside him. “How did it get you?”
“On that first try for the egg, she was already blowing fire when I went for it. I changed course as fast as I could, but…” he held up his arm, then winced.
“Stop moving, idiot,” Eve pushed his forehead, smiling.
“Dragons!” said Madame Pomfrey in a disgusted tone. “Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next?” She cut his robes away from the burn and set to picking the fibers of his sleeve from the wound. Harry grit his teeth in pain.
“Where’d you put that little Horntail?” Eve asked trying to distract him.
“In my pocket, left side.”
Eve reached into his robe while Madame Pomfrey opened a jar of green paste to apply to his wound. She pulled the model horntail out and admired it.
“This is a fantastic bit of magic,” she said, watching the dragon clean its scales. “I wonder how long it will last.” The dragon raised its wings and flapped, hovered a few inches over her hand, then dropped. “She’s kind of cute, isn’t she? When she’s not fifty feet tall and trying to kill you.”
“You and Hagrid should start a fan club,” Harry said, stretching out his newly healed arm.
“All right, then, Potter. It’ll be a bit tender for a few days, but you should be fine. Just sit here for a bit, and then you can go get your scores.” Madame Pomfrey said, giving Eve a look that said Make sure he stays, before bustling off to check on her other patients.
As soon as she had cleared the cubicle, Hermione and Ron came rushing inside.
“Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione said squeakily, giving him a hug. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. “You were amazing, you really were!”
But Harry was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as if he were a ghost.
“Harry,” he said very seriously, “whoever put your name in that goblet – I – I reckon they’re trying to do you in!”
“Caught on, have you?” said Harry coldly. “Took you long enough.”
Ron opened his mouth, and suddenly Harry didn’t want him to apologize anymore.
“It’s okay,” Harry said, before Ron could get the words out. “Forget it.”
“No,” said Ron, “I shouldn’t’ve – ”
“Forget it,” Harry said.
Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back.
Hermione burst into tears.
“There’s nothing to cry about!” Harry told her, bewildered.
“You two are so stupid!” she shouted, glaring at the pair of them. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away.
Eve began laughing.
“You two… really are the thickest…” Her laughing turned into a mad cackle, then into silent racking laughter. She leaned on Harry, her face buried into his shoulder, unable to speak. Harry sputtered and waved his uninjured arm to get her hair out of his mouth. Finally she regained her composure and sat up, her hair hanging in her face, and her mouth still in a wide smile.
“Barking mad,” said Ron, shaking his head. “Harry, c’mon, they’ll be putting up your scores…”
Picking up the golden egg and his Firebolt, feeling more elated than he would have believed possible earlier that morning, Harry ducked out of the tent, Ron by his side, talking fast.
“You were the best, you know, no competition. Cedric did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground… turned it into a dog… and he was trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, it was a pretty cool bit of magic, and it sort of worked, because he did get the egg, but the dragon changed its mind halfway and went for him again – he barely got away. Fleur tried this sort of charm, I think she was trying to put it into a trance – well that kind of worked too, it got all sleepy and laid down, but then it snored, and some flames came out, and her skirt caught fire – she put it out with a water spell. And Krum – you won’t believe this, but he didn’t even think of flying! He was probably best after you, though. Hit it with some sort of spell right in the eye. Only thing is it went trampling around in agony and it squished half the real eggs – they took some points off for that, he wasn’t supposed to do any damage to them.”
Ron drew breath as he and Harry, trailed by a still chuckling Eve, reentered the arena. Now that the dragon was gone, he noticed the five judges sitting at a long bench in the stands, their table draped with gold.
“Its marks out of ten from each one,” Ron said, and Harry, squinting up the field, saw the first judge – Madame Maxime – raise her wand in the air. What looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.
“Not bad!” said Ron as the crowd applauded. “I suppose she took marks off for your arm…”
Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number nine into the air.
“Looking good!” Ron yelled, thumping Harry on the back.
Next, Dumbledore. He too put up a nine. The crowed was positively roaring.
Ludo Bagman – ten.
“Ten?” said Harry in disbelief. “But… I got hurt… What’s he playing at?”
“Quit complaining, Harry!” Yelled Eve over the crowd.
And now Karkaroff raised his wand too – four.
“What?” Ron bellowed furiously. “Four? You lousy, biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!”
“You’re tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!” said Charlie Weasley, hurrying to meet them. “Listen, I’ve got to run and send Mum an owl, I swore I’d tell her what happened – but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah – and they told me to tell you you’ve got to hang around for a few more minutes…. Bagman wants a word, back in the champions’ tent.”
Harry began walking back to the tent.
“Will you be in town a while, Charlie?” asked Eve. He nodded. “Hold on, I’ll come with you and we can catch up.” Eve turned and caught up to Harry.
“Harry, here,” she said, holding out the Horntail model.
“No, you keep it,” he said. “As a thank you.”
“I already told you, I don’t need a thank-”
“A gift, then.” He said, insistent.
Eve hesitated, then accepted and ran back to Charlie, smiling down at her new Little dragon.