I am Peter Pettigrew

"The first task is in a week, how are you feeling" I ask harry.

We are in one of the abandoned classrooms, I was fulfilling my promise to harry about helping him with the tournament.

"Like the world is out to get me" he says with a gloomy face.

"Haha, well I can't deny that, the world is out to get you but don't worry, you have me and I know what the first task is going to be" I smile at him.

Harry's eyes widen as he looks up to me with hope in his eyes.

"But you are not going to like it" I say, bringing his expression back to gloomy.

"I don't like anything about all of this, what is one more thing" he says dejectedly.

This kid really needs to lighten up or get laid. Well it looks like it's time for some tough parenting.

"STOP THAT AND STAND UP STRAIGHT" I shout at him.

He jerks but I'm happy to see that his back straightens up. Looking at me with surprise.

"I believe that Sirius has told you about your parents" I look into his eyes.

He nods unsurely.

"So I don't think I need to repeat his words to you, you are your parents child harry. James was one of the strongest wizards I knew growing up, always ready to fight. He was one of the best aurors the ministry had during the war. And Lily, she was probably even smarter then Hermione. They would be raring to face any kind of challenge let alone a competition between school kids. So tell me are you your parents son??" I finish my tirade while maintaining eye contact with him.

He looks down and then murmurs something.

"SAY IT CLEARLY" I shout at him.

"YES, I AM MY PARENTS SONS" he shouts back at me all pumped up.

"YOU ARE READY FOR ANY KIND OF CHALLENGE" I shout back.

"I AM"

"Then those dragons won't know what hit them"

"THE WHAT..."

0000

The Forbidden Forest was quieter than usual, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. I had cast a charm on Harry and myself, cloaking us from both sight and sound. It wouldn't do to have anyone stumbling upon us, especially with where we were heading.

"Stay close," I whispered, leading him carefully along the narrow path. The ground was uneven, gnarled roots reaching out as if trying to trip us. Harry followed without complaint, though his face betrayed a mixture of curiosity and unease.

As we neared the clearing, I raised a hand to stop him. "We're almost there," I murmured. "Remember, stay hidden. No sudden movements."

When we stepped through the last of the trees, the sight before us was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Four massive dragons loomed in the clearing, each chained and guarded by handlers who looked tiny in comparison. The Hungarian Horntail's black scales glistened in the moonlight, its tail spiked like a deadly mace. Nearby, the Swedish Short-Snout exhaled a plume of icy blue fire, its silver-blue hide shimmering. The Welsh Green looked almost serene, but I knew better than to trust its calm demeanor. And finally, the Chinese Fireball, vibrant and golden, with a crimson fringe around its face, paced restlessly, its fire-red eyes glowing with irritation.

Harry sucked in a breath. "Dragons," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

I couldn't blame him for the awe. Seeing a dragon for the first time was a moment you didn't forget. I had seen them before, but even now, the sheer power they radiated sent a thrill through me.

"Yes," I said quietly, my eyes fixed on the beasts. "Dragons. These are your opponents tomorrow."

Harry's head snapped toward me, panic flashing in his eyes. "I have to face one of those?"

I nodded, my expression calm. "Yes. And that's why we're here. Better to see them now, get a sense of what you're up against. Tomorrow, when you're in the arena, you won't have time to be overwhelmed."

Harry stared at the dragons, his jaw tight. I could see the wheels turning in his mind—fear battling with determination.

I let him have a moment before I began explaining. "Four breeds, four champions. You'll face one of these tomorrow, though which one, we don't know yet." I pointed to the Hungarian Horntail. "That one is the most dangerous. Its fire is the hottest, and its tail can crush through solid rock. It's relentless and aggressive."

I gestured to the Swedish Short-Snout. "That one's more precise. Its fire is controlled, but just as deadly. It's less likely to charge, but its aim is impeccable."

Next, the Welsh Green. "The Green isn't as aggressive, but it's clever. It'll test you, look for weaknesses. Don't underestimate it."

Finally, the Chinese Fireball. "And that one—quick, unpredictable, and territorial. It'll go for you the moment you're too close to its egg."

Harry's eyes widened as he took it all in. "Egg?"

I smiled faintly. "The task is simple in theory. You retrieve a dragon's egg from its nest. That's what it's protecting. Of course, the dragon doesn't know you're only taking a fake egg. As far as it's concerned, you're a thief."

Harry swallowed hard, his gaze darting back to the dragons.

"Breathe," I told him, my voice steady. "You've been training for this. You're faster than you think, smarter too. Remember the spells we worked on. Accio will be your best weapon—summon the egg and get out of there. But if that fails, you have other spells to fall back on, you can also always summon your broom for extra mobility, rely on your instincts. You've got this, Harry."

He nodded, though I could see his hands trembling slightly.

We stood there in silence for a moment, watching the dragons. I couldn't help but let my mind wander. I'd always been fascinated by these creatures, their raw power, their independence. Riding a dragon… now that would be something. But taming one? That was a challenge few could rise to. Perhaps one day, I'd have the chance to try. For now, though, my focus was on Harry.

"You're going to be fine," I said, breaking the quiet. "This isn't just about strength, Harry. It's about courage and strategy. You've got both in spades. Trust yourself, and trust what you've learned."

Harry turned to me, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Do you really think I can do it?"

I placed a hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze. "I don't think, Harry. I know. You're capable of far more than you realize. Tomorrow, you'll prove it to yourself and everyone else."

He nodded, his resolve strengthening.

As we watched the dragons a little longer, I felt a surge of pride, it seems the good guy act is getting to me.

"Come on," I said finally. "We've seen enough. Let's get back. You need rest."

With one last glance at the dragons, Harry followed me back into the forest, his steps more confident than before. Tomorrow would test him in ways he couldn't yet imagine, but I was certain he'd rise to the challenge. After all, he wasn't facing it alone.

0000

The roaring cheers of the crowd reverberated around the stadium as I took my seat among the other faculty. To my left sat Aurora, her attention focused on the arena, and to my right, an overly worried McGonagall. Across from us sat the judges, Dumbledore, Maxime, Karkaroff, Bagman and another ministry official I hadn't bothered remembering the name of.

I leaned forward slightly, resting my arms on the ledge as I gazed at the rocky arena below, where the first of the Triwizard Tournament's tasks was about to unfold. Four dragons, each secured with heavy chains, were positioned at the edges of the arena, their piercing roars punctuating the tension.

Cedric Diggory, the Hogwarts champion, was the first to step out. The young Hufflepuff's face was set with determination, though I could see the flicker of fear in his eyes. I couldn't blame him—facing a dragon for the first time was no easy feat.

The Swedish Short-Snout was his opponent, its silvery-blue scales gleaming in the sunlight. It bellowed as Cedric approached, a jet of pale blue fire shooting into the air, a reminder of its devastating power.

Cedric began with a disarming charm, though the dragon hardly noticed. His next move was clever—he conjured a swarm of buzzing bees, which darted around the dragon's head. The beast roared in frustration, swiping at the insects with its claws. Taking advantage of the distraction, Cedric sprinted toward the nest, but the dragon caught on quickly. It swung its massive tail, narrowly missing him, and sent a shower of rocks in his direction.

Cedric rolled to avoid the debris, then used a stunning spell to momentarily daze the creature. It gave him just enough time to grab the golden egg and make a mad dash out of the arena. The crowd erupted into applause, and I nodded in approval. Not a flawless performance, but effective nonetheless.

Next came Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion. His demeanor was as stoic as ever as he faced the Chinese Fireball, a strikingly red dragon with a crown of golden spikes. Unlike Cedric, Viktor wasted no time with distractions. His strategy was brutally direct—he aimed for the dragon's eyes with a series of well-placed stunning spells.

The Fireball shrieked in pain as one of Viktor's spells hit its mark, partially blinding it. It lashed out in rage, its flames licking dangerously close to the stands. I instinctively raised a protective charm, ensuring the flames wouldn't reach us.

Krum's approach was bold, though not without its risks. The Fireball's thrashing grew more erratic, and for a moment, I thought it might break free from its chains. But Viktor was relentless. He dodged the dragon's attacks with precision, his athleticism serving him well. Finally, he seized the egg and exited the arena, his expression as stoic as when he entered.

The crowd cheered wildly, though I noticed a few murmurs of disapproval. His methods, while effective, lacked the finesse that some might have hoped for.

Then it was Fleur Delacour's turn. The Beauxbatons champion was elegance personified as she stepped into the arena, her silver-blonde hair catching the sunlight. I found myself momentarily distracted, admiring the way she carried herself with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. Her features were striking, her movements captivating, and I quickly reminded myself to focus on her performance rather than her beauty.

Fleur faced the Common Welsh Green, a smaller dragon but no less dangerous. She began by casting a hypnotic charm, her wand movements fluid and precise. The dragon's movements slowed, its fiery gaze fixed on her as if entranced. It was a risky strategy—any slip in concentration could result in disaster.

For a moment, I wondered if the dragon's reaction was due to her charm or her Veela heritage. Either way, it was working. Fleur advanced cautiously, her wand at the ready. Just as she reached the nest, the dragon snapped out of its trance, letting out an ear-splitting roar.

Fleur reacted instantly, conjuring a powerful barrier to block the jet of flames that followed. She didn't falter, her focus unwavering as she cast a freezing charm, temporarily immobilizing the dragon. With a final flourish, she grabbed the egg and retreated, her poise intact despite the danger she had just faced.

The applause for her was thunderous, and I couldn't help but feel impressed. Fleur had a commanding presence, both on and off the battlefield.

Finally, it was Harry's turn. As he stepped into the arena, I felt a pang of concern. He was facing the Hungarian Horntail, the most fearsome of the lot. Its black scales glinted ominously, and its yellow eyes were filled with malice.

Harry looked small and vulnerable compared to the monstrous creature before him, but there was a determination in his eyes that reassured me.

His first move was to cast Accio in an attempt to summon the golden egg. The spell fizzled out, much to his dismay. I clenched my fists, silently willing him to focus.

The Horntail roared, its tail lashing dangerously close to Harry. He quickly dove behind a cluster of rocks, buying himself some time. From his hiding spot, he cast the Patronus Charm. A shimmering stag burst forth from his wand, its ethereal glow standing out starkly against the chaos of the arena.

The Horntail's attention shifted to the ghostly figure, its eyes narrowing as it prepared to strike. Meanwhile, Harry used the distraction to crudely transfigure several nearby rocks into dogs and wolves. They darted around the dragon, their movements erratic and unpredictable.

I felt a surge of pride. The transfiguration was crude, but it was effective. The Horntail snapped at the creatures, its focus divided between the illusions and the Patronus.

Harry then cast the spell I had taught him just days before, one designed to make him less noticeable. His movements became quieter, his presence harder to detect. Slowly, he began to make his way toward the nest, his steps careful and deliberate.

My heart pounded as I watched him inch closer to the golden egg. The Horntail let out another roar, but its attention remained on the distractions. Finally, Harry reached the nest and grabbed the egg, his face lighting up with relief.

As he sprinted out of the arena, the crowd erupted into cheers. I exhaled deeply, tension draining from my body. He had done it.

Leaning back in my seat, I allowed myself a small smile. Harry had exceeded my expectations, and I couldn't have been prouder.

0000