HP: A Magical Journey

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The portrait door to the Gryffindor common room flung open on its hinges, and from the opening entered Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, fourth champion. The fourteen-year-old boy was stark pale, white like a ghost as if he had seen the most horrifying scene of his life.

With a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead, he sat himself down in a corner, slumping in his seat, tapping his feet while looking at the floor with unblinking eyes.

Ever since he had become champion, he had been attracting a lot of eyes no matter where he went, and it was something that he didn't enjoy because people at Hogwarts had just gotten used to his reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived. Currently, though, he didn't care about the looks of others; he couldn't care less if someone glared or smiled at him.

He didn't know how long he sat in his seat, but Hermione and Ivy had returned from their daily library visit. The two girls saw him sitting in the corner, his eyes haunted.

"What happened to you?" asked Hermione upon reaching Harry's seat.

Upon not getting an answer, Ivy pushed Harry's shoulder to get his attention, and it seemed to work when Harry trembled as he looked up with a surprised look on his face.

"W- What?!"

"We asked what happened to you," said Ivy, "Wait... why are you looking like that?"

The two girls finally noticed the pale pallor of Harry's skin when he looked up at them, causing them to get worried.

He only had one word in reply:

"Dragons."

He recalled his trip with Hagrid.

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Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood. Roaring and snorting— torrents of fire shot into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground. A smooth scaled green one, who was writhing and stamping with all its might. A red one with an odd fringe of refined gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air. And finally, a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, nearest to them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, attempted to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn't tell which... It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching schriek…

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

Harry had seen each of the dragon keepers pull out their wand.

"Stupefy!" they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides—

Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking— then, very slowly, the dragon fell. Several tons of sinewy, scaly-black dragons hit the ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn made the trees behind him quake.

The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands.

A Common Welsh,

A Swedish Short-Snout,

A Chinese Fireball,

And… the Hungarian Horntail.

Four lethal, pissed-off dragons, breathing fire in anger of captivity.

He didn't know whether he was glad he'd seen what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now. Maybe if he'd seen the dragons for the first time on the task day, he would have passed out cold in front of the whole school… but maybe he would, anyway... Harry was going to be armed with his wand —which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood— against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike ridden, fire-breathing dragon. And he had to get past it, with everyone watching.

How?

. . .

The girls looked at each other, not knowing what to do. The thought of a dragon was terrifying to them, and that was when they weren't going to face them in a battle that might end in maiming, severe mutilation, or death.

"Harry—" started Ivy, but Harry cut him off.

He stood up from his seat, and suddenly he had a look of determination in his eyes.

"I'm going to him for help," he said.

He was already enrolled as a champion; there was no going back. So the least he could do was take some steps to increase his survival.

"Him? Who do you mean?" asked Hermione.

Harry gave a brief side glance to Ivy, and the girl-twin tilted her head in confusion, but the very next second, her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"You mean him?"

Harry nodded. "He is the best choice, isn't he?"

"Well... he is... skilled," said Ivy; she could suddenly feel the phantom sensation of walls clutching around her. "But are you sure? This is big... he is going to ask for a lot."

"Mum can't help in the open. Dad isn't here, nor is Sirius here. Out of everybody, I think he is one good choice, isn't he?" said Harry, listing.

"Or we can just practice among ourselves," Hermione chimed in, catching up to the conversation.

Harry turned to the brunette and asked, "Do you know how to deal with a dragon?"

"Well— not really..." replied the smartest of the group.

"He will be able to help. Didn't you say that he's undefeated," pointed out Harry to his sister, "Also, if I remember correctly, he defeated Cedric; doesn't that make him the best person to go to. A person who defeated a champion could certainly help."

"If you say it like that..." The points made sense to her, but the thought of Harry incurring a heavy debt worried Ivy.

"I would like to survive this instead of worrying what he would ask of me."

Ivy still hesitated but conceded in the end, "All right, you can go to him for help."

"Good," nodded Harry while stepping forward.

"Where are you going?" asked Ivy.

"To him."

"Now?" said Hermione, looking at her watch; there wasn't much time for dinner.

"I would like to meet him as soon as possible," was Harry's reply as he made his way to the exit, prompting the two girls to follow after him.

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Quinn sat behind his desk, gazing at the people sitting in front of him.

"What do you two think?" he asked with a smile, "A fun and productive proposal to spend your time at Hogwarts? You're going to be here for a while, so why not make it unique, something to remember and tell in the future as a story."

Across him stood two people; one dressed in Durmstrang and the other in Beauxbatons.

Quinn turned to the Durmstrang student and smiled, "Mr. Krum, your time here will definitely be something we will remember. What do you think, some Quidditch, while you're stuck here, doesn't sound bad, does it?"

The grumpy and taciturn champion, who had been grouchy the entire time he had been in Hogwarts, who had been extra irritable when Kari, his classmate, had escorted him to this —office— to meet some kid. He thought that it was going to be another person asking him for his signature. But now, as he sat here in this seat listening to the kid —Quinn West— talking about a Quidditch tournament, Krum felt the happiest he had been ever since coming here.

"I will participate," he nodded. He was more excited to participate in this than he was to take part in the Triwizard tournament.

Quinn then turned to the other person, a boy, blonde, blue eyes, and asked the same question. "What about you, Mr. Dupont? Would you like to lead a Beauxbatons team?"

Gael Dupont was the first guy from Beauxbatons that Quinn had talked to. He was a friendly and affable seventh year student.

"I would be honoured to, Quinn," smiled the French wizard.

"Excellent!" smiled Quinn pushing a thin stack of papers each towards the two people. This would be an elaborate thing, and he needed ample paperwork to keep track of things.

"Please sign these at the crossed lines. This is some boilerplate stuff; you can read them if you want," notified Quinn, and it was true; he hadn't messed with any of the wording.

"Mr. Krum, any other professional contract I should be aware of? Something that wouldn't allow you to play Quidditch on your own?" he asked, knowing that, as Krum was a professional athlete, perhaps he could have some restrictions normal people didn't have.

"No," replied the Bulgarian, "I was contracted to the national team. The negotiations with the clubs are still ongoing. I'm still free to play anywhere I want to."

"Good, that saves me legal trouble."

The two new captains signed the contract for the interschool Quidditch tournament.

"Now, you don't have to worry about setting up teams right now," said Quinn, slipping the form into envelopes, "I will announce the tournament after the first task, which is on November 24. Thus, we are going to announce it on November 25. That day I will introduce the captains along with the rules. The official tournament will start on January 1, so you will have an entire month to set things up and get in some training."

He stood up from his seat, prompting the other two to do the same.

"It was nice meeting you two," he said, shaking their hands, "I will keep in touch. Please look forward to this tournament; it's going to be something special."

The two future captains exited the office feeling satisfied and excited about their future. Even Quinn was happy with how things were going. Things were running smoothly.

"Nevertheless... the tough part is yet to come," he said, groaning and stretching. He sighed. Setting up teams was easy; he just needed to choose captains and let them do all the work, "So much of the logistics is left."

As he walked to the red door in the glass wall, ready to get some magical work done, he heard a knock on his door. He turned back just in time to listen to the door-chime ring in a clear, soothing melody.

"Oh, my," he said in surprise and curiosity, "I wasn't expecting you three to come here today."

In front of him were the Potter twins and the smartest witch of her age. They were standing at his doorstep; one determined, one hesitant, and the last curiously looking around his office.

"Harry, Ivy, Ms. Granger. How may I help you out today?" Quinn asked as he moved away from the red door back to the barstool behind his desk. "Please, come in and have a seat."

He sat on his own seat and waited for the three to settle down. He judged them from their current looks and body language and saw that all of them were pretty nervous. Something he found interesting, as the girls hadn't been anxious during their last visit.

"Do you know about the first task?" asked Harry, deciding to be straight to the point.

"Yes," answered Quinn. "Why?"

"I just saw them near the forest," continued Harry, as Ivy and Hermione exchanged a look; as they were expecting, Quinn was aware of the first task, and from the looks of it, he knew about it before today.

"Ah," nodded Quinn with a smile, "Magnificent creatures, aren't they? They are wonders of magic. In my opinion, their connection to magic is something to behold... So what do you want from me?"

"I want to live," said the Boy-Who-Lived, "I don't want to die from getting burned to ashes by a dragon."

"And?"

Harry glanced at Ivy and Hermione before turning back to Quinn. "I want you to teach me how to survive the dragon."

Quinn stared at Harry for a second —a very long second— before replying. "Sure, I can do that."

The three clients blinked. They stared at Quinn, who looked like what he had said was no big deal.

"... You will?" asked Ivy, honestly expecting something more or… just something.

"Yeah, it's all right. I don't consider myself a good teacher, but I think you will handle it just fine."

"What will you charge?" asked the redhead. She had experience.

"The usual charges apply; in exchange for my services, you owe me a favor of equal importance," answered Quinn, interlinking his fingers over the desk.

"I accept," declared Harry without hesitation. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow," answered Quinn, "I will have a schedule sent over to you; build your day around that. I'm not going to adjust to yours; you're going to adapt to mine. Though I warn you, it is going to be tough. I'm not a great teacher because I don't have any patience for those who don't work hard. If the problem is me, I will change, but if you aren't going to put in the work, then you're not going to like me much for the next two weeks."

Quinn had two students —if he could call them that— Eddie and Luna.

Eddie worked quite well with Quinn because his best friend worked hard and hated to lose. Eddie's personality made sure that he kept on working hard, and thus, under Quinn's training, he had been able to get fit quite quickly.

On the other hand, Luna wasn't as hard-working as Eddie, but because Quinn had tailormade the learning method just for her, Luna was able to maintain consistent progress. As long as he was able to keep Luna interested, she would work and show good progress.

However, unlike Luna, Quinn didn't have the time to tailor a regime to Harry. He didn't know how Harry learned or how quickly he learned, and with only a fortnight to the first task, Quinn didn't have time to build Harry an optimal learning path.

"Can we learn too?" asked Hermione. The opportunity to learn from Quinn interested her a lot.

"Hmm," Quinn gave it a thought before nodding, "As long as you don't cause a delay in Harry's progress, you and Ivy, if she desires, can watch. But no one else."

After setting up more terms, the three left, leaving Quinn behind in his office.

"Another year, another request," he said.

Ever since the first time Ivy Potter had entered his office along with Hermione Granger, he had provided the members of the Golden Squad the best help and solution he could provide. No matter what request they put in front of him, he offered a great solution to them. Sure, he asked them for something in return, but it was always just a token to make it seem that he wouldn't give them help for free.

The only favour he had cashed in was from their break-in.

He wasn't dense or ignorant; every time Ivy Potter had entered this office, she exited with some form of information. He knew what he was doing when he provided them with the knowledge and how it helped them. As long as anyone from Golden Squad came to the A.I.D. office and him, Quinn was going to help them out.

With their identity and fate, Quinn didn't mind helping them out. As long as it helped them along with Voldemort's death as the goal, or simply the progression of the plot, Quinn was more than happy to be of help. If Ron Weasley came into his office and read a request from a slip of parchment one day, Quinn would help him out as long as it didn't put him at a disadvantage.

"It's good they're cautious of me," muttered Quinn, "it will keep their requests in check."

He smiled, stood up, and walked to his workshop, ready to start his magical research.

Quinn West was a busy wizard, after all.

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A/N:

Hullo people,

Now, I've been seeing some comments saying that the chapters are shorter.

It turns out that the statements are in fact true.

Hear me out,

I made a mistake and that was to undersell my word count.

I generally publicized that my chapters are 3K words long because it's easy to write and 3K sounds a good rounded number, but the truth is that before my little mid-term break, I've been pumping out chapters which were closer to 3.5K than 3k.

The recent few chapters have truly been 3K words chapters and that might be the reason they seem short in comparison.

Don't get me wrong, I've always aimed for 3K word chapters, but almost every time I write a chapter, it seems that whenever I reach that 3K line, my brain decides to get productive and I end up with chapters that are over 3K.

That was my analysis.

Thank you for reading,

FictionOnlyReader.

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Quinn West - MC - This is seriously going to be a hectic year.

Harry Potter - Fourth champion - The Boy-Who-Lived wants to continue to live.

Victor Krum - Durmstrang Champion - He didn't enter the tournament entirely of his own will, did he.

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