Harry receives a note the day before the Tournament.

He's got a sneaking suspicion that it's from the same person-- whoever they might be-- who sent him the last one, informing him of what the task held. Same indistinguishable handwriting...

... And an informative tidbit about the task, just as the last one had.

This one was shorter, more-to-the-point, and yet raised more questions than answered.

"Parselmouths can talk to dragons."

Harry was borderline captivated by this piece of knowledge-- because, oh boy, the possibilities of the Task now-- because how did the sender come about this information? It's not common knowledge about what Parseltongue can accomplish, as the previous Heirs have kept their secrets well, and he couldn't find anything about it in the library. Even with Hermione's efforts.

How does this person's know dragons can understand the tongue of snake? Was it a natural assumption, branching off the fact that snakes and dragons are both reptiles? Or did they learn it from a Heir themselves? That last point brought up both questions and possible problems-- for a notable Heir of Slytherin was, of course, Voldemort. And if this secret helper was on good terms with Voldemort... well, then, what the fuck?

And it's debatable to Harry whether or not the letter rings true at all-- sure, 'Fun Facts About Parseltongue' is not a book, and it'd overly undocumented what the hell is going on with it, so if it was the truth, Harry would have no way of confirming so. But, still, dragons seemed a little far fetched.

Draco did not share his concerns. He kissed him, a delicate thing, before he was off to the Task, and had said: "Try Parseltongue. If it fails, no worries; kick his ass."

Harry was grateful for Draco's confidence in him-- grateful for Draco altogether-- and entered the field.

The dragon was, to put it bluntly, scary as fuck, and it took a rather large amount of effort on Harry's part not to start blasting right then. He cleared his throat, casted a noise amplification spell, so the dragon could hear him from his side of the field, and spoke in Parseltongue: "Er, hello."

He could hear the collective gasp of the audience but pushed that to the back of his mind; made it distant, not a matter of concern, barely there. There's just him, the dragon, and the magic condescending in the air. Nothing more; nothing less.

The dragon doesn't speak for a long while. So long that Harry thinks it hadn't understood him and he was going to have to resort to low class violence, but just as he reaches for his wand, the dragon speaks.

"Interesting," he muses. His voice is musky and thick and rough on the ears, but Harry takes care not to show his discomfort. "A Speaker, then?"

Harry fights the insinict to snap back "Obviously" and instead says, "Mhm. I'm Harry. What's your name?"

The dragon grumbles, shifting on it's nest, and Harry takes the opportunity to start slowly moving forward. "I do not have a name."

"Oh," Harry frowns. "That's awful. Would you like one?"

"I suppose."

"I can help you there," said Harry, "but I'd want that golden egg you're sitting on in return."

The dragon argues for a good five minutes, but eventually it reluctantly agrees to Harry's deal, winning Harry first place in the round, a new puzzle to unlock, and a dragon friend named "Salem."

The celebration in Gryffindor tower is estatic with energy. So much so that no one seems to really care that Draco Malfoy is allowed into the common room. Harry holds the egg under one arm and holds Draco's hand with the other. They gorge themselves on some Firewhiskey a couple of seventh years brought in.

"I usually don't condone underage drinking," one said, "But Harry Potter ain't usual."

The mood wasn't even dimmed by the fact Harry had used a Slytherin-ish method to achieve the victory, or the screaming of the egg when it opened. It was, however, dimmed when a first year asked Harry how his family was taking this. She had apperantly been in the Hospital Wing on the day of the Howler and hadn't yet learned of the common fact Harry hated his Muggle relatives.

Harry's face had dimmed and it was not even five minutes later that he'd retired to bed.

Harry, while trying to fall asleep, tried to distract himself from his suddenly downcast mood by thinking of Sirius. His Godfather and real family. He'd been hesitant to tell Sirius of his relationship, or his sexuality in general. He wasn't sure of Sirius's opinion on the matter and Harry feared rejected just as much as he feared Voldemort. And, given Sirius was in hiding, he hadn't exactly seen the press on the matter.

Tomorrow, Harry decided. Tomorrow he would write to Sirius, come out to him, and throw in the news of the outcome of the first Task.

That was the plan, anyway, but the first parts of his got discarded by the events of the morning.

He awoke with his first hangover (hurray!) and trudged down to the common room. Most all other students had already gone down to breakfast, so it was strange sight to see Ginny there. She looked a mess-- and that's putting it lightly. Her hair is fluffed up wildly and her robes covered in soot. A bruise is welling on her cheek. She stands by the fireplace, a Floo fire up.

"Ginny?" he voices, concerned. She startles at the noise. As if...

As if caught in the middle of some great misdeed.

"I-I'm sorry, Harry," she says, making Harry wonder what exactly she was apologizing for, but before he can ask such, she hits him with a stunner.

And as he goes down, he realizes that he can recognize this magic. From... from am evening at Hogsmeade, when he was hit with a spell that removed him emotions.

Ginny cursed me.

And, when he awakes, she will be declared missing. Along with several Dark books from the Restricted Section and Draco Malfoy.

a/n
hello my stars
h-o-ly SHIT am i right? lots gunna happen nd be prepared for 2-3 chapters of flashbacks w Ginny SORRRY
ANYWAYS word count:1023