Herbert was absently scratching behind his ear nervously as he and Cedric Diggory sat on the floor in their dormitory, cross-legged, staring at the golden egg where it lay between them on the floor. Cedric was leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, his hands bracing his cheeks as he stared, deep in thought. The egg gleamed at them, intricately engraved with whorls and swirls and circles and funny fleur de lis shapes all around it.

"Are you needing a flea dip, then?" Cedric murmured, eyes not moving from the egg.

Herbert looked up. "I haven't got fleas."

Cedric met his gaze and a crooked grin of amusement slid over his mouth.

Herbert kicked at Cedric, who laughed. "Are we ever going to open this bloody egg or what?" he demanded.

Cedric drew a deep breath. "Honestly, I'm rather terrified to do it. The first task was dragons, after all. What the bloody hell can they possibly have come up with to top that? There's still two more tasks! At this rate, by the third task we'll be challenged to duel the ghost of You Know Who or something."

Herbert snorted. "Because the Dark Lord had nothing better to do in his gods-damned afterlife than duel with teenagers."

They both laughed at the notion.

Herbert sighed and rocked himself staring at the egg. "Well go on and open it, Ced," he prodded. "The sooner we know what's in it, the sooner we can start preparing! We can work at training skills for whatever it is!"

Cedric nodded, and reached for the egg as he mused, "I suppose you're right. Most of the trouble with the first task was the fear of it, not knowing what was coming and not being able to prepare for it."

"Precisely!" Herbert agreed.

"But as I said, what could be worse than dragons? And so much so they've decided to let us prepare ahead of time when they were all like nah they can handle dragons unprepared," he raised an eyebrow at Herbert warily, fingers clasping the hinges of the egg.

Herbert shrugged.

Cedric took a deep breath. "Well - here goes."

He pried open the egg, twisting the cap so the four leaves of the sides fell loose revealing... absolutely nothing inside.

Herbert and Cedric both looked at one another in confusion at the emptiness within for a moment.

"Suppose they forgot to put in the --" Cedric started but before he could complete his question, a cacophony of shrieking rose up from the hollowness of the egg. Herbert's hands flew to cover his ears, his heightened hearing repulsed by the pitch of the voices. A sound like gurgling, scraping iron ran an undertone and Cedric slammed shut the egg as quickly as possible.

Viktor Krum lay on his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening as a clock somewhere on the ship announced the hour. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken up naturally with no trainer banging on his door, no shouting from his father. But the sunlight came in through the porthole of his bedroom and he watched motes of dust dance through the rays of light.

Stretching, Viktor rolled off the bed and got dressed, bundling up for the cold of the grounds of Hogwarts. The golden egg gleamed at him from the shelf he had put it on by the window.

He didn't feel like thinking about it. Not today, anyway. Perhaps tomorrow. Why waste this gift of a free day? It was unlikely to last as long as Wally Grant had commanded - Viktor knew his father too well to expect that. But he could enjoy it while it lasted at least. So he pushed the tournament out of his thoughts, left the egg on the table, and stuffed his fists into his pockets as he set off across the grounds to the castle.

The Great Hall was abuzz with students eating their breakfast and Viktor saw Harry Potter at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by a small crowd, including a ginger haired boy who was excitedly talking about Harry's excellent flying during the first task. Viktor wondered why it hadn't occurred to him to summon his broomstick? It made quite a lot of sense when one thought about it - and certainly played to his strengths.

The Slytherin table, where a cluster of Durmstrang students sat together, was more subdued - several students glowering across the hall at the Gryffindors, as though angered that Harry had succeeded at the task. He didn't much feel like talking with them, and Aleksander was carefully not meeting his eyes again, despite the moment they'd spent on the deck of the ship when Viktor was leaving for the task...

Instead of taking a seat, Viktor stopped at the closest table - the Ravenclaws - and took a few slices of toast, wrapping them in a napkin and turning away quickly, headed for the library.

People were pausing in the halls, taking double glances his way, and scurrying on, whispering and giggling to themselves. He balled and unballed his fists with nervousness, wondering if they knew how he had passed out at the end of it, if they were mocking him softly, if they thought he was too weak to be a champion after all...

All Viktor Krum wanted was anonymity - the ability to make mistakes without being judged for them or talked about...

He slouched through the doors of the library, thankful for the silence and the witch who glanced up from the cart of books she was organizing as he walked in, but who paid no more attention than that to him as she turned back to her stacks.

Viktor sighed in relief.

The library was empty save for the witch, and Viktor moved slowly between the shelves, looking for something interesting to read. He found his way to the lore and magical history section, browsing the titles at hand. He lifted up a large volume called Hogwarts: A History and flicked through the pages.

"That one's very good, actually," came a soft voice. Hermyown stood at the end of the aisle, several books in her arms as well. "I've read it twice and learned new things each time. There are loads of very interesting things about the school on there - as a general overview. It really depends what subject you're most interested in about Hogwarts, really. If you're wanting something about the founders you'd do better with The Four Houses than that volume; it gets more in depth about their biographies, and is much more reliable than Sorting The Founders, which I think focused a bit too much on their later years after they decided to split the school into houses." She paused, realizing she had said a lot with nearly no response from him. "Sorry," she said.

"For what are you sorry?" Viktor asked.

"Talking your ear nearly off?"

Viktor shrugged. "This is not to be sorry for, Hermyown," he replied.

She smiled.

He turned back to the book.

"What are you interested in about Hogwarts? I - I do know quite a lot of the school's history, I could certainly help you find whatever it is you need?"

Viktor looked up. He could see in her eyes that she had seen his meltdown at the task. It was like it was there reflecting back at him from her eyes. "I am simply looking," he replied sternly.

Hermione nodded. "Sorry. I understand."

Viktor turned back to the book again.

Hermione lingered by the end of the aisle, then, "I wanted to say that I thought you were quite brave the other day. At the task. I think you did brilliantly. All of the champions did. I could never go up against a real dragon on my own like that. My friends and I have done loads of hard things but never anything quite like that. It was quite the spectacle, wasn't it?"

Viktor nodded.

Hermione said, "Honestly the task was quite cruel to the dragons."

Viktor nodded.

Hermione bit her lip. Then, "I'm sorry if I was rude to you before. Before the task, I mean." She hesitated. "I think that - that what happened to you was rather cruel as well, with all that training you've done and I heard the mediwizard said --"

"I do not need pity," Viktor closed the book and looked up at her.

"Ohhh no it isn't pity, though," she said quickly. "I just - I wanted you to know that I understand what it's like to be an overachiever, to feel like you have to push yourself so hard you end up - up - in a situation like that, I mean. Training so hard... Learning so hard... It burns a person out, doesn't it? Makes them... tired. And everyone starts to just expect it of you and then you're expecting it of yourself and it feels like a failure when you can't meet it because you were never meant to have such a burden." She stared at him. "I just... wanted you to know you're not alone. In feeling that. And I had a sort of similar... experience... last year. I tried to do too much and I thought I could do it and I managed to talk several professors into believing I could, too. But in practice it was simply too much. So I understand. You didn't fail - but I suppose if you're anything like I am, you probably feel like you have."

Viktor was quiet as he stared at her.

"And honestly if you can handle a dragon for even a few minutes, the horses you truly care about will be no trouble at all."

Viktor forgot he'd told her about the horses. The fact she had remembered them sank into him then, and carrier with it the realization that all she had said just now was driven by her having listened and understood so many unspoken feelings and worries and pains... Viktor felt more seen than he had in a very, very long time prior.

"Thank you Hermyown."

A wide smile split her face and her eyes lit up with pride: it occurred to Viktor that perhaps Hermione was rarely appreciated for the thought and care she so clearly put into even the simplest acquaintances.

He looked around the shelves. "I am having a day off," he explained. "What would you recommend?"

Hermione thought a moment, "I know just the answer." She turned and disappeared among the shelves. A few moments later, she returned and held out a book. "Here you are."

Enchanted Equines: Ashen Hooves to Clydesdales to Kelpies to Thestrals, a complete magical compendium of magical horses, by Newt Scamander.

Viktor smiled.

Fleur Delacor was just finishing up brushing her hair, sitting on her bed, the golden egg in front of her on the mattress. She'd made a nest of silk scarves to hold it and she stared at the etching on the outside of the shell as she wove her hair into a braid.

There was a knock on her door. "Come in?"

Madame Maxime shouldered her way into the room, her fingers running over the pearls around her neck as she stood and gazed at the egg on Fleur's bed. "Any luck with ze clue?" She asked.

"I was only just about to open it," Fleur said. She tossed her braid over her shoulder.

Maxime said, "Fleur, ze thing I wish to tell to you iz this: It eez unfair for you to have such low marks after today, ze bravery you showed - it should 'av been recognized much more! Do not become deescouraged. Whatever eez een zis egg or eez to be faced in zis or ze next tasks, I know zat la coupe de feu chose ze right champion for Beauxbaton."

Fleur flushed proudly. "Merci," she whispered.

Madame Maxime nodded and they stood in silence a moment, then Fleur reached for the egg. "Do you wish to stay as I open it?"

Maxime nodded.

They were both breathless as Fleur opened the top and the hinges came undone, the four petals peeling back to reveal the empty space within. The shrieking began, just as it had done for Cedric when he'd opened his egg, but Fleur looked up to Maxime - her eyes wide.

"Mermish!" they both said at once.