In Shadow and Signal (Book 2)

Harriet Potter's POV

I found out by accident.

Not from Dumbledore. Not from Bagman. Certainly not from anyone who was supposed to be keeping me alive.

I overheard Hagrid whispering to Madam Maxime - not knowing I was trailing behind, hoping for a quiet walk and maybe a few minutes of air that didn't feel like judgment.

"They've brought in dragons," he said, his voice low and reverent.
"Four of 'em. Real nasty types. Hungarian Horntail's the worst."
"They're using dragons?"
"First Task, Maxime. Bound to be spectacular."

My blood ran cold.

I backed away before they could see me, heart pounding in my throat.

Dragons.

That wasn't a trial - that was a death sentence dressed in sport.

I didn't run back to the common room. I didn't even cry. I just wandered until the castle stopped feeling like a trap.

And when I finally collapsed into my bed, breathing too fast and too shallow, the contract activated.

I felt it pulse - not warm like it usually did, not alert like during the Goblet drawing.

This time it burned.

And with it came something new.

A flash of memory that wasn't mine.

Not a vision - just... a moment.

Oliver's hands, gripping a broomstick.
His voice, whispering my name.
His fear.

He'd felt what I felt. Even now. Even miles away.

And in that split-second, I knew:
If I died in that arena, something inside him would die too.

And the contract would make sure of it.

Not out of vengeance.

Out of balance.

Because old magic doesn't care who suffers - only that the weight is equal.

-

The next morning, I woke early and summoned my broom.

I wouldn't let Oliver feel that fear again.

And I wouldn't die in front of a crowd that wanted a show.

If they wanted a Champion... I'd give them one.

Just not the kind they expected.