So they had no more heart for lingering in Hogsmeade. The three of them returned to the castle, went back to their little Potions base, and immediately began helping Harry practice, not even bothering with lunch.
Harry concentrated with all his might, forcing various objects around the room to fly toward him. He still hadn't quite mastered it. Books, quills—they always seemed to lose steam halfway through and dropped to the floor like stones.
"Focus, Harry, focus..." Hermione repeated patiently, over and over. She and Orli had already mastered the charm.
"Am I not focusing enough?" Harry snapped irritably. "Somehow I can't stop thinking about this enormous great dragon... Right, let's try again..."
For the rest of the time, Harry kept using his wand to summon small objects toward him. Finally he managed to get a fly to zoom straight into his palm, though no one could be entirely certain this was down to the Summoning Charm—perhaps the fly had simply gone barmy.
That evening, they wolfed down a quick dinner and returned to the Potions base to continue practicing. At two o'clock in the morning, Harry finally managed a reasonably decent grasp of the Summoning Charm.
He raised his wand once more.
"Accio dictionary!"
The heavy dictionary shot up from Hermione's hands, soared across the room to the other side, and Harry caught it neatly.
"Harry, I think you've really got it!" Hermione said delightedly.
"Let's hope it still works tomorrow," Harry said. "The Firebolt is much further away than anything in here—on Tuesday it'll be in the castle and I'll be out on the grounds..."
"It'll be fine," Orli said confidently. "As long as you truly concentrate, focus completely, it'll come to you. Harry, we'd better get some sleep. But there's something else you should take."
She fumbled around in her satchel for a moment and pulled out a bottle of extra-strength Sleeping Draught.
"Remember the troll in first year?" She handed the potion to Harry. "Take this—lob it at the dragon's head. You're bound to hit your target. Not only do you need to keep yourself alive, you'd better not spill a single drop of blood."
She remembered that the key to Voldemort's resurrection ritual was Harry's fresh blood. Besides preventing Harry from touching any Portkeys, it was best to prevent him from getting injured during the task as well.
"Thanks, Orli. This potion must be really advanced," Harry said, looking at her. "And today, with Sirius... I'm terribly sorry."
"It's nothing," Orli waved dismissively, showing a smile. "I never expected everyone to like me—even you can't manage that, Mr Harry Potter."
Now all three of them in the classroom were laughing.
――――――――
The atmosphere at Hogwarts on the day of the task was tremendously tense and excited. Classes were cancelled before noon so the entire school could head down to the dragon enclosure—though naturally, apart from a select few, most people had no idea what they were about to witness.
At lunch, everyone's eyes were fixed on the champions.
Some Gryffindors made a point of wishing Harry luck, whilst others—led by Malfoy—called out loudly as Harry passed, "We've got loads of tissues ready for your tears, Potter!" before erupting in gales of laughter.
Orli worried that Harry's state of mind might be affected, but he seemed as though he'd gone deaf, drifting through the Great Hall like a spectre. It was as if some parasite called nerves had taken control of Harry, making him dozens of times more anxious than before a Quidditch final. After all, Quidditch generally didn't kill people.
They'd barely managed a few bites when Professor McGonagall came hurrying into the hall.
"Potter, the champions must come down to the grounds now... You need to prepare for the first task."
"Right," Harry said, getting to his feet. His fork clattered onto his plate with a loud clang.
"Good luck, Harry," Hermione said quietly.
"You'll do brilliantly!" Orli tried to boost his spirits.
"Yeah," Harry said, his voice sounding strange—almost as if it wasn't his own.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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