The stadium located on the edge of the Forbidden Forest had become a cauldron of screams, colors, and tension in anticipation of the imminent test. The wooden bleachers creaked under the weight of hundreds of students and some ministry officials, all leaning forward to witness the deadly, but wonderful spectacle.
Aurelian, sitting in a privileged spot with his fellow Slytherins, watched the whole scene with curious eyes. Around him, the crowd's support was clearly divided, the balance tipping overwhelmingly to one side.
Yellow and black flags with the Hufflepuff badger waved everywhere. Bright insignia flashing the words "Support Cedric Diggory" and "Potter Stinks" glowed on the chests of most students, even the studious Ravenclaws and the even more ambitious Slytherins. Gryffindor was a small, lonely island in a sea of hostility toward its own "champion." Everyone still refused to accept that Harry Potter had entered the tournament.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Ludo Bagman's magically amplified voice boomed across the stadium, silencing the crowd. "Today we will finally begin this wonderful tournament! I know you've all been waiting for this, myself included! Without further ado, welcome to the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament!"
Bagman, wearing an elegant robe, began to explain enthusiastically how the first test would work. "The goal of our champions is simple: snatch a golden egg from a mother dragon's nest!" The crowd gasped when they heard what they would have to face.
"But don't worry, we have people trained to immobilize the dragons to protect you and the champions so that nothing serious happens!" He looked at the crowd for a few moments. "Give a big round of applause to our first champion! From Hogwarts... Cedric Diggory!"
A deafening roar greeted Cedric as he left the tent. He looked a little pale but determined to accomplish his goal. The dragon he was assigned was the Swedish Short-Snout. The silver-blue scaled beast was crouched over its eggs.
Aurelian watched closely. When Cedric transformed a rock into a Labrador dog to distract the dragon, the beast's reaction was... slow, to say the least.
Instead of quickly incinerating the 'dog' and Cedric, the Short-Snout, blinked heavily. Its movements were a little clumsy, lacking the natural ferocity and explosiveness of a normal dragon. It turned lazily toward the dog, allowing Cedric to run and take the golden egg, receiving only a superficial burn on his side.
"Phew," thought Aurelian with satisfaction, leaning back in his seat. "The potion was perfect. Although I'm sure Kravix is earning a little extra by charging me so much."
"Diggory was lucky," Hestia commented beside her, clapping half-heartedly. "That dragon looked half asleep. It's no fun."
"Good for him. At least he didn't die" Flora added, bored.
Then it was Fleur Delacour's turn.
The Beauxbatons champion faced the Common Welsh Green. Instead of using force to confront the dragon, Fleur began walking in circles, weaving a complex spell and singing a soft, vibrant melody.
The Veela's magic flooded the arena.
The dragon, already sedated by Aurelian's potion, succumbed almost immediately to the additional charm. His eyelids grew heavy and his head fell to the ground with a thud, releasing rings of smoke into the air.
In the stands, Hestia and Flora tensed slightly, their expressions twisting into grimaces of deep displeasure.
"It's disgusting," Flora spat, watching Fleur take the egg as her skirt caught slightly on the dragon's exhalation. "Using those cheap half-breed tricks to seduce a beast."
"It's the only thing her kind knows how to do," Hestia whispered venomously, her black eyes distilling jealousy and hatred. "Without that impure blood and that cheap body, she would be nothing. She has no real talent, only her charms."
Aurelian patted Hestia on the knee to calm her down, but said nothing. He knew that arguing with them about respect for Veelas was a lost battle; after all, they were from a pure-blood family and had grown up hearing that Veelas were man-stealers.
The third to enter was Viktor Krum.
The Bulgarian entered with complete concentration and wasted no time. His dragon to face was the Chinese Fireball.
"Conjunctivitis!" Viktor roared, casting the spell directly into the dragon's eyes.
The beast roared in pain and began to stomp blindly. The dragon was disoriented and its movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, preventing it from locating Viktor by smell. Krum took advantage of the confusion, ran between the beast's legs, and took the egg, although the dragon crushed several real eggs in its agony, which would cost it points and the hatred of a certain keeper.
"Brutal," Aurelian commented, nodding approvingly. "But efficient."
Ludo Bagman spoke again, his voice thick with emotion.
"Three eggs obtained! Three champions safe! And now... the moment everyone has been waiting for! Our fourth and youngest champion in history! HARRY POTTER!"
The stadium fell into a tense silence, broken by a few boos scattered throughout the crowd.
Aurelian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
The Hungarian Horntail, the most dangerous beast of all, was brought into the enclosure. Even sedated, the dragon remained a lethal threat, its spiked tail beginning to sweep the ground where its eggs lay.
"Let's see, Potter," Aurelian muttered, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the arena. "What crazy idea did you come up with to avoid dying today? I hope it's not just running and screaming."
Minutes earlier. Inside the champions' tent, the anxiety was palpable.
Harry Potter sat on a wooden cot in the corner, his hands clutching his head as if he feared it would explode. The reality he had been keeping at bay behind layers of arrogance and fantasies of glory had just hit him square in the face, and he felt his whole world falling apart.
Dragons. He was going to face a damn dragon.
His right leg moved up and down in a frantic, uncontrollable rhythm, causing the wooden floor to creak rhythmically. Tap-tap-tap-tap.
"Arrête ça!" hissed a female voice irritably.
Harry looked up. Fleur Delacour was sitting on a stool across the tent, looking somewhat pale, which gave her face a greenish hue, and staring at Harry with utter annoyance.
"You're getting on my nerves, petit garçon," she said disdainfully. "Stop moving your foot."
Harry reluctantly stopped moving, giving her a murderous look. "Stuck-up princess," he thought bitterly. "We'll see who's laughing when I'm holding the cup."
He looked around. Cedric was pacing back and forth, muttering some kind of spell to himself with a distant look in his eyes. Viktor Krum was sitting in a corner, eyes closed and frowning, meditating or perhaps just sulking, Harry didn't know.
He took a deep breath and tried to focus on 'The Plan' he had developed.
Sirius had been clear. "Use your strengths, Harry. You're a natural flyer, take advantage of that."
The plan was simple: summon his broomstick. Sirius had bought him the best on the market to ensure his survival. A Noxum.
Harry gritted his teeth at the thought. He hated it, he really hated it. The fact that his life depended on a product manufactured by Aurelian Gaunt's company filled him with rage. But even he had his limits. He reluctantly had to admit that Noxums were superior to any other broom on the market. They were faster, more agile, and responded almost instantly in the air.
"I'm going to fly around that giant lizard," Harry said to himself encouragingly. "I'm going to make it look easy. Everyone will see how skilled I am, ha ha ha."
The entrance to the tent opened, letting in a gust of cold wind and the noise of the crowd.
Albus Dumbledore entered, followed by Barty Crouch Sr, Ludo Bagman, Madame Maxime, and Igor Karkaroff.
"Good morning, champions!" exclaimed Bagman, looking overly cheerful for the occasion. "Please take your seats. It's time for instructions."
Barty Crouch Sr., his face impassive, stepped forward holding a purple silk bag.
"The task is to retrieve a Golden Egg," Crouch explained in a monotone voice. "This egg contains a clue to the second task, and to do so, you must outwit a dragon that protects it. Now, you will select your opponent."
Crouch offered the open bag first to the Beauxbatons champion.
Fleur reached in with a trembling hand and pulled out a miniature green dragon that was snoring and breathing smoke. The Common Green Welsh.
Cedric was next. He reached in and pulled out the Swedish Short-snout, which was grayish blue.
Viktor stepped forward and abruptly pulled out the Chinese Fireball, which was red and gold in color.
Harry felt his stomach drop to his feet. He didn't need to be a genius to know which dragon was left.
Crouch shook the bag and Harry reached in. His fingers brushed against some scales and spikes. He pulled out the miniature. A small black dragon with malevolent yellow eyes and a spiked tail roared at him from the palm of his hand.
The Hungarian Horntail.
"Damn my luck," Harry muttered, glaring at the little beast. Of course. Of course he'd get the most aggressive, the most lethal. The universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor. He always got the worst of it.
"Very well," said Bagman. "Mr. Diggory, you will be first. At the whistle."
Time began to blur.
Harry was left alone in the tent as, one by one, the other champions emerged. He heard the roar of the crowd when Cedric came out. He heard the gasps of amazement at Fleur. He heard the thunderous applause for Krum.
Each time the cannon boomed, it meant someone had found their egg.
"They all did it," Harry thought, feeling sweat running down his back. "If I fail, I'll be the laughing stock of the whole school... I'll become a loser."
Nerves threatened to consume him, but something dark and stubborn ignited in his chest. The defensive arrogance he had cultivated that year as armor did not let him succumb.
"Harry Potter!" Bagman's voice called.
The whistle blew.
Harry stood up. His legs were shaking a little, but he forced them to stay still. He gripped his wand tightly.
"I'll show them," Harry whispered into the empty air of the tent, trying to convince himself. "I'll show them all that I'm the best. That fate is on my side."
With a sigh he tried to disguise as a small laugh, Harry Potter opened the flap of the tent and stepped out into the arena, ready to face his destiny.
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