“So zey sent dementors to ‘Ogwarts?” Fleur asked.
“I didn’t say it was something good,” Harry said, grinning.
“Cedric was in that game too.
Beat me to the snitch after I passed out.”
“The dragon seems to have taken the bait!” Bagman said, excitedly.
“And thankfully, it doesn’t speak English,” Harry snarked.
“Of course not; it’s from Sweden,” Fleur quipped, making him snort.
“Be careful with your Welsh one, then,” Harry replied, earning a smile.
“‘E’s going to be loud and obnoxious with all of us, isn’t ‘e?” Fleur asked after a moment, sounding worried.
“You think it might effect your plan?” Harry asked, figuring that would explain her unease.
“I’ll just ‘ave to be quick,” Fleur said.
Screams echoed from the stands, and Harry swallowed thickly.
A moment later, Cedric ran into the tent, clutching the egg to his chest with one arm and holding the other against his cheek, where he had obviously been burned.
“He’s done it!” Bagman exclaimed.
“Though not without injury, Cedric Diggory has successfully completed the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”
“Come here, Mr.
Diggory,” Madam Pomfrey called out.
“The quicker I apply burn salve to that wound, the better it will heal.”
Cedric grunted, clearly in pain, and rushed over to the healer.
“Good luck,” Harry said as Fleur walked towards the entrance.
“Good luck,” she replied.
It took them several minutes to clear the arena of the first dragon and get the second one in place, but once that was done, Bagman called Fleur out, and she walked out with a confident gait.
He looked over to Krum, who didn’t even acknowledge him, and, figuring that he wouldn’t have anyone to chat with this time, he just closed his eyes and focused on breathing. The source of this chapter is g.com.
A moment later, he was interrupted by one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard.
Fleur was singing, or he was going insane and hearing things, and the sound sent chills down his spine.
The song was very calming and soothing in a way that he didn’t think could be natural, and he wondered just what sort of magic that could possibly be.
It honestly reminded him in a way of Fawkes gentle trills.
“She’s done it!” Bagman cried.
“She’s got the egg.”
“Bagman, you idiot,” Harry muttered to himself.
Almost immediately afterward, Fleur almost dove inside the tent, unscathed except for some slight singeing of her skirt.
She panted quietly as the adrenaline continued to course through her.
“Was that because of our lovely announcer?” Harry asked, pointing to her skirt.
“Surprisingly non,” Fleur said.
“It turns out zat dragons can breathe fire when zey snore.”
“And I thought Uncle Vernon had a problem,” Harry thought to himself.
Krum walked past the two of them towards the entrance to the arena as Madam Pomfrey walked over.
“Miss Delacour, I need to examine you,” she said.
“Ze dragon did not ‘urt me,” Fleur said.
“I put out zese flames before zey touched my skin.”
“Even still,” Madam Pomfrey said, and Fleur just shrugged as she joined her.
Krum’s solution involved a great deal of violence if the gasps from the crowd were any indication, and went well if the lack of screams were.
Harry just nodded at him and took his place by the entrance of the area.
There were no eyes on him here, so he quietly reached into one of the pockets of his robes and pulled out Ajuka’s ring.
The small piece of dark metal radiated magical power so clearly that he could feel it.
In truth, he had no idea if what he was doing was considered cheating or if there would be any consequences if it was, and he was caught.
All he knew was that, alone as he was there, no one could see as he slid the tiny ring onto his wand, and once he entered the arena, the only one who might be able to see from the stands was Moody, thanks to that magical eye of his.
Given that he was the only professor to try to help him overtly, albeit with a truly insane plan, he doubted that, even if the man saw, he’d say anything.
“And now we come to our final contestant,” Bagman announced.
“The fourth champion in this triwizard tournament, our own native son, Harry Potter!”
There had been cheers for each of the three properly selected champions as they were called into the arena, but as Harry walked in, he was met with mostly quiet.
Looking at the stands, he spotted Hermione’s bushy brown hair blowing in the breeze and smiled.
No matter what anyone else thought, he knew that she believed in him and was thankful to have one true friend in the castle.
He was so focused on looking around at the stands that it wasn’t until he heard a distinct, loud growl that he even looked at his dragon.
“Fuck me,” he muttered to himself as he took in the sight of the Hungarian Horntail.
The small animated construct that he’d pulled out of the bag had been very well-made, and it had glared at him with malevolence, but it had nothing on the real thing.
The black dragon was enormous, and as her yellow eyes fixed on him and she breathed a small warning plume of flame, he was sure that without Ajuka’s help, he’d have been doomed.
There were large boulders scattered about, presumably because even the tournament organizers realized that the champions would benefit from some cover.
He spotted the nest full of eggs and saw the golden one gleaming in the sun.
He was about to just summon the egg when a thought occurred to him.
Stealthily slipping the ring off of his wand, he pointed it at his throat and cast, “Sonorus.”
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