Professor McGonagall led Harry away from the Great Hall, her back looking just as tense and anxious as Harry himself. As they departed, the Hall erupted into noisy chatter once more, everyone speculating about what the task might involve, placing bets with sweets and silver Sickles on who would win the first challenge. When Malfoy and Pansy began loudly debating whether Hermione or Orli would end up widowed over Harry Potter, the two girls unanimously decided to step outside for some fresh air.
They followed the direction Professor McGonagall had taken, skirting the edge of the Forbidden Forest toward where the dragons were being kept. A large tent had been erected there, blocking the view of the grounds beyond. A small entrance faced them, and from within came faint voices mentioning something about bags and golden eggs.
In no time, crowds began streaming toward the grounds behind the tent. Orli pulled Hermione along, blending into the throng. Though Hermione still looked deeply worried, Orli couldn't leave her behind—if Hermione acted on impulse and embraced Harry, and Rita Skeeter captured that photograph... She shuddered at the thought and quickly steered Hermione into the Gryffindor crowd. There happened to be space beside Fred and George, so they squeezed in next to them.
"How's Harry holding up?" Fred had to shout into Orli's ear over the din of the crowd.
"Looks scared out of his wits," Orli shouted back. "But I reckon he'll pull through just fine."
"Yeah," Fred grinned, turning his attention to the small tent where the champions were waiting.
Orli surveyed the arena. The judges' table sat directly opposite them. Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, and Madam Bones were all seated there. Madam Bones appeared rather disgusted by Karkaroff beside her—their chairs were positioned quite far apart. One chair remained empty; Bagman was presumably still in the champions' tent. The four Houses were all mixed together, with students from other schools scattered throughout. Orli tried to spot Snape but couldn't find him anywhere.
Suddenly, the entire crowd erupted in excitement. At the far end of the grounds, a massive iron gate was hauled open. The hinges shrieked and groaned, and from the dark tunnel beyond came heavy, thundering footsteps accompanied by rushing wind. Then, a silver-blue Swedish Short-Snout dragon slowly emerged from behind the enormous gate—its neck wrapped in the thickest iron chain Orli had ever seen, preventing it from taking flight and forcing it to move on foot. Its wings beat occasionally, stirring up gusts of sand-laden wind, whilst blue flames flickered from its jaws.
At the centre of the grounds, a massive nest—almost the size of a small hill—had been placed, containing several eggs. The most conspicuous was entirely golden, gleaming brilliantly in the sunlight.
"Merlin's beard..." Fred gasped in shock. "They're actually going to fight dragons?"
"Yeah... More precisely, they need to retrieve the golden egg," Orli replied, having to endure the pain in her fingers as Hermione gripped her hand in a death-like clasp.
Madam Bones picked up the microphone and began explaining the rules. The Swedish Short-Snout approached the nest, sniffed it with its nose, then coiled protectively around it. Its broad wings nearly covered the entire nest.
The whistle blew. Ludo Bagman came rushing out of the tent and scrambled up to the spectator stands. The first to emerge from the tent was Cedric Diggory. He was indeed strikingly handsome, but now his face was alarmingly pale.
The task appeared to last ages but was actually quite brief. Cedric used a series of Confundus Charms, Transfiguration, and even some spells Orli didn't recognise with remarkable skill. He transformed a rock into a Newfoundland dog to distract the dragon. As he tried to manoeuvre past the Swedish Short-Snout, the crowd became like a many-headed creature—screaming, shouting, gasping in unison. Eventually, he managed to confuse the dragon, and in just over ten minutes, he secured the golden egg, though he suffered some burns and walked with a stagger.
"Absolutely brilliant!" Bagman bellowed. "Now, judges, your scores!"
He raised his wand, and a long silver ribbon shot out, forming an 8 in the air. Madam Bones awarded 9 points, Dumbledore also gave 9. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff both gave 6.
"They're being ridiculously biased! Cedric performed brilliantly!" Hermione shouted. Ernie Macmillan in the front row heard her, turned around, and smiled at them. It was the first time a Hufflepuff had shown them any kindness since Harry became a champion.
"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled as the whistle sounded again. "Miss Delacour, you're up!"
The crowd's cheers grew even louder. A beauty versus a dragon—now that was a rare spectacle.
Fleur emerged from the tent, head held high, gripping her wand tightly—though if you looked carefully, you could see her hands trembling slightly.
A vivid Welsh Green dragon was already positioned at the centre of the grounds, its scales a patchwork of varying green shades, as if it could blend seamlessly with wild grass.
"That's a Welsh Green—they're the least troublesome of all dragon breeds. Like Antipodean Opaleyes, they prefer hunting sheep," Fred explained beside Orli. "Unless provoked, they always actively avoid humans."
Orli craned her neck to look down at the grounds—the nest of eggs appeared to have been swapped out. This Welsh Green's eggs were earth-brown with green speckles. The golden egg remained equally conspicuous. For a brooding mother dragon, no matter how mild-tempered, any human attempting to steal her eggs would face a grim fate.
The Welsh Green stood before the nest and spread its wings, letting out a surprisingly melodious roar, with flames flickering between its thin upper and lower jaws. At that moment, Fleur untied her hat ribbon, letting her silvery-platinum hair cascade through the air as if buoyed by some invisible force. She raised her wand and began singing a strange, haunting song.
"Veela blood?!" Hermione gasped quietly. Fred and George immediately clapped their hands over their ears. The dragon gradually succumbed to the enchantment, lay down, and began to snore. Many boys in the stands started gazing dreamily in Fleur's direction, as if about to leap from the stands. Fortunately, before such embarrassing behaviour could manifest, Fleur had already retrieved the golden egg from beside the hypnotised dragon. A small jet of flame from the snoring dragon ignited her skirt, but she quickly extinguished it with a stream of water from her wand.
She retied her hat and pocketed her wand. The boys snapped back to their senses, faces flushed, glancing about as if trying to pretend nothing had happened.
The audience erupted in cheers and applause once more. The judges awarded their scores—Fleur's performance was impressive: Bagman, Dumbledore, and Madam Bones all gave 9 points, Madame Maxime awarded a perfect 10, whilst Karkaroff, in a display of poor sportsmanship, gave only 5.
"That shameless old git..." Many boys in the stands grumbled with dissatisfaction, and Orli heard Ron's voice from nearby.
Then the whistle was blown for the third time.
"Next up—Mr Krum!" Bagman announced.
Entering alongside Krum was a red Chinese Fireball dragon. Its smooth scales were scarlet, its face adorned with a lion-like snout surrounded by a ring of golden, fringe-like spikes, and its bulging eyes looked far from friendly. As it paced restlessly, mushroom-shaped fireballs shot from its lion-like nostrils like missiles. Its eggshells were a vivid deep red, covered with golden spots.
Krum seemed determined to engage the dragon in direct combat. He cast a spell on himself and consumed something—Orli suspected it involved some form of Dark Magic, as his entire body swelled like an inflated giant, his eyes turning blood-red.
He charged toward the dragon like a raging bull, darting between the dragon's legs with remarkable boldness. For a moment, he captured that Seeker's instinct from the pitch, pushing his physical speed advantage to the absolute limit. As he passed beneath the dragon's belly, he fired off a spell. Orli heard the Chinese Fireball let out a terrible, earth-shattering shriek—he'd struck the dragon directly in the eye. It thrashed in agony, stamping about and crushing half of the real eggs.
"Incredibly brave!" Bagman shouted. "He's shown extraordinary courage—ah—the Conjunctivitis Curse, that's right, he's got the golden egg!"
Thunderous applause shattered the winter air like breaking glass. Krum had completed his mission, retreating to the edge of the field with the golden egg clutched in his arms, his body shrinking back to normal size. His shirt had torn, exposing his entire upper body, which steamed in the cold air and drew shrieks from quite a few girls.
The judges' scores were announced: Bagman and Madam Bones gave 8 points, Dumbledore awarded 9. Predictably, Karkaroff gave 10 points, whilst Madame Maxime retaliated with 5.
Hermione began nervously calculating the scores: "Cedric 38 points, Fleur 42, Krum 40..." She paused. "I just hope Harry survives."
Finally, Harry took the stage.
At the far end of the grounds loomed the Hungarian Horntail. Its massive, armoured body made Harry appear extraordinarily small by comparison. It crouched low, guarding its nest of eggs, wings half-folded, those vicious yellow eyes fixed deadly on Harry's direction.
From a distance, they could see Harry raise his wand and seemingly mutter an incantation. Then they heard something whistling through the air at tremendous speed.
"He's done it! He's done it!" Hermione shrieked with excitement, violently shaking Orli's arm. The Firebolt shot into the arena, stopping abruptly beside Harry in mid-air. He mounted the broom, soared into the sky, and climbed high into the air.
"Good Lord, he can fly!" Bagman shouted—the spectators were all screaming and gasping. "Did you see that, Mr Krum?"
Orli had no idea what Krum in the tent might be thinking; her gaze was locked on Harry. It was like watching a bizarre game of Quidditch, except the opponent wasn't other players but a ferocious Hungarian Horntail. The golden egg was his Golden Snitch, and the flames were the Bludgers he had to dodge.
Harry spiralled higher and higher, the Horntail's gaze following his movement, its head turning round and round on its long neck. Finally growing impatient, it spat out another jet of flame. Just as it opened its mouth, Harry tossed something extremely small into it, then dived sharply downward.
It was the extra-strength Sleeping Draught! Orli clenched her fists, waiting for the dragon's reaction.
――――――――
Harry nimbly dodged the flames, but the Horntail's tail lashed toward him.
He yanked the broom handle left—those tail spikes nearly caught him! By the narrowest of margins, he dodged once more. The Hungarian Horntail suddenly swayed like a drunkard, then crashed heavily to the ground.
"Did Harry Potter kill the dragon?" Bagman shouted. "Clearly the dragon's been brought down by some method—it's fallen into a deep sleep!"
Harry swooped gracefully past, snatching the golden egg from the dragon's nest. The crowd erupted in cheers, screams, and applause—deafeningly loud, like the Irish supporters at the World Cup.
"Look!" Bagman bellowed. "Look at that! Our youngest champion has secured the golden egg in record time! This will narrow the gap between Mr Potter and the other champions!"
Harry flew to the edge of the arena, where Professor McGonagall and Hagrid were already waiting, speaking to him with evident relief.
The judges' wands shot out silver numbers: Dumbledore and Madam Bones gave 9 points, Bagman awarded 10. Madame Maxime gave 8, whilst Karkaroff shamelessly gave only 4. The Gryffindors in the stands booed him with displeasure.
"Harry's got 40 points," Hermione calculated. "We need to go see how he is!"
Orli took her hand and they squeezed toward the stairs below the stands, running toward the tent. They'd barely taken a few steps when they heard additional footsteps behind them.
"Wait for me!" It was Ron, panting as he caught up.
"So someone's finally seen sense?" Hermione shot him a glare. Ron pressed his lips together—his face was still pale, clearly having been on edge the entire time.
They burst into the tent together. Harry sat there in a daze, a streak of dust across his face, still clutching the golden egg as if he hadn't quite recovered.
"Harry, you were magnificent! Absolutely brilliant! Brilliant!" Hermione squealed, embracing him.
Orli's eyes carefully scanned Harry from head to toe, finally confirming that not only had he successfully retrieved the golden egg, but he hadn't been injured or bled. From the adjacent tent came Cedric's cries of pain and Madam Pomfrey's stern voice—clearly wounds were being treated over there.
Ron stared at Harry for a long moment before finally speaking: "Harry," he said, his expression deadly serious, "whoever threw your name into that Goblet of Fire—I—I reckon they wanted you dead!"
"Took you long enough to work that out," Harry said coldly. "Quite some time, that."
Ron hesitantly opened his mouth, seeming about to apologise. But before Ron could get the words out, Harry cut him off: "Forget about it."
"No," Ron said, "I shouldn't have—"
"Forget about it," Harry repeated.
Ron gave him an awkward grin, and Harry smiled back.
Hermione suddenly burst into tears.
"You two are such idiots!" she shouted, stamping her foot as tears streamed down her front. She buried her head in Orli's arms, and Orli had to stroke her bushy curls—the texture remarkably similar to petting Crookshanks.
"What's there to cry about!" Harry said, baffled.
"Completely barmy," Ron shook his head.
"Right, so now you two are mates again," Orli glared at them both, though her face wore an enormous smile.
――――――――
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