Mid-November brought steady, gray drizzle to Hogwarts.
The frenzy over champion selection had finally cooled off. After Madam Pince's stern complaints, the wild fan clubs toned it down so they wouldn't disrupt regular classes. For everyone except the champions themselves, school life returned to its usual rhythm.
Besides teaching his regular classes, Melvin was swamped coordinating tournament details with Barty Crouch. The middle-aged wizard was determined to atone for his mistakes through hard work, though he wasn't asking for any reduced sentence.
He shuttled constantly between Hogwarts and the Ministry, negotiating future event schedules with other countries' magical governments, gathering input from the visiting schools, handling media arrangements, and inviting Ollivander to test the champions' wands.
He was basically doing the entire organizing committee's job single-handedly.
Even laid-back Melvin found himself busy, with no time for school gossip. He had to hear the interesting bits from Christine.
The champions were all preparing for the upcoming dragon task. The other three schools already had solid plans, while Harry and Hermione were still racking their brains, spending every spare minute buried in the library with long faces.
Professor Moody's Defense classes had gotten extremely intense and thrilling—so much so that they were even pulling in Durmstrang students. That said a lot, considering their school was famous for its Dark Arts curriculum.
Hagrid's budding romance with Madame Maxime was still in that sweet, undefined stage. Their dates felt magical. They'd stroll by the Black Lake or through the Forbidden Forest, chatting about the differences between their schools, exotic magical creatures, and the fierce dragons hidden in the woods.
Both half-giants shared an unspoken understanding about their giant bloodlines and never brought up family history. Hagrid thought it went without saying; Madame Maxime simply didn't want to talk about it.
Hagrid walked around with a permanent smile these days. The happiness from his romance was rubbing off on his teaching, making him a bit careless. He started tinkering with illegal cross-breeding experiments on magical creatures again.
The Blast-Ended Skrewts were the result—offspring of a manticore and a fire crab. Their blood acted like gunpowder; the slightest provocation made them explode with a loud bang.
Sure enough, a student reported it to the Board of Governors. Professor McGonagall received the correction notice and was so stressed she pulled out several hairs.
On Friday morning, as a member of the organizing committee, Melvin had a scheduled interview with the Daily Prophet. It coincided with Ollivander's wand-testing session, both set for midday during the lunch break.
After lunch, they gathered in an unused classroom on the second floor.
The small room had been cleaned and arranged by the house-elves. Most desks and chairs were pushed to the back, leaving plenty of open space in the middle with a few chairs set up along the side.
When Melvin arrived, several adults were already seated: the four headmasters, reporters and photographers from the Prophet, Ludo Bagman who was there to observe, and all the champions. It looked like they'd been waiting a while.
Harry's green eyes were watery. It seemed the interview portion was already over.
A few desks had been pushed together at the front near the blackboard and covered with a velvet cloth. Ollivander stood behind them with a parchment registration sheet.
The columns read: Name, Wand Length, Wood Type, and Core Material.
"Fleur Delacour, nine inches, maple, veela hair."
"Rosaline Tibbs, ten inches, plane wood, Occamy feather."
"…"
"Viktor Krum, ten inches, hornbeam, dragon heartstring."
"Nikolai Volkov…"
"Pickett Graves, twelve inches, giant fir, thunderbird feather."
"Nancy Boot, nine inches, cherry wood, kneazle whisker."
"…"
The Hogwarts champions went last. Cedric's wand was the longest at twelve inches—beech with unicorn tail hair. Maybe the previous unique wands had shaken the old wandmaker's usual assumptions, because Ollivander spent quite a while murmuring over his own famous creation.
Next, Hermione handed over her distinctive vine wood wand, and Harry presented his holly and phoenix feather wand—the one connected to another famous wizard. This made Ollivander drift off into another few minutes of reverie.
The group photo took some effort. Madame Maxime was so tall and imposing that she tended to block everyone else. In the end, she sat in the center of the front row so the photographer could fit everyone in the frame.
"Harry, Hermione…"
Melvin called over the two champions he kept a special eye on. "You've been living in the library for nearly a week. Have you figured out how to handle dragons yet?"
Harry and Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. They'd assumed knowing the task ahead of time was a secret violation of the rules. But here was the professor openly asking about it.
"Knowing the challenge in advance and still preparing seriously is itself an expression of courage. Besides…" Melvin smiled. "Cheating has always been a proud tradition of the Triwizard Tournament."
The two of them relaxed. Harry's eyes were still a bit red, while Hermione looked like she wanted to say something but held back.
They had faced the challenge bravely and prepared as best they could, but after days of research, they still had nothing solid. They'd gone through every dragon book available. The pages were filled with what dragons liked to eat, descriptions of their scale colors and appearances—nothing useful on how to actually deal with them.
There were also the dragon keeper's guides. After a week, Hermione had learned how to trim a dragon's claws with magic, treat scale infections, and provide postnatal care for mother dragons.
Some sections mentioned that keepers might need to use Stunning Spells, with a special note that because dragon hide was infused with their own magic, only an adult wizard's spell after repeated practice could penetrate it.
"I learned a spell that hardens a dragon's tongue. It might give it an extra weapon," Hermione answered honestly.
"I can't give you the answers. I'm an advisor to the organizing committee—I can't help champions cheat."
Melvin spoke casually, watching the little witch's eyes dim. Maybe because Wormtail had replaced Barty Crouch Jr., the current Professor Moody hadn't given Harry any hints.
"However…" Melvin paused. "As a Hogwarts elective professor, I can give you some general, non-specific advice. When facing an overwhelmingly powerful enemy, finding the enemy's weakness isn't always the most important thing. It's often more effective to play to your own strengths—your talents, the things you're best at."
Hermione fell into deep thought.
Harry blurted out, "I don't have any strengths."
"As far as I know, in your first year you were recruited onto the Quidditch team by Professor McGonagall because of your exceptional flying talent."
"Yeah, but… that requires a broom. The rules say we can only bring our wands into the arena."
"About that, maybe you should ask Neville. He's quite good at this sort of thing." Melvin patted both their shoulders and left. Rita was waiting to brief him on her work.
…
"A hideous scar—that mark left by a tragic past, marring the boy's originally handsome and charming face."
"When we asked about his long-deceased parents—the Potters, who died fourteen years ago—those startlingly green eyes filled with tears."
"According to Harry Potter during the interview: 'I believe my parents gave me life and strength. They would be proud of me if they could see me now.'"
"…Harry Potter said through tears: 'I know nothing can hurt me during the task, because they're watching over me from beyond.'"
Melvin smiled and shook his head as he closed the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. The pubs across Britain were probably buzzing. Rita's article about the Triwizard Tournament had been published.
The front page featured the group photo, and the second page had Harry's solo portrait. Fleur was the only other champion pictured. More than half the article was about Harry; the other names were only mentioned briefly at the very end.
Thanks to Melvin's specific instructions and Hermione's two-month internship over the summer, all the private-life details had been cut. The article was reasonably professional.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, returned to his office, pulled out paper and quill, and began writing a letter to Dumbledore. The first task was about to begin. It was time to start preparing the resurrection ritual.
…
The sound of flipping newspaper pages filled the air.
"Need a handkerchief, Potter? In case you start sobbing during Transfiguration again?"
"When did you ever get good grades, Potter?"
The article had run in the most popular newspaper, so of course every Hogwarts student had seen it. Over the next few days, Harry had to deal with constant teasing from his classmates—some good-natured ribbing, some mocking and cruel.
"Hey, Harry!" another voice called out as someone passed by.
"Yeah, that's right!" Harry finally snapped, spinning around. "I cried my eyes out earlier thinking about my dead mum, and now I'm about to do it again—"
"Uh, no…" Cho Chang bent down and picked up a dropped quill, handing it to him. "I was just saying… you dropped your quill."
Harry's ears burned bright red. "Sorry… sorry…"
"It's fine. I don't think crying over your parents is anything to be ashamed of. Good luck in the task on Thursday."
Watching her walk away, Harry suddenly found the newspaper articles a lot less annoying. Even the long-distance Summoning Charm he'd been struggling with suddenly seemed a little easier.
…
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome back!"
Bagman's voice boomed across the entire arena: "Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"
Banners unfurled along the railings of the spectator stands. Bright, clear light cut through the thick clouds, chasing away the gloom and chill. The magnificent mountain dragon enclosure stretched before them—a hill ringed with twelve excavated caves at its base, each one home to a dragon.
Tiered viewing platforms had been built around the area, seating nearly a thousand students and staff.
Melvin sat in the stands wearing a simple suit, surrounded by the four Heads of House, Christine, and Barty Crouch.
He glanced up at the sky. It was terrible weather—damp air, the threat of winter rain hanging heavy. Thick clouds blanketed everything, casting the whole enclosure in soft shadow.
The champions waited in tents below. All twenty were ready, but every face was deathly pale, eyes wide with terror and panic.
Bagman, his voice magically amplified, couldn't hide his excitement as he shouted: "Today, twenty champions have gathered here to face the most dangerous magical creatures in the world—twelve hungry dragons!"
Charlie stepped out from behind the stands and stood near Ron, glancing at the golden lion banner his brother was holding up. "Don't listen to him. These dragons have all been well fed. Their food was laced with a tiny amount of Veritaserum."
"Now for the rules of the task!"
The announcer Bagman was in full dramatic form: "For the first task of the revived Triwizard Tournament after two hundred years, the theme is courage. The champions must enter the dragons' lairs and steal their eggs! Points will be calculated based on the eggs obtained!
"There are three types of dragon eggs.
"Four golden eggs—lowest points. They contain clues for the next task, giving the champions who get them an early advantage.
"The most common are the rainbow-colored eggs, worth medium points. Colors range from red to purple, with points increasing accordingly.
"And the rarest: the black and white eggs—one of each color. The first team to secure them wins the entire task outright!"
Whispers immediately broke out in the champions' tent. The black and white eggs were like the Golden Snitch in Quidditch—they had everyone's full attention.
"But be warned, the difficulty varies greatly depending on the egg!"
Bagman's tone shifted dramatically. "The rainbow eggs are decoys the keepers placed in the nests just this week. The dragons aren't particularly attached to them. If you're careful enough not to anger the dragons, you might be able to take one without much trouble.
"The golden eggs are the dragons' favorite toys. They'll be reluctant to lose them, but they won't fight to the death over a toy.
"But the most important black and white eggs! After careful preparation by the keepers, the dragons will believe these are their actual offspring. If anyone tries to steal their 'children'… these sharp-toothed, fire-breathing beasts will fight to the death!"
The champions exchanged glances. The announcement made several of them reconsider their targets.
"Once again, any form of cheating is strictly prohibited. Champions may only bring their wands and the glass orbs provided by the committee. Breaking a glass orb in an emergency signals surrender and will bring immediate assistance from the committee."
"Now… let the task begin!"
As Bagman's voice fell, the tent flaps opened. The champions faced the low hill where the dragons made their home.
A strong smell of sulfur mixed with dragon dung washed over them. Harry blinked, realizing they were really about to face actual dragons.
He glanced over and saw Hermione clutching the hem of her robes, eyes closed as she took steady, measured breaths. Further away, Fleur was doing something similar, trying to calm her nerves.
The Durmstrang students were already moving. Krum led the charge toward the nearest cave, with the selected Slytherin student right behind him.
Ilvermorny and Beauxbatons students followed. Roger Davies from Ravenclaw stuck close to Fleur.
Harry felt a small jolt of realization. The rules allowed teams. Only the three of them had been standing around like idiots.
"Harry, Hermione… let's team up," Cedric said seriously.