The morning of the First Task, October 24th, passed incredibly quickly for everyone. The castle was buzzing with excited students discussing what would fall to the champions' lot and how they would cope. There were countless assumptions, from ridiculous to absurd and impossible.
The first lessons flew by in an instant, and everyone was released from the rest so they could go to the Great Hall for an early lunch, and then head to the site of the First Task. The seats next to Cedric were taken—the guys supported and encouraged him as best they could, seeing the unusually serious expression on his slightly pale face. I walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder.
"How are you?"
"Excellent."
"Everything is prepared and double-checked, you know that."
"I know."
Saying no more, I simply nodded to the Prefect and received the same nod in return, and only after that did I reach my classmates at the Hufflepuff table.
"How is he?" Hannah asked immediately, and Susan expressed concern too.
"Everything will be great. We scouted everything, prepared everything, made a plan, a backup plan, a backup for the backup, and a couple more in the same spirit."
"That's good," Hannah nodded.
The other Hufflepuffs from my year ate in silence, although the boys were literally fidgeting on the bench with impatience—they didn't know what danger the champions would have to face. Although, I had long noticed that in the wizarding world, the attitude toward various dangers, even deadly ones, is completely different—likely due to effective medicine.
When almost everything was eaten, Professor Sprout approached Cedric, said a few words, and led him away. A similar procedure befell Miss Delacour and the "star" Krum, only Karkaroff and Madame Maxime led them away personally.
A few minutes after their departure, Dumbledore stood up from his seat and asked us all to head out of the castle in a coordinated group, toward the forest. He said we would see, recognize, and understand the path ourselves, but if anything, we should just follow him. We were notified in advance about the need to grab warm clothes, as the weather was overcast and windy, so robes and scarves in house colors were ready, as were the amulets of my production under the clothes—I bet almost all students and guests are wearing them.
A few minutes later, we, meaning absolutely all Hogwarts students, were moving in a ragged and not particularly organized crowd from the castle to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Along the wide path, tall torches were stuck into the ground like signposts. Even if their fire was useless during the day, it was visible, and all this really gave a clear understanding of where to go.
We reached the edge of the forest, clearly leveled in advance, and Dumbledore, as well as several teachers, walked toward a rather large structure in the woods. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that these were large stands capable of accommodating all Hogwarts students, guests from other schools, and adult wizard guests—three sections of stands were allocated for them, the central one of which, judging by the higher quality and number of seats, was reserved for the judges. This whole construction was erected around a large paddock. Big enough to fit a dragon and give it some room to "frolic," while keeping the spectators safe—the paddock was truly large.
This noisy crowd of students quickly dispersed into the stands, making noise, smiling, and eagerly awaiting the spectacle. Guests appeared on the special stands, adult wizards in various expensive clothes—they were full of self-importance. Among these guests, I recognized the Malfoys and the Greengrasses. About the identities of some others, judging by who sat with whom, I could only guess. Several clearly Ministry workers sat behind the judges' chairs, which were to be occupied by the school heads, Mr. Crouch, and Mr. Bagman, but they weren't there yet.
Hector Eagle Eye—that is, me—didn't notice immediately, but eventually saw that the paddock area contained "landscape" elements such as wood, water, and stone, the latter represented by the ground itself, as if a piece of rock had been buried underneath. Only fire was missing, but I suppose the champion risks getting an excess of fire anyway. Piles of small debris and rocks were scattered around the paddock—clearly for Transfiguration. In general, the organizers tried to provide a minimum of environment that could be used for one's own purposes.
Behind the paddock, Eagle Eye spotted three huge cages with dragons, but contrary to memories, they weren't raging there, but sitting quite quietly, waiting.
"Place your bets!" the Weasley twins shouted loudly, clearly using Sonorus, walking between the rows of stands with open cases. "Who will last the longest in this bloodbath?!"
"Idiots," Hannah stated, turning away from this spectacle.
"Enterprising idiots," I nodded.
At that moment, the judges themselves entered the judges' stand, taking their seats. Only Ludo Bagman remained standing.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Mr. Bagman amplified his voice with magic and was now broadcasting to the whole area. "I am glad to welcome you..."
While Mr. Bagman was pontificating on the theme of "Joy, brotherhood, cooperation, tournament, fun, let's watch!", several wizards in black and red uniforms (but not robes, which is unusual) almost instantly organized a sort of stone nest in the center of the paddock, immediately placing a couple of large dragon eggs and one golden, clearly man-made one, inside. Other wizards in similar workwear were moving one of the cages, and so fast, as if it weren't a multi-ton construction without wheels.
The students cheered when they saw the dragon in the cage, moving quickly toward the middle of the paddock—to the eggs in the rocky nest.
"Mordred..." Hannah, standing nearby, let out one of the most harmless exclamations, while the other guys didn't really control their speech. "They've lost their minds..."
Looking around at the cheering wizards, I thought that basically everyone had lost their minds. On the other hand, should one expect a competent assessment of danger from children? No.
While I was indulging in reflections, the wizards in uniform "unpacked" the lizard, put the cage somewhere, and dispersed to the corners of the paddock. The dragon wasn't particularly beautiful, and this specific specimen looked like some kind of chicken—at least such associations arose in my head. A chubby-in-the-middle chicken with a short and flat head, like a pug of the lizard world. And the wings were rather short.
"Swedish Short-Snout," I voiced the species of this dragon, attracting the attention of the guys around for a brief moment.
Only for a moment. In the next second, the dragon, which the wizards had apparently already managed to chain up (and I hadn't even noticed)... Anyway, the dragon quickly sniffed the eggs in the rocky nest, puffed two immediately vanishing clouds of blue flame onto the eggs, and settled sort of over the nest. "Over," "near"—it's hard to correctly describe the dragon's position.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" Bagman's voice began to attract attention again. "The Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory!"
Cedric appeared from a small passage in the stands in a yellow and black uniform, similar to the one used in Quidditch. The students greeted him with loud applause; someone had even prepared posters and other paraphernalia, while the adults just clapped reservedly.
"Go, son!" I barely heard Mr. Diggory's shout, and only then found his figure among the wizards with my eyes.
"The task of the champions, as I said, is to steal the golden egg from the nest. Well, let's not delay..."
"Yes!!!"
"Begin!!!"
Cedric, without long hesitation, pointed his wand toward the passage from where he came, and literally a second later, a belt with potions flew into his hand. The Prefect immediately threw it over his shoulder, securing it with additional straps. The dragon watched Cedric's movements but was in no hurry to do anything.
"Oh, look, ladies and gentlemen! Cedric Diggory used the Summoning Charm to call for additional equipment! Is this against the rules? But no, Mr. Crouch says it is allowed and even more, encouraged!"
Cedric, looking straight at the dragon, ran his hand over the belt, found the flask he needed, and waved his wand—a flock of birds, resembling swifts or swallows, immediately flew from it. Too fast for transfiguration by the classic model, which means there are runes on the birds. The dragon remained inactive, and the crowd hooted, clearly expecting some decisive and incomprehensible actions in their colorful magnificence.
"What has Cedric planned, using modified Transfiguration spells?"
He planned the right things—that's what I'll say. The chubby dragon blocked convenient access to the egg, and using the dragonfly would be problematic—you need to set a clear algorithm of actions, and you can't do that without knowing where the "window" between the stones and the dragon's body or wings will open to get to the egg.
The flock of birds flew around Cedric in black streaks, and there were at least two dozen of these birds. Then our Prefect held out his hand with the flask, and one of the birds, darting like black lightning, snatched the flask. Cedric sharply pointed his wand at the dragon, and the flock flew toward it in an arc, attracting attention. Only a single bird literally skimmed the ground and approached the huge reptile from a completely different side.
"A diversionary maneuver! Excellent!!! If only we knew what for?!"
The dragon was indeed distracted by the flock that rose slightly up and was about to dive on the lizard in an arc. The dragon opened its mouth slightly, arched its neck a bit, and spat a stream of blue flame, burning the birds. The flame ran out, birds were toast, dragon proud of its success—it was readable in the pose.
"Unfortunately..." the dragon's flame had just gone out, and Bagman was already prepared to count a failed attempt.
At that moment, the last bird carrying the flask gained maximum speed and crashed into the dragon's flat snout, shattering together with the flask into a thick and rapidly expanding purple cloud of potent sleeping gas for birds, reptiles, and dragons—we read books for a reason, right? The impact was good—the dragon's huge head even moved.
Cedric instantly, with one movement, cast a modified Bubble-Head Charm on the dragon. Of course, for the first few seconds, it wasn't clear what had happened.
"What a twist!!!" exclaimed Bagman, and the crowd shouted and hooted cheerfully. "Using Transfiguration to deliver a volatile potion mixture!!! An excellent solution, but will it be enough..."
Yes, it would not have been enough. The dragon started to twitch, but it was on a chain, and couldn't even move away properly, let alone run far. The thick purple gas began to dissipate quickly, falling to the ground and becoming transparent.
"Just look at that!!! The modified Bubble-Head holds the potion vapors in the head area! Magnificent, and most importantly—effective solution. Unless the dragon decides to breathe fire."
But even if it decides to, it won't have time—the effect of the potions is extremely fast, and the Swedish Short-Snout needs some time to "recharge," albeit very little. It took only a couple of seconds for the dragon to inhale all the gas and collapse unconscious. The nest was prudently created in such a way that the dragon, if it lost consciousness like this, would not cover it completely, but sort of roll off a bit, opening access.
Cedric didn't approach the defeated opponent—we discussed the undesirability of such actions back at the preparation stage. The dragon might twitch a limb in its sleep, and considering its mass and the strength of involuntary muscle contractions—Cedric's head could turn into mince from a blow, and no medicine would help here. And it could breathe a cloud of fire, sneeze, or something else. Therefore, Cedric transfigured a dragonfly, which instantly appeared in the nest, grabbed the egg, and just as instantly brought it into our champion's hands.
"Wonderful!!! Simply magnificent!!!" Bagman raved while the audience realized what had happened. "The Hogwarts Champion, in my opinion, coped excellently with his task!!!"
The stands literally exploded with support, shouts of joy, whistling, and so on—fans frantically shook their... posters and banners. Cedric smiled, demonstrated the egg, and briskly moved to the exit from the paddock, but not the one he entered from.
The audience calmed down, wizards in uniform briskly and quickly packed the sleeping dragon into the cage and rolled it away. And they didn't forget to collect the eggs. A moment, and they are already organizing a new clutch with other eggs, and rolling a cage with a squat and large, but calm emerald-green dragon into the paddock.
"Ah, Welsh Green," I nodded. "Someone got lucky, and if that someone knows what to do, they might get off with a slight fright."
"What do you mean?" Justin, standing to my left with Ernie, was surprised.
"It is very calm and easily succumbs to some mental influences. Well, easily, compared to its protection from everything else. But actually not easy at all."
While we discussed the nuances regarding the Common Welsh Green, Bagman gave a speech that although Cedric Diggory performed wonderfully, everything is learned in comparison, and now we will be able to see how the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, copes with her dragon.
The French girl literally fluttered into the paddock with a light gait. Her long platinum hair was tied in a low ponytail at the back of her head, and the uniform... Well, I don't know, honestly. Some light skirt variation of their everyday sky-blue uniform, only clearly not restricting movement.
"So, let's not waste time, ladies and gentlemen!!!" Bagman put a lot of effort into regaining the audience's attention—the young Veela was marvelously beautiful even without using her allure. I even thought I heard the synchronous grinding of teeth from the female fans in indignation.
"Begin!!!"
The Common Welsh Green, settling over the nest, looked at the people around with slight irritation, and at Miss Delacour in particular. The French girl wanted to wave her wand, but clearly changed her mind. Again... And changed her mind again. In the end, she created several distracting ghostly animal figures that rushed toward the dragon.
"Not sure that's a wise tactic!" Bagman broadcasted.
The animals reached the dragon and it seemed to even fall for them, getting up from the nest with curiosity and stepping away. Fleur herself cast Disillusionment Charms on herself and quickly headed toward the dragon. The lizard turned out to be smarter and seemed to expect something like this—it struck the stones with its tail, knocking out dust and debris, and Fleur appeared next to the impact site, clearly having jumped out of the affected zone.
"Close!!!" Bagman roared. "Very close!!!"
The dragon swung its tail again, and it turned out to be longer than the French girl expected—she barely dodged.
"Need to be more careful!!!"
The spectators were either indignant or happy—the noise was too indistinguishable.
Delacour retreated to a safe distance, exhaled, concentrated, and began to dance slightly with a light step, simultaneously tracing a complex pattern of measured movements with her wand. She kept casting and casting, and the charms were clearly cyclic—the pattern repeated time after time. Two minutes—the dragon swayed, sat down. Another two—lay down, curled up more comfortably, and fell asleep. Fleur cast for another minute, probably to be sure. Only after that did she head toward the nest with an uncertain but quick gait. She took the golden egg and walked back, but the dragon simply snorted, inadvertently releasing a cloud of fire and singing the girl's skirt.
"Ay-ay-ay!!!" Bagman was indignant. "How careless!"
The male part of the audience didn't quite agree—the girl had to quickly cut off part of the skirt, revealing her right leg almost to the waist. Naturally, everyone liked the sight. Except the girls. Fleur quickly left the paddock, and the wizards began to pack the dragon back up.
Bagman occupied the spectators' time again, discussing what they had seen, while another dragon was being prepared—red, visually powerful, and creating the impression that Chinese dragon figures with big eyes, nostrils, and whiskers were drawn specifically from it.
Krum—it was he who had to fight this dragon. The Chinese Fireball—it was named so because of the mushroom-shaped flame, which from many viewing angles seemed exactly like a ball.
The Bulgarian acted aggressively, trying to pelt the beast with a bunch of different spells, simultaneously fighting off its fire attacks. Krum often tried to close the distance and had to dodge blows. In general, he was the one making the spectacle, while the previous champions showed art, so to speak. In the end, the Bulgarian blinded the red dragon with the Conjunctivitis Curse, which gave him the opportunity to quickly get to the golden egg unnoticed and leave just as quickly. Only the dragon, enraged by pain, crushed half of the real eggs—I bet Krum won't get points for that.
When the last dragon was packed into the cage and transported into the forest, away from the paddock, Bagman informed the spectators that the judges needed a few minutes to confer.
"What do you think?" Justin asked. "And how are the dragons?"
The buzz in the stands didn't subside—everyone was discussing what they had seen, and it impressed many.
"Think? Cedric did excellent. At least compared to the others. Faster, more effective, without collateral damage to himself, the dragon, or anything else. But the little Veela almost got smoked, and she should have started with trumps right away, not tried to sneak up on an awake, not blind, not deaf dragon."
"Hee-hee-hee," Hannah giggled. "Veela Tabaka."
"Hannah," I looked at this blonde viper reproachfully.
"What? I can't help myself, I don't like her."
"You girls don't like her in general."
"So, dear spectators!!!" Bagman spoke again, attracting general attention. "It is time to announce the judges' scores for the first task!!!"
At this moment, McGonagall brought the champions. Fleur had changed her skirt for a new one, Krum had cleaned himself up, and Cedric didn't need to do anything.
"Well, let's start from the end. Dear judges," Bagman looked at the judges around him, since he was one of them himself. "Please show your scores for the performance of the Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum!"
Each of the judges waved their wand, creating a glowing number in the air. Madame Maxime gave the Bulgarian six points, and I am sure the basis for this was the chaotic pelting of the dragon with different spells, which made no sense, and the completely messy incapacitation of the dragon itself, and with collateral victims to boot. Dumbledore gave eight, Crouch—seven. Bagman—nine. Karkaroff, naturally, ten.
"Viktor Krum earned forty points!!!"
The fans actively supported the champion with an ovation.
"The main reasons for the point deduction," Bagman continued to speak, "lie in the sloppy and incoherent use of many spells and collateral damage. However. It is worth noting the outstanding accuracy and wide range of various offensive and defensive spells, which does credit to the Durmstrang student."
Applause again, joyful shouts, and Krum nodded, accepting both criticism and praise.
"Miss Fleur Delacour! Thirty-nine points."
Here Karkaroff and Bagman lowered the scores—they, apparently, love spectacles.
"Miss Delacour coped excellently, but she should have moved to sleeping cascades immediately. But the cascades, you must agree, were quite specific and inaccessible to practically everyone due to various reasons, and underestimating the danger of a sleeping dragon led to rather ambiguous consequences."
The male part of the fans disagreed with "ambiguity"—everything was very unambiguous, and everyone liked the Veela's chiseled leg. Teenagers, what can you do? Didn't see anything special, but received food for fantasies in full measure.
"Mr. Cedric Diggory! Forty-nine points!!!"
Karkaroff lowered the score. He would have lowered it more if Cedric had made even a slight mistake.
"An ideal performance according to practically unanimous opinion!"
Naturally, our students supported Cedric's victory hyper-actively, and the hum and clamor seemed like they would break my eardrums.
I didn't listen much further and hurried to get down from the stands early—when Bagman officially ends the first task, the crush will be notable.
As soon as I got down from the stands, Bagman, actually, ended the trial, the crowd stirred, and I hurried to the castle—no time for idleness. Looked at dragons? Looked. Made sure no one died? Made sure. Time to catch up on what I missed during the week of helping Cedric and training with him. True, I extracted a lot of useful things from this unplanned time pressure myself, but the spiders aren't finished, the bush isn't grown, Halloween is soon, and there is still no information about it.
But still, dragons are cool and dangerous—even with my control, my heart is still pounding, and I'm sure there's a stupid smile on my face.
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