Chapter 216
"Oh my—there you are at last! I thought the two Hogwarts champions had forfeited! Quickly, quickly—the other two have been waiting for ages!"
The tent flap was yanked open as Ludo Bagman hurried out, flustered.
For a moment, Harry Potter almost laughed.
Bagman looked like a caricature—still wearing his old Wasp uniform—so out of place that it eased Harry's tension slightly.
Under Bagman's urging, they stepped inside.
Fleur Delacour sat on a low stool in the corner.
She looked completely different today.
Her long silver hair was tied into a high ponytail, and she wore a black fur-lined coat with fitted white trousers that outlined her long legs. Paired with light grey sneakers, she seemed far more lively than her usual elegant, untouchable self.
But none of that could hide her tension.
Her face was pale, almost bloodless.
When she saw Draco Malfoy enter, a faint flush returned to her cheeks, and her eyes brightened slightly.
Viktor Krum stood nearby, more taciturn than ever—his silence betraying his nerves.
"Good, everyone's here!" Bagman said briskly. "Time to explain the rules!"
He rubbed his hands excitedly.
"Once the audience is ready, the first task will begin. Because of the special circumstances this year, the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons may choose first."
"Oh—and one more thing!" he added, patting his forehead. "You'll be facing dragons. Here—models!"
He held out four small, lifelike dragon figurines.
"Your objective is simple—retrieve the golden egg."
At that, the tension in Harry, Fleur, and Krum visibly eased.
If the goal was only the egg, direct combat might be avoidable.
"Each dragon has different habits," Bagman continued. "That will affect your approach."
He turned to Fleur and Krum.
"Which of you will go first?"
"Ladies first," Krum said shortly.
Fleur reached toward the Welsh Green model instinctively—then stopped herself.
"No. We should draw lots," she said, withdrawing her hand. "This is an individual contest. It should be fair."
She shook her head firmly.
Bagman beamed. "What a truly noble spirit! Mr. Krum?"
"I agree."
"Splendid! Splendid!" Bagman said, clearly delighted. He placed all four models into a cloth bag.
"Mr. Malfoy, would you like to go first?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I think ladies first is more appropriate," Malfoy replied evenly.
Bagman paused, then laughed it off. "Very well—ladies first!"
Fleur reached in.
Her hand trembled slightly as she withdrew a small green dragon—
Welsh Green — Number Two.
"Ah, fortune smiles on you," Bagman said approvingly.
Next, Krum drew.
Chinese Fireball — Number Three.
He said nothing, simply sat back down, eyes fixed on the ground.
Malfoy reached in.
Swedish Short-Snout — Number One.
Harry already knew what remained.
He pulled out the last model.
Hungarian Horntail — Number Four.
"Excellent!" Bagman clapped his hands. "You each have your dragon—and your order. Mr. Malfoy, you're first. When you hear the whistle, enter the arena."
A sharp whistle sounded outside.
"Good heavens—I must go!" Bagman exclaimed, rushing out.
---
Fleur removed her coat, revealing a loose pale-yellow shirt beneath—light, practical.
She looked at Malfoy.
"You seem very confident."
"Perhaps," he said with a shrug. "Or perhaps it's just appearance. In front of a beautiful lady, even a terrified man will pretend to be fearless."
A rare smile touched her lips.
"I believe I can tell the difference."
For the first time, she didn't look as anxious.
"Good luck."
"You too."
Another whistle pierced the air.
Malfoy lifted the tent flap and stepped out.
He crossed the bushes, passed through the opening in the fence—
and entered the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Bagman's magically amplified voice rang out across the stands. "Welcome to the Triwizard Tournament, revived after more than seven hundred years! Our first champion—Draco Malfoy of Hogwarts!"
Cheers erupted like thunder.
Malfoy glanced up.
The towering stands had appeared almost overnight—magic shaping them from nothing.
Among the crowd, he saw his parents—
Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy sat prominently, dressed with formal elegance.
Lucius looked proud.
Narcissa looked worried.
Beside them, Pansy Parkinson held Narcissa's hand.
"Auntie, don't worry," she said softly. "He's very confident."
Now, the one who had been comforted—
was offering comfort in return.