Chapter 220
Just then, Ludo Bagman's amplified voice cut through the air again, interrupting the discussion.
"Please wait a moment, everyone! The field must be cleared before the next match. Right now, the battlefield is in complete chaos!"
After a brief pause, his energetic voice returned:
"Now—let us welcome the next warrior! The only lady among the champions—Miss Fleur Delacour! She will face the Welsh Green Dragon!"
---
"Time to return," said Albus Dumbledore calmly.
"I trust your doubts have been resolved?"
Igor Karkaroff merely swept his robes and left without replying.
Olympe Maxime, however, hurried back—her expression tense. This was her student's turn.
---
Nearby, Alastor Moody watched Draco Malfoy with clear approval.
"Well done," he said, tapping his cane.
---
"You should go to the medical tent," added Minerva McGonagall firmly.
"Yes, go at once," Narcissa Malfoy urged.
---
Medical Tent
At the entrance stood Poppy Pomfrey, visibly anxious, scanning the field.
When she saw Malfoy approaching—walking steadily, unharmed—
she looked genuinely astonished.
"Merlin's blessing… not a single injury?"
After a quick examination, relief spread across her face.
---
The tent interior was divided by white canvas partitions. As the first to arrive, Malfoy had the space to himself.
"Here—wipe off the sweat," Madam Pomfrey said, handing him a towel.
"Dragons… filthy creatures. No hygiene at all. Last year dementors, now dragons—what will it be next year?"
Her tone carried professional irritation.
---
Then—
a voice drifted in from outside.
Soft. Ethereal. Almost unreal.
It filled the tent like a distant melody.
---
Suddenly—it stopped.
And the stadium erupted.
---
Bagman's voice rang out:
"She's done it! The Beauxbatons champion has succeeded! The dragon has been completely enchanted—fast asleep! I daresay half the audience feels the same!"
---
Moments later, Fleur entered the tent.
She was pale and visibly shaken.
Madam Pomfrey immediately guided her to a seat and wrapped her in a thick coat.
"You're freezing—sit down."
"Thank you…" Fleur replied softly.
---
"Congratulations," Malfoy said from behind the partition.
"That seemed… efficient."
"Thank you," she replied, though clearly exhausted.
---
Madam Pomfrey returned with potions.
"Your ankle is sprained. Drink this—and this is warm ginger infusion. No catching cold before the next task."
She waved her wand.
A cooling sensation spread through Fleur's leg, and the injury visibly began to heal.
---
Despite her success, the strain showed.
Using her Veela charm on a dragon had drained her severely.
Within moments—
she leaned back—
and fell asleep.
---
Remaining Champions
Soon, Viktor Krum entered.
Physically fine—but clearly dissatisfied with his performance.
---
Then came Harry Potter.
He had finished surprisingly quickly—
but not unscathed.
A wound marked his shoulder.
---
Madam Pomfrey immediately treated it:
A pungent purple liquid cleaned the injury—
followed by a precise tap of her wand.
The wound sealed almost instantly.
---
All four champions had now completed the first task.
The arena outside still echoed with excitement—
but inside the tent—
only exhaustion remained.