Chapter Seventy-Three - The First Task

When Harry woke the following morning, he immediately told Blaise and Millie about the dragons. Although he had feared judgement from Sirius, he was not worried about his friends. If being in Slytherin had taught him anything, it was that he needed to press an advantage wherever he found it. He was sure his friends would feel the same.

Their reaction to the news was mixed. On the one hand, it would be exciting to see real dragons in person. The only experience they'd had with one of the creatures had been Norbert, a Norwegian Ridgeback that was in Hagrid's care for a short time, and he had been only a hatchling. This was an opportunity to see a full-grown dragon. On the other hand, they would prefer it if Harry could observe the beasts with them from the safety of the stands. Neither of his friends were very keen to watch him face the creatures alone.

They all agreed that an immediate visit to the library was needed. Millie informed Harry that dragons were notoriously resilient to magic, so all the hexes they had practiced together would be useless. Harry didn't need her advice to tell him this. He could still picture the Hungarian Horntail, who had needed several handlers working together to take it down with their spells.

It was during their study session that they met Hermione and Neville, who were once again there to study for exams. Hermione took one look at the stacks of books on dragons they had gathered around them and realized that Harry must have discovered what the first task was. Harry thought he saw a look of disappointment flicker across her face, and he feared she would give him one of her lectures on cheating. Instead, her concern for him overpowered her censure, and she plopped into a seat at their table.

"I thought the champions weren't supposed to know what the first task is?" she couldn't help but observe, even as she dragged one of the larger textbooks toward her.

Harry had already rehearsed this exact conversation in his head during his sleepless night. He had his answer ready.

"Krum and Delacour know about the dragons, too," Harry informed her, "I'm just levelling the playing field."

Hermione still looked uncertain, until Neville added, "C'mon, Hermione! You know Harry didn't even want to compete. And he's not as old as the other champions. He'll need all the help he can get… No offense, Harry."

Hermione merely shook her head and started reading. There was no making Harry forget about the dragons now, not unless she hit him with a memory charm. The only alternative was to help him study.

Harry, grateful for the extra help, returned to the bookshelves for more study material. He was searching the section on magical beasts. Spying a particularly promising book with Newt Scamander's on the binding, Harry nearly brushed hands with Viktor Krum, who had reached for it at the same time. They pulled away, apologized in unison, and shared a knowing look. They understood without speaking that they both knew about the dragons.

"Do you want to study with us?" Harry asked, gesturing to his group of friends, "We're reading up on dragons as well."

Viktor's eyes travelled toward their table and he readily agreed. They spent the rest of the afternoon researching and sharing strategies for getting past their dragons. Initially, Harry and Viktor kept up the pretext that they were merely studying for a school assignment. But as they grew more comfortable, they began talking openly about the task.

"The hide is impervious to most spells," Krum said, "But if you can hit the eye, it is vulnerable."

"Something to blind it, maybe?" Harry suggested. They had already discussed that they were not expected to slay the dragon, but they would have to find a way past it, somehow.

Studying with Viktor was helpful, though it only increased Harry's guilt. He was not on speaking terms with Fleur Delacour, though he knew Madame Maxime had told her about the dragons by now. Only Cedric was left out, and he knew this was unfair. He decided to tell him about it.

Blaise tried to discourage him. "Didn't Neville say you'll need all the help you can get? You're the underdog in this competition, Harry! And the rest of the school doesn't support you. This will give you a huge advantage over Cedric!"

"It's not right that the rest of us know and he doesn't," Harry said in a tone that did not invite dissent, "Besides, I'm not interested in winning. I just want to survive."

Harry had no idea where the Hufflepuff common room was hidden. He had no choice but to wait until his Wand-Making class, when he had the best chance of talking to Cedric alone. He spotted him that morning in the Great Hall, but he was surrounded by friends and admirers. Harry couldn't tell him about the dragons in front of everyone. He would expose himself as a cheater, and he had enough detractors as it was. Instead, he waited until Cedric rose from the table and began making his way to their shared class.

A few of his friends followed him. Harry, his impatience growing, boldly stepped forward and called out, "Cedric!" Can we talk?"

Cedric stopped obligingly, but so did his entourage. The fanclub seemed ready to pounce on Harry, but Cedric told them it was alright. Leaving the group behind, he began walking with Harry up the stairs toward Professor Nobilis' classroom.

"How have you been, Harry?" Cedric asked in a friendly tone. His attitude seemed the same as always, as though he and Harry weren't competitors in a dangerous tournament, "Excited about the first task?"

"It's dragons," Harry replied immediately, certain that they had left his friends far behind.

Cedric stopped in his tracks. His handsome face had gone very pale, and he quietly asked Harry if he was sure.

"I've seen them," Harry said.

Cedric continued to stare at Harry, then his eyes narrowed slightly. A frown rarely seen on his smiling face darkened his brow as he asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Maxime and Karkaroff have seen them, too."

Cedric continued to look confused. Harry was growing exasperated. It all seemed so obvious to him.

"Look, Maxime and Karkaroff must have told their champions about the dragons already. It's only fair that you know, too."

Harry was used to being met with suspicion, and for a moment he thought Cedric wouldn't believe him. Instead, he replied, "You know, you're pretty weird for a Slytherin. I think you'd have done better in Hufflepuff."

From anyone but Cedric, this comment would have been intended as an insult. But as the role model for all Hufflepuffs, Harry knew that this was the highest praise he could give.

Their brief moment of camaraderie was broken by a shout from behind them.

"POTTER!"

Harry knew the voice without seeing its owner. Wincing, he was forced to stop and confront Professor Snape. He wondered how much of their conversation the Potions Master had overheard. Cedric, perhaps thinking the same thing, scrambled away with an apology on the pretext that he would be late for class. Harry hoped that if the excuse was good enough for Cedric, it would serve him as well, but Snape was not having it. Harry was forced to follow him back down the stairs and into the dungeons.

Snape did not speak to him until they were shut in his office, at which point he turned and immediately asked, "Is it true? Will you face a dragon during the first task?"

"It's true," Harry replied briefly. He feared that Snape was going to ask him how he found out. He would accept whatever punishment Snape demanded for cheating, but nothing would induce him to snitch on Hagrid. To his surprise, Snape merely asked, "How do you plan to get past it?"

"I…It.. What?" Harry stammered.

Snape let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "Diggory is right. You're a terrible Slytherin."

"That's not what he said," Harry corrected, but Snape ignored him

"A Hufflepuff will study up on dragon breeds and fill their heads with useless trivia as they search for a weakness. That is the straightforward, honest, hardworking method. A Slytherin would never waste their time. A Slytherin plays to their strengths."

Harry, bewildered as to why Snape would drag him all the way to the dungeons just to lecture him on the demerits of Slytherin house, curtly replied, "According to you, I haven't got any strengths."

Snape levelled his gaze at him and said, "Lily Evans was particularly good at charms."

Harry felt his heart beat faster at this unexpected mention of his mother. It was the first fact he'd heard out of Snape since he had learned of his boyhood crush.

He was eager to know more, but he knew better than to push his luck. Instead, he replied, "Dragons are immune to most spells. It takes several wizards just to stun one. There's no way I can do it on my own."

Snape considered this, then begrudgingly said, "You're on the Quidditch team… You're… Not terrible, from what I understand."

It seemed to cause him physical pain to give Harry a compliment. This made Harry smile as he replied, "I'm not allowed a broom, just a wand."

Snape rolled his eyes as if the answer were obvious, "So use the wand to summon a broom, Potter."

Harry gaped at him. It was such a simple solution. They had already learned summoning charms in Flitwick's class, and if Harry merely had to get past a dragon, he liked his chances better on a broom than on the ground. He realized that Snape was dismissing him from the room, his business with Harry complete, and he couldn't help but ask, "Wait, why are you helping me now?"

Snape paused for a moment, then slowly opened a drawer of his desk. Carefully, he handed a roll of parchment to Harry and asked him if he knew what it was. Harry unrolled the scroll and recognized his own handwriting. It was the essay he wrote on antidotes several weeks ago. The top right corner had been torn off, right where Harry had written his name.

Realization dawned over him as Snape began to explain, "Someone has been through my office. I didn't realize it until I was going through my inventory and found several potion ingredients missing. A stack of assignments had also been disturbed, and that's when I found this…"

"So you believe me now?" Harry asked, "You know I didn't put my own name in the Goblet?"

"Yes, I believe you," Snape replied begrudgingly, "And I'm not pleased that they took advantage of my office to do it. I don't know what they're planning, but they will not succeed with my help."

With Blaise to tutor him and Millie teaching him defensive spells (just in case), Harry felt slightly more prepared to face his dragon. He had mastered the summoning charm, but he knew there was no way he would be able to call his broom from its storage cupboard in the castle. His friends came through for him in this regard as well.

"We'll smuggle it out of the castle and hide it somewhere close to the arena," Blaise said.

"We might be able to get it into the stands under your cloak," Millie added.

Harry may have doubted his own abilities, but he was confident in the loyalty of his friends. He knew that they would not fail him.

"Hang on, what if we're caught?" Harry asked around midday prior to the first task, "Wouldn't that mean I'd be disqualified? Maybe then I won't have to compete!"

"I thought we agreed there was no way to get out of it," Millie said, "If there was, wouldn't Snape have told you about it when he showed you the essay?"

Harry had plenty of time to ask Snape himself. He was soon seen walking toward the Slytherin table at a snail's pace, as if he did not relish the chore he was about to perform.

"Potter," he said with scorn, "The champions have to come down to the grounds now."

Harry rose obediently, flashed his friends nervous smile, and followed Snape out of the Great Hall. The pair were silent until they had stepped outside. It was Snape who first spoke.

"I trust you have found a resolution to your problem?"

Harry almost stupidly asked him what problem, until he remembered he was about to face a dragon. He nodded his head, nearly admitted that Blaise and Millie had helped him, then checked himself.

"About that…" he said instead, "I was thinking, what if I cheated? I mean, what if I did something to disqualify myself?"

"And bring shame to Slytherin House? Over my dead body."

"Better than mine!" Harry retorted.

"You won't die," Snape said with a scoff, "I won't let that happen. But you will compete."

There was no arguing with him. Harry was starting to wonder if instead he could use this time to weasel more information about his mother out of her former admirer, when an idea occurred to him.

"What if I win? What's my reward?"

Snape laughed sardonically and replied, "You won't win. The best you can do is not be an embarrassment to me or my house."

"Care to wager on that? If I win, you have to answer all the questions I have about my mum. And if I lose, I'll never mention her to you again."

Snape was thoughtful for a moment. It seemed he was actually considering the offer. He just needed a little push.

"Odds are three to one that I lose," Harry reminded him.

"You've got a deal," said Snape.

Harry was about to insist that they shake on it, but Snape had led him toward the dragon's enclosure around the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Instead of approaching the dragons, however, Snape brought him to a tent that had been erected in front of the clearing, screening the beasts from view.

"This is where I leave you," Snape informed him without emotion, "You're to go into the tent and speak with Bagman. He'll give you your instructions."

He turned away before Harry could say anything. Harry watched him for a moment, curious whether he would actually hold up his end of the bargain, and feeling slightly stupid for suggesting it himself. His actual chances of winning were slim to none. Shrugging, Harry went inside the tent.

It was very quiet, though the other three champions were already there. None of them looked up when he entered. Fleur Delacour was sitting on a low wooden stool, her face paler than usual. Victor was scowling even more than he had during the Quidditch World Cup. He must have felt as anxious as Cedric, who was pacing nervously back and forth.

"Ah good!" cried a booming voice directly behind Harry. It made the four champions nearly jump out of their skins. Ludo Bagman had just arrived, once again dressed in his old Wasp robes. "You're all here! Well, time to fill you in! The audience is assembling now. I will be offering you this bag…" He paused, holding up a small sack of purple silk, then continued, "And from it you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! Your task is simple… To collect the golden egg!"

Harry glanced at the others. He thought the task was merely to get past the dragon, perhaps get to a goal point. He wasn't aware he would have to retrieve anything. He recalled what Charlie Wesley had said about nesting mothers, and suddenly this made sense. Cedric had merely nodded when he heard the news and resumed pacing. Fleur and Viktor remained silent. Harry found himself overcome with an oddly calm sensation. He had been thinking of himself as hopeless compared to these three, and now he saw them nearly overcome with nerves. Perhaps they were not as exalted as he previously believed, and this bolstered his confidence in himself. Now he just had to hope that Blaise and Millie did not forget his broom.

In no time at all, the audience had taken their places, and Bagman presented the sack to them. Fleur was given the opportunity to make a selection first, and she placed her shaking hand inside, withdrawing a tiny model of a dragon - the Welsh Green. The model was small enough to fit into the palm of her hand, and around its neck hung a miniscule collar with the number two on it. She did not appear at all surprised by the sight of the dragon, but was rather resigned. Harry knew he'd guessed right. Madame Maxime had warned her what was coming.

Next came Viktor, who Harry already knew was aware of his foe. He drew the Chinese Fireball with a number three suspended from its collar.

Cedric placed his hand into the bag, and out of it came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout. His came with the number one. Harry knew what the final dragon would be by process of elimination. He placed his hand into the bag and glanced down at the tiny Horntail figure in his palm. He sighed. Of course it had to be him.

"And there you have it!" Bagman declared, "You each have the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you will proceed. I'll have to leave you all in a moment. I'll be commentating, you see? Mr. Diggory, you will be first. Just head into the enclosure when you hear the whistle. But before all that… Harry, might I have a quick word? Outside?"

Harry stared at him blankly, wondering what on earth he had done to be singled out by Bagman. He agreed and followed him outside the tent, where they stood a short distance away.

"Feeling alright, Harry? Can I get you anything?"

"What?" asked Harry, "I mean, no… No, I'm fine."

Bagman nodded, "That's right, I knew you had a plan! A clever boy like you… You do have a plan, don't you?" He paused, glanced around them, then lowered his voice conspiratorially as he continued, "Because I can give you a few pointers. You're the underdog here, so if there's anything I can do to help…"

"I thought champions weren't supposed to ask for help," Harry stated. It wasn't that he hadn't already accepted help from others, but something in him resented this interference from Bagman. It was almost like he wanted to catch Harry breaking the rules.

Bagman's voice resumed it's usual tone as he replied, "Of course, of course. But you know, I've grown rather close to Edana Zabini recently. I know she's quite fond of you. She's been very concerned for your wellbeing and I thought…"

"Did she tell you to offer me help?" Harry asked.

"Well… No, not in so many words…"

In the distance, not far from the tent, a whistle sounded. Bagman was interrupted in his attempts to explain, and he soon hurried off to commentate Cedric's match with the Swedish Short-Snout. Harry, disappointed that he missed wishing Cedric good luck, returned to the tent with Fleur and Viktor. Together they listened to the screams, cheers, and gasps of the crowd as they watched whatever action was taking place in the arena. Cedric must have survived, as Bagman was soon calling for the judges' scores. Cedric did not return to the tent, however, and before long the next whistle had blown, and Fleur was called out of the tent. One by one, the three champions were called away, and Harry was left alone.

The whistle blew a final time. It was his turn. Harry walked through the entrance of the tent as if this episode in his life was happening to someone else. He felt strangely calm as he walked past the trees and through a gap in the fence. There were hundreds of faces staring at him from stands that now surrounded the enclosure, and yet he didn't pay them any mind. His attention was entirely focused on the dragon.

The Horntail crouched at the other end of the enclosure, far, but not far enough for Harry's comfort. She was protecting a nest of eggs, her wings half-furled and her yellow eyes upon him. She looked angry. Then Harry spotted it. In the center of her nest sat one egg that looked different from the rest. It shone bright gold in the daylight.

Harry held his wand in the air and cried, "Accio Nimbus!"

Then he waited. He had just enough time while standing there to wish that he had never traded his Firebolt to Draco. But the Nimbus had never failed him yet, and it didn't start that day.

Blaise and Millie must have hid his broom in the trees on the other side of the enclosure. He saw it shoot up and over the stands. It zoomed straight toward him. He was pleased the plan had worked so well, but the sudden movement startled the dragon. She thrashed her spiked tail back and forth and let out a fierce roar. Harry was forced to mount his broom at a running leap as it flashed by. He barely missed a blast of the Horntail's fiery breath.

From far below, Harry briefly heard a collective gasp from the crowd, but all noise was soon lost in the rush of air past his ears. The dissociation Harry had been experiencing in his anxiety melted away as he climbed higher, and all at once it was as if he slammed back into his own body. A sense of exhilaration washed over him. He'd missed this.

There had been no Quidditch practice. No traditional match against Gryffindor to start the season. Only classes and this stupid tournament. It was then, suspended in the air far above the Horntail and all of his classmates, that Harry realized it had been ages since he'd been on a broom.

The task suddenly seemed much easier now. The golden egg looked like a Snitch from so high in the air, and he could even trick himself into thinking of the Horntail as an angry Beater, its tail a club, and the spiked end just a Bludger to avoid.

He dove, mimicking the Wronski Feint he'd seen Viktor perform at the World Cup. He hoped Draco was watching closely. Harry could accomplish two tasks at once. He would get past this challenge, and he would show his rival that no matter what broom he rode, Harry could outfly him any day.

He pulled out of his dive just in time. The Horntail had followed him, and a jet of fire shot into Harry's path. He would have been set ablaze if he hadn't moved quickly. Recalling some of the evasive maneuvers he'd practiced with his team last year, Harry soared high above the dragon's head once more, moving in a circle. The dragon continued to follow his progress with her head. Perhaps he could make her dizzy, but more than likely she was merely watching his movements, planning her next attack.

He plummeted downward again just as the dragon opened her mouth. He missed the flames, but suddenly the dragon whipped her tail at him. Harry swerved, avoiding the brunt of the attack, but one of the long spikes managed to scrape his shoulder, ripping his robes.

He felt the wound sting a little, but his adrenaline kept the worst of the pain at bay. He didn't bother looking at his arm. He needed to find a way to coax the dragon away from her nest. He would never get the egg with her looming over it.

He tried a new tactic. He swooped closer to the dragon, careful to avoid both her fangs and her thrashing tail. He moved backward and forward in front of her, and little by little, began to move farther away. He was close enough to be considered a threat, but just out of reach of her tail. The dragon roared in frustration. She tried to catch him in a blast of fire again, but Harry was too quick for her. Finally, when she had stretched her long neck as far as it would go and still could not reach Harry, she flapped her powerful wings, and stood on her hind legs.

It was the opening he was waiting for. Quick as a bolt of lightning, Harry dove again. Before the dragon could react, Harry had shot toward the ground, down to the eggs now exposed beneath the dragon's scaled belly. He reached out with both hands and seized the golden egg in the middle.

Then he was off again, soaring over the stands and away from the dragon. He did not want to be there when she realized what he had done. He heard a final furious roar, and all at once he was aware of the noise of the crowd. There were screams and applause, and Ludo Bagman was shouting, his voice magically amplified, "LOOK AT THAT! OUR YOUNGEST CHAMPION IS QUICKEST TO HIS EGG!"

He saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail and circled back, the egg tucked safely under his uninjured arm. Now that he had time to consider it, the wound was not that deep. It was throbbing painfully, but the sting was gone. He landed well out of range of the tethered dragon, stopping just short of the entrance to the enclosure. Three figures were there to greet him. He spotted Hagrid, Professor Moody, and surprisingly, Snape. The first two congratulated Harry immediately. Hagrid even gathered Harry in a crushing bear hug, until Harry gave a yelp of pain and he released him with profuse apologies. Moody was more subdued, though he stated that he was impressed by Harry's flying. Hagrid pronounced that he couldn't be more proud.

Snape alone was restrained in his assessment of Harry. He glanced briefly at his shoulder and noted, "Madame Pomfrey will want to have a look at that."

He detached Harry from the others without ceremony and began walking him toward the champions' tent. It was only when the others were out of earshot that he muttered, "Well done, Potter."

Harry glanced at him and thought he detected a slight smile on the professor's thin lips, but he couldn't be sure, for the next moment his mouth twisted into a grimace as he abruptly stalked away. The reason for this sudden departure soon revealed itself by the approach of Sirius and Remus.

"That was outstanding, Harry!" Sirius shouted, his voice sounded hoarse. His eyes were red, though whether he had been crying from joy or fear could not be determined. He looked very much like he wanted to wrap Harry in a hug as strong as Hagrid's had been, but he refrained with an anxious look at his torn robes.

"Have they patched you up yet?" he asked, "Are you terribly hurt? Should I have a look?"

"I'll be fine," Harry reassured him. "Madame Pomfrey will sort me out."

"Harry, that was…" Remus began. He seemed to be struggling to form words, "You were… I thought I was going to have a heart attack…"

"I told you he would be fine," commented Sirius.

"I seem to recall you screaming 'don't kill my baby boy' about halfway through."

"I never said that. When did you hear me say that?"

Harry realized he was smiling. After all his worrying, he was glad that Sirius and Remus stayed to watch him compete. They realized they were keeping him from having his wound healed, and they returned to their places in the stands with promises to see him after his points were awarded. But Harry was not alone for long. No sooner had he taken a seat before the school nurse than Millie and Blaise burst into the tent. Harry wasn't sure if they were supposed to be there, but he also didn't care. His friends were loudly proclaiming him to be the best wizard since Merlin. Madame Pomfrey hurried them to the side so she could get a better look at Harry's arm. Harry passed his broom to Blaise and handed Millie the golden egg.

Madame Pomfrey examined the scratch mark with a clouded expression, all the while muttering to herself.

"Last year dementors, and this year dragons. What are they going to bring next? This is supposed to be a school for children! A place of learning! Oh, you're very lucky. This is quite shallow. It'll need cleaning before I heal it though…"

She cleaned the wound with a purple liquid that smoked and stung when it touched his skin, but with a quick poke of her wand, the scratch healed instantly. Now that he was patched up, it was time to see his score.

Blaise and Millie remained by his side as he made his way out of the tent and back toward the makeshift arena. Harry had never seen Millie so talkative before, as she recounted to Harry a quick summary of what the other champions had done to get past their dragons. Apparently, all three had been successful at getting their eggs, though none put on a show as impressive as Harry. Blaise was werely making a series of whooping noises and held Harry's broom with both hands above his head, screaming for the crowd to shower Harry with applause as he reappeared before them.

Now that he had more time to look around, he spotted Mrs. Zabini sitting behind Bagman in the judge's box. He was no longer surprised to see her there. Sirius and Remus had already made their appearance, and Mrs. Zabini's influence with people in positions of power ensured that she would be welcome anywhere Harry's godfather was permitted. He supposed in this instance she was a guest of Bagman. He met her eye and smiled. Millie passed the golden egg to him and he lifted it triumphantly above his head to renewed cheers from the audience.

"You'll be awarded points on a scale of ten," Millie said into Harry's ear as Madame Maxime rose from her seat, "Diggory is in the lead so far."

Maxime raised her wand, and from it flowed a golden ribbon. With a flick of her wrist, the ribbon shaped itself into a figure eight and hung suspended in the air. Crouch came next, awarding Harry nine points. Harry was surprised. He had never much liked Mr. Crouch, and he had assumed the feeling was mutual. This seemed generous for the straight-laced Ministry official. His face betrayed no emotion, however, and soon Dumbledore stepped forward. His score was also a nine, though Harry couldn't help but notice Madame Maxime giving her head a small shake. Perhaps she suspected him of favoritism. He did no better than Bagman in that regard, for the second ministry judge awarded Harry a full ten points.

"That's the first ten we've seen!" Blaise shouted with another whoop for good measure.

"But I got injured!" Harry said. He was certain he should be docked points for that.

"Maybe he liked your flying?"

Only Karkaroff remained. He seemed to give his choice a fair amount of consideration before shooting a seven into the air.

Blaise's whoops turned into a groan of protest, though it was drowned by the continued cheers of the crowd.

"He's biased!" Blaise snarled, "He gave Krum eight, and he managed to break most of his dragon eggs!"

"What did he do?" Harry asked quizzically, curious to know what strategy Viktor had ended up using. Blaise only had time to explain that Krum fired a jinx at the dragon's eye, temporarily blinding it. It had been a good shot, but the confused and frightened dragon had trampled its eggs as it thrashed about, nearly crushing the golden egg in the process. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the dragon's brood, thinking briefly of little Norbert, until Millie informed him that the other eggs had been decoys as well.

"The dragon handlers wouldn't trust real dragon eggs in the tournament. But they had to look real enough for the dragons to protect them," she reassured Harry.

His scoring complete, Harry returned to the champions' tent to meet with the others. Blaise and Millie remained by his side until Bagman arrived with Mrs. Zabini. She congratulated Harry in her own calm way before gathering her son and Millie, leaving Bagman to speak to the champions about their next task.

"You'll have a bit of a break until February," he explained, "Your next task will not take place until the twenty-forth of that month. Until then, I suggest you inspect your eggs. They contain a clue for your next task. If you fail to solve the riddle then… Well, let's just say I don't think some fancy flying will help you prepare for this one."