Author's Note: Apply general excuses for my lateness.
Chapter Nine – Conspiracy Theories and the First Task:
Gossip about the Triwizard Tournament and Harry Potter did not subside as the weeks went by. In fact, it was spurred forward by an article that was published in the Daily Prophet that highlighted the Tournament and scandals revolving thereof by mainly focusing on Potter, whom talked emotionally about his dead parents, trying to generate sympathy from a shocked and angry crowd, no doubt.
Cedric Diggory was not mentioned in the article, as it was made out that Potter was the only Hogwarts champion, something Astoria thought was unfair, but Sara was impassioned about.
"I can't believe this!" Sara declared one morning on their way to the Greenhouses for Herbology. "Cedric deserves some recognition, too. After all, he's the one that entered the tournament fairly. By focusing so much on Harry Potter they're giving the impression that rules can be broken with no fear of retaliation…."
"Everyone loves a rebel, I suppose," said Melissa resignedly.
"Yes, but," Sara continued as they approached the greenhouse through the gardens, smelling of tilled earth and various flowers, "by allowing Harry to compete, not to mention giving him all this recognition, it's telling all of the other underage students that the next time the Triwizard Tournament rolls around never mind the rules and enter your name, anyway. You won't get reprimanded but be given praise for your daring."
"It isn't as though Potter needs anymore fame, anyway," Astoria added. "His name is already known by everyone in the wizarding world. Competing in the Tournament isn't going to change that."
"I think you're right, Astoria," said Sara, "Harry must crave attention very much, judging from the way he answered those interview questions. I hope that, if I ever become famous, I won't become like that. I mean, really, you would think that he'd have thought to mention Cedric, even if the reporter didn't. It's like Harry purposefully shunted him aside so that he could be given complete rein of the spotlight."
"I wonder what will happen to him when he loses the tournament," said Melissa. "After all, he's only fourth-year. He can't expect to win."
"Yes, well," said Astoria, lowering her voice conspiratorially as they drew close to the other gathered Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, waiting for Professor Sprout to arrive, "my sister thinks Dumbledore has orchestrated this whole thing, that it was he who helped Potter enter the Tournament in the first place. Dumbledore must be generating all this publicity for Potter, too, trying to gain support for the boy. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Dumbledore's fixed the tournament for Potter to win."
"Yes, but why?" said Sara, looking surprised. "What could Dumbledore possibly have to gain by giving Harry so much attention?" Melissa looked rather awed at the notion.
Astoria shrugged. "I don't know, but Dumbledore's always stuck his neck out for Potter in the past. Obviously he thinks Potter is a valuable asset to lend his name to."
Astoria didn't mention the other thoughts she had been harboring in her mind since Daphne and her conversation in the library a few weeks ago. Dumbledore must be planning it, of that Astoria was sure. The circumstances felt too forced to have been brought about by any accident.
Why, Sara asked. Perhaps to take over the wizarding world, Astoria had half-way wanted to answer. But, of course, that was silly. Dumbledore couldn't want to do that. Dumbledore, despite his many eccentricities, seemed to be a good man. He had spawned many advantages to the wizarding world during his life, anyway.
Astoria was sure Dumbledore wouldn't try to take over the world…by force. In fact, that probably wasn't his goal after all. Perhaps Dumbledore had just become a bit…power hungry. Astoria had read that that happened many times with leaders, that they would have one taste of power and realize they had to have more, craving it until it became an obsession.
However, the notion that Hogwarts was being run by a power-addicted, raving lunatic – Astoria had to admit – was not a very comforting thought.
The Ravenclaw second-years had Herbology with the Gryffindors, which meant Romilda Vane, a blunt, loud, and obtuse girl whom Astoria despised, would be present. Romilda was currently standing by the door to the greenhouse and waving her arms as she told, loudly, one of her frequent and exaggerated tales.
"Wasn't Harry's article sad?" she was saying, brown curls bobbing as she animatedly responded to her own story. "Hearing about how he still cries over his parents just made my heart ache. Of course, I already knew that, as Harry and I are great friends and he tells me all his secrets. I've even comforted him about his parents, before."
Astoria caught Sara's eye, the Muggle-born was looking a bit skeptical. In the past, Sara had readily believed everything Romilda Vane had spouted, just as Sara had believed anything about the Wizarding World that she knew so little about. However, Astoria was glad to see that Sara seemed to be adopting a bit of judgment.
"Did you know that mine and his parents used to be best friends?" Romilda continued, crowd of naïve admirers clustering around her, evidently hungry for a bit more gossip about Potter and not really curious about Romilda's own involvement in the boy's life. "They were just grief-stricken when they heard of their deaths. I never met Aunt Lily and Uncle Jim but I would have so dearly liked to. Even so, I think it's that link to his past that makes Harry so fond of me."
Astoria rolled her eyes. Professor Sprout hobbled from around the greenhouse, rubbing her dirty palms on her robes and assuring them towards class, effectively stifling Romilda.
The Saturday before the First Task was a Hogsmeade visit, so Astoria once again missed out on a morning in the library with Daphne. She didn't quite mind, as the search for information on their father seemed to have come to a standstill.
There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of newspapers about the first war, and the odds of finding their father's name among the many articles was quickly becoming a daunting task. What little information they had gathered so far seemed to have been discovered mostly by luck and because they had vague ideas dates, like of their parent's wedding. Finding any other information, however, would likely take a great deal of tedium and many hours.
She spent Saturday leisurely with Sara and Melissa, by the lake and walking across the grounds, talking excitedly about the approaching First Task on Tuesday and the fact that classes would be let out a half a day early.
"Look over there!" Sara said suddenly, pointing toward the Beauxbatons carriage that was parked beside Hagrid's cottage at the edge of the Forbidden Forrest.
"What?" said Melissa, looking over her shoulder.
Astoria turned, as well, having been staring at the Durmstrang boat moored by the shore of the lake.
"That's so cute!" Sara squealed.
Astoria searched for whatever Sara was referencing, eyes passing over the withering pumpkin plants in Hagrid's garden and the gigantic Abraxan horses stomping in their paddock by the carriage, snorting white steam into the chilly air.
"It's Hagrid and Madame Maxime." Sara continued, gesturing excitedly, "They're talking by the Beauxbaton's carriage."
"So?" said Astoria. Her eyes roved to the two figures, partially hidden in the carriages shadow, trying to hide her curiosity. It was, indeed, Madame Maxime and Hagrid. Astoria was surprised. Personally, she had felt that Madame Maxime would be a much too refine for Hagrid.
"Well, they're certainly an interesting match," said Melissa. "But I suppose it makes sense."
"Just because they're both abnormally large doesn't make them a good pair," said Astoria. "She – she's a lady and Hagrid…."
"I think they're sweet together," said Sara.
Astoria rolled her eyes, knowing that, if wizarding aristocracy was so obviously lost on the Muggle-born, there was no point in Astoria trying to explain it.
"Come on," said Melissa, hugging her arms to her chest. "It's freezing out. We'd better be getting back up to the school. I'm sure dinner's been served."
The three of them stood and walked toward the castle. Astoria found that her legs had stiffened up from sitting by the lake in the cooling air. As they were walking through the entrance hall they almost marched headlong into two Beauxbatons girls, on their way back to their carriage after they'd eaten supper.
Astoria noticed it was Cecelia.
"Oh, hello," said Sara.
Cecelia blinked, evidently having looked right passed the three, unimportant Hogwarts girls.
"Hello," she said, slightly stiffly. Her friend smiled and nodded kindly.
"We just saw your headmistress," Sara said conversationally. "She was talking to Professor Hagrid."
Cecelia's face turned stony. She cut Sara off, "Eet is 'orrible! Zat oaf 'Agrid is unfeet to kiss the ground Madame walks on! Clearly she eez only leeding 'im on in order to gain eenformation about the Tournament to pass on to Fleur! Trust me, Madame eez much too supérieur to be caught dead with zat groundskeeper of yours!"
Astoria bristled, "He isn't my groundskeeper! I can't help that Dumbledore hired him."
" – Wait," said Sara, looking confused, "Madame Maxime is trying to gain information about the First Task? But isn't that against the rules?"
Cecelia sniffed, "I cannot expect une fille litle like you to understand." Cecelia stalked away with her friend.
Sara looked at Astoria. Sounded exasperated, she said, "Is the whole competition corrupt? First Hogwarts is allowed two champions, one of which is underage, now the Headmistress of Beauxbatons is trying to wheedle information to give her champion an advantage over the rest of them?"
Astoria shrugged.
"What's next? Professor Karkaroff bribing the others to bow out of the competition?"
"They can't bow out," Melissa said. "The Goblet creates a binding magical contract."
Sara threw up her hands. "Any tournament that forces the competitors to compete is guaranteed to have flaws. Personally, I'm surprised no one's thought to exploit them until now – if that is, indeed, what Dumbledore's planning with getting Harry into the competition."
Astoria couldn't deny Sara had a good point. The Tournament did seem to have flaws, but there was nothing Astoria could do about it. So she resolved to put the matter out of mind and just enjoy the show. After all, it promised to be a thrilling one if not impartial.
Tuesday came and the morning lessons dragged by. Finally the midday bell rang and Astoria hurried to the Great Hall with Sara and Melissa, fastening her Support Cedric Diggory badge to her cloak. She gobbled down a quick lunch, feeling her stomach squirm in anticipation for the afternoon's events.
"Look there," said Sara, "Professor Sprout's getting Cedric."
"And there's Professor McGonagall at Gryffindor," said Melissa, pointing. "Harry Potter looks like he's about to faint. Look how white he is."
"Well," said Astoria, "it's his fault for entering. I guess after today we'll know how he'll fair in the rest of the tournament."
"If he does well do you suppose Dumbledore's been helping him along?" said Sara.
"I can't see any other way. A fourth-year couldn't possibly compete against students who are of-age and come out on top."
Melissa looked uncomfortable to be discussing the headmaster in such a way. She shot a look to the Staff Table where Dumbledore was eating his lunch with a look of good-cheer about him. "Yes, but maybe Harry won't do well. Then we'll know Dumbledore didn't have anything to do with it."
Astoria shrugged. Students were beginning to file out of the Hall after Potter and Diggory. Astoria got up and hustled Sara and Melissa along, wanting to get good seats.
"What is the First Task going to be, anyway?" said Sara as they pushed through the crowd. All the students seemed to have stood and rushed for the exits at once. "They never told us."
"I don't know," said Melissa, "something to test their daring and bravery, or whatever Dumbledore said."
"Do you suppose the champions know what it is?" said Sara.
"It didn't seem like Madame Maxime did, and she's one of the judges," said Astoria. "Maybe that means the champions don't either."
Melissa shuddered. "That would be awful, to be going into this and not even know what to expect – not to mention all those people who will be watching you."
The crowd was marching toward a large, brightly colored structure that had been assembled on the grounds, evidently constructed during the night.
Sara gawked at it as they passed. "It's huge," she whispered. "What do you suppose they're hiding in there?" She was not the only one of the students for which the structure inspired awe. On all sides the crowd was muttering in amazement and excitement.
Astoria felt her stomach swirling in expectation, willing the crowd to move faster so that she could find a seat and the First Task could be got on with.
They broke through the entrance to find that the brightly colored canvases were constructed into walls of an arena, ringed with bleachers to make a large sphere. All around was the sound of babbling voices, laughing, and footsteps clanging against the metal bleachers.
It was a gorgeous day, and the sun beat down toward the large dirt-covered pitch in the center of the arena. The sky was a clear blue with a few, lazy clouds drifting overhead. It was quite warm for already being so late in November, and, despite the chill-tipped wind, Astoria was comfortable with a light cloak.
She, Sara, and Melissa found seats half-way up the stands and plopped down. Sara was so excited she was having trouble sitting still and kept leaping back to her feet, waving at people in the distance or craning her neck and standing on her tip-toes to see into the arena, musing on what could be in store for the champions.
"Do you suppose it's sort of a gladiatorial setup?" she asked. "Perhaps they'll be dueling one another."
"Oh, I hope not," said Melissa. "That could get nasty."
"Well, they would have rules, I would hope," Sara added. "Perhaps nothing that could cause physical harm. Or maybe they'll be battling some sort of monster. Gladiators would have to fight off tigers and lions sometimes."
"But that would be so dangerous!" said Melissa.
"Yes, well," said Astoria, "there's a reason they wanted only students of-age to enter. They said the tournament would be dangerous. After all, it's had to be cancelled in the past because of the death toll."
"Yes," said Melissa, "but they say it's loads safer now."
"I hope it isn't too safe," said Sara. "Then it will just be boring."
"Sara!"
Astoria felt her stomach sink as the familiar voice was raised above the chatter of the crowd. Stephan rushed into view, pulling Mark behind him.
"Bloody brilliant this, isn't it?" Stephan crowed. "I can't wait for them to start. Any idea what they're planning?"
"We were just discussing it," said Sara. "I think they might be made to fight each other off, like gladiators."
"I hope not," said Stephan, "that way Potter won't have much of a chance."
"He doesn't have much of a chance anyway," Astoria snapped, mindful of her promise to Sara but not being able to suppress every jumping instinct she had toward Stephan.
Stephan scowled at her. "Well I hope Harry wins," he declared. "It'll show all the judges that they needn't put any bloody age restriction on the tournament next time."
"What, so then you can enter?" Astoria asked, trying to make the scorn evident in her voice.
Sara jumped in hastily, "I guess we'll find out in a minute. Look – there's Bagman heading toward the judges table." She pointed toward the opposite side of the arena, where a table had been erected in the middle, under cover of a tent.
"I can't wait until Harry shows them all," said Stephan. "Diggory's nothing more than the old Cleansweep series: completely overrated."
"I think Diggory could beat Potter with both hands behind his back!" Astoria shouted.
"Anyone who votes for Diggory's head is full of feathers!" Stephan countered.
"Stephan," said Sara gently. "I'm rooting for Cedric Diggory, too."
Stephan stumbled over his words. His face flushed red.
However, their conversation was abruptly pulled to a standstill as a shrill keen of a whistle broke across the crowd. Hundreds of chattering voices trickled to a stop and Ludo Bagman rose from the judges table, lifting his hands as roaring applause erupted across the stadium.
"Welcome!" his voice boomed, raised over the thundering applause. "Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!" His words made the crowd cheer even louder. Feet banged on the metal bleachers, raising the volume of the din.
"Today you will watch as our worthy champions prove their bravery by facing their greatest fears. Their daring will be put to the test and the judges will score them on regards to the quickest thinking of the bunch, the handiest bits of magic they can conjure, and, of course, the amount of levelheadedness they demonstrate while facing the unknown…."
"The champions still don't know what they're facing?" said Sara, sounding disbelieving.
Astoria ignored her for Bagman continued, "Ladies and gentlemen, rise to your feet and help me welcome a most fearsome adversary indeed, the most terrifying beast the magical world has to offer –" Astoria's eyes were drawn to the other end of the stadium, where men in black uniforms were carrying out a covered bundle. Another team of men rushed to the wall of the stadium, fiddling with a latch of a gigantic gate. Astoria's heart hammered beneath her ribs. The noise of the crowd grew deafening in anticipation.
"I invite you all to watch our champions," said Bagman grandly, "as they battle – a dragon!" at Bagman's voice, the men unlatched the gate and dashed out of the way as it crashed open.
There was an ear-shattering roar that sounded like metal grating on metal, flames leapt from the darkness behind the gate, and the beast emerged, writhing and fierce, folded black wings shining in the afternoon sunlight.
Sara gasped and her hand closed around Astoria's wrist.
"A dragon!" she squealed. "Astoria, it's a real dragon!"
"But they'll all be killed!" Melissa shrieked.
Astoria had no words with which to speak. She was dumfounded, watching the monstrous animal as it came into the tournament, walking with a jerking, unsteady gate, tale slithering on the ground behind it.
The crowd was frenzied, screaming and jumping on their feet. The noise and movement seemed to confuse the dragon, for it roared again at the watching crowd, snapping its mouth at the stands to its right. Astoria caught sight of a chain binding its leg, keeping the animal from charging the spectators.
The dragon was all black and muted shades of gray. Its skin was covered with patchy, lumpy scales that glimmered in the sunlight. It threw back its long neck and shrieked at the sky, belching another stream of fire into the air.
Sparks flew away on the breeze. Astoria almost unconsciously faltered backwards, astounded by the sheer enormity – the power of the animal that stood only meters in front of her.
The dragon threw its head around the stadium, giving Astoria the impression it was looking for something. It stalked forward toward the covered mound the dragon keepers had brought in before. The dragon curled into a tight spiral around this mound, snapping its jaws at the crowd and folding its wings at its side. Astoria saw a curious glint of gold among the dragon's keep.
"Eggs!" Sara said suddenly from Astoria's side. "They're her eggs!"
Just as Sara said this Astoria made out the black, circular mounds within the dark bundle and Bagman's voice rang out:
"The task of the champions is a simple one," he said, "receive the golden egg from the dragon's nest. Of course, to accomplish this each champion will have to draw upon all their strength, bravery, and magical knowledge. They will be judged on how quickly they are able to complete this task as well as the handiness they portray in doing so.
"And now," said Bagman, "without further ado, I give you Cedric Diggory, our first competing champion, against the Swedish Short-Snout!" Bagman waved his hand and a bell tolled.
The crowd's attention was drawn to the other end of the arena, opposite of the dragon, where a tent flap drew back and Cedric Diggory emerged onto the pale dirt ground, blinking in the sunlight.
Astoria thought Cedric looked uncommonly small against the backdrop of the gigantic arena and rising stands, not to mention the writhing beast that waited for him on the other end of the pitch. Sara's nails bit painfully into Astoria's arm. From where she was, Astoria could only barely make out the slim bit of wood that was Cedric's wand, clenched tightly in his fist.
Cedric's eyes fell almost immediately on the dragon. It seemed to Astoria that his face went pale. She saw him go stiff and for a moment was afraid he had frozen to the spot. The dragon lifted her head, caught sight of Cedric, and roared again, the sound grating upon Astoria's ears.
"… and he's flourishing his wand!" Bagman's voice cut across the stadium, mirroring Cedric's movement. "The beast lunges –" Cedric dodged but with the sound of a jiggling chain, the dragon lurched to a stop, roaring in frustration at the chain that was attached to its leg and prevented it from reaching the end of the pitch.
Cedric waved his arm again.
"Let's see," Bagman continued, "he's gesturing toward the rock – what's this?" The rock under Cedric's wand was spinning quickly, darkening, sprouting legs, hair, and a tail. "A dog!" Bagman shouted. "Remarkably quick thinking on Cedric's part…."
The dog was barking furiously but Astoria couldn't hear it over the din of the crowd. Astoria didn't know much about transfiguration of inanimate objects into animals, but when it was done, clearly some animal instincts were left out, for the dog seemed purely lacking of fear for the much bigger and fiercer animal bearing down on it.
The dog hopped from one pair of legs to another, hair at the back of its neck bristling. The dragon eyed it wearily, screeching softly in obvious confusion at the unexpected sight.
"Aha," Bagman shouted, "Well done, Cedric – he's making his way – careful now!"
The dragon lost interest in the dog and turned toward Cedric, who had been creeping slowly toward the nest. The dragon bellowed in rage, a pillar of flame spouting from its open jaws. Cedric dived and rolled across the ground, fire streaming above him. The crowd gasped.
"Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow," Bagman said excitedly. "He's taking risks, this one!"
Cedric righted himself and the dog ran over, once again attracting the dragon's attention. Cedric seemed to abandon all caution and made a beeline for the nest. The dragon's head snapped back, stomping over to protect her young.
"She's noticed him now!" Bagman bellowed over the cheering of the crowd. For a moment Astoria forgot to breathe. "It's going to be a close one, ladies and gentlemen. The dog was a clever move – pit it didn't work. But – what's this – Cedric dives for the nest –"
With the sound of roaring wind, flames once again spurted from the jaws of the beast. Sara screamed. Cedric ducked, wrapped his arms around something in the nest, rolled out of the way of the shrieking fire, but –
"Oh no!" Sara gasped.
"Oh, now that has got to hurt!" Bagman exclaimed. "Takes marks from the judges, as well… Drop and roll, boy. Take out your wand, that's why you've got it!"
Cedric continued to roll out of the way of the dragon. Smoke billowed from his robes and hid him from the sight of the spectators. Sara leapt frantically to her feet, dragging Astoria up with her.
"I don't believe it!" Bagman yelled, as Cedric finally rolled to a stop. "He's got the egg!" The crowd erupted. Anyone who had not already been on their feet leaped into the air. Astoria was engulfed in a fit of hysterical giggling, the tension of the task reaching its overflow.
A heard of dragon keepers streamed into the stadium, working to overtake the beast. The cloud of dust and smoke dissipated, showing that Ceric had sat up on the ground, one arm wrapping the golden egg to his chest, the other holding his head. A team of teachers, headed by Madame Pomfrey, rushed onto the field and obstructed Cedric from the crowd's view.
"Oh," Melissa crooned, "I do hope he's alright!"
Cedric was helped up from the ground by Professor Sprout. With Madame Pomfrey bobbing anxiously around him, he acknowledged the waiting crowd by hoisting the golden egg over his head. The crowd answered him with another wave of applause.
"Well done, Cedric! Well done!" Bagman said. "Very good indeed. And now, the marks from the judges."
Astoria's eyes pulled away from Cedric, who was being prodded toward the first-aid tent but struggling against Madame Pomfrey, obviously wishing to get his score.
Madame Maxime raised her wand first and a silver ribbon floated out from its tip, drifting lazily to form the number nine in midair. Mr. Crouch drew an eight, as did Dumbledore. Bagman drew a seven and then Karkaroff drew a six.
Astoria hastily tried to add the numbers in her head, but before she could manage to carry the one, Sara hissed, "Thirty-eight! That's very good considering his burns!"
"One down, three to go!" said Bagman. Again, the dragon keepers were busy at the other end of the stadium, clearing away the mess from Cedric's task and bringing in a second dragon, this one was slightly smaller than the dragon Cedric had faced, was slimmer and colored a sharp, poisonous green color. Its smooth scales glimmered in the sunlight and it snapped dangerously at the wizard trying to keep it in check.
"Miss Delacour, if you please!" said Bagman.
The tent flaps were pushed aside and Fleur Delacour emerged, silver hair glinting marvelously in the light. Astoria cheered but noted that Fleur did not seem quite as haughty and composed as she had been the night of the feast. Her hand shook as she raised it.
The dragon was already charging, shrieking, tale whipping. Fleur squared her stance and flourished her wand, a jet of red-light streamed out of it.
"Oh, I'm not sure that was wise – there aren't many hexes that can affect a dragon."
Fleur's spell reflected harmlessly off the dragon's shining but obviously tough scales, rebounding into the sky with a shower of red sparks. The dragon was pulled to a stop by the chain around its leg. It snapped its jaws and roared in frustration. Fleur stood in front of it, waving her wand again.
The dragon's head followed the progression of Fleur's wand, swaying backwards and forwards, lazily drifting toward the ground. The dragon's chin hit the ground, stirring dust, and suddenly the entire beast shifted, dropping to the ground as though it had been knocked unconscious.
For a moment Astoria thought Fleur's stunning hex had, in fact, worked on the beast, but then Bagman said, speaking in a whisper but that hardly mattered for his voice carried loudly in the stadium, anyway, "Ah-ha! Put some sort of charm on it, has she? Very clever wand-work there. Tread carefully now, Fleur. Mustn't wake it up."
Fleur edged carefully toward the slumbering dragon, eyeing its massive head and ducking as one of its wings twitched in its sleep.
"Oh…nearly," said Bagman. "Careful now." Fleur tiptoed past the dragon's snout. Its nostrils flared. A jet of steam and spark spouted from its nose. The crowd gasped.
"Good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"
The skirt of Fleur's robes was smoking. She shrieked a swearword in French that echoed clearly around the stadium, but in a moment she had extinguished the rising flames with a jet of water from her wand, leaving her robes charred and eaten away.
Several boys wolf-whistled as the pale flesh of Fleur's legs was revealed beneath her burnt robes. She dashed forward as the dragon snorted again and hurriedly gathered up the egg. A roar of approval surged through the crowd.
"Marvelous!" said Bagman. "Simply marvelous. Judges, let's see what you have to say about her performance."
Madame Maxime immediately drew a nine in the air. Astoria wondered if the Beauxbatons headmistress had been influenced because Fleur was her student. Mr. Crouch awarded her a seven, Dumbledore an eight, Bagman a seven, and Karkaroff, again, drew a six.
"Just barely behind Cedric," said Sara. "Thirty-seven!"
"Excellent, excellent!" said Bagman as Fleur tossed her head and ambled off the pitch. "And here comes Mr. Krum."
The applause was unusually loud and lingering for Viktor Krum, famous Quidditch star as he was. Astoria whooped and clapped hard, hearing the applause echo around the stadium and irritate Krum's dragon, a red, sleek creature with gold plates running down its back.
Krum drew his wand, seemingly completely focused. Astoria wondered if word of what the champions were facing had leaked back to their tent during the duration of the first task, or else Krum's poise was just a result of having performed in front of the public many times before.
Krum brought his wand back with a sharp, slashing motion and a stream of sloppy, yellow light bounded out of the tip, coursing toward the dragon's head. The hex hit the dragon directly at its eyes. The beast let out a deafening, gurgling shriek of agony. Its legs curled in pain. Its tail twitched. Melissa shrieked and covered her ears with her hands against the continued shrieking of the beast.
Sara looked both abhorred and intrigued by the obvious pain of the beast. "Very daring!" Bagman exclaimed. "Conjunctivitis Curse right to the eyes! One of the few things that will have an effect on a dragon. Marvel that Krum thought of it now! Tricky thing though –"
The crowd gasped as one of the dragon's claws, flailing wildly in its pain, struck out toward Krum and he had to dodge quickly to avoid it.
"That's some nerve he's showing –"
The dragon continued to roll on the ground. Yellowish, milky slime covered its back and – with another gasp from Sara – Astoria realized the dragon had rolled over its own eggs. Krum darted forward –
"And – yes, he's got the egg!"
"Fastest one yet!" Stephan bellowed to Mark over the outbreak of cheering.
"Astounding!" said Bagman. "The judges will have to think carefully about this."
Madame Maxime was already drawing a number in the air, a seven. Mr. Crouch awarded Krum an eight, Dumbledore gave him an eight, Bagman a seven, and Karkaroff drew a ten – to the thunderous cheering of his own school that almost drowned out the protestations of several Hogwarts students.
"He can't give his student a ten!" said Sara. "That isn't fair!"
"And last, but certainly not least –" Bagman's words were already being drowned out by boos and hisses. Astoria wondered if Dumbledore had somehow worked it out that Potter go last so as to make his show the more impressive. "Our final and fourth champion, Mr. Potter!"
Harry Potter entered the stadium. His legs were visibly shaking. The crowd was a confused combination of cheers and jeers. Astoria noticed that the Gryffindor students were clapping the loudest. Slytherin had taken up a chant of "Potter stinks." Astoria had almost forgotten she was wearing the badge.
Potter had his wand out but didn't seem to be doing anything. Astoria wondered if he had been frozen in fear. He had eyes only for the fourth monstrous beast that had been led into the compound. Easily the fiercest looking of the four, this dragon was colored slate-gray and black, with a spiked tail and glowing red eyes.
Bagman had yet to begin his commentary; he seemed to be waiting for Potter to start. The noises of the crowd ebbed away, followed by silence and the occasional snicker as Potter continued to just stand there.
Astoria wondered if Potter had lost his head, perhaps the judges were going to have to take him out of the stadium on a stretcher. But then there was a rushing sound, clearly audible over the silence of the crowd. Students looked over their shoulders.
Sara cried, "Look!" at the exact time that several other students did and Astoria caught sight of a small, dark shape that was speeding through the air, coming from the castle and getting bigger.
The object morphed into shape as it drew closer. Astoria gasped as she recognized it – a broomstick – and Harry Potter adjusted his stance to receive it.
The broomstick rocketed toward Potter; Astoria glimpsed the gold script on its handle as it flew overhead: Firebolt. It jerked to a clean stop, hovering at Potter's waist, and with a fluid motion, the boy mounted it.
"Brilliant, Harry! Brilliant!" Bagman shouted as Potter zoomed into the air at terrific speed. "Great Scott, he can fly! Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"
Potter made a beeline for the nest. The dragon followed the progress of the broomstick with its head and a spurt of fire streamed from its jaws. Potter rolled to dodge it.
Astoria realized her mouth had fallen open. She had seen Potter fly only in Quidditch games before, but that was always when there was thirteen other players to distract from him. She realized now that Potter looked supremely confident on a broomstick. His body seemed to have become one with the air and his movements were seamless and graceful. He demonstrated almost professional standards, and, almost before Astoria was aware it had happened, Potter had gained her grudging respect.
Even so, there should be rules. It wasn't fair that Potter could have a broomstick and the others were only allowed a wand.
Potter was doing circles around the dragon's head, working quickly to avoid its jaws. The tail suddenly darted up from beneath him. Potter dived but the tail clipped his shoulder, sending the broomstick spinning toward the ground.
Potter righted the broom and stream off to the distance. He hovered for a moment, evaluating his injuries and surveying the dragon, evidently trying to figure out a new avenue with which to retrieve the egg.
"There's blood on his arm!" Melissa cried, face taught and eyes wide. The excitement of the first task seemed to have gotten to her. She looked close to tears.
"He's fine," said Stephan, waving Melissa aside. "Come on, Potter!"
Potter had gained the entire crowd's approval. The gasped and cheered as one as Potter again approached the dragon, flying in circles around its head. The dragon impatiently snapped at a broomstick and Astoria blinked – for suddenly Potter was pelting toward the nest. His arm shot out – fire leapt at the end of his broomstick – the crowd exploded and Astoria did not need Bagman's commentary to realize that Potter had, like the other champions, managed to collect his golden egg.
"Look at that!" said Bagman. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"
The crowd was on their feet, shrieking and stomping, the excitement almost tangible. Potter was hustled into the first-aid tent, clutching his broomstick in one hand and holding the golden egg close to his chest.
Madame Maxime waved her wand above her head, drawing gracefully to form the number eight. Mr. Crouch added a nine, Dumbledore the same, and Bagman a ten. Karkaroff paused as if in great thought and then decided on the number four.
"What?" Stephan demanded. "That isn't fair! Lousy, biased cheat!" Several other Hogwarts students seemed to think the same. Astoria hid a smoldering, secret feeling in her chest that hoped Karkaroff's score would teach Potter not to meddle in affairs too big for him next time. She did wish, however, that Karkaroff would not be so blatant about it. Astoria had learned from her mother that there was a certain style with which to do these things.
"Harry tied with Krum!" Sara squealed. "Both got forty!"
"Well, well, well," said Bagman, burbling in the background of the noisy unwinding of the students. "The Tournament stands: Miss Delecour in fourth with thirty-seven, Mr. Diggory in third with thirty-eight, and both Viktor and Harry tied for first with forty points! Well done champions, well done. I'd say it has certainly been a smashing hit this first task, and I hope all of you will turn out for the second task to cheer our champions on their quest…."
"Come on," said Sara. "Let's try to get out before everyone else does."
The three of them hastily rose from their seats but their efforts of not getting sucked into the crowd were hopeless, as most everyone else had the same idea. The crowd reached a standstill at the entrance to the stadium as everyone tried to filter out at the same time.
The exhilaration of the event had left Astoria feeling drained. She also realized she was quite hungry. The sun was already hanging low over the forest and Astoria thought it must already be passed supper.
"That was certainly thrilling," said Sara, smiling happily but tiredly. "I can't wait to see what's in store for the second task."
"I hope it won't be quite as…dangerous as this one," said Melissa quietly, but smiled. "I don't think I could handle the suspense."
"I wonder what's the significance of the golden eggs," said Astoria. "The second task – what was it? – is supposed to challenge the champions' intellect…."
"It must be a sort of clue," said Sara. "Well, I'm glad it's them who've got to figure it out, not me."
"I'm glad it was them who had to face the dragon," said Melissa.
Slowly the crowd moved, all around them people chattering about the first task and the rest of the tournament to come. Astoria thought, if the rest of it was anything like today, they were going to be in for quite the show.
I've realized it's been a while since I thanked those readers who have reviewed, so…thank you. You're support and feedback means so much to me. And to those readers who haven't reviewed, thank you nonetheless for your dedication to this story. If you feel moved to do so, please drop a line; I'd love to hear from you. Hopefully the next update will come quickly.