Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't make any money out of this. Please don't sue me!

And So It Begins

"Harry, you really ought to eat something," Hermione chided, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You'll need your strength today."

The Great Hall buzzed with anticipation as students filled their plates with mouthwatering breakfast delicacies. The morning sun cast a warm glow through the enchanted ceiling, bathing the tables in a golden light. At the Gryffindor table, the chatter was almost deafening as everyone eagerly discussed the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Hidden amongst the sea of excited faces, Harry Potter poked at his scrambled eggs, his appetite lost to nerves.

"Hard to swallow when there's a dragon-shaped lump in my throat," he quipped, forcing a grin on his face. The truth was, facing a dragon was making him more nervous than he had anticipated. Sure, he'd been through a war and even travelled back in time, but somehow, this felt different – more immediate and dangerous.

"Are you sure you don't want me to smuggle you in some dragon-hide gloves?" offered Fred, giving Harry a conspiratorial wink.

"Or perhaps a good luck charm?" added George, holding out a tiny amulet shaped like a phoenix.

"Thanks, boys, but I think I'll manage," Harry replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt. As much as he appreciated their support, he knew that gadgets wouldn't help him while facing a dragon.

"Besides," he added, with a mischievous glint in his eye, "if I survive this and win the tournament, think of the bragging rights."

"Too right!" Ron chimed in, his voice flat. Harry could tell that his friend was trying to sound supportive.

Hermione sat next to Harry, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white from the pressure. Her eyes darted around the Great Hall, betraying her anxiety. She took a shaky breath and turned to him. "Harry, are you sure everything will be alright?"

"Of course," Harry reassured her with a small smile. "I've faced worse, remember?"

"Exactly my point!" Hermione snapped. "You could have told me about your plan, and I could have helped you prepare. You know how much I hate being kept in the dark."

"Aw, come on, Hermione," Harry teased, trying to lighten the mood. "If I'd told you, it would have ruined the surprise."

"Surprise?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up, unamused. "This is not some birthday party, Harry! You're risking your life out there!"

"Ah," Harry said thoughtfully, shooting a sidelong glance at Ron, "battling a dragon – what a great way to go. I'd probably become 'The Boy Who Didn't Live That Much.'" He winked at Ron, who offered a forced laugh.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded, glaring at him. "How can you make jokes at a time like this? Aren't you nervous?"

"Are you kidding?" Harry replied, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned closer to his friends. "I'm ready to puke any moment now. But letting the nerves take over won't help me against that dragon."

Their conversation was interrupted by the formidable figure of Professor McGonagall, who materialized beside them with a stern expression. "Mr. Potter, it's time," she announced, her voice tight with apprehension.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as Ron clapped Harry on the back.

"Good luck, mate," he said, and Harry could tell he meant it.

"Thanks," Harry replied, forcing a grin as he stood up and followed McGonagall. They walked in silence, the very air seemed charged with anticipation, as if Hogwarts itself held its breath for what was to come.

As they stepped outside, the crisp late autumn air bit at Harry's cheeks, the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves clinging to his nostrils. The Hogwarts grounds stretched out before them, bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun. In the distance, Harry could see the stadium where the first task would take place, looking like a coliseum of old, ready to host a gladiatorial battle.

McGonagall stopped abruptly midway, her gaze lingering on Harry with an intensity that betrayed her concern. "Mr. Potter," she said softly, "you mustn't worry. Just do your best – that's all any of us can expect from you."

"Thanks, Professor," Harry smiled. "But be careful – if you drop the stern act, I might start asking you for hugs."

For a brief moment, the corners of McGonagall's mouth twitched upwards, though her smile was quickly reigned in. "Mind your manners, Mr. Potter," she admonished, her eyes glinting with an almost imperceptible warmth. "Let us move."

As McGonagall and Harry approached the stadium, the cheers of the crowd grew louder, their excitement palpable in the air. The grand structure loomed before them, a testament to the magical prowess of the wizarding world.

"Good luck, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, nodding towards the tent where the champions were waiting.

"Thanks, Minerva," replied Harry, grinning cheekily.

"Mr. Potter!" she scolded, though her eyes betrayed her amusement. "I'll let that one slide as you're about to face a dangerous task, but next time it will be detention for a month."

"Fair enough," laughed Harry, then stepped into the champions' tent, leaving McGonagall behind.

The interior of the tent was far more luxurious than its modest exterior suggested. Plush red carpets covered the floor, while ornate lanterns hung from the ceiling. A long wooden table stood to one side, laden with an assortment of snacks and drinks.

Fleur Delacour sat on a cushioned bench by one wall, her delicate features ghostly pale and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She looked up briefly as Harry entered, her blue eyes wide with apprehension. Viktor Krum stood by another corner, his gaze unfocused as he stared into the distance, a stern expression etched upon his face. Cedric Diggory paced back and forth across the tent, muttering what sounded like a pep talk under his breath.

Harry made his way to an empty chair and sank into it, feeling the weight of the day's events already bearing down on him. He knew he needed to focus, so he closed his eyes and began working on his Occlumency shields, strengthening his mental barriers to keep his nerves at bay.

Harry was thrown off his exercises as a sudden gust of wind swept through the tent, announcing Ludo Bagman's arrival. The man practically bounced in, his excitement palpable and contagious - or at least it would have been if the champions weren't so preoccupied with their impending doom.

"Alright, champions!" he boomed, holding aloft a velvet purple pouch. "Gather 'round!"

The four of them reluctantly circled the overly enthusiastic man, their expressions ranging from resigned to unimpressed. Harry noted that Fleur seemed to be fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Today, you'll be facing a dragon," Ludo announced, pausing for dramatic effect. His grin faded slightly when this revelation was met with stony silence rather than gasps of shock. Undeterred, he continued, "Your task is to retrieve the golden egg that these fire-breathing beasties are so determined to protect."

"In this pouch, you'll find miniature replicas of the dragons you'll each be facing." Ludo continued gesturing towards the pouch in his hand.

Harry could see where this was going, and as Ludo made to offer the bag to Fleur, Harry surreptitiously cast a wandless compulsion charm on Bagman to make sure the buffoon would comply, and said, "Let's get this done". He reached for the pouch before anyone else could react.

"Ah, eager, are we?" said Ludo, chuckling. "Very well, Mr. Potter, have at it."

As Harry plunged his hand into the bag, he deliberately felt around for the Hungarian Horntail. It seemed only fair that he faced the most dangerous dragon, given all the advantages he was already holding.

"Ah, the Hungarian Horntail," Ludo exclaimed as Harry pulled out the deadly creature, its miniature form still managing to look fearsome. "You're in for a real challenge, Mr. Potter!" He moved the pouch to Viktor, who drew the Swedish Short-snout, its number one shining on its neck. Cedric followed suit and pulled out the Welsh Green Dragon, number two glinting around its scaly throat. Finally, Fleur extracted the Chinese Fireball, with the number three twinkling on its collar.

"Right, then," Ludo said, clapping his hands together. "I'll be off to commentate. Remember, quick thinking and keeping a cool head are key." Before leaving the tent, he turned to Harry. "A quick word, if you don't mind."

"Right," Harry replied warily, following Ludo outside the tent.

"Listen, Harry," Ludo began, lowering his voice. "Do you have a plan? If not, I can give you some pointers—"

"Save it," Harry cut him off, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not helping you win any bets." Ludo blinked, surprise flitting across his face. But Harry didn't wait for a response; he turned on his heel and rejoined the other champions in the tent.

"What did Ludo want?" Cedric asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice as Harry re-entered the champions' tent.

"Ah, he was just making sure his precious bet was safe," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "You know how it is."

Cedric chuckled, though it was short-lived. He glanced down at the Welsh Green Dragon figurine gripped tightly in his hand and resumed pacing the tent like a caged animal awaiting its turn to come out.

As if on cue, Ludo's enthusiastic voice boomed through the walls of the tent, announcing the first task to the excited audience outside. The atmosphere within the tent grew increasingly tense as the champions listened intently for their names.

"Viktor Krum!" Ludo bellowed, and Viktor, looking like he'd swallowed a pint of liquid steel, rose from his chair.

"Good luck," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. Viktor nodded his thanks, a focused expression etched onto his face as he strode out into the arena.

The remaining champions exchanged tight-lipped smiles before turning their ears towards the cacophony of cheers, jeers, and Ludo's commentary. They hung on every word, each syllable spiking their adrenaline levels higher and higher. They listened for what felt like an eternity when suddenly, Ludo announced that Viktor had successfully retrieved the golden egg.

"Judges, your scores please!" Ludo called out, his voice echoing in the distance. The champions held their breath, waiting for the verdict, but it never came.

After a moment of silence, Ludo cleared his throat and moved on to the next contestant. "Cedric Diggory, you're up!"

Harry watched as Cedric's face transformed from nervous tension to steely determination. It was as if he had flipped a switch, igniting a fire within him that burned brighter than any dragon's flame.

"Give 'em hell, Diggory," Harry encouraged, offering a quick thumbs-up. Cedric grinned back, his eyes glinting with resolve.

"Good luck," Fleur added softly, her voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd outside.

"Thanks," Cedric replied, taking one last deep breath before stepping out into the arena.

Harry and Fleur listened intently to the sounds from outside, their ears straining for every detail. "Not being able to see what's happening is worse than not hearing anything," Harry commented, a wry grin on his face.

Fleur chuckled dryly in agreement, her melodic voice lending a touch of levity to the tense atmosphere. "You seem less nervous than the rest of us," she observed, her blue eyes studying him curiously.

"Trust me, I'm terrified," Harry admitted, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I've just learned to hide it better."

Fleur tilted her head, confusion flickering across her delicate features. "Why would you need to hide your nervousness?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Because in a fight, showing that you're nervous is a disadvantage," Harry replied, shrugging nonchalantly as if it were no big deal. He sensed he might have said too much and opened his mouth to change the subject, but at that moment Ludo's voice boomed through the air, calling for Fleur.

"Good luck," Harry offered quickly, watching as Fleur's expression became determined. She nodded her thanks before stepping out into the arena, leaving Harry alone in the tent.

Harry could practically feel the tension crackling in the air. He closed his eyes, drawing on the strength of past trials to steady himself. "I faced way worse," he muttered under his breath, willing his heart rate to slow. "A dragon is not even the most dangerous thing I'll have to face this month."

Harry's ears were filled with a vibrant blend of noises emanating from the arena. Ludo's energetic voice echoed through the stands, adding excitement to the crowd's reaction to Fleur's every move in the centre of the ring.

Harry closed his eyes and focused on sinking himself deep into the familiar barriers of his occlumency. But the anxious anticipation bubbling within him made it difficult to fully shut out his thoughts and emotions. He could feel the tension building.

Harry kept trying to steel himself, but before he could succeed, Ludo called for Harry to enter the arena. He shook off the lingering tendrils of fear and strode out to face the dragon again, the weight of his past propelling him forward.