"The two closest to us are the Swedish Short-Snout, with the silvery-blue scales, and the one next to it, with the green scales, is a Common Welsh Green."
"To be honest, though, they're not in the mood for compliments right now—their condition isn't great."
He paused, explaining, "We had to feed them a sleeping draught every six hours to keep them calm on the journey here from the dragon reserve."
"We thought that once they arrived at the new location, we'd stop the potion and let them rest and get used to the environment, but that's actually what caused the problem."
"They slept too long, and now that the potion has worn off, they have too much pent-up energy and nowhere to let it out. That's why they're so restless," Charlie said, pointing to the Swedish Short-Snout pacing back and forth in its enclosure, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Simply put, it's 'over-rested frustration,' just like when a person wakes up grumpy after sleeping too long."
"Fortunately, their attention is focused on the wizards outside the fence, not on us."
Just as Charlie said, the two dragons weren't looking at the champions.
The Swedish Short-Snout was roaring at the wizards milling outside the enclosure, puffing small wisps of white smoke from its silvery-blue snout now and then.
The Common Welsh Green was writhing and whipping its long tail, trying to break free of the chains around its neck. When its tail lashed the ground, the snow flew up several feet high.
The wizards outside the enclosures were keeping constant vigilance. Some had their wands aimed at the dragons' muzzles, clearly ready to prevent fire-breathing. Others were pointing their wands at the chain links, chanting incantations to magically reinforce the restraints and prevent accidents.
Looking deeper into the clearing, the areas holding the Hebridean Black and the Norwegian Ridgeback were equally chaotic.
The scales of the Hebridean Black shimmered with a dull, metallic luster. It occasionally raised its head, letting out deafening roars that made the ground tremble slightly.
The Norwegian Ridgeback looked even wilder, the bony ridges on its back gleaming menacingly in the sun. After every roar, it would shoot out a jet of blinding dragon fire from its mouth. The orange-red flame briefly formed a pillar of fire in the sky before slowly dissipating into the cold air.
"See that black-scaled one?" Charlie pointed at the Hebridean Black, his tone becoming serious. "That's a Hebridean Black. It's the most ill-tempered of the lot and extremely aggressive. Even at the reserve, we have to watch it very closely. It'll attack if you get too close."
He then turned to the Norwegian Ridgeback, his voice softening slightly. "The one next to it is a Norwegian Ridgeback. It's a bit milder than the Black, but still not one to mess with—it doesn't just attack creatures on land; it actively hunts young whales in the sea. It's strong enough to drag a small whale onto the shore."
Hearing the name Norwegian Ridgeback, Harry couldn't help but look closer and even glanced at Dylan.
When they first started at Hogwarts, Hagrid had secretly hatched a Norwegian Ridgeback egg and named it Norbert.
He, Ron, and Hermione had helped Hagrid care for Norbert back then.
Later, after being tipped off by a certain someone, Hagrid was forced to send the growing Norbert away—straight to Dylan.
Harry felt a pang of familiarity seeing a full-sized version of the dragon here, after so long.
Hagrid's eyes followed the Norwegian Ridgeback, watching the icy-looking bone ridges on its back. He suddenly sighed heavily, his voice full of emotion. "A Norwegian Ridgeback... hasn't changed much in all these years. It's so lively. A proper beauty!"
Before the two could talk much more, a more violent commotion erupted deep in the clearing.
The Hebridean Black and the Norwegian Ridgeback seemed to be provoked by something. They abruptly stopped roaring at the sky, slowly lowered their massive heads, and fixed their golden eyes on the wizards surrounding their enclosures, their gazes filled with hostility.
Their throats bulged slightly, and tiny sparks of fire began to seep from the corners of their mouths—they were clearly preparing to unleash dragon fire.
"Look out! They're going to breathe fire!" a wizard in a dark-blue uniform immediately yelled. He was the team leader in charge of these two dragons, and his face was grim. "Everyone, prepare!"
"Stupefy!"
Over a dozen wizards responded simultaneously.
They swiftly adjusted their positions, aiming their wands at the dragons' heads and bodies. Beams of blinding light shot out from their wand tips, striking the Hebridean Black and the Norwegian Ridgeback like dense rainfall.
The two dragons visibly slowed after being hit by the red beams. They swayed unsteadily, their massive heads shaking as if resisting the spell's effects. Black smoke billowed from their nostrils, and deep growls rumbled in their throats; they were clearly struggling, trying to avoid being Stunned.
"It's not enough! The spells aren't having full effect! Again!" the leader yelled once more. "Everyone focus your power! Aim for the neck and belly; those are the spots where their magical defenses are weakest!"
Another round of light beams fired simultaneously. This time, the spells precisely hit the dragons' weak points.
Already swaying and dizzy, the two dragons finally gave out. Their immense bodies sagged suddenly, and with a thunderous crash, they fell straight down onto the ground.
Two shallow craters were gouged into the earth, and snow was flung high into the air.
The giant thud of the two colossal dragons hitting the ground echoed across the entire clearing. Even the tall trees several yards away trembled slightly, and the snow on their branches cascaded down like a light snowfall.
The champions standing nearby were affected by the tremor.
Harry instinctively took two steps back before steadying himself.
Draco reached out and braced himself against a nearby wooden fence, his brow furrowed tightly.
Cedric and Dylan stood firmer, but they could still distinctly feel the ground swaying beneath their feet. Even their breathing had become slightly ragged from the sudden, deafening impact.
"Whew... we finally got them under control," the leader sighed with relief, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "Thank goodness we reacted quickly. If we'd let them breathe fire, the fence would probably have been burned right through."
---
Seeing the champions recoil from the ground tremor, the team leader couldn't blame them.
Since the International Statute of Secrecy on Dragons was enforced, these powerful creatures were either kept in remote dragon reserves, monitored by experts, or lived deep in remote, uninhabited mountains, rarely encountering humans.
Unless you worked in dragon research or conservation, the average person would likely never get the chance to come face-to-face with one in their lifetime.
Seeing five different kinds of dragons all at once, each exuding a stifling presence, it was perfectly normal for people to feel intimidated and instinctively back away.
Harry stood his ground, observing the slightly panicked expressions of the other champions, and felt a quiet sense of relief.
Fortunately, through Dylan's Pensieve, he, Cedric, and Draco had witnessed the ferocity of dragons in the memory fragments before.
Although the memories weren't as viscerally impactful as the real thing and lacked the raw power, they had seen a large variety of dragons. They had witnessed various dragon attack patterns, giving them some mental preparation, so they weren't as completely unprepared as the others.
Even so, Harry couldn't help but inwardly reflect. Standing here now, truly facing the dragons, he could faintly feel the crushing pressure of being cornered by a gigantic creature.
Just imagining a dozen dragons chasing him, breathing fire, made his heart race, let alone actually experiencing it.
Just then, someone pointed to the far end of the clearing and shouted, "There's one more over there!"
Everyone followed the direction of the finger and saw a Hungarian Horntail confined in the furthest section of the clearing.
It was larger than the other dragons, its wingspan covering a sizable piece of the sky.
Despite being dozens of yards away, the Hungarian Horntail seemed to sense the commotion. It slowly turned its head, fixing its golden eyes on the champions without blinking, its gaze full of savagery, as if it would charge them any second.
Suddenly, a few sparks shot from its nostrils, and its huge mouth snapped open, revealing sharp fangs. A jet of orange-red dragon fire instantly erupted, streaking towards the group.
The fire traced a long arc through the air. Although it was far away, the scorching heat was clearly felt.
"Watch out!" Charlie Weasley reacted instantly. Almost as soon as the fire erupted, he raised his wand and shouted the incantation, "Protego!"
A transparent barrier instantly formed in front of the group, holding steady.
Luckily, the distance was great enough that the fire gradually weakened mid-flight, finally landing on the snow a few yards in front of the barrier.
Sizzle.
The snow instantly melted into water, sending up plumes of white smoke.
Even though they weren't hit directly, the intense heat carried by the dragon fire washed over them. Everyone felt like they'd been thrown into a furnace, their faces baked hot.
"Glacius Maxima."
Dylan gently waved his wand, and a pale blue magical energy field rapidly expanded, enveloping all the champions, Charlie, and Hagrid.
The moment the field formed, the scorching sensation instantly receded, replaced by a mild coolness that perfectly neutralized the lingering heat.
Before the champions could react, the cold November air once again wrapped around them. The sudden shift from heat to cold was jarring but ultimately brought great comfort.
"Perfect!" Charlie Weasley lowered his wand, his voice full of admiration. "That kind of precise temperature-control magic is not easy. Your control over your magical power is excellent!"
Meanwhile, the wizards responsible for monitoring the Hungarian Horntail quickly sprang into action. Over a dozen beams of light shot toward the dragon simultaneously—another barrage of Stunning Spells.
The Hungarian Horntail struggled a few times, but its immense body finally crashed heavily to the ground, utterly still.
"The Hungarian Horntail is extremely dangerous," Charlie explained to the champions, pointing at the downed dragon. "Not only is its fire-breathing ability superb—high temperature and long-range—but its body itself is a huge threat. Its claws can tear through steel easily, and the powerful wind from its wings can disrupt spell-casting. If you encounter it later, you must be extremely cautious."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the Swedish Short-Snout and the Common Welsh Green in the adjacent areas began to stir again.
After failing several times to break their chains, they clearly lost patience. Sparks continually shot from their nostrils, and low growls rumbled in their throats; they were clearly ready to unleash dragon fire to vent their anger.
The wizards gave them no chance, immediately turning and unleashing another simultaneous volley of Stunning Spells.
Two red beams struck the dragons' necks. They shook their heads but finally slumped to the ground, falling completely silent.
Charlie Weasley shrugged helplessly and turned to the group. "Can't be helped, these lads are too full of beans."
"Now that they're all quiet, you can get a closer look. Check out the 'opponents' you'll be facing next."
"Remember their physical features and attack habits; it'll be very helpful for the task."
With that, he led Hagrid and the champions toward the nearest enclosure, the Swedish Short-Snout.
Charlie brought the group to the fence of the Swedish Short-Snout, and the champions gathered at the wooden boards, carefully observing the Stunned dragon.
Some reached out to touch the protective runes on the fence, some noted the color and texture of the dragon's scales, and others quietly discussed the attack scenes they had just witnessed.
Just then, someone from another school pointed to the end of the clearing and asked Charlie, "Mr. Weasley, is the Hungarian Horntail's tail also very dangerous? I think I saw the bone spurs on the tip of its tail scratch the ground when it swung it just now."
Charlie glanced at the person and gave a simple, noncommittal reply. "Yes."
No extra explanation, no added details; it was as if he was deliberately limiting the amount of information he shared.
Immediately, another champion asked, "And is its fire-breathing range the longest of these dragons? It felt like its dragon fire traveled much farther than the others just now."
Charlie's response was equally brief. "That's right."
After several such exchanges, some of them began to notice the pattern.
No matter what they asked about the dragons' weaknesses or specific attack data, Charlie only gave simple "yes" or "no" answers, never revealing more details.
Harry and Cedric exchanged a glance, and the answer quickly became clear in their minds.
Someone had obviously tipped off Charlie and his team, instructing them to restrict the flow of information to prevent the leakage of too many critical details about the dragons.
After all, the entire point of the first task was to face an unknown challenge, and knowing too much beforehand would diminish the test's significance.
Yes, that must be it.
Looking at the wizards in charge of guarding the dragons, they clearly looked exhausted.
They'd been busy transporting the dragons, giving them potions at set times, and then rushing to set up fences and protective spells upon arrival, with hardly any rest.
Now that the dragons were under the control of Stunning Spells, their tense nerves finally relaxed. Many were leaning against the wooden fence, rubbing their shoulders, their eyes full of fatigue. They clearly just wanted to finish the remaining work and get a good night's sleep.
---
The champions spent about half an hour by the enclosures before following Hagrid back.
Hagrid walked very slowly, constantly looking back toward the dragons, his eyes full of reluctance. He mumbled under his breath, "I'll come visit you again soon."
The champions' mood, however, was noticeably subdued.
Having witnessed the dragons' ferocity up close, they now had a much more tangible sense of the pressure of the first task. They didn't talk much on the way back, eager to leave the Forbidden Forest quickly and find a quiet place to process the stunning events of the past hour.
---
Meanwhile, Rita Skeeter's report on the Triwizard Tournament had been published in the latest issue of The Daily Prophet.
As per Dylan's earlier request, the language in the article was noticeably milder, lacking her usual sharp, cruel style and offering mostly objective information.
The report began with a brief introduction to the three schools participating in the Tournament. It then focused on the champions of these schools, describing them in detail through the lens of their abilities.
When mentioning the Beauxbatons Champion, Rita specifically pointed out their deep foundation in the field of Alchemy, speculating that they might use alchemical tools to handle the challenge when the first task began. The text even gave examples like "alchemical shields for defense" and "speed-boosting potions," fueling readers' guesses about Beauxbatons' strategy.
The article's focus then shifted to Viktor Krum when introducing the Durmstrang Champion. Rita wrote that Durmstrang students held extremely high expectations for Krum, with many even forming a "Krum Fan Club" to analyze his match footage.
"Everyone believes that Krum's excellent flying skills and powerful magical abilities will lead him to an outstanding result in this Tournament," she wrote, the words conveying a clear acknowledgment of Krum's strength.
The report caused a stir in the wizarding world upon publication, with many wizards beginning to speculate about the power differences between the schools. The students of the three schools were even more focused, discussing the article's contents throughout the castles, which added to the nervous atmosphere surrounding the upcoming first task.
---
By the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, Fred was holding the latest issue of The Daily Prophet, his finger resting on the paragraph about Viktor Krum. His eyes were wide with disbelief.
He looked up at the people gathered around him, his voice laced with confusion. "You guys have to look at this. Is this really a report written by Rita Skeeter? Did I pick up the wrong paper?"
George leaned over to check the author's name next to the headline and nodded. "Nope, that's her name. What's wrong? Is there an issue with the writing?"
"A huge issue!" Fred spread the newspaper on the table, pointing at the Krum paragraph. "Look, the report does an excellent job detailing Krum's abilities, and the bit about Durmstrang students forming a fan club is quite vivid."
"But! She barely threw any shade! Doesn't she usually find a way to nitpick or add some unsubstantiated gossip to her articles? This time, at most, she just emphasized that 'expectations for Krum are very high,' putting a little pressure on him. It's so abnormal, completely unlike her style."
Neville also picked up the paper and flipped through it, agreeing, "It is a bit weird. Last time she covered the Quidditch World Cup, she made it sound like a bunch of the players threw the match on purpose. Now she's so 'mild.' By the way, did she write about the Hogwarts Champions? Did the article mention how Harry and the others are preparing?"
"How should I put it... you'll know once I read you a section."
Fred cleared his throat, picked up the paper, found the Hogwarts section, and slowly read, "'Harry Potter—a name no British wizard is unfamiliar with. From thwarting the attack of a dark wizard as an infant to repeatedly resolving crises within the castle after his enrollment, his experiences have long become a legend in the wizarding world. His participation in the Tournament as the Hogwarts Champion is undoubtedly highly anticipated.'"
After reading the passage, Fred put down the paper and shrugged. "Did you catch that? It sounds like she said a lot—'legendary experiences,' 'highly anticipated'—but in reality, she gave no useful information at all. She didn't mention any magic he's been practicing, no preparations for the dragons, and didn't even mention his regular training status. It's as good as saying nothing."
George rubbed his chin, a slight frown on his face. "Something's definitely off. I actually think she's deliberately trying to help Hogwarts conceal its strength."
"Look at the section on Cedric. It only says he's 'skilled in Transfiguration' and then gives some of the most basic Transfiguration examples from textbooks, like turning a teacup into a rabbit or a feather into a key. Anyone can do that!"
"It completely fails to mention Cedric's true strengths, like performing complex Transfiguration while moving. What's the difference between this and just saying 'Cedric can use a wand'? It's just correct nonsense."
"It's not just Cedric! The articles on Harry and Draco are the same!" Fred suddenly realized, pointing to another paragraph in the paper. "Look at the one about Harry. It only mentions his 'mastery of the Disarming Charm and the Patronus Charm,' but those are basic spells for many advanced wizards! The one on Draco only says he's 'skilled in precise spell-casting' and doesn't even specify what kind of spells he excels at."
"She hasn't revealed any tactics they might use in the arena or any preparations they've made for the dragons. It's like she's intentionally blurring the information."
"And Dylan!" George added, sounding even more confused. "The report only writes that he 'has participated in numerous magical incidents and is highly experienced,' but says nothing about his current preparation."
"Think about it: the old Rita, faced with the unique situation of 'one extra Champion from the Goblet of Fire,' would have immediately chased after stories like 'What went wrong with the Goblet?' or 'Why is Dylan the extra Champion?' How could she be so 'quiet'?"
Neville tilted his head and offered a bold hypothesis. "Could Headmaster Dumbledore have intervened? Rita always loves writing sensationalized reports, and this Tournament involves the reputation of several schools. Maybe the Headmaster had a word with her, asking her not to pry into sensitive issues or overly sensationalize the champions' private lives."
"Maybe it's not just Headmaster Dumbledore!" Fred immediately added. "Don't forget the other Headmasters."
"Headmaster Dumbledore is mild-mannered and would probably have a nice chat with Rita, but someone like Professor Karkaroff might use stronger tactics to pressure her."
"As much as Rita loves a scoop, she wouldn't dare cross the Headmasters of several schools at the same time, would she?"
George nodded, finding the speculation very plausible.
The group discussed it back and forth, finding more and more questionable aspects of Rita's report. The firewood crackled in the fireplace, casting their shadows on the wall, and the more they talked, the more confused they looked. What unknown reasons lay behind this seemingly "mild and objective" report?
"Whatever the reason, the competition starts in just a few days."
Rita's article was like a stone tossed into a calm lake, stirring up quite a ripple among the Hogwarts students. Students finally knew some of the champions' magical abilities, giving them plenty to talk about. Some compared notes in the paper, others debated the potential of the Beauxbatons' alchemical tools.
The enthusiasm for discussing the first task was pushed to a new height, with conversations in the Great Hall almost entirely dominated by "champion strengths" and "task predictions."
But the champions, who already knew the nature of the task, were in no mood to join these discussions. They knew that the real test was imminent, and every second now was critical.
Harry, Draco, and Cedric, in particular, would secretly grab their brooms even after nightfall, avoiding crowds to practice near the Whomping Willow. To avoid becoming reliant on him, they deliberately didn't tell Dylan about their extra practice, hoping to improve their coping skills on their own.
Their dedication caused them quite a bit of hardship. Sometimes they'd get grazed by the Whomping Willow's branches if they weren't quick enough to dodge, and sometimes they'd collide after a mistimed Iron Shield Charm. Every practice session ended with them heading to the Hospital Wing to be patched up, listening to Madam Pomfrey lecture them about "not taking care of yourselves" while they grimaced and gulped down bitter healing potions.
In this atmosphere of both fervor and tension, the days passed, and they finally reached December 1st.
The day the first task of the Triwizard Tournament officially began!