Krum walked into the arena with a gloomy face.
The ground was covered in jagged rocks, some several meters high.
The spectator stands circled the arena, packed with a sea of heads.
Besides Hogwarts students, there were many adult Wizards, likely those who had traveled from outside specifically to watch the competition.
In the center of the arena, a massive Swedish Short-Snout Dragon was guarding its nest.
The Dragon was over ten meters long, covered in silver-blue scales that shimmered with a metallic luster in the sunlight.
Its nostrils were tiny, almost invisible, but the blue flames it breathed were exceptionally hot.
Its thick limbs stepped on the rocks, each movement causing the ground to tremble slightly.
The Short-Snout Dragon let out a piercing roar, blue flames churning in its throat.
It watched Krum vigilantly but did not rush forward rashly, instead guarding the nest while flicking its tail back and forth.
Krum took a deep breath and drew his wand.
He did not use any fancy techniques; with a wave of his wand, a red light shot out precisely—the Conjunctivitis Curse.
The red light struck the Dragon in the eye, the only weakness on the giant beast not covered by skin.
The Short-Snout Dragon jerked its head up, emitting a deafening roar.
The sound was ear-splitting, and many people in the stands covered their ears.
The Dragon was briefly blinded.
It fell into a frenzy, its massive body thrashing wildly around the arena, its tail sweeping across and smashing a boulder to pieces.
Blue flames spewed randomly, the rocks sizzling as they were scorched, and the air was filled with a charred stench.
Gasps erupted from the stands.
Krum seized the opportunity to rush toward the nest.
But just as he was less than five meters from the nest, the out-of-control Dragon suddenly turned and stepped right into it.
"Crack—"
A clear sound of shattering rang out.
Several Dragon eggs were crushed, but no egg fluid leaked out; they seemed to be merely magic props.
It made sense; Dragons were precious, and who would use real Dragon eggs for a competition?
Krum's expression darkened. He rushed forward, snatched the remaining Golden Egg from the edge of the nest, and sprinted away.
He looked back, his gaze falling on the pile of eggshells on the ground, his expression ugly.
With so many eggs broken, he would surely be heavily penalized.
Bagman's voice came from above the spectator stands.
"Krum has retrieved the Dragon egg! Well done!" His tone carried a hint of regret.
"However, it is a pity that it seems more Dragon eggs were broken."
Eight Dragon trainers rushed into the arena, their wands pointed in unison at the still-roaring Short-Snout Dragon.
Several Stupefy spells struck the Dragon simultaneously, and it finally collapsed with a thud, shaking the ground.
"Now, let us ask the judges to score Krum's performance!" Bagman shouted.
On the judges' podium, Karkaroff raised his wand without hesitation, and a golden "10" flickered in the air.
Boos erupted throughout the arena immediately.
"Fixed!"
"Blatant lies!"
"Giving a perfect score even after breaking the Dragon eggs?"
Karkaroff remained expressionless, ignoring the boos entirely.
Madame Maxime frowned, raised her wand, and cast a "6".
Dumbledore pondered for a moment and gave a "7".
Crouch expressionlessly cast a "5".
Bagman hesitated for a moment before finally giving an "8".
"A total score of 36 points!" Bagman announced loudly.
Krum clutched the Golden Egg and walked off the field, his face livid.
The Dragon trainers cleared the arena, and several staff members worked together to haul away the unconscious Short-Snout Dragon.
Soon, a Welsh Green Dragon was placed in the center of the arena.
Its scales were emerald green, shimmering with a gem-like luster in the sunlight.
It was slightly smaller than the Short-Snout Dragon, but its limbs were slender with smooth muscle lines, clearly a type adept at speed.
The Green Dragon guarded the nest, its tail flicking uneasily, and a low roar rumbled in its throat.
Bagman's voice rang out again.
"Let us welcome the next champion!" His tone was full of passion.
"The beautiful phantom from Beauxbatons—Fleur Delacour!"
Karkaroff, standing to the side, looked at Bagman with dissatisfaction.
Why didn't my Krum get this introduction?
The spectator stands erupted in enthusiastic cheers, especially from the boys, who were nearly screaming their lungs out.
Inside the tent, Fleur took a deep breath and gripped her wand tightly.
She stepped out of the tent, the blinding sunlight making her squint.
Harry watched Fleur's back disappear beyond the curtain, his nervousness intensifying.
Charlie was quite relaxed, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, resting.
On the field, Fleur stood behind a rock, watching the Green Dragon not far away.
Her face was still pale, but her eyes had calmed down.
The Green Dragon spotted her, whipped its head around, and flames began to churn in its throat.
Fleur took a few steps back, her movements slow and gentle, raising her hands with palms facing outward, performing a French salute.
The Green Dragon stared at her, the flames in its throat churning a few times, but it did not breathe fire.
The movement of its tail became smaller, and it simply guarded the nest vigilantly, its low roar gradually ceasing.
Fleur retreated a few more steps, now over ten meters away from the nest.
She stopped, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
The next second, a singing voice rang out.
The voice was ethereal and distant, carrying a strange rhythm that echoed across the arena.
The commotion in the stands ceased.
Everyone's eyes became glazed, staring at Fleur.
The boys had their mouths open, as if they had lost their souls.
The girls were no better, their eyes misty, an unnatural flush rising on their faces.
Dumbledore saw this and gave his wand a light wave.
An invisible barrier enveloped the judges' podium and the spectator stands, isolating the singing.
The crowd suddenly snapped back to reality, all gasping for air.
"Eh, what just happened?"
"Why is there no sound?"
"Look, she's dancing!"
On the field, Fleur began to dance while singing.
Her movements were light and elegant, her skirt fluttering as she spun, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight.
The Green Dragon's eyes gradually became unfocused.
Its originally irritable roaring stopped, its massive body swayed slightly, and its tail hung limply on the ground.
Fleur's singing became softer and softer, and her dance steps slowed down.
The Green Dragon's eyelids began to droop, and its head sank lower and lower.
Finally, it lay down beside the nest and closed its eyes.
The stands erupted in deafening cheers, but because Dumbledore had blocked the sound, it did not wake the Dragon.
Fleur stopped dancing and breathed a sigh of relief. She carefully walked toward the nest, terrified of waking the Green Dragon.
Fleur reached the nest and reached out to take the Golden Egg.
Just as her fingers touched the Golden Egg, the Green Dragon snored.
A stream of fire spewed out with the snore.
Fleur's skirt was instantly ignited, the flames leaping high.
Fleur hurriedly raised her wand.
A stream of water sprayed from the tip of her wand, dousing her skirt.
Ignoring her disheveled appearance, she grabbed the Golden Egg and ran.
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