Chapter 142: Four Fire Dragons
Tuesday morning, the entire school buzzed with palpable tension and excitement.
Students from nearly every house awaited the first Triwizard task with excitement—especially Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, whose champions were about to compete.
The morning Divination class was cut short before it even reached the halfway point.
Professor Trelawney was thoroughly displeased by this interruption, so she made a prophecy as she dismissed the class:
“This afternoon, one student from our class will be lying in the Hospital Wing.”
Many students had rushed to the Quidditch Pitch (now the Triwizard Tournament grounds) early that morning, though all four dragons were concealed by magic, leaving them unable to see anything.
Jon spent his last calm moments before the dragon attack, until Professor Sprout arrived at the Hufflepuff common room.
“Jon, the champions are about to head down to the field... You must be prepared to complete the first task,” Professor Sprout said, her face pale. It was clear she was also quite nervous.
“Got it!” Jon took a deep breath and picked up his wand.
He didn't forget to remind Zacharias:
“Remember to bring the item I asked you to carry to the arena. Don't touch it!”
“Don't worry, leave it to me!” Zacharias patted his shoulder. “Good luck!”
“Of course!” Jon smiled.
He left the common room with Professor Sprout, who appeared even more anxious than he felt.
She accompanied Jon all the way to the entrance of the competitors' tent.
“Alright... don't be nervous...” Professor Sprout stammered. “Jon, play to your strengths. Believe in yourself. You're no poorer than them... Professor Dumbledore and many wizards are watching over you. Don't worry about safety!”
“Thank you, Professor!” Jon nodded, then turned and slipped into the tent.
...
Fleur Delacour looked extremely pale, almost sickly, lacking her usual calm composure and effortless grace.
Viktor Krum looked even more sullen than usual, sitting quietly in a corner.
Harry Potter practically had “nervous” written on his face. Jon noticed his hands trembling intermittently.
By comparison, Jon felt he was the calmest one there.
“Right then, everyone's here—time to explain the rules!” Mr. Ludo Bagman approached, his voice brimming with excitement. “I'll open this bag and pass it around to each of you...”
“...You must each pick out a miniature model of the creature you'll be facing! They come in different, um, varieties. One more thing... Your task is to retrieve the golden egg they guard, or concede defeat. Either will end the match!”
“Ladies first.” Mr. Bagman offered the bag to Fleur Delacour.
Fleur reached a trembling hand into the bag and pulled out a lifelike model of a Dragon—a silver-blue Swedish Short-Snout.
Fleur's face showed no trace of surprise, only resignation; clearly, Madame Maxime had already briefed her on the competition.
Krum was the second to reach into the bag, pulling out a bright red Chinese Fireball Dragon.
Like Fleur, his eyes didn't flicker as he drew the dragon.
Then it was Harry Potter's turn. He pulled a jade-green Hungarian Horntail from the silk pouch.
And the last one... If it were the gentlest of the four dragons, the Common Welsh Green, that would be fantastic!
Jon's heart was nearly in his throat...
“My regrets!” Mr. Bagman glanced at Jon, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Our youngest contestant has drawn the most terrifying opponent...”
“The most difficult opponent...” Jon's heart sank.
He reached into the bag, and something gently bit his hand... Jon pulled it out.
A small, grayish-white model dragon, its chest scales glinting faintly.
Jon knew the worst possible outcome had occurred; He was about to face the largest, fiercest, and most formidable of the ten types of Dragon—
The Ukrainian Ironbelly!
...
Mr. Bagman pulled Harry Potter out of the tent, whispered a few words to him, and then returned.
He called out loudly, “Now, in the order we just discussed, prepare to enter... Miss Delacour, you're first!”
With that, Ludo Bagman dashed out of the tent first.
Fleur walked out, her steps trembling slightly, all traces of her former grace gone.
The three remaining boys stood silently inside the tent, exchanging glances.
“Oh my, how dangerous, so very dangerous,” Bagman's commentary drifted in from outside, deepening the gloom within the tent.
“Oh, I'm not sure this is wise!”
“Oh... so poor! Careful... my goodness, I thought she'd got it!”
Ten minutes later, Jon heard a deafening round of applause...
“Outstanding!” Bagman bellowed. “Now, the judges will give their scores!”
Viktor Krum stood up, waiting until Bagman called his name.
Krum's performance didn't last long...
“Very bold!” Bagman shouted, as the Chinese Fireball Dragon let out a terrifying screech. “He showed extraordinary courage... Indeed, he has claimed the golden egg!”
Harry Potter rose to his feet, trembling.
“Come on!” Jon whispered to him.
Harry nodded and stepped out of the tent. Now, only Jon Hart remained inside.
Jon knew full well he was about to face an extremely difficult challenge.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly's size and strength far surpassed those of other dragons, meaning the methods he had prepared wouldn't be very effective.
Take Krum’s Conjunctivitis Curse, for instance... While it was indeed a dragon's nemesis, the Ironbelly's vitality was clearly more resilient. Even Dumbledore’s casting could only slow it briefly—hardly enough to rely on.
The same applied to Fleur's Sleep Curse—rapidly putting an Ironbelly to sleep proved exceedingly difficult.
Harry Potter's approach: casting a Flying Charm to summon a broomstick, then flying to distract it while stealing the golden egg... This seemed like a sound strategy against the Ironbelly.
After all, Ironbelly's flight speed was relatively slow, and its breath attack was quite weak... Using this method, it was actually the easiest opponent.
The problem was his own flying skills... Ah, never mind.
Fortunately, Dumbledore's earlier hint meant he was somewhat prepared to face this worst-case scenario...
Author's Note
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