Chapter 18
A week has passed
The other champion including Harry now stood in a tent, the others, fleur was muttering in french, walking back and forth at the length of the tent seemingly stressed out and freaking out, everyone is actually, including a green eyed boy who now sat by the small infirmary bed, curled up as he tried to compose himself, the past few days has been hectic for Harry, every nook and cranny of the school library he had scowered top to bottom, looking for clues as to what the first task might be.
To be all for nothing, it was yesterday midnight where Viktor had chosen to inform Harry of the first task, Dragons, were they out of there bloody minds?! Not to mention they were NESTING dragons, for Merlin sake the ministry really wants to kill us off don't they? Harry then sighed as he rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming.
The bed then dipped as a familiar figure then gathered Harry into a soft, caring yet firm embrace, making Harry feel small, safe and at peace throughout the day. "Hi" he said softly, his voice soft and vulnerable, the figure then answered by gathering Harry over his lap, much to Harry's embarrassment and hugged him tight, tucking Harrys head under the figures chin.
"Nervous?" The gruff voice they finally said, Harry chuckled, nervous was an understatement, Harry was terrified, he couldn't even sleep the whole night. "Very much so." Harry said simply. "You?"
Viktor then nodded, tightening his grip on Harry's waist. "Mhm." The tent flap then opened, making Harry and Viktor stand up and pull apart much to Harry's displeasure as they gathered in a circle
Dumbledore strode inside, his robes billowing slightly, followed closely by Ludo Bagman, who was grinning in his usual, overly enthusiastic way.
“Champions!” Bagman said jovially, clapping his hands together. “It’s time!”
Harry tensed, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.
Dumbledore’s gaze swept over them, lingering briefly on each face before he gave a small nod. “The task is simple,” he said, his voice calm, measured. “Each of you must retrieve a golden egg, guarded by a dragon.”
Fleur’s brows furrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
Bagman, ever the showman, rocked on his heels. “And to make things fair, you’ll each draw lots to determine which dragon you’ll be facing. Now, who wants to go first?”
Viktor was the first to move. He stood, his movements smooth and deliberate, and reached into the velvet bag that Bagman held out. His fingers closed around something, and when he pulled it free, a miniature Chinese Fireball sat in his palm. The tiny dragon let out a silent snarl, wings flaring.
Viktor gave it a brief look before nodding once and stepping back.
Fleur went next, reaching in with her delicate fingers and pulling out a model of a Welsh Green. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she remained poised.
Cedric followed, drawing the Swedish Short-Snout. He turned the miniature dragon over in his hand, exhaling slowly before stepping back.
Harry was last.
The bag felt oddly heavy as he slid his hand inside, fingers brushing against rough, carved wood. He hesitated for half a second before gripping one of the small figures and pulling it free.
A Hungarian Horntail.
His heart plummeted. The tiny dragon’s yellow eyes gleamed, its spiked tail twitching menacingly in his palm.
Viktor shifted beside him. Harry barely noticed the way Viktor’s fingers curled slightly, his knuckles whitening. Then, so subtly that no one else would have seen it, Viktor’s hand briefly brushed against his own. A fleeting moment. Just enough to be grounding.
Bagman, oblivious to the tension, beamed. “Well then! You’ve got your dragons—best of luck! You’ll be called in one by one, so be ready!”
Dumbledore gave them all one last unreadable look before turning and stepping out of the tent, Bagman following close behind.
The flap of the tent fell shut again, leaving the four of them alone in thick, suffocating silence.
The atmosphere inside the champions' tent was thick with tension. Harry sat beside Viktor, his fingers clenching the hem of his robes. Across from them, Cedric adjusted his gloves, while Fleur smoothed down the front of her uniform, exhaling softly.
The tent flap suddenly rustled, and before anyone could react, a tall figure swept inside.
Rita Skeeter.
She was all sharp smiles and glittering eyes, her enchanted quill hovering eagerly beside her. A photographer followed close behind, his bulky camera already raised.
“Ah, our brave champions!” Rita cooed, her voice sickly sweet. “What a momentous occasion! The TriWizard Tournament- danger, glory, and of course—” her eyes landed on Harry, practically devouring him, “—the Boy Who Lived facing impossible odds yet again. How tragic!”
Harry stiffened, already dreading whatever twisted story she would spin.
“Rita, I don’t think—” he began, but she cut him off, stepping closer.
“Tell me, dear,” she said, reaching out and gripping his wrist tightly, “how does it feel to be thrust into this perilous situation? Betrayed by the adults who should protect you? Forced into a contest you had no desire to join?”
The quill was already scribbling furiously.
“‘Harry Potter,’” she read aloud, “‘small, pale, and trembling, barely holding back tears as he faces the terrifying ordeal ahead—’”
“I never said that!” Harry protested, trying to pull his hand away.
The camera flashed.
Rita leaned in further, her grip tightening. “And tell me, dear, how do you feel, knowing your life might be cut short? The entire wizarding world watching—expecting you to fight dragons at just fourteen? Do you cry yourself to sleep at night, Harry? Does it haunt you?”
Harry recoiled, his breath catching. His throat burned, his vision blurring slightly as the weight of it all crashed over him.
Cedric’s hands curled into fists. Fleur’s nostrils flared.
But before Harry could find his voice, Viktor stood.
And then, in one swift, forceful movement, he shoved Rita away from Harry.
She stumbled back with a surprised yelp, barely catching herself. The quill jerked mid-air, scratching out an ugly ink blot before it stopped.
“Enough,” Viktor growled, his voice cold, clipped. His usually stoic face was thunderous, eyes glinting dangerously. “You do not touch him.”
Rita scoffed, composing herself. “Now, now, Mr. Krum, I’m simply—”
Viktor flicked his wand. A pulse of magic shot forward—not enough to hurt her, but enough to send her stumbling backward toward the tent entrance, her feet tangling beneath her robes.
The photographer snapped another picture—only for Viktor to whirl around and send a non-verbal spell straight at the camera.
It shattered.
A loud crack echoed through the tent as pieces of it flew apart, the film inside burning to ash before it even hit the floor.
The photographer yelped, scrambling back, while Rita gaped in outrage.
Fleur stepped forward, her expression icy. “Get. Out.”
Cedric crossed his arms, nodding in agreement. “Now.”
Harry swallowed hard, rubbing at his eyes. He hadn’t meant to let her get to him, but—Merlin, she always knew how to twist the knife.
Viktor shot him a glance, his expression softening slightly. Then, without another word, he stepped toward Rita, gripping the edge of the tent flap, and threw it open.
She sputtered. “This is—this is an outrage—”
“Go.” Viktor’s voice was sharp as a blade.
For a moment, Rita looked as though she might argue. But then she caught sight of Fleur’s wand, the fierce glint in Cedric’s eyes, and the way Viktor hadn’t even bothered to draw his own—just stood there, waiting.
With a final huff, she turned on her heel and stormed out, the photographer stumbling after her.
As soon as the flap closed, the tension in the tent released like a snapped cord.
Fleur sighed, muttering something in French under her breath. Cedric ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.
Viktor sat back down beside Harry, his gaze searching. “Are you alright?”
Harry let out a breath, then nodded.
“Yeah,” he murmured, voice still a bit unsteady. “Thanks.”
Viktor didn’t say anything, but his hand brushed against Harry’s under the bench, a quiet, steady reassurance
And for the first time that day, Harry felt like he could breathe again.
NOTES:
heyyyyy, been a few months ain't it? Hehe sorry guys, had a lot of going on, moving on ceremony practice, we had junior prom last week plus practice, and I always get tired right after, so I am very sorry for taking such a long time to post, I hope you understand:(
I promise, or I'll try my best (bc I'm an unreliable person) to post weekly, two chapters a week, or maybe one, depends, but I really am sorry:((
But I do hope you enjoyed this one:))
Have a nice day mwah!