When the thunderous cheers swept across the entire arena like a tidal wave of pure elation, a deeply gratified smile appeared at the corner of Adrian's mouth.
He had thought Harry would use some less conspicuous method to pass this trial—perhaps using the Summoning Charm they had practiced to call his Firebolt.
But clearly, Harry was much more straightforward and Gryffindor-brave than Adrian had imagined, choosing to engage the magnificent Welsh Green in direct magical combat rather than dancing around the edges of the challenge.
But... this show of raw magical power didn't really matter in the broader scheme of things, Adrian thought as he watched Harry wave triumphantly from the arena floor.
Defeating a dragon single-handedly was certainly somewhat exaggerated when viewed through the lens of magical history, but it was still within the area of everyone's imagination. Powerful wizards throughout history had faced dragons and emerged victorious, it was the stuff of legends, but not impossible legends.
Take Albus Dumbledore, for example, Adrian believed that when the current Headmaster was fourteen or fifteen years old, he could have accomplished the same feat, perhaps even more elegantly.
Of course, comparing young Harry to arguably the most powerful wizard in the modern world might be somewhat unfair.
The roar of approval echoed for a long while before gradually subsiding into a more manageable buzz of excited conversation. When the noise finally diminished enough for speech to be heard, Bagman's magically amplified voice rang out across the arena once more with enthusiasm.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to present Harry Potter, the Hogwarts champion who is only fourteen years old!" His voice cracked slightly with emotion. "Not only did he complete the task with flying colors and perfect execution, but he also achieved the remarkable feat of single-handedly defeating a dragon!"
The crowd erupted in fresh cheers at this statement.
"Now," Bagman continued when the noise died down, "please direct your attention to our distinguished judges as they score our final champion's unprecedented performance!"
All eyes turned toward the judges' table.
As soon as Bagman finished speaking, he was the first to give judgment. He eagerly waved his own wand, and a huge silver "10" appeared in the air above his head.
Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling with what could only be described as pride, smiled warmly and raised his elder wand with grace. Silver light traced a beautiful, perfect arc through the evening air, undoubtedly forming another flawless ten.
Madame Maxime hesitated for just a moment. Her dark eyes seemed to weigh something invisible before she too raised her wand, adding her own perfect score.
Barty Crouch Senior, his face as expressionless as ever, showed no emotion of any kind as he likewise gave ten points with the mechanical meticulousness of someone fulfilling an official duty.
Now all eyes were drawn toward Igor Karkaroff, the Durmstrang headmaster whose pale face had grown increasingly grim throughout the tournament.
Everyone was expecting, no, demanding a perfect score to complete Harry's triumph.
However, Karkaroff's face was grim as he waved his wand, and a glaring "6" exploded in the air.
In an instant, the entire arena fell into a stunned, incredulous silence.
"What?!" Ron's voice cracked as he jumped up from his seat, his face flushing red with indignation. "Harry defeated a bloody dragon and only gets six points? That's mental!"
Hermione's brow furrowed into a knot. "This is completely unfair! Absolutely unjust! All the other judges gave perfect scores."
A few scattered, halfhearted claps came from the Durmstrang student section, but they were quickly drowned out by a rising tide of angry boos, catcalls, and shouted protests from other students.
Seeing the very real trouble brewing in the stands, Bagman quickly stepped forward, and tried to smooth things over.
"Mr. Karkaroff," He said with forced tactful politeness, "it seems you have some rather... unique perspective on Mr. Potter's performance? Could you perhaps explain your scoring standard to our confused audience?"
Karkaroff rose slowly from his chair and said grimly.
"The rules were clearly stated from the beginning. Obtain the golden egg—that is all. Nothing more, nothing less. Mr. Potter's method was unnecessarily brutal and showed a concerning lack of subtlety and wisdom."
This explanation, far from appeasing the crowd, only made the booing significantly louder and more hostile. Angry voices rose from every section except Durmstrang's isolated corner.
Clearly, even to the most casual observer, this wasn't the slightest suitable or convincing justification for such a score.
Bagman's expression became increasingly strange, almost comically confused as he processed Karkaroff's reasoning. His thoughts were practically visible on his round face: lacking wisdom? Brutal methods?
Did Krum's approach of using the Conjunctivitis Curse to blind a dragon and then stampeding through its nest, destroying priceless dragon eggs in the process, somehow demonstrate superior wisdom and gentleness?
The hypocrisy was so blatant it was almost insulting to everyone's intelligence.
'I think you're the one missing a brain,' Bagman thought but tactfully didn't say, though his expression suggested the words quite clearly.
Instead, he wiped nervous sweat from his increasingly shiny forehead with a silk handkerchief. "Well... then Mr. Potter's total score is forty-six points! The highest score achieved so far in this tournament!"
He quickly turned away from the controversial judging, eager to move past the uncomfortable moment. "Let's look at our final standings: Harry Potter leads with forty-six points, followed by Fleur Delacour with forty-one points, Viktor Krum with forty points, and Cedric Diggory with thirty-nine points!"
Upon learning his final score, Harry felt a surge of strong disgust toward Karkaroff that left an almost physical taste of bitterness in his mouth.
He had performed almost perfectly by any objective measure—he hadn't damaged a single dragon egg during his approach, hadn't wasted excessive time, and even the Welsh Green dragon hadn't suffered any serious or permanent injury. The creature would wake up with nothing worse than a slight magical concussion.
Even if Karkaroff found him personally displeasing for whatever petty political reasons, even if he harbored some grudge against Hogwarts or Dumbledore, he shouldn't have given such a visibly biased score.
A barely passing grade.
However, no matter what personal feelings the injustice stirred within him, the crucial fact remained: the first task of the Triwizard Tournament had ended successfully, and he had achieved the first place position exactly as he had hoped and dreamed.
When Harry finally returned to the champions' tent, still carrying his hard-won golden egg like a trophy, all his fellow competitors were already there, each dealing with the aftermath of their trials in their own way.
Cedric had clearly taken the time to change into fresh robes, though his hair still carried the pungent smell of dragon smoke that clung to him like an unwelcome perfume. Despite his lower score, he seemed in good spirits, chatting quietly with one of the medical attendants.
Fleur looked pale and haggard,. Her silver hair hung limply around her shoulders, and she appeared ready to collapse at any moment from the strain of channeling her Veela magic so powerfully.
Krum maintained his typical grim expression, his dark eyes revealing nothing of his inner thoughts. Remarkably, there were no obvious injuries visible on his muscular body.
As Harry passed by him, Krum looked up from his ponderings and spoke in his accented English, his voice carrying no trace of emotion.
"I think you deserved perfect score," He said straightforwardly, as if stating an obvious truth.
"Thank you," Harry replied with a smile.
Although he hadn't been able to witness the other three champions' performances live, he was quietly certain he had completed the task better than any of them.
Not through arrogance, but through simple objective analysis of the results.
"Your spell was incredibly powerful," Cedric approached Harry and asked curiously, "How did you manage it?"
"I honestly don't know," Harry shook his head with complete sincerity.
He had simply trained according to Adrian's methods—if there was anything special about it, perhaps it was related to that previous magical outburst.
At this moment, Bagman finally arrived at the tent, fashionably and somewhat breathlessly late.
"Oh, it looks like you're all resting comfortably—wonderful!" He said with forced cheerfulness, dabbing at his sweaty brow. "I'm delighted to see that none of you require immediate transport to the hospital wing. Truly wonderful performances all around!"
He paused to catch his breath before continuing with official business. "Now, I have some important information regarding your next challenge. The second task will commence on February 24th of next year—that gives you nearly three full months to prepare, which should be more than adequate time."
His eyes gleamed with mystery. "As for the specific content and nature of the second task, well... the clue you need is hidden within the golden eggs you've each earned today. I suggest you study them very carefully."
He clapped his hands together. "Is that all perfectly clear? Excellent! Now I really must dash. Go get some rest, all of you. You've earned it!"
After delivering this somewhat rushed explanation, Bagman practically sprinted out of the tent.
"He seems remarkably anxious about something," Cedric observed with a raised eyebrow, his tone carrying mild confusion and curiosity.
Harry could only shrug in response, equally puzzled by their commentator's sudden urgency.
In fact, unbeknownst to the champions, Bagman was rushing directly to the dragon breeding area behind the arena, where temporary enclosures housed the dragons used in the tournament.
He had to complete an urgent inventory count of the dragon eggs that Krum's dragon had damaged during the Bulgarian's trial, and this assessment needed to be finished before nightfall when the evening shift of dragon handlers would take over care of the beasts.
Of course, the financial loss represented by those damaged dragon eggs couldn't possibly be Krum's personal responsibility to bear—the Ministry of Magic had insurance policies that would cover everything, from destroyed property to medical expenses to unforeseen damages.
If Bagman handled the paperwork properly, submitted the right forms with the right adjustments, he could potentially skim a not-insignificant profit from the insurance settlements.
A few creative accounting entries here, some slightly inflated valuations there, and what appeared to be a loss could become a modest gain.
"Ha!" Bagman chuckled to himself as he hurried along the path. "Perhaps after this Triwizard Tournament concludes, all my gambling debts could be completely cleared. Every last Galleon!"
The thought filled him with giddy anticipation. Those goblins at Gringotts had been sending increasingly threatening letters, and some of his other creditors had begun making the sort of subtle threats that showed their patience was wearing dangerously thin.
"Hmm hmm hmm—" Bagman hummed a cheerful little tune under his breath, already fantasizing about the beautiful, debt-free life that awaited him.
Yes, indeed, agreeing to help organize and commentate this revived Triwizard Tournament had been absolutely the right choice. The opportunities for creative financial management were even more lucrative than he had hoped.
When Harry finally emerged from the champions' tent, stepping out into the cool evening air, the sky had already transformed into a magnificent canvas with bright orange-red hues.
In the distance, the Black Lake caught and reflected the last rays of sunlight, its dark surface sparkling like scattered diamonds across black velvet.
'What a wonderful view,' Harry thought as he paused to appreciate the scene. After the intensity and terror of facing a dragon, the simple beauty of a Scottish sunset struck him unexpectedly.
But Harry hadn't been given much time to fully appreciate the breathtaking scenery spread out before him...
"Harry! Over here!" Ron's familiar voice echoed across the grounds from not far away, filled with excitement and relief.
Both he and Hermione were waving enthusiastically at him from beneath a tree.
Harry jogged over to join his best friends, still carefully holding the precious golden egg in his arms like the treasure it represented.
"That was absolutely spectacular!" Ron exclaimed as he reached them, patting Harry's shoulder with enough force to nearly knock him sideways. His face was still flushed with excitement and lingering worry. "When you walked out into that arena, I genuinely thought we were about to watch you die horribly. I've never been so terrified and proud at the same time!"
"Don't say such dreadfully unlucky things!" Hermione scolded sharply, punching Ron's arm hard enough to make him yelp.
"Ow! Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron winced, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. "I was giving him a compliment!"
Harry couldn't help but smile at his friends' familiar activities, the normalcy of their bickering was a welcome contrast to the surreal experience of magical combat. He held up the golden egg, as its surface gleamed in the fading light.
"The next task isn't until February," He explained, rotating the egg in his hands. "Bagman said the clue to what we'll face is hidden inside this thing somehow."
Ron leaned in with unconcealed curiosity, his eyes bright with interest. "Well then, quick! Open it up and let's see what sort of riddle they've cooked up for you!"
Harry glanced around at the groups of students, many of whom were casting interested looks in their direction.
"Let's wait until we're back in the common room," Hermione suggested wisely, lowering her voice. "We'll have complete privacy there, and honestly, we have plenty of time to work on it. Three months should be more than enough to solve whatever puzzle they've hidden inside."
The three friends walked quickly toward the castle.
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