The Goblet of Fire was in the entrance hall, surrounded by a tight circle of eager students, each waiting for the chance to become the next champion of the Triwizard Tournament. The whole school buzzed with excitement and speculation. Harry Potter stood at the edge of the group, watching the flickering flames of the Goblet. It had been an unusual few weeks—he had managed to get himself into the competition, despite not quite meeting the age requirement, thanks to his use of time-related magic, and now he was ready to take his place among the others.
Dumbledore had made it clear to the staff that Harry's name was eligible to be chosen, as the time-turners he had used had made him legally old enough to enter. The headmaster, however, was playing his part—acting as if he were furious and scandalized when Harry's name was drawn. Harry had given him a knowing look; the plan had been set in motion weeks ago. The whole thing was a bit theatrical, but it worked.
The atmosphere shifted as the names of the other champions were drawn one by one. The first to be selected was Viktor Krum, the famous Bulgarian Seeker. He had made quite a name for himself in the Quidditch world, and his entry into the tournament didn't surprise anyone. Next, Cedric Diggory's name was called out, and the Hufflepuff boy stood, looking slightly stunned but clearly pleased. The third name was Fleur Delacour, who walked up with her usual grace, her silver-blonde hair shimmering under the candlelight. The crowd cheered, some with admiration, others with a touch of envy.
Finally, after a moment of intense silence, the Goblet spat out Harry's name. The hall erupted into gasps. Even Dumbledore looked surprised, though his face softened with an understanding smile.
The whole place was filled with stunned silence as Harry stood up. He knew that, in the eyes of most people, it was supposed to be impossible. But here he was. And now, it was his turn to take the stage. He gave Cedric a sly look and winked. The Hufflepuff's face showed a mix of excitement and disbelief.
(First Day after the Triwizard Tournament was introduced)
Later that evening, Harry found himself in the staff room, surrounded by Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and several other professors. They had just finished their meeting when Harry entered with a quiet, confident stride. Dumbledore, putting on his best angry headmaster face, looked at Harry with mock disapproval.
"Mr. Potter! You've done it now. You've entered the Triwizard Tournament without proper clearance!" he exclaimed. Harry could see the twinkle in his eyes, though. The act was still going on.
Harry grinned. "Don't worry, Professor. I'm of age. Thanks to a few little time-turning tricks." He leaned in and added with a wink, "You didn't think I'd just sit on the sidelines, did you?"
Moody, who had been standing in the corner with his grizzled face, chuckled darkly and slapped Harry on the back. "You're a fun one, Potter. I like you."
Harry smiled, appreciating the praise from the veteran Auror.
As the meeting wrapped up, Dumbledore spoke again. "Now, Potter, remember: the tasks are dangerous, and I'm sure you know that better than most. I expect you to take the utmost care. But..." His gaze softened. "We'll be watching, and I have no doubt that you will impress us all."
The Triwizard Tournament's First Task:
The morning of the first task arrived, and the stands at the stadium were filled to the brim with students, professors, and guests from all around the wizarding world. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and tension. Harry stood backstage with the other champions, preparing himself mentally for the challenge ahead. He was going up against a dragon—quite literally.
Fleur was looking a little nervous, Krum was already scowling, and Cedric had a determined look on his face. Harry, however, was focused. He had faced far worse in his life and had come out victorious. A dragon? It was almost... amusing.
The first task was to retrieve a golden egg guarded by a dragon. Harry's heart raced, but his pulse was steady. This was just another obstacle to overcome.
The announcer called for the first contestant to step forward: Viktor Krum. The Hungarian Horntail roared as Krum, with a swift flick of his wand, sent a blast of fire back at the dragon. He narrowly dodged the flames, using a levitation charm to get the egg before he was sent flying back to the stands.
Then it was Cedric's turn. The brave Hufflepuff tried to use a series of hexes and charms to distract the dragon, but it was clear the beast was not impressed. After a few close calls, Cedric managed to grab the egg, though he was singed badly by the flames.
Fleur went next. The Beauxbatons champion tried a complex charm to create an illusion, but the dragon was too clever for her. She ended up getting the egg, but not without a lot of running and dodging.
Finally, it was Harry's turn. He stepped forward, looking up at the massive dragon with a calm, calculating gaze. The crowd fell silent. Harry raised his wand, murmured a quick incantation, and in a flash of light, his wand vanished as if never there.
Hand-to-hand combat was next. The dragon lunged at Harry with flames pouring from its mouth, but he dodged with ease, sliding under its massive claws. A quick jab to the creature's side sent it reeling. Harry danced around the dragon, his movements fluid, graceful, and dangerous. The massive beast swiped and roared, but Harry was too fast.
A well-placed kick to its jaw knocked the dragon back, and with one final flurry of punches, Harry took hold of the golden egg. The dragon howled in frustration, but Harry stood his ground.
Then, just for the dramatic effect, "Accio Golden Egg!"
The egg flew straight into his hand, and Harry continued to walk nonchalantly toward the exit of the arena, basking in the overwhelming applause.The crowd went wild as Harry waved his wand, walking off the field with the egg in his hand.
Back in the stands, the students were ecstatic, cheering for Harry's performance. The other champions had all done well, but Harry's dominance—his effortless display of magical and physical prowess—had left them in awe.
"You just walked off the field like it was nothing," Tracey said with a smirk. "Show-off."
Harry shrugged, a smirk on his face. "I couldn't help it. I like to entertain."
Daphne rolled her eyes, but even she couldn't hide her pride.
The Champions and Their Scores:
The heat of the First Task still clung to the air in the tent, where the champions rested and recovered from the grueling trials. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and adrenaline, but there was a strange quiet among the group. Fleur sat on one side of the room, her graceful posture betraying the slight strain in her movements. She had been knocked to the ground during the task and had a small cut on her arm, but it was nothing she couldn't brush off with her usual poise.
Cedric, on the other hand, was pacing. His face was flushed, but it wasn't from the heat of the fire-breathing dragon. He was still processing the fact that he had survived the trial. His robes were singed, and his jaw was tight with the effort of not showing how much it had taken out of him. Viktor Krum, meanwhile, sat quietly, his large frame hunched slightly as he worked on his breathing. His leg was injured, but he'd taken the pain without complaint—though his face betrayed his discomfort.
Fleur glanced over at him, her lips curling in a smile, though it was tinged with the frustration of her own bruises and cuts. It was clear she was still trying to shake off the stress of facing the dragon.
That's when the door to the tent flung open.
The air outside was cold, but Harry Potter walked in, as fresh and composed as if he'd just stepped out of a spa instead of facing a fire-breathing beast. His robes were pristine, not a single wrinkle in sight. His hair, usually wild and untamable, looked as though it had been carefully styled—no sign of sweat or disarray. There wasn't a scratch on him, no marks from the dragon's claws, no dust or ash from the fire.
The other champions stared at him in a mix of disbelief and awe. Cedric's eyes widened, his mouth slightly ajar. Viktor raised an eyebrow, and Fleur's gaze, usually the most controlled of them all, softened for a moment before a slight frown tugged at her lips.
"Potter," Cedric muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You look... you look like you didn't even break a sweat."
Harry gave them a nonchalant grin, walking over to where they were sitting and taking a seat. "I just... had it under control," he said with a shrug, his tone light, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that told them all he knew exactly how much they had struggled.
Fleur narrowed her eyes, tilting her head as she studied Harry. "You're not even scratched, Harry," she said, a soft teasing edge to her voice. "How is that possible? The dragons are not... exactly harmless."
"Oh, I don't know," Harry replied, his smile widening. He leaned back in his seat, clearly enjoying the attention. "I guess I'm just lucky. Or maybe I'm just... too good at what I do."
Cedric snorted in disbelief, while Viktor let out a quiet, almost imperceptible chuckle. Fleur, on the other hand, was gazing at Harry with something more than curiosity—there was admiration in her eyes, mixed with a hint of something else.
"I'm not sure whether you're boasting or telling the truth," Fleur said with a coy smile. "But I do have to admit... you certainly have a way of making things look easy."
Harry tilted his head slightly, giving her a playful smirk. "Well, Fleur," he said, his voice lowering just a bit as he leaned forward slightly, "I never like to make things look too easy. After all, what's the fun in that?"
Fleur blinked, momentarily thrown off by the tone in his voice. It wasn't just playful—it was confident, almost dangerous. She hadn't expected Harry to turn the tables on her so smoothly. But then, she was Fleur Delacour. Few things caught her off guard.
"I think you've got the wrong idea, Fleur," Harry said, his grin widening as he caught her gaze, "I don't like to make things too easy... but I'm sure you're already used to working for what you want."
Fleur's lips parted in shock. The flirtation was now full force, and she was caught. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and her ears turned an almost comical shade of scarlet. The other champions looked between each other, unsure of what to say, but their expressions were the same: stunned.
"Jeez, Harry," Cedric muttered under his breath, trying—and failing—to hide the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Viktor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, though the smallest smirk appeared on his lips.
Fleur cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "I... well, I see how it is," she said, her voice still soft and her face laced with a blush that hadn't quite faded yet. "I will be more careful next time... but I am not... that easy to fool, Harry." She forced a smile, even as her heart raced from the unexpected heat in their exchange.
Cedric chuckled, his tension easing slightly. "He's got a way with words, doesn't he?" he said, eyeing Harry with a mixture of admiration and amusement.
"Seems like it," Viktor added, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know how you do it, Potter."
Harry just shrugged again, clearly enjoying the moment. "You'll all figure it out eventually," he said with a wink. "But for now, let's focus on the task at hand."
A few moments later, they were called out to stand before the judges for their scores. The champions made their way to the front of the arena, where the panel of judges waited: Bartemius Crouch Sr., Ludo Bagman, Madame Maxime, Igor Karkaroff, and, of course, Dumbledore, who looked as if he were about to burst with pride for all the competitors.
The crowd was hushed, the tension palpable. They had witnessed Harry's performance, and now it was time to see what the judges thought.
Karkaroff was the first to speak. "Viktor Krum," he said with a deep, gravelly voice. "You've done well. fourty points."
The crowd applauded, and Viktor gave a small nod, accepting the score.
"Fleur Delacour," Madame Maxime said, her voice carrying over the crowd. "A solid performance. Thirty-five points."
Fleur's lips twitched into a smile, though she was clearly slightly disappointed.
"Cedric Diggory," Dumbledore said, his voice warm and gentle. "A courageous display. Thirty-eight points."
Cedric nodded, accepting his score with grace.
Then came the moment the entire arena had been waiting for. The silence was deafening as the eyes of every spectator turned to Harry.
"And now," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he addressed Harry. "Harry Potter."
There was a pause. The entire room was still. Every eye was locked on Harry, wondering what he'd get after his flawless performance.
Dumbledore smiled warmly, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. "Fifty points."
The crowd erupted into applause. Some cheered, some gasped in astonishment, and others—particularly Fleur—looked at Harry with a mixture of admiration and frustration.
Harry gave a small bow, acknowledging the applause but never letting his grin fade. His eyes briefly met Fleur's, and she couldn't help but feel the sting of both his score and his earlier words.
Cedric clapped him on the back, while Viktor and Fleur exchanged glances, clearly impressed.