Early Morning in the Mountains Behind the Castle
Several members of the organizing committee headed to the grounds right after breakfast to inspect the construction of the tournament venue. Special Consultant Melvin walked at the front, turning his head to chat with the wizards trailing him. The badges pinned to their chests gave away their identities.
Charlie Weasley: Dragon keeper and the Romanian representative, in charge of taming the pack of dragons currently in Scotland.
Terry Tours: Owner of Terror Tours, managing the actual construction of the venue.
Wright & Hagrid: Wright from the Mirror Club and Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper, were mostly just tagging along for the ride.
Rounding out the group were two familiar faces: Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman from the Ministry of Magic. Having already partnered up for the Quidditch World Cup final, they had plenty of experience under their belts. Even if someone wasn't entirely on their game, they could still keep the project moving forward smoothly.
The tour had been going on for half an hour, and they had only made it halfway around the venue's outer perimeter.
"The local forest tribes have been fairly cooperative," Terry explained with a chuckle. "A while back, the Acromantulas caused some trouble, claiming the foundations we were digging were their nests. Since they can talk, we tried to sit down and negotiate, but a passing group of centaurs just shot a few of them dead for us. Now, only the unicorns are refusing to show themselves—they're keeping well out of the way."
The atmosphere hadn't been this relaxed from the start. Ever since the Goblet of Fire was reinstated, Melvin's proposals had been considered too radical and bizarre for most people to swallow. They had spent countless hours locked in pointless debates.
This gridlock lasted right up until the start of the term. No one was quite sure exactly when the shift happened, but suddenly, every aspect of the tournament started moving at breakneck speed. The staff from all departments were buzzing with excitement—all except Crouch, who spent his days in a dazed, distracted fog.
A Radical Plan
"The Undetectable Extension Charms inside the arena are fully operational. It's even bigger than the stadium at Dartmoor!" said Wright, who had been helping Terror Tours with the alchemical setups. "But are we really throwing all the dragons into the first task?"
Doubt began to ripple through the group. The staff exchanged uneasy whispers; the idea was just too extreme.
"It's already been decided," Melvin nodded. His tone was light, even gentle, yet it instantly squashed the murmurs from the accompanying wizards. "Don't worry about the students' safety. I am completely confident we can provide comprehensive protection."
Melvin looked out over the freshly cleared venue, which sprawled across several hillsides. "Two years ago, the Romanian dragon sanctuaries made a massive breakthrough in taming techniques. Charlie can already get the dragons to understand basic commands and execute simple orders. Humans aren't on their menu. As long as the students don't provoke them, their lives won't be in any real danger."
Hagrid's thick, dark eyebrows knitted tightly together. He still couldn't shake his unease.
"I've also crafted a batch of alchemical protective gear," Melvin added, pulling a glass orb from his pocket to show the group. "It will be distributed to the champions as standard equipment on the day of the task. It's strong enough to withstand dragon fire long enough for the nearby handlers to rush in."
He made sure to issue a strict warning: "Both the protective gear and the dragons are highly classified. None of this can be leaked to the students or staff of the four schools before the task officially begins. Make sure you all sign a non-disclosure agreement after seeing this."
"..."
Hearing this, Hagrid—who had been hovering near the back—shifted his eyes shiftily and began to back away on tiptoe.
He thought he was being completely stealthy. As a long-time groundskeeper, his hunting and tracking skills were genuinely impressive. However, the half-giant's massive, heavy frame was just too conspicuous, and the crunch of his hard-soled boots against the grass echoed loudly.
Still, no one called out the glaringly obvious flight risk.
Right on cue, the sun crested the horizon. The vibrant, orange morning light washed over the mountains, casting a warm glow over the forest where the dragons were roosting. The massive beasts poked their heads out of their caves, basking in the sunlight to soak up the heat. They unfurled their massive wings, their metallic scales of every imaginable color shivering in unison as colorful flames leaked from their snouts.
The entire group stopped dead in their tracks, completely mesmerized by the spectacular sight.
"Dragons..." Wright sighed in absolute awe.
"This is completely different from the original, safe format we planned," Crouch noted, having a rare moment of lucidity amidst the awe. He glanced back at the sound of Hagrid's retreating footsteps. "You've completely overhauled it. The Goblet selected far more champions, which means the first task needs more dragons, a much larger venue, and the added chaos of having every champion compete at the exact same time. You just let Hagrid walk away with classified information. Aren't you worried some students will break the rules and withdraw?"
"If they withdraw, they withdraw," Melvin said dismissively. "They're underage kids who have spent their entire lives perfectly sheltered inside a school. They've never faced real danger. We can't exactly march them into the arena at wand-point, can we? Who in their right mind actually wants to face a dragon?"
Melvin's tone remained casual. "You remember the theme of the first task, right? We agreed on it before anything else was finalized."
Crouch froze. The glassy, distant look returned to his eyes as he murmured softly, "Courage."
Hagrid's Dilemma
"Melvin has completely lost his mind! Making twenty champions compete at the exact same time, in the exact same forest, against twelve different breeds of dragons... He's certifiable!" Hagrid muttered to himself as he hurried away. "Never mind twenty underage kids—you could send in twenty full-grown wizards or twenty trained Aurors, and it still wouldn't be enough to fill those dragons' teeth! I have to get back and warn Harry and Hermione. They can't get dragged into this suicide mission."
The half-giant practically marched toward the castle, his heavy boots thudding against the dirt like horse hooves.
As he reached the outskirts of the grounds, the trees began to thin out. The dying, yellowed leaves clung weakly to the branches before a sudden gust of autumn wind tore them loose, sending them drifting slowly to the grass.
The landscape opened up. Before Hagrid even reached the path leading up to the castle, he spotted the Beauxbatons Abraxans in the distance—and standing right beside them was the towering figure of Madame Maxime.
Hagrid stopped dead in his tracks, instantly torn.
Even by conventional standards, the Beauxbatons headmistress was a stunningly beautiful woman. But to a half-giant like Hagrid, Madame Maxime was an unparalleled, one-of-a-kind goddess. Desperate to strike up a conversation with her, he had even started trying to dress up and wear cologne.
None of his clumsy tricks had worked, but Madame Maxime wasn't a superficial witch. Even when his beard was a tangled rat's nest, or when he had gotten embarrassingly drunk at the welcome feast and spilled wine all over himself, she had still been perfectly happy to sit and talk with him.
But Hagrid wasn't an idiot. He knew exactly what Olympe was after.
Lately, she had been throwing brilliant smiles his way and using her winged horses as an excuse to invite him on walks. But every conversation was laced with subtle—and not-so-subtle—prying about the tournament, constantly asking what kind of beasts were making those terrifying roars up in the mountains.
"Melvin gave strict orders..." Hagrid hesitated, warring with himself. "But Olympe is just trying to look out for her students."
"Rubeus!" a delighted voice called out from ahead.
A half-giant trying to hide is a lost cause. Even though Hagrid had stopped moving, Madame Maxime spotted him instantly. She waved at him from across the grounds, her olive skin glowing, her massive, dark, liquid eyes shining brightly as her eyelashes fluttered.
Love is blind.
Even knowing her motives weren't entirely pure, Hagrid still thought Olympe was a wonderful headmistress. And a breathtakingly beautiful one, at that.