4/6

She cleared her throat. "As you are to face the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament tomorrow, each of the schools will be giving one final talk to each of the Champions, reiterating the rules you are to follow. Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me to fill in for him this evening, as he has other matters to attend to."

McGonagall started by reciting the rules, as if neither of the boys were perfectly familiar with the rules already. It took a little while and she was amused to see Potter shifting on his feet, regretting having given up his seat. Gaara was standing so still and blinking so little that Minerva would have suspected he'd somehow substituted himself for a statue if she didn't know that was well beyond Gaara's magical abilities.

"Do you both understand?" She added at the end of a particularly long section of the rules. They both nodded. No statues here, then.

It might have been beyond Gaara's magical abilities, but she had seen him perform a number of impressive feats that were beyond his abilities, and he was closely tied to Sirius Black, so she couldn't assume any mischief was beyond him now.

When she came to the end of the rules, much of which she needed to read directly out of the rulebook, McGonagall softened a little. "I would like to add, as this will be the last time I see you before you compete tomorrow, that you mustn't forget you are fellow Hogwarts students. Even if you cannot work together, I trust that neither of you will forget that fact."

Gaara wondered, if the professor trusted him to remember this fact, why she needed to reiterate it.

"We'll be okay, professor." Harry comforted her.

McGonagall straightened a little at the latest impertinence. "Yes, well, you'd do well to achieve that much, Mr Potter. Do not become overconfident."

Harry did not think he was in any danger of becoming overconfident.

"There is a saying that's sadly fallen out of fashion in recent generations: 'Sometimes Godric felt fear and Salazar felt anger'." When neither boy looked amazed, she wondered if it might have lost something in the translation from Latin.

"I'm not afraid, professor." Harry lied.

She sighed. She would have pulled both of them out of the barbaric contest even if it meant her job without hesitation, but there really was nothing she could do. The magical contract bound to the Goblet was inescapable (she knew, she'd looked into it thoroughly).

Gaara considered whether he could leave now that McGonagall had read them the rules. He was relatively certain that any subsequent conversation was voluntary.

Harry saw Gaara shift in the corner of his eye and when he turned, he was hardly surprised to see Gaara had turned and started walking away without any parting words. Once upon a time, he would have been shocked or even angry at the casual disrespect Gaara showed him and his Head of House, but now it was just one of Gaara's eccentricities.

"You may leave, Gaara." McGonagall said sternly to Gaara's back, not quite as accustomed to Gaara's casual disrespect. Gaara didn't acknowledge her superfluous permission and exited quietly.

McGonagall was just about to remark about the boy's strangeness under her breath when she remembered another impressionable student was still in earshot.

"While I have you here, Potter, I wanted to talk to you about the homework you handed in yesterday." She said, moving back around her desk and searching through the stack of parchment.

"Now, professor?"

"Now, Potter. Take a seat. We'll be done in time for dinner, I can assure you."

What followed was a tense hour that certainly managed to keep Harry's mind off of his impending doom. He didn't notice this, of course, until Hermione pointed it out to him later on. It was very much like McGonagall to use a lecture (read: remonstration) on proper penmanship and research to give him some time not buried in despair.

Gaara went to dinner that evening but left partway through. People insisted on trying to talk to him and he did not have the patience for it right now. He didn't go to bed that night either. Shukaku was being very loud at the moment, probably sensing the tension or the impending… well, not a battle but it presented the potential for fighting.

The beast had been gaining energy again lately after he'd been so docile from the altered seal.

Gaara knew he wouldn't be getting to sleep that night and he didn't want to disturb Draco so he decided to wander around the castle. It was too cold outside to go for a walk in the forest without a good reason and Gaara was wary of culling the spider population too much now that there weren't dementors to supplement his leisure activities.

Draco was not getting much rest that night either. He had been hoping that Gaara would reappear at some point, even as the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning. He'd asked a hundred times but he really needed to know if Gaara had some sort of plan. Or was he going to be sitting in a premium seat to watch his best friend killed by a dragon?

Gaara was capable but dragons were not something a teenager could face without some sort of plan in place.

The clamour outside of his door ensured Draco didn't oversleep after he managed to catch 90 minutes of shut-eye before the normal wake up time for the students expecting breakfast.

Spirits were predictably high (outside of his room), so Draco could only groan as cheering and heavy feet stormed past his door. When some of the noise settled right outside, Draco stumbled to his feet, struggling not to let the momentum carry him right into the desk. He glanced in the mirror and tried to fix his uniform (which he'd fallen asleep in) and put his hair in something resembling a presentable fashion. He looked like a mess but it would have to do since someone had the audacity to start knocking on the door before seven in the morning.

Outside stood a mixture of no-names who could have been from other Houses for all the importance they held in Draco's mind.

"Morning, Malfoy." One of them said. And after a beat, they followed it with, "So… where is he?"

Draco rubbed his aching eyelids with his thumb and forefinger. He might as well have sorted into Gryffindor or (Merlin forbid) Hufflepuff, for all the refinement he was witnessing here and now.

Draco tried to formulate something suitably scathing and witty but his mind was a bit fuzzy with the lack of sleep so he settled for an equally witty slamming the door in their faces.

Breakfast that morning was similarly energetic, with the focus of the hundreds of students on the Champions, except for Gaara who was conspicuously absent. After he did manage to say some scathing and (in one instance cruel) things to people who persisted in asking where Gaara was, his fellow Slytherins did leave him in relative peace.

One of the remainder who still came to ask him was a first year that Draco suspected had been dared. That, of course, did not mean Draco spared him from copious threats and insults. In his mind, the stress and sleep deprivation excused him from any guilt in making the eleven year old cry. Karmically, he believed he was still in the green considering this was actually the only first year he'd left in tears in months. Progress.

As always, the cause of Draco's stress was Gaara and the weight in his gut was beginning to make him angry. He never cared about his old friends like he did about Gaara. Was the warmth of real friendship worth all of this?

Urgh! He'd decide that later if Gaara even survived. If not, he supposed the problem would resolve itself.

"Where is Gaara this morning?" By the deep voice, Draco assumed it was a seventh year.

Draco said, as he swivelled in his seat, "Does it look like he's here… sir?" He barely managed the last part as he found Professor Snape looming over him.

"No. No it doesn't." Snape said.

Draco could only hope his obvious surprise might excuse the unthinkable rudeness in his initial address to his Head of House.

"He, um, left before I got up this morning, Sir." Draco said. "I think he's just clearing his head. Sir."

Snape continued his glare but didn't take any action against him so Draco believed he had been forgiven (or as close as Snape was capable). "Then he shouldn't be away for long." Snape said slowly before walking away.

Draco looked back at the food that he'd piled on his plate in a rather optimistic fit of pique and slid it away. The smell of the scrambled eggs was making him feel a little ill now.

Now, after people had learned not to ask him where Gaara was that morning, some of Draco's closer compatriots were finding tactful ways of informing him how pale he looked.

Harry was receiving similar comments in between being forced to eat porridge. Ron, who was in one of his friendlier moods today, was nearly at the stage of spoon-feeding it to him to get him to consume something before the Task. Instead, Harry managed to get away with eating the bare minimum until there was a loud bang that might have loosened a stone or two in the unseen ceiling of the Great Hall. The sounds immediately halted the raucous conversational noises around the Hall.

Dumbledore was stood at the head of the Hall with his wand still raised and lightly smoking from the simulated cannon fire.

"Good morning everyone!" He spoke so loudly for a man of his age that Harry was convinced he was using a sonorous charm on himself every time he addressed the Great Hall. "Would all of the Champions please proceed to the back of the Hall and follow Mr Bagman to the First Task. For everyone else, those of you who have tickets to watch the Task will be taken there in twenty minutes. Those of you who do not not may listen to the radio broadcast here in the Hall or in any of your Houses. And a word of warning, anyone in possession of a ticket not originally assigned to them will be refused entrance to the Task. And your professors will not pursue a refund for you."

Harry stopped listening to the announcement at that point. Eyes were all on him even as the venerated wizard continued to speak about how the spectator would be organised. Harry noticed the only others standing, other than the Headmaster, were Krum and Delacour, who were all walking at the same pace towards the exit. Harry could see Bagman standing just outside the main entrance of the Hall with an inconsiderately cheerful look on his face. At least his fellow Champions looked appropriately sombre when they neared and the three of them exited as one.

Stood outside the Hall, a little away from Bagman, was Gaara. Harry suspected that he was standing out of sight to avoid Malfoy. He'd heard some of what his one-time nemesis had been saying that morning and it seemed like Gaara's concealed position was either the cause of or a reaction to the blond's mood.

"That's all of us, then, is it?" He looked around as if it was difficult to keep track of four people. Harry had come to resent the overly joyous man for his failure to grasp the hideous nature of this Tournament. When no one chimed in, Ludo smiled even broader and said, "Alright, follow me. Not a moment to lose."

He marched through the castle and out the back to the courtyard. They all followed in a loose grouping across the footbridge and towards the forest. Once in the woods, Harry thought about speeding up to walk alongside someone, but his opportunities for conversation were severely limited. Krum and Delacour seemed to treat him like an unwanted child (a feeling Harry was overly familiar with after his years with the Dursleys) and they tended to take the contest part of the Tournament incredibly seriously, so they wouldn't want to chat with him before competing. Harry wouldn't even entertain the idea of walking alongside Ludo Bagman. He'd definitely get a conversation but some things were just not worth it.

And then there was Gaara. With as often as they were thrust together by chance or design, it was sometimes easy to forget how much he disliked the mysterious Slytherin transfer student.

They walked onward for a while, in the same direction that Harry remembered the dragons were being kept. It made sense, he supposed, not moving the humongous angry lizards more than you absolutely had to. It was a quiet walk, and in that time, Harry envisioned his planned actions for the Task. His finger even started practicing the various waves, flicks, swishes and jabs involves in the spell he'd planned. He'd dropped to the back of the group so that no one would notice what he was doing. They all seemed so calm.

The forest was so thick that Harry saw nothing of the enormous stadium until they had reached the Champions' entrance. Stepping out of the trees and into the clearing that must have been made specially to fit the truly gigantic stadium, Harry had to crane his neck upwards to see the top of it. There must have been some sort of warding on it to prevent it being seen from the castle because, even a couple of miles away, it would have stuck out like a sore thumb.

Bagman didn't stop to admire it, instead he continued to lead them to a tent that had been erected at the base of the stadium and presumably led directly into the arena. It was only as they were nearly upon the tent that Harry finally realised what had bugged him about this stadium. It didn't just look like the one from the Quidditch World Cup, it was that stadium.

Through some magical means, the Ministry had transported the entire Quidditch stadium to the Dark Forest outside of Hogwarts. The penny-pincher in him admired the Ministry for not wasting thousands of Galleons on a second stadium, but another part of him resented the economy being applied to what might well become his final resting place. Unless someone had thought to conjure a hoover for his ashes.

Inside the tent were benches and not much else. Some fabric had been rigged up for a privacy curtain to give the single female Champion a decent amount of privacy when she changed, but otherwise all they would be left with was their thoughts.

Bagman walked over to a small crate and pulled out of it four paper-wrapped packages with small notes attached. He studied the note of the top packages in his arms and strode over to Fleur with a smile. "Here're your uniforms for the Task." He gave the next one to Gaara, who took it rather reluctantly. "I'll leave you to change and be back in a few minutes. You will have to pass through an arch enchanted to detect any spells or magical items you've got on your persons. After you've passed through, you will be given your wands back and you will be ready to start your Task."

When all of them had their packages, Bagman stepped outside and Fleur walked swiftly behind the privacy curtain.

Gaara stared at his parcel and confirmed that the others were opening theirs now. He turned it over and undid the string, dropping it onto the ground as he started to carefully open the paper. Inside he found his uniform, patterned in red and green, which would make Potter and he look like Christmas ornaments. Krum's uniform, which he was quickly climbing into, was gold and red, and Delacour's, when she emerged, would be silver and blue.

Gaara changed quickly so he got to see Potter nearly fall over in his desperation to zip himself up when Fleur emerged from behind the curtain and he was the only one not already fully dressed. When they were all dressed and looking like circus performers in their colourful uniforms, Krum, who was already stretching his muscles and trying to get used to the tight-fitting clothes, went to bring Ludo Bagman back into the tent.

Upon entering he said, "Wonderful. Absolutely marvellous."

Gaara thought the only use that these uniforms would serve would be so that the spectators unfortunate enough to be sitting at the top of the gigantic stadium might be able to spot the Champions from such a distance. At least the Chunin exams let him wear his own clothes. Still, he supposed these would be easy enough to move in.

"Now, it's time for the last preparation." Bagman said as he wandered back over to the entrance flap of the tent where he was handed a small velvet sack by someone outside. "You will each reach inside of this bag and select the dragon you will face. You'll then go through the enchanted arch and face the dragons one-by-one. The purpose of the Task will be to steal a golden egg from the dragon's nest and hold on to it for at least ten second. After all that, our illustrious panel of judges will score you on your performance."

Harry's hand went up before he realised how silly it was to raise his hand in a tent with five people standing in it.

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

"How will we be scored?"

"Pardon?"

"How will the judges be scoring us? What are they looking for?" Up until this point, Harry has assumed that they would be scored based on how quickly they stole the egg.

"Oh, well, it's about how you perform when you face your dragon." Bagman seemed to trail off ever-so-slightly, telling everyone loud and clear that he hadn't thought to check. "Oh, and you must remember that harming your dragon will reduce your scores, maybe even cause you to be disqualified."

'Great, so not only do I not know how to get a good score, if one of my ribs hurts the poor dragon's throat when its swallow me, I could be disqualified and get a score of zero.' Harry was wondering exactly what the unlucky star under which he was born might have looked like. Bright and red, he figured.

"And you need not worry about the judges' objectivity. To ensure that they perform their duties without… succumbing to bias, they have each entered into a Wizarding Oath, promising to be fair."

"I'm sorry to interrupt but, who are these judges?" Fleur said without raising her hand.

"Yes, I was just coming to that." Clearly he wasn't, but none of them had mistaken Ludo Bagman for a capable organiser so they didn't think twice about the lie. "The judging panel for each of the Tasks will consist of Minister Fudge and the three headmasters."

What Bagman had failed to consider was that the unbreakable oath had simply stipulated that the judges must be fair in their scoring, but it gave no specifics on how they should base their fairness. One Headmaster might consider it only fair to award his Champion extra points for all of the professional Quidditch he was missing that year, and another might decide that her prize student deserved an extra point or two to fairly balance out the advantage of Hogwarts having two Champions.

Gaara's mind had started to wander during the talking. He'd never been good in the build up to battle, which might be comparable to this Task. Kankuro had always gotten chatty, and Temari would do something compulsive like filing her already filed nails or polishing her battle fan. Gaara had always just wanted to start the battle early and get straight to the killing. He didn't think that would work here.

Gaara looked to the other side of the tent, from where they would be entering the stadium, but the door past the tent flap was still shut.

Definitely wouldn't work here. Plus, he still had to pick his dragon.

The other Champions looked nervous to Gaara, even Krum and Delacour, who had seemed so mature and confident before.

"Let's not delay any further. We can't be running late so early in the event. Miss Delacour, please go first." Bagman held out the bag to her.

Her hand went in and after a little jerk back and a hesitation, it retracted with a stocky little animate orange dragon the size of a gerbil between her slim fingers. It roared with the intensity of a dog's squeaky toy.

"Oh yes, very good. A Chinese Fireball. And now Mr Krum."

Viktor Krum reached into the bag as well but didn't hesitate, snatching one of the wriggling mini-dragons out of the bag without the care that Delacour had shown. In his heavy fist was another tiny, moving dragon. The green thing seemed to be trying to gnaw on the athlete's calloused thumb unsuccessfully.

"A Welsh Green for Mr Krum. Good, good. Mr Gaara, if you would be so kind." He held out the bag to Gaara.

He didn't like to stick his hand somewhere he couldn't see like this, especially without his sand armour to protect his fingers, but he doubted he would be allowed to abstain from this part of the Tournament any more than the active parts to come later.

The bag was smooth to the touch and then something hard and prickly, moving under his fingers. He tried to grab a hold of it but it slipped out of his grasp and something tried to bite him, though it only really felt like an aggressively pecking bird. He rummaged around and managed to catch the thicker body of one of them.

He pulled out a snarling black dragon and examined it closely. It seemed to resent being manhandled like this, which was fair.

"Oh, you got the Hebridean Black." Bagman said. "It was a bit of a late addition. We were going to have a Hungarian Horn-tail but it didn't take kindly to being transported and they had to leave it at the reserve in Romania. Luckily, Headmaster Dumbledore knows someone who looks after dragons just off the coast."

Gaara re-examined the dragon trying to escape his hand and it looked plenty aggressive even without a horned tail. Perhaps it and the others hadn't appreciated being stuffed inside of a bag.

There were legends of dragons in his home world; another similarity with this one, but here dragons definitely existed. It made him wonder whether there really were dragons in his world that had yet to be found.

Something to look into one day.

"Mr Potter, you're up next." Potter reached in for the last mini-dragon and pulled out a rather elegant-looking blue creature. "Oh, the Swedish Short-Snout. You'll have to watch out for that one."

Gaara doubted any of the Champions would be able to rest on their laurels when their turns came.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Draco sat down in the scarcely padded seat as elegantly as he could and tried his level best to pretend he was sat alone in the premium box seat. Unlike during the Quidditch World Cup, where the best view was halfway to the top where most of the flying took place, the best seats had been moved to just above a protective wall that ran around the circumference of the arena. Gone was the grass and the hoops needed for Quidditch, instead there were dozens and dozens of rocky outcroppings and trenches metres deep. Draco wouldn't want to try traversing the arena even without the dragon.

At one end were huge gates, even bigger than the front gates of Hogwarts; presumably just large enough to fit a dragon through them. And at the other end, Draco saw a much smaller gate, just big enough for a teenager to walk through.

The noise was horrendous as his fellow students, entirely lacking his goods manners, insisted on walking and falling into their seats as loudly as possible while talking, shouting and even screaming in their excitement. At least the students were in the top levels, the worst seats in the house. The rest of the considerable number of better seats were taken by paying spectators.

Draco's first cousin once removed offered him another sugary snack and he turned it down. Sirius Black had been very familiar since he arrived and Draco suspected it was for the same reason that Draco couldn't afford to allow even the barest appearance of reciprocated familiarity. Directly across from the friends and family box sat the judging box, where the Minister sat with the other judges. To the side of that box was filled with a number of Ministry notables. And three rows above those two boxes sat Draco's father and mother, apparently having been banished to a privately bought box with a slightly worse view.

Draco could see his father's anger across the vast arena and he knew his father had seen him arrive too, in a better seat, no less. He would receive no end of grief if father saw him fraternising with Sirius Black as well. And, to a much lesser extent, his mother would not be pleased if he over-indulged in sweets.

His father had not taken kindly to Draco opting to sit as Gaara's friend rather than with his family. He took it to have some greater significance. Luckily Draco's mother was on hand to express the importance of Draco being seen in the most prominent position available. Never too early to start planning his career. Which, needless to say, was to be in politics.

Of course, Narcissa had other motives in mind; seeing as she had never expressed interest in sports, she hadn't been considered for an invitation to go to the Tournament when Lucius was buying the tickets. However, after Draco chose to sit elsewhere, naturally she was given asked. She detested the idea of the Tournament but it was all that anybody would be talking about for months so it was only right that she attend.

Draco wanted to tell off his cousin when he had the audacity to wave up to Draco's parents, but he didn't think they would appreciate it or that Sirius would listen. He would just have to hope that when the event got under way, he would be too distracted to further antagonise them.

Sirius also waved to some others he recognised in the crowd. Remus was sat not too far away from the Malfoys, which made Sirius smile a little. It had been an expensive ticket, but it would make a nice present to celebrate a random Thursday. He'd taken to assigning gifts to random days so that Remus couldn't pretend he would pay him back and feel guilty when he obviously couldn't or insist gifts ad to fall on a birthday or Christmas.

Sirius tried again to offer Draco something sugary that he probably hadn't been allowed to eat at home and then set it down between them. He'd need to be careful he didn't tease Cissy too much or else she might get really offended and blow up his home. Bellatrix was not the only insane one from that side of the family, he had long known.

On Sirius's other side were Harry's friends. Ronald looked grumpy, which Sirius understood to be the result of stress and not the long-running feud between them that seemed to come and go. The boy was also steadfastly ignoring Draco, which was definitely for the best.

Luna showed up late and carrying a book, true to form. She sat down next to Draco, at the end of the aisle. Draco was glad when she immediately thrust her nose in her book without initiating any conversation.

Eventually Granger showed up after most of the rest of the stadium had already been seated. Draco wondered at that. She was typically quite punctual. He wasn't listening in to their conversation (certainly not!) but he overheard Granger saying something about talking to Potter through a tent where he was waiting. She said he was jittery but ready.

So, the exact opposite of Gaara…

Part of Draco regretted not thinking of going to the Champions tent himself, though whether that would have been to converse with the redhead or to shout at him was a mystery even to him.

Hermione leaned forward to look past Ron to the rest of the seats in the box and greeted Sirius with surprising cheer. She said hello to Luna and the blonde girl seemed surprised to be acknowledged, happily returning the greeting.

Granger even went so far as to send out a quiet "Morning, Malfoy." Draco didn't bother to respond, partly because he didn't like her and partly because father's eyes were still on him and conversing with a mudblood would be the final nail in his exquisitely-crafted coffin.

Draco looked around the box to see who else was nearby but he didn't recognise anybody. Fleur Delacour's mother and father where there, along with what Draco believed to be her sister and three more friends. A respectable turnout. The seats that had presumably been allotted to Viktor Krum were notably vacant. Then again, it somehow seemed appropriate for someone like him.

"You're worried too." Draco thought he'd imagined the words until, looking to his left, he saw Luna's eye dart up to him before returning to her book.

Draco continued to survey the arena, trying to imagine what route one would take to get to the other side. "Of course not." His response to her was rude but the cheering, which had increased, was annoying him to no end.

His mood didn't improve, it turned out, when the cheering died down so that Fudge could finally deliver a speech uninterrupted. It was painful to listen to how smug the Minister for Magic was now that he could finally claim the spotlight.

Draco couldn't bring himself to listen to the specifics of his overlong speech, greeting everyone, lauding the spectacle of the reused stadium and the impending Task, commending the bravery of the Champions and so on.

"Merlin, this is as bad as the old Flavian Amphitheatre." Sirius scowled. "And here we've got our very own third-rate Emperor Titus to officiate."

It was remarkable, Draco thought, how easy it was to forget that Sirius was heir to the Black dynasty and had been classically educated even more thoroughly than Draco had been before Hogwarts.

The only useful information in ten minutes of Fudge speaking was that the aim of the Task was to steal a golden egg from the dragons, and that the Champions would be competing in alphabetical order. Luna seemed interested when the dragons that each Champion would be facing were announced, judging by her finally closing her book and paying full attention.

She tried to rattle off details about each dragon but Draco stopped her in her tracks, telling her he would never care. She seemed to accept this in good humour.

After Fudge was finally done with his speech, Ludo Bagman took over to begin his anouncing for the actual Task. He was well suited to the job.

"And our first Champion to tackle the First Task of this Triwizard Tournament is Fleur Delcaour! A talented witch from Beauxbatons that promises to get the challenge off to an exciting start." Bagman introduced the first Champion as the gate at the end of the arena opened.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Delacour seemed to be shaking slightly as Crouch led her out through the enchanted arch and towards the arena door. The unpleasant man had shown up not long after Bagman left, presumably to keep an eye on all of them, just in time to scare off Granger who had come to talk to Potter.

None of the other Champions, Gaara included, had begrudged the last minute discussion. Especially since two of the three, after reading the British newspaper, were convinced that the Gryffindors were dating in secret. Gaara was pretty sure they weren't, but then he simply couldn't understand why one would hide such a relationship.

After Granger had been driven off by Crouch, Potter had settled on a stool and proceeded to look a little stunned. Seeing him this way, Gaara was conscious of the fact that Potter was essentially a normal(-ish) civilian teenager about to face a dragon. This was how people his age were supposed to act in the face of imminent peril.

Krum, on the other hand, seemed to handle the pressure better. His knuckles had turned white, his fists were so tightly clenched, but otherwise he seemed okay.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

At the end of the arena, the significantly larger gate rattled open and in floated a cage big enough to fit a sleeping dragon, which it did. Five or six armoured wizards walked under the cage and were levitating the sleeping, caged Chinese dragon above their heads.

Draco had seen his namesake before when he'd visited reserves on holiday with his mother and father some years ago. Seeing one here now was just as unsettling.

The group of dragon handlers set the vast cage down on a flat area of the stone arena and with a shake of their wands, the cage began to melt away like wax in front of a… well, a dragon. The cage flowed down onto the arena floor and began to form into more rocks and boulders, becoming indistinguishable from the scenery and leaving the dragon almost totally unbound. The only thing between the dragon and flying out of the stadium to freedom was a surprisingly flimsy-looking chain around its neck.

Before the spectators had been led to the stadium, they had been assured that the magical structure had not only been modified to cover the unused bottom rows of boxes and reinforced against fire, but the entire stadium had wards set up to prevent any harm from coming to the watchers.

Though, Draco noted, it would do nothing at all to protect the participants as they tried to steal a dragon's egg.

Speaking of which, one of the handlers was (very gingerly) tiptoeing and climbing into the sleeping dragon's nest. Draco imagined that man was bitterly regretting his life choices or his poor luck as he stepped over the red dragon's tail towards the clutch of eggs, each as big as a man's torso. After one more cautious glance at the snoozing head as large as a carriage, he pulled a bag off of his back and pulled out a golden egg. He then picked up one of the real, white eggs and slipped it into his bag.

Draco hadn't noticed until that point that the stadium had gone eerily quiet. No one dared move. The beast was surely spelled asleep and wouldn't wake up no matter the noise made. But no one was willing to test that belief with a wizard only five feet away from the dragon's mouth.

The dragon wrangler climbed back away to safety and towards the gates at the back of the arena. They closed as he exited and only then did Ludo Bagman, who had joined the judges in a prime seat, started to announce. After his brief introduction, he brightly said, "Don't worry, ladies and gentlemen, the egg will be returned to her after the Task, safe and sound."