Chapter 236: "The First Task Begins"

The atmosphere in the champions' tent crackled with tension, a palpable energy that seemed to make the very air vibrate. Outside, the muffled roar of the crowd and the occasional dragon's bellow served as a stark reminder of what awaited them.

Inside the tent, a clever silencing charm ensured that no external sounds could penetrate, preventing later champions from gaining an unfair advantage.

Charles, Fleur, and Krum exchanged nervous glances, a mix of anticipation and dread etched on their faces. Harry, however, maintained his composure, his mind already racing with strategies and contingencies.

A ministry official poked his head into the tent. His face was a mix of excitement and nervousness as he announced, "Mr. Charles Potter, you're up first."

Charles took a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly as he gripped his wand. With one last look at his fellow champions, he stepped out of the tent and into the arena.

As the tent flap fell shut behind Charles, the remaining champions were left in tense silence. Harry felt a twinge of worry for his younger brother. Despite their complicated relationship, he couldn't help but hope for Charles's success and safety.

Outside the tent, the scene was one of controlled chaos. The stands were packed with students, teachers, and visitors from all over the wizarding world. Flags of different colors waved in the air, representing Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. The excitement was palpable, a low hum of anticipation that seemed to vibrate through the very ground.

Ludo Bagman's magically amplified voice boomed across the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen!" His excitement was infectious. "Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament! Our champions will face one of the most formidable creatures in the wizarding world - dragons! Their goal: to retrieve a golden egg from the dragon's nest. And now, let the task begin!"

As Charles stepped into the arena, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The Swedish Short-Snout, with its silvery-blue scales glinting in the sunlight, let out a terrifying roar. Charles looked tiny in comparison, a lone figure against the backdrop of the massive, fire-breathing beast.

"And he's off!" Bagman's commentary filled the air. "Young Mr. Potter approaches cautiously. The Short-Snout has spotted him - oh, it's not happy! Look at those flames!"

The crowd gasped audibly as a jet of blue-white fire shot from the dragon's mouth, narrowly missing Charles. The young champion dove behind a large boulder, his quick reflexes drawing appreciative murmurs from the audience.

"But wait! Mr. Potter is raising his wand. Yes, he's casting a spell - it's the Conjunctivitis Curse! Well executed, young man!"

A roar of pain from the dragon confirmed the spell's success. The Short-Snout thrashed its head from side to side, its eyes swollen shut. The crowd held its collective breath, watching intently as Charles tried to make his way towards the nest.

"The Short-Snout is in distress! Its eyes are swollen shut. But oh no! The dragon is thrashing about madly! It's knocking over rocks, smashing into - Great Merlin's beard! Some of the eggs have been crushed!"

Bagman quickly added, "Not to worry, folks! I've just been informed that those were fake eggs. No harm done to any real dragon eggs today!"

In the stands, Hermione clutched Ron's arm tightly. "Oh, I hope Charles is alright," she whispered, her eyes never leaving the scene before them.

"The dragon's rampage continues! Mr. Potter can't get near the nest. But what's this? He's raising his wand again - he's summoning something!"

A whooshing sound filled the air, and moments later, a broomstick zoomed into the arena, straight into Charles's outstretched hand.

"It's a broom! Brilliant strategy - playing to his strengths as a talented flyer!"

The crowd erupted in cheers as Charles mounted the broom and took to the air. For the next few minutes, they watched in awe as he weaved and dove around the agitated, half-blind dragon. His flying skills were impressive, drawing gasps and cheers from the audience with each daring maneuver.

"Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow... He's taking risks, this one!" Bagman's voice was thick with excitement. "Another close call! The Short-Snout may be blind, but those flames are still deadly!"

The crowd was making a great deal of noise now, their cheers and gasps punctuating Bagman's words. In the Gryffindor section, Neville had his eyes covered, peeking through his fingers, while the Weasley twins were on their feet, shouting encouragement.

Then, suddenly - "Great Scott, he's done it! Charles Potter has got his egg!"

The noise from the crowd was deafening. Charles, clutching the golden egg to his chest, made a victory lap around the arena before landing. As he was led away for medical attention, the crowd continued to cheer, discussing his performance animatedly.

Back in the champions' tent, the remaining three waited in tense silence. They had no idea what had transpired outside, but the muffled roars of both dragon and crowd had painted a vivid picture in their minds.

Moments later, Charles stumbled back into the tent, his robes singed and torn, sporting several cuts and bruises. Madam Pomfrey immediately whisked him away for treatment.

Harry was amazed and a little proud that Charles succeeded in getting the egg. The task was really difficult for someone his age. He had come a long way from his spoiled self that entered Hogwarts three years back.

After a brief pause to reset the arena, it was Fleur's turn. The ministry official returned. "Miss Delacour, you're next."

Fleur stood, her face pale but determined. As she moved towards the tent's exit, Harry spoke up.

"Miss Delacaur," he said quietly, causing her to turn. "Did you know that dragons snore hot breath too?"

Confusion flickered across Fleur's face, but there was no time for questions. With a slight nod of acknowledgment, she stepped out to face her challenge.

As Fleur entered the arena, the crowd hushed. The Welsh Green, with its smooth green scales, regarded her with reptilian curiosity. Fleur's silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the rocky terrain around her.

"Miss Delacour enters the arena with grace," Bagman commented. "The Welsh Green has spotted her - and it doesn't look pleased! Miss Delacour is beginning to wave her wand in an intricate pattern. Is she - yes, I believe she's attempting to charm the dragon!"

The audience watched in fascination as Fleur began to sing softly, her voice carrying across the arena. The Welsh Green's eyes began to droop, its movements becoming sluggish.

"The Welsh Green's eyes are drooping... it's swaying slightly... Merlin's beard, I think she's putting it to sleep!"

The crowd murmured in amazement. Even the Durmstrang students looked impressed.

"The dragon is down! It's fallen asleep! Miss Delacour is approaching the nest carefully... Oh! The dragon has let out a tremendous snore, shooting a jet of flame! But look at that! Miss Delacour dodged it expertly!"

Fleur's quick sidestep drew appreciative applause from the crowd. Her face was a mask of concentration as she carefully picked her way towards the nest.

"She's at the nest now, reaching for the golden egg... She's got it! Miss Delacour has succeeded!"

The audience erupted in applause as Fleur returned to the tent, slightly singed but triumphant. She caught Harry's eye and mouthed a quick "Merci" before being led away for a check-up.

"Mr. Krum, you're up," the official announced.

The Bulgarian stepped out, his shoulders set in determination. The crowd's excitement reached a fever pitch as the famous Quidditch player faced off against the Chinese Fireball.

"And now, Viktor Krum faces the Chinese Fireball!" Bagman announced. "Krum approaches with confidence - that's the mark of a true champion, folks!"

The Fireball, with its scarlet scales and golden spikes around its face, was a fearsome sight. Krum, however, showed no sign of intimidation as he strode forward, wand at the ready.

The crowd held its breath as Krum faced down the dragon. "Krum's raising his wand - and yes, he's also going for the Conjunctivitis Curse! A better attempt at the curse than the young Mr Potter."

A pained roar indicated Krum's success. The Fireball reared back, shaking its head violently as its eyes swelled shut.

"The Fireball is in distress! Its eyes are swollen shut."

But then Bagman's tone changed. "Oh no! The blinded dragon is stomping around in pain and anger. It's crushing some of the eggs! Remember folks, these are the fake ones, but it'll certainly cost Krum some points!"

The audience winced collectively as the dragon's massive feet came down on the nest. Krum stayed put for a few seconds waiting for the opportunity to rush in. As the huge dragon fell down in pain, the opportunity arrived, and Krum darted forward with surprising agility for his bulky frame.

"Krum's making his move! He's darting in - he's got the egg! Viktor Krum has completed the task!" Bagman announced as Krum swiftly retrieved the golden egg.

As the crowd cheered, Krum returned to the tent. He looked relatively unscathed, but his expression was grim. Without a word, he handed his golden egg to an official and went straight to Madam Pomfrey's makeshift infirmary.

Finally, it was Harry's turn. As he stood, preparing to face his dragon, he felt a strange calm settle over him. He had faced worse odds before, and he was ready for this challenge.

The tent flap rustled, and a ministry official appeared. "Mr. Hadrian Potter, you're up."

With a determined nod, Harry stepped out of the tent and into the arena, ready to face the big lizard. The crowd fell silent as he emerged, all eyes on the elder Potter as he prepared to face the fierce Hungarian Horntail.